Friday Five

It's that day again:

1. What do you most want to be remembered for?

Flying a crop-duster into the belly of the mothership and redeeming my drunken trailer trash life in the eyes of my son.

2. What quotation best fits your outlook on life?

"No, fuck you! Ha, showed him. Asshole."

3. What single achievement are you most proud of in the past year?

Ending my flirtation with normalcy via banking.

4. What about the past ten years?

[...] yeah, that would be it. Very proud of that there.

5. If you were asked to give a child a single piece of advice to guide them through life, what would you say?

The future's in plastics.

NOTE: If you believe everything I write you should give me all your money.

Whoa.

Finally got my butt out to see Matrix Reloaded. I went in with low expectations, just looking for an entertaining action movie like the first one. I thought The Matrix was fun, with some good fight choreography and some innovative special effects. Reloaded was, unfortunately, not fun, well choreographed or innovative in it's effects. If you haven't seen it, I will probably spoil it for you so don't read any further. If you liked it and don't want to disagree with me, don't read any further. If you don't like me taking issues with things I obviously don't understand, too friggin' bad.

Dick and Jane ask: Where to begin? How about the 40 minutes of pointless crap that starts the movie? Zion is under immediate threat, and here are all the people that will save it. Here's the guy with the furrowed brow who may be shagging Morpheus' ex (it's only implied through brow furrowing, and stares we can't see because everyone wears sunglasses underground). He isn't a believer, and he thinks his shit don't stink. Here's the new pilot, who made a promise to his brother-in-law that he would take his place. Here's Morpheus' ex, with her lack of character development. See Morpheus play John the Baptist: "Everyone! Shake Your Rump!" See Neo sweat on Trinity while everyone dances, and women's nipples are hard and cold and covered in gauze.

Dick and Jane say: Enter the Matrix. See Neo have a kung fu fight just like his training fights with Morpheus from the first movie. See Neo talk hoodoo mystical shit with the Oracle on a park bench. See Agent Smith. He's Hugo Weaving and he can act. Neo, can you act? Watch Agent Smith make clones of himself to jump on Neo. Neo and Agent Smith are so obviously CGI characters. How can you tell? In the fight sequence Neo shows acting ability. See Neo fly like superman. Jesus couldn't fly, only walk on water. Neo is the badass messiah.

Now the plot must advance to the next action sequence, where shit get's nasty, yo. Neo fights some guys with the weapons conveniently in the house. Neo wins. He's the messiah. Two blonde dreadlocked twins who can make themselves immaterial chase Trinity, Morpheus and the Keymaker. This highway bruhaha is supposed to be filled with tension and jaw-dropping effects. It's a lot like the tractor-trailer/motorcycle sequence in Terminator 2, only with two blonde twins who can make themselves immaterial. Did I say that before? Sorry, that's all the character development they get before they get blown up. Neo flies in like superman and saves the day. He's the messiah. Like a flying Jesus with kung fu grip.

Some more tensionless plot ensues. Neo meets the Architect. The Architect tells Neo he's an anomaly, and functions as a reset button for the Matrix program. All Neo's thoughts are acted out on videoscreens that make up the walls of the room. Neo gives the Architect the finger in his mind. Bad anomaly! Neo decides not to push the reset, and the Architect says Neo's choice will make everyone die. Neo just want's to save his woman. Fuck all y'all.

Dick and Jane and the pilot are amazed at Neo's flying ability. It is badass messiah fast. Neo is too late and Trinity dies. Neo is the messiah. Neo reaches into the code that is Trinity and massages her heart. She lives and they snog, the passionless snog only the messiah can give. Neo is in the real world and his powers now work there too. Neo is in a coma and the movie ends. Dick and Jane scratch their heads.

Look, It really is that bad. The Zion material could have been summed up by a radio broadcast to their ship, "Zion will be destroyed in 72 hours unless you can stop it. Speak to the Oracle and find the Source." I just cut an hour out of the film in two sentences. The fight sequences are just more; not better, or different, just more. Q: Why fight one Agent when you can fight 30? A: Why fight them at all if you can just fly away? Q: Wouldn't slow motion bullets be better if there are more than three? A: I guess not.

At the end of the first movie, Neo can unravel Agents and rewrite the Matrix on the fly. Agent Smith tells him he's different now, so apparently Neo doesn't try to unravel him. Or any other character in the movie. He can reach into Trinity and change her code, raise the dead and everything. But he must kung fu fight every loser program in the movie. I guess all that superman flying made him forget he can control the whole thing. Couldn't he just rewrite the code and teleport wherever he wants to go? Why fly, when instantaneous travel is literally at your fingertips? Neo is one dumb messiah.

