So it wasn't a super-great movie. The pacing was off in spots, some of the musical numbers weren't all that pizzazzy and, honestly, there just weren't enough Muppets. I mean, Jason Segel is definitely a Muppety man, but I just wanted more.
I loved it, though, particularly for embracing the zaniness and chaos of the Muppets. There were jokes that broke the fourth wall, sight gags galore, and a massive cast of characters.
There was one moment that really got to me, though.
Toward the end of the movie, the Muppets performed "The Rainbow Connection." It wasn't a particularly amazing performance, other than Animal on drums (finally), but what made it special was the audience. About one out of every four people in the movie theater was singing along.
That was what made the movie for me. You felt like you weren't just watching a movie with your friends, you're watching a movie about your friends - it's pretty rare to find that kind of a connection with a movie's characters these days, and that was pretty special.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
The Muppet Movie
So it wasn't a great movie. The pacing was off in spots, some of the musical numbers weren't all that pizzazzy and, honestly, there just weren't enough Muppets. I mean, Jason Segel is definitely a Muppety man, but I just wanted more.
I loved it, though, particularly for embracing the zaniness and chaos of the Muppets. There were jokes that broke the fourth wall, sight gags galore, and a massive cast of characters.
There was one moment that really got to me, though.
Toward the end of the movie, the Muppets performed "The Rainbow Connection." It wasn't a particularly performance, other than Animal on drums (finally), but what made it special was the audience. About one out of every four people in the movie theater was singing along.
That was what made the movie for me. You felt like you weren't just watching a movie with your friends, you're watching a movie about your friends - it's pretty rare to find that kind of a connection with a movie's characters these days, and that was pretty special.
I loved it, though, particularly for embracing the zaniness and chaos of the Muppets. There were jokes that broke the fourth wall, sight gags galore, and a massive cast of characters.
There was one moment that really got to me, though.
Toward the end of the movie, the Muppets performed "The Rainbow Connection." It wasn't a particularly performance, other than Animal on drums (finally), but what made it special was the audience. About one out of every four people in the movie theater was singing along.
That was what made the movie for me. You felt like you weren't just watching a movie with your friends, you're watching a movie about your friends - it's pretty rare to find that kind of a connection with a movie's characters these days, and that was pretty special.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
L'esprit de l'escalier et l'esprit de liberté
At work, a friend who shares my faith found out that I support gay marriage. He asked me how I could support gay marriage when I'm not a fan of the gay lifestyle. I wasn't terribly articulate in my defense, honestly.
This weekend I was shelving books in our sideroom when I came across a book from 1940 called, "Toward Freedom." I flipped through the pages and the prose looked turgid, the illustrations a step ahead of a kindergarten primer, but the introduction took me away. I'll quote them now:
More the specifically, the authors of the Democracy Series use the following characteristics to describe the ideals and procedures of democracy.
1. Respect for the dignity and worth of the individual human personality.
2. Open opportunity for the individual.
3. Economic and social security.
4. The search for truth.
5. Free discussion; freedom of speech; freedom of the press.
6. Universal education.
7. The rule of the majority; the rights of the minority; the honest ballot.
8. Justice for the common man; trial by jury; arbitration of disputes; orderly legal processes; freedom from search and seizure; right to petition.
9. Freedom of religion.
10. Respect for the rights of private property.
11. The practice of the fundamental social virtues.
12. The responsibility of the individual to participate in the duties of democracy.
I honestly couldn't have said it better myself.
This weekend I was shelving books in our sideroom when I came across a book from 1940 called, "Toward Freedom." I flipped through the pages and the prose looked turgid, the illustrations a step ahead of a kindergarten primer, but the introduction took me away. I'll quote them now:
More the specifically, the authors of the Democracy Series use the following characteristics to describe the ideals and procedures of democracy.
