'Tis the Season

The holidays are upon us--or perhaps I should say that we are currently knee deep in mistletoe, dreidels, and kinaras--and with all of the eggnog-inspired haze, it's probably a good time to remember the true reason for the season.

But don't expect me to define that reason here.

While some traditionalists will most certainly point to the obvious--that this is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ--mercantilists will undoubtedly pursue a more commercial vision. I won't bother venturing my own opinion, which is as valuable as the morals espoused in The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, Frosty The Snowman, and It's a Wonderful Life. I will, however, offer this one suggestion. During this season of commerce, worship, and celebration, one would be well served to at least take at least a little time to reflect on the dichotomy of the idea of the western Christmas season versus the spirit of the celebration of Christ's birth as taught in most Christian traditions.

And don't get me started on Black Friday, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Boxing Day. Once they get their own stop-action animated holiday specials, they'll be eligible for consideration as legitimate.

'Tis the season.

A chip on his shoulder...

Jimmy Carter had it right when he said in so many words that one reason that “some” Americans are so forcefully against the President is because of his skin color. At least one man of non-color had the guts to tell the truth.

If you don’t like this President because of his policies, and you are able to clearly articulate what they are, that’s one thing; if, however, you are feebly disguising your racism in poorly thought-out opinions about the one or two policies you heard someone pontificate on at the NASCAR race/WrestleMania SmackDown/local feed store/bible belt polishing bee (you fill in the blank), then here’s a thought: turn off the conservative radio, head to your local library, and read a book…on anything. Anything by Theodor Seuss Geisel might be a good start, just to get the nouns, pronouns and adverbs working, then, perhaps, move on to something a bit headier like "Hot, Flat, and Crowded" by Thomas Friedman or Dr. Howard Dean's "Prescription for Real Healthcare Reform".

I’m in no mood to assimilate or to explain any more. I’ve tried that and they (or, maybe, you) aren’t listening. We’ve achieved that imaginary pinnacle of American success, the Presidency, and the only thing that happened was the unveiling of their (maybe your) true colors. They’ve (or you’ve) drawn a line in the sand. I’m (we’re) not afraid to cross it. Yeah, there’s a chip on my shoulder. Go ahead, knock it off—I dare you.

A curtailed curmudgeon...

Okay, here’s the thing…okay, I got nothing. No excuses, no sudden developments, no nothing. I flaked. I got lazy. Perhaps—just perhaps—I was even overly ambitious. Perhaps, but in the parlance of the exuberantly optimistic, “He’s back, baby!” The blog continues, though in slightly different form.

With the need to earn a living—yeah, go figure—I’ve got to be more judicious with my time and efforts, which means expansive expositions long-winded blogs using linguistic legerdemain two dollar words will have to go. Instead, I think I’ll take a page from the Rev Run’s Global Grind daily blog. Though I won’t limit myself to what can be blogged on a PDA in the bathtub, I will be briefer than before.

That said, I’ve now got to focus my sometimes vitriolic spewing more narrowly.

Haters beware.

Temps on the rise...

With the air conditioner on the fritz, he and Ms. Knowitall had been on tense terms as of late.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you back.”

“Well…I hate you more.”

“Hmph.”

“Back at you.”

There’s nothing like a little stagnant air in early May to encourage a body to unreasonably lash out at loved ones.

It was so damned hot in their house all either of them could do at the end of each day was sit on the bed and snipe at each other. In fact, it was so damned hot in their bloody home that they’d actually elevated sniping to an Olympic sport, you know, not one of the really good ones like relay racing or bobsledding or judo; no, more like one of those that no one really cares about anyway like curling or badminton or synchronized swimming.

Air conditioners are like teenagers: no matter how you treat them, no matter how nice you are to them, no matter how well you raise them they still go out when they’re not supposed to and end up costing you a fortune. He hadn’t planned on spending $500 on the A/C unit and, in fact, had postponed calling a repair man for weeks. But as the temperatures slowly rose in promise of summer like an ecdysiast teasing of things to come, he and she finally agreed that silly things like mortgage and food and gasoline would have to wait: cool air was needed…and needed NOW!

