Like Star Wars? Like Parks and Rec?

Here's 22 seconds you won't regret.

(And for anyone who dismissed Parks and Recreation after its first season, give it another try. If nothing else, for Ron F***ing Swanson.)

Rob

How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away?

A little more on nostalgia.

One thing I noticed on my list is that some of the cultural touchstones of my generation—Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark, particularly—aren’t on my list of nostalgia movies. And I really do love Raiders, and I really did love Star Wars. They’re great movies, and came out right at the perfect time for me, when I was 8-11. Pretty much zero hour for nostalgia.

I guess the difference is: They kept coming out. Empire followed Star Wars, and was even better… but then Jedi came out, and it was good… but also kind of a letdown. I was in high school rather than elementary school, and instead of a mind-blowing experience, I got a really good action movie. And then neither of the Raiders movies grabbed me the same way as the first. Partially because I was older, and probably also because it’s breakneck pace simply wasn’t as new to me. (And maybe they weren’t as good. It’s been years since I’ve seen Temple of Doom or Last Crusade, and I didn’t even bother with the one this summer.)

And Star Wars, of course, returned with awfulness, to an extent that I’m surprised how thoroughly it killed my interest even in the original movies. That shouldn’t happen, but it did. But I don’t think it’s so much the drop in quality that makes me less nostalgic for these properties. It’s that, well, they’re properties. They kept coming out and were a constant presence at the time when I was growing up and realizing that these movies weren’t just amazing flights of imagination, but also launching pads for toys and games and lunchboxes and happy meals. If there’s just been one movie of each, the phenomenon would have passed before I recognized it. But since they kept coming out, each new movie was born to someone growing more cynical about the whole process. I was hardly a hard-nosed cynic at 14, but I was aware enough to know that people wanted to sell me things.

I wonder if the sweet spot of Star Wars nostalgia isn’t maybe 6 years younger than me, where the kids would have seen the first two movies on VHS or in the theater rereleases, and then they were taken to see Jedi for the first time. Their minds would be blown, just like mine was with that first movie. And then they would have had fifteen years of nothing… the perfect soil for nostalgia to take root. But since I first saw Star Wars, one thing has been layered on top of another so many times that the original moment I could be nostalgic for is lost under layers and layers of extraneous stuff.

This:

is occluded by this:

and by the time this comes out, who cares?

Strangely enough, I am still nostalgic for certain runs of comics I read as a kid: The Bates/Swan Superman of the 70s, the Bates/Novick Flash, the Levitz/Giffen Legion. I think, in their cases, there’s an opposite effect to a constant presence killing nostalgia. These books came out every month—so often, and with so much work produced, that I could be nostalgic for specific stories and runs without mixing it up with the properties themselves. I might not have noticed the departure of Irv Novick originally, but by the time Don Heck was drawing Flash a few years later, I knew my personal golden age on the title had passed... and later figured out when. And the Levitz run of Legion stood so high above what had come before that it was like comparing Star Wars to Solar Babies. It was incredible, world-expanding stuff. And even more important, it felt like it was mine.

Maybe that’s what nostalgia is. A sense of ownership of the material you love, and a true ownership of your own personal experience of reading/watching/listening to it. I remember hearing Styx’s “Too Much Time On My Hands” for the first time over the radio when my friend Tom slept over in 1979—the first time I ever listened to FM, top-40/rock radio. I’m not so nostalgic for that song, but man, do I remember that listen. That’s nostalgia.

We can’t own pop culture: it’s for everybody. It’s pop. But we can own our memories, and how these things touched us. I heard a story on the radio a while back about how when you remember an event that you’d forgotten for years, it’s much stronger and more precise—and more faithful to the truth of the event—than something you mull over every day. Which might be why Star Wars had progressively less hold on me when I got older and saw it in more and more contexts, and why Airplane—a movie I saw a lot in a specific time, and then not again for decades—hits me so much more strongly.

Rob

Blue Death Star of Kentucky

Comic Book Resources is liveblogging the San Diego con.

As if you couldn't tell.

Rob

A Long Time Ago...

Ah, the original Star Wars trilogy...



Rob

I've been memed!

So, I’ve been memed. According to SharonGR (who heard it from Nordette, the Jersey Goddess), I’m supposed to come up with eight things most people don’t know about me. Problem is, post people reading this blog know an awful lot about me already – more than you want to, probably, but you can’t look away, like some car accident on the shoulder of the turnpike. (Jeez, I must be getting used to living in New Jersey. A few years ago I’d have said I-95.)

