What was the first movie sequel? Man I don't know and I'm not the guy who's going to research back to silent movies to see if Charlie Chaplin's character The Tramp and his classic comedies were the first sequels. As a kid I remember watching a couple of different movies on The Saturday Matinee which featured THE THIN MAN with William Powell and Myrna Loy. To a kid, William Powell was an older guy (my mother's age) who was very composed, talked with a funny accent and always had a drink in his hand. His wife, Myrna Loy, was always fixing Powell a drink, spouting witticisms with her chin lifted in the air and seemed to be smarter than her husband. But these weren't movies where an eight year old boy was going to say to his little brother, "Man I can't wait for them to come out with another THIN MAN movie that shows adults doing more talking and drinking." The movies my brother and I lived for were the ones we watched weekly at the theater in the Art Museum at Volunteer Park. Maybe the Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers and Tarzan serials weren't genuine sequels but we didn't care because it only cost a quarter to get in and there was a heck of lot more action in one serial than in ten THIN MAN movies.
When I saw the movie SHANE I was seven years old and I imagined myself standing next to Joey, played by Brandon DeWilde, yelling "Shane come back! Mommy wants you!" I knew Shane had been wounded and I wanted to help him but he couldn't come back. He knew his job was done, he knew Jimmy's mother (Jean Arthur) would never leave her husband (Van Heflin) for him and he knew, as a gunman, he could never live amongst the "civilized folk". At that young age it never dawned on me that a movie studio could make anyone come back as long as there was a market for that character's return.
There are cases to be made for filming a sequel that don't involve money but I think the more a character is brought back the more diluted he becomes. Because it's thought that everything that needs to be known about a character is revealed in the first movie then that means the sequel can just move the story along with dialogue and action. As the recent rejuvenation of the James Bond franchise proves, the "gritty, ruthless and real" Bond is the one that people remember and flock to. I suppose it's easier for a studio to just change the silly character names, interchangeable exotic locations, sappy villains and forgettable Bond women than it is for them to write cool dialogue, return the Bond character to a risky edge, introduce a female lead with a confident aura and develop a story that takes gambles without relying on hour long car chases and special effects. (That was a long sentence).
Another issue in regard to filming a sequel is that the second film tends to be a remake of the first one with nothing new to say or offer. In the case of the ROCKY movies, all of which I loved, (whoops there goes any credibility I may have had) they all followed the same sure-fire formula: Rocky gets smacked to the bottom of the food chain but with the love of a great woman and a lot of hard work he climbs back toward the top and prevails over a brutal villain in the championship fight. Nothing wrong with that formula, great for the box office but not very satisfying to critics who are looking for something new and original. I understand advancing the story and developing the characters like in the GODFATHER trilogy with all the families and Michael's rise up the ladder; but in a boxing movie? What's Rocky aspiring to be, the head of the Pennsylvania Boxing Commission?
If SHANE had been remade there would have been the automatic conflict with the threesome of dad Joe, mother Marian and Shane, with little Joe looking on thinking everything is terrific and not "getting" it. I don't see any way to resolve this dilemma except for dad to die somehow with Shane being indirectly responsible. Afterward there would be plenty of conflict with little Joey hating Shane for not being able to save his dad, mom feeling uncomfortable with her affection for Shane and her husband gone and Shane with his guilt for not being able to help Joe when he was killed, along with his feelings for Marian. Plus there are all the neighbors gossiping about when they should be tending their farms. Of course Shane would have given up being a gunfighter because Marian insisted on it but at the end he would have to come out of retirement when more bad guys showed up to hassle all the innocent, God-fearing farmers. Also after everything was peachy-keen for awhile Joey could develop into a cocky kid who wanted to be a gunslinger like his step-dad and would want to take revenge on the bad guys who were responsible for his father's death years ago. Then Shane would explain to this headstrong eighteen, nineteen, twenty year old that, "Violence is not the way to solve your problems." Joey would roll his eyes and attempt to act anyway as he finds Shane's gun and attempts to use it. At that point Shane would have to intervene against the wishes of Marian. "Who do you want to face these men, Joey or me?" he will say. What can she say? She is speechless.
Wow I guess I got carried away since I had an idea for a sequel to another of my favorite classic movies. The second feature would take some logical steps that develop and complete the original story along with featuring a current star who I think is close to being the equal of the original lead. You might think: Leave it alone. It's a classic with a star-turning performance that should have resulted in the star's being awarded an Academy Award. Sure, one of the characters was awarded the Oscar for the Best Supporting Actor but he was playing off of the star. If the star hadn't been there George Kennedy would have been just another con.
Yes, it's true I'm talking about a sequel to the Paul Newman gem: COOL HAND LUKE starring Matthew McConaughey. What you say? Blasphemy! How can you consider a sequel when Luke was killed at the end of the movie? I say: Are you sure Luke was killed? I remember Luke standing in a doorway of a church with that wonderful Paul Newman smile and saying, "What we have here is a failure to communicate." Then at that moment the guard with the sunglasses, Boss Godfrey played with silent menace by Morgan Woodward, shoots Luke in cold blood with a rifle. Luke was hit in the neck then there was confusion as a Sheriff attempted to take Luke to the emergency clinic but the prison warden, Strother Martin, intervenes saying they will take him to the prison hospital. The sheriff points out that the prison is an hour away and that Luke won't last twenty minutes. The warden, known as The Captain blows the sheriff off and says "Get out of the way. He's ours!" The warden and his guards then hustle Luke off to a prison vehicle. Then as I recall the movie finishes with George Kennedy, J.D. Cannon, Dennis Hopper, Harry Dean Stanton and the rest of Luke's posse reminiscing about lovable Luke back at the prison.
OK it's assumed that Luke was killed or died on the one hour trip to the prison. But what if the sheriff, having seen Boss Godfrey shoot Luke without provocation, and smelling another agenda, has second thoughts. With a deputy he gets in his car and chases down the prison vehicle. With his lights flashing he overhauls it and, as a man sworn to uphold the law for everyone, takes custody of Luke by shear force of will. The Captain and his guards, attempt to intimidate the sheriff with pointed threats about his safety and his state job. The sheriff says: "If you take this man back to the prison Dr. Mason with the State will be arriving at your State facility tomorrow to inspect the condition of this prisoner. If Mr. Jackson (this statement is personalizing Luke) is not alive or we do not take him to the emergency clinic tonight then I will report your interference and neglect all the way to the Governor of Florida if I have to!"
The warden who is sick and tired of dealing with Luke (he escaped three times), realizes he can't make the man just go away but makes a deal with the sheriff: The prison vehicle will detour to a nearby retirement home and Luke will be treated there. The site has a small clinic with facilities for treating a gunshot wound. With Luke losing blood and nearing death the sheriff agrees. Luke, the sheriff, one of his deputies, The Captain, Boss Godfrey and another guard arrive at the hospital and commandeer the facilities in the name of the Governor of Florida ("Two can play this game," says the warden). Then he sends a guard back to the prison who announces to the population that "the prisoner in question (not using Luke's name) is no longer a resident of this State facility." Luke's pals interpret this an an obvious admission that Luke is dead.
Back at the hospital the clinic doctor considers his ability to save Luke's life. "I haven't treated a gunshot victim in thirty years! You need to find someone else to do this!" he says. "There," said the warden, "this doctor is not qualified to help this man and he admits it!" "Shut up!" says the sheriff who turns to the doctor. "There's nowhere else to go Doc," he says. "You're all he's got." The doctor begins to operate and finds that the bullet took a chunk out of the side of Luke's neck but didn't hit his larynx, throat or spinal cord. However because of the loss of blood, trauma to his body and inability to breath properly, Luke slips into a coma then dies.
The day before when Luke is hiding out in the church and about to be re-captured he asks God, "What you got in mind for me next?" God's answer seems to be that Luke is going back to prison as the police appear and demand his exit from the church. Then he is shot by Boss Godfrey. It turns out that God has something else in store for Lucas Jackson as he lays on the hospital operating table. Everything is black and there is no sound. Suddenly he senses movement with a soft murmur that may be the wind. The movement increases in speed and up ahead there is a bright light. The sound of the wind increases and is accompanied by a voice that says. "Luke I have something else in mind for you, your journey is not over and you have a lot of work to do." The wind increases to a roar as the movement gains momentum; it is heading for the bright light that is pulsing and growing in intensity. It was like being strapped to the front of a speeding train as it rocketed toward the end of a darkened tunnel, the daylight rushing forward in a relentless rush.
The doctor covered Luke's face with a white sheet then stripped the rubber gloves from his hands. With a resigned sigh he dropped them on a tray next to his operating instruments. The sheriff, who had been watching through the window in the trauma room doors, pushed inside the room. The Captain and Boss Godfrey followed him. The prisoner was dead and they wanted to get him back to the prison and bury him as soon as possible. However they still deferred to the doctor and the sheriff. The doctor looked at the men and shook his head. "He lost too much blood. He's yours." The warden said, "He's my a prisoner sheriff, he has to be buried at the prison. And doctor we need you to sign a death certificate." The sheriff stared back at The Captain and said, "You're not taking this man anywhere!" Then he turned his gaze slowly to Boss Godfrey. "Your man here is under arrest for murder and I'm a witness!"
The doctor had removed his white smock and glanced idly at the covered body but something wasn't right. He focused on the sheet covering the prisoner's face. It was moving. The other men hadn't noticed. The doctor moved to the table and pulled the sheet back. The patient's eyes were open and he blinked! The warden who had followed the doctor's movements staggered back in shock, "Jesus," he exclaimed and Boss Godfrey muttered, "What the hell is goin' on?" The doctor rested his hand on Luke Jackson's forehead. It was warm! The man blinked again and he opened his mouth and moaned softly but the men heard exactly what he said. "It hurts."
The doctor pushed the sheet aside. "Oh course it hurts son", he said, "you were shot." Boss Godfrey had removed his sun glasses in disbelief and the first thing he thought was, Thank God, it isn't murder! The doctor checked the dressing he had made moments before and saw that it was secure and not leaking blood. "I hear your name is Luke," said the doctor. Luke nodded. "St. Luke was the patron saint of surgeons, physicians and artists," the doctor added. Luke lifted his hand and touched the dressing as he started to remember what had happened. Suddenly the dream or was it a vision he had experienced probed him then blossomed. "Doc I think you must have been all three to bring me back from where I've been." Even though his neck hurt he smiled slightly and his blue eyes sparkled with life. Then he said, "I'm alive and the Man upstairs has plans for me."
What does the Man have in store for Lucas Jackson, itinerant worker, womanizer, drunk and non-believer? Is it to clean up the Florida penal system? Run for Governor? Heal the sick? Start his own church or religion?
Luke turns his head and sees the warden and Boss Godfrey who is holding his sun glasses in his hand. "Howdy Captain," he says. Seeing Luke alive and knowing he's ultimately responsible for the attempted murder of a prisoner, the warden takes his hat from his head and dips his head. "Hello Luke I see you made it back." He gestures toward the doctor. "We brought you here to get the best care. This man saved your life." Luke looked at the doctor, sensing the dis-ingenuousness of the warden's statement. He raised his hand and said, "Thank you Captain, come closer I want to thank you for bringing me here." The Captain hesitated then he and Boss Godfrey shuffled forward.
