A year and a half later: the gangrape in West Palm Beach

Can you believe it's already been a year and a half since this:

WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. - Mother and son huddled together, battered and beaten, in the bathroom — sobbing, wondering why no one came to help.

Surely the neighbors had heard their screams. The walls are thin, the screen doors flimsy in this violence-plagued housing project on the edge of downtown.

For three hours, the pair say, they endured sheer terror as the 35-year-old Haitian immigrant was raped and sodomized by up to 10 masked teenagers and her 12-year-old son was beaten in another room.

I recently came across this great commentary by Rod Dreher on the subject. That's worth reading.

I had a similar occurrence to Dreher. I was in middle school out in Wellington and kids were pegging me with gumballs (doesn't sound painful, but when they hit you in face, eyes, etc. it really hurts). It was in my English classroom. Ms. Warren saw it and ignored it. That set the stage for the rest of my middle school career because at the moment I realized that I wasn't safe. That whatever happened would be up to me to stop, because the adults were too scared to do anything.

100 Confessions: The Authors that Drive Me

(12)My love of writing stems from two very different writers: J.R.R. Tolkien and Stephen King. One's a high-literature writer, one's a pop writer. One wrote fantasy, one writes horror. But both are people who specialize in writing stories of hope. Stephen King may seem an odd choice.

Here's an excerpt from "God in Popular Culture" by Andrew Greeley:

"You're writing religious stories," I accused Stephen King at a Literary Guild cocktail party in New York.
"Of course I am," he agreed. "Most people don't believe me, but that's exactly what I'm doing."
"Anyone who writes about hope," I continued, "is writing about religion."
"Absolutely. Sometimes I wish I was Catholic like my wife. You people have great images of hope. But you almost have to be raised with them."
Thus my theory of sociology of religions was summarized and validated in a brief exchange of dialogue.
King writes stories of hope, maybe only a little hope--as in Cujo in which things got better, not much, but a little better--but still hope. In his non-fiction study of horror literature, King contends that the appeal of the field to readers is that they are scared stuff but still survive and thus experience a hint that one does survive, no matter how great the terror.

100 Confessions: DVD Addiction

(11) I enjoy watching DVD season's back to back. It's my drug of choice. When I began my working life after getting married I found my evenings--well, oddly empty. No homework. No clubs. Even if I did my daily creative writing, that only took up an hour of my time. Mimi and I decided we'd try to some of these "hit" shows and see if they really were any good. We started with the first disc of LOST, which we rented from Blockbuster. Since then, we've been through 24, Heroes, Gossip Girl, How I Met Your Mother, Arrested Development. Currently? We're going through Bones (via Netflix), and Smallville (via cheap prices at Best Buy).

100 Confessions: The Greg CounterBalance Diet

(10) I think people get way to worked up over dieting. Just work out more, ride your bike to work, or (gasp) walk to work. In my high school I would hear people talk about going on a diet and I'd be like "dude, why don't you just do a sport?" Possible objections: diets are healthy.
Let me speak for my own diet. You can eat cheeseburgers, pizza, chocolate cake, all of the above. But when your done, balance it out with a piece of fruit. You counterbalanced the unhealthy food with healthy food so your good again.

100 Confessions: Washing Machine Misconduct

(9) From time to time, I wash things that don't survive being washed. And then I usually throw them in the dryer as well. This doesn't just included those "dry-clean" only clothes that end up coming out 3rd-grader sized but also cell phones, thumb drives, car keys (with electric clicker), etc.

Can't we all just get along?

What's the deal with these folks?

100 Confessions: Travel Anxiety 2

(8) I can't sleep on planes. It's not a fear of flying. My father's a pilot for Continental Airlines and I grew up loving planes. The entire experience is exciting for me, the preparation, the take off, the landing. But I've done it so many times over the years that I can't rightly chaulk it up to excitement either. Maybe it's the uncomfortable seats?

100 Confessions: Travel Anxiety

(7) I get anxious before I travel. I usually have trouble sleeping the night before hand and when I wake up in the morning, I practically jump out of my bed at the alarm. By the time, I've taken my wound-up self out of the house, to the airport and past security, I'm usually exhausted. So exhausted I would normally sleep but can't because of number 8.

100 Confessions: Slaughtered Songs

(6) I enjoy making up new lyrics to timeless songs, essentially ruining them for others forever. Not complete songs, of course, just the most memorable parts and I randomly sing them to myself in front of student, co-workers, friends, family. I'm convinced they'll never forgive me.

