Have a Merry and a Happy!

Going on hiatus until after the holidays.  See you in January!

"Bond. James Bond."

MSN's Web site home page recently included an item about how viewers of the movie "Skyfall" found 24 incongruities in the film.  These include the mysterious rising and falling of the liquor level in a glass over several different takes, and the swapping of loafers for laced shoes while scuffling atop a fast-moving train.

So what?  Of more interest to me is why anyone would pay today's movie ticket prices to sit in a theater and concentrate on finding fault instead of on the flow of the plot.  It's fiction, stupid!

I can understand faulting flaws in historical films.  If a movie pretends to history, it ought to at least be factual.  But fiction?  Who cares?!

"Skyfall" brought up the inevitable comparisons with previous James Bond flicks.  Every critic of the film whose review I've read all opined that it's the best Bond movie since "Goldfinger".  Well, I watched "Goldfinger" a couple of evenings ago.  "Goldfinger" sucked.

The problem with "Goldfinger" is that many of its scenes were contrived for their "wow" factor, rather than logical threading of the plot line.  For instance:

* Goldfinger assembles leaders from various mobs at his palatial estate to brief them on his plan to break into Ft Knox.  One of the bosses opts out.  Goldfinger loads his promised cut of gold bullion into the trunk of a car, to which the mobster is escorted.  Odd Job, Goldfinger's all-around handythug for, well, odd jobs, drives him away, shoots him, and takes him to an auto junkyard where the car, body, and gold are scrunched into a cube by a compressor.  When the cube is delivered to Goldfinger, he excuses himself to separate the mobster from his gold.  Huh?

* He uses an array of state-of-the-art electronic visual aids, including scale models and maps, to brief the mobsters and then kills them all.  Why bother to tell them what's going on if he's going to whack them?

* Both Bond and Pussy Galore, oblivious to the g-forces of a rapidly plunging jet, find time to retrieve parachutes rarely found aboard executive jets, put them on, and punch out before the plane slams into some body of water or other.

The movie also showcased some of the worst acting I've ever witnessed in a big-budget film.  For example, the aforementioned death scene of the mobsters displayed hams dying with such gyrations, spasms, and reflexive twitches as to make you think you're watching a farce.

"Thunderball" was a much better movie than "Goldfinger", but neither comes close to "Skyfall".  "Skyfall" keeps it real!  How important is that in movie fiction?  Well, compare the first three Batman movies with the last three.  Michael Keaton and Val Kilmer were okay as the caped crusader, but the scripts were terrible.  No one can fault the acting ability of Jack Nicholson, but really--his Joker compared with Heath Ledger's?  Not Jack's fault.  He was stuck with a horrible scripot and just made the best of it.  And hundreds of penguins packing rockets and infrared eye pieces?  Seriously?

"Skyfall" also begs the inevitable question:  Who is the best James Bond?  Depends on the script.  Sean Connery is a ladies' man; Daniel Craig is a man's man.  Sean seduces, Daniel is seduced.  Connery gets to the bad guy by banging his women; Craig gets there by banging through his obstacles.  Connery is all about sublety; Craig doesn't understand the meaning of the word.

The latest version of James Bond is less gimmicky than those previous, the villains more realistic.  No kitty-stroking megalomaniacs, no golden gun wielders with three nipples.  Rather, think a very gay Anton Chigurh sporting a blond wig.

"Skyfall" is the best Bond movie ever.  Don't waste a second looking for non-plot-related flaws.  Just enjoy the ride.  Okay, Rex?

Giving Thanks

I still remember a November day in 4th or 5th grade when our teacher, Mrs. Gerry Squires, asked each of us to stand and share at least one thing for which we were thankful.  I felt that was personal information that I didn't need to share.  Or probably I just drew a blank.  Either way, I remained silent.  She thought that was just awful.

So, in order to atone and purge myself of the guilt that has weighed heavily on my heart lo these many decades, herewith for what I'm thankful:

I'm thankful I was born in Ohio and not Michigan.  I know what a buckeye is.  What's a wolverine--a gay wolf?

I'm thankful I'm not related even by rumor to the Kardashians.

