Christ, she did it again!
On Wednesday, Hillary Clinton, the de facto Democratic nominee for president, voted with 75 other members of the Senate in passing the Kyl-Lieberman amendment, which states "that it should be the policy of the United States to stop inside Iraq the violent activities and destabilizing influence of the government of the Islamic Republic of Iran, its foreign facilitators such as Lebanese Hezbollah, and its indigenous Iraqi proxies."
What the legislation does is add the Islamic Revolutionary Guard of Iran, the largest branch of the Iranian military, to the United States' list of "foreign terrorist organizations," and it gives Dick Cheney the Congressional cover of "fighting terrorism" that he and the Bush Administration need to launch their long-planned military attack on Iran. Clinton's affirmation in this vote is no different than the one she cast in 2002 authorizing the invasion of Iraq. She's either a traitor to her own rhetoric on the stump about standing up to the Bush Administration, or she's been fooled by our dunce of a president once again. In either case, she stands unfit, unprepared or unqualified to carry the mantle of the nation's chief opposition party in 2008.
Nineteen Democrats voted against the amendment yesterday, along with Independent Bernie Sanders and Republicans Chuck Hagel and Dick Lugar. Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama inexplicably didn't vote at all.
---
Bill Maher, on his HBO show Friday night, about the Senate vote cast last week against Moveon.org:
"The Senate actually voted to condemn an ad. That's what your government did yesterday--- they had to pass a resolution to condemn an ad with a pun in it. And then they had Oreos and braided each other's hair.And twenty two Democrats voted for that, by the way.
The Democrats are so useless they could not even pass a bill to get our troops more time between deployments. Only Republicans could make an argument that a bill that literally supports the troops didn't support the troops, and only the Democrats could lose that argument.
Next week the Democrats are going to vote whether to give Republicans all of their lunch money or just some of it."
What if?
You snooze, you lose, I guess. Each night of the last two weeks, on my drive home from the late shift, I would take note of the Hancock Fabrics store at the 86th street exit of the MacVicar Expressway. One of the main lights was burnt out so the sign read "COCK FABRICS." I always intended to stop and take a picture of it with my cell phone, but from the west, the sign isn't visible until after you've passed the exit, and I would forget, so taking a snapshot always required having to take the next exit and backtracking. Each night, I would tell myself "manana," but my
manana never came. Tonight, they've shut the whole sign down.
Gather ye rosebuds while you may,Old Time is still a-flyin':And this same flower who smiles today,To-morrow will be dying.Robert Herrick
Mr. Sulzberger, tear down that wall
The self-proclaimed "paper of record,"
The New York Times, fearing increasing irrelevance in the news market, has once again removed the membership firewall that allowed only paid subscribers access to the newspaper's op-ed page, columnists, and extensive archives. I enjoy reading Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich, but not for the monthly price of a three-movie-at-a-time Netflix membership. There are a lot of great writers and news analysts online. It wasn't difficult to fill the void.
---
Since last we left our spineless Democratic representatives in Washington, 22 in the Senate "swift-boated" their own supporters by voting with Republicans to denounce a controversial NY Times advertisement placed by Moveon.org. The paid ad asked the question "General Petraeus or General Betray-us?" after the architect of the Iraqi war escalation boondoggled Congress in his testimony earlier this month. It's the deepest of betrayals for cowards like Dianne Feinstein, Evan Bayh, and Patrick Leahy. Everytime they pull these stunts, they allow the media to cast the anti-war left as extremist and anti-military.
It was like putting it on a tee for President Bush on Thursday, who promptly took his whack: "I thought the ad was disgusting. I felt like the ad was an attack, not only on Gen. Petraeus but on the U.S. military. And I was disappointed that not more leaders in the Democrat Party spoke out strongly against that kind of ad. That leads me to come to this conclusion: that most Democrats are afraid of irritating a left-wing group like MoveOn.org -- are more afraid of irritating them than they are of irritating the United States military."
Senate Democrats were also almost unanimously silent about the killing spree of Iraqis by the private mercenaries of Blackwater USA who killed 20 and wounded 35 more in an attack this month. The supposedly sovereign nation of Iraq then took action to revoke Blackwater's license to operate in their country, but with not one iota of public support from America's Congress.
I can't understand why so many so-called "anti-war" Democrats in Congress refuse to stand up for their own principles when they face attacks on their own beliefs and patriotism unless they truly do believe that the policy positions they hold can justifiably be called anti-military. Bush and Cheney are draft-dodging butchers, yet they ride for free.
---
In announcing her new health care plan last week, Hillary Clinton said she was willing to do battle once again with insurance companies, who she says "spend tens of billions of dollars a year figuring out how not to cover people." Clinton's plan is doubly-brilliant. First, she stuffs her campaign coffers with their political contributions, then she brings them to their knees after taking control of the White House. This will be a neat trick.
