Another Cheap Shot at God

This afternoon on ESPN I watched a loud and arrogant talk show host interview Falcons running back Warrick Dunn. It was a lousy interview-- all of the questions were snivelling ass-kissy ones like, "Warrick, you're one of the really good guys in the NFL, can you tell me why your charity work with single mothers is so important to you?" To which Warrick, who seemed bland and camera shy, came out with something very rehearsed, like, "Well it was a dream of my mom's and I love to see other women realizing my mom's dreams, and I just give thanks to God because none of this would be possible if he hadn't blessed me and made me talented at football. In his divine mercy. Praise him."
You hear a lot of that sort of ignorant bullshit coming out of the mouths of famous people, particularly famous athletes and famous recording artists, pointing to the ceiling of the Kingdome or whatever auditorium the MTV Music Video awards are being held in and saying "All the glory goes to God!" because without God they never could have broken that quarterback's arm or recorded the Thong Song.
Later this afternoon, still on ESPN, I heard some commentators taking cruel jabs at recently benched Chicago Bears Quarterback Chad Hutchinson while they showed some clips of Chad getting sacked by different people. And I imagined what I would say t o the press if I were Chad.
"I just want to say that all the shame goes to God. He neglected to bless me with enough talent to make it in the NFL, and I really blame him for that. I feel that He not only let me down, but also people all over our nation born with spina biffiida, who I was hoping to help with money I earned playing football. It wasn't enough that He cursed these people with a crippling physical condition, no, He has to go and refuse to bless me, thereby denying me a lucrative contract and the means to make charitable donations to these poor people who he cursed in the first place. What an asshole."

Apologies

My two most recent entries have offended some people close to me, and I wanted to take a moment to attempt to clarify and apologize. I've already done this privately, but thought it might be nice to do it publicly, to say "HEY EVERYONE, I'M A DOUCHEBAG AND HERE'S WHY."

First, over the last couple of months I have made some unkind remarks about UVA, particularly in one entry on July 29th where things got very personal and I used the word fuck in big capital letters. This irritated a friend of mine, a UVA alumna whom I love dearly, and though she was very polite and perfectly amicable about it she did call me a biggot, which I thought was inaccurate but also sort of reasonable. Cause you know, maybe I make broad stupid generalizations and form opinions quickly with little or no reliable evidence, but I am just as quick to change my mind: many's the movie/vegetable/book/person/second-largest-state-in-the-union I have come to love after an initial heavy loathing. I'm not saying I love UVA now, mind you, only that it's conceivable that at some point in the future I might. If at 25 I can enjoy a clump of raw broccoli then truly anything is possible.
So to sum up apology the first--
Jocelyn, when I say I don't like UVA what I mean is that the place makes me feel stupid. I know I couldn't have gone there and I feel like everyone there is somehow smarter than I am. Which is what that particular entry was supposed to be about, I just wasn't very clear. I'm sorry.

Second, in my August 15 entry I poke gentle fun at my sister, giving an example of a "bad" story she might tell. This offended her, and she wrote a comment to let me know that. I would like to clarify that I don't think my sister tells many bad stories at all, and that the story I was relating wasn't a bad story when she told it. If she does have a tendency to breathlessly string sentences together like the man from the Mighty Machines commercials that's not a criticism, but rather an observation. My version of the story was not meant to be a joke at her expense, but a tribute to someone I think is genuinely really funny. So please don't be mad Sarah; I think you're hilarious.

Third, to the Secretary of State, Dr. Condoleeza Rice, I'm sorry that last April I posted a disgusting story about you in which I described your nipples as "extra large raisins in [my] mouth." That was uncalled for. It's just that I like you so much and don't know how to show it. How about dinner Saturday, pick you up at 8?

Spoilers: Bailey has Leukemia; Vincent Kills Paige

On my last day in Texas I bought a copy of Sight and Sound, the British movie magazine best known for a poll it takes every ten years, asking critics and directors to determine the ten greatest movies ever made. It's easy to predict what will make the list-- Citizen Kane is always number one, followed by Rules of the Game and Vertigo and something by Kurosawa.
But that's every ten years. In between polls Sight and Sound does what every other movie magazine does, interviews filmmakers and reviews their movies. The one feature that I haven't found elsewhere, and probably my favorite part of the magazine, are the movie synopses that accompany the reviews. Every movie reviewed is also summarized; it's setting, characters and plot given in some detail with a complete listing of the film's credits. What makes it fun is that every movie receives the same serious treatment, and no matter how bad the review might be the summary is totally serious, with no hint of sarcasm or condescension.
Take this bit from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants for instance:

Tibby befriends a young girl, Bailey, later revealed to have leukemia; Lena finds romance with Kostas despite her family's disapproval; Bridget succeeds in seducing the coach; and Carmen has a showdown with her father. Carmen returns home to discover Tibby has become more in touch with her feelings since meeting Bailey. Bailey dies.