A Christmas example:

"Christmas Shoes" Original:

"Sir, I want to buy these shoes,
For my momma please.
It's Christmas Eve
and these shoes are just her size.
Can you hurry sir?
My Daddy says there's not much time

You see, she's been sick for quite a while
And I, know these shoes will make her smile
And I, want her to look beautiful
If Momma meets Jesus tonight."

"Christmas Shoes" Post-Greg Slaughter:

"Man, I'm gonna take des shoes,
For ma hommies please.
It's Christmas Eve
and these shoes are just my size.
Can you hurry, dude,
ma hommies say there ain't much time.

Cause I really want to get away
And I, know the cops are on their way
And I, really want to take des shoes
In case, I hit the slammer tonight."

Yes, Virginia, There is...

I've of course heard the famous newspaper story before. But never before this year has it been so publicized. I heard about this article on three different occasion. What makes an editorial in the New York Sun from 1897 so pertinent today?

First, here's the story from the Newseum website:

Eight-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York's Sun, and the quick response was printed as an unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1897. The work of veteran newsman Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history's most reprinted newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages in books, movies, and other editorials, and on posters and stamps.

Virginia's letter to the editor:

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."

Here's an excerpt of the response:

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

An amazing call for faith that has transcended the ages. Merry Christmas one and all!

Faith as a Unifier or Divider?

I read this article in USA Today and was reminded of this study.

Yes, religion can be a forum for people of different discussions to converse...if they go to the same Church. I'm not sure how often that's the case. I hope for the sake of our national conversation that Mr. Thomas is right. But he certainly has the right thesis:

People are pack animals. We need one another. From the earliest chapters of Genesis we read that it is not good for people to be alone. People need community. Only in community are we fully human.

There are lots of places we go looking for community: bars, golf courses, civic clubs. But it's hard to find real community. Especially since the advent of air conditioning, VCRs, home computers, video games and iPods. Forget gated communities. Most of us live gated lives.

How World War II happened...

At least, according to Robot Chicken.

100 Confessions: Snow

(5) I become a dork around snow. Snowmen, snow angels, snow forts: all open territory.

Alice in Wonderland: A Review

So I recently re-read Alice in Wonderland, a book I haven’t read since childhood. Coming back to the novel now, I’ve noted a few things:

(1)Influence of Opium- it never seemed odd to me as a child that Alice struggled with being “too big” and “too small” throughout the course of the novel. And the only way Alice could attempt to regulate her size was by eating cakes and drinking certain potions. The problem of course is that her size is in continuous flux, so she has to keep taking potions and eating the cakes. Some scholars seem to think Carroll (actually known as Charles Dodgeson) had an addiction problem to opium.

(2)Use of the genre “Literary Nonsense”- yes it’s actually a genre. All the characters in the book use lines of reasoning that make little sense, but all are too stubborn to re-think their reasoning (perhaps a subversive statement about 19th century Britain?). One of my favorite passages from the book:

“I’m beginning to think that Mad Hatter is quite mad,” said Alice.
“Of course,” said the Cheshire Cat. “I’m mad, you’re mad, we’re all mad.”
“Well, excuse me,” Alice said indignantly, “but how do you know I’m mad?”
“If you weren’t mad, you wouldn’t be here.”

Madness was also a key subject of Dodgeson’s life. He suffered from epilepsy and mental disorders for most of his life and was, at times accused of madness. Also, his mother died of an inflammation of brain while he in his first semester at Oxford University.

(3)Integration of English school lessons- I recognized on this reading, just how many lessons are given through the course of the novel. Some have noted that these lessons were meant for young 14-year-old Alice Liddell, for whom the book is presumably named. Of course they also say there was a problem with Dodgeson’s relationship with young Alice. It’s worth noting that not to many books about little girls talk about their breasts. Alice in Wonderland does.

Tales from DC: Unity

I've lived in Washington DC long enough to see that it is, as the saying goes "Two Cities." There's Washington: that famed center of pomp and power; and DC the land of crime and generational poverty. In an essay by one of my students this past semester, he said that Washington was divided "if not racially, at least socially." And I think that's fair. Living off Anacostia on the green line is very different than living off DuPont Circle on the red line. They may as well be two cities.

But I do believe that sometimes the city is one. There's two things we all have in common here in DC: that were all different and we're all here. Maybe that's enough.

A few weeks back, I was on the yellow line headed from Columbia Heights to Chinatown. And I saw something that's stuck with me.

It's a typical metro scene.

I'm sitting down behind a large, graying Caucasian man. He's wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jacket and hat. He's staring out the metro at the nothing that whizzes by through the tunnels. Two black girls are sitting in front of him chit-chatting with their mouths while their eyes are glued to their phones. They're hands pass expertly over the phones, sending text messages perhaps. An older white woman with a sour face is standing, holding onto the rails. Her Georgetown Medical Center tag sways with the tilting of the metro. There's a Hispanic girl also standing, examining her long green fingernails. At Shaw-Howard, an elderly black woman in an electric scooter wheels on. She has oxygen tubing attached to her nose and it flows back to a steel container hooked to the back of her scooter. It takes her a while to maneuver the scooter so that she can easily drive off when we get to her stop.

