New Class Now Available

So, for some months I have been considering starting a new column here at T.A.A.R.

As you may well have gathered, I love story telling. The conflict, the resolution, the adventure created by brilliant people, and illustrated by your minds eye (reading) or simply visually enjoyed.

That is why I started SpentCasings, to collaborate with my cohorts in a mutually appreciated form (for me, it's a love affair), which failed miserably. (yes, you can read that however you want.) For whatever reason. I don't care any more. I have gotten over the disappointment. And I have not forgotten about SpentCasings either. It just seems like I have.

Then I tried to encourage the exchange of ideas in reading literature with The Looking Glass Wars. And that fell flat too. But that's okay. S'all good.

And to prove that I am undaunted, unfazed by past failures, I am going to begin what I call "Film Deconstruction 101: An interactive study of movies, what works, and what doesn't."

This is the After Action Report after all.

As you may have noticed I like movies, and what you may not have noticed, I am interested in making movies. I also believes that a wise man learns from his mistakes, and an even wiser man learns from ANOTHER MAN'S mistakes. If I can avoid the mistakes that others have made, why wouldn't I?

So, look for Film Deconstruction 101 in the coming weeks.

Justified

I know that it is not polite ettiquet to blow your own horn. But I can not help doing that this morning.

I am justified.

Last year (or was it longer) on SpentCasings I dressed VanHollen, and was flayed alive for my "bad taste."

But then this morning I discovered these.

I realized that that is only just a small part of her ensemble, and yes, those boots truely are hideous, and not what I envisioned, but it goes to show, that what goes around in fashion, comes back with a vengenance. And apparently someone thinks that they are fashionable.

So again, I can not help but go: HA!

downhere

So last year, I discovered this band "downhere" (that's how they write it). You'll remember the post I did with two of their videos: The More and A Better Way. It was actually those two songs that led me to buying their album Wide-Eyed and Mystified and it was the tracks that they WERE NOT playing on the radio that got me hooked on downhere. They are my current favorite ACC band. (It used to be BarlowGirl but then they released "How Can We Be Silent" which is just an homage to loudness and lacks the sincerity and fun of their earlier work) I love musicians who sound just as good live as they do on their CDs, it says to me that they have actual talent, and not just a great producer/engineer. And that's downhere.


For example: there's a group in the playlist at the bottom of the page called Wavorly, I love their song Praise and Adore, inspired by one of C.S. Lewis' books, but when I went over to youtube to check them out, I felt sorry for them, firstly because they couldn't cary a tune in a bucket, and secondly because the front man was covered in ink, and not only did he have both ears pierced, but he had those hole producing barrels in his lobes. Now, I don't care if he wants to do that, but the deapth of his relationship with Christ was exposed. Shallow.

That is not the impression I get from downhere. Obviously I don't know them, but their song writing indicates to me a group of men who want to be more, and who want to encourage others to be more, through tracks like Surrender and Great Are You and From Protest to Praise and The Real Jesus.

I said all of this to say that in the course of looking for songs for my playlist, I went to their websight last night and discovered that they had produced another album, Ending is Beginning. I had company over last night so I wasn't able to spend any time there, so I went back there this morning and found the link to Jeremy Theissen's blog, and it was there that I got the imbed above for their new top 5 single, I Am Here.

Hope you enjoy.

Marching Orders

It is vitally important that we maintain our objectivity.

Mr. Obama, at this writing, is still the President Elect. And it is the Office of the President that deserves respect. I think that it might be a little extreme to wonder if he has to actually kill a child on live TV before his true nature will be fully revealed and people will see him for the monster that many believe him to be. Even where he a monster and he DID do something like that, his acolytes would make excuses for him: "Oh, the child must really be the spawn of Satan, who, by the way, we don't believe in." "Oh, he is going to resurrect him in three days, because, after all he is the M-"

All banter aside, we have to respect the office. We don't have to respect the man. However, the Office demands that we behave deferentially towards the Office Holder.

Confused yet?

Many people are calling Obama the "President-Elect." I do not. I did not Elect him to that office. So, until he becomes President, and I heard today that the fight to prevent that is continuing, I shall be referring to him as The One, Obama, Mr. Obama, or Senator Obama. I know, it sounds like I'm in denial. I am not. I have heard that "respect is not earned, it is given." I do not agree with this philosophy. I agree with the Marines: "Respect: never given, always earned." Honor, on the other hand, IS given. Honor is that thing that makes you say, "Yes Ma'am, No Sir, Your Honor, Officer So-and-so" etc. Some confuse it with good manners. Good manners is not smacking at the dinner table. Respect is deep seated trust. I respect knives, because if used properly they will render great service, if they are misused, they will cut me to the bone. I respect certain men and women because they have proven themselves to be worthy of my respect. Experience is the final authority of who is and is not the recipient of my respect.

So it should come as no surprise that I have no respect for Mr. Obama. I am not even willing to concede that he "fought an excellent fight." That implies that there was some sort of level playing field, which, anyone who is intellectually honest will admit was not the case. But, as it stands now, he is going to be the President of the United States of America, and that does call for a small measure (not much though) of restraint on our parts.

It is ironic that we, the conservative, God fearing patriots are castigated as "intolerant." When in fact it is the liberal, God hating, Country hating people who are intolerant of us, because we don't smoke, drink, or carry on, and it reflects poorly on them. "You can't judge me!" is their rallying cry. "Who are you?" is our response "I've never thought about you before. Can't judge you, huh? Wanna bet?" It is also ironic that the people who claim exemption from judgement are themselves obsessed, compulsive judges.

I am also struck with the evidence of all the conservatives that rioted on election night. How our *cough* candidate ran out to the podium and screamed "Every vote must be counted! And then if we don't win, we're going to take our battle to the courts!" Oh, wait a minute that didn't happened this year. That was AlGore in 2000. Oops. My bad.

As I said earlier. We must keep our chins up, and our noses down. As Bible believing, God fearing Christians our confidence can not be in Government. As Patriots we must continue to fight the good fight in what ever capacity we can. And remember, this was one of the lowest voter turn-out election in years. Obama did win with 3 mil plus votes, which looks like a lot of votes, but he actually only won by 2%. That's right. Obama only got 52% of the vote. THAT makes me sick. All the people, Christians included, who abstained from voting are just as guilty as those Republicans and "christians" who voted for Obama.

