I have been told many times in my life that I have an "old soul". I'm not sure what that means, exactly, because I'm not even sure if a soul is a real thing. I guess I've been told that because I like a lot of old stuff. I'm just as likely to be found listening to 1930s jazz as I am hip hop. It doesn't bother me when movies are in black and white; in fact, sometimes I think those look better than color. I used to sometimes dress like an old man for reasons that I'm not clear on myself. It was a strange time, a time of green pants.
What else does having an old soul entail? Does it mean that I'm wise beyond my years? Oh, I hope it means I'm wise beyond my years, because what's the alternative? Does it mean I'm a cranky old crank who will most likely holler at you for stepping on the edge of my lawn, especially if you're a young whippersnapper?
Regardless of whether my old soul is literally an ancient spirit inhabiting a newer body or a figurative description of my fondness for The Marx Bros. and diner specials, it's not the only old thing I'm carrying around in my body. Lately I've been feeling like the victim of an old brain. I'm 28 years old, and I think it's time for a replacement. Is there a warranty on these things? How do I get it out of my skull without accidentally terminating myself? If I'm literally in possession of (or possessed by?) an old soul, perhaps its previous owner pondered this same thing but couldn't pull off the whole not dying from brain removal thing. There's no shame in that; it's tricky.
Since getting a new brain, or at least some replacement parts for it, isn't a feasible option (I probably can't afford it), I'll write about some of what I've been experiencing. That is, if I don't forget what I'm doing in the middle of typing this and start doing something else. See, that's one of the big problems I've been having as of late. I know everybody walks into a room every once in a while and forgets what they went in there for. I do this at least once a day. Frequently it happens quite frequently. (That's right, I just started and ended a sentence with the word frequently.) And more and more the problem has been becoming more complex, compounding itself. For example, I'll walk upstairs to get a pair of pants (not green, I don't do that anymore) from the closet. But while I'm upstairs I notice some dirty dishes sitting on the floor in my daughters' room. After briefly wondering why they left them on the floor instead of any other available surface, I walk into their room and grab the dishes. My brain is thus tricked into thinking I accomplished what I went upstairs for. All is not lost, however, because often times I'll be on the way to the kitchen and remember that I forgot my pants. So I set the dishes down by the TV and head back upstairs. I get the pants, but then forget about the dishes, once again feeling a sense of having accomplished my task. (Putting on pants is an accomplishment, right?) Later I'll remember that I left the dishes awkwardly stacked in front of the DVD player and return to the living room. But while I'm in the living room I forget what I went in there for, and the whole cycle repeats itself until I have various objects scattered about the house in places where they shouldn't be.
Along those same lines, I've been having an awful lot of brain farts. These are not as funny as regular farts because they don't make those excellent sounds. Last night I looked in the refrigerator for a cup. This would make sense if I wanted a cup full of delicious apple-pie-flavored pudding (yes, that's a real thing), but I was looking for a cup to pour water into. We don't keep them in the refrigerator because that would make no sense. I've also got a lot of cabinet-and-drawer-related confusion when it comes to the kitchen. When it's time to put the silverware away, I'll sometimes open the drawer where they approximately would have been located in my parents' old house. This is quite unreasonable because my current kitchen and my parents' old kitchen are not laid out in the same way at all, but it feels like they should go in a certain drawer, until I open it up to find it's the junk drawer, home of countless rubber bands, batteries that may or may not be dead, and little metal and plastic doodads that I have no idea where they came from, but I'm afraid to throw them out in case I need them someday.
And that's another thing I've been doing which I feel like I shouldn't make a habit of until I'm in my 70s. I'm not exactly what you'd call a hoarder; there's still a lot of open space to walk around in (trying to remember what I'm looking for) in the house. I guess you could say I'm more of a pack-rat. Aside from the aforementioned doodads, I also save all thingamajigs, doohickeys, and gizmos. Oh, how I love gizmos. That's not all! I'll hang on to old shirts that have become 87% hole/13% shirt for years because I think I might cut the picture from the front of it and use it for something. So far, I've never done that. I do the same thing with magazines, setting aside stacks and stacks of them for making collages. I can say that I do actually make the collages from time to time, but the ratio of how many of those I make to the abundance of magazines is way lopsided in favor of the periodicals. And I save coffee cans. So many coffee cans.
Remember when I rhetorically asked if I was a cranky old crank a few paragraphs ago? I didn't, but I saw it when I scrolled up to see how long this article was, which I did not because I was interested in it's length, but because I had forgotten what the next paragraph was intended to be about and decided to check the length as a brief time-filler. Anyway, as much as I hate it, I am a cranky old crank sometimes. In general I'm a very positive person, but the older I get, the worse I feel in the morning. I used to survive on four hours of sleep a night, maybe five or six if I was really beat. Now I feel like no amount of sleep is enough, and I'll act like a total butt to anybody who comes near me before caffeine enters my bloodstream. After some coffee or tea I'm usually okay, unless I have to drive somewhere. Assholes! Everyone else on the road is assholes! This has been my general belief since I started driving, but I used to be capable of taking it in stride, maybe driving a little more aggressively if necessary, and getting on with my life. Now I just want to complain and complain about it. Luckily, my friends are all getting older too, so I have people to complain with.
I'm hoping that any of my readers that are the same age as me or older are nodding their heads, perhaps sadly, in recognition of these brain failures that have become a constant in my life. Or maybe this has nothing to do with getting old, maybe I'm just losing my mind. I'm not sure if I'll end up in a nursing home or a mental asylum, but I have a foreboding feeling that I'll one day live in someplace that smells like pee.
Oh! One last thing, but first I have to get something from the other room. I'll finish my thought when I get back...
Friday, March 22, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Don'ts and Be Carefuls
In my previous post I discussed how today's Hollywood is using the same old bag of tricks that is always has, and in true Hollywood fashion I've decided to write a sequel! Originally the last article was going to include a bit about how the tired tropes and déjà vu stories you see in cinema are the lasting effects of the Motion Picture Production Code, also known as the Hays Code. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized it would warrant its own separate post because of all of the text it would take to explain. Also, the original notion I had for the piece has changed somewhat after further thought, so this is article is kind of like Batman Returns: a sequel that may not have much to do with the original. I promise, though, by reading this blog you won't have to witness copious amounts of gross stuff going into or coming out of Danny DeVito's mouth.
If gross stuff going into and coming out of Danny DeVito's mouth is something that interests you, please tell your family I am deeply sorry for them.
Anyway, first I'll supply a little background information. The 1920s was a crazy, excessive time. Everybody was drunk all the time, they all did wacky dances, and women started showing their legs in public, which made old people's faces melt off. It was awesome. Of course, there were some sticks in the mud who didn't appreciate these things, feeling that America was being corrupted. Since no one was willing to admit that America was already a corrupt place, founded on the slaughter of a native people and cultivated by slave labor, they needed a scapegoat. It was only natural that the newest entertainment medium, moving pictures, would be blamed.
The government stepped in, proposing hundreds of differing bills to fight back against Hollywood's supposed lack of morals and non-lack of sex and drugs. Perhaps they should have been keeping themselves busy with other things, such as paying attention to the economic practices of the time, but framing Fatty Arbuckle for rape is a lot more fun than boring numbers stuff. In an attempt to minimize further scandals (manufactured or otherwise), the studios themselves stepped in, hiring a guy who probably wore his pants way too high by the name of Will H. Hays. By 1930 the Motion Picture Production Code had been written, and by 1934 Hollywood got around to actually enforcing it.
The Hays Code was organized into two sections, "Dont's" and "Be Carefuls". If you want to read the full list, which is quite ridiculous, you can see it on Wikipedia. Some of the items on the list I can get behind, such as #9 in the "Dont's" section, which forbids display of children's sex organs. I have kids, so I know what those look like, and I have no desire to see them any more than is absolutely necessary. Any adult who does have this desire is not anyone I'd want to be friends with, and such a person would be punched to death for coming anywhere near my children. So #9 is what I would consider a good "Don't". I don't believe in censorship, but I don't see any need to show a little boy's dinger on film. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Superman: The Movie.
I'm sure his intentions were good, but Hays was a product of the government, having served several positions in it, and a lot of what was in the code would be what a pamphlet-pushing white guy with dreadlocks would refer to as "typical government bullshit, maaan". Yes, he's annoying and gets in your face, but in this case, white guy with dreadlocks is dead on. Let's look at some examples, in bold, followed by what these rules essentially translate to.
DON'T #4: Any inference of sex perversion
Meaning, in government-speak, "No gay shit." Also, "Nothing other than smooches. Decent people only smooch!"
DON'T #5: White slavery
Black slavery is okay though. And if the film is set after the Emancipation Proclamation, all black actors must plays servants of some kind.
DON'T #6: Miscegenation (sexual relationships between the white and black races)
We want films to enforce the morals we already have, not nudge viewers toward dangerous ideas like true equality!
DON'T #7: Sex hygiene and venereal diseases
If we teach young men and women how to keep themselves clean down there they may start having sex, and decent people only smooch!
DON'T #10: Ridicule of clergy
Yes, we live in a country in which you have freedom of speech and freedom of religion, so long as the speech doesn't deride the officials of whichever monotheistic institution your parents told you was the only correct religion. God will not continue to bless America with the ability to kill our enemies if you poke fun at people who regularly appear in public wearing robes and funny hats.
BE CAREFUL #5: Theft, robbery, safe-cracking, and dynamiting of trains, mines, buildings, etc. (having in mind the effect which a too-detailed description of these may have upon the moron)
Make the action sequences vague, because if John Q. Moron decides to turn to a life of crime after watching a film, our only hope is that he doesn't think to throw the dynamite under the train after he lights it, because they didn't show that part happen in the movie.
BE CAREFUL #9: Third-degree methods
The good guys all have to look super good, so no realistic interrogation scenes showing John Q. Policeman acting like a complete douche because he's on a power trip.
BE CAREFUL #25: Excessive or lustful kissing, particularly when one character or the other is a "heavy"
Because the public must know the truth: that decent people smooch, but indecent people don't even get to smooch! (Interesting loophole: since this is worded "when one character or the other is a 'heavy'", could filmmakers include a scene of a dream sequence in which the "heavy" lustfully makes out with himself?)
These are all rules and suggestions that reek of a stodgy old coot trying to enforce what he believes to be morally right. While for the most part Hollywood studios complied with the code, there are a few items of note that look as if they were merely put in there for appearances. These rules were ignored, and nobody at the Hays Office seemed to mind.
DON'T #11: Willful offense to any nation, race or creed
Have you ever seen a movie from the 1930s that takes place outside of the United States? You could play a drinking game, downing a shot for every racist joke or stereotype, but you'd probably be blind by the end of the picture. Also from films of that time period, all black people are dumb, speak poorly, and are extremely afraid of g-g-ghosts! And seeing a white asshole wearing eye makeup and a set of buck teeth pretending to be Japanese in any 40s film always makes my soul hurt.
