Die Mommy Die!

As a sympathetic gesture recently, Lis allowed me to pick out the movie of the night.

Hmmm. I just lost my job . . . what'll hit the spot? Howsabout a movie that recreates the big screen soap operas of the '60's? Only this time, let's have the the main character, a retired movie actress, be played by a man in drag for no particular reason. And, you know what, let's have him, er her, kill her husband with a poisoned suppository the size of a bratwurst. Toss in a promiscuous gay son ("They found me atop the lazy susan in the mathematics department!") and a virgin daughter sexually obsessed with her oblivious father, a movie producer in debt to the mob.

And let's not forget Jason Priestly, playing the resident gigolo who enjoys 'entertaining' the whole family.

Lisa hated it.

I thought it was swell.

I'll admit Aaron Spelling would roll over in his grave if he saw Brendan Walsh frenching a drag queen, but if you can put that aside - and yes, it's hard to forget but try I did - the movie's a hoot.

It's firmly tongue in cheek, and the performance of Charles Busch as Angela Arden was just delightful. His vocal performance alone was worth the rental, with his Joan Crawford by way of Mommie Dearest diction.

And you know the odd thing about this Sundance film festival movie - well, ok, the only thing *not* odd about it? If you take away the drag queen and the LSD trip and scale back the kitsch 80%, then underneath it all you're still left with a pretty decent plot.

If you have a sense of humour and a taste for unconventional films, check it out.

3.0 out of 4, 72 out of 100

My, This Sucks

I lost my job this past Thursday.

It was at the end of the day. The owners' nephew pulled me into the office and with a poorly worded speech, accompanied by (what I hope was) a nervous giggle, said that I was going to be laid off Friday. I could, he assured me, finish the hour left of my day.

Seeing as I was salary, I refused that generous offer.

It's not that I didn't see this coming. Things got goofy fast recently.
Lisa had predicted this, saying they'd have me do their dirty work by laying off much of the staff and then can me in the end.

Well by this week there wasn't much of a staff left to lay off - 3rd shift had been gouged (infuriating me, as I believe it to be a safety concern), the day shifts were barren, our most populated department was down to five workers, and an entire department was 'replaced' with the nephew.

This week staff was instructed to train 'visiting' members of the owner's family -'visitors' who will no doubt take their jobs. I equate this training with being forced to teach someone how to properly F your wife.

In the infamous words of one employee, who once welcomed the regime change, "I never thought it could be worse. I thought it'd be all unicorns and rainbows. But this . . man they actually make me miss [the old owners]."

So I made sure my personal effects were out of my desk, I'd taken home some of my business cards as 'souvenirs' and I'd put my resume out there - all long weeks before I was let go.

Let's not sugarcoat this: this sucks. I put in ten years and was kicked to the curb on the eve of the holidays. What savings I had were severely dented by helping my family during and after their recent move, and severance - what severance?

So the future holds . . bills and no paycheck to pay them. Other than that, who knows? It's damn frightening.

I suppose it'd be nice to stay within the industry, but the track record of the X is certainly not something to highlight on a resume. [Then again, I think most of the industry knows of the goings on within the place].

If I was to stay in the biz I would like the luxury of, say, an actual budget that doesn't change on a whim, some coherent marketing strategies, honest ownership, and either a solid physical structure or the actual means of recreating one.

But I think it's time to move on, to try something else for a change. I spent the day Friday sending out resumes and was rewarded with a quick call-back from one place, with an interview scheduled for Wednesday. Wish me luck.

There are positives to this whole deal. A) I don't have to worry about working this weekend and B) when an employee (who hadn't gotten the message about my layoff) called to complain about his schedule I was able to respond with a 'click'.

Seriously tho, I'm relived to be out of there. I HATED having my name all over a place that was falling short on customer service and product quality. I hated having to constantly use the owners wishes as a crutch when I had to explain why we did things - or failed to do things - a certain way, knowing that it made me sound like a weak and excuse ridden fool. And I'm sure this next part would hold true no matter where I'd worked, but I'm happy to be, at least momentarily, relieved of having to be ultimately responsible for everything.

