Okay, back by special request from the wonderful Ms. Animatrixie, I present to you a second installment of "what the heck were you thinking?"
Without a long, drawn-out explanation of what I'm doing, here we go ...
When I was young, my father became ill. He had chronic asthma, as do I, but after he turned 40 or so, it came back upon him with a vengeance and fervor as in no time before in his life. He actually had a sudden respiratory arrest episode complete with emergency room code blue calls and that tunnel-of-light thing so many have claimed to experience. After this, he spent many days in the hospital, some of them in ICU with a mobile-base oxygen tank so he could use the bathroom.
Anyway, on one of my visits to see him, I assisted him to the bathroom, and then went to find my way to the cafeteria for something to drink.
As I wandered through the antiseptic hallways, in those days still painted stark white, I followed the ambiguously labeled signs toward the cafe. Of course, the signs become more and more jargon-laden as I entered the bowels of the hospital, and I quickly realized that I'd probably drifted into an area in which I wasn't supposed to be. There were laboratories and testing rooms, patients huddled under faded robes, clutching them closed at the neck and rocking back and forth with sunken jaundiced eyes. The corridors echoed with soft moans of suffering and sickness above the constant hum of the fluorescent lights. I knew I'd definitely made a wrong turn somewhere, and as I was starting to worry about contracting something viral and fatal, I saw an orderly ambling about near a junction of two hallways.
He was opening doors and shuffling in, taking things off a cart with him into each room, then he'd return a moment later and push the cart forward to the next room. I started toward him, and as I approached him, he eyed me suspiciously while he opened a door beside us.
"HEY!" a voice cried from inside the room.
The orderly jumped about half a meter in start to the sudden bellow, and we both looked into the room.
There was a man, lying on his back, with a white tube running from what I can only describe as a bucket of paint up his -- well. You get the image. It was a charming scene, with a heavy-set, elderly man with his back covered in gray, matted hair, his hospital gown spilling uselessly down the sides of the examination table, liver spots and wrinkles displayed in all their splendor for us to see, with a white tube protruding from between his flabby butt cheeks.
"CLOSE THE DAMNED DOOR!" he shouted at us, his flabby second chin waggling wildly as he flailed one gnarled hand at us.
"What the hell you doin' in here, man??" the orderly countered.
Now, I ask you -- implore you -- what kind of a question is that?!
I couldn't resist.
"His ass stopped in for a milkshake, and he came along for the ride," I said flatly. Then I walked away, leaving the orderly dumb-struck and the angry barium enema patient shouting again for privacy.
I never found the cafeteria, but I did find a vending machine.
JDT.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Friday - Anencephalic Behavior, Part 2
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Wednesday - Using your Head
You know, each and every one of us came with a brain.
It's a great piece of equipment. It's capable of tremendous, astounding feats of calculation and expression beyond any computer -- or network of computers -- mankind can create. AI is really a great concept, but it's only a concept. God gave you something we can't even completely apprehend, never mind comprehend.
And yet, so few of us use them.
I've seen some really dumb things in my 4 decades. I mean, really dumb. I've probably pulled some of them, too, but some of the ones I've seen -- firsthand, mind you -- really would astound you.
Let me give you some case studies:
In the San Francisco Bay Area, there's an electric light rail system called the Bay Area Rapid Transit system -- BART. The BART system was to be the area's answer to New York's subway system or Chicago's Elevated Rail System (or the "EL" as the natives call it fondly). It's a nice train system -- the cars are pretty comfy, with nice air conditioning and heating systems to keep riders comfortable, relatively plush, comfortable seats for your sitting pleasure, tinted glass on the windows to cut down that awful afternoon glare, and full wall-to-wall carpeting. It's major weaknesses are expense (it's not cheap to ride it) and it's not very extensive (only 4 or 5 major branches that go to the four major "corners" of the Bay Area).
As a young man just out of high school, when you wanted to get from where I lived -- in the far eastern suburbs, some 40+ miles from SF -- to the city itself, the most efficient way was the BART system. You didn't have to pay for parking at the stations, the trains ran into the night, and you didn't have to deal with traffic (no kidding, that's a big deal). So, I often would go to the city and spend my days either in the wharf or on one of the north point beaches on the western peninsula. The more "artsy" area of SF is also readily accessible with just a cable car ride up the street, and beyond that the tourist-traps of fisherman's wharf and Pier 39.