BE CAREFUL #2: International relations (avoiding picturizing in an unfavorable light another country's religion, history, institutions, prominent people, and citizenry)
Apparently this one went right out the window if Uncle Sam had a beef with the country being 'picturized'. Also, if the writers didn't know much about the international locale of the film, the standard operating procedure was to assume that the natives were savages that wore loin cloths.
BE CAREFUL #4: The use of firearms
Except for Westerns. In those the six-shooters all got infinite ammo.
Alright, so the Motion Picture Production Code was pretty much a big fat joke. The Don'ts and Be Carefuls that were more strictly enforced seem to be those most full of backwards ideology and the firm concept of keeping society at exactly where it was at that point. Other rules appear to have been added as goofs. Now, if we run with the "this article is Batman Returns" analogy from earlier, at this point in the film you'd be asking questions like, "Wait a minute! Where's Vicki Vale? What happened to Harvey Dent? Why didn't they ask Robert Wuhl to come back for this one?" Whereas while reading the blog you may have started to wonder, "What does this have to do with modern Hollywood following the same perpetual trends it always has?" And here's my sort-of answer...
A very common complaint is that Hollywood makes the same movies over and over again. How often have you sat through an action or romance or comedy only to feel like you've already seen the same action or romance or comedy ten times before? Obviously, some of the blame can be put on filmmakers who stick to lazy formula, but on the other hand, making films for profit requires that you actually make a profit, and if the formulas work they're going to get used again and again.
I think that a huge part of the reason these formulas are proven is because the general public has been conditioned to respond to them. This started with the Hays Code. Because of the enforcement of certain rules, the public started to expect characters in movies to behave in certain ways and plots to play out in certain ways. The good guys always won. The bad guys always lost and usually had eyepatches or scars so we could tell that they were the bad guys. And since the public still came to see these movies, why bother to reinvent the wheel even when enforcement of the code became more and more lax?
Sure, a lot has changed in the 80+ years since the code was written. In fact, the code itself was abandoned in 1968 in favor of a new ratings system that is still used today. The civil rights movement has changed the way African-Americans (and their relations with Caucasian types) are portrayed on screen, just as the sexual revolution changed attitudes toward sex in the cinema, and the push for gay rights has inspired Hollywood to try and leave homophobia behind. But whether we notice, or care to admit it, filmmakers still readily rely on a host of stereotypes. See Transformers 2 if you don't believe me. No, actually, don't see Transformers 2. Transformers 2 is fucking awful.
The core ideas of the formula established through Hollywood's attempt at self-censorship still survive. The general audience will be disappointed if the hero doesn't win, so the hero will win. And the good guy will always be the goodest of the good. Even the rough-around-the-edges tough guy character that has become eternally popular will almost always engage in at least a scene or two showing the audience that deep down he has a heart made of gold and teeny-tiny kittens. And of course, the hero will end up in the embraces of the damsel in the end. The damsel may be a modern action chick who can hold her own in any car chase, but guaranteed she'll display at least one stereotypical damsel-in-distress trait during the film, most likely ending up captured by the heavies.
Thankfully, over the last few decades more and more filmmakers with artistic integrity have managed to find success in Hollywood. This means more films in which the audience isn't treated as "the moron", more honesty in filmmaking, and less predictability in plot and character development. But the Hollywood machine marches on, using its tried and true formulas to make middle-of-the-road mass appeal flicks that don't totally satisfy anyone, yet hopefully won't offend anyone either (except when the stereotypes go overboard, but minorities are easy to ignore when you live in a 75 room mansion). Complain all you want (I'll join you), but as long as people get the strange feeling that somethin' ain't right if the formula is deviated from too much, the studios will continue to rake in the dough and won't see any need to alter its time-tested approach.
If gross stuff going into and coming out of Danny DeVito's mouth is something that interests you, please tell your family I am deeply sorry for them.
Anyway, first I'll supply a little background information. The 1920s was a crazy, excessive time. Everybody was drunk all the time, they all did wacky dances, and women started showing their legs in public, which made old people's faces melt off. It was awesome. Of course, there were some sticks in the mud who didn't appreciate these things, feeling that America was being corrupted. Since no one was willing to admit that America was already a corrupt place, founded on the slaughter of a native people and cultivated by slave labor, they needed a scapegoat. It was only natural that the newest entertainment medium, moving pictures, would be blamed.
The government stepped in, proposing hundreds of differing bills to fight back against Hollywood's supposed lack of morals and non-lack of sex and drugs. Perhaps they should have been keeping themselves busy with other things, such as paying attention to the economic practices of the time, but framing Fatty Arbuckle for rape is a lot more fun than boring numbers stuff. In an attempt to minimize further scandals (manufactured or otherwise), the studios themselves stepped in, hiring a guy who probably wore his pants way too high by the name of Will H. Hays. By 1930 the Motion Picture Production Code had been written, and by 1934 Hollywood got around to actually enforcing it.
The Hays Code was organized into two sections, "Dont's" and "Be Carefuls". If you want to read the full list, which is quite ridiculous, you can see it on Wikipedia. Some of the items on the list I can get behind, such as #9 in the "Dont's" section, which forbids display of children's sex organs. I have kids, so I know what those look like, and I have no desire to see them any more than is absolutely necessary. Any adult who does have this desire is not anyone I'd want to be friends with, and such a person would be punched to death for coming anywhere near my children. So #9 is what I would consider a good "Don't". I don't believe in censorship, but I don't see any need to show a little boy's dinger on film. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Superman: The Movie.
I'm sure his intentions were good, but Hays was a product of the government, having served several positions in it, and a lot of what was in the code would be what a pamphlet-pushing white guy with dreadlocks would refer to as "typical government bullshit, maaan". Yes, he's annoying and gets in your face, but in this case, white guy with dreadlocks is dead on. Let's look at some examples, in bold, followed by what these rules essentially translate to.
DON'T #4: Any inference of sex perversion
Meaning, in government-speak, "No gay shit." Also, "Nothing other than smooches. Decent people only smooch!"
DON'T #5: White slavery
Black slavery is okay though. And if the film is set after the Emancipation Proclamation, all black actors must plays servants of some kind.
DON'T #6: Miscegenation (sexual relationships between the white and black races)
We want films to enforce the morals we already have, not nudge viewers toward dangerous ideas like true equality!
DON'T #7: Sex hygiene and venereal diseases
If we teach young men and women how to keep themselves clean down there they may start having sex, and decent people only smooch!
DON'T #10: Ridicule of clergy
Yes, we live in a country in which you have freedom of speech and freedom of religion, so long as the speech doesn't deride the officials of whichever monotheistic institution your parents told you was the only correct religion. God will not continue to bless America with the ability to kill our enemies if you poke fun at people who regularly appear in public wearing robes and funny hats.
BE CAREFUL #5: Theft, robbery, safe-cracking, and dynamiting of trains, mines, buildings, etc. (having in mind the effect which a too-detailed description of these may have upon the moron)
Make the action sequences vague, because if John Q. Moron decides to turn to a life of crime after watching a film, our only hope is that he doesn't think to throw the dynamite under the train after he lights it, because they didn't show that part happen in the movie.
BE CAREFUL #9: Third-degree methods
The good guys all have to look super good, so no realistic interrogation scenes showing John Q. Policeman acting like a complete douche because he's on a power trip.
BE CAREFUL #25: Excessive or lustful kissing, particularly when one character or the other is a "heavy"
Because the public must know the truth: that decent people smooch, but indecent people don't even get to smooch! (Interesting loophole: since this is worded "when one character or the other is a 'heavy'", could filmmakers include a scene of a dream sequence in which the "heavy" lustfully makes out with himself?)
These are all rules and suggestions that reek of a stodgy old coot trying to enforce what he believes to be morally right. While for the most part Hollywood studios complied with the code, there are a few items of note that look as if they were merely put in there for appearances. These rules were ignored, and nobody at the Hays Office seemed to mind.
DON'T #11: Willful offense to any nation, race or creed
Have you ever seen a movie from the 1930s that takes place outside of the United States? You could play a drinking game, downing a shot for every racist joke or stereotype, but you'd probably be blind by the end of the picture. Also from films of that time period, all black people are dumb, speak poorly, and are extremely afraid of g-g-ghosts! And seeing a white asshole wearing eye makeup and a set of buck teeth pretending to be Japanese in any 40s film always makes my soul hurt.
BE CAREFUL #2: International relations (avoiding picturizing in an unfavorable light another country's religion, history, institutions, prominent people, and citizenry)
Apparently this one went right out the window if Uncle Sam had a beef with the country being 'picturized'. Also, if the writers didn't know much about the international locale of the film, the standard operating procedure was to assume that the natives were savages that wore loin cloths.
BE CAREFUL #4: The use of firearms
Except for Westerns. In those the six-shooters all got infinite ammo.
Alright, so the Motion Picture Production Code was pretty much a big fat joke. The Don'ts and Be Carefuls that were more strictly enforced seem to be those most full of backwards ideology and the firm concept of keeping society at exactly where it was at that point. Other rules appear to have been added as goofs. Now, if we run with the "this article is Batman Returns" analogy from earlier, at this point in the film you'd be asking questions like, "Wait a minute! Where's Vicki Vale? What happened to Harvey Dent? Why didn't they ask Robert Wuhl to come back for this one?" Whereas while reading the blog you may have started to wonder, "What does this have to do with modern Hollywood following the same perpetual trends it always has?" And here's my sort-of answer...
A very common complaint is that Hollywood makes the same movies over and over again. How often have you sat through an action or romance or comedy only to feel like you've already seen the same action or romance or comedy ten times before? Obviously, some of the blame can be put on filmmakers who stick to lazy formula, but on the other hand, making films for profit requires that you actually make a profit, and if the formulas work they're going to get used again and again.
I think that a huge part of the reason these formulas are proven is because the general public has been conditioned to respond to them. This started with the Hays Code. Because of the enforcement of certain rules, the public started to expect characters in movies to behave in certain ways and plots to play out in certain ways. The good guys always won. The bad guys always lost and usually had eyepatches or scars so we could tell that they were the bad guys. And since the public still came to see these movies, why bother to reinvent the wheel even when enforcement of the code became more and more lax?
Sure, a lot has changed in the 80+ years since the code was written. In fact, the code itself was abandoned in 1968 in favor of a new ratings system that is still used today. The civil rights movement has changed the way African-Americans (and their relations with Caucasian types) are portrayed on screen, just as the sexual revolution changed attitudes toward sex in the cinema, and the push for gay rights has inspired Hollywood to try and leave homophobia behind. But whether we notice, or care to admit it, filmmakers still readily rely on a host of stereotypes. See Transformers 2 if you don't believe me. No, actually, don't see Transformers 2. Transformers 2 is fucking awful.
