The Modern World Has Ruined Me For the Classics

So I'm listening to Bill Bryson's biography of Shakespeare (or, more accurately, his book about what we know or don't know about Shakespeare, and how and why we know or don't know it), and every single time he mentions Shakespeare's wife, Anne Hathaway, I picture:


Not that I'm complaining.

Rob
(This has been a another Thinly-Veiled Reason to Post a Photo of Someone Dreamy. You're Welcome.)

Getting Rid of the Weight

From here on out, my weight-loss updates will have their own blog. It's a matter of daily motivation, it's a matter of me not wanting to overwhelm this blog with a daily update, and it's a matter of me learning Wordpress. So unless something crazy spectacular happens (like I lose an arm, and probably like 10 pounds!), you can find my weight updates at my new side blog, Weight That Can't Be Carried.

Rob

Shocking New Evidence

Apparently Vinne Barbarino was born in Kenya! Who knew?

(click image to embiggen)

Make your own Fake Kenyan Birth Certificate, just like the actual racists Birthers!

Rob

Shaddup Shuttin' Up.

Now that Congress is in recess, with the Senate soon to follow, congresspeople have gone home to their districts to meet with constituents and discuss healthcare reform. And those who are for it are getting ambushed right and left, as this Rachel Maddow video shows.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Legislators are being shouted down at their town hall meetings, unable to make themselves heard. Even regular people who support reform are getting shouted down. These confrontations aren't spontaneous, and they're not local. It’s all part of the lobbying group FreedomWorks' tactics to gin up an angry mob whenever there’s a forum to address legitimate questions by people who have doubts about the plan: Intimidate the speaker, intimidate the questioner, and just shut down conversation altogether.

Now, this tactic—reminiscent of Bill O’Reilly’s “Shut up! Shut up!” tirades before cutting off a caller’s microphone—may backlash. As Jonathan Martin points out, those angry people holding up pictures of a congressman in devil horns and signs with Nazi SS lettering look crazy, and may become prevalent enough to paint the whole anti-reform crowd with that brush. (See also: hanging congressmen in effigy.) So this whole thing might collapse upon itself like the teabaggers (FreedomWorks' last project).

But letting things go far enough for a backlash to happen naturally would be a mistake. Especially since things have already gotten so bad that Fox’s wild-eyed rabble-rouser Glenn Beck has had to remind people to avoid violence in these confrontations.

So what can be done?

We’ve had a couple days of these things, now, and we have their playbook, so we essentially know how they work. While I’d love the see a vigorous crowd supporting healthcare reform at these meetings (and they are there, they’re just not shouting), it’s troublesome to add anything to an angry mob—things could get ugly fast if fire were fought with fire.

There’s the Bush solution, of course: Pre-screen everyone who comes, keeping anyone who disagrees outside, like he did in the 2004 election. This is problematic for two reasons. First, you can pretty much depend on the fact that anything which can be called “the Bush solution” is a bad idea. And second, the whole point of civic discourse is to have a conversation. You can’t do that without people who disagree with you.

I like Kevin Drum’s suggestion: Announce beforehand that an organized group is trying to disrupt the meeting so citizens with legitimate questions and comments can’t be heard or answered. It won’t stop what follows, but it might change the way it’s perceived.

Of course, that’ll only work for the people actually in the room. TV news broadcasts are much more likely to just show the angry shouts and hand-painted protest signs, the more garish, the better. So there needs to be a strategy tying these events together, showing that they’re part of a pattern, and this pattern is bought and paid for by lobbyists working for anti-reform forces like the insurance and pharmaceutical industries who make tons of money as long as the status quo is preserved.

I’m curious as to how the Democrats and the White House push back against these tactics. The first step, I think, is getting the word out. I’m looking forward to seeing what comes next.

Rob

UPDATE: The White House is starting to respond.

Ask a Canadian

Comics blogger Christopher Bird (Mightygodking) examines the study that healthcare reform opponents are using to make the Canadian healthcare system look like a band-aid and a shot of whiskey. For a guy who has a strange attachment to Rex the Wonder Dog, he makes a lot of sense!

Rob

Multipoolcity

Had a great little impromptu pool party at our friends Beth & Paul's last night -- but when we got there, it turns out most of us were already there.

Rob

Brew Zoo Review

Last weekend, Kathy & I joined some friends at the Philadelphia Zoo for its Summer Ale Festival, which is exactly what it sounds like: A chance to visit the zoo, checking out all the cool animals with a beer in your hand.

Which is exactly what we did. We saw spider monkeys, fruit bats, voles, naked mole rats, lemurs, tigers, a bashful rhino (either that or he was reenacting the final moments of The Blair Witch Project) and a whole bunch of other creatures, while we contentedly sipped samples from the Yards, Triumph, River Horse, Sly Fox and Victory breweries, among others.

We had a great time, enjoying the scenery and the creatures in it, and even being treated to the sight of a 16-foot-long king cobra that had shed it's skin just a half-hour prior.

And afterward, we headed out to Monk's Cafe, where Sharon and I shared some amazingly delicious Thai curry mussels and we all had another beer. All in all, simply a great night.

There was only on thing it was missing -- one thing that no trip to the zoo should be without. So, without further ado, I present it here:

Rob

One Page Prophecy

For the last few years, Bill Willingham has been handing out copies of a one-page comics story at his Fables panels at the San Diego Comic-Con. And this year's, posted on Vertigo's Graphic Content blog, is a doozy.

(click on the image to embiggen and make legible.)

I mean, who wouldn't want to see where that's going?

Rob

My Hair Like Jesus Wore It, Hallelujah, I Adore It

Kathy & I watched Milos Forman’s & Twyla Tharp’s film adaptation of Hair last night. It’s one of my favorite movie musicals, and though I haven’t watched it for years, I pretty much burned my way through a VHS of it (and a cassette of the play’s cast recording) in high school.