If Luke's story were ever to be continued Matthew McConaughey would be the man to play him. Besides looking a lot like Paul Newman, McConaughey shares his blue eyes,dazzling smile and confident demeanor. Plus he's a genuine actor with the ability to play comedy (which is hard without looking foolish), action and romantic characters. I think he is about Newman's height but he would have to lose some of the bulk he has gained over the years to attain the lean look of a chain gang prisoner. They work them hard on those hot Florida highways so he would have to look more like a long distance runner than a Gator linebacker.
The Captain and Boss Godfrey stood next to the bed trying to make sense of Luke's death with the man who was lying in front of them, alive. The Captain's hands shook as he held his hat and Boss Godfrey, in spite of himself, began to weep. Luke raised his hand and the Captain took it automatically saying, "What do I do now?" Luke smiled briefly and said, "You release the men." The Captain cocked his head slightly. "Why?" "Because they have served their time," said Luke "And they are ready to speak the truth." Luke didn't know why he was saying these words but he knew he was supposed to say them. Finally the Captain nodded and said "That's true they are ready." Luke nodded back and his gaze took in all the men in the room. "You all are ready," he said.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Hard Drive Dive
The guilt was hiding in the background as I neglected my baby (Willie Boy) for so long but if there are other things going on, what can you do? I might as well list my excuses just to get it all documented. First of all, as it happens with all hard drives, ours died. Of course there were symptoms like; it was getting very slow and you had to key an icon a few times for it to activate but those things happen to all of us as we get on in years. Then one day it wouldn't boot up and even Microsoft/India couldn't get it going. It's odd being without a computer, as if checking your email is so-o-o important, or checking out a few favorite blogs is going to "make your day" or getting the news a half a day earlier than the newspaper is going to affect your ability to deal with the world. Suddenly neglected projects around the house get finished, you read a few more books and for me my second novel FAVORITE SONS gets resurrected.
Like most of DEVON LOCH I have been writing my new book by hand so it's never been something that I would have lost if the hard drive went down. I've been working on the sequel to DEVON LOCH for about a year with an exciting story to tell involving the novel's original characters who have grown and are facing new challenges. I have a very detailed outline completed covering a terrific story, a few twists relating to the first novel, some cool new characters, challenging situations involving them and loads of very snappy dialogue.
Having the outline completed gives me a great deal of confidence and optimism about completing a novel because I have a basic blueprint for what is going to happen. But one of the exciting parts about writing a novel is how the actual writing evolves from the basic outline; the characters that pop from nowhere and the situations that surprise me that make perfect sense. Originally I had DEVON LOCH ending and didn't imagine going back to it. But, as I am sure is true like running your first marathon, ideas kept popping up in my head. Is Jack done with competitive running at the ripe old age of 32 or does he realize he is in his prime as a world class distance runner who still has some reachable goals? What kind of running career does Laura have ahead of her with the proper training, desire and love for the sport? Does Teri want to provide emotional support for two runners in the family? What is in store for Billy who may be on the verge of being able to walk again and do he and Anne have a future involving more than just a physical relationship? Plus, are there ghosts from Vietnam lurking in the future?
But writing a novel is one thing and acquiring a new computer is another so Gwynne and I headed off to Costco to check out the inventory. We also planned to go to Frye's but the best laid plans..... Costco displayed six computers that ranged in price from $599 to four figures. Since we mainly just send and receive email, do some blogging, reserve books at the library, read movie reviews and compose an occasional Word document we realized right off we weren't candidates for the Lexus version of the Hewlett-Packard package. However we weren't sure about getting the basic package and missing out on some valuable options or even what printer to get either. A couple of days later our family computer expert Charlotte and I checked things out again at Costco and she cut right through our issues by saying, "Dad you don't need all this fancy stuff with the big screens and all the options. Just get the e-machine for $599 and use the money you save to get this HP printer with the copy/fax/scan option, plus you can do photo stuff on it too." It sounded like a good plan to me so we followed her recommendations and also picked up one of those wireless mouses which it turned out we didn't need. Obviously a mouse with a cord would be included in the computer package and Gwynne said that the wireless mouses are a big PAIN with their quirkiness and always having to change batteries when there are none in the house.
Eventually we got everything set up and it's all running just fine, plus the larger screen is very cool. It's funny because we were using caveman technology that we were very satisfied with; a big boxy Dell monitor that probably still worked off a gerbil on a treadmill, a hard drive that still had a port for a floppy disk and an 8 track tape and a laser quick printer which I have absolutely nothing critical or snide to say about. After a referral from the nice people at Cartridge World we picked it up for $5 at the Inter-Connection re-cycle place near Gasworks Park and we cycled everything at a recycle fair sponsored by the Whole Foods store on Roosevelt Way.
The only downside of the process is that we still have our cheesy little speakers that emit sound in a tone that is just above a whisper. Ya, ya I know about the little icon on the lower right side of the screen and the volume controls on the keyboard (very cool) and, yes Charlotte has checked through the Control Panel Help tutorial but nothing has worked. Her solution is to use the "hot" speakers she has stored in one of her moving boxes in the garage so we'll work on that this weekend. In the mean time I've answered the thirty-seven emails that piled up during our down time, introduced Mr. HP printer to Ms.e-machine hard drive and am sitting here blogging and still confused about the difference between a blog address and a blog name.
Like most of DEVON LOCH I have been writing my new book by hand so it's never been something that I would have lost if the hard drive went down. I've been working on the sequel to DEVON LOCH for about a year with an exciting story to tell involving the novel's original characters who have grown and are facing new challenges. I have a very detailed outline completed covering a terrific story, a few twists relating to the first novel, some cool new characters, challenging situations involving them and loads of very snappy dialogue.
Having the outline completed gives me a great deal of confidence and optimism about completing a novel because I have a basic blueprint for what is going to happen. But one of the exciting parts about writing a novel is how the actual writing evolves from the basic outline; the characters that pop from nowhere and the situations that surprise me that make perfect sense. Originally I had DEVON LOCH ending and didn't imagine going back to it. But, as I am sure is true like running your first marathon, ideas kept popping up in my head. Is Jack done with competitive running at the ripe old age of 32 or does he realize he is in his prime as a world class distance runner who still has some reachable goals? What kind of running career does Laura have ahead of her with the proper training, desire and love for the sport? Does Teri want to provide emotional support for two runners in the family? What is in store for Billy who may be on the verge of being able to walk again and do he and Anne have a future involving more than just a physical relationship? Plus, are there ghosts from Vietnam lurking in the future?
But writing a novel is one thing and acquiring a new computer is another so Gwynne and I headed off to Costco to check out the inventory. We also planned to go to Frye's but the best laid plans..... Costco displayed six computers that ranged in price from $599 to four figures. Since we mainly just send and receive email, do some blogging, reserve books at the library, read movie reviews and compose an occasional Word document we realized right off we weren't candidates for the Lexus version of the Hewlett-Packard package. However we weren't sure about getting the basic package and missing out on some valuable options or even what printer to get either. A couple of days later our family computer expert Charlotte and I checked things out again at Costco and she cut right through our issues by saying, "Dad you don't need all this fancy stuff with the big screens and all the options. Just get the e-machine for $599 and use the money you save to get this HP printer with the copy/fax/scan option, plus you can do photo stuff on it too." It sounded like a good plan to me so we followed her recommendations and also picked up one of those wireless mouses which it turned out we didn't need. Obviously a mouse with a cord would be included in the computer package and Gwynne said that the wireless mouses are a big PAIN with their quirkiness and always having to change batteries when there are none in the house.
Eventually we got everything set up and it's all running just fine, plus the larger screen is very cool. It's funny because we were using caveman technology that we were very satisfied with; a big boxy Dell monitor that probably still worked off a gerbil on a treadmill, a hard drive that still had a port for a floppy disk and an 8 track tape and a laser quick printer which I have absolutely nothing critical or snide to say about. After a referral from the nice people at Cartridge World we picked it up for $5 at the Inter-Connection re-cycle place near Gasworks Park and we cycled everything at a recycle fair sponsored by the Whole Foods store on Roosevelt Way.
The only downside of the process is that we still have our cheesy little speakers that emit sound in a tone that is just above a whisper. Ya, ya I know about the little icon on the lower right side of the screen and the volume controls on the keyboard (very cool) and, yes Charlotte has checked through the Control Panel Help tutorial but nothing has worked. Her solution is to use the "hot" speakers she has stored in one of her moving boxes in the garage so we'll work on that this weekend. In the mean time I've answered the thirty-seven emails that piled up during our down time, introduced Mr. HP printer to Ms.e-machine hard drive and am sitting here blogging and still confused about the difference between a blog address and a blog name.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Writing/Blogging Motivation
It's interesting how writing a blog works. Since my blog doesn't have a specific subject that repeats itself through each post I'm free to follow whatever interests me at the moment. Once a blog entry is posted I have a feeling of relief that I haven't let WILLIE BOY fade away from lack of attention. I suppose all of us bloggers think that some day we will run out of things to say and considering the number of people that are following my blog there aren't many people who will care. Granted maybe nobody is paying attention to my musings so it must be a conscience issue that keeps me keying away, like forgetting about a friend or missing an appointment or not living up to something I said I would do. For me that blog posting relief thing starts to fade after about a week and then I know that I've got to start thinking about something else to say.
Before I started WILLIE BOY I made a list of subjects that interested me and for which I felt I had something constructive, humorous or enlightening to say. I limited my list to one 8-1/2 X 11 sheet of paper with the subjects listed down the left side of the page and on the right side I wrote notes on each subject but limiting myself to one line. Eventually I completed a whole page of approximately forty possibilities. I felt that having one page to refer to would be the most efficient way of organizing my possible posts. I wanted to be able to have one sheet with all of the options right in front of me; not pages of subjects, notes and thoughts. If you keep it simple you'll have fewer reasons for not starting this thing. Occasionally I would think of something new and I would either "white out" a topic that didn't interest me anymore and write in a new one or I would squeeze the new subject in between a couple of lines where there was a little bit of space.
The only time I had ever written under any kind self-imposed deadline was when I wrote my one and only novel DEVON LOCH. Writing a blog is similar to writing a novel in that I find myself thinking and daydreaming at various times during the day about what I am going to write next. There I was taking a shower or mowing the yard and suddenly a new character or event or line of dialogue would pop up. Another way I came up with inspiration for my book was during a run. Sometimes a new idea would just occur for no reason and I would hold onto it tight as I neared home. Other times as I ran I would probe at a character or plot point that wasn't making sense when suddenly a solution would ignite into my brain. Dead ends into which I had found myself trapped suddenly opened, characters that were acting inconsistently made sense or plot holes where I found myself staring down a long dark tunnel opened to the light.
