Kristin B.

Fascism Is Fun

Mon, 28 May 2007 05:08:52 -0700

Brilliant ad about the "convenience" of fascism.

Waco Short Film

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:55:52 -0700

This is a film I created about the tragedy at Waco. I am WILDLY passionate about this incident. The footage is primarily from Waco: The Rules of Engagement.

Punk rawk days. I'm in the glasses.

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:58:30 -0700

That's me at 5 in a Givenchy shirt. You hear me! Givenchy!!!

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:58:28 -0700

I'm the Grand Poobah of the Masonic Order!

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:58:25 -0700

My 8th grade photo. So many clues of the problems ahead...

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:58:22 -0700

Me and my perfect nephew, Blake. And yeah, I was cooking. Go figure.

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:58:20 -0700

Youth group dressed up as me, me dressed up as a normal person.

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:58:18 -0700

My family hates everything I wear. This is our favorite photo.

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:57:13 -0700

777461506_l

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:56:01 -0700

So mystereeeeous.

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:55:12 -0700

What Can I Say? The Camera Man was Crackin' Me Up.

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:54:03 -0700

Don't Mess with the Pikey!!

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:52:37 -0700

iPhone is in Hand.

Sat, 30 Jun 2007 02:23:05 -0700

That's right. You heard me. I own an iPhone. And instantly upon purchase, I became, skinnier, younger, richer and hipper. Well, at least the latter. I drove by the Lubbock ATT store this morning at 7 to find people already camped out from the night before. I called my Mom in a panic. "Get in line! I beg you! I'll be off work at 11." And you know what? My amazingly kick-ass Mom did just that. I tried my best to actually get some work done til 11, and for the most part, succeeded. I got the shakes at 11:15. I was about to hyperventilate. Because I was going to wait in line. For a phone. You hear me? The shakes. Loony. And so it was. I relieved my Mom from her post as #18 in line. She eagerly hauled it out of there and I started the "get to know the other geeks next to you" process. The woman next to me TOTALLY caught me off guard. She was 50-ish and fairly matronly. I quickly assumed she was sitting in line for her kid and didn't give it a second thought. She WAS waiting in line for her kid, as it turned out. A 16 year old cute kid who had actually saved up his own money for months so he could get the iPhone. Props to you, my brotha. I wouldn't have saved up for a BEER at 16. But then I discovered that the woman was also waiting in line fer herself. A Mac user for 15 years, she was UP on all the Mac details. She wasn't playing around. She did seem a little quick to profess herself the goddess of all things Applified, but I'll admit, there was nothing she said that I would disagree with, and she was up on all her software, the latest hacks, the iTV (and the Eye TV), and knew her stuff. It always pisses me off when someone judges people based upon how they look. It pisses me off even more when I do it. I pegged this woman all wrong. She was super-cool, and made the wait all damn day a pleasure. The kid to my other side was a college cutie who was easily as excited as I've ever seen anyone be about any product. He was darlin'. He said he was going to see Ratatouille tonight, which cracked me up. I mean, how much money to you HAVE to give Steve Jobs in one day? Apparently, $599 + $7.50. Too funny. Some idiots had put up a tent last night that was actually larger than the ATT store and clearly were trying to sneak people into the front of the line with it. I called bullshit on that and they finally took it down. The latecomers were taken to the back of the line. By the launch of sale, there were somewhere around 150 people there, give or take. For Lubbock, that's a pretty impressive turn-out. No clue if everyone in line got their phone. But I did. I DID!!! My friend Chris is in Boulder, and he's in line for the iPhone as well. We promised to open them at the same time via iChat, so I still haven't opened the box, which is a HERCULEAN effort on my part, I must say. I get the Good Friend Award for this one, Chris. So, hang on with me for a couple of hours, my pretties, and I'll be delivering my first review of the iPhone. I know, you're all on the edge of your seats. Update #1. Unhappy User. The iPhone is dead as a doornail. I have to charge the thing before I can even see the home screen. Not a happy camper. Chris', of course, started right up. Figures. Update #2. Hysterically Happy User. The iPhone was finally charged and it was time to activate. It was easier than setting up an email account. It was A BREEZE. In three minutes, in the comfort of my own home, my cell phone was activated, all within the tidy little iTunes app. o At first glance, the gorgeousness is overwhelming. The screen is CRYSTAL clear (better than the home monitor by far). o It synched my contacts without any problems (though it should be noted that it does NOT import Smart Groups, only "Real" Groups.) o The keyboard is so much easier to use than any Palm device I've ever used. Period. I know some people were stressed about the keyboard- don't be. Tap lightly and you'll be typing like the wind. If you push hard on the keys (as if it was a real keyboard), you're gonna want a drink. (It is also worth noting that a stylus will not work at all with the iPhone. I'm a huge stylus fan. So I at least had to try.) o Photos synched great and the slideshows work like a charm. I find myself wanting to "flick" everything up down and sideways. It is smoooooooooth. VERY useful and super-quick. o It didn't synch iTunes stuff on the very first synch, so now it's time to do that. I'll get back with you after that's done. Update #3. Overall, Happy and Satisfied User. Now that I'm fully synched, let me give you the serious low-down. First comment, and this is a biggie: The accelerometer is WAY overhyped. A LOT. Gratuitously so. It is very random, sometimes thinking it is on when it's really not, and then not working at all in apps that you would expect it to. I had, for some reason, been left with the impression that you could watch videos portrait and switch to landscape. Nope. Landscape only. (Which makes perfect sense, of course, but being used to the video iPod, I found myself wanting to switch it to portrait mode.) In addition, Cover Flow only takes place in landscape. (Again, this makes sense, but it's a little annoying to be constantly switching the phone from one end to the other.) It's the only thing, visually speaking, that I have to complain about. Second comment, and this is a biggie: The multi-touch screen is WAY underhyped. A LOT. It's the greatest thing I've ever played with in that respect. Pinching in, pressing out, again with the flicking to scroll- and my personal favorite- swiping your finger from left to right over a contact or email to delete it. This is SUCH a good idea. Keeps you from having to click on edit, then click on the delete key, then going back out of edit mode. This is Apple logic at its best. Third, another biggie, though I may have to retract this later: Remember the first time you sat your laptop on your thighs, fiddling away, then smelled the familiar scent of burning fabric as your jeans melted into your thighs from the