A New Twist in Advertising

A long time ago my mother found an encyclopedia in the bathroom. She asked my father if he was doing “some light reading” while using the facilities. He told her he didn’t know anything about it, so she decided to ask me, and what she found out surprised her very much.

It was I who’d been reading the encyclopedia in the bathroom . . . and I was 6.

I don’t know about you, but the bathroom is just plain boring. Sitting there, hanging out with nothing to do (and rarely something to look at) wears at my productive/efficient side. I feel the same way about working out. I hate going to gyms because it’s so mindless. P.S. That’s why I study the martial arts; you have to think to survive, you lose weight while building muscle, and you get to beat people up!

Anyway, so I found a way around being bored in the bathroom . . . just pick up a good book. Ever since I was six I’ve read tons of things on the porcelain throne; everything from magazines to encyclopedias to novels (no, I didn’t read the entire novel in one sitting). In fact, I’ve read the entire collected works of Shakespeare . . . in the bathroom. I was in college, I was really busy with school and work, but I wanted to read Shakespeare too, so I found the most opportune time. There’s nothing wrong with a little Bard in the Bathroom!

Anyway, since I’ve been reading in the bathroom my ENTIRE life, I’ve formed quite a habit. It’s hard to have a seat and not immediately reach for the nearest copy of Writer’s Digest or the next volume of Calvin and Hobbes. This does present a problem, though, when using bathrooms that are not my own. Many times you get lucky and the owner of the aforementioned water closet has their own reading material close at hand, but from time to desperate-time you find yourself in a public stall or in the lavatory of someone who’s illiterate.

This is what I do: if it’s a public bathroom you can use your iPod or cell phone to play games. You can also peruse the stall walls and bulk up on your ghetto slang and pithy perversions. But if you’re visiting relatives with no reading material you have to stoop pretty low. And boy do I ever.

I’ve read the backs of almost every shampoo bottle, can of hair spray, toothpaste tube, bathroom cleaner, and tissue box ever made. I can tell you how much fluoride Colgate has in it compared to Close Up. Did you know that tampons . . . ? Well, never mind.

Like I said, I get bored.

So I’m in my Aunt’s bathroom trying very hard to not give in to my Obsessive Bathroom Reading Behavior (OBRB). I fail miserably. So after reading her hairspray and toothpaste I move on to the contents of her shower, and it’s there that I stumbled upon a very annoying advertising tactic.

You knew I’d get to the point eventually.

I pick up a bottle of shampoo and find an interesting question on the back. Q: What percentage of women wear the wrong bra size?  I must admit the question intrigued me. I casually scanned the bottle for the answer but, to my dismay, I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t there. Instead of the answer I desperately wanted to know there were written very little words that read, “to find out the answer look on the back of our Conditioner.”

I couldn’t believe it! What kind of a pathetic ploy was that. The only way you can know the answer is to purchase the shampoo andthe conditioner together? Granted, I was in a very vulnerable state at the time: I was in a frilly bathroom with no reading material and I’d just been hoodwinked by a shampoo company’s marketing department.

Needless to say I scoured her shower in hopes of finding the conditioner bottle, but apparently the answer hadn’t been important to my Aunt. When I looked at the shampoo bottle again I did find an answer there, but it was obviously the answer to the question on the back of the conditioner tube! Grrr.

So, in the end, I finished my bathroom session highly annoyed. First of all, my Aunt seriously needs a magazine rack or library shelf in her bathroom (preferably with books listed using the Dewey Decimal System). Second of all, that shampoo company needs to get a life. If that’s the best you can do to get people to buy your conditioner I think you need to have a better product.

So just to spite the Big Bad Shampoo ExecsI’m not only NOT going to buy the shampoo or the conditioner, I’m also not even going to look at the bottle as I walk past it in Wal-Mart. Hmph. So there. That’s what they get for taking advantage of me in a compromising situation.

So, in retrospect, all I have to ask is, does anyone know “what percentage of women wear the wrong size bra?”

Green?

I go green . . . I don’t use my air conditioning.

Unfortunately, in my situation “green” means “greenbacks.” By not using my AC I save a lot of moo-la.

But let’s consider for a moment the “go green” phenomenon we’re being smacked in the face with these days. Firstly, I think it’s a great idea. Saving nonrenewable resources, cutting back on unnecessary waste and mindless consuming is a fantastic idea, but when do we cross the line from idealists to hypocrites?

