Thursday, June 23, 2011
Moviesucktastic #27 - The Minority
Video Highlights from Moviesucktastic Podcast #27, in which Joey and Scott review the independent film from 360soundvision, The Minority.
Friday, June 10, 2011
BooksNJ set for Sunday in Paramus - NorthJersey.com
Image via WikipediaI shall be in attendance at the BooksNJ Festival at the Paramus, NJ Library on Sunday, June 12.From 1PM to 5PM, I will be selling and signing copies of my books Monster Rally and Performed by Lugosi, speaking on a panel regarding strange things, meeting and talking to book fans of all ages, and even recording an episode of the Moviesucktastic podcast!
As a special BooksNJ bonus, all signed copies of Performed by Lugosi purchased will receive a free eBook edition of Monster Rally! I look forward to seeing you there!
BooksNJ set for Sunday in Paramus - NorthJersey.com: "More than 100 authors, from first-timers such as Paramus' own Steven Paley to New York Times bestselling author Mary Higgins Clark, will be at Paramus Public Library on June 12 for BooksNJ 2011.
Hosted by the Bergen County Cooperative Library System and Paramus Public Library, the event is free to all and will be held from 1 to 5 p.m. It will feature readings, workshops and discussions with writers and illustrators from a large range of genres.
'Everything from children's authors to adult New York Times bestselling authors, illustrators to children's book illustrators and poets will be here, with over 35 panels,' said Paramus Public Library Adult Programming Coordinator Donna Perkosky. 'The group that put this together has put together these panel discussions that allow people to get up close and personal with authors. Many of them are from New Jersey or live in New York; they have some kind of tie to New Jersey.'
Panels include topics such as 'From Post-its To Pages: Writing a Book;' 'An American Favorite: The Picture Book;' 'A Female Heroine From A Male Perspective;' and ''All The President's Men' Jersey Style featuring Josh Margolin and Ted Sherman. Also included are readings by authors for children and workshops hosted by published writers and illustrators."
Monday, May 23, 2011
Rapture Repercussions
Image by TheChanel via FlickrAs many, many people have been proudly pointing out since Saturday's 6PM deadline passed uneventfully, the Rapture did not occur. Those souls deemed pure enough for immediate ascension (whose potential numbers are most likely far less than some would like) did not vacate their earthly vessels, leaving the rest of us to battle either for or against the forces of Evil in the years following the Second Coming.Needless to say, this lack of Rapture has been the cause of much gloating. It seems that everyone wants to get in on the act of mocking and ridiculing those who were fully convinced that the world was about to become a real-life reenactment of a volume of the Left Behind novel series, and I can't really say that I blame them. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attempted to do a little "Ha ha, the world didn't end!" pointing and laughing myself.
However, the more I thought about it, the more mean-spirited and obnoxious it seemed. Perhaps I'm just getting softer as I rapidly approach my mid-life crisis years, but the eagerness displayed by the majority of the general public and major media to deride a section of the populace for it's admittedly irrational yet firmly held religious convictions seems rather... harsh, to say the least.
Maybe my current standing as an Atheist gives me a bit of outside perspective on the whole affair. I can understand that a firm belief in the Rapture might seem ridiculous to other rational people of faith, but most of those laughing at the people running around screaming that the world was going to end Saturday are conveniently ignoring that most of their religious and spiritual beliefs are equally preposterous. I happen to know for a fact that a number of people I have heard mocking the Rapture folks still hold firm beliefs in Angels, Heaven, Transubstantiation, Predestination, Reincarnation, and a number of other religious and spiritual concepts that are equally silly when considered on a logical level.
Of course, that's the whole point in the first place: religious beliefs aren't meant to be logical. Beyond that, every different religious faction that adheres to The Holy Bible for guidance has their own specific interpretation of what the book actually "says." If we knocked every religion that didn't make any sense, everyone would end up in my camp, and that's a position I actually don't recommend, either. Just because I believe it, doesn't mean I actually like it.