I also knew a few people that I liked hanging out with down in that area, and they could often pick me up at the BART station or meet me in SF and spend the day.
One particular autumn day, I was riding the mid-morning train from my end to the SF end. I just stared out the window, letting my mind wander, occasionally doing some people-watching or eavesdropping on nearby conversations. Just waiting for the train to reach the destination is a journey in itself.
As I stared out the tinted windows, I noticed someone approaching me from behind. His reflection in the window caught the corner of my eye.
It was a man that was the classic, mid-80's "power exec," with his shiny, clearly silk suit, buttery-soft Italian leather shoes, gleaming gold and sparkling diamonds, exquisitely coifed and groomed in every detail, with coordinated but not matching tie. Over his arm was draped a very expensive trench coat and he was just pulling the high-end Ray-Bans from his eyes when I viewed his reflection in the sienna pane.
He leaned forward politely, seeing that I hadn't turned to face him, and gently but firmly, said, "Excuse me."
I turned to face him then, and lifted my eyebrows in acknowledgement of his inquiry.
"Are you reading that newspaper?" he asked mildly.
I was dumbstruck for a moment. I didn't have a newspaper. I looked at my hands briefly to ensure that I hadn't somehow picked one up without realizing it; then I looked around by my feet. Nope, no paper. As I swiveled my head about trying to figure out what this man was talking about, a flash of newsprint and a crinkle of paper caught my attention.
I was sitting on a newspaper.
I couldn't believe it. I looked at his earnest expression, and there was no trace of a smile on his face. I was completely dumbfounded. He was serious.
So, I assumed he wanted an answer. I decided to give him one.
I stood up, turned the page, sat back down and said "Yes."
He blinked once, then twice, then thrice. He drew himself up to his full height, then slowly hung his head and walked silently away. I heard the rush of air as he opened up the divider doors and exited the car in favor of another one.
Now, I realize that may have been rude, but be serious -- did he really think I was reading the paper? I mean, he walked into that one.
Over the next couple of days, I'm going to try and remember some of these stories that my wife so dearly loves and post them here. I hope any other visitors I have -- if indeed there are any -- will enjoy them too.
God bless, and don't forget to turn on your brain before you turn on your mouth.
JDT
It's a great piece of equipment. It's capable of tremendous, astounding feats of calculation and expression beyond any computer -- or network of computers -- mankind can create. AI is really a great concept, but it's only a concept. God gave you something we can't even completely apprehend, never mind comprehend.
And yet, so few of us use them.
I've seen some really dumb things in my 4 decades. I mean, really dumb. I've probably pulled some of them, too, but some of the ones I've seen -- firsthand, mind you -- really would astound you.
Let me give you some case studies:
In the San Francisco Bay Area, there's an electric light rail system called the Bay Area Rapid Transit system -- BART. The BART system was to be the area's answer to New York's subway system or Chicago's Elevated Rail System (or the "EL" as the natives call it fondly). It's a nice train system -- the cars are pretty comfy, with nice air conditioning and heating systems to keep riders comfortable, relatively plush, comfortable seats for your sitting pleasure, tinted glass on the windows to cut down that awful afternoon glare, and full wall-to-wall carpeting. It's major weaknesses are expense (it's not cheap to ride it) and it's not very extensive (only 4 or 5 major branches that go to the four major "corners" of the Bay Area).
As a young man just out of high school, when you wanted to get from where I lived -- in the far eastern suburbs, some 40+ miles from SF -- to the city itself, the most efficient way was the BART system. You didn't have to pay for parking at the stations, the trains ran into the night, and you didn't have to deal with traffic (no kidding, that's a big deal). So, I often would go to the city and spend my days either in the wharf or on one of the north point beaches on the western peninsula. The more "artsy" area of SF is also readily accessible with just a cable car ride up the street, and beyond that the tourist-traps of fisherman's wharf and Pier 39.
I also knew a few people that I liked hanging out with down in that area, and they could often pick me up at the BART station or meet me in SF and spend the day.
