Friday, January 28, 2011

Kaddish For A Really Bad Idea


Well it seems that some people think they know better about using social networks for organizing a mass demo to stick it to the Man and the ruling classes than other people do. They shall go unmentioned, but they know who they are (the "Unmentionables").  So they, like, ganged up on your humble correspondent (mwahh), formed an alliance with all the "cool" dudes, and took some kind of a vote.

They pretty much forced me to send out a few retractions against my will.

I know you're thinking that it's totally unfair. Totally!

The Revolution was only, like, MY idea (I pretty much thought of it spontaneously) but, whatever. Some people (the Unmentionables) do  not have the capacity for vision and far-ranging thought, and really, they are to be pitied for this, not despised. So don't despise them, people. Just know that they are running the show, and so I will cave to their demands for now.

Accordingly, as instructed by the UMs, I have a few corrections to the last announcement to make  (under duress):

1.  While we will still all be gathering in the main square at 12 p.m. sharp, we will no longer be wearing T-shirts with bright orange bulleseyes on them for easy identification of one another. (If you get separated from the group, I guess you'll know who to blame).

2.  We will no longer be walking around waving water pistols as the symbol of our Movement.  Yes, I know it was a very instantly-recognizable symbol. But as per the above, I was out-voted.

3.    We will no longer be shouting at the police: "Ho Ho!  Hey Hey! Hit Me on the Head Today!" The UMs are girlie-men, and that's all there is to it.

4.    We will no longer run into oncoming traffic to prove our Fearlessness. Frankly, the UMs wouldn't recognize Fearlessness if it came up to them on the street, and kicked them in the teeth. On the other hand, if they saw Fear groveling in some alley, they'd give it it a friendly wave and a really big shout-out. Those guys are tight, I'm telling you. 

5.     And finally, we will not be painting our names and social security numbers on the sides of buses to prove our disdain for the system. Like, O.K. Some people are paranoid.  I get it.

Other than that, we're on as planned.

Let's make history.

BTW -- I hope you knew that thing about not bathing or wearing deodorant was a joke.

Spread the word.

Peace out.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

That's Not Just Fake Dog Doody, General, It's Our New Secret Weapon!




MEMORANDUM

From:  Office of Psych Ops Research, Central Intelligence Agency

To: Joint Chiefs of Staff (and their lovely wives)

Security Level: Beginner

Classified: Under "T"  (for "Top")

Also Classified Under "S" (for "Secret")

Also Classified Under "TS" (for "Top Secret")

Re:  Recommendation for Clandestine Destabilization of Post-Modernist Fascism Through Strategic Dissemination of Rubberized Artificial Canine Feces.

Digest

      The Agency has identified a significant concentration (n.1) of repressive thugs and unindicted war criminals susceptible to democratically-directed behavior in response to precision deployment of a small device fabricated with molds, soft rubber, and brown dye.  In recent months, the Psych-Ops Division has conducted extensive field testing with remarkable results. The data reveal that over 92% of dictators and their factotums and apologists harbor an irrational fear of artificial canine feces. Finding themselves unexpectedly in the proximity of the devices, the subjects have evinced a small range of reactions -- from non-plussed to inconsolable (n. 2).

     Agency Operatives reported a high degree of success influencing the words and deeds of the subjects while they were in a state of FD (n. 3) agitation. For example, Agent OOHGROSS-135 reported an instantaneous change in countenance of one subject who literally got on his knees, prayed to his deity, and promised that his government would stop shooting its own people in the street and throwing journalists and students in prison en masse if only the Agent would defuse the test object which had been planted in a pretzel bowl on a conference table. Another subject gave verifiable assurances that the inbred royals of which his government was comprised would return the billions pillaged from the people's treasury in exchange for the removal of the device from a favorite swivel chair. Yet another telephoned his government's Ministry of Foreign Relations on the spot and pleaded for the cessation of the show trials of opposition leaders, evidently a small price to pay for having one of the devices extricated from his hair.

     Tests were also conducted with a variety of other faux fauna excrement, including cat, mouse, and game. However, the artifice (and hence the outcome) was demonstrably most compelling when canine was the weapon of choice. 

Pros

      Manufacture of the weapon is inexpensive. With appropriate re-tooling, various sectors of the allied defense industry can be positioned to gear production on a scale suitable for warfare.

