One dozen years.
12 Septembers.
Cloudy ones. Cool ones. Rainy ones. Warm ones. Humid ones. None, quite like that day.
If we are enjoined never to forget, perhaps it is better to say we should remember, because memory works best where it is recalled always, and not left to languish until the page turns on the calendar.
Remember.
Remember the horror at watching it unfold live, in our homes, our offices, our schools.
Remember the panic, not knowing what was happening.
Remember the confusion, as events unfolded.
Remember the heroes, who drove toward the disaster.
Remember the helpers, who put aside their own fear to help others in need.
Remember the masses, streaming from the city, struggling to get away.
Remember the silence that fell as traffic stopped, trains stopped, people stopped.
Remember the shocking sight of buildings falling, debris flying, and people dying unseen.
Remember the moonscape left behind by clouds of cement.
Remember the frantic attempts to find survivors.
Remember the posters placed on every wall, every street corner, every door, every window, with names and pictures of the missing.
Remember the pile of twisted metal and smoldering rubble.
Remember the months of toil.
Most of all, remember that we came together, as a nation, unified in purpose.
Remember.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Syria: What To Do?
No choice can be clear. No choice can be definitive. Ultimately, we have no idea how any of the presented scenarios will impact Syria. Even simply remaining outside the problem and ignoring it is fraught with peril, if Syria falls to elements who have the intent of creating a paradise for fanatical & radical elements of Islam. What we're going through with Syria now is akin to situations that have sprung up throughout history, where some nations have had to determine whether intercession in the affairs of another nation were to their betterment or detriment.
This isn't about President Obama, or the partisan split in Washington, D.C., or even about military jingoism and the furtherance of failed Imperialistic policies. It comes down to this: how much do we care about the people of Syria? You can cloak this issue in any talking point you choose, wrap it in discord, fluff it with care & concern, but as each second ticks away, bodies fall. They've been falling steadily for two years. It's Syria's civil war but it's humanity's view of the future: are we willing to accept the wholesale slaughter of a nation by its government?
We're ones to talk. America has its own chemical weapons, America has killed thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions in war. We fought one of the bloodier civil wars in known memory. Where do we get off dictating who can do what to whom?
It's not really that simple, anymore.
Human history is replete with atrocity. Just in the last 100 years, tens of millions have been fed into the meat grinder that is geopolitical conflict and dictatorial overreach. We have now harbored weapons for close to seventy years that have the capacity to eradicate all human life on the planet. We have stood each other off with pointed sticks, cold steel, hot lead, the fiery hearts of stars, the insidious clutches of vile microbes, and the misty smoke of caustic chemicals. We have reached the pinnacle of destructive power. No amount of wishful thinking or eye blinking will make it all go away.
But we live in an unprecedented time, when technology has placed the happenings on our planet in our living rooms in minutes, and given us access to people globally in seconds. What happens anywhere is suddenly accessible at almost any moment, and people who were lines in a newspaper or on a map are now flesh-and-blood before us. Conflict and strife are no longer distant rumblings; the people involved in them are no longer strangers.
If we want peace, we have to make it. Preferably through forbearance, forgiveness, and friendship, but we must also accept that we, as a species, being on the cusp of breaking from the long, gloomy traditions of violence that plague us, cannot always simply toss aside the tools of war. If we must take up arms against a sea of troubles, let those who take them up do so with the noblest intent, despite whatever may have come before. Let a precedent be set that says we will end destructive conflicts with words, with gestures, with diplomacy, where we can, but we will not be afraid to end them as we must.
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent," Isaac Asimov wrote in his novel "Foundation," and it is definitive in its indictment of war mongering as a means to an end. That phrase, however, means more when yours is a society that is no longer locked in the shackles of conflict, when your leverage is not merely at the end of a gun barrel. Right now, we are incompetent, and remain so until we can tamp down the sparks that set alight the conflagrations that engulf races, cultures, countries, and creeds.
So let us choose wisely, but let us choose, and let us know that whatever the choice, there will be consequences and repercussions, unseen and unbidden. People will still die, but perhaps we can pave a better road to peace by showing our resolve to have peace. When it is over, we will bury the dead, ask forgiveness, and move on, as humans always have, hopefully wiser and more resolute not to let it happen again.
