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Movie Reviews

The English Surgeon

A good documentary does more to stimulate my mind than the best fictional films. The English Surgeon is above and beyond a spectacular documentary. Most scriptwriters couldn't dare compete with the sheer drama and uncomfortable tension filmmaker Geoffrey Smith captures in his real-life story of English neurosurgeon Henry Marsh, who became fed up with the inability of Ukrainian doctors to treat patients in need of brain operations and decided to do something about it. When a young Ukrainian man needs an operation to remove a tumor in his brain, Doctor Smith is his only hope for long-term survival. Unfortunately for this patient, modern luxuries are nowhere to be found in modern-day Ukraine and the only the way the operation can move forward is by using nothing but local anesthetics to reduce the pain of drilling thru the scull and scraping away the cancerous cells growing on his brain--In other words, doing the entire operation while completely awake and conscious. Beyond the unbelievable situations throughout the film, the simple message of humanitarianism shines.  In today's consumerist smorgasbord of a world we live in, it can be easy to forget the simple things that make being a fellow human being a rewarding experience. This film helps remind us. -Clayton Hauck

Podcasting

Brain Stuff.
(itunes link, web link)

HowStuffWorks.com offers a nice variety of interesting podcasts but the first one I stumbled upon was Brain Stuff. It's a short but sweet look into, well, how stuff works. Each podcast gives a straight and to-the-point explaination on a wide variety of topics of which you are sure to find a few that interest you.

see all podcast reviews..

Monday
Mar222010

Nutcracker and The American People

Justin Lack's Nutcracker

A couple weeks ago, prior to my Simmons/Olbermann article, I promised my drummer friend Justin (via Facebook), "I'm gonna post your video on the blog as soon as I post anything else on the blog."  Well time passed.  I posted something else on the blog.  But no Justin video.  So I'm rectifying this problem by sharing with my loyal army of readers (or as I like to call them "An Army of One" - RIMSHOT) Justin Lack's rendition of The Nutcracker.  But first, I have to make a call to arms.  At this time Justin's video only has 874 views.  Also on YouTube is a 48 second, horribly recorded drum solo by the talentless Beatle, Ringo Starr.  View count? 25,550.  What a travesty.  I won't say it's the worst video on YouTube, but given my druthers, I'd rather be listening to a skipping version of the bass intro to Weezer's "Only in Dreams" at max volume and through a blown out subwoofer.  And I'd certainly rather be listening to Justin Lack's Nutcracker.  In a fair and just world, the view totals for these two videos would be reversed.  So I'm asking all of you kindly, please view this video.  Let's, at the very least, get the view count up to 4 figures.  Now enjoy.

The American People

I'm going to keep the words this week to a minimum, instead ceding my voice to those of more accomplished men.  But briefly, I just wanted to share why I'm broaching this subject.  On account of last night's passage of h.r. 3200, or "Obama-care", or whatever you care to call it, TV viewers like myself got to experience local news crews hitting the streets in search of the opinions of the everyman.  And I ask, is there anything more painful?  Can any of you, accurately and in detail, explain to me how this bill is going to change your life when it's enacted?  I sure can't.  I'm still trying to wrap my head around what exactly "individual mandate" implies or how much the poor can receive in subsidies and how much coverage that will equal.  Even the summaries that try to simplify this shit are mired in complicated language and vagueness.  So why oh why, local news, are you giving some asshole in a diner the soapbox to say remarkably stupid shit?  Just last night, FOX Chicago sticks a mic in the face of some dipshit who shouts, "What they SHOULD do is fix the ECONOMY...then people could afford their OWN HEALTH CARE."  Wonderful thesis, sir.  Just fix the economy.  That's brilliant.  Why didn't I think of that??  Ugh.  The news is the goddamn bill, not what Jim from Bridgeport thinks about it.  Furthermore, fuck Jim from Bridgeport.  And all the other ignorant, uninformed pieces of shit who don't have the good sense to shut the fuck up when they have nothing to say.