We do have a civic duty. If we do nothing else, than we are commanded to pray for those in authority. So let's pray for The One's salvation and the salvation of his entire family.

And to keep you optimistic, you have to read this: Here Are Your Assignments. It will lighten your spirits.

Fools Get What Fools Deserve . . .Eventually

And we must suffer needlessly with them. But NOT inactively.

It is a good thing that I do not make my living as a political prognosticator. Today, I would be out of a job.

Why did I make the prediction that McCain-Palin would pull it off? Because I believed that common sense and logic would prevail. I had not even begun to understand how far the ideology of IMAGE had metastasized.

Sprite had the greatest overlooked advertising campaign of the 90's: "Image is Nothing . . ."

And when it comes to nothing, no one does it better than Mr. President-Elect Obama.

Two weeks before the election I was feeling good. For the first time I was certain that M-P would win. It was not a sudden epiphanous revelation, but the slow growing warmth of a building fire. I was keeping up with the world on NRO; I was paying attention to the sudden appearance of all of The One's previously suppressed ideas. How he used to sit at the knee of a Communist in Hawaii; how he sought out an unrepentant domestic terrorist to befriend in Chicago; how he had financial dealings with a convicted slum lord whose wife sold him a slice of land from her vacant lot, against local statute, so that a house could never be built on it; how he attended the church services of a black racist for twenty years; how he told Joe the Plumber that he just wanted to spread the wealth around; how he exposed the true reason for becoming the great constitutional scholar he is lauded to be of which there is no evidence: to undermine our founding, binding document; and how he seeks to bankrupt our domestic industries. Ironic that he has stated that he will tax companies that move jobs over-seas and yet he proposes to make it impossible to create jobs here.

I saw all of this information. I thought about it logically. I deduced that there was nothing in the man that qualified him to be CEO of the greatest enterprise in the world. And after encountering others of my opinion I thought: "Ah, there WILL be enough of us, to drag that old grey haired mule across the line ahead of the great black hype."

But I had forgotten that Logic can never win in a conflict with Unchecked Emotion.

The only way that it can prevail in such a fight, is to turn and walk away, or slap the offender silly, in hopes that it will rouse them from their hypnotic stupor. But as they say "I wouldn't hold my breath."

My buddy said that he was going to vote for Obama because he appeared smart. Because he proposed international policies to "repair" our status in the world. What proof was he able to provide of the the alleged intelligence? Sure, he could read a TelePrompter with exceptional skill, but when speaking off of the cuff, he makes Bush seem like a poet laureate. What happened to the papers that all Professors are required to write? Where's his Doctoral thesis? What proof do we have of any real, original intelligence? And our standing in the world? Do Frenchmen spit in your face when you go to the hypermarche? Do Mexicans put their dirty thumbs in your bean soup at the local Hacienda de Tamale? What about what the French President said here last year? Not to mention what he just recently had to say about The messiah. And really, does the bad opinion of someone you don't know three thousand miles away really have any effect on your day-to-day life?

Apparently it does. Even though it doesn't.

So we see that a majority of the nation has ushered in a man who is not qualified to manage a MacWendyKing on Image and Emotion alone.

You've made your bed, now you must lie in it.

Having been wrong before does not prevent me from making another prediction: I believe that the Presidency of Obama will rally the masses from their stupor. When the going gets tough, the tough move to the newly seceded Alaska, under the firm and good direction of President Palin.

Confused Symbolism

It is hard to believe that the Presidential Campaign that started in 2007 is all but over. It is even harder to believe that we are left with two less than enthusing choices.

My man Thompson, Better Fred Than Dead, came in to weak and got killed off early in the fight. I didn't even get a chance to vote for him in our local primary. I had to scribble the box for Romney. And even that was to no affect after McCain and Huckabee teamed up to sandbag that honorable mormon. And the shu-in from the start of the campaign, Conventional wisdom's choice, Mr. Mayor, Judy Ruliani, went down in flames early. Which was really no great loss to me. If he had been the nominee instead I would have been still holding my nose as I scratched my opposition to Democrat Liberalism. The lesser of two weevils, you know.

When Thompson "suspended" his campaign, I was downhearted. And then when it became apparent that McCain was going to become the nominee for the Republican party, and by proxy the best candidate for us Conservatives Firsts, I became politically morose. I even thought about not voting this year.

But I soon got over that. Not voting, is a vote for the opposition. It's true. Even for those of us who are lost on a sea of blue. We can take some small conciliation in knowing that one red vote will cancel out one blue vote. And if enough of us red coats turn out, we can send those Blue Rebels packin'! Miracles do happen you know. You Betcha!

And then that happened. Palin was summoned from the Great North Country, the land that the contiguous forty-eight forgot. At first I was skeptical. I didn't know hardly anything about her. Except that she was in her early forties, and I had recently seen a picture of her at an Alaskan State press conference, very pregnant with her fifth child and looking good. I knew that she was a Republican, and that she was doing good works there in Alaska, but that was it. But as the days passed I began to grow more confident in the choice. And by the time we arrived at the RNC I was convinced that she was a good choice. And then I heard her speak. And I KNEW she was the best possible choice that McCain could have ever made. If for no other reason than by hearing what all of the media elites and the political pundants had to say: "Oh, this it the biggest mistake McCain could have ever made!" But we know better, don't we, my fellow Bitter Clingers.

It was also at that conference that my boy Thompson gave the most rousing speech of all the has-been fellas. I turned to Belle and said "Why wasn't he talking like this in the primaries? Could you imagine a Thompson-Palin ticket?"

But then McCain, or his advisers, depends on who you listen to, got ahold of Palin and said, "We have got to tone her down. We have to appeal to our beloved moderates. That conservative saber rattling will never do." And the rose bloom had a dark, wet blanket thrown over it. BUT, about three weeks ago the Bulldog chewed a hole in that dirty packing tarp and came out snapping. Just in the nick of time.