---
The baseball media is always too busy cheerleading the commissioner this time of year to notice, but in this annual report, it's once again important to point out what the Wild Card playoff system has actually wrought. In 2007, like in 2006, not one team in either league can claim that its pennant hopes were kept alive longer by the Wild Card system, except for the two teams that actually wind up taking the "best of the worst" trophy in each circuit. In the National League, the top three teams in the Wild Card standings are all within 4 games of first place in their division anyway so they'd be in the thick of the pennant race in either case. And in the American League, the destruction is acute.
The Yankees are runaway leaders for the crown of the Junior Circuit's finest 2nd place team, so no increased drama there, but conversely, the Wild Card system has robbed fans and big media of another classic showdown between the Red Sox and Yankees, who are separated this morning by only 2 games, with 6 each left to play. I laughed last week when I saw an ESPN.com headline that likened the potential collapse of the Red Sox in '07 to the classic pennant race and Yankees overtaking of 1978. Not hardly. There was drama in the Boston/New York matchup of '78 because the loser had to go home. There can't be another so-called "Boston Massacre" if the hemorrhaging results in only the loss of a home playoff game.
The missing links
Superblogger Ken Levine sings the praises of
Tina Fey and "30 Rock."
---
The LA Times catches up with Frank Sinatra and Don Rickles' favorite baseball man,
Tommy Lasorda, who turns 80 on Saturday.
---
Speaking of
old Dodgers...
---
Fun to come on Sunday for those of us without cable.
Equal representation
The Senate Rules Committee spent the day
debating whether or not Congress should step in and wrestle control away from the states in determining the presidential primary and caucus schedule. Things are getting too far out of control for the tastes of Beltway power brokers. Activists in states like Florida and Nevada and California and Michigan are fed up with playing second banana to the kingmakers of Iowa and New Hampshire, and representative democracy threatens to break out across the land if nothing is done.
The Democratic and Republican party bosses and their henchmen in Congress want to keep the nominating power nestled securely with a small group of well-heeled and well-trained activists and organizers in the two traditional lead-off voting states. It's much easier to control the electoral decisions of several hundred activists in a pair of small states than it is several million citizens stretching from coast to coast. Limit the debate. Extinguish any potential conflict. Don't leave room for any surprises. That's part of any corporate power structure.
And there goes Congress again, concerning itself with the actions of our two dominant and very dysfunctional parties. Somewhere in our Constitution you would think it was written that the United States is mandated a two-party political system, and that Congress is required to keep watch on the viability of both.
---
If only
residents of Washington D.C. had the same voting rights as Iraqis.
Cool Papa
I struck out tonight. I've been putting together some pictures for the Cardinals baseball room in the new place, and found
this one on-line that I just had to have. James "Cool Papa" Bell was the master of improvisation on the diamond, a 28 year veteran of the Negro Leagues, beginning in 1922 with the St. Louis Stars, and also reputed to be the fastest player to ever play the game. Teammate Satchel Paige said he was so fast that he could hit a hard ground ball through the box and get hit with the ball sliding into second. A less apocryphal Satchel story was that Cool Papa was capable of turning out the light and jumping into bed before the room got dark. Evidently that achievement can be attributed to a night spent in a hotel room that had a short in the light switch.
Coming across his picture, I went digging into my archives and found an article I remembered having about Cool Papa from Sports Illustrated by an author named Mark Kram. "No Place in the Shade" was written for the magazine originally in 1973, but I saw it first when it was one of SI's 40 classic stories reprinted in 1994 in conjunction with the magazine's 40th anniversary. It recalled Bell's tremendous talent and guile on the field, his criminal exclusion from the Major Leagues because of his race, and the forgotten times he experienced after he stopped playing the game. The SI piece in '73 is thought to have expedited Bell's induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame, which then took place the very next summer. Sadly, SI protects the reproduction of the piece to the extent that no copy of the feature could be located online, a lucrative arrangement perhaps for SI, but unfortunate for the legacy of Cool Papa if young Americans are trying to find vivid images on the web of this great historical figure.
