Me bro’ Mugs has been writing a bit of delightful short pieces of late o’er at The Writing on the Bathroom Wall. Go check it out, especially the clever haiku…
I’m particularly glad that he seems to have resurrected the Perpetrator concept – a series of absurd fictitious crime abstracts.
I’m a pretty freakin’ picky eater. Seeweeuswy you guys. Example? I grew up in a household that ate predominantly Italian food. I grew up in a household that also made me eat whatever was put in front of me. And here I am, with utter distaste for peppers, onions, and tomatoes (okay in sauce, as long as they’re not chunky).
For some reason, however, I find it pretty easy to try out new seafood. Ever since I was a youngin’ in Bayville, New Jersey, I’ve tried out dish after dish of sea food at my old friend Matthew Stevens’ house, be it blowfish, lobster, or mako shark steak. Last year on my honeymoon, I went a step further and tasted amazing ahi tuna that was barely seared, leaving the inside cool and uncooked. This, too, was delicious.
None of this could prepare me for the obvious next step…sushi. Specifically make-zushi often containing raw fish.
So I planned an occasion with my wing-man, Dave, whereupon I’d settle this food score once and for all. This past Saturday, we headed for Hana Zushi in Shockhoe Slip for dinner. Dave, being a bit experienced with sushi already, helped me choose my gastric weapons and provided moral support. We each ordered a la carte, selecting from a decent listing of rolls and nagiri. Our plan was to divide and conquer, sharing our selected rolls that we each may experience a broad range of flavors.
My verdict? I really enjoyed the experience – both the exhiliration of walking out on a culinary limb and the food itself. The most amazing point of the evening was realizing a distinct difference between the sushi and most Western food that I’ve yet eaten:
Whereas with Western food (or perhaps cooked food in general) you tend to experience the full taste of the food when you bite into your morsel, the sushi did not provide its full spectrum of flavors until I had chewed the piece for a moment or so. Once I had given a few rounds of molar-attack to my spicy tuna roll, for example, the full effect of the combination of ingredients spread accross my tongue like a taste epiphany.
Wholly different from anything I’ve yet ingested, yet intriguing and delicious, I have a feeling I’ll be seeking out new sushi bars in the future.
So I know I already mentioned Sufjan Stevens’ Come on feel the Illinoise album a while ago, but I just have to mention it again, because I’ve been listening to little other than this album for the past week.
There are so many layers to so many of these songs, and when you have a chance to sit down and really listen to the musical depth of this CD, I think you begin to appreciate it more. A reviewer on Amazon mentioned that to listen simply to part of this disc would be taking it out of context; you really need to soak in the complete album to fully understand it. I would agree – and I think that’s why I’ve been vibin’ off of it so much recently.
Songs like, “The Predatory Wasp of the Pallisades is Out to Get Us,” and “The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders” do a fantastic job of wrapping up the second half of the album, completing the sense of musical balance that Sufjan constructs in the first half.
Look at me, I’m gushing…I just couldn’t keep quiet about this, sitting here as I am, anticipating the arrival of Greetings from Michigan, the Great Lakes State in the mail this week (his first states-oriented album).
UPDATE: My album arrived today, and I’m antsy to start digging in! Rock!
On a more pleasant note…do check out The Beacon Hill Project to see me hangin’ out with the rest of the squad and Mars Ill at a recent concert here in the R-I-C. I’m the bloke in the very middle, with Manchild to the far left, and Dust to the far right.
Yo.
Have you read the news today? No? Well hang on, you can see it here: TV host urges US to kill Chavez
Yeah, this oughtta sicken you as it does me. I don’t care how you feel about Hugo Chavez – what Pat Robertson said today is inexcusable. And this further reinforces my frustrations. This man is billed around the world as a major figure of “conservative Christian” ideology. This man is one of the reasons why standing up and claiming to the public that you’re a Christian can be so awkward. This man is one of the reasons why so many people still think Christianity and The Crusades go hand-in-hand.
Ugh.
Whilst reading around on ye olde Interweb, I came across a discussion between folks, many of whom believe that there are soooooooooo many Christians around that a Christian shouldn’t feel as if he or she is in the minority with respect to beliefs. A particular website was used to contribute to the discussion: Religions by Adherants.
There are two issues here. First, in general, Christians are definately NOT the majority. Maybe statisticly in the US we are, but not in the world.
