Just testin’ out my hammer.

In the “Credit where due” department, I just have to give major props to the creative geniuses behind Scrubs. Apparently this is to be the show’s final season, and man, is it ever going out on a strong note. This season has been one terrific episode after another, each one filled with laughs and poignant insight that have been the show’s hallmark since it first aired. I love that they’ve found ways to keep Dr. Kelso relevant even though he’s retired, that they’re doing the logical things with Dr. Cox, that the new interns are turning out to be interesting characters in their own right, that JD and Turk still engage in all manner of craziness, that the Janitor continues his unique brand of lunacy, and that they’ve managed to come up with a convincing way to give Ted a girlfriend.

I am so going to miss this show when it ends, and ABC’s picking it up for one final glorious run almost gets that network off my hook for canceling Once and Again back in 2002.

And Sarah Chalke and Judy Reyes are just getting more and more beautiful! Wow, am I going to miss this show.

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The Yes/No Quiz

I did this on Facebook, and am now crossposting it here. The rules:

1. You can ONLY answer Yes or No!
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages or comments you and Asks!

Now, here’s what you’re supposed to do… And please do not spoil the Fun. Copy and paste this into your notes , delete my answers, type in your answers and tag as many of your friends as you’d like to. Then see what happens.

—

Kissed anyone one of your facebook friends? Yes.

Been arrested? No.

Kissed someone you didn’t like? No.

Slept in until 5 PM? No.

Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes.

Held a snake? No.

Ran a red light? Yes.

Been suspended from school? No.

Totaled your car/motorbike in an accident? No.

Been fired from a job? Yes.

Sang karaoke? No.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Yes.

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes.

Kissed in the rain? No.

played strip poker? No.

Flown on a plane? Yes.

Been on a cruise? No.

Have any regrets in life? Yes.

Sang in the shower? Yes.

Sat on a rooftop? Yes.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? No.

Broken a bone? Yes.

Shaved your head? No!

Blacked out from drinking? No.

Played a prank on someone? Yes.

Felt like killing someone? Yes.

Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? Yes.

Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? No.

Been in a band? Yes.

Shot a gun? No.

Tripped on mushrooms? No.

Donated Blood? Yes.

Eaten alligator meat? No.

Eaten cheesecake? Yes.

Still love someone you shouldn’t? No.

Think about the future? Yes.

Believe in love? Yes.

Sleep on a certain side of the bed? Yes.

That’s it. Kinda dull, but there it is.

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The thoughts that come

A couple of thoughts that keep occurring to me, in the wake of last night’s plane crash in Buffalo:

:: While we were hanging out at baggage claim, just miles away people were perishing in a fireball. There was absolutely no sense in the airport that anything was amiss at all.

:: Some of the people who were hanging out in the ticketing area, just outside the security checkpoint, were waiting for people to walk off a plane that would never arrive. I wonder what goes on when this happens: what do they put on the teevee “Arrivals” screen? Do they make a PA announcement of what’s happened, or do they just say “Would anyone waiting for Continental Flight Whatever please report to the Continental ticketing desk”, or do they say nothing and just wait for people to learn as they will? How does this happen?

What a sad day this was.

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Exhale….

The Wife is home, safe and sound.

The Daughter and I picked her up on schedule last night, no problem, no fuss, no muss. But on the way home from the airport, we did notice five or six police cars and emergency vehicles speeding, lights flashing, past us on the eastbound lanes of I-90. We didn’t really think much of this…until this morning, when I learned that within fifteen minutes of The Wife’s plane landing, another plane went down about five minutes out from the Buffalo Niagara Airport.

What a strange mix of horror and relief. But for anyone reading this blog who might have seen notice of a plane crash in Buffalo, The Wife was not on that plane.

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Something for Thursday

The day before yesterday would have been the 80th birthday of film composer Jerry Goldsmith, who passed away in 2004. I’m a big admirer of Goldsmith’s work, and note the occasion of his 80th with a remarkable cue he wrote for Star Trek: The Motion Picture. This is heard during the scene where Admiral Kirk flies to the Enterprise for the first time, early in the movie; it’s basically five minutes of looking at a starship. But what a starship she is, and with music like this, well….