We pass the Mt. Vernon Square metro station. The metro tilts harder than most. The older lady from Georgetown Medical Center is holding onto the rail with two hands now. Suddenly, the metro jerks to almost a complete stop. The force of it makes the girl with the long fingernails and the woman from Georgetown cling to the rail. But the woman in the electric scooter tumbles to the ground. Her steel oxygen container flies down the metro's center aisle. The scooter pins her to the floor. She cries out. Her body begins shaking under the scooter. For a moment, everyone is still. Not quite able to believe what we're seeing. The metro starts moving again.

The man in the Philadelphia Eagles jacket leaps to his feet and rushes to the woman's side. He shouts "Somebody call for help!"

I hit the red emergency button. I've never used it before. It looks old and rusted. I don't believe it works. There appears to be a speaker so I'm not sure what to do. I push it down and try talking into it: "Hello? We need some help back here...a woman fell...I guess you should get an ambulance." The speaker is dead. No response. I keep pressing it, trying to get it to work.

Once we get to Chinatown the metro begins to grind to a halt. The man in Eagles jacket, the girl with the long fingernails and the woman from Georgetown Medical Center are all around the woman now. An athletic young black man in expensive workout clothes rushes from the back of the train. He and the man in the Eagles jacket lift the scooter off the old woman. Then the woman from Georgetown and the Hispanic girl try to lift the elderly woman. When they can't get her up, the two young black girls put down their cellphones to help and manage to get her back into her scooter. The Hispanic girl breaks a nail and doesn't notice. The woman from Georgetown crawls under the seats to get the steel container.

The doors open. A large batch of commuters try to plow in the doors all at once, but are faced with an elderly woman convulsing in her scooter. A woman from the metro authority tells them to back out of the way. She's holding a walkie-talkie and telling them to bring EMTs down into the metro. She seems annoyed--possibly because of the young guy who kept pressing the emergency button.

The woman from Georgetown returns with the steel container. The girl with the fingernails is rubbing the elderly woman's back, cooing to her that everything will be alright. The two black girls have retreated backwards but only by a step. They want to do more but don't know what to do. The young athletic man and the man with the Eagles jacket step back to let the woman from Georgetown reconnect the oxygen container and strap it back on the scooter.

When she's done, she rubs the elderly woman's back as well and kneels down to be face-to-face with her. The old woman hides her face and her body continues to shake, not longer from fright or pain, but, I think, shame. She seems to be sobbing. The Hispanic girl and white woman's hand touch several times as they rub her back and tell her everything will be okay. They don't seem to notice. The woman from the Metro authority manages to convince the woman to wheel her scooter out of the metro. Before she does, her crying picks up and she shouts "Thank you." It has a southern twang, drenched in her tears.

We all get off the metro. Everyone lingers around the woman for a moment longer than they needed to. Part of it was sympathy I think, but part of it was also that we'd done something together. Something good.

Commuters are beginning to complain about the transition time. A young professional behind me mutters, "In New York, they do this much faster. They don't know how to do this stuff."

Part of me wants to tell him to go back to New York, because what I saw in the metro convinced me that Washington DC as a whole does know how to do this stuff.

Upon further urging, everyone begins to leave. Our metro train departs empty so we can get another one. I watch the two black girls leave. They're holding their cellphones in their hands but not using them and their chit-chat is more somber now. The hispanic girl still hasn't noticed her nail, but she shrugs her purse further up her shoulder and goes to leave as well. The man in Eagles jacket shakes hands with the young athletic black man and they part ways. The only one who stays is the woman from the medical center who continues to rub her back and promises to stay with her until the EMTs come.

Best Concert Ever?

Who's coming down the chimney?

The family's clergy could not be reached for comment.

Ten Coolest Movie Scenes

#6- The Battle of Carthage

This was just a classic scene. The story of the fight itself was that the gladiators move. But dudes, they forgot that they put MAXIMUS out in the field. Using some Roman tactics, they manage to beat out the "Romans."

Not only does Maximus showcase some pretty tight twirling with his sword (not seen in recent years except during band competitions) and cause massive amounts of gore to the delight of male watchers, but story wise, this is a pretty riveting scene.

100 Confessions: Christmas

(5) I have a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree that I put up in my office every year. It came as a package deal with a "Good Grief!" Mug. Ps. Charlie Brown Christmas came out in 1965. It movie spoke the commercialization of the holidays even back then...

