Just Watch This

http://www.scorsesefilmfreixenet.com/video_eng.htm

Amazing.

Salt

So, there's this:


FDA considers salt warning labels

Now, what annoys me about this is the very last sentence: "The question tonight is whether the government should be limiting your salt intake for you."

The idea that the government should have the right to tell me, directly or indirectly, how much salt I consume is anathema. I understand the science of it and the risks, but this just isn't one of those things the government should be concerned with. If I want to eat nothing but salt until I keel over and die, that's my problem.

I'm aware that there's a public health crisis in this country, that we're overweight and that we eat too much, and on and on and on. I'm aware that those things contribute to rising health care costs.

But, having taken the consumer out of the health care equation via what's effectively insurance company price fixing and customer insensitivity to prices, there's no reason to then replace that consumer with Big Brother, who tells me what I can and can't eat, in what quantities, and how often.

Blog Tag

All right, so "tag" as a note to my previous post wasn't just taunting me, I've been tagged.

Here are the rules:

• Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
  
• Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
  
• Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
  
• Let them know they are TAGGED by leaving a comment on their blog.
  

My tagger? Am.

Five facts about myself, some random, some weird?

• I learned to read at a very young age. I got caught cheating while reading to my uncle from my copy of The Little Engine That Could. While turning pages, I skipped one. My reading didn't. I'd memorized it. I was probably about three years old.


• My family says that I started talking in complete sentences. The first words I'm alleged to have said are, "There ain't no train on them there tracks. There sure ain't."


• I'm a foodie, but I don't care for most beans and peas.


• I haven't been to Europe yet.


• I don't like going to movies alone.

I'll tag Charlie Girl and Valerie.

The rest of the folks I'd have tagged have, well, already been tagged.

The Return of Movie Night

Movie Night has returned, and it even has its own blog.

http://nutbushmovienight.blogspot.com/

Re: tag, marco, etc. I know, I know, I've been neglectful.

Expect more in this space shortly, as soon as I figure out what it is I want to say.

Old Jobs, New Jobs, etc.

So I've left the job I had since 2003. It's time for me to learn the family business.

Before all that, though, taking a brief break. Making a movie, my first movie. Trying to watch a few movies, too, and reviving an old tradition a friend and I have, Movie Night.

The Netflix movies sit, unwatched, on my shelf for the time being.

So my Queue is static. That's depressing.

Bonditis

So, the world waits in anticipation of Bonds's breaking Hank's record.

It's like time's stopped. Everyone's wondering when it will happen and where they'll be; women are crying in the streets, so overcome are they by the emotion and the anticipation. As at a parade, children want to be lifted up onto their dad's shoulders so that they can see, and everywhere he goes, there's a low solemn chant, as though the rocks and trees themselves are rooting for him. Barry, Barry, Barry!. He's truly a force of nature.

No, wait. I was thinking of Barry Manilow.

Because about Bonds, nobody seems to care. And that's as it should be, really.

I have a malevolent fantasy that Bonds will get hit by a bus, fall into a crevasse, or decide to saw off his own arm, before he makes his next home run and never be heard from again.

I don't often follow sports, and I bear the man no real ill will. I've heard he's a bastard. But he's not been to me.

It's just that, if he never hits that next home run (and especially if he'd never hit that last one), then all will still be right with the world. Hank is still Hank.

In any case, I suppose, Hank is still Hank.

And Bonds is still Bonds, no matter how many steroid-enhanced home runs he hits.

People call Hank by his first name. That's a sign of affection and respect for the man and his accomplishment.

And that'll never be the case with Bonds. Because he's a poser and a pretender. This would be a sad time to care about baseball.

Note to Self

Note to Self: never plan to elaborate on a blogger post. Either elaborate, or don't. Then move on to the next post.

Like this one: Zodiac was one of the better movies I've seen from 2006. Also this week, I watched the first Mutiny on the Bounty--the one with Clark Gable.

What the two have to do with one another, I'm not sure.

