Ozzies

It is now official: Hollywood plans to remake every film that ever existed, beginning with The Wizard of Oz. I look forward to the 2017 remake of Le Voyage dans la lune featuring Zach Galifianakis as the moon.

Holy Harry

Is the Harry Potter series a Christian allegory? And if it is, does that mean I have to start worshiping Dobby? Because that little freak gives me the creeps.

I know the seventh Harry Potter film is coming up, and that I should be excited, and that this is the END OF AN ERA, but for me the Harry Potter era ended with book seven. Not that it was bad. It was just the last one. The film mean...very, very little. Getting excited about a Harry Potter movie is like getting excited over a half-inch snowfall. Not worth the trouble.

Lox, Stox, and Barrel

This Sunday, I tried lox for the first time. "Lox" is a kind of cured salmon that can best be thought of as Jewish sushi, minus the rice and seaweed. You are required to eat lox on a bagel. This is an unwritten law, except in the state of New York, where it is a written law enforced by penalty of flogging.

Every Sunday, our dining hall--perhaps in an effort to atone for the rest of the week--puts out a brunch spread worthy of the name. You got your sausages, you got your scrambled eggs, you got your doughnut, and, if the "you" in this case is daring enough, you got your platter heaped high with lox.

For weeks, I was not one of those daring souls. Lox weirded me out. Pink, gelatinous, streaked with mysterious white stripes, it looked like it had come from the set of Star Wars. I averted my eyes and continued to the bagels, vowing that they day I ate lox would be the day I watched "Glee."

But a chance encounter changed everything. I was flying back to New Jersey when I struck up a conversation with my seatmate. She, a born-and-bred New Yorker, insisted that I should try lox. No, not should, I HAD to try lox. Otherwise I would go to my grave ignorant, unloved, and unhappy.

So I did. I picked out my favorite kind of bagel--a neon-yellow egg bagel, the kind that taste a little like challah--and piled it high with lox. This is harder than it sounds. Lox is sliced so thin that it took me nearly ten minutes of piling to get a measurable amount. Back to the table I went, carrying my lox and bagel like an authentic surly New Yorker on his way to a job he hates.

And...it was good! A little fishy, maybe, but that's understandable considering that it IS fish. Complaining that fish tastes fishy is as nonsensical as complaining that beef is beefy or chicken chicken-y. I ate it all and I'd do it again. In fact, I think I might smuggle some lox out of the dining hall beneath my hat. Today, I begin the arduous process of lox-proofing my baseball cap.

Stroke of Genius

They say you can become a "genius" at anything merely by practicing for 10,000 hours. Terry Teachout disagrees. Me too. Otherwise, I'd currently be a genius at sleeping, when in fact I am hardly above average.

Up in the Air

This being the holiday season, when people fly hundreds of miles to see people they ordinarily wouldn't cross the street to shake hands with, it's fitting that the Daily Beast ranks the best big airports in America.

I fly less frequently than a one-winged ostrich with weight problems, but I've been through a couple of these 'ports: Cincinnati (#3), Los Angeles (#4), Salt Lake City (#6), Charlotte (#8), Houston (#9), Washington (#10), LaGuardia (#19), Philadelphia (#22), Atlanta (#24), and Newark (dead last at #27).

My strongest memory of any of these places is LAX, only because there was a bird loose in the terminal. I felt sorry for it. Being sucked into a jet engine is probably a better fate than getting stuck in the rafters of a Cinnabon.

And yes, Newark richly deserves its ranking. I've never passed through that airport without getting the chance to study its utilitarian decor at great, great length. As in "several hours length." Once I nearly had to overnight in Newark when my connection was running late. On my list of ideal places to spend the evening, the city of Newark trails somewhat behind that planet in the movie Perfect Dark.

Lockout

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

Will.

Will who?

Will Schultz, who accidentally locked himself out of his room on a Saturday morning and is now standing outside the door in his slipper and underwear.

Ha! Sucker!

The Cheat

How do cheaters cheat? They contact people like Ed Dante. I never realized how big the cheating industry was, nor how powerful a force for evil Google can be.

Rock On

Monday night and nothing to do. You know what this means: "The Thirteen Greatest Movie Performances by Boulders"!

Watching the clip from The NeverEndign Story reminds me how weird that film was. I mean, I'm all for letting your imagination run free, but there is a difference between letting it run free and letting it leap off the Cliffs of Insanity.