Some random thoughts as it began: Watching the Tribe dance in counterpoint to the police horses, I remembered that I was lucky enough to get a chance to go to a rehearsal of a dance company as Twyla Tharp choreographed, back when I was an entertainment reporter. It was an open-to-the-press kind of thing, and man, she could command a room.

Beverly D’Angelo as Sheila, riding by on a horse, completely unattainable. It made me think of what must be a similar shot in National Lampoon’s Vacation, where Christie Brinkley drives by Chevy Chase… while D’Angelo is in the front seat next to him. Enjoy what you’ve got, Griswold.

It strikes me that some of the ancillary performances in this are amazing – and not just the singing parts, like Nell Carter’s. Check out Charolotte Rae in the party they crash – she’s fascinated with the hippies (well, Berger) from the start, despite being in the same cohort as all the other uptight people around her. (And when he sings about his ass, watch her clap!) Berger’s mom, played by Antionia Rey, is wonderful, throwing her son a surreptitious lifeline as he argues with his dad. And Miles Chapin, as Sheila’s brother Steve, plays the smug little brother to the hilt.

Some other things: I wonder if anyone would be able to get the movie made with a song like “Colored Spade” in it today. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s satirical rather than racist—that’s absolutely clear—but some of those lyrics are just taboo. “Black Boys/White Boys” is similar, to a lesser extent, but the performance (by Nell Carter and Ellen Foley, among others) is so damn randy and joyous that it’s a treat to see and hear. It’s funny—there are things you couldn’t say today, but because someone was brave enough to try them 30 years ago, they’re grandfathered in. (Note: It doesn’t mean you should sing along on your iPod on the train, though.)

And then there’s the Tribe itself. Treat Williams is great as Berger—the thing that struck me last night is that he is resolutely pacifist. He tries to resolve all of his conflicts with talk, and never throws a punch or even grabs anyone. As Claude, John Savage has the best hey-am-I-stoned? face I’ve ever seen. Woof and Hud and Jeannie (Don Dacus of Chicago, Dorsey Wright and Annie Golden) are fantastic—I particularly like the barely-disguised crush Jeannie has on Claude.

And one of the scenes that’s always grabbed me—and last night was no different—is when Hud’s fiancée (played by Cheryl Barnes) calls him out on abandoning her and their son. It’s such a powerful moment, as she remains still throughout “Easy to Be Hard, letting the action happen while she waits. Interestingly enough, it’s something of a counterpoint to the opening number, “Age of Aquarius,” also set in a park, in which the singer (Ren Woods) twirls but is stationary, while the rest of the tribe dances more freely. Tonally, Woods’ song is an explosion, pushing outward, while Barnes’ song is a magnetic, drawing the rest of the Tribe back.

And then there’s that ending. It’s different than that of the play – from what I recall, they play doesn’t have much of a plot, but the movie offers a slick twist at then end, reminiscent of an E.C. comic book. I know it has its detractors, but it absolutely works for me. And finally, after we see the Tribe one last time, Forman cuts to a field of impossible size, and with some judicious cuttings shows us its in front of the White House. And it floods with people, a sudden rush of protesters and celebrants, until no grass can be seen, just body after body, wanting to end the Vietnam War, and all wars. Let the Sun Shine, indeed.

Rob

No Cape, No Tights, No Wonder Bra

Not a single luxury...

Y'know, some of my favorite comic book movies aren't superhero stories. Very, very few superhero movies live up to what can be done in the comic. Special effects are amazing, but too much of them (which is often required to make the powers work) can sap the emotional life from a story. The producers paid a lot for those FX, so they better get some serious screen time, capice?

So although I love The Dark Knight and Iron Man (and really liked Spider-Man 2 and Hellboy), it isn't the upcoming Green Lantern movie that has me stoked. No, my love for comics movies veers into more mainstream territory, like American Splendor and Road to Perdition. (Heck, even Men in Black, which is one of the finest comics-based comedies ever -- though I enjoy it enough not to want to ever see the sequel.)

So, although these two films will undoubtedly be more action-based crowd-pleasers than more introspective fare like Ghost World, it's these films that will have me heading to the multiplex like Pavlov's Fanboy.


Although with Megan Fox involved in Hex, I might have to take back what I said about the Wonder Bra.

Rob

They Can Have My Orwell When They Pry It From My Cold, Dead Hands

Okay, I'm a bit of a Luddite.

As I mentioned on my previous post, I'm not on the Twitter. And I still buy CDs, rather than downloads. It's not that I don't know how to download music -- that's easy enough. The Avett Brothers offered a free track off their new album to mailing list subscribers about a month ago, and you better believe I jumped on that.

But music I buy? I want to make sure I can keep it. I don't want it to be lost in a system crash, or be unable to transfer if I decide to upgrade my computer (or heaven forbid, swithc platforms!), or prevent me from lending it to a freind. (I'm not a big filesharer, but it's really nice to hand someone a CD of a band I like and say "check this out.")

I'm the same way with books. The Kindle looks cool as hell, but a book is a book. Not all reading has to come from books, but I'm not quite willing to make the leap. Because who knows what could happen -- I want to own the books I own.

Case in point: As the result of a publisher deciding it didn't want to offer electronic copies -- some of which had already been sold -- Amazon reached into everyone's Kindle and plucked out two books: George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm. (They credited the customer's accounts for the deletion.)

Sure, doing this with Orwell books is poetic irony at its finest. But it doesn't make me any more likely to buy a Kindle, that's for sure.

Rob

I, Twit.

So a year ago, maybe two -- right when Twitter started, whenever that was, I can tell ya that -- I signed up for a Twitter account. And then never did one damn thing with it.