It had become, on its best days, a toxic and unhappy place and it is refreshing to think/hope/pray I will soon work someplace with a different aura.

Better days, folks, better days.

It's the economy stupid

I'm old enough to recognize that even Chicken Little, if he sticks to the script, will one day turn out to be right. That doesn't make him a genius, that makes him a patient card player with a lot of time on his hands.

But I think Peter Schiff believed his dire predictions about the stock market and the housing boom were accurate, which of course they proved to be.

Of far more interest in these clips is the pie-in-the-sky predictions of the other panelists, some of whom literally laugh at the man and ask if he wants a razor blade (to cut his wrists) as they discount his warnings.

It's a ten minute clip, but three or four minutes of it will give you the gist.



Good bleepin' luck trying to change the tune mid-dance or convince people a downturn is ahead. Human nature is just dead set against that thinking when all seems well. You'd have better luck telling Romeo Juliet's slept around - it just plain can't be done.

For this reason I think recessions and downturns are inevitable. Even if a government had the power to stop these natural ebb and flows of the economy, the government of a Republic can't - or more honestly, won't - risk the wrath of the public by denying them their illusions.



hat tip

A marker, a crib, and Superman underwear

When we checked on the baby after a nap recently we found Smiley asleep in her crib. He'd dumped a number of spare blankets and pillows inside. He also, as you can see, decided to decorate the baby with Magic Marker.

The bedding ticked me off the most, because if Lump had put two and two together she would have been able to use it to climb out on her own.

Quite a pair, those two, and surprisingly quiet when they're up to no good.

Some pics, and some memories

I was sorting through some pictures I took this fall and came across a few from the rummage sale that preceded the sale of my parents home.

This is one of two clocks I made for Christmas sometime between 5th and 8th grade. One in the shape of our beagle Duke went to my sister C; this one went to K. I drew the designs myself, which is a miracle because I can't draw worth a damn. I cut them out on a band saw, painted and varnished them, and installed the clock mechanisms (which never worked very well).



These next two are pictures of my childhood bike, a Schwinn Stingray II in green and gold. I picked it out because it reminded me of the Green Bay Packers.





This next one is current, a shot of a do-it-yourself DVD vending machine in a local store. They've popped up here and there, and they remind me of a clunky Beta (?) video vending machine from the Sun Foods of my youth.



Here's Smiley at the rummage sale:



and here he is swimming another day:



and the prettiest pic for last. The beautiful Lump:

Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed

In a revolting sign of how contentions the debate is, I feel compelled to state the following or risk people plugging their ears and chanting 'I can't hear you! before I even get a word in.

I am not, by definition, a creationist.

I am and was educated Catholic, and even in the 'once upon a time' of the Reagan era the Catholic schools I attended said, in summary: God created the universe, and how He decided to go about doing it is neither here nor there, but for the record it looks like evolution was His sub-contractor of choice.

It was not, so much as I remember, even a bothersome issue in my circles.

Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed is a documentary narrated and starring Ben Stein that sets forth to discuss the perceived discrimination against Intelligent Design proponents in academia.

Let's discuss this in stages. First, as a movie Expelled is pretty interesting, largely due to Stein himself. If you can separate yourself from the issues involved, by all means go ahead and rent it.

As to the structure of the film, and the development of the argument it presents, it's all over the board. It begins as a film, as I said, about the discrimination against pro-ID academics at the collegiate and professional level. Up to this point, it's on target.

Then it wanders off and morphs (not evolves; I'll spare you that linguistic snarkiness) into an anti-Darwin film, meaning both the theory and the man himself. This culminates in an odd segment openly equating Darwin with Nazi Germany, most of it filmed on site in Germany.

It then takes another turn and engages atheism in science head-on, before returning to the original intent to close the film.

Separating myself completely from the issue and just discussing the structure of the argument, I have to say it's a mish-mosh and could have used a strong hand at the keyboard.

Now, on to the bread and butter, the issue itself.

If you go into it believing in a strict interpretation of Genesis, that's what you'll leave with; if you go in thinking Darwin is the be-all and end-all, that's how you'll finish the day.