Amongst these ignorant and uninformed pieces of shit were a handful of passengers on the suburban Pace bus I was riding today.  With my headphones on and the volume of my podcast (Doug Benson's "I Love Movies") loud enough to hear over the engine noise, initially I was undistracted by the angry ramblings of my fellow passengers.  But eventually these folks would be heard and it was time for ole Jack to do some eavesdropping.  The topic?  You guessed it.  Health care.

Any time you come across these impromptu debates amongst common folk, there is very little variation.  Those involved, like preprogrammed drones, take on whichever talking points sound best to them.  With health care it's generally as follows.

  • Everyone should have the right to health care.
  • How are they gonna pay for it?
  • I don't want socialized medicine.
  • The government doesn't get anything right, what makes you think they'll do this right?
  • All these pricks care about is money.

The list goes on.  And I'm not saying these are false premises or questions.  However, the point is that people, through repetition and conditioning, eventually pick up on these extremely basic talking points and little else.  And what results are these god awful shouting matches between angry people who seem to put more stock in being heard than being informed.  Today's bus ride was no different.  And for that matter, neither was Thanksgiving dinner.

What kills me most about this is the massive divide between this population of Americans and "the American people" as portrayed by politicians and pundits.  Sensible, intelligent, active.  It's the stuff of myth.  Politicians speak about this "American people" so frequently that it almost breezes past you.  We don't even consider what it's supposed to mean or what the intended effect of this language is. 

Watch this video of Barack Obama with Jay Leno. 

Without watching this critically, all there is to see is the typical, light-weight late night interview with a politician.  But critically, it's pure political expediency.  Can you imagine if Obama's words in this interview were literal?  Can you imagine if he actually wanted to open up the White House to the everyman?  To Jim from Bridgeport or the loud-mouth bus riders?  What a nightmare that would be.

Ideally, we'd live in a smarter country with a more invested and educated public.  But we don't.  We live in the country that Bill Maher describes in the following video.

 

And the one George Carlin describes in this one.

And the notion that any of this stuff is ever going to change seems far-fetched at best.  But what can you do?  If I had the answer I'd probably be doing more with my life.  But maybe if we were a bit more honest with ourselves it would be a good start.  We are NOT the greatest country in the world.  We have flaws, as everyone else has flaws.  We are largely fat.  We are largely uninformed.  And instead of doubling down on the hollow pride and on the noise, maybe we should all try to be a little bit better.

Tuesday
Mar162010

Keith vs. Bill: A Feud to be Forgotten

It's not often two public figures I like and respect find themselves engaged in a highly personal and highly publicized verbal spat.  Generally when these events occur there is a well defined line between camps.  Remember when Joe Rogan attacked Carlos Mencia for stealing jokes?  No matter whose side you fell on, my guess is that there was a consensus amongst those in your social circle.  The same can be said about Jay vs. Conan or MSNBC vs. FOX News.  While I do find comfort and acceptance within that social consensus, the predictable agreeability, in my opinion, can grow a bit stale.  It's for this reason that I've found the recent feud between ESPN's Bill Simmons and MSNBC/former ESPN anchor Keith Olbermann so intriguing.  I've yet to have been able to investigate the feud and discuss it with the friends who share my admiration for both, but the prospect is definitely exciting given the potential for divided camps.

In the previous examples, without any knowledge of the arguments, I'd already have a horse in each race.  Rogan, Conan, MSNBC.  Easy.  Simmons vs. Olbermann is infinitely more difficult.  Simmons is clearly the more likable of the two.  He's an entertaining writer and is the host of the B.S. Report, one of the best podcasts around, sports or otherwise (Check out any of his conversations with writer Chuck Klosterman as a starting off point).  Olbermann, while not as likable, is arguably the most intelligent pundit, political or otherwise, on the air today.  And despite spending a rather excessive amount of time on his soapbox, delivering dramatic and impassioned diatribes, essentially molding a caricature, he is nevertheless always eloquent and articulate and more often than not I agree with him.  Given my fondness for both of them and without any significant bias towards either man, all that's left to do is to examine the beef.

February 26

In the casual context of a live chat on ESPN.com, Simmons was asked by one reader if he thinks Tiger Woods will ever be the same upon his return to golf.  Simmons replied with a harmless, albeit hyperbolic answer.