Beyond all of that, however, I just really don't feel comfortable making fun of someone because their spiritual hopes didn't exactly pan our. As mean-spirited as the concept of the Rapture is, it just feels wrong laughing and pointing at the people that were convinced they weren't going to be around today. As an Atheist, that would be the equivalent of laughing at passing funeral processions because the guy in the casket isn't actually going to heaven. And despite what I may or may not believe in, that just feels wrong.
Just had to get that off my chest. You may now go back to laughing about all of those news features today about people who spent all of their money before what they thought was going to be the End of the Days. Just remember those chuckles the next time you ask that guy in the sky for a favor.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Royal (Wedding) Pains - or - Stupid Rich People
Cover of Royal WeddingLet's be clear about this: I have not been one of those obsessed with the Royal Wedding over the past few weeks, on either side of the argument. Like most people (at least, I hope like most people), I have found it exceedingly difficult to care in the least either way. Despite the news media's endless attempts to make this overwhelmingly non-event the major focus of every conceivable news cycle, I have remained blissfully unaware of much of the details, include the actual date of the event.But then, this morning, I stumble downstairs and find my way to the coffee pot blocked by widescreen coverage of Will and Kate (wasn't that a sitcom?) riding around massive groups of spectators in a horse drawn carriage while Joe Scarborough and Mika Whatever whore themselves out with some of the most inane and pointless voice-over news commentary imaginable. "Every shot you see, every camera angle, has been specifically planned out far in advance." What's this you say? A wedding ceremony that was planned in advance? I am shocked, shocked I say, to find out that some sort of preparation was involved in a wedding that was being hyped as a major media event months in advance. Listening to these simpering pseudo-journalists strain themselves to fill the dead air behind endless footage of a boring carriage ride, even for the five minutes it took me to get my coffee and toast, was mind-numbing to say the least.
So now I'm pissed. Not at pointless news coverage; I'd have to be dense to expect anything actually newsworthy on a Friday Morning Show. But suddenly this whole concept of the Royal Wedding being an event to celebrate and feel all warm and squishy about inside fills me with contempt. Between America, still dealing with prolonged unemployment and an increasing income gap between the wealthy and working class as corporations continue to rake in record profits during the ongoing recession, and Britain, with its populace facing yet another round of severe Austerity Measures, you would think the idea of sitting around watching disgustingly rich people showing off with an extravagant elitist wedding would be met with a bit more resistance.
I can't blame the rich people too much. They are notoriously out of touch to begin with. Throw a rock (and be sure you throw it hard) and you'll hit some rich prick so lost in their own wealth that they can't even begin to comprehend the problems and concerns of ordinary people, let alone understand why they get so upset when their financial concerns are dismissed as trivial, or complain about paying taxes when they are currently paying the lowest tax rates in decades. Actually, I take it back. I can blame them.
But stupid, arrogant rich bastards aside, I would like to think that our news media would have just a tad more respect for their viewing audiences than what they are currently displaying. I'd like to think that I could turn on the news today just in time to hear an announcer say "In other news today, the offspring of an antiquated form of governmental rule held a lavish wedding ceremony in the face of worldwide economic woes. We would cut to video and show you more, but frankly this sort of pointless extravagance is a waste of time and effort to even assemble, let alone cover, so we're going to give you more coverage about government officials attempting to eradicate labor laws specifically designed to protect the working class, followed by advertisements for luxury vehicles and gold speculation."
That's what I'd like to believe is possible, that is at least an option considered by someone, somewhere within what was once an essential watchdog in service to the people. But then I look back at the weeks of news coverage of Donald Trump, and the endless hours spent by newscasters and commentators discussing Trump's actions and decelerations as if he wasn't a slightly retarded imbecile with enough business smarts to keep him solvent and out of jail, and realize that when it comes right down to it, the media would rather run around documenting the inane and ineffectual lives of stupid rich people instead of reporting anything substantial and meaningful. Because, after all, where are the advertising dollars in something like that? They're just giving us what the public wants, and since people are still tuning in, they seem to be right. I'm watching stupid rich doing back-flips for media attention because that's what my fellow working-class citizens want to see.
This is not a good way to start the weekend.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Fireside Chat
Here's some video footage of my recent appearance at Warren County Community College, reading an excerpt from my short story, "Fireside Chat."
