Archives

Click here for the previous month's archive.
 This page displays the May 2004 archive. 
Click here for the next month's archive.

Daily upshowed

Actress Janeane Garofalo went on The Daily Show last night, promoting her new liberal talk show on Air America, the hopefully named (but hopelessly misnamed) The Majority Report. I haven't listened to it, but given her performance on Jon Stewart's show, I'd say hers is apt to be as lame as any of the right-wing ranters' shows.

After mentioning that Noam Chomsky was scheduled for an interview, and after some amusing badinage, Jon asked whether she thought that some of these thinkers and writers had not become so wrapped up in their viewpoint that they had become just as dogmatic as the people they oppose.

Garofalo waffaloed. That's only natural, she said, and referred to these polarized times. But she added nothing of interest to address Jon's concern. And then she lurched into her prepared topic, stating flatly that voting for Bush was a moral failure.

Now, I'm tempted to agree. Voting for Bush is something close to a moral failure. One is not obliged to vote for anyone, and since one's vote doesn't decide anything, there's no practical imperative to vote merely against a slightly greater evil — such, perhaps, John Kerry? (Perish that thought!) That being the case, why vote for a liar and bully who is intent on a never-ending war in Islamic backwaters?

But no one tempted to vote for Bush would be convinced by Garofalo not to vote for the man. Indeed, after hearing her politic non-answer to Jon Stewart's interesting question, the other point of view — no matter what that would be, including the vile Bush — looked just a little better.

Designations   |   May 4, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

Petrichor

This morning, surveying swaying trees in the wind, breathing in fresh air, newly cleansed, I thought how strange and wondrous it is not to live in a city. Or even a town. Civilization may be concentrated in highly populated areas, but we rarely wax eloquent about its smells. The stink of civilization is often worse than the stinks of nature. And on most days, like this one, nature does not stink at all, but kicks up a perfume.

Petrichor, actually. I've mentioned it before. I'll mention it again. I smell it often in the country, where it is rarely ruined by evaporating oil, or crowded out by sulphuric exhalations from passing cars.

Petrichor. I even like the sound of the word! And since it was coined fairly recently, its meaning is clear: the smell kicked up by rain hitting dry ground.

Earlier today I was struck by the freshness of a cool breeze over drying ground, and with the nearby trees ecstatically raising water to the sky, waving their branches in a joyful dance. Moments ago, the rains hit, and the perfume arose.

Now, I love the city. I love crowds. I love stores and theaters and fountains and sidewalks and carefully maintained lawns. But none of this compares to these moments in nature, best experienced far from stores and theaters and fountains and sidewalks and carefully maintained lawns.

And here, miles from any real city, I still go inside and connect with civilization, using Gutenberg tech as well as high tech.

Designations   |   May 4, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

The floppy finally flops?

Years ago, Steve Jobs pronounced the floppy disk dead, and unleashed a whole new series of consumer computers — the iMac — without floppy disk drives. Shocking, it was.

Now, six years later, Bill Gates is finally on board, conceding the point: I think this is the first time I can say that the floppy disk is dead, he declared.

The Seattle P-I article covering this breathtaking news never mentions Apple, of course, nor the fact that the technology that is now the clear choice to replace floppy disks was introduced to the market by Apple with its iMac. Apple rarely gets the credit.

If credit it really deserves. I still like floppies. I'm with Bill Gates on the nostalgia issue, at least:

"We enjoyed the floppy disk," Gates said. "It was nice. ... But because of compatibility reasons it sort of got stuck at the 1.44-megabyte level. Carrying them around and having that big, physical slot in machines, that became a real burden."

But it's more than nostalgia for me: I often carry floppies between work and office (I'm a pre-iMac — low-end — Mac guy), and my notebook is the ultraportable Duo, with no bulky floppy options, unless hooked up to a dock.

Oh, and by the way, though IBM invented the floppy, I believe it was Apple that made the floppies hard. (Insert sexual joke here — and try to work in the word Microsoft.)

Designations   |   May 5, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

The anti-Kerry press?

There probably is a bit of an anti-Kerry bias in the press, but does The Daily Howler understand it?