Fired Up, Ready to Go

I have a horrible fear of burning to death in bed due to a malfunctioning smoke alarm. It'd be a pretty bad way to go, right? First, burning to death would be painful. Second, it would hurt a lot. Third, did I mention it would be rather unpleasant to have your internal organs turned to charcoal briquettes? Fourth, the investigators would find your corpse, still in bed, and assume "Here's an asshole who was too damn lazy to get up even when he was on fire. Good riddance."

Thankfully, last night I learned there is little-to-no danger of sleeping through a Graduate College fire alarm. I learned this because I was asleep when the fire alarm went off. The GC had sent out an e-mail announcing that the fire alarms would be tested between 5 and 11 PM. Stupidly, I assumed the test would come early in the day.

You know what they say about assumptions. But at least I'm not going to roast to death. Rip van Winkle couldn't sleep through a fire alarm of that magnitude. It sounded like a million vuvuzela-wielding South Africans had decided to celebrate a World Cup victory by invading my ear canal. Yeesh.

Whiter Than White

I have always considered myself one of the whitest people imaginable. I don't mean anything racial by that, though it is worth nothing that my sun-starved skin is approximately the same color as Colgate toothpaste. No, I mean in terms of taste. I had thought myself to be the ne plus ultra of blandly radical mainstream culture.

But am I really? Let's go to the experts. I checked out the comprehensive list of "Stuff White People Like"--currently at 134 items--to see how many I actually do like. The results were very revealing. I liked the following:

Assists, Farmer's Markets, Wes Anderson Movies, Gifted Children, David Sedaris, Manhattan, Marathons, Breakfast Places, Arrested Development, Netflix, Sushi, Plays, The Sunday New York Times, Whole Foods, Irony, Apologies, Juno, Expensive Sandwiches, Standing Still at Concerts, Oscar Parties, Bottles of Water, Musical Comedy, Graduate School, T-Shirts, The Wire, Dinner Parties, San Francisco, The Ivy League, Grammar, Bumper Stickers, Sweaters, Facebook, The Onion, Hummus, America, Promising to Learn a New Language, Conan O'Brien, The TED Conference.

Whew! For those counting, that makes 40 out of 134, or a paltry 29.85%. I'm much further behind than I thought. Think of all the culturally acceptable things I have yet to like. Pea coats. Michel Gondry. Yoga. The Idea of soccer.

Worse yet, I've actually tried some of these things and found that not only do I not like them--I actively despise them. Camping. Frisbee sports. Tea. Traveling. Halloween.* My cultural stock is sinking lower and lower.

I need an intervention. Today, I vow to live life to its blandest by mashing together as many SWPL-approved activities as possible. Time to go snowboarding with my gay friend while wearing a vintage scarf and Ray-Ban wayfarers after having a difficult break-up with the Asian girlfriend I met at an ugly sweater party during my year off. Afterwords, we'll drink wine at a microbrewery in a gentrified neighborhood and talk about how our parents made high school miserable for us.

*Yes, one year removed from Chapel Hill, I can finally reveal the horrible truth: I hate Halloween. It's my least favorite major holiday. Not even a classic movie like The Nightmare Before Christmas can overcome its flaws. Thanksgiving has turkey, Christmas has Christmas cookies. What does Halloween have? Goddamn Smarties.

Regular Joe

My favorite Onion headline is, has been, and always will be "Shirtless Biden Washes Trans Am in White House Driveway."* Little did I realize that the Onion would turn Joe Biden into a cottage industry.

*Though "Pacifist Linebacker Dodges NFL Draft" and "Jurisprudence Fetishist Gets Off on Technicality" run a close third and second

Five Ways to Class Up Your Hot Pocket

Drain out the meaty-cheesy filling and replace it with foie gras

Instead of microwaving the Hot Pocket, saute it in butter with a side of onions

Make sure to eat it with your Hot Pocket fork, not your dessert fork

Spend several thousand dollars to send your Hot Pocket to finishing school

At least wear a shirt when you eat it, for God's sake

It's A Happening

Remember M. Night Shyamalan? He once made spine-tingling blood-chingling thrillers like The Sixth Sense. Now, he directs hilarious send-ups of the thriller genre, laugh fests like Lady in the Water and The Happening. Wait, you mean they aren't spoofs? You mean he's serious? Oh, man. This is bad...

Yes, I know this is not exactly timely. But I think all directors--and all film critics--should be required to read this review, on pain of death.