Zodiac was interesting because it didn't end conventionally, and it's not about (really) what it at first seems to be concerned with. The killer's the point, up to a point. And then it's about the investigators. And that's a neat turn of events. Beyond that, I don't want to say much, because the movie's worth seeing if you haven't seen it. I wasn't as blown away by it as I was by Se7en (because of the latter's always raining, always dark, any-city, bombed-out noir look), but I have a feeling that it wold grow on me with repeated viewings. I think this is one for the library, once the two-disc expanded edition comes out.

Mutiny on the Bounty. About this flick, I have similar thoughts to movies like Lawrence of Arabia. How'd they do that without computerized special effects? Rain, wind, sailing ships, high places, and danger. And a script that pops with energy. I'm not sure it hangs together all that well toward the end--the love interest feels forced--but Clark Gable made one hell of a Fletcher Christian.

The Muppet Show

So I bought Season One of The Muppet Show.

It's different than I remembered, but then I'm only three episodes in.

A good deal of it is corny, and there's a lot -- a lot -- of music. The band is really pretty darn good -- as you might imagine.

It's not as laugh-out-loud funny as I expected.

But I have some other, slightly more depressing thoughts about it. I'll post those as soon as I've had a chance to watch a few more episodes to make sure my working hypothesis holds water.

I still love The Muppet Show. And I miss Jim Henson.

Back, After a Long Absence

I'm back.

I'm not sure why, exactly.

I've been so busy with the real world that posting hasn't been much of a concern lately.

Earlier in the year, I finally opened a Netflix acount. And I thought I'd review the movies I was watching as I was watching them.

But then I got a work-related promotion, and I haven't had a chance to take full advantage of the Netflix account.

Anyway, here's a very quick rundown.

Directors: Martin Scorsese. Made around the time of the release of Casino, if I recall correctly. Interesting, not particularly relevatory. I suspect I'd sen this at some point in the past. Video quality was subpar.

Idiocracy. Hilarious. See it.

The Illusionist. Or was that The Prestige?

The Prestige. Or was that The Illusionist?

Seriously, both of these were decent flicks. But they've run together in my mind so that I can't distinguish them. And it wasn't that long ago that I saw them.

Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr. Great flick; the Roger Ebert review of this one says more than I'm capable of saying about this film. I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I did keep thinking, how is it that this guy's last name is so much like Lecter? That was disturbing.

The Island. Better than I expected it to be. Not quite as good as it should have been. But still, it was striving not to suck.

Babel. Maybe it's just me, but I hated this movie. It was boring. And no movie ha a right to bore me.

Grizzly Man. Excellent. Creepy. I wanted more depth, though. That guy was seriously deranged.

McCabe and Mrs. Miller. Maybe I didn't get it. And I generally like Robert Altman. But this movie was kind of dull. Of course, it didn't help that it looked prefectly dreadful on DVD -- this one clearly needs a good cleaning.

Vernon, Florida. A meandering, strange, and invigorating look at a bunch of really strange people in a really small town. This one has to be seen to be believed. And I saw it, and I'm not sure I believe it. Its tone is such that it's difficult to tell whether Morris likes these folks or has contempt for them. Or both. This one is worth seeing for the voices alone. Those folks can tell some stories, now.

World Trade Center. Better than I expected. Not as moving as I wanted it to be. Too much structure. Should have been more raw.

Vanya on 42nd Street. Louis Malle's last film. David Mamet did the adaptation. It's an odd movie. I think it's a pretty good one. But it seems now to be dated. And I can't remember where I've seen the lead actor before; his presence was jarring because I knew who he was from some other move but couldn't quite remember where. An whatever the other movie was, it was definitely not Vanya-like. (N.b. I was thinking about Wallace Shawn, and I was thinking of his part in The Incredibles, which is, by the way, incredible.)

The Last King of Scotland. Forrest Whitaker deserved his Oscar. This one mostly made me want to see the documentary about the real Idi Amin. I'm not sure that the movie did enough to convey the real horror there. It seemed kind of sanitized.

The Good Shepherd. Too long. Too contrived. Too much didn't earn its story; by that statement, I mean that the movie makes reference to events like the Bay of Pigs and expects you to fill in the blanks with your own conspiratorial thoughts about them all. I know (more or less) what happened at the Bay of Pigs. But the movie, for all its length, felt like it didn't really deal with what it was trying to deal with. I think I admire it for what it was trying to do, story-wise, but the main characters weren't sympathetic, or even especially likable. And if you're going to make a movie about the CIA, you'd better have a great plot twist. This one didn't.