For example: let’s consider The Green Network? Is their T.V. station going to use less electricity and water than Fox or the Playboy station? Can you really dedicate an entire station to eco-friendly news and shows, all the while burning through just as much jet fuel as everyone else does when they cart their camera crews to Uganda? Is The Green Network’s footprint really going to be smaller than everyone else’s, or are we missing the lumberjack for the trees?

A local radio station in Chicago is having a Green radio show. They’re riding their bikes to downtown Chicago where they plan to interview the pop-rock band Maroon 5. Okay, so you’re riding your bikes. Okay, so the price of admittance is a plastic bag. But c’mon people! Are you telling me Maroon 5 is going to ride their bikes to Chicago? What about all those people driving downtown with their plastic bags? Great, you recycled 300 plastic bags, but how many gallons of fuel (car and jet alike) did you burn through in the process?

It’s like having to drive 10 miles to get to the nearest recycling plant. Yeah, that makes sense.

Here’s my point: By all means, please preserve our planet . . . but don’t undo what you’re doing. We need to be careful that we don’t pull an Oedipus Rex: to save ourselves we become the tool of our own undoing.

Untraceable

 

I’m a pretty decent digital user. I can manage my computer, find almost anything on the web, and occasionally outwit a nasty virus or “hack” my own programs to make them do what I want them to do. That’s about it. Pretty normal stuff.

So when I watch movies like Untraceable, my imagination gets really fired because I don’t get any of the computer jargon they’re tossing around. And while it’s fun to believe they can do that kind of stuff, it’s also extremely scary. Can people infiltrate my computer that easily? Can they steal my life, frame me, or involve me in crime I know nothing about? Can people use the Internet to kill a person?

The thing I really liked about the movie was its platform. The message that the Internet is a dangerous place where twisted and scary things take place every single second of every single day, is a pregnant and timely message. It’s no longer about making bombs or looking at dirty pictures. It’s worse than that. You can watch people participating in the most gruesome and vial practices from bestiality, to rape; murder, to incest. It’s like the whole world is either killing someone or having sex with another. The Internet is a place for anonymous illegal activity and base animal-like behavior. It’s extreme voyeurism at its worst.

During the film a main character is tortured and killed, but in a last ditch attempt to catch the murderer he is able to pass a message to his partner who’s watching the streaming broadcast of his death. His message: “Our Suicide.” In the movie this clue helped the FBI to unravel the killer’s motive and track the perverted SOB down. But the implication of that clue for the real world is cunvulsingly potent.

“Our Suicide.”

As a people, a nation, a generation, we are actively participating in our own suicide. We are killing ourselves by allowing our families, and children, and leaders to become desensitized to the scum of the planet. I used to say that T.V. violence was nothing compared to the Coliseums of old. The ancient Romans were worse than we are because they gloried in stealing the life of innocent people. At least the actors on our plasma screens aren’t actually dying; that’s not their blood; they’ll finish the shoot, receive their check, and head home. But I believe our society won’t tolerate that for much longer. They crave real carnage, and websites like Death.com provide a forum for perverted, sado-masochistic, detestable miscreants who thrive on death and decay.

How long will it be before we start sacrificing our own Christians and televise the whole thing for all to see?

Are we really improving as a society? I don’t really think so. I think technology is revealing our truest fantasies for everyone to see . . . and many of those fantasies are very scary. In Untraceable millions and millions of people actively participated in the murder of three individuals and the attempted murder of a fourth. I believe the director’s portrayal was accurate. I fully believe that people all over the US and the world would log-on and watch every bloody second.

What can we do to stop it? Is there an answer? I believe there is, and it all starts in the home. The government needs to control the world wide web, I think that’s completely legal and necessary. But the first line of defense is to stop rearing a blood-thirsty nation. Parents, monitor your kids. Buy firewalls and filters, block the evil flowing through the fire-wire. There are plenty of people who will continue to promote and view those sights, but hopefully they’ll manage to kill themselves off and a new generation of real Americans who respect each other and are united in the success of humanity will take control.

Then instead of billions of people lusting for gore, those creators of death will find no audience and will be shunned like the vial, twisted, detestable, awful, perverted, sick, excuses for human beings they are.

