Sitting in the Stalls

It's a Gift

2009-07-03T22:46:00.003-05:00

In a way, I can admire the WC Fields film It's a Gift for having the wherewithal to ignore the concept of plot or necessity for, frankly, there is none: the fact that Field's character seeks to own his own orange farm in California does not really matter. I cite this fact not to condemn the film - as I would with a Michael Bay film - but to acknowledge that cinematic comedy is full of texts that exist despite their lack of any important narrative force. Think Monty Python and the Holy Grail or many short features from Buster Keaton or Laurel and Hardy: plot is secondary to the gag or the set-piece.

But what makes a film like It's a Gift problematic is that the plot, in this case, appears to add a layer of parody to the viewing experience that is rather uncomfortable to watch. The promise of an orange grove that lures Fields to give up the grocery business and move his family across the country would have had all too obvious a tragic element in the 1930s, perhaps even more so in a modern context (as Steinbeck and Ford have let us know). Of course this narrative element exists to undermine Fields' character, as well as the other characters of his family, but there remains the very unfunny action of attempting to mine humor from a seemingly humor-less situation.

Stage Door

2009-06-10T00:35:00.002-05:00

Sometimes as you watch a film, you ponder the film's deeper meaning and place in critical discussion - or, if you're like me (someone with a bit too much information), you become paranoid if you cannot make a 'bigger-picture' argument about what you're watching. "Okay, I understand what's going on in this film, but how does this relate to concepts of Hollywood cinema pre-1940".

Case in point: Gregory LaCava's 1937 film Stage Door. Tried as I might, I really couldn't fashion any larger argument about this film despite considering it from any number of angles. Certainly one could (and perhaps should) interpret the film as something of a feminist statement about the nature of women's relationships with one another: after all, the girls do fight and snarl, but end up becoming fast friends in the end and Adolphe Menjou is the less-than-reputable showman and the main figure of masculinity.

But this is also the sort of film that leaves you wondering about its intended meaning and its audience reception; to put it another way, is this the sort of film that leads you to one interpretation when it's really operating on another level - perhaps working as something less feminist and more conservative or reactionary than you might think.

That being said, it's still an engaging film in many ways and it's always nice to see Lucille Ball in such an early role.

Follow the Fleet

2009-06-10T00:19:00.002-05:00

Linda Williams has famously compared the structure of the musical with that of the porno: in short, one is always waiting for the spectacle to occur and half-heartedly interested in that which bookends the set-pieces. Does anyone really remember the reasons why people are singing and dancing? Does anyone remember if the tv repairman managed to fix the tv after engaging in an erotic threesome with two blondes?

As I watched Follow the Fleet, I couldn't help but think of Williams' work as I began to seriously consider fast-forwarding through most of the narrative just to get to the "good stuff" - in this case, the dancing of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Sandwiched in-between their lively dances is a rather boring plot of a Navy officer attempting to become the captain of his own boat, a comely yet bookish school teacher who wants adventure and love, and....ya know what, it's not really that important. Let's just say the supporting actress role is rather offensive to anyone with any hint of a feminist sensibility, and the navy officer might be coded as gay - an interesting fact given that Astaire's masculinity is prividledged as the dominant ideal of maleness.

But the spectacle in the film is entertaining and peppy - especially Rogers and Astaire's symbolic foreplay in several numbers that lead to a parallelled erotic coupling in the film's final number. That's the trouble with sex: it just might lead to dancing.

Tweet Tweet

2009-06-10T00:06:00.001-05:00

I'm now on Twitter, so feel free to delve further into the depths of despair that is 'Brechty' -- if you dare (evil laugh).

http://twitter.com/Brechty

You Can't Take it With You

2009-05-31T13:16:00.005-05:00

I have a love-hate relationship with Frank Capra: sometimes I find his films engaging and funny, while other times I read his works as uber-cynical - cynical in the sense they almost seem too perfect in their moralizing, as if their message as been calculated as carefully as can be.

You Can't Take it With You won best picture in 1938 - Capra also won for best director - yet I really hated this film on a number of levels (it drags, it isn't funny, etc. etc.). But what strikes me the most about this film is the interplay of fantasy versus reality: on the one hand, the film has a realistic bent, as the presentation of class and classist attitudes are done rather competnently (if not cliched). Yet Jimmy Stewart's father's moral transformation seems to superficial on so many levels (the blistering critique of his life by Lionel Barrymore does the trick?) and the musical-esque reconiliation of the couple and the families during the film's conclusion just seems bizzare in a sense. Plus Mr Barrymore's rather folksy - and idotic - response as to why he has not paid taxes is odd, even for the late 1930s (what have taxes gotten you? really?). In the end, I can't help but wonder if we as an audience are even supposed to believe what we see on screen - again, is this a feel-good fantasy? If so, then dangerous as the illusion of fantasy can be, I think I can ease up on my Capra-Contempt. If, however, this film is supposed to be a realisitic parable, then I'll put the pedal to the floor.

Step Brothers

2008-12-31T22:08:00.006-06:00

This film has a strange, yet lyrical aura about it that I cannot really detail. To describe it as an Artaudian vision might be a tad pretentious, but the film succeeds because of its total embracing of the absurd. The fight scenes between John C. Reilly and Will Ferrell - especially their blow-out on the front lawn - only hints at the hyper-violence witnessed by the neighborhood and their family: Ferrell's comments about yelling 'rape' illustrate how a better comedy avoids 'showing' everything and lets some aspects to the viewer's imagination. Step Brothers really exists in its own aesthetic world and reveals in that fact.

Far From Heaven

2008-11-22T12:40:00.008-06:00

This is a tricky film for me to comment upon. I can't really say whether or not this is 'parody' or 'blank parody' (big shout out to Freddy Jamesion; big holla down in Duke-land), though it is uber-aware of the films it's referencing - Douglas Sirk's All That Heaven Allows mainly. I just can't help wonder what's the point of this film: is Haynes attempting to reveal the seamy-underbelly that is the 1950s or....hmm...even then, that hardly seems like a refreshing or unique argument.

I remember seeing this film when it first came out, and I though, back then, 'what a brilliant film'. Now, I'm not so sure. That being said, I still would love to cuddle with Julianne Moore.

Lookwell!

2008-07-29T10:51:00.007-05:00

I suppose we could title my week thus far - aside from my viewing of Mamma Mia! last night - Adam West Week. With that in mind, I finally was able to view the nerd-candy that is Lookwell! last night on YouTube. What's Lookwell! you ask? Well it's a now legendary pilot made for NBC in the early 1990s starring West as a former 70s television detective who believes he can assist the police in solving crimes by, well, 'going undercover' as a gay car-painter, a race-car driver named Dash Carlise, and a hobo. I won't give too much away in terms of how the gags and jokes are constructed in this pilot (think part Simpsons, part Batman, part Police Squad), but this is well-worth the 23 minute run-time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBQ3HbB0c8Y.

"If you need me again, here's my headshot."

NBC never picked-up the pilot for full-time development, even though Brenden Tartikoff - the head of NBC at the time - loved it (a feeling he also shared for the pilot of Seinfeld). And like what happens to that show's ficitional Jerry!, the new management at NBC decided to go with their own projects and burned off Lookwell! during a summer showing in 1991 (I believe).

There is, of course, a sense of 'what could have been' when watching Lookwell!, espeically considering how 'on' West is with his now trademark self-parodying performance. Of course the fact that the two producers and writers of the pilot were none other than Robert Smigel (creator of Trimuph the Insult Comic Dog and writer for SNL) and some Boston-guy named Conan O'Brien have given this episode added mysticism over the years, but it's really West who brings it together (no disrespect).

Mamma Mia!

2008-07-29T00:43:00.003-05:00

Mamma Mia! is the story of a bunch of really, really happy people, including a bride-to-be who gets excited at the prospect of everything and anything, including her upcoming root canal. Her mother, played by Meryl Streep, owns a hotel on this quaint Greek island and, apparently, has made indentured servants out of all the Greek islanders. As preparations for the wedding progress, the island is swamped with about 500 or so happy, suburban kids who do nothing but dance and maintain their level of happiness because they 'just gotta dance'; mind you, everyone of these shiny, happy, people look as though they just wandered in from a Abercombie & Fitch catalog shoot, especially the guys, whose only words spoken to one another might be "bro" and "awesome". The wedding guests are from all over the world, including Ireland, England, England, England, USA, USA, USA, and I think one or two wedding crashers from Canada. There's even an Irish-American priest who makes the journey...for some reason.

Much of the film is staged around women and girls breaking into spontaneous fits of screaming when everyone isn't just dancing around and jumping into the ocean off the pier (sadly the local Greek women are docked half a day's pay for dallying about by their Mistress Streep). This leads to more screaming and dancing of all involved, save for the three male leads (Stellan Skarsgård, Colin Firth, Pierce Brosnan) who, at points, seem to be simply afraid of the tumult of happiness around them. Skarsgard appears to be the most shaken by his surrondings, but as the man who played the sleazy producer / director who slept with Salma Hayek in Timecode he deserves it; She was mine Stellan!!!

From a formalist perspective the film is very uneven and clumsy: there are a few sequences where the direction reminds me of the episode where Homer Simpson 'directs' a dating video for the newly widowed Ned Flaunders and utilizes the 'star-wipe' function over and over on his home editing machine: during one dance number, we see more use of slow-motion film than a typical NFL broadcast, and during another every second or third shot was an arching overhead view of the happy dancing people.

The location of the film, being a Greek island, makes for beautiful shots, but there's such a disconnect between the real beauty of the isle and the action of the film that I was left with an aura of phoniness that I haven't been able to shake. Musicals by their very nature are not realistic and are incredibly stylized, but usually the contractions of the genre are compensated for and offset by the overall motif and staging (see West Side Story or Sweeny Todd). To be effective, musicals must draw you into their universe - which Mamma Mia! doesn't do.

One last thought: Brechtyette mentioned she was encouraged by the acknowledgement of Baby-Boomer sexuality present in the film and I would agree with her wholeheartedly: the mothers and fathers of this film are not wilting away - so to speak. But I was really bothered by much of the visual desirability here, especially concerning most of the dancing, happy people who were, to a shirtless tee, hyper-muscular and overly fit men and women. The 'ugly' people were the native Greeks who, by contrast, were not 'fit' and looked like the pictures of my Greek ancestors my great Aunts have in their homes. Certainly our gaze was to be directed toward the 'beautiful' dancing northern Europeans, which certainly didn't endure this film to this product of Italian and Greek heritage.

Adam West: Pure West

2008-07-28T17:39:00.005-05:00

One of things I really want to accomplish with the re-birth of my blog is rip-off the Onion's AV Club and publish my own series of pop culture lists from time to time. I don't really have any grand scheme for this lists, except that I really love reading myself write (narcissist I am) and to perhaps get a conversation going with all my loyal readers....all three of you.

Anyway, the first list I'm going to attempt - albeit in a rather piecemeal fashion - will be a listing of my all-time favorite - and therefore best - guest stars on The Simpsons. To be more precise, this list won't simply be determined by who I admire. Instead I will attempt to provide a reasoned argument as to both why this performance should be considered great and why I enjoy said performance. That's what we in the bizz (academia) call methodolgy (sorta).

And since it is Adam West week here at Sitting in the Stalls, let's kick things off with one of the best guest-bits in the history of the show: Mr. West's appearance as himself.

Long before he began appearing as an uber-surreal parody of himself as 'Mayor West' on Family Guy, the star of the iconic Batman series appeared on the iconic "Mr. Plow" episode as the 'Adam West'. To be fair, neither Bart nor Lisa knew who he was - or who Robin was for that matter - but West manages to make his mark by decrying "the new Batman" for wearing a padded Batsuit and making it known that he never had to "accentuate his physique"..."Pure West". "And how come Batman doesn't dance anymore? Remember the Bat-toosie?"

I'm normally not a fan of guest-stars playing themselves, but in this case it works on so many levels. One of the things I've always admired about West is his uncanny ability to mock himself while making his persona that much hipper and cooler at the very same time; the logic of 'if I claim to be uncool then I'm cool' fits here. When West tells Mr. Plow (Homer) that he had a job him "when I called you, forty-five minutes ago" he perfectly parodies the over-the-top stylized line readings that made West's Batman so famous.

But what really makes this guest-slot stand out to me is how memorable the appearance is. I've been repeating "Pure West" and the "forty-five minutes ago" lines since I saw this episode 13 years ago. Just today, after lifting some weights I couldn't help myself from dabbing my chest and deeply speaking "Pure West". I suppose that this was one of those moments when I realized the intertextual possibilites of The Simpsons (though I wouldn't have had any idea about that term back then): I understood the bizzare camera angles, the self-depreciation, the references.

Children of the Favre

2008-07-27T00:16:00.004-05:00

Have you ever stumbled across something online that left you completely speechless? Here's what I found this afternoon:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqGQuRgjKeA

Of course in Philly, the children are taught to sing a similar song about the Eagles, set to the tune of "Jingle Bells". As you can imagine the words to this parody simply can't be repeated in the interests of good taste.

The Host

2008-07-26T23:22:00.014-05:00

I have a friend at UWM who is from Korea and was shocked that I hadn't seen Joon Ho Bong's The Host given my oddball sensibilities (well he didn't say that's why he was shocked, but sometimes you just pick up on such things). In all seriousness, Hyong-Jun was surprised that I kept putting off seeing The Host as I had mentioned my fondness for much of Bong's previous feature, Memories of Murder. My best answer to him in April was my now-cliched retort of "It's way down on my Netflix queue."