I just let it sit there.

Waiting.

But today, I was curious about a hashmark on a friend's tweet, so I went onto the twitter page and tried to log in with my user name and a possible password I might have chosen back in the day. And whaddya know, I'm on!

In my excitement I actually tweeted: "Holy shit I have a Twitter account!"

It was then that I remembered that there was a feed of all the people who are cursing on Twitter, and I could watch my inaugural swearing scroll up the page along with the words of my filthy-mouthed brethren.

But I couldn't remember the url of the curse word feed, and a quick search didn't turn it up, either.

Sigh. Fuck that, then.

Rob

Congratulations, Jeri!

Jeri Smith-Ready's novel Wicked Game just won (and by "just", I mean she announced it on Facebook about a half hour ago) a PRISM Award for Light Paranormal Romance. The awards are presented by the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter of the Romance Writers of America. The news is too fresh to actually have a link to yet, but here's a list of this year's nominees.


I should also mention that I just finished the sequel to Wicked Game, Bad to the Bone (which you can still see a link to on the upper righthand corner of the blog, for another week or so, at least). First of all, it's just plain fun to read, and I spent most of Monday afternoon finishing it. The characters and the environment (vampires pyschologically frozen in the era they "died", hiding in plain sight, spinning tunes at a vampire-themed radio station) progress in interesting and entertaining ways, as we start to see how romance with a vampire is one thing, but day-to-day living with him is another. It's got a satisfying plot, some great snarky dialogue, and a lot of blood-fueled rock-n-roll fun. Plus a Big Honkin' Cross that's more dangerous than it seems.

But the main thing is, Wicked Game won. That's huge. Congratulations, Jeri.

Rob

The Funniest Scream Since Howard Dean

"I'm gonna lose my mind today."
--Glenn Beck, July 15

Let it be known that Glenn Beck can keep a promise.

A couple of days ago, Kathy and I were at the Briggs Farm Blues Festival, and weather was coming in. Bad weather. We were just heading off on a hayride tour of the farm when they announced from the stage that there was a tornado warning.

For some reason, the farm tour continued (maybe the warning was for a half-hour from then -- the tour only took a few minutes), and then were told to go to our cars and wait. So we did, sitting in Kathy's car in the middle of a field, shunting from AM station to AM station searching for weather reports. (We found a few, none of which said squat about tornadoes.) Eventually we settled on some crazy, Art-Bell style conspiracy theorist who we eventually figured out was Glen Beck.

Beck was just beginning a weird, insinuous rant about how there was a book by a French group called The Invisible Committee that was a blueprint for revolution, not by the crazy right-wing groups (which are perfectly harmless, despite the recent fatal shooting at the Holocaust Museum and the assassination of George Tiller in church), but by crazy left-wing groups (which will destroy our way of life if we're not careful, despite spending most of their time making giant puppets). We didn't wait around for an explanation about how a blueprint for revolution could only be used for one side and not the other; we just enjoyed the crazy until the rain stopped and, when it seemed safe, got out of the car and rejoined our friends. But man, Beck was clearly headed for Crazytown like it's his regular commute.

So imagine my delight when I followed this link. Just listen to Glenn Beck get unhinged at a caller on today's show who challenged him on universal healthcare. You should listen from the beginning to get the full effect, but from 3 minutes to 3:45 is where the really money-clip is.

He completely--completely!--loses his marbles. And really, even if you agree with him (I don't, no surprise), you've gotta admit that it sounds like there's so much pressure in his brain that steam is blasting from his ears and his eyeballs are splashing all over the mic.

Rob

Wednesdays Just Got a Little More Special

It's Wednesday! New Comic Day! Even better than that, today is the first day of DC's Wednesday Comics.

Wednesday Comics is a 16-page comics anthology in which top creators (we're talking Gaiman, Kubert, Baker, Azzarello, Bermejo, Busiek, Allred, Garcia-Lopez and more*) bring us one huge page of comics a week. The book unfolds not once, but twice, providing huge pages of art for each story to sprawl over. It's a very different reading experience than a regular comic.

The format is supposed to evoke the old Sunday comics pages. Not the ones I read when I was a kid, with three or four strips on each page, but the ones around when my dad was a kid -- full page color installments of full-color adventure strips, each one ending in a cliffhanger, selling next Sunday's paper.

And man, is it fun. I haven't read them all yet, but those I've read (yes, I've skipped around) assure me that every page is a new delight. This is good, good stuff.


So take a gander (ha!) at Kyle Baker's Hawkman. And then think about heading to your local comic shop and picking up the first issue of Wednesday Comics... and watch the stories unfold.

Rob
*I kept on adding names. I couldn't stop!

Forever 15

So Jeri was tagged with a meme – “Forever 15” – in which she was asked to list 15 books that will stay with her forever. She had 15 minutes to come up with the list.

So I gave it a try. I know there are other books that should be on here, but these are the first 15 that sprang to mind.

Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
Slaughterhouse-5 – Kurt Vonnegut
Madeleine’s Ghost – Robert Girardi
Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets – David Simon
Songs of Innocence – Richard Aleas (Charles Ardai)
The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Chronicles of Prydain (specifically The High King) – Lloyd Alexander
The Razor’s Edge – W. Somerset Maugham
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay – Michael Chabon
To Kill A Mockingbird – Harper Lee
Sandman – Neil Gaiman & Various Artists
The Big Sleep – Raymond Chandler
The Stand – Stephen King
The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood
Travels with Charley – John Steinbeck

I’ll take a cure from Jeri and just mention one of them: There’s a scene in The Great Gatsby that kills me every time. If I remember it correctly, Tom Buchanan has just discovered his wife Daisy has been having an affair with Jay Gatsby. Now, Tom’s a creep. He’s been carrying on his own affair with another woman, and if I recall correctly, even blackened Daisy’s eye at one point in the book. There is nothing to like about Tom.