By the way, if you stumbled upon this blog because you were googling ”bestiality, incest, rape, murder, killwithme.com, death, porn, sex,” or any other sick site . . . this is a message for you:

You are ”our suicide.”

The Chocolate

I love cell phones . . . or, should I say, mobile phones.

The communicatory accessibility cell phones deliver sends delighted shivers down my networking spine. I love the fact that anyone who knows my number can grab me by the sleeve whenever they want. On the flip-phone-side, I loathe those ignoramuses who spend their hard earned money on a mobile phone that resides in the land of “Lost,” or “Turned Off” ninety percent of its day.

Still, despite my adolescent-like crush on mobile phones, even they can tick me off. Normally I’m upset at the person who owns the phone, or the network that slings the phone’s signal, but today I’m upset at that matchbox-sized devil. I recently purchased the new Chocolate by LG. Let me say I’ve always loved LG’s, and even though the first Chocolate had some issues to work through, I heard they were improving on their faux pas. I had faith LG would pull through for me. And they did. The antifeatures that caused b.c.Chocolate owners to smash their phones in rage have been reworked on their A.D.Chocolate counterparts. In short, the hardware rocks . . . but the problem lies in the software.

My woes started this way. I wanted an I-Pod . . . very badly. I also needed a new phone . . . very badly. Well, how could I find  more perfect marriage of phone and MP3 player than the Chocolate? Inexpensive, yet rock’n. So I bought the Maroon Confection, but instead of euphoric groans of exstacy I found myself brushing up on a wide array of euphemisms. The MP3 software is atrocious! Converting songs, downloading them on to the phone, arranging them into playlists, actually playing the music itself . . .  AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Normally a phone’s programming is amazing even though the phone itself breaks down a year before your “New Every Two” kicks in. The Chocolates system is agonizingly weak. Verizon (which I adore as a mobile provider- p.s. congratulations commercial, bespectacled-Verizon guy on the birth of your T.V. baby!) advertises that you can put 4 gigs of music on your phone. But to actually labor through the eternal process of downloading that many songs on your Chocolate would sever the cerebral cortex and drive the user into an unrecoverable state of incensed insanity.

I saw only one way to rectify my problem. Since I loved the Chocolate’s features as it applied to phone usage, I kept the phone. But when it came to music, I bought an I-Pod.

The Post-Holiday Post

Well, it’s over.

I hope none of you are the kind of people who want to commit suicide the first of the year. It’s sad, but January is a seriously depressing month for average America. Why? The answer lies in our twisted thinking.

Too many human beings live for nothing. I don’t feel like bringing up a quasi-scientific debate or a religion-celebrating harangue, but honestly people, if all we did was evolve from monkeys . . . what’s the point of life? There is no point. That’s why corporate America lives for weekends, holidays, and vacations. People pour themselves into an imagined, forecasted event. They spend all their money preparing for the event, psych themselves into an anticipated lather, but when it’s all said and done; when the carbonated fizz of expectation has misted away to reveal the brownish reality . . . so they jump off of an expressway. The dream didn’t pan out. The vacation wasn’t long enough. It wasn’t fun enough. I’m broke because I spent too much on presents. I drank to much. Can that be all there is?

Yes my friends, if you evolved from a monkey then that’s all there is. But, if you have a higher purpose in life you can revel in the fact that there are a million more important things in life to pour yourself into than a 2 week vacation over Christmas. Enjoy the time off, but don’t contemplate ending your cousin-to-a-monkey-life because the sole goal of your existence didn’t seem as glittery up close.

It’s 2008 people! Make something of your life! The weekends will come and go, but it’s in the day-to-day grind (in the little things) that your life will find true meaning. If you don’t live for the weekend you’ll enjoy it that much more.

Happy New Year! 

Pancakes

My Dad is making pancakes this morning.

I love my family.

I don’t readily align myself with people who flounder in the choppy waters of gender-stereotyping . . . usually because they’re wrong. What does this have to do with pancakes and family? Let me explain.

Right now I’m sitting in the basement of my parents house typing this blog. My parent’s home is made out of paper, so I can easily hear my father in the kitchen making pancakes. But he’s not alone. My mother and my sisters are also in there. But they’re not talking about superficial dates or freckle-deep anecdotes. They’re talking pure philosophy. They’re debating theology. They’re hashing out ethical dilemmas over a smoking pan of Dad’s Special Pancakes.

