"Moral issues," indeed. Stupidity rules the roost.

Anti-evolution teachings gain foothold in U.S. schools / Evangelicals see flaws in Darwinism

Where the hell have I been?

Wow, well, finally came out of the editing room last Tuesday. Nearly completed work on Long Time Gone, the second of my two first cycle projects. Throughout the grueling postproduction schedule I was sick as a dog with some kind of hideous flu/bronchitis thing. Adding to this was the horrible lack of ventilation in the hot editing rooms so I was not going to get any better, especially with the 15-hour days involved. (I'm feeling much better now. Felt almost 100% before spending Saturday in the rain -- see below -- and would say I'm about 90-95% now.)

So it wasn't as much fun as it usually is, and the project presented several challenges, which we addressed as well as we possibly could. I need to make some minor adjustments tomorrow before screening the show in front of the whole class on Thursday. But the production cycle is done until right after Christmas break, so my schedule is very open until the week before Christmas when we have a flurry of classes in After Effects and other postproduction tools. I am going to do some work training myself in advance to be well up to speed before we dive in in class.

Not much happened outside of editing since my last post until Thanksgiving. Wednedsday was spent shopping, and for the big day I made a nice, herb-roasted turkey, some cheddar mashed potatoes, andouille-cornbread stuffing, broccoli casserole, butternut squash soup with sage, and a small salad of arugula with cranberry vinaigrette. Quite lovely and relaxing although I was still horribly hacking and coughing.

Friday was all about staying home and chilling. We rented Spielberg's The Terminal, which was OK. Some kind of surprising gaps in the story, for me. A pleasant enough picture, but nothing too special, and sadly seasoned with trademark Spielberg schmaltz from time to time.

Saturday was a gigantic parking lot tailgate show courtesy of Joey O'Brien, so stupendous it gets its own section (see below). Sunday, G caught up on home stuff and I went to see the magnificent Lawrence of Arabia in 70mm at the Egyptian Theatre. I had only seen Lawrence on DVD and in a frankly shitty 70mm presentation back in Chicago, with a dodgy projector and bad sound. The full glory of this film can only be enjoyed seeing it as I did yesterday, in crystal-clear, gigantic 70mm with a pristine sound system. I noticed many things I hadn't before. Really a delight from start to finish. As I left the Hollywood Christmas Parade was winding its way down Hollywood Boulevard. I marveled for a few moments at the passing B-list celebrities and, of course, Mr. Claus himself (the Godzilla float, complete with roars and smoke gushing from his maw, was a gas), but even more so at the people huddling in their scarves, hats and mittens over hot chocolate in the positively balmy mid-50's temperatures.

Let us now sing the praises of Joey O'Brien, googly-eyed master of cuisine, who was the ringleader on a tailgate expedition to USC (for this past weekend's USC-ND showdown) of truly epic quality. Joey catered us, his brother and some friends up such a feast as to boggle the senses. Grab a snack, because you'll get hungry, and read on.

The scene of the crime: an alumni lot at USC. Two trucks, about a dozen and a half people, god knows how many beers, and a six course meal catered by Joey O. He prepped most of it at his restaurant, working long into the night on Friday, and brought along a gigantic restaurant gas grill in his pickup, along with tables, linens, the whole shebang.

The wet bar. A mind boggling assortment of goodies, nuts, cheeses, candy, wines, beers, I mean, just incredible! Never have I seen such a five-star tailgate -- the envy of the entire parking lot. The menu consisted of a delicious hot spiked cider and beautiful potato-leek soup for starters. And then things really kicked into high gear. So many courses of absolutely stellar food wielded by Joe, it made the head spin and the stomach expand to untold dimensions. There was the soup, then hot dogs in a delicious sauerkraut and bratwurst/ham-hock choucroute (I think that's how it's spelled). On top of that were some unbelievable Guinness-braised short ribs, I mean they just brought a tear to your eye as they melted in your mouth, with a nice horseradish sauce. I mean so much food you wouldn't believe it.

Thank God Joe managed to slam his share of cold ones, warm ones and everything in between while he was in between courses.

Yet another course: delicious lamb spiedies on rosemary skewers with warm pita bread and tdzadziki sauce (I think it's spelled that way -- one of you Greeks will need to correct me). Unbelievably delicious.

Various Stone Brewery products like this magnum bottle of Oaked Arrogant Bastard capped off a deluxe assortment of fine quality beers, ales and wines. Joey O pulled out all the stops in his formidable arsenal.