Here's a passage from Kram:
Papa could run all right, and he could hit and field as well. He played a shallow centerfield, even more so than Willie Mays did when he broke in. "It doesn't matter where he plays," Pie Traynor once said. "He can go a country mile for a ball." As a hitter Bell had distance, but mainly he strove to hit the ball into holes; he could hit a ball through the hole in a fence, or drag a bunt as if it were on a string in his hand. Bell never hit below .308, and one time when he was hitting .390 on the last day of the season he purposely gave up his batting title; he was 43 at the time."Jackie Robinson had just signed with the Dodgers, and Monte Irvin was our best young player," says Papa. "I gave up my title so Monte would have a better chance at the majors. That was the way we thought then. We'd do anything to get a player up there."Bell was born in Starkville, Mississippi in 1903, but always dreamed of leaving the cotton fields behind, "going off" to the big cities like some of the older men:
An old, well-traveled trainman used to sit under a tree with them on Sundays and tell them of the stars he had seen. "Why, there's this here Walter Johnson," the trainman would say, "He can strike out anybody who picks up a bat!" "Is that right?" Papa would ask. "Sure enough, boy. You'd think I'd lie? Then there is two old boys named Ty Cobb and Honus Wagner. Well, they don't miss a ball, and they never strike out!" "Never miss a ball?" gasped Papa, "Never strike out? Is that right?" "I'm tellin' ya, boy. I've been to the cities and I know!" "Well, mmm, mmm," Papa would shake his head, "Only one thing botherin' me. What happen when this here Walter Johnson is pitchin', and these other two boys are battin'?" "Y'all go on!" the old man would yell, jumping up, "Y'all leave me alone. I'm not talkin' anymore. Don't none of ya believe. I should know. I've been to the cities."When Kram found Cool Papa in 1973, he was 70 years old living in North St. Louis in a neighborhood under siege by junkies and violent crime. After his house had been picked on a couple times, a rustle outside the door would send Papa to the front window to sit for hours with a shotgun and pistol in his lap. He worked 22 years as a custodian and night watchman at St. Louis City Hall after retiring from baseball, taking in a game at Busch Stadium only on very rare occasions.
He would pay his way in and sit there in the sun with his lunch long before the game began; to those around him who wondered about him, he was just a Mr. Bell, a watchman. He would watch those games intently, looking for tiny flaws like a diamond cutter. He never said much to anyone, but then one day he was asked by some Dodgers to help Maury Wills. "He could run," he says. "I wanted to help." He waited for Wills at the players' gate and introduced himself quietly. "Maybe you heard of me," Papa said, "maybe not. It don't matter. But I'd like to help you." Wills just looked at him, as Papa became uneasy. "When you're on base," said Papa, "get those hitters of yours to stand deep in the box. That way the catcher, he got to back up. That way you goin' to get an extra step all the time." "I hadn't thought of that," said Wills, who went on to steal 104 bases. "Well," Papa smiled, "that's the kind of ball we played in our league. Be seein' you, Mr. Wills. Didn't mean to bother you."A statue of Cool Papa Bell stands today outside Busch Stadium, and the street on which he lived the last few years of his life has been renamed "James 'Cool Papa' Bell Avenue." Here's
a combo link to his bio at the website for the Negro League Baseball Players Association and his New York Times obituary from 1991.
Week in Review 9/10-9/16/07
Monday: David Letterman guests on the Oprah Winfrey Show. It goes down as one of the most entertaining television interviews in recent memory. (YouTube link
here.)
Tuesday: Following a televised attempt Monday evening to dummy up support for the United States' imperial occupation of Iraq, and then a good night's sleep for most Americans, President Bush fails to have convinced even one new person that continuing the bloody conflict is a good idea. An excerpt from the new book by former Fed chairman and Republican Alan Greenspan is made public Tuesday: "I am saddened that it is politically inconvenient to acknowledge what everyone knows: the Iraq war is largely about oil."
Thursday: NFL commissioner Roger Goodell penalizes the New England Patriots and head coach Bill Belichick for videotaping defensive signals of the opposition in a game against the New York Jets. The penalty amounts to a slap on the wrist with a fine and the loss of one of the team's 2008 draft picks, but no suspension for Belichick. Not a single sports commentator, to my knowledge, has advocated since that the any or all of the Patriots' 3 Super Bowl Championships under Belichick be revoked or be stricken with the dreaded "asterisk." The steroid-hunters in the media go silent, but I suspect could still be provoked on occasion to argue that such penalties be imposed on "steroid users" like Mark McGwire, who have not, like Belichick, been caught red-handed.
Coda: If Belichick was spying on a mediocre team like the Jets in Week 1, then we know for almost for sure he was spying on the Rams in Super Bowl 36.
Friday: Retiring Republican Senator Chuck Hagel tells HBO's Bill Maher that President Bush's Iraq policy is "not only a dirty trick." It's "dishonest... hypocritical... dangerous and irresponsible."
Saturday: My alma mater, Iowa State, beats Iowa in football, 15-13, in what is regarded by many as perhaps the greatest upset in the history of the series. But how do we know, or will be ever know? The Iowa Hawkeyes have only played patsies to this point in the season, and college football has scandalously avoided instituting a post-season tournament that could actually prove the ultimate merit of its competitors conference to conference. Does anything other than the $3 million state salary of Iowa head coach Kirk Ferentz point to an upturn in that school's football program? As a sports fan, I've stopped taking a personal stake in which of the two football programs is currently cheating the best in player recruitment, but as a state taxpayer, I think we deserve better at one of our major national research universities than a coach who loses to the modest cross-state Cyclones two-thirds of the time (count 'em: 6 of 9). For that kind of money, the Hawkeyes should be playing in the biggest collegiate games of the year and getting a tremendous amount of unwanted national attention for our state's skewed educational priorities.
Sunday: OJ Simpson is arrested on charges connected to armed robbery. His public approval rating remains higher than that of Dick Cheney.
