Saturday Night Music

 

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings

Time (the revelator)

Mo' Movies Review: Beasts of the Southern Wild

A..... post-Katrina Uncle Remus Joseph Campbell hero’s journey Norse saga Terry Gilliam magical realism Eco-apocalyptic fable- ALL on a po’boy bun! You’ll need more than two hands to handle THIS whopper. Sure, it’s a tall tale but the really big whopper is the inscrutable swooning gushing forth from the main stream critics (Ebert, the Times A. O. Scott) who seemed to have succumbed to some unseen siren’s call and crashed themselves blissfully on the rocks of delirium. Read their reviews with wary mind and a syringe of insulin.

Like most, I read the glowing reviews and on the face of it, this is an interesting and seemingly original tale. Especially compared to the tripe churning from Hollywood’s loins these days. But drilling down past the sentimentality, the precocious young girl actress who seems to have bewitched all, a heart of darkness engulfs and the sweetness sours. There is something just wrong with this film.

Briefly:

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Hush Puppy who lived with her Daddy in a place called the Bathtub. It existed on the wrong side of a levee in the Louisiana Bayou where any major storm could come along and the ocean would reclaim it for its own. Folk were poor, living off whatever the sea would provide: food, money from what they could catch and sell, the flotsam and jetsam providing material for shelter. Different races lived side by side in harmony, solidarity and independence from the outside world-that which existed on the other side of the levee. Unlike those outsiders who celebrated but once a year, the Bathtub denizens partied often, with glee and gusto, drink and food aplenty. Hush Puppy was wise beyond her years, knowing that everything in the universe is connected. She was taught in school that an Eco-Apocalypse was coming and she imagined that the Auroch-a long-extinct gigantic hog- like creature, would thaw out and come to destroy the weak, like her. Her daddy was a rough man but he meant to teach his heir apparent to be self-reliant and tough for, alas, he was ill. A big storm came and nearly destroyed the Bathtub, first with water but later with salt-poisoning from the invading ocean. Men from the Bathtub lead by Daddy, dynamited a hole in the levee to let the ocean out of their land. The government discovered that there were people still out in the Bathtub and forced them to evacuate “for their own good.”

Ok. At this point, you’re thinking-oh, such an Eden. Such joyous humans. Such fierce independent beings. Bad, Bad government. And such a bright little girl. What an imagination on that little peeler!

But wait. Let’s have a reality check. Daddy is a violent man. A violent man. If he isn’t physically hitting Hush Puppy, he is yelling at her, demeaning her. In fact, he talks like he is disappointed she is not a boy. He constantly says “hey, man” to her, “you're gonna be the king one day” and refers to her in male terminology. Only when he demeans her-to scold her, he finally acknowledges her gender-”oh you are just a weak little girl”. In his mind, he is being tough to make her tough in that uneducated, trash logic. The denizens of the Bathtub are not the brightest. Drunk much of the time. Living in incredible squalor. Yet the film tries to romanticize this in the most egregious of White attitudes: the noble savage. A.O. Scott of the Times even tries to tag them with a Libertarian label because they ran out of the shelters in an imagined act of declining government help. Noooo. They don’t have a clue what Libertarian means. Their act was not political, it was the act of near feral beings who were running back to reclaim that scrap of land that they considered theirs.

Ebert and Scott, didn’t you get the title? BEASTS of the Southern Wilds refers to the humans as much as to the critters.  And it ain’t a compliment. C’mon now. What do these people do? What are their concerns? Hush Puppy gives the clue when she talks about critters: “they just be eatin' and shittin'”. I would add fucking and drinking. How do they solve problems? Daddy doesn’t call up the UN. No, his default is violence. His kid sasses him, he smacks her. The authorities mess up his land, he blows a hole in the dike. The hurricane comes to destroy his stuff, he shoots at it with a shotgun.

You want to go down the stereotype lane? OK, what the director/writers have done here is portray yet again the big, bad ass nigger. Angry, aggressive, animal-like in his demeanor and his desires. Women are only sexual objects-his wife seen through his eyes as hot hot hot. Hell, she sets shit on fire when she walks past.

More objectionable is the sexualization of Hush Puppy and her girl pals. Late in the film, she decides to look for her mama. They take off swimming and are picked up by a tug and are taken to a floating whorehouse. The women there are shown to be the stereotypical whores with the hearts of gold-cooing, lavishing the young girls with attention supposedly because they haven’t seen children, only men for sooo long. Yet, in the dancing scene, they hold the young girls like lovers not children. Very creepy.

And what of Hush Puppy? Abandoned by her mama, hurt and demeaned by her daddy and now he is dead. Does anyone actually think she is ok? Has she learned enough lessons to survive? In the real world, no. But the film tries to make her out as the queen apparent of the Bathtub, ready to rule.

