I read this story online today, and, of course, it could be totally incorrect. It could be correct, though ... and if it is, then I'm worried.
As far as I can work out, the Bond producers' thought process is
1. Hire a fantastic actor who is, at first, considered an unconventional choice to play Bond.
2. Make one amazing movie with him and, quite possibly, the best Bond Girl ever to get everybody interested in Bond movies again.
3. Produce a movie with a plot revolving around "they want the oil, oh, no, never mind, they want the water."
4. Make a movie with no action scenes and a bunch of "Oscar-worthy" performances.
I have two responses.
1. Whaaattt?
2. Please, please, please hire everyone who made Casino Royale, including director Martin Campbell and Eva Green. She could just play someone who looks almost exactly like Vesper Lynd. That movie I would pay to watch. Anything resembling numbers three or four above is not going to earn my $10.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Thunderball
It almost feels unfair to even post about a movie I only half watched. It does seem, however, that the Bond producers learned their lesson: setting a large share of a movie under water is Just Not Very Interesting, let alone exciting.
I ended up, during the "big fight scene" near the end, reading Little Dorrit, a Dickens novel that may very well end up becoming one of my favorite books. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. Yes, it looks daunting, at more than eight hundred pages, but it's funny and incisive and ever so much better than something with which it has so little in common, aside from being British in origin: Thunderball.
I ended up, during the "big fight scene" near the end, reading Little Dorrit, a Dickens novel that may very well end up becoming one of my favorite books. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. Yes, it looks daunting, at more than eight hundred pages, but it's funny and incisive and ever so much better than something with which it has so little in common, aside from being British in origin: Thunderball.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Goldfinger
Goldfinger is the first movie in which all the classic elements of James Bond movies come together. Q explains Bond's toys, and gives him an extremely cool and useful car; Bond proves his wit both with his use of language and his mental calculation speed; the plot twists and surprises keep coming until the very end. Goldfinger is also the movie in which we hear the famous lines: "Do you expect me to talk?" and "No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die," just as a laser is about to slice James in half.
Goldfinger upends nearly everything I complained about in my previous post. Its main female characters are strong and interesting and not acting as though the only thing they want to do is go back to London with James Bond and have sex. Hurrah!
I don't have too much to say about the movie, in part because my viewing of it was interrupted by the freezing and skipping of the first disc Netflix sent and the one-day interval between that disc's departure and its replacement's arrival, and in part because I genuinely enjoyed it. I suppose it's easier for me to find something to say when I'm being critical. Note to self: mull this fact over; determine what it means for my everyday life.
Thunderball is next. I only hope it's as much fun as Goldfinger.
Goldfinger upends nearly everything I complained about in my previous post. Its main female characters are strong and interesting and not acting as though the only thing they want to do is go back to London with James Bond and have sex. Hurrah!
I don't have too much to say about the movie, in part because my viewing of it was interrupted by the freezing and skipping of the first disc Netflix sent and the one-day interval between that disc's departure and its replacement's arrival, and in part because I genuinely enjoyed it. I suppose it's easier for me to find something to say when I'm being critical. Note to self: mull this fact over; determine what it means for my everyday life.
Thunderball is next. I only hope it's as much fun as Goldfinger.
Friday, May 27, 2011
From Russia with Love
Having been born in the late seventies and raised by a highly-educated woman who worked outside the home for a large share of my adolescence, I grew up with certain beliefs about women and their role in society. In their essence, these beliefs are that women can do whatever they want to, including being strong and intelligent, and that real women do not spend their time running around, fawning over men and begging them for sex. Perhaps these beliefs are why Vesper Lynd, as portrayed in the 2006 film Casino Royale, is by a very long ways—perhaps several hundred miles—my favorite Bond Girl Woman.
When I read Casino Royale, the 1953 novel, I was a bit offended by Lynd and her weepy silliness. Of course, that book was written before women began achieving full legal and social equality with men. Still, some of the attitudes about women that Fleming's book expressed surprised and irritated me. Did people in such a recent decade as the Fifties truly believe women were weak and couldn't stop crying? I am sure many did, but even then, many must not have, for there is no other way to explain where we are today when it comes to women's rights and, on a less political level, how women are portrayed in films.
A former work colleague of mine told me that From Russia with Love is his favorite Bond movie, and I read on IMDb.com (which obviously could have it wrong) that it's also Daniel Craig's favorite Bond movie. I wonder whether any woman would take such a liking to such a movie.
