Monday, January 30, 2006

Letters to Untambe.

This week's column for the Gazette.

LETTERS TO UNTAMBE...PART TWO.
It’s been a while since I published my latest round of letters to Untambe, the African child I sponsor. For the price of a cup of coffee each month I provide food and medicine to a disadvantaged child and get a tax deduction.

Dear Untambe,
Thanks for your letter. Sounds like you had a good Christmas; as good as it could be with your family missing, that is. I’m glad the additional five dollars I donated in December convinced Santa to bring you some rice for Christmas. Sorry about the bugs in it; I have no control over that.

Do they just give you regular rice? Have you tried Rice-A-Roni? It’s the San Francisco treat!

I’ve been working and studying hard. Even though I recently took a huge pay cut, I’m still sacrificing several dollars each month to sponsor you. It’s worth it, though. The thought that I’m helping someone will look great on my transcript.

If the relief agency were smart they’d have corporations sponsor you. That way, every time Sally Struthers put you on T.V., you could wear a hat with the STP logo on it and make some money, like on NASCAR.

Just joking. They say laughter is the best medicine, which is a good thing since that truckload of antibiotics got bombed before it reached you.

Dear Untambe,
It’s January and 50 degrees here. How cool is that? Or warm, I should say. People complain about global warming, but speaking on behalf of the quarter million Twin Cities’ SUV drivers who commute 100 miles round trip each day, I say bring on the springlike weather!

I do miss the snow sometimes, though. It’s such a powerful feeling driving through a foot of snow at 70 miles per hour three inches from the bumper of a hybrid car. They usually have a Wellstone bumper sticker, the sissies. What would Wellstone do? He wouldn’t go 50 miles per hour in the passing lane, that’s for sure.

You’re all about carpooling there, aren’t you? I saw news coverage of a village near yours being evacuated and there were like 100 of you per flatbed truck. It’s considerate of you to think about the environment like that. I tried carpooling, but me and the people I rode with could never agree on what DVD to watch on the way to work.

Dear Untambe,
Stillwater is abuzz with fallout from newspaper coverage of a high school “Battle of the Bands” contest. Or should I say non-coverage? Kids and parents are upset because a picture of the winning band wasn’t featured in a newspaper story. I personally think the band got robbed and have good reason to be up in arms.

Speaking of up in arms, robbed and bands, I’m really sorry that armed bandits robbed the relief caravan before it reached your village. Civil war sucks. You’ll be lucky if you starve before you become a teenager. Take it from those poor kids in Stillwater; adolescence is tough, especially if you’re the sensitive musician-type.

Do you like bands? Has Bono visited you because of your starvation thing? Frankly, he gets on my nerves with his holier-than-thou attitude. I think Bono could single-handedly solve the world hunger problem by teaching people how to be full of themselves.

Dear Untambe,
Boy, new condominiums are sprouting up everywhere here. Sometimes I envy you, living in a thatch hut. It must be like living on Gilligan’s Island. My favorite Gilligan’s Island episode was the one where Russian cosmonauts landed there. I thought the space capsule was cool.

I never understood why the castaways wanted to leave the island, did you? It was like a tropical paradise and there were good-looking chicks there, too.

What do you think, Untambe: Maryann or Ginger?

Every time you send me pictures of your village—or wherever you happened to be displaced any given week—I think that it looks just like Gilligan’s Island, except with no water. Or trees. Or papayas.

Papayas is a fun word. Say it: Papayas!

Do the women in your village carry baskets on their heads like on PBS? Do they have those neck-stretcher things? I’m surprised neck-stretching hasn’t caught on here since tattoos and piercings are so passé.

I’ve always found it ironic that people here protest the female circumcision occurring in your country, but half of the protestors have piercings you-know-where. Ouch!

Well, I have to go. Tonight is Geography class. Last week I found your country on a globe, and I think I discovered your problem. To paraphrase the late comedian Sam Kinison: YOU LIVE IN A DESERT! GO WHERE THE FOOD IS!

Just kidding! Talk to you later.

Benevolently, Tom

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Who's News.

Oops, they did it again. The folks at USA Weekend have failed to update the Who’s News section of their website for two weeks straight, meaning this morning I had to walk out to my porch—like a commoner—pick my paper up off the stoop, brush the snow from it, and read Who’s News in hard copy. That means no preparation; so what you’re about to read is a stream-of-consciousness rant against the societal cancer that is pop culture.

To reiterate for the two regulars—who obviously have poor memories because they keep coming back—and the one or two accidental viewers of this blog per week, these are actual letters sent by actual readers to Who’s News, the celebrity pop culture section of USA Weekend.

The Palestinians elected Hamas in a staggering and overwhelming victory last week; Hamas, of course, being a radical wing bent on the destruction of Israel. And Iran continues developing nuclear weapons, in defiance of the U.N., moving closer to its goal of wiping Israel off the map.