The inclusion of the Aurochs-silly. Yeah it gives the cache of weirdness and mysticism to the film. They bow down to the big bad girl/queen of the Bathtub. Pretty obvious these guys have watched Terry Gilliam. And, it throws in another dash of pet Liberalism the film makers seem to exude-Al Gore's Global Warming.

Worse, sending Daddy off in his flaming truck/boat to join the relatives in Bathtub Valhalla, while the mourners recite Bathtub tribal liturgy made me cringe for the pretentiousness of it all. Oh please.

I’ll give the crew who made this film their due: they crafted a good looking film on a shoestring budget. On the extras reel you can see how they created the illusions and again, well done there. But frankly, what was it that made the critics swoon? Original? Compared to the recent Zombie/Vampirethons, the endless remakes and mining of Marvel Comics,well, yes it is. But it doesn’t stand up to much scrutiny which I feel the mainstream critics failed to do or chose not to. I can only recommend this for those who want to see what the hoopla was about.

Bin was disturbed by the Aurochs and decided to give the whole film a pass. He muttered something about them being vaguely familiar and disappeared for the afternoon to hang out in his safe place under the evergreens.

Feel like comparing films? Watch Terry Gilliam's Tideland. Yep, it has a creep factor and he caught a huge rash of pillorying from many critics for….sexualization of a young girl. Take a look at his fable telling and compare. Look at his visuals. Beasts pales in comparison. Warning, it’s a tough film with a tough subject matter. But afterward, wonder as I did how the director of Beasts got a pass and Gilliam did not. Why Beasts was gushed over, nominated for a boatload of Academy Awards and Gilliam had tomatoes thrown at him.

For a blistering review, strap yourself in and read bell hooks's thoughts on this film. Now, she has been and continues to be quite the uncompromising bomb thrower of the feminist movement's radical wing. Having said this, I found her take on this film evocative and I found several times that she expressed what I was feeling but unable to put my finger on. 

Mo' Movies Review: Ted

This first feature film by Family Guy creator Seth McFarlane offers little deviation from his usual schtick: 8^th grade level raunchy and crude gags, fart jokes, ridiculous people and situations, and a serious penchant for creating heretofore innocents into foul mouthed, selfish creatures who revel in drugs, booze and hookers. In Family Guy, it was baby Stewie-here, it is a teddy bear aptly named Ted.

The Fable: 6 year old freak kid with no friends wishes upon a falling star for a lifelong pal and viola! the universe grants his wish in the form of a talking and sentient teddy bear. Ted, whose accent channels Cheer's Cliff the mailman, becomes an overnight sensation when revealed to the world. But true to the 15 minute rule of celebrity, he fades into obscurity. Flash forward-the kid is 35 years old (Mark Wahlberg), works a loser job at a car rental place and basically spends most of his time getting high and drunk, watching kid stuff on TV with Ted. His ever suffering (but hot) girlfriend (Mila Kunis) reaches the end of her rope with a boyfriend whose best buddy in the whole wide world is a talking teddy bear.

Standard, predictable story line here: boy has girl, loses her multiple times, yet defying logic wins her back. Ahh, the power of love and pretty dumb people. McFarlane pretty much reruns his Family Guy stuff here and exhibits his ability to both have awfully poor taste jokes (a pile of crap left on the floor by a hooker) and sharply hilarious (how Boston girl’s orgasm sounds).

Yet, McFarlane keeps it marketable. As gross as he is, he doesn't turn off his target audience of 15-34 year old males. I mean, if he really wanted to push the envelope, he could have had the girlfriend trying to compete with a Ted who gave blowjobs. She'd no longer be needed if you follow the logic of the gag. What a situation! But, that would seriously freak out his ever homo-phobic demographic wouldn't it? Coward!

In the end, this is another installment of the man child franchise Hollywood has been churning out for the past 15 years. In true tradition of the industry, beat something to death while you can still make money at it. But if movies reflect culture, what does this genre say about how men are viewed in America? Your choices according to Hollywood:

-Loser, terminally immature fools who can't figure out the simplest relationship with women

-Giant walking assholes with money who treat women solely as sex objects

-Cripplingly self-absorbed men who cannot relate to another human being no less have a relationship with one

-Extremely violent and psychopathic men who abuse women in a multitude of ways

-Gay 

The Dead Woman's House

As I often do, I had breakfast this morning by the picture window overlooking the big birch out back and the bird feeder. With the endless rains this week, I haven’t had a chance to fill the feeder. Several birds flew up, inspected for a couple of seconds and flew off, disappointed I am sure. This reminded me of the dead woman’s house in East Lansing.

Several years ago, I owned a shipping company and part of the business was estate work. I had gotten a call from someone’s daughter and arrangements were made to come to her parent’s house, package up items and ship. She had dropped off the key and on the appointed morning, I arrived ahead of my crew.