Cons

     China already has the world's largest stockpiles of this class of weapon. (n. 4)  Not only can its central planning authority mobilize an assembly-ready labor force for mass-production, its technicians have long been considered to be the most meticulous and experienced with  SUGDs (n. 5). 

RECOMMENDATION

     The DOD should lobby the White House for an exponential increase in R&D (n6). Although the U.S. will have to play catch-up, because so many impurities have been detected in the last several batches originating in East Asia, the Agency has a firm conviction that our military, with the assistance of a highly incentivized defense contracting community, can achieve parity in three years or fewer. 

     However, the window of opportunity is closing quickly.  Waiting is not a viable option.  In the words of the Director: "We simply cannot afford procrastination.  That dog won't hunt." 
       


Notes______________________________________


1. Their confidantes and aides de camp gather regularly at 760 United Nations Plaza, 13th floor, New York, a/k/a, the headquarters of the U.N. Human Rights Council.

2. In one test, alone, 7 of them "pulled a nutty."

3.  Fake Doody

4.  Moreover, the principal raw material, rubber, must be imported. Although, at some expense, synthetic variations can be produced domestically.

5.  Socially Unacceptable Gag Device


6.  Research and Doodevelopment

Sunday, January 23, 2011

The Ancient Craft of the Motion Picture: A 100-Year Look-See Backwards

Every once in a while, someone asks: "Are the movies dead?"  Which brings to mind the old Groucho line: "Either the movies are dead or my watch has stopped." That, of course, isn't exactly the line, but we're not exactly an authority on anything, so we're all square.

Take a jog with us (the Heart Association recommends light aerobic exercise, which is why we're not merely strolling) over the last 100 years or so to examine a representative sampler of films -- representative in the sense that they don't seem to be on anybody else's list, and so, at least have that in common -- with each other. If, when reading the following list, you find yourself grumbling that "this or that film should have been on the list," we say: "We haven't seen This or That Film.  "Is it any good?"  We also say: "Go make your own list if you don't like ours.  This is our list.  Nobody's forcing you to read it.  Go watch a cellphone video or something, and leave us alone."

Here is our list.

Le Voyage Dans la Lune Cockamamie (A Trip to the Wild and Nutty Moon) (1904) (Director: Georgie Porgie Mélièsorgie) is the most famous work of this pioneer and visionary. In the infancy of commercial silent cinema, its signature image of a croissant-shaped rocket carrying a payload of frolicking peasant women in a wicker basket both scandalized and thrilled audiences of the day. While most marveled at such special effects as slow motion, dissolves, and superimpositions, some skeptics complained that the verisimilitude of the presentation was marred by the improbability of women ever participating in space flight.  Curiously, no one seemed to notice the seemingly more obvious incongruity of people wearing fin de siecle costume prancing to and fro effortlessly in an oxygen-free atmosphere, or the fact that a lunar surface, utterly devoid of life, was, nonetheless, already plastered with advertisements for such household products as liver pills, face soap, and bitters by the time the visitors from Earth arrived.


Cesarean Birth of a Nation (1916) (Director: D.U.I. Griffiths) has sparked somnolence since the date of first release, and perhaps earlier. The film tells the story of two actuaries, one African-American, and the other, not, drafted by their respective governments to calculate statistics about boll weevil populations in food supplies during the waning days of the Civil War. Because the prognostications of the African-American Union actuary (Cederic) were more scientifically rigorous than those of the white (albeit with a healthy South Carolina tan) Confederate actuary (Virgil), the North was able to avoid decimation of its wheat flour stores, giving it the fighting edge it needed for victory. Hailed by critics as a realistic portrayal of actuaries and not much else, the producers' hoped-for audience uproar over the treatment of race never materialized, perhaps due to the over-reliance on mind-numbing flow charts and bar graphs. The film tripped and fell into an obscurity from whence it would not emerge until the early 1990s, when a colorized power-point version briefly made the rounds of late night cable television.

The Jazz Singer's Booking Agent (1927) (Whiner Bros.) One of the earliest full-length features with scratchy sound, this "Scratchie" tells its story through the clever use of song, dance, and paid actors speaking lines drafted for them by professional scriptwriters. Its plot is simple: a cantor's son abandons his religious heritage to go into the business side of the entertainment industry, while dabbling in bond trading on the side. Audiences thrilled to the scene where the agent (Al Nosloj) negotiates a ten per cent royalty for himself during the song: "Blue Sky Laws."  A huge gamble for a studio teetering on the edge of bankruptcy when it was released, this production decidedly pushed it into receivership, and Nosloj never worked in film again. 