One particular autumn day, I was riding the mid-morning train from my end to the SF end. I just stared out the window, letting my mind wander, occasionally doing some people-watching or eavesdropping on nearby conversations. Just waiting for the train to reach the destination is a journey in itself.
As I stared out the tinted windows, I noticed someone approaching me from behind. His reflection in the window caught the corner of my eye.
It was a man that was the classic, mid-80's "power exec," with his shiny, clearly silk suit, buttery-soft Italian leather shoes, gleaming gold and sparkling diamonds, exquisitely coifed and groomed in every detail, with coordinated but not matching tie. Over his arm was draped a very expensive trench coat and he was just pulling the high-end Ray-Bans from his eyes when I viewed his reflection in the sienna pane.
He leaned forward politely, seeing that I hadn't turned to face him, and gently but firmly, said, "Excuse me."
I turned to face him then, and lifted my eyebrows in acknowledgement of his inquiry.
"Are you reading that newspaper?" he asked mildly.
I was dumbstruck for a moment. I didn't have a newspaper. I looked at my hands briefly to ensure that I hadn't somehow picked one up without realizing it; then I looked around by my feet. Nope, no paper. As I swiveled my head about trying to figure out what this man was talking about, a flash of newsprint and a crinkle of paper caught my attention.
I was sitting on a newspaper.
I couldn't believe it. I looked at his earnest expression, and there was no trace of a smile on his face. I was completely dumbfounded. He was serious.
So, I assumed he wanted an answer. I decided to give him one.
I stood up, turned the page, sat back down and said "Yes."
He blinked once, then twice, then thrice. He drew himself up to his full height, then slowly hung his head and walked silently away. I heard the rush of air as he opened up the divider doors and exited the car in favor of another one.
Now, I realize that may have been rude, but be serious -- did he really think I was reading the paper? I mean, he walked into that one.
Over the next couple of days, I'm going to try and remember some of these stories that my wife so dearly loves and post them here. I hope any other visitors I have -- if indeed there are any -- will enjoy them too.
God bless, and don't forget to turn on your brain before you turn on your mouth.
JDT
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Saturday - The Problem with a BLOG is ...
... That you have to keep it up.
See, more than that, you have to keep it interesting. No one wants to stop by a boring blog. Since "blog" is actually a contraction of "web log," you need to have something worth saying to even have one. That was probably my first mistake; I assumed that I'd be interesting enough to amuse the visitors that happen to stop at this tiny mat of the universe. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Basically, my wife and I are pretty boring. We're stay-at-home, watch-TV, spend-time-with-the-kids sort of people. We're not tell-an-erotic-story-about-last-night's-date, have-an-interesting/insightful-political-view, research-and-post-an-interesting-or-unique-fact kind of people. We have things to say about nearly everything, but not everything we have to say is worth reading. And often, it's not worth taking the effort to post it, because it would be a long and drawn-out process just to get that far.
So, what am I to do with this blog space, then? To what end shall it come?
I could post fiction, I suppose. I seem to have more to say about things that aren't than I do about things that are. I'm not up on current events, so I can't comment on news. And for whatever reason, I find it difficult to post my opinions about things; it strikes me as impolite, or something like that. I can't put my finger on it. I guess I don't want to deal with the myriads of other opinions that may want to debate something I don't have enough interest in debating. For instance, I can talk all day about theology, but I'm out of practice with debating theology, so until I sharpen that knife again, I don't want to use it.
So I quandary day in and day out about what I'm going to post here. I'd like the one or two people that I know stop by occasionally to have something interesting to glance at when they do stop by, but ... meh. I don't think a blog should be hard work.
I could just journal here, I suppose. On the other hand, those entries tend to be meandering and sometimes are deeply personal. I'm not sure how much of that is worth reading, and how much I want read.
I could turn this space into an eBook, and just write something for you all to read, but now I'm back to fiction, and I should charge for reading my work. Then, even if you didn't like what you read, it's too late. I have your money and your stuck with it. Heh.
In the meanwhile, I have nothing to do or say. So this space collects dust. I suppose I can do some research on topics of interest and publish what I find. Then I'd have a permanent (well, as long as Blogger exists, I guess) record of what I've learned about that topic and can share it with anyone reading this page at the same time. What would I research, though? And in what format would I publish it? Outline? Narrative? What's interesting enough to me to hold my attention for that long? Science? Theology? English grammar? A new language? (I've been kicking around the idea of learning Japanese with my wife for months, but she's not a serious student about anything, and I don't feel right investing that much time/money into something strictly for me. Besides, being a Japanese translator doesn't pay what it used to, so if I can't profit from it, why do it? Personal reward only goes so far.)
