Good morning, good afternoon and good evening ladies and gentlemen. I am writing you this under heavy surveillance in deep cover from a hideout along the banks of the Mississippi river. So, I will get right to the issues, they are gaining on me.
A day before the 2nd Presidential debate, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton took a bullet for the White House for the lack of security detail during the Benghazi, Libya terrorist attack on the U.S. Embassy where 4 Americans lost their lives, including our Ambassador. The timing of Hillary's willingness to take a bullet is only mere coincidence. Apologies for the bad taste in words. It is tragic and my sympathy to the families. But don't try to read anything into it, there is no coincidence in the timing. It's laughable how obvious politicians can be.
Now, let me get to the meat and potatoes of this edition. In what seasoned political reporter George Will called "the best debate ever," it's heartbreaking and encouraging at the same time, to see two grown men fighting over a job like schoolboys fighting over who gets to bat first in a game of home run derby on the playground during recess. According to Obama, "it's offensive," to think that his administration is playing politics with the Benghazi attack. But, when hasn't any politician played politics with any issue? That's why they call it politics.
"He's wrong, I'm right, and there's no one left."
The two grown men, at least they appear to look that way, decided to fight over who can guarantee to grow jobs over the next 4 years. Grow jobs. Like they're an organic material that can be sprinkled with fairy dust in the garden wasteland that is the U.S. economy and shazaaam! Jobs. Romney has a "5 Point Plan," to create 12 million new jobs. Reminded me of "no new taxes," from George H. W. Bush. I still have no idea what Obama's plan is for the next 4 years either. So, we have that going for us. Ladies and gentlemen, it doesn't look good right now. I know that the Koch brothers of Wisconsin are warning their 45k employees that they better vote Republican, or else. Think of the Koch brothers as toxic pollutants that work on command, killing any consideration for their employees to think for themselves. Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Maybe they play by the golden rule? They who have the gold, make the rules.
Then there was the mention of the fact that there wasn't enough drilling for oil on federal land. Not enough drilling on federal land. What does that mean? Should we open up the Grand Canyon for more drilling? But wait, "You'll get your chance when I finish." Once again, I was left scratching my head as to what exactly are going to be the tax deductions and exemptions that good Ol' Mitt (don't call me Willard) is going to eliminate? That is still to be determined. Maybe we'll get the information when he's finished; reminiscent of the final scene in There Will Be Blood as Daniel Plainview, played by Daniel Day-Lewis yells, "I'm Finished."
The debate got to a point where the tension was so thick, I strangely wondered, what if Romney would've muttered the N-word? Sadly, I felt some would've cheered that remark, which goes to prove if only to myself, that there are demons this country or I am still yet to exorcise. Or maybe it was because I have grown tired of hearing how we've been "crushed and buried" throughout the evening? Maybe I was simply waiting to go through "binders full of women?" Maybe it was because my Dad wasn't "born in Mexico to American parents" that I felt cheapened. Maybe we really need to trust the idea of "self-deportation?" Raise your hand if you're here illegally. Nobody? Alright, we can move on.
Now, which one's Spartacus?
On another note, it's a good thing Obama saved us all from cheap Chinese tires!!
To the heartbreak of millions of Republicans, Romney did let slip through his fingers the opportunity to drag Obama from behind the sad and tragic debacle that became the Benghazi, Libya situation. He should have belted that out of the park, but sadly struck out like A-Rod in the post-season. Too much oil in his hair; slippery fingers. Which lead us to the enemy behind the whole evening, the smoking dragon in the cave, the shadowy lurking figures of darkness who are truly behind the mess we as Americans have been experiencing for the last 10, 15, 20, 25 years......China. We aren't at war anymore with the USSR and the War on Terror hasn't been too exciting without it's leading man Bin-Laden crouching in the desert firing AK-47's as his henchmen run through jungle-gym equipment, and God forbid we should actually take responsibility for our actions. We have Congress to do that for us. They get stuff done.
The enemy of America is China. Yep, the same country that buys all of our Treasury Bills; them and the Federal Reserve; but, you'll never hear a hand-picked goon like Obama or Romney trash the Fed. They know who writes the checks. It's not that they just print more money out of QE3 thin air or anything of significance like that. Ssshhhhh, be very quiet. The Fed is always listening. The Fed isn't to blame in any of this. Allen Greenspan was always doing what was best for the American people. Ben Bernanke can be trusted. No, no, no, it's China and their currency manipulation that is and has ruined this country. So, look out China. We're going to be scolding you in the final debate, big time. So bend over and take your spanking, but just don't take any of it seriously; trust us, because the check's going to be coming in the mail. You'll get your money back. But according to the USPS, it may be a while. Were fixing a few kinks in there.