So I finally got the chance to view The Host in all it's unexpected glory last week and I must say I really enjoyed Bong's film on a number of levels, not the least being his ability to mine comic gold at various moments in the film. There is an instance of a homeless man, a bottle, and one of the family's brothers that is one of the funniest moments I've seen in a horror film in years - aside from all the unintentional hilarity of so many other horror-genre flicks. There are also several moments where what you expect to happen vis a vis other films doesn't occur, including a brilliant moment during the first monster attack where a woman is locked out of a trailer and you expect the worst to happen to her...but itdoesn't.

I wouldn't recommend this film if you're a staunch advocate of American imperialism - or whatever euphemism you may call it. But, then again, what film made in the last few years would be tailored for any neo-conservative, aside from that little-seen Lifetime movie: You Had Me at No-Bid Contract: The Dick and Lynn Cheney Story.

Wall-E

2008-07-25T15:16:00.005-05:00

I was told by my girlfriend's mother that I would be saying "Walllll-EEEE" for days after this film. Thankfully that did not occur, but I was struck by the sincerity and intelligence of this film, which, of course, has prompted many conservative critics to bash this film as enviromentalist propaganda and to decry the anti-consumerist message of the film by pointing out that Wall-E is marketed and produced by Disney. A pox on thee!

Of course for those of us who discuss popular culture in our work, this is nothing new. It seems pointless, on some level, to argue about condemnations of consumerism in popular culture for in order to critique mass culture, one really has to enter into the machinations of consumerism. If the makers of Wall-E must sign their souls to the mouse to have their message sent out, so be it. Conservatives and liberals have been bashing aspects of films and television shows as propagandistic seemingly since the advenent mass culture in the mid-19th century (or before that). However, I think these critics are simply reacting to the satricial aspects of the film, which, may have really hit them in the ol' self-righteousness basket: it's not a pleasant world in which Wall-E works, especially considering humans and giant super-stores are responsible for it. So the response to any such argument is to label it 'propaganda' and, in Simpson-esque fashion, cry "What about the children???" Frankly that's a lot of concern about little people who would gladly pack candy for lunches and find yogurt in a tube a delicious snack.

As for the film itself, I've seen a number of critics who compare Wall-E to Chaplin's Modern Times, which is a fair comparision as both films make engaging statements about displaced figureheads, modernism, the dehumanization of both labor and activity, and the general state of 'progress'. But also like Modern Times, Wall-E is mostly sans-sound, save for the blips and beeps of the robots, and yet we are driven by the sweet and sad narrative of these figures, investing a great amount of concern for the safety of Eve, Wall-E and his little cockroach. There's a great emotional investment here, not unlike what we develop for the plucky lil' Tramp in many of his forelorn romances. It's a sweetness that is missing from many so-called serious studies of love.

The Dark Knight

2008-07-25T13:51:00.006-05:00

It's been a little over five days since I viewed The Dark Knight and I think that separation of time is necessary to digest the film - at least the first viewing of it. The film is awash in contradiction - both morally and philosophically - and there's a complexity in the 'world' of Gotham that doesn't lend itself to simply one viewing. Sometimes in the arts we have to concede that the daring-ness of a text is what gives it greatness, especially when it concedes to embrace the contradictions it establishes.

This is not to say there aren't problems with the film because there are: Wayne's trip to Hong Kong seems unnecessary in terms of narrative and screen-time and his own moral quandary reads, at points, too superficial and underdeveloped; a re-viewing of Batman Begins may be in order. I suppose, and this is just a theory, that Nolan is relying too heavily on the first film of the renewed franchise for character development of his 'Dark Knight', a tactic that works with other trilogies. But Batman as a character is almost drowned by other intertextual events and creations of the same character, so perhaps some more delving into the Nolan / Bale Batman may have been necessary.

If this Batman suffers from the successes and failures of its predecessors, Heath Ledger's 'Joker' succeeds by breaking with any other characterization I'm familiar with - especially the absurdist "villian" of Ceaser Romeo and Jack Nicholson's "avant-garde" impersonation of himself. This Joker is one of mystery and lunacy: there is no history to this character save for whatever 'history' suits him at that moment he's telling it. He's a twisted mess of a human being who, somehow, manages to outwit every authority figure that crosses his path - including "the Batman". Nor is he a figure anyone truly understands, which is what makes him both so terrifying and delicious to watch in action. Ledger's Joker is akin to a Brechtian nightmare: what we see in the smeared white face paint is a visualization of not our own fears of anarchy or Nihilism, but of those who cannot be persuaded by 'fear' or 'power'. And, in turn, of our own abilities to tap into that element of our subconsciousness...an element that I would love to go into more detail about, but I don't want to give any aspect of the film away. I suppose I'm left wondering how the Joker relates to our own desires to "watch the world burn".

These are still rough thoughts I know, but I truly do think they justify a second viewing of this impressive film.

National Treasure II - The Search for Curly's Gold or Whatever

2008-01-19T00:50:00.006-06:00

I don't remember this from the film, but I'm sure it was painful on a number of levels.

It says something about a film if the only legitimate comment (and by that I mean any comment that isn't simply me bitching about a text's overall shittiness) you can offer about it is how you perked up seeing the University of Maryland and the Library of Congress on screen. "See that's the UM library in the distance. There's a terrapin statue out front which the students rub for good luck before a big test".

I still can't quite comprehend the logic and historical connections made in this film. Custer was looking for the Lost City of Gold? Queen Victoria wanted the South to win? Even if they found the Lost City of Gold wouldn't the US have the legitimate claim to it? Even if Booth et al found it, how could they process it into ....ya know, fuck it.

Meeting an Idol - With a Year to Reflect on the Event

2007-03-06T14:30:00.000-06:00

Forgive me ahead of time, but this post should have been done last year - which is a personal record for laziness for me. Special Note: If any of my students read this, it doesn't buy you a free extension of your next paper.

Last January, I had reffed a pair of squirt games at the Hersheypark Arena during the morning. I wasn't overly happy with my calls and I didn't feel like I was in tune with my skates, so my mood was kinda down after the games. I felt I needed some "me" time, so I headed over to the Panera Bread in Hershey to grab a bagel and read the Washington Post.

The Panera Bread in Hershey is located near the Days Inn, which is used by visiting AHL teams when they play the Bears and need to stay an evening or two. Now, I've seen hockey players around that area before, but that fact was furthest from my mind that sunny Sunday morning.

I was reading the Book Section of the Post when a man sat down in a table near me. He was dressed in a nice dress shirt, but had a relaxed atmosphere about him. I didn't give him much attention until he asked me if I was done with the sports section. I of course gladly gave him the copy.

Then I recognized him: it was one of hockey heroes - the great Kevin Dineen, now coach of the AHL's Portland Pirates.

Dineen has been bronzed as a member of the All-Brechty Hockey Team since he played with the Hartford Whalers, but especially after his trade to the Flyers in 1991-92. Like other life-members of the ABHT, such as Rich Tocchet, Cam Neely, Kent Manderville, Keith Jones, and Ron Hextall, Dineen was a hard-nosed player - willing to dance if needed - but also a complete-player (unlike yours truly who's a much better ref than player). And, from all accounts, an incredibly nice guy - a guy who was borrowing my Washington Post.

We chatted about this-and-that for awhile and I touched on how Portland was doing this season - which was a tad awkward as Hershey had badly beaten the Pirates the night before. I tried to not talk about hockey too too much as I often think these guys are asked too many hockey-related questions by fans as is and I think they sometimes just like to talk. I did mention he was one of my favorite players and we talked about Penn State and traveling in Pennsylvania (I think anyway - I mean it was a year ago after all). And then he asked if I'd like a pair of tickets to tonight's game on him...

Let me repeat that: One of my boyhood idols was offering me a pair of comp tickets to tonight's Bears / Pirates game via him.....okay folks, let's let that sink in for a moment....got it? Okay, so what does your faithful author say?

"Oh, no thanks...I'm kinda hockey-ed out from refing this weekend."

Sigh...sometimes I try to be too nice...

Anyway, I told him what a pleasure it was meeting him and we parted and Portland lost again that night. But I, of course, was on a high that took me a good week to calm down from.

Ironically, my loyalty was somewhat put to the test later that spring. Dineen's Pirates faced my beloved Hershey Bears in the Eastern Conference Final in an exciting, but nasty at times, seven-games series that Hershey won in overtime of game seven on Eric Fehr's goal - which I heard on the radio clutching Brechtyette by my side. Certainly, I rooted for da Bears, but I felt a little pang of guilt for my hero...(In fact, that Calder Cup run was kinda bittersweet the whole way through: Norfolk's coach was Mike Haviland whom I had met in Atlantic City; I've always had respect for Dennis Bonvie; and of course I ended up attending the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee).

But it was a very cool moment for me and it was something I'll never forget. Plus, if Kevin should read this (by some miracle), I'll gladly take those tickets - if you're still offering...

Another Puck for My Collection

2007-03-06T14:03:00.000-06:00

Last night, Brechtyette's sister and I attended a Milwaukee Admirals game - the very same Admirals who got turkey-slapped by my beloved Hershey Bears in the Calder Cup final last year.

And my review of the experience: meh...

For starters, Monday night is not a prerequisite for an exciting game. In fact, I don't think I've ever attended a regular season game on a Monday (I have been to a few Hershey Bear Monday night playoff games, but that's the playoffs - which are exciting no matter what). The players for both teams seemed disinterested and tired. And only 3,500 people decided to journey to the Bradley Center - which seats around 17,000 - so any atmosphere and excitement that could have been added by a loud and large crowd was nill. In fact, I swear I could hear every smart-ass comment said by every fan.

It's not as though a small crowd cannot be lively. After all, some of the most vicious and rowdy fan-experiences I've had were through the small playoff crowds of the brutal Cornwall-Hershey playoff series in 1995: those 3,500 fans were vicious, nasty, and loud toward the Aces from Ontario. But in such a large space, one feels a tad disconnected from what's happening on and off the ice - I've had the same experience with the now-defunct Atlantic City Boardwalk Bullies of the ECHL: too much space with too little fans.

Plus, the Admirals were playing San Antonio and how can anyone care about a team from San Antonio (and Houston for that matter) when the rest of the American Hockey League is based in traditional, cold-weather hockey locales? Frankly, I keep forgetting that both the San Antonio Rampage (dumb name) and Houston Aeros are even in the league - which they shouldn't be, but that's another blog for another day. Next time, I'll make sure to see Milwaukee play the Chicago Wolves or Peoria Rivermen (or if / when Rockford comes aboard next season), so that there's some contempt and energy in the building...

I suppose it was nice being able to relax at a hockey game for a change. It was rather calming an event, a fact in no small part helped by the fact that Natalie and I had drunk a pitcher of beer before the game.

And the Admirals' sweaters - with their sky-blue lettering - are rather calming and sedating against the milky-white ice...yaaaaaaaaaawwwnnnn

Old Business

2007-02-26T17:57:00.000-06:00

Even though I no longer teach there, I was reading the Elizabethtown College website and came across this little tidbit of information that I would like to remind Rover of from last fall...

http://www2.etown.edu/sports/msoccer/2006/1031.asp

In your face Messiah boy! I hope you learned took some first aid classes in your nine and a half years in college cause you got burned! Third-degree bitch!

*cough*

Sooo...yeah...Technically, I still owe you those Thai dinners...

To DVD for Paul, England and St. George!!!

2007-02-26T17:26:00.000-06:00

Normally, I don't ask my loyal readers to really do anything. In fact, I realize that reading this blog is bordering on too much of a chore in and of itself. But I came across this link on the Onion's AV Club's website last week: http://www.avclub.com/content/node/58665/1 and I feel compelled to spur pop culture-invovlement from all those who cross this page -- we need these shows on DVD damnit!

You certainly may be asking 'why'? Well, Ms. or Mr. Doubtypants, I'll tell you why. Because many of these shows I loved and explain my hyper-weirdness that has infected you all in some manner. With these shows you are experiencing my upbringing - the very texts that warped my fragile little mind. If we can get these shows to DVD, we will all be laughing at cult-shows that were never ready for the mainstream and mocking others who dared watch Home Improvement or bad Saturday Night Live while these shows were on. We can once again be too cool for others.

Plus, I'm going to note how cool I was for loving these shows when they were on...you people are posers...total posers. I loved Steve Carrell's 'German Man Who Says Nice Things' character on the Dana Carvey Show. I thought the idea of the Anipals on TV Funhouse going to Atlantic City and picking up chimp prositutes was brilliant. I loved watching It's Garry Shandling's Show on Fox when I was still in elementary school - especially Gary providing a word-by-word guide to his theme song. And Batman....We need Adam West as Batman on DVD!!!

*As a point of disclosure, Brechtyette gave me a copy of the 1960s Batman film starring West and Burt Ward and many of the villians that was designed to market the ABC series for International markets, so I'm pretty sedate for the time being. Isn't she awesome though?

Anyway, we must act! .... We must.....ummm.....We gotta...do....something.

Fuck this...I'm sure they're all on YouTube....

So If You Want to Feel Bad About Your Education...

2007-02-23T12:13:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite weekly activities is to read the UK Guardian in the Carroll College library as I enjoy a fresh cup of coffee. Last week, I noticed that the Guardian staff had published the answers to the notorious King William's College Quiz - often considered the toughest general knowledge quiz in ze world - and I thought that I would try my hand at it.

So yesterday afternoon, I printed out a copy of the quiz --- here's the link in case you're interested in trying it yourself my loyal readers: http://http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1976624,00.html And last night, during a fit of insomnia, I decided to give it a go.