I still believe in God, I still think He created the world, I still walk away thinking that every new scientific discovery reinforces God's presence rather than diminishes it, and I still think that by and large evolution is a viable theory.

It's essentially a movie that reinforces the status-quo across the board.

I was alarmed at how openly hostile and aggressive the scientific community was on screen; if nothing else people, you are on camera, smile and play nice. Sadly, it appears everyone's beliefs are sacred, so long as those beliefs are not overtly Conservative Christian and not held by people who are.

[Which reminds me of a counter-argument I read somewhere, specific to the film. Refuting the claim that scientists are largely atheist by quoting a stat that says 40% of scientists think there 'could be some kind' of higher power is not a winner. For Pete's sake, Science, get a good PR person]

On the other hand, the Hitler/Darwin connection was just asinine. You're right, without some misguided idea of genetic superiority it wouldn't have happened. But that's not Darwin's problem. Natural selection didn't start with his ideas, humans have always bred farm stock - and royalty - for 'ideal' characteristics. The notion was hardly dependent upon Charlie.

Now if you're to debate the stated intent of the piece, then I think Stein has a point. I do not see a way a discussion of ID can find itself into the elementary or high school classroom short of a philosophy class. But on the collegiate level I think all bets are off and it could be a subject of discussion..

It's no use trying to convince me it has no place there. True, I attended only a handful of science courses in college, but in every subject area free debate - well, 'free' if you mean one sided and out of the prof's mouth - ran wild.

I sat through classes where prof's tried to tell the class that Homosexual Native Americans had divine-like powers, that every single idea about teaching held by the public was wrong, and where I was told that grand conspiracies intertwined their way through American history. In my academic career you'll find a teacher who preached that she was the reincarnation of Anne Boleyn, and a state-sponsored speaker who spent the hour telling the assembly that Black males had created the Pyramids, had fantastic empires that employed long-lost technology, and possibly had visits from other-worldly intelligences, all facts 'suppressed' by the white man.

If nowhere else in the world, college should be the place to express ideas. Bring it up, debate it, shoot it down, all in the course of one hour. But if it's out there, why try to suppress it?

As a film, 2.9 out of 4. As an organized argument, 1.75 out of 4. As a springboard to debate, 4 out of 4.

A rare quiz and some Jimmy Page too!

I don't 'meme', but feel free to take the nifty little quiz that rides the end of this graphic. It features a series of multiple choice questions on the subjects listed: art, philosophy, history, etc.

Afterwards, sit back and enjoy the sounds of Led Zeppelin performing 'Fool in the Rain'. As a big Zep fan I consider this my personal favorite among their songs; yes, even more than Kashmir, Stairway to Heaven, Heartbreaker, and the more traditional playlist. I heard it on the radio last night and it cheered me up considerably. Good ol' Zep :)

There Are 0 Gaps in Your Knowledge

Where you have gaps in your knowledge: No Gaps! Where you don't have gaps in your knowledge: Philosophy Religion Economics Literature History Science Art

Do You Have Gaps in Your Knowledge?

BTW - any tour without Plant is a tour without Zeppelin, so far as I'm concerned. I'm all for Jason Bonham sitting in for his father, but Plant's absence is a bridge too far.

Phantom Prey by John Sandford

Sometimes an author is like an ex-girlfriend. You don't actually go out of the way to avoid her at the market, but you don't actively seek her out either. And then you bump into one another and you're floored by how great she is and you wonder why you split up in the first place.

That's the case with John Sanford, an author I've always liked but sometimes hesitate to read, for reason or reasons unknown to my conscious self.

In the case of Phantom Prey I must have kept the book on the shelf for two weeks or more, and when I finished it I spent an equal amount of time kicking myself for the delay.

Phantom Prey features Lucas Davenport, who at the request of his wife investigates the disappearance of a young woman. At the same time the woman's friends, all members of the Goth community, are being stalked and killed by a woman known as 'The Fairy'.

It's a fine story, well plotted and not as predictable as many mystery novels. While I think you'll reason out the killer's identity, there will be 25% of your brain that remains unsure, just enough to keep the juices flowing.

