Get On With It!

Jerry: This is like that "Twilight Zone" episode, where the guy wakes up and he's the same, but everybody else is different!

Elaine (or maybe it was George): Which one was that?

Jerry: Ah, they were all like that

--Seinfeld

The Solipsist thinks that Google Adsense is messing with him.  Just when he thought he had cracked the code, they post some seemingly random ad for "customized themes" for your child's first birthday.  What's that all about?

Well, regardless of what THAT's all about, that's not what today's post is about.  (C'mon, you've gotta give points for segues!).

So the other night, the Solipsist was watching "The Outer Limits" (don't ask), and he found himself becoming impatient.  In this episode, Jon Cryer was playing this guy who goes out on New Year's Eve 1949 to buy himself and his young bride some champagne.  On his way home, his car is bathed in a flood of light, causing Cryer to swerve out of control and end up in a ditch.  When he comes to, it's morning, and, hitching a ride from a helpful passerby, our hero makes it home.  But his key doesn't work, and, when his young bride comes to the door, she is not quite so young anymore.  It seems that (get ready for it). . . .

TEN YEARS HAVE PASSED!!!!

Yes, as unbelievable as it may sound, Jon Cryer has returned home on New Year's Day 1960!  Of course, he has no memory of the intervening ten years, but he eventually manages to convince his wife that he had not run off with some other woman, that he seriously thought he had left home just the night before, and that she should welcome him back.  (Somehow, the fact that he looks exactly the same while she has aged ten years doesn't seem to strike his wife as strange or even, apparently, noticeable.)  Anyway, they return home, do the wild thing, and go to sleep.

While, he is sleeping, though, Jon Cryer is bathed in the same eerie light.  This time, he awakes in some strange otherworldly place that looks like a set from the old "Land of the Lost" series, except moister.  But soon thereafter he awakes back in his bedroom, only (wait for it). . . .

ANOTHER TEN YEARS HAVE PASSED!!!

This time, at least, his wife (who by now has remarried none other than the guy who picked Cryer up after his accident ten years earlier) notices her (first) husband's non-changing features.  Luckily, her new husband is a devotee of science-fiction, and so he begins to figure out that somehow Cryer must be traveling through wormholes.  (Oh, by the way, mysterious disappearances seem to have done wonders for Cryer's sperm count, as he managed to father a child with his wife on that one magical night.)

Well, you see where this is going.  

And, of course, in order to get us more or less up to the present day, our hero has to undergo three more disa-reappearances.  By the last occurrence, which brings us up to the year 2000, his wife has become a full-fledged expert in hypno-regressive therapy, so she is able to put Cryer under and get the full story from the aliens who have been borrowing her husband so as to learn from him.  They have no sense of time, though, so they can't comprehend concepts like "before" and "after," so they don't know the toll that these abductions have had on our hero's psyche.  (As WOS commented: "They can open up wormholes, but they can't understand 'before' and 'after'?  Give me a break!")  In the end, though, these are basically friendly aliubs, and they finally return Cryer to his home back on New Year's Day 1950, so he is able to pick up his life where he really left off.

Now, here's the thing.  The concept itself is not a problem.  And for those who like science fiction, it's no problem to suspend disbelief and enjoy the ride.  The problem is that, once Cryer disappears the SECOND time, you know what the "mystery" is all about.  Now, we just have to wait around until everything gets explained.  But since his second disappearance occurs about 17 minutes into an hour long show, this means we have to sit through approximately 40 minutes of heartrending dialogue, inane speculation, and schmaltzy reunion scenes with first the wife, then the wife and son.  (Thank heaven for DVR's or this would also include commercials.)  The urge to yell, "give us the payoff already" is overwhelming.

But the problem is, the whole premise of shows like this (including "Twilight Zone," "Night Visions," and some episodes of "Tales from the Crypt") is that "SOMETHING WEIRD IS HAPPENING."  Sometimes the weirdness gets explained up front (a gypsy curse, for example, or an ill-advised trip into a hedge maze).  But often the whole plot (such as it is) consists of putting the protagonist through a series of strange events (the basic pattern of which is established fairly early) and delaying the gratification of finding out just what's going on.