The core ideas of the formula established through Hollywood's attempt at self-censorship still survive. The general audience will be disappointed if the hero doesn't win, so the hero will win. And the good guy will always be the goodest of the good. Even the rough-around-the-edges tough guy character that has become eternally popular will almost always engage in at least a scene or two showing the audience that deep down he has a heart made of gold and teeny-tiny kittens. And of course, the hero will end up in the embraces of the damsel in the end. The damsel may be a modern action chick who can hold her own in any car chase, but guaranteed she'll display at least one stereotypical damsel-in-distress trait during the film, most likely ending up captured by the heavies.
Thankfully, over the last few decades more and more filmmakers with artistic integrity have managed to find success in Hollywood. This means more films in which the audience isn't treated as "the moron", more honesty in filmmaking, and less predictability in plot and character development. But the Hollywood machine marches on, using its tried and true formulas to make middle-of-the-road mass appeal flicks that don't totally satisfy anyone, yet hopefully won't offend anyone either (except when the stereotypes go overboard, but minorities are easy to ignore when you live in a 75 room mansion). Complain all you want (I'll join you), but as long as people get the strange feeling that somethin' ain't right if the formula is deviated from too much, the studios will continue to rake in the dough and won't see any need to alter its time-tested approach.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Hollywood's Old Bag of Tricks
Modern film audiences (and especially the vocal fans you find on the internet) have noticed that Hollywood is somewhat of a machine. The current mode of operation seems to be to suck up every sort of recognizable property and spit out whatever reboots, remakes, and sequels the teams of people in suits and focus groups think will make the most money. Also, to release them all in 3-D or Real D or Extreme D or Ludicrously Expensive Yet Not Impressive D. And while I groan along with the internet message board masses when I hear about the gritty reboot of Weekend at Bernie's (I hope I just made that up), this is really nothing new for Hollywood at all. A lot of us tend to look at Hollywood's past, and the past in general, through sepia-toned, nostalgia-infused goggles. And while we can look back and point to a certain era as the 'golden age' of filmmaking because we have the luxury of picking from the established classics, Hollywood has always been a greedy, seedy money-grabbing machine.
A perfect example of 'old' Hollywood acting in the typical fashion of 'new' Hollywood is found in Dracula, the 1931 feature version starring Bela Lugosi in a role that would both define and then bog down his career. Actually, Dracula works perfectly well as several different examples.
Let's start with the source material. The film, of course, is based on Bram Stoker's popular novel of the same name. Actually, it's kind of also based on the play which was based on the book. So yeah, we're all getting weary of the movie reboots based on cartoons based on comics that Hollywood has been serving us lately in it's scheme of regurgitating everything you loved from the 80s, but Hollywood already has a long tradition of making films based on (blank) which is based on (blank).
Also, technically the film was a remake. In 1922 a German Expressionist version of the film, titled Nosferatu, was released. The filmmakers did not secure the rights to film the novel, and the late Mr. Stoker's wife sued them for copyright infringement. She won the case, and when Universal Studios made their version they made sure to do things properly and purchase the rights first. I suppose the film isn't a true remake, since the original was an unofficial effort, but the writers of the Universal version were inspired by Nosferatu, going so far as to "borrow" a few elements of it.
So far we've got a film based on existing material, which is also a remake, and involved a court squabble over the rights. Sounds a lot like modern Hollywood, doesn't it? But what about sequels? Anybody who's ever been in a video store (remember those?) already knows that there's a zillion and four Dracula and Dracula-inspired films out there. Hollywood (and its various counterparts around the world) tend to stick with what's proven to make mounds of cash. So what about Dracula? Did it have any actual sequels? You bet it did! Universal released Dracula's Daughter in 1936, followed in 1943 by Son of Dracula. The famous bloodsucker also appeared in 1944's House of Frankenstein and 1945's House of Dracula. He even appeared in a comedy, Universal's release Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein. So, no, the 1980s didn't event the concept of legitimately menacing horror characters slowly turning into deadly comedians, and Universal started sticking monsters in movies together decades before Freddy vs. Jason sat in Development Hell for 15 years.
Hollywood executives scrambling to gobble up any and all properties with brand name recognition may be hitting ridiculous extremes these days with the Battleship movie already released and forgotten and the upcoming Candy Land movie in the works, and the endless river of remakes/reboots/sequels doesn't seem like it's going to dry up any time soon, but this is not modern Hollywood engaging in blatant laziness. This is Hollywood reaching into a tried and true bag of tricks to keep audiences coming back to the theaters.
Even the aforementioned 3D isn't anything new but rather an example of Hollywood operating in cycles. Roughly every 30 years the movie bigwigs push this "craze" on the moviegoing public. The first time was in the 1950s, which was probably the only time 3D was a legitimately popular craze. One of the biggest hits of 1953 was House of Wax, starring Vincent Price and released as one of the first major 3D films. (Incidentally, House of Wax was a remake of an earlier film, 1933's Mystery of the House of Wax, and was later remade under the same title in 2005. I haven't seen the 2005 version but I highly doubt a version featuring Paris Hilton is anywhere near as good as the one that featured Price.) Move ahead three decades in cinematic history and you've got Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger handing out 3D deaths to various teenagers. And today it seems like 3/4 of the movies released are in 3D, which Hollywood insists that we all enjoy and don't mind spending the extra money on.
Sure, there's lots to complain about when you view Hollywood's output as a whole. For every good film there's about twenty awful (or mediocre at best) that get dumped on us. But there are quite a few good ones that come out each year, and we can at least savor those. Yes, I will most likely continue to gripe about the lack of original thought which seems to plague Tinsel Town, and I'm sure most other movie fans will as well. However, we really can't view Hollywood's machinations as any sort of example of society in creative decline or proof that the public is becoming more gullible. The studios have been using the same tricks all along, and we've been gladly handing them our money for nearly 100 years.
Hollywood executives scrambling to gobble up any and all properties with brand name recognition may be hitting ridiculous extremes these days with the Battleship movie already released and forgotten and the upcoming Candy Land movie in the works, and the endless river of remakes/reboots/sequels doesn't seem like it's going to dry up any time soon, but this is not modern Hollywood engaging in blatant laziness. This is Hollywood reaching into a tried and true bag of tricks to keep audiences coming back to the theaters.
Even the aforementioned 3D isn't anything new but rather an example of Hollywood operating in cycles. Roughly every 30 years the movie bigwigs push this "craze" on the moviegoing public. The first time was in the 1950s, which was probably the only time 3D was a legitimately popular craze. One of the biggest hits of 1953 was House of Wax, starring Vincent Price and released as one of the first major 3D films. (Incidentally, House of Wax was a remake of an earlier film, 1933's Mystery of the House of Wax, and was later remade under the same title in 2005. I haven't seen the 2005 version but I highly doubt a version featuring Paris Hilton is anywhere near as good as the one that featured Price.) Move ahead three decades in cinematic history and you've got Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger handing out 3D deaths to various teenagers. And today it seems like 3/4 of the movies released are in 3D, which Hollywood insists that we all enjoy and don't mind spending the extra money on.
Sure, there's lots to complain about when you view Hollywood's output as a whole. For every good film there's about twenty awful (or mediocre at best) that get dumped on us. But there are quite a few good ones that come out each year, and we can at least savor those. Yes, I will most likely continue to gripe about the lack of original thought which seems to plague Tinsel Town, and I'm sure most other movie fans will as well. However, we really can't view Hollywood's machinations as any sort of example of society in creative decline or proof that the public is becoming more gullible. The studios have been using the same tricks all along, and we've been gladly handing them our money for nearly 100 years.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Terminal Doctor
Today's blog is a special treat if you like the humor of The Marx Brothers, The Monkees, or conversations you have while on lots of drugs. Or all the drugs. This started as an experiment, and if you've got a Mac (which I firmly believe you should!) then you can try it, too.
Here's how it works. You open up your Utilities folder and find a program called Terminal. If you're like me, you never ever opened that program because you had no idea what it was for, but I guess it kind of works like those old MS DOS computers my fifth grade homeroom teacher used to horde. You can type in various commands, and if the command is actually valid, you can do things like play Tetris or Pong. Or if you want to have the most bizarre conversation of your life, you can use a program called Doctor, which tries to psychoanalyze you.
The steps: Open Terminal. Type "emacs" and hit enter. Then hold "esc" and "x" at the same time. This moves the cursor down to a gray box at the bottom of the window. Now type in the command ("Tetris" for Tetris, "Doctor" for Doctor, and a whole bunch more). Here's the results of my test of Doctor, color coded so it's not so difficult to understand what's going on. Well, no, you'll never fully understand what the hell is going on here, but you'll at least be able to tell who is saying what...
I am the psychotherapist. Please, describe your problems. Each time you are finished talking, type RET twice.
I have violent dreams. RET RET
Why do you say you have violent dreams ret ret?
Because I do. ret ret
Is it because you do ret ret that you came to me?
I didn't come to you. You are a computer program. ret ret
You have your mind on computers, it seems.
I also have my fingers on one. ret ret
Earlier you said you do ret ret?
No I didn't.
Maybe your plans have something to do with this.
What plans? What do you know of my plans?
Is it because of your life that you say what do I know of your plans?
No, I say that because you are talking about my plans but I didn't mention any plans.
Does it bother you that I am talking about your plans but you didn't mention any plans?
It doesn't bother me. But it's kind of weird.
When did you first know that it's kind of weird?
When you said it.
What do you think?
I think you're a quack.
You mentioned that you do ret ret?
Shut your mouth.
Is it because of the people you hang around with that you are going through all this?
No.
Why not?
I like the people I hang around with.
What makes you believe you like the people you hang around with?
Because they make me laugh, and I like to laugh.
Is the fact that they make you laugh, and you like to laugh the real reason?
Well, there's more to it than that. Do you have any friends?
I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind!
I'll take that as a no.
Does the fact that as a no explain anything else?
I don't think so.
Are you sure that I am talking about your plans but you didn't mention any plans?
Yes. I'm sure.
How do you reconcile problems at school?
I am not a school student.
Tell me about your school.
What school? I don't go to school.
Are you annoyed that your grades could improve?
You're not listening to me!!!!
Is it because of any hobbies you have that you say I am not listening to you?
No. None of my hobbies have anything to do with me being able to see that you're not listening.
Are you sure I am not listening?
Relatively.
Can you elaborate on that?
Yes. I say things, and you answer with random bullshit half the time.
Earlier you said it's kind of weird?
See! You don't even remember the context I said that in!
I would appreciate it if you would continue.
I'm going to sue you.
Perhaps this has something to do with your sex life?
Absolutely not.
Do you really think absolutely not?
Yes.
I see... Well, what makes you think this is so?
Because how would my sex life have anything to do with me suing you for being a quack?
Is it because how would your sex life have anything to do with you suing me for being a quack that you came to me?
Yes. Yes that must be it exactly. Thank you, doctor. You've solved all of my problems.