With that in mind: Let’s find out what’s happening in Hollywood as requested by couch-bound, morbidly-obese, trailer park dwelling Americans from across the fruited plain!

We loved The Closer, with Screen Actor’s Guild (SAG) Award winner nominee Kyra Sedgwick. When will it be back? — Susan Erickson, McAlester, OH

Yet another “we” letter. Apparently everyone in the assisted-living facility chipped in to ensure all the I’s were dotted and the T’s were crossed, but Susan was the only one capable of signing her name.

To answer your question, Susan, The Closer will not be back anytime soon due to the fact that as is so often the case, something embarrassing was drudged from Kara Sedgwick’s past and she is no longer welcome in the public eye. We refer to her role in the 2003 film Secondhand Lions, starring Robert Duvall, Michael Caine, Sedgwick, and inexplicably a post-pubescent Haley Joel Osment, best known for his role as the cute young boy who saw dead people in The Sixth Sense.

Osment, who once delighted audiences as a soft-spoken, physically-adorable little boy, repulsed audiences worldwide when he appeared on screen in Lions as a post-pubescent adolescent. What’s more, he played a role better-suited to a younger actor, which made many people wonder if the contract was executed before his pituitary kicked in and producers were obligated to use him in the role.

Regardless, everyone associated with the film—Duvall, Caine, Osment, and Kyra Sedgwick—have been blacklisted in Hollywood. The Closer may be back after an actress with some scruples is found to fill the starring role.

S. Epatha Merkerson was magnificent in HBO’s Lackawanna Blues and plays a wise lieutenant on Law and Order. But I’ve seen little about her background. — Beatrice Berry, Lakewood, NJ

Your letter presents a unique “teachable moment,” Beatrice.

Here’s your letter before Microsoft Word’s Thesaurus feature:

“S. Epatha Merkerson was really good in HBO’s Lackawanna Blues…”

And after…

“S. Epatha Merkerson was magnificent in HBO’s Lackawanna Blues…”

Before:

“…plays a really smart lieutenant…”

After:

“…plays a wise lieutenant…”

Microsoft: Helping people seem smarter for 20 years!

Anyway, S. Epatha Merkerson is from Alabama, an area known for its widespread poverty and lack of opportunity, particularly for people of color. Merkerson packed up her few belongings in 1991 and moved to Hollywood where she landed a bit part as a high school guidance counselor on The Cosby Show. After several more years of increasingly prominent roles she landed her big break: A starring role on Law and Order. Later she graduated to movie roles like Lackawanna Blues. Merkerson is seen as a role model for African-American actresses who all-too-often find the odds stacked against them in Tinsel Town.

My Internet connection is really slow today so I was unable to look that up. That’s probably pretty close, though.

Is Reese Witherspoon favored to win a SAG Award Sunday because she played against type as June Carter in Walk the Line? — James Berriman, Milwaukee, Wis.


“Against type.” You mean like Charlize Theron playing a repulsively ugly woman in “Monster”? Like Martin Sheen playing an educated man capable of rational thought and leadership in the West Wing?

Walk the Line presented Witherspoon simply the first in a string of projects guaranteed to break her history of playing stereotypical “dumb blondes." Here she’s shown as Adolph Hitler on the set of “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,” a 12-part HBO series about Nazi Germany:


And here’s Witherspoon on-set of the Miramax production “Mother,” a dramatization of the life of Mother Teresa slated for release in 2007 (with a cameo by Gary Coleman, his first acting role in 13 years):

Finally, here’s Reese as a tree in an educational program she’s producing for PBS, teaching children about the dangers of global warming:



The SAG folks will probably be only slightly disappointed to discover that Witherspoon is also working on Sweet Home Alabama II and Legally Blonde III, but hey: A girl’s gotta eat.

Here’s a rare Who’s News interview with Jeff Margolis, the wizard behind the SAG Awards. He’s the producer who puts together the two-hour show. Here’s how he does it:

Who’s News: “What’s the secret to a great show?”

Jeff Margolis: “Cocaine. Just kidding: Meth is where it’s at in Hollywood now. Besides voluminous amounts of crystal, however, it boils down to shiny things and lots of motion. We’ve conducted eye movement tests on typical SAG viewers and found that their attention wanes after mere seconds without a sparkly gown or a dance number to hold their attention. We figure if a viewer clicks over to CNN for even 60 seconds and discovers that the Mideast is about to blow up, our goose is cooked. We need to make Mr. and Mrs. America believe that at least for that two-hour span, the SAG Awards are all that matters on this earth.”

Who’s News: “The show is known for its produced pieces. What do you have this year?”

Jeff Margolis: “This year we’re doing a musical number dedicated to Lackawanna Blues, featuring 40 dancers in blackface. We think this will be a great way to connect with black audiences and—” (At this moment Margolis’ assistant pulled the producer aside and frantically whispered into his ear)

“Right now,” Margolis continued sheepishly, “we’re sort of starting from scratch.”


Who’s News: Have you ever thought about having a single host, like the Oscars?