Is the press corps driven by liberal bias? Not when it comes to our White House campaigns. Four years ago, the press corps largely pandered to Bush while directing two years worth of slanders at Gore. . . . And how are matters going now, as Kerry prepares to square off with Bush?

And more:

Burns, Thomas, Pinkerton, Hall — all agreed that Candidate Kerry was getting slammed by the press. And pundit Neal Gabler made it unanimous. "The attacks against Kerry‹as Jane said, they are exactly the same attacks that were leveled against Al Gore, one smear fits all, four years ago," he said. Even on Fox, five pundits agreed — the press has been hammering Kerry.

And then comes the conspiratorial kicker:

Is the RNC setting the news agenda? Such claims can be quite hard to trace. But all five pundits seemed to agree. Kerry was getting beaten up good‹and the Dem was getting beaten up by "liberal" papers like the Times and the Globe.

But the suppposedly bad press that Kerry is getting is easy to explain. And the lenience with which Bush is treated is also plain as the nose on a spiteful face. It's partly (at the very least) the result of manners. Here's a commonly accepted norm: It's not polite to pick on the intellectually challenged, but the pompous are always fair game.

1. Gore was a pompous windbag
2. Kerry is even more pompous — or as Paul Jacob called him, terminally pompous
3. Bush too often seems like a mentally challenged lightweight.

These things being perceived even if not completely true, it explains why smart people in the press pick on Gore and Kerry more than Bush. No conspiracy theory needed. Kerry seems like the very epitome of a small-time politician as portrayed in a 1940s comedy. His locutions are so mannered as to seem unreal, forced. And when he tries to express humility it seems unnatural. His bearing signals a pretentious nature. And so he just begs for a pricking. Why kick at the pricks?

The question to ask is not why Kerry is being picked on. The question to ask is why Democrats jumped on the Kerry bandwagon to begin with. Why decide that this windbag was the most electable? There are easy answers here, too, but I'll save them for later.

Designations   |   May 6, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

Odd conversation

I've been feeling terrible recently, but while walking home last night, I stopped by at the local store and got involved in a long conversation with two vocal local yokels. I felt great for the two hours of the talk.

Towards the end, and to reinforce an idea not worth relating here, I brought up hard drug legalization. I made the usual points:

• were hard drugs made legal, normal business practice would prevent most overdoses (since people would know what dosages they were getting)
• were drug users not persecuted, and drugs allowed to hit their market price levels, few would need to steal to pay for their habit
• were drug pushers not persecuted, they would not have to bribe law enforcement officials and kill each other to maximize profits or even minimize loss
• were drugs no longer a legally bound obsession with police and judges, they would have fewer incentives for corruption
• the spectacle of mass imprisonment of peaceful people would no longer blight American society
• the rule of law could once again be upheld, as morally offensive practices such as property confiscation without trial could be stricken from the books

Immediately, my interlocutors both responded with something along these lines: everybody wants freedom without responsibility! I asked them what in my little spiel gave them any indication that I was against responsibility. We live in a too-irresponsible society right now; responsibility is the key thing to be recovered by drug legalization. In an effort to drive home this notion, I also made some less-than-usual points:

• people would find themselves forced to regulate their drug use on the basis of their own physical and emotional capacities, not on the basis of clumsy taboo and social stigma
• the general culture could stop viewing drugs in a primitive fashion (good drugs vs. bad drugs), but instead as pharmacological substances with benefits and dangers, and with varying results from person to person
• law enforcement could continue to crack down on risky driving behavior and domestic abuse, as is proper to defend people's rights, while not persecuting those who responsibly use drugs

My interlocutors shook their heads, called me an idealist. People just can't be responsible. I had early brought up the subject of the failed experiment of Prohibition, and both had expressed kind words for Prohibition.

The upshot is, they think most people are irresponsible. And yet, as I pointed out, one of them was drinking a beer as we spoke, and the other had talked of visiting bars. Apparently, it was other people who were the problem! They could handle one drug, alcohol, but the bulk of humanity could not.