For a taste of what Goldsmith at his height could bring to the table in terms of action scoring, here is what is, for me, the single best action cue he ever wrote (and he wrote a lot of ’em). It’s “Raisuli Attacks”, from The Wind and the Lion:

There are actually two cues here, put together: the second is “Guest of Raisuli”, which begins at about the 3:12 mark. It’s a delicate statement of the film’s gorgeous love theme. I listened to this score for years before I saw the movie, and I was a bit disappointed, I must admit, when I finally saw the actual action scene “Raisuli Attacks” underscores. Hearing that music initially, I pictured a pitched battle of Ragnarokian scale. It’s not, at all. I got over it; The Wind and the Lion is really a terrific film.

I’ve always been of the opinion that Goldsmith’s output after around 1990 or so dropped off in quality a bit, but he still had an amazing career, and I think his music tended to get lost in the shuffle a lot because, unlike John Williams, Goldsmith tended to end up scoring, for lack of a better term, bad movies that are mostly forgotten except for their wonderful Goldsmith scores. Anyway, Goldsmith left behind a giant legacy in film music.

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Final reminders! (Almost)

Today’s the end of Blogroll Amnesty Week, so if you have a blog I should link or know of one, drop it in comments here. (I have zero submissions as of yet. And I would point out that in the course of blogroll revisions over the last year or two, I may have made inadvertent deletions that weren’t intended, or blogs that might have been inactive and returned to active status. Let me know!)

And don’t forget about Ask Me Anything!. I’m taking queries there until Saturday.

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Charlie Wilson’s War

With the teevee show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, writer Aaron Sorkin apparently thought to establish himself as one of the great genius writers of teevee history. Or, at least, that’s how it felt to watch that show, with its constant and open subtext of “Teevee sucks, but luckily there’s a genius writer on hand to save it!” Studio 60 was quite the disappointing effort, I discovered; not just because the show managed to basically turn a fascinating premise into a fairly boring show, but because it also exposed Aaron Sorkin as being a bag-of-tricks kind of writer. So when I rented the latest Sorkin-scripted effort, the movie Charlie Wilson’s War, I hoped that it would exhibit a return by Sorkin to his best days when he was writing the early seasons of The West Wing or the movie The American President. And yes, Charlie Wilson’s War is a step in that direction, but I don’t think it got all the way there.

Charlie Wilson’s War tells a true story many don’t know anything about. A Congressman named Charlie Wilson learns of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and decides to use his power as a Congressman to increase the CIA’s budget to fund the Mujahaddin resistance fighters. However, he soon learns that the CIA’s ability to help the Majahaddin is almost nonexistent because the Soviet weapons are so vastly superior to anything the Afghans have, so Wilson uses a number of contacts he knows to start to broker a clandestine operation where the US will fund the sale of Israeli weapons to the Afghans. (Somehow Pakistan is involved too, although I lost a bit of sight of the particulars.) It is, apparently, one of the largest clandestine operations in US history, if not the largest, and it played a great role in the Afghan defeat of the Soviet forces (with said defeat later being a major factor in the Soviet Union’s collapse).

This is the kind of story Aaron Sorkin is actually ideally suited to write. It’s got tons of inner details that he can use to create those long-winded speeches his characters always have; like so many episodes of The West Wing, the characters here are always able to rattle off the top of their heads the exact numbers of billions of dollars being spent on various operations, or the exact specifications of the Soviet helicopters that the Afghans are trying to fight off with World War I-era rifles, and so on. And sure enough, the characters in this movie have one Sorkin-esque speech after another.

Of course, that’s the typical problem with a Sorkin script: all of the characters tend to talk like every other character, so the film’s success hinges on whether we enjoy listening to these actors deliver their Sorkin-esque speeches. For the most part, the movie works in this regard. Tom Hanks as Charlie Wilson strikes a nicely laconic tone of the kind of intelligence to tends to take people by surprise; Julia Roberts stars as the far-right-wing Texas oil woman who becomes one of Charlie Wilson’s key contacts. Philip Seymour Hoffman is the third standout in the cast as Wilson’s CIA contact, a man who is bitter and burned out and who yet still rises to the occasion to put together one of the CIA’s great triumphs. The supporting cast is also strong: Amy Adams as Wilson’s personal aide; Ned Beatty as a Congressional chair; and so on.

