The conservative mouthpiece network has totally run out of things to say.
They can’t answer Clinton on substance, because the least amount of research proves him right.
So they spent the first couple of days criticizing his style, as so wonderfully parodied last night by Jon Stewart.
I guess that got old, though, because now they’re deeply concerned about Mr. Clinton’s socks. The fact that I am not kidding makes this even funnier. Way funnier.
Pandagon reminds me it’s Banned Books Week.
Here’s a reminder to conservatives: Allowing for the idea of banning books doesn’t mean that books will be banned in ways you approve of.
My step-father was not allowed to read the New Testament by his parents. Of course, he burned with curiousity and read it secretly. Despite his parents’ fears, he did not convert to Christianity as a result and remained a Jew until the day he died. Sometimes he even davened.
The Christian majority, of course, is so concerned with banning occult books that they forget it’s a two-edged sword. But freedom of thought benefits all of us, and there is no freedom without knowledge.
The transcript of the Clinton smackdown of Foxbot Chris Wallace is good, but if you want to really understand how awesome it was, watch the video.
Beautiful. Arousing, even. Oh, baby.
And if you’re not breathing heavy yet, watch Keith Olbermann’s “special comment” on it.
In the past few weeks I’ve despaired of posting anything political because I’ve been so aggravated at the lies, hypocrisy, justification of torture, and increasing racism that has become the norm in the Bush administration. But when the smart voices on the left speak up and speak strongly, well, I’m proud to be an American.
Sylvia (2003) 4/10
Poet Sylvia Plath (Gwyneth Paltrow) meets poet Ted Hughes (Daniel Craig). They fall in love, marry, and have two children, but are plagued by Ted’s infidelity and Sylvia’s depression. Sylvia Plath committed suicide in 1963.
In anticipation of the release of Casino Royale, I’ve been seeing as many Daniel Craig movies as I can. There’s no doubt he’s a talented actor and physically powerful. But Sylvia is not a good movie.
It starts off promisingly. The scenes of Sylvia’s first encounter with Ted and of their early relationship are imbued with passion and intensity. Here I thought to myself, ‘How refreshing. A movie about a person who committed suicide that isn’t gray and heavy and sad.’ But soon it turned into exactly that movie.
Sylvia’s depression is shown with little insight. The movie is entirely from her point of view; sympathetic and kind of romantic, exactly the sort of thing that fans of Plath are criticized for—romanticizing suicide. But this single-minded focus damages the movie; without perspective we just can’t tell what’s going on. Sylvia is so brittle and mutable that when she suspects Ted of infidelity it appears to be her own paranoia. In fact, I had to read articles about the movie and the poets themselves to discover that Ted was, in fact, unfaithful virtually every time she suspected him.
Sylvia is filmed as such a neurotic, so terrified and clinging, that when, late in the movie, we see Ted in the actual act of adultery, I still thought it was a paranoid fantasy of Sylvia’s (the editing definitely allowed for it).
Because this is a “classy” project, it is stocked with name actors in brief roles, including Paltrow’s mother (Blythe Danner) playing Sylvia’s mother. Michael Gambon is charming and wasted as Sylvia’s neighbor.
Bond fans will note that Craig dyed his hair a dark brown for the role. Apparently he doesn’t object to changing his appearance when playing real people.
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You Are A Martini |
 You are the kind of drinker who appreciates a nice hard drink. And for you, only quality alcohol. You don’t waste your time on the cheap stuff. Obviously, you’re usually found with a martini in your hand. But sometimes you mix it up with a gin and tonic. And you’d never, ever consider one of those flavored martinis. They’re hardly a drink! |
You want to know what I think of Chris Cornell’s “You Know My Name“? Of course you do.
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Wha..? Sorry…fell asleep.
It’s bland and boring and who the hell cares? Seriously, if they’re going Startle The World! with their Bold New Choice! for a Different! Kind! of Bond Song! then they need to keep us awake.
I hear people saying, hey, they’ve changed direction, it’s not Shirley Bassey. I agree it has been time for a change. For a while, the trend was towards attempting to replicate the success of Nobody Does It Better, the 80s gave us two rockers and some mildly pleasant love themes. But the 90s songs were all old-school belting.
So I, like many Bond fans, was hoping for a male lead singer, something new and edgy. (I had my heart set on Counting Crows, and thought after the Oscar nomination, they had a real chance.) Madonna’s song for the last movie was exactly right (except for the male part). It was a total direction change, it startled (and sometimes pissed off) the fans, and it was a huge hit.
So Chris Cornell is announced, and that sounds promising, doesn’t it? A non-traditional choice, and then there’s all this chatter about being edgy and new.
And what we get is a bland melody with a chorus that sounds like it was composed by committee. At least nothing will distract me from paying attention to the visual title design.
Also per Cosette, an extremely informative post about what’s going on in the battle for religious grave markers for Pagan veterans, and a list of things you can do to help.
Per Cosette, we learn that Indian courts have banned “touts” at the Kalighat temple.
(Loyal readers of Property of a Lady will recognize Kalighat as the home of the idol that is the source for my newest tattoo.)
Visitors to the temple report harrassment and extortion by the touts (aka pandaas):
Sanchita Dey, a housewife and frequent visitor to the temple, says it is a harrowing experience to come to the temple.
“Once a pandaa gets hold of you from the road leading to the temple, you are completely under his control. He dictates how much sweets and flowers you have to buy. Once inside the sanctum sanctorum of the temple, the priests force you to give the money they want and if you don’t oblige, they use foul language. And after you leave the temple, you have to pay a hefty fee to the tout,” she says.
…Some said similar controls should be enforced at other famous Hindu temples across the country, where devotees are similarly harassed.
I think that the Pagans who blame all the problems of the world on Christianity and monotheism should take a long, hard look at this article and consider what it means about the potential for corruption in goddess worship.
I was raised by people with highbrow educations, but I do not, myself, have such an education. I was raised by people who have read the classics, who distinguish between “fiction” and “literature,” but I make no such distinction, and I haven’t read Beowulf. Or Tolstoy. Or Chaucer.
My mother in particular has highbrow tastes, and I have heard with my own ears the phrase “déclassé” pass her lips (in reference to me, of course). (In my defense, my mother doesn’t know how to use Unicode to get accented characters. So I’m not without my charms.)
Anyway, that’s me. Déclassé.
My mother likes drawing room dramas. Merchant & Ivory affairs. Wouldn’t dream of attending a genre film. No spaceships, no James Bond, no elves. Déclassé.
I am bemused by the fact that the brightest, most talented, and most creative people out there, my age and younger, are not, in fact, participating in highbrow creation. The blazing talents of 40 or 30 are working with style, even style-over-substance, with comic books and vampires and hobbits, with sloppy rock-n-roll and vulgarity.
Déclassé, ladies and gentlemen, is the new black.
