I've been on an extended work road trip, travelling the countryside as a Tech slash Auditor for a contract IT firm. Over the course of this trip, "Are You Effing Kidding Me?" has become one of my most 0ft-repeated phrases. Not by choice mind you. The circumstances are generally such that it seems - for lack of a better way to put it - the only appropriate thing to say. And - full disclosure - I don't actually say "Effing" when the phrase escapes my lips.
Such was the case just hours ago when I treated myself to a movie at the local Cinemark, somewhere in the bowels of Ohio, and about an hour outside of Cleveland. The movie I had chosen was called "Drive Angry 3D", yet another in the seemingly endless series of violent, fantastical and gleefully B movies to which Nicolas Cage has seen fit to lend his talents. I recall a movie critic on TV a few year's back fussily bemoaning the waste of Cage's acting skills. "How", he wailed, "could the man who so moved us in 'Leaving For Las Vegas' waste his enormous talent on a bunch of pot boilers?"
The Critic's snippiness reminded me that he was gay, not that that's necessarily a bad thing. Gay people need jobs too, and he had amused me on numerous other occasions with the flamboyant hand gestures that accompanied his reviews. Be that as it may, Nicolas Cage has decided in the past ten years to devote himself to B movies, and you've got to respect a man who forges his own path, Critics and other moralists be damned.
Anyway, back to the movie. As I mentioned, Drive Angry was most definitely not a thinking man's movie. In fact, its core demographic is without a doubt male movie-goers between the ages of 18 and 24: Lot's of car crashes, tons of violence, and Nicolas Cage with a seemingly endless supply of ammo to dispatch dozens of bad guys. I went to see it because there was absolutely no chance that my wife would ever want to go see it with me, regardless of how many consecutive Chick Flicks I might have committed to beforehand, and it was time to let the 18-24 year old in me out of the box, however briefly. So, off I went.
When I got to the theatre, a car pulled up next to the door. A man of about 65 was behind the wheel, and next to him a woman of a similar age. In the back seat, however, was a dear old lady who appeared to be in her late 80s. The younger woman tottered around to the rear passenger door and helped the old soul out of the car. I loitered there to hold the door open for them. "thank you, sir", said 65 year old woman; "thank you, Sonny", said the older lady. "No thanks necessary, Ladies", I said, and almost struck up a conversation with them to ask what movie they were going to see, but they were busy getting in out of the cold, so I let it go and went to purchase my ticket.
I was fairly certain of their ages, by the way, because I have the Gift. I can guess anybody's age correctly plus/minus two years most of the time; three years max. I had this skill tested about ten days ago when I was at a hotel bar with some of my cohorts after a job. One of them - flamboyantly and openly gay - announced his intentions to score some action at the local college. "You might be too old for them", said one of the other guys. "How old", said the gay guy "do you think I am?", his hands triumphantly on his hips. I guessed his age at about 30, but jumped in and said "I'm guessing 35".
Gay Guy froze; you could have heard a pin drop. "I'm 30!", he proclaimed, and appeared somewhat hurt. I felt bad later for having gigged him, because questioning a gay man's youthful appearance is the moral equivalent of telling your wife "why yes, Honey, that dress does make your ass look big". Might could be that my 18-24 year old self was on display that night, but there was drinking involved, so I gave myself a Hall Pass, and vowed not to be so cruel in the future.
But I digress.
As I walked into the movie theatre lobby, I did wonder what movie the dear old ladies had in mind to see. Was it perhaps the romantic comedy "Just Go With It", starring Jennifer Anniston and Adam Sandler? Perhaps their choice would be "Gnomeo & Juliet", an animated Disney feature. No, I thought to myself, such folks are most assuredly here to see "The King's Speech", a British drama that would appeal to adults. Such were my thoughts as I bought my popcorn and took my seat.
Back to the dear old ladies in a minute.
I've had a number of "Are you Effing Kidding Me" moments in the past eight months on these road trips, like the four consecutive motel rooms I rented in New Mexico and West Texas over the course of one week during the winter storms three weeks back. None of them had a working heater in them; two of them were in successive rooms at the same hotel. Seems the 15 degree temperatures caught the motel proprietors off guard, maintenance-wise speaking. Another "AYFKM" moment occurred when, having finally scored a room with a working heater, I discovered that it had been so frigging cold for such a long period of time that - I shit you not - the TV refused to turn on.