Jeff Margolis: No, God no. Again, in our rapid-fire culture people expect constant variety. This year we have an unprecedented 124 stars assuming hosting chores, some even taking over for others mid-sentence.

Who’s News: From nominations ‘til showtime you have just three to four weeks. Do you sleep?


Jeff Margolis: Nope. Two words: Methamphetamine. Is that two words? Or is it hyphenated? Regardless, by the end of this thing my bloodstream is so toxic that the Betty Ford Clinic won’t let me flush my stools: They have to be collected in plastic bags and disposed of as hazardous waste lest they release psychotropic substances into the water supply. That’s all we’d need is for half of Hollywood to be under the influence of drugs, right?

Well, there you have it. Print out this page and keep it handy during the SAG Awards tonight, highlighting the parts about Hamas and Iran. If you see flashes of light outside your living room window, don’t automatically assume its celebratory fireworks in honor of another awards show well done; it could be mushroom clouds signaling the end of Israel and the beginning of the End of All Things.

On the off-chance we survive another week, we’ll be here next week—same time, same place—with another mind-numbing edition of Who’s News.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Q & A.

Leab at Ironic Teachings posted his answers to the following and I couldn't help but follow suit. I find things like this fascinating. They're a great way to get to know others, and yourself for that matter.

Your name spelled backwards. Mot.

Where were your parents born? Wow. I think my dad was born in West Virginia and my mom in Lincoln, Nebraska. I’m such a good son.

What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? Besides voluminous amounts of pornography which I (hopefully) deleted from my history before the wife logged on, it was a picture of a person falling from the World Trade Centers used for Sunday’s Who’s News.

What is your favorite restaurant? It depends on my mood. If I want to feel comforted, I go to the Modern in Minneapolis when it’s snowing outside. If I want to know I won’t leave disappointed, Café Latte in St. Paul. If I want the best fast-food in the world, Chipotle.

Last time you swam in a pool? My God, it was several years ago when I lived in a condo in Stillwater. It was a gorgeous indoor pool, but one night as I swam I thought of the other residents—the fact that the majority were elderly retirees, many of whom brought their grandchildren to swim—and the germaphobe in me won out. I’ll never swim again.

Have you ever been in a school play? Never. Was too shy.

How many kids do you want?
This might get me in Dutch with the wife, but I have to say at this point zero. I actually had a vasectomy 10 years ago in June but have since considered reversal or adoption, but as time goes by I become more and more convinced that parenthood is not for me. Or for the kid(s) for that matter.

Type of music you dislike most? The English language doesn’t have adequate words to express my utter disdain for rap and hip-hop.

Are you registered to vote? No, I always procrastinate and register at the polling place. It’s never so busy that it’s inconvenient, tragically.

Do you have cable?
Funny story. We’ve lived here for a year and recently moved the television to the other side of the living room. We plugged the set into the cable jack to see if it improved our reception (we previously used rabbit ears) and lo and behold: We have cable. And I’ve discovered in the subsequent two weeks that now, rather than nine channels of crap, we now have 60 channels of crap. Though it is nice to finally be able to watch the Daily Show on Comedy Central.

Have you ever ridden on a moped? Never.

Ever prank call anybody? Probably. I do vividly recall my friend Tim and I ordering a pizza for my neighbors and we sat on my picnic table and watched the delivery guy knock on their door. After several minutes of conversation with the driver, to our utter surprise my neighbor wound up buying the pizza. I’m still scratching my head over that one.

Ever get a parking ticket? Yes. My last two parking tickets occurred on my birthday one year apart. One parking, one speeding.

Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? No. I have a tremendous fear of flying and heights. Plus, though I’ve long professed to entertain suicidal thoughts, tempting fate for a short-lived thrill just doesn’t make sense.

Farthest place you ever traveled? What’s further from the Twin Cities: New York City or San Francisco? Either way, I’m utterly pathetic.

Do you have a garden? I have a townhome, so no.

What's your favorite comic strip? I think Dilbert is the most consistently funny. Get Fuzzy is the best when it’s “on,” which isn’t near enough. The Boondocks consistently makes me laugh out loud. I read Peanuts for nostalgia’s sake. The Family Circus needs to die an immediate and painful death.

Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? My ancestors are French, so I believe the words are “Don’t shoot, we give up.”

Best movie you've seen in the past month? Crash was good.

Favorite pizza topping? Mushrooms.

Chips or popcorn? Salt and vinegar kettle chips. I can eat a whole bag no problem.

What color lipstick do you usually wear? Whatever my wife is wearing, the location varies depending upon her mood.

Have you ever smoked peanut shells? I’m not even sure what that means.

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? Yes, until security escorted me out.

Orange Juice or apple? Orange.

Who was the last person you went out to dinner with and where did you dine? My wife. We went to Savories Bistro in Stillwater, the most romantic place in the world unless you get stuck with the table overlooking the gas station across the street. That was a really dumb zoning move on Stillwater’s part.