Jack, Joe's brother, was mighty damp in the cold rain but kept his spirit level high with constant ingestion of high-quality Oaked Bastard.

One of the great pleasures of the day was the ooohing and aaahing of the neighboring veteran tailgaters. They had never seen such an epic display. "I've been doin' this 15 years," said one, "and I ain't never seen anything like this." He returned to munching his pathetic greasy burger, feeling less of a man.

Joey's last course was chicken under a brick, boned chickens marinated in herbs and oils for three days. Joe salted down the yardbirds before throwing them on . . .

. . . while Genevieve looked on from the warm, dry cab of Joe's truck.

After salting down the yardbird Joe seared it up on the grill and slow-cooked it to perfection, plating it with handmade, brandy-kissed applesauce. Absolutely delicious. After this final course we had an assortment of pies (lemon meringue for me) and walked the mile or so to the venue. It was fun strolling into the main quad of USC and basically following the marching band to the arena. But getting into the place was another matter. The crowd control was the worst I have ever seen, and I have been to literally dozens of concerts at venues at least 30% larger than this, and I have never seen anything as half-assed as the handling of entry into this arena, in the pissing rain, no less. Joe, G and I grabbed a beer in the parking lot, and I nicked off to the museum to have a seat in their nice, warm restroom and take care of business, to the delight of several other museum patrons. (At least three children came in while I was in there and said, "Daddy, PU, let's get outta here!"). I had to pay admission to get into the museum but believe you me it was the best three bucks I ever spent in my life.

During the game the Olympic torch was lit in full glory. Much as I appreciated the historic nature of this rundown venue, the horrid crowd control, numerous fistfights between ND and USC fans, the constant cold drizzle collecting on my beard and dripping down my neck, and the ludcrously small seating arrangements had me in an evil humor by about the first quarter.

By the end of the first half I was grumpy and crabby and oh so damp. G and I decided to split but remembered, once we got out to the street, that our keys were locked in the truck in the lot, and the keys to the truck were back in the arena in Jack's pocket. So we sweet-talked our way back in and watched the rest of the drubbing of ND by USC (41-10). Once we all straggled back to the trucks we loaded in and Joey hobbled onto the scene, having sprained his ankle. He was barely able to walk. We three had been walking into the stadium together. G & I turned around and, poof, Joey gone. We thought he might have sidled into a food court so we kept looking for a few minutes. Turns out he had slipped on a metal grate and fouled up his ankle something fierce. We got him back to his suite all full of piss and vinegar and howling with pain and refusing a hospital visit. (He went on Sunday and was diagnosed with a sprain; he'll be off his large feet for a couple of days -- visited him today with some deli sandwiches and matzo ball soup. He's doing fine but aggravated.) On the way home, unbeknownst to us, the lid flipped off the grill and was hanging off the back of the truck. A couple pulled up behind us and casually informed us of this. Jack got out to investigate. "Wow, Joey. Big." We lashed it down and proceeded home, shivering and damp.

(Click to enlarge)

I can't believe I haven't posted in so long. Production schedule at school has been grueling and will be so until just before Thanksgiving. Much to report and most of it good, but I'm afraid the post drought will go on until next Wednesday.

Anyway. Had a great birthday today because we got to find out the sex of our baby! And it is a boy. We were worried that the baby would not cooperate but no sooner had the nurse put the ultrasound on than the baby started obligingly wriggling around as my eyes burst casually out of their sockets. Up until now the baby had looked like a sort of formless humanlike creature kinda hanging out in there, but it is recognizably a child now. Almost immediately he turned his rump to us, parted his legs, and proudly displayed his sexuality for all to see, then immediately relaxed and went back to chillin'. G and I hit the deli for delicious sandwiches and then I dropped her home and went off to school. Stopped for a birthday drink on the way home and now a little relaxing before bed.

Proposed name is Jack Robert Sheehan. Or J. Robert Sheehan if you're into the whole brevity thing. But he'll go by Jack. Unless he doesn't "look like a Jack," as G puts it.

Nation of Feebs

"Of course the people don't want war. But after all, it's the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it's a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger."
-- Herman Goering at the Nuremberg trials

12:16 on the west coast of America and the grim bells of doom have begun to toll. High atop the old State House in Boston sits a filthy black raven with the head of Dick Cheney, quothing “Nevermore . . .”