Agh! What a mess. What a waste of time. Why didn't I go see Daddy Day Care instead?

In Memorium

It's Memorial Day, when we should not only honor the men and women who have died in service to their country, but perhaps more importantly that which they were fighting for; the Constitution of the United States. The US Armed Forces Enlistment Oath reads:

I, _____, do solemly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.

This came to mind when I read the transcription of the Resident's speech at Arlington Cemetery. I read carefully, slowly, multiple times, and found no reference to the Constitution. There were paeans to freedom:

...today we recall that liberty is always the achievement of courage.
...
And on this day, especially, our nation is grateful to the brave and fallen defenders of freedom.

There was another reference to liberty, and another to freedom. We get good and evil, and Holy Writ. Though, most egregious in my mind, was this:

All Americans and every free nation on earth can trace their liberty to the white markers of places like Arlington National Cemetery.

The Constitution is the guarantor of my liberty, not the fallen.

Why am I so angry about this, so worked up over words? Because on this day, a day of reflection and grieving, honoring the sacrifices made, it is essential that people understand how this administration has subverted the document for which these soldiers died.

Please read the following Amendments closely; pause a moment to think how many times you've heard of actions taken by this administration that violate these principles.

Amendment IV

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Amendment V

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.

Amendment VI

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.

Did Jose Padilla spring to mind? Does he have protection under Amendment V or VI? How about Zacarias Moussaoui? How about the trial of Fabio Ochoa, where Ochoa's attorneys have filed a brief stating:

When the two branches collaborate to perpetuate an undercover operation that is not subject to public scrutiny the public and the citizens accused will inevitably lose confidence in the independence of the judiciary.

The 'foundation of the Republic will not crack' if the federal government fails to put Fabio Ochoa in a federal prison," ... "It will shatter, however, if the American people come to believe that their judicial system cannot be trusted.

Did the newly renamed "Terrorism Information Awareness" program come to mind? There's a nice review of DARPA's report to Congress over at the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

For a more eloquent and educated viewpoint, please read Elaine Cassel's Civil Liberties Watch, where each day I cultivate a seed of distrust and righteous indignation.

The "White Hole" Theory

I have changed my belief system this very day. I now believe this:

White hole cosmology is a little known theory devised by the 6-day creationist and physicist Dr. Russell Humphreys. In his theory Dr. Humphreys envisions the universe proceeding from a white hole. A white hole is the theoretical opposite of a black hole, that is, instead of pulling things including light into itself, a white hole pushes thing out of itself. Both white and black wholes are made up of extremely dense matter and have many times more gravity then stars; this intense gravity creates an "Event Horizon". Time is effected by gravity; the greater the gravitational force the slower time in that force will proceed in relation to time outside the gravitational force. When an object has as much gravity as a black hole or a white hole there becomes an area at which time comes to a halt this surrounding area is called an event horizon. Dr. Humphreys uses this theory to assert that the earth is indeed merely thousands of years old while the rest of the universe is billions of years old. In this theory the universe was created and began to expand outside of the event horizon of the white hole before our solar system. According to Dr. Humphreys our solar system is made up of the remnants of the spent white hole and rests roughly in the center of the universe. This theory accounts for the red shifts in light and background Microwave radiation in much the same way as the Big Bang Theory. The main difference being that in this theory the universe has a center and an edge with Earth being near the center, and that there was not as much of a chaotic explosion but a careful stretching and designing of all thing that have come to be.

(From the Thinkquest website, which also has how this theory matches up with Genesis)

Unfortunately, as strange and wondrous as this is, it seems to be less than possible:

I have read a lot about Black holes and have gained wisdom of the subject. My question- are there such things as white holes-and if-what do they do?

In the full, and most simple General Relativistic solution for a space-time which has a Black Hole (in a vacuum), there are two singularities. One is in what we call the 'future-light cone' and this is the Black Hole. The other is in the 'past-light cone' and is called a White Hole. This solution is however completely unphysical in many ways and in a real Black Hole (formed from the collapse of a star for example) we cannot use the vacuum solution as there is matter present, and the White Hole singularity disappears.

So the answer to your question is that there is only such a thing as a White Hole in the theory of Black Holes and no such thing is possible physically.

(from the Curious About Astronomy? website)

So my belief system has been torn asunder, crushed, it is piffle, gone, no more. I guess I have to go back to my old scientifically proven one. Damn. But all is not lost - my ten minutes of white hole research led me to this site, which has the best quote:

White Holes

The black hole is not the only interpretation of the Schwarzschild solution. There is another possibility which instead of trapping everything in the event horizon, continuosly emits stuff. They would emit so much light, that the would be very bright white objects. In theory, anything could come out of a white hole, from dust particles to a stream of toasters(emphasis mine). More than likely, only fundamental particles would be emitted, but there is no reason to assume this.