Not one of my smarter ideas...

I got a half-hour of sleep after that before I had to teach. Then I went at it again after class during my office hours, refueled by another delicious cup of joe. The quiz wouldn't let go of me ---I became obessed (so to speak) with attempting to figure out the subtitlies of the questions and the themes of the various sections. Finally, just under an hour ago, I gave up on trying to solve anymore riddles and I reluctantly looked at the answer key.

By the way, here's a link to the answer key: http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1997386,00.html

As for my score, I was aided by the fact that the first section is based on the year 1906 - an area of time in which I know quite a bit, so I got four questions correct out of ten. And yes the fact that I'm touting a 40% success rate reveals how badly I did on the quiz as a whole.

Here are my section by section scores:

Section 2 - 0 out of 10
Section 3 - 3 out of 10
Section 4 - 3 out of 10
Section 5 - 0 out of 10
Section 6 - 0 out of 10
Section 7 - 0 out of 10
Section 8 - 0 out of 10
Section 9 - 0 out of 10
Section 10 - 0 out of 10
Section 11 - 2 out of 10
Section 12 - 0 out of 10
Section 13 - 0 out of 10
Section 14 - 2 out of 10
Section 15 -3 out of 10
Section 16 - 0 out of 10
Section 17 - 0 out of 10
Section 18 - 3 out of 10

So, 20 correct answers out of 180....Still, not bad for an ex-hockey player.

Random Thoughts For A Tuesday

2007-02-20T18:11:00.000-06:00

*As I sit in the local public library, I have to wonder about how many of these celebrities that appear on the "Read!" posters actually do 'read' and what do they 'read'? I wonder what is Lindsay Lohan's take on the complex narrative structure of James Joyce's works. Maybe she is going to the Bloom festival this year?

See -- I was going to make a cheap joke about Lolita and Rover here, but I resisted. Class, people; it's all about class.

*Secondly, why are librarians often the most evil of people? What is it about an MA in Library Sciences that turns someone into an ally of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Jesus! They just used the impervious curse on a kid that had a $.50 fine!!!

As a form of non-violent resistance, I'm going to cough really, really loudly. There --- I've taken a stand.

*On a completely unrelated topic, I was on another Seinfeldian moment of my life from last October. I was waiting to turn south on Maryland Avenue in Milwaukee from Locust Ave. and while relaxing in my car, I looked over at the two shops that grace the corner: one is my favorite coffee place in the world - at the moment anyway - and the second is the local hookah / Middle Eastern restaurant that has become quite the popular destination for many UWM students who want the coolness of pot and bongs, but are pussies.

Anyway, this guy was sitting at an outside table, enjoying a long satisfying breath of tobacco, when he looked right at me and gave me the finger.....for no apparent reason whatsoever. Needless to say I was shocked - and a little homesick for Eastern PA at the same moment. I managed to park my car and walk onto campus - carefully avoiding the same street corner - still shocked at what had happened. Why had I been chosen for the finger? Was this a past enemy of mine, stalking me for months until that very moment? Was the guy hopped up on goofballs? Where are my keys? Fuck!!! Oh - there they are.

Then I thought to myself: WWCD - What Would Constanza Do? George would probably chase the guy down to give a retaliatory finger, but become embroiled in a complex web of deceit and danger that would involve an interesting quirk of Jerry's newest girlfriend, Puddy and Elaine (in some capacity) and another wacky scheme by Kramer....so I decided to drop the follow-up on the dude.

*I've also noticed that I tend to chew my gum to a point where the resin / sugar mix is far beyond it's taste capacity. Now my jaw hurts from chewing.

*I also want a pair of sneakers with the wheels on them so I can slide across the floor at highly inappropriate times. But not as much as I want that style of all-purpose shoes from Sketchers called "Saladin" in their Crusaders series. Nothing says respect for one of the most interesting and engaging characters of history than to name a pair of sneakers after him -- or naming a line of shoes after one the bloodiest and most depressing moments of world history. Still, those shoes are awesome!!!

The Nessecary Adjustments of Life

2007-02-10T14:06:00.000-06:00

Life is about change; I think there are very few people out there who would argue that point with me. And with change, no matter how large or small the change is, there comes a point when you realize you as a person have adjusted to said change(s).

Case in point: the Wisconsin cold. Nessecary

I've always had a bit of a warm spot (pun intended) for winter weather - red noses, hot coco, sledding, ice hockey and other heavily romanticized symbols of the cold months. But then there comes the first winter of one's life as a new transplant in Wisconsin - especially when it's the coldest winter in at least twelve years.

Last week was brutal: my heat wasn't working properly in my apartment and the daily temperatures didn't rise above single digits - which was made worse by a nasty wind chill that made things feel like -26 degrees at points. Even walking from one's warm car to the entrance of a restaurant that was only ten yards away was feared like crossing 'No Man's Land' around Ypres in 1917.

But today I went out to start my car, fresh with the knowledge the high was going to be around 18 degrees today and I thought: "do I really even need a coat?"

Like I said, we all evolve and adjust...

I Must Weigh In...

2007-02-09T13:15:00.000-06:00

I've spent the better part of two hours reading the forums on Mugglenet.com - the number one Harry Potter fan site - and I feel compeled to offer my own two cents on what will be happening in Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows:

Snape is good. We must trust Snape...

There...I've said it. Email me hateful emails if you must - I can handle it.

Also, I plan to be picking up the book on July 21st with Brechtyette at midnight, so if there are any Potter fans out there who think there are getting in my way, be afraid --- be very afraid.

I played hockey...And I haven't had a bruito from Neato Bruito in over three weeks...I drop the gloves and dance with any 13 year-old who gets in my way...

New Nickname

2007-02-09T12:18:00.000-06:00

I'm the type of person who believes that one cannot bestow a nickname upon his / herself. Instead, a nickname must be given to you by another person or series of persons...

With that in mind, I am about to reveal my newest nickname to the blogging world: "The Professor"...not much of a shocker, but I think it's cool.

Apparently, one of the head officiating coordinators here in Wisconsin - let's just call him Jay for his own personal anonymity - was impressed that I was a college professor and started to call me "Professor" in his phone conversations with me. And I haven't any problem with that.

But I wasn't aware of the awareness of my new nickname till recently. The other night I was in the dressing room getting ready for a Mite game, when I met my officiating partner for the evening who simply addressed me with "Hey, you're the Professor, right?"

My legend is growing by leaps and bounds --- and my penalty calls are annoying more and more Wisconsinites --- (evil laugh).

Hockey As Written By Nathaniel Hawthorne

2007-01-31T17:04:00.000-06:00

As many of my friends and family are aware, I am a loyal Philadelphia Flyers fan and have been since I could remember. I can recall sitting in my grandma's living room, with my dad, as we would watch the Flyers bash in the skulls of the New York Rangers (who would suck even if they had an anti-sucking machine on the least sucky day of the year - Blueshirt bastards!) to the delighted cheers of the raucous Spectrum crowd.

Good times...

However despite the euphoria of Canadian-borne violence, the Flyers have caused me much pain over the years. I wasn't alive during the Cup years of 1974 & 1975, so as part of the 'second-generation' of Flyer fans, I've been continually disappointed each playoff spring.

Some lowlights: 1985 Cup Final loss to the Gretzky-lead Oilers in five games; 1987 heartbreaker to the same Oilers in seven; the 1989 heated Wales Conf. final loss to Les Canadiens; the 1995 Conf. final loss to the Devils; the Devils again in the 2000 Conf. final (probably the Orange & Black's best chance at a Cup win); the '97 sweep by Detroit...okay this is depressing. But the 2004 conf. final loss to Tampa Bay in seven may sting the most: seriously, fuck west Florida --- they don't have ice and there should not be hockey in...ARGGGGGGHHHH!

Twenty-seven minutes later....

GHHHHHH......Okay...okay...Anyway, the Flyers now own the worst record in the NHL and seem destined for a long rebuilding process with an organization that may or may not have an idea of where it's going -- so at least there won't be a playoff disappointment this year.

I've often compared my status as a fan of the Flyers to that of the child of a distant or dead-beat dad: you anticipate him coming to your birthday party and he promised this time! He promised! And after the cake and presents and balloons he calls to say "Oh sorry...but I didn't anticipate the traffic on the by-pass or Buffalo's speed on defense thus preventing a strong dump-and-chase style game. But next year kiddo I promise to leave early and sign some smaller, speedier wingers to offset such a match-up." And you wait for the next year to come, but then the excuse is the goaltending, a new job, or Dad's new girlfriend or coach...

But the more I think about it, being a Flyer fan is not unlike being Nathaniel Hawthorne, for you constantly live with the sins of your forefathers: namely, the bruising and goon mentality that prevaded over the franchise since its founding - especially in the Broad Street Bullies era of the mid-1970s. The tough-as-nails persona has stayed with the team since the days when Dave Schultz and Bill "Cowboy" Plett or Andre "Moose" Dupont patrolled the Spectrum ice and has lasted through Paul "You Seriously Can't Expect Him to be the new GM"Holmgren, Dave Brown, Dan "I Can Out-Skate Him" Kordic, Scott Daniels, Donald Brasher, etc. etc. etc...and frankly while these and many other tough Flyers were treated as Gods-among-men, I can't really believe they advanced the sport of hockey. In fact, the Flyers, more than any other team, helped cement the stereotype of hockey players as brawling tugs more than any other organization (especially during the '70s); a vicious and untrue stereotype that has lasted to today.

Plus a number of Flyer fans have accused players from other teams as being witches -- how Tie Domi and George McPhee were found not guilty I've never understand.

Hockey is a violent sport at all levels, but there's a difference between a hard, clean check and thuggery. Hockey is also a game of amazing speed, talent, and skill -- but has been overshadowed by the violence; violence historically personified by the Flyers. Thus, the hockey gods will continue to toy and tease and depress the fans of the orange and black until....well, I don't know. Perhaps we can start by wearing Orange "B's" out of shame and penance - as long as we don't fall in love with the ministers...

Unless we approach this like the Demi Moore film......................nah.

I've Become a Cliche

2007-01-30T16:50:00.000-06:00

So do you like the pictures? I think they add a certain je ne sais quois to this space...

Anyway, I'm fearful that I've become a cliche.

The other night I was having some trouble with my trusty DVD player, which has loyally served me for a number of years, as it wasn't properly reading the disk I had inserted into it (the film The Saddest Music in the World - which I couldn't get through). So feeling rather guy-ish, I decided to open up my player and try to get to bottom of the issue at hand.

Truth be told I really wasn't sure what I was doing, but I figured maybe some things were dusty and needed cleaning or something. I had to do that with my CD player when I was making a tape, so I figured I needed to repeat the procedure. Herein is part of my new worrisome cliche-persona: the hell with directions or logic or knowledge - just break the thing open.

I won't bore my faithful readers with the details of what I did or how I did it, but after I had put the DVD player back together and it was working properly, I noticed something: I had four leftover screws with no apparent holes in which to place them.

I stared at the DVD player for a good ten minutes and I was completely baffled. Certainly they must go somewhere -- but alas there were no open seats in the cafeteria. My DVD player was working, but with spare parts, not unlike a cartoon character or Homer Simpson trying to fix something and having a collection of parts that didn't seem to make it back into the device.

I suppose it could have been worse: I could have working on a car or a bike and then I would have worried about the safety of the rider / operator. I'm not worried about the dangers operating my DVD player, but then you never know.

Especially if it was made in Indiana.

Things I Learned Over Winter Break

2007-01-27T15:32:00.000-06:00

I'm working on a longer entry based on a couple of the items listed here, but I wanted to actually refresh my blog for once...

So, without further aideu, the things I learned over my recently ended winter break:

1: Whatever you do, do not see Borat with cracked ribs. The film is very, very, very funny, but the pain you force yourself to endure is not worth it.

2: If you do crack your ribs because of a refing incident (that you can't really place), then make sure your girlfriend is there to take care of you while you lay in agony in your bed (next time, Brechtyette is getting free airfare).

3: It's probably not a good idea to crack your ribs period.

4: If you go to the Library of Congress, make sure you check the wait-time on the reader board as you enter the Main Reading Room. Do not wait almost two hours for books with nothing else to do.

5: That Moroccan place near DuPont Circle is Washington is really freaky...

6: Indiana is still my least favorite state...

7: Seriously, fuck Indiana.

8: Honestly, when driving through Indiana at night all the AM stations are broadcasts of high school basketball games.

9: I forget how badly Gary, Indiana smells.

10: It's really nice to be able to watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report on a nightly basis...(no cable for me in Wisconsin).

11: There aren't enough Dukin' Donuts in Wisconsin -- the company needs to really expand.

12: Coffee will always be awesome...

13: I seriously think my Uncle James is insane, but I do love the guy (and there's no way a panther would lose to a badger in a fight!).

14: Cindy does not return emails...

15: Nattie does not return phone calls...(but I knew that one already).

16: SpongeBob Squarepants is that much funnier with Brechtyette..

17: Perkins' is not a good restaurant...

And most importantly....

18: You will drive faster and longer than you ever thought possible to get to slide under the covers with your love...even if it's to fall asleep beside her.

I like number 18 the best...

Gopher Rejects

2006-10-24T15:30:00.000-05:00

As Gen (aka Brechty-ette) once told her mom, there are only two things one cannot make fun of in front of me: Bruce Springsteen and hockey.

To be fair, there's a bit of truth to that statement. I have many passions, but nothing compares to my life-long defense and love of ice hockey in all its forms. I adore the Hershey Bears, weep every year after the Flyers choke yet again, skate my heart out when I ref, and tear-up every time I hear Al Michaels' call of "Do you believe in Miracles? Yes!!"