Next up: the original Mutiny on the Bounty.

Dammit, I Like Harry Potter

Sadpunk posts rant about Harry Potter.

Well, sort of.

Anyway, I disagree.

Though this sort of feels like an AA meeting, I must admit that I like Harry Potter. Despite the fact that I'm an adult. Despite the fact that Sadpunk is right — or at least arguably so — about most everything he says in his post.

I was at the local bookstore at midnight with some friends (yeah, I know, drink the Kool-Aid), all of whom are adults and most of whom were a little tipsy when we arrived. They all bought the book, too. Though they're smart, so we mostly avoided the lines and went to Kroger, which sells them cheaper than the bookstores do, anyway.

I was, as were most adults, a latecomer to the Potter phenomenon. A friend gave me the first three books at the time of the publication of the fourth. And I started reading, cautiously.

Now, it's worth mentioning that I'm a book collector. I was already aware of the tremendous popularity of these books and the exorbitant prices they were fetching. And I read about three pages of the first book and thought, "I wish I'd read this when it was new." Because you can tell, sometimes, immediately, when a writer has it. And you may not even know why. Well, J.K. Rowling has it.

Sadpunk asserts:

. But I’ve glanced through some Harry Potter books, and glanced at some of the movies, and it seems to me that they offer nothing novel, nothing challenging, nothing that we haven’t seen a million times before; Rowling’s achievement in writing them is not in creating something new, but in concisely distilling all these things we’ve encountered uncountable times already.

Hmm. Isn't that kind of the point of Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces? That much of our myth, legend, religion, etc., relies upon stories told and retold? That Star Wars is a lot like The Searchers, which is a lot like any number of other books/movies/plays/etc.

I think Campbell would argue that there's a way heroes act in Western literature. And that's the way Harry Potter acts. If he didn't act that way, he wouldn't be a hero.

Rowling's particular genius seems to be to be taking the myths we all know, or have heard bits and snatches of, and creating with them an amalgamated magic world that, simply because its constituent elements are based on stories we all know almost subconsciously, seems real and believable. Sadpunk seems critical of this approach; I think it lends her story credibility and grounds it.

And then she's smart enough to make Harry Potter, for all that, a real, genuine, adolescent boy. He turns into a real louse later in the series; he's sometimes haughty and arrogant, just as boys sometimes are. And he's not pure as the wind-driven snow, either.

The same is true of the other characters; they're like real people, not cardboard cutouts of them. The story is essentially human, wrapped up in wizardry and dreams and nightmares. And isn't that what art, for the most part, ought to be in some sense?

And the boarding-school for English magicians — I wish I'd thought of that.

Rowling's a storyteller of the first rate. And that's a big part of it.

Or maybe Sadpunk's just cynical. I dunno.

Shelby Foote, R.I.P.

Shelby Foote died Monday night.

See commentary from me at my other Web site.

Sony/BMG Alienates Few Remaining Customers

So I hear that Sony/BMG is set to release copy-protected Cds that aren't compatible with iTunes and iPod.

That's smart, guys. Really smart.

I have a problem with Apple's digital rights management, because it is restrictive. It's a restriction I can live with, though, and it seems to be the wave of the future. But if I buy a CD, I've bought it. And I have the right to make archival copies for myself. And I have the right to lend it to friends.

And (to bring up another subject tangential to this one) if I buy a CD, it should damn well be Red-Book. That's what the little compact disc logo is supposed to ensure. These CDs with their new copy-protection schemes (I'm assuming) and the new DualDiscs (CD + DVD) don't/won't work on all CD players. There's a reason I haven't bought Bruce Springsteen's new album. And I won't buy it, either. Not until it's made available on SACD, DVD-Audio, or standard CD. DualDisk is bogus if I can't play a DualDisc CD on any CD player in the world.

Anyway, the record companies seem bound and determined to alienate the few paying customers they have left by making their products, in their various forms, incompatible with existing hardware and with the lifestyles of people who don't get their music via "playground piracy" and actually want the artists to get their cut.