But was it enough? We'll know tomorrow night.

You have pro'bly noticed that I haven't said anything about the opposition ticket: Obiden. What's there to say? There's not much to say except that anyone who votes for Obiden is willingly ignor-let me be more blunt: Stupid On Purpose.

I have a good friend, used to be anyway, who is voting for Obiden. And in my rousing conversations with him, I became aware that he was not voting for Obiden out of a logical, conclusive, reasoning, deducing mind. (I know that sounds really bad, but I really do love him. He was closer than a brother for years and years.) My friend is voting for Obiden out of simple emotion. He has been seduced by the image that is Obama. The appearance that he is intelligent. That he is well spoken. That he can restore our standing in the world. I don't doubt that Mr. Obama is smart. The fact that he has gotten as far as he has proves that he has some kind of smarts. However, I believe that they are the smarts created by brawling in the gutter.
And it has served him well. Politics is war after all. If only our combatant had been aware of that.

But the race is not to the swift, nor to the strong, but to him that endureth to the end (NLIT - New Living Incomplete Translation-see how easy it is to create your own version.)

Undoubtedly this has been a race of mixed up mascots. The GOP has the Elephant and the Dems have the donkey. But it has been the great *ah-hem* white Elephant that the media-wing of the democrat party has been pushing toward the wire, and it is the stubborn maverick donkey that you and I have been left with the task of dragging across the finish line.

If you are eighteen. Vote. And when all the rhetoric is boiled down, you are left with only two clear criterion for making your final decision: Your pocket book. And your conscience. If you don't fully understand the greater impact of the financial debate, ask someone you trust to 'splain it to you. And if you don't have a conscience: shame on you.

One final thought. Look everywhere, and they all say that Barry's the next President. Conventional wisdom has thus declared it so. I don't subscribe to that magazine. I believe that McCain and Palin are going to pull this one out of the bag. And I don't believe that it is going to be by 500 votes in Florida. It will be undeniable. This will be the October surprise, only in November. It will be contested by the Dems, but just like in 2000, every time they count the votes, the winner's lead will increase.

Conformity

Soo very rarely does something come across the net that I find genuinely interesting. You know, all those quizzes and test that you can take. Like "What does your front door say about you." As if you, if you're still living with your parents or with someone else, even chose the color of your door, or even worse, chose your house BECAUSE of the front door. Or the "What kinda mocha are you." Or there is the quizzes that you can take, but never answer every question honestly or at least directly. Come on, you know what I'm talking about. For example: Q: What is your favorite color? A: That color that is like orange but without the yellow, and like pink, but without the white.

Now imagine that the question is not about colors, but something that is actually important. Come on, you know what I'm talking about!

You've prob'ly noticed that I have never done those. What's the point, if I'm not willing to answer each question with the same degree of directness and honesty? It would feel like taking a test but failing it on purpose.

But then I saw something that was being passed around that I thought was really cool. The Blog Readability Test. The concept of something external looking at my blog and judging it, for some reason appealed to me.

So I bounced around to everyone's blog (yes, the entire blog-o-sphere) and saw the collective results. And then I tried mine. And nothing happened. It said "We were unable to check the URL you entered."

"What?" I squinted incredulously at the screen. So I tried it again. Same result. "This stupid thing," I muttered and navigated away. But that wasn't the end. I couldn't help but think about it. I was faced with a problem and I wanted to find the answer. Silly. I know. Then it hit me, lets try it without the preceding web directions. You know, the http and the www. thingies. So I did that. Copied my url without the webdircts and bounced over to the readability test sight. And what did I see? DU-UH! They had already hardcoded the http:// into the page!

So it should come as no surprise that my readability is:

TV Reviews

Go figure. I am in agreement with CowgirlE and Daisy, the lower the scoring the better. If only I could have gotten a Preschool level! Then all my *ah-hem* nemeses would be vindicated.

But Belle and I couldn't figure out how MY blog, with it's monster posts and big worded rants rated an Elementary School comprehension level and hers, with short observations and lotsa pics got a . . . well I'll let her tell you for herself, if she wants to.

. . .

So it has been almost four months since I last posted. That's pretty lousy. It hasn't been for the lack of action to report on, that's for sure. If I was in the service, I'ld probly be drawn up on charges of "dereliction of duty." You know, not getting my paperwork turned in.

So here's what's happened since I last rambled on about a stupid movie.

On July 10th, I rolled my van. Yeah, I know. Stoopid. It was crazy. Long story short, I'm alright, the dog's alright, and the van was totalled. But, God is good and I was in a new van by the 2nd of August. A newer van. A bigger van. One with a bigger motor that actually moves when you put you foot down.

This is the old van

Sorry, no pics of the new one. It looks just the same as this model, only a little taller. And obviously without the rusty scratches.

Then on July 15th, Puggles, or Mea as some call her, was born and I stayed home for a couple of weeks watching film noir and taking care of Belle. That was the week that the kids had camp. It was nice and quiet. Verrry Niiiiiice. I recommend it for all parents of multiple children. Definitely farm them off whenever you have the chance. That was also the week that that I almost posted. It was a post that was going to be titled "Why I Shouldn't Be A Stay At Home Dad." I'm used to leaving everyday, going and strenuously laboring in some far off place and then coming home every night to a wonderful loving wife and family. I was glad that Belle was back up when she was. Not a moment too soon. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind doing the dishes and making the meals, lunches and breakfasts anyway, but I was beginning to get a little stir crazy.

Those are the two things that stand out the most, in a non-spectacular three/four months filled with the hum-drum of normal life

That, and The Dark Knight! I was pleasantly surprised when I heard Doug Redenius, Vice President of the Ian Flemming Foundation (don't worry, I had never heard of him before yesterday) on the radio agree with me that The Dark Knight is the best movie ever made. If you haven't seen it yet, then what are you waiting for? Come on, you gotta help push it into One Billion. That's right, last I checked, the movie that cost them 1.8 million has grossed, world wide, 980+ million. HooYah!