I also love watching the game live, no matter who is playing or what level is playing before me. Every year, I try to take a soujurn to a different rink to experience the game through a new context. I've seen my Flyers lose to the Washington Capitals at the MCI Center twice; I made a day trip after teaching three classes to watch an AHL playoff game between the Phantoms and WBS Penguins during the NHL lockout; I've seen a number of ECHL games in Atlantic City (when they had a team), Reading, and Johnstown; and I can't begin to calculate how many LVC, high school, or Hershey Bear games I've attended in my life.

This past Saturday, I added another experience to my list: a Wisconsin Badgers game. And it was everything I could have expected.

The game itself was of little consquence. The Badgers played an uneven game against the Minnesota -Duluth Bulldogs, but UW capitalized on their chances like any good team should. However, the true fun was listening to the vocal UW student section, which is seated behind the visting goaltender twice (the first and third period).

Greeting UMD freshman goalie Alex Stalock with chants of "freshman goalie!", the tone was set early on for a night of fun. The well-established chants and cat-calls of a bouncing section of UW-Madison students filled the Kohl Center air, the brilliant comments were equalled by the low brow. Singing along with public domain songs, the competing goalie was told he "gladly takes it up the ass", and this was reinforced by the noting that he also "sucks". Crude yes, but so effective (and funny in a dark and scatalogical way).

But the most brilliant comments came after the second period. As a team of mini-mites scrambled onto the clean ice during the second intermission, a young goalie no more than five, slid into the UMD net. This was too perfect an opportunity as the massed throngs of UWM students began to point at the newcomer, then to the UMD dressing room, and chanted "Better goalie! Better goalie!"

As the Badgers held onto their lead midway through the third, the crowd began taunting the Bulldogs from Duluth by noting how their program has traditionally been playing second fiddle (along with St. Cloud State, Bermidjji, and Manakto) to the University of Minnesota Golden Gophers by nothing that all the players wearing gold and black could have been better off. "Gopher rejects! Gopher rejects!" soon filled the air, and I couldn't help but laugh. Having grown up with Bears fans who chanted "asshole" to every referee and chanted "b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t, BULLSHIT!" in noting a horrific call, or in song form, called for the head of former coach Mike Folingo - or Flyer fans who revel in chanting "Rangers Suck!" -- I felt a little more at home.

Of course, if the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee begins a Div 1 hockey program (fingers crossed), I'm sure we will be greeted with chants of "Badger rejects". Until then, I'll enjoy the UW student section -- and if I hear the sounds of Badger rejects, a call for "loser drunks" may be in order.

Say it Ain't So Jon

2006-10-09T22:33:00.000-05:00

I'm sure many of you have seen this fly across the wires:

I just wanted to say that a Jon Stewart / Stephen Colbert ticket in 2008 would simply be awesome, and I can safely say a number of people would agree with me.

Besides, I'm not taking that bumper sticker off my Honda.

President Stewart...come on, it's a good idea.

Stop With the Packers

2006-10-09T22:10:00.000-05:00

I realize that this post may certainly be the most unpopular I have ever written, but it must be written because I cannot keep these feelings in any longer.

Fox 6 in Milwaukee has pushed me over the edge with their coverage of the Packers.

At first I thought this was cute and funny, and lord knows I have my own sports obessions (i.e. Hershey Bears and Philadelphia Flyers), but after two months of living here, it's no longer cute or funny: it's annoying.

To be fair, I can deal with the uncountable green and gold bumper stickers, pennats, flags, jerseys, decals, banners, bunting, mascots, bobbleheads, flyers, special newspaper editions, or other assorted merchandise? The annoying cutesy adoration of a 1-4 team? Again, I can deal (although the Hershey / Philadelphia upbringing of mine is asking why not call for the head of Brett Favre and the head coach? Where's the slashing of tires and lynching of Santa Claus?)

But what has driven me over the breaking point is that on the Fox 6 Milwaukee news last night there was the lead story: Packers lose on a Brett Favre fumble in the 4th quarter -- which is fine. Then, there the second story about how some other player may be facing a year suspension due to a violation of the NFL's substance abuse policy. Again, okay, I can deal with that. Then there is a story about how so many Packer fans will not do their chores outside until after the final whistle. Again, I can deal. But the seventh or eighth story last night on Fox 6 was a brief mention of North Korea testing a nuke...a nuclear weapon test in the hands of a lunatic is buried in the newscast because WE HAVE TO COVER THE GOD-D!@#$% PACKERS FOR TWENTY MINUTES!!! STOP IT!!! STOP IT!!!!!!! THE GUY TESTED A NUCLEAR WEAPON!!! A NUCLEAR WEAPON!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry...

Again, I'm just calling for some perspective here people. I have nothing against the state of Wisconsin or Packer fans. I just want a little perspective....

The Boss and Uncle Walt, Part 2

2006-09-11T16:12:00.000-05:00

Hey, I actually finished a two-parter!!!

Anyway, the day after seeing the Boss rock, well folk-out New Jersey, Brechtyette and I headed to a hotel room to crash and awaken the next day to scope out Walt Whitman's house in Camden.

To those of my loyal readers who have never been to Camden, imagine Baltimore that just kinda let itself go. Nah, I like Baltimore. Okay, imagine....well, Camden is just a crappy city no matter how you slice it. So, as we drove around that Wednesday morning, trying to find the Whitman house in downtown Camden, I had a feeling that I might not have my car by the end of the day.

We did find the Whitman house, adjacent to an empty lot with strewn garbage all over the place, and a crazy woman asking me for cigarettes two houses down. The house wasn't open for another hour (the staff was on lunch-break), so we decided to stroll around downtown Camden (on the opposite side of the prison) till the staff came back.

About an hour later, we were treated to a tour by the curator of the Walt Whitman house; for the next hour and a half, the three of us walked around the wonderful home with the presence of Uncle Walt around us. We saw his bedroom, his stacks of papers, an original copy of the last edition of Leaves of Grass, plus the bathtub that Whitman had installed when most of the country still used outhouses. We also got to pick oregeno and mint from the small garden in the back of the house that Whitman loved to tend.

The house isn't what you would expect from a famous artist: it's very plain and common, which is completely fitting in with the aura of Walt (and Bruce as well). Our guide told us a story of a famous fellow poet coming to visit Walt, walking in the home, and Walt was standing over the stove in the back of house, cooking a stew and welcoming his visitor as though he was a neighbor coming in to talk about whatever on a lazy weekend afternoon.

Sadly, we had to leave soon after our tour ended, as I had to teach a class back in Harrisburg that evening. Yet, that imagine of Walt welcoming his visitor in like a normal person would do (not to knock normal people or famous people for that matter) has stayed with me, just as Bruce's ancedote from the night before. I think that they symbolize not only the realness of both men, but they connect us to their art all that more. And I don't mean that in the way that when you study the life of a famous person they become more real because we lose the illusion or myth of their lives (Lincoln was a depressive, Chaplain used women, Keaton struggled with alcohol, Franz Ferdinand actually supported self-government for ethinic groups in his empire). But their art, that being Springsteen and Whitman, seems all the more authentic and real --- they are what they project: lovers, fighters, poets, humorists, and above-all humans.

Plus, one can't help but feel a bit proud to be American when one thinks about their art. They both capture the essence of the American experience, the humanity of it, that perhaps no other artists have. As Whitman said in his introduction to the 1855 Edition of Leaves of Grass:

An individual is as superb as a nation when he has the qualities which make a superb nation. The soul of the largest and wealthiest and proudest nation may well go half-way to meet that of its poets. The signs are effectual. There is no fear of mistake. If the one is true the other is true. The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.

It was interesting how both Springsteen and Whitman are absorbed by us as we absorb both of them...the fans loving the Boss' music and absorbing him just as lovers of Whitman absorb his words, and the land starts to absorb his place, and as we absorb the aura of both men.

Whitman certainly is the American poet, and Springsteen owes alot to him. And, it's the humility of Whitman and Springsteen that we should take with us, as well as their words expressing what they see of us. I guess that those two days showed me how much the two men share, and how much we share with them...

A couple of weeks later, I was walking around the Camp Hill Mall, and I couldn't help and have the opening stanza to "You Better Not Touch" run through my head:

Yesterday i went shopping, buddy down to the mall
Looking for something pretty ,i could hang on my wall
I knocked over a lamp, before it hit the floor i caught it
A salesman turned around said "boy you break that thing you bought it"

And I couldn't help think of the Boss and Uncle Walt experience. Not just because of a high-brow literary connection between the two texts I've cited, but from the fact I could picture both Whitman and Springsteen nearly breaking that lamp, or working the salesfloor.

Cool guys, cool days...

Call Me Mole-Man..

2006-09-05T14:23:00.000-05:00

One of the odd things about moving half-way across the country, is that you quickly discover the quirks, the subtle, yet overt differences of new surrondings, that kinda drive you batty. For instance, I love my Honda -- my '06 Civic. And yet, I've discovered that my fuel-efficent auto is perhaps the smallest car on the roads of Wisconsin. Cheeseland is apparently the paradise of SUVs and Mini-Vans, and this is especially difficult when I'm trying to back out of a parking spot in the Arby's parking lot. Unable to see anything, I've just come to pray and back out...which isn't good I know...

Today I also discovered another irraitant. My new teaching position is at a lush, gorgeous college campus, yet today I found out my office is located in the basement of one of the central buildings on campus. That wasn't a big deal to me -- after all, beggars cannot be choosy.

However, I saw my office today. Let me just say three things: no phone, no computer, no working wireless internet access, no desks (okay, there's a board-room style conference table, but it's incredibly awkward), and a sticky door. Okay, that's five things, but you see my point. Plus, you can't turn off the air conditioning...

I feel like a mole-person sitting in there, burrowing further and further below ground...and the lighting isn't that great either..

True, in the grand scheme of things, I have nothing to complain about. I have my health, my good-looks, a loving family, wonderful friends, a hot girlfriend...But, I also wonder if we (in the collective sense) are given situations (such as part-time work) which aren't ideal, and that the universe tries to 'test' us by making those less-than-ideal scenarios even more aggrivating. Or, in a more cynical sense, if the powers-that-be love to see us wriggle and suffer. "Yes, we know you have alot of work, and several papers to write, but your computer will crash in a few minutes, so here's a pencil that hasn't been sharpened --- oh, and good luck finding a pencil sharpener"...which actually, come to think of it, happened to me in my class two semesters ago. I actually sent a student to find a pencil sharpener when I discovered my classroom didn't have one, and it took her a good 15 minutes to find one in the building.

Anyway, I suppose that whinning about these things is cathertic to me. And, all in all, I don't have that much to complain about. And I don't really think this fits in with my new motif for this blog, but sometimes one has to get something off his chest. Besides, I can visit the Starbucks in the school's library all I want...

The Boss and Uncle Walt...

2006-08-25T09:34:00.000-05:00

I grew up with Bruce Springsteen. He was already a myth when I was entering gradeschool, back when Born In The USA was released. Just a guy, a jean-jacket and his guitar. He looked normal...He looked like the older neighbor kid...He looked like somebody my uncle would share a beer with.

I heard Springsteen songs all my life, but I didn't hear them until I listened to them when I started college. Then I began to see what made that artist so amazing: there was pain and sadness; tragedy and trimuph; beauty and horror; love and lust; and a voice that just seemed to be honest. Most of the singers / acts I had listened to before didn't have that honesty or understanding of their subjects like Bruce did.

Springsteen quickly became something more than an artist to me: he was the prophet of Dylan, the bard of the working class. He was becoming the myth again.

Bruce was also my "White-Whale". I've seen Neil Young (great concert), Pearl Jam (bitching show), Dylan (saw him twice. One was amazing, one not too much) but I never seemed to be close to see the Boss. Growing up in eastern PA, just a stone's throw from Jersey, one's odds of seeing Springsteen live diminished rather rapidly to the point of requiring divine intervention.

So, you can imagine my joy and disbelief this summer when I found myself standing in the Tweeter Center in Camden with Brechtyette herself, as Bruce was only fifty yards or so away from me. In some ways, since I write this two months after the fact, it still dosen't seem real --- I've been in the same building as the Boss....

I must give a huge shout out to Brechtyette (I'll change the nickname when I come up with a better one, so I'm really just copying Rover's name for his wife)...she was the one who got the tickets, and I'm forever in her debt. Something about a first-born male child or something, but I can't remember exactly...

Anyway, the concert was a dream. For those in the know, Bruce has just cut an album that covers folk songs originally brought into the mainstream by the legendary folk singer Pete Seeger (the main man of the folk scene before a Minnesotan named Dylan stole the spotlight). And the concert was Bruce and his 'Seeger Sessions' Band (including LaBamba from Conan!) performing the folk standards, but with a blend of so many American music styles: swing, delta blues, bluegrass, Irish folk, Dixieland jazz, early country and more.

Of course, there were some in the audience who just didn't get the new direction that the Boss was doing. There were about five or ten college kids who kept screaming for "Glory Days" through most the concert, but the vast majority of those in attendance got "it". Plus, Bruce did through in a few older songs, including two of my all-time favs: "You Can Look, But You Better Not Touch" and "Atlantic City", the latter to which I pumped my fist and gave a happy thumbs-up / concert scream to a Jersey guy four rows up (who was just as pumped to hear "AC".