Now, in the very best of their kind, these movies and TV shows either keep you unaware that you're waiting for a payoff ("The Sixth Sense"), or else provide you with enough interesting "filler" that you're willing to sit around while they feed you morsels of plot development ("Lost"--but as we've noted before, this strategy has its risks, namely, that whatever payoff is ultimately provided CAN'T live up to one's expectations).  But in the more mediocre realm, it just gets annoying and/or repetitive.

So what is to be done?  ("Well, Solipsist, you could stop WATCHING these shows."  Yeah, right!)  Would it be possible for the TV guide to just give us the payoff upfront?  "It all turns out to be basically friendly aliubs with a vastly different comprehension of time."  Or is that too much of a spoiler?

And the Oscar Goes to. . .

All right, all right, settle down, good readers.  Of course, the Solipsist is going to give you his Oscar picks.  He apologizes for his tardiness, and he hopes you still have time to use this information to clean up on those office pools.

Now, a disclaimer: The Solipsist has seen NONE of this year's Oscar-nominated films.  This shouldn't pose too much of a handicap, but you should take this into account when placing your bets.

Herewith, the Solipsist's picks in six major categories:

Best Supporting Actress:

Amy Adams (Doubt)--The title of the film sums up the Solipsist's opinion of her chances.  (Well, who knows, she's probably fine.  But it's kind of a clever line, no?)

Penelope Cruz (Vicky Christina Barcelona)--Does the hottest chick ever win?  Hmmm. . . .Kim Basinger won.  So did Angelina Jolie, but she wasn't all hot in that film.  Oh, and of course there was Judi Dench!  Maybe.

Viola Davis (Doubt)--The title of the film sums up . . . . You get the point.

Taraji P. Henson (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button--henceforth, "Button")--Well, maybe, if only because the Solipsist is going to go out on a limb and say that "Button" is going to turn out to be an Oscar bust.  An award in a prestigious but not huge category like this could be a sort of consolation prize.

Marisa Tomei (The Wrestler)--She won for "My Cousin Vinny."  Somehow the words "Marisa Tomei" and "Multiple Academy Award Winner" don't go together.

Solipsistic pick: Penelope Cruz.

Best Supporting Actor:

Josh Brolin (Milk)--"Milk" is the Solipsist's dark horse pick for a big night, so this could be a possibility.

Robert Downey, Jr. (Tropic Thunder)--An honor to be nominated.  And this is one of the few things YNSHC actually saw.  Downey WAS hilarious: "I don't read the script!  Script reads me!"  Still, he won't win.

Philip Seymour Hoffman (Doubt)--The title of the--Oh, stop it already!  Seriously, folks, Hoffman is one of YNSHC's favorite actors.  He's fantastic.  But he's already won once, which might work against him here.

Heath Ledger (The Dark Knight)--Well, this is the proverbial gorilla in the room for the Oscars.  The questions: Was he really THAT good in "The Dark Knight"?  Yes, he was.  Would he have been nominated if he hadn't died?  Maybe, maybe not--but he should have been.  Will he get the award because he died?  Or will he NOT get the award because he's dead?  These questions make this category the most fascinating of the night.

Michael Shannon (Revolutionary Road)--Ummm. . . .Who?

Solipsistic pick: Heath Ledger

Best Actress:

Anne Hathaway (Rachel Getting Married)--YNSHC knows NOTHING about this movie and very little about Anne Hathaway.  She was the girl in "The Devil Wears Prada," right?  Kind of funny that she's up against Meryl Streep, who played her antagonist in that previous film.  Then again, considering Oscar history, virtually any woman who's been nominated over the past thirty years or so has been up against Meryl Streep.  (And let's not forget 1987, when Streep received all five nominations!  But enough about Meryl Streep--well, until we get to Meryl Streep.)