This isn't about President Obama, or the partisan split in Washington, D.C., or even about military jingoism and the furtherance of failed Imperialistic policies. It comes down to this: how much do we care about the people of Syria? You can cloak this issue in any talking point you choose, wrap it in discord, fluff it with care & concern, but as each second ticks away, bodies fall. They've been falling steadily for two years. It's Syria's civil war but it's humanity's view of the future: are we willing to accept the wholesale slaughter of a nation by its government?
We're ones to talk. America has its own chemical weapons, America has killed thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions in war. We fought one of the bloodier civil wars in known memory. Where do we get off dictating who can do what to whom?
It's not really that simple, anymore.
Human history is replete with atrocity. Just in the last 100 years, tens of millions have been fed into the meat grinder that is geopolitical conflict and dictatorial overreach. We have now harbored weapons for close to seventy years that have the capacity to eradicate all human life on the planet. We have stood each other off with pointed sticks, cold steel, hot lead, the fiery hearts of stars, the insidious clutches of vile microbes, and the misty smoke of caustic chemicals. We have reached the pinnacle of destructive power. No amount of wishful thinking or eye blinking will make it all go away.
But we live in an unprecedented time, when technology has placed the happenings on our planet in our living rooms in minutes, and given us access to people globally in seconds. What happens anywhere is suddenly accessible at almost any moment, and people who were lines in a newspaper or on a map are now flesh-and-blood before us. Conflict and strife are no longer distant rumblings; the people involved in them are no longer strangers.
If we want peace, we have to make it. Preferably through forbearance, forgiveness, and friendship, but we must also accept that we, as a species, being on the cusp of breaking from the long, gloomy traditions of violence that plague us, cannot always simply toss aside the tools of war. If we must take up arms against a sea of troubles, let those who take them up do so with the noblest intent, despite whatever may have come before. Let a precedent be set that says we will end destructive conflicts with words, with gestures, with diplomacy, where we can, but we will not be afraid to end them as we must.
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent," Isaac Asimov wrote in his novel "Foundation," and it is definitive in its indictment of war mongering as a means to an end. That phrase, however, means more when yours is a society that is no longer locked in the shackles of conflict, when your leverage is not merely at the end of a gun barrel. Right now, we are incompetent, and remain so until we can tamp down the sparks that set alight the conflagrations that engulf races, cultures, countries, and creeds.
So let us choose wisely, but let us choose, and let us know that whatever the choice, there will be consequences and repercussions, unseen and unbidden. People will still die, but perhaps we can pave a better road to peace by showing our resolve to have peace. When it is over, we will bury the dead, ask forgiveness, and move on, as humans always have, hopefully wiser and more resolute not to let it happen again.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
White Man Triumphant
I sit here, a white man, in white suburbia, ensconced in the bosom of white Middle Class prosperity, and I owe it all to my hard work and perseverance...
And white supremacy.
As someone pointed out to me on Twitter, what I have called for years "White privilege" is, in fact, simply a watered-down version of the truth of the matter: the domination of the White portion of American society is due to White supremacy, the idea that somehow, the melanin level of one's skin grants powers to those that others are not due, simply by virtue of having it or not. White supremacy is the idea that a person of any other color, even mixed with Whiteness, is automatically inferior. White supremacy is the idea that power must be concentrated in the hands of White people and must never be willingly given to anyone else.
White supremacy even has its own gradations, for it is clear that a White man is considered lord-and-master over anything and everything and everyone, even a White woman. Look to what happened this week in Texas, and you see it in action -- no woman of any color would be given the right to her own bodily autonomy with the say-so of the White men in power.
Of course, you will be alarmist, and sputter on about groups such as the Klu Klux Klan, and if White, will swear upon a convenient stack of Bibles that you are not like them. The point is, you don't have to be. White supremacy is not simply burning crosses on lawns and lynching Black men for whistling at White women.
White supremacy is the ultimate wink-and-a-nod, the unseen get-out-of-jail-free card, the worst kept secret handshake in history. You walk in the door and you get the loan, you get the slot at your favorite college, you get the job at a higher rate of pay, because the color of your skin walks into the room first, laying the groundwork for everything to come. It's not always so transparent, not always so overt, nor is it as subtle as some would love to claim. Electing a Black President did not magically cause it to evaporate. No number of successful Black actors, Black athletes, or Black politicians have served to eradicate it. At the end of the day, it is as pernicious as it was when irons, chains, and the lash held sway, but has now been covered over with a veneer of self-congratulation by many a White person who is sure that the whole sordid mess was cleaned up after the 60's.