I'm thankful I did my thing for God and country in the skies over Southeast Asia and not on the ground in the deserts of the Middle East.  I much prefer mosquitoes over scorpions, though I'm not particularly fond of mosquitoes.

I'm thankful I'm not so vain that I would ever go under a plastic surgeon's knife and risk coming out of the bandages looking like either Bruce Jenner or Kenny Rogers.  Well, maybe I'd go under a knife wielded by Joan Rivers' face-lifter.  She looks damn good for her age; better, I think than before she had her work done.  And I still believe she'd have been a better "Tonight" show host than Jay "Lantern Jaw" Leno.  Nothing is sadder than a clown who isn't funny.

I'm thankful that I never did anything to disgrace myself or the United States Air Force...by getting caught.

I'm thankful I was born in the United States, even though it now seems hell-bent on becoming Greece.

I'm thankful I don't live next door to Honey Boo Boo and her mother.  I'm especially thankful that I have way too much self-respect to ever do what I would have had to do to be Honey Boo Boo's father.

I'm thankful I was born heterosexual.  Sorry, gays, it's just that women are the greatest high on this planet, even above beer and a Packers Super Bowl win.

I'm thankful for Catherine Zeta-Jones, arguably the most beautiful woman in the universe.  I'm really thankful that she's married to a man almost my age.  It gives all of old perverts hope, however forlorn.

I'm thankful for my marriage to the shamrock of the Emerald Isle.  Some folks enjoy the "It's a Small World" ride, nice and smooth, no shocks, no surprises.  I enjoy "Magic Mountain"--lots of ups and downs, but, oh, what a rush!

Actually, that guilt thing I mentioned earlier is a lie.  My mother, who could have given lessons to Jewish and Italian mothers on how to lay guilt, succeeded at laying it on me until I had an epiphany.  Guilt, I finally realized, comes from allowing others to make their problems your problems.  Haven't felt guilty about anything since.

I just wanted an excuse for this blog.  Okay, Gerry?

Elections, Florida Style

Ever loath at having to repeat myself, every once in a while I must remind my reason for living that there's a reason that TV show was called "Father Knows Best".

"This is embarrassing," opined the tulip from The Netherlands.

"What's that, light of my life?"

"Here it is three days after the election, and we still don't have the votes counted."

"May I remind you, dearest of the dear, that we moved here not for the intellectual stimulation, or the pursuit of the philosophical, or, obviously, the cultural opportunities.  As a wise man once said, 'There ain't no Coupe de Ville hidin' at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.'  We moved here for the weather.  Moreover, we do not owe an apology to those who have to use their fingers and toes to count just because we don't."

Results were finally announced Saturday.  Obama won.  My question is, who cares?  Once the vote was in from Ohio, the election was over.  Here's a suggestion: why not have just Buckeyes vote and save everyone else in the country all the phone calls, ads, trips to polling places and lines at the voting booths?  Makes sense to me.  You?

There were other yuks served up by the election:

* Robocalls went out on election day to Pinellas County folks who had requested absentee ballots, but who had not turned them in, advising them that they had to be turned in "tomorrow," which would have been Wednesday and thus too late to be counted.  Neither Election Supervisor Deborah Clark nor the company she hired to make the calls, CallFire, accepts responsibility for the kerfuffle.

* Republican and former Hillsborough County Commissioner and state Senator Ronda Storms--book burner, homophobe, creationist, anti-abortion flyer of the Confederate battle flag--lost her bid to become Hillsborough's property appraiser to a Democrat who actually knows something about the job.  She's now out of elective office, and we're out the comic relief she provided every time she opened her mouth.

* Perhaps they thought it was a communist plot to pollute our precious bodily fluids.  Perhaps they confused it with formaldehyde.  Whatever their reason, two Republican Pinellas County Supervisors lost their seats because they voted to remove fluoride from the county's drinking water.  The good news is, their ouster provided a wake-up call for another commissioner, who says he will now vote to have the water fluroidated.  Welcome to the 21st century, Mr Spock.