Anything less than a clear plurality for John Kerry, I felt as Election Day drew near, would be a horrible badge of shame for America. Even a victory in a close contest would not send the message to our former friends and allies: “Sorry. We fucked up, and barely voted in a vicious gang of thugs, fixers, fascists and goons, drastically destabilized a world largely at peace and put a sock-puppet moron in the White House. We’re very, very sorry. Here’s the proof: a decisive rejection of all these swine stand for.”

And now, as the dust begins to settle, it becomes increasingly clear that short of a Hail Mary-style flurry of legal maneuvering by the Kerry campaign, the wheels are coming off the Democratic Party and they are likely to stay off for a good long time. George W. Bush lied, blithered and babbled his way bug-eyed through three straight debates in which John Kerry whipped him like a red-headed stepchild; Bush rarely through the campaign scored above 50% in job approval ratings. Yet now, as the final votes tally up, he has a clear margin of victory in the popular vote and looks to have a slender but stable enough lead in the yet-undecided states to lock the electoral votes.

It’s natural at times like these to look for answers. And there can only be one: that we are a nation of idiots. Certainly that will be the view of the rest of the world: twice we elect a bumbling clown to lead the world’s mightiest nation down a trail of blood and bones. What other reason can there be? What right-thinking person could in good conscience cast a vote for this witless, uneducated monkey and his filthy animal of a puppetmaster, Dick Cheney? What person with a modicum of intelligence could watch George Bush struggle to put together a cogent sentence on any issue and say, “that’s the man I want to represent my country?” Leaving aside for the moment questions of ideology, is there no sense of shame in voting for the dumbest president in US history, a president loathed more viciously at home and abroad than perhaps any other in history?

Bush was the “more likeable” candidate, they say. “He’s a reg’lar guy, lahk me,” opined Larry Spim of Arkansas. “Kinda guy I could have a beer with.” Well, fuck you, Larry. I don’t want to have a beer with my president. I don’t need to feel that I could shoot a rack of pool with him. I don’t want my president to be a “reg’lar guy.” I don’t need to feel like I’d like him as a buddy. I want him to be an extraordinary person, intelligent, a statesman, who looks to the future with a clear eye and leads the nation forward. Everything, in short, that Bush & Cheney are not.

Could it be that people vote for Bush because he’s an idiot, not despite it? Because it makes them feel OK to be morons who don’t need to think issues through, or be informed? “He’s a jackass, just lahk me.” The only other plausible scenario is that people are simply so deep in denial over his evident stupidity and incompetence and the venal, fascist drive of the ideologues behind the throne that they can’t believe it’s true.

Better watch it, Charlie. Watch what you read, watch what you say. Watch what you post on blogs like this – call the president a moron and the SS might come knocking (it happened to someone just last week.) Watch that guy who just joined your “Knitting Circle for Peace” group because there’s a good chance he’s an undercover cop. Better make sure you trust the guy at the bookstore to resist the seizure of all your book purchasing records. The slope has never been more slippery and we’re all heading downhill, and at the base of the hill is a fetid pile of sticky, tarry black eagle-dung.

Back when 9/11 happened I emailed some friends a piece by John Barlow which warned us that 9/11 was our Reichstag Fire, that our government, run as it was by a gang of degenerates who’d been waiting for just such an event to rationalize a sweeping clampdown on 30 years of social progress, would move swiftly, in the name of our safety and ratcheting up Fear, to force through radical and unconstitutional limitations on our freedom. My friends took umbrage. A couple of friends, married to women who'd spent their young lives during the cold war behind the Iron Curtain, were enraged that I would suggest that we were in grave danger of becoming a fascist state, or a police state.

Have a look around. And take a look not just at the Nazis (to whom I am not comparing Bush & Co.) but at any totalitarian governement. In every circumstance, the forerunner to its ascension has been a concentration of power in the executive branch of government, justified by some imminent threat, from within or without, of sufficient horror to stirke fear in the hearts of the populace. Mix in a failing economy, unemployment, and a soaring national debt and ratchet up the sense of desperation amongst the populace and – well, hell, they’ll go along with anything that sounds like it will just take the Fear away.

They’ll even vote for an idiot.

“Thanks for a country where nobody's allowed to mind their own god-damned business.

Thanks for a nation of finks.” – William S. Burroughs, “Thanksgiving Prayer”