Fun Zombie Action

If you asked me, "Will, if you had to pick four historical figures to combat a ravenous horde of the living dead," I probably would not have picked Kennedy, Nixon, Castro, and McNamara. This, presumably, is why I am not a highly-paid video game designer.

The Wall

You know how news anchors love to use interactive displays on election night? You've seen them--big, video-game-style screens, where one touch can turn a state from blue to purple to red.

Ever wonder what happens when they go wrong? When the anchor paws helplessly at a graphic of Michigan, only to find the screen has gone dead? Wonder no more. Sounds like John King needs a hug.

Keef

Brilliantly imagined riposte from Mick Jagger against the new tell-all memoir by Keith Richards.

Can we agree that rock stars are loathsome people and be done with it? I can't think of a single one who was a decent human being. Heck, I can't think of many who deserve the title "human being."

John Lennon was an alcoholic, abusive jerk; Elvis was a spoiled momma's boy; Bob Dylan was and continues to be a cosmic prank played by God on an unsuspecting world. Maybe the guys from ZZ Top are nice, but I doubt it.

Mini-Review: The Conservative Mind

Russell Kirk is one of the biggest names in American conservatism. William F. Buckley might have been the charming face of the conservative movement, but it was Kirk's great brain that dreamed up its philosophy "The Conservative Mind" remains his best-known work, and with good reason.

First, a warning. Readers--especially conservatives ones--might want to pop a few Prozac before opening "The Conservative Mind." This is a book that might have been co-written by Eeyore and Puddleglum. Kirk originally titled it "The Conservative Rout," and every page, every sentence, every word exhales that gloomy spirit. This is a story of declines and falls, plural. Everything is bad. Everything is going to get worse.

Civilization might be sinking, but there are a few brave (or stupid) souls who insist on bailing out the boat before she goes under. These are Kirk's conservatives. He begins with Edmund Burke, the British statesmen who defended tradition against the ravages of the French Revolution. The cautious, pessimistic spirit of Burke was expressed in America by John Adams. According to Kirk, Adams believed that private morality was the key to good government--not exactly the most popular sentiment nowadays.

Some of the names in this book are familiar: Tocqueville, Disraeli, Walter Scott. Some are a little more obscure: Brooks Adams, George Santayana. And some are absolutely unknown: Maine, Mallock, Fitzjames Stephen. Interestingly, Kirk makes no attempt to claim Abraham Lincoln for the conservative cause. The Great Emancipator makes only a cameo in "The Conservative Mind." Indeed, Kirk rushes through the middle of the nineteenth century, stopping to nod briefly at James Fenimore Cooper.

"The Conservative Mind" is as much a polemic as a history book. Kirk is not just a historian; he fancies himself a sort of intellectual bouncer, keeping the rowdies from crashing to conservative party. Social conservatives are in, and anti-communists are welcome, but libertarians have to stand waiting outside the velvet rope. Their vision of a chaotic, progressive capitalism makes Kirk shudder in his tweeds.

Can modern conservatives learn anything from Kirk? Certainly, "The Conservative Mind" should be required reading for anyone who has ever confronted--or made--the argument that conservatives are brain-dead numskulls who wouldn't know their Condorcet from their Crevocoeur.

Be careful, though not to be overwhelmed by Kirk's gloom and doom. Remember that this is a man who talked about "Demon TV" and who referred to cars as "mechanical Jacobins." You can accept most his arguments without swallowing his anti-modernism. In this day and age, when everybody owns a mechanical Jacobin, you need to make some small concessions to the modern world. Kirk, of course, felt differently.

Scientists Astounded by Amazing Duck Boy

Historians, looking back on the great American-Indonesian War of 2011, may regard this article as the spark that set the tinder alight.

November: A Semi-Pre-Retrospective

We survived October. Most of us, at least. But now comes November, the month that separates the men from the boys, the wheat from the chaff, the Beatles from Herman's Hermits. Technically, here came November, given that the month is already one-quarter over. Still, I think November deserves at least a quick look-over before we plunge into its last three weeks.

Before, I mentioned my obsession with ranking the months. November sits very high on my hypothetical list. Ahead of even October, it trails only monthly titans December and May on my list and in my heart. Why, you ask? At least I assume you are asking why. If not, why are even reading this post?

Let's start with the weak points. I admit that, weather-wise, November is nothing special. In fact it is often downright dismal. Cool weather is good, and a welcome change from the summer heat, but November is when the temperature shifts from cool to frigid. One day, you're walking around in a light coat, enjoying a pleasant breeze. The next day you're freezing to death despite wearing an entire sheep-worth of fleece. At the same time, November withholds the only thing that makes cold weather tolerable: snow. I have never seen it snow in November. January, February, even April, but never November.