I'm disappointed with iTunes for a host of reasons -- most notably the fact that they don't offer downloads at even full CD quality. And high-resolution audio is out there. That doesn't mean I'm not using it. It means I haven't abandoned CD buying in favor of the online experience. Because I'm concerned about quality. But perhaps that's on the way. And -- once that happens, I might just quit buying CDs.

All of this is essentially rambling back to the point that I don't like restrictions being placed on what I do with music I've bought and paid for.

Better Reporting Requested

The last statement in this paragraph of this article gets it all wrong.

The iPod's reign over the expanding digital music kingdom shows no signs of stopping yet, with Apple expecting to sell more than 15 million of its signature players this year. iPods can only play downloaded files from the iTunes online music store thanks to restrictions in digital rights management, or DRM.

In addition to being able to play iTunes purchased music, an iPod can play MP3s ripped from a CD the consumer owns, as well as all those MP3s that said consumer downloaded during the illicit Napster days of yore.

iTunes also includes the capability to convert (unprotected) Windows Media files so that they too can be played on an iPod.

The limiting factor here is really that Apple won't license its Digital Rights Management to others (so iTunes-purchased tracks won't work on non-iPod players) and Apple hasn't purchased similar licensing for Windows Media, so things purchased from Windows Media-affiliated stores don't like the iPod.

But all this copy-protection and digital rights management is simple to defeat, so it's really a non-issue.

Anyway, it angers me to read something like that paragraph, which demonstrates beyond a shadow of a doubt that the reporter didn't do her homework and doesn't understand the simplest concepts about the issue she's supposed to be covering.

I'm Not Dead Yet

I've just been exceedingly busy.

And when I haven't been exceedingly busy, I've been reading.

I'll be back, though. Just in case you were wondering.

Because a semi-elderly (but thankfully insured) woman hit my car and destroyed its back driver's side quarterpanel, my car's in the shop. That's what I get for shopping at a Mapco.

And now begins the long arduous process of waiting for my car to return. The body shop folks said "two or three days." I'm not buying it. I think it'll be a week.

Stuff that Lawyers Find Funny

Given that what a lawyer finds hilarious might be a good deal different from what a normal human might think of as funny or amusing, here are two oldies but goodies:

I read this one one day on National Review Online. Regardless of your politics, this is a hoot, especially if you've ever wanted to tell someone he was incompetent. This does an exceptional job: "No Judge Ito".

And this one I'll simply post in its entirety. This was a classic One-L case, one of those things they show you when you enter law school to prove that lawyers are, in fact, just a bunch of would-be comedians.

54 F.R.D. 282

------

UNITED STATES ex rel. Gerald MAYO
v.
SATAN AND HIS STAFF
------

Misc. No. 5357

United States District Court

Western District of Pennsylvania

Dec. 3, 1971

Gerald Mayo, pro se.

MEMORANDUM ORDER

Weber, District Judge.

Plaintiff, alleging jurisdiction under 18 U.S.C. § 241, 28 U.S.C. § 1343, and 42 U.S.C. § 1983 prays for leave to proceed in forma pauperis. He alleges that Satan has on numerous occasions caused plaintiff misery and unwarranted threats, against the will of the plaintiff, that Satan has placed deliberate obstacles in plaintiff's path and has caused plaintiff's downfall.

Plaintiff alleges that by reason of these acts Satan has deprived him of his constitutional rights.

We feel that the application to file and proceed in forma pauperis must be denied. Even if plaintiff's complaint reveals a prima facie recital of the infringement of the civil rights of a citizen of the United States, the Court has serious doubts that the complaint reveals a cause of action upon which relief can be granted by the court. We question whether plaintiff may obtain personal jurisdiction over the defendant in this judicial district. The complaint contains no allegation of residence in this district. While the official records disclose no case where this defendant has appeared as defendant there is an unofficial account of a trial in New Hampshire where this defendant filed an action of mortgage foreclosure as plaintiff. The defendant in that action was represented by the preeminent advocate of that day, and raised the defense that the plaintiff was a foreign prince with no standing to sue in an American Court. This defense was overcome by overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Whether this would raise an estoppel in the present case we are unable to determine at this time.