The Wize Ard of Oy (1939) (Director: Victor Flanken) In the heyday of the Hollywood studio system, well-endowed adolescent female beauties were box office gold, as, in fact, they are today. It didn't hurt that the star of this movie (Judith Flowers) also happened to be blessed with an angelic singing voice. Thus, audiences could care less about an improbable plot concerning a midwestern farm girl, a smart-alecky crow, a fat, orange house cat, and a man wrapped in aluminum foil journeying together to Oy "The Onyx Suburb" to obtain a supply of deli meats at wholesale prices from the Commissioner of Weights and Measures (the Ard); they just couldn't get enough of the musical numbers, especially: "Somewhere Under the Larder" "If I Only Ate Less Brains (I Wouldn't Have Gout)," and "We're Off to Pilpel with the Wize Ard."   

Casablanca Airport Duty-Free Shop (1942) (Director:  Michael Curtsey) Made in the months just prior to America's entry into World War II, the film was shot entirely on location at the duty-free shop of the Casablanca International Airport. It depicts several economy class refugees unable to find a direct flight on layover en route to Lisbon. Somehow, the characters make do with a limited supply of decent reading-material, all the while cutting in line in front of Nazi officials trying, haplessly, to buy lip balm and nail clippers, items in short supply thanks to rationing.  Its use of light and shadow to accentuate light and shadow is considered masterful, particularly by aficionados of shadow, as well as by those who favor light.  Claims that this film was the single deciding factor in the country's decision to go to war have now been supplanted by overwhelming evidence pointing, instead, to the bombing of Pearl Harbor

Trying to Get a Parking Space On the Waterfront (1954) (Director: Elia Shazam) This film opened the public's eyes to a harsh and gritty reality long ignored in polite dinner table conversation --  finding a decent parking space near the docks is well nigh impossible for the politically unconnected mass of decent taxpayers, a club to which no small number belong.  Many saw the story, with its collection of unionized parking attendants shaking down middle class drivers, as an allegory for the wave of McCarthyite hysteria about communist influence sweeping the nation at the time, but the director, Shazam, denied that the movie was about anything other than parking. In fact, its working title, "Trying to Find a Parking Space," was lengthened only after the House UnAmerican Activities Committee put its foot down. Whatever his motives, Shazam's work lost him many friends, and he was unable to valet his vehicle at Sardi's for years afterward.   

 The Dropout (1967) (Director:  Mike Dimes) Every so often, a film comes along that speaks to and defines an entire generation; this is not one of them. Its protagonist, &Jerry, having become disenchanted with formal education after an embarrassing episode in a college survey course about surveying, returns to his parents' home directionless, confused, and with no interest other than schtupping the wife of his father's law partner, who seduces him one afternoon while he is taking out the garbage, because she finds the ampersand in his name beguiling. When the woman's husband discovers the affair, &Jerry tries to lose himself in a new interest -- frozen yogurt, but he is twenty years too early; it is the era of T.V. dinners and half the population hasn't even heard of yogurt yet.

The Godstepfather  (1972) (Director:  Germancis Chevrolet Koppula) Vita Cornonthecobleon, a Sicilian immigrant, who by the 1940s has built a bicycle empire by greasing gears and palms alike, must confront dissension in his ranks when one of his top lieutenants, Lucky Brazen, announces his plan to break with the family business, move to Florida, and open a theme park where tourists can swim with dolphins. Notable for its graphic depiction of nudging, the film shows Cornonthecobleon's underlings annoying Brazen relentlessly by talking to him in baby talk: "Lucky Brazen swims with the dolphins. Lucky Brazen swims with the dolphins." Even decades later, some of the taunting scenes are shocking and difficult to watch.

E.T.A. (Estimated Time of Arrival) (1982) (Director: Stevie Iceberg) Sensitive, young Elliot, lives in a homogeneous subdivision in Southern California. One day, he comes home from school and finds a letter telling him to expect a visit from an extraterrestial alien. Luckily, the letter has a return address, so Elliot writes back asking when, approximately, he should expect the visit.  This commences a thrilling correspondence about timetables told ingeniously by the filmmaker in voice overs and stunning closeups of aerogrammes. Due to the paucity of quality roles for girls, critics expressed concerns that the character of Elliot's sister, Gertrude, seemed to be in the movie only to interfere with Elliot's plans through incautious use of a letter opener and prodigious screaming. However, whereas the actor who played Elliot seems to have faded into obscurity, Gertrude's actress has had a mega-career.