At the end of it all, wouldn't it have been nice to see either Obama or Romney, or both, strike a Tebow-pose. Until next time, keep on prospering in the new global economy.
Good morning ladies and gentlemen, good morning. I am a new writer with the GOEM and I'm writing this in hopes that it entertains and enlightens. It has been another busy week filled with the highs and lows of morality and repugnance. It has been a week filled with Politics. The two seem to go hand in hand don't they, and especially in the stretch run of a Presidential Election the stench can be overpowering; we love to gawk at car crashes.
So, I will begin with last evening, Thursday the 11th of October, 2012. The scene, Centre College in Danville, Kentucky; the stage for the only Vice Presidential debate, between Uncle Joe Biden and Paul "the Raccoon" Ryan. I wish that one of the campaigns would come up with a plan to eliminate aging and illness, as that would be an easier, less complicated, less-mind-numbingly boring fix than the numbers and percentages that were being sprayed about through their venomous spittle last evening when Uncle Joe wasn't interrupting the Raccoon or when the Raccoon wasn't trying to playing Mouse to Biden's ol'Cat.
The first question of the evening lobbed over the fence of debate decorum was on the subject of Libya and the terrorist attack that took place on the 11 year anniversary of 9/11. Uncle Joe said that they will investigate "wherever the facts lead us." It was obvious to the present administration that the reasons behind the terrorist's successful killing of 4 Americans, including a U.S Ambassador was due to a failure in the "intelligence community." Failure due to lack of awareness in the intelligence community? Or simply a lack of intelligence in the community? News has come to light that the present administration had prior knowledge of a possible attack on the embassy in Benghazi. How could they have let it happen? Failure in intelligence they say.
I however believe, that once again the attacks are being used by the present administration to lead us into another military confrontation in the Middle East. Benghazi for all we know is another False Flag attack, i.e; Pearl Harbor, Gulf of Tonkin and most likely, 9/11. It, like the drumbeats for war against Iran, is nothing more than a manufactured False Flag attack, in order to manufacture homeland support for the escalation of military intervention in the Middle East, i.e; Syria, Iran and which would inevitably lead into Jerusalem. I also suspect that the release of the upcoming Ben Affleck directed film ARGO, is nothing more than the subliminal propaganda of the powers that be to get the American people to support a military resolution in opposition to Iran's supposed goal of a nuclear weapon. Movie scripts sit on the shelves for years in Hollywood before they are made into motion pictures, and when they need to roll out support for something, they get a talented stooge to do their bidding unknowingly. They couldn't get Spielberg to do it, because it would've looked too obvious that Israel was behind it; trust me, there is nothing that Bibi Netanyahu would like more, than for the U.S. to continue to support Israel in a military defense of Jerusalem while he expands Israeli settlements.
Earlier in the week, Mitt Romney said that "Obama hasn't done enough to eliminate turmoil in the Middle East." The last time I checked, no one has been able to do that, ever! Somebody should have told that to Jesus and Mohammed. I think that they use to work for Bain Capital, but then had to be let go and find freelance work on their own; times were tough. Then again, I don't think the two of them ever paid taxes, so they must have been part of the 47%. Someone must have forgotten to tell the Romney/Ryan ticket that they weren't included in their "3 bottom lines" that they have in their platform. 3 bottom lines? What does that mean? It's really really really highlighted and important. We underlined it 3 times; I can't make this stuff up.
What are the specifics on the elimination of tax deductions in order to close the deficit Mr. Raccoon? We the American people, still don't know what those plan to be. Sometime during the debate, I found myself wishing a crowd member would have thrown an American flag onto the stage to see which candidate would be able to wrap both arms and legs around it and writhe on the ground like a dog in heat. All the while "the unraveling of America" is occurring right before our very eyes. But sadly, it's not just America. It's Americans as well in the shape of one time heroes. For example, Lance Armstrong may just be another in the long line, of win at any costs hypocrites, whom allegedly had cheated to win the Tours De France 7 times. 7 times! It's just another example of our culture of systemic cheating at any cost. Our short term memories are disgusted and then move on. What else is on the television? It was the lead story on the BBC America news on Tuesday evening. Not a word about the Libor Rate scandal. Libor. Look it up when you have the time. http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-08-27/libor-s-trillion-dollar-question.html It's no big deal, just trillions of dollars that were manipulated by the Banksters in England. Let's focus on Lance Armstrong instead; but has our American mainstream free press mentioned much about it? Nope. The math is too complicated. Ohhhhh, shiny new I-Phones!!