One of my interlocutors kept on bringing up the spectacle of a drunk father beating up on his son. When I mentioned that I'd many a times had a drink and never beat up on anyone, the response was: but you don't have kids!

People defend their society's taboos in weird and irrational ways. This is not a new lesson, but an old one I keep relearning. Unfortunately, now as I write this, I feel sick again. But I don't know which drug would make me feel better. This is my usual response. I almost never take drugs — a fact that is also often used against me in the drug legalization debate! Oh, well.

Designations   |   May 7, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

[note: The sickness I referred to wound up giving me more pain in five hours than I've had most of my adult life. But after certain eructations (three buckets emptied), I'm on the mend.]

Remake

I went to see The Ladykillers last night, finally. I suspected that, like many another Coen brothers flick, this would work best on a big screen. Raising Arizona, after all, was much more impressive in a theater.

I was right, I think. I enjoyed the film, but may not have if I'd waited for it to appear on DVD. The beauty of the cinematography, the framing of shots, the general care given to locations and sets — these look much better on the big screen, and help tell the story, framing the comedy in a beautifully imagined world.

The same is true of Miller's Crossing, for instance. That scene where the boy leans over the corpse to dislodge a toupe — it's pretty good on a small screen, but sublime on the big.

I'm always amazed by the nature of the Coens' humor. They revel in locquacious monologues. Their juxtaposition of images is inventive and startling. Their range of reference and play ascends from the bowels to the brain — and back again.

Contrary to Roger Ebert, I think this is a good remake of the original 1955 British film. I enjoyed the over-the-top performances, including Hanks's parody of a Southern intellectual. I was not upset by the foul-mouthed young black hipster (or hippity-hoppity-ster). The final plot element, where the burglars try to kill the old lady, and instead kill each other off one by one, is funnier, I think, in the Coen brothers' version. And as much as I love Boccherini in the 1955 flick, the gospel music in this (if not the Renaissance music) is perfect. I rank the film above a number of other Coen comedies (The Big Lebowski and Hudsucker Proxy and Intolerable Cruelty) but lower than Raising Arizona — as well as the great gangster saga Miller's Crossing and the hard-to-classify crime story Fargo.

I didn't laugh out loud very often, but I was usually — smilingly — pleased.

Designations   |   May 9, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   FilmFlam

Choosing the next Unknown Comic

Designations   |   May 9, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   BBC News

Three disparate thoughts

1. Somewhere in the benighted South, a high school held three proms: one for the blacks, one for the whites, and another for the Latinos. There will be no justice until a fourth prom is held, however: one for those who listen and dance to good music, instead of soul or hip-hop, rock or saccharin pop, and whatever the crap it is that Latinos listen to.
2. An economic scholar has unearthed the word coined for the first taxes were imposed in North India, 400 years before the current era. They were known as bali [rhymes with gully]. Bala means strength, suggesting that bali means acquired by (superior) strength. In other words, as she puts it, extortion. This was apparently before P.R.; nowadays any plain meaning musty be buried under spin. Taxes mean, don't you know, acquired for the public good by men of unimpeachable character.
3. When we think of the phrase an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth we think of harsh ancient moralities that we've long outgrown, no? But in the Mid-East, today, all parties seem to practice two teeth for a tooth. They are not doing it in the civilized manner that Mosaic Law insisted (tooth-for-a-tooth at most) — that is, by the book — or as Murray Rothbard suggested &mdash only after civil court trial! They are doing it with anger, hatred, malice, and utter disregard for questions of individual guilt or innocence. And with extremity — taking life and limb. Vile barbarians all. (And I'm thinking Israel and Palestine as well as head-chopping Iraqis.)

Designations   |   May 12, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

Oh, and I liked the horse, too

Troy is a naturalistic retelling of The Iliad, with the gods never showing up to goad the heroes. I miss the gods. Had I known about the lack of the supernatural in the story prior to seeing the film, I would have probably postponed the viewing. (Isn't there a pagan version of Mel Gibson available?)

Still, as a spectacle it held my interest. The look is pretty good, though the feel is a bit off: one must allow for psychological anachronism in the film. With the whole history of film as precedent, I went along.