Second – and here’s where it gets messy – I’m not so sure that everyone in that 33% are really Christians. This measure comes solely from people’s answers on census questionaires and the like, rather than the observed qualification based on a set of criteria. Now I don’t, and won’t completely know whether anybody claiming to be a Christian really fits the bill, as it were, but I just need to lay down some thoughts, because one of the most difficult issues in the lives of Christians is the misconception of what Christianity is. So here goes:
The very word, “Christian,” comes from a Greek word that essentially means, “little Christ.” In the vernacular, that’s come to be generally defined as one who follows Christ, or Christ’s teachings. Most scholars and pedestrians would agree that this refers to THE Christ, or the historical Jesus figure – whether or not you believe He exists.
So where do we find descriptions of Christ and His teachings? The Bible. Yeah, I know lots of people don’t believe it’s true/accurate/spiritual/etc. (though I do). Even so, that’s THE source that our world has to go on for descriptions of Christ’s character and teachings. What’s my point? Well I think that at the least, if you reject any of the teachings or character of Christ as presented by the Bible, it would be pretty hard to call yourself a Christian honestly. Notice I didn’t say if you fail to keep His teachings…that’s another topic entirely.
I say this because we have to, as a communicating society, keep our definitions straight. You can’t call somebody a vegitarian when he/she eats eggs and fish. People try to, but it doesn’t really make sense. Eggs and fish are forms of meat – they’re animal products at least. The idea is that you cannot pick and choose which parts of a definition you want to believe or accept. If you believe that Christ says to love your neighbor, but you ignore Him when He says that He’s the only way to salvation, that’s not following, that’s alternating direction.
I know that life is not black-and-white, but some parts of it are. They have to be in order for us to understand each other. You wouldn’t have me give you five dollars when I owe you a hundred, would you? In a like manner, when we define things, we need to adhere to such definitions, lest the word/group/practice lose its meaning.
Stop what you’re doing, and go RIGHT HERE right now. And laugh your tookis off.
If you have a decent media player on your computer and aren’t restricted by a corporate firewall (try iTunes, if you are), then go over to Radio Paradise right now and give a listen. And make sure you listen for at least an hour or so, in order to get the full effect.
The more you listen to this, the less you’ll want to listen to FM – unless of course you like top 40 garbage…
Alright, so here’s a nice long article from my now defunct blog, “Snobgoblin.” You really need to have the time to tuck into this fella, ’cause he’s a novella. Here goes…
CHICK FLICKS
Now, before I launch into this vaunting diatribe, I must briefly explain the difference between 4 distinct gender-specific movie genres – the chick flick, the romance, the guy movie, and the man movie. Naturally, I won’t explain them in that order, because I have to leave the chick flick for last.
1. The Romance. I think that most people would agree that romance movies typically cater to women. This is not to say that some men don’t enjoy them. I myself enjoy a good romance movie, like Punch Drunk Love, or The Notebook.
The obvious feature that typifies the romance movie is an idealized male-female relationship at the end of the story – the end, and not the beginning because many events throughout the story are quite less than idyllic. Movies of this type often employ comedy (whether or not this is to draw an increased number of males into the theater is unknown), morphing somewhat into a sub-genre, the Romantic Comedy (including fine entries such as Grosse Pointe Blank and As Good as it Gets). That however, is for another entry.
2. The Man Movie. Man movies are designed to elicit the production of testosterone in those of us graced with a Y chromosome. They tend to be filled with action sequences such as car chases and fights, dramatic stunt work, special effects, or any combination of such. These films usually have little-to-no romantic involvement between characters, and may in fact have very few females on screen at all. One of my favorite examples of such a movie is Tombstone. You simply need to watch it to understand – and if your heart is racing by the end, you know what I mean. Top Gun is NOT a man movie – I’ll get to that one later. Other good examples, however, include Braveheart and The Hunt for Red October.
3. The Guy Movie. Such films are mostly rubbish. Seriously – and I know I’m going to draw a lot of flack for this, but most of them really are. Guy movies almost always employ the use of two third-rate story elements: base humor, and unhealthy depiction/interaction with women. Some of the more notorious movies in this category are the American Pie series, Van Wilder, Dude, Where’s My Car, and The Girl Next Door.