I was going to post about Film Noir also. I may yet. Our local library is growing it's DVD collection (I think they are planning on putting BlockWood Video out of business). In their stacks they have a burgeoning number of true classics. You know, black and white, before the moral morass of the late sixties, early seventies.

Hey Jak, don't change the name of your blog. You have got a great original name. flowershop girl. It's quick, concise, to the point. It's WHAT you are, not WHO you are. It's a like a scullery maid. It's just her job, it only describes her current position. Not what she wants to be, not what she dreams and hopes and is striving to be. And I think that you have done a pretty good job at telling us what the current flowershop girls wants to be. Something more than she is. If nothing else, it has been good therapy for you.

Saturdays Gone

What did you do last Saturday? I hope it was more than I did. And more than I am doing today (I started this last Sunday) All I did was lay around and read, and fend off climbing, clambering, screaming, squawking, tricycle motors. (That is actually an accurate description of one.)

I spent the morning reading up on G.I. Joe. When I was about six or seven I was given my first second hand G.I. Joe action figure, Mutt, and that was it. It was on. Until I was thirteen that was all I spent my money on: Joes, and G.I. Joe Comics. Of course, the comics continued past 13.

What got me started on my Joe diving last Saturday is that I bounced over to IMDB (which KitKat has still not answered my question about). They have finally made a G.I. Joe movie, due to be released in '09. And much to my chagrin, I think that they have messed it up but good. I am SO TOTALLY looking forward to being proven wrong. I was whining to Belle that I have been waiting for this movie for ten years, and it threatens ominously to be another X-men.

Now, I was never a big fan of the X-men comics as a whole, all those crazy mutant "powers" with their pretentious, ostentatious galactic conflicts between good and bad mutants while normal humans squabbled in fear and stereotypical prejudice in the background, suffering the consequences of "homo-superior's" actions. But there where certain characters that I did like.

I always liked Wolverine, the tough, military anti-hero who was paternally protective of the defenseless teenage girls on their own. I always liked Storm, her black skin and white hair and ability to control air currents to fly (among other weather related abilities). Who hasn't wanted to be able to fly? I think that it's a Divine inspiration that has managed to prevail in popular literature. But I digress. Last but not least (did you know that Shakespeare coined that phrase?) There's Rouge, who could absorb the abilities of others; the villain who saw the light and was filled with remorse for her wrong actions and, like a good Catholic, sought to make reparations for them.

But then Brian Singer came along and mulluxed it up but good. "I don't want you to read one comic!" he emphatically told his actors. What brazen stupidity! How can you seek to remake something that came into existence before you were born and that, by popular consent, is not even broken? (We won't even bring up his travesty of a Superman) Contrast that action with those of Sam Raimi, of Spiderman. He took stacks of comics to his actors and said, essentially, "Here is your source material, this is what people expect." And boy did they ever. One of the highest grossing movies in the US and the World (7 and 17 respectively).

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against change in movies. With one caveat: the movie must stay within the confines of the source materials "flavor." Unfortunately, from preliminary observations: publicity stills, notation of six different writers (the more writers, the messier the script - many cooks ruin the soup), selection of actors, etc. I am deeply afraid that G.I. Joe is going to be like so many horrid Marvel creations, and NOT like their good ones. Of course, there's only two that I can think of at the moment, Spiderman (that includes all three, yeah, I'll go ahead and put the last one in there) and Ironman, which may be the best superhero movie ever made.

That last statement is hard to make as I love Batman Begins, Chris Nolan's reboot of the Batman franchise which was much needed and anticipated. (Tim Burton trashed it and it just went from one bad garbage dump to the next worst until we were served Batman and Robin on a dirty, fetid plate) But Nolan left out one major story development in Begins that I have always loved. In the movie, Bruce Wayne learns all of his arcane knowledge from Ras al-Ghul. But in the comics, the canon source material for all things Batman, he doesn't even encounter Ras al-Ghul until after he has become Batman and then only because Ras al-ghul's daughter, Talia, introduces them. In the comics he gains his knowledge from a wide variety of sources. He learns his martial arts form a Japanese master, illusion from a Master Stage Magician, detective skills from a Scotland Yard inspector, etc. Batman becomes possible because of the wealth of information that he gathers from many different instructors all over the world through years of study. In the movie, it's like he leaves as a college drop-out and wanders the world as a petty crook (yeah he picks up some martial arts training) but then in a very short frame of time, learns everything he needs from Ras al-Ghul, all in less then ten years, I guess. Now, I'm sure Chris Nolan, who did an awesome job and is a brilliant director, just didn't want to go the montage route or the narrator route, which is old hat for an adventure flic and would be awful for a Batman movie. But it could have be done. That's my only gripe with Batman Begins, and unfortunately, it's big enough to keep it out of the running for Best Super Hero Movie Ever

But I said all of that to get to this: Last Saturday I finished Bull Hunter, that I had barely started the night before and started on the sequel, Bull Hunter's Romance, which I have since finished. (I am now reading Mere Christianity and The Millionaire Next Door.) I thumbed my nose in the stern face of responsibility and maturity and the fact that my shed is a cluttered disaster that I have been needing to clean out and organize all spring and the fact that I haven't gotten into the bees since I hived them in the middle of April. Of course, I can only claim sloth for the last two weekends. Every other time, when I could have actually done something productive I either was, or the weather was not co-operating. But that didn't finish my day: stir craziness set in about at four-o-clock. So what did I do? Five hours later I kissed my girls good night, and told Belle that I loved her and that I would be back in a couple of hours and Cuz and I went to town at nine-o-clock.

Which is why SC wasn't updated. Instead of being productively creative, I was at the shows, watching the reboot of The Incredible Hulk. If it has caught your interest this is all I have to say: Saturday Morning Matinee. Or better yet, twilight pricing. But ONLY after you've watched your paint dry, and your grass grow.

It's not a bad movie, as pg-13's go. It does have some funny parts "You're making me . . .hungry. You won't like me when I'm hungry" Bruce Banner says in stumbling Portuguese. And some other scenes played to the American Pie crowd which WERE NOT funny at all.