"To me, that's a much bigger question than 'Where is LeBron going?' Tiger's comeback is going to be the most fascinating running sports story of my lifetime. I really believe that. We only get a handful of truly transcendent athletes per lifetime, he's one of them, and yet, none of them have ever been tested this way."

Unfortunately, he follows the hyperbole with a Joe Biden foot-in-mouth type moment.

"The only thing that comes close: When Ali returned from 4 years of boxing exile for refusing to serve in Vietnam."

Many individuals participating in the chat were baffled by the comparison.  Some were offended.  After all, to respond to a rather innocuous question about Tiger Woods by comparing his return from sex rehab to Ali's return from a self-imposed, religiously motivated, anti-war exile is truly puzzling.  Why even introduce a symbol of such religious and racial significance into a conversation about an embattled fornicator?  Could any good possibly come from that?  The answer to that question proved to be a resounding, no.

February 27

The day following Simmons' contentious chat, popular sports blog Deadspin.com, along with writer and noted Simmons-basher Charles P. Pierce got a hold of the transcript.  After sharing some choice quotes from Simmons and his chatting fans, Deadspin writer Tommy Craggs humorously comes to the conclusion that no doubt was echoed by many of Simmons fans, other bloggers, and later, famous television pundits: What Bill Simmons said was moronic.

"Tiger's wayward humping is not Important History. It takes a singular set of blinkers for someone not to see any analogical daylight between Ali's comeback and Tiger's, which involves little more than coming back from the champagne room. And it takes a staggering lack of sense for someone to write that Ali "never came even 10% close to facing the scrutiny" that Tiger will — as if it were Ali's good fortune to be scrutinized only by the boys running COINTELPRO and never by Skip Bayless."

Pierce, in a blog entry entitled "History for Dummies" piles on.

"This isn't hard. This is not stuff you have to have lived through. This is stuff you can find out by, you know, reading, which is said to be fundamental. Let us be kind and suggest that young Bill perhaps is unread on the subject of The Sixties, possibly because The Karate Kid was not set in that era."

March 3

In the most damaging of his public relations blunders, Simmons goes forward with his Ali/Woods analogy, this time in the form of a sprawling, 3400+ word behemoth of an article on ESPN.com.  In his introduction Simmons backtracks somewhat from his chat room hyperbole, comparing the chat format to speed chess. 

“Under speed chess conditions, it becomes exceedingly possible that either (A) I might say something inappropriate, (B) I might infuriate my bosses in some way or (C) I might argue a point incorrectly without realizing it until later. On Friday, I made a mistake comparing the 2010 Tiger Woods to the 1970 Muhammad Ali, saying Tiger's comeback would be much tougher because "everyone under 35 was rooting for Ali." Total hyperbole that never would have happened had I spent more time thinking about it.”

A perfect PR response to a minor embarrassing moment.  A mistaken point doesn’t call for a BS apology, however a gracious acknowledgement of an intellectual misstep certainly should quell any unnecessary backlash.  And had Simmons switched gears and theses at this point and created a less loaded comparison, he would’ve done just that.  

Quick sidebar - A less offensive comparison that would've worked perfectly for the guy known for his pop culture references would've been to the band Weezer.  Think about it.  After the critical and commercial failure of 1996's Pinkerton, singer-songwriter Rivers Cuomo goes into isolation, literally painting his house black and covering his windows to keep the light out.  Then in the late 90's Pinkerton would gain momentum, eventually becoming a certified gold record.  Upon Weezer's return in 2000 they had developed a rabid fan base, setting the stages for a triumphant return.  Simmons could then accentuate the difficulty of Woods' comeback by contrasting the momentum free sideshow that is the Tiger comeback versus the mounting fan base that Weezer returned to.  Same contrast he unfortunately tries to paint with Ali.  No controversy.  I digress.

Instead of switching gears, Simmons follows with the exact same contentious and unnecessary thesis that would draw exponentially more ire in column form than it ever would have as a chat transcript.