We should note, that nobility in the name of righting the wrongs of race is not cut-and-dried, ever. With the 150th anniversary of the pivotal Civil War action at Gettysburg, the battle that spelled the turning of the tide against The Confederacy, we also have the anniversary of the draft riots in New York City, where many an immigrant community, angered at being conscripted to fight in the war, took to lynching Blacks and burning Black businesses and schools to show their displeasure, forcing weary Gettysburg soldiers to march to the city to quell the uprising.
The Civil War did not end racial inequities or injustice, anymore than the 60's Civil Rights movement that came after it would. Every momentous event in the history of White and Black relations merely serves to paper over the truth: that we cling to stereotypes, that we maintain our prejudices, that racial tension does not simply go away because Blacks and Whites go to the same universities and riots do not break out. Even now, a person such as myself, who prides himself on equanimity and a lack of racial prejudice in his heritage, is still betrayed occasionally by thoughts from dark recesses that paint those of other racial types in a bad fashion. To maintain personal racial tolerance is not the simple flipping of a switch in my conscious mind, but a constant struggle to overcome baser instincts buried in my subconscious by the stimuli I have been exposed to over time. Even where I strive to give equality to all people at all times, there is an accumulated detritus festering below the surface of my mind, roiling in its darker recesses to plague me, unbidden.
In the end, if I am honest with myself, I can claim to have built the successes I have made over the decades solely by dint of my hard work and pluck, but must acknowledge that my Whiteness was carried with me and certainly influenced some to give me opportunities or deference out of all proportion to my due. If that is so, then it is equally true that many around me, who worked as hard, if not harder, were barred from reaping the benefits of the fruits of that labor, by being unable to carry the calling card of Whiteness with them.
Now, after all this, we have the incomprehensible result of a trial in which an armed White man killed an unarmed Black boy in cold blood and will not be held accountable, save by his God. While we can claim that the jury made the only verdict it could given the evidence presented, justice is not about the cold, hard facts of law, but about the warm, soft edges of human nature and behavior. A law may say that if you fear for your life, you might kill another in self-defense, but does it seem reasonable that this applies to a man who chose to pursue the black Boy, because he was a black Boy? A man with no authority, save that which he forged for himself through his machinations, who was given the instruction to allow people with authority (the police) to handle the situation? A man, who had a concealed weapon, that turned his cowardice into "courage?"
No, it is not mere privilege that explains this, for privilege is bestowed by those with the power. Supremacy is enforced, by the use of all the tools available to press others down, to tear power from their hands, to marginalize and demonize them, denigrating them and making them somehow less than those who hold supremacy. It is always the case that conflict starts when one group turns another group into something other than their group is; in this instance, the White person maintains the Black person is lower, inferior, less intelligent, less educated, and then enforces those views with the tools at hand, by stripping away educational opportunities, forcing them into poverty, abandoning them to crime, and using that as "evidence" that the supremacy is correct.
The George Zimmerman verdict is only the most visible sign that White supremacy is alive and well in our nation, and still holds sway over a society that continues to trill its belief in "all men are created equal." That equality is, sadly, merely a good idea; it has gained no true traction in the nation that has enshrined it in a "sacred" document of its creation. The council of White, landowning men that wrote and signed off on those words perhaps believed their intention was enough, but by not broadening it to "all people" being equal, and by enshrining Black slavery directly in the Constitution, they laced a noble idea of self-governance with a perpetuation of their White supremacy. Over two hundred years later, and despite our best efforts, we have not honestly expunged the ghosts of it from every corner of our land.
So Mr. Zimmerman walks free, which is more than can be said for his victim, Trayvon Martin, and we are outraged, but then, we built this system, with our inattention to the workings of our government and our nation. That inattention allowed the perpetuation of White supremacy in the guise of governance, and allowed the purveyors of such supremacy to ensconce themselves in positions of power by dissuading everyone else from becoming engaged. But no one should turn us from our right and proper duty: the maintenance, and occasional readjustment, of our Local, State, and Federal governments. This moment is the clarion call that should stir the beating heart of any American to action, to right the wrong this verdict represents by ensuring it never happens again. The restoration of true and consistent order in our nation is our responsibility, and we can no longer shirk it.