1. Respect for the dignity and worth of the individual human personality.
2. Open opportunity for the individual.
3. Economic and social security.
4. The search for truth.
5. Free discussion; freedom of speech; freedom of the press.
6. Universal education.
7. The rule of the majority; the rights of the minority; the honest ballot.
8. Justice for the common man; trial by jury; arbitration of disputes; orderly legal processes; freedom from search and seizure; right to petition.
9. Freedom of religion.
10. Respect for the rights of private property.
11. The practice of the fundamental social virtues.
12. The responsibility of the individual to participate in the duties of democracy.
I honestly couldn't have said it better myself.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Grab Bag Post
Just watched the 13th episode of the show, the finale of the first season and while I have enjoyed every minute of it, I really, really didn't appreciate what they did with the last few minutes. I mean, I'm all for cliffhangers but, gah!
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Falling Skies, on the other hand, met my expectations beautifully.
My biggest concern was that this would be another scifi show that'd burn me. First was Flash Forward which started out with an amazing premiere that quickly petered out into a meaningless parade of boring subplots. V at least had the decency to be terrible from the very beginning but, still, it was terrible in ways that I haven't seen outside of B movies. And then The Event, which started by having a plane disappear in midflight and went on its mid-season break by showing us that - gasp! - villainous Hal Holbrook* likes to play Calvinchess.
What Falling Skies seems to have learned, and learned well, is that good shows show rather than tell, but they show in increments, building story and character rather than worrying about whether their plot points are flashy enough. Given the pedigree of the show, this shouldn't be too surprising. I'm hoping it can sustain what's it built up so far.
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On Thursday I'm going to get a chance to teach a group of 3rd and 4th grade boys about the 139th Psalm, a personal favourite. I've spent quite a lot of time getting this lesson ready, so I'm hoping it goes well.
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Every night, I put Brandon down to bed. Before I go downstairs, we pray, and as part of that prayer I thank God for something I love about Brandon. It's a bit of a ritual, but I think it's important for kids to know that they are special and wonderful.
Anyway, tonight, I thanked God for Brandon's curiosity. I hardly got to see him at all since I left for work shortly after waking up and then tonight was our church softball game, but the entire time we were there he spent exploring a giant broken log along with a bunch of other kids. He was poking it with sticks, putting his head through holes and generally making himself very, very dirty.
After we prayed, Brandon asked, "Dad, what's curdi . . . curiotis . . . that thing you were talking about?"
Love that kid
------------------
Falling Skies, on the other hand, met my expectations beautifully.
My biggest concern was that this would be another scifi show that'd burn me. First was Flash Forward which started out with an amazing premiere that quickly petered out into a meaningless parade of boring subplots. V at least had the decency to be terrible from the very beginning but, still, it was terrible in ways that I haven't seen outside of B movies. And then The Event, which started by having a plane disappear in midflight and went on its mid-season break by showing us that - gasp! - villainous Hal Holbrook* likes to play Calvinchess.
What Falling Skies seems to have learned, and learned well, is that good shows show rather than tell, but they show in increments, building story and character rather than worrying about whether their plot points are flashy enough. Given the pedigree of the show, this shouldn't be too surprising. I'm hoping it can sustain what's it built up so far.
-----------------
On Thursday I'm going to get a chance to teach a group of 3rd and 4th grade boys about the 139th Psalm, a personal favourite. I've spent quite a lot of time getting this lesson ready, so I'm hoping it goes well.
-----------------
Every night, I put Brandon down to bed. Before I go downstairs, we pray, and as part of that prayer I thank God for something I love about Brandon. It's a bit of a ritual, but I think it's important for kids to know that they are special and wonderful.
Anyway, tonight, I thanked God for Brandon's curiosity. I hardly got to see him at all since I left for work shortly after waking up and then tonight was our church softball game, but the entire time we were there he spent exploring a giant broken log along with a bunch of other kids. He was poking it with sticks, putting his head through holes and generally making himself very, very dirty.