During those evening runs I would worry that I wouldn't remember what I had worked out and would forget what I had come up with. But somehow the idea would come back to me the next time I sat down to write as if there was some kind of organizing system in my brain that filed the idea away then released it the next time my mind searched for it. It beat running with a pencil and paper or a tape recorder.
I'm always intrigued when I read about authors (Stephen King being one of them) who sit down and start writing, not knowing where the muse is going to take them. They probably had a glimmer of an idea before they started but they didn't know where they are going or how they were going to get there. I need to put the idea down on paper and then write down other stuff that I know is going to happen or list characters that are going to play their part. When I get that overall plan written down, somewhat like an outline, then I can get started. This is somewhat of a linear plan, as in traveling from point A to point B but with an option to veer off to point A-1 and A-2 and then back to point B. Not a short-cut but a long-cut, like a journey you have planned where you decide on the spur of the moment to detour over to Highway 101 on the Oregon coast instead of heading up boring old I-5.
That's where writing becomes so fascinating as your main plan takes a completely different direction or a new character suddenly arrives that you hadn't even thought of originally. I guess we shouldn't be so surprised about the spontaneous direction our writing can take us as those ideas come from our own brains. We may be making things up but those glimpses that occur are a product of our own imagination which is a product of everything we have accomplished, failed at, read, seen, experienced, people we have known and met and everything else that has happened in our lives. The amazing thing is that somehow all of that information has been secreted away in your brain but can be accessed as your fingers manipulate a pen or type on a keyboard. Also there must be other secret doors behind which are ideas that come from unknown places that are unexplainable and just plain minor miraculous because obviously the first book written about traveling in a rocket ship to the moon was not written by someone who was relating first-hand experiences. Somehow those chemicals and neurons and synapses in your brain trigger ideas that no author has ever had before and that unique occurrence may be taken for granted by career authors but not by me.
I'm sure most people who write started out as a child listening to a parent or as a kid cuddled up on a comfortable sofa or as a teenager perusing titles in a library. Traveling in your mind to far away galaxies, storm driven seas, exotic foreign countries, terrifying dark forests or imaginary kingdoms made you want to create your own adventures and at some point you had the courage to try. Those books you read years ago sparked something in your imagination and one day you followed through.
It's funny, for all my years of reading there are a small collection of books for which I have never forgotten, even though I last read them over forty years ago. None of the books were particularly noteworthy, none of them were written by authors who have endured in fame, none of them are still in print (but are available on Amazon) but all of them sent a young boy to places he had never been and on adventures that had him holding his breath and stimulating his imagination. I read a lot of books as a kid but for some reason these three have been seared into my mind and I can tell you briefly about them as if I read them yesterday.
The first book titled: GLADIATOR by Philip Wylie I am going to save for a special post but one of the memorable books I have not forgotten is THE TERRIBLE GAME BY Dan Tyler Moore (no relation to Mary Tyler Moore). Jonathan Burr is the college-age son of an American super spy who has been assigned a mission in a small European country. The father's job is to parachute into the land-locked mountainous region to play a game that all captives of that country are required to complete. The game involves running, riding, wrestling and sword fighting to the death. If the participant survives the competition, without being killed, he will be granted any wish that the country is able to provide. In the United States' case their wish will be to establish a land-based rocket system which will give them a strategic advantage over the U.S.S.R. which borders this small country. The dilemma is that the father is seriously hurt on the eve of his mission and the son, who has been training with his father and knows the intricacies of the Terrible Game, is enlisted by the secret agency to take his father's place. Naturally the athletically gifted and fearless Jonathan accepts the assignment. However one thing his superiors fail to tell him is that the game has never been won by an outsider for hundreds of years. I remember a great villain whose name was Tunch Belak an ominous adversary for young Jonathan. Thrilling adventures for teenage Will!
The last book I have never forgotten was titled THE SECOND SON by Charles Sailor which has one of the most thrilling openings to a book I have ever read. Joe Turner is an average good guy who works in New York city as a welder who connects steel girders at the top of high-rise buildings. After he and his best friend ride the elevator to the top of their latest project they begin their work-day hundreds of feet above the city's streets. During a maneuver to connect a beam Joe's friend loses his balance and is forced to grab onto the steel girder to save himself. The beam is hanging over the site attached to one steel cable. As the beam circles in the air and starts to tip down the man begins to lose his grip. Just before his friend drops Joe leaps onto the beam, leveling the steel girder and allowing his petrified friend to swing back to the main structure. As his horrified co-workers watch, Joe coolly attempts to balance the beam and swing it back to the main frame. Instead he loses his grip and falls to the sidewalk landing in a deadly heap. As the police try to keep the area secure the crowd watches in awe as Joe Turner begins to move and rises unsteadily to his feet, unhurt. Joe's adventures continue as his invulnerability becomes known to the world and he aligns himself with an anti-nuclear weapons group. A hydrogen bomb is detonated and the extent of Joe's powers are revealed. Very dramatic and exciting stuff as I read the book more than once!
I'll never know if either or all of these books encouraged me to want to write but I think the inspiring and exciting ideas at least gave me the idea of giving it a try. For that I am grateful to the authors who wrote those books. Maybe there aren't a lot of people who remember my three favorites but those authors are lucky to have at least a few of us. The point being that anyone can write but whether anyone else is going to read whatever you write is another story that involves talent, intestinal fortitude, belief in yourself and luck. That's why blogging is so great. All you need is access to a computer and something you want to communicate. A blog is personal, it's for the writer and if someone else happens to be interested that's fine but it shouldn't be what is driving you; you're mainly doing it for yourself to prove that you can do it.
Jeez I don't need the pressure of thinking that there might be people out there hanging on my every word and relying on my musings for their entertainment.
Before I started WILLIE BOY I made a list of subjects that interested me and for which I felt I had something constructive, humorous or enlightening to say. I limited my list to one 8-1/2 X 11 sheet of paper with the subjects listed down the left side of the page and on the right side I wrote notes on each subject but limiting myself to one line. Eventually I completed a whole page of approximately forty possibilities. I felt that having one page to refer to would be the most efficient way of organizing my possible posts. I wanted to be able to have one sheet with all of the options right in front of me; not pages of subjects, notes and thoughts. If you keep it simple you'll have fewer reasons for not starting this thing. Occasionally I would think of something new and I would either "white out" a topic that didn't interest me anymore and write in a new one or I would squeeze the new subject in between a couple of lines where there was a little bit of space.
The only time I had ever written under any kind self-imposed deadline was when I wrote my one and only novel DEVON LOCH. Writing a blog is similar to writing a novel in that I find myself thinking and daydreaming at various times during the day about what I am going to write next. There I was taking a shower or mowing the yard and suddenly a new character or event or line of dialogue would pop up. Another way I came up with inspiration for my book was during a run. Sometimes a new idea would just occur for no reason and I would hold onto it tight as I neared home. Other times as I ran I would probe at a character or plot point that wasn't making sense when suddenly a solution would ignite into my brain. Dead ends into which I had found myself trapped suddenly opened, characters that were acting inconsistently made sense or plot holes where I found myself staring down a long dark tunnel opened to the light.
During those evening runs I would worry that I wouldn't remember what I had worked out and would forget what I had come up with. But somehow the idea would come back to me the next time I sat down to write as if there was some kind of organizing system in my brain that filed the idea away then released it the next time my mind searched for it. It beat running with a pencil and paper or a tape recorder.
I'm always intrigued when I read about authors (Stephen King being one of them) who sit down and start writing, not knowing where the muse is going to take them. They probably had a glimmer of an idea before they started but they didn't know where they are going or how they were going to get there. I need to put the idea down on paper and then write down other stuff that I know is going to happen or list characters that are going to play their part. When I get that overall plan written down, somewhat like an outline, then I can get started. This is somewhat of a linear plan, as in traveling from point A to point B but with an option to veer off to point A-1 and A-2 and then back to point B. Not a short-cut but a long-cut, like a journey you have planned where you decide on the spur of the moment to detour over to Highway 101 on the Oregon coast instead of heading up boring old I-5.
That's where writing becomes so fascinating as your main plan takes a completely different direction or a new character suddenly arrives that you hadn't even thought of originally. I guess we shouldn't be so surprised about the spontaneous direction our writing can take us as those ideas come from our own brains. We may be making things up but those glimpses that occur are a product of our own imagination which is a product of everything we have accomplished, failed at, read, seen, experienced, people we have known and met and everything else that has happened in our lives. The amazing thing is that somehow all of that information has been secreted away in your brain but can be accessed as your fingers manipulate a pen or type on a keyboard. Also there must be other secret doors behind which are ideas that come from unknown places that are unexplainable and just plain minor miraculous because obviously the first book written about traveling in a rocket ship to the moon was not written by someone who was relating first-hand experiences. Somehow those chemicals and neurons and synapses in your brain trigger ideas that no author has ever had before and that unique occurrence may be taken for granted by career authors but not by me.
I'm sure most people who write started out as a child listening to a parent or as a kid cuddled up on a comfortable sofa or as a teenager perusing titles in a library. Traveling in your mind to far away galaxies, storm driven seas, exotic foreign countries, terrifying dark forests or imaginary kingdoms made you want to create your own adventures and at some point you had the courage to try. Those books you read years ago sparked something in your imagination and one day you followed through.
It's funny, for all my years of reading there are a small collection of books for which I have never forgotten, even though I last read them over forty years ago. None of the books were particularly noteworthy, none of them were written by authors who have endured in fame, none of them are still in print (but are available on Amazon) but all of them sent a young boy to places he had never been and on adventures that had him holding his breath and stimulating his imagination. I read a lot of books as a kid but for some reason these three have been seared into my mind and I can tell you briefly about them as if I read them yesterday.
The first book titled: GLADIATOR by Philip Wylie I am going to save for a special post but one of the memorable books I have not forgotten is THE TERRIBLE GAME BY Dan Tyler Moore (no relation to Mary Tyler Moore). Jonathan Burr is the college-age son of an American super spy who has been assigned a mission in a small European country. The father's job is to parachute into the land-locked mountainous region to play a game that all captives of that country are required to complete. The game involves running, riding, wrestling and sword fighting to the death. If the participant survives the competition, without being killed, he will be granted any wish that the country is able to provide. In the United States' case their wish will be to establish a land-based rocket system which will give them a strategic advantage over the U.S.S.R. which borders this small country. The dilemma is that the father is seriously hurt on the eve of his mission and the son, who has been training with his father and knows the intricacies of the Terrible Game, is enlisted by the secret agency to take his father's place. Naturally the athletically gifted and fearless Jonathan accepts the assignment. However one thing his superiors fail to tell him is that the game has never been won by an outsider for hundreds of years. I remember a great villain whose name was Tunch Belak an ominous adversary for young Jonathan. Thrilling adventures for teenage Will!
