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Saturday, February 5, 2011

Of Babies and Bathwater

Earlier this week, the Republican congressional majority tried to push through an anti-abortion bill that would have banned any federal funding for abortion services in the case of rape. Faced with an uproar, they then changed the wording to specify that they would allow for exceptions in the case of forcible rape, "under the theory," as Gail Collins acidly noted, "that there was a problem with volunteer rape victims." The GOP backed off on that bill, too, but their latest iteration of anti-abortion legislation, sponsored by Rep. Joe Pitts (R-PA) is probably worse: It would allow hospitals--as a matter of "conscience"--to deny emergency abortion services, even when these services were necessary to save the life of the mother.

Seriously, what is wrong with these people?

Years ago, we were in a play. One of our fellow cast-members was an ultraconservative anti-abortion zealot--highly unusual among actors, whose general liberalism is slightly to the left of Karl Marx. At any rate, one evening we overheard him engaging in a debate with one of the women in the crew. She asked him if he opposed abortion in the case of rape. He said he would. His logic? That the fetus conceived as a result of the rape should be considered a "gift"--something good to come out of a horrible experience. We were too gobsmacked to come up with an apt reply at the time.

(DIGRESSION: Gobsmacked (adj.)-A wonderfully evocative British expression indicating utter shock and disbelief, as of one being smacked in the gob [mouth]. EOD)

Later, in a perfect example of esprit de l'escalier, we realized what we should have said.

(DIGRESSION: Esprit de l'escalier (noun)-A wonderfully evocative French expression, literally "spirit of the staircase," referring to a perfect reply that occurs to you too late--for example, after you have left the party and are on the staircase heading home. EOD)

We should have said, "So, if a woman is raped and contracts a disease, she should consider the virus a 'gift' and allow it to rampage through her system rather than seek a cure?" Are we comparing a fetus to a virus? Well, yes, we suppose we are; it's no more offensive than diehard "pro-lifers" implicitly (overtly?) comparing pregnant women to incubators.

(DIGRESSION: Pro-life (adj.)-A disgustingly tendentious appelation adopted by the anti-abortion movement, who seem overly concerned with "life" only until it comes out of the womb, after which, you're on your own, baby! EOD)

To Rep. Pitts and his ilk, we say, If you love fetuses so much, why don't you marry one? Of course, we suspect that these folks would be all too happy to lavish affection on fetuses--if only they didn't come connected to anything so distasteful as an actual living woman.

Solipsistography
"The Siege of Planned Parenthood"
Talking Points Memo

Friday, February 4, 2011

History

To put some perspective on what's going on in Egypt, consider this:

You're driving home late at night. You have not been drinking. Your car registration is current. You have a spotless driving record. You come to an intersection, just as the light turns red. You have an unobstructed, 360 degree view. There is no traffic coming from any direction. There are no pedestrians. You know that this is a particularly long light. And you really have to go to the bathroom.

What do you do?

All facetiousness aside, most people, the Solipsist included, would wait for the light to turn green. Why? Put aside, for the moment, the "logical" reasons: that you can't be sure, for example, that someone won't come running out of a building and into the street just as you drive into the intersection; that there might be a cop-car hidden somewhere. Because these reasons are beside the point. The fact is that most people wouldn't even seriously ponder going through the light. Red lights mean "Stop." That's all there is to it.

And yet in Egypt, following the example of Tunisia before it, hundreds of thousands of ordinary citizens, of all ages, both genders, and--although surely mostly Muslim--various levels of religious enthusiasm, have suddenly decided that they will no longer abide by the basic laws under which they have lived--in many cases for their entire lives. We can only imagine the psychic repression under which these folks have suffered for so many of them to explode in rebellion--and we cannot help but admire the generally non-violent way they have so far conducted themselves.

We have no idea what the future will bring. And we worry that what comes next could be far worse than what has come before. But for now, we simply sit back and marvel at the spectacle of history happening while we watch.

Solipsistography
"Crackdown in Egypt Widens but Officials Offer Concessions"

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Thursday Music Report

We heard today that Mick Jagger will perform at this year's Grammy Awards ceremony. This is big news because, despite a musical career spanning some 130 years, Jagger has never actually performed at the big show.