It is time to fold the tent of racial supremacy. The White portion of America, slowly merging into the national milieu, can no longer count itself as superior, the only just arbiter of what is proper. We were never anointed masters of the world -- we stole that from every other race we could, and now our transgressions fold in upon us. As much as I, a White man, want to grasp the reins of power, to restore order, to make amends, I know I cannot. I must cede control and convince others of my race to do likewise, to attempt to create balance in a nation that has never known it. It is not enough to bring up other races, genders, creeds, or sexual orientations; I must tear down that apparatus that has kept those groups in the shadows, without hesitation or fear. It is time my country lived up to the fair and just principles long ago espoused, without qualification, and without malice. Let there be the new birth of freedom President Lincoln called for, but this time let it be real, and let it ring throughout the centuries from this day forward.
And white supremacy.
As someone pointed out to me on Twitter, what I have called for years "White privilege" is, in fact, simply a watered-down version of the truth of the matter: the domination of the White portion of American society is due to White supremacy, the idea that somehow, the melanin level of one's skin grants powers to those that others are not due, simply by virtue of having it or not. White supremacy is the idea that a person of any other color, even mixed with Whiteness, is automatically inferior. White supremacy is the idea that power must be concentrated in the hands of White people and must never be willingly given to anyone else.
White supremacy even has its own gradations, for it is clear that a White man is considered lord-and-master over anything and everything and everyone, even a White woman. Look to what happened this week in Texas, and you see it in action -- no woman of any color would be given the right to her own bodily autonomy with the say-so of the White men in power.
Of course, you will be alarmist, and sputter on about groups such as the Klu Klux Klan, and if White, will swear upon a convenient stack of Bibles that you are not like them. The point is, you don't have to be. White supremacy is not simply burning crosses on lawns and lynching Black men for whistling at White women.
White supremacy is the ultimate wink-and-a-nod, the unseen get-out-of-jail-free card, the worst kept secret handshake in history. You walk in the door and you get the loan, you get the slot at your favorite college, you get the job at a higher rate of pay, because the color of your skin walks into the room first, laying the groundwork for everything to come. It's not always so transparent, not always so overt, nor is it as subtle as some would love to claim. Electing a Black President did not magically cause it to evaporate. No number of successful Black actors, Black athletes, or Black politicians have served to eradicate it. At the end of the day, it is as pernicious as it was when irons, chains, and the lash held sway, but has now been covered over with a veneer of self-congratulation by many a White person who is sure that the whole sordid mess was cleaned up after the 60's.
We should note, that nobility in the name of righting the wrongs of race is not cut-and-dried, ever. With the 150th anniversary of the pivotal Civil War action at Gettysburg, the battle that spelled the turning of the tide against The Confederacy, we also have the anniversary of the draft riots in New York City, where many an immigrant community, angered at being conscripted to fight in the war, took to lynching Blacks and burning Black businesses and schools to show their displeasure, forcing weary Gettysburg soldiers to march to the city to quell the uprising.
The Civil War did not end racial inequities or injustice, anymore than the 60's Civil Rights movement that came after it would. Every momentous event in the history of White and Black relations merely serves to paper over the truth: that we cling to stereotypes, that we maintain our prejudices, that racial tension does not simply go away because Blacks and Whites go to the same universities and riots do not break out. Even now, a person such as myself, who prides himself on equanimity and a lack of racial prejudice in his heritage, is still betrayed occasionally by thoughts from dark recesses that paint those of other racial types in a bad fashion. To maintain personal racial tolerance is not the simple flipping of a switch in my conscious mind, but a constant struggle to overcome baser instincts buried in my subconscious by the stimuli I have been exposed to over time. Even where I strive to give equality to all people at all times, there is an accumulated detritus festering below the surface of my mind, roiling in its darker recesses to plague me, unbidden.
In the end, if I am honest with myself, I can claim to have built the successes I have made over the decades solely by dint of my hard work and pluck, but must acknowledge that my Whiteness was carried with me and certainly influenced some to give me opportunities or deference out of all proportion to my due. If that is so, then it is equally true that many around me, who worked as hard, if not harder, were barred from reaping the benefits of the fruits of that labor, by being unable to carry the calling card of Whiteness with them.