(Digression: Try repeating "Streep" over and over--it's really quite a mantra.  End of digression.)

Angelina Jolie (Changeling)--Possibly.  She's won before, but it was for supporting actress.  This would seem to be a natural progression.  And it's always looked on favorably when the hot chick makes herself look frumpy.  This year, her performance in "Changeling" is the closest thing we have to that.

Melissa Leo (Frozen River)--Ummm. . . Who?  In what?

Meryl Streep (Doubt)--Streep Streep Streep. . . Streepy Streepy Streep. . . Oh!  Sorry!  YNSHC went away for a moment there.  Well, Meryl Streep is the most nominated actress (or actor) in Oscar history, and she's already won a couple.  Plus, "Doubt," being an adaptation of a play, has a certain literary cache, and it suggests that this is probably the most "actor-y" part.  Even money.

Kate Winslet (The Reader)--Nope!  The Solipsist takes it back.  Winslet has been around for long enough and been nominated enough times (like, thirty-two or something) without winning.  This is her year.

Solipsistic pick: Kate Winslet

Best Actor:

Richard Jenkins (The Visitor)--See Melissa Leo

Frank Langella (Frost/Nixon)--Langella is a veteran.  A Tony Award winner.  A proverbial actor's actor.  Plus, this role has the same stage-play, actor-y cache as Streep's. . . .Streep Streep Streep. . . Streepy Streepy Streep. . . Gah!  Sorry!  A solid pick.

Sean Penn (Milk)--From everything the Solipsist has heard, Penn won the award before the film was even released.  Another solid pick.

Brad Pitt (Button)--No.  His nomination, though, does raise the question about whether the "actress" rule mentioned above (the award goes to the hottest woman who makes herself look the most unattractive) goes for men, too.  (It worked for George Clooney in "Syriana.")  Not that Pitt looks BAD in the movie, but he does have to look pretty ancient for awhile.  Then again, if this rule were in place, he would've won for "Twelve Monkeys."  Not that the Solipsist thinks this will happen, but what happens if "Brange" wins an award but "Gelina" doesn't?  Or vice versa?  Trouble in paradise?  Or will they just go on a shopping binge for Ghanaian orphans to soothe their feelings?

Mickey Rourke (The Wrestler)--The sentimental pick.

Solipsistic pick: Tough call, but Sean Penn.

Best Director:  The Solipsist will simply cop out and choose the Director of the Best Picture (See below.)

Best Picture:

Button--It's generally considered a safe bet to pick the movie with the most nominations, which this year is "Button."  But the Solipsist doesn't think it's going to work out that way.  He's heard too much snarkiness around it.

Frost/Nixon--Come on!  While the acting is probably solid, this is basically just a filmed version of a stage play which was basically just the transcripts of an interview!  This is cinema?  This gets nominated over "The Dark Knight"?!?

Milk--The dark horse.  Nobody has anything bad to say about this movie, and, at least here in the Bay Area, you would think it's the second coming of "Citizen Kane."

The Reader--Well, it's a Holocaust movie and, by law, there has to be a Holocaust movie nominated for best picture every year.  But that's about all this has going for it.

Slumdog Millionaire--The feel-good movie of the year!  You'll stand up and cheer!  It's like Rocky!  Well, except with a skinny Indian kid. . . .  And, y'know, not about boxing so much as, well, "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?"  The Indian version. . . . No, YNSHC just can't go for all this "feeling good" nonsense.  Who needs that?!?

Solipsistic pick:  Go with the dark horse, "Milk."  (And, by default, Gus Van Sant for Director.)

You're welcome!

All Apologies II

The Solipsist just learned something about the world of blog publishing.

Now, for starters, let's clarify: The major purpose of this blog is shameless self-promotion. Really, that must be considered the essential purpose of ALL blogs, right? It saddens the Solipsist sometimes when he considers that, were he simply keeping a diary (or as we men call it, a journal), he probably wouldn't have kept his new year's resolution much past the Rose Bowl. But since a blog at least provides the possibility that someone is paying attention, the Solipsist has not missed a DAY since he began this blog in late 2008.