It might seem unfair to enjoy that, and granted, I don't know that Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is necessarily a bad movie. Maybe when Bailey dies it's really moving; maybe Tibby's growth is realistic and well acted. But to see the familiar formulas stripped bare and laid out for you, to see clearly what the time, money, and hard work of countless people has gone into, and laugh at them for it, it's what makes me think about buying a subscription to Sight and Sound.
Even better are the horror movies, like House of Wax:

Nick saves his sister. Dalton enters the house of wax and is decapitated by Vincent, who then goes to the clearing to stab Blake. Paige [Paris Hilton] flees, but Vincent drives a metal javelin through her head. Carly and Nick realize the town is full of wax-encased corpses created by Bo and Vincent, the separated Siamese twin sons of the late artist Trudy. Carly kills Bo, and Vincent is engulfed when the House of Wax melts in a fire. The police arrive, and reveal Trudy had three sons.

When previews came out for that movie I heard a lot of people say they wanted to see it just on the off chance that Paris Hilton's character might be killed. I found that idea appealing, but hated the idea that I might pay $7.50 only to watch her make it out alive. Now, thanks to Sight and Sound, if I rent House of Wax I do so with the certainty that Paris Hilton gets a javelin put through her head.

While we're on the subject of spoilers, I would draw your attention to the following link. Be warned, you who care about Harry Potter and have yet to finish The Half Blood Prince, it's very url gives things away.

And one more recommendation-- rapper Immortal Technique. Yes, like many hip hop artists he's egotistical, homophobic, and misogynistic. But he also says things like "Condoleeza Rice is the new age Sally Hemmings," and in my book that makes him great.

Sarah Everton's Amazing Solution For Any Boring Story or Anecdote

In Noah Baumbach's overlooked 1995 movie Kicking and Screaming, there's a scene in which a character played by Olivia d'Abo tells her soon-to-be-boyfriend a story about her childhood.
"I hate raisins. When I was a girl, my mother used to force me to eat them. Even though she knew I hated them."
The young man is puzzled, and an embarrassed Olivia d'Abo gives him two quarters.
"Here. Fifty cents. When I tell a bad story I like to pay people for their time."
I tell a lot of bad stories, and have often thought of that scene while doing it, once or twice reaching into my pocket to feel for change.

In the opposite direction from Mr. Baumbach's payment of reparations, is my sister's solution to bad storytelling-- a quick left turn towards violence. To fix any boring or pointless story Sarah just tacks on the sentence, "And then I stabbed the guy." As in, "Oh man, class today lasted forever, and my teacher asked us to discuss this book I hadn't read, and I was really nervous but I think I faked my way through it alright. But then this girl I hate, everybody hates her cause she sucks, she starts talking all this shit about the Bible and how she thinks that people who don't believe in God shouldn't yell 'Oh my God!' or 'Jesus Christ!' or anything like that. And then this guy, I think he's her friend was like 'Oh yeah, I totally think that too, but I didn't know anybody else agreed with me.' So then I stabbed the guy."

********

Lost in the mid-July shuffle of Harry Potter and his Barnes and Noble Midnight Magic Party was the unexpected success of Karrine Steffans' Confessions of a Video Vixen, a sort of hip-hop tell-all. Ms. Steffans confesses to, among other things, affairs with DMX, Jay-Z, Vin Diesel, and Shaquielle O'Neal, who supposedly would give her $10,000 every time she blew him. Its popularity is waning now, but in July, when the publisher had yet to catch up with the unexpected demand of its new bestseller, my store received at least two dozen requests for it a day, almost exclusively from black patrons.
Yesterday I was cashiering at Barnes and Noble and two young black men came in to pick up their reserved copies. When they saw the cover with Ms. Steffans' thin painted face, a look of either animal lust or the most profound boredom coming from under her heavy purple eyelids, they snorted.
"Shorty ain't nothing special," said the one.
"Yeah dog, she ain't even that thick if you know what I'm sayin'," said the other.
"B, I think I saw this girl, minus the make-up you understand, coming out of Target twenty minutes ago. Please."
I thought this was hilarious, but more importantly I was overjoyed that an unfamiliar young black man had called me "B." It's no secret that I admire black culture, and in my daydreams I am always playing basketball with people very like these two customers. To be addressed as "B," seemed the realization of that particular fantasy; that my name doesn't start with a B didn't occur to me.
"Yeah, I thought that too; I'm relieved to hear someone else say it! But I figure, maybe she's just got a cool personality."
The two men stared at me blankly, and I realized that they had been talking to each other.
"You know, like maybe she is really funny. Or just confident. Confidence can go a long way."
More blank stares.
"Do either of you gentlemen have a Barnes and Noble Membership?"
"No man, and we don't want one," said the first, irritated.
So I stabbed the guy.