Lest We Forget

The fine folks at Southern Heritage Designs would like to remind you that Prom season is almost here. Now is the time to order the formal which will make you the envy of your peculiar particular institution.

Due to the late unpleasantness we are no longer able to ship to Kentucky. It turns out that Kentucky was actually a part of the Union, that three times as many Kentuckians joined the Federal forces as the Confederacy, and that when the beloved Gen'l Albert Sidney Johnston marched on Bowling Green in 1862, expecting throngs of volunteers to flock to the Lost Cause he found instead "much hostility".

Who knew? Evidently not readers of public school history texts. Certainly no reader of Shelby Foote's much-acclaimed Civil War trilogy, which refers to three Kentucky-born Confederate general officers coming to "the defense" of their state, an odd choice of term when it was their side which had invaded, and speaks of the period of Kentucky "neutrality" [quotes in original] as though it were something imposed on the citizens from outside. We apologize for any inconvenience.

Friday Vinyl Shuffle

Last week's inaugural shuffle was so popular I decided to do the stairs again this week, even though the Grand Unified Media Selector and I Ching Generator is now fully operational--in time, I hope, to prevent my having to reveal I own Moon Martin's Escape from Domination. It has also occurred to me, too late, that I could have saved the programming and just bought thirty-eight K-Tel™ Record Selectors. Oh well:

Game Theory: I've Tried Subtlety
Wire: The 15th
Pere Ubu: Radiation Waves
Family: Between Blue and Me
Ian Dury: Inbetweenies
Gruppo Sportivo: P.S. 78
Los Lobos: Evangeline
Iggy Pop: Mr. Dynamite
Graham Parker and the Rumour: Help Me Shake It
Was (Not Was): Boy's Gone Crazy

Dennis Miller Time

Dennis Miller was the guest on The Daily Show last night and raised a couple of interesting questions, such as why he was given two segments and WTF does he think he's doing with his career, if any.

Miller's schtick was wholly scripted, which allowed him to follow the time-honored showbiz tradition of bringing the show to a screeching halt right off the bat. Sal Mineo's chalk outline? Popeye Doyle and the Peter Principle? He righted himself momentarily with a Pope joke ("I don't know about you, but when I see a German guy on a balcony and cheering throngs below, I get nervous") before lurching into unwatchability. Then came the moment I tuned in for in the first place: "I know a lot of you think I'm a right-wing nut because I backed Bush and the war, but I'm a libertarian." This, by way of explaining that he was actually personally opposed to child molestation by priests (!). Really? That's what distinguishes the libertarian wing of the party now--it believes that child abuse laws should extend to religious figures?

Then came the second segment. Lordy. They should have booked the chimp. "I'm a libertarian" about three more times, apparently playing to TDS's dope-smoking demo, a defense of the war on Iraq based on the fact that it was a handy target, and a riff on the ridiculousness of global warming. Sheesh, Dennis, is that CNBC audience too big for you? The fall from C-list comedian to no-list comedian to Netscape pitchman hasn't been rapid enough?

I switched over to the last few minutes of his own show, which I hadn't seen since day two. His skills are not improving, but I noticed something which also happened when he was with Jon. Miller now careens into people on stage, fist-bumps guests, etc., in what comes across as a desperate attempt to demonstrate that he's not a right-wing nut. He's a libertarian. And zany.

I don't get it. It has nothing whatsoever to do with his political views, for me, but the violation of a cardinal rule of comedy: you can't expect us to laugh at your view of the world's foibles unless you include your own. Otherwise you're like Jack E. Leonard peaking though the curtains at a half-empty house before a dinner theatre production of Waiting for Godot. Babe.

Ann Coulter Time

I don't care about Ann Coulter. That doesn't mean I don't find her beneath contempt. But basically she's a comic foil for World O'Crap and TBogg, and a target for vitriol on a dozen other blogs I read, and that's sufficient. She's not just the voice of aggressive stupidity, she's the voice of an aggressive stupidity which takes pride in its own stupidity, and if I need to hear that I know a number of people who can provide it without my having to pay them a book royalty or further their celebrity.