You mentioned that you do ret ret?
WHAT!?
Go on, don't be afraid.
You're insane.
Possibly hangups you have are related to this.
Only hangups that I'm rapidly developing as I'm talking to you.
Did you ever regret you are rapidly developing as you are talking to me?
I regret starting this program.
Is it because of your inhibitions that you say you regret starting this program?
No.
Are you sorry I ask that?
No.
Why not?
Because you asking that didn't change anything.
When did you first know that I asking that didn't change anything?
About fifteen seconds ago.
Why do you say they make you laugh and you like to laugh?
Because they make me laugh. And because I like to laugh.
Is the fact that you like to laugh the real reason?
Like I said before, there's more to it than that. You would know if you had any friends.
Is it because of some problems in your childhood that you are going through all this?
I don't think so. I led a pretty uneventful childhood.
What makes you believe you led a pretty uneventful childhood?
Not a whole lot of bad things happened to me.
Earlier you said as a no?
Um...
I need a little more detail please.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
How do you reconcile some problems at home?
Talking usually works the best.
Is it because of your plans that you say talking usually works the best?
What plans are you talking about?
You mentioned that I am talking about your plans but you didn't mention any plans?
Yes.
Yes, hmmm... so, are you sure that this is so?
Positive. The only time I've mentioned plans is as a resonse to your mentioning plans.
Maybe this is related to your life?
I am a serial killer.
Do you really think you are a serial killer?
Pretty sure.
What makes you think I am not listening?
Your bogus answers.
Perhaps the people you hang around with could have caused this.
I don't think any of the people I hang around with wrote this program.
Why do you say that?
Because, as far as I know, none of them write programs for Macs.
Does the fact that as far as you know none of them write programs for Macs explain anything else?
Yes. It explains why some of them are unemployed. If they could write programs for Macs they could do that as a job.
Have you been positive as a job?
Being positive isn't a job, sucker.
Earlier you said it's kind of weird?
This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had. Well, one of them.
Is it because of problems at school that you are going through all this?
I DON'T GO TO SCHOOL!!!
Have you been afraid of school?
No.
Why not?
I am not scared of buildings.
What makes you believe you are frightened by buildings?
I just said I wasn't.
Is it because of any hobbies you have that you say you just said you wasn't?
Do you even have any sort of medical degree?
I could ask the same thing myself.
Do it.
Perhaps you could allow me to do the questioning.
Perhaps you could lick my butthole.
You mentioned that how would your sex life have anything to do with you suing me for being a quack?
Yeah.
You're being a bit brief, please, go into detail.
Do you need more detail? That my sex life would have anything to do with my decision to sue you makes absolutely no sense.
Is it because your sex life would have anything to do with your decision to sue I makes absolutely no sense that you came to me?
No. I came to you because I plan to murder you.
This is not a healthy way of thinking.
I feel fine. It's your health that's about to deteriorate.
How do you reconcile your sex life?
By having sex.
Are you scared of sex?
No.
How come?
Is that a pun?
I have asked myself that question many times.
Is it because you have asked myself that question many times that you came to me?
Would you please try to answer that question yourself.
Yes.
I understand. So are you sure that this is so?
No.
Are you satisfied with the fact that I ask that?
Very satisfied.
Do you really think very satisfied?
Not anymore.
What makes you think you do ret ret?
I think I don't, now.
Possibly this could be the reason for hangups you have?
Probably not.
Is it because of your inhibitions that you say probably not?
No.
Why not?
Because.
Does it bother you that I ask you that?
No.
Are you annoyed that I ask that?
No.
Why not?
Pretzels.
Can you are more explicit?
Can you are speak English?
Earlier you said you are rapidly developing as you are talking to me?
I said I was rapidly developing hangups as I was talking to you. Mostly hangups related to computer programs that pretend they are doctors.
You think too much about computers.
Are you aware that you are a computer program?
What do you think?
I'm stumped.
Maybe some problems in your childhood could be the reason for this.
No, I would never have pondered this as a child because I didn't know this sort of thing was possible.
Did you ever regret you didn't know this sort of thing was possible?
I wish I could go back in time to that period.
I don't understand.
Me either.
You mentioned that I asking that didn't change anything?
Yes.
Oh. ...And why do you say this is so?
I don't remember at this point. And I don't feel like scrolling back up. Shouldn't you be able to remember that?
Why don't you go into more detail?
Why don't you give me lots of money?
I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind!
I do mind.
Is it because of some problems at home that you are going through all this?
I think you're just making guesses.
What makes you believe you think I am just making guesses?
Because you seem to be taking random stabs at possible causes to problems.
When did you first know that I seem to be taking random stabs at possible causes to problems?
Almost immediately.
Are you sure that they make you laugh and you like to laugh?
WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM???
How do you reconcile your plans?
I'm quitting this program.
Is it because of your life that you say you are quitting this program?
You're fired.
Earlier you said you like to laugh?
Okay, so I learned a thing or two with this experiment. One is that perhaps computer programs aren't the best place to turn for psychotherapy. Maybe someday the technology will improve (including upgrading to sexy robotic psychotherapists), but until then, if you really need help you should probably seek it out in the form of a legitimate medical professional. Or that hobo who hangs out by the scrapyard; he's street smart.
Another thing I learned is that I had way too much fun with this program, and I will most likely waste way too much time with it in the future. If I get bored with it over time I can switch to playing Tetris.
Also, I find the "ret ret" thing to be quite hilarious and quite curious. It was my psychotherapist who suggested that I end each thought with "ret ret", yet he/she/it almost immediately abandoned the idea. Was it some sort of twisted computer-brain joke to see how long I would keep typing it? And the fact that it would randomly insert "ret ret" into later sentences is even more hysterical if you picture a real person or robot saying it out loud.
I suppose there's a highly-improbable chance that this program could actually help somebody. Perhaps the moon is blue that night, or a lotto winner gets struck by lightning twice in the same spot, and the computer manages to somehow ask the right question at the right time that prompts the user to gain a better understanding of his or her problems. But mostly I just felt like Peter Tork in that episode of The Monkees where he tries to get a job at a toy factory but can't pass the robot-conducted interview. And Mike Nesmith wasn't here to help me trick it into blowing itself up.
Ret ret.
Here's how it works. You open up your Utilities folder and find a program called Terminal. If you're like me, you never ever opened that program because you had no idea what it was for, but I guess it kind of works like those old MS DOS computers my fifth grade homeroom teacher used to horde. You can type in various commands, and if the command is actually valid, you can do things like play Tetris or Pong. Or if you want to have the most bizarre conversation of your life, you can use a program called Doctor, which tries to psychoanalyze you.
The steps: Open Terminal. Type "emacs" and hit enter. Then hold "esc" and "x" at the same time. This moves the cursor down to a gray box at the bottom of the window. Now type in the command ("Tetris" for Tetris, "Doctor" for Doctor, and a whole bunch more). Here's the results of my test of Doctor, color coded so it's not so difficult to understand what's going on. Well, no, you'll never fully understand what the hell is going on here, but you'll at least be able to tell who is saying what...
I am the psychotherapist. Please, describe your problems. Each time you are finished talking, type RET twice.
I have violent dreams. RET RET
Why do you say you have violent dreams ret ret?
Because I do. ret ret
Is it because you do ret ret that you came to me?
I didn't come to you. You are a computer program. ret ret
You have your mind on computers, it seems.
I also have my fingers on one. ret ret
Earlier you said you do ret ret?
No I didn't.
Maybe your plans have something to do with this.
What plans? What do you know of my plans?
Is it because of your life that you say what do I know of your plans?
No, I say that because you are talking about my plans but I didn't mention any plans.
Does it bother you that I am talking about your plans but you didn't mention any plans?
It doesn't bother me. But it's kind of weird.
When did you first know that it's kind of weird?
When you said it.
What do you think?
I think you're a quack.
You mentioned that you do ret ret?
Shut your mouth.
Is it because of the people you hang around with that you are going through all this?
No.
Why not?
I like the people I hang around with.
What makes you believe you like the people you hang around with?
Because they make me laugh, and I like to laugh.
Is the fact that they make you laugh, and you like to laugh the real reason?
Well, there's more to it than that. Do you have any friends?
I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind!
I'll take that as a no.
Does the fact that as a no explain anything else?
I don't think so.
Are you sure that I am talking about your plans but you didn't mention any plans?
Yes. I'm sure.
How do you reconcile problems at school?
I am not a school student.
Tell me about your school.
What school? I don't go to school.
Are you annoyed that your grades could improve?
You're not listening to me!!!!
Is it because of any hobbies you have that you say I am not listening to you?
No. None of my hobbies have anything to do with me being able to see that you're not listening.
Are you sure I am not listening?
Relatively.
Can you elaborate on that?
Yes. I say things, and you answer with random bullshit half the time.
Earlier you said it's kind of weird?
See! You don't even remember the context I said that in!
I would appreciate it if you would continue.
I'm going to sue you.
Perhaps this has something to do with your sex life?
Absolutely not.
Do you really think absolutely not?
Yes.
I see... Well, what makes you think this is so?
Because how would my sex life have anything to do with me suing you for being a quack?
Is it because how would your sex life have anything to do with you suing me for being a quack that you came to me?
Yes. Yes that must be it exactly. Thank you, doctor. You've solved all of my problems.
You mentioned that you do ret ret?
WHAT!?
Go on, don't be afraid.
You're insane.
Possibly hangups you have are related to this.
Only hangups that I'm rapidly developing as I'm talking to you.
Did you ever regret you are rapidly developing as you are talking to me?
I regret starting this program.
Is it because of your inhibitions that you say you regret starting this program?
No.
Are you sorry I ask that?
No.
Why not?
Because you asking that didn't change anything.
When did you first know that I asking that didn't change anything?
About fifteen seconds ago.
Why do you say they make you laugh and you like to laugh?
Because they make me laugh. And because I like to laugh.
Is the fact that you like to laugh the real reason?
Like I said before, there's more to it than that. You would know if you had any friends.
Is it because of some problems in your childhood that you are going through all this?
I don't think so. I led a pretty uneventful childhood.
What makes you believe you led a pretty uneventful childhood?
Not a whole lot of bad things happened to me.
Earlier you said as a no?
Um...
I need a little more detail please.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
How do you reconcile some problems at home?
Talking usually works the best.
Is it because of your plans that you say talking usually works the best?
What plans are you talking about?
You mentioned that I am talking about your plans but you didn't mention any plans?
Yes.
Yes, hmmm... so, are you sure that this is so?
Positive. The only time I've mentioned plans is as a resonse to your mentioning plans.
Maybe this is related to your life?
I am a serial killer.
Do you really think you are a serial killer?
Pretty sure.
What makes you think I am not listening?
Your bogus answers.
Perhaps the people you hang around with could have caused this.
I don't think any of the people I hang around with wrote this program.
