Category: words mean things (Page 122 of 223)

Best. Movie. Poster. Ever.

Movie quote of the week

“And why, I ask myself, why have I put up with you? I can’t imagine but I know. Fear. Yellow freakin’ fear. I’ve been too afraid to live my life so I sold it to you for three hundred freakin’ dollars a week!”

-Joe Banks, “Joe Versus the Volcano”

People have often made fun of my fondness for “Joe Versus the Volcano.” But I think one of the reasons I like it so much is that I’m a lot like Joe – or at least I was. I was afraid of so many things. I’ve spent the last few years trying to get past those fears, and I’ve made great progress. I’ll tell you, it’s not fun or easy to face up to the things you’re afraid of. But it’s worth it.

Does anyone else think that Operation TIPS is the scariest thing yet to come out the Bush Jr. administration? As if “Homeland Security” wasn’t enough echo of Hitler’s Germany, now we’ve got a program designed to turn us into a nation of snitches. Even the U.S. Postal Service, which had earlier said it wouldn’t participate, is already backing down. Better cancel that subscription to “Busty Arab Virgins” magazine now.

I’m making a joke about this, but it’s deadly serious. What’s so scary about this is not even so much the plans, but the fact that the American people are so comfortable with the unquestioning obedience and loyalty to their leaders. No proposal is apparently too outrageous, when it’s wrapped in the flag and justified by “national security.”

Exempt the new national police force from the Freedom of Information Act? Sure. Convict and execute “war criminals” in secret military tribunals? No problem. Hike funding to neighborhood watch groups so they can report “unfamiliar” activities to the feds? Sounds like a good idea to me.

Why are people so complacent about these outrageous plans? Is this the way we really want our country to run? Is this what we want America to stand for? We better decide now, before we can’t make any more decisions.

Best Movie Review Non Sequitur Ever

“As any copy editor could tell you, this title suggests that the movie is about eight freaks, each of whom possesses at least one leg.”
-Charles Taylor of Salon, commenting on “Eight Legged Freaks”

As usual, I enjoyed Jon Stewart’s interview with right-wing nut (and best-selling author) Ann Coulter tonight. But in trying to expose her wacky ideas using his trademark low-key snarkiness, Stewart missed the golden opportunity to ask a relaxed and non-defensive Coulter some eminently fair questions, like:

-You say all liberals hate America. Does Jimmy Carter hate America? Did Martin Luther King hate America? Isn’t that the sort of slanderous generalization you accuse liberals of in your book?
-Why is it OK to criticize a Democratic president and not a Republican one?
-You’re upset that liberals are questioning the war on terror. But wasn’t this country founded on a tradition of criticism and skepticism of governmental power?
-How do you feel now about your own quote, “We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity”?

I sort of want to read her book now, just to marvel at it. Maybe someone will loan it to me.

The internet and computers in general are filled with passwords and password fields. But my question is this: how many times have you mistyped your password because you couldn’t see what you were typing, compared to the number of times someone was watching the screen while you typed it in?

“You have zero privacy anyway. Get over it.”
-Scott McNealy, Sun Microsystems

In the grand tradition of you-want-to-look-away-but-you-can’t pop culture events like the Anne Heche interview, I couldn’t stop myself from watching “American Idol” last night.

Yes, I took the bullet for all of you.

And even more embarrassing is that I actually enjoyed myself. Although it probably would have been more entertaining to watch the earlier episodes, when people of even more dubious talent were no doubt showcased. I thought even some of the finalists had mediocre voices (especially front-runner Justin Guarini, who seems to have earned his spot by turning Paula Abdul to quivering jelly). But the best ones were great, like Tamyra Gray and my favorite, the endearingly wacky Kelly Clarkson.

Come on. You’ve watched it too. Admit it.

I designate Willis Haviland Carrier my patron saint. Bless you, Mr. Carrier.

Welcome to my world of beauty, peace and hope.

Although I didn’t stay to watch Andy Rooney detail the contents of his desk drawer, I did enjoy watching the profile of Thomas Kinkade on “60 Minutes.” For those who don’t know him, Kinkade is the king of HOTEL MOTEL ART FAIR art, with cozy cottages and gardens and lighthouses as far as the eye can see. Kinkade takes it to a new level, though, by having hundreds of canvas-backed prints made of each image, with a few paint blobs added by factory workers to make them look more like originals. Brilliant, really.

What fascinated me about the profile was that while they were obviously making fun of Kinkade’s awful mass-produced “art” and the rabid fans who put their lives in hock to buy the stuff, they’re also (wittingly or unwittingly) giving him tons of free publicity. How many people, sitting waiting for their weekly Andy Rooney fix, will take a look at that profile and think, “Boy, that’s some good art. Gotta get down to the mall to get me some of that.”

The double-edged sword of pop culture.

Saw “Road to Perdition” today. While I don’t think it’s a masterpiece like Xkot does, it does do some things masterfully well.

What I kept thinking while I was watching it, and more so since I left the theater, is how it masters a mood. Not only a mood, but a sense of time and place that are rarely seen in movies today. So many times a period movie seems just that, actors with costumes walking around a fake set, like Enterprise crew members on the holodeck. You can just feel in your bones how fake everything is. Not this movie. It seems real; it seems like we’re in 1931. Even the presence of Tom Hanks doesn’t ruin that feeling, both because he can be an amazing actor, and because he has such a weathered, pushed-in face now that you can imagine him as a beaten-down mob enforcer.

The story is sort of thin, but if you look at it as a graphic novel come to life (which is what it is), it’s wondrous. Every shot is like a Hopper painting. It may be a triumph of style over substance, but it’s a beautiful ride.