100 Confessions: Bottled Water

(4) I think bottled water is a total scam. Think about it. Who could come up with a better business model this? Fiji, Aquafina--they're essentially selling something that technically you can get for free. Somehow the powers that be have managed to make a bottled water seem more "natural" than that out of tap water from a filter. (Think about the carbon imprint of the jets that carry the water from Fiji to North America)Seriously? We're just paying to appear healthy and appear concerned about appearing healthy.

100 Confessions: Clarissa Explains It All

(3) As an elementary kid, I had a secret crush on Clarissa from "Clarissa Explains It All." I never watched the show of course because I didn't want anyone to think I was a wuss. But I would watch every show leading up to it, so I could catch the first five minutes just because "I forgot to turn off the TV." I also got pretty excited when a preview for the show would come on. The long blonde hair-done in an eighties bop, the huge hoop earrings, there was just so much to love...

100 Confessions: Scented Candles

(2) Lighting scented candles makes me feel more artistic. No, I can't explain it. But when i sit down to do creative writing, there's something about lighting a candle that stimulates my mind ("Is this what Tolkien did before he started writing?" "Did Hugo start out by lighting the candle on his desk?") Of course, what often happens is I forget about the candle, leading to a mass seepage of wax all over my desk, paper goods, carpet, etc. Cleaning it up makes me feel much less artistic.

100 Confessions: Benadryl

(1) Benadryl gives me really weird dreams. True confession: I took some benadryl last night and had a dream where mom killed my dad with a brand-spankin-new Dell XPS computer. Now the killing isn't necessarily a far-fetched part of the dream (they are undergoing a divorce), but the dream went like a murder mystery. When I came upon the broken computer, I remember my stomach dropping ("Of course! That's how she killed him!")

Another time I had a benadryl induced dream where I was playing hide-and-seek with Darth Vader in a Publix grocery store. He eventually found me and shot me in the head with a table saw.

GopherLink! Anti-religious fervor in online social networking websites. Do you Digg it?

GopherLink! Who would have thought? The day is here! Get Super Nintendo character magnets and bag tags here.

Randomness I'm Thankful For

These are the things I'm thankful for. Without these in my life, I wouldn't be who I am:

My Dharma Chalupa Mug-- It may be one of a kind. After it was offered through the Apropos of Something blog during his yearly "Lostvivor" series, CafePress shut it down. I'm one of the elite few who received one before hand. It's currently my favorite mug for my morning coffee and newspaper reading.






Little Nemo DreamMaster- rediscovered in Greg's boxes, this Nintendo game (8-bit NES--very retro) was amazing for it's time. Narrative, intertactivity, immersive content, all the theory elements that now get played out in MMORPGS (like World of Warcraft) and the Wii. It was also rich with intertextuality. The original story of course comes from the comic "Little Nemo in Slumberland" which was a turn of the century funnies page thrill. It also might explain why it never caught on enough for a sequel. Not to many 80-year-olds played the regular Nintendo.





The Brothers K- out of my entire collection of books, this is one of the few where I can honestly admit that I would not be who I am without it. This book made me think, laugh out loud and several times (more than I care to admit), the book made me cry. It's a powerful tale of a seventh-day Adventist family raised in faith bubble coming to grips with the real world and learning to rediscover faith in new ways. Powerful stuff.





My '67 Ford Mustang- I killed the engine a year ago after I blew a head gasket. It's sitting under a tarp on a concrete slab at my Dad's farm in North Florida. And that's just fine. When I've got my degrees under my belt, I'm going down there to get that car fixed up and then I'm going to drive it to my new campus. Yes, I'm going to be that professor with the cool car. I couldn't find a good picture of Christine on this harddrive. But in her better days, my car looked much like this. But with Krager wheels.



"It's A Wonderful Life"- Indeed it's a Thanksgiving tradition: Macy's Parade in the morning, (Mimi leaves on the dog show if a Cocker Spaniel is competing), then the movie It's a Wonderful Life in the evening. It remains one of the most central stories of my life, putting into context that which is really important. My parents made me watch it as a kid during one Christmas season. I hated it. Then later in my high school days, I watched it again and was struck by the rich narrative of the story. The story of how the movie itself became classic is interesting in it's own right. Originally, it flopped because people expected it to be a comedy. It's a Wonderful Life is a dark movie. But that's my kind of movie after all, melancholy with the touch of hope.

Facebook in Real Life

You never really think about the social norms that take place in Facebook until you try to think of the equivalent actions in real life...

24: Redemption

Jack Bauer's Back...