Favorite type chocolate bar? Snickers. No question.

When was the last time you voted at the polls? The 2004 presidential election.

Last time you ate a homegrown tomato? I don’t eat tomatoes.

Have you ever won a trophy? Yes, I won many trophies as a child performing in piano competitions.

Are you a good cook? I’m by no means a chef, but I like to cook and believe I’m getting better all the time. I love cooking. If I’ve had a stressful, long day at work and school, somehow I can always manage to spend an hour or more in the kitchen. That’s not work to me. It’s so satisfying doing something that results in such a wonderful finished product.

Do you know how to pump your own gas? These days, who doesn’t? Come to think of it, a surprising number of people don’t given the innumerable times I’ve heard a voice say “Go ahead on pump nine” through the crappy Super America intercom system.

Ever order an article from an infomercial? Oh Lord, no.

Sprite or 7-up? Makes no neither mind to me. I only buy it when my tummy is upset, so price dictates the choice.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work? Yes. I worked at “Pizza by the Slice” just out of high school and wore a green polyester apron, beret and bow tie. There was something unsettling about working near a 500-degree oven in a highly-flammable outfit.

Last thing you bought at a pharmacy? Prescriptions.

Ever throw up in public? No.

Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love? True love, of course. Money comes and goes, true love is presumably forever.

Do you believe in love at first sight? Maybe not “love,” but I believe it’s possible to get a feeling that communicates that something special could happen.

Have you ever called a 1-900 number? If we’re talking sex lines, I’ve called the numbers in the back of City Pages that give “free samples,” and of course they weren’t terribly alluring. Just a husky-voiced recording asking for my credit card number so that an overweight mother of six pretending to be a barely-18 college coed could tell me she’s been a bad girl.

Can exes be friends? Yes, but only ‘til you meet the next future-ex.

Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? My friend Amy when she had her baby a year ago.

Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby? Probably more than I have now.

What message is on your answering machine? Hi, this is Tom, leave a message and I’ll call you back.

What's your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character? I’ve never really been a fan. I didn’t watch it in its heyday and find it to be brutally unwatchable now.

What was the name of your first pet? The one I remember is “Mother,” my family’s cat who died at age 22. I grew from five years old to 27 during that cat’s life; she was like my little sister.

What is in your wallet? Six dollars, a check card, several library cards, a Juut Salon gift card, my car insurance card, two movie rental cards and my driver’s license. The picture holder broke, so it’s time to get a new wallet.

Favorite thing to do before bedtime? Read. I'm currently muddling through "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich" by William Shirer.

What is one thing you are grateful for today? That it’s the last day of school ‘til Saturday so I have time to rest and recuperate.

Another quick and dirty encounter.

Blogging from school again. Tonight is the end of my school week, but it's a killer. Class is from 6-9:30, and by that time I'm dizzy with weariness. I grabbed a cup of coffee, a rare thing after 2:00, but then remembered I took a Xanax earlier so the two are probably canceling themselves out.

I think it's official, I've been starving myself and my body is telling me "Enough." Today I packed enough calories in my lunch to fuel Iran's nuclear weapons program and it still wasn't enough. I grabbed a bowl of chili in the college cafeteria (my first experience there and it was pleasant...not great, but not awful) and I'm about to head to the Student Center and microwave some lasagna.

I need carbs: STAT.

The high point in my week will be tomorrow when I work 8-2, go home, work out, shower, put on my jammies, cook dinner for my wife and I, then collapse on the couch with her to watch a DVD. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and familiary breeds contempt, and I think both are apt. I never appreciate my wife so much as on Wednesday afternoon around this time, when all I want to do is bury my face in her hair inhaling her Aveda products and remember what it's like to squeeze her.

I blogged earlier this week about the fact that I was assigned my first official story at the newspaper as opposed to obituaries and wedding announcements, and today was the day of truth. I was pleased that my editor changed only one minor detail, otherwise it will run tomorrow word-for-word. Granted it was a "puff piece" about a pastor-turned-author, but still...when you bat a thousand in both grammar and content, that's a damned good feeling.

I'm a little sad that my dad didn't live to see me achieving tiny bits of success with my writing (he died the day before news of my "Columnist of the Year" award arrived in his mailbox), so I intend to stick this week's column and story in the mail tomorrow afternoon for mom to see.

Sorry, nothing controversial or meaningful today. Just another "Dear Diary" entry.

I will, however, say something about Kanye West. He's the rap superstar who became famous overnight last year for saying "George Bush doesn't care about black people" on a live televised awards show. Of course, he immediately became a media darling and spokesperson for the left. West is going to be on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine wearing a crown of thorns, ala Jesus Christ. All I have to say is that if the left wants to use people like Kanye West as their spokespersons, have at it. You can have Michael Moore...Al Franken...Bruce Springsteen...Billy Jo Armstrong...you can have all these pop culture dunderheads who between them don't have the I.Q. of George Will's pinky finger. You can have Teddy Kennedy...Al Gore, who recently discovered that Hillary-esque shrieking is the key to communication...Jesse Jackson...