Now, after all this, we have the incomprehensible result of a trial in which an armed White man killed an unarmed Black boy in cold blood and will not be held accountable, save by his God. While we can claim that the jury made the only verdict it could given the evidence presented, justice is not about the cold, hard facts of law, but about the warm, soft edges of human nature and behavior. A law may say that if you fear for your life, you might kill another in self-defense, but does it seem reasonable that this applies to a man who chose to pursue the black Boy, because he was a black Boy? A man with no authority, save that which he forged for himself through his machinations, who was given the instruction to allow people with authority (the police) to handle the situation? A man, who had a concealed weapon, that turned his cowardice into "courage?"
No, it is not mere privilege that explains this, for privilege is bestowed by those with the power. Supremacy is enforced, by the use of all the tools available to press others down, to tear power from their hands, to marginalize and demonize them, denigrating them and making them somehow less than those who hold supremacy. It is always the case that conflict starts when one group turns another group into something other than their group is; in this instance, the White person maintains the Black person is lower, inferior, less intelligent, less educated, and then enforces those views with the tools at hand, by stripping away educational opportunities, forcing them into poverty, abandoning them to crime, and using that as "evidence" that the supremacy is correct.
The George Zimmerman verdict is only the most visible sign that White supremacy is alive and well in our nation, and still holds sway over a society that continues to trill its belief in "all men are created equal." That equality is, sadly, merely a good idea; it has gained no true traction in the nation that has enshrined it in a "sacred" document of its creation. The council of White, landowning men that wrote and signed off on those words perhaps believed their intention was enough, but by not broadening it to "all people" being equal, and by enshrining Black slavery directly in the Constitution, they laced a noble idea of self-governance with a perpetuation of their White supremacy. Over two hundred years later, and despite our best efforts, we have not honestly expunged the ghosts of it from every corner of our land.
So Mr. Zimmerman walks free, which is more than can be said for his victim, Trayvon Martin, and we are outraged, but then, we built this system, with our inattention to the workings of our government and our nation. That inattention allowed the perpetuation of White supremacy in the guise of governance, and allowed the purveyors of such supremacy to ensconce themselves in positions of power by dissuading everyone else from becoming engaged. But no one should turn us from our right and proper duty: the maintenance, and occasional readjustment, of our Local, State, and Federal governments. This moment is the clarion call that should stir the beating heart of any American to action, to right the wrong this verdict represents by ensuring it never happens again. The restoration of true and consistent order in our nation is our responsibility, and we can no longer shirk it.
It is time to fold the tent of racial supremacy. The White portion of America, slowly merging into the national milieu, can no longer count itself as superior, the only just arbiter of what is proper. We were never anointed masters of the world -- we stole that from every other race we could, and now our transgressions fold in upon us. As much as I, a White man, want to grasp the reins of power, to restore order, to make amends, I know I cannot. I must cede control and convince others of my race to do likewise, to attempt to create balance in a nation that has never known it. It is not enough to bring up other races, genders, creeds, or sexual orientations; I must tear down that apparatus that has kept those groups in the shadows, without hesitation or fear. It is time my country lived up to the fair and just principles long ago espoused, without qualification, and without malice. Let there be the new birth of freedom President Lincoln called for, but this time let it be real, and let it ring throughout the centuries from this day forward.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
There's Always A Choice
To Republicans: Please, feel free to ban abortion. I'll wait...
Done?
Good.
What have you accomplished? Nothing. Well, not nothing, but perhaps something you couldn't conceive of, as if you were in full belief that the stroke of a pen simply causes people to behave differently. If that were the case, you're probably actually follow the precepts of The Bible...
But I digress.
So you slam the door on "baby killing," padlock Planned Parenthood, pat yourselves on the back, and call it a day, thinking you have rid the world of one more "scourge." You have put women in their place, depriving them of something you are sure they didn't need anyway.
And somewhere, in a kitchen, or a family room, or a trailer, or a shack, or a church, or a car or a clinic, there sits a woman (or to be far to the transgendered, any person with a womb), clutching the awful news that they are pregnant, at a time, in a place, in a situation, where such a thing is unwanted, or unwarranted, or complicating. It wasn't meant to happen, it wasn't supposed to happen, it shouldn't have happened... and yet there it is, the report, the pregnancy test, saying that it is, in fact, so.