Mid-way through the concert (about the time my voice was beginning to die from repeated chants of BRUCCCCCCCCEEE), Springsteen stopped to chat with the audience and take a bit of a break. He started to tell this funny story, an ancedote which pushed the coolness of the day even further. I'm quoting as close to memory as I can below:

"Ya know, we were driving down the New Jersey Turnpike today, and we passed the Walt Whitman Memorial Rest Stop...(chuckle)...Think about that--I guess "Leaves of Grass" wasn't enough; they had to name a rest stop after him. (audience laughs) But ya know, it makes sense, cause he did write a poem about that. "I stopped at a rest stop to get a burger, gas-up, and take a piss"...(audience laughs)...Well, it's in the back of "Leaves of Grass"...way, way in the back.."

This was cool for a number of reasons: First, I'v always liked Whitman, espeically his Civil War era-work, and I've read a number of theorists who classify Whitman and Springsteen as answering the call of Ralph Waldo Emerson's "The American Scholar" in which RWE calls for an American voice and an American literature. In fact, I think their respective voices are very similar...beauty, social awareness, sexuality...they're both present in both the artists' work...

But, I had promised Brechtyette that we would see Walt Whitman's house in Camden the next day (she being a huge lover of Whitman's work). And when Bruce spoke those words, his joke about the rest-stop, the trip took on an even cooler aura -- that our pilgrammage to New Jersey was now on an epic level; we were giving mutual heroes a connection that they both were doing on a seperate plane.

Coming soon: Part 2

A Make-Over (but not in the Bravo Network kind of way)

2006-08-24T17:52:00.000-05:00

To my loyal readers (which consist of Gen, Cindy, Nate...I'm up to three!!):

Quite a bit has changed in my life recently. I've moved almost halfway across the country; I'm teaching at a brand new college again; and I've started to work on my PhD. And, as you can tell, my blog has suffered because of the cyclone-like atmosphere of my life these past few months.

That must change. I miss blogging and keeping in contact with the world in this medium. Plus, I've missed the fun of writing for pleasure (which is really why I started "Sitting in the Stalls" last year). Well...that and to impress the ladies...

Sadly, part of the challenge of my blog was that I tried to write original, insane, silly stories most of the time. Granted they were fun, but I've realized that I'm not a comedy writer per se, and it just became too difficult to come up with material on a consistent basis. Hell, if you look through my archives, you'll see at least three different intended serial blogs that never made it past entry number one.

So, with that in mind, I've decided that with my new surroundings as something of an inspiration, I'm going to refocus the energy and motif (if you will) of my corner of the internet.

As I'm sure most of you are aware, one of my favorite writers and historical figures is the influential German playwright Bertolt Brecht. Like many things I treasure, I kind of stumbled upon Brecht as an undergrad at Penn State. I was taking a course on 20th Century European drama and the professor noted that I resembled Brecht, and when I looked at a picture of Bertolt for the first time, it kinda freaked me out. So, if you know what I look like, go to Google, do an image search of Brecht, and see for yourself. It's kinda freaky...

Anyway, perhaps because of my strong narcissism (cough), I started to study Brecht: I mean if the guy had these looks going for him, he must be cool (stop laughing!). But the interest I held with Brecht wasn't just because of our vast, mutual sex appeal (actually Brecht was something of a notorious womanizer): BB was important for his belief that theatre could be used for bring social awareness to the stage, that a play peformed to challenge the expectations and beliefs of the audience could bring about change, change for the better. And I always felt his belief in the ability of art to alter the world around it was best summarized in this quote from one of his early essays on theatre:

"A man who strains himself on the stage is bound, if he is any good, to strain all the people sitting in the stalls."

I suppose that the phrase "sitting in the stalls" has been rolling around in my head for a number of years, and I couldn't really think of another term to entitle this website. After all, I'm an idealist at heart (perhaps to a fault) and I still believe that positive change in the world can happen. And art can be the catalyst

Now, I'm not saying that I anticipate starting a revolution through my little blog. But I think that I want to start to explore the possibilities of what can happen when we are strained by something we witness to the point of looking at ourselves. I hope to do this by talking about anecdotes from this past summer (which was simply amazing in so many ways..:))and things I observe in everyday life and in all forms of art. Plus, I hope to create some sort of dialogue with you out there...

But don't worry: this blog will not become heavy-handed and preachy. Hell, that's not me. There will still be jokes about whatever I find funny, from Rover's ability to suck to Rover's ability to suck. But I hope to throw in a discussion of why Rover sucks.

Best,
Brechty...okay, yeah I've got quite the ego :)

The End of Hockey Season...

2006-06-22T10:16:00.000-05:00

Part of the reason that I haven't posted in so long (aside from my own writing and teaching deadlines) is that I've been caught up in the amazing run of my Hershey Bears to their ninth Calder Cup title...Congrats to all the Chocolate and White and to Bears Nation as a whole (much more on this topic as time allows).

However, I would simply like to direct everyone to the Onion's take on Carolina's Stanley Cup win......I feel the same way...though I'm glad Rod Brind'Amour will have his name on the Cup.

Otherwise, to fans of teams in Miami, Raleigh, Tampa, Nashville, and Atlanta, one thought: May your teams move to Winnipeg, Hartford, Portland, Quebec, or any other city / locale that actually has snow/ice and whose citizens know the difference between a blue line and a clothes line.

New Jersey Shore? Really Rover...

2006-02-16T20:10:00.000-06:00

Well well well....in another feeble attempt to sway votes from the citizens of our fair state, Rover has announced a hair-brained scheme to capture the sea shore of New Jersey with paratroopers (via a complicated land exchange invovling Philadelphia, New Jersey, Canada and Maine).

But wait Brechty, you may be asking, we want to capture New Jersey's shoreline so we have a nice vacation area! True, the Jersey shore is lovely, but Rover's plan carries no understanding of the region / state of New Jersey itself. He writes "If elected this fall I promise the people of Pennsylvania that we will be basking on the beach by Spring!", but trust me, this is an empty promise.

First off, how can we capture a shoreline without knowing the vast geographical and cultural nuances that seperate the North, Central, and South Jersey regions? Could we maintain a feasible working relationship between the three rival areas that has been kept under wrap by the dictorial goverment in Trenton for centuries? Can Rover not see that an attack would free up the North Jersey mafia to attack their bitter rivals in the South, enveloping the shore in an extended gangland war that would have no feasible end?

Can our Pennsylvania paratroopers speak Jerseyian? Could any of them translate this phrase: "Yo, I'm from Philly, and dis guy is actin' rather weird..."? No, I didn't think so, but the troops would just be mimicking their leader, eh Rover?

Further, what about capturing the various strip clubs that house both organized crime and the civic leaders that would certainly help in securing a trasitional government? Sure, we could say that various "shadowy" agents from Harrisburg could manage the trick, but we would be lacking anyone with the knowledge of how to bribe...well, anyone. Plus, what of the strippers? Who's thinking of the strippers? Not Rover...

In turn, what of securing the uncountable Wawas that dot the Jersey area? Bomb them? Capture them? There is no answer: Jersey residents would rise up in rebellion at the sight of their sacred convenience stores controlled by Pennsylvania "storm-troopers" -- the Jerseyites unable to pray for their morning shitty coffee and pretzels...plus, the PR battle would be lost as the powerful Turkey Hill and Sheetz allies in the West would call for an immediate removal of Keystone troops at such a sight...

Does Rover know Central Jersey sucks? Does he know the lyrics to all Springsteen songs? Does he know what a pork roll is? Does he know what to take when the Atlantic City expressway is jammed with Friday traffic from the city (I usually take route 42...but some people squeak through on the White Horse Pike, but that's crazy if you ask me..)....

No foreplanning is evident here, my dear citizens.

This message brought to you by Citizens for a Better Keystone State

Citizens for a Better Keystone State

2006-02-08T13:14:00.000-06:00

As some of you are no doubt aware, Rover has announced his candidacy for Governor of Pennsylvania. Frankly, I'm concerned about the possibility of such a thing occurring, no matter no remote the odds against Mr. Rover. Therefore, I have formed an organization dedicated to preventing Rover from obtaining his "goal"..

Citizens for a Better Keystone State is committed to the betterment of Pennsylvania, mainly by eliminating ...umm...well...there's...ah...okay, so we (I) haven't quite figured out our agenda just yet, but we don't want Rover running the state.

And, since we (I) are a start-up organization, we have a limited amount of funds to work with (and I had to pay rent last week, plus the payment on my Honda was due). So, I will post scripts for upcoming "Awareness Ads" that will run on Pennsylvania television and radio stations (the ones that aren't owned by Clear Channel -- all three of them) in the upcoming months.

Here's the first:

Television Spot #1: A picture of the smoking twin towers...

Male Voice Over: We all remember the horrific events of September 11th...

(Pictures of Fire Fighters rushing to the scene)

Male Voice Over: And the heroes and bravery of that day...

(Picture of George W Bush with a megaphone threatening "those who did this")

Male Voice Over: And how American learned it needs leaders who aren't afraid to challenge the threats to our safety...

(Picture of Rover)

Male Voice Over, Gloomy Music: Rover says he'd stand up for Pennsylvania; that he's tough and brave...

But ask Rover what happened on October 17, 1998, and you'll get a very different picture...

(Video of Dwayne Philes): Yeah, we were hanging out in the basement of Paul's parents' house, when Rover starting talking shit about Paul's sister...

(Video of Paul): So we starting to wrestle and I tapped him in the nose as a joke...

(Video of Dwayne): Then Rover clutches his nose, yelling "You hit me! You hit me!"...

(Video of Paul): And he starts crying like a little girl, and runs into the bathroom weeping...

Male Voice Over/Picture of Rover: Rover: A Brave and Fearless Leader? Or a Big and Crying Pussy?

Rushed Voice: Paid for by Citizens for a Better Keystone State.

Fearless Forecast for 2006

2006-01-21T15:56:00.000-06:00

Yes, I realize that 2006 has already begun, but I was incredibly busy over winter break. And yes, several of you felt the need to mock my having a "life" outside of the blog world. To those people: go !@#$% yourselves.

Anyway, I've decided to offer you my brilliant insights into the upcoming year. Some may happen, some may not, but remember: you read it here first.

Feb. 5: A white quarterback wins the Super Bowl.

Feb. 25: The Czech Republic, on an overtime goal by Vinny Prospal, defeats Canada 5-4 to win its second gold medal in men's ice hockey. Team USA upsets Canada to win the gold in womens'hockey, but I don't give a flying !@#$% about womens'ice hockey. Besides, Cami Granato deserves to be the USA team....crap, I've already said too much.

Feb. 26: After being given "concrete" evidence by new Canadian PM Stephen Harper that the Czech Republic was invovled in 9-11, George Bush orders the Air Force to begin saturation bombing of Prague.

March 1: March will come in as a lamb...and exit as a lamb on the 31st after the lion accidently is shot by paranoid New York City Police after visiting his family plot at the New York Public Library.

March 15: Jay Leno will walk around downtown LA and ask people what are the Ides of March. People will respond with ignorant answers; Jay will laugh, and chuckle, and this somehow becomes comedy to a majority of Americans.

April 1: Morning-radio show hosts will prank-call several hundred people with horrific and absurd stories to trick them on April Fool's Day. However, none will be original and again, far too many Americans will find this funny.

April 3: Baseball season begins. The Pirates, Royals, Brewers, Reds, Tigers, Rockies, and Marlins are eliminated from playoff contention. The Devil Rays are sent to play for a season in AAA, and finish 43 games out of first place.

April 4: After losing the season opener to the Cardinals, Phillies fans begin to call for GM Pat Gillick and manager Charlie Manuel to be fired.

April 18: Bush finally gets why his last name is so funny. He won't stop laughing for a record three weeks. However, George H.W. Bush still won't get it...

May 7: A famous celebrity will be arrested.

May 10: Condy Rice orders the Army to invade Mexico in a desperate attempt to get W's attention. Her "love-letter" ignored, Rice will announce that she's leaving politics to finally try and connect with her long lost brother: that football guy.

June 10: The Philadelphia Flyers parade down Broad Street....okay, even I don't belive this....

June 17: David Spade will still be unfunny.

June 18: Carlos Men..c..i..a..(or however you spell it) will still be horribly unfunny.

June 19: Rick James will still be dead.

June 28: Pat Robertson...hmm....fill in your own joke here.

July 2: The Phildelphia Museum of Art will finally get tired of the moronic yahoos who think it's funny to run up the PMA's steps a la Rocky Balboa, and pose for pictures humming "da da da, da dah da" and issue a ban entitled, "For Christ Sakes, It Was Only Cute for Two Weeks in 1976"; hiring angry, out-of-work art history PhDs to slap the shit out of those to break the rule.

July 3: Philadelphians will finally realize that the Rocky franchise sucks, and that, yeah, it is a bit of an artistic strecth to have a guy run from the waterfront to the Italian market to the steps of the PMA....

July 17: Cleveland will still suck.

August 10: I will have a wild three-some with Selma Hayek and Halle Berry...okay, now why does this seem more plasuible than a Flyers Stanley Cup win? Why? Why? Why?????

August 18: Indiana will still be "on notice" from me. Kiss my ass! You're all just Michigan wanna-bes anyway..

September 11: Bush will mention the terrorist attacks of 2001 in some self-serving capacity. Call me crazy, but just a hunch here.

October 10: I will eat some sushi..

October 11: I'll complain about never haven eaten fu-gu...

October 12: I'll find something good on tv and eat at Subway.

October 13: I'll find something okay on tv and eat at Subway.

October 20: I will eat some sushi..

October 21: I'll complain about never haven eaten fu-gu..

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 22: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....

