Shameless Promotions

What's a blog for, after all, except indulging all your own narcissism?

First, let me give a little cyber-ink to the people running the Farce/Film blog and podcast. They give interesting and insightful written reviews of films -- all kinds, not just art-house stuff that never plays near you -- and have a rollicking, rambling, sometimes inebriated podcast that serves up dueling opinions of weekly releases amongst a rotating cast of semi-regular commentators.

In the interest of full disclosure, I admit they are all mostly former students of mine, but if you know me at all, you should realize that doesn't mean I'm cutting them any slack. What I'm saying is: these people are the real deal. As proof of that, when they invited me to sit in on a podcast episode, I agreed. The best students are the ones you want to keep working with, even after the formal Professorial relationship has ended and the Farce/Film group falls into that category. Of course, I claim some credit for them being the thoughtful critics they are, because that's what all good narcissists, er, Professors, do, right? Bring it always back to themselves?

Anyway, the actual shameless self-promotion is when I say -- go listen to the podcast with me in the guest chair. I talk about Green Hornet, Hot Tub Time Machine, Cameron Diaz in underwear, and NC-17 ratings. Beware, we cuss. A lot. We're all adults, even if I knew everyone else when they weren't.

If you listen to the cast, let any of us know what you think, even if you hate it (although don't hate the one I'm on). Follow any of those good people on Facebook or Twitter, and you won't regret it. Follow me on Twitter, and you might.

In The New Year

Ah, that first day back to work after the holidays... the rude shock of being back to work and all the fun being over. No more sleeping in, no more pastries and coffee for late brunch, no more wine in the early afternoon. It's like Christmas shat you out and left you at the curb.

And that's all I have to say about the holidays.

Let's move on to 2011, shall we? I don't even want cast a fond glance over my shoulder at 2010, because, you know, it's over. Forget all the top ten lists, I want to start a clean page and move forward. So much of my life is spent looking back and over-analyzing things I can't change - should have zigged instead of zagged, etc. - that I'm just beaten down with the past. I don't want the baggage anymore, and this is fair notice. If I fucked you over unfairly in the past, I'm sorry, really I am and you can bet I've beat myself up about it, but I just don't care anymore. I want to shake all that off my shoulders and have a little fun. What do you say, 2011?

What does that really mean? It means I want to focus on the things that really matter to me: my wife and kids, my friends, friends I haven't met yet, cooking and wine, writing and reading. I gots to work to pay the man, but you know what? I'm not doing any freebies for the man anymore. I'll work when I'm supposed to, but the rest of the time is mine, so back off.

Ready, 2011? Let's get it on.

Holiday Cheer

I will freely acknowledge that my sense of humor is a bit perverse. With that in mind, I offer some of the things that have amused me this holiday season (so far, anyway).

Any shopping trip where you only really need one thing and you're under no time pressure. It's like being the designated driver at an Eagles Game, you can just sit back and watch the circus. On Monday evening, I went to the Target to pick up Christmas cards and was amazed. The place looked like a trailer park after a twister convention. Not only was merchandise strewn everywhere, but the customers had hollow eyes and were pushing what looked like all their belongings in shopping carts.

Spider-Man, The Musical. The most surprising thing about this entertainment pinata is that it's news at all. It didn't even really sound like a good idea when it was first gestating, and now that it's struggling through labor pains it makes even less sense. The venn diagram containing Spider-man fans, Julie Taymor fans, and U2 fans doesn't really seem like enough to warrant $65m and numerous cast injuries, does it? And after those 47 people in that venn center see it, and everyone who works for Marvel sees it, who's gonna go? If you want seats in the action, I hear they cost over $250 bucks a pop. For that money, you could get every U2 cd ever recorded, as well as the iPod to play it on, or -- every Spider-man movie, plus the blu-ray player to play it on, or -- enough Spider-man comics to keep you reading for weeks on end.