Put these disadvantages out of your head. November has plenty of high points in spite of its miserable weather. Sports, for instance. November sits right at the confluence of college football, college basketball, the NBA, and the NFL. You can even watch the NHL if you are one of those hockey-loving Canadian freaks. Yeah, baseball is over, but nobody watches it anyway. Such is the dirty secret of America's past-time.

November means good movies. It's the month when the studios begin chucking Oscar chum into theaters in hopes of drawing the sharks of critical acclaim. Wow, that was a god-awful metaphor. Sorry. You know what I mean, though. No more overblown spectacles that spend $100 million to digitally enhance Brad Pitt's abs. Now we get the good stuff. Stuff like..."Megamind?" Ah, well, not every November film can be a winner.

Until now, I've ignored the ten thousand pound turkey in the room. No longer! Thanksgiving elevates November from "pretty good" to "great." Turkey Day is a day without school, without responsibilities, a day to spend listening to "Alice's Restaurant" and watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade with family.

And eating. And more eating. Rather than make a coherent argument, let me list the things that make Thanksgiving special: Turkey. Cranberry sauce. Gravy. Stuffing. Stuffing with sausage. Cornbread. Sweet potatoes. Mashed potatoes. French-fried potatoes. Candied yams. Yam candies. Regular candies. Apple pies, cherry pies, mincemeat pies, boysenberry pies. Pumpkin pie, pumpkin cakes, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin lattes from Starbucks.

I would write more, but I have a sudden and completely inexplicable craving for something with pumpkin. But I hope the point is clear. November: long may she wave.

Five Reasons Why Traveling by Train Beats Flying

You can stick your head out the window and not run the risk of falling 30,000 feet

More time to savor the Jersey scenery

Easier to imagine you're on the way to Hogwarts

Significantly less chance of being killed by a high-flying goose

No mustache-twirling villain ever tied a damsel down in front of an airplane

Look for the Union Label

I've figured it out. Grad school is not like a regular school. It's more like belonging to a union. In regular schools--from kindergarten to college--you learn things from teachers. In grad school, you have to pick up tricks of the trade from your fellow students. There exists a "grad school way of doing things," but nobody tells you what it is. You have to pick it up through experience.


Also, if you blab to the wrong people, you might get your kneecaps bashed in with a tire iron. Just a friendly warning.

Talking Turkey

This story contains what could be the quote of the year: "He's got a big turkey in his pants!" No, that's not a euphemism.

Hot Bot

Heck, who needs Al Gore?

Five Biggest Surprises on Election Night

Confounding the polls, Rep. Jim Marshall (D-GA) came from 30 points down to lose by only 20 points

Libertarian congressional nominee Ed McCluskey (CA) gained a whopping three votes outside of his extended family

Sean Duffy won a congressional seat in Wisconsin, despite actually being a candidate for state auditor in Nebraska

After losing the general election, independent candidate Charlie Crist (FL) declared that he would run as a write-in in the post-general election

Chris Matthews broke his long-standing record for longest sustained on-air howl (18 minutes)

Ka-Ching

Why did the Fed just pump $600 billion into the economy? If, like me, you find fiscal policy mystifying, this post might put you right. And if you do, in fact, understand fiscal policy, then I've got a call from a Mr. Obama who wants to speak with you.

Looking Ahead

I'm not going to comment on the elections, mostly because they speak for themselves. Specifically, they say "AAAAARGH WE HATE YOU!!!!!" That's fine. America has a long and rich tradition of such elections. FDR was elected in a "we hate you" election back in 1932. Ditto for William McKinley in 1896.

No, what I really want to talk about is 2012. Hey, wait, come back! You're sick of elections, I know. So is everybody not named Chris Matthews. But you got to take a look at this new CNN poll.

What does it tell us? First, it tells us that nominating Sarah Palin would be a disaster for Republicans. She doesn't stand a Blue Devil's chance in Chapel Hill of winning. Obama is at the absolute lowest point in his presidency. His allies just got booted out of Congress. His poll numbers are abysmal. His media supporters have turned on him. And he still leads Palin 52-44. That's no small number.

Second, despite much happy talk by Republicans, Obama seems safe from a primary challenge. 73 percent of Democrats want him renominated. That's probably enough to scare away Russ Feingold, Howard Dean, and any other potential spoiler. Obama will get a primary challenger regardless, but it's likely to be a retired electrician from Wyoming who thinks the CIA has implanted a chip in his head.