And yet, as Gatsby urges Daisy to tell Tom she never loved him, try as I might, I always feel sorry for him. He’s so wounded, so crushed. He asks Daisy about a specific moment of tenderness between them; I can’t remember what it is, but he asks, “Surely you loved me then?”

And when he asks that, so afraid of the answer he’ll get, I feel this great wellspring of pity for the man. He gets what he deserves, but it gives me no joy to see it. In fact, it may be one of the saddest things I’ll ever read.

Rob
(Needless to say -- though I've gone ahead and edited the post to say it anyway -- if you feel like sharing your own list, feel free to post in the comments.)

Believe.

(Via Kurt Busiek's new blog.)

Rob

Brevity is the Soul of Quit.

Well, I'm back from vacation, and checking up on the week's news. There's really only one thing to say:


Congratulations, Alaska!

Rob

If I Can't Score It, It Ain't a Word

Lately, I’ve been playing a lot of Scrabble on Facebook. Call it Lexulous, call it Wordscraper, it’s still Scrabble. Capital S, eight letters, 17 points, and a proper noun so you can't play it anyway.

Thing is, I’ve noticed that there are words that are missing. Not so much words that are missing from the acceptable word lists, but actual letter combinations that should make words and somehow don’t.

WOY, for example. I imagine it as a popular game in the Polynesian islands involving a coconut and butterfly nets.

PLUD. An unripe plum.

GLAB. That film in your mouth after a night of drinking.

HULVEY. That feeling of wanting to eat even after you’re stuffed.

PROTT. Any detritus found between the toes.

ZAY. An overall term for any sort of animal-to-animal communication.

VULT. A temperature-sensitive place to store chocolate; something of a Cadbury humidor.

TWONK. Physical assault similar to a purple nurple.

XUMI. A smoky taste, but chewy, too.

QUOKE. A triple-or-more jump in checkers, getting kinged in the middle.


Anyhow, this is also a roundabout way of telling you that I'll be running off to parts unknown, kicking back with some friends for a little while. Don't know if I'll have internet access, and don't know if I'll use it much if I have it. But I'll see you in a week or so, 'kay?

Rob

Burn After Reading

If you like Burn Notice as much as I do (and you really should), you'll want to take a look at Alan Sepinwall's interview with Matt Nix, the show's creator. Really good stuff there.

Rob

Intimidator!

Went to my meeting a day early (Kathy & I have plans for tomorrow) and found I'd lost 1.6 pounds -- the weight of this Infamous Intimidator paintball marker (without regulator or barrel).

Intimidator!

Rob

Geek In Chief?

At the Radio and Television Correspondents Association dinner, John Hodgeman puts President Obama's nerd cred to the test. It takes a little while for him to get rolling, but there are some nice moments here.

Rob

Who Can It Be Now?

I'm sure this isn't unique to me, but every now and then I get a Facebook notice that says "How well do you know Jodi Tallerento*? Take this quiz!" And I have to wonder, not how well I know her, but who the hell she is.

Rob

*Name changed to protect the unmemorable.

If There's a Hedgehog in Your Bathroom (Don't Be Alarmed Now)

Well, first of all, actually it was a groundhog. But I'd been calling it the hedgehog for an hour or two before I realized that, so I've decided to name him Hedgehog the Groundhog.

Anyway, here's how the speedy little bugger got into our downstairs bathroom.

As part of a burst of much-needed housecleaning in the event we were having some friends over, Kathy was taking some recyclables out to the recyclable can. There were a few items left, so I gathered up the beer bottle, peanut butter jar, marinara sauce container and diet coke can and elbowed the screen door open to follow her.

The moment I had that door open, suddenly something low and fuzzy streaked by me at my feet, brushing past my legs and slamming heavily into the screen door. It ricocheted off the door just like a pool ball might, taking the angle of least resistance and making a beeline into the house, all to a loud chorus of "What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?" Seriously, if you'd been in our driveway at that moment, you'd have thought you'd pulled up to the International House of What the Fuck.

Now, the little guy was just as freaked out as Kathy and I, and probably terrified, to boot. He was standing on his hind legs in the corner behind the toilet, his front paws against the wall, like he was expecting to be patted down and read his Miranda rights. I closed the door for a moment; I didn't want him going anywhere until I figured out what to do.

Luckily, a solution was at hand. We have a foldable gate that we use to keep the ferrets away from the screen door during the spring and summer when we keep it open. I unfolded the gate to its full length, and it turned out to be just the right size to funnel our squat intruder from the bathroom to the back door, and back into nature (which, incidentally, is the World Under Our Deck).

Having set up the gate, I opened the bathroom door. But Hedgehog wasn't going anywhere.

Rather than wait for him to decide the coast was clear and he could leave, I got a long broom-handle that we use to screw into paint rollers and went back into the bathroom. I poked him with it, gently, but that just seemed to send him even further into the corner. Undeterred, I poked indirectly around the other side of the toilet -- sliding the knocked-over toilet brush that was back there into him. Now, with something coming at him from the corner, the groundhog spooked once more, and bolted for the great outdoors. Or maybe he was just grossed out. It was a toilet brush, after all.

Since our brush with nature, the bathroom has been very avidly cleaned by Kathy, and I have learned to look both ways before leaving my house.

Rob

Mad About The Mad Ones

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Tom Folsom
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Jason Jones in Iran

This interview with Tom Folsom on last night's Daily Show made me wonder if his book The Mad Ones might be the Most Perfect Book in the World. It honestly seems like it has everything I could ever want.

