Four Legs Good...

austerity, cleanliness, compassion and truthfulness

This is the XO. Though I no longer consider myself religious, even in the more liberal use of the term, I, like the majority of humanity, have been influenced by both evangelical and philosophical features of religion.

The traits mentioned in the subtitle are collectively referred to in the Vedas as the "four legs of religion", alternately: austerity, purity, mercy, and truth or truthfulness, austerity, mercy and charity, etc. I prefer the first version as it encapsulates a very clever litmus test for the God-fearing, holy, moral, saintly, or altruistic humanists among us. Any way you slice it, it is a brilliant crystallization of qualities one should judge any "religious" person's sincerity against and four pretty great things to strive for, whoever you are. Without all of these characteristics, anyone professing credibility in the context of religion simply cannot "stand".

Pearls before swine: Do we not amuse you?

Now on with how this is relevant (albeit tenuously so) to the biggest current pop culture event and I of course mean (what else?) the final episode of Battlestar Galactica. Some have criticized the religious, mystical elements of this finale as cop-outs in relation to the "science" aspect of this shining example of science fiction. Well, Battlestar was never typical sci fi, and if you listen to its creators and watch the show, you'll see that it was always "all about the characters". So those looking for "hard" sci-fi in the finale must have just overlooked all the spiritual, supernatural elements in its five strong seasons, or hoped that the final segment would explain them all in rational, atheistic, cold technological terms. Not bloody likely.

BSG is one of the best shows (I am tempted to say the best show) ever. Not just in its genre, which it completely busted out of from the first episode onwards, but in all of TV (and film) land. But enough gushing. Those religion haters need to stand back and enjoy quality fiction, complete with symbolism, artistic representation and fantasy, like we all do when we watch Lost. Just appreciate the incredible mixture of escapism, art and social commentary. If you're not digging the God and angels thing, then take heart from the anti war or environmental messages. Read up on Asimov's Laws of Robotics, Vernor Vinge's Singularity or I.J. Good's concept of the "ultra intelligent machine" which goes all the way back to 1965. BSG is pretty relevant to this not-much-talked-about eventuality. Only thing is, the technologically facilitated horror may not come in the form of shiny (or sexy) Cylons, but rather as intelligent bacteria or nanobots. The possibility of some kind of technological intelligence usurping, threatening or morphing human control is a very likely outcome. And I'm not even saying that's a bad thing because, let's face it, people don't always do that great a job.

Suffice it to say that future elections will be between the Technocrats and the Parties of God. Let's just hope that between them they have four legs to stand on. Not a gods damn chance? Oh well, at least we have Caprica and The Plan to look forward to.

Eric Stolz is sporting Caprica pants for this fall's future noir look.

I've been told a bazillion times not to exaggerate.

But alas, half dead, yet still gasping for air and doggedly clawing at the sheer walls of my mental prison, I decided to move to London Towne, crème de la crème of European capitals. And I've realized that I can't make my official debut in ill-fitting trousers. So this week I went to the tailor to do something about it. The results were impeccable. I've also started informing some of the locals about my imminent departure. The news has been received with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

And naturally there will be some difficulties at first with the transition, but I expect I'll make quite the splash in the city's more exclusive intellectual and literary circles.

Domesticity Rising
Movies and Helpful Hints!

Kate Beckin-jailed: Judith Miller was a backboard abuser!

Yesterday a little dove cooed in my ear that I should really write something, and as I am usually prone to heed the advice of gentle birds, it was not a tough decision. So what should I write about? Stimulus packages? My houseplants? That chick with the Portuguese name in Slumdog Millionaire? I'll do the vacuuming and get back to you...

✜

Well. Vacuuming works so much better with a clean filter. And four years is too long to wait before you clean it. In my defense I didn't even know it had a second, internal filter. That is my "Hint from Heloise" for today. Want another? OK, white spirit vinegar is a great all-around cleaner, deodorizer and fabric softener. Seriously! It leaves clothes and sheets soft, bright and dill pickle-fresh. Much better for the "environs" than harsh detergents and ammonium-based softeners.

Now what... Micro movie reviews, anyone?

Taken: Liam Neeson in a stupid, but somewhat satisfying "You touch my daughter and I'll kill you" flick.