heat? Well, that's NOTHING compared to the heat coming off the iPhone when you're making a call. After my first ear ignited after five minutes of talk time, I switched to the other ear which also caught ablaze, thus singing my eyebrows and burning off all my hair. Good thing the iPhone still makes me cute. In all seriousness, I made the ten minute call over an hour ago and I can still feel some sting at the tops of my ears. I'm not joking. HOWEVER... and this is why I might have to retract this, during the call, the iPhone was plugged into the computer to continue charging. Because it was still charging, I'm praying that's what made it so hot. But if not, and it really is going to run hotter than the surface of Venus, I'm kinda okay with that. It makes a great excuse to get off the phone. "No, really, I TOTALLY want to hear about what your new puppy did, but the heat from my phone just burned out my cochlea, so I gotta catch you later." Works for me. (Semi-unrelated side note to making calls on the iPhone, or even just using it in public- While I was on the phone with Chris, who was in an outdoor café while he played with his phone, I heard NO LESS than three women come up to him and fawn over the phone. "Is that the iPhoooooooone? It's sooooo cooooooool! How did you geeeeeet oooooone?" This thing is a chick-magnet the likes of which I've never heard. And it's cheaper than a puppy.) Now, I'll go through this in order of appearance on the home screen: o Text Messaging- Easy as iChat. Looks like it and sounds like it too. Wonderful. o iCal- Same old app you're used to, although it's a more fun interface than on the Mac. I never use times in iCal on the homa machine, but I'll use time on this gadget. And if you want to see why, you'll just have to try it for yourself. Beautiful little way of changing the time. Fast? No. But it's pretty. o Photos- Fantastic, as previously stated. o Camera- Astoundingly easy to just shoot something and email it. It's faster than lightning. Quality isn't too bad either, for a 2 megapixel cam. o YouTube- SLOW. Really slow. But that's okay. I'm too busy to mess with this particular feature anyway. o Stocks- Who are we kidding? This is going to be another neglected app. I have stock, of course, I just don't clock it. It will do what it will do and I have other things to do than worry about what it's doing. o Maps- This was a big selling point for me, and it doesn't disappoint. WITH ONE EXCEPTION- you can't add random bookmarks for your own sites unless it's something Google recognizes or has an address for. In my case, this bugged me, because the first thing I went to look for is this house I will someday own on top of a mountain in Colorado. I found the house no problem, as I know where it's at by sight, not address, and since there is no address, I couldn't bookmark it. Huge problem? Nope. But annoying. This could have been an easy fix really. Maybe in Rev 2. o Weather- Just like the Dashboard Widget. And if you crawl into your titanium encased cellar every time it sprinkles a bit, like I do, this will come in reasonably handy. o Clock- Well, it IS, in fact, a time keeping device. Whaddya know. Darn sure is easy to set up an alarm here. And I'm a BIG fan of alarms, so I'm very happy with that. o Calculator- It adds AND subtracts! Woot! o Notes- It is what it is. Another feature I'll use ad nauseum. (Merlin- take your Moleskine and shove it!) o Settings- Oh WHAT FUN THIS WAS! I love messing with settings. I wish there would have been more, but I was cool with the options I had. GREAT ringtones. It was a tough call between Sci Fi and Sonar, but Sonar won out. o Phone- Good quality sound. It's SO much better sound than the Razr, which I've been using for two years now. Vast improvement. Still, it's hot. Speakerphone worked like a champ and adding a call to a current call was super simple. There's also not odd delays causing you to speak over each other, and two of us were on iphones in the three person call. Overall, impressed. o Mail- This was easier to set up than my HOME email. Fan-friggin'-tastic. (And I'm not on Gmail or Yahoo or any of that. I set up my own IMAP account.) I'm not a big fan of checking voicemail messages OR email messages, but I managed to clean out more email during five minutes on the iPhone than I did all week everywhere else. Lovely animation on delete, for what it's worth. This is going to be great for my productivity- at least until I remember it's STILL email and it STILL pisses me off even though it's on an iPhone and I start ignoring it again. Then again, it's hard to ignore that red 34 that's hovering over your Mail icon down there. Hope this makes for a good motivator. o Safari- This is really nice. Looks just like you'd expect, only smaller, and zooming in and out is so simple. Only complaint- I found that it was really easy to accidentally click on links when, in reality, I was trying to scroll around the page or pinch in or out. If you're on a link-laden page, this is gonna piss you off. o iPod- So far, one of the lest impressive apps on the phone, oddly enough. I mean, it's an Ipod, and that's great, but it requires A LOT of clicking to get to a certain song if you're not exactly sure what you want to queue up next. Browsing is not very friendly. And cover flow so far has proven to be just as useless on this thing as it is on the Mac, though I prefer the way it reacts to a finger as opposed to the mouse. I might learn to love it. For now, its just eye candy. Sound quality is as good as you would expect. (One note here: the headphones are a NON-STANDARD jack, so you will have to purchase an adapter to use your own headphones with this thing. This is a drawback for me, because the shape of Apple earbuds hurt my ears, but then again, my headphones don't have a mic. Give and take, I suppose.) I have not gotten to use Visual Voicemail yet, and this was hands-down, unquestionably, the biggest feature for me on the iPhone. I'm sure other phones do it, but this was the first I had heard of it, and I was sold that moment. I'll let you know if it's bad or doesn't work like it's supposed to, but for now, let's all assume it works perfectly. After all, it's Apple... Overall, I'd say it's been a damn fine day. Jesus loves me and all is right with the world. Was it worth the wait? Yep. Did it deserve all the hype it got? At this point, I'd emphatically say yes. I'm a bit concerned about the temperature thing, but if that turns out to be a charging thing, then I'm sold on this little contraption. Lots of money and a full day well spent. So go get yourself one now. You know you want it. SECOND DAY UPDATE: The heat issue was, in fact, because it was charging. It's not too bad unless you get into a conversation longer than an hour. One major issue I seem to be having, though, is that it only rings when it feels like it. Maybe it gets tired or a little bit emotional, I don't know. But of the calls I received today, only half of those actually rang on the iPhone. The others went straight to voicemail. Curious is anyone else is having this problem... THIRD DAY UPDATE: Why in evil hell does the iPhone not synch Notes with your Mac? I can probably figure out how to reroute the Space Shuttle with this thing, but syching notes? Nope. That's just too much. Yes, I can email the notes to myself and then transfer them to the Mac that way, but that seems really counter-intuitive, especially for an Apple product. I had really hoped this feature would have been improved upon from the iPod. Am I still madly in love with this thing? You bet. But there's still those few little things that just get on my nerves.