Then, there's the thugs, the idiots, the murderers that call themselves the Taliban in Pakistan, who feel threatened by women with an education. So, they decided to shoot a 14 year old girl named Malala in the head, because she was an outspoken supporter of education for girls. Despicable. Cowardly and insane are these Islamic Fundamentalists, or Fundamentalists of any sort who feel threatened by progress and education. It's sad. Really, really sad.
In China, you can go to a new fancy restaurant, and eat while sitting on a toilet, while eating out of a miniature sink or bath tub; which leads to me think, I don't want to know what they're eating. Ahhhhh. It reminds me of Kramer in Seinfeld installing a garbage disposal in his shower. "Come on Clarkmen!?" Some progress and some regress. To each their own, just don't kill anybody over it. Please.
Then there is a CEO in Florida who is threatening to close down his business if Obama gets re-elected and is therefore urging his employees to vote for Romney. There has to be a law against this sort of behavior, but then again, it's one man's freedom of speech and we all know how the Supreme Court feels about Corporations; i.e; Citizens United ruling: Corporations are People. That's where we are as a country and a world in a nutshell.
Which finally leads me to ask, where has all of the quicksand gone? It used to be all over in the television shows in the 70's and 80's, and now, it's nowhere to be found. Maybe it's because most of the middle class is stuck in it, and the need to put it on television would be like trying to get a politician to be honest; pointless. Maybe it's been replaced instead with our love affair with zombies. What does that say about our culture? Do we see ourselves as brain-dead, greedy, hungry and dead-inside just stumbling through our lives from one chaotic scene to the next? I hope not. There is the 8th Annual Zombie Pub Crawl this weekend; and remember, we are in 2012. The cycle of upheaval and massive cosmic change is shifting under our feet as I speak. There are tornado storms on the surface of our Sun the size of the state of Texas!!! All of that energy has to go somewhere, and believe me, it's coming.
“I really fucked it up this time, didn’t I my dear?”That line is of course from, “Little Lion Man”, the single that made Mumford and Sons a mainstay on college and alternative stations since Sigh No More debuted in 2009.It would also be fitting criticism for the bands’ sophomore attempt, Babel, which is also the name of the title track.Everything that sounded unique and fresh about “Little Lion Man” sounds repetitive on this go-around.Almost without exception the songs follow the rock formula that Nirvana made famous two decades ago, Quiet/Loud/Quiet.Scream-folk if you will. Unlike the Mighty K.C. however, Marcus Mumford is unwilling or unable to use his voice as the instrument lacking in the bands lackluster arrangements.Perhaps it’s my untrained American ear, but Mumford has the musical range that William Shatner brings to acting roles. The depressing nature of his lyrics, combined with his monotonous delivery, made for the musical equivalent of sitting next to a freshly divorced drunk guy at the bar.You want to hear him out, you know he’s hurting, but you want to yell at him “Get over it, buddy.”
“I Will Wait,” the first single from the album, is (big surprise) one of the albums stronger songs.Obvious reasons abound for releasing your best song as a single first, but the advent of musical piracy was fueled undoubtedly by one-hit wonder containing albums.What bothers me about “I Will Wait,” however, is that it’s not indicative of the other songs on the album.“I Will Wait” has an upbeat, jangly, banjo-driven beat that will get the feet moving, and the harmonic singing of the verses is a perfect counterpoint to the gospel like way Mumford sings the chorus of “I Will Wait.” It will be a big hit with the festival crowds that Mumford and Sons will be touring in front of because it’s dance-friendly, and the songs’ simple chorus is drug-friendly.Hippie chicks and Flic-your-Bic men rejoice!When Marcus Mumford is singing at his best, he has a style that is reminiscent of Dave Matthews, and the band clearly doesn’t fit the simple label of Folk Rock.This song, more so than the others anyway, feels upbeat.Babel might be great background music for killing a bottle of whiskey, but most of its songs would be better background music for killing a party.