The craftsman style house was a time capsule, the décor frozen at a certain period in history. The husband had been a professor and he and his wife were travelers, mainly to the Orient. Artifacts were abundant in the form of art, photographs, sculptures, rugs. Books concerning Asia and Near East filled the many built-in bookshelves. I could see that the daughter (and probably others) had gone through and mined their treasures: tagged piles were on the floor lined against the walls and on tables. In the basement was a quintessential 1960’s rec room, his domain: with its wood paneling, ping pong table, slide carousel projector, portable screen and rack of photographic slides, no doubt from their many travels. A side room with a door to the outside was hers: a potting room with various gardening projects still on the bench. Because of this, I think he had died first.

It looked like not much had changed inside for many years. Nothing seemed modern, the walls needed paint. Photographs that had hung on walls for years left pale shadows of their shape when taken down. On the kitchen table and counters was her china. Typical of that house design, there was a window over the kitchen sink. Her view for all those years was a side garden dominated by a large tree and a bird feeder. A cardinal was there, flitting back and forth from a nearby shrub. The feeder was empty and I am sure the cardinal was thinking “Why is this empty? Where is that woman?”

So this is how it will end, I thought during that day of packing. A house stuck in time filled with favorite and irreplaceable items collected over the years. Talismans that trigger memories. Why change? There’s comfort with familiar sameness. Why paint the walls? No energy to do so yourself anymore. Can’t afford to have it done. Don’t want to bother the kids. Besides, the uproar, the chaos. Oh, it’s all fine. Just vacuum around the edges. Remember where we got that statue? And then, the other half is gone and you are asking and answering those questions only in your mind. You simplify and do less but the things you enjoy and have done so for years. Digging a weed. Put in a few annuals and a tomato plant. Fill the feeder. At least the birds need you

Washing up after breakfast, gazing out the window over my kitchen sink, I wondered: what will the strangers who come to clear our house see in what we have left behind? Those wall colors are clearly out of date. Good grief, a CD cabinet. A wall of books. Was she a professor? Lots of stuff on the walls. Did he do the artwork, take the photographs? They loved cats and wildlife. No children evidently. There are gardens. Look, out back by that ancient birch with an empty bird feeder. A cardinal wondering where they are.

Uncle Jeff Hollers

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or good

So be good for goodness sake!

Another Day, Another Threat

It’s not easy being a young dictator following in your family’s footsteps. You try to keep up with their traditions and threaten the world on a regular basis but it’s sooo hard to come up new ideas. You want respect! But how can you have it if you trot out some retreads of your father’s? How lame.

Well, the solution is the Kim Jong Un's Threat-A-Day calendar! For just $19.99, you don’t have to think at all! Our well-beaten staff has worked very hard to come up with creative, controversial and particularly bellicose threats for you to have at your finger tips! Just think, you can get up in the morning and with your morning tea, flip over the sheet on the calendar and viola! A new threat that surely will piss off the Americans and frighten the bejesus out of the Japanese and those traitorous dogs to the south. Fabulous! Call up the Ministry of Information with your threat, sign a few execution orders and you can settle in to a leisurely morning of masturbating to internet porn.

Our writers have so cleverly worded the threats, that a mere change of a couple of words and nations, the user can adapt the Threat-A-Day calendar to most any circumstance, anywhere in the world. We have conveniently included an complementary editing pen with the calendar-a $1.03 value!

And, if you call us in the next 10 minutes, we’ll knock 10% off the price. Simply provide an article from Amnesty International or Human Rights Watch naming you as a tyrant, dictator, junta strongman, general threat to regional security or any other acceptable euphemism for a bad guy and the discount is yours! Operators are standing by 24/7. All major credit cards are accepted. Sorry, livestock and daughters are not. If your money is tied up in an off-shore account, please ask for Supervisor 371 when you call.

What are others saying about Kim Jong Un's Threat-A-Day Calendar?

Beats throwing shoes at the infidels -Al Jazeera

Voted Best New Tool to Rattle The West's Cage-Taliban Times

It's the best!-Bashar al-Assad

Mo' Music-12 Years and Counting

We have been in Afghanistan for 12 years making this conflict our nation's longest. Quick! Name a song about the war. Anyone? Buehler? Yeah, Nada. Nothing on the airwaves.  Not surprising considering how little debate no less discussion there has been about this and the truly bogus Iraq invasion in the public forum. Not like 'Nam is it? Welp-here's a couple of tunes by not-so-obscure artists. Lyrics are provided.