Suffer Little Children

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:45:29 -0700

Like most of my rants, this one begins with the viewing of a film. And I'll tell you which one it is, but later. First, I want to get this out. We have an innate need in us all- the need for connection. We long so deeply to have that inside joke with another person- to have someone who knows us wholly. They know the smell of our toots, how fussy we are when we haven't eaten, how desperately unreasonable we are when we have not slept enough. We want someone to know our inside jokes, the movie quotes that make us laugh, the songs from 1984 that make us cry. We long so desperately for someone to KNOW us, to GET us, to UNDERSTAND us. And when we find that person, presumably, we marry them. And there is so much joy, such a burst of fireworks. We have found our other, our Missing Piece, as Shel Silverstein says. And everything just rolllllllllls. We hit a few bumps maybe, and occasionally become dislodged, but we always find ourselves back in synch, rolling along. And then, one day, we don't. There's no explaining it, there's no real rationalization. It's just that, one day, that joke isn't funny anymore. And all the things that drew us together suddenly become the things that draw us apart- not because it isn't relevant anymore, it's just that the consistency of it makes us numb. It's always there. It's that little corner of the bed that you always hit your toe on. And then hop around because it hurts you so damn much, but after the 74th time you hit your toe, you learn. And one day, with out explanation, you give that corner of the bed a wider berth and stop hitting your toe altogether. One day, your partner doesn't laugh at your joke. One day, your partner forgets that you saw Fargo, not Raising Arizona, on your first date. One day, they forget to tell you that you look good in that dress. They forget that they gave you that tie as a joke on your third anniversary of that job your never got. They forget that you really DO like crab Rangoon, even though it's no longer good for your physique. They forget WHY you liked Laurie Anderson, even when everyone else didn't get her, and that you thought of her shows as a spiritual experience, even though Jesus was never mentioned in specific. (And He doesn't HAVE to be, by the way...) And one day, when your Other isn't noticing all those things, someone else does... Someone laughs at your joke. They think you look good in that stupid-ass tie that was meant as a joke. They LOVE that movie that you quote entirely too often. And they LOVED Fargo, and they knew that Raising Arizona was released YEARS before, and that there were FAR less funny moments in Fargo. And they want to know you, REALLY know you. They think you're funny, and they are standing at the ready with a laugh for that joke you've told ten thousand times... And there it is. That's all it takes. An affair doesn't happen at the drop of a hat. People aren't suddenly fucking out of the blue. (I mean, I guess this happens on occasion, but this is not the norm.) People do not literally fall into bed with one another, completely baffled as to how their vagina came into direct contact with another human's penis. For the most part, it's a gradual process. And, by the way, it's one that you can discern if you are currently in a relationship. (I might add, I am not...) Now, this point of view comes from someone who has never been married, so take it with a grain of salt. I don't know if I'll ever bother to get married, but I do want to on most days. But then, on those same days, it seems like too much damn trouble. And for all the aforementioned reasons. It seems to me that, when people get married, they cease to grow as individuals. They then begin to grow as a couple. And that's great, but when individual growth stops, your partner has nothing new to cling to when your old shit becomes intolerable. People get lazy. They gain too much weight. The kids take too high a priority. (Yes, I said that.) People stop going to school, stop being involved in a social cause, stop going to separate Bible studies, stop being concerned with separate political issues. What's left, then? I mean, other than a GIANT gap that another person can fill without really even trying? This is how you can marry and MBA, and then suddenly your secretary with a GED an become interesting. It's not that one is better, although one is, no doubt, but that one is DIFFERENT, and THAT is the key... And this is one of the many reasons I cannot bother to get married. It's worth it to not have sex for all of eternity, if that's what that means, to not have sex with someone who finds someone else to have sex with while I wasn't paying enough attention. Or vice versa. I have a child. That's no big mystery to anyone who reads my blogs. And though he's grown USED to not having a father, he would READILY adapt to someone to purported himself to be his father. It's no different with a married couple. You will seek out and fill in the gaps with the person who most readily accepts and fills in those gaps. I can find a husband any old time. Burke can find a Father any old time. But the query remains- who will try to fill that void once the void has already been filled? It is desperately true that no one can truly be trusted. Anyone, and everyone, is genuinely replaceable. How many of us TRULY have a good marriage? I can think of only ONE couple that I know, and she and I were talking about their perfect relationship only earlier today. Everyone else, they're up for grabs- subject to the highest bidder. And before you come down on me for saying such horrible things- stop and think about how many couples YOU know who are NOT subject to this increasing fallibility. Not many, I recon. Is there hope? Sure. I have to believe there is, because I still want to be married. (Though I refuse to settle for the wrong guy just to allow my son to say he has a "Dad".) Someone is out there for me, and I for him, and we will someday meet in the darkened corridors as we seek out the bathroom frustratedly in the middle of a Chuck Palahniuk adaptation. It's hard to buy the dream when I see so many of my friends living the nightmare. It's hard to believe there is something more when I see so many people losing their missing piece. It's hard to think it's going to be Catch and Release when, in reality, it's Little Children. So yes, my darlings, there it is. Rent Little Children and pay close attention. There is MUCH to pay attention to in that film (though I will, for once, digress on the child molester topic). See what your marriage is, or what it has become. Learn. Learn. Learn. Learn. Learn. (Quote from Robert DeNiro in Awakenings.) See. And stop the wreckage. I can't, so far, and so I remain... cracking myself up with my own obscure movie quotes. Funny how I never seem to tire of myself...