One reason that Sorkin’s rapid-fire speechifying in his scripts tends to work better in movies than on teevee is, I think, the fact that movies aren’t rigidly adherent to the concerns of running time, so actors don’t have to recite their speeches as quickly as humanly possible, as they so frequently were on The West Wing and, in even more pronounced fashion, Studio 60. This allows the actors to find their own cadences, which helps mask the fact that Sorkin writes everybody’s dialog the same way.

And there are also some real gems in that dialog, to be sure. After the President of Pakistan tells Charlie Wilson that he has some character problems (Wilson has just, among other things, tried to order a whiskey in the Pakistani President’s palace), Wilson complains “I’ve just been told that I have character problems by a guy who killed his predecessor in a military coup.” And later on, when he’s trying to get the Pakistani president on board with his plan to supply the Afghan fighters with Israeli weapons, the Pakistani president says something like “For this to work, the world can never know that Pakistan and Israel worked together. We must appear to be mortal enemies.” Wilson responds, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna be a tough sell.” Moments like these are offset by odd, almost slapsticky moments in which Charlie Wilson is having two conversations at once and for some reason has to keep shoving one interlocutor out of his office so he can talk to the other, or moments when characters like the wealthy Houston socialite can recite the contents of some House appropriations bill right down to the number of millions being on spent on this instead of that. Mostly, Sorkin’s scripts these days don’t give the impression that characters are talking; instead, they’re reciting.

I also think that the movie doesn’t take long enough for its subject matter. This is a big and fascinating story, and yet the movie seems to breeze by it all very quickly. We don’t get much of a sense of what kind of man Charlie Wilson is, other than a womanizer and a heavy drinker. In the opening scene, Wilson is captivated when he sees that Dan Rather is on location on the CBS news, wearing a turban somewhere; Wilson obsesses over this point, even though at the time he’s sitting in a hot tub next to three beautiful and naked women. Why is Wilson fascinated by this? We’re told that he’s not much of a Congressman (“Your chief legislative achievement in six terms is getting re-elected five times”), but we don’t get much sense of how he’s able to wheel-and-deal his way to getting what he wants. And the film doesn’t tell us anything at all of what became of the principles of the story after this story ended, choosing instead to pay very brief lip service to the fact that if the US had paid greater attention to Afghan rebuilding after the end of the Soviet occupation, recent history might not have been so dominated by Islamic fundamentalist terrorism.

Charlie Wilson’s War is a slick and entertaining movie. But it feels a bit slighter than it should, played for more laughs than its story deserves, and ultimately, I didn’t feel that I’d been told a story so much as had one suggested to me. This subject matter deserved a telling with more gravity than this.

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Kushiel

Kushiel’s Dart is the first “fat fantasy” I’ve read in a long time; and I enjoyed it so much, I may find myself shying away from the genre for a while for fear of disappointment in whatever Fat Fantasy book I pick up next. Jacqueline Carey has crafted here a novel that put me in mind of Guy Gavriel Kay; in fact, I thought more than once while reading it that this is what GGK would have written if he’d been a woman. This was a wonderful, wonderful book that only let me down at the very end, when it came time for Carey to set things up for the sequel.

The setting was the first thing about the book to remind me of GGK. We’re in a land that is basically Europe with the names changed, and the history is strongly based on Europe as well. In their “Middle Ages”, the main action takes place in the City of Elua, named for Blessed Elua, an angel born in the aftermath of the crucifixion of Yeshua more than a thousand years before. Blessed Elua and his followers established a land where the guiding priciple is Love as thou wilt. Into the service of Naamah, one of Elua’s followers, comes our heroine, Phedre, whom we meet as a child but who grows up before our eyes over the course of this 900-page novel. She is sold into the service of Naamah, which makes her a courtesan; later, she comes into the direct employ of a charismatic teacher named Anafiel Delaunay, who turns out (as does everybody in this complex book) to be much more than he seems. Phedre learns much about the world while in Delaunay’s service, much that eventually puts her in danger as she finds herself engaged in the court politics of this dangerous land; but Phedre is a good student and sharply intelligent, so she becomes as much a player as an observer over time.

