Wheeeee.

Maybe this will mark me as one of them unpatriotic leftie types, but I found the news of Zarqawi’s death in an air raid this morning to roughly analogous to the Bills beating the Dolphins in the middle of a 7-9 season. Yes, it’s welcome news; but no, it doesn’t feel like any kind of major turning point.

I have a feeling this will be just another blip of good news in the middle of a long and pointless slog through a violent war on an idea that no one can really tell what it is anyway. We could have killed this guy years ago, but didn’t; and you name the “turning point” in the last three years, and without exception each has turned out to not be any kind of turning point at all. “Mission accomplished”, and the war goes on. Saddam is captured, and the war goes on. Every single purported discovery of WMDs turns out to be false, and the war goes on. Elections are held, constitutions are “ratified”, major terrorist figures are killed — and this bloody lunacy of a botched war goes on.

Will Zarqawi’s death even prove to be a major disruption in Al Qaeda? Who knows? I’d bet not. A very evil man died this morning — but since we’re in the course of a disaster of a war that, if nothing else, is almost certain to catalyze the birth of a whole new generation of Zarqawi’s, I find it hard to get all that gleeful about it.

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Cool, it’s open mike night! (So where’s the mike?)

Man — the last few days, when I’ve felt like posting something, Blogger’s been down because something broke at Blogger Central Command; and when Blogger’s presumably been working fine, I haven’t felt like posting (or didnt have the opportunity, being at that work-type place and stuff).

Anyhow, the silence of the last few days wasn’t a planned silence.

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Sentential Links #52

It’s that time again! Click for context. Click, or the kitten gets it.

:: At this point, asking ‘what graphic novels should I read?’ has become a question equivalent to ‘what movies should I watch?’. There is no general answer to the latter question, not only because there is simply too much good stuff out there, but also because it depends on your taste. Where do you start with movies? 8 ½, Citizen Kane or Casablanca? Or with the latest blockbusters, the latest Oscar winners, the latest art films? Depends who you are and what you want. (Terrific post. I only wish that graphic novels weren’t so damned expensive. If I buy the entire Sandman saga, all ten volumes of it, at full cover price, I will have dropped somewhere around $150. I’m constantly seeing graphic novels I’d like to read, but I find price tags like $29.95 hard to swallow. The pricing structure of graphic novels tends to put a real damper on relying on serendipity to explore the medium, and I’m a reader who loves to rely on serendipity to go from one book to the next. There’s always the library, of course, but the library doesn’t have all the graphic novels I’d like to read.

This is an Upstate NY blog, by the way — its writer dwells in Ithaca.)

:: They are going to hell, of course, but only because they smell like pee.

:: It looks like Harry Reid has begun ending his e-mails with the Democrats’ dreaded 2006 catchphrase: “Together, America can do better.” (God, what the hell kind of slogan is that?! It makes me think of Jean Hagen’s immortal line from Singin’ in the Rain: “Why, I make more money than…than…than Calvin Coolidge! PUT TOGETHER!!” Personally, I’d go with something like this: “Vote Democratic in ’06. Because we gotta clean this shit up sooner or later.”)

:: Apparently working from the curious assumption that coffee should be a refreshing jangle rather than a muddy, hostile punch in the mouth, Nescafe recently started selling Sparkling Cafe: coffee plus carbonation. Generations of European philosophers are jittering in their graves. (Just found this blog. Can’t remember where.)

:: I’m finally learning what every 12-year old farm kid from Mississippi knows. (No idea how this blog got into my bookmarks — I blame the Dutch — but I like it.)

:: My purpose here is to point out that June 6, 2006 is an arbitrary date in a numbering system created by man that has been fiddled and fudged with over and over again across the course of centuries. (Yup. And the arbitrary nature of our calendar is why I always got irritated with people who would sagely pronounce that “The Millennium began on January 1, 2001 because there was no year Zero!” I’m thinking, “OK, let’s just say that there was a year zero. Bam, now there was a year zero. Who cares! We made the whole thing up!”)

