Drawing In

I found I had more to say about The Raven than my usual Facebook movie review capsule could contain.

Having started this post, I discovered that more legitimate reviewers and scholars than myself had already made many of the points I would have made, so I will direct you to them below and save my breath for how I received the film.
I enjoy the little scuffles that arrive in the space of an FB review, often over the stars themselves, which I always have to clarify are not an expression of how "good" the film is (or skilled, or important, or what have you).  They are Netflix stars, which have always been a measuring of "liking" the film, and if Facebook understands anything, isn't it LIKING? 

So, in Netflix parlance, 3 is "liked it," 4 is "really liked it" (no, really) and 5 is "loved it."  (in case you are curious, 2 is "didn't like it" and 1 is...)

And I can Really Like/Love a terrible film (see everything in the juvenile delinquent genre, and most of the Jodie Foster oeuvre).  And I can just hate things that I recognize are the best of their kind (Harry Potter, I assume, though I really wouldn't know...)

The Raven... I'm going to go with 4 Netflix stars.  I did "really like" it, though there was a lot just...not good about it.

I will not quibble with historical facts.  This is fan fiction, and it is entitled to its full fantasy.  You want the facts, explore below.

Reel Facts
The Reynolds Legend
Unrequited Lurv



What the opening titles report is true:  we don't not know why Poe was in Baltimore in October of 1849, how he came to be in the condition he was found, or even what condition that was.  There are not even enough medical notes to take a modern review of vital signs and symptoms.  (oh...for an EHR... don't click that; it's boring.)  So have at, America.  Here is one speculation.

John Cusack is younger than I am, and we are both too old to play Poe, but that doesn't bother me either because... it's John Cusack.  I actually enjoyed him -- intense, but not morose, a little flirty, a little bitchy, a lot drunk... He could get his mouth around the language without sounding like Maurice Evans, and he still made me want to spend the summer with him and learn the sport of kickboxing.

When the language isn't working, it is distracting.  Watch the Internet forums soon for the complaints of linguistic anachronism (just for the fun of saying it) as "serial killer," "gun-toting" and "OK," are bandied about.  I looked into "OK," which is older than we ever think, but not likely in the vernacular of a society maiden, even when she is trying to keep it together buried inside a box.

I never say SPOILER ALERT.

What I am tired of, I realize, is this notion that madmen have all the time and energy in the world (in between baiting and disemboweling the passersby) to leave clues all over the place like it's Christmas morning at Pee Wee's Playhouse.  But that is the nature of these stories, so have patience through the numerous climaxes, the red herrings, the solving of Sudokus and Rebuses, and (no, seriously) longitudinal charts just to get to the next clue station.  The lat/long clue sequence is the stupidest nonsense in any detective story -- any time, any author.  Stop it.  that was dumb.  I won't write it all down for you, but after you see the film, try to backtrack from the clue outcome to its origin, and tell me if you don't take a tincture of your own just now.

But it is scary.  And bloody.  And gloomy.  The sets are crammed full of antebellum sootiness and everyone has cravat and muttonchops and whalebone just so.  Which I enjoy.  The murders are crazier than Se7en -- you won't believe them for a second -- but then, if you have ever read any Poe, you don't expect to.  If a film like this is expected to revive Poe in the mass-market, let me give you a hint:

This process, however, afforded me no means of ascertaining the dimensions of my dungeon; as I might make its circuit, and return to the point whence I set out, without being aware of the fact, so perfectly uniform seemed the wall. I therefore sought the knife which had been in my pocket when led into the inquisitorial chamber, but it was gone; my clothes had been exchanged for a wrapper of coarse serge.

No it won't.

But if you do like your Poe references, and the stories more than the poetry -- and if you like a wild ride even if it brings you right back to the starting line -- and if you are not too claustrophobic or squeamish -- and if you like your Poe taller and less Boothy --- you might agree to 3 or 4 stars.

The narrative makes no sense, and the closing credits belong to a completely different film.  But you may get shut out of The Avengers this week, so consider it a fallback.

Ever try to buy seltzer in a grocery store outside of New England?  Are you right now asking, "what's seltzer?"  Can't feature what a seltzer aisle even looks like?  No SUH! 

This story will amuse you even more.  There is a new sheriff in town over at the Polar Seltzer, and by the looks of it, s/he was recently transferred from Yankee Candle.  Because this is a terrible idea.