It was a frequently unpleasant ride while it lasted
The Cards' hopes to repeat as World Champs are slipping away. A loss today against the Reds capped an 0-7 road trip to Phoenix, Chicago, and Cincinnati, and rendered a four-game series this weekend at home against the Cubs nearly meaningless, at least for one of the two teams. The just-concluded roady is the team's first winless trip of at least 7 games since 1972 when the Birds were pounded in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati by the likes of Roberto Clemente and Johnny Bench. Let us not forget that the Cardinals endured an 8 game losing streak even later in the month of September just last year-- during the season's final week-- but they were comfortably in first at the time that that streak began.
The bad news is that the season's almost over, but the good news is that the season's almost over.
---
I say, Free the Birds! Let LaRussa walk.
The starting pitching went back into the tank this week, and Rick Ankiel, who promised to be a streaky hitter all along, slipped into a deep funk at the plate, but the manager pouting-- this time to USA Today about "players responding" to his leadership-- didn't help one iota. LaRussa's imbecilic switch to a 6-man pitching rotation, on a team that can't produce even
two quality starters, severely damaged the team's chances as well. The Cardinals need to return to competing against the teams across the diamond, not against the local media, their own lethargy and inner demons. LaRussa bunkers down in a crisis like Dick Cheney, and he's more sensitive to criticism than my mailman with the enormous gut.
It looks and feels like the Cubs' year.
9/16/07 am update: St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist Bernie Miklasz
concurs on LaRussa.
Moeller TV Listings 9/12/07
An American Master, Tony Bennett, is featured tonight on the public television program "American Masters." It begins at 8 on Iowa Public Television. No blogging tonight. I'll be watching this.
The TV 100
When it isn't
defaming former Indonesian dictators, Time Magazine is apt to list
the 100 best television shows of all-time. Critic James Poniewozik does a serviceable job with his assigned task. I'm thrilled that he thought to include "Arrested Development," "WKRP in Cincinnati" (including a beautiful description), "Moonlighting," "King of the Hill," and "Deadwood." Many of my other favorites-- and yours-- were obviously included, but I single out here the ones I feared might be neglected. Two other favorites "Newhart," and David Letterman's CBS "Late Show," were left off, but mentioned honorably along with their similarly eponymous series. The list suffers from the absence of "The Jack Benny Program," "Newsradio," "Northern Exposure," "The Golden Girls," "Mister Rogers," "The Muppet Show," and "Curb Your Enthusiasm."
My only major complaint with the list is the inclusion of a few stunt picks designed to be "all-inclusive" of the medium. "General Hospital" doesn't belong any more than does "The Price Is Right." "American Idol" has no business being called one of the 100 "best" shows of all-time just because of its enormous popularity. I love "A Charlie Brown Christmas," but it was a one-time special. Why not just include the broadcast coverage of the moon landing? "MTV 1981-1992" is not even a tv "show". (Am I moving too fast?)
The Super Bowl is the annual coverage of a news event, not a tv show, akin to the annual telecast of the President's State of the Union address. Including it on a list like this ignores the fact that it's a different broadcast product depending on which network is broadcasting. It would be like listing the evening news, but not differentiating between news organizations or anchors. Also, it's hideous television. There's been more drama and excitement in any one baseball post-season (2003, for example) than in a generation of Super Bowls. How good can something be if you're watching it for the commercials?
But I digress. Let me know what you think of the list. If you sample the clips, "The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson" and "Arrested Development" are tops.
The Natural
Cardinals slugger Rick Ankiel has shown a world of character and perseverence in returning to the big leagues this year, but I don't think any of his accomplishments on the field thus far can match the nobility and strength he displayed confronting the media tonight in Phoenix. Blindsided this morning by the implication in a news story that he has cheated in the application of his craft, Ankiel confronted his inquisitors this evening with dignity, and stood up for his civil and legal rights at the same time, something many of his colleagues have struggled to do.
A little catchup: Ankiel has been the feel-good baseball story of the year, returning to the big leagues August 9th as pitcher-turned-hitter, after a psychic meltdown on the mound over half a decade ago and a long injury-extended absence. He enters tonight's game batting .358 with 9 home runs and 29 runs batted in after just 81 at-bats. He drove in 19 runs during the 7-game home stand that ended Thursday, more than six current Cardinals regulars have tallied individually all season long. ESPN commentator Peter Gammons said on television a couple weeks ago that Ankiel's return to the majors makes him "want to be a better person."
Then, this morning, the New York Daily News reported that Ankiel received eight shipments of Human Growth Hormone from January to December of 2004 from Signature Pharmacy, a drug supplier under investigation for illegally distributing prescription medications, and ESPN commentator Buster Olney now says we have "not quite a smoking gun" on Ankiel, "but something close to it," and then goes on in
his piece today to advocate blood testing for ballplayers.