"24" really hit it's stride as a counter-terrorist show released in the wake of Sept. 11. Is it still relevant?

Let's see if this time Kiefer Sutherland can spend more time on the set and less time behind bars.

Tales from DC: Stuffing the Turkey

By popular request: Greg's newest embarassing/inappropriate statement
(This again raises the issue of Greg's ability to survive in the nation's most PC city)

On a trip to the National Press Club for friday night tacos, the students began discussing the next days' Thanksgiving Day festivities and talking about the different ways they enjoy their dinner cooked, specifically with the stuffing or without.

One said, "I like the stuffing in the back, sucks up the moisture."

Another, "It's harder to make that way. And I don't like stuffing in the butt."

Me: "I like it in the butt."

[Uproarious laughter]

It took a moment for the double-entendre to hit, but I got it. Yeah. Didn't mean it like that, but the students sure got a kick out of it. (One laughed so hard his head turned red). I'd talk about the possibilities this could hold considering my future understanding of stuffing during the holidays, but I think this is one of those downward spirals that can't be recovered.

Leave that one behind...

When Toys Come to Life...

Hmmm...I guess as a kid we just kind of assumed we'd like our toys if they had a personality. This YouTube video captures that fallacy in that line of thinking...
(Thanks to Ian for pointing this out)

Tales from Palm Beach: Bad Date

Waiting for the bus today, I hit the wayback machine in my head and found myself remembering the cruel cruel days of singlehood (I really don't envy the single) and one of the misadventures I had there.

In my sophomore year of college, I went on a date with a girl I worked with. I use the word "date" loosely since it was one of those ambiguous "let's-go-outs" that just in the end leads to awkwardness and confusion. It was the typical coffee-movie date. Matchstick Men was the movie. No, I don't know what I was thinking.

We were only a little into the movie when my date told me she had to go to the bathroom. I watched her go out and then realized that now I had to go too. So I got up, went into the bathroom and got into one of the stalls. It was then that I had a startling realization:

There were no urinals when I came in here.

I peaked through the crack in the door, and sure enough there was a girl doing her makeup. Yep. I was in the girl's bathroom. Even worse, I was there with my date.

 How am I going to get out of here? I stepped back and tried to formulate a plan. Eventually, I decided I'd wait until it got quiet, rush out of the bathroom and run into the men's bathroom (to wash my hands there instead--I'm an idiot, not a pig.)


When everything was quiet, I opened the door with a squeak and then rushed out toward the entrance. I ran face-first into a young woman whose forehead immediately wrinkled at the sight of me. She looked at me, looked up at the sign, looked at me, looked at the sign. Then she burst out laughing.

I ran past her and hid in the men's bathroom. After a good handwashing and series of self-depricating thoughts, I walked out of the bathroom just as my date was leaving. She had an odd smile on her face, but didn't say anything. We got back to the movie and the movie continued on and still she didn't say anything.

Did I really get away with this?

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something felt wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it at first. I felt my pockets. My cellphone was gone. I looked around my seat and must have muttered, "Where's my cellphone?"

My date responded, "Where do you think you could have left it?"

I had a pretty good idea actually. I leaned back in my chair, shook my head and just sighed. There was no way I could sneak into the ladies' room again. I told her. She burst out laughing, drawing the attention of everyone in the auditorium. At the end of the date, she checked the ladies' room, I checked the men's. Very romantic.

It wasn't my best showing.

"Um...yes, I'll take the usual..."

So I've waited my entire life for this day.
This morning, I got to work with my head still pounding from a marathon 40-page paper editing the previous day. Still talking in morning grunts, I went to make coffee upstairs and opened up the coffee container to fine only dust.
Empty.

"Eh."
So I walked on over to the locale coffee shop. The lady behind the counter smiled at me when I got there and gave me a nod. By the time, I got to the front, I decided to go out on a limb.
"I'll take the usual."
She nodded. "Small latte, 2 percent." And rang me up.

And here I thought it only worked in the movies. Come to think of it, is it a good thing that I'm at a coffee shop enough to have a usual?

Compare Contrast: Porn Movies v. Christian Movies

Heard in class the other day:

Boss: "You know Christian movies and porn movies have more in common than you think--

(Class sits in stunned silence)

Boss: "Both are done on a small budget, both have bad acting and you always know how they're going to end."

To which I add that both are also sold in special bookstores and no one admits watching them.

XoXo Gossip Girl

Alright, it's weird and I can admit it. I think I like Gossip Girl. I've been warned that strange TV addictions like this can happen, but I was fairly convinced (after watching the pilot more than a year ago) that this would be the last show I would watch. My wife, Mimi, suggested we rent it so we could be up to speed with what my former youth group kids were watching. Sounds good right? Educator keeping up with kids.