Of course, Cuz and I whispered back and forth the whole show, laughing at different points, much to the disdain of our fellow movie goers. Oh, we weren't loud or obnoxious, there were others doing that for us. At one scene, involving a rain storm and a white shirt, one fellow threw both arms into the air and cheered. He was disappointed. hehehe. But one woman did give us a long look after the credits began to roll and the lights came up. It wasn't the hairy eyeball. But almost. I think she was undecided on what to think about us. Perhaps she was reserving judgement because she held similar opinions about the movie. But that's probably transference.

I was not disappointed with The Incredible Hulk because there were several scenes where I felt like the ushers had come in and flipped over to the Soap Opera Chanel or because of the cliches or the convenient rains storms (there is one scene where there is this massive explosion and subsequent fiery inferno at the end of a big fight and it starts raining, out of a clear blue sky) or because I felt like I should be in the front row with two robots. My problem with the movie is two fold: One - it is a Total Reboot. Two - the shocking lack of fidelity.

On the first matter. Ang Lee produced Hulk in 2003, a movie that I have seen once in it's entirety, when it came out on rental. I have never had a desire to see it again. Oh, I've watched it for a few minutes on TV and frankly I do love the scene where the big green guy is being hounded by Comanche attack helicopters and the General, from his command Huey says "Turn it into a parking lot" and the attack choppers launch their rockets and level a big portion of desert monument property. That's pretty cool.

But Ang Lee's project is only five years old. I was expecting this new version to be a sequel, picking up where the last left off and this thought was only encouraged by the fact that the movie opens with Bruce Banner in South America, where we see him in the last scene of Ang Lee's Hulk. But no, as the movie progresses, the writer and director make if very plain that their film is no sequel. As a builder, this really irked me. I would never in a thousand years come to a house that is only five years old and say: "Tear it down!" just because I don't like the trim or the paint colors or how the interior flows. If I was given the task of remodeling or adding to the existing structure I would find a way to correct its weaknesses, improve upon its qualities and leave its perfect parts alone. But that isn't what the makers of The Incredible Hulk have done. They stuck thumb to nose, waggled their fingers and said "Thbbbbbbbbbt!" to Ang Lee. And after they tore his infant house down, they built back a house that was exactly the same! And in some points, worse. One such is demonstratively noticeable. How Banner became the Hulk.

In Lee's version, as a child he was experimented on by his psychotic father and then as an adult he intervened in a lab experiment to save his companions, exposing himself to deadly gamma wave radiation which combined with his fathers previous medlings to produce the rage induced monster. In this current product, Banner's hardly controllable transformation is brought about by experimenting upon himself. You tell me, which is better?

On the Second Matter. The lack of fidelity. We discover that Bruce has not talked to the love of his life Betty Ross in five years (further muddying Ang Lee's waters). When he goes back to society he checks in on the girl of his past, and discovers that she has moved on. Met a new man and is apparently in a relationship with him, as is demonstrated by their mutual affection. But the moment that Betty discovers that not only is Bruce still alive, but that he is within reaching distance, she dumps the new beau as fast as you can say "Jack Spratt." As a dude, observing this action, I would have instantly been put upon my guard. "Wait a minute now . . . I'm out of you life for five years and you've moved on to a new man and now that I'm back you're just gonna run away from this guy without a word? What happens if/when I have to run again? Are you gonna go back to him?" I would have preferred to see that love expressed differently. Either she hadn't moved on, was still single, saving herself for her man, or "Bruce I love you, I'll always love you, like a very good friend. By the way this is Joe, my whatever. Anything you need that I can do for you, I'll do it." Instead, it was just plain ol' lust. "Oh, the object of my old desires, lets get it!"

The one good thing about The Incredible Hulk was the casting of Edward Norton. He is a very good actor and it helps that he is this short, scrawny man who then turns into this giant green monster. The polar differences are pretty cool. The advancement of computer technology helped also. This Hulk looks much better than Ang Lee's. He doesn't look like an over grown, simple minded farm boy. More like a professional wrestler, complete with lowered chin pointing down from broad shoulders to tapered waist.

So that's what I did last Saturday. And today is not shaping up to be much more exciting.

"Some Clarification Required."

On my post of May 11, in the comments section, KitKat made the statement "Maybe the wall is more like the protect and provision of God to new Christians... " to which I replied "I don't believe that God gives the new believer any special EXTERNAL protection. I think that philosophy is Once Saved Always Saved. What He gives them is internal, New Found Virtue by which they can resist the old familiar external temptations."

So after I had posted that comment, I continued to think about it and God brought this verse to my mind: Ps 91:1 He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. 3 Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. 4 He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

Psalms 17 and 36 also speak of the Shadow of the Almighty.

And then I was listening to Scorbee at work the other day and I heard this: Job 1:8 And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil? 9 Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, Doth Job fear God for nought? 10 Hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side? thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land. 11 But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.

So we see that God does afford external protection for his saints, but the effectiveness of that protection is dependent upon OUR actions. We must dwell (live, have all of our existence) in the secret place of the Most High in order to abide under the Shadow of the Almighty.

I like the imagery of the Over Shadowing Wing of God, like a nesting fowl protecting it's young from the elements and from predators. At any time, the young chick can scurry from that protection, and at anytime the wandering chick can return, without impedance, into the protective warm.

I saw a very good picture of this the other day at the local home supply store. A pair of Geese had made their nest in one of the planter boxes right in front of the store. The sitting goose would raise its head as high as it could and hiss and bend upon every person who approached too close the Hairy Goose Eye. The third to last time that I was there, I noticed with delight, that two of the eggs had hatch. Two little yellow fluff balls where staggering about the nesting mound. For a brief period the attendant goose stood upon the nest and the two chicks huddled beneath it. Then when it was time for the goose to sit back upon the three remaining eggs, the two goslings where foisted out to huddle by themselves, looking most forlorn, if I can take the liberty of transferring my human emotions to the dumb beasts.

This has invoked in me a very curious notion. Can we not learn from God's glorious creation how we ought to behave? In the scope of this discussion, I would say that the goslings are mature Christians, and the attendant Goose is like God. That would then make the un-hatched eggs "new believers", unquestionably, inexorably dependent upon the covering and warmth of the sire and dam for existence. If we are called to be like Christ, who was God, that then places an incredible responsibility upon us for the well being of new believers.