The last book I have never forgotten was titled THE SECOND SON by Charles Sailor which has one of the most thrilling openings to a book I have ever read. Joe Turner is an average good guy who works in New York city as a welder who connects steel girders at the top of high-rise buildings. After he and his best friend ride the elevator to the top of their latest project they begin their work-day hundreds of feet above the city's streets. During a maneuver to connect a beam Joe's friend loses his balance and is forced to grab onto the steel girder to save himself. The beam is hanging over the site attached to one steel cable. As the beam circles in the air and starts to tip down the man begins to lose his grip. Just before his friend drops Joe leaps onto the beam, leveling the steel girder and allowing his petrified friend to swing back to the main structure. As his horrified co-workers watch, Joe coolly attempts to balance the beam and swing it back to the main frame. Instead he loses his grip and falls to the sidewalk landing in a deadly heap. As the police try to keep the area secure the crowd watches in awe as Joe Turner begins to move and rises unsteadily to his feet, unhurt. Joe's adventures continue as his invulnerability becomes known to the world and he aligns himself with an anti-nuclear weapons group. A hydrogen bomb is detonated and the extent of Joe's powers are revealed. Very dramatic and exciting stuff as I read the book more than once!
I'll never know if either or all of these books encouraged me to want to write but I think the inspiring and exciting ideas at least gave me the idea of giving it a try. For that I am grateful to the authors who wrote those books. Maybe there aren't a lot of people who remember my three favorites but those authors are lucky to have at least a few of us. The point being that anyone can write but whether anyone else is going to read whatever you write is another story that involves talent, intestinal fortitude, belief in yourself and luck. That's why blogging is so great. All you need is access to a computer and something you want to communicate. A blog is personal, it's for the writer and if someone else happens to be interested that's fine but it shouldn't be what is driving you; you're mainly doing it for yourself to prove that you can do it.
Jeez I don't need the pressure of thinking that there might be people out there hanging on my every word and relying on my musings for their entertainment.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Last Stand of Fox Company
I always have a book going. Whether it's during my lunch hour, in bed before going to sleep or laying in the sun on a warm summer day I am reading something. When Caitlin was old enough to sit up and page through a brightly colored book featuring running and jumping animals I began reading to her every night. Then when Charlotte appeared I had one daughter on either side of me as we read about George and Martha, The Cat in the Hat and Goodnight Moon. This tradition was started by my mother and the nightly sound of her voice taking us to fantastic places instilled a love of books in my brother Terry and I. It wasn't until later that I found there might be consequences related to reading.
I remember vividly my seventh grade Language Arts teacher criticizing me in front of the whole class after I had just completed giving an oral book report involving the Hardy Boys. She informed me that this sort of book wasn't acceptable reading because it wasn't in the school library. I had a healthy respect for all teachers for their knowledge and authority so I just stood there in front of my classmates as some of them snickered and rolled their eyes. I remember that the assignment didn't specifically require us to report on a book in the school library and even as a twelve year old I knew that that woman was absolutely wrong! As if the book my mother had bought me for my birthday was somehow unacceptable reading material. That the story about two brothers who solved crimes wasn't proper for a young boy to read because this teacher or someone in a higher authority had deemed it so. I didn't let it get me down because I secretly knew I had another thirty or so adventures with Frank and Joe Hardy left to read.
I took the failing book report home to my mother who after reading it gave me a long thoughtful look and said, "This is a good report, it sounds like an exciting book. Keep reading the Hardy Boys but look at the books in the library too, I'm sure you will find something you'll like." She was right as I found authors such as Howard Pease, Arthur Conan Doyle and H.G. Welles who introduced me to high seas adventure, deductive reasoning and science fiction.
Years later my mother quit her job as the publications director at the Rainier Brewery and went back to school to be a teacher. I remember her telling me once that as a high school English teacher she found that there were students who just didn't like to read, whether it was because they couldn't sit still long enough, were bored or had never learned to read. Eventually she realized that if she encouraged them to read about a subject that interested them then at least they would be reading something. Maybe those students weren't following her required reading list but she was glad that they were reading about drag racing, Hollywood celebrities or the Fantastic Four. "You've got to start somewhere," she said.
Over the years my reading interests ranged and changed to Jules Verne, Robert Heinlein, Mickey Spillane, John D. MacDonald, Dick Francis, Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Douglas Preston, Lincoln and Lee Child, Harold Coyle, Michael Connelly and Robert Crais. I can't say that my choice of authors or subjects became any more sophisticated; just consistent. Hey, I get into LITERARY type stuff now and then; stories with big words, high-minded ideas and complicated characters who have to make "gut-wrenching" decisions but I guess all that thinking just wears me out. Having to constantly refer to the dictionary, screw up my forehead in confusion, then nod my head in understanding is very time-consuming. Obviously I like Science Fiction, Suspense, Detective, Military, Horror and Techno fiction but I always have a non-fiction book going too. At the moment I'm reading a book about the United States Secret Service titled: IN THE PRESIDENT'S SECRET SERVICE which reveals insider information re the government agency tasked with protecting the lives of the President, Vice President, their immediate relatives and other high mucky-mucks. I might report on it later.
A non-fiction book I just finished titled: THE LAST STAND OF FOX COMPANY covers the heroic actions of two Marine Corps infantry units that supported the withdrawal of 10,000 Marines who were nearly trapped at the Chosin Reservoir during the Korean War while surrounded by over 100,000 Chinese soldiers. During late November of 1950 one unit, Fox Company of the 2nd Battalion 7th Regiment, held the summit of a small hill seven miles to the south of the Chosin for four days and five nights as they protected the exit point for the withdrawal. Another unit, remnants of the 1st Battalion 7th Marine Regiment comprised of 350 Marines, headed south from the "frozen" Chosin to reinforce Fox Company whose beleaguered 246 man company was under attack from over 10,000 Chinese soldiers and fighting to keep the choke point open at Toktong Pass.
In twenty-five degree below zero weather and with three quarters of the Marines killed, wounded or captured the three platoons of Fox Company dug and hacked into the frozen ground for cover. Commanded by Captain William Barber, who hauled himself around the hill on a wounded leg to organize and rally his troops, the men of Fox Company packed their wounds with icy snow, ate frozen food that couldn't be thawed and huddled with their comrades to keep them warm.
As their frozen automatic and semi-automatic weapons jammed the Marines were forced to fire with single shots but used their superior tactics, leadership, and camaraderie to hold off the Chinese. Thought of by the enemy as weak and inferior the Marines on Fox Hill knew that the Chinese soldiers, many of them teenagers, were forced to fight in Korea while the Marines who had enlisted were obviously there because they wanted to be. Utilizing fatalistic humor the Marines did their duty as they protected and supported their comrades and, with unwavering confidence in their officers, fought through the terrifying nights as they made their stand thousands of miles from home.
Seven miles to the north, near the Chosin Reservoir, Lieutenant Colonel Ray Davis led a cobbled together group of three hundred and fifty Marines in support of their comrades on Fox Hill. Traveling light and under the cover of darkness the remaining men of Abel, Baker and Charlie companies of the 1stBatallion 7th Marine Regiment aimed to slip through the Chinese lines with a surprise move to the northeast then a circle move to the south. Traversing deep gullies, slogging up steep hills and skirting precarious ridge lines, the sleep-deprived Marines fought their way toward Fox Company with the wind chill dropping the temperature to thirty degrees below zero.
Using first person accounts, maps, photographs and after-action reports the authors, Bob Drury and Tom Clavin, recount an historic action that produced three Medal of Honor recipients and culminated in a memorable reunion of those heroic Marines at the opening of the National Museum of the U.S. Marine Corps in November 2006.
This book is perfect for people who want to know about a nearly forgotten War that isn't taught in school history books anymore. It's also for Marines who remember what it was like to fight far from home, who have a hard part inside them that is still a Marine and who haven't forgotten the horror of battle and have the pride of knowing what it takes to be a survivor.
I remember vividly my seventh grade Language Arts teacher criticizing me in front of the whole class after I had just completed giving an oral book report involving the Hardy Boys. She informed me that this sort of book wasn't acceptable reading because it wasn't in the school library. I had a healthy respect for all teachers for their knowledge and authority so I just stood there in front of my classmates as some of them snickered and rolled their eyes. I remember that the assignment didn't specifically require us to report on a book in the school library and even as a twelve year old I knew that that woman was absolutely wrong! As if the book my mother had bought me for my birthday was somehow unacceptable reading material. That the story about two brothers who solved crimes wasn't proper for a young boy to read because this teacher or someone in a higher authority had deemed it so. I didn't let it get me down because I secretly knew I had another thirty or so adventures with Frank and Joe Hardy left to read.
I took the failing book report home to my mother who after reading it gave me a long thoughtful look and said, "This is a good report, it sounds like an exciting book. Keep reading the Hardy Boys but look at the books in the library too, I'm sure you will find something you'll like." She was right as I found authors such as Howard Pease, Arthur Conan Doyle and H.G. Welles who introduced me to high seas adventure, deductive reasoning and science fiction.
Years later my mother quit her job as the publications director at the Rainier Brewery and went back to school to be a teacher. I remember her telling me once that as a high school English teacher she found that there were students who just didn't like to read, whether it was because they couldn't sit still long enough, were bored or had never learned to read. Eventually she realized that if she encouraged them to read about a subject that interested them then at least they would be reading something. Maybe those students weren't following her required reading list but she was glad that they were reading about drag racing, Hollywood celebrities or the Fantastic Four. "You've got to start somewhere," she said.
Over the years my reading interests ranged and changed to Jules Verne, Robert Heinlein, Mickey Spillane, John D. MacDonald, Dick Francis, Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Douglas Preston, Lincoln and Lee Child, Harold Coyle, Michael Connelly and Robert Crais. I can't say that my choice of authors or subjects became any more sophisticated; just consistent. Hey, I get into LITERARY type stuff now and then; stories with big words, high-minded ideas and complicated characters who have to make "gut-wrenching" decisions but I guess all that thinking just wears me out. Having to constantly refer to the dictionary, screw up my forehead in confusion, then nod my head in understanding is very time-consuming. Obviously I like Science Fiction, Suspense, Detective, Military, Horror and Techno fiction but I always have a non-fiction book going too. At the moment I'm reading a book about the United States Secret Service titled: IN THE PRESIDENT'S SECRET SERVICE which reveals insider information re the government agency tasked with protecting the lives of the President, Vice President, their immediate relatives and other high mucky-mucks. I might report on it later.
A non-fiction book I just finished titled: THE LAST STAND OF FOX COMPANY covers the heroic actions of two Marine Corps infantry units that supported the withdrawal of 10,000 Marines who were nearly trapped at the Chosin Reservoir during the Korean War while surrounded by over 100,000 Chinese soldiers. During late November of 1950 one unit, Fox Company of the 2nd Battalion 7th Regiment, held the summit of a small hill seven miles to the south of the Chosin for four days and five nights as they protected the exit point for the withdrawal. Another unit, remnants of the 1st Battalion 7th Marine Regiment comprised of 350 Marines, headed south from the "frozen" Chosin to reinforce Fox Company whose beleaguered 246 man company was under attack from over 10,000 Chinese soldiers and fighting to keep the choke point open at Toktong Pass.