The more you throw your lot in with people like these, the less hard the Republicans have to work to continue to kick your asses election after election. And I say this as a born again Libertarian. It's like the people who have "IMPEACH BUSH" bumper stickers on their cars. How many of them would purchase a sticker that says "ELECT PRESIDENT CHENEY"??? Same difference, and they're too blinded by abject hatred for our president to know...or care.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Slander ala Admin Worm.

My buddy Leab over at Ironic Teachings has taken it upon himself to shoulder the burden left behind when the Slanderous Minneapolis blog stopped posting local gossip. So, below is my attempt at a little good-natured ribbing of the fine state of Minnesota.


STATE CAPITOL ABUZZ WITH NEWS OF FORD PLANT RESCUE
ST. PAUL, Minn. – Workers at the St. Paul Ford plant dodged a bullet Monday when Ford Motor Company officials announced that the plant—where Ranger pickup trucks are built—would not be closed immediately.

Ford, as part of its “Way Forward” plan, is eliminating some 30,000 jobs as part of a long-term cost-saving plan, and two as-yet unidentified plants remain on the chopping block.

Fearing that the St. Paul plant might be on the short list, Minnesota lawmakers sprung into action. At 12:01 a.m. on Tuesday, Governor Tim Pawlenty signed into law a bill authored by Sen. Becky Lourey, DFL-Kerrick, requiring all Minnesotans to purchase a Ford Ranger by Dec. 31, 2005.

“This is a great day for Minnesota,” declared the governor, giving the ceremonial pen to a child in a wheelchair who had no clear connection to the event, “this is a great day for Ford, this is a great day for the citizens of St. Paul, this is a great day for incumbents, it’s a bit of a drag for the middle-class.”

Under stipulations of the law, anyone with a combined household income of $45,000 or more is required to purchase a Ford Ranger by the end of the year. Households earning over $100,000 per year are required to purchase two Rangers. Anyone making more than $1 million annually must buy three Rangers and a Ford Focus, the latter conveniently fitting in the back of a Ranger serving in lieu of a spare tire.

Sen. Lourey included provisions providing taxpayer subsidized Rangers for people below the 45K mark. They will receive vouchers redeemable for seven Ford Rangers per household.

“We feel it’s important for the disenfranchised to share in this bounty,” proclaimed Lourey, as she embraced a woman who has breast cancer and AIDS, clutching a handmade placard reading “My Body, My Choice.” Lourey then spoke extemporaneously for a half hour about illegal wiretapping.

Benjamin Gross, a Ford employee and member of UAW Local 879 who earns $27 per hour screwing nuts on bolts, was jubilant over the news.

“This is great,” he said, sipping coffee 20 minutes into his 15-minute break, “Looks like the wife and I can hit the casino after all this weekend.”

The public relations executive who named the “Way Forward” plan earns $332,000 per year.

Elo Kiddies.

A little Cheap Trick reference there for you. Best band you'll ever see live, by the way. Loudest and the best.

Not much time to write today. Busy day at the newspaper. Today I conducted my first official interview and am writing an actual story, not simply formatting wedding announcements and obituaries.

Some people would say those are the same thing...

RADIO SHOW
On Sunday morning, while diligently writing Who's News, I was listening to a local talk radio program called "The Polichicks." It features two women—one liberal, one conservative—who talk in shrill voices about the news of the day.

That particular morning the subject was the Ford plant in St. Paul; specifically the fact that vultures were circling for dibs on how to use the property if the plant were closed. Never mind that several thousand people would lose their jobs. Also, Eminent Domain would have to be used because private homes were in their sights as well.

One of the suggestions for the site was a recreation center for poor children. You heard me right; on the heels of one of St. Paul’s largest employers potentially closing its doors, do-gooders wanted to build a recreation center for poor kids.

I called the show and said that the issue isn’t Eminent Domain, but rather whether my tax dollars should go to fund yet another feel-good establishment to support children who aren’t mine. I said that providing endless programs to cushion the blow experienced by poor parents can hardly be considered an incentive to curb reckless behavior. There are a dwindling few of us out here who still hold to the outdated notion that one should not have children until one has the financial wherewithal to support themselves and those children.

They disconnected the call and the left-leaning Polichick said “I find it interesting that it’s people like that caller who invariably vote against family planning and abortion rights.”

Let’s take those one at a time.

Regarding family planning, I don’t know how many more billions of dollars it will take to impress upon people—poor and otherwise—of the veracity of the following equation:



Unprotected sex = pregnancy


There, I just saved you a billion dollars. Super-size your meal tonight.

A couple weeks ago while driving from one job to another (there’s a suggestion for the poor folks, work two jobs) I felt the call of nature since I’d consumed 12 cups of coffee that morning. I stopped at a Super America store. In the bathroom was a machine that dispensed three types of condoms. For 75-cents a person can purchase a product that could save their life and prevent unwanted pregnancy.