I can, however understand the preferences of my former co-worker and Craig, at least on an intellectual level. The movie is full of double-crosses, mixed signals, mistaken identities and, to cap it all off, a plot that centers on a code-deciphering machine called a Lektor. We the audience learn from the very beginning to be on guard against duplicity. (I think this early-introduction to the movie's theme is a significant improvement over the first Bond film, and is a lesson to be learned by all aspiring filmmakers and writers.)
Now, an attentive reader might argue that the 2006 Vesper Lynd and the 1963 Tatiana Romanova have, in fact, a great deal in common. They're both double agents, may or may not actually be interested in sleeping with James Bond, are young and beautiful, and play key roles in their respective plots. With that attentive reader I would not disagree, but I would say that I am both thrilled and relieved that in the forty-three years between the portrayals of the two women, the Bond series' reflection of women's role in society has begun to approach my own beliefs.
Of course, the Bond movies are fantasy movies for men. Their prime audience has never been Gen X women who grew up with feminist mothers. Still, I'm glad to see the Bond producers have grown up along with all the rest of us.
When I read Casino Royale, the 1953 novel, I was a bit offended by Lynd and her weepy silliness. Of course, that book was written before women began achieving full legal and social equality with men. Still, some of the attitudes about women that Fleming's book expressed surprised and irritated me. Did people in such a recent decade as the Fifties truly believe women were weak and couldn't stop crying? I am sure many did, but even then, many must not have, for there is no other way to explain where we are today when it comes to women's rights and, on a less political level, how women are portrayed in films.
A former work colleague of mine told me that From Russia with Love is his favorite Bond movie, and I read on IMDb.com (which obviously could have it wrong) that it's also Daniel Craig's favorite Bond movie. I wonder whether any woman would take such a liking to such a movie.
I can, however understand the preferences of my former co-worker and Craig, at least on an intellectual level. The movie is full of double-crosses, mixed signals, mistaken identities and, to cap it all off, a plot that centers on a code-deciphering machine called a Lektor. We the audience learn from the very beginning to be on guard against duplicity. (I think this early-introduction to the movie's theme is a significant improvement over the first Bond film, and is a lesson to be learned by all aspiring filmmakers and writers.)
Now, an attentive reader might argue that the 2006 Vesper Lynd and the 1963 Tatiana Romanova have, in fact, a great deal in common. They're both double agents, may or may not actually be interested in sleeping with James Bond, are young and beautiful, and play key roles in their respective plots. With that attentive reader I would not disagree, but I would say that I am both thrilled and relieved that in the forty-three years between the portrayals of the two women, the Bond series' reflection of women's role in society has begun to approach my own beliefs.
Of course, the Bond movies are fantasy movies for men. Their prime audience has never been Gen X women who grew up with feminist mothers. Still, I'm glad to see the Bond producers have grown up along with all the rest of us.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Dr. No
Late in "Dr. No," as the titular character and James Bond are sitting at a dinner table, the not-so-good doctor tells his guest that he's nothing more than a detective. No had thought Bond was something more than that, something like a spy. Compared to the Pierce Brosnan films on which I was raised, the James Bond of "Dr. No" does in fact, feel like nothing more than a detective.
I do not mean to say the film is bad; it's good. It was just different than I had expected. The movie starts with a murder of a man who turns out to be a British spy working in Jamaica. Bond, already 007, is sent to solve the mystery. Bond runs into a series of obstacles ranging from suicide-committing drivers to lying scientists to a "dragon" that "breathes fire," and, of course, he finds a few women to sleep with along the way.
Two characteristics of "Dr. No" surprised me. First, its pacing, which was slow. Granted, movies made in the sixties were rarely paced at the rate of today's films, but filmmakers like Hitchcock used that pacing to create a level of anticipation and satisfaction that "Dr. No" lacked. Second, the stakes in "Dr. No" were not what I've grown accustomed to in Bond films. At the aforementioned dinner, Bond assesses Dr. No's ambition to be world domination, but the film itself centers on two murders (the spy and his secretary) and interrupted communications for a U.S. space launch.