So what? What should I do with this space?
I'm too boring to log on the web; I don't know if I deserved a blog. I think Blogger should screen people better and protect their server space, you know?
Hmm. Well, if anyone's reading, give me a "hollah," and let me know what suggestions you have for utilizing this space (without taking up my entire life, of course).
I'm going to watch TV.
See, more than that, you have to keep it interesting. No one wants to stop by a boring blog. Since "blog" is actually a contraction of "web log," you need to have something worth saying to even have one. That was probably my first mistake; I assumed that I'd be interesting enough to amuse the visitors that happen to stop at this tiny mat of the universe. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Basically, my wife and I are pretty boring. We're stay-at-home, watch-TV, spend-time-with-the-kids sort of people. We're not tell-an-erotic-story-about-last-night's-date, have-an-interesting/insightful-political-view, research-and-post-an-interesting-or-unique-fact kind of people. We have things to say about nearly everything, but not everything we have to say is worth reading. And often, it's not worth taking the effort to post it, because it would be a long and drawn-out process just to get that far.
So, what am I to do with this blog space, then? To what end shall it come?
I could post fiction, I suppose. I seem to have more to say about things that aren't than I do about things that are. I'm not up on current events, so I can't comment on news. And for whatever reason, I find it difficult to post my opinions about things; it strikes me as impolite, or something like that. I can't put my finger on it. I guess I don't want to deal with the myriads of other opinions that may want to debate something I don't have enough interest in debating. For instance, I can talk all day about theology, but I'm out of practice with debating theology, so until I sharpen that knife again, I don't want to use it.
So I quandary day in and day out about what I'm going to post here. I'd like the one or two people that I know stop by occasionally to have something interesting to glance at when they do stop by, but ... meh. I don't think a blog should be hard work.
I could just journal here, I suppose. On the other hand, those entries tend to be meandering and sometimes are deeply personal. I'm not sure how much of that is worth reading, and how much I want read.
I could turn this space into an eBook, and just write something for you all to read, but now I'm back to fiction, and I should charge for reading my work. Then, even if you didn't like what you read, it's too late. I have your money and your stuck with it. Heh.
In the meanwhile, I have nothing to do or say. So this space collects dust. I suppose I can do some research on topics of interest and publish what I find. Then I'd have a permanent (well, as long as Blogger exists, I guess) record of what I've learned about that topic and can share it with anyone reading this page at the same time. What would I research, though? And in what format would I publish it? Outline? Narrative? What's interesting enough to me to hold my attention for that long? Science? Theology? English grammar? A new language? (I've been kicking around the idea of learning Japanese with my wife for months, but she's not a serious student about anything, and I don't feel right investing that much time/money into something strictly for me. Besides, being a Japanese translator doesn't pay what it used to, so if I can't profit from it, why do it? Personal reward only goes so far.)
So what? What should I do with this space?
I'm too boring to log on the web; I don't know if I deserved a blog. I think Blogger should screen people better and protect their server space, you know?
Hmm. Well, if anyone's reading, give me a "hollah," and let me know what suggestions you have for utilizing this space (without taking up my entire life, of course).
I'm going to watch TV.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Wednesday - Creeping from the Shadows
So … the ugliness of my past will not die, and I am again hounded by the slathering wolves that pursued me from whence.
It seemed so easy, once -- all I needed to do was weather the storm, wait out the hounds, and be free. No such is true, however. It is now clear that, irrespective of time and distance, regardless of my endurance, my Past will not lie dead and let my future form unhindered. I fear now that the egg is so handled, so harassed, so disturbed from incubation that peace will never hatch. It will be stillborn and never pierce the shell.
The light of day shines on the darkness in the corners and exposes it. The hideousness of where I’ve been and what has occurred for me is constant rising again so I can’t stare too long in one place without seeing it. There’s nothing I can do to escape, it seems. Every debt that I’ve left is coming back with a vengeance. There is no hiding, there is no fleeing, and there is no being left alone.