In twenty-five degree below zero weather and with three quarters of the Marines killed, wounded or captured the three platoons of Fox Company dug and hacked into the frozen ground for cover. Commanded by Captain William Barber, who hauled himself around the hill on a wounded leg to organize and rally his troops, the men of Fox Company packed their wounds with icy snow, ate frozen food that couldn't be thawed and huddled with their comrades to keep them warm.
As their frozen automatic and semi-automatic weapons jammed the Marines were forced to fire with single shots but used their superior tactics, leadership, and camaraderie to hold off the Chinese. Thought of by the enemy as weak and inferior the Marines on Fox Hill knew that the Chinese soldiers, many of them teenagers, were forced to fight in Korea while the Marines who had enlisted were obviously there because they wanted to be. Utilizing fatalistic humor the Marines did their duty as they protected and supported their comrades and, with unwavering confidence in their officers, fought through the terrifying nights as they made their stand thousands of miles from home.
Seven miles to the north, near the Chosin Reservoir, Lieutenant Colonel Ray Davis led a cobbled together group of three hundred and fifty Marines in support of their comrades on Fox Hill. Traveling light and under the cover of darkness the remaining men of Abel, Baker and Charlie companies of the 1stBatallion 7th Marine Regiment aimed to slip through the Chinese lines with a surprise move to the northeast then a circle move to the south. Traversing deep gullies, slogging up steep hills and skirting precarious ridge lines, the sleep-deprived Marines fought their way toward Fox Company with the wind chill dropping the temperature to thirty degrees below zero.
Using first person accounts, maps, photographs and after-action reports the authors, Bob Drury and Tom Clavin, recount an historic action that produced three Medal of Honor recipients and culminated in a memorable reunion of those heroic Marines at the opening of the National Museum of the U.S. Marine Corps in November 2006.
This book is perfect for people who want to know about a nearly forgotten War that isn't taught in school history books anymore. It's also for Marines who remember what it was like to fight far from home, who have a hard part inside them that is still a Marine and who haven't forgotten the horror of battle and have the pride of knowing what it takes to be a survivor.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Para-abnormal Activity or The "Audience Con"
I know, I know, I tell myself. When you started this blog thing you were going to write about subjects that interested you but that you were going to do a variety of stuff. True, personal stuff, but something different for each blog. Right, I answer myself. I know I can't write about my latest macramé project all the time because even craft geeks will be bored stiff as I laboriously describe my recent trip to the fabric? fiber? store and how I spent two hours picking the proper material in regard to color, hue, scent, texture and clarity. Even my fans who are hanging on every word of my latest excursion into my garden to perform Ciscoe-like (the whack job on TV) artistry on my Forcythius Maxiimus, are eventually going to start activating the "Next Blog" icon on their computer if I don't show some variety. And my dedicated walking buddies are going to run from me in horror if I recount my latest journey through the neighborhood spreading good cheer and words of wisdom on my every blog entry.
Yes, that's all true but I can't take it anymore. I know I just did a post on movie stuff. But I have to speak up because if I don't I will be complicit in the most recent example of the greatest addition to societal decay since the advent of text messaging while eating dinner with your family: "Audience Con". What is "Audience Con"? I think that deep down we all know what it is. Somewhere along the line during our amateur movie going career we have been exposed to "Audience Con" and might not have known it at the time but we realized it after the movie was over.
I've talked about it before but for some reason I feel compelled to address the issue again. As in the movie opinions of big name critics, film festival geeks, auteurs, snobs, know-it-alls and media creeps like the Entertainment Tonight crowd who are such "suck ups". These folks just look at movies differently than we do. And that's OK but just don't expect us to agree or like the stuff you are swooning over. The drivel they have conniptions over are part of "The Audience Con". It's a form of brainwashing as in the preconditioning of the audience before they go to the movie: "You are going to be scared out of your pants!" "You are going to laugh until you gag!" "You are going to cry like a baby with colic!" "You are going to be so inspired you will want to adopt twelve Haitian refugees!" I admit it it's hard to resist the heavy-duty, multi-million dollar ad campaigns because deep down inside we WANT to believe! We're suckers just waiting to be conned.
You people rave about a movies like: INGLORIOUS BASTERDS an unnecessarily graphically violent, laughably revisionist World War II ego trip, NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN another overly violent movie with the super-killer so bad that he can walk around with some kind of fire extinguisher-hydraulic weapon that somehow blows door-locks into the next room and people's brains into neighbors house and STATE OF PLAY a convoluted-clichéd story staring Russell Crowe in his long-haired thirty pounds overweight mode (I'm playing a character) showing why the current news business is rushing daily toward irrelevancy. Why are we supposed to take you people seriously if you endorse stuff like this?
Here's an example. There I was with Charlotte and her friend Conrad watching the latest flick with all the endorsements from "the people that know" and we began to realize that we had been suckered again. As in PARANORMAL ACTIVITY-suckered and I just laughed at myself for being "had". Actually there was another movie I wanted to see (which I can't remember) but Charlotte picked PARANORMAL ACTIVITY because she said: "I heard it was supposed to be real scary." "Oh really," I said, "where did you hear that?" "Somebody at work saw it and said it was good." Well that's good enough for me, an endorsement from somebody I don't even know. That's money in the bank," I thought.
So when we reached that point in the movie where we had gotten sick and tired of watching the two dopes, Katie and Micah (pronounced Mee' ka by girlfriend Katie), laying in bed with the camera on all night, the three of us had been shaking our heads for an hour. Then Katie reveals to her fiancée that the demon that had been spooking them in their snazzy condo had been following her since she was a little girl. Charlotte shook her head and said, "What is he hanging around for? This isn't a haunted condo this is something that's after her and it's probably real jealous!" Conrad then says, "Man I'm out of there." And I'm thinking. "Time to dump her, she can have the condo."
OK there were a few times I started in my seat but when the sheet billowed up around them? the door moved? the footsteps in the talcum powder? snozzerville. When Meeka pulled out the Ouija board I thought, "Gee how original, I've never seen that before." But Katie puts the kibosh on it real quick, telling ultra-wimpo, "No Ouija boards in my house!" As if they rival land mines, methamphetamine and nuclear waste on the list of catastrophic household hazards. At that point I knew that she was in league with the demon to gain control of the cool condo and that Meeka "was history". I suppose when you classify this as a movie you file it under Horror but to me that means it's real-l-l scary as in terror! This movie? No way! In a couple of years the people who endorsed it or embarrassingly raved about it are going to be shaking their heads and will be contracting with computer experts to hack into their archived reviews to erase all evidence of their lunacy.
The only one with any sense was the ghost expert who said, "This isn't a spirit this is a demon and I don't do demons." He was out of there and I should have been too. For some reason they sucked him into to coming back but he wouldn't even take a step inside the front door, he told them AGAIN: "I don't do demons", wished them good luck and then was "in the wind". Don't worry I "get" the subtlety of being scared by what is being generated in your mind as opposed to having it jammed down your throat with knife-wielding, chainsaw-slicing, limb-breaking, blood-spattering brutality. But, 1. there must be an underlying menace to the overall, everyday, everything's normal atmosphere (there wasn't), 2. there has to be more than a few moments when you are really shocked or terrified (I wasn't) and 3. you have to care about the two lovebirds (I didn't). It was a relief when Meeka in all his pseudo-macho punkishness got taken out. Now she and her demon buddy can have the condo.
According to "sources" the reason this latest example of "Audience Con" even saw the light of day was because somehow Stephen Spielberg (I loved JAWS) got a hold of it after it had been gathering dust on some studio's shelf for the last couple of years. Hey I like the idea of "big name director" discovering "sleeper" movie and anointing it as the latest cool thing but in this case he was looking too-o-o hard and "pushed" his opinion. He should have held back and let it happen naturally but I think he was looking for something that wasn't there. What he, and everyone who has adopted this sorry-looking little orphan is seeing, is "The Emperor with No Clothes". I'm the little boy saying, "but mommy that gnarly old man is creepy and he isn't wearing any clothes!" It's time for the rest of you to face reality." PARANORMAL ACTIVITY is naked and you've been "Audience Conned"!
But all is not lost as there's still some great stuff out there that will keep you youngsters from getting sucked into the super-violent crap being released now. Here are five good scary ones that you may not have heard of. Put them on your Netflix list, they have stood the test of time:
1982 THE THING, 1980 DRESSED TO KILL, 1979 SALEM'S LOT, 1969 CARRIE, and a subtle sleeper: 1973 THE WICKER MAN
Everybody likes a good scare but make sure it's REAL and not something you've been conditioned into like PARANORMAL ACTIVITY. All I can say is: "Oh please God, no sequel!" Right, you know the screenplay is already completed. Hell, I know what's going to happen, I could have written it. Hint: Meeka's not really dead! Woo-woo-woo!
Yes, that's all true but I can't take it anymore. I know I just did a post on movie stuff. But I have to speak up because if I don't I will be complicit in the most recent example of the greatest addition to societal decay since the advent of text messaging while eating dinner with your family: "Audience Con". What is "Audience Con"? I think that deep down we all know what it is. Somewhere along the line during our amateur movie going career we have been exposed to "Audience Con" and might not have known it at the time but we realized it after the movie was over.
I've talked about it before but for some reason I feel compelled to address the issue again. As in the movie opinions of big name critics, film festival geeks, auteurs, snobs, know-it-alls and media creeps like the Entertainment Tonight crowd who are such "suck ups". These folks just look at movies differently than we do. And that's OK but just don't expect us to agree or like the stuff you are swooning over. The drivel they have conniptions over are part of "The Audience Con". It's a form of brainwashing as in the preconditioning of the audience before they go to the movie: "You are going to be scared out of your pants!" "You are going to laugh until you gag!" "You are going to cry like a baby with colic!" "You are going to be so inspired you will want to adopt twelve Haitian refugees!" I admit it it's hard to resist the heavy-duty, multi-million dollar ad campaigns because deep down inside we WANT to believe! We're suckers just waiting to be conned.
You people rave about a movies like: INGLORIOUS BASTERDS an unnecessarily graphically violent, laughably revisionist World War II ego trip, NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN another overly violent movie with the super-killer so bad that he can walk around with some kind of fire extinguisher-hydraulic weapon that somehow blows door-locks into the next room and people's brains into neighbors house and STATE OF PLAY a convoluted-clichéd story staring Russell Crowe in his long-haired thirty pounds overweight mode (I'm playing a character) showing why the current news business is rushing daily toward irrelevancy. Why are we supposed to take you people seriously if you endorse stuff like this?
Here's an example. There I was with Charlotte and her friend Conrad watching the latest flick with all the endorsements from "the people that know" and we began to realize that we had been suckered again. As in PARANORMAL ACTIVITY-suckered and I just laughed at myself for being "had". Actually there was another movie I wanted to see (which I can't remember) but Charlotte picked PARANORMAL ACTIVITY because she said: "I heard it was supposed to be real scary." "Oh really," I said, "where did you hear that?" "Somebody at work saw it and said it was good." Well that's good enough for me, an endorsement from somebody I don't even know. That's money in the bank," I thought.