Rob

Hitched

Well, my brother and his fiancée are now husband and wife, which among other things means my fingers will once again forget how to type "fiancée". (I remember my first encounter with the word, in a book of short stories reprinted from Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine; I read it as "finance".)

Anyway, it occurs to me that there's something that's just not said enough at weddings. People say "welcome to the family" right and left, and that's a wonderful sentiment, of course. I'm convinced that five of the best words in the English language are "Welcome. We're glad you're here"—and they just can't be said enough.

But something that often goes unsaid—at least by the peripheral people in the wedding, rather than the couple at the center of it all—is "I'm glad to be a part of your family now." However distantly, however indefinable that connection is (sister-in-law-once-removed? There just aren't words for this stuff, and that's fine), there's a sense that these two families have joined, even though the more distant parts of each may never see each other again.

So that's what I find myself thinking, after a weekend at a country inn and two big, happy dinners together. Thanks, Lindsay, for letting our crazy, big-hearted family join your crazy, big-hearted family. And welcome—all of you—to ours.

Rob

My Brother's Getting Married Tomorrow

Everybody dance!

Rob

The Firsts Meme

Okay, I got tagged with a Facebook meme, and as is my custom, I'm taking it to my blog.

If I tag you it means I want to know yours. Copy and paste this note into your blog/facebook notes, delete my answers and fill yours in. Tag me back and anyone else whose "firsts" you want to know about...

1. What was your FIRST job?
Purveyor of water ice at the Springfield Country Club. Actually, probably a paper route.

2. What was your FIRST car?
92 Mercury Tracer

3. Who was your FIRST prom date?
Terri Turner -- I think. I can't remember which order they went in, nor is it worth bothering whether the Snow Dance or Soph Hop qualified as "proms".

4. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?
Yes

5. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
My dad's beer. If you can call it beer.

6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
I have no idea, but they were very excited about finishing classes.

7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
The stone mason who’ll be giving us an estimate on our stairs. Next Monday. (Sorry, honey! I thought I heard him knocking!)

8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
I should know this. She should have taught me her name better.

9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
Orlando, Florida. It was so amazing it was like a vacation in itself.

10. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk?
Dave Holdsworth; no, I wasn’t even able to see him at the reunion a while back. :(

11. Where was your FIRST sleep over?
I think at my neighbor Dave Kennedy’s. I remember the B-52s were the musical guest on Saturday Night Live that night, so we can probably find an actual date for the event.* (For years, I thought the musical guests were supposed to be funny because of them.)

12. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
Kathy (Again, sorry, honey. Sometimes I open my mouth in the morning. A bad habit, I know.)

13. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?

Threw on some clothes and looked for the unexpected (and nonexistent) stone mason.

14. FIRST tattoo?
I’m sure, at some point in high school band, I got hold of a trumpet and blew a tattoo. (wow, that sounds filthy!) Other than that, no tats.

15. FIRST piercing?
File this under Piercings Yet To Come... or even more likely, not.

16. FIRST foreign country you've went to?
Mexico. Well, Tijuana for an evening, which isn’t really another country, just America without laws. My first extended out-of-country trip was to Quebec City.

17. FIRST movie you remember seeing?
Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger. Or maybe Pete’s Dragon. Or heck, possibly One of Our Dinosaurs is Missing.

18. When was your FIRST detention?
In 10th grade for being late to Spanish class.

19. Who was your FIRST roommate?
Andy Topol. Good guy, too.

20. If you had one wish?
I’d wish that this question had a FIRST in it to fit the meme.

21. Did you marry the FIRST person you asked to marry?
Yes

22. What was the FIRST sport that you were involved in?
Baseball

23. What were the FIRST lessons you ever took?
Swimming lessons at the Y, I guess.

24. What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home?
Throw my keys somewhere I’ll have trouble finding them later.

Oh, and I’ll tag Sharon, Drew (yes, you should kickstart that blog, man), Ami, Greg, Jeff, the Bastard and Geoff.

Rob
*January 26th, 1980, unless it was a repeat.

Seriously?

Fuck these people. Sick bastards.

Rob

Wednesday Withnail

It's easy to see why Withnail & I has become such a beloved movie. It's full of great lines, and (as one of the actors said in a retrospective on the Criterion DVD) "there are no crap bits."

Plus, drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. As Roger Ebert says in his "Great Movies" essay, it "conveys the experience of being drunk so well that the only way I could improve upon it would be to stand behind you and hammer your head with two-pound bags of frozen peas."

Rob

Hey Mister President

Sometime in November, when Barack Obama was elected president, some of my friends and family members asked if I'd be going after Obama when I thought he was wrong, just as I went after Bush. (The fact remains, though, that I'm no bulldog -- the last few years of Bush didn't see as much fire from me as the first years. Ya get worn down, is what I'm saying.)

Well, here's one of those times.

There have been a number of things in recent days that I'm not happy about. I'm not entirely satisfied with Obama's handling of the torture photos, nor the dismissal of the idea of prosecutions for torture. I think our moral standing is the greatest force we have as a nation, and it erodes when we don't police our own. I understand the desire to avoid further inflaming the factions in the Middle East who would point to those photos as evidence of war crimes, rather than pointing to the release of the photos as evidence that the war crimes have ceased. That's a subtle point, and one liable to be lost on a lot of people. I get that, and I'm a lot more inclined to trust Barack Obama's judgement on these matters than Bush and Cheney's. But there's a principle that makes old horror movies come alive in the way that new ones seldom do: The most terrifying thing of all is that which is unseen. By withholding the pictures, anything can be in them. Better, I think, to have concrete photos to look at than to let imaginations run wild.