Third, the GOP field is open. True, the big four--Palin, Huckabee, Romney, and Gingrich--are the only candidates with double-digit support. But their combined support comes to only 67%. One-third of Republicans pick "none of the above." Also remember that most of this "support" is name recognition, so the "undecided" camp is probably closer to half the GOP electorate.

What does that mean? It means come on in, Tim Pawlenty, the water's fine. The more the merrier, Mitch Daniels. Join the party, Chris Christie. The fun begins now.

Over...Rated!

ESPN lists the 10 most overrated NFL players, as chosen by readers. Joe Namath seems a worthy number one. But Tony Romo as the third most overrated football player of all time? Come on, folks. He's overrated, yes, but he's not even the most overrated player right now. That title belongs to Carson Palmer. Only Palmer's terrific football name and grizzled, manly beard are keeping him off the bench.

Monkey Business

Either there is a very weird criminal on the loose in Vermont, or the long-feared primate uprising has begun.

A Reasonable Question

Because someone has to, the BBC asks "How is Keith Richards still alive?" In my opinion, the question is less a scientific than a theological one. He must have made a deal with the devil. There's no other possible explanation.

Cat Fancy

Uh oh...

Mini-Review: Three Kings

First off: yes, despite the name, this film does indeed have four protagonists. This could be one of the most deceptive movie titles in history, trailing only Superbad, which was pretty decent, and Grease, which had nothing to do with ancient Athens.

The three--sorry, four--kings of the title are American soldiers stationed in Iraq during the last days of the Gulf War. Troy Barlow (Mark Wahlberg) is a family man from Detroit; Conrad Vig (Spike Jonze) is a hick without even a high school diploma; Chief Elgin (Ice Cube)works as an airport baggage handler when not in the Army; and Archie Gates (George Clooney) is a smooth-talking media liaison looking forward to retirement.

In the midst of the post-war euphoria, as marines celebrate their victory with drunken fistfights and as Iraqi soldiers surrender by the thousands, Vig and Barlow find a map pointing to a hidden stash of stolen Kuwaiti gold. Where they find the map, I won't say, in order to preserve one of the film's better gags. Let's just say that the map becomes the butt of many other jokes. Oops, I think I gave it away.

Our three--four!--kings load up their humvee and head to Karbala in search of their fortune. It's not the best time to be sightseeing in the Iraqi countryside. Though Saddam's army might have been smashed, the country is still crawling with Iraqi soldiers. Not to mention there's a civil war going on between rebels and Saddamite loyalists. And while our intrepid heroes might have their eyes on the prize, they soon find themselves in the thick of said war.

You might consider this film the evil twin of Saving Private Ryan, which was released a year earlier. The two movies have much in common. Both are unafraid of gore; if you have ever wondered what the inside of a bullet-punctured lung looks like, Three Kings will satisfy your curiosity. And both movies eschew the big picture in favor of the little guy; there are no grand battles, no scenes in the war room, only a bunch of sweaty, dirty men trying not to get shot.

I say "evil" twin, though, because while Saving Private Ryan is patriotic at heart, Three Kings is more interested in puncturing American pretensions. America is the good guy only in the sense that it's better than Saddam. In one scene, for example, the US army does its best to deliver fleeing rebels right into Saddam's hands.

Which leads to one of the most peculiar paradoxes in this film. Believe it or not, but the movie--released in 1999--seems to argue for re-invading Iraq. America is depicted as cowardly for abandoning the country after Desert Storm. It suggests that we invaded only because of Kuwait's oil; once that was secure, we skedaddled.

Flash-forward ten or so years. Now, America is blamed for staying too long, rather than getting out too quick. Now, we stayed, rather than fled, because of the oil. Three Kings is a fine film. I enjoyed it, and I'd recommend it to you. But it will do nothing to disabuse of the notion that, in Hollywood's eyes, everything America does is wrong.

The Future Has Made a Phone Call to Today

Breaking new...from the FUTURE!

The scientific, theological, and moral implications of this discovery are beyond my comprehension. But I do know one thing. My theory that Calvin Coolidge was a time-traveling extraterrestrial from the future--long mocked by my classmates--finally has some supporting evidence.

Chuckles

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Hee hee...
Ha, ha!
Ha ha ho ho hee ha!
Heh heh heh.
HA!