Despite its limitations compared to later Bond films, "Dr. No" satisfied the audiences of 1962, who flocked to the low-budget debut. They may have had no idea that the money they were spending on tickets would be used to build what has become one of the longest-lasting and highest-grossing film franchises in history. They were probably just hoping for an entertaining couple of hours, which they got. They also got to see the beginning of something new that was not yet excellent but was certainly full of potential.
I do not mean to say the film is bad; it's good. It was just different than I had expected. The movie starts with a murder of a man who turns out to be a British spy working in Jamaica. Bond, already 007, is sent to solve the mystery. Bond runs into a series of obstacles ranging from suicide-committing drivers to lying scientists to a "dragon" that "breathes fire," and, of course, he finds a few women to sleep with along the way.
Two characteristics of "Dr. No" surprised me. First, its pacing, which was slow. Granted, movies made in the sixties were rarely paced at the rate of today's films, but filmmakers like Hitchcock used that pacing to create a level of anticipation and satisfaction that "Dr. No" lacked. Second, the stakes in "Dr. No" were not what I've grown accustomed to in Bond films. At the aforementioned dinner, Bond assesses Dr. No's ambition to be world domination, but the film itself centers on two murders (the spy and his secretary) and interrupted communications for a U.S. space launch.
Despite its limitations compared to later Bond films, "Dr. No" satisfied the audiences of 1962, who flocked to the low-budget debut. They may have had no idea that the money they were spending on tickets would be used to build what has become one of the longest-lasting and highest-grossing film franchises in history. They were probably just hoping for an entertaining couple of hours, which they got. They also got to see the beginning of something new that was not yet excellent but was certainly full of potential.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A better Vesper martini
In Casino Royale the novel, which was the first James Bond novel, Bond orders a dry martini, then thinks again and asks for something more specific: three measures Gordon's gin, one measure vodka and half a measure Kina Lillet, shaken over ice and served with a thin slice of lemon peel. Later in the story, Bond names this concoction a Vesper, after Vesper Lynd, whose name rhymes with "West Berlin", a small forewarning of her divided loyalties.
The Vesper martini showed up again in the 2006 film adaptation of Casino Royale as well as its sequel, Quantum of Solace, and when I decided to watch all the Bond movies this year, I decided I also wanted to try a Vesper martini. Kina Lillet has not been produced since 1986, but the Lillet brand does produce Lillet Blanc, which it contends is the "modern equivalent" of Kina Lillet. In fact, the recipe for the Vesper is the first recipe on Lillet's web site for a cocktail made with Lillet Blanc (though the site lists it as the "Casino Royale cocktail"). (If you are curious enough and can read French well enough, you will discover that Lillet's French-language website has the results of a scientific study conducted on whether the Vesper will taste different when shaken versus when stirred.)
Lillet Blanc is an aperitif wine, which means that it's meant to be drunk before a meal, either on its own or with some light appetizers, and that it will stimulate the drinker's appetite. It's lovely on its own because it is light and a bit fruity and has a slight bitterness to it. But the Vesper, as made with Lillet Blanc, is neither memorable nor original. It just tastes like gin mixed with vodka and a little bit of something unidentifiable but uninteresting. You can't figure out what that something is, but you aren't motivated to spend much time thinking about it.
As far as I was concerned, my Vesper experiment was useful because I learned that this particular cocktail was OK, but not something I would make an effort to drink again. I did come out of the experiment with a satisfying discovery: I liked Lillet Blanc and would make it a regular member of my very small spirits collection.
Then I heard about an Italian aperitif wine that actually tasted the way Kina Lillet did, because, although Lillet Blanc may be modern, it is not really an equivalent of Kina Lillet in terms of taste. I found a bottle of Cocchi Americano yesterday and gave it a couple of tries, first on its own and then in a Vesper.
On its own, Cocchi Americano is sugary at the start and bitter (much bitterer than Lillet Blanc) at the end. It's not something I would drink the way the Italians do (with soda and slice of citrus fruit), but if you need a drink that will wake up your senses and clear out your sinuses, the Italians have the ideal recipe.
What Cocchi Americano does amazingly well is wake up the once-uninteresting Vesper and turn it into a martini that I actually want to drink again. The gin and vodka mellow the sharp sugary-bitter contrast of the Cocchi Americano and the Cocchi Americano gives the flavors of the gin and vodka somewhere to go at the end of their date, which is perfectly appropriate considering the namesake of this cocktail. After all, Vesper is a mysterious, alluring woman whose will is divided, a woman whom Bond will never forget. She's the woman who woke up his heart. She is also the woman who broke it.