But that isn't what I'd intended to write about. It's this: The majority of the country believes that gays should be able to serve openly in the military. And by majority, I mean majority. The majority (86%) of liberals (of course). The majority (77%) of moderates. The majority (58%) of conservatives. Practically every subset of American society believes gays and lesbians should be allowed to serve openly in the millitary. 69 percent of us, overall.

So get on that, willya? The Supreme Court is passing the buck, but honestly, as commander in chief, the ball should be in your court, anyhow. I'm tired of hearing about gay Arabic translators being fired for their orientation. It sucks for the people being discharged, and it makes us less secure as a nation, not more.

But regardless of the polls, equal human rights are not a popularity contest. There are some cases where the right thing to do is as clear as day, and this is one of them. An estimated 65,000 members of the military are gay. It's time they breathed a sigh of relief.

Rob

Where I'll Be

Next Week, the NYC Food Film Festival enters its third year. It's a festival devoted to movies about food... and then providing tastings of the food featured in the movies. It's a great idea, and amazingly, it's largely free.

When I first heard about this, my first thought was: Will they show Big Night?

When I first told Kathy about this, she asked: "Are they doing Big Night?"

Later that night, I told my friend Sharon about it. She said: "They're doing Big Night, right?"


Friends, they're screening the wonderful movie Big Night on Thursday, June 18, at Water Taxi Beach at South Street Seaport. And yes, they're making the Timpano, the amazing dish that's the centerpiece of that film, that I never, ever thought I'd get a chance to taste.

If you've seen Big Night, you know you wanna be there too. Let me know if you're going -- the more the merrier!

Rob

Do you suppose...?

Yeah, money's nice. And lots of money's really nice.

But MGK has uncovered the real reason Archie's marrying Veronica instead of Betty.

Rob

Goodbye, Koko

Koko Taylor has died at age 80, less than four weeks after her last performance. I had the privilege of seeing her perform a few times, and she was never less than thrilling. But this video is the first one I've ever seen of her performing not as the Queen of the Blues, but as an up-and-coming star. Her voice, though -- her voice is still right there, already able to shake you to the soles of your feet.

Rest in peace, Koko. I hope that wherever you are, you're pitching a wang-dang doodle.

Rob

Play Ball!

Kathy & I had a great time at the Somerset Patriots game tonight. The team won, and we sat right behind a pair of cut-ups we fell right in line with. Before the night was over, we were joking about shaming the poor kid who lost the between-innings sack race, had invented Taser Night (first 300 screaming kids get tasered), and also Dick Cheney Appreciation Night, where the seventh-inning stretch would be replaced by waterboarding* and a naked pyramid. Good times...


Plus, I went to my cult today and lost two pounds, represented here in bars of foreign chocolate.

So overall, a good day.

Rob

*Or, if they needed a sponsor, QuickCheck coffeeboarding.

A Word of Warning To My Brother

Make sure your best man is as agile as a cat.



Rob

P.S. This is fascinating.

Everybody's Got One.

I realize this has all been said before, but this really bugs me: Whenever a person of color gets nominated for something--be it mayor, president, or judge--people are always asking the question: Will they be able to do their job effectively without undue bias from their cultural background? It's a question that only seems to come up for the Sotomayors, never for the Robertses.

But why not? Roberts isn't raceless, he's white. He's not genderless, he's male. He has cultural biases and assumptions, the same as everybody has. But only minorities and women are called on to answer for them. Everyone else skates by because somehow "white" and "male" (and "straight") are the default settings for government officials.

But they're not default. No one's checking the "n/a" boxes for those areas. White and male have just as many cultural assumptions as any other combination -- and those assumptions are more insidious, because it's constantly implied that we don't have any assumptions or biases at all.

I don't know what can be done about this. I have no solutions, other than to be aware that this kind of double standard exists. And before questioning someone else about their cultural biases, make sure you have enough self-awareness to realize you have some of your own.

Rob

Easy go...

Easy come.

I weighed in the other day at the cult, and found I'd regained 1.6 pounds over the week. (Much like this carved pyrite skull.) It wasn't a banner week, and I *did* chow down on way to many apple slices with peanut butter the night before. But it was a D&D game, and nothing gets me to chow down like D&D. At least it wasn't carrots.

Rob

Livin' On a Prayer

Kathy and I headed south this weekend to celebrate my old friend Jeff's 40th birthday. We got caught in plenty of traffic (and had a long trip even under the best conditions) so despite setting out at 9 a.m., we made it to the lunch party at 2:30, missing the cheese course entirely. (Good for my cult, bad for my soul.)

My car doesn't have air conditioning, which wasn't a huge problem when I was thinking I'd be employed enough to trade it in, but as things stand, it looks like I'll be driving with the windows open for another hot summer. But for long trips, I need to remember to sunscreen up. My forearm is bright red, and the sting is only now finally starting to go away.

Afterward, Jeff, opened up his gifts, among them such reliable gags as chattering teeth and other reminders of how old we're all getting. But the biggest reminder for me is this: I remember my dad's 40th birthday party. My mom invited all his friend for a surprise party, sprung just as he and I returned home from an Indian Guides camping trip.

There were chattering teeth at that one, too.

I can't believe I'm only a few months away from hitting that milestone. It's weird -- it feels like if I hit that birthday, the first one that I really remember my dad having, then I must, by logical deduction, be a grown-up. We'll see about that, I guess.

Kathy & I spent the night at my brother & sister-in-law's, and got to play with our niece and nephew in the morning, and have some tasty barbecue, to boot. Then, we hit the road again, avoiding I-95 altogether, choosing instead to take 295 north and then route 40 north until the Delaware Memorial bridge.

Already feeling a bit like my dad, I suggested we stop at a liquor store before we left Delaware. We wound up hitting a small (very small) package store attached to a bar. The guy at the counter immediately introduced himself to us, and asked if we liked Bon Jovi. We gave a fairly non-committal answer, and he said "You're looking at their new drummer."