March 5

Keith Olbermann gets his hand on Simmons’ piece and issues a brief, but strong criticism towards the end of this day's blog entry.  He calls the Simmons article “the most poorly-informed conclusion I've come across in sports media this year” and follows with an intellectual and personal jab.

“If the writer can let me know when Woods is punitively drafted by the military even though he is about eight years older than almost all the other draftees, I'll begin to take him seriously. In the interim I am again left to marvel how somebody can rise to a fairly prominent media position with no discernible insight or talent, save for an apparent ability to mix up a vast bowl of word salad very quickly.”

Later in the day, Simmons (via Twitter) gets even more personal, advancing the attack from “you’re not good at your job” to “you’re not good at life.”

KO, please know the feeling is mutual. You're my worst case scenario for my career in 12 yrs: a pious, unlikable blowhard who lives alone.”

17 minutes later he strikes again.

“I feel bad about saying Olbermann lives alone. I forgot about his cats.”

March 8

Olbermann dishes out his final attack.  In response to the claim that Olbermann lives alone with cats, Keith lightly replies, “Mr. Simmons apparently uses, for factual research, old parody sketches from "Saturday Night Live." I'm not surprised. That was Ben Affleck. Thanks for playing.”

As for the “worst case scenario for my career” comment, Olbermann’s response was much more cutting.

This assumes that Mr. Simmons' career now is where mine was twelve years ago (anchoringSportsCenter, then my own MSNBC political show, anchoring NBC Weekend Nightly News, writing a best-selling sports book, etc). In fact, this assumes that this is Mr. Simmons' career, which is remarkable. Also, anybody who could write as many words without saying anything of consequence really should throw around the word "blowhard" as frequently as he would a street sewer cover.  Also, I don't think ‘pious’ necessarily means what he thinks it does.”

He then asserts that ESPN executives consider Simmons “the most uncontrollable, unmanageable talent in the history of ESPN” and were embarrassed by the Woods/Ali article.

Later that day, Simmons ends the feud, again on Twitter, saying, “I've said enough. This was not why I got into writing.

Aaand we’re caught up…

Originally, I wanted to side with Simmons.  I was going to contend that Olbermann’s argument was about plight and had nothing to do with what Simmons was arguing.  This is actually true.  At no point did Simmons ever argue the plight of each man.  He argued that Ali was returning to greater fanfare than Woods is, that America was turning against Vietnam, and that Ali had become a hero to the vocal, anti-war left.  Though the jury is still out on exactly what kind of fanfare Tiger is returning to, it is true that Ali did have a sect of society firmly on his side.  But mysteriously lacking from Simmons' argument is that Ali was also an enemy to many (including his own government) in a 1970 America in which seething and outspoken racism was still commonplace.  Let’s not forget, this was a mere two years after Dr. King was assassinated.  Awkward as it may be for a celebrity athlete as mammoth in stature as Woods to return to his very public occupation after a very public marital rift during which a parade of women made public his most private moments, it just can’t come close to the cultural volatility in which Ali was a centerpiece.  It’s an argument of feeling awkward versus feeling in danger.  It’s no contest.

However, this doesn't fully settle the score in Olbermann v Simmons.  But before I go all Tom Papa on y’all and give my verdict, I’d like to share a story.  It’s going to seem like a wild and arguably distasteful tangent, but I promise it’ll all come back around.  So I’m at a relatively small gathering at my friend’s Chicago apartment.  It’s late and we’ve all consumed our fair share of liquor.  I forget how the topic came up, but at some point I express the opinion that anal sex, from the male perspective, requires an aggressive disrespect for one’s partner.  Now, as is the tendency of the heavily intoxicated, I hadn’t fully crafted this thesis.  I just thought to myself, “Isn’t the pleasure in that experience sapped by the potential pain your partner could experience?”  At any rate, the room did not respond favorably to my theory, mostly on account of the vast array of experiences people do and do not enjoy.  Given that I'm not religiously or morally opposed to just about any conceivable sex act between consenting adults, and had I given the topic more thought before spouting off half baked opinions, it’s more than likely I would’ve reached a stance within the realm of group consensus.  But when that delicious cocktail of dissent and whiskey took hold, there was absolutely no way I was going to humbly admit that my argument was lacking.  No sir.  I doubled down.  Of course, amongst friends it was just fun and harmless discourse, but I definitely think a part of me just didn’t want to feel like I had the capacity to make that dumb a point.  And harmless as the whole situation was, ego rather than logic was driving my end of the argument.