The first disc went by uneventfully. I kept thinking to myself: "Man these girls are just snobs. Phhh! Like I'd want to live on 'upper-east side.'"

But by the end of disc two, something scary happened. I began to have different sorts of thoughts: "Man, Jenny really is an up-and-comer. Blair better watch out, or the princess will lose her throne," "Gossip Girl is always open on Jenny's computer...could she be...no!
Too easy. They won't introduce her until, like the LAST episode. And
it'll be Serena," and "Chuck Bass!? What is Blair thinking? Spotted: Total idiot!"

So in true form, I have decided to outline the factors that have led to this:

(1) Catfights- Catfights are like car accidents. You don't want to look, because you know what you'll see. But you have to look anyway. Blair says something to Serena. Then Serena lets it slip to Jenny then it makes it back to Blair and it is on. The cruelty and meanness of these fights makes you want hide under the couch, hoping not to incur the wrath waiting for the characters, but you have to watch it happen.

(2) Guys you can cheer for- in some shows, the guys are so ridiculously portrayed, you wonder if the writers have ever actually had a conversation with some one of the opposite sex. But in Gossip Girl, you find yourself thinking: "you know, Dan's just a pretty cool guy. I would have totally punched Chuck Bass for that," or "Rufus may not be the most successful musician, but he's living the dream."

(3) Alien Culture- coming from the guy who did a stint in a trailer park during college, this is a completely different world. The riches of course are beyond my comprehension, ("Oh sure, let's just ride the limo around New York until we see someone we know!)  but I feel like I'm understanding my wife to a much better extent.

When we reached the "Masked Ball" episode, I told Mimi: "Masked Balls are only cool if the Phantom of the Opera shows up. This is just going to be the classic case of mistaken identity because someone will switch masks."

To which Mimi responded, "Oh this is so fun!"

(4) Gossip Girl's Got Sass- At first, I thought the narrator (the mysterious Gossip Girl blogger) was really annoying, but what can I say, she's got attitude. I find myself waiting to hear what she says. "Spotted: Friendship in flames! Looks like things are going a little heated in the upper-east side."

GopherLink! Colorado Radio Station offers "political ad breaks" for those who have been pounded by political ads from every conceivable candidate. See them here.

GopherLink! Tired of drop dead election coverage? Check out the new Guitar Hero ad done ala Risky Business.

Environmental Storytelling and Mickey Mouse

Over the weekend, I traveled to Orlando for a friend's wedding (Allison LaForte, of WJC fame). My wife and I, as recovering Floridians, promised we wouldn't end up at Walt Disney World.

Last day of the trip. Three hours to spare. Where did we end up? Disney.

Disney thrives on what media theorist Henry Jenkinscalls "environmental storytelling"--creating an immersive environment of images on every side so people get the sense that they are "there." By immersive, I mean that you are drawn into it. You can't go through adventure land without running into wild-west themed rides or seeing Clint Eastwood-esque saloons. And, of course, all those places feature characters from Disney lore. 

We ended up at Downtown Disney (I've been there a million times, but how can you go to Orlando and not do something Disney? We just gave up). As we walked through the LEGO area of Downtown Disney, I began spouting incomprehensible dork language at her: "Don't you see how this is environmental storytelling? Look at the all the figures! See how they add to the immersive experience!" Luckily, she's used to this by now. But sure enough there was a statue of a tourist family there, designed so they looked as if they were made of legos. There was a shark statue coming out of the water, also designed to look like it was made of legos. Further in, there was a sea dragon coming out of the water that, yes, was also looked like it was made of legos. It made it almost impossible to get through the area because so many people wanted to take pictures with the different lego statues.


Granted, this is just the Downtown area, and it features nowhere near the images one experiences in the main disney parks (you even eat your lunch/dinner in places themed to fit the area of the park you're in).

If environmental storytelling is an art, Disney's got it under wraps. Consider an ad campaign they did a few years ago with the help of Annie Leibovitz (she of half-naked Miley Cyrus fame).





 

























































And the message of these advertising pictures is written right on the photos. All of them are variations of the phrase: "Disney is the place where dreams come true." In other words, if Scarlett Johansson can be Cinderella, you can too--at Walt Disney World.

Tales from DC: Morning Conversation

So the other morning, I was having my breakfast (newspaper, Raisin Bran, coffee -- in that order left-to-right) when I received a call from my boss.
I looked at the time. 7:45 a.m.?

Boss: Greg, I have potentially the strangest request you've ever received from your boss.

Greg: (pause) I'm going to wear underwear today. I don't care what you say.

Boss: You're CLOSE! You're so unbelievably close!