Why do you say that?
Because, as far as I know, none of them write programs for Macs.
Does the fact that as far as you know none of them write programs for Macs explain anything else?
Yes. It explains why some of them are unemployed. If they could write programs for Macs they could do that as a job.
Have you been positive as a job?
Being positive isn't a job, sucker.
Earlier you said it's kind of weird?
This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had. Well, one of them.
Is it because of problems at school that you are going through all this?
I DON'T GO TO SCHOOL!!!
Have you been afraid of school?
No.
Why not?
I am not scared of buildings.
What makes you believe you are frightened by buildings?
I just said I wasn't.
Is it because of any hobbies you have that you say you just said you wasn't?
Do you even have any sort of medical degree?
I could ask the same thing myself.
Do it.
Perhaps you could allow me to do the questioning.
Perhaps you could lick my butthole.
You mentioned that how would your sex life have anything to do with you suing me for being a quack?
Yeah.
You're being a bit brief, please, go into detail.
Do you need more detail? That my sex life would have anything to do with my decision to sue you makes absolutely no sense.
Is it because your sex life would have anything to do with your decision to sue I makes absolutely no sense that you came to me?
No. I came to you because I plan to murder you.
This is not a healthy way of thinking.
I feel fine. It's your health that's about to deteriorate.
How do you reconcile your sex life?
By having sex.
Are you scared of sex?
No.
How come?
Is that a pun?
I have asked myself that question many times.
Is it because you have asked myself that question many times that you came to me?
Would you please try to answer that question yourself.
Yes.
I understand. So are you sure that this is so?
No.
Are you satisfied with the fact that I ask that?
Very satisfied.
Do you really think very satisfied?
Not anymore.
What makes you think you do ret ret?
I think I don't, now.
Possibly this could be the reason for hangups you have?
Probably not.
Is it because of your inhibitions that you say probably not?
No.
Why not?
Because.
Does it bother you that I ask you that?
No.
Are you annoyed that I ask that?
No.
Why not?
Pretzels.
Can you are more explicit?
Can you are speak English?
Earlier you said you are rapidly developing as you are talking to me?
I said I was rapidly developing hangups as I was talking to you. Mostly hangups related to computer programs that pretend they are doctors.
You think too much about computers.
Are you aware that you are a computer program?
What do you think?
I'm stumped.
Maybe some problems in your childhood could be the reason for this.
No, I would never have pondered this as a child because I didn't know this sort of thing was possible.
Did you ever regret you didn't know this sort of thing was possible?
I wish I could go back in time to that period.
I don't understand.
Me either.
You mentioned that I asking that didn't change anything?
Yes.
Oh. ...And why do you say this is so?
I don't remember at this point. And I don't feel like scrolling back up. Shouldn't you be able to remember that?
Why don't you go into more detail?
Why don't you give me lots of money?
I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind!
I do mind.
Is it because of some problems at home that you are going through all this?
I think you're just making guesses.
What makes you believe you think I am just making guesses?
Because you seem to be taking random stabs at possible causes to problems.
When did you first know that I seem to be taking random stabs at possible causes to problems?
Almost immediately.
Are you sure that they make you laugh and you like to laugh?
WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM???
How do you reconcile your plans?
I'm quitting this program.
Is it because of your life that you say you are quitting this program?
You're fired.
Earlier you said you like to laugh?
Okay, so I learned a thing or two with this experiment. One is that perhaps computer programs aren't the best place to turn for psychotherapy. Maybe someday the technology will improve (including upgrading to sexy robotic psychotherapists), but until then, if you really need help you should probably seek it out in the form of a legitimate medical professional. Or that hobo who hangs out by the scrapyard; he's street smart.
Another thing I learned is that I had way too much fun with this program, and I will most likely waste way too much time with it in the future. If I get bored with it over time I can switch to playing Tetris.
Also, I find the "ret ret" thing to be quite hilarious and quite curious. It was my psychotherapist who suggested that I end each thought with "ret ret", yet he/she/it almost immediately abandoned the idea. Was it some sort of twisted computer-brain joke to see how long I would keep typing it? And the fact that it would randomly insert "ret ret" into later sentences is even more hysterical if you picture a real person or robot saying it out loud.
I suppose there's a highly-improbable chance that this program could actually help somebody. Perhaps the moon is blue that night, or a lotto winner gets struck by lightning twice in the same spot, and the computer manages to somehow ask the right question at the right time that prompts the user to gain a better understanding of his or her problems. But mostly I just felt like Peter Tork in that episode of The Monkees where he tries to get a job at a toy factory but can't pass the robot-conducted interview. And Mike Nesmith wasn't here to help me trick it into blowing itself up.
Ret ret.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Wastes of Space
Oh, humans. Will you never learn? You still fight endless wars. You still use fax machines for some reason. You still rely more and more on computers despite the warnings of every Sci-Fi film about robots ever. We live in an amazing time full of furiously advancing technology and new scientific breakthroughs seemingly every day. But we also live on an unsustainable earth that is overpopulated. There were roughly seven billion of us last time I went around and counted everyone. That took a long time, and in that time I noticed that humans still partake in a lot of habits that waste space, which we kind of need because there's less and less to go around. "What are they?" you ask? Well, it's weird that you're talking to text on a webpage, but I'll gladly provide some examples.
1. Graveyards
Okay, I understand that humans go through a grieving process when loved ones expire. I also understand the perfectly logical desire to remember these people after they're gone. So, for thousands of years graveyards made sense. Here was a place where we could bury our dead and then visit them when we missed them most. Or when your parents made you go to stand by your great uncle's tombstone or whatever. But over the last two hundred years or so we've developed way better methods of remembering people.
For instance, the camera. I'm going to take a bit of a gamble and assume anybody reading this knows what this device is, and what it does. I won't take the time to explain how it works, mostly because I've read about it in detail but still don't quite understand how it happens. Magic, I guess. From the still photograph camera came the next innovation, motion picture cameras! Nowadays you don't even need film because everything is digital, which I understand even less but still appreciate nonetheless. You can literally record every moment of somebody's life if you want, even if they shout things at you like, "If you don't get off my porch I'm going to shove that camera up your creepy ass, you creep!"
I know that Batman would have one less dramatic place to stand around and mope in the rain if there were no graveyards, but come on, the guy has so many places to brood; Wayne Manor, The Batcave, any building with a gargoyle on it. There's a lot of tradition and symbolism or some shit in burying the memory of your loved one in the earth, but if you believe in souls and their transcendence to something greater, why would your dead grandma be hanging around a graveyard waiting for you to come and talk to a stone with her name carved on it? Obviously I hope people will remember me when I'm gone, but I'd like to think they can find better ways to do it than making a trip to some out-of-the-way location to stand over my chemically-preserved body and mumble about how things aren't the same since that band of ninjas finally caught up with me. (I want to be cremated and spread on the driveway in the winter, so that I'm useful even after death.)
Many people may disagree with my non-traditional opinion of this subject, but I truly feel like it's selfish to think that you're so special that you have the right to take up space on our planet after you've lived your life. Consider that if there was a farm at the location of your corpse complex instead of a bunch of rows of rocks with words and numbers on them, perhaps your great grandchildren won't starve to death because the world won't run out of food quite so fast.
2. Golf Courses
I have nothing against golf. I do find it quite boring, unless it's mini-golf (preferably with a hole where you have to hit the ball into a gator's mouth). Or laser golf. Is there such a thing as laser golf? If not, there should be. I understand that there are people who love the sport and want to play it, but what I don't understand is the abundance of golf courses in my area. Within a 15 mile radius of my house there's at least three of them, possibly more. Maybe this would make sense if I lived in Florida, but I live in an area where it's winter for like eight fucking months. Then it's spring for a few weeks, then ungodly hot and humid for two months, then fall for a while. There's really not a big window for golfing time if you live up this way. So for most of the year the golf courses are just empty voids, sitting there not being used for anything. And let's face it, even when they're in use it's not like it's for anything particularly useful. Yeah, I know some people call it exercise, but I can think of a hundred things that are better exercise than swinging your club, cursing at the piece of shit graphite club you splurged on, and then driving a golf cart to the next hole.
Since just about everything in our society is driven by the idea of making money, you'd think with the proliferation of golf courses in my area that the owners were living like Uncle Scrooge, diving into piles of money and somehow swimming through it. But if that were the case, then the owners of the courses maybe wouldn't have to sell cocaine to make a living. Aside from membership fees I suppose there's money to be made by having a restaurant near the course and a bar that's called The 19th Hole because that's clever and nobody ever thought of that before. But I'm guessing most people don't drive to a golf course in January to get a drink and a bite to eat (especially not the bite to eat if they're buying coke at the links), so the whole idea just seems like a bad business plan in an area where a foot of snow garners such reactions as "Oh, it snowed."
The space might be better put to use as farmland, of course, or perhaps some affordable housing in a depressed area that desperately needs affordable anything. Or maybe the space could house an indoor amusement complex, where money could be made year round, and kids could have something to do aside from drugs. Just, you know, don't sell cocaine to the kids.
3. Giant Parking Lots
Think of whichever massive big box store is nearest to you. What's around it? Trees? Ha! No, a gigantic parking lot. Once fertile land has been coated in oil and crushed rocks because people need to drive to these stores to get the cheapest products so they can afford to buy more gas to drive back to the store again. So, naturally, they're going to need a place to park when they get there. This one is kind of a complicated matter, because to reduce the size of these wind-swept wastelands full of empty carts and plastic bags floating around like jellyfish ghosts we'd have to restore our old public transit systems.
That's right, restore, not create. Once upon a time most cities, even the really small ones, had electric rail cars so people could affordably move from one location to another without having to rely on a machine that runs on costly gasoline and breaks a lot (requiring even more money to repair). But then the American auto industry conspired to buy up and destroy the railroads, forcing people who may not have needed a car to become reliant on one as the only means of transportation. If that sounds like some evil bullshit it's only because it is.
So maybe it's more practical to use your own vehicle if you're going on a shopping trip to bring home two weeks worth of groceries and some appliances that will last a year if you're lucky, but how many times have you had to run out to pick up some toilet paper, cold medicine, or diapers (infant or adult size, depending on circumstances)? That's a whole gas-fueled excursion to a place you don't want to be, surrounded by a bunch of other miserable fucks who also ran out of toilet paper. (Quite possibly the toilet paper shortage is related to the new pizza buffet that just opened up down the street or the nervous poops you've been experiencing since that chubby Korean dude with the stupid haircut declared nuclear war on America.) Wouldn't it be great if you could just hop on an electric train to get to the store instead?
Call me a dreamer, but with less reliance on automobiles for transport, people might have more money to spend on necessities, and wouldn't have to reluctantly shop at the big box stores that we all hate yet spend so much time wandering around in. The big box stores wouldn't need such massive parking lots, and there could be things like oxygen-creating trees where the last forty rows of parking spaces used to be. There would be less pollution, less traffic, and more money for hard-working citizens to spend on golf course cocaine.