It seems to me that this is precisely what happened with Simmons.  As an avid follower of his podcast and of his column, it seems that Simmons has a strong desire to not only be thought of as the entertaining, pop-culture referencing “Sports Guy”, but also to be within the intellectual ballpark of his friends and peers.  He seems, more than other writers, to obsess about being a writer.  I think the acceptance and friendship of the Malcolm Gladwell's and Chuck Klosterman's of the world make Simmons feel a part of some kind of elite writer's society.  I suspect it was a massively important moment for Simmons when Gladwell agreed to write the forward for his "Book of Basketball".  Contrarily, when someone as intelligent as Olbermann or Charles P. Pierce confronts Simmons, I suspect that this deep-seated inferiority complex surfaces, and the ego takes the wheel.  It's the only way to explain moving forward with a thesis as flawed and rushed as the one that first appeared in that February chat.  And unfortunately for Simmons, he picked a fight that he just couldn't win.

That said, it wasn't exactly a sterling performance for Olbermann either.  While on the right side of the argument, he made the mistake of challenging a point that was never made.  His argument that Ali was coming back from harder circumstances than Woods was a no brainer.  Unfortunately the debate was about the respective situations the athletes were/are entering into.  Essentially Olbermann kicked off the scoring by banking in a three ball without calling glass.  When the attacks became personal, Olbermann retained slightly more dignity than Simmons, only attacking his work and never his lifestyle.  The real winner in all of this was the aforementioned Charles P. Pierce, whose point for point (or hole for hole) dismantling of Simmons' article was easily the most pointed and accurate criticism.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm left underwhelmed by all of this.  As I've churned through this post, my excitement for the topic has rightfully waned.  When I predicted the potential for divided camps, I did not expect Simmons to have written one of, if not the most flawed and painful articles of his career. When I heard that two people I like and respect were feuding, I did not expect sloppy arguments, and in the case of Simmons, misguided pot shots.  And the real travesty is that the guy who made the best arguments in all of this is a cantankerous old bastard who has a strange and creepy vendetta against Simmons, the guy who I like the most.  So yeah...fuck this feud, I'm done with it.  

Now excuse me while I work on my next thesis entitled, "When Charlie Pierce Wins, We all Lose".  Goodnight and good luck.

Thursday
Feb252010

Small Stakes

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time alone.  Pending my frame of mind, that sentence could come from a place of sorrow or a place of utter relief.  Right now it's a little bit of both.  In any case, being alone (and unemployed) tends to strip the impact life has on you, both good and bad.  Joy, elation, and achievement are out of the picture, but so are heartbreak, devastation, and stress.  The great band Spoon wrote a song a few years back entitled "Small Stakes".  In it Britt Daniels sings the lyric, "Small stakes give you blues, but you don't feel taken or think you've been used."  Whether by choice or on account of circumstance, this is the motto I've found myself living by in this, my 27th Chicago winter.

I began a new television mini-odyssey recently in "The Sopranos".  In an episode I watched today there was a wedding scene in which we see the traditional clanking of butter knives to wine glasses followed by a kiss between bride and groom.  As the scene took place I flashed back to various weddings I'd been to, the most "low key" of them still displaying a level of ceremony and grandeur hard to imagine for myself.  All that preparation.  Hiring a DJ or a band.  Then the caterers.  The color arrangements.  The photographer.  The ring.  The guests, many of whom you'd just as soon want to check the "no" box on their RSVP.  The invitations.  Working within a budget.  And you want to give her the best night of her life, but the pressure of it all is wearing on you.  You take a breather on an idle Sunday afternoon.  You're sipping a beer on your couch, watching a ballgame in your sweatpants.  Meanwhile, she's trying on her dress, doubting how it looks as she evaluates every inch of her body in the mirror.  And as she approaches you for your opinion, you know there's not a single answer you can give that won't make you seem like the laziest, most uninterested piece of crap on the planet.  And that's just the wedding preparation.  