October 23: Finally get around to see the "doctor"..

November 11: Nuclear war between India, Pakistan...but new rumors about J-Lo and a baby! Plus, is Brad fed-up with Angelina???

November 24: (censored)

December 31: I'll get drunk.

Battle of the Cheesy Corporate Icons

2005-12-05T12:41:00.000-06:00

I would to bring attention to Rover's latest post concerning Lee Jeans "icon" Buddy Lee. In short, Rover has "called out" Buddy Lee for a match of some manner (or something...I didn't really read it).

But just in case...http://baboonsinyankari.blogspot.com/

Anyway, I'm just warning Rover that I've already carded Buddy Lee as the main event in my upcoming four bout spectacular at Caeser's in Atlantic City on New Year's Eve. Buddy Lee has a stellar reputation and is as American as apple pie and baseball (which is actually English in origin, as it descends directly from cricket, but I digress). And Buddy Lee will totally !@#$%-up the Snuggle Bear.

Buddy Lee and I have had it with all the !@#$% Snuggle Bear has been saying about my fighter. Buddy Lee is a man; Snuggle Bear is a gay little stuffed animal, who, and this is just what I hear people saying, contracted a case of Scrubbing Bubbles from Mr. Clean during their well-publized affair (Mr. Clean will be fighting the Brawny Paper Towel dude as one of the undercards). Snuggle Bear sucks. He can't fight (or is it she?). All that !@#$% does is snuggle next to towels. Mother-!@#$% is dead on New Year's Eve! Dead like Joe Camel! Ain't that right, Buddy Lee?

Damn straight.

And watch out Mr. Peanut! We all have heard this !@#$% about you wanting your title shot --- well, step outta your shell !@#$% and toss down the monocle. That's right, Buddy Lee isn't scared of your cane --- Buddy Lee will Philly-curb stomp your salty ass anytime, anywhere!

So if you want to see a dead bear in the ring, as Buddy Lee makes orphans out of his cubs, then call your cable provider this New Year's Eve....Valsic Pickle Bird vs. the Cocca Puffs Bird, Mr. Clean vs. Brawny Man, King Vitamin vs. the Burger King, and Buddy Lee killing that !@#$% ass coward, Snuggle Bear.

I Guess It's My Turn in Turn

2005-12-02T13:01:00.000-06:00

So I haven't posted in quite awhile, and it appears I've missed some quite interesting posts. Plus, I've been tagged by Rover (though I have no one to really tag...take that anyway you like).

Okay, here goes:

Five Places I would Like to Visit:

1. London (for about three months, at least)
2. Paris (honeymoon destination I think)
3. My family's hometown in Italy
4. India
5. Greece

My Five Favorite Restaurants:

1. The Thai place in Dillsburg
2. Anagaan's Indian on Route 22
3. El Rodeo (when I'm not spilling beer all over the place)
4. Subway (eat fresh)
5. The Warwick

Five Sporting Events I Would Love to Attend:

1. The Frozen Four (NCAA Hockey's Final Four). I have an outside shot to see it this year in Milwaukee, but failing that, DC in 2009.
2. A Manchester United home game against Liverpool FC.
3. A Leeds United home game against Manchester United (though that might be asking too much. Isn't LU now out of the Premier League? Besides, everyone knows those bastards from Lancashire stole the crown anyway. I'm looking at you, Henry IV!)
4. A Penn State vs Michigan hockey game at State College. For god sakes -- Alabama- Huntsville plays Div. 1 hockey; come on PSU!
5. A Stanley Cup parade down Broad Street in the near future.

Five People Are Going To El Rodeo With Me (Realisitically):

1. Gen
2. Nate
3. Duane
4. And whomever else..

Five Dead People Who I Would Chair a Session on Marxism with:

1. Charlie Chaplin (without his underage gals)
2. Bertolt Brecht (he and Charlie knew each other, so it would be friendly)
3. Euripides
4. Raymond Williams
5. John Lennon

Five Alive People Who I Would Have Dinner With (the unrealistic list):

1. Jon Stewart
2. Maureen Dowd
3. Pete Townshend
4. Matt Groening
5. Isabella Rossellini

Famous Women I Would Sleep With (no chance in hell):

1. Maureen Dowd
2. Isabella Rossellini
3. Kate Winslet
4. Josephine Baker
5. Paolina Borghese
6. Condy Rice (seriously, the world would be alot better off, no?)

2005-11-16T16:28:00.000-06:00

As everyone is now fully aware, my rendition of "A Boy Named Sue" lost out to LeAnn Womack's "I May Hate Myself in the Morning" as best single during the CMA's award show the other night. And while this is not the outcome my loyal fanbase wanted, I felt it was nessecary to address the situation in a calm and honest manner.

To LeAnn Womack: Listen, you need to get your life in order. Stop calling me! It's over LeAnn! And yes, I cheated on you with Shaina Twain! Get over it!

Skank.

To the voters of the Country Music Association: Assholes. All assholes.

To my fans: I appreciate your consipracy theories, such as the fact the show was held in New York City, where a good ol' country boy like me could never be appreciated by those liberal elites --- despite by education at Deerfield Academy and my subsquent Masters Degree in Creative Arts from Yale, my pseudo-postmodern spin on a classic protest and ironic song of 20th Century Americana was neglected by those trying to impress the arrogant east coast media types. When can a simple fella like me get any respect?

So, !@#$% New York. !@#$% Wisconsin too, just for the hell of it.

Best,
Brechty Cash

P.S. --- LeAnn I'm sorry about what I said....look, we can't change things...I can't change things...just call me baby.

If You Really Have Some Time to Kill....

2005-11-16T16:05:00.000-06:00

This is one of the oddest, and yet funniest, websites I've ever come across..

I really can't describe it, but if you're a fun of Chuck Norris, Mr. T., or Vin Diesel, it's worth a look...

Actually, isn't there a Conan O'Brien connection between all three?

http://www.4q.cc/t/ ---- sorry, you'll have to cut and paste; the insert link button isn't working...

Enjoy...

Ahem...

2005-11-07T12:31:00.000-06:00

So, it's official. Messiah has beaten Elizabethtown College twice. And I owe Rover two dinners as a direct result.

So what? I don't care. Frankly, I'll let him have his dinners and brag about it on his "blog" for months and months because I have bigger things to worry about. Like right now I have a headache and I can't find any Tylenol in my office. Or the fact I need to do my wash tomorrow. Those are important and engaging events in my life and involve more worry and thought than this...shall we say...setback.

Actually, no. I don't like that word "setback". Let's call it -- a willful expenditure of capital (that class is how we make a euphemism).

Besides, all that really matters is how !@#$% awesome Penn State is! They totally turkey-slapped Wisconsin on Saturday because Penn State kicks ass! JOE PA! JOE PA! JOE PA! And as a graduate of Penn State (twice over), I can proudly say "we are Penn State!".

Yeah, I know it's football (american football at that), but I think it says alot about the program that such a turnaround was achieved in just a year. Plus, Michael Robinson has played his heart out this season..

And the Flyers! Simon Gagne -- 15 !@#$% goals already this season! Peter Forsburg -- 21 !@#$% assists already! Please let the good times continue.

Wait, what was I talking about?

Oh well...I have bigger things to worry about. Like how I'm going to pay for these dinners.

You Own Nothing Rover

2005-10-31T14:55:00.000-06:00

You may have won this round, Rover....but there are still the playoffs.

Redemption will be mine come Saturday. Of course, only girls like you count games in the regular season.

Where's your skirt, Rover? Where's your skirt?

Sunday Night Viewing

2005-10-26T14:31:00.000-05:00

Blue Jays always, always, make Falcons their respective bitches. Bear that in mind, Rover...aka...Messiah Boy.

That being said, several of you loyal readers are aware of a guilty pleasure shared by myself and my good friend Nate: Spring Break Shark Attack. That man-whore Rover has also posted several "intelligent" posts about this amazing flick on his own website (and god it pains me to mention his blog in any way whatsoever).

Now, CBS may be outdoing itself yet again. Sunday night at 9pm, the network will air Vampire Bats. Here's the plot summary from CBS' Offical Press release about the television movie (via IMDB.com):

A voracious-insect specialist (Lucy Lawless), now a college professor in search of a simpler life, who gets caught up in the investigation of a student who is found dead with his body completely depleted of blood and realizes that the killers are actually vampire bats that have mutated due to a tainted water supply.

Let us all set our TIVOs or VCRs.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year....

2005-10-12T12:01:00.000-05:00

No, it's not Christmas or springtime...it's Halloween --- the greatest season of all...and greatest holiday as well, for many reasons: no sappy and draaaaaawn out English religious songs to burden us (or translations of German ones either), no stupid little furry animals dropping off eggs in plastic grass, no crappy artists mass producing their "take" on "O Holy Night" (though I'm so excited for Peter Griffin's X-Mas album), and no sauerkrat and false family gatherings. Halloween is completely pagan, naughty, and fun... and it revels in that fact...

Further, what seperates Halloween from all the others is the darkness and evil that surronds the holiday --- it is supposed to be the scariest mother of all --- and it is. And with that, there is nothing more engaging and wonderful during this time of season than dimming the lights, firing up the DVD player, and scaring the !@$#$% out of oneself...

With that in mind, I'm offering up some tasty treats that you may not have come across in your "normal" holiday viewing --- seperated by mood and desire to question your exisistence on earth:

Scary, but Funny: - I would recommend Shadow of the Vampire from 2000. If you haven't seen it, I would advise you to watch the classic Nosferatu beforehand (or after, if you wish) just for a point of reference. Starring John Malkovich, Willem Dafoe, and everyone's favorite English cross-dressing stand up, Eddie Izzard, Shadow is a fictional account of the filming of F.W. Muranu's Nosferatu, where Max Shrek's Count Orlock is actually a vampire. The scenes between Malkovich's Muranu and Dafoe's Shrek are engaging and brutually funny, and I haven't seen an actor enjoy a role more on film than Dafoe in this role. Granted, the themes of the film (lofty by any standard) seem a bit cursory and uneven, but Shadow is a true treat...

Shaun of the Dead - Probably the funniest and most loving homage to George Romero's zombie films (and if you're an anglophile like me, a real treat). If you haven't seen this movie --- what the !@#$% are you waiting for? Perhaps the single most odd and brilliant use of a Queen song (and songs for that matter) in a film ever, and just a bright and smart treatment of zombie movies as a whole (as well as of cultural theory).

Scary and important: The genre of horror films begins with this one --- Murnau's Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horrors. Probably the most famous German film ever made (followed closely by Lang's Metropolis), this silent classic is amazing and brutally complex beyond our normal understanding of silent film. Try and let your mind absorb the story, rather than focusing upon the jerky and heightened movements of the actors --- which was an essential component of German Expressionsim. Again, if you haven't seen this film....sigh...and yes, I'm talking to you Freese...

The Haunting: NOT THE 1999 version! NO NO NO! But the Robert Wise - directed 1963 original starring Clarie Bloom and Julie Harris. A classic black & white film, this film excels in showing the psychological horror of a group of strangers staying in a haunted mansion. The brilliance of the film lies in its construction -- I won't spoil this for you --- and makes you wish that MORE modern filmmakers would just go to the public library and watch this edition to see how a horror film should be made.

"God, I'm Questioning My Exisistence":Two words: La Jetee --- Chris Marker's 1962 French short film is one of the most shocking and jaw-dropping episodes in cinema. A major influence on Terry Gilliam (among others), this 28-minute short details how a small number of humans (after a nuclear war) begin to experiment with time travel on a man questioning his exsistence and holding onto childhood memories. The film is done entirely in single, non-moving shots -- but if you can find it, it truly is an experience that will never leave you.

Any other suggestions? Please post them through comments ---- Enjoy and Happy Halloween!

E-Town Boy Strikes Back

2005-09-16T11:54:00.000-05:00

Once again, my arch nemesis Rover and I have begun to engage in childish, but nessecary, mud-slinging. Over the next few weeks, which will build-up to the meeting of the Elizabethtown College and Messiah College mens' soccer teams, my blog will be mainly dedicated to pointing out the logical fallacies and inconsistencies in Rover's desperate, and might I add, retarded, arguments.

Rover, I can understand your loyalty to your school. After all, if I had spent eight years trying to complete a degree at a university, I would feel a strong attachment to it as well.

Actually, it was more like nine years...well, nine and a half to be completely honest.

But I am not here to point out Rover's shortcomings (numerous as they are). No! I won't allow my blog to devolve into a series of ad homienum attacks on someone who can't fight back, or who can't tell time (or for that matter, permitts me to just cobbler him in the nose in my parents' basement). That would be immature.

Come October 29th, there will be a victory so sweet for the Elizabethtown Blue Jays that I will gorge myself on pad thai and make myself sick with mango and sticky rice. All the while, I will make Rover eat those marshmellows that he speaks so highly of and nothing else (though I still have no idea where the Marshmellow Cup comes from).

Victory will be mine! I mean, E-Town's!

And Rover still sleeps with a teddy bear...

2005-09-14T15:41:00.000-05:00

Rover --- I mock your alma mater and its silly little nickname. Come October 29, venegance (and thai food) will be mine.

Okay, 'nuff with the serious message (stepping down off the soapbox and onto the wobbily children's dinette set).

I've recieved several compliants about my latest DVD release: Lillian Hellman vs. Mary McCarthy: Libel Suit in the Mud IV. Yes, we realized in post-production that there's a problem with comprehending the dialouge of Clare Boothe Luce during her entrance into the mudpit, but we weren't able to correct the problem by the time the master copy was sent to the manufactuor. Our sincere apologies, but rest assured the boom-microphone operator has been sacked. However, as several viewers noted, yes, it's from her first play, Abide With Me.

