Hmm. He’s a professor at UMass? You don’t say . . .
The Man Who Wasn’t There
Evidently, Errol Morris was so excited about being added to the Virtual Memories blogroll, he wrote a completely unrelated opinion piece in today’s New York Times.
To me, John Kerry’s heroism encompassed both his actions in combat and his willingness to change his mind and stand up for what he thought was right. He realized that soldiers and civilians were dying in a war that wasn’t accomplishing its objectives. Yet he never tied this crucial piece of his biography into his campaign for the presidency. And in failing to do so, he left a blank space in his personal story – a blank space that made it possible for the criticisms of the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth to be alarmingly effective.
By implying that his real heroism was fighting in Vietnam, Mr. Kerry also left himself open to the charge that he was somehow inauthentic. Americans have a complicated relationship with their military heroes: we expect them not to talk about their heroism. War heroes, in real life and in the movies, rarely speak about their courage in battle. Eisenhower didn’t. Nor did Kennedy, Bob Dole, or the president’s father.
Give it a read; Morris provides a pretty good story-based theory on why Kerry’s campaign failed.
Freedom of Choice
I got a $50 giftcard to Borders from one of my birthday attendees, so I lit over to the local store and spent a little.
In honor of MLK’s day, I bought When Negroes Walked the Earth, a blues record by Otis Taylor, whom you should be listening to (get Respect the Dead, to start out).
After that, I was kinda stuck. There were a bazillion things I thought about buying, but none that jumped out at me as something that would be perfectly fulfilling. So I bought this.
New stuff
Last year, VM reader Elayne and essayist extraordinaire Ron Rosenbaum goofed on me for never having watched an Errol Morris movie. I finally sat down and watched my TiVo’d copy of The Fog of War a few nights ago. I’m still picking up pieces of my brain from the floor of my living room.
I wasn’t quite as angered as Rosenbaum was by Robert McNamara’s portrayal of himself (if you’re interested in reading Ron’s take on it, you should probably type “New Morris Film Traps McNamara in a Fog of War” into Google, then hit the “cached pages” option on the second link). I think it’s an issue of age; I was born in 1971, so rage about Vietnam is really second-hand. Intellectually, I understand the anger, but it’s not an era with which I have any direct experience, so my view of McNamara was more ambiguous than the one Ron demonstrates in his column.
Anyway, that’s why I added Errol Morris’ site to the blogroll. It’s got some intriguing content, and a really smooth-looking design.
At some point, I guess I’ll have to watch a Michael Moore flick, so’s I can write draw some sorta comparison between these two as filmmakers.
Empty Numbers
For the record, note that I wrote the following about a year ago: “Never bet against Bill Belichick.”
Peyton Manning could throw 200 touchdowns next season, and his team will still be an afterthought in the playoffs.
While Peyton was failing to throw even a single touchdown in yesterday’s playoff game against the Patriots, the official VM girlfriend and I flipped around the channels till we came across The Pride and the Passion, a 1957 flick about a lost cannon that the English and the Spanish are trying to keep away from Napoleon.
At first, we stuck with it to hear how bad Frank Sinatra’s “Spanish” accent would be, and to ogle Sophia Loren. Then I realized that, if I was going to watch programming about a useless cannon, I preferred Stanley Kramer’s to Peyton Manning’s.
Orange Crush
Amazing (and long) story from the NYTimes offering a behind-the-scenes of the Ukrainian election crisis, detailing the tug-of-war among the Interior Ministry, the KBG-successor, and the army.
It includes on the great ass-coverings of all time, by someone who ordered troops to attack his own citizens.
No Cake, Plenty of Pad Thai
We held my belated birthday party last night, at Rain West in NYC. About a dozen friends of mine came, including a couple of unexpecteds, who made up for a couple of no-shows. Thanks to all; I had a blast, mixing up people from all different parts of my life. Here are some pix.
Yer humble correspondent, in his smoking jacket.
Chin(s) music: My buddy John hasn’t realized that, after 30, we need to stop taking pictures like this one.
That’s better.
Chris, Kerstin and Sleepy Tony.
Kerstin looks pretty angry, but I bet she’s just trying to speak up loudly enough for Bryn to hear. Mark, meanwhile, looks on with heavy-lidded resignedness. Sure, I’m making up this stuff, but it certainly looks plausible.
John, Mark and Bryn, who’s traveled around the world twice in the past year or so.
Holding court.
The back of Sharon’s head. And what’s that in my hand?
This shot of me and Kerstin is less scandalous than it looks.
That’s better. And it provides a better look at what I was carrying all evening. Yes, I’m now the proud owner of my very own Pimp Cup. YYYYYYYEAH!
As Mickey Rourke sez in Barfly, “to all my friennnnnnnds“.
These aren’t the droids you’re looking for
You say inbreeding can lead to retardation?
Some people complain that America exports too much of its culture (TV and movies) to foreign countries. I think the Prince Harry flap demonstrates that we haven’t exported enough of it.
After all, if Harry had just watched enough South Park, he would’ve understood “Dressing like Hitler isn’t cool.” And it’s certainly not badass.
Space Probe Trooper
The Huygens probe is set to land on Titan, one of Saturn’s moons. Here’s an artist’s rendering of the landing. Or is that a new album cover from Yes?