It was nice to see Brian Cox as Agamemnon. Eric Bana as Hector was quite effective. Orlando Bloom gets a few nice moments, including one of cowardice, and another where — as in The Lord of the Rings — he plays archer. But the film's pretty boys are outshone by other actors. Brad Pitt looks great, but I think Sean Bean would have been better in the role of Achilles — which would have opened up his role as Odysseus for an actor better at showing intelligence (say, Edward Norton). And Peter O'Toole as Priam was magnificent.

Diane Kruger has the toughest role, as Helen. Is she beautiful enough? Well, she's nice looking.... But she's most failed by the scriptwriter, who did not give her much to work with. In The Iliad its Paris' judgment you wonder over; in this film, its hers. You just have to accept her jilting of Menalaus for Paris as a given. And move on to better things.

The music by James Horner is, well, by James Horner: nothing to complain about, except for the final obligatory song, complete with American pop backbeat. Except for some percussion passages there was nothing here to suggest the ancient world, alas. A dozen other composers could have handled it better.

The spectacle itself was more than adequate, the thousand ships did seem impressive, the massing armies reminiscent of The Two Towers, minus the orcs. But too many of the individual combat scenes were filmed with the camera in the midst of the action; that is, very confusingly, jerkily, and annoyingly. I'm tired of this effect.

I was puzzled, though, by the geography. Troy is a walled city, yes. But it is sand and brush up to the main gate. I'm pretty sure this is not how ancient cities were. There were suburbs so to speak, and the Greek invaders would have set fire to the lower-class huts quickly and immediately.... Oh, well. In the late '70s, the TV show Battlestar Gallactica portrayed a ragtag fleet of private ships and the eponymous big cruiser; the ragtag fleet disappeared in most battle scenes, however, because they were inconvenient! I guess the viewer is supposed to forget such things when set to be entertained.

For all its faults (and they are many), I have to admit: I didn't get antsy in my seat, and I followed the story until the very end.

Still, I miss the gods.

Perhaps they'll be included as commentators on the DVD.

Designations   |   May 15, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   FilmFlam

Boycott Wednesdays!

The dunderheadedness of the average, economically illiterate American sometimes astounds me. Consider the boycott campaign against the oil companies, planned for next Wednesday. In a forwarded email, this is what I learned:

IT HAS BEEN CALCULATED THAT IF EVERYONE IN THE UNITED STATES DID NOT PURCHASE A DROP OF GASOLINE FOR ONE DAY AND ALL AT THE SAME TIME, THE OIL COMPANIES WOULD CHOKE ON THEIR STOCKPILES.

Note the lack of attribution, the passive voice. . . . And I'm not sure what it is to choke on a stockpile, but I get the drift. We can stick it to the oil companies if we all don't buy fuel on Wednesday:

AT THE SAME TIME IT WOULD HIT THE ENTIRE INDUSTRY WITH A NET LOSS OF OVER 4.6 BILLION DOLLARS WHICH AFFECTS THE BOTTOM LINES OF THE OIL COMPANIES.

Of course, no mention of decreasing overall demand that week. If I buy gasoline on the 18th and the 20th, I'm still obeying the terms of the proposed boycott, and the oil companies still get my money.

The boycott, as proposed, provides a one-day cash-flow problem for retail distributors of gasoline and diesel. Nothing else. If Americans refrain from filling up on Wednesday, they'll no doubt compensate by filling up early or late. The effect on overall demand would be zilch. (Well, due to mistakes it might be, say, negligible: forgetting to fill up on Tuesday and abiding by the boycott on Wednesday might cut down on consumption for a few people; that's all).

REMEMBER ONE THING, NOT ONLY IS THE PRICE OF GASOLINE GOING UP BUT AT THE SAME TIME AIRLINES ARE FORCED TO RAISE THEIR PRICES, TRUCKING COMPANIES ARE FORCED TO RAISE THEIR PRICES WHICH EFFECTS PRICES ON EVERYTHING THAT IS SHIPPED. THINGS LIKE FOOD, CLOTHING, BUILDING MATERIALS, MEDICAL SUPPLIES ETC. WHO PAYS IN THE END? WE DO!
WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE. IF THEY DON'T GET THE MESSAGE AFTER ONE DAY, WE WILL DO IT AGAIN AND AGAIN.