On Prince *cough* Caspian

Honestly? I have been looking forward to this movie's release. I thought that the first movie was awesome, after having seen it in the theaters (more on that later). I think that Belle was looking forward to it more than I was though, because it means a Big Night for her. The kids go to Grandma's and then we get all polished up and go and have a nice steak dinner and then we sit side by side for two hours with no "distractions" and then Saturday morning rolls around and there still aren't any kids to wake her up three times a night (I'm a heavy sleeper. It takes dynamite to wake me) and she gets to sleep-in, undisturbed, till about eight or so. I don't know, I was still asleep. At nine.

I have been looking forward to this movie, but not nearly as much as some others on the Blogosphere. In preparation for the release, I dug our copy of the book out last month, or so, and read it as I was driving back and forth from work. In small bites, it took me a couple of days.

When I was done with the book, I was disappointed. I wanted more. I wasn't satisfied with what I got. I wanted more detail, more action. More, substance. And then I realized, that C.S. Lewis' target audience had been children, and for a kid, 6, 7, 8, it was probably a great story. But despite this lack of satisfaction, that is pro'bly a better way of describing my thoughts, I new that as a book, it would never translate directly over into a film, like, say, Lord of the Rings did. One, it would ultimately be too short, and two, it would just be a lousy motion picture. So I was curious to see how they would make it work, and made more so by the trailers that I started to see.

Belle had been Lurking flowershopgirl, because of Jak's impending information regarding her special pre-release showing of the movie, and had relayed to me what Jak had said. So I was prepared to be disappointed, with at least the beginning. Belle and I had also been talking, over steak, that with movies like this, it's best to try and curb your expectations with the exception of two: that it would be good, and that if it wasn't better, then at least it would be as good as the first one.

After much thought, I have decided that I am disappointed with it.

Now, so that I don't get screamed at for spoiling it for you, don't read any further. Go watch it, form your own opinion and then come back and finish reading. All you need to know from me, at this point, is that it's PG, though how they pulled that off I will never know, and that there is absolutely no language or sex. And Moms and Dads, if you let your kids watch this movie, but won't let them watch LOTR, I only ask: Why? Are minators, satyrs, centaurs, fauns, hags, werewolves, incantations, and evil sorceresses really better than orcs (goblins/demons) getting what they have coming to them? But, that's another discussion.

Now. On with the story

I like the way that it opened. It wraps up that whole Prince Caspian sub-story in the first ten minutes, where if they had transliterated it, it would have taken at least a half hour. And though that whole scene would have made a good TV slot, it would have been kinda slow in a Motion Picture.

I was very surprised that the first scene that you see the Pevensie kids in, one is a lying snob, and another is a brawling jerk with a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder. The writers failed to realize that, yes, they were children in the real world, but in Narnia, they had already lived a lifetime. Aslan had breathed upon them. They had grown out of their childishness, their "adolescent fears." This would have made them odd in the real world. Superior, in the true sense, and very mature in their comportment. It had only been a year for them; the memories of a lifetime in Narnia would still be fresh, vibrant, overshadowing their behavior. If the one had been approached by a curious boy she would have been sweet and understanding. And if the one had gotten into a scrap, say, defending the defenseless, he would never have been mastered. He really would have "sorted" it. Narnian years of martial training would have seen to that. Especially when later, he "takes it to the enemy."

Its convenient how they explained how Trumpkin comes to be captured by Telmarines and about to be drowned, though I don't know how or why in the world they would have taken him all the way to Cair Paravel to do it. Where was Mirazes castle anyway?

The mice were cool. Vicious little assassins. Ankle and throat slashers.

I liked the added scene: the storming of Mirazes castle. That was cool. The gryphons are awesome. I want one. The best scene is when Edmund is deposited on the minaret roof and then you just see gryphon feet silently snatch up the wary guard. But then it turned into what it did. And it ended very poorly. When Glenstorm nods to his son, all those Narnian's left behind would have rallied to at least try and make a difference.

And what is up with the whole Susan/Caspian thing? And the kiss at the end? That just made her look easy and loose. Are they trying to set her up for The Last Battle? What can we expect in Dawn Treader? Painted face and riding in hot rods with boys? Sorry, I forget for a moment that that is an American institution. I could understand the initial reaction: Caspian to himself: That's Queen Susan? Dang, she cute! Susan to herself: Oh, that's Caspian? Wow, he handsome! But then to have it turn into some sort of romance? How? When did they have time? Comradeship forged by war, absolutely. It was a waste of time to try and gin up anything more. It left me confuzzled and ultimately disappointed. Did they really need to pander to the teeny-boppers like that?

The best part of the movie: when Edmund delivers Peter's letter to Miraz. That was clever, and smart. That whole scene was awesome.

Come to think of it, I think that Edmund was not only the best actor in the bunch, but his scenes where the strongest.

And then it just ends. The kids go home, and inside of thirty seconds the credits roll. What about all that conflict at the beginning? Where is the resolution to that? Where is the change in those two unlikable characters that we thought we knew?

There is no resolution to their real world predicament. There is no evidence of change in their previously flawed characters.

Even when "Phyllis" is given the chance to make right her wrong, she doesn't. Are we left to believe that perhaps the director saw nothing wrong with this behavior? Where were the producers who owned the rights to the story? Why didn't they set this wrong right?

And where was Aslan? You hardly see him at all. He was much more predominate in the book.

Ultimately, there were too many mistakes, and not just minor. Too many cliched shots, like five people hiding in bright clothes behind a small pile of logs in the middle of hundreds of pairs of eyes, some of which belonged to war tested Generals and Kings; falling off of towers with smiles on faces to be snatched up by flying wings, like Gandalf from Fellowship; blurry, slow motion sword fights that were always awful anyway but made archaic with the advent of Hero and House of Flying Daggers and Gladiator. And far too many cliche's in the dialogue. To many "You're not what I expected . . .Neither are you" lines for at least the first hour and a half. There was a point where the dialogue and the action got noticeably better, or perhaps it's more accurate to say that I didn't notice anymore cliches. It became more natural, fresh, flowed smoother. I think it was about the castle scene or just after.