After we prayed, Brandon asked, "Dad, what's curdi . . . curiotis . . . that thing you were talking about?"
Love that kid
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Christians and tipping
Today, my boys and I went out to eat, and it cost us $7, although I spent $12. We went to Friendly's, Graeme's favourite family restaurant, when they were running a special. Buy one adult entree, get a kid's meal free. I also had a coupon, one that clearly said it couldn't be combined with other coupons but said nothing of special offers, that had the same deal. So, we paid for my meal, but got three of them.
I thought it was a pretty clever deal but as soon as I presented it to her (and eventually to her manager, who didn't think the coupon applied), I saw that she was displeased. She thought she knew who I was. I was a Sunday Christian.
Brothers and sisters, I've worked in restaurants and the stories about Christians being lousy tippers are not just stories. I counted cash, which included tips, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, meaning that on Monday I was counting up Sunday's money. Tips average around 4% of the total bill, when the rest of the week they averaged about 10%. Yeah, you could argue that the Christians, who came in wearing their Sunday best, sometimes staying for hours and debating theology over free drink after free drink after free drink, were just the most visible cheap diners, but I disagree.
One afternoon, a deacon from my own church came while I was covering a server's shift. We had a nice conversation as I took his order, and I quizzed him about the Sunday School I was missing. He let me know that a lady at church was looking for me because she needed a city for Friday. It was friendly. My tip, on his $40 bill? 41 cents. Cheapskate.
For those who don't know, waitstaff make less than anyone else in the kitchen, at least based on hourly wage. The difference in their actual rate of pay and what they need to live is made up by tips. It's an inefficient system, true, but it's what we have to work with. I'm of the opinion that if you're budgeting to go out to eat, you budget in at least 10% for tip, more for nicer restaurants where the servers have to do more work. Consider it part of your bill, even if it's not on the receipt.
So, this waitress had decided who I was: a Sunday Christian. She was still efficient and polite throughout the meal. Brandon's meal was delivered with the wrong kind of fries, so she immediately got another plate. When Graeme ordered a soda with his meal (he doesn't like soda), she offered to replace it with another drink he did like free of charge. I never saw the bottom of my water glass. When she stopped, whether to drop off food or just check in (which she did frequently), she talked to the boys as much as she did to me and seemed genuinely interested in the conversation. She was excellent, frankly.
I'd completed my calculations prior to the bill's arrival and determined my tip. I gave her a 20 for the bill and she gave me the change while Brandon still madly attempted to finish his double ice cream cone.
She came back to clean up the table before she left and saw a $5 bill, a little more than 12% of what the bill would've been without coupons, sitting on the table. I told her, "God bless," and the boys and I took our leave.
I don't know what impact that had. I really only did what a good diner ought to do, nothing more, but it's more than some might do. She seemed pleased to see the tip, and I hope that I had some small effect, that I was able to slightly erode her perception of the cheapskate Sunday Christian.
I thought it was a pretty clever deal but as soon as I presented it to her (and eventually to her manager, who didn't think the coupon applied), I saw that she was displeased. She thought she knew who I was. I was a Sunday Christian.
Brothers and sisters, I've worked in restaurants and the stories about Christians being lousy tippers are not just stories. I counted cash, which included tips, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, meaning that on Monday I was counting up Sunday's money. Tips average around 4% of the total bill, when the rest of the week they averaged about 10%. Yeah, you could argue that the Christians, who came in wearing their Sunday best, sometimes staying for hours and debating theology over free drink after free drink after free drink, were just the most visible cheap diners, but I disagree.
One afternoon, a deacon from my own church came while I was covering a server's shift. We had a nice conversation as I took his order, and I quizzed him about the Sunday School I was missing. He let me know that a lady at church was looking for me because she needed a city for Friday. It was friendly. My tip, on his $40 bill? 41 cents. Cheapskate.