“Babel” sounds a lot like “Little Lion Man” to be sure, but it’s missing the uniqueness that song had.“Little Lion Man” had a cool bass line, and the sparseness of the arrangement made its’ words stand out clearly, and the surprise profanity made it memorable.“Babel” has the same fast strumming, the same intensity “Little Lion Man” did, but if they were making a musical reference to Bob Dylan with lines about the “watchman’s son” or the “wind that will howl” it was lost on me.It sounded bland, and by third song of the album, pretty damn familiar. Someone should introduce Marcus Mumford to Taylor Swift, so the two of them can compare notes on getting dumped. The other band members play an assortment of drums, keyboards, and more exotic stringed instruments such as the dobro, mandolin, and banjo throughout the album. Those instruments get lost though, behind the relentless acoustic guitar strumming, and Mumford’s grumbling lyrics.Even the other singers, who sound so well singing in harmony throughout “I Will Wait,” just sound like an echo of Mumford’s monotonous delivery. Two exceptions were “Hopeless Wanderer,” and “Lover of The Light.”“Hopeless Wanderer,” at over 5 minutes in length, could be considered a “jam” song, and its lyrics and feel are reminiscent of The Grateful Dead. “Lover of The Light” captures Mumford in “Dave Matthews” mode, especially through the chorus, and the rest of the band give a passable DMB impression as well. Banjo, mandolin, and keyboards all stand out clearly in the song, not drowned out by heavy acoustic strumming like so many of the other tracks.Those are the exceptions, however, and you’ll notice I didn’t say either was particularly good.
Feel good music, Babel, certainly is not, but the dark themes aren’t the albums downfall, it’s the boring music that accompanies the message.The band took the blueprint of “Little Lion Man” and tried for 12 more songs that would capture the spirit, and unfortunately the whole dozen came up woefully short.Nice try, I guess.My recommendation is save your $15.If you want a similar type experience for the price of a cup of coffee, try this instead:
The coolest 71 year old man in the universe, the bard from Hibbing sang in his eerily prescient "Ballad of a Thin-Man," "That there's something happening here, and you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones." I think we all feel that way now, or at least I know that I do. Indulge me.
I am still rubbing my eyes in disbelief and making sure there wasn't any fatal buildup of wax in my ears, because I'm still questioning Wednesday night's debate between the man in the blue tie versus the man in the red tie. I can hardly believe that the man in the blue tie did as miserably as he appeared to have done. I found myself the next morning, with a slight headache and a bad taste in my mouth; as if I had waken to the realisation of a poorly made decision resulting in an unappealing one-night stand. I needed to make a run for it. There are a certain number of my friends who can attest to knowing that feeling; some more than others, and you know who you are.
Does the man who was wearing the blue tie, really want to be President anymore? Or did the man in the red tie do that well? Was the man in the blue tie tired, sick, or was his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his wedding anniversary? Or maybe the man with the blue tie knows that he has an October surprise up his sleeve in the form of an Israeli strike against Iran, or the trouble bubbling over in Syria into Turkey which could then bring the United States military into the mix? Does the man in the red tie or any man or woman in any pant-suit or colored tie for that matter, really want to inherit the mess the United States is in? Were headed for Armageddon, would you want your hands on the wheel of the ship as we head towards the Iceberg? Why else did the film Titanic do so well in the theaters; we all knew the ending, but because it struck at a subconscious nerve in the fact that we know were headed for something truly painful and have to face the music sooner or later? Maybe the man in the blue tie was saying to himself on Wednesday night, "Go ahead Mitt, you can take it from here. I'm gonna go grab the wife and kids and get the hell out of town."
Despite all of the questions floating through my transom, I did hear some deafening sounds emanating from Wisconsin over the pronounced funeral pyre of Big Bird, and that was the sound of hands clapping, high-fives, hoots and hollering coming from somewhere inside Wisconsin; it was the sound of the Koch brothers congratulating themselves on a job well done; their hand-picked boy Ryan was coming up next and the man in the red tie had the country talking comeback. America loves an underdog, until the next fifteen minutes comes around.
On a different note, the fall is a season of change. The season that turns the death of summer into a slow release. It is the season of falling leaves, changing colors and bottles of wine littered amongst the char-coaled remains of quietly burning fires. The smell of clove cigarettes and sandalwood incense sticks. The season of the first and last embrace of a loved one, remembered through streams of consciousness found amidst old spiral notebooks in childlike handwriting.
