2021, The Do-Over Year?

reboot the usaIf only it were as easy as a reboot.

With the inevitable parade of spineless, traitorous Republicans slithering from the shadows of sedition, demanding that Democrats let “bygones be bygones” in the wake of the horrific, violent insurrection perpetrated by a Right-wing mob on the U.S. capital, January 6, 2020, this needs to be said: There can be no unity without accountability.

For too long, in the interest of comity, Democrats have allowed the Republicans to control the narrative and bowed to their demands that Right-wing rhetoric and violence to go without any repercussions or justice. All in the name of so-called “unity” and “healing.”

One cannot heal without first treating the disease. Cancer cannot be cured without first excising the malignancies.

ACCOUNTABILITY BEFORE UNITY

 

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The Quiet Place or Adventures in Horrible Parenting

no fartingOn a Facebook post, I said that “If you’re a fan of this movie and a parent, I pity your children.” I wrote that unapologetically; the intent was to be provocative and offensive. Just five minutes into this movie, I was stunned by a plot that relied on parents doing the equivalent of letting their toddler play on the freeway. Even more so, dismayed by the love slathered on this hot-mess of a movie. After moving beyond the “all people are stupid” rants, I started to examine why a blatantly terrible movie can be perceived as good.

The premise of The Quiet Place is that Earth has been invaded by blind, vicious aliens that hunt using ultra-sensitive hearing. The few surviving humans stay alive by being as quiet as possible; even the tiniest noise can invite attack. According to the newspaper articles collected by the movie’s patriarch and pasted conveniently on the wall in his lair of useless technology, the aliens are indestructible and don’t eat what they kill. (Which begs the question: What do they eat?)

The movie opens in a small country store. A family of five–Mom, Dad, Teen Girl, Tween Boy, and four-year-old boy who shall be hereafter referred to a Monster Meal (M&M)–are wandering aimlessly about the shop. Mom is carefully, quietly Continue reading

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Independence Day: Resurgence

Chris gets Thor. I get cast in this shit. #LittleBrotherBlues

Chris gets Thor. I get cast in this shit. #LittleBrotherBlues

Watching Independence Day: Resurgence, one can’t help but think that if this is the best that humankind has to offer, then the aliens would be doing the universe a solid by exterminating us.

I admit, the original movie had its appeal, a goofy, over-the-top, cheese-covered heart, which is sorely lacking in the sequel. Sure, Independence Day was populate with archetypes, but none were so painfully cliche as in Independence Day: Resurgence.

Interjecting new blood into the franchise is Liam Hemsworth in the role of cocky, reckless pilot who will save the day, but is tormented by past fuck-ups, all self-induced, of course. Let’s call him Top Gun, because who the hell cares what the character’s real name is? The obligatory comic relief is provided by Top Gun’s Sidekick, who’s there to leer at Exotic Asian Girl. Top Gun’s love interest is Generically Pretty White Girl, a former ace pilot and coincidentally the daughter of ex-president WhatHisName, from the first movie. The plot is all about coincidences. It’s built on a teetering Jenga tower of coincidence. Top Gun’s rival is a former friend who is aggrieved by whatever it is that Top Gun FUBARed in the past. Once upon a time, Top Gun, Rival, and Generically Pretty White Girl were a best friendsies threesome. But, no more. The instant Top Gun and Rival reconnect, on the moon base, Rival punches Top Gun. Which is the extent of their testosterone-fueled angst.

If this sounds like the plot of an anime, well, it should be. If Continue reading

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The Great Wall

the great wallOnce upon a time, a meteor crashed into the mountains of China, unleashing a horde of monsters who will get the munchies and descend upon the people of China every sixty years. And the only thing standing between China and the monsters is Matt Damon and his very square jaw.

Or so the movie poster for The Great Wall would have one believe. I mean, look at it. It’s Damon’s big head versus, well, everything.

Despite the poster, The Great Wall isn’t white washing per say. Damon is the superfluous Westerner, thrown in to milk extra millions from Hollywood studio execs who think a movie won’t do well without an American A-lister. But the bigger problem is that Damon is horribly miscast. As a gee-whiz, Continue reading

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Could Jar Jar Have Been Less Jarring?

jar jar vaderCame across this article about the actor who play Jar Jar Binks. Gotta pity the poor guy who played Jar Jar. At least, unlike Hayden Christensen, nobody actually saw his face. In fact, until I read this article, I didn’t know the name of the actor who played Jar Jar.

In the article’s comments, there’s some discussion regarding what would have made Jar Jar a good addition to the Star Wars universe, instead of something reviled. One suggestion being that like the aliens in previous films, Jar Jar not speak English.

Maybe, but the issue goes beyond linguistics. The problem with Jar Jar, as I see it, is that he’s used for over-the-top, kiddy-friendly, comic relief and is tonally a bad fit. Star Wars was obviously geared toward a younger crowd, but young doesn’t mean preschool or elementary. In fact, I remember, as a child, finding some aspects of the Star Wars (New Hope, et al.) films rather scary. The crispy bodies of Luke’s aunt and uncle, for instance. Or the severed arm in the cantina. Nowadays, I’m a total gorehound, but back then, when I was a delicate little flower, that was some frightening shit.