For those who don't know, waitstaff make less than anyone else in the kitchen, at least based on hourly wage. The difference in their actual rate of pay and what they need to live is made up by tips. It's an inefficient system, true, but it's what we have to work with. I'm of the opinion that if you're budgeting to go out to eat, you budget in at least 10% for tip, more for nicer restaurants where the servers have to do more work. Consider it part of your bill, even if it's not on the receipt.
So, this waitress had decided who I was: a Sunday Christian. She was still efficient and polite throughout the meal. Brandon's meal was delivered with the wrong kind of fries, so she immediately got another plate. When Graeme ordered a soda with his meal (he doesn't like soda), she offered to replace it with another drink he did like free of charge. I never saw the bottom of my water glass. When she stopped, whether to drop off food or just check in (which she did frequently), she talked to the boys as much as she did to me and seemed genuinely interested in the conversation. She was excellent, frankly.
I'd completed my calculations prior to the bill's arrival and determined my tip. I gave her a 20 for the bill and she gave me the change while Brandon still madly attempted to finish his double ice cream cone.
She came back to clean up the table before she left and saw a $5 bill, a little more than 12% of what the bill would've been without coupons, sitting on the table. I told her, "God bless," and the boys and I took our leave.
I don't know what impact that had. I really only did what a good diner ought to do, nothing more, but it's more than some might do. She seemed pleased to see the tip, and I hope that I had some small effect, that I was able to slightly erode her perception of the cheapskate Sunday Christian.
Monday, May 23, 2011
An Open Goodbye To The Event
Goodbye, you stupid show.
No, no, I don't just mean that as a simple insult. I'm not resorting to schoolyard language rather than using my grown-up words. You, as an actual show, are stupid and have been from very early on.
You played cagey with whether The Event was a plane disappearing in midair, which we'd seen on Lost, whether it was the attempted assassination of the president, which we've seen on almost every season of Lost, whether it was a vast and ancient secret society watching over us, which we've seen on Fringe with a much cooler secret society, whether it was the revelation that there are aliens living among us, which we've seen on Roswell . . . I'm going to stop there. As a science fiction, I don't think there's anything much worse than being scooped by Roswell, unless you're also scooped by Wolf Lake.
So, goodbye, stupid show. You ignored basic history civic history. I counted six times that anyone in the same room as the president should've - not could've, but should've - had the president arrested and taken out of the room on the spot for violating basic rule of law. You ignore science. H1N1 didn't come from avian flu. Accelerants don't work that way. You're a science fiction show, so I can deal with a few violations of the laws of thermodynamics and a somewhat quirky interpretation of the uses of wormhole technology, but get the basic stuff right or, well, get cancelled.
Goodbye to your stupid, convoluted, hackneyed subplots. It's pretty customary for a cancelled show to leave a few thread hanging, but I think you might set some kind of record. And I don't care about any of them. I don't care about the aliens coming to Earth, I don't care about the secret society, I don't care about the assassin who's learning to love, I don't care that Jason Ritter's girlfriend has the funny syphilis. It's all been done before, and done better.
Goodbye to your terrible dialogue.
I'll give this to you, though, you had some cool location shots right at the beginning there. Really, the desert scenes were great, and I loved the setting for the disappearance of the plane. It felt very open and real in a way that most shows seem to actively avoid.
I know, this is the part where is seems like I'm having a change of heart and any minute now you're expecting I'll say, "It's not you, it's me." Well, if I do that, then I must be feverish, because it's not me, it's you. You're stupid. And goodbye.
No, no, I don't just mean that as a simple insult. I'm not resorting to schoolyard language rather than using my grown-up words. You, as an actual show, are stupid and have been from very early on.
You played cagey with whether The Event was a plane disappearing in midair, which we'd seen on Lost, whether it was the attempted assassination of the president, which we've seen on almost every season of Lost, whether it was a vast and ancient secret society watching over us, which we've seen on Fringe with a much cooler secret society, whether it was the revelation that there are aliens living among us, which we've seen on Roswell . . . I'm going to stop there. As a science fiction, I don't think there's anything much worse than being scooped by Roswell, unless you're also scooped by Wolf Lake.