So when we reached that point in the movie where we had gotten sick and tired of watching the two dopes, Katie and Micah (pronounced Mee' ka by girlfriend Katie), laying in bed with the camera on all night, the three of us had been shaking our heads for an hour. Then Katie reveals to her fiancée that the demon that had been spooking them in their snazzy condo had been following her since she was a little girl. Charlotte shook her head and said, "What is he hanging around for? This isn't a haunted condo this is something that's after her and it's probably real jealous!" Conrad then says, "Man I'm out of there." And I'm thinking. "Time to dump her, she can have the condo."
OK there were a few times I started in my seat but when the sheet billowed up around them? the door moved? the footsteps in the talcum powder? snozzerville. When Meeka pulled out the Ouija board I thought, "Gee how original, I've never seen that before." But Katie puts the kibosh on it real quick, telling ultra-wimpo, "No Ouija boards in my house!" As if they rival land mines, methamphetamine and nuclear waste on the list of catastrophic household hazards. At that point I knew that she was in league with the demon to gain control of the cool condo and that Meeka "was history". I suppose when you classify this as a movie you file it under Horror but to me that means it's real-l-l scary as in terror! This movie? No way! In a couple of years the people who endorsed it or embarrassingly raved about it are going to be shaking their heads and will be contracting with computer experts to hack into their archived reviews to erase all evidence of their lunacy.
The only one with any sense was the ghost expert who said, "This isn't a spirit this is a demon and I don't do demons." He was out of there and I should have been too. For some reason they sucked him into to coming back but he wouldn't even take a step inside the front door, he told them AGAIN: "I don't do demons", wished them good luck and then was "in the wind". Don't worry I "get" the subtlety of being scared by what is being generated in your mind as opposed to having it jammed down your throat with knife-wielding, chainsaw-slicing, limb-breaking, blood-spattering brutality. But, 1. there must be an underlying menace to the overall, everyday, everything's normal atmosphere (there wasn't), 2. there has to be more than a few moments when you are really shocked or terrified (I wasn't) and 3. you have to care about the two lovebirds (I didn't). It was a relief when Meeka in all his pseudo-macho punkishness got taken out. Now she and her demon buddy can have the condo.
According to "sources" the reason this latest example of "Audience Con" even saw the light of day was because somehow Stephen Spielberg (I loved JAWS) got a hold of it after it had been gathering dust on some studio's shelf for the last couple of years. Hey I like the idea of "big name director" discovering "sleeper" movie and anointing it as the latest cool thing but in this case he was looking too-o-o hard and "pushed" his opinion. He should have held back and let it happen naturally but I think he was looking for something that wasn't there. What he, and everyone who has adopted this sorry-looking little orphan is seeing, is "The Emperor with No Clothes". I'm the little boy saying, "but mommy that gnarly old man is creepy and he isn't wearing any clothes!" It's time for the rest of you to face reality." PARANORMAL ACTIVITY is naked and you've been "Audience Conned"!
But all is not lost as there's still some great stuff out there that will keep you youngsters from getting sucked into the super-violent crap being released now. Here are five good scary ones that you may not have heard of. Put them on your Netflix list, they have stood the test of time:
1982 THE THING, 1980 DRESSED TO KILL, 1979 SALEM'S LOT, 1969 CARRIE, and a subtle sleeper: 1973 THE WICKER MAN
Everybody likes a good scare but make sure it's REAL and not something you've been conditioned into like PARANORMAL ACTIVITY. All I can say is: "Oh please God, no sequel!" Right, you know the screenplay is already completed. Hell, I know what's going to happen, I could have written it. Hint: Meeka's not really dead! Woo-woo-woo!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Disposer Blew and the Water Flew
So there I was Sunday night staring blankly into a sink full of dirty bowls and pans left over from Gwynne's excursion into peanut butter cookie cooking excellence. I had just finished my second beer of the evening and normally would be cracking the third one within moments. For some reason I decided to roll up my sleeves and dispatch that dirty batch, the grunt's share of the cooking project.
As I broke out the scrubber and dish soap Gwynne gave me a strange look but went back to her book. Within minutes I was done, the feeling of having accomplished my largest project of the weekend fresh in my mind. Just before cracking my third brew I rinsed out the sink and, the water still running, turned on the disposal. A noise that didn't sound like the thrashing of mangled carrots, celery stalks or cabbage leaves assailed my senses. In a flash I reached over and turned off the disposal letting it's grinders come to a halt. With that innate fear-part of my DNA telling me not to do it, I lowered my left hand (I'm right handed) into the drain. I immediately felt metal that was not the disposal manglers. I gripped the remains and pulled it out. A spoon! A measuring spoon! Gwynne's measuring spoon, part of a set that she has had since she and her mother began baking cookies and cakes many years ago. The thin metal utensil (probably tin) looked like a piece of gray broccoli that had been run through a jet propelled Cuisinart.
She looked at me from the kitchen table and said, "That looks like the remains of my measuring spoon set." "Yup," I said, "I think this is the tablespoon." I fished out some more memories of her childhood and she identified each spoon size. I was suddenly aware that the water was still running and that my feet were getting wet. "I wonder where the 1/2 teaspoon is," she murmured as I stared down at my feet and belatedly turned off the water. "I think I know," I said as I opened the cupboard door underneath the sink. As water dripped out of the cabinet I crouched down and looked at the disposal. I gritted my teeth and said, "blank!"
Sticking out of the side of the disposal, like a piece of shrapnel blown through the housing of an unlubricated transmission from a 1971 Ford Maverick, was the 1/2 teaspoon. Water forced it's way through the opening and dripped onto the floor of the cabinet. I quickly pulled the garbage bag, Windex, Comet, Fantastic, grease jar, sponges, brushes and floor wax out of the cabinet and soaked up the water with every towel in the kitchen. Realizing that the next day was MLK Day and a holiday I resigned myself to what I was going to be doing on that Monday; buying a new garbage disposal and installing it like I did a couple of years ago when the old one seized up after an overdose of potato peels. Just what I'm great at; on the job plumbing. Yah right. I mopped up what water I could and cracked that third beer.
The next day we stood in the aisle at Lowe's staring at the garbage disposal (also called a food waste disposer) display weighing our options: the Insinkerator (which I'll call the ISE) or the Badger. The difference between the two names (which were both built by ISE) was like the difference between a Lexus and a Toyota. The ISE looked cooler, was quieter and had more options. The Badger was the stripped down version, basic looking and after activating the shelf-mounted display, noisier. Gwynne said, "I never liked the old one, it was way too loud." I'm now thinking was this a plan to sacrifice her treasured measuring spoon set for a quieter and cooler looking disposal?
OK, that left the ISE which offered models that included everything from racing stripes to a double barreled carburetor to leather seats to the high def version on the Satellite locater. After doing everything but take it for a test drive we settled on the Evolution Spacesaver version with Sound Seal & Multi Grind Tecnoligia, (whoops I meant Technology, I was reading the French description) with a 5/8 horsepower motor and racing hubcaps.
I was aware of a guy like me lurking in the background as we made our disposer decision and as we were leaving I noticed a small plastic container of plumbers putty and a few pieces of plastic pipe that had been placed on one of the nearby shelves. The putty container looked familiar and I stopped and picked it up, inspecting it. My fellow do-it-yourselfer glanced over from his disposer inspection and said, "That stuff is mine in case you were wondering." I didn't take offense as I knew it probably took him an hour to find his supplies, another hour to choose everything and God knows how many hours it was going to take to glue and connect it all to his new ISE or Badger. Suddenly I recognized where I had seen the container of plumbers putty; at home, downstairs in the basement inside one of our storage cabinets. "Yah," I said to the guy, "I've already got some of this at home; your going to need it to seal off your sink gasket." He stared at me as I put down his putty probably grinding his teeth at the presumptuous know-it-all. "He'll probably put it in upside down," I thought.
As we were leaving I'm sure Gwynne was wondering what I knew about sink gaskets and why I would have plumbers putty in my arsenal of fix-it tricks. I was wondering too because I couldn't remember when I had ever used the putty before and if I hadn't then how could I ever have installed a garbage disposal? That question was answered after we had returned home, I had unpacked everything and was reading the installation directions. I looked at the circular flange mounted to the bottom of the sink then, using my Christmas gift flashlight, looked in the cabinet underneath. Yup nothing had changed, the the disposal was still there with the 1/2 teaspoon protruding from the housing's wall. I could see a mounting bracket that was somehow attached to that flange inside the sink. I looked at the instructions again; all twenty-six detailed steps when it started to dawn on me. I stood up and looked closely at the flange again. Stamped into the gray steel on the top of the curve was the word IN-SINK-ERATOR with ISE DISPOSER printed on the lower part of the curve. As if seeing it for the first time in my life I turned to Gwynne as said, "I didn't put this in!" Seated at the kitchen table again, she looked up from her book and said, "Right, I think Jim Curley did."
"Oh blank," I said again. Jim Curley, the Einstein of appliance installation. This is a guy who could build a washing machine from the ground up with his eyes closed and one arm tied behind his back. If he had gotten into computers he'd be the guy you would call to restore your hard drive after it had frozen into a chaotic mess. If he had been an auto mechanic he'd be fixing a custom NASCAR engine while riding underneath the car on a skateboard. He always showed up to a job in a freshly laundered blue jumpsuit, a smile on face and all the right parts in his pristine white van. I hated him because he was just cheerily too-o-o-o good and he was retired.
I stared at the installation instructions which rivaled blueprints for construction of a nuclear reactor and contemplated either begging Jim Curley to come out of retirement like Michael Jordan, tracking down my own plumber/appliance installer or tackling the project myself. I read through the twenty-six detailed steps again then stared at Gwynne who was again happily immersed in her book. "We can do this," I announced. She looked at me over the tops of her glasses. "We?" she said.
So with Gwynne narrating, "If you are replacing an existing disposer, continue to Step 2" (yup that's us), and me plumbing I detached the old disposer and lowered it to the cabinet's floor. "Hey it's a Badger," I said noting the label on the budget version of the ISE. "That's why it was so noisy," said Gwynne, Ms. Disposer Expert. At Step 4 we reached the electrical part which is as scary as putting your hand inside the mouth of a real badger or a garbage disposal. She said, "There's all kinds of exclamation marks and warnings that say, WARNING: SHOCK HAZARD!! I cringed inwardly and outwardly and since I didn't want any communication problems in regard to whether or not I had a chance of being electrocuted, I read the instructions myself; at least five times. Steps #4 & #5 basically involved turning the power off at the source (these are code words for knowing where to find the breaker box). This is the way for the electrician (ME!) to avoid the chance of suffering any lasting effects from what would amount to be an INSIDE THE HOUSE LIGHTNING STRIKE! Since brain damage or paralysis were not options I was considering for the plumbing project Gwynne and I perfected a system of plugging her hair dryer into the plug outlet on the disposer on/off switch, turning the hair dryer on and me turning breaker switches off and on in the basement. I could hear the hair dryer (which doesn't have a muffler) running all the way in the basement as I turned breakers off and on. Three of the breakers were marked Kitchen and none of them turned the hair dryer off. This was confirmed by Gwynne, calling downstairs, that YES the hair dryer was still running. (That means that the electricity is still running LIVE to the disposal!) Finally I noticed an unmarked breaker switch at the lower level of the box and I turned it off. The hair dryer's noise immediately subsided! ALL RIGHT! I HAVE A CHANCE OF LIVING THROUGH THIS!