If such action were to be allowed we would also face the question of whether it may be maintained as a class action. It appears to meet the requirements of Fed.R. of Civ.P. 23 that the class is so numerous that joinder of all members is impracticable, there are questions of law and fact common to the class, and the claims of the representative party is typical of the claims of the class. We cannot now determine if the representative party will fairly protect the interests of the class.

We note that the plaintiff has failed to include with his complaint the required form of instructions for the United States Marshal for directions as to service of process.

For the foregoing reasons we must exercise our discretion to refuse the prayer of plaintiff to proceed in forma pauperis.

It is ordered that the complaint be given a miscellaneous docket number and leave to proceed in forma pauperis be denied.

Still Reading......

Back in the fall, I started a book called Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell; I bought it because the subject matter interested me and because I'm a book collector. Having now committed the cardinal sin of actually reading a first edition of what seems destined to become a very valuable book, I cannot say that I'm regretful about it.

I am, after all, gentle on my books, especially when they're as good as this. I've been reading this book for months now, and I'm finding myself wishing I had more time to read it. And yet — my limited reading time hasn't been an impediment; this book is so richly imagined that I'm not, as usual, forgetting things and losing the thread of the story if I don't get back to the book for a few days.

And I don't particularly want this book to end.

I haven't read a book in years that I thought this highly of — not a new one, anyway.

Go, now, buy this novel. You won't regret it.

Read more about it here: www.jonathanstrange.com. The interview is a good one; she actually answers the questions she's asked.

Sometimes Pop Culture is Beyond Me

Even when it's old people pop culture.

I read that Paul Simon's next album is to be produced by Brian Eno.

And I don't know what that means. I know Eno is someone I'm supposed to be familiar with, I know he's some sort of legend or something. But that's about all.

Somebody, please, enlighten me.

Johnny Carson....

What else is there to say that hasn't already been said, and said by more eloquent folks than I?

Oddly, one of my more persistent Tonight Show memories involves death. I remember hearing that Jim Henson had died, tragically, from what was called "walking pneumonia." And I was upset — as if I'd lost a friend. Because I'd seen Jim and Kermit and Piggy and the whole gang on The Tonight Show not three weeks before. The fact that Henson was now dead was somehow incomprehensible to me; I'd just seen him, and he was fine. He was on Johnny's show.

But so it goes. And now, Mr. Carson has joined Mr. Henson. And we're all just a little bit less classy, a little less funny, with a little less heart and soul and wit than we had the day before yesterday.

Some of my favorite moments:

George C. Scott, reciting a monologue from Christopher Fry's The Lady's Not for Burning.

 You bubble-mouthing, fog-blathering,
 Chin-chuntering, chap-flapping, liturgical,
 Turgidical, base old man! What about my murders?
 And what goes round in your head,
 What funny little murders and fornications
 Chatting up and down in three-four time
 Afraid to come out? What bliss to sin by proxy
 And do penance by way of someone else!
 But we'll not talk about you. It will make the outlook
 So dark. Neither about this exquisitely
 Mad young woman. Nor about this congenital
 Generator, your nephew there;
 Nor about anyone but me. I'm due
 To be hanged. Good Lord, aren't two murders enough
 To win half the medals of damnation? Must I put
 Half a dozen children on a spit
 And toast them at the flame that comes out of my mouth?
 You let the fairies fox you while the devil
 Does you. Concentrate on me.

Richard Harris, telling stories about Peter O'Toole; one of those ended with the immortal line, "It's O'Toole here to see you sir, and he's dressed like a nun." Also telling stories about being in Camelot and about the night he royally screwed the king, a great British actor, when Harris was playing the physician in Macbeth. "How goes the queen?" Harris was supposed to say, "the queen, my Lord, is dead," but instead replied, "oh she's fine, she'll be out in about fifteen minutes."

Johnny in that great Reagan skit.

Buddy Hackett being Buddy Hackett.

Johnny, Robin Williams, and Jonathan Winters.