My favorite and most recent AYFKM was the Harvard professor of economics I saw on TV two nights ago that proclaimed that Republican efforts to reduce federal government spending would kill the economy because "the federal government employs thousands of contracting firms in the private sector". It never would have occurred to this guy in a million years that spending taxpayer dollars to hire private firms to do the government's business is merely public spending by another name. He was happily convinced that the more contracts the government gave out, the better off the economy would be.
AYFKM?
There have been dozens of other AYFKM moments, most of them involving persons of Indian extraction (as in from India), who apparently run most of the motels in America, chastising me when I would call them and complain that this or that appliance didn't work, the heater didn't work, the coffee pot leaks onto the floor, the television doesn't work, there's no hot water coming out of the shower, and my absolute favorite, the exercise room that consisted of one treadmill circa 1974 and even then unusable because there was not a single electrical outlet in the room.
Oh yeah, and there was no heat or working lights in the room either.
Back to the dear old ladies. I settled in to my seat, and who should totter into the theatre to see "Drive Angry 3D" but the two dear old ladies, 3D goggles clutched in their spare hands, as the other hand was in use to pull themselves up the stairs using the handrail.
I did indeed say to myself "AYFKM?", but for once, it was not to rail at the infinite supply of stupidity in the world. They not only brought a smile to my face, but made me feel better about the day. If two women (with a combined age of 153, plus or minus two years) are willing to plunk down good money to occasionally let out their inner 18 to 24 old, all is not lost, and I realized that the Google of Harvard trained professors convinced that all government spending is good were living - professionally, at least - on borrowed time.
I left the theatre with a smile on my face, and it remains there still. Oh yeah, and Nicolas Cage killed all the Bad Guys.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Stupidity Squared
The news reports are going on and on about the huge tragedy of four Americans being murdered when their 54' yacht was over-run and the American military interceded, provoking the Pirates to kill their hostages.
Call me crazy, call me cruel, say I lack empathy, but what in the Hell were those people doing cruising past Somalia?
Their self-indulgence cost not just their lives, but endangered the lives of American servicemen and ended up with sundry of the pirates riddled by special forces bullets.
I know nothing about these people, but I'm going to go out on a limb and state that at least one of them was a college professor and that one of them was an investment banker. Further, at least a couple of them was from New York. And if there was an educator in the mix somewhere, that they were on Sabbatical.
Tragic, but stupid.
Call me crazy, call me cruel, say I lack empathy, but what in the Hell were those people doing cruising past Somalia?
Their self-indulgence cost not just their lives, but endangered the lives of American servicemen and ended up with sundry of the pirates riddled by special forces bullets.
I know nothing about these people, but I'm going to go out on a limb and state that at least one of them was a college professor and that one of them was an investment banker. Further, at least a couple of them was from New York. And if there was an educator in the mix somewhere, that they were on Sabbatical.
Tragic, but stupid.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Ernie Pile Is Rolling In His Grave
What do Don Quixote, Christiane Amanpour, Katie Couric and Anderson Cooper all have in common? This question occurred to me as I've watched the news coverage of the revolution in Egypt evolve from straight-up reportage of events to an ever increasing number of stage-managed "endangered reporter in the streets" bits, where Cooper, Couric, Amanpour and a seemingly endless stream of other demi-celebs move a few paces outside of their luxury hotels, enlist a handful of bemused and amused Egyptians to mill around them, jostle and shout things whilst they bravely finish their reports, cameras rolling.
These pieces are then followed by endless reporting from a bunch of network talking heads about how Mubarak's thugs were "targeting reporters and human rights activists". Love the way these people always mention human rights activists and themselves in the same sentence. These reports would then devolve into endless round table discussions about the safety of Reporters and how important - nay, pivotal - these same Reporters were to the events that were unfolding. Based on the coverage, One would be excused for concluding that the Revolution never would had happened had it not been for the bravery and keen insights of Katie Couric, however blow-dried and vacuous they were.
But wait, it gets even better. Fox News - generally a small island of sanity amongst major news organizations and mostly immune to preening self-aggrandizement - has jumped onto the bandwagon in a big way, making the safety of Reporters in Egypt THE story. In the last couple of nights, they've out-Couric'ed Couric with their hyperventilation, with endless stories about brave "journalists", and one commentator calling on world leaders and the United Nations to ensure the safety of reporters. They did a have a few truth-in-advertising moments, however. Since none of the "name" reporters was actually harmed, they were relegated to describing them as "intimidated" by the crowds and the Mubarak Goons that were allegedly targetting them.