Don't worry, though, Cocchi Americano won't break your heart, though you may go a bit nuts trying to find it. If you're in the San Francisco Bay Area, K&L Wines carries it, and they will apparently ship it, once again proving my theory that the Best Thing About the Internet is the Shopping.
The Vesper martini showed up again in the 2006 film adaptation of Casino Royale as well as its sequel, Quantum of Solace, and when I decided to watch all the Bond movies this year, I decided I also wanted to try a Vesper martini. Kina Lillet has not been produced since 1986, but the Lillet brand does produce Lillet Blanc, which it contends is the "modern equivalent" of Kina Lillet. In fact, the recipe for the Vesper is the first recipe on Lillet's web site for a cocktail made with Lillet Blanc (though the site lists it as the "Casino Royale cocktail"). (If you are curious enough and can read French well enough, you will discover that Lillet's French-language website has the results of a scientific study conducted on whether the Vesper will taste different when shaken versus when stirred.)
Lillet Blanc is an aperitif wine, which means that it's meant to be drunk before a meal, either on its own or with some light appetizers, and that it will stimulate the drinker's appetite. It's lovely on its own because it is light and a bit fruity and has a slight bitterness to it. But the Vesper, as made with Lillet Blanc, is neither memorable nor original. It just tastes like gin mixed with vodka and a little bit of something unidentifiable but uninteresting. You can't figure out what that something is, but you aren't motivated to spend much time thinking about it.
As far as I was concerned, my Vesper experiment was useful because I learned that this particular cocktail was OK, but not something I would make an effort to drink again. I did come out of the experiment with a satisfying discovery: I liked Lillet Blanc and would make it a regular member of my very small spirits collection.
Then I heard about an Italian aperitif wine that actually tasted the way Kina Lillet did, because, although Lillet Blanc may be modern, it is not really an equivalent of Kina Lillet in terms of taste. I found a bottle of Cocchi Americano yesterday and gave it a couple of tries, first on its own and then in a Vesper.
On its own, Cocchi Americano is sugary at the start and bitter (much bitterer than Lillet Blanc) at the end. It's not something I would drink the way the Italians do (with soda and slice of citrus fruit), but if you need a drink that will wake up your senses and clear out your sinuses, the Italians have the ideal recipe.
What Cocchi Americano does amazingly well is wake up the once-uninteresting Vesper and turn it into a martini that I actually want to drink again. The gin and vodka mellow the sharp sugary-bitter contrast of the Cocchi Americano and the Cocchi Americano gives the flavors of the gin and vodka somewhere to go at the end of their date, which is perfectly appropriate considering the namesake of this cocktail. After all, Vesper is a mysterious, alluring woman whose will is divided, a woman whom Bond will never forget. She's the woman who woke up his heart. She is also the woman who broke it.
Don't worry, though, Cocchi Americano won't break your heart, though you may go a bit nuts trying to find it. If you're in the San Francisco Bay Area, K&L Wines carries it, and they will apparently ship it, once again proving my theory that the Best Thing About the Internet is the Shopping.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
A year of Bond-ing
Last year, I read all six of Jane Austen's completed novels (along with more than 20 other books). This year, I've decided to do a completely different sort of project and watch all 22 Bond movies, in order. Now, I know you may not agree that this endeavour ought to be called a "project", but I have yet to think of a better word for it, so that's what we're sticking with for now.
I realize that 2011's project isn't exactly the intellectual equal of 2010's project, but my one and only New Year's Resolution for 2011 is "To Have More Fun". Bond movies, at least as I first knew them -- full of Pierce Brosnan looking handsome and playing with cool toys -- were always just that: fun. Of course, since Casino Royale, the Bond series has taken on a different primary adjective, but we'll leave discussion of that for later.
The idea for this project began in a visit from a friend of mine who lives in DC. He and I were hanging out in North Beach, in the coffee shop where Francis Ford Coppola wrote the screenplay for The Godfather, when (I don't recall how) the most recent Bond movie came up as a topic of conversation. I expressed my disappointment in Quantum of Solace, especially as a follow-up to Casino Royale. My friend, whose love for the Bond series, and films in general, quickly showed on his face, persuaded me to give Quantum of Solace another try, and to consider watching it right after watching Casino Royale. So I did, and he was right: QoS is a better movie than I had originally given it credit for being, and it is indeed better when viewed directly following CR. I still don't like QoS much, especially as a Bond film, because Bond films are supposed to be fun dammit, but I do appreciate it more now.