If two people—again, poor or otherwise—are too stupid or irresponsible to drive half a block to the nearest convenience store and plop down less than a dollar on a product that could conceivably (pardon the pun) save them endless financial and emotional hardship for the rest of their lives, then I sure as hell don’t want to build a recreation center for the child that may result.

Regarding the second point made by the Polichick—abortion rights—think about that statement for a moment. This person prides herself on being compassionate; certainly much more compassionate than right-wing zealots who call her program and preach intolerance against irresponsible behavior.

Yet her final solution—pun intended—to the problem of poor children is to kill them. If all else fails—if mom and dad won’t spend 75-cents on a condom, or if they happened to miss the lecture in third grade that taught them about safe sex—then we need to ensure that the “problem” can ultimately be eradicated with a safe and legal medical procedure.

I found her comment very disturbing and was disappointed that the right-leaning host didn’t take her to task for it. To me that’s simply proof that both sides of the abortion debate realize deep-down that it isn’t about women’s rights and it isn’t about life and health of the mother: It’s about ridding ourselves of burdens and keeping the option available for ourselves "just in case."

I’m adamantly pro-life, but not for the same reason as most of my pro-life counterparts. Most of them are against abortion because they consider human life sacred. I’ve blogged before about how I don’t understand some people’s veneration of childbirth. That said, I detest abortion because it’s the easy way out; it’s the failsafe that people keep tucked in the back of their brain, “just in case.” I firmly believe that most women (and men, frankly) who say “I support abortion rights but would never have one myself…” actually want abortion legal because in the event they slip up, there remains one final solution—again, pun intended—to bail them out.

ATMOSPHERE
Last night in Geography class I learned about how the atmosphere works, and it blew my mind. I’ve always wondered how and why it exists, and now I know. I won’t bore you with details because you either already know or couldn’t care less. It’s just one more reason, however, for me to scratch my head over the sheer impossibility and wonder of it all.

DOLPHINS
Thanks to Ms. Amber for reminding me about this.

My wife got mad at me the other night for yelling at the television.

Recently a baby dolphin died at the Minnesota Zoo. He was learning to swim and in his zeal jumped out of the tank and fractured his skull.

The story made me very sad. Dolphins are said to be only slightly below humans in the intelligence category—actually, I support Douglas Adams’ view that they’re way ahead of us—and I wondered if the mother felt sorrow at the loss of her baby.

My wife and I had the news on the other night—a rare occasion in our home—and they were covering the story. I was horrified that they showed footage of the event captured on a video camera that constantly monitors the tank.

The baby dolphin was reeling in the water, blood making the water murky. I watched about two seconds of it before screaming “You fucking voyeurs” and angrily shut it off.

I suppose in a world where reality television continues to attract people by the millions and Faces of Death and rotten.com are booming businesses, I shouldn’t be surprised that the news would show such a thing. However, I couldn’t help but feel that the tragedy deserved a bit more dignity. I was already sad that the dolphin died. It didn’t help me or the story to show footage of it. Now I’m left with this horrible image and it makes me angry. Angry that animals have to be kept in cages in the first place; angry that the mother is now without her child and no one can communicate to her why; and angry that the prurient interests of the viewing public have once again been placed above decorum.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Column and some other stuff.

Hey, gang.

What am I, Archie?

Anyway, not a lot of time to write something original this afternoon. Homework to do. I would like to say that I finally stumbled across a fresh copy of Who's News, so I'll likely post a double-feature next Sunday. Given the hundreds of comments following Sunday's commemorative 9/11 edition of the feature, next week's offering should be a home run.

Sigh.

I was just in the Student Center eating my tiny portion of lasagna and in the room next door, separated from me only by a pane of glass, a group of teachers was wrapping up a meeting. They had a table full of cookies, and I desperately wanted to run in there and steal as many as I could before they called security.

I'm losing a lot of weight - too much, probably - and I need to find a happy medium between complete caloric deprivation and sheer gluttony. My Nutrition course will likely prove helpful in my quest; I just hope I don't lose 80% of my body weight in the meantime. I'm below 129. This is crazy.

That's it except for my column and to tell you that I'm sitting at a computer desk that is built such that the keyboard is approximately shoulder high. This is ridiculous. I demand ergonomics. People may be starving and getting raped in the Sudan, but the conditions at this desk are inexcusable.

By the way, someone shoot me an e-mail at rottemeister@yahoo.com and remind me to blog about dolphins tomorrow.

Peace, grout.

COLUMN O' THE WEEK

Every year my mom renews my subscription to Billy Graham’s publication, “Decision” magazine, so once a month I fill the bathtub to the brim, immerse myself in the latest Bath and Body Works concoction and dutifully read the inspirational tales of faith contained therein.