From 2004, John Fogerty

"Deja Vu all over again"

Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Did you try to read the writing on the wall

Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before

It's like Deja Vu all over again

Day by day I hear the voices rising

Started with a whisper like it did before

Day by day we count the dead and dying

Ship the bodies back home while the networks all keep score

Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Could you're eyes belive the writing on the wall

Did that voice inside you say I've heard it all before

It's like Deja Vu all over again

One by one I see the old ghosts rising

Stumblin' 'cross Big Muddy

Where the light gets dim

Day after day another Mamma's crying

She's lost her precious Child

To a war that has no end

Did you hear 'em talkin' 'bout it on the radio

Did you stop to read the writing at the wall

Did that voice inside you say

I've seen this all before

It's like Deja Vu all over again

It's like Deja Vu all over again

From 2004-Tom Waits

"Day After Tomorrow"

I got your letter today
And I miss you all so much, here
I can't wait to see you all
And I'm counting the days, dear
I still believe that there's gold
At the end of the world
And I'll come home
To Illinois
On the day after tomorrow

It is so hard
And it's cold here
And I'm tired of taking orders
And I miss old Rockford town
Up by the Wisconsin border
But I miss you won't believe
Shoveling snow and raking leaves
And my plane will touch tomorrow
On the day after tomorrow

I close my eyes
Every night
And I dream that I can hold you
They fill us full of lies
Everyone buys
About what it means to be a soldier
I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel
About all the blood that's been spilled
Look out on the street
Get me back home
On the day after tomorrow

You can't deny
The other side
Don't want to die
Any more than we do
What I'm trying to say,
Is don't they pray
To the same God that we do?
Tell me, how does God choose?
Whose prayers does he refuse?
Who turns the wheel?
And who throws the dice
On the day after tomorrow?

Mmmmmmm...
I'm not fighting
For justice
I am not fighting
For freedom
I am fighting
For my life
And another day
In the world here
I just do what I've been told
You're just the gravel on the road
And the one's that are lucky
One's come home
On the day after tomorrow

And the summer
It too will fade
And with it comes the winter's frost, dear
And I know we too are made
Of all the things that we have lost here
I'll be twenty-one today
I've been saving all my pay
And my plane will touch down
On the day after tomorrow
And my plane it will touch down
On the day after tomorrow

Game of Thrones Cast and Their Famous Doppelgangers

Ygritte (Rose Leslie)

Caroline Kennedy

Khal Drogo (Jason Momoa)

Dave Navarro of
The Red Hot Chili Peppers

Happy Spring Equinox!

Snow Squall seen from my office.

Saw 2 bluebirds today from the office. Probably wondering if they lost their minds and came back to this frigid place. V cold, windchills into the single digits and continual snow squalls was how Michigan celebrated the equinox. Big snows in the UP-better them than us. My crocus are buried and anything else that poked it's head up as well. I feel like my Swedish ancestor who got the hell outta dodge sometime in the 18th Century and moved to sunny Slovakia. Sick of the cold and snow, all the fish (have you seen creamed herring??) and most likely, a woman was involved. 

The Bashful Comet

Early last week, the comet Pan-Starr was said to at its brightest and finally high enough in the evening twilight to not be obliterated by the sun's glare. We drove out to the country armed with binocs but unfortunately, for the first time on a clear day, hazy clouds drew up on the horizon. No dice. A couple of days later it was said to appear by a new crescent moon. This time we stayed home-it was supposed to be higher in the sky and we have a few spots in the neighborhood (like the middle of the street) with a good view. Sky and Telescope magazine gave fairly good instructions as to where to find it and when. Perfect viewing weather: very clear.....because it was very cold. With a nasty breeze. So, I told C-let me go out and take a look and I'll come and get you if I have luck. Nope. I moved around the neighborhood, crossed out back to the street there where there are even fewer obstructions. Nope. The wind actually picked up as dusk deepened and I figure the windchill was in single digits. I froze my tuchus and I never found it. I read the next day that the comet is a tad elusive. Not quite a naked eye object-the cool pix I saw of it most likely were made with time exposures through a telescope. And-while getting higher in the sky, it is getting fainter. Bummer. But stay tuned. Comet Ison is expected to appear either late November or early December and has the potential to be spectacular. 

editor's note: Comet Ison was totally a bust. Evidently when it swung around the sun, the heat melted Ison's ice hence no tail. It became just another chunk of rock floating through space.

Mo' Music

 

Something for Suzy and Sam, slow dancing tonight

on the beach at Moonrise Kingdom.

Two Guys Talkin'

J-Cold one.

B-Sure is.

J-Yeah, I’m sick of it.

B-Me too. Tired of being inside. Don’t get me wrong, I love having a nice warm home but I miss going on patrol. Especially all night.

J-Just as well-it’s too cold out there, man. Mom and I worry.

B-Sigh, you guys worry too much. I have fur.

J-Still.

J-How was the Diner? You’re all wet. Geez.

B-Of course I am wet. It’s snowing like mad out there. Whiner. The Diner was good.

J-Why go out there in the snow and cold-we have food here. Gawd, do I look like a towel?

B-Like I said, I miss going out. Habit (stretching) like your coffee in the morning. And, I like Benny-he saved me when I was homeless and I honor him by eating his food now. A cat never forgets a friend with food. Our species' neuroses: you never know when you next meal will be so eat when it’s there.