Greg: I...am?

Boss: I bought some new stone-washed jeans from amazon.com. I was driving into work, felt a draft, and when I looked down they had RIPPED OPEN. And it's in a strategically inappropriate place.

Greg: Oh.

Boss: My wife is too far away to get me pants before our morning meeting. I know there's that new shopping mall near your house--

Greg: You want me to buy you pants?

(Greg pulls phone away from mouth to laugh aloud)

Boss: I wear 40 x 32's in a LOOSE FIT. I don't like them too tight.

(Uncomfortable mental image)

Greg: Should I bill this to work?

Boss: I think it would be hard to sell this as a work expense.

Greg: You'll have trouble giving lectures without pants. It's one of those expected necessities in the classroom nowadays.

Boss: True...But why don't I just pay you back?

Tales from DC: Bears in the Garbage

At the Columbia Heights metro stop this morning.

Yeah, police were confused too. Homeless polar bears eating out of a garbage can?

I think there might be a message here.

Worst Ideas of All Time: Guitar Praise

Worried about the potentially destructive power of secular music? Kids playing dangerous video games? No Problem! Check out Guitar Praise!

No I'm not joking.

Tales from DC: The Service Project

True story: students are required to do community service in the program. Yesterday a student came in talking about his service project and so I asked him how he liked it.

"I work with seriously mentally-handicapped adults..."

(pause)

"...tomorrow we're taking them to the zoo."

And I burst out laughing. Award for worst person in the world? Yes that's for me.

Tales from DC: The Best Quote Ever

My boss said something yesterday that I have promised to pester him with for his entire life. Thus I need to share it in this hallowed space.

Wait. That wasn't enough buildup. This is quite possibly the greatest quote I have ever heard my boss give in front of a student. If tomorrow, peace rained over all the earth, this quote would possibly still be the best news of the week. In the midst of a talk about Christian fundamentalism, he dropped this douzey.

"The Scofield Reference Bible is the Kama Sutra of Fundamentalism."

When he said it, I stopped him with a general "What??!"

He looked at me straight faced "It's REAL important."

GopherLink! Star Wars III: Backstroke of the West! Some misleading Chinese captions here.

GopherLink! Jon Stewart the most trusted man in America? Read the New York Times piece Read more here.

RandoMusing: Last night, I watched Blades of Glory. Only a fool would assume that the title insinuated a mix between a Wesley Snipes vampire movie and a civil war epic...but I think it would have been a better movie. Figure skating?

I did continue to hold out hope that the South would rise again in the middle of a competition. Or that vampires would come out of their hiding places in the skating rink. Alas. See the Ninja interview here.

Hollywood Still Trying to Get Religion

It's hard to forget the wild Christian rage of 2004.

We had a double-dose of Jesus in pop-culture that year: The Passion of the Christ released by famous sometimes-glorious-sometimes-fallen star Mel Gibson, and the hip-gnostic fiction book Da Vinci Code. Suddenly, Christianity was on the news, on magazine covers.

Also in November of that year, evangelicals turned out in record numbers to re-elect President George W. Bush. They voted for him in such a dramatic percentage that it literally turned the tide of the election.

I picture the executives in Hollywood scratching their head after the success folks had marketing to what I'll call the God Crowd--perhaps final realizing that more than half of America actually believes that stuff. Since then, there have been marked attempts to tap the God Crowd. Not always just to make more money, but at times, perhaps  to be fair-and-balanced.

As a student of this sort of this, I try to keep up with it. Here are some notable recent attempts:

- The Television Show "Greek" on ABC Family--The key is the depiction of the character Dale, who has no problem evangelizing Greek fraternities and then telling his Greek roommate, "I'm saving your peeps from eternal damnation." There are times when Dale is made to fit a very unfair stereotype (besides being an evangelical, he has a confederate flag, plays in a Christian band, and is depicted as a pretty big nerd). But there is an episode in particular where the main character has no one else to go to and Dale opens his arms to him.

ABC Family appears to be trying to make attempts to reach the God Crowd with this show. Since ABC Family is a subsidiary of Disney, you can guess which of Dale's personal beliefs they make fun of: his beliefs about homosexuality, pre-marital sex, drinking, etc. Disney of course is well known for a more "Christianity as Americana" belief system (read Mark Pinsky's wonderful book "The Gospel According to Disney", if you want to get a sense of Disney's God Talk).


- The Television Show "Bones" on FOX-- I've become used to the crime drama formula: religious = crazy. If a priest shows up on a crime drama, 10 to 1 it's because he killed, raped, or abetted one of the above. But the stone cold FBI agent Seeley Booth in "Bones" is a devout Roman Catholic. Several episodes have ended with him sitting in a Church, processing the episode's new crazy occurrence. Not only that, but his faith is depicted in a positive way. His partner, the all-science, all the time Temperance Brennan, actually is the one who comes across as narrow-minded when she attempts to attack him for his faith.