Bukowski, Rollins, and George W. Bush

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:41:23 -0700

I haven't logged on to MySpace in months, and I'm so damn Narcissistic as to do so now because I finally got ahold of another rant worth posting. Read on, my friends, because although it's a long one, it's one that you're gonna get a kick out of. Come! Revel in my crisis of political faith! I find myself hovering amidst quite a puzzling little introspective quandary at the moment, which is often how these little rants of mine are birthed. This one is unique, though, as I always start out writing with both a question and an answer, certain of my foothold and convinced of my position, regardless of whether it is RIGHT or not. I am 32. I am sure of myself. I know what I am capable of and what my limitations are. I know what buttons I can push in myself and which ones others best steer from. In short, I am who I am, and I am comfortable in that, though I'd like to be a skinnier version of that person. And yet, over the last three months, I have found myself constantly questioning a certain aspect of my belief system, and for the strangest reason- the words of others to persuade me rather than actual facts from the situation. Am I REALLY susceptible to some modicum of propaganda? Am I really so weak in the knees that I can look at another person and think, "Well, he's certainly smart, well-read, adroitly spoken, and not hard to look at to boot, but he and I really don't agree on this topic. AM I WRONG?" It seems preposterous to the highest degree. It's like being really religious, and yet no one around you believes in God, so you think, "Hmmm, well, maybe there's NOT a God..." But that, however, is not an aspect of my being I will ever question, and I can say that with complete assurance because of completely unrelated events of the last three months. Not to say that I haven't wondered of God existed in that time, and even if so, if He was benevolent, but I have come out on the other side of the madness now, still a believer, though a little worse for wear. No matter. That's not the debate at hand. What IS, however, the crux of this crisis of ideology is my political mores. And while some might be so ignorant as to tie those mores in with those of religion, those people are ignorant and short-sighted, so I toss out that argument entirely based upon its weakness alone. See, I'm a Republican. I have been for years now. Though it was not always so. The year I was to turn 18, I was endlessly frustrated. My birthday was on November 13, and yet the election was held on November 2, which meant I was not eligible to vote. But no matter! I took up my Clinton Gore banners and held them aloft, proclaiming to all who were able to hear my drunken meanderings that those two men were the saviors of us all. They were the answer to all the problems we were facing under the Bush regime. (Daddy Bush, of course.) I staunchly believed that Daddy Bush was the antichrist, or at least one of his most proficient minions, and that change must come soon. Of course, I didn't even believe in God at the time, so it seems a bit ironic I would be so self-assured as to lump this man in with the dogs of hell. And Clinton won, much to my joy. And for the first four years, I was pleased with his work. Well, not really. There was Waco, and I didn't care for his handling of that. Then the bombing of the aspirin plant in Kenya. That seemed a bit misguided. And then there was the incessant filming of him jogging to McDonald's every morning, all of America tuned in like it was an intergalactic car-wreck we could not pry our eyes from. And then him playing the saxophone. I mean, really. Am I to take a president seriously who's favorite song is by fucking Fleetwood Mac? And yet, I did. I forgave him his foibles and cheered him on. Then the second four years came, which were enough to convince me that there should be a ONE term limitation on the presidency. He was fumbling, uncalculating, happy-handed and conniving. This man who I once championed had lost my trust, and this was even before the infamous dick incident. That just sealed the deal. Not that I even have that much of a problem with the highest appointed leader in the world, short of the Pope, getting a knob-shine, but I didn't like it much that it happened IN the Oval Office, nor that he blatantly lied about it. If he would have just admitted it, maybe I would feel differently today, But as it is, I don't. Since the ensuing impeachment did not get him completely out of office, I felt like a girlfriend who had been cheated on repeatedly, but still had to live with my boyfriend because his name was on the lease and I really needed my deposit back. I focused my attention to the election to come. There had already been a sea-change in me, though, and little doubt that I would be shifting the side of the ballot box I was voting on. As Hunter S Thompson said, "With the right kind of eyes, you could almost see the high water mark, that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back." What had finally cured me of this illness called "democrat" (not democracy, mind you) was, of all things, being poor. People are so quick to blame the rich- to say that the only people who truly believe in the Republican ideal are those in the top 3% of the US income bracket. Not so. It was a realization that went something like this: "I make very little money. I want to keep as much of that money as humanly possible. I don't want to give that money to the government to use as they see fit. I want to use it in my own way. And I am BY NO MEANS opposed to giving that money to those in need, but I WILL BE THE ONE who dictates who gets that money, and what amount, and when. I know people in need. I'll decide how to help them, and it will mean a hell of a lot more to get a check directly from my hands than some paperwork-laden hand-out from Uncle Sam." That was all it took. I was a card-carrying member