J-Speaking of food-what was up with the Friskies salmon? I’ve never seen you guys turn up your nose.

B-Hmm salmon is pretty rich and just too much to have it all day long. You would turn your nose up at chocolate cake with mocha butter cream frosting if you had it for every meal. You’d also weigh 300 pounds.

J-Yeah I would. Well, sorry about that. I won’t get it again.

B-No worries-how would you know? I can’t write it down on the whiteboard, lol.

J-Thanks for sending a thank you to Sue. That was such a fun surprise that she sent you something.

B-You’re welcome. I am sorry I was late getting it out and yes, it was quite a surprise. I am worried though, that I may be taken as rude with my comments about the obese cat in Houston. People can be so thin-skinned sometimes.

J-Now who’s worrying?

B-Certainly due to hanging out with you, no doubt.

J-True that. Naw-Sue won’t take it that way. I think she will enjoy the fact that you replied and get into the spirit in which it was meant. No worries.

B-Well, good. What was up with the signature initials: BWKP?

J-One part how I sign off with J and one part a riff on the Indianesque nature of your name. Certainly, you have seen Indian names where the first and middle names due to their length are initialized. Like C. K. Ammanpour.

B-Sure. How did you come up with that name anyway?

J-Mom and I have told you.

B-Remind me. Sometimes when I look like I am sleeping, I really am.

J-OK, when we first met you the summer we moved in, you had a wound in the middle of your forehead. It was from a botfly.
 

B-What!!!!!????

J-Yes. We told you.

B-Holy Mother of Us All-I don’t remember this!!! Oh man. Oh man.

J-Calm yourself and your claws. It’s ok. It happens. We took care of it. Goes with living on the street, I guess.

B-Oh man. I really was in a bad way. Insect laying worms in my head. Oh Oh Oh.

J-You’re hyperventilating, man. Settle your tail down. It’s like a furry metronome in my face.

B-A really bad way.

J-Yes, you were. We thought you were a young cat with your size and compared to Minn. Turns out you were older than the girls-6 or 7. Just not getting enough food.

B-I don’t remember this on my face. I was hungry a lot and having daily battles with Mean White. That bastard.

J-He can’t help it. His people abandoned him too.

B-At least he has his front claws. Bastards.

J-I know. I am real sorry about that. Silly people and their furniture. I feel worse about this than your lack of knackers.

B-You lose your knackers and get back to me on that one. Bastards.

J-Anyway……

J-So, with the mark-it reminded me of a Bindi-the forehead mark on Indian females that denote class and marital status. The rest kinda came organically.

B-You mean with some organically grown red wine? lol

J-Nooooooooo…I mean it just grew. Bindiwan like Obi-Wan from Star Wars. Katterpie was Mom’s contribution I think.

B-Well, it’s a mouthful.

J-And later, I discover that it also means the Third Eye or 6th Chakra in Tibetan Buddhism. Came across this in a shop in Ann Arbor that sells goods from Tibet. Pretty cool, eh?

B-Sure.

J-You don’t like your name?

B-It’s fine. I’m glad you and Mom like it. It’s better than what the Abandoners named me: Beemer. WTF-oh, I get it-black cat black car white trash lifestyles of the rich and famous dreams. Idiots.

J-Not a fan of Robin Leach, I see. Do you have a name? How are you known to other cats? Do cats have names?

B-Yes, I do have a name, we all do -but it’s unpronounceable in your language. I wouldn’t even try to tell you. Too many trills and nuances. Besides, we all crack up when you and Mom talk “cat”. It’s hilarious. Even gets a smirk out of the Calico and you know she has no sense of humor.

J-I didn’t know cats had a sense of humor.

B-Sure, we do. It’s more internally expressed than with humans. We don’t laugh, of course. Never a guffaw. I guess in your terms, an inward smile.

J-Do you have jokes? Like, a guy walks into a bar with a penguin and an umbrella…

B-No, nothing like that. We’re not creative in that way. We do appreciate funny events or circumstances. Here’s a good one: hearing the Calico’s claws clicking as she slides out of control across the kitchen linoleum during one of her “cat crazies” as you call it. That’s funny.

J-Why is that funny-to get into humor theory with you a minute? Is it a sight/sound gag?

B-Somewhat. More like the fact that when I hear this, I know that the control freaky, stick up the ass Calico is out of control and is feeling humiliated. Humiliation is something we all hate. And for the Calico-like a dagger to her black heart. Sigh, wonderful.

J-So, in this case, you find humor in another’s pain.

B-Yep. Especially when it involves that crazy beotch.

J-Sorry you two don’t get along. Mom and I love you both.

B-And, really-is there nothing funnier than a dog? They’re sooo stupid. Shiteaters.

J-Wow, tell us how you really feel, man.

B-Shrug-it’s the truth. C’mon, they ARE shiteaters. No one but them eats shit. They’re idiots. Ever see a beagle run straight into a tree? Fabulous!