Schindler's To-Do List   (1993) (Director: Stevie Iceberg) Iceberg strikes again, this time with ne'r do well, Oscar (the "Grouch") Schindler, a German whose sojourn in war-torn Poland becomes consumed with his effort to complete all the items on his to-do list. Tempers flare when Schindler can't find  an appropriate bolt for a table leg, but through cunning, ingenuity, and luck, he is able to complete the list, in spite of the chaos swirling around him. In the genre of "list" movies, this is considered to be one of the most detailed.

Human Actor-atar (2009) (Director: "Come Back to the 5&Dime" Jimmy Cameron) Bucking the trend of computer-generated action, Cameron went out on a limb and made a film that had real actors in it. Real people, however, voted with their feet, mostly by going to see other movies, starring computers. Even though movies starring computer graphics appeared to recycle the same deadening plot over and over, filmgoers just couldn't seem to get enough of them, and Cameron's film (which coincidentally, also had a plot that seemed mostly cut and paste from productions spanning the past Century) walked off with one of the lowest grosses ever. 

What will the next 100 years of film bring us? We have no clue.

But we know one thing:  It's time to eat.   

Are the Milk Duds all gone?

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Look, We Could Care Less About Your Stupid Message; We Only Care About From Whence it Came (Don't Say it Came from "Whence;" What Are You, Our Little Brother?)

--------------------------------

To:  all

The conference on visceral communications starts tomorrow, please remember to bring the documents.

shs
Sent from my iPod
 
------------------------------
 
To: shs
 
I thought you had the documents.
 
dba
 
Sent from my e-Reader
 
------------------------------
 
To: dba


Why do we even need the documents?

pdq

Sent from my droid

-----------------------------

To shs:
 
Can't you just email the documents, or what?

bbq
 
Sent from my SmartFone
 
-----------------------------
 
To all:
 
I thought this was a conference on visceral communications.
 
hss
 
Sent while brushing my teeth
 
-------------------------------
 
To hss:
 
What's your point, exactly?
 
sss
 
Sent while kicking the cat off the couch
 
---------------------------------
 
To sss and hss
 
Simmer down.
 
zzz
 
Sent while lowering the heat to a simmer
 
----------------------------------
 
To zzz
 
What's cookin'?
 
ckk
 
Sent packing
---------------------------------
 
To all:
 
People, people!  Please focus!
 
shs
 
Sent from my iPad
 
----------------------------------
 
To shs:
 
How come last time you "sent" from your iPod and this time you "sent" from your iPad?  What's the diff?
 
doa
 
Sent from my iPid
 
----------------------------------

To doa:

Do you have the documents?

shs

Sent from my iPed

--------------------------------

To doa:

I was going to write a lengthy retort, but the laptop overheated, and I'm worried about that red thing, so I'm off to the emergency room,

(Do you think that it will ever go away?  It hurts to sit down),

lol

Sent from patient registration --change for the vending machine, anybody?

------------------------------------

To doa:

We haven't met, but do you have the documents?

shs

Sent from my IPyd

------------------------------------

To Esme with love and squalor

You send me

S. Cooke

------------------------------------

I'd like to send you on a slow boat to China

Hu Jintao
 
And if it's not too much to ask, please send me someone to love
 
---------------------------------------
 
To  Hu Jintao:
 
My sendiments exactly
 
shs
 
Sent from my ITeeth
 
---------------------------------------
 
To shs:
 
I'd give mine for that
 
Wild goosechase
 
Sent on one.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Do You Mind If I Write that Book When You're Done Reading It?

I was lulled into a deep sleep by the hypnotic rhythm of the cat choking delicately on a hair ball beside the bed. In that semi-conscious state, my mind played tricks, and I supposed that the temptress of unease and mystery that guided me to Mr. Sandman's domain was nothing more than the howling wind hurling snow drifts against the window pane.  It would not be until the unshod footfall of morning that I would discover the rude, wet truth. For the nonce, I was content that my slumber had been earned by an honest day's work trying to find a can opener, and so I let slip from my hands the updated edition of a Mark Twain novel with all the bad words removed from it.  Perhaps it was niggardly to leave off in the middle of a dependent clause, but what can one do?