People say that women communicate “face to face” with questions and conversation. They also say that men communicate “side by side,” sharing common tasks and projects in an attempt to bond. Though stereotypes are generally true, I seem to know all the exceptions, and I think you know a bunch of them too. My dad doesn’t have to be flipping pancakes to debate my sisters about movies themes. He and I don’t have to be fishing to delve into taboo topics like relationships.

All of my male friends can sit around for hours just discussing. Learning. Growing.

But right now it’s my family. In fact, they’re so involved in their topic they can’t hear the phone ringing. One second please.

**************

Well, it wasn’t that important. My cousin called to tell us he’s coming over.

But I promise you this, when he comes over he’ll slip seamlessly into the ongoing debate and flaunt his opinions and theories without missing a beat.

That’s my family: Stereotype-breaking, constantly-communicating, pancake-flipping, wonderful people!

I love them.

Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

I need your help understanding something. Normally I can “wrap my brain” around very complex ideas, I’ve developed my own existential philosophies, and I consider my emotional levels to be nigh unfathomable. :-) Still, nighttime TV renders me completely flummoxed.

When “Who Wants to Be A Millionaire” first aired, it was the first of its kind to offer contestants a shot at one million dollars. But nowadays I can go on TV, sing 10 songs, and win a million dollars. I can answer 10 questions (pulled from grades 1-5) and win a million dollars. I can even open up 26 random briefcases for a chance to win a million dollars. Better yet, if I try to guess how Americans feel about poll questions I might win $10,000,000! Each of these game shows requires nothing more of me than basic elementary knowledge, memorized song lyrics, or pure dumb luck.

But if you want to showcase your own unique style of prestidigitation (an art that takes years of intense labor to refine and hone) Phenomenon will let you compete for $250,000. If you want to revolutionize your 350 lb. life by dropping that killer fat and entering into a totally healthy and life-extending existence, The Biggest Loser will let you compete for a quarter of a million dollars. Once you’ve dropped that weight you could strut your stuff on America’s Next Top Model and walk away with contracts totaling less than half a million. Better yet, if you want to parade your knowledge (amassed over years of intense scholastic endeavor by the attaining of advanced degrees) Jeopardy will let you compete for less than $100,000 a run.

I don’t get it.

Maybe it’s because I’m not smart enough to play on Jeopardy . . . but I just don’t get it. The nice thing is, I bet you I’m Smarter than a Fifth Grader. So, being smarter than a 10 year old can win me more money than multiple years of extended education!

I’m not sure if it’s a problem of new concept vs. old-school gaming. Maybe people don’t care about the super-hard stuff. Maybe dropping those deadly pounds isn’t important enough to America to drop 1 million dollars on the winner. Maybe we just like to get rich quick without having to break a sweat.

Unfortunately, I can’t give you an answer. I wish I could. I wish it made sense. But I’ll tell you this much, The Biggest Loser is the biggest winner in my book . . . a million dollars or not.

First Snow

Last night a silent army of snow parachuted into my front yard. By 2:00 am their platoons had covered the southern front. By 7:00am my car was ambushed. My apartment was surrounded. I smiled.

I love the snow. I hope this band of frozen infantry brings billions more troops my way. I’d gladly desert the armies of summer to frolic with Jack Frost and his soldiers. Christmas should be white. Winter is for snowmen, sledding, and snowballs.

I’ve mentioned before that I spent a transient span of my life in the Carolinas. While there, living as a nomad, I was consistently amazed at there attitude toward snow and ice. Their mentality is “if you can’t beat them . . . hide.” Within moments of a snow-advisory every Wal-Mart is stripped of its bread and water. Gas seemingly evaporates. Canned food joins the ranks of the White Eagle as an endangered species.

Next thing you know the storm hits. But we’re not talking about a “Rudolf get your nose fired up” kind of snow, I mean a light flurry of snowy dust drifting over the abandoned street. Where are the Southeners? In their homes surrounded by eggs, toilet paper, and candles . . . just in case. And since they don’t own snow plows, most poor souls wait indoors until the “white” disapears. Only the truly adventerous risk the harsh conditions of the southern winter. Unfortunately, about 75% of those who take to the roads end up in a ditch somewhere. Only the most successful manage to get back home, where they quickly pour sand all over their porch to keep from slipping.