The problem with white holes is that they violate the SECOND LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS. (This will be covered in a later section) Basically it states that any ordered system becomes more disorganized (like if you drop an egg, it will become a disordered mess, but a disordered mess will never spontaneously form a perfect egg), and so a system which produces adds order to a system is not possible. This is why many believe that a white hole can not exist.

(from Advanced Physics Made Simple)

My belief system could have had endless streams of toasters flying through space, launching toast willy-nilly through the galaxy, plunging into planetary atmospheres and being burnt like toast. I miss my newly found and discarded belief system. I like toast.

Spring Dreams of Springsteen

Had me a dream about the Boss. Not a "sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head" kind of dream, but one of seeing Bruce and co. in concert. I've never been a huge Springsteen fan - I appreciate him more than I like him per se. Yet I would still go see him if someone where to donate a couple of tickets. Regardless, the dream was peculiar because Bruce and the E Street Band were doing a full show of covers. It was weird - it was Bruce giving props to artists that influenced him, like Dylan and Guthrie, and artists that are his contemporaries and younger. It was weird hearing him sing Van Morrison's "Madame George", and Talking Heads "Blind"; though Clarence Clemons ripped the sax section Stax style, and Little Steven took the bridge - "No sense of harmony/No sense of time/Don't mention harmony/Say: What time is it?"

He played for hours, and the set peaked with a cover of Billy Bragg's "She's Got A New Spell." He sang the first verse just accompanied by his own electric guitar; rocking back and forth, legs splayed wide on the balls of his feet, leaning into the mike with each line, teeth clenched, singing out the side of his mouth. He revved up to the end of the first verse: "Something you don't understand/Something you cannot command" - quick look over his shoulder to the band - "That's how I know" - and Clarence played the riff on his sax - "She's got a new spell" - Max lays in with a snapping snare, Nils and Little Steven smile - "Yes, that's how I know" - Three guitars, bass, drums, piano, organ and saxophone hold court, Little Steven, Nils and Clarence step to mics - "That she's got a new spell". The song becomes a boogie blues, raw and pre-cambrian in essence. Terrifying, hypnotic, true.

I was shaking when I awoke - it was visceral, my gut feeling the reverberation of bass, drum and guitar feedback, the clapping of tens of thousands, the roar and vibration of the arena itself. I rubbed my eyes, held myself, arms crossed and grabbing shoulders. It was real. I knew somewhere this had happened, would happen, was happening as I dreamed. Reality bent, and Springsteen tore me down.

The Elvis of Letters

William S. Burroughs & Gus Van Zant.
"Burroughs Break" - echo guitar and drum loop.Added layers, layered and added.Burroughs on repetition:The last time I was in George.I couldn't find George.Arf Arf.Cut up and down.Forwards and back."Word is Virus" - Word begets image and image IS virus.Image/ima/ima/image/image IS virus.Loop cut repeat form cut loop form repeat.Wo/wo/be/be/ge/ge/wo/wo/virus."Millions of Images" - Layers of noodling/noodle/loop/techo/loop/ guitar with heavy reverb.Long dead (now dead long and gone) Burroughs,voice scratching & visceral,clawing/cloying with echo. "The Hipster Be-Bop Junkie" - Repeat and slow loop and distort,sample and begin.There's a junk gesture marks the junkie like the limp wrist marks the fag.They all looked like junk.A dirtier boulevard of broken needle wounds vitriol and despair anger spit and spite."Waiting For The Man" as truth not lullaby negatives of hope Images,that's what I eat.

Historians Are Dangerous People

There seems to have been a bit of hubbub, a squabble or bruhaha, if you will, over some remarks that may or may not have been said by the British education secretary Charles Clarke. It seems Friday last that he had some unkind words for the teachers of history:

"I don't mind there being some medievalists around for ornamental purposes, but there is no reason for the state to pay for them," he said on a visit to University College, Worcester. He only wanted the state to pay for subjects of "clear usefulness", according to today's Times Higher Educational Supplement.

[...]

A spokesman for the Department for Education and Skills said: "The secretary of state was basically getting at the fact that universities exist to enable the British economy and society to deal with the challenges posed by the increasingly rapid process of global change."

How dare he! Besmirching the good name and røle of antiquarian studies! He should be drawn and quartered and his remains thrown hither and yon with a trebuchet.

Pardon, but it seems all the truth may not be out in Merry Olde England. Today, the Guardian has a response from Mr. Clarke.