No, the big problem with Ann Coulter is the "news" culture, and the larger entertainment culture which has subsumed it, which rewards loud-mouthed loutishness with little concern for content. Ann Coulter eats bugs on teevee for the chance to win fabulous prizes. I'm old enough, and conservative enough, to believe that public discourse ought to be conducted with the proper gravitas. I also believe that there's a place for outlandishness in that discourse; it just shouldn't be allowed to drown out serious debate. So yes, there's bug eating and then there's bug eating.

Ann's impinged herself on my resisting consciousness twice now in recent days. The first was when I noticed a low-level rebranding operation going on. "Oh, she's not really serious about the things she says," was the new line. The idea is simply breathtaking. In what way is that not a greater condemnation of the woman than taking her seriously would be?

The second, of course, is Time putting her on the cover along with a piece which would have given a professional fluffer TMJ, one week after naming her one of its "100 Most Influential People". I have no concern about Time's reputation (apparently, neither do they), but they might want to rethink sending John Cloud out to reveal that massive chip on his shoulder. Shoddy journalism is a much bigger threat than some pathological attention seeker who's too crazy even for the National Review.

Wall To Wall

Turned on CNN three times today, at random. All Pope all the time, apparently.

I'd like Amy Sullivan to consider what pandering has accomplished for CNN's ratings.

That's Funny

Okay, time to open the envelope and reveal my Final Four predictions. And remember, I don't get paid unless I can find where my paycheck is hidden.

Life of Brian vs. Dr. Strangelove

Duck Soup vs. Raising Arizona

Is that scoffing I hear? I'll clear the room. Remember, before the competition began I said that Brackets 3 & 4 belonged to the Brothers. Strangelove is a gimme. And Python beats Brooks on the reputation of their respective bodies of work, after both cleaned up on the three better films in the category, which were all in black and white and probably half unseen.

So, two films from the certified Comedy Pantheon vs. the two best moderns on the list, and justice is served at the top. Which is cold comfort to the character-and-dialogue driven works that crashed early, but then one commenter on the bracket-setting round likened The Ladykillers to Jacques Tati and Jerry Lewis, so what did you expect?

Okay, Here's The Thing I Don't Understand

CNN:

As a young priest he was on the progressive side of theological debates but shifted to the right after the student revolutions of 1968

So, now you're twelve years old when the Fatherland invades Poland, and if I recall my history correctly, things were a little bumpy in Europe there for the next couple years. You're a reluctant Hitler Youth and serve on an anti-aircraft gun crew. Then you find your calling in the Church.

And your Road to Damascus moment is a bunch of French hippies parading with banners?



Official Benedict XVI photo courtesy General J.C. Christian.

There's Two Sides To Every Two-Headed Coin

Forgive me, I don't check in with Howie Kurtz very often, but haven't I seen this exact same column before?

The growing tide of personal attacks by bloggers and e-mailers "can make you really paranoid," says New York Times reporter Adam Nagourney.

Well now, that didn't take long. We're rewriting Daniel Okrent's column from last September, where he called out the big bad emailer who made Adam Nagourney cry. Yeah, it went over so well the first time.

Just what is it with these guys? The offending email to Nagourney said, "I hope your kid gets his head blown off in a Republican war." At this, said Okrent, "a limit had been passed."

But why? What limit? It's unpleasant. It's downright ugly. It also clearly expresses, however unfortunately, a political thought: "If you support the war I hope your child dies in it." I don't expect Mr. Nagourney to like it, any more than pro-reproductive rights types like being called murderers. I do expect that political reporters be somewhat conversant with the timbre of our public debate. But apparently they aren't, or else they believe what they do is so subversive to the machinations of the party in power that its opponents should be offering to buy them a beer.