After watching CR again and re-reading the original Ian Fleming novel, I wanted to try the Vesper cocktail, which has lead me to another project. One of the three original ingredients to the Vesper, Kina Lillet, has not been produced since 1986, and the Lillet-branded replacement, Lillet Blanc, apparently doesn't taste much like Kina Lillet. I've made Vespers with Lillet Blanc and they are all right, but the Lillet Blanc doesn't do much for the cocktail, taste-wise, which surprised and disappointed me because I really like Lillet Blanc on its own. But there is an Italian substitute and it turns out there are a few wine shops in the Bay Area that carry said substitute (Cocchi Americano) and I'm going to spend a small slice of my afternoon buying a bottle of it.
Once I have my martini right, I'll post on Dr. No.
I realize that 2011's project isn't exactly the intellectual equal of 2010's project, but my one and only New Year's Resolution for 2011 is "To Have More Fun". Bond movies, at least as I first knew them -- full of Pierce Brosnan looking handsome and playing with cool toys -- were always just that: fun. Of course, since Casino Royale, the Bond series has taken on a different primary adjective, but we'll leave discussion of that for later.
The idea for this project began in a visit from a friend of mine who lives in DC. He and I were hanging out in North Beach, in the coffee shop where Francis Ford Coppola wrote the screenplay for The Godfather, when (I don't recall how) the most recent Bond movie came up as a topic of conversation. I expressed my disappointment in Quantum of Solace, especially as a follow-up to Casino Royale. My friend, whose love for the Bond series, and films in general, quickly showed on his face, persuaded me to give Quantum of Solace another try, and to consider watching it right after watching Casino Royale. So I did, and he was right: QoS is a better movie than I had originally given it credit for being, and it is indeed better when viewed directly following CR. I still don't like QoS much, especially as a Bond film, because Bond films are supposed to be fun dammit, but I do appreciate it more now.
After watching CR again and re-reading the original Ian Fleming novel, I wanted to try the Vesper cocktail, which has lead me to another project. One of the three original ingredients to the Vesper, Kina Lillet, has not been produced since 1986, and the Lillet-branded replacement, Lillet Blanc, apparently doesn't taste much like Kina Lillet. I've made Vespers with Lillet Blanc and they are all right, but the Lillet Blanc doesn't do much for the cocktail, taste-wise, which surprised and disappointed me because I really like Lillet Blanc on its own. But there is an Italian substitute and it turns out there are a few wine shops in the Bay Area that carry said substitute (Cocchi Americano) and I'm going to spend a small slice of my afternoon buying a bottle of it.
Once I have my martini right, I'll post on Dr. No.
Monday, August 23, 2010
I'm beginning to appreciate the cold
It's hot in Berkeley today, about 87 degrees, which makes it about 97 in my apartment. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, where 87 degrees was painfully hot; it was sweltering. Here, it's considered a nice summer day. Then I went to college in Cleveland, where it would routinely snow three feet by 10 AM in October and sometimes a few inches, or more, in May. Cleveland was an adjustment. So was college.
My parents put me on a red eye out of Portland to "send me off" to college. When I called the next morning to let them know I'd arrived and moved in safely, my mother said, "Oh good. I moved all your stuff into the den so that's going to be your room now, and your old room is going to be the den." It was perhaps 10 or 11 Eastern time, so 8 Pacific at the latest. Apparently that particular task had been on her to-do list for a while.
Apparently, my experience is not typical for today's college students. In fact, it was perhaps the opposite of what is typical for today's college students. The current cohort of twenty-somethings has grown famous for its attachment to parents, living at home (rent-free, of course), mom's cooking and cleaning services, and generally not growing up at a reasonable rate. I suppose it is not unreasonable to expect that today's eighteen and nineteen-year-olds have been similarly coddled.
Over the past few weeks, I have been working on changing my interpretation of events from my childhood so as to move beyond blame and into something better. I have long felt abandoned by my parents, and can come up with a thousand examples to prove my point; one of those examples has long been my mother's emotionally chilly attitude towards my departure for college. Another way to look at my parents' treatment of me could be that, no it wasn't pleasant, but it helped make me independent and self-sufficient and capable of doing things on my own, for myself, and without anyone babysitting me.