of the Republican party, and it all came to me not by my religious beliefs, not by my exceptional economic status, not from a family that touted the superiority of a conservative belief system, but... by common sense. Now, years later, though I still consider myself a staunch conservative Republican, I find myself in the same state of disgust with Baby Bush's second term that I did with his predecessor. (Though not nearly the amount of fucking bile and contempt that I share for Pelosi, Schumer, and Baird, though I digress.) (Don't get me started on Schumer. Trust me.) (And yet, if I may infuse a third parenthetical statement here- I would MORE than eagerly vote for Joe Lieberman or Zell Miller, both Democrats, and probably WILL vote for Giulliani, who might as well be a Democrat.) Though I have not abandoned my party by any means, nor have they given me any concrete reason to do so, other than minor quibbles with one policy or another, I find myself wondering WHY and HOW I got to this hue in the political spectrum. Let me explain... I've been going through some really challenging times in my personal life. Those points are irrelevant, so I'll not enumerate them here. Suffice it to say- this has been the worst six months of my entire life, and it will never get any worse than it has been, PERIOD. And something I've known about myself all my life is that, when things get hard, I run to the intellectual. It doesn't help things, so I don't know why I do it, but I do nonetheless. All of a sudden, I'm wanting to read Samuel friggin' Beckett plays and listen to The Ugly One with the Jewels by Laurie Anderson (which, if you have not heard, stop reading this rant right now and go listen to it) and On the Road by Kerouac and anything by Bukowski and Hunter S Thompson and downloading anything I can digest by Henry Rollins. (Yes, I did just include Henry Fucking Rollins with Beckett. Top that.) And if you listen closely with the right ears, you can almost hear the high water mark and the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back. And so I'm left wondering- "I agree with these people on SO many levels, and I admire them on even more, so WHY am I in complete opposition to them on this one political topic? You can't tell me that if Bukowski was alive today, he'd do anything but shit directly on GW's shoes." At heart, and appearance, and speech, I am all of them, though admittedly not in intellect. I don't fancy myself much different than Rollins, really. I'm young and full of hate and anger, disgusted at the political system I see laid before me (democrat AND republican), desperately crying out for a change, too busy to be bothered with the petty trivialities most people mire themselves in, yet TRULY concerned and benevolent toward those who are in legitimate need. Yet, I JUST DON'T SEE THINGS THE WAY HE DOES. I can't help it, I just don't. The punk rock part of me WANTS to don a Sheppard Fairey shirt and shout "Question Your Leaders!" But then again, the other part of me is thankful that the economy is at an all-time high and that I can tithe to my little checkbook's content. If a Democrat was at the helm of this sinking ship, I couldn't do those things. I'd be watching my tax dollars go down the drain to fund another crack whore with 16 kids who is cranking them out far cash, refusing to get a real job and place those kids in an environment in which they can thrive, not cushion the mother's fall into a drug-addled coma. And yes, I have the fucking RIGHT to be that harsh, because I'm a single Mom too, and that gives me the right to criticize ANYONE who's parenting doesn't fall into line with my own ideals. Sorry. Life's tough. Wear a cup, as a Dennis Miller says. I refuse to allow anyone to slide by on the "but it's really HARD" argument, because I know what can be birthed in the human spirit. I have a mantra I repeat to myself a million times a day, and I cannot tolerate ANYONE who doesn't embrace it: "It's amazing what you CAN do when you HAVE to." So no, I'm sorry, I CANNOT buy into the race to the Democrat party. Can't do it. But I do wonder, as I listen to Terry Gilliam, one of my favorite directors, teeing off on Bush, FURIOUS that he was elected for a second term, and recalling the word of Hunter S when he said something to the effect of "In times like these, we NEED terrorists..." (I'm sure I'm taking that out of context, but I'm not a journalist, so I can.) But a big part of me DOES wonder if I'm missing something. Is there some great, cosmic piece of the puzzle that I am just refusing to legitimize? And how can I be so weak as to question my own beliefs not on the basis of those trusts faltering, but rather by the words that people I respect speak? I ask again, am I so weak as to be persuaded by some well-polished form of propaganda? Honestly, right now, I can't say. My son is seven (and a half) years old. He asks me NO LESS than once a week, "Has the war in Iraq ended?" and I say no, and he retorts, "Gosh, how long is this gonna take?" and then trots of to brandish his light saber and wreak revenge on the dreaded and imaginary Sith Lords in his playroom. (The irony ABOUNDS.) And yet, I wonder if even he is tapping into something that my blinders just won't let me peruse. I believe in what we are doing over there and, incidentally, over here. But there is a gnawing sense of disquiet in my soul. I can't say for sure why, nor can I say that I will change. No one candidate is ever going to be completely RIGHT regardless of whether they're on the left OR the right. I'm willing to take that voter's card out of my pocket though, and really THINK upon what it means to hold that little colored piece of paper. I'm willing to look at what makes up this belief system of mine and consider it from all angles. I'm willing to evaluate the chances that I might just be wrong. And even so, I might just vote Republican again anyway. Welcome to Democracy. Welcome to the Republic, if you can keep it.