Maybe there is mere fretting, but more likely there might be sobbing, anger, frustration, fear, uncertainty, fright, panic, depression... maybe all of these things, in various levels and proportions. Suddenly, a world which seemed to be operating as smoothly as it does any day, lurches and shakes and shudders, and someone is left to pick up the pieces. They need an out, not because they enjoy the thought of it, but because in this time and place is not the right time and place.
But you've left them no choice... have you?
That's what you think.
You'd like to believe wholeheartedly that your damnation of abortion has expunged the idea and practice from the face of the Earth. You want to believe that anyone seeking one will now simply shrug their shoulders, give up, and bring the fetus to term, to fill the world with another helpless, mewling soul. Anyway, it's not your business at that point...
Don't kid yourself.
Desperation leads to drastic action.
Our forlorn mother-to-be will be wracked with spasms of horror, but will more than likely be pushed to take a course that you refuse to acknowledge: She will do it herself.
Maybe with help, maybe alone, maybe with chemicals, maybe with tools, maybe in a way unfathomable, but she will not be denied the surcease of the pain this pregnancy is causing, will cause, no matter how much anyone abhors it. She will follow through... and perhaps will not live to see the morrow.
You have done what you thought was best for all involved, only to allow the rose-colored shortsightedness you are cloaked in to hide the truth: a woman always has a choice. Short of manacling the pregnant to beds, there is no way to banish abortion. No will, no law, no admonishment will make it stop, merely place it beyond your prying eyes, in back alleys, and motel rooms, and silent apartments.
All because you tried to play God.
Sleep well. When you arise the clinics will be silent... and so will be the screams of women dying in tortured anguish.
Done?
Good.
What have you accomplished? Nothing. Well, not nothing, but perhaps something you couldn't conceive of, as if you were in full belief that the stroke of a pen simply causes people to behave differently. If that were the case, you're probably actually follow the precepts of The Bible...
But I digress.
So you slam the door on "baby killing," padlock Planned Parenthood, pat yourselves on the back, and call it a day, thinking you have rid the world of one more "scourge." You have put women in their place, depriving them of something you are sure they didn't need anyway.
And somewhere, in a kitchen, or a family room, or a trailer, or a shack, or a church, or a car or a clinic, there sits a woman (or to be far to the transgendered, any person with a womb), clutching the awful news that they are pregnant, at a time, in a place, in a situation, where such a thing is unwanted, or unwarranted, or complicating. It wasn't meant to happen, it wasn't supposed to happen, it shouldn't have happened... and yet there it is, the report, the pregnancy test, saying that it is, in fact, so.
Maybe there is mere fretting, but more likely there might be sobbing, anger, frustration, fear, uncertainty, fright, panic, depression... maybe all of these things, in various levels and proportions. Suddenly, a world which seemed to be operating as smoothly as it does any day, lurches and shakes and shudders, and someone is left to pick up the pieces. They need an out, not because they enjoy the thought of it, but because in this time and place is not the right time and place.
But you've left them no choice... have you?
That's what you think.
You'd like to believe wholeheartedly that your damnation of abortion has expunged the idea and practice from the face of the Earth. You want to believe that anyone seeking one will now simply shrug their shoulders, give up, and bring the fetus to term, to fill the world with another helpless, mewling soul. Anyway, it's not your business at that point...
Don't kid yourself.
Desperation leads to drastic action.
Our forlorn mother-to-be will be wracked with spasms of horror, but will more than likely be pushed to take a course that you refuse to acknowledge: She will do it herself.
Maybe with help, maybe alone, maybe with chemicals, maybe with tools, maybe in a way unfathomable, but she will not be denied the surcease of the pain this pregnancy is causing, will cause, no matter how much anyone abhors it. She will follow through... and perhaps will not live to see the morrow.
You have done what you thought was best for all involved, only to allow the rose-colored shortsightedness you are cloaked in to hide the truth: a woman always has a choice. Short of manacling the pregnant to beds, there is no way to banish abortion. No will, no law, no admonishment will make it stop, merely place it beyond your prying eyes, in back alleys, and motel rooms, and silent apartments.
All because you tried to play God.