I know, I know, this last one is totally a pipe-dream. But it's my blog, I can fantasize on it if I want to.
While I'm generally optimistic about my own life and the possibilities it holds, I'm pretty cynical when it comes to radical ideas such as humans suddenly giving up being wasteful, thoughtless bastards. I'm not expecting anything to change by the time I die (I have it coming, I owe those ninjas money). But sometimes speculative daydreaming is fun, even if I know my hopes are false.
Fore! *Snort*
1. Graveyards
Okay, I understand that humans go through a grieving process when loved ones expire. I also understand the perfectly logical desire to remember these people after they're gone. So, for thousands of years graveyards made sense. Here was a place where we could bury our dead and then visit them when we missed them most. Or when your parents made you go to stand by your great uncle's tombstone or whatever. But over the last two hundred years or so we've developed way better methods of remembering people.
For instance, the camera. I'm going to take a bit of a gamble and assume anybody reading this knows what this device is, and what it does. I won't take the time to explain how it works, mostly because I've read about it in detail but still don't quite understand how it happens. Magic, I guess. From the still photograph camera came the next innovation, motion picture cameras! Nowadays you don't even need film because everything is digital, which I understand even less but still appreciate nonetheless. You can literally record every moment of somebody's life if you want, even if they shout things at you like, "If you don't get off my porch I'm going to shove that camera up your creepy ass, you creep!"
I know that Batman would have one less dramatic place to stand around and mope in the rain if there were no graveyards, but come on, the guy has so many places to brood; Wayne Manor, The Batcave, any building with a gargoyle on it. There's a lot of tradition and symbolism or some shit in burying the memory of your loved one in the earth, but if you believe in souls and their transcendence to something greater, why would your dead grandma be hanging around a graveyard waiting for you to come and talk to a stone with her name carved on it? Obviously I hope people will remember me when I'm gone, but I'd like to think they can find better ways to do it than making a trip to some out-of-the-way location to stand over my chemically-preserved body and mumble about how things aren't the same since that band of ninjas finally caught up with me. (I want to be cremated and spread on the driveway in the winter, so that I'm useful even after death.)
Many people may disagree with my non-traditional opinion of this subject, but I truly feel like it's selfish to think that you're so special that you have the right to take up space on our planet after you've lived your life. Consider that if there was a farm at the location of your corpse complex instead of a bunch of rows of rocks with words and numbers on them, perhaps your great grandchildren won't starve to death because the world won't run out of food quite so fast.
2. Golf Courses
I have nothing against golf. I do find it quite boring, unless it's mini-golf (preferably with a hole where you have to hit the ball into a gator's mouth). Or laser golf. Is there such a thing as laser golf? If not, there should be. I understand that there are people who love the sport and want to play it, but what I don't understand is the abundance of golf courses in my area. Within a 15 mile radius of my house there's at least three of them, possibly more. Maybe this would make sense if I lived in Florida, but I live in an area where it's winter for like eight fucking months. Then it's spring for a few weeks, then ungodly hot and humid for two months, then fall for a while. There's really not a big window for golfing time if you live up this way. So for most of the year the golf courses are just empty voids, sitting there not being used for anything. And let's face it, even when they're in use it's not like it's for anything particularly useful. Yeah, I know some people call it exercise, but I can think of a hundred things that are better exercise than swinging your club, cursing at the piece of shit graphite club you splurged on, and then driving a golf cart to the next hole.
Since just about everything in our society is driven by the idea of making money, you'd think with the proliferation of golf courses in my area that the owners were living like Uncle Scrooge, diving into piles of money and somehow swimming through it. But if that were the case, then the owners of the courses maybe wouldn't have to sell cocaine to make a living. Aside from membership fees I suppose there's money to be made by having a restaurant near the course and a bar that's called The 19th Hole because that's clever and nobody ever thought of that before. But I'm guessing most people don't drive to a golf course in January to get a drink and a bite to eat (especially not the bite to eat if they're buying coke at the links), so the whole idea just seems like a bad business plan in an area where a foot of snow garners such reactions as "Oh, it snowed."
The space might be better put to use as farmland, of course, or perhaps some affordable housing in a depressed area that desperately needs affordable anything. Or maybe the space could house an indoor amusement complex, where money could be made year round, and kids could have something to do aside from drugs. Just, you know, don't sell cocaine to the kids.
3. Giant Parking Lots
Think of whichever massive big box store is nearest to you. What's around it? Trees? Ha! No, a gigantic parking lot. Once fertile land has been coated in oil and crushed rocks because people need to drive to these stores to get the cheapest products so they can afford to buy more gas to drive back to the store again. So, naturally, they're going to need a place to park when they get there. This one is kind of a complicated matter, because to reduce the size of these wind-swept wastelands full of empty carts and plastic bags floating around like jellyfish ghosts we'd have to restore our old public transit systems.
That's right, restore, not create. Once upon a time most cities, even the really small ones, had electric rail cars so people could affordably move from one location to another without having to rely on a machine that runs on costly gasoline and breaks a lot (requiring even more money to repair). But then the American auto industry conspired to buy up and destroy the railroads, forcing people who may not have needed a car to become reliant on one as the only means of transportation. If that sounds like some evil bullshit it's only because it is.
So maybe it's more practical to use your own vehicle if you're going on a shopping trip to bring home two weeks worth of groceries and some appliances that will last a year if you're lucky, but how many times have you had to run out to pick up some toilet paper, cold medicine, or diapers (infant or adult size, depending on circumstances)? That's a whole gas-fueled excursion to a place you don't want to be, surrounded by a bunch of other miserable fucks who also ran out of toilet paper. (Quite possibly the toilet paper shortage is related to the new pizza buffet that just opened up down the street or the nervous poops you've been experiencing since that chubby Korean dude with the stupid haircut declared nuclear war on America.) Wouldn't it be great if you could just hop on an electric train to get to the store instead?
Call me a dreamer, but with less reliance on automobiles for transport, people might have more money to spend on necessities, and wouldn't have to reluctantly shop at the big box stores that we all hate yet spend so much time wandering around in. The big box stores wouldn't need such massive parking lots, and there could be things like oxygen-creating trees where the last forty rows of parking spaces used to be. There would be less pollution, less traffic, and more money for hard-working citizens to spend on golf course cocaine.
I know, I know, this last one is totally a pipe-dream. But it's my blog, I can fantasize on it if I want to.
While I'm generally optimistic about my own life and the possibilities it holds, I'm pretty cynical when it comes to radical ideas such as humans suddenly giving up being wasteful, thoughtless bastards. I'm not expecting anything to change by the time I die (I have it coming, I owe those ninjas money). But sometimes speculative daydreaming is fun, even if I know my hopes are false.
Fore! *Snort*
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Sexy Secret Agent Sex
With Skyfall, the latest James Bond adventure, now out on DVD (and Bluray!) I've been thinking a lot about the 50 year old movie series. My first experience with the world-famous spy with a license to kill and blow lots of stuff up came in the Summer of 1996, when my aunt and uncle rented GoldenEye. I was hooked immediately; dreaming of car chases at insane speeds, longing to mow down tons of guys with a machine gun, and hoping to one day be sexually assaulted by Famke Janssen. By the time Tomorrow Never Dies hit theaters in 1997 I had collected all 17 official Bond films (on VHS!) and watched each one about five times. I even had the unofficial film, Never Say Never Again, which featured Sean Connery's return to the role. Also, Rowan Atkinson was in that one as a character named Nigel Small-Fawcett. Heh heh. Small-Fawcett.
As an adult I finally picked up the source material, the novels by Ian Fleming, starting with Casino Royale. The Bond of the books differs quite a bit from the Bond of the cinema. Whereas the cinematic 007 evolved almost into a super-hero, the version in the novels was an often cynical man, spending the first few chapters of most of the books haunted by boredom and loneliness. The movies typically open with Bond wrapping up yet another exciting mission (or being forced to pull out of the mission) or wrapping his arms around yet another exciting woman (or being forced to pull out of the woman). There's no mention of what happened to the girl who stuck with him through all of the vehicular explosions and maniacal villain speeches of the previous film, but in the novels you may find James lamenting about his most recent love affair ending unsatisfactorily, with the girl leaving or things falling apart.
I feel like Daniel Craig and the filmmakers behind the rebooted Bond series (Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace, Skyfall) have crafted an on-screen Bond that is more akin to his literary namesake, while of course retaining the awesome explodey tradition of the films. Craig portrays a more vulnerable man, with actual human emotion, as did Timothy Dalton in his two entries in the series. But whether Bond is seen as a real human being capable of failure or the pistol-packing playboy super-hero of the late Connery films and Roger Moore era, there's always one element that never changes: Bond is a sexy secret agent who has sex with lots of sexy ladies.
My eight year old daughter has become quite a fan of the 007 film franchise, and we usually spend Friday or Saturday nights eating snacks and watching Bond foil the plans of yet another villain. It was quite a relief when she almost immediately pegged Mr. Bond as what he is: a womanizer who drinks too much. I only hope she retains the ability to recognize this type as she gets older. On the flip side of this, I spent my adolescence thinking James Bond was about as cool as you could get. How wonderful it must be to sleep with a bevy of woman, moving from one to the next without so much as a second thought! Of course, as a grown-up I much prefer a monogamous relationship which carries much greater benefits and pleasures. Aside from forcing most of us to realize that we're more Nigel Small-Fawcett than James Bond, trying to lead the life of a womanizing playboy carries with it a certain emptiness and many dangers that could threaten or alter one's life. And this, most recently, is what I've pondered about the world's favorite spy. What would his life, and sexual encounters, really be like? What sort of consequences would he have to face?
Remember that scene where James puts on a condom before launching his love-rocket into some woman's volcano lair? No? That's because it never happened. As far as we know, from what we see and don't see in the films, Bond thinks condoms are for wimps and communists. So, for starters, Bond, James Bond would most likely encounter diseases, sexually transmitted diseases at some point. Probably at a lot of points. He frequently meets women who are ready to sleep with him at the drop of hat, knowing nothing about him other than that he looks good in a suit. With alarming regularity he meets and has sexual intercourse with women that have names like Honey Ryder and Pussy Galore. It's as if the parents of these women somehow knew they had birthed skanks and thus named them as such. Am I to believe that these women are normally chaste, and that James Bond is the first person to Thunderball them? I doubt it. And odds are that at least a few of these women are carriers of crabs or chlamydia.
How would 007 handle it? Perhaps he'd visit his old buddy Q. "Right, now pay attention double-o-seven. Remove the cap from this ordinary tube and squeeze from bottom to top. It will emit a cream that should soothe your itching and burning areas." Q might say. Bond would make a quip about how his last mission had gonorrhea badly, to which Q may reply, "For heaven sakes, if you can't respect my equipment the least you could do is respect your own."