Prior to the Cards' game tonight against the Diamondbacks, though, Rick Ankiel stepped up to the mic. He explained that the HGH was prescribed by a licensed physician. He reminded reporters that the year in question was the year in which he was recovering from reconstructive elbow surgery-- a year, I would add,
before Major League Baseball outlawed the use of HGH. Then Ankiel played some music pleasing to the ears of underappreciated civil libertarians everywhere-- "I'm not going to go into a list of what my doctors have prescribed for me. I've been through a lot emotionally and physically. There are doctor and patient privileges, and I hope you guys respect those privileges... I respect the integrity of the game, and I'm on the same playing field that everybody else is on."
Amen.
All this story really does is display the biases of more than a few sports journalists. Olney, a former Yankees beat writer and team biographer, indicts Ankiel, while dragging Mark McGwire through the mud again, as well, making no attempt to play down the fact that both players wear, or wore, the same Cardinals uniform. Mocking up a scandal where none exists, however, won't resurrect the Mets' chances to win the 2006 National League Pennant. It's over. You lost. Beltran watched strike three go past. Will the multiple Mets players soon to be implicated by a former Shea Stadium clubhouse attendent receive the same public pillaging as Ankiel, McGwire, or that other Central Time Zone batting star, Sammy Sosa, whose reputation has been pummeled by rumor and innuendo despite never, ever having been linked to even a specific steroid
accusation? Or will the Mets players get a repeat of the kid glove treatment Gary Sheffield got in the Bronx, or the chance-at-redemption treatment Jason Giambi received there, despite both players being at the very center of the BALCO investigation?
The story reveals also the double standard some have in only indicting
baseball. Reporter Jayson Stark did a Google news search today of stories involving the Signature Pharmacy investigation. All 438 stories turned up had the names of Ankiel and/or Toronto Blue Jays slugger Troy Glaus in the headline. But descriptions of NFL Pro Bowler Rodney Harrison, a member of two New England Patriots' Super Bowl Championship teams and linked also in the same investigation last week, were lumped mostly instead into just a few NFL notes roundups. No columns at all were found in which Harrison was called a cheater, or that it was suggested he not be allowed back into the league, or that the columnist suggested his statistics be stricken from the league record books.
The Cardinals are once again in the middle of the race for the National League pennant, propelled by Ankiel, and while we're busy digging for conspiracies, let's try to all show a little bit of media-savvy and recognize that when a story breaks involving a ballplayer on a day in which only five games were played, and that the ballplayer hits two home runs and drives in seven, there might be more to the motive of those journalists than just guarding the integrity of the game.
The 10th Annual Chris Moeller Film Awards
The trees, so eager to break free from their dormancy during the height of Oscar season last year, now drink the last drops of their chlorophyll for the season and threaten to turn their leaves to flames of vibrant color. I pray that it cannot yet be too late to reflect upon the Year in Film 2006.
The studios didn't send any tapes again this year and so I shelled out time and time again at Blockbuster and at the window of my favorite neighborhood cinematheque to catch the features that seemed to have caught the fancy of the culture at large. Friends graciously shared from their highly-individualized Netflix queues, though I can't remember a single one of them paying my way into the movie house.
I've given up on trying to summarize the year in film as a whole. It simply can't be done. There's just simply not a conspiracy of consciousness in the film community beyond the executives' attempts to sucker us into dark make-out rooms with their well-financed franchise flicks and adaptations of their predecessors' successes. Instead, I'll just coronate the winners, as I do each year, while laying waste to the losers, and if a couple of you Elizabeth Hasslebeck types out there get offended, then so be it...
CMFA Top 5 2006Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan
Larry Charles, dir
Children of Men
Alfonso Cuaron, dir
Pan's Labyrinth
Guillermo del Toro, dir
Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby
Adam McKay, dir
And the 2006 Best Picture/Director:Half Nelson
Ryan Fleck, dir
---
Best ActressJudi Dench, Notes on a Scandal
Best ActorRyan Gosling, Half Nelson
Best Supporting ActressShareeka Epps, Half Nelson
Best Supporting ActorMichael Caine, Children of Men
Best Adapted ScreenplayAlfonso Cuaron, Timothy J. Sexton, David Arata, Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Children of Men
Best Original ScreenplayPedro Almodovar, Volver
Thus begins my official advocation for the little-seen gem, "Half Nelson." Gosling is a revelation as an inner-city school teacher trying to steer a vulnerable young student away from negative influences even as his own drug addiction threatens to undo his effort. It sounds like a cliche, because it is, but "Half Nelson" is uncompromising. Epps, in her debut performance as said student, is completely restrained, as affecting as any child actor in recent years. Her snub for a Teen Choice nomination this summer stupefies.
You all know and already love that fabulously improvised comedy explosion, "Borat," but I hope you'll also consider-- or perhaps re-consider-- Sacha Baron Cohen's
other great film of '06,
"Talladega Nights". "Pan's Labyrinth" was a visual delight, a bedtime story of both fright and wonder that blends to perfection reality and fable; "Notes on a Scandal," a suspenseful delight with Dench and past CMFA winner, Cate Blanchett, as sparring partners; and "Volver" gets a nod for Almodovar's script. No writer or director in America can match Spain's Almodovar in consistently delivering fully-formed female characters to the big screen. "Children of Men" was just a fascinating concept, riveting in its execution.