I would really like to know who wrote what? Three people wrote this one; four for TLWW. Unless it's a writing team, that writes better as two people than most people by themselves, you run the risk of muddying the waters. Many times you end up with wallpaper over original paint and new paint over that wallpaper and new wallpaper over all of that: a great big mess. (exactly)

Now, I understand that their target audience was PG; children. But they forget about all of the adults who, as children, read the books and were looking forward to an acceptable interpretation of Master Lewis' dream. My girls won't be watching this one when it comes home on DVD. At least not for a while. 10, 12, 13 maybe. And if they were targeting children, then why was it so violent? I was expecting it to be like the first, with it's cut away scenes. Is that what they want? Stupid, silly, loose, violent children?

It was nothing like Enchanted, which I think is the cutest movie I have ever seen. Enchanted is kid friendly, at lest until the end, but smart and honestly funny. Prince Caspian had none of that. Smart and Original were left unemployed for too long.

But honestly, Incomplete, what do you expect from the director of Shrek? But the first one was so good! Yes it was. In small doses. The more you watch it, the more it's short comings are made apparent. As good as it is, it is no Princess Bride: timeless

Would I recommend going and seeing Prince Caspian? Sure. But only once. And if you can catch the twilight matinee (5 bucks around here) do that. Cuz called me on the phone and asked me what I thought. I gave him the nutshell of this briefing. He's gonna go check it out.

It's not bad. It's just not nearly as good as it could have been. What would be cool, in my humble opinion, is if they fired the director and got someone fresh. Maybe Michael Bay is available, or John Favreau, or even Kurt Wimmer. Heck, maybe Sam Raimi would even consider it, as long as he didn't try and push it over the top like he did with Spider Man 3. Of course, my preferred choice would be Peter Jackson, but that's expecting too much. After all, he is already getting a good slice of the pie with Weta doing so much already.

The second best part of the movie? Regina Spektor and The Call. I can't get enought of it.

I won't be buying any of her albums, but I love her voice. Blue eyed soul wrapped in an anti-folk package. Makes me think of my sis KitKat and my sisinlaw KT. Not the voice, the face and the behavior. I spent two hours last night watching her videos on YouTube. Let's just say, she needs Jesus.

So, go enjoy. And don't be afraid to tell me where I'm wrong. I crave change.

Long time no . . . write

So there really isn't any room for me to say "It feels like forever since I've written" because it has been.

My excuse? The usual: extremely busy. Everyone wants to be their own boss, own their own business, reap the benefits of cutting out the Middle Man who's getting all the money any way, of orchestrating their work schedule as they like. They want all the glory, not realizing that owning your own business is a LOT of work.

I knew that it would be, but I didn't know how much. I think that it's something like courtship. You find yourself madly in love with a person and you just want to spend all of your time with them and you don't see any of their faults, the fire, or passion, is burning white hot, welding hot(I like to use blacksmith terminology). Sparks fly (the euphoric ones) and all is bliss. Then you get married and the fire cools, as it is supposed to (if the fire stays welding hot for too long, the metal burns up) and you discover that you never REALLY new the person you were so crazy about. Then the work begins. I believe that God created this. Because if we new before hand how difficult it was going to be, very few people would ever do it willingly.

I think that that is why so many business (and marriages) fail. Because they didn't know what they were getting into (who does?) and they were never able to get the heat just right. In business, they work too hard, take on too much work, fail to control the quality-the fire got too hot. Or they didn't work hard enough, or they thought that they didn't have to work hard, or they "lost their shirt" too many times-the fire was too cold. I have come to strongly believe that life is a razor's edge. Jesus put it the best way: 13Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: 14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it Matt 7.

Pilgrims Progress depicts it as a walled lane. I don't agree with this view. I think that the Christian walk, and life, is a narrow hogback. On the left hand is the world and all of its sorrows, on the right hand is the Religious System and all it's confusion. I am always encouraged by Jesus' prayer in John 17 13 And now come I to thee; and these things I speak in the world, that they might have my joy fulfilled in themselves. 14 I have given them thy word; and the world hath hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. 15 I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil. 16 They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. 17 ¶ Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth. 18 As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world. 19 And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth. 20 ¶ Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word; 21 That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. 22 And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: 23 I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me. Doesn't that just reverberate in the core of your being?

I was saying that I didn't agree with Mr. Bunyan's depiction of the Christian walk. I think that the way is lined with narrow gates, Jesus Christ, admitting all who find it freely onto the narrow way. But not all travelers have experienced the long journey. Jesus again said as much with the parable of the hirelings; how the master hired men all through the day and payed them all the same wages at the end of the day.

But how did I get on to all of that?

I have been busy. The project that I have been on since last June is finally winding down. Pro'bly in the next three weeks I'll be all wrapped up. Of course, I have been saying that for the last three months. But my customer is awesome and the job has been really good. I don't have anything major lined up after, but God has always provided for us. Our needs are always met. I have discovered that I am only limited by my own motivation.

So, okay. I think that that is probably pretty good for now.

P.S. For those of you who have linked to me, or tagged me, thanks. I love you guys, and I love that you're thinking about me, and please don't be offended when I don't tag you back. Feel free to ask me why, if you want.

I'm outy.

At Long Last

I was listening to THE MAN the other day and he read this article on the air written by a columnist named Gary Hubbel and I had to stand up and salute. Finally, someone has had the nerve to write what everyman is really thinking. No apologies. No qualifiers. No pulled punches. I don't know that Angry White Man is the best identifier, but I think that he might be using the current catch phrase that inaccurately describes REAL men. We're frustrated. And often times irritated. And everyday we get out of bed and ask God how we can make a difference in our world today and to give us the strength to do our best and to be brutally honest with ourselves.

I agreed with everything that Mr. Hubbel had to say, with the exception of one line involving a reference to a "blue moon." Check it out: In election 2008, don’t forget Angry White Man.

Bon Voyage!