The common theme is how just when people reached rock bottom—as they transferred their last dollar from savings to checking to cover rent—their prayers were answered. The job offer of a lifetime. A $10,000 bank error in the writer’s favor. Aunt Mildred died and left enough to pay off the credit card debt. And all because people trusted Jesus to come through in the nick of time.

Come to think of it, Jesus probably wouldn’t off Aunt Mildred, so scratch that one.

It brings to mind casino billboards featuring beaming seniors proudly holding oversized novelty checks. “Gladys from Oak Park Heights won $5,000 playing the nickel slots.” The photos would have you believe the only thing standing between you and financial independence is feeding coins into a one-armed bandit for a couple hours.

Much as casinos don’t publicize the 99.9% of people who nickel and dime away their childrens’ inheritance without seeing a payoff, magazines like “Decision” never feature folks who, despite their best efforts and intentions, never get a break. The writers of such publications have the greatest minds in Christendom at their disposal, yet their advice often consists of little more than “Jesus loves you, therefore things will be all right;” a millenniums-old sacred text synopsized into Cliff’s Notes.

Jesus may love me, but there are times I think he forgot me. I can picture him checking his voicemail and discovering four decades worth of missed prayers from yours truly.

July 17, 1977, 9-year old Tom pleads with Jesus to help him through his piano recital. Result: Piano bench required professional stain removal.

October 21, 1987, 20-year old Tom requests guidance on whether or not girlfriend is “the one.” Result: Marriage dissolved in ugliest manner possible 11 years later.

May 2, 2005, 37-year old Tom asks Jesus to “Bless my mom and dad.” Result: Dad dropped dead of a heart attack the next day while digging a trench.


And so on. Christ would fast-forward through the messages in a panic, realizing he’d totally dropped the ball. He’d page his secretary and ask “Can we arrange for Bonnett to win the next Powerball or something? Toss him a bone, for Christ’s sake. For my sake, I mean.”

Most people are familiar with the “Footprints” story; how the single set of footprints in the sand represents when Jesus carried you through times of trouble. In my case I wouldn’t put it past Christ to say “Sorry, dude: While you were swept away in the tide, I caught the most awesome wave. Cowabunga!”

Sorry, but Westernized portraits of Jesus lend themselves to liberal use of the words “awesome,” “dude” and “cowabunga.”

In all honesty there are times when I’m reading “Decision” that I get resentful at mom for sending it. Much as I wouldn’t send pictures of food to the African child I sponsor, I wonder why mom sends her struggling son a glossy magazine featuring people who are not only spiritually fulfilled, but seem determined to rub it in.

Just as I’m ready to call mom and ask her to stop sending me the theological equivalent of Army recruitment literature (which stresses scholarships, not death and dismemberment), I remember what I know about her life.

Mom isn’t one of those insufferable specimens, pampered from cradle-to-grave, who have never experienced a shred of adversity and can therefore afford to exhibit blind faith. You know the type: A burned hot dish is cause to rend their garment and cry “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

To the contrary, my mom has experienced things in her life that, but for her dignity, would have fueled scripts for countless Lifetime Network movies. Yet despite enduring trials and tribulations that would make even the most stoic Oprah audience shed tears, she maintains the unshakeable belief that ultimately, Jesus loves her and things will, therefore, be all right.

Maybe my problem is that I’ve been seeking the spiritual equivalent of a giant novelty check when what I’m really doing is wasting my life at the nickel slots. Next time I hop in the tub with the latest “Decision,” I’ll ask Jesus to toss me a bone. Give me something—anything—that remotely applies to my life. Hopefully he's not screening calls that day.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Who's News Flashback.

It’s a conspiracy!

Usually I cut and paste the week’s Who’s News questions from the USA Weekend website on Fridays. Then I allow my subconscious to mull them over until Sunday morning at which point I unleash my anti-pop culture fury.

However, the USA Weekend website hadn’t been updated yet on Friday. I checked on Saturday, same thing. Sunday, nothin’. I finally went “old school,” searching for the hard copy of USA Weekend in this week’s newspaper, but guess what: It’s not there.

My first thought was that celebrity gossip columnist Lorrie Lynch had gotten word of my weekly parody of her column and decided to cease publication altogether rather than risk further humiliation. It’s more likely she’s still sponging vomit off herself from Golden Globe after-parties, but a guy can dream.

Then the solution to my dilemma struck me like a bolt out of the blue: Back issues. Specifically, I decided to go back in time to September 16, 2001, the first post-9/11 edition of Who’s News. These are actual questions asked by actual readers the week the Twin Towers fell.

We begin with USA Weekend’s Tom O’Neil giving his predictions for winners in the 53rd annual Emmy Awards. Two office towers lay in smoldering remains as Mr. O’Neil shared his thoughts on a celebrity awards program.

BEST COMEDY SERIES ACTOR: Frasier's Kelsey Grammer will win a fourth Emmy for the episode in which Frasier, on the eve of a career tribute, tells his college mentor, "I feel empty!" Too bad the Twin Towers weren't empty when those jets hit: Then there would be 3,000 more people to watch Grammer accept his Emmy Award!