. . . and accomplish nothing. I'm surprised that people still come up with these bizarre proposals in reaction to even more bizarre, paranoid interpretations of economic fluctuations. Do people really think this is all caused by oil companies? The dislocations in the mid-east have nothing to do with it?

Boobus americanus lives and thrives — though he pays higher prices for gasoline. After reading this boycott proposal, I'm tempted to say he deserves to! (But I don't deserve to pay more, woe is me.)

Designations   |   May 16, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   ThinkingMatters

Queen bees and wannabes

I made a trek to the library today, and stopped to see a movie while in town. Mean Girls, written by Tina Fey, is surprisingly good. It takes a rather tired theme of the teen movie genre — mean-girl backstabbing and gossip getting out of hand — and improves on it with good acting, a decent script, and a somewhat fresh point of view.

So, how is it different from others of the genre? Well, I'm no expert, but from what I can tell, these films tend to be Afterschool Specials married to Coolness Porn. That is, the moral is usually uncomfortably juxtaposed to a prurient interest in the very object of criticism.

The film escapes this by being a bit smarter, a bit funnier, and a bit more observant. And still, there's room for one fart joke.

The star of the show, Lindsay Lohan, and her character, Cady Heron, probably account for the main reason the film doesn't suck. Lohan has talent, and the writing for her character is interesting. This is actually a teenager you might want to meet. How many teen film characters can you say that about? The essential reasonableness and charm of her character help anchor the viewer as she veers off into the brittle plastic of coolness. It also helps that Lohan, though cute, is not a dolled-up knock-out. Through most of the film — and even at her worst, at the apogee of cool — she does not come across as that staple of modern-day pop culture, the fake-boobed, tarted-up super slut. She's no Britney Spears, that is.

Not perfect, by any means. And really, it is more wholesome than I'd ever write it. I wish, for instance, that all "teen flicks" were as smart and caustic as Election. This one isn't. At the end, our heroine's participation in the net of lies that is teen popularity lands her favorite teacher under police scrutiny for drug trafficking. But it all turns out nicely, with forgiveness all 'round. If I'd been the writer, I'd probably have had the police find one reefer — left by a student — in the teacher's house, and the police seize her property without trial, under asset forfeiture laws. This would show the real consequences of the act in question, and would point to the viciousness not only of teens, but of adults — and high-minded adults, too.

Oh, well. If you want that kind of film, don't see Mean Girls.

But if you can make do with a funny, sunny, and slightly-more-observant-than-average teen girl flick, with few of the gaucheries of the genre, and the cliches kept to a minimum, then by all means see it.

Designations   |   May 17, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   FilmFlam

Soarin' not Sarin

The recent artillery shell-turned-roadside bomb was nearly a dud: the three-quarters of a gallon of sarin it contained apparently was mostly ineffective as a weapon, with only two American soldiers treated for minor exposure.

I am sure the war crowd is now whooping it up that the WMDs have at last been found, but on the face of it, this story indicates that the bomb was an improv job. I've long assumed that the A-Q terrorist groups have sarin and other agents in this lab or that. (As does the U.S.) We'll see if this recent explosion signals anything about S. Hussein's Iraqi WMD program. But the news story should get more play; we'll see how it plays out.

The big news story of the day, however, is that a non-governmental group has shot a rocket into space, though not into orbit.

The BBC story calls the rocket an amateur one, though getting something into space screams professional if you ask me.

The Private Space Age is about to begin in earnest. This, and not neo-imperialist squabbling with Islamic fundies — Bush's much-ballyhooed war on terrorism — is the next big chapter in human history.

And note the article's last sentence:

The achievement comes at a time when it is widely expected that the first private astronaut will go into space in the next few weeks.

Forget Bush's martial obsessions or Martian government boondoggle; invest in space.

Designations   |   May 18, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   ThinkingMatters

How young he looks!