So, I finally saw Life is Beautiful. It was good. The writer/director is a genius. It was very well woven together. You see all sorts of little things happening in the background that are brought into the forefront later in the film. I even got choked-up at one scene, where the hero selects a record, puts it on a gramaphone and turns the bell to an open window. Belle bawled like a baby(just in general). Definitely worth seeing. The only thing wrong with it, is some marital referrences. I think that's why it's PG-13.

I love foreign films because you never know how the movie is going to turn out. I don't always like how they turn out, but that's part of the fun. Most of the time, you can see how all these other countries are several years behind in their technology and technique. Sometimes, as with Zhang Yimou, you can see how they're just Masters in their own right. It's like when I was a kid and still living in California and would go to the midwest, and would see how everyone was wearing last years fashions, styling their hair in trends that were dead and gone back home, and how even the radio stations would be playing songs that were already forgotten in Cali. I wonder if it's still like that, or if technology has equalized things. It's been so long since I've been home.

American movies are somewhat predictable. Probly because of how many of them have been made and are made every year. We kind of know what is going to happen next. The leader of the resistance is captured: the rebels are going to break him out. The leading lady and the leading man hate each others' guts: we know they're going to end up together at the end of the movie. But it's not like that in foreign films. At least not always. You never know where the movie is going to go. And that is half of why I like them. The other half is because of the language. I love foreign languages. Farsi has got to be the prettiest.

So that brings me to the the title of the post:

The only name that I recognized was Gérard Depardieu, and I recognized Peter Coyote, an American actor, but couldn't tell you, without looking at IMDB, what else he's been in. To my untrained ear, his French and German were perfect!

The movie starts out in a pre-war Paris, in a movie house. Hitler is posturing and France is caught in his head lights. One character glibly states later that the conflict won't last more than a couple weeks because not even Hitler wants war. In the theater we meet the leading lady, Viviane Denvers, played by Isabelle Adjani, who obviously has problems. Not just from the evident insecurity about her performance, she's the Angelina Jolie of the day, but also with a man in the main floor seating who has been watching her, not her movie. In the following scenes, we meet the aspiring author Auger, played by Grégori Derangère, who we learn is a childhood friend of and is hopelessly in love with Denvers. Always has been. And its not a romanticly sweet fact. Needless to say, he gets himself put into a tight spot because of it.

Flash forward an undisclosed period of time: Hitler is prevailing in his assualt on France and his troops are quickly approaching Paris. Everyone is fleeing to the South. Auger learns that Denvers has gone to Bordeaux with the Minister of State Jean-Étienne Beaufort, Gérard Depardieu, and so he boards an over-packed train, where he is reunited with his new found friend Raoul, played by Yvan Attal, and meets Camille, played by Virginie Ledoyen, who is a student at the University of Paris and the assistant to Professeur Kopolski, Jean-Marc Stehlé, a stateless Jew who has created an incredible liquid that everyone eventually wants.

When everyone finally arrives in Bordeaux, we learn that Raoul is a longsighted petty crook, Denvers hasn't changed at all, Auger still loves her senselessly, Camille is watching Auger, a lot, nobody wants to help Professeur Kopolski, the French governement is undecided as to what it should do, and, oh yeah, there are German's among them.

Long story short, and this has taken some serious thought: THIS IS THE BEST MOVIE THAT I HAVE SEEN SINCE THE PRESTIGE. The acting is extreemly good, and the script is tightly drawn. It's PG-13 but I think that that is for some violence. The rating noted language also, but I don't remeber much, if any. Maybe it's there in French and they didn't subtitle it

There have only been two movies that had me crawling in my seat in suspense: Frequency, with Jim "Jesus" Caviezel and Dennis Quaid, and Bon Voyage.

Bon Appetite!

Oh! How I loath where I live . . .

I have lived here, yes, in "Fiji", for 12 years and quite frankly, I still hate it. Oh, I like the towns just fine, and I love the people (my people, to be specific), and frankly I do live in one of the best towns in the state, but if God told me to move ANYWHERE, tomorrow, I would be gone by the end of the week. And not just because it is one of the most liberal states in the union. What makes it worse, is that I have lived in some of the best locals in the Nation.

The best twelve years of my life were spent in a double wide, on 40 acres of A'mon's in California. An hour and a half from the beach, from Pier 39, Monterrey, Big Sur, Carmel. An hour and half from the mountains. Camping ever summer. Skiing ever winter (multiple times).

And then I moved to Colorado for two years. God smiled when he made Colorado. Two feet of snow on Monday, 70 degrees on Saturday, and NO nasty, slimy mud.

And then I lived in Florida for 18 months. Ten minutes from the beach. Snorkeling in the spring. Surfing in the late summer. "Oh, but the summer heat" Ah, but the balmy coastal summer night breezes that refresh a languishing soul.

Then I came back here(sorry I don't have any dripping letters for that word). Where the summers are painfully hot and humid and when it rains, it just gets worse. I have come to loath summer rain storms. I no longer pray "Lord, let it rain" but rather, "Lord, let it rain . . .all week" because then maybe one or two of those days will be endurable. And the winters? Oh, why did you have to ask? The winter rains bring only one thing: muck. I don't say "mud" because that would be an insult to all mud everywhere. One step in our local slime and the mutant soil monster awakes. Inside of five feet you are covered from boot soles to hips in two inches of immobilising, living, devouring clay infused gunk. And later? When it finally decides to get cold enough to snow, like in late December? It doesn't have the decency to fall straight down like civilized snow does, say, out in Colorado, but rather it runs sideways, driven by the gale force winds, screaming in demonic glee with its icy cousins sleet and hail. And only once or twice in twelves years do you get more than an inch of snow. Then it's nice.

But what has set off this stenographical tirade? On Wednesday, the pipes froze. It was 2 degrees. Today? I raked leaves off of the lawn, and sweltered in my hoody.

Now, lest you get the wrong idea, I am not discontent living here. Ah, what a paradox. Home, is after all, where the heart is. And having married a good local girl, almost eight years ago, and at first having had a good job and currently owning a growing business, I have managed to come to a place of endurance of the unbearable local settings.

So. It's all good! Thanks for listening.