Oh and by the way, the gratuitous episode with the priest as a suspect? For once, the priest didn't do it.


-"Henry Poole is Here" --Released this  weekend, this Luke Wilson redemptive movie tells the story of a man who has a miraculous Jesus stain appear in his house. It begins to shake up the neighborhood and perhaps his own faith. This is definitely an attempt at the God Crowd but has a distinct chance of coming across as too preachy. Check out a review here.

-"Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian"-- Another blockbuster Walden Media Narnia movie. This one seems like a given after the success of the "Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." In this case, all the writers really had to do in order to please the God Crowd was be true to the book. They mostly succeeded, although they felt the need to add some steamy moments between Susan and Caspian as well as some extra battles that weren't really in the book. In all fairness, this was probably the hardest in the series to make into a movie because it deals less action, and deals more narrative on the big questions of faith.

-The Television Show "Secret Life of an American Teenager" on ABC Family-- Centered around the story of a 15-year-old who gets pregnant, the story is loaded with God talk. One of the two main families is evangelical. Two of the main characters attend Church together and at times try to invite other characters to events. Grace is the key character to watch in this show and she's depicted far more fairly than Dale in "Greek." She makes decisions we don't all agree with but comes across as generally caring and loving as well. This has been at the top of the iTunes "most downloaded" list ever since released as well. It will be interesting to see how this show progresses.

The National Enquirer and the future of journalism

When the story broke last week that Sen. John Edwards admitted an affair with filmmaker Rielle Hunter, the effects were more far-reaching than just his own political career. This case study proved once and for all that traditional media had lost their hold over other forms of media.

From the start, the Edwards scandal has belonged entirely to the alternative and new media. The tabloid National Enquirer has done all the significant reporting on it -- reporting that turns out to be largely correct -- and bloggers and online commentators have refused to let the story sputter into oblivion.

There was a time when tabloids could run stories about illegitimate children, naughty affairs, etc. and we would all just giggle and flip through them while waiting at a grocery checkout counter. But what happens when they report the news that a biased media is unwilling to report? I have speculated that in an age where blossoming reporters don't want to simply report, they want to opine, we're returning to the pre-penny press days where media was largely funded by political parties. To get the truth you had to read several newspapers. Are we looking at a future age where people will need to read a New York Post, New York Daily News...and the National Enquirer?

You know it's bad when only the tabloid paper is willing to look pass their own bias to report on something worthy of report.
I rarely find myself siding with Bill O'Reilly, but I think he had a legitimate point when he said last Monday: "I do know it were Mitt Romney instead of John Edwards, this would be on the front page of the New York Times."

Howard Kurtz, at the Washington Post, disagrees with me:

I don't think the party favoritism charge holds up. Yes, the media went hard after two Republican senators, Larry Craig (who pleaded guilty in that bathroom incident) and David Vitter (who admitted calling an escort service). But they also pounced on New York's Democratic then-governor, Eliot Spitzer (whose taste in prostitutes was revealed by the New York Times), and, famously, Bill Clinton (whose Monica Lewinsky mess was disclosed by The Post and hotly pursued by Newsweek).

The Elizabeth Edwards factor cannot be underestimated. The enormous public sympathy for a woman who campaigned for her husband, even as she battled an incurable form of cancer, extended to many of the reporters who followed and interviewed her on the trail. The emotional high point of the Edwards campaign came last year, when he and Elizabeth held a news conference to announce that her cancer had returned, but that he would not leave the race.

But as Tim Rutten at the Los Angeles Times noted, there were reasons to look past our sympathy for Elizabeth Edwards:

First, it was less than unlikely that Elizabeth Edwards was unaware of the allegations. (She says now she knew of the affair in 2006.) Second, Edwards' name has surfaced as a possible running mate for Barack Obama and as a possible attorney general or Supreme Court nominee -- posts in which character and candor matter. Finally, throughout his political career, Edwards has made his marriage a centerpiece of his campaigns.

Rutten goes on to describe Edwards' campaign reporters as "sheep...who meekly accepted Edwards' categorical dismissal of the Enquirer's allegations." There I disagree with Rutten. Several sources have told me they knew about the story but were disuaded by editors. It's easy to forget that reporters are people too. They have bills to pay, mouths to feed and bosses to answer to if they want to do the manage the first two.

Question raised: Does this place America in a position where the only news source willing to go after a sensitive story is the organization that usually handles Britney Spear's latest outburst of crazy?