So, goodbye, stupid show. You ignored basic history civic history. I counted six times that anyone in the same room as the president should've - not could've, but should've - had the president arrested and taken out of the room on the spot for violating basic rule of law. You ignore science. H1N1 didn't come from avian flu. Accelerants don't work that way. You're a science fiction show, so I can deal with a few violations of the laws of thermodynamics and a somewhat quirky interpretation of the uses of wormhole technology, but get the basic stuff right or, well, get cancelled.
Goodbye to your stupid, convoluted, hackneyed subplots. It's pretty customary for a cancelled show to leave a few thread hanging, but I think you might set some kind of record. And I don't care about any of them. I don't care about the aliens coming to Earth, I don't care about the secret society, I don't care about the assassin who's learning to love, I don't care that Jason Ritter's girlfriend has the funny syphilis. It's all been done before, and done better.
Goodbye to your terrible dialogue.
I'll give this to you, though, you had some cool location shots right at the beginning there. Really, the desert scenes were great, and I loved the setting for the disappearance of the plane. It felt very open and real in a way that most shows seem to actively avoid.
I know, this is the part where is seems like I'm having a change of heart and any minute now you're expecting I'll say, "It's not you, it's me." Well, if I do that, then I must be feverish, because it's not me, it's you. You're stupid. And goodbye.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The Day After
ETA: The story mentioned in here is true, basically, other than that it appears to come from a one-on-one interview with Marilyn and Michael Moore. The link to "money quote" is here. The post will remain as is because I'm lazy.
There's a story - probably apocryphal, but most useful stories are - that after the Columbine shooting, Marilyn Manson and a bunch of talking heads were sitting around jawing about the incident. Manson was there because, of course, his music was somehow implicated in the incident.*
The question came up, "What would you say to those kids, if you had the chance?" The talking heads gave their answers and Marilyn (can I call him Marilyn? not sure on the protocol there) replied, "I wouldn't have talked. I'd have listened."
Regardless of the story's truth, like any parable, it makes a good point. When someone feels isolated, alone and depressed, as those boys did, it often does no good to just talk at them.
Tonight, beginning at 6 pm EST, Harold Camping believes that the Lord will be coming back to take away his faithful remnant. He has taken an already well-stretched eschatology and added into it his own special mix of numerology, Zionism and governmental conspiracies and concluded that the world will be coming to an end shortly afterwards.
The world will end, eventually - maybe in fire, maybe in ice - and it could sneak up on is, but the smart money says that he's wrong, which means that tonight and tomorrow morning every one of his followers is going to feel a little like those lost boys of Columbine: isolated, alone and depressed. And so tonight and tomorrow morning and for many days afterwards, we're going to have show them compassion.
You can argue that they brought it on themselves. I mean, no one forced them to believe Camping's lies, and surely a moments sensible though would have told them that is was utter foolishness, and one could argue that anyone so willfully deluded isn't worthy of compassion. I'd argue that it doesn't matter, that if compassion is to have any real meaning, then it must be given to those who need it and not to those who deserve it.
One of my co-workers has bought into Camping's line of bunk. On Monday morning, she's going to show up at the office, something she never thought she'd do again. All week I've been thinking, "I wonder what I should say to her." I think I've found my answer. And hopefully you'll find yours too.
* Of course, a lot of people, including me, listened to Marilyn Manson without shooting up a high school. I also listened to Stabbing Westward, Consolidated, Nine Inch Nails and a lot of other music that explains why to this day I tend to listen to music on headphones. I presume that I just wasn't listening to it in the way that makes you crazy, or perhaps Rich Mullins and Jars of Clay serve as some sort of harmonic antidote.
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