Later, after the repair men had come and gone and the air in their home was more like spring in Providence than summer in Needles, he and she apologized to each other and each breathed a sigh of relief. Life was back to normal again…

…until the next disaster broke.

Sci Fi weekend...

It was a heck of a Sci-Fi weekend for a trekkie like me, and now, as it’s dark, gloomy, stormy and rainy outside, it’s time to reflect.

Friday was the premiere of X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and as a childhood fan of the atomantium-clawed hero, I was ready to be disappointed. We’ve all been there: the promos hype some new movie based on a book or a series of books that we’ve greatly enjoyed, then we buy our tickets only to be incredibly disappointed at how the director has treated “our” story. Need I remind you of the first Hulk movie? Or how about Michael Crichton’s Timeline? Or Relic by Douglas J. Preston and Lincoln Child? Hollywood is notorious for messing up a good thing by putting it on the big screen.

So I was more than a little elated when Hugh Jackman’s fourth outing as the hero Wolverine was handled deftly and with subtlety (well, as subtle as you can be with leatherwear, super-human powers, and a storyline fraught with military excesses and megalomania.) The audience learns from where Logan (Wolverine’s real name, by the way) gets his cool cutters, the origin of his “strained” relationship with Sabretooth, and the role of the sinister Colonel William Stryker in the development of not only Wolverine’s super abilities but in his superego (as well as his regular ego and id to boot.) I found the movie well done, though perhaps a little light in the plot department. Still, when watching superhero fare, it pays to remember the phrase it is what it is.

What truly, truly made my weekend, however, was the Saturday sneak preview of Star Trek. In case you haven’t noticed in one or three previous postings, I’m a bit of a Trekkie…a bit of a trekkie like Lindsey Lohan is a bit of a tramp. (I know that was wrong, but when the muse is working I don’t argue.) The movie started at 11 a.m. so I suggested to Miss Knowitall that we should perhaps get there no later than 10 a.m. While humoring me, she obviously didn’t get IT…not until we got there and found about 75 people in line already, including those wearing Star Trek tunics and other geek ware. Once inside, the hosts, DJ’s from several local radio stations, hyped the crowd, not a difficult task considering we were ALL fans anyway. The pre-picture fanfare included a trek trivia game in which Miss Knowitall insisted that I participate, and after great urging I acquiesced.

Realize dear readers that I’ve spent much of my life NOT learning things like formulas for quadratic equations and my multiplication tables past 10 and the state capitols and the second, third, and fourth stanzas of the Negro National Anthem so that my brain would have more room for such weighty material as the names of all the actors who played Dr. Who in the last 20 years and a critical analysis of who would win in a fight between Batman and Spiderman (Batman, of course,) and especially ALL THINGS STAR TREK.

Following the contest and movie, I brought home four bumper stickers, two posters, a gold Star Trek tunic, and a (toy) phaser (with settings for both Stun AND Kill.) And to think that my parents use to tell me that my watching TV would never get me anywhere in life.

And the movie? Well, I can’t speak to those who aren’t fans or aren’t familiar with the franchise, but I can say that Star Trek was in dire need of a reboot. The bevy of movies and television shows were and continue to be great fun…but they have gotten old and unable to inspire newer, younger viewers (younger than those who, like me, can [barely] actually remember watching first run ORIGINAL episodes back in the sixties.)

The movie was good, good by any standard. The characters were well played, not as caricatures, but as the three-dimensional figures that true fans like me already know them to be. The story was also true to what is known as “Trek Lore” while at the same time credibly allowing for expansion into a new alternate Star Trek experience that, I believe, will take the franchise “boldly where no one has gone before” and excite a new generation of fans.

I even cried a little during the screening…but I usually do that right after a really good nerdgasm.