You don't have to taste it to know it is a terrible idea.  But I did taste it, and I am still resentful, weeks later.  (I am also on day 27 of this blog-a-thon, and even Jerry Lewis eventually loosened his bow tie.  I'll write about anything at this point, but that press release opener...?  Manna.)

A gateway to seltzer?  Why does Polar need to push its bubbly deliciousness on anyone?  Because they just bought a bottling facility in Georgia (from Winn-Dixie, saints preserve us) and the South needs more than carbonation to get its drink on.

Premium seltzers.  Seltzer costs 88 cents a half gallon.  It's hardly premium.  And in spite of everything else we learned in the Rich & Famous 80s, "gross" is not a synonym for "gourmet."

The season's most beloved aromas.  This is not tea.  This is seltzer.  As a mixer, I might buy it (metaphorically.  Not literally.  not at half price). 

A healthier choice of refreshment.   Because if you can't drink it, it can't hurt you.

Granny Smith Apple :  Jolly Rancher plus a facial masque without any of the afterglow of Woodchuck.

Cinnamon:  a candle over ice.  How refreshing!

Candy Cane:  

Pumpkin Spice: Lemme tell you something, pumpkin.  I have been your biggest champion.  But you are this close to getting kicked out of this car.  Settle.  Down . 

Eggnog:  now you've made me mad.


Predicting the Cinco de Mayo flavors:
Chipotle
Mole
Pinata full of Chiclets
Dulce de Leche
Margarita Lime... ok, maybe not so bad.  They may have gotten to me.


Hope you're enjoying National Blogpost Month.
Here's another NaBloPoMo participant for you to enjoy.
http://veritiesandbalderdash.wordpress.com/

The fallout from the October Blizzard is not all from the trees.  And trust me, this was a real blizzard.  12 full inches in Worcester between midday Saturday and early morning Sunday.  Around 3am the power went off.  The tree that did it still lies across Old Lancaster Rd, tangled up in its wires.  It was a long night by lantern light here at Del Boca Vista.

The towns of WoCo have cancelled their Trick or Treating, citing darkness and danger.  We can’t have that on this Night of Spooky Nights.

My argument is not about cancelling some Holiday I don’t care about.  It is truly dark and the sidewalks (if we had them) are all splintery.  What had me scratching my head was the notion that the city owned Trick or Treating to start with.

Is this something I wasn’t aware of when I was a candy beggar?  Or was this another corner of Nat’rl By-God Amerrca that we went and legislated?
If I trust my American History to Vincente Minnelli, then I know that Trick or Treating was invented by Edwardian hooligans armed with flour, and led by a fearsome Margaret O’Brien (dressed, of course, as a hobo).  It is the holiday when children run the streets dragging gunny sacks of hard candies, and the occasional dead cat which Huck and Tom could bring back to life with an incantation.  Teenage sleuths solved mysteries and creepy neighbor houses came creaking to life!  I also believed in a world where the society of children began their day at a tribunal called the bus stop.  So I don’t know what goes on anymore.

I did notice when towns began designating Trick or Treat day.  “We’re having ours on Friday,” say the neighbors, or heaven help us, Saturday afternoon in broad daylight.  The only think more senseless than Trick or treating in a COAT is Trick or treating in SUNGLASSES.  If Halloween were on a Saturday, you outlasted the last porch lights, you candied yourself into a stupor, you stumbled into church the next day looking (for once) like every one else blinking in the bright stained glass light.  If it was a Wednesday, it was the peak of the week.  The cafeteria had cupcakes.  If it was Friday, and you were on the brink of your teenhood, you had to choose between the last damn free thing in life…. or the football game.

So who is this Sanctioned Date rule for – you can only go door to door for candy on this designated day?  Or you can only GIVE CANDY TO STRANGE CHILDREN on this designated day?  (Here is your requisite Straight Dope look-up on candy in need of xrays).  So, if kids show up at my door on October 14th yelling Trick or Treat, can I throw the book at them?  Is it a misdemeanor or a felony to leave my porch light on with a plastic pumpkin full of “fun size” through December?

This is a moot argument.  I haven’t given out candy since before the turn of the century.  Kids pulled up in cars.  It gave me fits. 

  Hobos are awesome.

The hardest part of forming a conspiracy theory, as it turns out, it identifying motive.  But I am certain there is something being Ruffles hoarding, and I intend to get to the bottom of it.

It’s a 2-part question, really – neither of which is listed on the Frito-Lay page as one of the “most common questions.” 