Does anybody really care? Understand, we respect the Mickster as much as we would any rock and roll icon, but seriously is anybody overwhelmed at the prospect of his performing at the Grammys? We remember back in 1992 when Bruce Springsteen appeared on "Saturday Night Live." THAT was HUUUUUGE at the time. Springsteen didn't do TV. He certainly didn't appear on such mainstream venues as SNL. This was either a major coup for NBC or a sign that the Boss's career wasn't sailing along at the stratospheric heights to which we had become accustomed. Probably a bit of both. Since that time, though, it has become--if not commonplace, at least unspectacular to see Springsteen pop up on TV from time to time. Hell, he performed at the Super Bowl. So did U2. So did 50% of The Who. So, come to think of it, did Mick Jagger and the rest of the Rolling Stones. The Grammy Awards seems far less noteworthy by comaprison.

****************************************
The White Stripes announced that they were breaking up. Since they are, of course, brother and sister, we assume--or at least hope--that the break-up is amicable. Otherwise, y'know, Thanksgiving at the White place is going to be AWK-ward.

*****************************************
Finally, a question--something that has been bothering us for some time now:

Why is Justin Bieber?

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Groundhog Day

While not quite on our all-time top-ten list, we love the movie "Groundhog Day." For those of you who have never seen the film--where the hell have you been? In this romantic-comedy-fantasy, Bill Murray plays Phil, a self-absorbed local TV weatherman who gets snowed in in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, after covering the eponymous holiday's rodent-related festivities. He awakes the next morning and finds that it is STILL Groundhog Day--and so is the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. . . . Phil is the only one aware that time seems to have stopped, and that the day's events are repeating endlessly. Through the course of the movie, Phil's reactions to his predicament approximate the five stages of grief, culminating in several suicide attempts--after which he STILL finds himself once more back in bed, on Groundhog Day, awaking to the clock-radio playing "I Got You Babe." Only after he accepts his situation--realizing that this infinite loop allows him to remake himself infinitely--does he achieve his greatest human potential--and is he able to break free.

The movie is beloved by many and for good reason. The script is charming, the pacing is brisk, and Bill Murray is perfect. Phil, at first, is a typical Murray character: sarcastic, arrogant, world-weary. By the end, though, he is. . . well, still world-weary, but we see his joy when he realizes that his life will, literally, go on, and we share that joy.

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, many other creative types have flattered "Groundhog Day." The plot of being trapped in an infinite temporal loop was subsequently used in "Star Trek: The Next Generation," "The X-Files," and "Stargate: SG-1" (to name only those that occur to us off the top of our head).

(DIGRESSION: While not strictly a "Groundhog Day" reference, we are reminded of a moment in "Futurama." The main character, Fry, is in love with a Lucy Liu-robot. At one point, they are snuggling, and "conversing": "I love YOU more." "No, I love YOU more." "I love YOU more." Etc. Observing this, the professor comments: "Oh, my. SHE's stuck in a loop, and HE's an idiot." EOD.)

We think the appeal of the movie has to do with the fact that it addresses one of the fundamental tragedies of humanity. We strive for perfection. We wish for perfection. But we cannot ever achieve it because we are subject to the limitations of both time and our own moral shortcomings. The movie is uplifting in its message that, if we only devote ourselves to making the most of our time, we can achieve greatness. And if our time were infinite, we could achieve absolutely anything.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Wisconsin Man, 46, Calls 911, Saves Wife's Life

Milwaukee--A 46-year-old Wisconsin man is receiving high praise after he called 911 when his wife began choking on a string bean.

Dispatcher Francis "Hot Sauce" McClendon says the man, Arthur Pemberton, was able to provide the hotline with his correct address and was able to speak clearly and coherently.

McClendon at first had difficulty understanding Pemberton. "You have to understand, the vast majority of 911 calls come from toddlers and domestic animals. When Mr. Pemberton correctly used words like 'trachea' and 'Heimlich,' I was thrown. I'm much more comfortable interpreting lisps, babble, and assorted barks and screeches."