The plot is almost secondary, because what sets Sandford apart is his style.
Sandford has a knack for telling a story in little clusters of scenes that move the story forward in rapid fashion, while never skimping on what's important or dwelling on the insignificant. His characters come off as real; nowadays Davenport is far more concerned with coming home to his wife and kids and arguing about furniture than he is kicking the tar out of someone. He'll have bouts of work-related depression, but you won't find him hitting the bottle or spending chapter after chapter moaning about the human condition.

Phantom Prey is an enjoyable, easy read that serves to bolster Sandford's reputation even higher.

Highly recommended.

3.25 out of 4, 84 out of 100

In which I go into far too much detail about stuff you don't care about

Getting my picture taken for the paper turned out to be very anti-climactic. I went downtown, found parking directly in front of the Journal-Sentinel's photo lab door, and went inside. There was no wait and I was quickly taken in back and given the option of sprucing up in front of a mirror. I'd been told to wear 'whatever' because the shot would be from the shoulders up, and so I wore a simple tan v-neck pullover and jeans.

I was instructed to have a seat on a stool in a very dark room, and for the duration of the shot the photographer moved around like a 3D silhouette, fully visible only in the brief flashes from his camera.

I joked that this was 'way darker than Sears Portrait Studios' and he smirked and briefly explained the technical reasons why this technique was superior. I didn't really pay attention, I'm afraid, but I was intrigued to discover the reason they took pictures from so many different angles.

It wasn't to find my 'better side' but to make sure that if, say, my column runs on the far right of the page they'll be able to go with a shot of me looking to the left, so that my pic doesn't give the impression that I'm staring off the page into space.

Neat.

Then I had to sign a freelance contract with the paper. This isn't the real deal, but a copy I asked to keep for my (online) scrapbook, which I'm sure made me sound like a real pro.



I was in and out in under five minutes, which was a horrible waste of all the change I'd plugged in the meter.

All in all, I didn't enjoy it, and I certainly wasn't 'on' because I'm just very down lately. Issues with my parents/siblings, a financial crunch on the horizon, some squabbles at home, the bombshell today that my insurance might have been mistakenly cancelled, and my typical reaction to stress - eating - have all contributed to the blues.

On that last part, I think I've put on around ten to fifteen pounds in the last few weeks, enough to make some of my shirts snug. It's depressing. I don't mind being fat, so much as I hate being fat enough to want to jump off a bridge. The winter worries me too. I've been riding my bike regularly - I am in awe of how large I'd have become recently without it - but with winter here I'm scrambling for an activity to take its place.

One good thing: the difference in my fitness level between July and now is noticeable. On one of the last trips I recreated a two-mile ride I took with YaYa when I first bought the bike. At that time I huffed and puffed and had to stop often to complete what I felt was an 'accomplishment'. This time out I did it with two kids in the trailer behind me, added on some extra mileage, and still finished in a considerably shorter amount of time, with only a single stop (to 'rescue' a katydid from the sidewalk ,at YaYa's request, and deliver it to a grassy hill across the street).

So it did some good.

Argh, I have to cheer up soon. It's not right to be this handsome and wear a frown. It just doesn't look right to my fans.


- Dan

Smiley meets Spongebob Squarepants!

Last Saturday, in the midst of our shopping trip, we discovered Spongebob Squarepants was visiting our local WalMart. Once upon a time YaYa was a big fan. She has since toned it down to 'casual fan', but Smiley has gladly taken up the baton. When the show comes on you can hear him trying to sing along to the theme song at the top of his voice, and for the longest time one of his only successful phrases was 'punge-ob', which even now he'll yell out with glee.







[note: wow. I guess, seeing the results above, that I'll now email my pics directly to Photobucket from my phone. They turn out much better.]



** * *

That day was also the end of the summer-like conditions that had lingered into November. The Lump is notorious for hating any and all hats/hoods/hair doodads/etc, and so we had to splurge and get a Lump-proof hat to keep her warm.



By the end of the day she'd discovered a way to pull it off. Serves us right for thinking we could outsmart a baby.