Other 2006 viewings and musings, a la Perez Hilton:
I missed the point of "Thank You For Smoking."
"Friends With Money" was a rather tedious follow-up to director Nicole Holofcener's brilliant "Lovely and Amazing" (2002 CMFA Best Picture/Director).
"An Inconvenient Truth" was, and will continue to be, sadly, much ado about nothing, both in film and in the culture.
One of my favorite Saturday afternoons of the year was spent at a screening of "A Prairie Home Companion." (When did this post turn into a Larry King newspaper column?)
The trophy for most-overpraised movie of the year, awarded in recent years to such stinkbombs as "Crash" and "Million Dollar Baby," goes to "Little Miss Sunshine," a schlocky road picture about a dysfunctional family that contained a nonsensical, curdled ending, and that was ultimately as rickety as the vehicle at the center of its narrative. There's absolutely nothing new in these people, and once again, Mom's role is an afterthought. "Self-absorbed," "suicidal," and "crotchety-but-lovable" are all character traits played more richly on the comedies and dramas of your favorite premium cable channel.
With nary an Almodovar in sight, and plenty of films like "The Black Dahlia," is it any wonder we race to spill the blood of our enemies all over the world?
Oh, how I loved "Idlewild," despite its uneven direction. The OutKast musical was the last film cut from the Top 5. The visuals were imaginative and completely unexpected. The music and dance numbers were possibly the best to come out of Hollywood in over half a century.
"The Notorious Bettie Page" was sexy and strangely sweet. Cable movies do too count!
You can keep "The Departed," except for the scene in which Nicholson snorts like a pig. I got the sense we were supposed to have forgotten about Mark Wahlberg's character by the end of the feature, but I could see that payoff coming right down Broadway. Scorsese should take his Oscar to an engraver, and have him carve in the words "Taxi Driver."
I liked "United 93" for everything it wasn't. It was respectful, frightening, and honest, without a whiff of either sensationalism or pretention.
I often go in for dry, but Christopher Guest's films are just too pedestrian and middlebrow to hit their targets of satire with any strength. "For Your Consideration" was no different. Give me a Ricky Bobby running on the racetrack in his underwear any day of the week. Will Ferrell leaves it all on the field of play, sometimes quite literally.
Dixie Chicks rock! Check out "Shut Up and Sing" at your local Blockbuster, and tell country music radio where to shove it.
"Babel" was too "Crash"-like for my taste. Time to simplify, Hollywood screenwriters. How about a return to honest, linear storytelling? This trend of impossibly-intersecting plotlines reeks of effort.
"Stranger than Fiction" works much better. I can have a little fun at the movies trying to wrap my brain around one central conceit. This one's in the tradition of "Groundhog Day" and "Being John Malkovich." Not quite to their level, but I'm sure you'll agree that's high praise.
I would have probably liked "Marie Antoinette" better if I understood the point of punk music.
I think I
do understand lesbians. Imagine yourself renting "Imagine Me & You." (Oh no, Larry King is back!)
"The Illusionist" was just on in the background when I was staying at Rob's. (Not the whole time, just a portion of one evening.) That flick probably deserves a do-over.
This is harsh, but I just didn't care about any of the "Dreamgirls." What's left to grab hold of after that?
"The Last King of Scotland" is worth a look. Do
not piss off Idi Amin.
I learned a lot about the circumstances surrounding Princess Diana's death and memorial in "The Queen." Media overkill caused me to tune out completely in real time.
If you see one documentary this year starring an evangelical leader later revealed to be a hypocrite and fraud, make it "Jesus Camp," starring the Reverend Ted Haggard in his pre-disgrace days, relatively speaking. Next year, hope for lightening in a bottle again with Senator Larry Craig.
Until then, the balcony is closed. I'm sure your parents will be here soon to pick you up. Please wait out on the sidewalk while we clean up.
A-Train Summer Concert Series #4 - by Aaron Moeller
Blues and soul legends have been leaving us at an alarming rate. In just the last two years, we’ve lost soul giants James Brown, Wilson Pickett, Billy Preston, Lou Rawls, Ruth Brown, and Luther Ingram, and bluesmen Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown, R.L. Burnside, Henry Townsend and Robert Lockwood Jr. Ray Charles, maybe the biggest of them all, died the year before. When we nearly lost a number of others, like Fats Domino, in Hurricane Katrina, it’s enough to make it seem like rhythm and blues artists are an endangered species. And it’s not like there isn’t a precedence there too. Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye and nearly all the Temptations, among others, were gone long before their time.