Why am I condemned to be punished for circumstance I couldn’t control? Why must I be ground down and hunted like an animal for things I didn’t choose, didn’t want and never sought? What is it in me that makes the world despise my laughter, my smiling, my rest? Why am I not able to just exist, content to live free of what was and hopeful of what may be? What is it in me that draws the evil forth to confront me?
“Evil” is probably too strong a word. The point is not; I’ve not known peace and calm in all areas of my life for years now, and there is no indication that I will soon. There truly is no rest for the wicked, whether they chose to be wicked or had it thrust forcibly on them. I am destined to forever be tortured in mind and spirit, ever seeking respite, never finding it. Elusive joy, where are you when I seek? Why do you not answer when I knock? Why do you give to me when I ask?
I cannot escape. I cannot retreat. I cannot fight. I have only one option, and it may be too late for that choice as well.
It infuriates me to live this way. It angers me to worry ceaselessly, about everything that may strike out against me. It maddens me to live always in fear, constantly sleeping with one eye open, restless mind churning, wondering, watching. When will I lay my head and dream? When will I close my eyes and see only darkness? When will my heart not flutter, my veins not burn with acidic adrenaline, my ears not ring with the pounding of my own pulse? When can I finally finish with all that shackles me, and run with abandon ahead? I don’t want to live this way; I do not want to have my family live this way. I want only for what I see so readily in everyone around me -- peace. Contentment. Living for the sake of the day, enjoying the moment, not looking out for what may yet lay in wait.
I want the impossible, it seems.
Here we go again. Those who pray, please do; if you are not one who prays, then I shall pray for you.
It seemed so easy, once -- all I needed to do was weather the storm, wait out the hounds, and be free. No such is true, however. It is now clear that, irrespective of time and distance, regardless of my endurance, my Past will not lie dead and let my future form unhindered. I fear now that the egg is so handled, so harassed, so disturbed from incubation that peace will never hatch. It will be stillborn and never pierce the shell.
The light of day shines on the darkness in the corners and exposes it. The hideousness of where I’ve been and what has occurred for me is constant rising again so I can’t stare too long in one place without seeing it. There’s nothing I can do to escape, it seems. Every debt that I’ve left is coming back with a vengeance. There is no hiding, there is no fleeing, and there is no being left alone.
Why am I condemned to be punished for circumstance I couldn’t control? Why must I be ground down and hunted like an animal for things I didn’t choose, didn’t want and never sought? What is it in me that makes the world despise my laughter, my smiling, my rest? Why am I not able to just exist, content to live free of what was and hopeful of what may be? What is it in me that draws the evil forth to confront me?
“Evil” is probably too strong a word. The point is not; I’ve not known peace and calm in all areas of my life for years now, and there is no indication that I will soon. There truly is no rest for the wicked, whether they chose to be wicked or had it thrust forcibly on them. I am destined to forever be tortured in mind and spirit, ever seeking respite, never finding it. Elusive joy, where are you when I seek? Why do you not answer when I knock? Why do you give to me when I ask?
I cannot escape. I cannot retreat. I cannot fight. I have only one option, and it may be too late for that choice as well.
It infuriates me to live this way. It angers me to worry ceaselessly, about everything that may strike out against me. It maddens me to live always in fear, constantly sleeping with one eye open, restless mind churning, wondering, watching. When will I lay my head and dream? When will I close my eyes and see only darkness? When will my heart not flutter, my veins not burn with acidic adrenaline, my ears not ring with the pounding of my own pulse? When can I finally finish with all that shackles me, and run with abandon ahead? I don’t want to live this way; I do not want to have my family live this way. I want only for what I see so readily in everyone around me -- peace. Contentment. Living for the sake of the day, enjoying the moment, not looking out for what may yet lay in wait.
I want the impossible, it seems.
Here we go again. Those who pray, please do; if you are not one who prays, then I shall pray for you.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Monday - Random Madness
I think movies are overrated.
What I mean is, I've seen a couple of movies lately (which you probably saw long, long ago) that I was very disappointed in. When you have small children, movies are, for the most part, a thing of the past. It's hard to hold a child's attention long enough to see a movie, for one thing; for another, it's expensive for four people to see a movie, even when you do the matinee showing; and finally, it's just not the same as it used to be.
