Have People's Fingers Suddenly Gone Limp?

I was stuck around the dinner table the other night, the Lone Non-Republican. Not that I'm a big fan of any particular party at the moment, but...Bush? No thanks. This is the man who said who better to head FEMA than a horse expert!

Anyway, you know it's going to be bad when other people start to begin their sentences by looking at you (because they sense that you are some kind of Liberal Thinker because you live in the Big City, I guess?) and say, "Now, I'm a liberal, but..." or "I'm not a racist, but what bothers me is when these people..." And thus begins the rant on Today's Latest Topic, How Horrible It Is To Press One For English. Because you know, that's really a pain in the A-S-S. Previously, I had been completely unaware that tax dollars were being spent on private corporations like SBC and Cingular to work this into their telephone recordings; I just assumed it was because they were too lame to hire real people to answer the damn phone. Okay, DMV - government agency. But seriously, folks -- it's all going electronic and computer anywya, so what's the big deal? But according to the education I received the other night, Our Tax Dollars are being spent on printing things in multiple languages when really, we should just print them in English because EVERYONE should know how to speak English. And it's also apparently annoying to have to hear other people's accents.

The fact is, most people living in America do understand English. If they've just moved here though - and this included your Ellis Island grandpa, so don't give me that sob story - they couldn't read and write it, and they DO want their children to understand it. So I suggest that our politicians stop cutting back every single program in which we teach English (yes, this includes bilingual Spanish to English! It's very simple to do with children) VERY WELL to our children. I know it's tempting to use that money for sports, military and building bridges in Alaska that go nowhere, but if you're gonna bitch about something, please put your money where your mouth is.

As for flags, no one complains about Columbus Day (okay, except Native Peoples, and that's within their right, too, because hello, AMERICA - they have a perfect right to march as well!), or St. Patrick's Day, or Cinco de Mayo...oh WAIT, no. I seem to recall on Cinco de Mayo it was suddenly WRONG to hold a Mexican flag up in America. Hmmm, why do you suppose that was, huh? But it's not wrong to hold up an Irish flag on St. Patrick's Day or an Italian flag on Columbus Day? I wonder!

America is a melting pot of many nationalities, people. That means cultures. Being an American means you are a MUTT. We all were another nation's refuse at some point in time, and came here because we didn't want to be someplace else. So get back behind your neatly manicured lawn and pour yourselves a hot cup of shut the hell up.

Sorry. Rant done.

"The problem here, ya see, is a giant piece of metal in your tank."

It was a perfect day. Full of good food, champagne, a mani/pedi...and toilet repair.

I got together with some of the girls today; Natasha, Robyn, and Ryann all were good enough to come out and take me to brunch at Polker's (mmm, French toast combo!) and then a mani/pedi at Teashi. Afterwards, the gals came over to the apartment and I happened to mention our infuriatingly slow-flushing toilet, which doesn't so much flush as it does swirl water around inside.

Robyn, ever the helpful soul, bursts forth with, "I am very well-acquainted with the inner-workings of a toilet tank. Let's take a look." She removes the lid of the tank and peers inside. Horror and confusion: "What ...is that?" she asks, pointing to an odd, triangular piece of rusty and disintegrating metal which I always assumed served some purpose, but which I simply couldn't make out beneath all the rust. "I mean, maybe I've just never seen something like it before, but...does it do anything?" she inquires.

"Err...oh, you mean my kilo of coke? Drat, you've found our hiding place!" If only I had something as valuable stashed in my toilet. I realize that in fact, this big piece of metal was simply that: a big useless piece of metal. Ryann and Natasha join us in the bathroom to have a gander at this archaeological find. Things begin to take on the flavor of uncovering some lost piece of the Titanic...or, perhaps its loo.

Robyn requests a plastic bag (I bring several, along with gloves!), which she dons, bless her heart, instructing me to depress the handle "...and don't let go!" Natasha documents it all on film, and I wonder what neighbors must think, hearing four women giggling in the bathroom while repeatedly flushing the toilet.