But judging by Sharon’s list, from which I knew, either explicitly or by inference, seven of the eight facts (kiwis? really?), I figure I don’t necessarily need to surprise my nearest and dearest. The rest of you, though – be ready for some schoolin’.

1) I’m a comics geek and a D&D geek. This doesn’t mean I’m a Star Wars geek or a Star Trek geek. Or a Stargate SG-9/Atlantis/Special Victims Unit geek. I know about some of that stuff, but id doesn't mean I *heart* it. (Okay, Star Wars broke my heart, and I ain't goin' back. The others... eh.) I’m pretty forgiving when it comes to comics (although I do have standards), but just because your TV or movie has a spaceship or time travel, doesn’t mean I’m gonna watch it. So far I’ve even passed on Battlestar Galactica, and everyone loves that.

2) If I could be reincarnated as any animal, it would be the sea otter. Swimmin’, tool-usin’, seafood-eatin’ and layin’ about. It should probably be on my coat of arms.

3) Speaking of which, this Venn diagram should probably appear somewhere on my family crest as well. At least for the guys:



4) While I’m not so much a Sci-Fi geek, there are certain types of movies that will grab my attention at any time: con artist movies and movies involving magic. Basically, anything with Ricky Jay in it. (I also have a weakness for prison escape movies, and can only think that some accident of scheduling has kept me from watching the TV show on Fox. I like stories where people, under very controlled situations, use what little resources they have to either break out or build a liveable life for themselves. Under this definition, Misery and Gattica both count as prison movies.)

5) Hot sauce makes weight loss possible. Without it, I’d never be able to eat the egg-white sandwich I have at the beginning of every workday. Let’s hear it for hot sauce!

6) I’m slowly turning into a clothes-horse. Every time I walk into Men’s Wearhouse, I need to pick up something new. For some reason, I still manage to look like a schlub 90 percent of the time. But one day this will change.

7) Last year I had the opportunity to shoot skeet with a 20-gauge Remington break-action shotgun. I had a terrific time, and am looking forward to trying again. Clay pigeons don’t break on their own, you know. They need us.

8) New Orleans and Philadelphia are my favorite cities in the world – but I’ve got plenty of love left for Vancouver, Baltimore, Quebec City, Galway, Paris, and yes, New York. Miami can kiss my ass.

And now, the eight people to tag with this meme. I’ll repeat a few of Sharon’s, since they’re my friends too. So, with all the solemnity of a Pokemon match:

Greg! I choose you!

VeeganMD! I choose you!

Drew! I choose you!

Rob or Brenda! I choose you!

Jeri! I choose you!

Travis! I choose you!

Ami! I choose you!

KTBuffy! I choose you!

Jim the Bastard! I choose you!

That’s nine (HA!). As Sharon said, don’t feel obligated to do this. But heck, I’d like to know more about y’all.

Rob

"We seem to be made to suffer. It's our lot in life."

We’ve got birds. They’re in the air vent above our upper-story bathroom. One or two have nested there, and I think I hear chicks.

It’s weird enough, thinking that there are lifeforms in our air ducts, because I’ve seen enough action movies to know that they’re probably using them to bypass our security systems and either steal our secret plans or disable our tractor beam. But even stranger is the way they whistle and chirp in the morning. It’s like I’m showering with R2-D2.

Rob

Use the Do-Do-Wap, Luke!

I’ve been listening to a lot of Curtis Mayfield lately. Great seventies funk and soul – perfect for walking around the city, because it’s the sort of music that was playing in the movies and TV shows that were my first exposure to NYC when I was a kid. “Move On Up” and “(If there’s a Hell Below) We’re All Gonna Go” are righteous and fine, giving me a great groove as I walk through Koreatown toward my train.

But the one song that’s been revolving in my earbuds lately is called “Do Do Wap is Strong in Here.” The thing is, though – just the title of the song reminds me of Star Wars, and Dath Vader saying “The Force is strong with this one.” So here’s a short list of Star Wars quotes, had George Lucas taken the wiser course and called the Force by its rightful name, the Do-Do-Wap.

The Do-Do-Wap is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.

A tremor in the Do-Do-Wap. The last time I felt it was in the presence of my old master.