Here's yet another example of what we transplants find so amusing about Florida:

18-year-old Benjamin Bishop and an 18-year-old friend went to a gun dealer, where Benny tried to purchase a 12-guage shotgun.  Required checks revealed Benny had a criminal record and may not possess firearms.  The dealer refused to sell him the gun.  The two left the store.  Later, the friend returned to the store and bought the gun.

Benny has since been charged with first-degree murder in the shooting deaths of his mother and her boyfriend.

Florida law states that it is a felony to knowingly buy a gun for anyone who is prohibited by state or federal law from possessing a gun.  This makes Benny's buddy culpable, right?  I mean, he was with him when the dealer refused to sell him the gun, right?

"How do you prove that the kid who bought the gun knew that Bishop was prohibited by state law," asked a senior prosecutor, whose office has not charged Benny's buddy.  "We've got to prove that."

Okay, let's start from the beginning.  1+1=2.  2+2=4.  Are we learning to do the math, yet, Sparky?

The Politics of Sandy

I'm a card-carrying cynic.  So sue me.

Politicians are in no-win situations whenever tragedy strikes.  Presidents, governors, mayors, dogcatchers, all show up at the sites of tragedies.  They get out of their rides, walk around, commiserate with the victims, promise aid, and provide moral support.  This is good; this is their job.

But accompanying them are entourages of PR people whose function it is to facilitate photographers and reporters and make sure the image of a caring, compassionate and strong leader gets out to the electorate.  This is bad; critics will claim the pols are just using the tragedy to make themselves look good.

"Hey, he was there when we needed him," is the cry from a grateful community.  Yeah?  Well, so is a loan shark, a lawyer, or a drug dealer.  Politicians will pat you on your back with one hand, while they pick your pocket with the other.

Every once in a while, politicians stumble over each other in their effort to accept credit or assign blame when something goes wrong.  Case in point--Atlantic City, in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.

A few days before the hurricane hit the New Jersey coast, Governor Chris Christie, who makes Ralphie May look positively anorexic, signed an executive order for the evacuation of Atlantic City.  He sent several huge tour buses to the beach to take residents out of harm's way.

Drivers of the buses reported back to the governor that folks told them they didn't have to evacuate, that AC's mayor, Lorenzo Langford, told them he had set up a shelter for them.  The governor went ballistic.  He took to local TV, which sent the feed to the networks, insinuated that the mayor was an idiot with the IQ of Honey Boo Boo, and laid the blame for potential hurricane-caused fatalities and/or casualties at the mayor's feet.

The mayor, in full CYA mode, replied that he didn't tell people they didn't have to evacuate, only that if they chose not to they could hunker down in the shelter.

Now, cynic that I am, I'm willing to give the mayor the benefit of the doubt.  I can believe that he told folks what he said he told them, and they misunderstood.  I seriously doubt he flat out countermanded the governor's executive order or that he meant to give residents an excuse not to leave town.

But here's the thing.  The governor is a Republican; the mayor is a Democrat.  I know local politicians are fiercely territorial, but I can't believe the mayor would take a "this is my town, you stay out" defensive posture when there are lives at stake.  To do so would just be setting himself up for the fall if there was massive loss of life.

When the president showed up to tour the devastated area, the governor accompanied him.  No sign of the mayor, and no explanation of why he wasn't along.  I know one thing:  the political scene in New Jersey just got a lot more interesting and, yes, a lot more fun to watch.

Here is the reaction to this kerfuffle from one AC resident, printed exactly as it appeared on the "Press of Atlantic City" Web site:

"well Christie, did u know its still people in AC that is not leaving, did u know that they are denying help, even now, so stop acting like a big 'SAVIOR' knowing you really doing nothing, AC is not just downtown and far uptown AC, is all the streets from beginning to end, instead of grown men lying, and defending they need to be showing full coverage and figuring out what to do, nobody wants a ball measuring contest."

Here's a textbook example of one of education's fads that I rail about, the idea that "student expression should not be stifled by emphasis on such irrelevancies as proper punctuation, sentence structure and word usage.  What's important is that they are free to express their opinions and feelings."

Perhaps the good folks in AC will take this opportunity to start all over with their public school system.