J-Well, aren’t we Mr. High and Mighty? So you’re on top of the heap are ye?

B-Ohhhhhhh this from the species who feels they are appointed by some theoretical, invisible power to lord over us all? Eff you man. Yeah, you can build skyscrapers. You got the thumbs. You got this and you got that. Yeah and you’ve been killing each other and everyone else at an appalling rate for centuries. And helluva fine job at ruining the planet. There’s others who live here too, dammit!

J-Whoa! Dude! Claws! Owwww, Jesus H. Christ-I’m bleeding.

B-I oughta give you more than that. And why the hell are you invoking the Nazareth Prophet’s name? You’re a self-proclaimed non-believer. Hypocrite.

J- Damn that hurts. Dude, it’s just an expression.

B-Well, I JUST expressed myself there, pal.

J-Man, c’mon-I’m sorry, I was just kidding.

B-You people piss me off. And don’t trot out the “you need anger management” stuff.

J-Sigh. I’m sorry Bin. C’mon, let me give you a scritch. You know you love it.

J-Bin?

J-Bindiwan?

J-Binderoo?

J-Senor Gato, Gato Negro?

B-You ok? Want me to lick it?

J-No thanks, it’s ok. I’ll put some anti-biotic salve on it.

B-Sorry, man.

J-Mom will be unhappy with your language. She doesn’t like that, you know.

B-I know. Sorry Mom. I get upset.

J-I know, me too. Along the ears? How’s that.

B-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sooooooo good.

J- Buds?

B-Buds.

J-Want some Mariner’s Delight?

B-Sure. Yum. Any chocs left for you?

J-Yep. You guessed.

B-Food is always good after a fight.

Movie Review:Moonrise Kingdom

Another trademark Wes Anderson film-offbeat yet engaging and visually interesting. Bottom of the pecking order Khaki scout Sam resigns from the organization to run off with his soul mate Suzy. They met the summer before when Sam was at an scout camp located on a New England island where Suzy is a year-round resident. They have been pen pals for the past year and decide they have had enough of their miserable lives and want new ones:they are in their early teens, it's 1965 and they live on a very small island. Both are messed up in the ordinary manner that kids are when entering puberty but Sam and Suzy have extra baggage. Sam's is obvious-dead parents with natural abandonment issues (matters aren't helped by the fact that his current foster parents have decided to send him back, like an unwanted puppy). Part of his coping mechanism manifests in a direct, socially clueless know-it-all-ness (the kid is smart) that annoys the shit out most around him. Suzy's seems more of the age she is at made worse by nutty rather self-absorbed parents. I suspect she is quite smart and bored with an unchallenging school. Having 3 younger brothers doesn't help either.

They meet in a meadow-Sam decked out in full scout regalia and camping gear; Suzy in a dress and Sunday church shoes, with her kitten in a wicker carrier, her brother's record player, her fav 78s and a bag full of “borrowed” library books. It doesn't take long for the adults to find out and soon Suzy's parents, the sole police officer on the island, and the rest of the scout troop search for the young,non-consummated lovers.

Being a small island, the kids are on the lam for only a short time but no matter- those are days of heaven. Moonrise Kingdom is the name they give to the sheltered cove where they camp. First chaste kisses are exchanged (she then demands French), permission to touch breasts is given (with apologies and promise of future growth). They share a sleeping bag although I don't think the actual act is contemplated. They give little consideration to their chances of escaping-it doesn't matter-being together is paramount. Meanwhile a storm of the century hurricane is bearing down on the island. They are found but re-escape with the help of Sam's fellow scouts, who through a newfound sense of esprit de corps,decide they must aid the couple as the weather worsens. Ultimately, the hurricane brings all together and lives are sorted out with some pretty positive results.

Ensemble cast:
Bill Murray and Frances McDormand as Suzy's weird lawyer parents (Mom communicates with the kids in their sprawling beach house via bullhorn). Murray continues his standard drollness. 

Bruce Willis plays against his Die Hard cop franchise: he is quiet, sad and nuanced as the island policeman.

Edward Norton is a goofy hoot as the nerdy and neurotic, cigarette smoking scout leader.

Harvey Keitel has a cameo as Norton's gruff scout superior who reenacts the opening sequence to the TV western Branded (which premiered in 1965. You don't remember this? Look it up on YouTube. With former Rifleman, Chuck Connors).

Tilda Swinton makes the most of a small role and gives a funny, over the top performance as the dreaded, insanely bureaucratic Social Service lady who goes by no other name than Social Service. Pretty Pythonish.

The young leads, Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward do a credible job-he has the right amount of nerdy forthrightness (yet insightful and kind); she easily pulls off a snappy and intelligent wit, matches Sam's directness and readily displays a maternal side her mother seems to lack (reading out loud to Sam and later, the scout troop).