There is hope for this genre, however. There are a few shining examples of movies that are ridiculously puerile, but somehow the humor contained therein helps one look past the dopey, gross jokes and poorly portrayed women. Two excellent examples are Dumb and Dumber, and Zoolander.
4. The Chick Flick. Here we are, the reason for this ridiculously long post (but hey, the subject necessitates such a lengthy discussion). Chick flicks are like the mutated waste products of romance movies. And by that I mean the only real tie to romance movies is the eventual idealized relationship between a guy and a gal.
The similarities most certainly end there.
I will now proceed to dissect some of the more disturbing aspects of chick flicks. First, we have the most mind boggling device: Utter implausibility. I have discovered, having seen many such movies with my wife (and as we dated), that chick flicks seem to appeal to women more if the story is ridiculously far-fetched. Perfect examples are Thirteen Going on Thirty, Serendipity (WHY, John Cusack?), and Save the Last Dance. This, I do not understand. I have many female friends who are very intelligent, yet somehow fall for these screenplays that are so immensely unbelievable.
Unbelievable? Far fetched? But wait!!!!! It’s only a movie, you moron! Yeah, I’m sure that’s what some of you may be saying right now. But tell me why the original three Star Wars movies are better than Battlefield Earth, or why I’m better than Tony Danza. Star Wars is total science fiction, but the writing and acting draw you into the story and characters, rather than the fact that you’re hearing sound in the vacuum of space, for example. In short, a great movie can be totally unrealistic, but must distract you from that by somehow making you believe what you’re watching and hearing.
The next thing that stimulates my utter disdain for chick flicks is the poor film making. I’m not trying to say that every film need be the quality of a Hitchcock or some modern directing auteur, but could ya freakin’ lay off the stupid soft lens filter? You can’t compensate for crappy writing by trying to make the scenes look “cuter”, or “warmer”, like they woefully attempt in both The Wedding Planner and Maid in Manhattan (Wow, J-Lo, that’s two strikes!).
Is the lack of creative production because women don’t care? I doubt it – I know at least as many girls as guys who loved the beautiful photography in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Hooray for mystery number two.
The third, and final aspect of chick flicks that provokes me to anger is the humor. This beast rears its ugly head in several fashions. Most commonly we see the jokes, however, in two forms: “girls only” humor, and “boys are stupid” humor. The “girls only” brand consists of jokes specific to girls because of the subject, such as menstruation, child birth, or shopping. The “boys are stupid” variety ranges from such extremes as the anti-romance and blind aggressiveness of the male gender to the unhealthy generalizations about male sexual behavior (some of us DO know what foreplay is, thank-you). There is another way, however, in which chick flick humor shows itself, and this one is downright peevish. These are the jokes intended for the males in the audience…those sorry fellows who have been dragged along to see something dreadful…probably because of a deal with their ladies for having watched some real movie last week. Such “boyfriend jokes” tend to be just the opposite of the two girl-specific joke types, and equally as ridiculous. It’s like trying to balance green vomit with brown vomit.
There is one thing left to address. I find it necessary to return to Top Gun, because there is potential for confusion about this one. Many would argue that this eighties film is an obvious choice for a man movie. Many would be mistaken. Top Gun is an evil movie, in that it takes a blatant chick flick, and loosely wraps it within some elements of a man movie. Yes, you have fighter jets. Yes, you have dogfights, and machismo. Yes, you have Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer, oiled up, playing beach volley ba – wait. Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer, oiled up. That’s about as far as you have to go to realize that there’s a devious subtext to this movie, and it ain’t masculine. I’d like to stop there, but the movie does not. There’s also the steamy romance between Tom Cruise’s character and the miscellaneous floozy they threw in there with him, and the wretchedly breathy “Take My Breath Away,” performed by…who cares.
‘Nuff said.
So today I’ve been experiencing one of the few wretched parts of my job: AM, or Account Management. I work in IT, and though I try very hard to stifle any elitest attitudes, AM seems to try their hardest to provoke such attitudes.
I’ve spent the better part of my morning at work trying to fend off stupid (really) questions about some business problems about which a particular account manager should know. Forget technical stuff. Forget jargon.
In addition to the repetitive nature of her nagging, I had also to deal with her propensity for writing egregiously long e-mails to explain her reasons for nagging.
I won’t make this much longer, because I don’t want to dwell on the issue, but MAN. I wish I could just throw a paint grenade in her cube and be done with it.