Vanity! All is Vanity!

Anyway, to get back to the shameless self-promotion.

Now, sparkling prose and witty observations will only get one so far. The Solipsist realized that, in order to truly expand his . . . well, let's call it what it is. . .his empire, he needed to emulate the big boys. And this meant FRANCHISING. (There must be a "bloggy" term for it, but, for now, franchising it is.) The Solipsist invited his good friend, Friend of Solipsist, who had been faithfully leaving comments, to "join the team," as it were. And FOS did, adopting the sobriquet "Sol's Bud."

(Digression: The Solipsist is concerned for FOS's self-esteem. To choose only to be identified in relation to another--albeit one as dynamic, charming, godlike, and wise as YNSHC--seems somewhat sad. Then again, if one is going to hitch his wagon to a star, one should at least aim for a supernova! End of digression.)

So, yes, the Solipsist has a sidekick. And The Solipsist has an actual, like, staff!

But to get back to what the Solipsist learned about blogging:

It seems that, once people are added as writers to a blog, their comments no longer need to be moderated. Thus, "Sol's Bud" has been leaving unmoderated commentary on the Solipsist's posts. This is not a problem, but, because the comments didn't require "vetting," the Solipsist didn't even realize that comments were being posted. And so YNSHC effectively IGNORED the comments.

So this is by way of an apology--much as it pains the Solipsist to admit error (or even common humanity)--to FOS for not acknowledging his comments, for thinking that FOS had abandoned the Solipsist, and for the package the Solipsist sent FOS when he was venting his spleen. (FOS, if in the next few weeks, you receive a package from Peru, DO NOT OPEN IT! Seriously!)

In closing, fellow blogizens, pay attention to the little people. It is only by standing on them, that we can attain our lofty heights.

And a Happy Virtual Birthday to Everyone!

Hallmark: When you care enough to do the first thing that comes to mind.

Sure, there was always something less than satisfying about receiving a card for your birthday--unless, of course, it was from Grandma, which meant it would reliably hold a five-dollar bill or check.  Even when the Solipsist was in his late-twenties, the amount was seldom more than ten dollars.  Yes, it's the thought that counts, and, no, the Solipsist is in no way criticizing his late grandmother.  Still, it was amusing.

But that's not the point.  The point is that, nowadays, it's probably a sign of deep affection when someone sends you an actual card.  When most responsibilities can be fulfilled via online activity, there's something quite touching in the thought that someone actually went out--to a STORE, no less--and looked through the offerings before selecting something just for you.

And what's the etiquette on e-cards, anyway?  A "thank you" would seem to be in order, but how much of a thank you?  Especially when the card arrives on the actual day.  With non-virtual cards (i.e., cards), when they show up on your birthday, it at least suggests that someone thought of you ahead of time--in fact, if the card was mailed, it guarantees such thought.  The e-card on your birthday MIGHT mean that somebody thought ahead and arranged for the card to pop up in your inbox on the blessed day.  Or it might mean (let's face it, probably does mean) that somebody went into work, flipped on the computer and, in between hands of computer solitaire and Facebook updates, had an "Oh, crap!" moment and quickly went to BlueMountain or its ilk in a last ditch attempt to avoid condemnation.

(Digression: BELATED virtual e-cards must be the ultimate sign of laziness.  End of digression.)

The Solipsist's advice: Be gracious, be thankful.  And he's not just saying that to prepare you for your birthday presents.

Really.

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Guide to Dathonian English:

Use the force, Luke: Concentrate; Pay attention.

Delaware (A Brief Post--What Else Would You Expect?)