The story goes, their current percussionist, Tico, is planning to retire, and they need a new one. And this guy was it, hooked up through a sound-engineer friend of his. He'd be meeting the band themselves really soon, but in the meantime, Jon's family and their bodyguards have all been coming down to check him out, because that's the way they do things.

Then he said that he'd soon be marrying a supermodel. He implied that he hadn't yet actually met said supermodel, but it was a done deal. He has a cross on a bracelet, and he'd occasionally kiss it and point to the big guy upstairs, who was totally hooking him up.

He mentioned he had a girlfriend once who was Greek, but she cheated on him, and that was that. He asked what nationality I was beside Greek; it was then that we realized he'd misread Kathy's "I Heart My Geek" shirt.

Then he explained how fit he was, and how that was important when you're in such a major act. He demonstrated by leaning back, back, and further back against the beer fridge door, essentially making an ark with his body (which was definitely in shape, no argument there). He told me to count to ten, and he did backwards pushups while I counted.

Then (yes, this kinda keeps going), he told us he was an amazing singer. He didn't want to make to much noise, but he wanted to really belt it, so he invited us into the walk-in cooler. We closed the door, kind of wondering if this would be the last thing we'd ever do. He gave us a choice of two songs we could hear, and soon he was belting out Steve Perry's "Oh, Sherry" with all his heart.

Finally, Kathy & I buy our Tuaca. (We went in looking for tequila, but they had a lousy selection). He gives us his autograph and his phone number, telling us to call him and he'll get us passes for when Bon Jovi plays the Meadowlands.

I'm *still* not quite able to make sense of it all. Will we be on TV?

Rob

Step Behind Me, Satan! Now Left! Now Right! And Back!

Earlier today I was doing some step aerobics (don't laugh) on the Wii Fit. On either side of me were the Mii avitars for Jesus and Hellboy. It made me feel like I was wrestling with some big decision.

Stepping between Snoop Dogg and Keith Olbermann was a little less intimidating.

Rob

Woke Up This Morning....

And lost myself a gun...

That's right, I'm back in the saddle of my Weight Watchers cult, and after my first week* back on program, I lost 5.2 pounds, the weight of this .223 caliber Rock River Arms LAR-15 pistol. It's a big jump in weight, and I know things slow down from here, but hopefully I can make enough progress to get me down to the weight I was before I fell off the wagon. My knees''ll thank me.

Rob
*Punctuated with mojitos and spicy shrimp!

Weirdest, Weirder, Weird.

A few lazy links, in the order of most to least bizarre:

A few days ago, Mike Huckabee issued a meter-challenged poem calling for Nancy Pelosi to step down as Speaker of the House. Yes, a poem. Rhythm is, apparently, optional.

The blog Unlikely Words has compiled a list of everything Tracy Jordan said in every episode of this season of 30 Rock: “I’m saying the Disneyfication of New York is over, everyone. At the stroke of midnight, your Lexus is going to turn back into a hot pile of rats fighting over a human finger.”

And finally, less weird than either of them: A giant tiki stomping on the Metal Men. I've never really been crazy about DC's Metal Men, but I am a sucker for giant tikis.

Rob

Tuesday is Bad to the Bone Day

In case you didn't notice the little doohickey on the right side of the blog (I'm talking to you, one-eyed Pete), Jeri Smith-Ready's Bad to the Bone is finally shipping on Tuesday. It's the sequel to Wicked Game, in which a group of time-stuck vampires have established a radio station playing music from their various eras. (Jeri's actually got an online radio station set up for the vamps... she really goes all-out.)

Anyway, the new book's coming out on Tuesday, and for once I haven't read an earlier draft -- so I'm going to be just as surprised as you are when I first crack the spine. But here's what I've got to go on -- this glowing review from Publisher's Weekly:

In Smith-Ready’s espionage farce sequel to 2008’s Wicked Game, Ciara Griffin and her vampire DJs face another threat to their Maryland radio station 94.3 WVMP, the Lifeblood of Rock ’n’ Roll. When the Family Action Network (FAN) disrupts WVMP’s Halloween broadcast by pirating their signal and jamming it with antivampire rhetoric, Ciara swears revenge. Under the aegis of the International Agency for the Control and Management of Undead Corporeal Entities, Ciara turns spy and infiltrates the cult’s fortress, armed with her wits and her vampire-healing “antiholy” blood. Aiding her are a crew of hip vamp buddies and vampire dog Dexter, whom she rescues after finding him chained to a cross outside a FAN enclave. Smith-Ready pours plenty of fun into her charming, fang-in-cheek urban fantasy, which frequently skirts the edge of parody.

A vampire dog, man. That's badass.

So do yourself a favor and bring Bad to the Bone to the beach or pool this summer. Anywhere there's lots of sun. Because if there are vampire dogs, I think you pretty much have to watch out for anything.

Rob

My Eyes Are Going

I just saw an ad on Facebook that said "Click here to buy tickets"... and I thought it said "Click here to buy toilets."

I thought, Do people really buy more than one at a time? Over the Internet?

Rob

Another Week, Another Review

I saw InProximity Theatre Company's production of Craig Wright's Orange Flower Water last night. If you're in or around New York, you might want to see it too.

Rob

Welcome to the Abyss

Do not gaze too long at SecretTweet, for it gazes also into you:

40889 I saw my son's 3rd grade teacher dancing at a strip club last week; we now exchange the biggest smiles at after-school pick-up.

40718 Motherhood is nothing like I expected. I feel so guilty about hating it.

40568 I'm a model in a BBW site. I seem very passionate about my work, but all I want is to be skinny.

40302 Her partner had a vasectomy and to spare her feelings I said I thought it was for the best. She would have been a great mum.