Apocalypto- The Movie and the Tower

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:38:31 -0700

Sorry. I promise I'll stop that reference. I just think it's so funny. I can't help myself. I've been obsessing about Mel Gibson's new film Apocalypto for some time now. And when it finally came time to see it today, my frenzy hit an all-time high. I was freaking out. I got there an hour early, got tickets WAY earlier, and waited for all my peeps who were joining me for this film, none of which were as excited about it as I, and certainly none who were as early as I was. I finally made my way to my chosen seats, third row from the back and dead center. I was to meet a friend, plus my pastor and his wife and my mother and her husband. I knew my mother wasn't going to make it 15 minutes into the film, as she couldn't see a Disney film without getting offended, but I was excited to see a flick with her nonetheless. And this one, most certainly. The 20 was over, and the previews commenced. Can I just tell you as a side note that I am more excited about the film 300 more than any film I've seen a preview for in ages. That's beside the point. My Mom sat there with her head down or eyes covered throughout the entire set of previews, professing aloud the demise of our society at large. "You do realize that what you're about to see will be far worse than any of these previews?" I said to her. "You think so?" she asked in reply, but I certainly did. "It might be bad, but it won't be evil." she defended. "The Mayans were the most evil people to ever inhabit the earth, mother. I think it's gonna be bad." But she stayed. So be it. The film was brilliant on a million levels, all apparent within the first 15 minutes. An American director making a film yet again in a basically dead language, forcing you to identify with and care for the characters, drawing you in, and in an Oliver Stone fashion, punching you in the face just as you get comfortable. And can I just say that the lead was GORGEOUS. There. I said it. And to be honest, the more tattooed and pierced and dreadlocked people entered the screen, the more I was entertained. It's a defect of character I suppose. Well, 20 minutes in, the first battle scene commenced, and my Mom finally headed out. Mind you, there was no blood at this point. Just suggestion. But that was enough for her. She was out. And before I act like a tough-ass, let me say that the ONLY scene that made me outwardly gasp in the entire film (and twice at that), was in this first battle scene. I saw something on screen in that scene that I've never seen in any film ever, and it was appalling. Not violent, per se. Just shocking. Surprising. So Mom and her husband leave, as well as my pastor and his wife, so it's just me and my friend. I must admit, I was less stressed at that point. But this initial battle scene was just the slightest shading of the things to come. Yeah, I had read the reviews saying it was graphically violent, but I didn't really take it seriously. Oh, was I wrong. But let me remind you- I've done a couple of autopsies. And in addition, I've seen more than that, and witnessed countless embalmings. I'm all to familiar with the insides of a human. And consequently, I wasn't really bothered by what I saw on screen. HOWEVER, I DO think that the violence was WAY out of hand, and completely unnecessary, other than one scene. There's a scene at the Mayan temple. I'm not going to go into any detail whatsoever, but I will say that I feel the violence and gore in this scene was necessary. It's historically accurate and it's important for us to understand where ideals come from. I get it. But other than this one scene, the gore was completely unneeded. I don't know what the hell is up with Mel Gibson. I know the Jewish comments were the first thing to tip us off that something had gone awry with this man, but this film just solidifies it. Not to imply that there's anything anti-semitic about the film. But the amount of horror gives you a really clear picture of the fact that something has gone VERY wrong with this man. I am more horrified by audiences than with directors these days. I saw The Departed last night, and the same fact is true in this film and that: the more shocking and direct the violence depicted on screen, the more the audience laughs. I have NO IDEA why this is true, but it is. In the most inappropriate times, people are cracking up. But I believe it is simply because people just don't know how else they SHOULD react. They're at a loss, so they laugh. The violence in this particular film is completely unnecessary. It serves no purpose whatsoever. And because it is so pervasive and utterly shocking, it breaks up the continuity of the film itself. It's grotesque to the point of being absurd. And why? No reason at all. It would have been far more effective without it entirely. Implied violence is always more effective than overt violence. But no matter, Mel carries on and on and on. And I have NO CLUE why he made this movie. Don't misunderstand me. It is cinematically gorgeous. It is shot with the most beautiful lenses and with the greatest care. The dialog is impeccable, and the fact that the entire film is in another language makes it even better. I have no idea how Gibson could have pulled this off. In some ways, it is more impressive than the Passion, in that it must be more challenging to tell a story with a dead language in which the dialog is critical than in the Passion, in which you really didn't have to know what was being said- the point still clearly gets across. In this film, not so. And for that reason, I am completely impressed with Gibson. But he fails the audience in his gore. We all reeled in the scene in the Passion when Jesus was being beaten. Atheist or Christian, it's a tough scene. But you can look at it and say, "Well, this happened. There's no denying it." and move on with the film. In Apocalypto, not so. It's just baffling. (Other than the previously mentioned scene.) I don't get it. I just don't. Did I enjoy it? Yes, I did. Would I see it again? No, I would not. Am I amply impressed? Yes, I am. But would I recommend it? No, I would not. And if you're anything like my Mom, flee the movie in abject terror. It ain't for you. There are a million stories in this world and in these days that are longing to be told. Why this Christian man chose this particular story to tell, I have no idea at all. Makes no sense. I'm just at a loss. But you go and make your own decision. And by all means, let me know what you think. I'm dying a million different way to know.