When the ambulance arrived at the Pemberton residence, EMTs were unsure what to make of the sight of a grown man attempting CPR. "You never know what to expect on this job," said paramedic John Westerberg. "Usually, we just find a kid trying to give Mommy some candy. I can't say enough how impressed I am by Mr. Pemberton's composure. How he knew what to do--how he even understood what was going on--it's pretty amazing!"

Pemberton was invited to visit the dispatch center, where he was given a "Superstar!" button and a gift certificate for a Happy Meal.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Give Us Your Huddled Masses Yearning to Breathe FABULOUS!

Say this for Americans: We don't do things by half measures. Now that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" has been repealed, and gay servicemembers no longer have to hide their sexual orientation to serve in the military, the government has apparently decided that no one should hide their sexuality. In fact, hiding one's sexuality can get you into trouble, especially if you're applying for asylum in the US. Many asylum-seekers are running into trouble because they are not "gay enough" to qualify for asylum in the eyes of immigration authorites.

This is the U S of A, god damnit! We like our steaks rare, our beer cold, and our gays flaming! You want to stay in this country? Show us the gay!

(Too subtle)

At the same time, though, don't take things too far. When Romulo Castro applied for asylum, he considered going as his drag-queen persona, Fidelia Castro. Wisely, he decided against this. It's gilding the lily. And let's face it: Anyone can dress up as a member of the opposite sex. It hardly proves anything. Hell, the Solipsist himself once donned a black mini-dress, red wig, and high heels and marched in the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade. That doesn't make us gay!

It doesn't right?


(This guy's trying too hard)

Our advice to potential asylum seekers: Just be yourself--with a little extra gay. And when the immigration man asks just how gay you are, lick your lips, give a big wink, and say, "Honey, how gay do you want me to be?"


(Just right)

Solipsistography

"Gays Seeking Asylum in US Encounter a New Hurdle"

Images from: TheTomCruise.com, Examiner.com, and Entertainment Weekly.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Well-Begun and All Done: Heartsick

The book: Heartsick by Chelsea Cain

Opening line: Archie doesn't know for sure that it's her until that moment.

Closing line: The last thing he was aware of was Debbie lifting it out of his hand and putting it back on the table.

The novel in one line: Silence of the Lambs with a middle-aged male detective and a stunningly beautiful female Hannibal Lecter. We're thinking George Clooney as Archie (and not just because we have an unhealthy fixation on George Clooney, WOS) and Uma Thurman as Gretchen Lowell, the merciless serial killer.

In fairness to Chelsea Cain, she makes no attempt to disguise her inspiration: Gretchen, like Hannibal, is a psychiatrist (of sorts--she doesn't actually have the medical degree), and she is even aware of her literary forebear. When a young reporter, Susan Ward (Julia Stiles? We just finished watching season 5 of "Dexter"), asks her about about a new serial killer, Gretchen replies: "'Want me to get inside his head for you? Sorry, Clarice. Can't help you.'"

We're not ragging on the author for the familiarity of her plot elements. Since at least 1991, any book or movie about serial killers almost necessarily has to be blurbed as "the best since Silence of the Lambs." It's to Chelsea Cain's credit that she acknowledges it and moves on--and has written an exciting novel, as well.

In Heartsick, someone is killing high-school girls in Portland, Oregon. Detective Archie Sheridan is called upon to lead the hunt for the "After-School Strangler." This will be his first case since he caught Gretchen Lowell--or, rather, since she caught him. The opening line refers to Archie's realization that the beautiful Gretchen, who had insinuated herself into Archie's search for the "Beauty Killer," is in fact the appropriately nicknamed psychopath his task force has been hunting. Gretchen spends the next ten days or so horrifically torturing Archie, before calling an ambulance for him and turning herself in. Although he survives, Archie is severely scarred--both physically and emotionally--by his encounter with Gretchen. The relationship between Archie and Gretchen--as was true of the relationship between Clarice and Hannibal--is the most compelling part of the novel. The main plotline is of secondary importance.

The opening and closing lines provide nice bookends for this novel. At the beginning, Archie becomes aware of the identity of his murderous nemesis, just before falling into a drugged sleep from which he assumes he will awaken only to be killed. At the end, he falls into a more peaceful slumber, with at least a possibility of redemption. Of course, there have been a couple of sequels already, so he probably can't rest for long.