1 – why aren’t plain original Ruffles in the vending machine?

2 – why aren’t they included in the lunch-box package?

After those 2, the questions involve Masonry, the Opus Dei, and other general rantings from my tin hat.  But here’s what I want you to know, Frito-Lay:  I am much more likely to buy a big bag of 12 individually bagged Ruffles than I am the $3.99 family size back.  But you won’t make it.  whyyyyyy?  

“With a lot of people, it’s Ruffles or nothing.”  I am not one of those people.  But I do prefer it to other chips, and leaps-and-bounds over heinous Ruffles flavors like Molten Buffalo Wing, or Salt & Vinegar, or that weird Canadian flavor “All-Dressed.”  I haven’t tried any of those, but I come from a time when we invented dip specifically because our food had no flava.

Vending machine stockers (not stalkers – that’s me, apparently) prefer the Sour Cream and Cheddar Ruffles in the rack.  This is just Kraft Dinner powder sprinkled over the original.  The variety pack will sometimes have (1) Ruffles bag just to give you something to make a teachable sibling rivalry moment out of.  And you will never find a full bag of only Ruffles 1 oz’rs.  EXCEPT.. it seems… at Sam’s.

aHA!  How could I have left the Walton family out of my list of conspirators?!? 

Two more searches later, and I can report that you can also score the box of 50 through Amazon, and (oddly) Sears.  Not Walmart.  They seem to be specializing in the other flavors.  See them all in one view here.  It’s mind boggling.

I also enjoyed knowing that Ruffles have an outstanding No Taboos rating, which really out to be a thing. 

Condo life means putting up with a lot of... "say."  "Say" is a passive-aggressive form of "hand."  Here's a prime example.

In recent years here at Del Boca Vista, there has been a militant interest in the condition of our grass.  And individual condo yard here is about 20 fit square.  My bedroom might be bigger.  If you live on a corner, the line between your grass and our grass starts to get murky, but it is all their grass in the end.  And They are deathly afraid of brown spots.

It all started a couple of springs ago when the gas tanks were replaced in the backyards, which was a Big Dig of its own kind (and I believe when the mice proved in, thank you very much).  Lawns were relaid and reseeded and we were asked to please water. 

Watering one's 20 sq ft lawn is a tedious process that exposes you to the neighbors and everything that's wrong with the outside of the house you never look at -- starting with learning that the outside faucet leaks.  I am working on a way of turning it off and on from inside at the moment.  That's today's big accomplishment.  And if I replace the screen door at the same time, well get a load o' me.

Of course we didn't water.  All over Central Mass are towns enforcing water bans through systems that fall just short of Shirley Jackson's lottery, but we are watering our brains out.  "One of the best times to water is when it's raining!" says the newsletter.  mmm...hm..  Because we sit on 65 billions gallons of free water, we should use it up 20 sq ft at a time.

Things to yak about in Massachusetts include the outrageous "wat-a" rates and whether you are on town or soo-a, reservoir or MRWA.  Bore yourself over it here.  It's lower than "how did you get here" and "how bout them {sports team]," but it will come up at the cookout.  Clinton sold its soul (and a whole lotta land) in 1897 in exchange for not paying the water bill.  So yes they can force us to do it.

The Grassatpo was born.  Like most para-military organizations, it began reaching out to the neighbors who were annoying and disliked to start with, and gave them a little power -- in this case the power to scold and bully us about whether we were watering often enough, long enough, with enough patriotic zeal.

This season, the band formalized, with a title, a structure, and I expect before long fluorescent vests.

So at this hour I should already be out there, bed-head and all, sprinkling a lush green lawn that the officers of our village feel is living proof this work is necessary.



Keep Calm and Carry On.

Beginning February 1, 2011 only residents of the City of Williamsburg, James City County and York County will be issued WRL library cards.
As of that date the library will stop honoring all cards previously issued to those not residing in the above locations.

* WRL should focus on what it does well rather than trying to be all things to all people.
* The library should reach out to teens with space and services but should proceed cautiously and engage teens in the planning process.
* Although the community regards the library as an important community center, most users are not aware of the programs in its facilities.

The library director may authorize the issuance of special recognition cards to reach key audiences in a city or county that funds the Williamsburg Regional Library.