Benjamin Buttons: Babel was not just a fluke; Brad Pitt actually learned how to act.

Changeling: Angelina can act too! But we already knew that from A Mighty Heart.

Wanted: Angelina as a skeletal anime heroine and James McAvoy as a Ewan MacGreggor/Michael J. Fox hybrid. Silly action with a few laughs.

Slumdog Millionaire: Good, although not as great as the hype. Exciting, sweet and predictable.

Choke: Not bad, but fits extremely well into the not-nearly-as-good-as-the-book category.

Pineapple Express: Absurd and surprisingly funny!

Ghost Town: Watchable, typical romantic comedy.

The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas: An (obviously) sad, but fresh take on the holocaust sub-genre.

Revolutionary Road: Decent American period drama, modern day Virginia Woolf, yada yada...

The Reader: Kate scores! Ralph scores! Very good.

Doubt: Philip Seymore Hoffman is great, Meryl Streep is superb.

Nothing But the Truth: An interesting, star studded take on Valerie Plame-gate.

In Burges: Dark, violent, post-Tarantino gangster comedy about an Irish duo in Belgium. Good stuff.

Frost/Nixon: I didn't watch it because of Rebecca Hall, but I probably would have anyway.

And with that final cryptic micro review, I bid you all adieu!

Awright Freida, like I know you're like four levels above me in the attractiveness department, but l fink like we's could be like really good togeva, yeah?

Aaah you kidding, bheta? I'm like a sort of young Angelina Jolie phenotype and you are some post-pubescent Cockney incarnation of Ben Stiller. Call me when you're a real millionaire, you blaady scumdog!

"Don't hate me because I'm pitiful."

On a long dark winters night, warm flask betwixt cupped palms, I counted the large wet flakes as they fluttered, seesawing past my living room window, and thought how nice it would be to catch one upon my tongue and savor the coldness as it dissipated. But a stiffness in my body stopped me from venturing out onto the balcony and kept me rooted to the sofa, legs blanketed, face aglow in the light of a solitary candle, unwilling to brave the harsh chill and occasional gusts I knew awaited outside. After all, what unrefined sensual pleasure could compare to what was already within my reach, transferred from great distances and preserved on silicon chip: Battlestar Galactica, Season 4, Episode 12.

I cling to such vestiges of escapism with the strength of a Vulcan death grip.

"I wish I was one of the Final Five"

The living dead insist

...on love and happi-ness!
(for 2009)

For me 2008 closed out with a very exciting dream I had whilst dozing one morning in the guest room of my parents' home in Portugal. I was in one of those dystopic disaster scenarios where zombies are roaming the cities and infecting the panicked population. It was so real, yet not quite a nightmare; more like watching a good movie or tv show. As I do in many of my horror dreams, I (or my character) attempted suicide by self-electrocution. It didn't work, which was good thing, since the zombie anti-virus soon came out. In the end we all made it to the beach and were swimming out to sea. I was surrounded by zombies, but was as yet uninfected by the scourge. The head zombie had just become aware that the antidote was being transmitted by an immune person. The dream ended with a look of horrified realization on her face. Perfect ending to a great bit of sleep-entertainment.

Weena, you are sooo tense!

Two recommendations from 2008

Film:

But if I ain't just seen the saddest story ever transferred to celluloid: The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke and Marisa Tomei. It's not a war tragedy; no villages get burned and pillaged, there are no acts of genocide. Maybe it is so affecting because it is familiar in some way, showing what is almost an inevitability for many in that line of work; poor egomaniac has-beens, who are nice guys, but can't live in mainstream society or even really survive. I'd go as far as to admit that I recognize a measure of that characteristic in myself. Sniff.

And what about the Cohen Brothers' latest effort, Burn After Reading? It's in D.C., which made me a little nostalgic, but it just isn't that good. The Big Lebowski is one of my all-time favorites, but since then the Cohen Bros haven't come close.

Music:

Santogold's "Lights Out" sounds like Missing Persons doing the Clash's "Spanish Bombs" with a dash of Eddie Grant's "Electric Avenue". In other words it's a great mix of smooth 80's New Wave. Besides, she's cool, she looks good and she's from Philly, thankfully without that awful accent they have. It's "water", not "wutter" for God's sake.