Robyn has quite a time prying the piece of metal from the ceramic base of the tank, age and rust being what they are, and there is a brief struggle before it gives up the fight, is bagged and handed over to our Marlin Perkins of the bathroom. It has quite a serious heft to it...but we still don't know what it is. I'm thinking of posting photos later, and staging a contest. Michael hasn't looked at it yet; he simply lifted the bag, felt its weight, and let loose and incredulous, "What in hell was :this thing doing in our toilet?" (See the photo marked, "Well, it's made of steel..." I had to counter with a Paulie Walnuts Sopranos-style, "Oof, Mahronne!")

Okay, but the thing is while there is no longer a mysterious foreign object living at the bottom of toilet tank... that thing is now FREE of the toilet tank. Only a few thin layers of plastic stand between it and an unprepared world... [cue John Carpenter movie music]...

And the winner is....

Anyone who guessed I'd wake up at 2:30 p.m. today, you win the kewpie doll.

And guess what day it actually was yesterday, without my knowing it? Yes, that's right -- Groundhog Day.

*Knocks forehead* So that was the problem!

Wish me luck with gown-hunting tomorrow. I'm in the highly-capable hands of Robyn Braverman, Bride Patrol. More later...

Monday Redux

Do you remember that X-Files episode called Monday? It's the one where Mulder is doomed to repeat the same fateful day over and over, only with teeny tiny changes in it, each time ending with him and Scully's death by explosion with a bankful of other people during a foiled robbery. It's a pretty keen little episode, despite the fact that it's a blatant rip-off of Groundhog Day; Carol Burnett's daughter is in it, and she's quite good.

Anyway, I had a series of days just like that this week. TUESDAY: Overslept until Michael woke me up at twenty past twelve. "Don't you have to go to work today?" "SHIT!" Stumble out of bed, throw water on hair, toss on clothes and make-up, call for cab and arrive at work to General Chaos and his minions at my desk. I inadvertently board the incorrect bus home and switch buses in North Beach, WEDNESDAY: Overslept until Michael woke me up at quarter after twelve. This time, all he had to say was, "Hey." Me: "ARGHHHH!" Called for cab, stumbled into work to find that General Chaos' front was still strong; the L.A. office had sent time sheets to be entered. Fiends! I cancelled plans to go to see a friend's comedy show so I could work late and try to get caught up. We run out of half and half at work. The bus I am on coming home has a lot of crazy mumbling and singing people; I wonder if it's a full moon. THURSDAY: I may have broken the pattern by waking up on my own at 12:05 -- quite late but not quite oversleeping. I take a cab anyway because I am lazy. I stop at Walgreen's on the way in for half and half in case work still hasn't bought any; this turn out to be a correct assessment, and again I think I am on an upswing. I even almost rub elbows with Crazy Walking Man on Kearny, which is akin to seeing the groundhog's shadow, so I think maybe my luck is changing....or not. We still have a pile of work to slog through. But hey, that's what winter's always been about. And at least the box full of tapes with people praying no longer needs transcribing, so that's good news.

Right?

Just nod.

I wonder what time I'll wake up tomorrow....

King Kong: No more "Boil ma Potato!"

And I say this because Michael and I watched the original King Kong over Christmas and M. pointed out that the Chief Native guy says something that sounds like "Boil ma potato - KONG!" ...twice! Well no WONDER Kong is kranky; the natives are demanding that he boil their potatoes.

(Sorry for the excessively long movie review to follow; I got a little carried away...) Anyway, we FINALLY managed to get some time and go see the new Jackson "Kong", and I have to say, I'm really impressed. I was skeptical before going in, what with the three hours and the fact that we'd just watched the first one and I did find my attention wandering during parts of the original (oh no, more running through the jungle...when are they gonna get to the LOG, already?) but I thought there was a lot of really great stuff in this one. If anything could have been cut, it was probably some of the NY bits at the beginning, and maybe Central Park.

But first of all....how creepy were the NATIVES?? Man, you knew you were watching a Peter Jackson film then! No "Ooga-booga Kong boil ma potato!" there. No, it was really more of a smash your head in with a sharp stick if you're lucky sort of deal. But you're really kind of asking for it, just wandering onto a place called Skull Island, past all the....skulls. I realize it was the thirties and they hadn't seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre yet, but even the very dim would have to know that's a bad sign. And did you catch the body bridges? Nice!