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Rejection Junction
Image via WikipediaI received a rejection notice this morning for a short story I've been shopping around. It's the sixth rejection for this piece, and I have been fortunate to receive personal feedback with all of them. Unfortunately, the feedback has not been unanimous.Why do I say unfortunately? It all comes down to the problem of deciding which feedback to consider, and which feedback to ignore. This topic came up a couple of time in the creative nonfiction workshop I was involved with last fall, as many of the younger students were facing this dilemma for the first time. Primarily used to receiving critical analysis from one or two authority figures (teachers, professors) and general encouragement from less critical audiences (friends, family members), they now found themselves on the receiving end of often contradictory opinions and advice from a room full of people not only intimately familiar with the written word, but the creative process as well. It's one thing to have your friends read your work and either "like" it or "not get" it, but something completely different to be receiving in-depth critiques from a dozen or so fellow writers.
So the question would come up now and then, especially after a certain piece was rejected by some, but well received or praised by others in the same session. Which input do you listen to? In the case of my short story, exactly half of them have complained about the story's structure or format, while the other half have expressed interest and instead rejected it do to thematic differences with their publication's content (horror covers such a broad scope of fiction). So who is right, and who is wrong? The temptation, of course, is to side with my defenders. They must be right; I am a genius after all. They obviously don't "get" it. Then again, maybe the critical responses were right, and the editors that responded positively were just being nice to avoid hurting my feelings?
Both answers are actually false, but only because there is no simple answer. Maybe the editors that didn't like the story did indeed fail to "get" it. But then, one of the primary jobs of the writer is to make the reader "get" what you are trying to do, so their ignorance of the scope of your genius is no excuse. As for the editors lying just to make you feel good? Don't count on it. Editors don't have to be nice, and seldom are. That's not a knock against editors, mind you, that's just the way things are. If an editor thinks your work is a waste of paper, they aren't going to take the time to send you a personal response just to avoid telling you that you suck. That's what form letters are for.
A decade or so ago (God, I'm getting old), I spent a couple of years doing nothing but reading and reviewing screenplays written by other aspiring screenwriters on Zoetrope, and submitting my own work for others to do the same. It took awhile, but by the time I stopped, I had developed a feel for knowing which reviews to take to heart, and which once to ignore. It got to the point where I could tell if the criticism being offered was constructive, destructive, or merely misinformed. It doesn't always fall on the same sides as positive and negative, either. I've received glowing praise that I eventually realized was completely undeserved, and I've been sent intentionally hurtful, mean spirited, destructive criticism that actually exposed some true weaknesses in my work. They aren't always so Black and White, either. Valid feedback can often contain bad suggestions as well, waiting in ambush under the camouflage of good advice. Offering critical feedback also helps hone the writer's criticism survival skills. Give enough feedback on other people's work, and not only will you see others making the same mistakes you are making in your own work, but you'll also see how other people are handling aspects of writing that you are struggling with. But more importantly, you'll learn a lot by how the feedback you give is received by others.
I still remember one screenplay in particular, and thriller about a serial killer. It was bad. I mean... Bad. Not wanting to come off as mean, I took the time to write a seven-page response to the author, explaining not just what didn't work, but citing examples of other ways to do what he was trying to do, and even suggested other films (remember, we're talking screenplays here) that would show him what wasn't working. I put a lot of extra effort into my response, knowing that if I was going to be critical about this person's work, i should really make sure I knew what I was talking about.
The response was apocalyptic. An angry two-page response tore me apart - not my critique, but me personally. I was a bad critic. I was mean and hateful. I was stupid. He did everything short of insult my mother and threaten to beat me up. Other writers had read his novel (I shudder at the thought) which the screenplay was based on, where did I get off being so negative and destructive? I still own a copy of the screenplay, as well as my critique of it and his reply. I revisit them every now, a not-so-gentle reminder of the complexities behind giving and receiving critical feedback.
So which reviews do you listen to: the positive ones, or the negative ones? Listen to all of them. But listen cautiously, because positive praise can still lead you down the wrong path, while negative critiques might actually save your work.
Then again, it never hurts to send that short story out one more time for a tie-breaker.