Have you noticed that an inordinate number of geographical locations are "approximately the size of Delaware"?  What does that mean to anybody?  Do people from Delaware even know approximately how big Delaware is?  What do newspaper writers in other parts of the world use as a point of comparison for relative areas?  "Senator Joe Biden, the Vice President of the United States," a reporter in The Eritrea Pennysaver might write, "hails from Delaware, a state approximately one-third the size of Djibouti."

You can look it up!

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Random thought:

Of course, there are certain competitive activities that don't readily lend themselves to a "Rocky"-type storyline. . . . Bagpiping, for instance.

Us Day

Not too long ago, Presidents' Day was just Washington's Birthday.  That made sense to the Solipsist, who, despite being a mere stripling, even then sensed that there was something special about Washington.  He was the Father of Our Country, after all.  He was kind of a big deal.

So was Lincoln, of course, so celebrating his birthday seemed fair, too.  Indeed, the Solipsist was quite disappointed when the powers that be rescinded Lincoln's Birthday and "moved" it to Washington's.  And no, not just because he lost a day off from school.

Well, OK, yes--just because he lost a day off from school.

At the same time, though, now that he has matured (and despite the fact that he now works somewhere that gives him a separate day off for Lincoln's birthday anyway). the Solipsist finds something troubling in the whole concept of a "Presidents' Day."  It's one thing to honor Washington: He got the country off on the right foot and basically turned down a chance to be "King of America."  Lincoln freed the slaves and preserved the Union.  One could probably make a case for FDR and a handful of others.  But let's face facts: The vast majority of American presidents--like the vast majority of anything--fall into the mediocre middle of the bell curve, at best.

Do we really need a holiday that, at least implicitly, celebrates not only the Roosevelts and Kennedys but also the Hoovers and Fillmores?  Isn't there something vaguely Soviet, cult-of-personality-ish about the whole thing?  What, in fact, ARE we celebrating by celebrating Presidents' Day?

But then again. . . .

One could take the view that what we are celebrating is not our presidents, but our whole system of government.  Of the people, by the people, for the people--all that good stuff.  If our government truly is (or is MEANT to be) of the people, then our presidents are really just. . . us.  And so honoring them is really honoring ourselves.  And that seems as good a reason as any to sleep in and hit the mall for deals.

Happy birthday, everyone!

Of Back Pain, Dathons, and Cereal

Last night, the Solipsist was watching an infomercial (don't ask) for "The 12-Minute Back Pain Relief Program."  The infomercial was 30 minutes long.  More to the point, the spokeslady brandished this stunning fact: Americans spend $50 billion a year on back pain.  So, in other words, we don't actually need a massive economic stimulus plan; we just need to lift with our legs.

***************

Emi Ha offered an entry for the Guide to Dathonian English (hereafter, GDE).  Whatever that happy/orgasmic/excited person is experiencing, I want some of that.  Or, "I'll have what she's having" ("When Harry Met Sally").  Keep those suggestions coming, folks.

***************

This week's special is supposed to be Star Trek and cereal, and the Solipsist realizes he hasn't mentioned either, yet.  And cereal enthusiasts probably feel a bit short-changed at the relative lack of attention compared to the extravagant number of words lavished on Star Trek.  So, um, cereal, let's see. . . . 

When did folks come up with the idea of marshmallows for cereal?  And do those things in Lucky Charms actually COUNT as marshmallows?  They've always struck the Solipsist as having more the consistency of Pez, only chewier.  Maybe some Kellogg's magnate accidentally spilled Pez into some oat flakes one day.  Must have been quite the Reese's moment.

OK, look, the Solipsist apologizes, but he just can't quite work up the passion for cereal that he can summon for Star Trek.  Although he HAS just remembered a fun, cereal-related exchange (actual) from his days as a college student:

One English major to another: (Exasperatedly) You know, there's more variety in breakfast cereal than in Shakespeare!

Other English major to first English major:  (Not missing a beat) Yes, and there's more riboflavin in one bowl of raisin bran than in all the works of Kafka combined!

No, the Solipsist didn't come up with that one.  Sad to say.  Thought you might get a kick out of it, though.