Further, many have questioned that since all my other video releases detail the works of various authors engaging in various forms of congress with other texts, how have we been able to have Hellman, McCarthy, and now Luce, star as themselves in the latest releases(that and the fact they are all dead)? I have a great answer for you, and once I figure out what that answer is, I'll pass it on to you.

Git R Done (Or However Exactly It Is "Spelled") -- Part I

2005-08-31T13:24:00.000-05:00

I recently commented to a pair of my friends that I kinda felt burned-out by my blog after I had written my expose on the book orgies I had so recently witnessed. However, after reading comments made by the infamous "Rover" about my last posting, I feel another round of in-your-face blogging is in order..

FYI: I'll be marketing videotapes / DVDs of various encounters I filmed between Virginia Wolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and the collected works of Sappho on my other website, boxsex.com. For those with a more lurid taste, I'll also be selling copies of an interesting encounter between some poems Gertrude Stein and an essay by Adrianne Rich (but warning, it's not for everyone).

Recently, I was doing my laundry at the local-yokel Laundromat near where I live. As I have no intentions to divulge whereabouts I reside, I'll only note that I live in a very bourgeois town, and the Laundromat is perhaps the only refuge a working-class raised shmuck like me can find...but I digress.

Anyway, I was reading the first volume of Harry Potter while I kept an eye on the various washing machines I had running (to make sure the loads didn't become uneven). Around this moment, I took notice of a rather attractive blonde wearing a nice tight grey top and a shapely pair of jeans. We exchanged half-smiles, and I saw her make a turn toward me --- but then she spotted the book. Her face cringed slightly, and she went back to her laundry.

A number of things crossed my mind at that moment: the hell with her, god those jeans look good on her, I told my friend Nate I was swearing off women for awhile, and Uncle Vernon is truly a dick to Harry (not in any specific order).

But then, after I was watching my cottons tumble around in the dryer, I started to wonder about why a book would make her cringe. Maybe because it was a tale about kids who go to wizard school, etc. and maybe it wasn't the "flyest" book to bring to a Laundromat, but still.

Point of disclosure: I've torn through the first three books in the last week and they are fucking fantastic!

Anyway, in my own conspiratorial mind, I've decided that it was simply the fact I was reading that made this girl twinge. Further, after some extensive and somewhat scientific reenactments, I'm not positive she could have seen which book it was to begin with because of the angle I was holding it --- but the fact I was reading something was unmistakable. (Plus, in a Seinfeld-sort of way, it's never my fault -- it's her fault).

My point in this blog is not to relate the world of my lovelife online --- again, visit boxsex.com, but to begin an exploration of modern life. What is happening when a fine piece of ass (such as myself) is tossed aside just because he is reading? WTF?

Rover is a Sell-Out

2005-08-30T21:59:00.000-05:00

Well, he is.

Anyway, I haven't posted in a long time. In fact, my postings have been anything but consistent. I've gone through some weird and busy times lately; too much work and no free time. Plus, I haven't really had the inspiration that is required of this blog.

Well, that, and I haven't been drinking AS much lately..

So, anyway, I thought I would offer some random thoughts on random topics:

-War Of The Worlds: Saw it and it sucked.

-Hustle & Flow: Saw it and it sucked less --- but still sucked.

-March of the Penguins: Saw it and it sorta sucked, but it was on a hot day, so I didn't mind.

-Speaking of Penguins, the NHL is coming back full blast and yes, my beloved Philadelphia Flyers are favored to win the Stanley Cup. Which means, of course, the entire team will be stolen by some sort of super villian and held for ransom on a deserted island the day before the playoffs begin. Though I'm sure Comcast will pony up the money --- eventually...

-Speaking of Philly sports: I don't care what the standings say -- the Phils will always suck (and I ADORE the Phillies).

-I still don't like people from Indiana. They fucking know why.

-Fuck is my favorite word for many, many, many reasons.

-Why is bass fishing suddenly considered a sport worthy of being broadcast on ESPN? Has this nation shifted sooooooo far to the right that a bunch of guys sitting in boats tricking unintelligent organisms with fake worms is now an act equal of playing in the World Series? What is up with that?

-I'm cranky...really bloody cranky...

Hmm...I promise that next time I'll write something intelligent and witty.

Peace, Love, and Jon Stewart

An Update to Those Who Care

2005-07-11T15:10:00.000-05:00

It's been over a month since my last posting, and many of you...some...okay, two bloody people have asked me when I'm going to post again (in both nice and not-so-nice ways). But, I assure you, kind readers, that my absence was not dilberate and there is a sorted tale to tell you...

I have expressed rather clearly my dislike and distrust of the entire state of Indiana recently, and while many have supported my claims, I have recieved many threats and nasty phone calls attacking me without any moral or ethical stance. Namely, these messages have come from people from Indiana, but their 'threats' have been limited to throwing a basketball at me because that's all they know in the armpit of the Midwest....and as a former hockey player, let me assure you I'm shaking in my skates that a bunch of hicks in pajamas (YES, basketball uniforms are pajamas) are going to throw a ball at me...OHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOO, please DONT!..

But I can't really talk now...more to come...

But While I Have Your Attention: When A Daddy Book and a Mommy Book Love One Another

2005-07-11T12:15:00.000-05:00

I promise I'll get back to the whole Indiana thing soon...

But, in the interest of science and humankind knowledge in general, I've discovered an astonishing phenomena I feel I should pass along to you readers. Recently, I've moved into a new apartment, and I'm frankly amazed at the number of books I've managed to accumulate through my short little life...most of which for teaching, school or through used book stores...

At least, that's what I thought...

A few evenings ago as I was packing up another cardboard box with works of Tom Stoppard, Brecht, and Euripides, I heard the oddest sounds coming from across the hall. I don't recall exactly what I thought the noises were, but I decided to investigate. As the approached the door, I heard the distinct sound of a typewriter's keys being banged by an unknown author -- made odder by the fact it was to sound of Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On"...

Puzzled and scared, I bravely threw open the door and there, to my shock and horror, were several of my books engaged in an all-out orgy of paper and print; paperbacks grinding on hard-covers, soft-covers grinding on paperbacks. The sight was horrible enough, but the sound of pages turning and sticking together was horrific, yet strangely compelling. Suddenly, the books all stopped as they realized I was in the room, and their spines turned to me in the shock of shame. We said nothing, they couldn't look in my eyes and I couldn't look their ISBN numbers...Slowly I backed away and out of the room and I could hear the books restacking themsevles on the shevles...We all felt shame.

So now I had my answer as to why I had so many books: the books were screwing like the Irish or rabbits. And the next week, I found 14 more titles sitting on the shevles, with some odd mutations (like a liger or a mule): a copy of Macbeth had mated with an anthology of the Far Side where Macbeth is killed by axe-wielding cows, moby Dick was captured by George Patton, and Karl Marx turned out to be another lost cousin in Wuthering Heights.

I tried to preach to the books about responsibility for their actions and that I couldn't have an edition of the Great Gatsby where Gatsby is mulling over the time/space continuum, but many books did not listen. Several decided to continue to not head my warnings and my copy of The Canterbury Tales has been hospitalized with a case of silverfish after not wearing its dust jacket.

further, it's really disturbing to have to witness editions of Gore Vidal 'bump n' grind' with copies of Oscar Wilde's plays, but it's rather intriguing to see Woolf and Sappho...I feel so dirty in admitting that...

So, keep an eye on your books...and to all the binded books out there, only you can prevent page smearing...

Their Headquarters Are in Fort Wayne

2005-06-14T17:10:00.000-05:00

Yesterday while driving to work, I was cut off by a medium-sized SUV as my super-Taurus and I zipped down I-81. Now, normally I would not comment upon such happenings since I am cut-off rather frequently since I drive to Philadelphia and DC quite often (and where weaving in-and-out of traffic is considered an art form), but this SUV had tags from Indiana...the very same state I had condemned in my last post.

This fact did not dawn on me until after giving the driver the finger we chased one another down the highway in a high stakes game of cat-and-mouse, weaving and skirting PennDot workers, pedestrians, and women with strollers until I sent the SUV tumbling off an exit ramp into a firery crash where I stopped by car, lit a cigarette from the smoking wreck, turned and muttered to the camera, "That will be the last time you change lanes without signaling..."

Editor's Note: Perhaps change the potential catch-phrase at the end of this scene. We like it, but it sounds too much like Lenny Brischoe on Law & Order...Also, develop the love affair between you and Selma Hayek; we don't quite understand how you convince her to have marathon sex after only ordering an iced tea from her waitress character; again, must she really be called "Sweet Thighs"?

...lit a cigarette from the smoking wreck, turned to the camera and muttered, "Hot enough for ya?"

Editor's Note: That's bush league, and frankly, we think it's too much like a cheap Arnold or Stallone pic. You sold this idea to us as another quote "high brow" thriller, and you've been sending us dribble. We CAN and WILL stop payment...

...lit a cigarette from the smoking wreck, turned to the camera and muttered, "I love a summer barbecue"...

Editor's Note: We like it...

It gets weirder. I was having a late nosh with my mum and sister at a local diner, when I noticed a small family across from our table send back a cheeseburger that was, quote "not done enough"....Frankly, I thought they were being picky; especially since it looked okay to me. But, the waitress returns to the table with a fresh burger and this woman takes TWO nibbles out of it and leaves it on her platter. The family leaves from their table, the waitress gathers the plates from the table, and they stiff her on the tip as in NO tip...

So, it's not enough you people from Indiana have to cut me off while driving (not only wasting gas in a SUV, but driving eradicatelly and at high speeds), but you have to waste food too (and I may sound like my grandmother, but there people hungry across the globe)? The shot clock is at zero Indiana....

Editor's Note: Very nice touch --- actually, change the line after you light the cig back to the original version..

Lucas, Stoppard, and Jackson

2005-06-08T16:05:00.000-05:00

I've been working on this post for a good two weeks, yet I just haven't had the energy to finish it. But it seems appropriate given that I'm stuck in my office for another hour or so, partly because a student asked to see me, but mainly because I really don't want to wander out into the nasty heat and humdity that's settled over Pennsylvania (and alot of the country, but frankly, I don't give a rat's ass if people in Indiana are sweating...I hate them so much).

Traditionally, people often go to movies to escape the heat, and I recently took in the presumably last chapter of the Star Wars saga, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. It was certainly the best of the first / last trilogy of the films, and as someone who's dedicated his life to the humanities, I certainly appreciated the myriad of Biblical, dramatic, and mythological references that can be drawn from the downfall of Darth Vader. But, if you haven't yet seen this film, I have a word of caution. Whatever you do, do not watch Pulp Fiction the night before. My pal Julie and I took in the 1994 classic, and then went to see Star Wars the following evening --- therefore, every time we saw Mace Windau (aka, Samuel Jackson) come on screen, I kept expecting "Mace" to yell, "I'm talking to a green puppet, a mother-f***ing puppet!"

And before I get any email from you Star Wars geeks out there correcting me on the use of digital imagery to create Yoda for the last two films instead of Frank Oz's puppet, shut the f*** up, mother f***ers.

The movie itself was good, but not Empire Strikes Back good (or even Return of the Jedi good), but good nonetheless. And, I was quite intrigued to learn that Tom Stoppard, the English playwright, was supposedly brought in by George Lucas to "liven up" the dialouge. Now, I've spent a good amount of my life dealing with Stoppard in one form or another, and I certainly have some intellilectual issues with him, but I found the concept of both Jackson and Stoppard being invovled in the same project incredibly engaging. And, dare I say, Lucas missed a wonderful opportunity to really liven up Episode III by totally utilizing the capabilites of both individuals.

Imagine...imagine this scene between Anakin and Windau, with free adaption from both Jackson and Stoppard..

Skywalker: Have you ever tossed a space coin into the air? Odds are, if I have this right, if you toss up monkeys into the air, an equal number of times, that you will invariably get an equal number of heads and tails...

Windau: N****r, what the f*** you talkin' about? You know Master Yoda has sent us to take care of this s***, and you're wasting my time takin' s*** about s*** you don't know s*** about.

Skywalker: All, I'm saying is that it should be equal...You realize that's just like life; without equalness, there's unbalance...sorta like the force.

Windau: You're damn right the force is f***** up. All these cracker ass leaders come around, or they have some amphibian like gills or something, and they order all of us around.

Skywalker: Just as Claudius and Gertrude order around Rosencrantz & Guildenstern; they are pawns without knowledge and equality to themselves.

Windau: S*** brother. You telling me that if a King and Queen ordered your ass to spy on some tripped out cracker, and you're staying in their house, eating their food, drinking their wine n s***, you don't have an obiligation to do a favor for them? That's just good mother f****** hospitality...

Skywalker: But what of their free will?

Windau: You are the trippest young mother f***** I know....this ain't about god damn free will...it's about being a good guest...

Skywalker: But what of the classical allusion and theme of being controlled by higher powers?

Windau: Let me tell you something, I don't recall s*** from the oracle about you being so f***** in the head. Your white ass better bring some god d*** balance to the force, else there's going to be some little green s****s smacking you around like a b****. You want some classical allusions? Here's the story of the young cracker who didn't know s*** about s*** and the mother f****** dark side took his cracker ass...

Skywalker: Thank you Minister Windau...