Friday, April 8, 2011
But Say a Man Does Know
Cover of The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter"But say a man does know. He sees the world as it is and he looks back thousands of years to see how it all come about. He watches the slow agglutination of capital and power and he sees its pinnacle today. He sees America as a crazy house... He sees a whole damn army of unemployed and billions of dollars and thousands of miles of land wasted... He sees how when people suffer just so much they get mean and ugly and something dies in them. But the main thing he sees is that the whole system of the world is built on a lie. And although it's as plain as the shining sun—the don't-knows have lived with that lie so long they just can't see it." Jake Blount - The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Co-workers Suck
Image via Wikipedia"You forgot to check the phone number on the order against the one in the system. The one on the order is the client's new home number."
Oh! My mistake, I must have overlooked that. Thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to keep an eye on that sort of thing when I'm processing invoices. Constructive criticism is important, especially when it leads to preventing future errors.
"If the invoice went out with the old number, and they tried to call the customer from the road tomorrow, they wouldn't be able to get a hold of them."
Is that what happens when someone calls a wrong number? And here I was living under the assumption that if someone dialed an old number, it somehow magically connected through to the person you were trying to reach in some cosmic karma version of call forwarding. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't taken the time to explain how the old phone number becomes noneffective when someone changes it to a new number. Granted, years down the road, with some worldly experience and accumulated wisdom under my belt, I might have eventually come to understand this universal truth on my own. But thankfully, you devoted the extra time, not to mention the precious live-giving breath afforded by your very lungs, to impart this wisdom unto me, increasing my knowledge, and making me a better person overall.
I mean, really? Is there any reason you couldn't simply stop talking after your mouth had already finished delivering all of the useful information it had to offer? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being treated like fourth-grader with a learning disorder and having the common-sense aspects of cause and effect explained to me like I'm a complete moron because I overlooked a piece of information. It not only makes me feel appreciated, but helps the workday just whiz right along. However, in the future, when you feel the compulsion to talk to a fellow employee in the same manner you no doubt talk to your children, you might want to take a second to consider the scope of your planned monologue, mentally edit the length of your professional discourse, and make a conscious effort to stop fucking talking once all necessary words have left your mouth.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
In It To Lose It
Image via WikipediaOne of my newly acquired coworkers approached me a couple of days ago and asked it I wanted to chip in for the company Lottery tickets. Apparently, a majority of the people where I work (including the owner, if that tells you anything) create a Lottery pool when ever the Mega Millions jackpot climbs over $300 Million. I guess they figure chump change like $200 Million isn't worth the effort.I am not a gambler. I enjoy games and healthy competition, and the occasional wager between friends can be fun and challenging. But as soon as gambling is orchestrated and controlled by an organization with the direct intent of making money, it becomes a situation in which you are being asked to dedicate yourself financially to a system that has been specifically orchestrated to ensure your failure in the majority of possible outcomes. Much like borrowing or investing money with banks these days, you're screwed the minute you open your wallet.
This isn't a position I take on any kind of logically superior level. I am purely adverse to gambling from emotional standpoint: like many people, I don't like to lose. I'm not obsessive about it; I don't fly into a rage when a scrabble partners plays Quartzy on a Triple Word score or cheat at miniature golf. But to me, gambling has always felt like defeat without any real promise of success. I've patronized a few casinos in my day, and the stench of desperation and hopeless persistence is always overwhelming. I can almost see the pleasure in some of it - Slot machines, for example, have evolved to the point where they are merely arcade games for unimaginative adults. Of course, as a kid, I could milk a couple of hours at the arcade out of a measly $5; the same amount of time hanging out at even the nickel slots can cost you the same as a month's worth of groceries ("What do you mean, seventy-five lines? Why did one turn on a nickel slot just cost me $3.75?). During my last trip to the local Sands Casino, I paid a brief visit to the High Roller Slots Area, just to see what people willing to take a $500 pull on a one-armed bandit look like. Frighteningly enough, they look just like you and me, just with nicer clothing.