Anderson is well known for his long tracking shots and these are quite cool here where he continuously flows from room to room in the houses as if photographing a doll house with the exterior walls missing. I'm sure there is a metaphor here. His colors are saturated like the color film of the time giving a sense of hyper-reality and nostalgia.

A sweet tale with no big meanings. It's a Kodachrome snapshot of a past time, of summer, of childhood segueing into adulthood and all that goes with that hyper-sensed and passionate time of life: your first love-where in spite of having only a vague idea of what you are doing, all things seem possible.

Follow-up: the slippery slope

Well,the administration had to respond to Rand Paul's challenge-after all, they are continually chastising Syria's President Assad for killing his own people-kinda hard to have any moral credibility if they have the authority to do the same in America on the books. So, in typical White House non-answer answer:

".....the administration directly answered the question at the heart of Mr. Paul’s filibuster. No, Attorney General Eric H. Holder Jr. said in a letter Thursday to Mr. Paul, the president does not have the authority to use a drone to kill a United States citizen on American soil who is not engaged in combat.

Mr. Holder did not say how the president would determine who is an enemy combatant. And he did not back off his statement on Wednesday that the president has the authority to pursue military action inside the United States in extraordinary circumstances, an assertion that helped set off Mr. Paul’s filibuster." New York Times, March 8.

The door is still open. 

Uncle Jeff Hollers:The Slippery Slope

June 5th. This drone strike on I-96 near the Brighton exit

killed James Leon Smith, 49 of South Lyon. Mr. Smith was 

known to be in a leadership position in the People For Peace

or PFP movement. In recent months, the PFP has launched 

several massive demonstrations in major US cities 

protesting the President's intervention in North Africa. The

Pentagon had no comment on the attack but 

sources have indicated that the government now considers

the PFP to be a threat to national security. This was the

first death of a PFP leader. Mr. Smith was married and 

had 3 children.

You think this can't happen here? Well, listen up and pay attention: the current attorney general went to great lengths to squirm around intensive questioning by congress today: neither he, the President nor anyone else in the Administration will say in plain English, that the government of the United States WILL NOT use drone strikes or other military LETHAL force against NON-COMBATANT AMERICAN CIVILIANS INSIDE THE UNITED STATES. 

They're leaving the door open, my friends. Just in case. Maybe not in the next few years but down the road-well, they want to leave their options open. 

Remember, our laws are based on precedent. Of course,  interpretation of what the precedent means depends on how many oily Scalias and Roberts we have the misfortune to be on the Supreme court. But here it is folks. What if down the road ,things go south in this country. And, what rears its ugly head but another Nixon or Mitchell or Hoover or Cheney? You can bet that if there were drones back in the day, Nixon would have droned the Weather Underground, the Black Panthers and anyone else who disagreed with him back into the Stone Age. National Security. Along with plenty of collateral damage and countless innocents who were at the wrong 
place or knew the wrong people or said the wrong thing.

This cannot be allowed to happen. Our employees in Washington must be told that this is unacceptable. They can already track us with  satellites,  security cams,  cell phones. Who knows how many gigabytes of info they have on all of us. Everything we buy, everything we watch, every time we log on, every word we email and, yes, blog. To allow the government the option to kill us for whatever happens to be the nebulous National Security crisis of the moment is something we cannot do. We have to think about future use, future consequences. 

Homework for the following weeks: see how the media covers this. Check out NPR, the New York Times. What does Rush say? How about the Tea Party who are so concerned about us becoming slaves of the bad,bad government. Are your friends talking about it? Make a mental list. See if it's time to be really, really scared.

Get out on a limb and add data to your file. Get a special file made just for you in some little known shadowy government agency because you sent an email to your legislator or the president denouncing the lethal option. 

Shameless emotion tug- do you want your grandchildren when they are grown to have this experience: sitting at home watching the tube and the house 4 doors down explodes. Oh, they say, musta been a drone. Yeah, I heard they were involved in something. Guess they were. 

Mo' Music

Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch cover a classic.

Mo' Movies Review: Skyfall

Another Zombie Tale

In the beginning of this 23rd installment of the Bond franchise, James Bond (Daniel Craig) is killed off. Yet in another nod to Hollywood's Zombie fad, he still lives. Ok, not as a Zombie but frankly, he'd be better off dead. Bond is getting more than a little long in the tooth. So is his boss M (Judy Dench). They're weary, drab and joyless as this film plods along checking off the franchise obligations: an evil villain, a scolding M, a romantic fling, an exotic locale, a few jokes, Q whining about 007 destroying his toys, a casino, a martini shaken and not stirred.

Today's villain is an ex-agent, Raul Silva (played with campy gusto by Javier Bardem) who is bent on revenge upon M who spent him as an expendable asset but he managed to live through it. Dude, didn't you read the fine print in your contract? You ARE expendable. The film's showdown between 007, M and Silva takes place at Skyfall, the Bond estate in Scotland. Keeping with the tone of this movie, this place is as dour as anything or anyone you might associate with the Land of the Lochs. You can see why whisky was created.