You all know that I can not get enough of job descriptions, and I still get a pile of them every day, many of which I share on the various blogs and Facebook pages I manage.  networking is still the way these things get done, and sometimes the feeling that a job description (dx, we lazily say, in my world) has dropped from the sky can be the right incentive for someone to make a move.

This job title came in the mail today:
DEAN'S RECEIVING ROOM SUPERVISOR/IN-SCHOOL SUSPENSION SUPERVISOR.  (here's the dx if you care to apply)

I have to say that I never thought of this being an actual job title, that a person would apply for.  I thought this was a duty pawned off onto the coach of the losing team, the bachelor biology teacher, or Never Wills like Dick Vernon, giving up his every Saturday to supervise the Breakfast Club.

It is an 8 hour day (they don't pay for lunch) but only a .75 FTE.  That may be true of most public school jobs, since it reads 210 days/year part-time.  A way to manipulate the books, I expect.

"shape school culture and ensure a safe and orderly environment that promotes academic achievement" ~~ means, get the trouble makers out of our way, please.    Important to note that on The Wire, this required 1 doctoral student, 1 social worker, and a retired police officer.

"a variety of support roles while serving as the intake coordinator in the Dean’s receiving area."  Even I know this is secretarial.  In the way that being a warden is.

"ensure student achievement through the restorative justice process..."  They stood an applaauded themselves when they wrote that one.  restorative justice.

"Provide support to the ...Think Time & Tardy Lunch Teacher, and School Nurse."
1.  I want to see the dx for the Lunch Teacher and .....
2.  You support the nurse.  If there is anyone lower than this on the chart, it is this guy, and we all know he is the eyes and ears of this school.  

In fact, the word "assist" appears 5 times in the bullet points of this job description, including this sad line:  "Assist with all Student Services related mailings including summer school letters, attendance notifications, suspension letters, health screenings, parent college information nights, invitations to scholarship nights, etc."

I suppose it's only fair that the next bullet point, under duties, mind you, is "Model appropriate behavior and display professional conduct at all times."  I guess there has been a problem.


When I got to this line, I realized, oh yeh --- I have had this job.
"Assist in updating the comprehensive Student Handbook in collaboration with the Principal, Dean and other staff, as appropriate."

You will never win the argument that it is not appropriate.
But good luck making that career change.

A scene popped into my head.  I don't know what to do with it, so I am going to thrust it on you.  2 kids in a darkened room, a Ouija board between them.  The pointer spells out L....O.....L.

One thing I have learned from our years on the Interwebs is that there really is an app for everything.  It took only 2 searches to find this.  It would have been one, but I did an image search first.

What's more stupid -- a ouija app, or a video of a ouija app?
I think right now you are trying to decide whether to read it wee-ja or wee-jee?  I'm sorry for forcing your hand this way.  It's ba-LOAN-a.

Other games the tattooed youth are now playing on their apps, instead of a basement rec room utility closet, as God intended:

Spin the Bottle
Quarters
Twister
Pictionary
Puff Puff Pass  now that's just a damn shame, just when we nearly have it legalized.  You have to be 17 to purchase this game.  Is that... appropriate?  Or just.... absurd?


We know the little ones love to smudge up our phones.  here are some apps you can buy rather than give them actual toys.
Marbles
Bubbles
Mumbletypeg!  sort of.   I guess you weren't going to buy your kid a knife.  Or a hoop and a stick.
Now I want you to look me right in the eye and tell me a yo-yo app is not the most idiotic thing you have heard today.  Et tu, Duncan?

I am working out the Amish doll app.  Apparently, we'll buy anything.










you have a whole month of nonsense posts like this to look forward to.  Maybe less IS more.

lock up your daughters.  I am about to speak frankly on the Disney Princesses.

I have a 4 year-old girl in my life, who right on schedule has fallen for the Disney Princesses.  You may think, because you see them everywhere, that their films are available for the picking.  You may think that, unless you too have a 4 year-old girl in your life.  Long before the other girl in my life (now 17 and long past her princess years, if she ever had them) was born her mother began stockpiling the classic Disney videos.  Video was not "new," but it was still a big deal, and we teased her about hoarding. But she was already clued in to The Disney Vault.

You may recall it was Disney early on who fought the legality of videotape technology, and famously (bitterly) lost.  Well hell hath no fury like the  Mouse scorned, so they now make us work for it.  Buy now (at inflated price) or hold your peace until the next convenient anniversary, which will be conveniently timed to coincide with a drastic change in technology, so that you can re-buy what you already paid too much for.