As if that isn't bad enough, anything above slots descends into the bizarre realm of casual and somewhat civilized thuggery. Those slightly jovial people with the intense stares at the $10 blackjack table might seem innocent enough, but all it takes is ten or twelve hands for you to realize that the middle-aged mother of three (celebrating her third honeymoon) on your right and the overworked insurance salesman (in town for yet another trade show) on your left are both more than willing to shove the plastic straw from their complimentary drink in your eye if you mistakenly hit when you aren't "supposed" to and inadvertently take "their" card. Desperation can make people behave irrationally, but those who actively seek out desperation are a dangerous breed all their own. The twisted souls populating the Keno and Roulette tables are the most unstable of the bunch, and should be approached with extreme cation. The person who willingly places bets on a game in which they are fully aware that odds are firmly against them, only to become angry or disappointed when the law of averages declares them losers, is an unpredictable creature that demands equal amount of pity and respect, but only at a safe distance.
Of course, we aren't talking about table games or slot machines. My coworkers would simply like me to chip in on buying lottery tickets so as to increase their chance of beating the three-million-to-one odds against them by a fraction of a percent. It's all in good fun, but my natural inclination is to politely decline. Even when in good company, I still cannot find the joy in purposely setting myself up for yet another loss.
Then a frightening possibility occurs to me: what if they win? What if I politely decline to join in their office lottery pool, only to have my coworkers strike the jackpot. It would just be my luck to end up in an empty office on a Monday morning with everyone having called out sick to celebrate, with them mulling over stock portfolios while I process payroll for a bunch of nouveau riche, soon to be ex-coworkers.
So, I chipped in three dollars. Because the only thing worse than losing is being the only loser in the building.
PS - We didn't win.
This isn't a position I take on any kind of logically superior level. I am purely adverse to gambling from emotional standpoint: like many people, I don't like to lose. I'm not obsessive about it; I don't fly into a rage when a scrabble partners plays Quartzy on a Triple Word score or cheat at miniature golf. But to me, gambling has always felt like defeat without any real promise of success. I've patronized a few casinos in my day, and the stench of desperation and hopeless persistence is always overwhelming. I can almost see the pleasure in some of it - Slot machines, for example, have evolved to the point where they are merely arcade games for unimaginative adults. Of course, as a kid, I could milk a couple of hours at the arcade out of a measly $5; the same amount of time hanging out at even the nickel slots can cost you the same as a month's worth of groceries ("What do you mean, seventy-five lines? Why did one turn on a nickel slot just cost me $3.75?). During my last trip to the local Sands Casino, I paid a brief visit to the High Roller Slots Area, just to see what people willing to take a $500 pull on a one-armed bandit look like. Frighteningly enough, they look just like you and me, just with nicer clothing.
As if that isn't bad enough, anything above slots descends into the bizarre realm of casual and somewhat civilized thuggery. Those slightly jovial people with the intense stares at the $10 blackjack table might seem innocent enough, but all it takes is ten or twelve hands for you to realize that the middle-aged mother of three (celebrating her third honeymoon) on your right and the overworked insurance salesman (in town for yet another trade show) on your left are both more than willing to shove the plastic straw from their complimentary drink in your eye if you mistakenly hit when you aren't "supposed" to and inadvertently take "their" card. Desperation can make people behave irrationally, but those who actively seek out desperation are a dangerous breed all their own. The twisted souls populating the Keno and Roulette tables are the most unstable of the bunch, and should be approached with extreme cation. The person who willingly places bets on a game in which they are fully aware that odds are firmly against them, only to become angry or disappointed when the law of averages declares them losers, is an unpredictable creature that demands equal amount of pity and respect, but only at a safe distance.
Of course, we aren't talking about table games or slot machines. My coworkers would simply like me to chip in on buying lottery tickets so as to increase their chance of beating the three-million-to-one odds against them by a fraction of a percent. It's all in good fun, but my natural inclination is to politely decline. Even when in good company, I still cannot find the joy in purposely setting myself up for yet another loss.
Then a frightening possibility occurs to me: what if they win? What if I politely decline to join in their office lottery pool, only to have my coworkers strike the jackpot. It would just be my luck to end up in an empty office on a Monday morning with everyone having called out sick to celebrate, with them mulling over stock portfolios while I process payroll for a bunch of nouveau riche, soon to be ex-coworkers.
So, I chipped in three dollars. Because the only thing worse than losing is being the only loser in the building.