While somewhat entertaining, as a Bond piece Skyfall is no fun at all. And that was the whole point of the escapism that Bond gave us guys. Fun.  A cool, suave guy in great clothes we could never afford, going to cool places we'd only heard of, driving great cars we would never have a chance getting into, bedding class A babes who wouldn't think of LOOKING at us. Oh yeah, he kills people, too. Who wouldn't want to off your obnoxious, power-mad, control freak boss with a lethal Bic? Craig's taciturn reading of Bond is killing the character and at this point, gives no future. This Bond cannot shoot straight, is addicted to alcohol and pain meds and his trademark wit is at best a laconic one liner delivered with such dead-pan, one might as well not have bothered. The only one having fun here is Silva but even his psychosis is weary. As he says to Bond late in the film "all this rushing around, sigh, it's sooo tiring". No vision for world domination with this guy. It's too much effort. Just kill M and call it a day. Retire in the sun.

Perhaps it is time for Bond to do the same. Change the lead for crying out loud if you don't want to kill the cash cow. Compare Craig with the last, best Bond -Pierce Brosnan. Sure, he is more in the Connery mold but he's a whole lot more fun that this post-modern Bond and his world-weariness. For my money, there's enough to be weary of in reality-I'd rather it not come along when I want to escape for a couple of hours.

J-What did you think?

B-Craig perpetually looks like he is sucking on a sour tooth. His reading of Bond is thuggish, more working class than his predecessors. No charm or flair. What was up with the lack of chicks? I  guess there was a Bond girl but they killed her off in a hurry. 

J-Yeah, just a hook-up in the shower and before you know it, bam. Not much chemistry there. 

And I am getting fed up with Ebert who described this as "a full-blooded, joyous, intelligent celebration of a beloved cultural icon". Did we see the same movie??

B-Sorry? I had to scratch. Oh, Ebert. Shrug.

J-Ok verdict? Marginally recommended. Use of alcohol while watching will only make things worse?

B-Works for me. BTW, is it pate time?

Two Guys Talkin'

Bindiwankatterpi
with the death-ray eyes
Bwaaaaa I WILL DESTROY YOU!

Jeff
with a whole lotta bull behind him.
Many think that as well.

TWO

GUYS

TALKIN'

J-You comfy?

B-Yep.

J-Mind the claws. They're down by the family jewels.

B-At least you STILL have yours!    

J-Oh please, let's not get started on THIS again.

B-BASTARDS TOOK MY KNACKERS!!!

J-Settle down, will you? I am sorry about your knackers. But give it up, bud. They're gone. 

B-bastards.

J-Look, can we get started? And get your snout out of my coffee.

B-Smells good, I sense Irish Coffee Creamer in this morning's cup.

J-That's right but it's not for you. You think everything is for you.

B-Why not? You and Mom are always giving me stuff. How am I to know?

J-Oh, let's not get into the “I'm just a poor kitty-kat” routine.

B-You say “Oh” a lot don't you?

J-What?? Can you get your tail out of my face, I can't see the keyboard.

B-Mmm, can't touch type can you?

J-Not at this time of the morning, no. Will you stop squirming around?

B-Mom makes a nice lap.

J-Sigh, yes she does. Can we get to work?

B-What is up with you humans and the “W” word? More naps and less work and you all would be a lot happier.

J-Thank you O'Bindiwan. How did you want to do this? A more formal exchange? Friendly banter like we are doing now? Simply movie reviews? Or a hodge-podge of reviews, pictures, music from You Tube? Do we want to share personal stuff such as you just did about your long-gone knackers? That's a bit TMI, bud.

B-Shrug-it's the truth and no need to be sarcastic. You're the one who named me. Personally, I like this format. Gives me a forum. And I like the hodge-podge. Gives you a forum. Win-win.   J-Cool. You gonna watch movies with me? You generally sleep through most of them. 

B-I can catch up while you are at work or when you are sleeping. Besides, when you and Mom watch, you have a fire going and it's soooo nice and cozy. Just perfect for a snooze.   J-Sigh, you know how to use the DVD player as well? And the remotes?
B-Yep.

J-Not too shabby for a walnut brain without opposable thumbs.

B-Oh this again! The brain size and your precious thumbs. Who is doing the telepathy here?

J-CLAWS DUDE!!!

B-Sorry man, but this gets on my nerves.

J-Sorry, just kidding around. I was being ironic. 

B-Ba-lon-ey.

J-Geez, you're sensitive today. The calico giving you grief again?

B-When is the Parisian psychopath NOT giving me grief or a fist to the grill?

J-Sigh. I'm sorry, man. Someday, she'll accept you. How about some pate?

B-You bet! (jumping down) Thought you'd never ask.

J-I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for some pate today.

B-Follow the tail!