Nouveau Drinking. I love how a whole new generation has decided it's now hip to drink, and especially hard liquor. It's as if bourbon was invented last year solely for their amusement. From those of us who have long been aware of the pleasure of spirits at the holidays, I can only say, "welcome to the party." Somehow, I always knew if I just kept drinking consistently, I'd eventually be in fashion again.

Cheers and happy holidays!

Political Hangover

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the mid-term elections as I try to get the taste of the political hangover washed out of my mouth. It's been a brutal season, with campaign spending at an all-time high, and campaign messages at an all-time low, but I came to a couple of conclusions.

First, the bulk of the country doesn't really want to think about real issues. That's the only explanation I can find for voting for politicians who deliver messages so internally schizophrenic that they're barely coherent. Make no mistake: promised obstructionism is not a policy that moves anything forward.

Second, the American people should be outraged and shamed that they have willingly surrendered the political conversation not to any one party, but to the news media. The media, whether you think they're liberal or conservative, are interested in a story, not in issues. The more conflict in the story, the better the story. That is a different goal from the way the branches of government are supposed to work. "Checks and balances" does not imply shoving a spanner into anything just to keep it from moving forward; that's a conflict that brings a great story, but no progress. If you don't believe the media is shaping things, ask yourself why Christine O'Donnell got so much airtime. It's not because she had any real qualifications, nor because she had any chance of even coming close in the election, it was because she made a good story. Kind of like a freak show.

Third and finally, the Republicans and their Tea Party subset make a lot of noise about being "real people." They may want me to be a figment of their imagination, but I'd simply ask, what is it about me that's unreal? I have a nuclear family, my wife and I both work full-time jobs to make ends almost meet, we attend a church of our choice, and are active in our community. One of the great things about living in America is that I can disagree with you and still be entitled to the liberties that come with citizenship. You can't dismiss me because you wish I wasn't real, because this is America, and my vote counts and my voice has every right to be heard.

I could go on in this vein, but perhaps I should simply point out that with the switch of power in the House, now the Republicans get their chance to rework the country in a way that will meet the unrealistic expectations of a very impatient electorate. The ball's in your court. You wanted it, so here it is. The clock is ticking.

Season's End

So, I pretty much stayed away from blogging about baseball all season. Now the season's over and I can't resist anymore. I saw a lot of games this summer and followed the Phillies into the post-season, trying to maintain my cool through the slumps and bumps of a very uneven year. Mostly, I think the Phils look like a team that's made it to October in spite of themselves.

The pattern for the summer was injuries, followed by batting slumps, followed by an uneven bullpen. The one thing you can take away from the regular summer schedule is this: three excellent starters can't carry the entire team. When all the bats are firing, the team can't be beat, and that reveals the potential for the team overall. Whenever the bats were lined up, though, the bullpen then seemed to be unable to deliver. It was a summer spent out of sync.

Now, after game three of the championship series, and a loss to the Giants, where the bats didn't show up, it looks like we're out of sync again. I've learned with the Phillies, and baseball in general, you have to take the long view. It's a seven-game series and anything could happen, but today's play didn't offer too many bright spots. When the top slots in the batting order can't deliver the hits needed, you can't win. Statistically, the Phillies had the best record in baseball, but apparently, that run to the end, where everything clicked, burned the team out and now the engine is stuttering.

What seems most distressing, though, is the team seems to be... grinding. They don't appear to have any joy in the games they're playing. They're tight and anxious, and it's sometimes downright painful to watch, like they're psyching themselves out of the running as millions watch.

When you see that level of frustration in high definition, you start to ask yourself why you're watching the pain. I've got enough stress in my life, without spending three hours watching a team that has the potential to dominate all comers stumble over their own anxieties. Yes, of course I'm reading too much into this. A shrink would say I'm projecting. But I, like most people in this economy, have a lot more to do than I did last season, so sitting to watch baseball is an indulgence. Lately, indulgences make me anxious, because I can't shake off the knowledge that I've got an ever-increasing list of responsibilities waiting when the game is over. I'm looking to trim anxieties out of my life and, unless things turn around, baseball might not survive the cut.