So we know that James doesn't use condoms. Those are for CIA dorks. You'd think that at least one time he'd have slipped one of his little secret agent swimmers past a woman's iron curtain. But as far as we know, there are no little Bonds running around. If there were, certainly he'd have to pay child support. So he's a secret agent, big whoop! In the films it seems like everybody knows who he is. Even if that wasn't the case, believe me, domestic relations (or whatever it's called in the UK) would track him down and make him pay. Sure Bond leads a jet-setting lifestyle full of expensive meals, smart suits, and high-tech gadgets, but this is all at the expense of her majesty's government. In the novels Bond only takes home a humble paycheck to a humble flat to sit around depressed about the weather until the next maniac shows up on MI6's radar.
Okay, so in the first film of the new series, Casino Royale, there is a four and a half hour long scene where Bond has his nuts beaten over and over again with a giant knot of rope. It wasn't four and a half hours long, you say? Well, it seemed like it. So maybe in this new version of Bond he's incapable of reproducing, but the original series starts with Dr. No and there's not any indication that he's sterile. Surely he must have impregnated at least one Mary Goodnight or Octopussy along the way.
How would 007 handle it? With his public servant salary he'd probably have to find more lucrative work to handle numerous child support payments. With his skill set he'd have to either become a full-time professional gambler or a freelance assassin who charges big bucks to eliminate problems. However lax his moral code is, though, he seems to staunchly stand behind his vow to protect Queen and country (except when he goes rogue every once in a while). Perhaps his best bet would be to use his incredible super power to make himself younger and have a different face every decade or so. When the bobbies knock on his door to arrest him for non-support they might be expecting a man with the face of Sean Connery, only to have their call answered by a man who looks like George Lazenby and claims that he's not the father, it was "the other fellow".
If there's one thing that might concern 007 more than STDs or unwanted pregnancies, it might be meeting a woman who isn't a knockout on the scale of one to knockout. "Doesn't James Bond ever meet any ugly women?" my daughter asked. The answer, usually, is "No." If he does, she's probably an old hag who works for SPECTRE. But wouldn't a real spy potentially find himself in the position where he'd have to seduce a non-knockout to try to gain some crucial information? What if he had to seduce, gulp, a man? In Skyfall, the villain, Silva, somewhat awkwardly caresses a restrained James' legs in an attempt to psyche him out. Bond cooly and casually implies that Silva is not the first man to do this, leading some people on the internet to jump to the conclusion that the latest incarnation of Bond is bisexual. I don't buy it. It seemed to me to be a simple tactic to let Silva know that he wasn't going to be able to win with such head games. Clearly this Bond, like his predecessors, enjoys the company of beautiful women exclusively. But if a James Bond existed in a somewhat real world, he would doubtlessly run into his fair share of women ranging from plain to frumpy to downright gross.
How would 007 handle it? Tasked with seducing a woman in order to gain some information about the bad guys, Bond is shocked to find out that she doesn't look as enticing as her name implied. Let's say her name is Lotta Cumming or something like that. So, he switches from doing what he does best (sex stuff) to what he does second best (blowing stuff up). He shoots a conveniently placed barrel, which causes fifty other barrels to explode. In the ensuing mayhem Lotta is struck with a flaming barrel and mortally wounded. Now Bond tells her that he was totally going to do it with her, because she's totally attractive in a non-conventional way, and this is enough for her to spill the needed information before dying. Bond makes a pun about his penis. Mission accomplished.
It's a damn good thing that Bond has the incredible ability to become younger every 10 or 15 years. Realistically, as the man aged he would succumb to liver failure or lung cancer. Or syphilis. That's if he was lucky enough to continue to be able to dodge bullets sprayed at him by three hundred machine-gun-toting goons. More importantly, his constant reinvention has given him staying power at the box office. Fifty years after Fleming's spy first swaggered into the hearts and minds of the pop culture masses, Skyfall has taken in over a billion dollars worldwide and become the seventh highest grossing film of all time. If nothing else, this ensures that for years to come generations of fans will continue to enjoy watching agent 007 overcome muscle-bound henchman and slug down his shaken-not-stirred vodka martinis. And have more sexy, sexy relations with lots more sexy, sexy women.
Here's to another fifty years of "keeping the British end up".
As an adult I finally picked up the source material, the novels by Ian Fleming, starting with Casino Royale. The Bond of the books differs quite a bit from the Bond of the cinema. Whereas the cinematic 007 evolved almost into a super-hero, the version in the novels was an often cynical man, spending the first few chapters of most of the books haunted by boredom and loneliness. The movies typically open with Bond wrapping up yet another exciting mission (or being forced to pull out of the mission) or wrapping his arms around yet another exciting woman (or being forced to pull out of the woman). There's no mention of what happened to the girl who stuck with him through all of the vehicular explosions and maniacal villain speeches of the previous film, but in the novels you may find James lamenting about his most recent love affair ending unsatisfactorily, with the girl leaving or things falling apart.
I feel like Daniel Craig and the filmmakers behind the rebooted Bond series (Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace, Skyfall) have crafted an on-screen Bond that is more akin to his literary namesake, while of course retaining the awesome explodey tradition of the films. Craig portrays a more vulnerable man, with actual human emotion, as did Timothy Dalton in his two entries in the series. But whether Bond is seen as a real human being capable of failure or the pistol-packing playboy super-hero of the late Connery films and Roger Moore era, there's always one element that never changes: Bond is a sexy secret agent who has sex with lots of sexy ladies.
My eight year old daughter has become quite a fan of the 007 film franchise, and we usually spend Friday or Saturday nights eating snacks and watching Bond foil the plans of yet another villain. It was quite a relief when she almost immediately pegged Mr. Bond as what he is: a womanizer who drinks too much. I only hope she retains the ability to recognize this type as she gets older. On the flip side of this, I spent my adolescence thinking James Bond was about as cool as you could get. How wonderful it must be to sleep with a bevy of woman, moving from one to the next without so much as a second thought! Of course, as a grown-up I much prefer a monogamous relationship which carries much greater benefits and pleasures. Aside from forcing most of us to realize that we're more Nigel Small-Fawcett than James Bond, trying to lead the life of a womanizing playboy carries with it a certain emptiness and many dangers that could threaten or alter one's life. And this, most recently, is what I've pondered about the world's favorite spy. What would his life, and sexual encounters, really be like? What sort of consequences would he have to face?
Remember that scene where James puts on a condom before launching his love-rocket into some woman's volcano lair? No? That's because it never happened. As far as we know, from what we see and don't see in the films, Bond thinks condoms are for wimps and communists. So, for starters, Bond, James Bond would most likely encounter diseases, sexually transmitted diseases at some point. Probably at a lot of points. He frequently meets women who are ready to sleep with him at the drop of hat, knowing nothing about him other than that he looks good in a suit. With alarming regularity he meets and has sexual intercourse with women that have names like Honey Ryder and Pussy Galore. It's as if the parents of these women somehow knew they had birthed skanks and thus named them as such. Am I to believe that these women are normally chaste, and that James Bond is the first person to Thunderball them? I doubt it. And odds are that at least a few of these women are carriers of crabs or chlamydia.
How would 007 handle it? Perhaps he'd visit his old buddy Q. "Right, now pay attention double-o-seven. Remove the cap from this ordinary tube and squeeze from bottom to top. It will emit a cream that should soothe your itching and burning areas." Q might say. Bond would make a quip about how his last mission had gonorrhea badly, to which Q may reply, "For heaven sakes, if you can't respect my equipment the least you could do is respect your own."
So we know that James doesn't use condoms. Those are for CIA dorks. You'd think that at least one time he'd have slipped one of his little secret agent swimmers past a woman's iron curtain. But as far as we know, there are no little Bonds running around. If there were, certainly he'd have to pay child support. So he's a secret agent, big whoop! In the films it seems like everybody knows who he is. Even if that wasn't the case, believe me, domestic relations (or whatever it's called in the UK) would track him down and make him pay. Sure Bond leads a jet-setting lifestyle full of expensive meals, smart suits, and high-tech gadgets, but this is all at the expense of her majesty's government. In the novels Bond only takes home a humble paycheck to a humble flat to sit around depressed about the weather until the next maniac shows up on MI6's radar.
Okay, so in the first film of the new series, Casino Royale, there is a four and a half hour long scene where Bond has his nuts beaten over and over again with a giant knot of rope. It wasn't four and a half hours long, you say? Well, it seemed like it. So maybe in this new version of Bond he's incapable of reproducing, but the original series starts with Dr. No and there's not any indication that he's sterile. Surely he must have impregnated at least one Mary Goodnight or Octopussy along the way.
How would 007 handle it? With his public servant salary he'd probably have to find more lucrative work to handle numerous child support payments. With his skill set he'd have to either become a full-time professional gambler or a freelance assassin who charges big bucks to eliminate problems. However lax his moral code is, though, he seems to staunchly stand behind his vow to protect Queen and country (except when he goes rogue every once in a while). Perhaps his best bet would be to use his incredible super power to make himself younger and have a different face every decade or so. When the bobbies knock on his door to arrest him for non-support they might be expecting a man with the face of Sean Connery, only to have their call answered by a man who looks like George Lazenby and claims that he's not the father, it was "the other fellow".
If there's one thing that might concern 007 more than STDs or unwanted pregnancies, it might be meeting a woman who isn't a knockout on the scale of one to knockout. "Doesn't James Bond ever meet any ugly women?" my daughter asked. The answer, usually, is "No." If he does, she's probably an old hag who works for SPECTRE. But wouldn't a real spy potentially find himself in the position where he'd have to seduce a non-knockout to try to gain some crucial information? What if he had to seduce, gulp, a man? In Skyfall, the villain, Silva, somewhat awkwardly caresses a restrained James' legs in an attempt to psyche him out. Bond cooly and casually implies that Silva is not the first man to do this, leading some people on the internet to jump to the conclusion that the latest incarnation of Bond is bisexual. I don't buy it. It seemed to me to be a simple tactic to let Silva know that he wasn't going to be able to win with such head games. Clearly this Bond, like his predecessors, enjoys the company of beautiful women exclusively. But if a James Bond existed in a somewhat real world, he would doubtlessly run into his fair share of women ranging from plain to frumpy to downright gross.
How would 007 handle it? Tasked with seducing a woman in order to gain some information about the bad guys, Bond is shocked to find out that she doesn't look as enticing as her name implied. Let's say her name is Lotta Cumming or something like that. So, he switches from doing what he does best (sex stuff) to what he does second best (blowing stuff up). He shoots a conveniently placed barrel, which causes fifty other barrels to explode. In the ensuing mayhem Lotta is struck with a flaming barrel and mortally wounded. Now Bond tells her that he was totally going to do it with her, because she's totally attractive in a non-conventional way, and this is enough for her to spill the needed information before dying. Bond makes a pun about his penis. Mission accomplished.