Tomorrow, there would be adventures anew and the chance to live life on the edge, for not only were all my woolen pants and undershirts in the temporary custody of the laundress, but the battery-powered hand warmers had gone missing during the day's labors of organizing the kitchen drawer that the saved plastic forks and mustard packets from Hunan Happy Fun Time 2 called home. Ever the optimist, I regarded the absent accouterments, not as a hardship, but, rather, an opportunity to experience winter's raw energy the way I imagined Jack London experienced it, if Jack London had been obliged to spend his day returning unwanted gifts at the mall and reading tracts in the food court about how to build a fire.

As it happened, a few days later, I found myself in the last place I looked with someone special before a live fireplace viewing the remake of the sequel to "Gone With the Wind."  The flickering flames put us in mind of bellum Atlanta razed by General Sherman's ruthlessness. Yet, all the while, we were comforted by the knowledge that liberties taken with the original plot had been "authorized" by the author's estate.

Why, it's no different than when a cutting-edge director stages Julius Ceasar with the cast decked out in clown suits delivering their lines entirely in falsetto.  What's the point of artistic license if it can be suspended for multiple offences?

Speaking of which, I never thought much of the ending of The Great Gatsby, probably because when you read a half-chapter every 4 months, you keep re-reading the same middle passages over and over, forgetting that you have already read them until it's too late, thus, never actually making it to the finish. Before I die (likely, not afterwards), I expect to to get clued in to how it all works out.  (Hopefully, reality and my imagination will finally rendezvous, and egg creams will figure prominently in the resolution).

But first, there's that appointment to keep with the aged and bitter Holden Caufield who lives on in the pages of a  lite book borrowed from somebody so long ago that I have forgotten who, thereby passing title to me by default. I intend on finishing the story some day, if only I can recall where I put it. No matter. If it's lost for good, I'll just furnish my own ending for the sake of closure.

Everything's derivative, anyway. If you really want to hear about it.


Saturday, January 15, 2011

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Of Course Time Travel Is Possible, But You're Allowed Only One Carry-On (Plus One Personal Item), And Your Checked Luggage Could Very Well End Up in 1975. We Hope You Like Courduroy!

Close your eyes for a moment and read the following phrase: You're cheating.  You're clearly cheating.  Do you take us for a fool?  We can see that your eyes are open.  You have some nerve. 

When your eyes were closed, did you go to some happy place, such as used to exist in the past before the past became the future and they ran out of area codes and ring tones? Were you suddenly transported back in time to halcyon days, or days of old, or days of yore, or pioneer days, or days of yesteryear, or "flex" days?  Was anybody bowling?

We only ask because we have noticed that in the famous Paleolithic cave paintings at Lascaux in southwestern France, no one seems to be bowling. Why is this? Perhaps because when those paintings were made, it was still the past and nostalgia had not yet been invented. There are, of course, other much  more plausible explanations, but this is the only one that we can think of, because we are somewhat limited.

Who are we, anyway?

Here's another thing we've noticed about those Paleolithic cave paintings at Lascaux:  No one seems to be drunk dialing their girlfriend from the tenth grade. No bowling.  No drunk dialing.  A pattern begins to emerge.

We take you now to ancient Egypt circa a long time ago. As the ancient Egyptians (who, as it happens, were accomplished bowlers -- average score 275) couldn't get a decent cell signal, did they have to resort to drunk hieroglyphics?  Embarrassing, because in drunk hieroglyphics,  you have to be reminded of your indiscretion for thousands of years after the impulse has long since faded. That's one thing that makes us think the past is not all it's cracked up to be.  Given half a chance, we could think of others.

Anyway, some people think there is no such thing as the past, or even of the future; there is only "now." This makes us feel sorry for "& then," but for "here and,"  not so much.

If there is such a thing as "the past," and it could be visited, how would we choose which part to visit? If we could go back in time and erase just one thing, what would we erase?

For us, that's easy.  It would the the night we drunk hieroglyphiced our girlfriend while bowling. Multi-tasking was never our strong suit. 

Besides, time travel just isn't as much fun as it once was.

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In Australia, an area larger than the size of France and Germany combined has flooded causing misery and destruction of epic proportions. Can you help alleviate some of the suffering?

Visit:
http://www.qld.gov.au/floods/