PS - We didn't win.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Homeschooling: America's Biggest Joke
Image by Gage Skidmore via FlickrRon Paul and Michelle Bachmann, two of the Tea Party's hopeful (yet decidedly doubtful) 2012 Presidential hopefuls picked up the anti-public schools baton lobbed by ambitious GOP trend-setters like Chris Christie and Scott Walker over the past month. But unwilling to do anything half-assed (except draw logical conclusions or research historical facts, perhaps), Bachmann and Paul shot right past those evil unions and greedy teachers, and instead attacked the institution of government funded public education as a whole. Needless to say, their arguments come across as less than coherent.Ron Paul, claiming that the government was seeking nothing less than "absolute control" over the "indoctrination" of children, adjusted his tinfoil hat and stated that "the public school system now is a propaganda machine. They start with our kids even in kindergarten, teaching them about family values, sexual education, gun rights, environmentalism - and they condition them to believe in so much which is totally un-American."
At first, one might pause to wonder what exactly Ron Paul has against teaching children about things like family values and the environment. This involves some reading between the lines, facilitated by the fact that Paul and Bachmann were speaking at a homeschooling rally (whatever that is), which is undoubtedly comprised of a majority of Far-Right paranoids concerned with shielding their children from what they consider 'Wrong' thinking. With this in mind, it now becomes understood that when Paul accuses public schools of teaching children 'Family Values', he is really accusing them of teaching kids that homosexuality isn't a crime against God and society. 'Sex Education' translates to 'Birth Control & Abortions as Viable Options', 'Gun Rights' become 'Guns are Dangerous and Should Be Restricted', and 'Environmentalism' as 'Regulating Polluting Corporations and Reducing Consumerism'. In the right-wing mind, all of these are inherently evil forms of juvenile brainwashing.
Am I being unreasonable here? After all, shouldn't parents be expected to show concern that their children are being exposed to belief systems to which they don't subscribe? Yes, that would be a fair assumption. However, these groups that yank their children out of formal education to save them from hearing about condoms and global warming are the same ones that want students to be openly led in prayer, and balk when religious symbols is stripped from holiday celebrations out of concern for those of other religious persuasions. Paul doesn't mention evolution in his laundry list of educational sins against our children, but if he did it would have garnered just as much applause. Most of these rabid homeschooling proponents are against any kind of indoctrination other than that which follows their own firmly held beliefs. If the schools were spreading propaganda that called gay marriage an abomination, sex a dirty shameful act, and gun ownership a patriotic necessity in case of a Communist attack, you wouldn't be hearing a peep out of these people. Do I have any direct evidence that this crowd falls into such a category? No, but I have just as much proof as they do that God exists, so who are you to judge?
Bachmann followed up Paul's fearmongering against formal education by claiming that homeschooling is the "essence" of freedom and liberty. Actually, homeschooling is the essence of being an isolated frontiersman with no real connection to society. She went on to croon "It's about knowing our children better than the state knows our children," she said. Which is endearing sentiment that moves me to wonder why the government feels the need to interfere with our children when it comes to the consumption of alcohol or tobacco? Don't parents know better than the state whether or not their children are mentally and emotionally mature enough to smoke or drink? And what about laws against child abuse and endangerment? Aren't parents are the ultimate judges of how much physical and mental assaults their children can take before punishment crosses over into abuse? Talk about the Nanny State.
"It is not up to a bureaucrat to decide what is best for your children," Bachmann said. "I am so tired of the establishment telling us that they know best. We know best." Except when it comes to physics, perhaps. Maybe algebraic equations. Or, in the case of Bachmann, American History. Come to think of it, her argument that the act of pumping out a couple of children suddenly endows the parents with an accurate and infallible concept of what is 'Best' is a little more than dubious. Sure they might all want the best (and even that claim is a tad dubious), but does every parent actually know what is best for their children? What about all of those parents who bought trampolines for their kids, or left guns unattended in nightstands to be played with, or told them that being popular is the most important thing in the world. I'm sure Billy Ray Cyrus wanted all of the best for his little Hannah Montana. But did he actually know what was best for Miley? I rest my case.