But here in Chicago, by 7 pm last night the trucks were out casting their salt like seeds in spring. By midnight the roads were clear and the backup units kept them that way throughout the evening. By morning the landscape looked like a white checkerboard criss-crossed by asphalt lines. The commute ran as smoothly as usual, and a casual perusal of school closings told you that they hadn’t.

I love snow. I might sound crazy, but I think it has something to do with my inability to grow up. That’s why I live in the North. I love Chicago!

I don’t have enough time.

Who has enough time? Why does it seem impossible to complete the minuscule list of tasks you prepared for today? Do we really not have enough time, or are we using the time we have incorrectly?

There are few people alive today who remember long evenings spent on the front porch gossiping with neighbors or watching children play stick ball in the street. The days of snuggling up with a good book have all but come to an end, and just like the final chapter of a novel; we yearn for more. But how is this possible? Do we really have more responsibilities than generations past? Can it be said our hectic lives are busier than the pilgrims, tougher than mountain men, or more hazardous than the Aborigines?

In truth, we do have more on our plates than those who’ve gone before. A ancient farmer may wake up at 4 am to feed the animals, milk the cows, collect eggs, and prepare the fields. He may work until dusk planting, tending, and harvesting. But how many of us wake up early to prepare our children for school, then bare the burden of a morning commute, listening to our self help CD’s, to push ourselves eight to fifteen hours to earn a paycheck, a promotion, a chance, and upon returning home help the kids with homework, then cart them to soccer/gymnastics/karate/swimming/cheerleading, throw together a decent dinner, play with the youngsters before re-writing that proposal or fixing that pocket or preparing the house for the coming day? We all do.

And the reason we have so much to do? Well, technology has given the opportunity to complete far more tasks in a shorter period of time. But since planting a field is easier, and writing a paper is easier, and building a home is easier, then we have so much more time to pack in a little extra. Sign up for a literary club. Go ahead and take that art class. Get another degree, or just visit the library. And since those things are easier to do then ever before, we may have some more time to . . . .

Is it really bad to get more done? Is it wrong to accomplish our tasks efficiently and quickly? No. So why aren’t we fulfilled? Why do we refer to life as a rat race, dog-eat-dog, and like a marathon with no visible end? Life sucks then you die. Why? The answer is simple . . .

Poor priorities.

Imagine completing your job responsibilities, and nothing else. Pretend you live in a world where you’re only required to do the activities that maintain life. Technology makes it easy to blast past the important stuff, and if you scrutinize your life you’d see that the important issues of life aren’t the ones that bury you. At the end of the day, the tasks that leave you feeling wilted and half-dead are the ones you don’t need to do.

Sometimes you don’t need to do it right now. Sometimes you don’t need to do it today. Sometimes you don’t need to do it at all. Sure, you can spare an extra hour for that swim lesson . . . but should you? Is there something else more important you need to do? Watching a movie might sound grand, but is it going to interfere with a task that cannot wait? What if you threw out the veggie steamer, the hot dog cooker, the Foreman Grill, the sandwich maker, the deep fryer, the over-sized griddle (with special slots for frying sausages), and just use a pan? The point is, more often than not we complicate life simply by living it.

“We complicate life simply by living it.”

Honestly, we don’t need all the technology, all the advances, all the social programs, all the lessons, and all the classes to live a fulfilled life. Not that technology is terrible or time-consuming activities are bad, the problem is we don’t know how to balance them. If you feel overwhelmed by life you need to cut something out! Start with the stuff you don’t need to do. Pair away the bands until you can breath again. You’ll finally reach a place where you canget your work done. You’ll discover there is free-time treasure at the end of the proverbial work-day rainbow. And the good news is, as you become more adept at making schedules and sorting priorities you’ll learn you can comfortably add more columns to your to-do list without buying a casket with silky lining.

So before you download your entire music library to your i-pod, or enroll in the night-meeting of insomniacs anonymous, or slap down in front of the tube for a 10-hour marathon of Monk . . . finnish the important tasks. Prepare yourself for tomorrow’s work, and when you’ve reached the point you have no top-priorities left then feel free to enjoy yourself.

My mother used to say, “you can go out and play when your chores are done.” My mom was a sage.