I have never liked hot weather; growing up in the Pacific Northwest will do that to you, I suppose. I have always preferred the cold, and now I'm beginning to see that the cold can be refreshing in more ways than one.
My parents put me on a red eye out of Portland to "send me off" to college. When I called the next morning to let them know I'd arrived and moved in safely, my mother said, "Oh good. I moved all your stuff into the den so that's going to be your room now, and your old room is going to be the den." It was perhaps 10 or 11 Eastern time, so 8 Pacific at the latest. Apparently that particular task had been on her to-do list for a while.
Apparently, my experience is not typical for today's college students. In fact, it was perhaps the opposite of what is typical for today's college students. The current cohort of twenty-somethings has grown famous for its attachment to parents, living at home (rent-free, of course), mom's cooking and cleaning services, and generally not growing up at a reasonable rate. I suppose it is not unreasonable to expect that today's eighteen and nineteen-year-olds have been similarly coddled.
Over the past few weeks, I have been working on changing my interpretation of events from my childhood so as to move beyond blame and into something better. I have long felt abandoned by my parents, and can come up with a thousand examples to prove my point; one of those examples has long been my mother's emotionally chilly attitude towards my departure for college. Another way to look at my parents' treatment of me could be that, no it wasn't pleasant, but it helped make me independent and self-sufficient and capable of doing things on my own, for myself, and without anyone babysitting me.
I have never liked hot weather; growing up in the Pacific Northwest will do that to you, I suppose. I have always preferred the cold, and now I'm beginning to see that the cold can be refreshing in more ways than one.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
August 15, 2005 - present
Today is, as far as I can remember at least, the five-year anniversary of my arrival in Berkeley. I had never visited before moving here, which I did to attend my second-choice graduate school. I had dreamed of going to London to attend the London School of Economics, which did admit me, but which I could not afford. I got my degree from Cal and stayed here, more by default than because of any burning desire. Five years might not seem like a very long time to live in one place, but it is the longest I have lived anywhere since leaving for college in 1998.
I've gone through several stages with this town: I thought it was dirty and weird when I arrived, then I fell madly in love with it, then thought it was ridiculous, and now I'm comfortable here. I will likely never get used to people smoking weed on the sidewalk, which I've witnessed a few times, or people reading a book while walking, which I see at least twice a month, but I feel inured to almost everything else.
Although I have craved movement all my life, it seems that stasis has actually brought the change I kept longing for; being still has forced me to confront the reasons I wanted to move, and to realize that I was craving something I could never achieve: escape from myself.
I've gone through several stages with this town: I thought it was dirty and weird when I arrived, then I fell madly in love with it, then thought it was ridiculous, and now I'm comfortable here. I will likely never get used to people smoking weed on the sidewalk, which I've witnessed a few times, or people reading a book while walking, which I see at least twice a month, but I feel inured to almost everything else.
Although I have craved movement all my life, it seems that stasis has actually brought the change I kept longing for; being still has forced me to confront the reasons I wanted to move, and to realize that I was craving something I could never achieve: escape from myself.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Maybe because an autobiography is a bit like a download of someone's mind?
I mentioned to an acquaintance a while ago which books I had read so far in 2010, and surprised at the number, he said, "You should totally get a Kindle." I'm on the cheap side about most things, which is why I don't have a Kindle/Kobo/Nook/Sony E-Reader. Also, after my experience with my first, and only, iPod, which died after two years and which I refused to replace, I decided to stick with things that last. CDs, if you keep them in a case or sleeve, last. Books, if you keep them clean and dry, last.
The best reason to stick with books, though, is that you don't have to turn them off during takeoff and landing. On a flight back from Chicago last month, the pilot told us to be sure to turn off our electronic devices, including e-book readers. I'd never heard a pilot mention that before, and when he said it, I almost turned to the man next to me, who I'm fairly certain did not speak English, to commiserate, and I never speak to strangers on planes.
One book I'll be reading before the year is out is the first volume of Mark Twain's autobiography, which comes out in November. Turns out Twain wrote several drafts of his autobiography, but stipulated that it could not be published until 100 years after his death, which was in 1910. Hurrah for 2010. PBS Newshour did a wonderful story on the book, and Twain's papers, which are stored right down the road from me at Berkeley. The Newshour also has a never-before-published essay Twain wrote on being interviewed.