You may recall that this bit of phony journalism was not only invented by Dan Rather, but raised to a high art. Every time the ratings for CBS Evening News would start to dip - or if his gig as a news reader got boring - old Dan would don a flak jacket and helmet and head on out into the field, usually a war zone. The reports themselves were high comedy for anybody with an ounce of sense. Rather would show up on a set, complete with props, a Caterer, multiple cameras, a complete Hollywood-style film crew including Riggers and Gaffers, and a nearby trailer housing all of Rather's comforts; He would do his report, safely removed by many miles from any real danger; the Director would yell "cut!", and Rather would high-tail it back to his luxury hotel, abandoning the set. After a few years of this, I would make a bet with myself as to whether Rather's hair would be mussed when - towards the end of the broadcast - he would take his helmet off. It never was.
But back to Don Quixote. Cervantes' famous character (from the book of the same name) was infamously deluded, convinced that he was on a knightly mission to travel the land and slay dragons, do battle with evil doers and rescue the fair Dulcinea. As any first year college student knows, there were no dragons, there were no evil-doers, and Dulcinea was in no danger. Neither, by the way, was Don Quixote. The mad fool truly was "tilting at windmills". Throughout the book, Sancho Panza was, of course, his long-suffering Squire, pressed by Don Quixote to accompany him on his "quest" . It's hard not to compare Anderson Cooper's equally long-suffering staff of makeup artists, personal assistants, gofers, manicurists, publicists, assistant producers and executive assistants to Sancho. Sancho clearly did not want to be part of Don Quixote's delusion. I wonder if Cooper's staff feels the same way?
The analogy breaks down as of a certain point. For example, Don Quixote was barking mad, albeit in a relatively innocent and harmless way, and he truly was motivated by the desire to do good. Couric, Cooper and Amanpour have no such excuse. They are cold, calculating publicity hounds, determined to exploit the misery of the Egyptians for their own benefit, and dancing on the grave of true heroes of the Reporting trade such as Daniel Pearl. Suffice to say, Ernie Pile must be rolling in his grave.
As for Dan Rather, the Godfather of phony journalism, I have a more kindly opinion. I truly believe he was as nutty as Don Quixote, and Rather himself infamously gave us all a huge clue as to the state of his sanity a couple decades back when he told the story of being confronted late at night by a stranger in a trench coat and asked "what is the frequency, Kenneth?". Whether it happened or not, what journalist in their right mind would reveal that story to the public? Only Don Quixote, ever-desperate to convince the world - and himself - that those windmills were in fact dragons.
If America's reporters are the public face that America presents to the world, it's no wonder that Muslims hate us. They must be asking themselves, "where have you been for the past 30 years, Katie Couric, and is it not unseemly for you to jump in front of a camera and make our revolution all about yourself? And what is up with the makeup, lighting and elaborate production"? Anderson Cooper supposedly got punched for his "moment". Hey Anderson, come to my town after the next hurricane and make the story all about you, and I'll punch you too.
Final Note: I was done writing this riff when I read today's Editorial section in my local paper, only to discover that there were two more articles dealing with the Courics of the world. One - by Leonard Pitts - was intentionally humorous; the other - by Kathleen Parker - was not. Hands down, though, Parker's article is the funnier of the two, as she boldly proclaims Journalism's Don Quixotes "heroes", and herself "awestruck" by their selflessness. She even describes in detail the existence of the Committee To Protect Journalists, or CPJ, and the noble work they do to ensure the safety of those pillars of freedom, our Reporters. Hey Kathleen, if we really want to make a difference, what say we create the CPATDCEMDIM, or "Committee to Protect American Truck Drivers Crazy Enough to Make Deliveries In Mexico"? Howzabout the CPDACSWTSBIA, or "Committee to Protect Drunk American College Students Who Take Spring Break In Aruba"?
Now those would be organizations that can make a difference.
These pieces are then followed by endless reporting from a bunch of network talking heads about how Mubarak's thugs were "targeting reporters and human rights activists". Love the way these people always mention human rights activists and themselves in the same sentence. These reports would then devolve into endless round table discussions about the safety of Reporters and how important - nay, pivotal - these same Reporters were to the events that were unfolding. Based on the coverage, One would be excused for concluding that the Revolution never would had happened had it not been for the bravery and keen insights of Katie Couric, however blow-dried and vacuous they were.