:: An African-American and a Colombian serenading a Taiwanese woman with a forty-year old song by four guys from England, in a suburb of the Nation’s Capital on Memorial Day/Black Gay Pride Weekend: Welcome to The United States of America, 2006. (That is just great.)

:: There are a few reasons why Hooters hits a sore spot with women.

:: I drove to Michaels the next day and I’ll be damned if the whole store wasn’t full of supplies for home crafts projects. I had no idea. (Michael’s rules. It’s like Lowe’s, only with crafts and stuff.)

:: Don’t spend your time on the bus to basic reading Sun Tzu. (A lot of people have been screwed up by reading Sun Tzu….)

All for this week. Return next week for more. Or the kitten gets it.

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“Concert with attached visuals”

That metaphor is invoked in this list of twelve “noteworthy” filmscores (describing the film North by Northwest). I see this list via Scott Spiegelberg, who offers it as food for snark. But I don’t see the list as all that snarkworthy, maybe because it’s just called “Twelve Noteworthy Scores”, which I take to mean, “Here are twelve of the better scores that have been written”. Rather than snark about this list, I could as easily offer up another list of twelve noteworthy scores.

So here’s another list of twelve noteworthy scores:

1. The Adventures of Robin Hood, Erich Wolfgang Korngold.
2. Spellbound, Miklos Rozsa.
3. The Day the Earth Stood Still, Bernard Herrmann.
4. Spartacus, Alex North.
5. The Ten Commandments, Elmer Bernstein.
6. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, John Barry.
7. Chinatown, Jerry Goldsmith.
8. Close Encounters of the Third Kind, John Williams.
9. Ran, Toru Takemitsu.
9. Interview with the Vampire, Eliott Goldenthal.
10. Legends of the Fall, James Horner.
11. Quo Vadis, Jan A.P. Kaczmarek
12. The Lord of the Rings, Howard Shore.

Scott also links an article about how bad film music is these days. I’ve read this kind of thing over and over and over again in my years in film music fandom, and nothing said here is really any different: today’s composers rely too heavily on computers and keyboards, too few are classically trained in orchestration, too many are lacking in extensive knowledge of harmony and thus rely on small numbers of chord progressions, the nature of filmmaking has reduced the creative role of the composer to a staggering degree, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

But then I recall other things I’ve read in the past: critical opinions of the music of the past, at the time when the music of the past was the music of the day. There has never been a period when you couldn’t find people arguing strenuously that their own contemporary music was disastrously bad and that it had never been worse and so on and so forth, which is why I rarely take these kinds of articles all that seriously. Fifty years from now, there will be some unquestioned masterpieces of film music recognized from our era, and they will be written by composers like Elliott Goldenthal, Howard Shore, James Newton Howard (whose abilities are far in excess of the lukewarm reception his King Kong score received), Gabriel Yared, Jan A.P. Kaczmarek, Michael Giacchino, and others.

Of course, this particular author lost me completely when he “defies anyone to whistle a theme from any of the Lord of the Rings movies”. Well, if this guy has an hour or two, I’ll whistle — well, hum, actually, since my whistling sucks — a ton of ’em. Anyone who is going to use those particular scores as Exhibit A in their “Today’s composers suck” argument isn’t going to get very far with me. I consider those scores to be magnificent achievements that stand up among the great scores of all time.

Besides, “Whistle me a tune from movie X” is a stupid argument, anyway. The fact is that very, very few melodies become cultural milestones that most people can whistle or hum or recognize upon hearing. If you ask random people on the street to whistle the opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, you’ll probably get a pretty decent rate of success. But I’d wager that rate would drop like a rock if you then say: “OK, now whistle any of the melodies from Beethoven’s Seventh.” That doesn’t make the Seventh a lesser work in some way. And film music is quite the same: a tune does not a filmscore make. Everybody knows those first foreboding notes of Jaws, but does anyone aside from score freaks know the “Shark Cage Fugue”, which is another bit of extremely effective scoring from later in the movie?