I also liked that Carl Denham was so sinister and just totally didn't see what was coming. Completely blind to what he was doing; it wasn't like he was two-diminsionally evil or anything; he was just stupid in that Hollywood white guy way. I thought it made sense that Ann stuck by Kong; that bugged me in the original that she would be running away from the one thing that was trying to protect her the whole time. It also made more sense now that probably Kong just snapped the necks of his brides accidentally on his little lair while whipping them around and then was like, Oh man! Bummer. Broken toy. And she kind of taught him how to quit knocking her around so much.

All of that just made the NY scenes much more effective and sad. I actually got a little teary eyed, which never really happened with the original. Not to say the new one is better; I just think they're taking a different twist, and this one was a really interesting look. I also appreciate the original Kong being more of heartless bastard, though -- remember how he just tears into people for not being Faye Wray? I kind of think Faye Wray was more like his own personal Barbie doll, whereas Ann Darrow really cares about the beast that saved her so many times in this one. Both have their merits... but I felt a lot sadder when this Kong died.

I really liked the "show" at the theater, using the original score and the "natives". The dance was hysterical. Michael recognized Smiegel (sp?) from LOTR playing the cook guy (friend of Charlie). I liked that Bruce Baxter came back to save them instead of being an ass, but still stayed in character and ran in the theater. And nice moment when Ann and Jack come through the gates and realize they've been there the whole time with the cameras.

Things that bugged me: Why did Charlie die??? "All hand on deck! Everybody on deck!" **sniff** And WTF happened to all the creepy natives? Did they figure out what was gonna happen and bug out? They were so awesome that you'd think they alone would be enough to get Carl Denham a grant from his studios to come back with a fleet of ships. Ummm...not much else bugged me, except for some excessive name-bandying in conversation ("Keep going, Jimmy!" "No, Mr. Hayes!" "Oh, Ms. Darrow." "Yes, Mr. Driscoll?" ARGH!!!).

OH and what was up with Jimmy's mysterious background? I kept waiting for it to come in handy or something, but it was never used. Oh well -- maybe Jackson is planning a remake of "Island of Lost Souls" and it will turn out that Jimmy came from there; he was once an animal experimented on by Dr. Moreau.

All in all, considering I used movie passes for this, totally worth it. I'd even pay for it again, though I probably won't considering we're way behind on our movies.

Book Banning, Anyone?

I recently made the mistake of thinking we had progressed into the 21st century. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled across this and discovered how wrong I was! Book banning? I'm sorry, but isn't that illegal? Granted, I would love the attention if my writings were banned -- everyone knows a banned item gets twice as much attention as a boring old non-banned book -- but...erm...The Chocolate War??? I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the government should be so offended by a book about the dangers of nonconformity. Those Vigils--or that Bush Administration--can be right arseholes--when they want to. For those unfamiliar with Cormier's book, please take advantage of the ALA's site and give the chapter a listen. You won't be sorry.

By the way, this book used to be taught in junior high. I'm quite sure that now, you're lucky to find it in the public library. My own copy has now been safely secured!

And that's not all. I'm sure you're aware that despite the First Amendment to the Bill of Rights, there's quite a hefty list of banned and challenged books each year. Not only that, but plenty of books have been CENSORED from their original format. (Rolls eyes) Have we lost that much of our backbone, people? Are we so afraid of offending that we must now flip through the historical canon and rip out all which might cause cringing?

Immersion Stupidity

I actually saw this article a while back and have been meaning to mention it for some time now. So now, if you'll just indulge me...**takes deep breath**

WTF???

Okay, I can understand how some fiction writers might think they can get a vague sense of what it's like to live like a junkie if they rent a room at the Baldwin for a few months. But frankly even that is pushing it, no pun intended, because let's face it: they're living with the knowledge that they can walk away from it at any time. They are, in fact, living fiction. There's nothing "immersion" about what they are doing, unless they are immersing themselves in their own stupidity. Fiction is the ability to make things up believably from your own imagination; if you can't tell a good story based on this simple guideline, then maybe you should write about something else.

Journalism, on the other hand, is supposed to be about reporting the facts. Since when is it so important for the reporter or journalist to contantly interject himself into the story? I'm getting sick of reading these articles written by self-absorbed journalists who are more interested in what they had for breakfast or how they think their interview subject is relating to them personally than in what is being said. If I want a food critique, I'll turn to the Food Section.

Ugh. Enough already! Immersion, Schmersion!