West Memphis Three

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:36:48 -0700

"Think what you might, but you can kiss my ass." "This is an atracity!" Quotes from a murderer of three boys, ages 8. Anyone who's punk rawk knows well about the case of the "West Memphis Three" otherwise known as the murders at Robin Hood Hills in West Memphis, Arkansas. Why? Because anyone who's ever worn all black has been accused of SOMETHING they didn't do. Maybe it's shoplifting, maybe public indecency, maybe burglary or defacement of public property. Anyone who looks different has, at some point, been singled out, right or not, and been castigated. But most of us so called freaks haven't been accused of murdering three little boys. Some of us, unfortunately, have. Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley were convicted of just that, way on back on 1993. They were accused of murdering Steven Branch, Michael Moore, and Christopher Byers. But anyone who knows anything at all about this case knows that they were most assuredly not guilty. But convicted they were. And why? Because they wore black. Because they listened to Metallica. Because they studied Wicca. Because they were different. This was back in the days of the "Satanic Panic." You damn kids who wear Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails shirts to school have no idea what it was like then. Now, I don't want to get all high and mighty and compare it to the Punk movement that kicked off in the mid-70s, but to some degree, it is similar. The rights you have today were hard won by us punks in the early 90s. Yeah, we were 20 years late, but so what. You're 40 years late, so calm down. I remember wearing a big-ass peace sign pendant that I had bought at an antique store to school. It was the time of the first Gulf War and I was repulsed by the fact that we were at war over petroleum (unlike the war now, by the way.) So I'd strap on my leather jacket, emblazoned with Einsturzende Neubauten images and don my peace sign atop a "No Blood for Oil" homemade tee. And then the school board ruled that the peace sign was actually an upside down cross with the arms broken down, thus a satanic symbol. No more peace signs for us. Oh, but Neubauten was just fine. Morons. We staged pickets and bucked the system. We fought and, in some cases, won. My friend, Tico Kelley, a native American, was allowed to keep his hair long. I fought to make frog dissection optional, in an effort to draw attention to vivisection. And you know what? He and I won. So the rights you kids enjoy in public school even now were born in the hands of yours friggin' truly. And we fought everything we could. Remember the Wild Ones? "What are you rebelling against?" "Whaddya got?" That was us. And during that time, that strange time of anger and injustice and misunderstood rebellion, three boys were convicted of killing three other boys in a satanic ritual. Now, mind you, there were no images or graffiti present to make people believe that is was a ritual crime. There was no relevance to the date on which the crimes were committed. There wasn't even a full moon. But there were three kids who wore black. And back then, that was all you needed. Three 8 year old boys were murdered, and for a month, no one knew who did it. Panic set in. They had to find someone, so they did. And the first target was Jessie Misskelley, who was coerced into a confession, quite easily I might add, as his IQ was 74. He suggested that two of his friends were involved- Damien Echols and Jason Baldwin. And after the cops looked at them, they fit the bill perfectly. They wore black. They wore trench coats.. They listened to Metallica. And U2. (I'm not even kidding.) Surely they were the ones who beat these little children beyond recognition, sexually mutilated them and allowed two of them to drown. And let me tell you what they also did. Apparently. They did all this without leaving ONE DROP of blood behind at the "murder site." They left bite marks on the bodies without those bite marks matching their own dental impressions. They bragged about the crime to people they had only met on one occasion. They did recover a weapon in the river behind Jason Baldwin's house, though there was no DNA evidence found on it. They left no hair or fingerprint evidence, but there was one fiber left on one of the bodies from a shirt of one of the alleged murderer's mothers. They were able to do this while being seen at other locations. Fab. And the confession? It stated that the murders happened at noon, though the murdered children were in school at the time. Jessie said they tied the boys with ropes, though they were actually tied with shoelaces. He also stated that Damien raped at least one of the boys, though there was apparently no DNA present. He did, in fact, show where the boys had been beaten about the face. Oh, but did I mention that he did so after seeing photographs of the crime scene and bodies. And did I forget to mention that Jessie's parents were never notified that he had been taken into custody, even though he was a minor? Did I mention that two hours of the "confession" were not recorded in any fashion, not even by written notes? And did I forget to mention that the officer who "sealed the case" left the force immediately thereafter to run for political office? Oh, I'm not even kidding. But I forgot also to mention one other guy- John Mark Byers. (And we ALL know that anyone with three names is a serial killer- John Wayne Gacy, James Earl Ray, etc.). Remember those bite marks? He had all his teeth removed.. and cited three different reasons who to three different people. And the murder weapon? Well, he gave some documentarians a "gift" of a hunting knife with human blood on it.. whose DNA profile matched one of the children- his son, Christopher Byers. But he didn't have a criminal record, so he got passed over. Oh, wrong again. He had 8 charges against him, including one of child abuse, and one in which he gave a minor w knife to beat up and injure another minor, all while holding off help with a shotgun. No, I'm still not kidding. Now, I'm tremendously bummed about Damien, Jason and Jessie all being in jail for no damn reason, especially since Jason and Damien are sentenced to death. I hate that, I really do. And I believe with ALL OF MY HEART that they are innocent. However, MY MAIN CONCERN is that the killer of these three children is still free. And maybe it's John Mark Byers and maybe it..s not. But I do know this- the killer is free, and THAT is fuckin' unacceptable. What can YOU do about this? Well, a few things, really. 1. Be smart. 2. Choose your friends wisely. 3. Don't let your fashion statement dictate your life. 4. Don't let your music dictate your life. 5. Don't fuck around with Anton LaVay, Alistair Crowley or the likes. It'll come back to you. 6. Apparently, don't listen to Metallica. Or U2. 7. But most importantly, go watch the film Paradise Lost and Paradise Lost 2: Revelations. 8. Soon followed by visiting the Free the West Memphis Three site at http://www.wm3.org. 9. Add them to your "friends list" and to your top 8 to get some awareness raised for this case. It still goes on. Join us. 10. Write these three boys, now men, and send them books and stuff. They need all the support they can get until they are free, which surely must happen. I can't imagine it not happening. If it doesn't, then I have to kill myself. 11. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Who YOU put in office for judgeships are the people who make these kinds of dumbass decisions. So shit like this happens, it's you own damn fault if you didn't vote in the local elections. 12. For those of you in Lubbock, don't vote for Sam Medina next time. He's just the type I'm talking about. Ass. Good thing for him he was running uncontested. 13. Let me know what you've done. I wanna hear about it. 14. And if there's something else you see as unjust, be in refusal to cut your hair or dissect dead frogs, go do it. Every single one of makes a difference. Don't think you can't. So there.