Which is why it was all the more poignant to see not one but three of the greatest soul and blues singers in the history of recorded music on one stage Thursday night. B.B. King, Al Green, and Etta James and Her Roots Band played to a sold out grandstand at the Minnesota State Fair and the historical weight of such a triple bill was completely deflated by the fact that all three are still sharp, in great voice, and utterly inspired by and clearly still in love with their profession and audience. These folks are radiant with the knowledge they have the greatest job in the world.
Perusing the fair grounds before the show, my buddy Sam, girlfriend Becky and I sampled some of the most inviting and regrettable fried foods of this still young century. My dinner consisted of macaroni and cheese on a stick, cajun catfish on a stick and part of a bloomin’ onion that I kept in small enough proportions that it wouldn’t dare interrupt my enjoyment of the show to follow. The newspaper the next day said actor Vince Vaughn was in attendance, but I spotted my own celebrity before the show when a slim, suave figure and unmistakably cool white hat proved to be bass guitar godfather, Sly and the Family Stone legend and frequent Prince sideman, Larry Graham.
"Tell Mama" is the old R&B hit for Ms. James that got the evening rolling. It’s one of those near-lost but indelible classics that would earn its place on any top ten list, and it's never better than in a live setting. There’s a reason you can fill a shelf with her live albums. Her game is the concert game. Etta’s recording voice, always too bluesy for mainstream super-stardom - even when backed by string arrangements - with a style too gritty to always be in step with current trends and fashions, lets it all hang out on stage. She started singing as a teenager in the mid-1950s and at 69, she’s never looked better. In the last five years – thanks to gastric bypass surgery – she’s literally lost over 200 pounds. She’s smaller now than when she began her career and is damn near unrecognizable from her album covers from only a decade ago.
She was thrilling. And topical. She commented on Senator Larry Craig and his recent excursions in the nearby Minneapolis airport, while introducing "I Wanna Ta-Ta You Baby" then referenced it again during almost every song that followed. She would put her foot side by side to those of each of her band mates, imitating a "wide stance" as the guys took their solos. A striking cover of Randy Newman’s "You Can Leave Your Hat On" followed and then she grabbed a chair for her most beloved and recognizable song. A synthesizer mimicked strings and then "At laaaaast... my love has come along." It was a jazzy reading, slow and melancholy, amped up by careful phrasing that allowed her to recreate a song she’s sung thousands of times.
A cover of Janis Joplin’s "Piece of My Heart" was my girlfriend’s highlight. Dirty blues harmonica kicked off my highlight – "Baby What You Want Me to Do". It was a performance to make the church deacon blush as the brassy blues belter would frequently stick out her tongue, wiggle her ass and remind the audience that Madonna didn’t invent crotch grabbing. Do not go silent – or sexless – into that good night, Ms. James. "I’d Rather Go Blind", "Sugar on the Floor" and a song of deep lamentation whose name escapes me, one declaring "Back down that road I go", rounded out the unfortunately brief but downright fiery set list.
Al Green - the little brother in this triple bill - was possibly the single best hour of live music I’ve ever witnessed. His face a little fuller, his midsection paunchier than in any of his numerous recent TV appearances, the good reverend took the stage in a tuxedo, flashing his million-watt smile. "I Can’t Stop", the title track to his 2003 outing was a high energy opener. He then passed out roses to adoring ladies during one of his many odes to faith and commitment, "Let’s Get Married". Even on a chilly Minnesota evening it takes little to raise a sweat when you’re gyrating like an ecstatic madman and your dancing and singing is clearly possessed of the spirit. Throughout the evening, the tuxedo jacket would frequently threaten to come off as the ultimate showman would repeatedly drop to his knees with shouts, grunts and that legendary falsetto reaching to the stars.
"I haven’t heard any mention of Jesus tonight. Do we have any of the Lord’s folks here tonight?!" the pastor of Memphis’ Full Gospel Tabernacle asked to loud applause, kicking off "Everything’s Gonna Be Alright (He’s Comin’ Back)". "Just sit back and relax with the groove. There’s nothing to worry about, folks. We got the stuff," he said to even louder applause. Showcasing his sidemen through various solos, with the expected exquisite Memphis horn section, each player seemingly amused and inspired by Green’s relentless enthusiasm, the band stayed at church with double shot renderings of "Amazing Grace" and "Nearer My God to Thee". I’ve heard gospel at pop shows before. Willie Nelson sings "Amazing Grace" at the end of every performance. The last Springsteen tour was essentially a revival tent show. And I’ve heard Bob Dylan drop in "White Dove", "Hallelujah, I’m Ready to Go" and his own "Gotta Serve Somebody", but there can be no abstractions when a pop performer calls out for the Christians in the house to be recognized and then lays a little Jesus testifyin’ on us. It was bold and stimulating – a great artist who knows, follows and loves his muse, doing his thing the way he wants. I would just thank the Lord that as wondrous as his gospel music is, he also returned his secular songs to his setlists in the mid-90s after a 15 year hiatus.