According to a transcript released by the college Mr Clarke argued against "a medieval concept of the university as a community of scholars unfettered by difficulties and problems of the wider society".

On state funding of such a concept he said: "We might do it at say a level of a hundredth of what we do now and have one university of medieval seekers after truth that we thought were very good to support them as an adornment to our society."

He conceded his analysis may not be accepted "because there may be one or two medievalists in the room".

Forsooth! Methinks he be still a right bastard! Methinks this faux English is most dubious and foul, a veritable pox upon a language when so ill used, so crapulent in nature, odious and repugnant! Fie, fie and now desist, though rapacious villain, deflowerer of free English verse!

The blogger responsible for that last paragraph has been sacked.

Oh, Sasuke Suki

When, oh when, are we going to elect someone cool enough to wear a mask? I love the way that piece ends:

"Before you know it, prefectural civil servants will all be wearing masks too," said one council employee.

Apparently the Japanese fear the dreaded "Masked Wrestler" epidemic more than SARS. Or is SARS only a less evolved form of the "Masked Wrestler" virus? - after all, it seems everyones covering their faces already. Man, I can't believe I'm making SARS jokes. It must be a new low.

New low? I think that's premature. After all, did you know James Joyce wrote porn? It's some pretty graphic stuff, those letters to his wife, and definitely not safe for work. he was a bit different, that Joyce. Had a thing for bodily functions, particularly a fondness for flatulance:

I think I would know Nora's fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.

I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. That is a strangely wonderful definition of knowing, of loving someone and all about them, of becoming and inhabiting, two bodies, one soul. And yet, unsettling...

Masked wrestler politicians and the gassy wives of modern masters. Well, it is Monday.

Vega$ Night

Wednesday night I had the opportunity to go on the chamber of commerce Vegas Night on the Scotia Prince. I unfortunately took this opportunity. For those of you unfamiliar with this sort of activity, the premise of the evening was that, for a donation, the sad sacks of Portland would get to cruise out into international waters and gamble. For those afraid to gamble and get nothing, there were both silent and very vocal auctions where you were guaranteed to get something if you dropped an appropriate wad of cash. My role in this was as an agent provocateur - I got in with a complimentary pass provided by my wife's employer, and had no intention of gambling, auctioneering or drinking $7 Budweiser (the beer of choice for Maine's big spenders).

So what did I do? I sat with my wife and cruelly mocked the other guests, the performers, the decor, the people heaving over the side, and anyone who we overheard talking. Did you ever notice how lame and inconsequential most conversations are? Have you ever sat or stood quietly in a public space and listened to the people around you? it's sad. Last night I heard a group discussion that went something like this:

OLDER GENT: Ah, now. Should we...?

OLDER LADY: Is that what? I want the casino!

YOUNGER GENT: Ah, yes. Should we...?

YOUNGER LADY: Indeed, how nice.

OLDER LADY: How do YOU know where the casino is? I want the casino!

YOUNGER GENT: Ah, now. How nice.

ALL: Ah, HA, Ha, ha ... yes.

Enlightening.

I was also treated to a "teaser" production by three of their rotating performers. A say "teaser" because they were showing only a hint of the talent they possessed. I was yelled at (not personally mind you - I think it was her "style") by a female cabaret screamer who sang an old song about Sara Lee cakes by Kander and Ebb. I was dazzled by the worst ever Steve Martin impersonator/dime-store Magician, and wowed by a group that I believe call themselves The Ray Stevens Performers. I am pretty sure they call themselves performers because they can neither dance nor sing, but they are on stage, thus, performers. I was upset that none of the three songs they "performed" was "The Streak".

And yet, all was not lost. For an announcement was made; Elvis would be performing shortly. After the joys that were the Ray Stevens Performers, I was afraid that Elvis would continue this horrible trend - though maybe if I yelled loud enough he would play "The Streak". I was in for a HUGE surprise when Elvis took the stage and it was Robert Washington. Wearing the early 70's jumpsuit, light on rhinestones, big on attitude, Mr. Washington tore the place up. He is Elvis. He has the moves - even the way he stands is Elvis; he has the voice - with the power and range Elvis never got any credit for. Robert Washington is one of the stars of the documentary Almost Elvis and is a long time Mainer and employee at Bath Iron Works. He is the number two Elvis impersonator in the world, and the crowd on the Scotia Prince treated him like he was the tenth best Elvis in the room. It was criminal, plain and simple. If Mr. Robert Washington cruises into your town (he was in Boston for a benefit last week), attendance is mandatory. Even if you're not the biggest Elvis fan (which is criminal in itself), he lays it all on the line, sweating, singing, dancing and lovin' the ladies.