Riunite, it tastes so fine

Remember when alcohol was advertised on American TV? I think I know why they stopped. When I was a little kid I wanted to try all these delicious sounding beverages: Colt 45 Malt Liquor... mmmmm... sounds like malted milk balls, licorice and guns. Martini and Rossi Asti Spumante? Yummy and yummi yumm yummé! And who could forget a decidedly less butch Bruce Willis writhing about and singing "it's wet and it's dry" about Seagram's Golden Wine Coolers? He was so cool and let's face it, the song is a hit. It's got a catchy beat and you can dance to it. Of course, now I know that all of these drinks taste like liquid evil. OK, I haven't tried hardly any of them, but I'd bet the house that Riunite on ice is like drinking Old Spice. Reunite! Reunite!

Post-cologne-ialism:

Not without my toilet water

I finally got around to watching Marjane Satrapi's animated film Persepolis, a poignant, yet comical tale based on Satrapi's own life growing up during the Islamic Revolution in Iran. Seen through Marjane's eyes, it is above all a coming of age story; a search for identity which, despite its back drop of oppression and war, will strike a chord with anyone who felt alienated or different as a kid. Playing at torture in the streets as a young girl after hearing from her uncle about the interrogations carried out by the Shah's regime, or arguing about which band is "cool" (The Bee Gees or Iron Maiden) with black market street hawkers, are funny scenarios because they remind us what it's like to be an adolescent and how differently we interpret and prioritize at that age.

obviously metalheads

And so I was annoyed that the first article I encountered about the film after watching it was so negative. In a piece originally written for The Guaridan, Hossein Derakshan treats Persepolis solely as what he considers to be propaganda in support of the Bush Doctrine. Sorry, but people like this spoil art. I felt the same way after reading Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran (which I found to be a fascinating and touching memoir with a nice dose of literary studies) and then Columbia University professor Hamid Dabashi's article, which decries it as "insidious" and dismisses Nafisi as a "comprador intellectual" of the Bush regime. Get real.

Derkashan:

Satrapi's world is divided into two very separate groups: you are either with Marjane, in which case you'd are a nice, warm human being with properly drawn features; or you are against Marjane, and therefore either a black spectre with no human face features or an angry robot who represents the Iranian state. There is no one in between in Marjane's world; no shade of grey between this dichotomy of evil state versus wonderful people.

Seriously? Persepolis is critical (often humorously so) of everyone save Satrapi's own parents and grandmother, including herself. All of her contacts in Vienna are mocked mercilessly. Austria, unlike Iran, simply was not an oppressive dictatorship at that time, so the light on them is not as harsh. However, Iran's religious police are shown letting her get away with several infractions and her teachers at university tolerate her outspokenness. We are told how the U.S. and U.K. have propped up dictators and fueled lengthy, bloody wars. Lumping this story in with Bush and Sarkozy's rhetoric is irrational and ironically guilty of the "binary logic" which Derkashan accuses Satrapi of employing.

Well I guess he and Dabashi are afraid of Samuel Huntington's Clash of Civilizations concept being perpetuated with disastrous results, and who can blame them for that? But that doesn't excuse unfair, untrue characterizations of works of art, not really based on their content, but for the politics which they unfairly attach to them. It is ultra politicization which is knee-jerk, divisive and exclusionary. Deconstructionism surely provides some significant things to consider, but ultimately bogs down, side tracks and fails to deliver real meaning, at least that I can find. Taken to some postcolonialist extremes, it disqualifies everyone who's ever set food inside a classroom in the "western world" as somehow contaminated, unless they are performing the confusing rigmarole of deconstructing anything remotely western. Perhaps more importantly, it attempts to spoil art and entertainment by politicizing and polarizing it. Can we please deconstruct deconstructionism as a male, Western invention and be done with it?

Furthermore, both Nafisi and Satrapi have been criticized for portraying Iran as it was in the 1970s and 80s, and not how it is nowadays, which is presumably considerably less oppressive. Well guess what? That's when they lived there and when their works take place! If you want a book or film showcasing how liberalized Iranian society is becoming, make one yourself. I'd be interested in reading it, as I am interested in the autobiographical personal histories (key term) of Persepolis and Reading Lolita in Tehran. For the general public, I recommend both the book and the movie. You'll actually (gasp!) enjoy them.