Johnny talking to a professional football player, one of the guys from back before protective headgear, shoulder pads, and the like. This guy was a legend, but he was also crass and intemperate. He said, "and then we took the G--D----- ball, and we ran it down the field into the G--D------ endzone." Johnny said, "that's a technical term, right?"

And so many other things.

Letterman got it right yesterday, in his statement. All of us who come after Johnny are pretenders. We will not see his like again.

I do find myself wondering what Robin Williams has to say, not having heard.

Johnny Carson, R.I.P.

More on Johnny Carson's passing later tonight. I'm collecting my thoughts.

My Email Pal

My long-term email pal and her husband are off on vacation to Mexico this weekend.

That means no email confessionals until Sunday.

It's strange how attached one can become to technology; I remember a time when there was no email, but I don't know how I'd really get along without it now. Blogs are somewhat the same — a new development that's changing the landscape without our even noticing.

Well, until the year of the Blogger, we didn't notice.

I have reservations about email, sometimes. I have reservations about blogging, too. Both allow for some sort of vaguely permanent and vaguely public record of whatever the blogger/emailer chooses to mention. Email's at least nominally private, but blogs aren't. And they're not meant to be.

Both raise issues of privacy. Because both can be like what would once have been a journal. Except that practically anyone can read them.

I once thought I'd keep all my email, because it would provide a record of the mundane. And that it would be a great resource for some biographer some day after I was both famous and dead.

I'm not famous yet, so there's no need. But I've also, since making that decision, lost a number of computer hard drives. And changed jobs a few times. And all that email just vanishes.

Looking back, though, my email tends toward the mundane. And the obsessive.

But there sure is a lot of it. I don't know exactly how prolific I could have been if I'd spent half the time that I've spent wrapped up in my own little email world writing something...useful and productive. I'll wager I could write a novel in a year or less — with that time alone.

It's not that email is bad; my email pal and I have communicated exclusively via email for about the past five years or so, and in many ways we're closer friends now than we ever were before email arrived. But it's definitely a strange relationship. Because it exists entirely in the words of our emails and in the gaps between sending one and getting the next.

And, for me, it's certainly cheaper than therapy.

The issue with the blog is bigger, I guess, because the blogger is blogging for the masses. Or would like to think he is. And that online trick applies, too. Anonymity allows for the creation of an entire personality. If the blogger wishes to adopt a different personality, all he has to do is adapt.

I remember reading Umberto Eco's comments in Wired a long time ago. To the best of my recollection, he said that the problem with the Internet is that we don't yet know the signs and symbols of it — as a form of discourse. So we can't tell what's reliable and credible and what isn't.

But of course, the problem with that analysis is that there are as many different signs, symbols, tropes, and variations as there are among people. I don't know how we'll ever make sense of it, really. Because the blog is limited only by the blogger's imagination and his willingness to take chances. And that means, over time, anything's possible.

If Eco was implying that there'd be a way to know whether a piece of information could be trusted or whether an e-commerce site was safe for consumers, then I suspect the Internet has been around long enough for us to have some ideas of how it works. With respect to the big sites, anyway, those things are obvious.

But with respect to how you know — from reading an individual blog — whether that's the "real" person, or whether the facts recounted are accurate, well now....

That's a much thornier issue.

And even that debate shies away from the issue of what one can or should say about others — people one knows in the real world — on the blog.

I'd begun this entry thinking I'd perhaps post about a phone conversation I had with another friend tonight, given the absence of my email confidante. But that conversation was between the two of us and wasn't meant for consumption by the general public. Whether I use names or don't.

I'm occasionally worried that reluctance on my part to post personal stories negatively impacts my blog. The conclusion I've come to for now is that friendship is more important than whether or not my blog fascinates other people. And that blogs are meant for posting about things, not people.

For instance: I bought a huge external drive the other day, and I'm going to rip all my CDs to iTunes so that my long-neglected pop collection will possibly get some playtime on the a/v system. And besides, it's just cool.

Saying that affects nobody. Except the guy who is thinking of breaking into my house and stealing that stuff.

But hopefully, he's not reading my blog.

My point is: there's always a risk, because he could be.

As someone said, the fact that you're paranoid doesn't mean someone's not after you.

And these are the things I think about when nobody's around.