But wait, it gets even better. Fox News - generally a small island of sanity amongst major news organizations and mostly immune to preening self-aggrandizement - has jumped onto the bandwagon in a big way, making the safety of Reporters in Egypt THE story. In the last couple of nights, they've out-Couric'ed Couric with their hyperventilation, with endless stories about brave "journalists", and one commentator calling on world leaders and the United Nations to ensure the safety of reporters. They did a have a few truth-in-advertising moments, however. Since none of the "name" reporters was actually harmed, they were relegated to describing them as "intimidated" by the crowds and the Mubarak Goons that were allegedly targetting them.
You may recall that this bit of phony journalism was not only invented by Dan Rather, but raised to a high art. Every time the ratings for CBS Evening News would start to dip - or if his gig as a news reader got boring - old Dan would don a flak jacket and helmet and head on out into the field, usually a war zone. The reports themselves were high comedy for anybody with an ounce of sense. Rather would show up on a set, complete with props, a Caterer, multiple cameras, a complete Hollywood-style film crew including Riggers and Gaffers, and a nearby trailer housing all of Rather's comforts; He would do his report, safely removed by many miles from any real danger; the Director would yell "cut!", and Rather would high-tail it back to his luxury hotel, abandoning the set. After a few years of this, I would make a bet with myself as to whether Rather's hair would be mussed when - towards the end of the broadcast - he would take his helmet off. It never was.
But back to Don Quixote. Cervantes' famous character (from the book of the same name) was infamously deluded, convinced that he was on a knightly mission to travel the land and slay dragons, do battle with evil doers and rescue the fair Dulcinea. As any first year college student knows, there were no dragons, there were no evil-doers, and Dulcinea was in no danger. Neither, by the way, was Don Quixote. The mad fool truly was "tilting at windmills". Throughout the book, Sancho Panza was, of course, his long-suffering Squire, pressed by Don Quixote to accompany him on his "quest" . It's hard not to compare Anderson Cooper's equally long-suffering staff of makeup artists, personal assistants, gofers, manicurists, publicists, assistant producers and executive assistants to Sancho. Sancho clearly did not want to be part of Don Quixote's delusion. I wonder if Cooper's staff feels the same way?
The analogy breaks down as of a certain point. For example, Don Quixote was barking mad, albeit in a relatively innocent and harmless way, and he truly was motivated by the desire to do good. Couric, Cooper and Amanpour have no such excuse. They are cold, calculating publicity hounds, determined to exploit the misery of the Egyptians for their own benefit, and dancing on the grave of true heroes of the Reporting trade such as Daniel Pearl. Suffice to say, Ernie Pile must be rolling in his grave.
As for Dan Rather, the Godfather of phony journalism, I have a more kindly opinion. I truly believe he was as nutty as Don Quixote, and Rather himself infamously gave us all a huge clue as to the state of his sanity a couple decades back when he told the story of being confronted late at night by a stranger in a trench coat and asked "what is the frequency, Kenneth?". Whether it happened or not, what journalist in their right mind would reveal that story to the public? Only Don Quixote, ever-desperate to convince the world - and himself - that those windmills were in fact dragons.
If America's reporters are the public face that America presents to the world, it's no wonder that Muslims hate us. They must be asking themselves, "where have you been for the past 30 years, Katie Couric, and is it not unseemly for you to jump in front of a camera and make our revolution all about yourself? And what is up with the makeup, lighting and elaborate production"? Anderson Cooper supposedly got punched for his "moment". Hey Anderson, come to my town after the next hurricane and make the story all about you, and I'll punch you too.
Final Note: I was done writing this riff when I read today's Editorial section in my local paper, only to discover that there were two more articles dealing with the Courics of the world. One - by Leonard Pitts - was intentionally humorous; the other - by Kathleen Parker - was not. Hands down, though, Parker's article is the funnier of the two, as she boldly proclaims Journalism's Don Quixotes "heroes", and herself "awestruck" by their selflessness. She even describes in detail the existence of the Committee To Protect Journalists, or CPJ, and the noble work they do to ensure the safety of those pillars of freedom, our Reporters. Hey Kathleen, if we really want to make a difference, what say we create the CPATDCEMDIM, or "Committee to Protect American Truck Drivers Crazy Enough to Make Deliveries In Mexico"? Howzabout the CPDACSWTSBIA, or "Committee to Protect Drunk American College Students Who Take Spring Break In Aruba"?
Now those would be organizations that can make a difference.
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