Fall is the season of the music of Van Morrison. It is listening to "Astral Weeks", "The Philosopher's Stone," "Into the Mystic," and feeling the sensation that you are on spiritual path. Realizing that you are only a spiritual being having a temporary human experience and simply building up knowledge until you have the next awakening. It's the lyrics of Van Morrison trailing off into Coleridge, Wordsworth, Blake and T.S. Eliot in ancient fingers of smoke. It is the shouts of saxophones echoed with the accompanied sounds of the piano organs tiptoed touch, the belted refrains over long distant valleys into the soul of descending sunshine. It is magic.
With this new edition of the Global Outrage of an Educated Man, I am also pleased to announce that we have an added contributor with his own personal touch on all things popular culture. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Hambone.
Half Killer/Half Filler 3.5 Corgans
Chris Hammes:
The Killer’s Fourth album, “Battle Born”, follows the band’s usual journey through the decade of Reagan with mixed results this time around.Since the band’s first release “Hot Fuss”, The Killers have celebrated the ‘80’s synthesized sound with unabashed enthusiasm and mostly positive results.At its best “Battle Born” sounds like the best of ‘80s era Springsteen, Mellencamp, Petty, and U2 backed by the best of ‘80s synthesized music-Duran Duran, Devo, Depeche Mode and The Cure.The worst the album has to offer sounds like a collection of one-hit wonders from the ‘80s, or gasp, something you might hear on American Idol. The Killers haven’t rocked out since “Hot Fuss”, but the type of ballads contained on “Battle Born” sound like they could have been written by any adult contemporary group.I don’t think Brandon Flowers would appreciate a comparison to “Candle In The Wind” Elton John, Richard Marx, or Matchbox 20, but he certainly falls short of the men he clearly aspires to be.
The album begins with a simple synthesized beat, the heartbeat of The Killers pulsing like a mix between “The Safety Dance” and Pac-Man asking you for another quarter. “Flesh and Bone” quickly builds to a lusher Killer’s style song filled with the kind of larger than life themes the band has come to be known for. “Dark Horses,” “force-fields,” “finish lines” and “raging bulls” stand in the bands way. Brandon Flowers sounds as good as ever, he truly has one of the best and most distinctive voices on the radio dial, and when he sings “don’t call me the contender” he lays down the gauntlet for all other current musical acts.The band aims to make songs that will stand the test of time, and they have an impressive back catalog of songs that do just that. “Flesh and Bone” builds to a crescendo that makes you think that The Killers have done it again, but then fails to cross the finish line.It’s the opening track, and a perfect summary of the album.
“Runaways”, the first single of the album, is probably the standout track on the album. One can imagine they will be doing encores of the song for years to come, as it’s sure to become a fan favorite.It has all the elements that the best Killer’s songs have had; great lyrics, a huge sound meant for arenas, and a finish that will have everyone on their feet pumping their fists. If you close your eyes, you could imagine it’s Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora leaning into the microphone, or Bruce Springsteen strutting across the stage.It truly is a celebration of the best the ‘80s had to offer. An 80’s anthem that sounds like it could have come from any of the biggest bands the time period had to offer. “Miss Atomic Bomb” is another standout on the album.Not as musically dynamic as some of the other songs on the album, it has lyrics that one expects from Flowers and company.A first love story, “Miss Atomic Bomb” could easily fall into the fondue, but the words and sentiment somehow stay cheese-free.A less accomplished singer might not pull it off, but the destructive ending to a relationship is captured perfectly through Flowers “atomic” symbolism.“Making out with the radio on” (a Bon Jovi sentiment if there ever were one) becomes Springsteen singing about his “need for a little touch, a little tenderness” before the real battle begins complete with “dust-clouds”, “impact” and “shockwave whispers”.A surprise standout on the album is “From Here On Out.”It’s closer to a country song than it is to a “normal” Killers song, but it’s a fun song.The beat is pure ‘80s country, Juice Newton on steroids, complete with a steel guitar that sounds like it’s recorded backwards. It’s interesting, fresh, and you want to sing along with the backup singers as they croon “from here on out.”It’s also near the end of the album, which means the strongest songs are few and far between.