I am often mistaken for being much younger than I actually am. People often guess a decade under my age. When buying an inexpensive chardonnay, not too long ago, I was carded; I chortled out with as much dignity as my forty-plus years on this earth allowed.

This latter misjudgment, of course, is more an artifact of Safeway's strict carding rules (if someone looks thirty or under, card 'm) than of any miraculous youthful appearance on my part. Still, I have aged well, so far. Why?

It's not my genes. My parents looked middle aged when they were my age.

It's not exactly healthy living, since I loathe exercise and eat in an erratic manner.

And it's not the metrosexual imperative always to over-groom. I choose dress, bathing, and style primarily for comfort and convenience, and secondarily not to offend anyone — pleasing people is far from my mind.

I attribute my youthful adequacy to one thing, or set of things: I've never been married, and never had children.

Oh, and I don't overindulge in any drug, save my current bête noir, caffeine. I know this is not much of a secret, but there you have it.

And yes: the value of this regimen (or lack thereof) will obviously diminish were I to drop dead tomorrow.

Designations   |   May 19, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

Proven right

If, say, two years ago, when I was writing my first attacks on the neo-imp policy known, hubristically, as The War on Terrorism, I had written what follows, I would have been pilloried, hounded, declared irresponsible, what-have-you:

By declaring a war not merely against those who trained, supported, and conspired with the 9/11 hijackers, but against all terrorists, the Bush administration has unleashed something it cannot control. It has justified to itself the idea of a war without limits. It will likely follow that the U.S. government will commit gross inhumanities, including not only mass murder but also torture.

I don't believe I mentioned torture. But I wrote pretty much everything else. And events have pretty much vindicated my position. And the position I did not advance — that such disrespect for limits could lead even to systematic torture — it too is vindicated.

A war on terrorism is a game plan for never-ending war. Because the means to fight all terrorists inevitably breed more terrorists, it allows not for a quick ending but no ending.

We have read and heard the logic of these neo-imperialist warmongers. And everywhere they do say they want to establish freedom around the world.

But the means they have chosen to establish freedom sows the seeds to grow something very different: chaos and strife. They are either fools for believing their rationales, or else knaves who desire the power that constant warfare ensures. It's probably a mix, varying from one imp to another. It may be that a few are completely honest, though wrong, wrong, wrong. But they are all dangers to peace and freedom. And deserve the boot.

Designations   |   May 20, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   ThinkingMatters

It's a pity, I think, that my best piece on the subject, War Without Limits, a column for Laissez Faire Books, has vanished into nothingnesss, deleted from all servers and somehow also from my computer. I suspect no conspiracy.

FIFO

We should apply a principle of inventory management to our representatives in office: first in, first out.

In other words, we need term limits. We've got 'em for the executive branch, and they are just as valuable for our nation's (and states') legislators.

Now, in business the point of FIFO is to maintain fresh inventory. In the case of the sell-outs in congress, we want to sell them before they sell us down the road.

Kudos to U.S. Term Limits for its good work on this vital issue. But America has a long way to go to keep up with business efficiency. Let's do it. FIFO, like KYFHO and TANSTAAFL, can be a principle of government yet.

Designations   |   May 21, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   Common Sense

Eternal sunshine

Love is the affliction we wish not on our worst enemies but on those we care about most.

The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind came back to the local theater, and I finally went to see it.

Now, I've seen many a strange and peculiar flick; recently I watched Hal Hartley's No Such Thing on DVD, and enjoyed it. Anything by Hal Hartley is going to be a bit weird, against the norm. But he's just one of many peculiar cinematic creators whose work I enjoy. Among my favorite films are such oddities as

• F for Fake
• The Reflecting Skin
• Funny Bones
• Raising Arizona
• 2001: A Space Odyssey
• Donnie Darko

and even Fantasia 2000 is strange enough, when you compare it to other films, and not one's expectations after seeing Fantasia.

But Eternal Sunshine has to be the most peculiar of the lot. It is also one of the best. Charlie Kaufman is a genius.

Kaufman understands that love — romantic love — is not tame or certain or ever even true. But there are worse things than suffering from it and its aftermath. Not suffering, perhaps.