From there our luck changed as: 1. I detached the electrical connections from the disposer, 2. realized we could skip immediately to Step #17 as we could re-use the existing mounting assembly because we were using an ISE model and 3. Charlotte, our twenty-two year old daughter, showed up early for a home-cooked dinner. I was getting ready to re-attach the electrical connections to the new ISE as she inspected the instructions. "Hey dad be careful," she said. "There's a WARNING: SHOCK HAZARD! thingy here when you're doing that electrical stuff." I thought, "It's too late for that." "Thanks," I said, "I'll be careful."
With the electrical completed I figured we'd be done after attaching the new ISE disposer to the old Badger mounting-assembly then connecting some hoses. "Wrong you rookie amateur you're going to have to "pay your dues," the do-it-yourself Gods were whispering to me. With Charlotte narrating, as Gwynne had gone back to her book, I connected the Anti-Vibration Tailpipe to the disposer then prepared to mount the new disposer underneath the sink. First I inspected the old Badger and lined it up with the new mounting bracket which I didn't need because, as you may remember, it was identical to what was already connected under the drain opening. "Piece of cake," I thought as I screwed the two parts together. Charlotte nodded, seeing how the two pieces fit snuggly just like in the instructions.
Not able to fit into the cabinet, I balanced the new and heavy ISE in the palm of my right hand and pushed it up toward the mounting ring. I couldn't see if the two pieces were fitting together but I turned the disposer anyway expecting it to seed into the bracket, but it didn't. I couldn't get my left hand inside the cabinet to take the weight so time after time I pushed up only to have the ISE fail to fit then drop out of the hole. Charlotte could see my dilemma and offered encouragement but couldn't really help. Gwynne looked up from her book but she's real smart so she didn't say much.
Finally while taking a break with my right arm quivering uselessly, Charlotte bent down and inspected the connection I had made with the old Badger and the new mounting bracket. She turned them back an forth no doubt remembering the old adage her father had told her many years ago. "Righty tighty, lefty loosey." Scooting across the floor she said, "Dad move over to the other of the cabinet and let me slide in there, I'll help." I shifted over with the disposer in my lap and with a young girls flexibility she shimmied all the way into the cabinet and helped insert the new disposer into the mounting bracket. "OK turn," she said. I did as directed then she said, "Turn it the other way, to the right, you've been turning it to the left." I pushed up and twisted and the ISE locked tightly into place. "It's in," she said, able to look from her position directly at the connection.
"Well no kidding," I said laughing. I looked at my red-haired partner stuffed next to me in the cabinet and said, "I appreciate you showing me how to install a food waste disposer." "Hey dad any time you need any help just call," she said looking very smug. Gwynne looked up from her book and offered her congratulations. After connecting the drain and waste pipes we gave our new ISE a test drive and it performed with whispering perfection. I guess this shows that anything a certified plumber/appliance guy can do three amateurs can do just as well. Plus I've got a full container of unused plumbers putty all ready for the next project.
As I broke out the scrubber and dish soap Gwynne gave me a strange look but went back to her book. Within minutes I was done, the feeling of having accomplished my largest project of the weekend fresh in my mind. Just before cracking my third brew I rinsed out the sink and, the water still running, turned on the disposal. A noise that didn't sound like the thrashing of mangled carrots, celery stalks or cabbage leaves assailed my senses. In a flash I reached over and turned off the disposal letting it's grinders come to a halt. With that innate fear-part of my DNA telling me not to do it, I lowered my left hand (I'm right handed) into the drain. I immediately felt metal that was not the disposal manglers. I gripped the remains and pulled it out. A spoon! A measuring spoon! Gwynne's measuring spoon, part of a set that she has had since she and her mother began baking cookies and cakes many years ago. The thin metal utensil (probably tin) looked like a piece of gray broccoli that had been run through a jet propelled Cuisinart.
She looked at me from the kitchen table and said, "That looks like the remains of my measuring spoon set." "Yup," I said, "I think this is the tablespoon." I fished out some more memories of her childhood and she identified each spoon size. I was suddenly aware that the water was still running and that my feet were getting wet. "I wonder where the 1/2 teaspoon is," she murmured as I stared down at my feet and belatedly turned off the water. "I think I know," I said as I opened the cupboard door underneath the sink. As water dripped out of the cabinet I crouched down and looked at the disposal. I gritted my teeth and said, "blank!"
Sticking out of the side of the disposal, like a piece of shrapnel blown through the housing of an unlubricated transmission from a 1971 Ford Maverick, was the 1/2 teaspoon. Water forced it's way through the opening and dripped onto the floor of the cabinet. I quickly pulled the garbage bag, Windex, Comet, Fantastic, grease jar, sponges, brushes and floor wax out of the cabinet and soaked up the water with every towel in the kitchen. Realizing that the next day was MLK Day and a holiday I resigned myself to what I was going to be doing on that Monday; buying a new garbage disposal and installing it like I did a couple of years ago when the old one seized up after an overdose of potato peels. Just what I'm great at; on the job plumbing. Yah right. I mopped up what water I could and cracked that third beer.
The next day we stood in the aisle at Lowe's staring at the garbage disposal (also called a food waste disposer) display weighing our options: the Insinkerator (which I'll call the ISE) or the Badger. The difference between the two names (which were both built by ISE) was like the difference between a Lexus and a Toyota. The ISE looked cooler, was quieter and had more options. The Badger was the stripped down version, basic looking and after activating the shelf-mounted display, noisier. Gwynne said, "I never liked the old one, it was way too loud." I'm now thinking was this a plan to sacrifice her treasured measuring spoon set for a quieter and cooler looking disposal?
OK, that left the ISE which offered models that included everything from racing stripes to a double barreled carburetor to leather seats to the high def version on the Satellite locater. After doing everything but take it for a test drive we settled on the Evolution Spacesaver version with Sound Seal & Multi Grind Tecnoligia, (whoops I meant Technology, I was reading the French description) with a 5/8 horsepower motor and racing hubcaps.
I was aware of a guy like me lurking in the background as we made our disposer decision and as we were leaving I noticed a small plastic container of plumbers putty and a few pieces of plastic pipe that had been placed on one of the nearby shelves. The putty container looked familiar and I stopped and picked it up, inspecting it. My fellow do-it-yourselfer glanced over from his disposer inspection and said, "That stuff is mine in case you were wondering." I didn't take offense as I knew it probably took him an hour to find his supplies, another hour to choose everything and God knows how many hours it was going to take to glue and connect it all to his new ISE or Badger. Suddenly I recognized where I had seen the container of plumbers putty; at home, downstairs in the basement inside one of our storage cabinets. "Yah," I said to the guy, "I've already got some of this at home; your going to need it to seal off your sink gasket." He stared at me as I put down his putty probably grinding his teeth at the presumptuous know-it-all. "He'll probably put it in upside down," I thought.
As we were leaving I'm sure Gwynne was wondering what I knew about sink gaskets and why I would have plumbers putty in my arsenal of fix-it tricks. I was wondering too because I couldn't remember when I had ever used the putty before and if I hadn't then how could I ever have installed a garbage disposal? That question was answered after we had returned home, I had unpacked everything and was reading the installation directions. I looked at the circular flange mounted to the bottom of the sink then, using my Christmas gift flashlight, looked in the cabinet underneath. Yup nothing had changed, the the disposal was still there with the 1/2 teaspoon protruding from the housing's wall. I could see a mounting bracket that was somehow attached to that flange inside the sink. I looked at the instructions again; all twenty-six detailed steps when it started to dawn on me. I stood up and looked closely at the flange again. Stamped into the gray steel on the top of the curve was the word IN-SINK-ERATOR with ISE DISPOSER printed on the lower part of the curve. As if seeing it for the first time in my life I turned to Gwynne as said, "I didn't put this in!" Seated at the kitchen table again, she looked up from her book and said, "Right, I think Jim Curley did."
"Oh blank," I said again. Jim Curley, the Einstein of appliance installation. This is a guy who could build a washing machine from the ground up with his eyes closed and one arm tied behind his back. If he had gotten into computers he'd be the guy you would call to restore your hard drive after it had frozen into a chaotic mess. If he had been an auto mechanic he'd be fixing a custom NASCAR engine while riding underneath the car on a skateboard. He always showed up to a job in a freshly laundered blue jumpsuit, a smile on face and all the right parts in his pristine white van. I hated him because he was just cheerily too-o-o-o good and he was retired.
I stared at the installation instructions which rivaled blueprints for construction of a nuclear reactor and contemplated either begging Jim Curley to come out of retirement like Michael Jordan, tracking down my own plumber/appliance installer or tackling the project myself. I read through the twenty-six detailed steps again then stared at Gwynne who was again happily immersed in her book. "We can do this," I announced. She looked at me over the tops of her glasses. "We?" she said.
So with Gwynne narrating, "If you are replacing an existing disposer, continue to Step 2" (yup that's us), and me plumbing I detached the old disposer and lowered it to the cabinet's floor. "Hey it's a Badger," I said noting the label on the budget version of the ISE. "That's why it was so noisy," said Gwynne, Ms. Disposer Expert. At Step 4 we reached the electrical part which is as scary as putting your hand inside the mouth of a real badger or a garbage disposal. She said, "There's all kinds of exclamation marks and warnings that say, WARNING: SHOCK HAZARD!! I cringed inwardly and outwardly and since I didn't want any communication problems in regard to whether or not I had a chance of being electrocuted, I read the instructions myself; at least five times. Steps #4 & #5 basically involved turning the power off at the source (these are code words for knowing where to find the breaker box). This is the way for the electrician (ME!) to avoid the chance of suffering any lasting effects from what would amount to be an INSIDE THE HOUSE LIGHTNING STRIKE! Since brain damage or paralysis were not options I was considering for the plumbing project Gwynne and I perfected a system of plugging her hair dryer into the plug outlet on the disposer on/off switch, turning the hair dryer on and me turning breaker switches off and on in the basement. I could hear the hair dryer (which doesn't have a muffler) running all the way in the basement as I turned breakers off and on. Three of the breakers were marked Kitchen and none of them turned the hair dryer off. This was confirmed by Gwynne, calling downstairs, that YES the hair dryer was still running. (That means that the electricity is still running LIVE to the disposal!) Finally I noticed an unmarked breaker switch at the lower level of the box and I turned it off. The hair dryer's noise immediately subsided! ALL RIGHT! I HAVE A CHANCE OF LIVING THROUGH THIS!