“Flesh and Bone”, the opener, and ‘Battle-Born” the closing track, are both strong songs.It’s hard to criticize a band for having merely good songs, but The Killers have raised the bar for themselves with each subsequent album.“The Way it Was” is another song that’s good but not great.Lyrics about “Elvis singing don’t be cruel”, “outside the lonely Esmerelda county line” and “maybe a thief stole your heart” will bring to mind Lyle Lovett or even Roy Orbison, but the chorus imploring that things be “the way it was” just fall flat.The entire band is musically talented, and Flower’s has a vocal range any professional singer would envy.Five different producers worked on the album for The Killers, which means that the material may have not been great to begin with.The playing is impeccable, the songs have definite musical movements to them, but in the end they just aren’t strong enough to be considered the bands best.
With “Battle Born”, the Killers attempt to stay at the top of their musical game, but this fourth try feels a little battle-weary. The chops that got them to the top are on full display, but the band seemed unable to continue the fight throughout the album.The band had taken an 18 month break before recording, and perhaps they needed an even longer hiatus.Certainly the bones of the album have been developed.They go for a big sound and big themes again, but have wound up with an album that doesn’t quite get there.The best three songs on the album sound better than anything their contemporaries usually put out, but the rest of the album is merely just good.Most bands would be satisfied with that, but I have a feeling “the contender” would like another shot at the title.
My wife and I found ourselves in a long, crowded, windy line
outside a newly remodeled movie theater in Uptown, shortly before 1pm on
Friday, September 21st, the year of our election, the year of our
unraveling, 2012. The movie theater being a safe sanctuary of mine for since I
can remember when; when I used to get picked up early from elementary school by
my father, to go see the newest film of my choosing. When the film my father and I would see was a
film that usually had one too many gory killing scenes, vampires, car chases or
foul language. But, my father being one of the nicest people that I’ve ever
known, indulged in my escapes from reality without apprehension. Maybe it was
done out of the care and concern in which he had for a young boy, with thick
glasses and braces; wanting to make sure that I found an outlet for the
upcoming challenging years of pubescence of which he possibly knew he’d be
absent?
Standing outside the newly remodeled movie theater with
my wife, and eager to see the newest challenging, engaging and disturbing film
by master filmmaker, Paul Thomas Anderson, I was hoping not to be let down .
However, my first disappointment came when due to the show being almost completely
sold out, and the theater manager’s desire to sell as many tickets as possible,
the 1pm start time was pushed back to somewhere after 1:20pm, and much to my
chagrin and two pleasant old women sitting on my right, we were not to be shown
previews before the film. I asked myself, “Why am I paying 8 dollars, for a
movie without previews?” What is this world coming too? My
answer could easily be found while looking at the lemmings standing in line,
waiting to drop another 500 dollars for the I-Phone 5. That is what the world
has come to. That or the idiot I saw trying to back up his car on an on ramp to
35w north on Wednesday afternoon, during rush hour. That is what the world has
come to.
The film starts with the brief typeset title, “The Master,”
against a black screen. The viewer is then brought to the glimpse of water, the
sounds of waves crashing, the ocean in crystal blue foam trailing behind what
seems to be a moving ship. We are quickly introduced to the film’s protagonist,
Freddie Quell, superbly played by Joaquin Phoenix, who should be polishing up a
suit to next year’s Oscars. Freddie is the animal in man. He is the Id. He does
things without question. He is perfect for the military, and that is where we
find him, in the navy on board a large vessel, somewhere in the South Pacific
during WWII. He’s shell-shocked, he’s violent and he’s an alcoholic. He is a
man with many issues to deal with. In many ways, he’s the audience. We all have
many issues to deal with.
After pleasuring himself with a woman made of sand on the
beach why their ship is docked in a bay, Freddie begins to deteriorate before
our very eyes. Eventually, after losing jobs at a department store where he
takes pictures for customers, a job on a farm in Salinas, California where he
hacks away at cabbages, he has gone too far over the edge with his concoctions
of moonshine and is chased out of the camp by immigrant workers. Freddie as
luck, fate or destiny would have it, finds himself aboard a yacht, somewhere in
the bay of San Francisco. It is there, where he meets the devil, his father
figure, his Master, Lancaster Dodd, played to entertaining precision by Phillip
Seymour Hoffman, who should as well be readying himself for an Oscars visit to
the red-carpet. Freddie is introduced to
Lancaster in the belly of the ship, and the first words out of Freddie’s mouth
are, “How did I get down here?” Lancaster, dressed in a red silk shirt, in
stark contrast to the ship’s holding color of grey steel, replies with an
answer intimating that he can help Freddie. He knows that he is troubled; he
knows that he needs help and he can help him. But, he does let Freddie know
that he is “just a man, like you.” Freddie accepts his offer of employment and
when he does, a supernatural, unexplained shadow falls across the face of
Lancaster Dodd. The agreement has been brokered, the deal has been made. The Id
of Freddie Quell has now joined forces with the Ego of Lancaster Dodd, founder
of “The Cause.” We have now agreed to be taken on a journey. We are now the
ship adrift on the open sea.