Finally, I note that the article quotes a Warner Bros. executive who is apparently angry at the current state of film music. Well, to this executive, I’d point out that maybe if he feels that strongly about it, then maybe he could use his power in the business to stop throwing assignments at the Hans Zimmer’s of the world; to stop rejecting scores simply because the movie isn’t doing well in post-production; to roll back the fetishization of sound effects that drown out the music; and basically to push the pendulum back in the direction of respecting the music more. For this guy to take the “Blame the composers” position is too easy.

Is film music dying? Its certainly changing. But so is all of music, and Im still finding gems every year. Id rather celebrate those.

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[Thud]

Tell me that pregnant women are scheduling inductions and C-sections in order to avoid giving birth on 6-6-06.

Actually, don’t bother. I know they’re doing it. But really, folks — I know that we’ve come to think of C-sections as being routine, but it’s a serious abdominal procedure that requires substantial recovery time and has more than a little risk involved. It’s not a frivolous thing to be done for reasons of vanity or half-assed superstition.

(via)

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Oh NO! The NIPPLES! Won’t someone PLEASE think of THE CHILDREN!!!

Grrrrrrr.

Six Apart, creators of Movable Type and, more recently, owners of LiveJournal, have decided to harrass LiveJournal users whose default icons depict breastfeeding.

There are few issues on which I am dead-set, hardline, and utterly unwilling to grant any compromise whatsoever. Breastfeeding is one. It’s natural, there is absolutely nothing wrong with doing it anywhere at all, this would literally be a healthier society if we could set aside our pseudo-Victorian claptrap about keeping the breasts covered at all times, and anyone who floats the “Hey, breastfeed all you want, just go to the bathroom to do it and don’t just whip a boob out in public because it makes me go all squicky inside” crap can kiss my ass. They can kiss my ass twice if the same people who say that get all excited at action movies where people are constantly getting shot and blown up. I’m continually amazed at the way this country fetishizes violence but insists that anything connected with the natural functioning of the human body be kept carefully secret behind a veil of “morality”.

I signed up for LiveJournal a while back, because I intended to set up a LiveJournal feed of this blog. I never did anything with it, and mainly it only serves to allow me to leave comments on LJ’s that don’t accept comments from “outsiders”; the only post at my LJ basically directs people over here where the good stuff is. So I can’t really join the protest blackout. But I’m here in spirit, folks. As PNH writes over at Making Light:

And it’s not amusing at all when any corporation decides to endorse the view that breastfeeding is something scandalous that must happen only in private.

Amen to that. The Wife breastfed The Daughter, and I am absolutely convinced that this is why her first two years were so healthy. Aside from a couple of minor bouts of the sniffles, The Daughter didn’t get really and truly sick for the first time until six months after she’d been weaned, six months after she turned two. (Little Quinn, of course, was a different story — he never took any food by mouth, but he got breastmilk through his G-tube for as long as The Wife could produce enough by exclusively pumping.) We were never confronted in public by the anti-boob crowd when feeding time came round, but if we had, I can absolutely guarantee that my response would have been some variant of “If it bothers you, then f***ing look at something else.” And that will most certainly be my response if the subject ever arises again. (No, that’s not indicating anything, before anyone asks. I’m just saying, you never know.)

(And you know what? Maybe I’m wrong, but I’d be willing to bet that this new policy at LJ is in response to a very small number of complaints. I am getting more and more tired every day of this idea that’s somehow taken root in our society that any complaint must be taken seriously. Why can’t we just admit that some people just aren’t reasonable, and that their complaints do not warrant being taken seriously?)

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When Republicans swoon

Craig notes a colossally stupid thing that a New York State Democrat said the other day, which is pretty unremarkable except for Craig’s apparent belief that saying things that stupid is exclusive to those angry Democrats.