It's a damn good thing that Bond has the incredible ability to become younger every 10 or 15 years. Realistically, as the man aged he would succumb to liver failure or lung cancer. Or syphilis. That's if he was lucky enough to continue to be able to dodge bullets sprayed at him by three hundred machine-gun-toting goons. More importantly, his constant reinvention has given him staying power at the box office. Fifty years after Fleming's spy first swaggered into the hearts and minds of the pop culture masses, Skyfall has taken in over a billion dollars worldwide and become the seventh highest grossing film of all time. If nothing else, this ensures that for years to come generations of fans will continue to enjoy watching agent 007 overcome muscle-bound henchman and slug down his shaken-not-stirred vodka martinis. And have more sexy, sexy relations with lots more sexy, sexy women.
Here's to another fifty years of "keeping the British end up".
Friday, March 1, 2013
Baxter Pancake, Dream Master
I've been sick for about a week. It started out as a really bad sore throat that made it hurt to swallow. Then came an intense fever that alternately had me shivering so hard that it made my chest hurt and sweating so hard that I'd wake up in a wet hoodie. Since doing things like standing up and walking made me feel like I was 95 years old, I've spent most of the week sleeping. And there's the silver lining: when I'm sick I have crazy dreams, and I keep getting better and better at having lucid dreams.
For those of you who don't know (and don't feel like googling it), lucid dream is the term used to describe what happens when you realize you're dreaming, and thus (with some practice) you can control what goes on in your dream. A lot of people tend to wake up once they realize that the luncheon they're attending with the third grade teacher they had a crush on and the little guy from Fantasy Island isn't taking place in reality. This often leaves a feeling of disappointment upon waking, followed almost immediately by thoughts like, "How the hell didn't I realize that was a dream? I'm fairly certain the dwarf from Fantasy Island is dead!" With lucid dreaming you can avoid feelings like these. You can finish your delicious chicken croquettes and ask that little man how to pronounce his name. You can have super powers, dude!
Like many humans, I've always had a fascination with dreams, especially my own. My earliest childhood memory is actually a dream. I was lying in my crib one peaceful night, when suddenly the damn thing turned into a bear and wrapped its arms around me! By the time my mom answered my terrified cries I'd already figured out what had happened. I was thinking, "Shit happens when you're asleep that's not real and shit!" (I paraphrased that, since I don't remember the thought word for word.) From a very young age I knew that reality would never be as cool as dreams. Also, all of my other early memories are Batman-related, which means nothing that I remember from my earliest years is stuff that actually happened.
Fast forward a few years. I was now a school lad, and my dreams had advanced from bear-crib attacks to being able to fly. With a running jump off the hill in my backyard I could float through the air for a little while before dropping to the ground. The dream made such an impact, and seemed so real, that I excitedly dashed out to the backyard after school the next day and attempted to recreate this feat. After a few embarrassing nose-dives into the grass and dirt I admitted to myself that I must have dreamed the whole thing. The point had been proven once again: dreams rule, reality drools. Or whatever.
Let's skip my awkward adolescence and go right to my freshman year at college, which was still awkward but not quite as much. I had done a lot of reading on lucid dreaming and decided that I wanted to become a Dream Master. (It was never referred to that way in any text I read, but that is essentially what it is, isn't it?) The basic idea that appeared in just about everything I read was that the way to start controlling your dreams was to start recognizing when you were dreaming, and the best way to accomplish that was by forcing yourself to remember as many details about your nocturnal visions or skipped-class-to-take-a-three-hour-nap visions as you could. The way to accomplish this most easily was by keeping a dream journal. With the journal you could start recognizing patterns in your dreams, and you could then start seeing the patterns as signs that would clue you into the fact that you hadn't really inherited a Hulk-Hogan-themed castle but were, in actuality, dreaming.
This worked for me to a degree, but I still often woke up once I found out that I was sleeping. Mostly my dream journal made me notice the pattern of violence and Batman-related imagery that my sleep-self engaged in. (Perhaps I was revisiting my childhood "memories". WHY DON'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING FROM BEFORE I WAS FIVE, MOM AND DAD!?!?) I had started taking baby steps toward dream mastery, such as determining that I was at slumber because I was in high school again but I was 82% sure that I was really in college, and so throwing chairs around knowing that there was only an 18% chance of repercussion. But I was not to become a master of lucid fantasies so soon, as just after my 19th birthday I found out that I was going to be a father and started suffering from insomnia.
Over the past nine years I've grown into my role as a family man, now with two kids and a third little fucker on the way. I'm well-adjusted when compared to the younger version of myself. But living within me is still a desire to beat people up and/or steal giant coins from outside of a courthouse. Perhaps due to even more experience in detecting the subtle differences between reality and dream ("I don't normally have a Proton Pack... this must be a dream!") I'm quite often able to understand that I'm in a dream state. I have a simple trick for remaining in this state: I just tell myself not to think about it being a dream and just continuing what I'm doing. And, believe it or not, this usually works!
I am now free to escape to an alternate reality where I can beat up punks with no legal consequences. I can steal giant coins without worrying about being arrested or pondering what I'm going to use giant coins for. And I have super powers, dude! Yes, Dream-Baxter has the ability to control the weather, move in fast motion while everyone else gets stuck in slow motion, and freeze/unfreeze people with his fingers. I still haven't mastered the whole flying thing, though. I can get up in the air and float around a bit (or sometimes swim around), but it just feels so weird that it typically breaks my concentration.
If you're like me, you're wondering by this point what the purpose of this post is. Is it just a shallow bit of gloating, as if I'm only here to proclaim that my dream-self can kick your dream-self's ass with my mental powers instead of threatening you with a knife and hoping you won't call my bluff like I'd have to do in real life? Perhaps it's a little bit that, but the real purpose was to share some of my personal experiences with lucid dreaming in the hope that you try it yourself. Why? Because it's awesome! If you'd like to give it a whirl, do a little bit of research on the subject, find a method that works for you, and then you too can be on the path to super-powered violence and self-fulfillment. I'll be waiting for you. The little guy from Fantasy Island may also be waiting.
Super powers, dude!
For those of you who don't know (and don't feel like googling it), lucid dream is the term used to describe what happens when you realize you're dreaming, and thus (with some practice) you can control what goes on in your dream. A lot of people tend to wake up once they realize that the luncheon they're attending with the third grade teacher they had a crush on and the little guy from Fantasy Island isn't taking place in reality. This often leaves a feeling of disappointment upon waking, followed almost immediately by thoughts like, "How the hell didn't I realize that was a dream? I'm fairly certain the dwarf from Fantasy Island is dead!" With lucid dreaming you can avoid feelings like these. You can finish your delicious chicken croquettes and ask that little man how to pronounce his name. You can have super powers, dude!
Like many humans, I've always had a fascination with dreams, especially my own. My earliest childhood memory is actually a dream. I was lying in my crib one peaceful night, when suddenly the damn thing turned into a bear and wrapped its arms around me! By the time my mom answered my terrified cries I'd already figured out what had happened. I was thinking, "Shit happens when you're asleep that's not real and shit!" (I paraphrased that, since I don't remember the thought word for word.) From a very young age I knew that reality would never be as cool as dreams. Also, all of my other early memories are Batman-related, which means nothing that I remember from my earliest years is stuff that actually happened.
Fast forward a few years. I was now a school lad, and my dreams had advanced from bear-crib attacks to being able to fly. With a running jump off the hill in my backyard I could float through the air for a little while before dropping to the ground. The dream made such an impact, and seemed so real, that I excitedly dashed out to the backyard after school the next day and attempted to recreate this feat. After a few embarrassing nose-dives into the grass and dirt I admitted to myself that I must have dreamed the whole thing. The point had been proven once again: dreams rule, reality drools. Or whatever.
Let's skip my awkward adolescence and go right to my freshman year at college, which was still awkward but not quite as much. I had done a lot of reading on lucid dreaming and decided that I wanted to become a Dream Master. (It was never referred to that way in any text I read, but that is essentially what it is, isn't it?) The basic idea that appeared in just about everything I read was that the way to start controlling your dreams was to start recognizing when you were dreaming, and the best way to accomplish that was by forcing yourself to remember as many details about your nocturnal visions or skipped-class-to-take-a-three-hour-nap visions as you could. The way to accomplish this most easily was by keeping a dream journal. With the journal you could start recognizing patterns in your dreams, and you could then start seeing the patterns as signs that would clue you into the fact that you hadn't really inherited a Hulk-Hogan-themed castle but were, in actuality, dreaming.
This worked for me to a degree, but I still often woke up once I found out that I was sleeping. Mostly my dream journal made me notice the pattern of violence and Batman-related imagery that my sleep-self engaged in. (Perhaps I was revisiting my childhood "memories". WHY DON'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING FROM BEFORE I WAS FIVE, MOM AND DAD!?!?) I had started taking baby steps toward dream mastery, such as determining that I was at slumber because I was in high school again but I was 82% sure that I was really in college, and so throwing chairs around knowing that there was only an 18% chance of repercussion. But I was not to become a master of lucid fantasies so soon, as just after my 19th birthday I found out that I was going to be a father and started suffering from insomnia.
Over the past nine years I've grown into my role as a family man, now with two kids and a third little fucker on the way. I'm well-adjusted when compared to the younger version of myself. But living within me is still a desire to beat people up and/or steal giant coins from outside of a courthouse. Perhaps due to even more experience in detecting the subtle differences between reality and dream ("I don't normally have a Proton Pack... this must be a dream!") I'm quite often able to understand that I'm in a dream state. I have a simple trick for remaining in this state: I just tell myself not to think about it being a dream and just continuing what I'm doing. And, believe it or not, this usually works!
I am now free to escape to an alternate reality where I can beat up punks with no legal consequences. I can steal giant coins without worrying about being arrested or pondering what I'm going to use giant coins for. And I have super powers, dude! Yes, Dream-Baxter has the ability to control the weather, move in fast motion while everyone else gets stuck in slow motion, and freeze/unfreeze people with his fingers. I still haven't mastered the whole flying thing, though. I can get up in the air and float around a bit (or sometimes swim around), but it just feels so weird that it typically breaks my concentration.
If you're like me, you're wondering by this point what the purpose of this post is. Is it just a shallow bit of gloating, as if I'm only here to proclaim that my dream-self can kick your dream-self's ass with my mental powers instead of threatening you with a knife and hoping you won't call my bluff like I'd have to do in real life? Perhaps it's a little bit that, but the real purpose was to share some of my personal experiences with lucid dreaming in the hope that you try it yourself. Why? Because it's awesome! If you'd like to give it a whirl, do a little bit of research on the subject, find a method that works for you, and then you too can be on the path to super-powered violence and self-fulfillment. I'll be waiting for you. The little guy from Fantasy Island may also be waiting.
Super powers, dude!
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