When I was a kid, there were drive-in theaters; remember those? You could pile a bunch of people in a car and pay a flat fee to park, pull the tinny, heavy speaker to your car and honk at people who didn't turn their lights off when parking, obscuring the screen. The kids could get as loud as they wanted, have a conversation with their carmates, have screaming, crying fits, and nobody cared. It was in your car, and the only one missing the movie you paid to see was you.
Now, however, it's a whole other world. Teens haven't been taught how to sit down and shut up, so they don't. They raise all manner of racket and ruckus, so that everyone is disturbed except them. People answer their phones (which they didn't have when I was a kid) and go ahead and talk while others are trying to watch a movie. It doesn't matter what impact that has on your movie-going experience -- it's all about selfishness. It's a "me" generation after all -- and I don't just mean the kids. There are adults that are just as rude and inconsiderate as the teens. They don't care about you; they're focused on themselves. They can't be bothered to be courteous enough to shut off the cell phones, shut off their mouths, and get up politely and quietly to leave the theater if an important call they just can't live two hours without comes along. No, that would be antiquated, this thinking about the other people in the world. It flies in the face of the way things ought to be.
Each and every person thinks that YOU should be considering THEM and THEIR needs, so there's no one around you thinking about anyone but themselves. That's a switch; we're one of the only generations that was taught to be that way, and it's only going to get worse, because no one's teaching the youth of our world anything differently. Think about the rain forests, the whales, dolphins, elephants, rhinos, snail darters, spotted owls, pandas, the ozone, the climate, the ice caps, SUVs, gas prices, food prices, insurance rates, healthcare, terrorism, nuclear threats, whether or not the Ice Man was murdered ... think about anything except the people immediately around you in your day-to-day life. Ah, the irony of tree-hugging liberalism!
Wow, it's amazing, isn't it? We can't figure out why the world is in the state it's in, while we stare at the death of basic human freedoms and common courtesy. Manners are passe, and not in vogue any longer. It's not fashionable to be nice, and everyone knows where nice guys finish, right?
Okay, okay ... so anyway, even though I don't go to the movies for all the reasons listed above and the $9 ticket price, I still think movies are overrated. I wanted for the longest time to see The Fantastic Four. I wasn't ever a huge fan, but I thought that the technology was finally in place to make a very good movie about an iconic comic book staple.
What I forgot about, however, is that movies are formulaic and predictable, for the most part badly written and acted, and visually beautiful. But, the one doesn't make up for the other elements missing. You can't make a good movie out of a crappy story and dialog by dressing it in stunning visual effects. You just can't; The Fantastic Four was a testament to that fact.
The Chronicles of Narnia -- ditto. I could't believe it was so bad; it was beautiful artistically, but lacked in every other way, I thought. (I haven't read the books, and probably won't, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and just assume they're better than the movie turned out.)
I recently watched Flightplan with Jody Foster, too; that was disappointing, which surprised me, since most of her movies have been well-done and fairly interesting to me. (You must know me to understand that statement; I don't suspend disbelief, which makes enjoying a movie very, very difficult. Ask my wife; she hasn't been able to enjoy one since we've been married.) But it was bad, and worse, predictable. I watched things like The Grudge, and was left without satisfaction, despite the fact that I love the horror/sci-fi/thriller genre movies. I've tried watching some animated things recently, but nothing sticks in my mind about them (including titles and stories), and that sort of says it all.
So, what's the problem here? Is it me, or are movies just plain ol' not as good as they used to be? Despite the technological capability to make some of the most amazing movies of all time, are there just no more great stories, writers and ideas out there?
I'm looking forward to seeing The Wicker Man, a new take on an old story that I've always liked. Lord knows how that will be butchered. But I'll see it anyway -- either on premium cable or Pay-Per-View, depending on my mood.
Movies, at least at this point, are overrated. Seen anything you liked lately? What did you like about it? What were the weak spots? Recommend anything highly? Something I should stay away from completely?
I still think I should be in charge. Movies would have to be good or they'd never be allowed to be made.