What transpires over the next hour and a half is a tug of war
of the psyche. Scene after scene challenges the viewer to observe and maintain
their focus upon what is transpiring on screen through the tortuous “process”
imposed upon Freddie by Lancaster Dodd and his wife, played to Lady Macbeth
steely perfection by Amy Adams. There is a scene where Freddie, after a couple
of nips of moonshine, has agreed to answer questions from his Master, Lancaster
Dodd and all the while, not blink his eyes. I was caught transfixed by the act,
not leaving my eyes off of Freddie’s in close-up as he struggled to keep his
eyes open, only to lose again and again and have to return to the start of the painful
interrogation. We, the audience were now being put in the place of Freddie, it
was apparent to me, that we were now under the “process” of Paul Thomas Anderson
and his cinematic direction. Freddie, expelled from his garden paradise as an
Adam of the military is now under the spell of his Ego, his personal Devil.
Freddie becomes a trained attack dog under the tutelage of Lancaster Dodd and becomes
his enforcer, much to the satisfaction of Mrs. Dodd, hurting anyone that tries
to get in the way of “the Cause.” Freddie the animal in all of them, doing
things they wouldn’t normally do, but would like to do, but know, that as the
faces of “the Cause,” are unable to. Freddie learns all too well through the
psychological torture that he has to endure in order to beat his alcoholism,
his savage like tendencies, the awareness at the end of the film that is
brought to his attention by Lancaster Dodd, that he “can stay with me if you
choose, or you can leave, but if you do, I never want to see you again;” it is the
knowledge that he’s going to have to choose to serve one Master. A man cannot
serve both. The audience, whether we like the movie or not, we are going to
have to make a choice; we are going to have to answer questions of our own. The
questions may be a long time coming, and they may be in the blink of an eye,
but I for one, don’t want my two hours back. I just might not have seen enough.
Because, in the words of the bard from
Hibbing, the coolest 71 year old man on the planet, “Well,
it may be the devil or it may be the Lord, But you're gonna have to serve
somebody.”
Gov. Mitt Romney and Rep. Paul Ryan from Wisconsin, a match
made in the slashed funding, cutting jobs, reducing people to the bare minimum
political atmosphere of a no-holds-barred contest for the heart and soul of the
American people, or maybe just the Tea-Party. One who’s made his career in the
private-equity sector where profit losing companies are bought and restructured
in order for their business model’s to turn around and become more productive
(damn, that sounds a lot like what America needs) and then there’s the other
guy, obviously a man who’d been tapped and embraced years ago from the men
behind the curtain in Bohemian Grove (Koch brothers) to say and do whatever
they will tell him to do.
People don’t need health care or a safe retirement. These are
all entitlements according to these hunchbacked steely eyed long clawed weasels.
They want to convince you that you don’t deserve the social security money that
you’ve had deducted from your paychecks for your whole life. According to these
bloodsuckers, you shouldn’t be entitled to any of it. So, for Vice President, the Republican Party
has Rep. Ryan, who looks like the geekier version of the choir teacher on Fox’s
hit television show for the LGBT crowd, Glee.
Ironically, that’s the channel owned by the fear mongering and hate spewing
homophobic Rupert Murdoch; who would have thought that he would embrace such
dirty programming, but then again, none of those guys watch that stuff; they’re
too busy making deals to increase their profit margins and keeping the middle
class believing that what they have they should hold on to with all of their
might, or else, the socialist pigs will come screaming through their
neighborhoods with bloody machetes and shopping carts filled with welfare
checks and repossess their wealth and send it over to Cuba, Venezuela, Iran,
North Korea, Syria or whichever country or enemy of the week they want us all to
be afraid of, so we don’t focus on what is often times the most deadly enemy of
them all; the lack of awareness.