The rise of the blogosphere remains one of the most exciting communications developments in decades, giving ordinary folks the chance to bite back at a media establishment widely viewed as arrogant.

Okay, the fourth-rate impersonation of an NFL Films voice-over aside, where would any of us "ordinary folks" get the idea that the media establishment is arrogant?

Where does that come from, Howie? Your paycheck, or your byline, makes you "extraordinary"? Or your teevee gig? Or, what, a journalism degree? What makes any of you any more important than a good auto mechanic or a decent bartender? If this exciting communications development called "blogging" has demonstrated anything, it's that anyone with a reasonable command of the language and a lick of sense can do your job as well as you do.

But the increasingly caustic nature of some online criticism is prompting many journalists to complain that their honesty and motivation are being trashed along with their work.

Oh yeah? Well, let 'em complain. This isn't some invention of the blogosphere, nor is it restricted to crackpots typing away in basements throughout the land. There's a real, and serious, concern about the effects of corporate ownership and advertiser influence, of dumbed-down and tarted-up coverage, rewrites of Republican blast faxes and faux-balanced, opinion pieces disguised as straight news. It's not just "ordinary people" talking about this, Howie, it's people in your own industry. Maybe if we heard that sort of thing addressed on your show, instead of these endless circle jerks of hurt and astonishment, us basement-dwellin' bumpkins would quit writing you all those emails and set about marryin' our attractive cousins and pickin' up your garbage like we oughta.

And Howie? Whatever the excesses of the great unwashed--and apparently I'm more familiar with them than a lot of journalists--you and Howard Fineman are about the last two who deserve any sympathy.

This Is No Time To Run Out Of Popcorn

Scott Lemieux at Lawyers Guns and Money points out that even David Brooks gets what Amy Sullivan don't.

Okay, but I'd still like to salvage the idea they're both wrong.

Brooks is continuing his mission to deny there's such a thing as a religious right, or rather that it holds any more sway with his party than any of the hundreds of other Republican factions which are constantly bickering about abortion and proper approaches to Edmund Burke. It's a sham, of course; you don't see the Landed Gentry faction or the Objectivist Society yanking Bush onto a plane and away from vacation. The only reason to read Brooks is to watch him try to come to grips with this without getting his hands dirty.

Brooks quotes a couple factoids, without citation, to the effect that teen pregnancy rates are dropping and the number of fifteen-year-old virgins increasing on his way to doing what he does best, the imaginary demographic dance. But Sullivan could cite those figures as evidence that the concerns of all those moral voters out there are real, and do real good. We're talking about the generation since MTV but also Just Say No, after all. If children now are benefitting from an increased respect for parents and ministers, as Brooks says, why shouldn't those parents and ministers continue to drive our politics?

But Brooks would rather live in that happy land where such people turn out every two years to vote Republican, then turn their attention back to the culture and leave their legislators the fuck alone. Faced with the end of the era when they did precisely that, Brooks wants to declare the debate settled...by the children themselves. Sure, 50 Cent releases "hit after pornographic hit", but it's just make believe, get it? You folks down there go back to sleep until we need you again, 'kay?

If Brooks has been made belatedly, like many of his non-social-radical compatriots, to see the real electoral threat to his party from a band of unfettered extremists, maybe Sullivan could, as Lemieux suggests, take the hint and let them fight it out among themselves instead of urging the Democrats to step in as peacemakers. Brooks' motivating factor isn't principle, it's fear.

Don't Blame Me, I Voted Democratic

Okay, okay, I should have known. The public has spoken--volumes--and never let it be said that I can't tell which side of the toast has the lo-fat partially hydrogenated butter substitute on it. So I'm going to be making periodic fart noises all week. Pfffffttttttttttt!!! Check in often and collect 'em all!