JDT
What I mean is, I've seen a couple of movies lately (which you probably saw long, long ago) that I was very disappointed in. When you have small children, movies are, for the most part, a thing of the past. It's hard to hold a child's attention long enough to see a movie, for one thing; for another, it's expensive for four people to see a movie, even when you do the matinee showing; and finally, it's just not the same as it used to be.
When I was a kid, there were drive-in theaters; remember those? You could pile a bunch of people in a car and pay a flat fee to park, pull the tinny, heavy speaker to your car and honk at people who didn't turn their lights off when parking, obscuring the screen. The kids could get as loud as they wanted, have a conversation with their carmates, have screaming, crying fits, and nobody cared. It was in your car, and the only one missing the movie you paid to see was you.
Now, however, it's a whole other world. Teens haven't been taught how to sit down and shut up, so they don't. They raise all manner of racket and ruckus, so that everyone is disturbed except them. People answer their phones (which they didn't have when I was a kid) and go ahead and talk while others are trying to watch a movie. It doesn't matter what impact that has on your movie-going experience -- it's all about selfishness. It's a "me" generation after all -- and I don't just mean the kids. There are adults that are just as rude and inconsiderate as the teens. They don't care about you; they're focused on themselves. They can't be bothered to be courteous enough to shut off the cell phones, shut off their mouths, and get up politely and quietly to leave the theater if an important call they just can't live two hours without comes along. No, that would be antiquated, this thinking about the other people in the world. It flies in the face of the way things ought to be.
Each and every person thinks that YOU should be considering THEM and THEIR needs, so there's no one around you thinking about anyone but themselves. That's a switch; we're one of the only generations that was taught to be that way, and it's only going to get worse, because no one's teaching the youth of our world anything differently. Think about the rain forests, the whales, dolphins, elephants, rhinos, snail darters, spotted owls, pandas, the ozone, the climate, the ice caps, SUVs, gas prices, food prices, insurance rates, healthcare, terrorism, nuclear threats, whether or not the Ice Man was murdered ... think about anything except the people immediately around you in your day-to-day life. Ah, the irony of tree-hugging liberalism!
Wow, it's amazing, isn't it? We can't figure out why the world is in the state it's in, while we stare at the death of basic human freedoms and common courtesy. Manners are passe, and not in vogue any longer. It's not fashionable to be nice, and everyone knows where nice guys finish, right?
Okay, okay ... so anyway, even though I don't go to the movies for all the reasons listed above and the $9 ticket price, I still think movies are overrated. I wanted for the longest time to see The Fantastic Four. I wasn't ever a huge fan, but I thought that the technology was finally in place to make a very good movie about an iconic comic book staple.
What I forgot about, however, is that movies are formulaic and predictable, for the most part badly written and acted, and visually beautiful. But, the one doesn't make up for the other elements missing. You can't make a good movie out of a crappy story and dialog by dressing it in stunning visual effects. You just can't; The Fantastic Four was a testament to that fact.
The Chronicles of Narnia -- ditto. I could't believe it was so bad; it was beautiful artistically, but lacked in every other way, I thought. (I haven't read the books, and probably won't, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and just assume they're better than the movie turned out.)
I recently watched Flightplan with Jody Foster, too; that was disappointing, which surprised me, since most of her movies have been well-done and fairly interesting to me. (You must know me to understand that statement; I don't suspend disbelief, which makes enjoying a movie very, very difficult. Ask my wife; she hasn't been able to enjoy one since we've been married.) But it was bad, and worse, predictable. I watched things like The Grudge, and was left without satisfaction, despite the fact that I love the horror/sci-fi/thriller genre movies. I've tried watching some animated things recently, but nothing sticks in my mind about them (including titles and stories), and that sort of says it all.
So, what's the problem here? Is it me, or are movies just plain ol' not as good as they used to be? Despite the technological capability to make some of the most amazing movies of all time, are there just no more great stories, writers and ideas out there?
I'm looking forward to seeing The Wicker Man, a new take on an old story that I've always liked. Lord knows how that will be butchered. But I'll see it anyway -- either on premium cable or Pay-Per-View, depending on my mood.
Movies, at least at this point, are overrated. Seen anything you liked lately? What did you like about it? What were the weak spots? Recommend anything highly? Something I should stay away from completely?
I still think I should be in charge. Movies would have to be good or they'd never be allowed to be made.
JDT
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