So, back to the big Saturday morning
headlines, the Republican ticket has central casting for the role of President
to be played by a Mormon with nice hair and a weasel looking guy for Vice
President who wants to kick your grandmother out on to the street so they can
keep funding the endless-mindless wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and on Drugs. There
has only been one Catholic President in the United States and they blew his
brains out in Dallas. What are the chances that a Mormon is going to be sitting
in the White House come next January; probably about the same as a
Scientologist making any sense; but I digress.
On another note, remember last year, they were supposed to
cut defense spending by 100 billion for this year. They agreed to it last
November as a result of the debt ceiling debacle, and now they want to go back
on that too, because, wait, they’ve got military contracts in their districts
and they have to be concerned with getting re-elected, not with actually doing
things that matter for the American people like repairing bridges, repairing
streets, siphoning off of foreign oil, finding renewable sources of energy, taking
semi-automatic weapons off the streets and creating jobs (insert Tom Emmer’s
voice here). Instead these spineless excuses for public servants vote, what is
it now, 33, 34, 35, 36 times, I’ve lost count….to repeal Obama-care when even
if it did pass in the Senate, the President isn’t going to sign it anyway. So
here’s a crazy idea, quit wasting our time and actually do something, because people
are slowly waking up and were not very happy, at least not until we’ve had our
morning coffee.
The cast of characters include the new chief of police, Martin Brody, the outsider from New York City, who is afraid of the water, and who finds himself living on an island with his family doing his best to protect them from the terrors of the outside world. There is the Mayor, Larry Vaughn, played brilliantly by veteran actor Murray Hamilton, as the machine, the politics of ignorance, only looking toward the next re-election. One can substitute their favorite or least favorite politician and you get the picture. Along comes Matt Hooper, played by a wide-eyed young and feisty bearded Richard Dreyfuss, who represents the changing of the guard and the science of progress with his fancy sonar and compressed tanks of air. Finally there is Quint, whom we never get to know what his full name is, but is played with the intelligence and confidence that only an actor steeped in their craft can portray through years of hard drinking and experience, by the one and only Robert Shaw. He's an Ernest Hemingway, Old Man and the Sea character, who wears his "working class hero crap" on his sweater'd sleeve. Quint's monologue towards the latter half of the film is right up there with any monologue in film history; and when you learn that Mr. Shaw was very much drunk when he performed it, makes it that much more believable and that much better. This cast of characters is brought together perfectly by a young director, making only his 2nd full length feature film of his career, Steven Spielberg, whom would make his place in history by directing the first ever box-office $100 million in ticket sales the bar setter, until a little film called Star Wars came along a few years later. But early in the film, you could already sense the genius of the director and the future direction that Hollywood would be heading, deep into the sea of summer blockbusters.
Within the first 20 minutes of the film, a young boy, a dog and a young woman are killed. Is this representative, subconsciously of the death of the American Dream in the early 1970's? Is the main character of the film Richard Nixon, swimming around in the political arena destroying whatever got into his path, but whom was ironically and justifiably inevitably destroyed by his own appetite for power (ie; Watergate, and God knows whatever else he did that wasn't reported in the press). Then there is the scene in the dark of night, where two drunken friends try to catch the magnificent beast with a "holiday roast." You can almost hear the laughter of friends as they empty their supply of Coors Lights on to the dock. Chief Brody, played by Roy Scheider is now, irreversibly and immediately caught up in the situation, emphasized cinematically through the tight close-up rail shot exposing his and the audience's shock at what they've just witnessed off the beach of Amity, when the young boy and his raft are bitten in half in a geyser of blood spraying into the air. However, it's not until the Chief's own son is threatened that the Mayor, the Chief Brody and the young scientist Matt Hooper, have to turn to Quint, who could be a metaphor for the military industrial complex; and once you go down that route, there is no turning back. You've just signed on to fight the war on terror. It will never end, and with the heat of summer fully upon us here in the Midwest and throughout the mid-Atlantic, you may not need a bigger boat, you just may need a bigger air conditioner.
So, in honor of the 4th of July, and what has become a holiday tradition in my life, I wanted to take you on cinematic journey back in time. From the perfectly contoured typeset letters of the title to the genius simplicity of the score, the film holds a viewer's suspended disbelief in perpetual awe. Who doesn't go swimming in any body of water, lake, river or even dimly lit swimming pool and not worry about what is lying beneath, out of sight, out of fear of the unknown. Within the first five minutes of the film, you are hooked, like a visual, auditory, and sensory overloaded experience of narcotic abundance, the film holds you in its grasp, its JAWS.