Disney-dot-dvd-go-dot-com (so many domains... how fitting...) maintains the official release calendar.  Beauty and the Beast - available NOW, and for a limited time.  How limited, they don't say.  It's like the fever of an eBay auction.  Buy it now!  Buy it nOW!  Oh wait, it is not actually available now -- it is available TO BUY now, and available on November 23rd.

Want Sleeping Beauty?  Sorry, it already had its 50th anniversary vault opening.  Better luck when your child is in high school.

I don't know what I am complaining about.  Of course, "in my day," movies came out when they came out and you never expected to own them.  (Oh, you dreamed of it, all right, but you didn't expect it).  But I had managed to see Gone With the Wind twice before there were VCRs, and somehow slept through Mary Poppins countless times, even though it was released the year I was born.  I'm not crying a river for the poor kids who can't enjoy the princesses who kissed with their mouths open -- I am just saying Disney is playing a little hard ball. 

If they were a Hollywood couple, they would be Arielric.

Parents:  start a swap program.  We know you paid hard cash for your Disney flix -- this isn't like giving away a bag of Old Navy shorts to someone at the office.  But a lending library database, or monthly movie afternoon (kids on one room, keg in the other) is the best way to get through these tween years without giving in  to the schlocky "sequels."

A couple items to share on this topic.
1) The Problem with the Princesses
2) Saturday TV Funhouse


Now that's some satisfaction.

 

Believe me, I've had the Blues. The Blues make you smoke a lot, slouch in a chair with a beer and tear-stained photographs, playing "your song" over and over. This is not that.

I've even had the Blahs, which is the achy vagueness that keeps you in your robe all day. You hold the remote and a pint of ice cream, but you do get out of bed for god's sake -- you're not Depressed (not that there's anything wrong with that...). Depression is what's left when Desperation runs out, and I would say it was a Bitch if it were meaner. That's the Reds. Who was it who got the Mean Reds? I just had to stop and look that up for you just now -- it was Holly Golightly. I stopped and web-searched for you. That's how you know I am not Apathetic.

Ironically, Apathy manages to carry with it a certain requirement of conviction -- like how Atheism requires you to think about there being no God more than most theists think about God. I do not have the passion to be so Dispassionate. I am simply.... meh.

If you actually are sick, your Blahs become Listlessness, and I can not imagine being without Lists....

Is that Mellow? Mellow seems so Contented (however drug-induced) and that doesn't fit either. Because I am a little bit Restless..... but not Jumpy.

I have a feeling there is a Cartesian plane here if I think on it long enough. Which is how I know I am not Bored.

Remember being a kid: "Moo-o-ommm.... I'm bor-r-r-r-r-red...." "Why don't you clean your room, then?" yiccch. 20 minutes later I had launched a newspaper, and was working the Back Porch Beat to write-up what the dog was doing. The teachers used to call that Unchallenged. Kids who doodled through World History were promoted, not medicated. "If you're finished with your Question Set, pick something out of the Self Study Jar." or...whatever. As the kids say...

Ennui is so... continental. I don't know if Americans can stand still long enough to succumb. And then they hate themselves.   

In The Phantom Tollbooth, Milo ends up in the Doldrums.

"As you can see, that leaves almost no time for brooding, lagging, plodding, or procrastinating, and if we stopped to think or laugh, we'd never get nothing done."

"You mean you'd never get anything done," corrected Milo.

"We don't want to get anything done," snapped another angrily; "we want to get nothing done, and we can do that without your help."

"You see," continued another in a more conciliatory tone, "it's really quite strenuous doing nothing all day, so once a week we take a holiday and go nowhere, which was just where we were going when you came along. Would you care to join us?"

Where I come from, we call these The Mullygrubs. but only girls get them. Boys disappear to a vacant lot and draw in the dirt with a stick.

Melancholy would be entertaining, if I had a lute. But then I would pronounce it Melan-COAL-ya to annoy everyone and amuse myself. And think people who are amusing themselves can not be called melancholic. Maybe just cholic. That's it -- I have COLIC! How great would that be, to just scream and wail all night long, and run the shower at 3 am, then say to your neighbors in the morning (all exasperated)

"Whew...it's colic." (shrug- what can you do?)

It's meh.  Just… meh. Too much to do, no motivation to do it, few consequences of not doing it -- or major consequences that I realize don't bother me much if they happen.

(Overwhelmed – Stressed) / Motivated = Meh