But the cruise had to end, and Elvis had to leave to get ready for work at the shipyard in the morning. I left behind the overheard conversations, the staggering booze-hounds, and the clear plastic strips attached to the walls with double stick tape (I told you the decor left something to be desired). I took with me only Elvis, and his cover of "Bridge Over Troubled Water".

Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

Thank you very much.

The Bush Pilot

If we didn't see it, we read about it. Last Friday, the Resident took a ride on a Navy S-3B Viking jet and gave a campaign speech on the deck of the USS Lincoln. We were told by the White House that he had to fly in a jet and not a helicopter because the ship was too far from shore. Well, it seems the ship was about 30 miles from San Diego, which is well within helicopter range. So, the White House has changed their explanation. It now appears, according to that font of truth Ari Fleischer, that Bush wanted, "to see an aircraft landing the same way that the pilots saw an aircraft landing. He wanted to see it as realistically as possible." So it was a taxpayer joyride, not a necessity. To further reinforce the field trip aspect:

Bush's televised landing on the USS Abraham Lincoln, for which the president wore a flight suit and a helmet and took underwater survival training in the White House swimming pool, was the dramatic start to a visit to the carrier that included an air show and a televised speech to the nation.

He got to play dress up, go swimming in his clothes and see an air show! I wish I could be the fucking Resident too! And why, you might ask, was the ship so close to land?

Fleischer said the carrier had come hundreds of miles closer to shore than expected because of the weather.

So, a ship the size of the Empire State building lying on it's side was hundred's of miles closer to land because of a tail-wind? Funny, I didn't think this was the Age of Sail anymore. I thought the giant house-sized diesel engines pushed it along, and that the same military technology that allowed us to bomb a specific room in al-Jazeera's broadcast headquarters would enable us to figure out where a 1000 foot ship was on the ocean, AND it's distance from land. Silly me!

In other developments, Salam Pax has emerged safely from the bombing and occupation of Baghdad, and Christopher Allbritton is back from his Iraqi expedition, has posted an epilogue to his travels and is calling for comments.

Back Tracks 13

The Hip-Hop/Soul revolution was in full swing ten years ago. The number one song was Freak Me by Silk, number two was That's the Way Love Goes by Janet Jackson. Snow, Vanessa Williams w/Brian McKnight, Whitney Houston, Dr. Dre, Jade, SWV, P.M. Dawn and one-hit wonder Paperboy rounded out the top ten. There is no rock or country, alternative or adult-contemporary hits on the charts. There were a few overall - Two Princes was number 11 and Ugly Kid Joe's cover of Cats in the Cradle was number 17 (Ugly Kid Joe? Hey, they had the first short form {EP} ever to be certified platinum. Don't dare knock Everything About You).

I took the opportunity of Apple's new iTunes music store to listen to high quality snippets of some of these top tracks as a "refresher" (ten years ago I was working at a record store so I am familiar with these horrible songs and many, many more). Listening to Freak Me or I'm So Into You by SWV reminded me of how vacant and color-by-numbers early 90's soul was. The beat was bump-bump bump PAUSE, bump-bump bump PAUSE. The only thing that varied was the tempo - fast pause or slow pause. Up-tempo - SWV, or Jade's Don't Walk Away. Down-tempo - Silk, or Shai's Comforter. Which is why so much of this was forgettable - ten groups of four black men imploring their women to "Love them that special way" while tilting their heads back, grabbing and shaking the lapels of their jackets and showing their bare, hairless chests underneath. The female groups were primarily trios who wore the same outfit in three different colors and you could tell them apart by their hair style or head apparel (who can forget the short haired one, the one with the scrunchie and the girl in the Fat Albert hat! They ruled!).

Nowadays, we have the rapper with the fake bandage (did you see the guy with the pirate eyepatch? 50 Cent ain't got nothing on Gold Doubloon!), a whole family of Lil's (Kim, D, J, O, Mo, B, C, P, Jon, Rob, Bo, CS, Ed, Keke, Mac, Ric, Amp, Bud, Cas, Dap, Dee, Dre, Fly, Romeo and Bow Wow to name a few), the All-Star Spelling Crue (the Doggs, Fabolous, Ginuwine, etc), and don't forget Floetry. And the bastard children of the bastard children of the fourteenth generation of punk bands who think that they are the sons of the pioneers because they were influenced by Limp Bizkit and Blink 182 and their older brothers set fire to shit and raped people at the 30th anniversary of Woodstock. It's enough to cry out "R. Kelly come save me from these children!" Okay, maybe not that. Yet.