Then comes the ceremony.  You have to remember and recite vows.  You have to smoothly place the snug fitting ring upon her finger.  You have to essentially perform the most intimate moment of your life on a stage in front of people who are just biding their time until they can get drunk.  Then comes the reception and everyone gets drunk.  And for the 17th time in an hour your drunken uncle Lou is banging on his wine glass with a butter knife.  As you and your wife bashfully smooch, Lou laughs in giddy amazement, like a child who's figured out a light switch for the first time.  Fucking Lou. 

But before all of this happens you have to meet someone who's worth a damn.  Where do you even do that?  You have to go through the horror and uncertainty of approaching her, knowing that ego crushing defeat might soon be approaching.  Hopefully she likes you enough to look past your obscene lack of confidence.  She does.  What a relief!  Having to walk away wounded with the knowledge that you weren't good enough would've been devastating.  But fuck.  Now you have to actually see her and impress her.  You think you're a fairly funny guy.  You can be entertaining and interesting.  But you don't have any social stats.  No steady job.  No dreams in action.  Is it really worth the agony of exposing yourself as a bum?  And suppose that you do and inexplicably she's cool with you and what you are, what if you go back to her place or yours?  You're making out on the sofa.  Soon you'll be headed to the bedroom.  It should be natural, but you're worried.  You're worried about condoms and fumbling around with them.  You're worried about getting one on efficiently, because God forbid you don't, that proud erection will soon wither into limp, pathetic impotence.  But suppose it goes well.  You're thrusting back and forth, your doughy body looking so pathetically average under the dim light.  She couldn't possibly be enjoying this, could she?  But you go through with it, unsure of how good it was for her.  And you let go of yourself briefly enough to cum.  Then you sleep.  A single exhausting date miraculously sees its fruition.  

And as I sit in my chair.  Alone.  Unemployed.  Nothing to win, nothing to lose.  I think to myself, this ain't so bad.  Sure, I get lonely sometimes.  Sure I get depressed.  But the prospect of entering that world.  Society.  Relationships.  Normalcy.  That prospect can seem so completely daunting that I sometimes wonder whether sitting in this chair with my music, my internet, my booze, and my left hand might just be the best way to go. 

But I know it's not.

In an introductory philosophy class I attended years ago, my youngish professor challenged my reclusive tendencies in terms I understood - booze.  He talked about life as an undergrad.  Kegs of cheap beer.  Shit shows in shitty, run down, college-town homes.  Hazy nights.  Promiscuity.  He said it was the time of his life.  Then he graduated and moved on to grad school where a handful of professors took a shine to him.  They brought him out to a favorite establishment of theirs where they were to converse and taste scotch.  At first he could not confidently discern nor appreciate the flavors of each drink.  But with time his palate and tastes became refined.  An ultimately fulfilling experience.  He closed the story by questioning whether he'd ever want to go back to the time in his life when the beer was cheap and the parties were crazy, acknowledging that his life was much simpler and relatively stress free in those days.  The answer was a resounding no.  The joy and enlightenment in the world he discovered easily usurped the ease and simplicity of experiences past.

I understand that people do things for the wrong reasons.  People seek occupations primarily for money, sacrificing contentment in the process. People get married because they're supposed to be married.  It's tradition.  These things are expected and encouraged.  But I also understand that avoiding the possibility of a more fulfilling life, in fear of the entailed pressures and road bumps, is equally misguided.  I know that hiring a DJ and appeasing your drunken uncle, confronting insecurities and failing - these things are minor prices to pay if in the long run you find your higher plane.  

As I close this post, I'm sipping on a 40 oz King Cobra in a room without decor.  Unfulfilled, yet unbroken.  And I know the world is filled with fine scotch and wonderful women.  Rewarding marriages and fulfilling existences.  I just hope that someday I can bridge the gap.