Star Wars tone is lightened by the antics of C3PO and R2, and sometimes, Chewie, but the humor never (rarely?) gets infantile. Jar Jar’s idiocy, obviously geared for paste-eating demographic, drops like a ton of silly bricks on a serious story line. I mean, the prequels are the tragic downfall of Anakin Skywalker, the kind of plot that demands drama, not the SF equivalent of the Three Stooges.

Adding insult to injury, Jar Jar’s entire species is treated as a joke, rather than a living, breathing culture. Basically, you’ve got the addition of a character and his people whose sole purpose is to make the preschool set happy and distract from all the war n’ schtuff.

Could the character still have retained the funny and been a good fit? Sure, if the humor was derived from smart, snappy dialogue rather than slapstick gags.

Ultimately, George Lucas was so busy making the world of the Star Wars prequels absolutely beautiful, that he forgot to populate it with actual people. Jar Jar Binks is pretty much a feature, not a bug, of the prequels.

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Star Wars: The Force Awakens

So…Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

Saw it. And…

Liked it.

star wars the force awakens reviewWhaat? I do like things–sometimes*. Yeah, I hated Jurassic World, a movie universally loved by people of questionable taste everywhere. I mean, seriously, people? Did we see the same crap fest of bad CGI, uneven (read: “adolescent”) plotting, and horrible characterization? Jurassic World was the “Let’s serve up a shit sandwich and see if the audience will eat it” kind of movie you’d expect from Michael Bay. Except, he didn’t direct it. (Or did he? Me, I suspect he stealth directed the fuck out of it.)

But, I digress…back to Star Wars: The Force Awakens. It’s fun, fast-paced and exciting. Kinda fluffy and fun, in the same vein as the original trilogy. Back to the basics with a simplistic depiction of good vs. evil, and archetype-driven characterization (the loveable rogue, the reluctant hero, the orphan with a destiny, etc.). It even recycles the “droid is the McGuffin” plot. Back too is the “Scruffy, rag-tag rebels versus the mighty war machine” conflict.

With that comes Continue reading

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Guardians of the Galaxy

Guardians of the GalaxyOn watching Guardians of the Galaxy, two things become quite evident. First, Thanos should hire better minions, or he needs to get his bad-ass, mad Titan self off the throne and fetch his magical McGuffins o’power all by himself. Because the hired help, thus far, in Marvel movie ‘verse, just aren’t working out.

Also, if it weren’t for daddy issues, nothing–good or bad–in the universe would get done.

Of course, if it weren’t for dead mothers, no hero would ever get motivated. Consequently, the first scene in Guardians shows a young Peter Quill, eventual Starlord, sitting outside a hospital room, listening to that awkward predecessor to playlists, the mixed tape. His grandfather appears and ushers him into a room where a deathly pale woman lies in bed. Before getting down to dying, Mom rambles about the boy’s father, using the word “angel,” so that you know young Quill is something special.

Mom lifts a trembling hand toward the lad and Continue reading

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The Lone Ranger (2013)

“Well. That was a hot mess,” says my husband as The Lone Ranger‘s credits crawl up a scene of Monument Valley, a dispirited Tonto limping off into the sunset.

The statement is significant, in that my spouse, unlike me, is generally kind to movies. Me, I love excoriating a bad movie, detailing its sins against plot, characterization, cinematography, etc. But the hubs usually just shrugs and says, “It wasn’t good, but there were some funny parts.”

To say The Lone Ranger is a hot mess is to disparage steaming piles of poop everywhere.  After all, certain types of excrement make good fertilizer. Not so, The Lone Ranger.

Possibly taking a page from Continue reading

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It’s Alive

Been AWOL, busy, making like a hippy (growing my hair). And creating art.

Por ejemplo, this little demon, a collaboration between myself and my talented spouse. apologetic demon, yard artLittle demon haz the sad, so he brings rose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My heart is perfect pendantAlso making jewelery* from scrap metal. This pendant’s my fave.

 

*”jewelery?” Seriously? Wow. Hooked on Phonics really worked for me.

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Don’t Know Much About Geology

greyhound with rabbit on its head

Give a husband an iPhone and he shall torture the dog.

In which I try to teach the greyhound geology.

The lesson is precipitated by our new granite countertops and because I have nothing better to do (other than laundry, yard work, writing, taxes, etc.).

I’m in the kitchen, having a healthy snack of baby carrots and the greyhound is watching in that bright-eyed, super intelligent way that dogs have been watching humans with food since the dawn of time. I crunch a carrot, chew, swallow and consider the hound.

“See this?” I point at a reddish smudge on the counter. The greyhound, a very tall dog, shoves his skinny nose where I’m pointing. “That’s garnet. My birthstone. Can you say, ‘garnet?'”

Finding no food where I’ve indicated, he flares his ears out like a bat and stares at me in a way that says, “Carrot!”

“No, not ‘carrot.’ ‘Garnet.'”

“Carrot?”

I try again, finger on a black streak. “This here is biotite, a mica. Can you say, ‘biotite?'” ‘Mica?'”

“Carrot!”

Because I’m stupid that way, I try with feldspar and quartz. I go back to garnet, because it sounds like carrot.

“Carrot?”

I give the hound the damned carrot.

 

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