BEST COMEDY SERIES ACTRESS: My pick is Jane Kaczmarek of “Malcolm in the Middle." I'd rather than be on "Malcolm in the Middle" than in the middle of Manhattan right now!


BEST COMEDY SERIES: I’m sticking to a theme here: “Malcolm in the Middle” will prevail. Last year, it won for best comedy writing and directing when it was not up for this top award. It should clobber the competition like those planes clobbered the Twin Towers! Ker-POW!

BEST DRAMA SERIES ACTOR: Martin Sheen of The West Wing was so amazing in the season finale that he'll surely win. If he were our real president, those terrorists would never have attacked us. He'd have chained himself to their cave 'til they agreed to stop the madness!



BEST DRAMA SERIES ACTRESS: Lorraine Bracco of The Sopranos should rub out all Emmy rivals with her amazing rape episode, which left viewers stunned and devastated. Remember the photos of people wandering the streets of New York City after the 9/11 attacks, looks of utter dispair and agony on their faces? That’s the impact Lorraine Bracco’s performance had on viewers. It was hard to believe that what I was watching was a performance, unlike the 9/11 attacks when 3,000 real people actually died!


BEST DRAMA SERIES: Expect another election landslide for the White House gang. Get it? That’s a pun! Gossip columnists love puns. Last year, “The West Wing” set a record for most Emmy victories in a single year (nine). This year, thanks to star Martin Sheen’s vacuous ramblings against homelessness and poverty set against the backdrop of his lavish estate, “The West Wing” is sure to win the “votes” of Emmy “voters.”

Thanks for your insights, Tom. Now, Admin Worm answers questions sent by readers the week after the 9/11 attacks.


Why do great movie actors take roles on TV (in series that so often turn out bad)? Is it the money? ‑ Gail Thomas, Chicago, IL

Thanks for your letter, Gail. Boy, you had to be relieved when Chicago’s famous (and tall) Sears Tower escaped unharmed this week, eh? Hopefully the terrorists won’t hatch a plan to fly Cessnas into mobile homes, or you’re in big trouble!

To answer your question, Gail: Yes, it’s the money. It’s certainly not the opportunity to spew sitcom-formula pap week after week. Be honest, Gail: If someone offered you the opportunity to earn $60,000 per week—even to appear on According to Jim—wouldn’t you take it?

Then again, perhaps you wouldn’t. You may very well be earning an even better living bilking the Unemployment Compensation system.

Frankie Muniz, an Emmy contender for comedy actor, is great as Malcolm in Fox's "Malcolm in the Middle". He's cute, too. Does he date? ‑ Claudia Cuevas, El Centro, CA

You’re right, Claudia: Frankie Muniz sure is cute! Child actor cute, not Oliver Twist cute. Are you familiar with Oliver Twist, Claudia? It’s a book—that’s those paper things that hold up the short coffee table leg—written by Charles Dickens about an orphanage. Orphans are children without parents. You know, like the several thousand children left parentless after the attacks on the Twin Towers?

Oh, I’m sorry: There I go putting things into perspective again! Anyway, Frankie Muniz is rumored to be dating adult film star Jenna Jameson. The two are even said to be hatching a plan to capture on film Muniz’s deflowering at midnight on his 18th birthday. The two lovebirds are considering donating half the proceeds to 9/11 survivors, ensuring an adequate supply of gruel to families devastated by the attacks.

I've heard this will be the last season for my favorite comedy, "Friends". Tell me it's not true. ‑ Tara McKenzie, Tucson, AZ

Hi, Tara. I heard that 9/11 was the last day of life for 3,000 people in the Twin Towers: Tell me it’s not true!

Oh relax, I’m just joking with you. I realize that by living in Tucson you’re a little sheltered from events that cause the rest of the nation considerable consternation. Hell, the biggest thing to hit a building in your town is a tumbleweed.

But alas, the rumors are true: Friends, like the majestic Twin Towers, will soon be a distant memory. However, due to the miracle of syndication, you will be able to catch the show upwards of 30 times a day, reliving the joy and heartache that characterized the groundbreaking sitcom over its 10-year run. Much as families of 9/11 victims will be able to remember their departed loved ones by looking at photographs and viewing home movies, you can enjoy the wanton sexuality and insipid dialogue of the Friends’ cast thanks to the magic of reruns.

Well, that’s it for this week. Or rather, the week of 9/11/01. I suppose it should be heartening that we live in a country so privileged and pampered that pop culture remained a hot topic of discussion even as the collapsed wreckage of the Twin Towers was searched for the remains of 3,000 innocent people. One can almost see Osama in his cave throwing his turban on the ground in anger: “What? A coordinated attack bringing down the two tallest buildings in New York City and these people are talking about Friends? What the hell will it take to get their attention?”

Should have flown the jets into the NBC Studios, I guess.