From there our luck changed as: 1. I detached the electrical connections from the disposer, 2. realized we could skip immediately to Step #17 as we could re-use the existing mounting assembly because we were using an ISE model and 3. Charlotte, our twenty-two year old daughter, showed up early for a home-cooked dinner. I was getting ready to re-attach the electrical connections to the new ISE as she inspected the instructions. "Hey dad be careful," she said. "There's a WARNING: SHOCK HAZARD! thingy here when you're doing that electrical stuff." I thought, "It's too late for that." "Thanks," I said, "I'll be careful."
With the electrical completed I figured we'd be done after attaching the new ISE disposer to the old Badger mounting-assembly then connecting some hoses. "Wrong you rookie amateur you're going to have to "pay your dues," the do-it-yourself Gods were whispering to me. With Charlotte narrating, as Gwynne had gone back to her book, I connected the Anti-Vibration Tailpipe to the disposer then prepared to mount the new disposer underneath the sink. First I inspected the old Badger and lined it up with the new mounting bracket which I didn't need because, as you may remember, it was identical to what was already connected under the drain opening. "Piece of cake," I thought as I screwed the two parts together. Charlotte nodded, seeing how the two pieces fit snuggly just like in the instructions.
Not able to fit into the cabinet, I balanced the new and heavy ISE in the palm of my right hand and pushed it up toward the mounting ring. I couldn't see if the two pieces were fitting together but I turned the disposer anyway expecting it to seed into the bracket, but it didn't. I couldn't get my left hand inside the cabinet to take the weight so time after time I pushed up only to have the ISE fail to fit then drop out of the hole. Charlotte could see my dilemma and offered encouragement but couldn't really help. Gwynne looked up from her book but she's real smart so she didn't say much.
Finally while taking a break with my right arm quivering uselessly, Charlotte bent down and inspected the connection I had made with the old Badger and the new mounting bracket. She turned them back an forth no doubt remembering the old adage her father had told her many years ago. "Righty tighty, lefty loosey." Scooting across the floor she said, "Dad move over to the other of the cabinet and let me slide in there, I'll help." I shifted over with the disposer in my lap and with a young girls flexibility she shimmied all the way into the cabinet and helped insert the new disposer into the mounting bracket. "OK turn," she said. I did as directed then she said, "Turn it the other way, to the right, you've been turning it to the left." I pushed up and twisted and the ISE locked tightly into place. "It's in," she said, able to look from her position directly at the connection.
"Well no kidding," I said laughing. I looked at my red-haired partner stuffed next to me in the cabinet and said, "I appreciate you showing me how to install a food waste disposer." "Hey dad any time you need any help just call," she said looking very smug. Gwynne looked up from her book and offered her congratulations. After connecting the drain and waste pipes we gave our new ISE a test drive and it performed with whispering perfection. I guess this shows that anything a certified plumber/appliance guy can do three amateurs can do just as well. Plus I've got a full container of unused plumbers putty all ready for the next project.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Good Flicks & Guilty Pleasures
There are all sorts of classifications for rating movies. Some reviewers use the basic, Very Good, Good, Fair, Poor or Bomb rating system. Others use stars from zero to five with a 1/2 a star as a way to further define a movie. Roger Ebert, who is my "go to guy" for movies, uses the "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" rating system. In other words he recommends you either go to the movie or don't go to a movie. Back when Gene Siskel and he hosted "Sneak Previews" on PBS you could just about guarantee that if they both gave a "thumbs up" to a movie that it was worth going to see and you were probably going to like it. If they split on their ratings of a movie then you were gambling on whether you were going to like it and if they both gave it a "thumbs down" then you got what you deserved when it turned out to be a pooch.
One of the many things I liked about the show was the prickly relationship the two articulate men had with each other. They seemed like guys who were very different but had a common bond in their love of the movies. Guys who wouldn't necessarily hang out in a bar together but would enjoy a conversation about John Ford or Orson Welles. They were similar in that they were both very smart, they both had quick, knowing wits and certain aspects of their individual personalities represented the "everyman" in their reviews. There were times when one of them got a little "high-minded" and the other would bring him back to earth with a sarcastic comment or a pointed look. It was funny to watch Roger as Gene talked about how a movie could have been better if the scriptwriter had done this or that or how another actor could have interpreted a character better than so and so. Finally Roger would say "Fine but that's not the movie we're reviewing; thumbs up or thumbs down?" You could see Gene's frustration at Roger's bluntness but invariably he would give a thumbs down because the movie didn't quite measure up to what he thought it could have been. After watching the two of them for years you learned to read between the lines when they gave a guarded thumbs up or thumbs down. Like maybe the hesitant thumbs up was because of a director's reputation (Scorsese) or the marginal thumbs down was because a movie was too violent (UNFORGIVEN).
If you only go to a movie because of the hunky, hottie star or the avant-garde director then you have only yourself to blame if you end up going to a bad flick. As you no doubt have found out a name actor (George Clooney/THE GOOD GERMAN), a trendy actress (Sarah Jessica Parker/DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE MORGANS?) or an award-winning director (Francis Ford Copolla/YOUTH WITHOUT YOUTH) is no guarantee that the movie is going to be worth your time and money to see. If you are willing to go to a movie without doing your homework then good luck.
Hey, I "get" the thrill of sitting in a bustling theater with the anticipation of seeing a good flick thick in the air; people are chatting with excitement as they glance back toward the projection booth while the ushers are encouraging moviegoers to move to the center of their rows to fill up the dwindling empty seats. Finally the lights go down and we all sit in the dark impatiently watching the Coke commercials and previews of coming attractions, many long minutes pass, you check your watch when finally the MGM Lion or the Columbia Lady appear on the screen. Then.... the movie unfolds in glorious truth. You smile, you laugh, you nod, you hold back the tears, you jerk in your seat and stifle a scream or....something starts to turn in your stomach and it's not the mealy microwaved hot dog. You swallow and look over at your companion who is already looking at you. You each grimace but turn your heads back to the screen, optimistic that what you have seen so far will get better; but it doesn't. You trade looks with your companion again and you shake your heads. You look at your watch then settle in for the inevitable.... a bad flick. You gambled and lost because you didn't do your research.
You know how it happens. It could have been that cool trailer on HG TV that showed the only scenes worth seeing, or maybe it was that quick blurb on the radio that revealed the only two funny lines in the whole movie or maybe it was that big ad on that cool website showing those two attractive lovebirds or it was that dreaded endorsement from that geeky guy who has that cubicle next to you at the office or that suspect "can't miss" thumbs up from the friend of a friend; yup they sucked you in...again! You have to realize that in these days with movie admission being in the double figures along with the high prices of popcorn, jujubes, milk duds, hot dogs and pop you have to be careful about your entertainment investments. Plus, now that automated and online ticket purchasing have been instituted full body scans are probably the next option to keep smuggled snacks at a minimum; that's a few more bucks out of your pocket.
I can't help you in the chow department but if people do their homework they have a better shot at improving their movie going experience. One of those resources for checking out movies before you blow it again is a website called rottentomatoes.com. Their niche is to compile reviews from noted, established or "accepted" reviewers who have met a standard. Rottentomatoes gives individual reviews a numerical rating e.g. 25%, 60% or 90% then combines it with all the other reviews into a single numeric rating. A rating of 60% or higher is given a FRESH rating, signified by a plump red tomato and a rating of 59% or lower is given a ROTTEN rating, signified by a splattered green tomato. Along with their ratings the website provides trailers, industry insider stuff and other movie info. Check it out. Anyway it's cool because the key to it is you can check out the individual reviews and focus in on a particular reviewer (like Roger Ebert, Cole Smithey, James Berardinelli or Rossiter Drake) that you like, respect or hate. They have another feature which I haven't checked out yet that can compare what you like to individual reviewers. As an example you might find a reviewer you agree with 80% of the time so you would respect their rating as opposed to someone you agree with 40% of the time. This would be akin to you being at the movie and critiquing it without actually being there; like your own personal remote reviewer.
Be careful though because a high rating can also mean disaster. It means that a bunch of "experts" who spend a lot of their work and free time eating mealy popcorn and sitting in the dark think they have a greater understanding than the average viewer of movies and the movie industry. They may have met a star or two or a director or a gaffer or a best boy (you know all those people who get credited at the end of the movie as you are heading for your car) or they may have taken a film study class online or have ten pages written of a screenplay. Sometimes these folks get a little too serious about the whole movie going experience.
This is where the average movie goer struggles with the difference between critically acclaimed movies that have received rave reviews from all the "name" reviewers but when viewed in the cold dark light of a movie theater they come up short. Is it because we, the average viewer, just aren't sophisticated enough to intuit the subtle shades of meaning in a French movie with sub-titles or understand the affected dialogue between the sophisticated co-stars (Ralph Fiennes & Keira Knightley/THE DUCHESS) or appreciate the retro black and white color definition that accentuates the moody atmosphere (another French movie with sub-titles), or celebrate the incredibly talented actor who can cry on cue not once, not twice but three times (Sean Penn/MYSTIC PIZZA)?
There is a difference between what is "critically acclaimed" and what is entertaining. Do people go to movies to be lectured with a boring point of view or to have some unsubtle political message jammed down their throat or do they go to get away from real life and laugh at stupid stuff or be scared witless or to be breathlessly inspired or to be eye poppingly excited? I think most people go to movies to escape for two hours and to be transported to a world they will never visit or experience. People don't want to leave a movie theater depressed or confused or sad; they want to be entertained. I "get" the thing about messages and craft etc. but that's for the pros not the typical movie fan. Do you want to know what my definition of a great "flick" is? It's a movie that you like so much that you can't wait to tell someone, anyone about, it's a movie that you will pay to see again within a couple of days of viewing it for the first time, then you will buy the DVD the following day, you will drop everything on a sunny summer day and watch it on cable to the hooting scorn of your wife and daughters and you will buy the soundtrack for it even if it was performed by Vanilla Ice or an American Idol drop out.
And finally there is that movie classification invented by Siskel and Ebert to cover that unique movie that seems to connect with you on a level that is hard to describe. This is called the Guilty Pleasure and once or twice a year Roger and Gene would devote their entire program to movies they liked but had a sliver of guilt attached to that opinion. (Roger/THE TALL GUY & Gene/BLIND FURY) This is a movie that no matter how guilty you feel about liking it there is nothing you can do to hide that affection. For whatever it's attraction; it's trashiness, it's "off the wall" humor", it's cool star or unbelievable villain; you just like it and tough for anyone else because this is your baby! It doesn't have to be on your all time top twenty or even on your favorites list and in certain company you might not volunteer your affection for it so you keep it to yourself; your treasured Guilty Pleasure.
Here's five of my guilty pleasures you probably will never find on anybody's top fifty list, what are yours? 1.VANISHING POINT 2. LIFEFORCE 3.THE HIDDEN 4. GOIN' SOUTH 5. MIAMI BLUES
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