The Power of One

It may be small, but 1 is the strongest number.

Some will argue that “two is better than one,” but those people are about as pleased with a second place ribbon and a silver medal as the next guy. And it appears that television producers agree with the rest of us.

Have you noticed the ever-increasing number of TV programs whose title only has one word?

Heroes
Phenomenon
Bones
Numb3rs
Smallville
K-Ville
Scrubs
Dexter
Weeds
House
Monk
Bleach
Reaper
Life
Lost
Friends
Seinfeld
24 . . . ?

But is there a correlation between popularity and title length? Does “Heroes” sound more enticing than “Everybody Loves Raymond”? What about “Life” compared with “Pushing Daisies?” Doesn’t “Chuck” draw you in more than “My Name is Earl”?

-Out of the 100 top TV shows listed on www.tv.com, 33 have only one word in the title (or a simple sequence of initials like “CSI”).
-Places 1-3 were Smallville, Heroes, and Avatar: The Last Airbender (which everyone shortens to Avatar).
-7 of the top 10 had only one word, and of the last 10 only 2 had short titles.
-The longest title, “I’m a Celebrity: Get Me Out of Here”, was #75.
-In fact, all shows with 5 words or more scored 58 or lower.

Obviously, content and acting factor into a show’s popularity and performance, but it seems one word titles are all the rage. To be honest it’s catchy. People say “cool” when they like something; they don’t say “wicked-killer-awesome-super-righteous-sweet!”

Well, my vote is cast. 1. Heroes, 2. Scrubs, & 3. Phenomenon. One word titles are number one!

What’s your favorite TV show? Does it’s title have one word or more than a measly uno?

Leave your comments and cast your vote. Let’s see if my readers prove or disprove my hypothesis!

Black Friday

There was a short time in my life that I worked in food service. Uhg. One of the most memorable experiences I had was working the day after Thanksgiving . . . otherwise known as Black Friday.

It was awful.

I worked at a mall and our store was so full people were sitting in the common spaces of the mall eating our food. And it didn’t stop. Not only did we open at some ungodly hour, and not only did we have to work an ungodly long shift, but the people ever stopped coming in!

People are crazy the day after Thanksgiving! And the funny thing is the sales aren’t all that great!

The term Black Friday was originally used by people in the retail industry to verbally represent the horrors of that day. What’s really funny is that retailers have started using that term in their advertising! What kind of a message does that send to your customers?

Black Friday or not . . . I’m not going shopping today. 

No More HO?

When the idea of “political correctness” was introduced under the infamous Clinton Administration I laughed.

Today I cried.

Yahoo News featured an article discussing how Santa Clauses in Sydney, Australia aren’t allowedto say “ho, ho, ho” anymore. Instead the faux Kringles are required to say “ha, ha, ha.” http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20071115/wl_asia_afp/lifestyleaustraliachristmasoffbeat

Their argument? That the term “ho” is too close to the United States’ version of “hoe” (slang for prostitute) and may be “offensive to women.”

GIVE ME A BREAK!

Wow, I don’t normally get my mistletoe in a knot like that, but c’mon people! The only women who should be offended by the word “hoe” are prostitutes– who should really be more offended by their own lifestyle anyway. God forbid we do something to make them feel like their illegal, immoral occupations are bad. Secondly, would a lady-in-red really be offended if a plump Father Christmas wished her a merry “ho, ho, ho” while his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly? I don’t think so. She’d probably think he was asking her for a job.

Lastly the article reported how children may be frightened or offended by the term. The idiocy of such a bleeding-heart-asinine-over-sensitive-political-correctness makes we want to lose my fruitcake.

Honestly people . . . what kind of lower intelligence would imagine that the ancient Christmas greeting would make a person blush or reduce them to tears? At what point did our governments become soooo concerned for the emotional stability of the population that they stopped using the brain God so graciously gave them?

Political correctness be hanged! Ho, ho, ho and Merry Christmas!!

Thanksgiving: The Forgotten Holiday

I was at the mall this weekend and was reminded of a depressing trend in our nation.

It seems Thanksgiving is being forgotten.

The whole mall decorates for Halloween, but the moment All Hallows Eve is over you can’t walk through the mall without dodging elves, hearing Jingle Bells, or struggling with red/green color blindness. Orange becomes red, bats become garland, and Frankenstein becomes Santa. By walking through the mall, listening to the radio, or watching TV an immigrant might believe there was no holiday at all snuggled into the 4th Thursday of November. So what happened to Thanksgiving?