TV Guide™ Roundup

Finally another special Collector's Edition, the first in almost six weeks. This time it's Star Trek, as the folks at Our Favorite Checkout Line Publication belatedly acknowledge the popularity of science fiction. But, please, can't we come up with a special four-slot rack so I don't have to hunt through every copy to make sure I've got them all? The bag boy got testy when I didn't tell him I wanted paper promptly enough.

And inside it's more thrills and surprises! You can pick up TV Guide's™ memorial tribute to the recently deceased Pope John Paul II, on newsstands now. And even though I'm not sure about that "Champion of Faith" tag--I thought the replays showed His Holiness had one Shoe of the Fisherman on the line when he canned that jumper--let's put aside our differences and echo the editors: He will be missed.

Plus we get articles on Lost, Survivor: Palau, American Idol, The Amazing Race, and The O.C. And I've just created a macro.

Letters: Newark, Delaware's Larisa Parker-Watt is unhappy that Simon Cowell said Paula Abdul "wanted" him. She can get that sort of thing at the cafeteria of her local middle school. Don Stern, from rainy Seattle way, is gratified by 24's Edgar Stiles, the short, dumpy, balding hero for the rest of us. The new Battlestar Gallactica doesn't measure up to the old one, opines Joseph P. Pintar, while Norm Washecka loves Rob and Amber on The Amazing Race. Norm hails from Fort Collins, CO; I have a friend who lives there, and he name-checks Rupert from Survivor, who's from Indianapolis. Coincidence?

This week's highlighted letter features another fellow Hoosier, St. John's Jayne Kranc. In fact, there are two St. John, Indianas, one near the Region and the other down by Evansville, and I've never been to either one. Jayne thinks James Marsters, Spike of the Buffyverse (really, that's what she called it) should have his own movie, and both she and her daughters agree he looks great for a man of 42. The weird thing here is that when I first caught his pic in the lower left hand corner I thought somebody had written in about 70s pop never-was Jobriath. And I always thought he should have had his own movie.

Don't read the rest of it. Believe me.

Crossword Spoiler, and I'm gonna have to learn the code for those little boxes that hide this sort of thing until you highlight it:

1 Across ___ Dawn Chong

ANS: RAE (it's spelled funny).

If Voting Changed Anything They'd Make It Illegal

The ballots are up in HFPST's comedy film championship. Go vote for whichever film had fewer fart jokes.

Okay, it's all in fun, just like my posing as an embittered, rapidly aging crackpot. I really love this sort of thing, and I hope that comes shining through the curmudgeon dance I do to entertain the kiddies. TV Guide's™ "100 Best Friends Hairdo Moments", or Rolling Stone's "100 Greatest Stars Who Played Guitar Or Wore One As A Prop"--these are the moments I live for.

So take these comments as they're intended. Norb is much more talented and intelligent than I, a fact which is obvious to anyone who's read both, but I get the distinct impression--from him, as it happens--that he smokes entirely too much weed. When it comes to funny, you don't want the opinion of someone who smokes weed. You want the opinion of someone with seventeen major central nervous system depressants in his bloodstream. So I'm your candidate.

Seriously, though: it's gratifying that my young friend champions Preston Sturgis (even if we wound up with an Eddie-Brackenless choice) and the great Ealing comedies. But, no Road pictures? Any Bing & Bob made while they could still walk without assistance is the equal of Christopher Guest's best work, which makes any of them better than any of the modern stuff not made by the Coens, not to mention the separate slots for W.C. Fields and Harold Lloyd.


As for fart jokes, look, I'm not a snob. Blazing Saddles is an hysterical movie. But let's recall that the late Johnny Carson famously said of Chevy Chase "he couldn't ad-lib a fart at a bean dinner". He did not say "he couldn't ad-lib a remarkably rich and inventive comic universe based on an historical incident in which grace and violence, poignance and slapstick combine in unforeseen ways to show us a world flying apart in all directions at a bean dinner. And do it without sound."