Sleep well. When you arise the clinics will be silent... and so will be the screams of women dying in tortured anguish.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Guns, Gams, and Gumshoes At The Bijou
I missed the era of nickel matinees at the movie theater, staring up at the flickering black-and-white images of Hollywood's brightest, wrapped up in catching the pratfalls and passion. I was, however, able to indulge in the nostalgia of the era thanks to PBS and the show Matinee At The Bijou. I gained an appreciation for classic serials, the artistry of Keaton and Chaplin, the gruffness of Bogart, the sensuousness of Bacall, the power Crawford, and the majesty of Grant. I also got sucked into the shadowy world of film noir, a place where shadowy figures tried to manipulate hard-nosed men and desperate women, where vices could be your downfall, where death erupted suddenly and without warning. The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, Dial M for Murder, DOA, The Naked City, The Asphalt Jungle... movies that would grab you, reel you in, and keep you on the edge of their seat with their gritty, gutty stories.
Growing up, what boy didn't want to be Humphrey Bogart, chasing bad guys through back alleys or trading innuendo and smoldering glances with Lauren Bacall?
It is an art form that has faded from the American consciousness in this day-and-age of CGI-drawn visuals, explosions, incessant hammering of automatic weapons, and thinly-veiled bodies heaving against each other in bed. We want everything heaved at us in a frenetic ballet of violence or spoon-fed to us as a sappy, syrupy confection. We are rarely pulled unwillingly into a story, left wondering if the people we see are actually who we think they are. Too much of modern movie making is trying to hide the obvious in a complicated goop of misdirection in the vain hope of surprising people.
Which brings me to a thing which crossed before my eyes a little over two weeks ago, a project by the talented Kirsten Vangsness (also known as Penelope Garcia on Criminal Minds) and her cohorts at Opiate of the Masses. It is a movie homage to the glory days of film, and film noir in particular, called "Kill Me, Deadly." It is a laugh-out-loud comedy that stars Ms. Vangsness as the femme fatale of our drama, Mona Livingston, Dean Lemont as the clueless gumshoe with the hots for her, Charlie Nickels, Joe Mantegna as Bugsy Siegel, noted gangster, and the incomparable Lesley-Anne Down as Lady Clairmont, the shadowy lady in the background.
It's not often you will find me shilling for something, but my heart has been sold to this piece of work that touches on an era that was one of the watershed moments in movie making. But rather than some dour replication of the genre, here are people who love art, film, film-making, and have put a comedic spin on it that will at once have you enthralled and in stitches. It doesn't take much to support a fine project such as this, but ever simoleon, every sawbuck, every bit of dough takes it that much closer to completion. Watch the trailer, read the back story, and help Opiate of the Masses finish bringing this story to life. Get you piece of the action now...
Growing up, what boy didn't want to be Humphrey Bogart, chasing bad guys through back alleys or trading innuendo and smoldering glances with Lauren Bacall?
It is an art form that has faded from the American consciousness in this day-and-age of CGI-drawn visuals, explosions, incessant hammering of automatic weapons, and thinly-veiled bodies heaving against each other in bed. We want everything heaved at us in a frenetic ballet of violence or spoon-fed to us as a sappy, syrupy confection. We are rarely pulled unwillingly into a story, left wondering if the people we see are actually who we think they are. Too much of modern movie making is trying to hide the obvious in a complicated goop of misdirection in the vain hope of surprising people.
Which brings me to a thing which crossed before my eyes a little over two weeks ago, a project by the talented Kirsten Vangsness (also known as Penelope Garcia on Criminal Minds) and her cohorts at Opiate of the Masses. It is a movie homage to the glory days of film, and film noir in particular, called "Kill Me, Deadly." It is a laugh-out-loud comedy that stars Ms. Vangsness as the femme fatale of our drama, Mona Livingston, Dean Lemont as the clueless gumshoe with the hots for her, Charlie Nickels, Joe Mantegna as Bugsy Siegel, noted gangster, and the incomparable Lesley-Anne Down as Lady Clairmont, the shadowy lady in the background.
It's not often you will find me shilling for something, but my heart has been sold to this piece of work that touches on an era that was one of the watershed moments in movie making. But rather than some dour replication of the genre, here are people who love art, film, film-making, and have put a comedic spin on it that will at once have you enthralled and in stitches. It doesn't take much to support a fine project such as this, but ever simoleon, every sawbuck, every bit of dough takes it that much closer to completion. Watch the trailer, read the back story, and help Opiate of the Masses finish bringing this story to life. Get you piece of the action now...
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