One for now, one for posterity:
- I may have been influenced early on by Peter Parker and Clark Kent (who says comics don’t warp young minds?), but it was Edward R. Murrow, when I first heard about him in AP Government class my senior year in high school, who really showed me that journalists not only could change the world, but at times, have the obligation to try.
Whatever you think of the easily drawn parallels to today’s political situation, see Good Night and Good Luck
ASAP. A great film, a great reminder of the mission of journalism and a great — and accurate — glimpse into the often-times nail-biting world of journalists doing the right thing, as they see it, consequences be damned.
“Just because your voice reaches halfway around the world doesn’t mean you are wiser than when it reached only to the end of the bar.” – Edward R. Murrow
Murrow is still The Man when it comes to journalists.
- Jenn says she sees the return of my creepy sarcoidosis internal bleeding blotches on my shins. And we’ll have fun, fun, fun until her daddy takes the T-Bird away.
Although some critics and vampire movie fans like to poo-poo the Blade franchise, the blood shower scene in the original Blade film is easily one of the most iconic moments in vampire fiction, a great, shocking and jarring visual that easily stands up to the best in any other vampire films.
Unfortunately, that sort of story-telling is absent in Blade: Trinity, which mostly feels tired, despite the gung-ho willingness of Ryan Reynolds and the terribly earnest Jessica Biel. Snipes’ one-note attitude gets cartoonish in this chapter and, honestly, any movie that makes fun of a vampire’s haircut but lets Blade’s pass without comment has some serious blindspots.
The film also relies on viewers having seen the second Blade movie, otherwise the tri-part vampire mouths on several vamps in this movie will just be baffling. This probably isn’t a big issue, since most viewers will have seen the other two movies in the series, but it seems careless not to address this in at least a single throwaway line.
Sloppiest of all, though, is the finale, where Blade’s “final gift” is never explained and is mostly a “huh?” moment.
The film retains the visual pizzazz of the original, but doesn’t have the sense of humor that made the grim elements work.
Still, worth seeing for fans of the first two films.
Liz Phair’s next single, “Count on My Love” (a rather timid single off her album, to my mind), will be promoted with a new interview on the Ralph Hot site later this month.
Well, my big bonus from the Daily Press is almost gone at last, blown on such fripperies as six tires for two cars, a new vacuum cleaner, a new television set to replace one that no longer recognized commands from any remote control and had a whimsical mind of its own about volume levels, a new keyboard that is actually built for man-sized hands (and is heavy enough to take a 110 words per minute beating without sliding all over the table) (and glows) and, if I can find the father of a former Hesperia Star office manager, a much-needed detailing for my car.
I also bought some toys. And by toys, I mean books. But I also picked up a lot of music I’ve been wanting for a while. To make it last, I’ve been burning one CD a week and putting them on the old iPod. I currently have the Arctic Monkeys’ “Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not,” Sons & Daughters’ “Repulsion Box” and now Death Cab for Cutie’s “Plans” on the iPod, with Rilo Kiley, the Postal Service and the Desperate Housewives soundtrack (for the new Liz Phair track) waiting in the dugout.
Combined with the recent bumper crop of freebie music from iTunes, it’s been a heady time for me and my trusty monochrome iPod. The Arctic Monkeys rock just as hard as their hype says they do (I already listened to “I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor” enough last year to get the single into the top 100 of songs I listened to last year), Sons & Daughters’ rocking guitars are a great match for nearly impenetrable Scottish accents and the beautiful, romantic melancholy (which sounds Goth, but isn’t) of Death Cab for Cutie is just astonishingly good. (And yes, both bands had singles that made it into my top 100 of last year. I’ve been waiting a while to pick up their full albums.)
I’m not sure why I’m addicted to the relentless chase after new music, instead of retreating into the womb of music that I listened to in college, as most of my peers have seemed happy to do. I blame KCRW.
Well, we were paying for broadcast stations only on cable (getting the signals up here in the High Desert without cable is an extremely iffy proposition), but we’d been getting TBS and FX for free. (Along with MTV2, but TiVo can’t find it automatically, and has to be manually sent to it whenever we want to watch it.)
This weekend, Charter Communications finally figured out that FX had slipped through its net, and yanked it from the line-up. Good-bye, The Shield, Rescue Me and Thief.
It’s not really worth paying the whatever more a month for more channels — I don’t need to pay to not watch women’s shuffleboard on ESPN-5 or whatever — but it’s still a little annoying.
More to put on the Netflix queue, I suppose.
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