Well, unlike some Republicans, my political memory actually extends a bit farther back than 12:00 noon on January 20, 2001.

What Helms said then was stupid, and what Hevesi said the other day was equally stupid. Frankly, neither was that big a deal, and also frankly, I don’t think either comment speaks to any tendency of Democrats or Republicans to say stupid things but rather to the universal tendency of people to say stupid things. I’ve said lots of stupid stuff myself. Look in my archives here if you don’t believe me.

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Back into their scabbards for another day

Two nights ago, the NHL season ended for the Buffalo Sabres when they lost Game Seven of the Eastern Conference Finals.

It was impossible not to get swept up in the excitement in these parts while the Sabres made their run, even for a guy like me who has never much got into hockey. It’s not that I’m not interested in hockey, exactly, but rather that my opportunities to get into it have been rather limited in recent years. The Sabres were rebuilding, there was the loss of an entire season to labor strife, most hockey games are televised on cable and we don’t have cable, et cetera. Here’s the thing: I’m the guy whose ability to follow the game on TV was enhanced when they did that “hovering blue light” thing superimposed on the puck, and when they had that funky Tron-like streak effect when the puck was shot. So when people ask me if I’m a hockey fan, my typical response has generally been: “I don’t know much about the game, really, so I just follow hockey until the Sabres are eliminated.”

So this year they came within one period of playing for the Stanley Cup. And I’ve never seen anything close to the level of excitement around here as what surrounded this team’s run. It just built and built and built and built, as the regular season started and then ground on and the suspicion dawned that maybe this was a pretty good team after all; and then the suspicion that this might be a damn good team; and then the suspicion that this team might just be the team to win it all. And I’ve seen that excitement around the area in so many ways. In the afternoons, I can’t drive anywhere without interrupting some bunch of kids and their pickup hockey game in the street. Everywhere you look, people are wearing Sabres regalia and everywhere you look, formerly clean-shaven men are letting their playoff beards grow. A lot of razors in Western New York got some use yesterday morning.

Thinking of the way things were a year ago, when the NHL was still picking up the pieces in its disastrous labor dispute, the climate around here was completely different. On the local sports-talk radio station (WGR), the shows tended to stumble around a lot as there was no hockey to talk about and there’s just only so many ways one can make three hours of talking about the Bills interesting. Now, as the Sabres are the young team that came oh so close but will return next year with the nucleus intact while the Bills are restarting a rebuilding process that’s already six years old, the Bills have become Buffalo’s other sports team.

What’s really amazing about the Sabres’ run this year is the way its premature ending has been approached. Everybody is talking Sabres, but even so, I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve heard couch their Game Seven loss in the light of Buffalo’s long history of pro-sports futility. The only comparable example of optimism for the next season I can recall is from back when the Bills lost Super Bowl XXV. The Sabres lost, but this isn’t remotely like the “No Goal” loss in the Cup Finals in 1998. I haven’t met a single soul who doesn’t think that this year’s Sabre team is just the start of something special, and I have yet to talk to a single hockey-knowledgable Sabre fan who doesn’t want to drop the puck on the 2006-2007 right now. Since I don’t know much about the game, what I’m going to remember from this year’s run is the sense of magic that was in the air in this town.

Yes, I’m tired of having phrases like “Wait ’til next year” and “Hey, they had a great run” in my lexicon. I want to be able to look around and say, “Hey, Boston and New York and Chicago and LA: we’ve won it all, too.” But just think, Buffalo, of how much sweeter it’s gonna be next June when the Sabres win the Cup, having come oh so close this year.

And when they win that thing, this city will dance in the streets for months.

Thanks for the magic, Sabres. Get some rest. Heal up. And then: Game on!

(Oh, one more thing: Yes, the Hurricanes earned their trip to the Finals, all right, but screw ’em anyway — go Oilers!)

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