The Do-Do-Wap can have a strong influence on the weak-minded.

I felt a great disturbance in the Do-Do-Wap, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.

Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, and I've seen a lot of strange stuff. But I've never seen anything to make me believe that there's one all-powerful Do-Do-Wap controlling everything.

Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed; the ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Do-Do-Wap.

Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Do-Do-Wap, and a powerful ally it is.

Yes, a Jedi's strength flows from the Do-Do-Wap. But beware of the dark side. Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Do-Do-Wap are they.

Rob
(May the Do-Do-Wap be with you.)

Back when it was cold...

I was riding on the train next to a woman so bundled up in a heavy brown coat and big brown hood, I could only thing one thing: She was a giant Jawa.

Rob

Letter to Mom

This is a letter I wrote to my mom the other day. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. Since I think it’s my best writing I’ve done about the election, I asked her if I could post it here. (She said yes.)

Mom,

Yesterday, you asked me why I didn’t think the President had “moral strength.” I had a hard time putting it into words – I find him outrageous on so many levels that I often don’t know where to begin.

But I’ve found it. Looking back, it’s the moment when it crystallized for me that GWB was not simply a bad president, but a disastrous one, one who, despite his easygoing manner, is actually undermining everything that makes America great.

That moment was Abu Ghraib.

Mom, seeing those pictures turned my stomach. I couldn’t believe that Americans were doing these things. When I was younger, I didn’t have a very high opinion of soldiers, but that’s changed in the last few years. I’m sure there are plenty of soldiers I wouldn’t like personally (although probably just as many that, like Mark G., I would like a whole lot), but I’ve grown to respect what they do and the peace they keep a great deal. They’re often called on to dirty their hands in a way that I don’t think I could ever do. They do it to keep me safe, and you safe, and people in other countries safe. Often, it’s in high-stress environments, keeping an already bad situation from becoming incalculably worse.

These men and women deserve our respect. And in most cases, they earn it.

But then there was Abu Ghraib. There were pictures of naked prisoners, prisoners threatened with dogs. Prisoners forced to stand motionless for 12 hours at a stretch. People, men and women, were raped and sexually humiliated. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything more horrifying to me – because I knew that my own people did this. Not the Germans, not the Japanese, not Osama bin Laden. My people. People who grew up in towns like ours.

It turned my stomach for days. The photos kept coming, and all I could think about was how wrong it was. We’re Americans, I thought. We don’t torture. We’re Americans.

To my mind, there are two people ultimately responsible for this (aside from George Bush himself). One is Donald Rumsfeld, who is in charge of the military, and who let this happen. The Red Cross estimates that 70 to 90 percent of the Iraqis detained were held in error, on his watch. The other is John Ashcroft, whose Justice Department wrote a memo that blurred the line between torture and acceptable interrogation techniques.

Looking at the situation, I have to ask: What would a moral person do, if this happened on his watch? Ask yourself what Dad would have done if he were President when it happened. What would you have done? What do you think Rev. Ev would do, or me, or Tommy, or anyone else who you can think of as moral?

Here’s my answer, for every one of these people: They would get to the bottom of why it happened, and they would make sure it never happened again. In doing this, they would hold the right people accountable – not just the people who got their hands dirty, but the people who encouraged or allowed it to happen. They would replace these people and move forward. And they would take personal responsibility for their own oversight, and assure America and the world that it would never happen again.

That didn’t happen. The administration scrambled to put a lid on the photos, trying to crack down on the people who took and shared the pictures, rather than the torturers themselves. Soon after the story broke, the President stood by Rumsfeld and called him one of the best Secretaries of Defense the country’s ever had. Instead of focusing on the problem, he focused on political damage control, hoping the story would blow over.

And amazingly and sadly, it did.

But whenever the President has been asked about any mistakes he’s made, he never mentions Abu Ghraib. It’s understandable that he doesn’t want to dwell on it during an election. But neither he nor any of his staff have ever taken any sort of responsibility for the horrible treatment prisoners received there. That’s neither moral nor strong.

And that’s why I can’t vote for him.

I know you’re planning to vote for Bush, Mom. I can only ask, please consider his actions, rather than what he says about himself. Does he measure up to your standards of what a good man should be?

I can tell you he doesn’t meet mine. Not by a long shot.

I love you, whatever you decide.

Rob