Designations   |   May 23, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   FilmFlam

Woman troubles

One has to wait an hour while watching Searching for Debra Winger to actually see and hear Debra Winger. The documentary picks up, then. This is in no small part because the retired actress still looks great, and has that wonderful, human voice, full of character. But mainly it is the result of her — dare I say it? — authenticity. She has worked through the problems of being an actress in Hollywood and in America, and opted out. So what she says sounds more like wisdom than most of the blather we've endured until then. The other actresses are all struggling to be both good actresses and mothers. And that's the subject of Rosanna Arquette's film, Searching for Debra Winger. Can it be done? How?

Unfortunately, most of the actresses struggle for words. Or, should be struggling; perhaps they are speaking too readily. For too much of what they say is hackneyed. If I hear the phrase expressing my sexuality one more time, I'll retire my Reasonable Male button and confess to Thoroughgoing Misogyny. Too many of the same things get said in interview after interview. Not merely the same ideas mind you: the same wordings. It's as if they've all read the same self-help book. (They probably have.)

Now, I am not denigrating the experience of the myriad actresses that Rosanna Arquette has corralled into her little film. Their predicament is nearly universal — family men have had to deal with this since, well, the beginning of civilization, and working women of other walks of life have to deal with it too. But actresses are, after all, artists, and have a somewhat more interesting predicament than waitresses, school teachers, lawyers-on-the-make, and dental hygienists. In a way, it's fascinating. I have to recommend the movie.

Still, the litany of clichés had me reach for the remote control and its invaluable fast forward button many a time. But I resisted. And I'm glad, for some of the interviews — such as with Whoopi Goldberg — were good. And Jane Fonda was fascinating. She actually had some very intelligent things to say.

Ms. Arquette mentions her inspiration for this documentary, the film The Anniversary Party. I much preferred that, I'm afraid. For one, it was written. This documentary could only have matched that fictional film's degree of excellence if it had been ruthlessly edited. Extemporaneous talk by actresses — including the ubiquitous interviewer, Arquette — is not my idea of great art. It's not even much of a minor art. (Roger Ebert was also interviewed; he seemed out of his element. And not particularly brilliant. Still, his theory that teenage boys are no longer interested in sex in the movies has the merit of novelty.) Pretty women blather about aging. With clichés.

But it sure was nice to see Debra Winger again.

Designations   |   May 27, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala   |   FilmFlam

Licking her breasts

My cat has pink, nearly hairless breasts. In this photo, below, you see her licking them — though you don't see the breasts themselves . . . I'm not that kind of photographer.

This marks another milestone of this blog; at last I've put a pet photo up. This is fast becoming a normal blog. Do I get points?

about Ankh, a poem

I never meant to own a cat
But here she is, alas.
She won't let you pet her;
She sheds black and white cat hair;
But she has a touch of class.
Her mother gave her to me —
If she scratches you, don't sue me.
Sue her mother, who thought I
A better watchful eye
Over her daughter than
Then her legitimate owners.
I buy her cat food,
I trim her nails,
I clean her litter
And if I ever fail
She quietly approaches me
Touching my bare skin with her paw —
And just a hint of claw.
A most unnerving touch
Sends me to clean litter and such.
She's trained me well.
She never meant to own a man
But her mother gave me to her.
Besides, who'd buy me if she wanted to sell?

Designations   |   May 27, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

A sunset, with clouds

Standing on the south shore of the Columbia, near the mouth, I saw this:

When I was young, many of the canneries and docks still stood, a decaying testament to the vibrant economy of fisheries earlier in the 20th century. Now, of course, all that's left are pilings, seen here, rather ominously, in the foreground. Where did all the Japanese and Chinese who worked in these canneries go? Most left the area. How many left because of Roosevelt's internment program? I don't know. It's mostly white people now, in the area, though Mexicans are coming up to add a bit of color to the off-white complexion of the area.

Of course, in this picture we see grays, mostly, not whites or off-whites.

Designations   |   May 28, 2004   |   Wirkman Virkkala

t  
 r 
  i
 c 
  k
 l 
  e
 
 d
o  
 w 
  n