More than that, Phedre is a rarity among courtesans: she has a red mote in her eye, which indicates that she has been marked with Kushiel’s Dart (Kushiel was one of Blessed Elua’s followers), and as such, she is something called an anguissette, a person who experiences physical pain as erotic pleasure, which leads to some fairly difficult passages in the book wherein Phedre describes for us her erotic actions (the book is told in first person, from Phedre’s perspective). Fair warning here, folks: if reading about what is literally sadomasochism isn’t your cup of tea, this book won’t be for you; but likewise, if you don’t mind that material (which is very well written, and not really gratuitous, in my estimation), the rest of the book is worthy of attention.

I don’t want to say a whole lot about the plot of this book, not just because I wouldn’t want to spoil it, but also because it’s a hard book to summarize. It’s very long, being the type of book one loses oneself within. One of the book’s most important characters, Joscelin Verreuil, who serves as bodyguard (and eventually much more than that) to Phedre, isn’t introduced until after page 250. This is an actual epic of a book, with the action ranging over virtually the entire continent of “Europe”. Along the way we meet roving bands of gypsies and their king; we travel north and east into the rugged lands dominated by Viking-like warriors called Skaldi, who are gathering underneath the banner of a new warlord; we travel west, over the straits, to the barbarian island realm where the blue-painted warriors fight for dominion. We meet the Master of the Straits, the being who controls the weather in the straits between Alba and Terre d’Ange (think the English Channel), choosing who gets to make passage and who doesn’t. We meet nobles motivated by love and by hate, soldiers motivated by money and by loyalty, lords motivated by revenge and lust, and noblewomen whose motivations can’t even be summarized in any real way.

Kushiel’s Dart is the start of a series, and I have every intention of continuing on. It takes a really good “Fat Fantasy” to capture my attention these days, but this one did. Carey creates a vivid world here, familiar and fantastic, and she populates it with memorable people who stand out and command sympathies – even the villains. I loved this book.

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Hey, WNED

On the off chance anyone from WNED, Buffalo’s classical music station, reads this: this sort of thing does not predispose me to giving money to WNED, something I had actually been considering doing. Now I think I’ll just buy a pizza instead, or maybe get that wireless router I’ve been considering.

John Landis always came on the radio when I was getting off work, and I enjoyed listening to his show. He was knowledgeable and always conveyed a great love of classical music. I can only assume that his termination had something to do with the fact that he’d been there for a long time and thus was probably making more money than some of the less-tenured hosts. If that is the case, I would hope that the WNED brass note that the “Let’s fire the ones who have been around the longest and therefore make the most money” strategy didn’t work out so well for Circuit City.

Anyway, best wishes to Mr. Landis, and hopes that he lands on his feet in these times when so many people are hoping to land on their feet.

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From the Books: The Proud Tower

(A series of posts in which I post longer than usual excerpts from books of mine.)

A number of the liberal-leaning blogs I read have been arguing of late that the filibuster in the US Senate needs to be done away with, as it is a fundamentally undemocratic thing whose use has become so frequent and entrenched over the last few years as to render the Senate into a body which de facto requires a supermajority in order to pass anything. (Example.) I tend to agree with this argument; the filibuster’s main virtue seems to be that it’s been that way forever, and that, in itself, is never much of a reason to keep doing anything.

But I’m reminded of a historical episode I read about in a wonderful book by Barbara Tuchman, The Proud Tower, in which she describes a similar problem faced once by a Republican Speaker of the House named Thomas B. Reed, at the end of the nineteenth century.

He [Reed] was determined, on taking up the gavel as Speaker, to put into effect a plan on which he had long deliberated, consulting no one, and on which he risked his entire political future. He knew that the fight would focus upon him the nation’s attention and also that if he failed his Congressional career would be over. The stakes were high: he would either break “the tyranny of the minority” by the which the House was paralyzed into a state of “helpless inanity”, or he would resign.