After I put the book in my Amazon.com cart, Amazon decided that I would therefore be interested in both a DVD of King Kong as well as the complete series of Max Headroom. I am not making this up.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Dear Internet:
Conan O'Brien destroyed a REAL Picasso on his show. Has he no sense of what is culturally valuable and deserves our reverance?
ALSO, he had the audacity to ask his viewers to donate money to the relief efforts for the Haiti earthquake. What a hypocrite. He deserves to get cancelled and replaced with someone as unfunny as Jay Leno.
"Does anybody actually write 'Dear Internet:'?"
"I wish they would."
I do, too. Maybe it would remind them exactly whom they're addressing.
(For those of you who did not watch Conan's last Tonight Show, the first two paragraphs of this post are a JOKE.)
ALSO, he had the audacity to ask his viewers to donate money to the relief efforts for the Haiti earthquake. What a hypocrite. He deserves to get cancelled and replaced with someone as unfunny as Jay Leno.
"Does anybody actually write 'Dear Internet:'?"
"I wish they would."
I do, too. Maybe it would remind them exactly whom they're addressing.
(For those of you who did not watch Conan's last Tonight Show, the first two paragraphs of this post are a JOKE.)
Monday, December 21, 2009
With apologies to the CWRU English department.
One of my college writing teachers repeated, it seemed, every other lecture how important details are in establishing credibility in any piece of writing, be it fiction or non-fiction. So I must apologize now that I cannot be specific about much in this post.
What I can tell you is that six months ago, I made a promise to myself, and today I kept it. I know it doesn't sound like much without all the well, details, but as a result, I feel better about myself than I have in years.
If it helps, you are free to imagine the details for yourself. Whatever floats your boat.
What I can tell you is that six months ago, I made a promise to myself, and today I kept it. I know it doesn't sound like much without all the well, details, but as a result, I feel better about myself than I have in years.
If it helps, you are free to imagine the details for yourself. Whatever floats your boat.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Berkeley: making San Francisco look less crazy since 1878.
It appears you are entitled to free speech here in Berkeley only if you are "gifted", a "first rate intellect", or if you have specific beliefs about the Middle East.
Otherwise, you are subject to being "reformed".
Otherwise, you are subject to being "reformed".
Friday, November 27, 2009
You know you've made it when you have a Wikipedia entry. The Salahis better get busy. I suspect they'll be willing to write it themselves.
Last month, the Heenes did their best to become famous by lying about the whereabouts of their son Falcon, claiming he was inside a home-made balloon. This month, the Salahis crashed the state dinner for the Indian prime minister. Both families were trying to attract attention to improve their chances at getting what so many Americans seem to want now: a "reality" television show.
I can understand a driving desire to be famous for an achievement, like a captivating performance in a film, or writing an original and moving book, or anything that requires skill and study. I admire people who take risks to make their dream a reality, whether it's artistic or political. Compared to the Heenes and the Salahis, the people who moved into the trees next to Memorial Stadium for nearly two years look like heroes.
I don't understand why someone would want to be famous for being the parent whose child floated away in a balloon or being the people who managed to infiltrate a state dinner. How is that something to be proud of? How does that show anything other than a deep unmet psychological need of some kind? Part of being human is trying to understand why other people do things; without understanding, compassion and forgiveness are impossible, and life is miserable. I'm sure if I thought about it for a long time, I could begin to understand the motivation of the Heenes and the Salahis. But I doubt I'll ever understand them.
I can understand a driving desire to be famous for an achievement, like a captivating performance in a film, or writing an original and moving book, or anything that requires skill and study. I admire people who take risks to make their dream a reality, whether it's artistic or political. Compared to the Heenes and the Salahis, the people who moved into the trees next to Memorial Stadium for nearly two years look like heroes.
I don't understand why someone would want to be famous for being the parent whose child floated away in a balloon or being the people who managed to infiltrate a state dinner. How is that something to be proud of? How does that show anything other than a deep unmet psychological need of some kind? Part of being human is trying to understand why other people do things; without understanding, compassion and forgiveness are impossible, and life is miserable. I'm sure if I thought about it for a long time, I could begin to understand the motivation of the Heenes and the Salahis. But I doubt I'll ever understand them.
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