Borat- The Movie and the Tower

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:35:29 -0700

No movie has better illustrated the stories in the Bible and the mighty works of God's hand. I mean, to see a man who has suffered through so much, has gone so far from his country, and to see who he becomes- it is moving to the point of tears. To see him at the beginning, so very steeped in anti-semitism, an then to see how his heart becomes changed so dramatically after his conversion to Christianity. Well, it just goes to show you how much of a difference it makes when you accept Mr. Jesus into your heart. He might not give you Pamela Anderson, but He will bless you abundantly. I'm just fuckin' with you. But it was pretty damn funny. The wizard's sleeve comment made me laugh so hard, I could have gone to the hospital. How this guy gets away with what he is doing is BEYOND ME. It's astounding.

Babel- The Movie and the Tower

Mon, 28 May 2007 04:33:33 -0700

Now, for any of you who know me, or at least who keep up with these little blogs o'' mine, you know I'm pretty serious about my movies. And I saw a fairly amazing one tonight, so I gotta go off for a bit. First, let me say, if you have not seen Babel yet, stop reading this right now and go see it. There's really no way for me to ruin the plot for you, but you should certainly see it before you read this all the same. And even if you never read this, you should go see the film. Okay, disclaimer done. On with the commentary. I can't say that I've ever seen a film that worked out quite like this one did. I was surprised at so many turns, both by the story itself and HOW the story was written. It was an impeccable piece of work. I came into the film knowing little about it, other than the cast and the director, and I assumed it would be about Iraq. Well, it's not. I just thought, Babel, Babylon, Iraq, okay, I got it. No, I did not. And it really wasn't until about 15 minutes into the film that I figured out what it was about. It was so damn well done, I almost missed it. It's language. Babel. And more than that, even, the story of the Tower of Babel. We are all striving, working, tenaciously hanging on to something, and all of us are confused and completely dismantled by language itself. And I don't only mean people who actually SPEAK a different language. How many times have you said something to a spouse, child, parent, girlfriend or boyfriend and they COMPLETELY misunderstand your words? You were clear. You were concise. You made your point. And yet, not one thing you said was actually translated as you intended. It happens all the time. And in that moment when God took those people who were building the Tower and "confused their language," everything changed. And when you see this film, THAT'S what you are beaten to death with. It's a cacophony of noise all day- music, television, radio, people talking, custom cell phone rings, cars honking- it is MADNESS. And it becomes SO overwhelming to attempt to process it all. It's just too much. The film wasn't madness. That's not what I'm trying to say. And you really don't even see too much chaos on screen caused by a language barrier. But in hearing all the different languages spoken, and one character with no language whatsoever, you realize how truly completely different we all are and how overwhelming it all is. We just HEAR so much. And then for the character who isn't able to hear, you see a wonderful montage of complete visual insanity. Because it's the same for everybody- no matter how you take in your information, it's still too much. We're beaten to death with it. This is so frustrating. I can't say any of the things I'm trying to say about this film. I'm not doing it justice at all. Let me try this a different way. A while back, I went to see A Scanner Darkly. Now, it's a wonderful film, but that's not the point. It's one of those movies I have to see twice, because the first time I saw it, I was so completely stunned by WHAT I was seeing that I couldn't really enjoy it for entertainment's sake. I was to busy being entertained by the technique itself, the visuals. And when I left the film, I couldn't really speak. My mind was racing a million miles an hour with thoughts about how much visual stimuli we take in, and how much we don't really need. In seeing Scanner, you realize that you can completely grasp a person, a scene, a car, a house with 1/10th the visual information you normally take in. We don't really need all this color, all this shading, all this shadow and light, all these details, this minutiae that we absorb. It's all really very simple. A few colors, a few lines, and you've got the whole picture. And I left that film kind of irritated at God that He gave us so damn much to take in everyday. (But of course, I can't get too mad, because you dang sure can't rotoscope a sunset. I conceed, He knew what He was doing.) And I left Babel thinking in much the same way, only this time about everything auditory rather than visual. Being a visual person, and a designer, I spend more time everyday thinking about that kind of thing, so I don't often ponder language and speech and what-not. I know when I've heard enough, but that's about it. But this film really made me THINK about that, and how much we really do hear, and how confusing it all is.. and really how PROFOUNDLY God affected us in that moment at the Tower. And I don't know that I've ever thought about it that much before. This movie needs to be in the new edition of How Movies Helped Save My Soul. So there. I've made no sense at all for about 900 words. Sorry. I can't articulate it. And that alone proves my point. Sometimes there's just not words, huh?