The system Speaker Reed had decided to challenge was known as the silent – or disappearing – quorum. It was a practice whereby the minority party could prevent any legislation obnoxious to it by refusing a quorum, that is, by demanding a roll call and them remaining silent when their names were called. Since the rules prescribed that a member’s presence was established only by a viva voce reply to the roll, and since it required only a majority of the whole to constituted a quorum, the silent filibuster could effectively stop the House from doing business.

…

To Reed the issue was survival of representative government. If the Democrats could prevent that legislation which the Republicans by virtue of their electoral victory could rightfully expect to enact, they would in effect be setting aside the verdict of the election. The rights of the minority, he believed, were preserved by freedom to debate and to vote but when the minority was able to frustrate action by the majority, “it becomes a tyranny”. He believed that legislation, not merely deliberation, was the business of Congress. The duty of the Speaker to his party and country was to see that that business was accomplished, not merely to umpire debate.

…

He reached his decision to attack the silent quorum, and planned his campaign, alone, partly because no one else would have thought there was a chance of success and partly because he was not sure that even his own party would support him. There were indications that they might not. Because of Reed’s known views on the silent filibuster it was clear that quorum-counting would be an issue in the new Congress. REED WILL COUNT THEM, predicted a headline in the Washington Post, and the story beneath it said that even Mr. Cannon, Reed’s closest lieutenant, was, opposed to the attempt. The Democrats were manning their defenses. Ex-Speaker Carlisle let it be known that any legislation enacted by a quorum which had not been established by a “recorded vote” woul dbe taken to court as unconstitutional.

Reed, however, had satisfied himself that he would be upheld if it came to law, and on the attitude of his own party he was prepared to gamble. He shrewdly judged that the Democrats in their rage would provoke the Republicans to rally to his support. When the first of the contested elections appeared on the schedule for January 29 he was ready. As expected, the Democrats raised a cry of no quorum and demanded a roll call. Reed’s moment had come. Without a flicker of expression on the great white moon face, “the largest human face I ever saw”, as a colleague described it, without any quickening of the drawling voice, he announced, “The Chair directs the Clerk to record the names of the following members present and refusing to vote,” and began reading off the names himself. Instantly, according to a reporter, “pandemonium broke loose. The storm was furious…and it is to doubted if ever there was such wild excitement, burning indignation, scathing denunciation and really dangerous conditions as existed in the House” during the next five days. Republicans were wildly applauding, all the Democrats were “yelling and shrieking and pounding on their desks” while the voice of their future Speaker, Crisp of Georgia, boomed, “I appeal! I appeal from the decision of the Chair!” The explosion was “as violent as any ever witnessed in any parliament,” a member recalled later. “Mr. Blanchard, Mr. Bland, Mr. Blount, Mr. Breckinridge of Arkansas, Mr. Breckinridge of Kentucky…”

Up jumped the Kentuckian, “famous for his silver hair and silver tongue.” “I deny the power of the Speaker and denounce it as revolutionary!” he called.

The resonant twang from the Chair continued unregarding, “Mr. Bullock, Mr. Bynum, Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Chipman, Mr. Clement, Mr. Covert, Mr. Crisp, Mr. Cummings” – through hisses and catcalls and cries of “Appeal” irresistably rolling down the alphabet – “Mr. Lawler, Mr. Lee, Mr. McAdoo, Mr. McCreary…”

“I deny your right, Mr. Speaker, to count me as present!” bellowed McCreary.

For the first time the Speaker stopped, held the hall in silence for a pause as an actor hold an audience, then blandly spoke: “The Chair is making a statement of fact that the gentleman is present. Does he deny it?”

It’s a fascinating tale. It doesn’t end there with that one act of Reed’s, of course; few things of this nature ever do. The Republicans would later lose Congress so badly that the Democrats were able to raise a quorum by themselves, and they then restored the silent quorum. This backfired after the next election cycle, however; the Democratic majority was greatly reduced such that now-Minority Leader Reed was able to frustrate Democratic legislative aims by using the silent quorum himself, until the Democrats finally relented and allowed the silent quorum to end forever.

(The Proud Tower is one of my favorite history books, by the way. It is a large-scale picture — a historical snapshot, if you will — of the state of the the world as it was moving inexorably toward World War I.)

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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