Windau: I'll pistol whip a Jedi if I have to, b****

I think the heat has gotten to me...
Peace, Love, and Jon Stewart...
Brechty

Screw You Guys, I'm Going Home

2005-05-26T14:40:00.000-05:00

I was going to add a detailed posting today that would complete my previous entry on silent movies (and further boost my reputation as a nerd --- pushing up my glasses), but it's a gorgeous day outside, I'm all stuffed up from a cold, and, frankly, I just want to lounge out in the sun while the Tylenol Cold Tablets work their magic...

So, just some brief talking points before I hit the ol' dusty trail ...

-I caught part of a Jay Leno monologue last night by accident. Many have said it before, and I hate to be repeative, but I've seen funnier rashes...he can't hold a candle to Carson, Letterman, or Conan...

-Speaking of Conan, I miss the masterbating bear and the FedEx Pope...(yes, I loved the FedEx Pope!)...

-I'm developing several lists for later postings --- one will be my own 'greatest movies' and, hopefully I can start an interactive list where you can list interesting choices for funeral songs (don't ask where this idea came from). And, perhaps, some reader contests...or something cool like that..

-Idea for a summer blockbuster: Samuel L. Jackson and Will Ferrell as buddy pirates patroling the Western Atlantic during the 18th Century (action, comedy, cursing) --- still working on the title, but my pal Nate and I think its gangbusters (well, it was our idea, but it might have been thought up over Corona beer, not positive).

Peace, love, and Jon Stewart,
Brechty

To Keaton or Not to Keaton

2005-05-23T10:53:00.000-05:00

I'll take some time out from the blog-war between myself and Rover (started by him, I would just like to mention), to address Time Magazine's listing of the 100 Greatest Movies of all time --- (click here to see the list: http://www.time.com/time/2005/100movies/the_complete_list.html)

I love these somewhat pretentious "top-100" lists --- and I find myself more engaged over how or why these lists get/are made than I tend to be in politics (though I'm very invovled politically). While, for the most part, they illustrate the term "cliched" better than the Oxford English Dicitionary, I appreciate when they stray from the conventional listings and offer some new choices for us pop culture nerds to argue about.

As a silent movie buff (and Rover, there was a time that movies did not have sound), I'll comment upon the three silents the list includes: Chaplin's City Lights, Keaton's Sherlock Jr., Murnau's Sunrise, and Vidor's The Crowd. To me, I was glad that the list-guys at Time did not include (again, here comes the cliche train, right on schedule) The General, The Gold Rush, Nosferatu, or The Big Parade. All these films are terrific and worth seeing, but when I go to Starbucks, I sometimes like getting the Italian Blend rather than just the Breakfast...(God I hope this gets me free coffee)...and the same is true of these awesomely bad/cool lists. Diversity is just good.

Of course, this brings up the question of whether or not the Time guys were simply "daring to be different", and not judging these films on any sort of artistic merit. It's akin to me saying Bucks County Coffee is superior to Starbucks in every way, shape and form just for the point of saying so (however, Bucks County Coffee is equal to Starbucks, and I recommend you trying some when you have the chance....God i need a coffee fix). But we can discuss that another time...

Of course, I'm tempted to offer my own analysis of these silent selections, because, frankly, I really don't have anything better to do (except pander to coffee companies).

Chaplin's City Lights was released in 1931, and was mentioned by Orson Welles as his favorite film of all time. Perhaps Chaplin's most humanistic film, City Lights focuses upon his "Tramp" character's dealing with a careless millionaire and blind flower girl, and the Tramp's efforts to show both that life is really worth living. The ending, perhaps as poignant and eloquent a sequence ever done in cinema, is worth seeing alone on its own (I won't spoil it for you, in case you care to watch). However, I feel Charlie Chaplin's best film, and therefore worthy of inclusion on my list of greatest films --- which I should work on I suppose --- is Modern Times (his socialist satire of capitalism, especially that of American capitalism during the Depression). Modern Times is both overt and subversive, and combines fantastic physical sequences (his nervous break-down in the factory and journey through the gears of the machine are classics) with, I believe, the first fart-jokes in cinema.

F.W. Murnau's Sunrise was his first film after relocating to Hollywood from Germany. Some of the most beautiful and detailed scenes ever shot on film are bogged down by a somewhat melodramatic plotline of a farmer and his wife (I realize I'm being a bit too harsh here, yes, but the man directed Nosferatu). However, Murnau's greatest film is The Last Laugh, which shows the story of an aging hotel doorman who is demoted to a washroom attendant --- and the subsquent shame he suffers. There is no more haunting moment in cinema when we see what we believe will be the last shot of the film; the doorman alone in the washroom, awash in darkness. A beautiful and haunting film.

The Battle is Joined

2005-05-21T14:50:00.000-05:00

Well "Rover" we meet again...

For those loyal readers who come to this blog for insight, intelligence, and hard-hitting, objective....wait, that sounds way too much like a Fox News tagline....hold on..

For those loyal readers (as far as I can tell, just you Gen and Nate), another blog has recently posted a interpretation, put nicely, of an incident invovling squirrels, myself, and an outrageous claim made by one "Rover" who's secret identity is known to only me and NAMBLA...

For a detailed listing of Rover's claim, please visit his blog at http://baboonsinyankari.blogspot.com/. I won't waste my own free time repeating the ignorant dribble that frankly lowers the collective dialogue of blogs. But in short, Rover claims that he saved me from the Evil Squirrel King and his band of horrible rodents one fine fall day by attacking them with the borrowed motorcycle helmet from a mutual friend so eloquently referred to as "Fat Albert". However, the truth lies far beyond Rover's own ability to comprehend facts as they happened.

Rover makes mention of one "Princess" with whom I am purported to have had a brief love engagement with. This is an out-and-out falsehood. For you see, kind readers, Rover had a fascination with another Princess, who I will name "Ms. Siren"...to protect her identity. Rover was wooed by this young woman, not unlike the Sirens in Homer's Odyssey, by "Ms. Sirens' repeated calls of wanting material goods. Rover, having forgotten the teachings of his forefathers and of his own band of brothers, Who Wong Fu, gave into temptation in order to hear the sweet song of the siren herself; consisting of sounds not unlike the Lancaster based band, Jimmy's Chicken Shack. His brothers, loyal and true as they were, did not approve of Rover's fascination with the the Siren, and understandably mocked his choice...

This brings us to the true story of the squirrels...

Rover was upset at his failings, large as they were, and refused to acknowledge his own loss of ability. At this point in his life, Rover had given up on the Force, and sought out a new path to understanding and power.

I should clarify that the Force i speak of is not the mystical Force of the Star Wars universe, but instead a little understood and dangerous collective of disenfranchised youth who don polysester brown suits, walking about the roads of our fair land, talking to one another (they believe) through little black boxes they attach to their lapel. The Force seeks a quasi-martial state, but only of the mind -- the common reading of this belief, at least those who subscribe to Marxist theory, is that the Force long ago gave up its truer and purer form of being to capitalistic overlords in order to maintain their dental plan and way of life (originally the Force worked together as a collective commune outside of Middletown, PA, but began to adapt to a more mainstream environment when their primary source of income --- buffet chinese food --- was cut off from them by a rival group, the Maoists). many sociologists have attempted to understand the nuances of the Force; several thesi have been put forth arguing that they are simply products of an increasingly polarized youth environment, but I find these rather simplistic. For a more detailed discussion of the Force, please read my upcoming book, Gaywads and the Coco Gestapo: The Force and its Beliefs in a Postmodern Society (due out in September, from University of Wisconsin Press)

In any event, Rover soon began to become illusioned with the Force, and sought a more personal relationship with the greater whole. He soon came across a movement known simply as the Bees, a rather superficial collection of ex-remedial students and tennis players, who found enjoyment wearing motorcycle equipment all hours of the day. They believed wearing a motorcycle helmet gave each member mystical powers and hyper-sexual energy. These claims were totally false, and according to an excellent New York Times expose, all the money that the Bees' members raised went straight into the head Bee's sound system in his Jetta (incidentally, the group was investigated by both the FBI and CIA, and the CIA gave the Bee leader the nickname, Fat Albert). This, nonetheless, attracted Rover, and he would soon be donning the aforementioned motorcycle helmet in the bizarre rituals, which, yes, including chasing small rodents around various parks and campuses. This was followed by binge drinking, where the members would destroy sacred objects (such as 'magic' cell phones) or would simply begin to cry like little girls who had lost their dollies. For further reading about the Bees, please consult by renowed book, This Has to Be the Gayest Idea Ever: The World of the Bees and the Downfall of Fat Albert (now available in paperback).

Game, Set, Match ----- your play, Mr. Rover.

War...What is it good for?

2005-05-13T14:34:00.000-05:00

I feel like saying sorry...

Sunday night, well Monday morning I should say, I became caught up in an encore presentation of PBS' The American Experience, which focused upon the Pacific Theatre of World War II. Normally, when my eyes and ears run across mention of the Second World War and television in the same sentence, my brain goes into something of a coma, and images flash across my cereubrum of black and white photo stills and grainy film of Emperor Hirohito asride a white stallion or of Japanese zeroes dropping torpedoes into the USS Arizona while grizzlied Army veterans wax philosophically about how Truman's decision to drop the atomic bombs "saved lives". And the History Channel (which earlier that day had shown a "documentary" on Iwo Jima hosted by P.J.O'Rouke, complete with video game animation of hand-to-hand fighting between the Japanese and American Marines --- so unclassy and so crappy).

I've never been able to fully grasp America's infatuation with the Second World War. I suppose on some level there's the mentality we have as the global calvary; riding over the hillside to quel the Indians (i.e. Germans, and yes, I was sooo tempted to write evil doers) and save the peaceful villiagers who only wanted to care for their tract of land (which was on the burial ground of the Lakota, and which the farmers stole from the indians with a treaty given to the tribal chiefs with contaminated blankets, but I digress). Along with the Soviets (who lost close to twenty million people fighting Hitler) and the English, French, and Poles (Don't forget Poland!), America really did save the day against perhaps the most evil person and movement in history.

But the war in Europe (which was, for all intensive purposes, a continuation of the First World War), is like John Wayne and the understanding calvary company from Fort Apache. The Pacific war is the arrogant colonel and his men who get torn to pieces by the entrenched Apaches --- it's ugly, its brutal and you cant help but gaze lovingly at the remaining half. That may seem like an odd choice of words, but its true. The Pacific is a war about race --- Japanese who felt they were racially superior to Koreans and Chinese, and Americans who felt racially superior to Japanese. It's war about economic control; a war about land (one of Japan's primary motivation for launching the various invasions was for the natural resources of its neighboring countries). And, its a war of horrific brutality seemingly for the sake of brutality. Perhaps the most distribing suquence of The Fog of War is Robert McNammura cooly explaining how he developed a more precise and effective bombing strategy against Japan, and how the filmmaker counters by showing the destruction in human life taken with each pass of the Flying Fortresses.

Certainly Europe had its share of brutality --- the Holocaust, the massacres in Poland, the Soviet Front --- but Americans could always point at each of those instances and say, "they did it". The Germans became incensed under Hitler to kill Jews in unimaginable numbers; the Russians were the ones to slaughter Polish officers and claim someone else did it; the Krauts and Commies tore and one another in the snow. Even the horrible fire bombing of Dresdin, perhaps one of the more despicable acts of a despicable war, can be claimed by Americans as British provocation. Americans, in a sense, could assert (with tinted glasses of course) that we were above that type of indiscriminate killing. But the war in the Pacific is different --- we can certainly put blame upon the Japanese for their attrocities, but we equalled them, if not surpassed them in horror. We become they --- and we cant deal with that.

I fell asleep, thankfully, as the PBS show wore on. But not before seeing the charred bodies of Japanese soliders on a remote Pacific isle; caught by the flamethrower from a Marine from Kansas City, Milwaukee, or Syracuse. Or before seeing the giant bombers high in the sky over Tokyo. And it haunted me --- I thought of how we ignored the bad and thought of the good far too often. And I thought of that scene in Fort Apache where the troopers under John Wayne await the counterattack from the hidden Apaches. They see a massive cloud of dust approach them and the thunder of hooves and then a lone brave rides close to Wayne and throws down the guidon of the arrogant commander's force --- a direct cry for others to see the horror we ignore and acknowledge it.

And I sit here and I feel sorry for those Japanese and Americans we ignore --- equally as sorry for the Native Americans, Koreans, Phillphinos, Central Americans, et al we've managed to ignore while saluting our heroes all the louder.

Memorial Day is only two weeks away.

Random Thoughts for May 13

2005-05-13T10:21:00.000-05:00

Ah, another fine 'Friday the 13th' is nigh (nigh?) and I'm avoiding doing actual work...

So some random thoughts for you to ponder (whether you're under the influence of mind altering substances when you do so is up to you):

What happens when black cats cross other black cats? And what happens when their paws touch cracks in sidewalks?

If the United States bought a chocolate bar for everyone in the world, would that improve our image abroad?

Is there a connection between the Wu-Tang Clan and Tang?

Hmmm....engaging....

Shout-outs for Friday the 13th, May 2005 ----

A shout-out of concern to Dave Chappelle, who is, according to all sorts of rumors floating about, is either missing-in-action or in a South African hospital. Wherever he is, I wish him the best and hope Chappelle's Show returns to entertain the masses...

So, everyone now quote their fav Chappelle line --- "Cocaine is a hell of a drug" works for me...

And a big 'shout-out' to my officemate Gen, who finally got a full-time teaching gig (long over-due)!

Peace, Love and Jon Stewart...Brechty

Coming Attractions...

2005-05-13T10:16:00.000-05:00

This will be a random collection of thoughts, ideas and, depending on legal ramifications, slander....