I’m sure part of it has to do with the fact you can’t really “sell” Thanksgiving. On Halloween you sell costumes and candy. On Christmas you sell everything else and candy. Honestly though, on Thanksgiving it’s hard to sell anything other than turkey. Maybe that’s the reason. We live in America, you can’t sell thankfulness.

Or maybe it’s the religious aspect of it. The Pilgrims escaped the dictatorial church of England and traveled to a country where their religious beliefs could be practiced without persecution. Our country was founded by people who believed the Bible, had faith in God, and strove to live a Christian life. In fact, the first Thanksgiving was held because they wanted to thank God that they didn’t all die that first winter. I guess I can see why the average American would want to forget that (note: this phrase is dripping with sarcasm).

But what about the good reasons! The Pilgrims, regardless of your religious bent, are the fathers of our country! Their the fathers of millions of people in the US. I happen to be one of them. My ancestry goes straight back to Elder William Brewster. By marriage I’m related to one of the guys who instigated the first Thanksgiving, and there are millions of people like me. C’mon, whatever happend to family unity?

Then there are the selfish reasons for Thanksgiving: you get a day off of work, you get holiday pay, it’s an excuse to over-eat and have family and friends over, and if you have stock in the turkey industry you might make some money!

Why is Thanksgiving disappearing and how long will it be before it’s gone? For me Thanksgiving is an amazing time . . . read Moriahjoy’s aricle if you want to feel are warm and snuggly; I did (http://moriahjoy.wordpress.com/).

Thanksgiving is beautiful and wonderful . . . don’t let Thanksgiving fall out of favor like the dreaded “sweetest day!”

The Golden Compass: The Godly Contest

With all the hype surrounding the December premier of The Golden Compass I decided to give the book a try. I was especially interested in the series after I heard the author was an extremely outstanding writer.

So I did what any good reader would do . . . I looked the book up on-line. What surprised me was that I found more than I bargained for. Apparently a whole bunch of people are up in arms over the His dark Materials trilogy. Well, like any good reading/writing/discerning/human being, I’m going to read the The Golden Compass and come to an intelligent conclusion for myself. Not that I discount the opinions of others, quite the contrary, but no one should talk about an issue unless they know what they’re talking about. I plan on knowing what I’m talking about.

I did the same thing when Harry Potter came out it; the books were shrouded in controversy and people were saying a lot of insane things on both side of the issues. On one front people supported real-life witchcraft (stupid) and on the other they wrote books called Harry Potter and the Bible, which was a “theological” essay on the sin of Harry Potter (not all that good of an idea concerning their arguments weren’t the most biblical).

After reading the entire series . . . three times each . . . and once I read the entire thing out loud (all 7 books), I made my final conclusion.

Drum role please. 

I don’t have any serious problems with Harry Potter. The biggest disagreement I have is with Rowling’s recent un-literary addition of Dumbledore’s sexuality. Other than that it’s all debatable, and I won’t take the time now to debate them . . . we’re talking about another children’s book

I’ve read the first two chapters of The Golden Compass and I’m starting to see two things. 1. The author is an amazing writer, and 2. I know why everyone’s up-in-arms. Sure, Phil Pullman’s an atheist, and though everything he does will be colored by his beliefs, that doesn’t mean all of his works will expressly deal with his atheistically philosophical bent. As far as I know J.K. Rowling doesn’t believe in God either but her books don’t broach the subject in any degree. Yet, it’s very obvious from the first chapter, that Pullman’s anti-organized-church-predisposition is a main character in his series.

So I did some more research on-line this morning and found this . . .    

“http://snopes.com/politics/religion/compass.asp”

Though sites like this can be a dime a dozen, this particular site is well represented. I wish the information this site was untrue, but I’m pretty sure it holds more than water. What this doesn’t mean is I’m not going to read the books, but- like Harry Potter- it’s good to know what you’re looking for. In short, I still plan on giving the series a chance. If I can support it I will, but if I can’t, having read the books, I’ll be able to fight against it better.

Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, but my opinion is that no atheist should be spreading lies to a generation of impressionable children; especially when they put out a high-voltage, watered-down version of it to get kids to buy the trilogy only to find out the books hold a blatant message. I say to Pullman the same thing I said to Rowling . . . if you have a belief system don’t hide it to sell books/movies.

Pullman, at least be honest about the fact you want to kill God when they make your movie. Don’t shroud the film in innocence so you can sell your books.

Transformers: More than Met my Expectations

The day I heard the Transformers were being made into a live action movie I was hesitant at best. Hollywood has such an amazing knack for ruining child-hood memories and international icons. If something becomes famous without Hollywood there’s generally little the West Coast can do to boost its appeal.

 

I was actually so tentative to embrace the film I didn’t see it in the theater. Why spend all the money? So I patiently lingered and almost forgot it entirely. The fact that many of my friends (who are all avid movie goers) didn’t have anything to say about it solidified my doubts. Finally one of my co-workers informed me they’d seen Transformers and they liked it. Unfortunately I couldn’t wholeheartedly embrace his opinion . . . he spent most of his time intoxicated. Heck, even Loathing in Las Vegas is cool . . . if you’re on drugs.

 

Well, as you know, Transformers is now on DVD . . . and I’m so glad it is.

 

I don’t know why I waited so long! As a child I loved watching the cartoons and I had a rather large collection of the action figures. Sure, you could waste half your day twisting, snapping, and turning the figures only to end up with a half-robot/half-semi truck, side-show freak, but the cartoons took no dexterity or memorization to enjoy. I even had Transformers bed sheets! Let’s just say the movie lived up to all that’s gone before . . . sheets, cartoons, action figures, underwear, and more.

 

The plot stayed true to the original concepts. Nothing’s worse than adulterating a good story. Hem, hem, Mission Impossible I; Jim Phelps would never become a bad guy. I hate you Jon Voight! Actually, Jon was in Transformers as well and he did a good job. Okay, so you have a hot daughter . . . I forgive you for desecrating Jim Phelps’ memory. Sorry about that, now back to the non-biological extraterrestrials. Transformers was believable and well thought out. All of the sub-plots received their due time and no interesting characters fell through the cracks (except maybe for the cute, computer chick). Though the first half took a teeny-weeny while to get going, the ending made up for it.

 

As to the writing, I give it a one-and-a-half-thumbs-up. Though there was a huge, gaping target with cliché written across the front . . . the writers did a great job missing it. Even the lines taken out of the original series rang genuine. There’s nothing cooler than hearing Optimus Prime say “there’s more to them than meets the eye,” especially when Peter Cullen, the original voice of Optimus Prime, is saying it. I could’ve done without the whole “masturbation” dialogue though, and when will Hollywood stop making adults look like complete morons. Maybe it’s because all the adults in Hollywood are morons . . . I don’t know. Either way, they didn’t inject unrealistic humor too often. Sure, the whole Autobots acting like grade-schoolers in Sam’s backyard was annoying, but it could’ve been worse. Think I’m being too hard? What do you expect from a guy with only half a thumb?

 

The acting was better than the average epic movie. Shia LaBeouf is definitely growing as an actor, and Jon Turturro was fantastic. I was also glad to see the voice of Megatron performed by Hugo Weaving. He rocks. As for the new girl, Megan Fox, I think she gave a stunning performance. Her tow-truck sequence communicated so much raw emotion without a single line.

 

I’ve been saying for a long time “there’s noting you can’t do in movies anymore.” The only room left to grow is in presenting the effects realistically. Well, the Transformers were a genuine work of art. Half the time I tell what was C.G. and what was real. The animators seamlessly worked the computer world and our world into a stunning portrait of realism. I would’ve hated to be the guy who designed the characters; they were so complex and intricate. I can’t wait to see the extra content and find out how they animated the twisting, shifting, flexing machines. There facial expressions and body movements had so much personality. There was the occasional moment where all the gearing metal, exploding buildings, cannon fire, and running made it a little hard to follow the action, but I guess that’s the price of realism.

As to the overall theme, it was consistent and value driven. Freedom of choice and the importance of life are always worth fighting for.  

In the end the Official Olsen Rating gives Transformers a very good score (out of ten).

 

Plot: 9

Writing: 8

Acting: 8

Cinematography: 9

Special Effects: 10

Theme: 9

 

With a combined total an 88%, that makes Transformers an awesome film for the family.