"I-I-I... I’m so in love with you... whatever you want to do," the crowd sings along. "Is alright with me...eee... eee." Cool breeze, moonlight, soul classics. "Let’s Stay Together" gave way to his sizzling cover of the Bee Gee’s "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart". The music stutter-stopped and started again in a tease of false endings that showed the tightness of his rhythm section. "Gotta make it sound like it does on the record," Green said with a wink and a grin, before the horns launched the song back to the heavens.
Green ripped through a medley of songs to show "where our music comes from": "I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)", "My Girl", some Otis Redding and a double shot of Sam Cooke’s "Bring It On Home to Me" and "Wonderful World". These brief song snippets got the crowd singing along but were unnecessary in comparison to the performances from Green’s own songbook: "Here I Am (Come and Take Me)" and "Tired of Being Alone", both opportunities to show off the pipes of his talented backing singers. With brevity the show’s only weakness, Green lamented that his time was up and he hadn’t even gotten to "I’m Still in Love with You", "You Ought To Be With Me", "Take Me to the River", or any number of other hits. A performer no doubt loves audience participation, but no one would have complained if he had substituted any of his handful of other number one R&B hits for the covers medley.
An almost whispered "Something that can make you do wrong, make you do right", a few guitar strums, some familiar organ chords and the drummer tapping off three launched the closer – a thrilling "Love and Happiness". Reverend Green can always be counted on to employ the tightest horn section in the business and they got their grandest showcase yet as they came down front and center to play that legendary rising stutter riff that kicks in near the middle of the song. That moment on the recorded single – at about the three minute mark – is one of those musical licks that floors me every time. I always anticipate the moment and turn up the car radio at just the right time, guaranteeing chills down my arm, and almost as though I’m hearing it for the first time in decades, transcendence actually feels like something real.
There’s no following Al Green, but B.B. King is the consummate performer and his own relaxed style need not compare with anyone. Where Al Green is all energy, ol’ Riley King’s is all casual professionalism. Al Green may be a Memphis legend for nearly 40 years, but another favorite son, B.B. King, is still two decades up on the man. I wasn’t sure what to expect from King’s set. One of the first concerts I ever attended as an adult was a King show at the Des Moines Civic Center in 1994. He was pushing 70 then and that was 13 years ago. He had a run in Europe a year ago that was billed as a farewell tour and yet here arrives another summer and another tour through the states. The guy cut his first record in Memphis in 1947. Elvis was in the 8th grade. With a consistent pace of a few hundred shows a year, we’re talking about a conservative estimate of more than 15,000 shows. According to his website, as I write this, he has 10 shows scheduled over the next 13 nights.
King’s band played a solid ten minutes before B.B. even made an appearance. Each horn player took a solo than casually strolled around stage as the others had their turn. (Jazz players don’t usually have such a large stage to mill around.) With the cool, perfectly still weather, it was the most laid back setting I’ve ever seen for a popular performer. Introduced – as always – as the King of the Blues, King arrived to a standing ovation. He’s heavy and hobbles a bit at eighty-one. His first words were an apology that his knees are bad and he would be sitting throughout the performance.
The relaxed show was mostly snippets of his famous songs filled in with extended conversations with the crowd. The first growl from that famously gruff voice and the first notes played from that familiar sidekick, his guitar Lucille, both brought a roar of applause. "Why I Sing the Blues" was the first tune. (If you’re curious about the answer to the song title, you see he’s been around a long time and he’s really paid his dues.)
"When Love Comes to Town" warranted an introduction. Bono of U2 wrote the song for him. Most of the between song banter consisted of self-deprecating comments on aging, women and Viagra: "Young women today are always coming up to me, saying, ‘aw B, you so cute'. Where were these women when I was younger?" "I’m a bluesman / And a good man" was the claim of one song. "Just Like a Woman" – not the Bob Dylan tune – was another song. "You Are My Sunshine", a song I remember him playing in ’94 too, was the lone audience sing-along. We got snippets of "Nobody Loves Me But My Mother (And She Could Be Jivin’ Too)" and "How Blue Can You Get". Ol’ B’, it seems, had it bad with one woman in particular. He bought her a brand new Ford, she said "I want a Cadillac". He bought her a 10 dollar dinner and she said "Thanks for the snack." He let her live in his penthouse, she said it was just a shack. He gave her seven children and now she wants to give ‘em back! No wonder he’s been downhearted ever since the day they met.
He had shout-outs for Ms. James, and also for Mr. Green – "my pastor" he called him. The set closer was that damnable rascal, that lowdown after-hours bar closer, "The Thrill is Gone", and maybe it’s that sentiment of impermanent love that helped drive home the wonder of the man’s seeming perpetuity and timeless artistry. Again, a honking horn section punctuated Lucille’s moans. Lyrics to an earlier song had declared, "I’ll roam this highway ‘til I die" and as a spoken aside, he assured the crowd, to roaring applause, "I’m gonna do
this ‘til I die, folks." We'll be listening long after that.