39999 she cheats on you all the time and tells me. im in love with you and could treat you so much better.

39970 The house is so quiet. I'm working,kids are at school,wife has passed out drunk again. It won't be quiet when she comes round.

39737 I didn't get to say goodbye to my father because I was high the day he passed. I haven't been high since. I'm sorry Papa.

39738 I'm a surgeon and today a little girl died on my table. I cried in my office after and wished that I was God.

39426 For four weeks, I've been sending anonymous flower bouquets to my wife at work, because I love her. She hasn't said a thing about it.

39271 Today, there was a giant dead ant in the cheese sauce I was making. I fished it out and served the sauce to guests.

And more and more and more... tiny heartbreaks, 140 characters at a time.

Rob

Just Like Bogie and Bacall?

So the other night, Kathy & I watched Key Largo on TCM. (I'd been meaning to see this movie for decades, even though I had no idea what it was about. But I like Humphrey Bogart, and when I finally saw The Big Sleep soon after college, I realized I liked Lauren Bacall just as much.)

So in honor of that, here's the song that first brought the film onto my radar... and which really has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. At all.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Bertie Higgins, Bearded Love God.

A perfect set of passionless early-eighties video lovebirds. I swear, you could find more chemistry on the far right of the periodic table.*

Rob

(*Ah, look it up.)

Public Service Announcement

Turner Classic Movies will be showing Blood Freak again at 2 a.m. this Saturday (or Friday night, depending on how you look at it). Set your Tivos and get your drug/sex/mutant turkey freak on!

Rob

A Grand Old Puritan Tradition

Meghan McCain is confused:

Here’s what I’ve never understood about the [Republican] party: its resistance to discussing better access to birth control. As a Republican, I am pro-life. But using birth control and having an abortion are not the same at all. Actually, the best way to prevent abortions is to educate people about birth control and make it widely and easily accessible. True, abstinence is the only way to fully prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases. Still, the problem with abstinence-only education is that it does not make teenagers and young adults more knowledgeable about all the issues they face if or when they have sex—physically and emotionally.

Yep, that’s sure a confusing paradox. Or it would be, if you take the goals of the Repubican anti-abortion forces at face value. It’s a real stumper.

But suppose—just suppose—that the anti-abortion factions aren’t just anti-abortion, but they’re against sex altogether. A bunch of bluenose prudes, not wanting anybody but married folks like me to be getting it on.

Then maybe, just maybe, anti-abortion isn’t about stopping a medical procedure. And it’s not even about saving a life (or a potential one).

It’s about punishment.

No abortions, no condoms, no morning-after pills? It’s all of a piece. These things all remove or prevent the physical consequences of sex. There’s a pro-life bumper sticker that’s been around for a while, that reads “It’s a child, not a choice.” But the fact is, the pro-lifer’s behavior isn’t about the child at all. It’s not a child; it’s not a choice: It’s a consequence.

A baby is as good as AIDS is as good as the clap. Anything to scare people away from doing it.

I’m not saying this is the motivation behind the majority of the party; I suspect that there are far more Republicans than they’d like us to believe who’d be perfectly happy to let Roe vs. Wade stand, even if they have a personal problem with abortion. (I even suspect Meghan McCain is one of them. She writes, “As a Republican, I am pro-life.” I wonder if the reverse would be true?) But the true believers who so assiduously hammer the anti-abortion plank into the Republican platform? If they really thought abortion was murder, they’d be welcoming every chance they had to stop even one. Every condom, every pill, could save a life.

But the one crime worse than murder, in their minds, is sex. And they want to make sure it doesn't go unpunished.

Rob

Okay, how many cubits are we talkin', here?

A link for today's (and yesterday's and for-seeming-ever's) weather:



How to build an ark.

Rob

The Recession Hits Batman

I saw this about a week ago... and then realized you might want to see it, too.

Batman Garage Sale with Adam West from Adam West

Rob

Last Night

Kathy and I went into the city, had a quick, lackluster dinner at a joint called the Chirping Chicken ("Hear that sizzle? That's ME!") and enjoyed Theatre Ten Ten's excellent production of Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore. Then we strolled through a beautiful, cool night, window shopping and looking for a place to get some dessert... eventually covering the 50 blocks back to the train station.

And then I had a glass of scotch and stayed up till 5 in the morning writing this review. I think it turned out pretty well.

Rob

Golden Ticket

The Onion AV Club has a great question up: Who do you give a lifetime pass to?
In other words, which entertainers have thrilled you so much that you'll pretty much try anything they do, turning a blind eye to anything less-than-stellar that they come up with?

To start off, I'd agree with Zack Handlen at the AV Club: The Coen Brothers get a pass. Between Miller's Crossing, Raising Arizona, Fargo and The Big Lebowski, any Coen Brothers movie, starring anyone, gets a look from me. And another. And another. They're hilarious and ambitious, and I love everthing they do. I'm even curious to go back and see The Ladykillers.

Alan Moore. Say what you want about the guy -- the man has created such spellbinding comics that he could spend the rest of his career writing sheet music for the pennywhistle, and I'd probably learn to play just to appreciate it.

Joe Jackson. What can I say? This is the music I was listening to when I was finding out who I was. He can make his odd (and strangely successful) side-trips into modern classical or theme-driven song cycles anytime he wants. I'll listen.

Steve Martin. For L.A. Story, for Picasso at the Lapin Agile, for "Steve Martin's Penis Beauty Creme". I'm not gonna go out and watch Cheaper by The Dozen, but they don't diminish his stature one iota in my eyes. A guy's gotta earn.

So: Who gets a lifetime pass from you?

Rob