Bachmann's a favorite at these events because she has homeschooled all five of her own children, a fact that is somewhat frightening when you consider the number of historical inaccuracies and illogical statements attributable to her in just the past couple of years. We can only be thankful that the government intervened and prevented her from subjecting her twenty-three foster children to a similar fate.
Despite claims to the contrary, the majority of the homeschooling movement boils down to parents afraid of Non-Christian influences swaying their children's world view, so it is no surprise that the master of ceremonies was Justin LaVan of the Network of Iowa Christian Home Educators, who stated that homeschooling was a way get children "talking about our Creator - our rights that came from our Creator, acknowledging that and giving him the glory, folks."
So, where do I get off calling homeschooling a joke? Surely, there must be examples of homeschooled kids who were not raised by religious zealots fearing heathen influences would turn their children into Gay Hippie Atheist Democrats. I can't possibly be dismissive of an entire movement simply because of the religious undertones of their overall message of wanting greater control over their children's education?
You bet your ass I can. The IQ of the average American currently hovers around 95%, give or take a few. Taking in consideration that this means half of the US population is actually (through statistical reasoning) dumber than that, what would you consider the ideal IQ of your average teacher? Would you want your child educated by someone with a merely average intellect? Or would you prefer someone a tad smarter than the average bear?
I know this might sound rather elitist to some people, but i'ts hard to put a ribbon on the ugly truth: rational people don't just want their children to grow up to be average. The want them to be exceptional, to be superior, or to put it more bluntly, to be smarter than their parents. The idea that a parent knows what's best for their children in an educational environment is a self-important position that drastically restricts the growth potential of that household's progeny. To claim that you, and you alone, should be the basis for your child's education is to insist that you are more qualified than all others to communicate the accumulation of modern civilization's knowledge into your kid's soft little skull. That, my friends, is hubris on a grand scale.
But shouldn't parents be able to shape and mold their children's beliefs and world views according to their own moral and spiritual compass? Damn straight they should, and nobody is doing a thing to stop them. The schools only have their children for a limited number of hours a day and days of the year. The rest of the time can be easily be spent talking to your children, counseling them and helping them shape the knowledge they acquire and force it into whatever spiritual or philosophical pigeon-hole you wish.
The reason the homeschooling movement in America is a joke is because the entire argument for it is based on a convenient lie. Homeschooling parents aren't afraid of negative influences on their children's impressionable young minds. They are afraid that the child, after accumulating facts and weighing evidence beyond the scope of the their parents' knowledge, will grow up to someday tell them that they are wrong. And if there is one thing that the collective psyche of the average person can't handle, it is being told that they might actually be wrong. And by their children, no less? Why, that's downright un-American.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What's Wrong With Crust?
Image via WikipediaI don't understand what appears to me to be a universal aversion to crust. From mothers who will force their children to eat Asparagus and Cauliflower yet willingly cut the crust off of their PB&J, to grown adults fingering past those first couple of slices in the bread bag and eventually throwing it away with the heels still inside, there seems to be some twisted bias against what is still a perfectly edible piece of bread. What is it about this completely illogical aversion to the slightly hardened edges of sliced bread that has it so deeply ingrained in our society's psyche? What is even more confusing is that this prejudice does not extend itself to other types of bread. Firmer, tougher crusts other specialty breads are eagerly devoured without a thought, yet the square sandwich loaf is continually taught to be ashamed of its protective outer shell. I don't know why this bugs me, but it does, and I can often be found making a sandwich out of the neglected heels in the bottom of the bread bag out of protest.
Friday, February 18, 2011
The Hills Are Alive... RUN!!!
Don't get me wrong; I have no doubt that I was invited on to be asked about my latest book, Performed by Lugosi, and my role as a writer and film commentator. The show has had some great artists and stars on in the past, and most of them have actually been seen again, so the mortality rate of the show's guests is actually quite low. For example, the line up for the show I'll be taping next Friday includes controversial singer, songwriter, and comedienne Jessica Delfino, actress/writer Alexis Iacono (Kiss Me Again, The Ten, World of Warcraft: Cataclysm), and clothing designer Pamela Ptak with Alternative Model Kitty Kat Kailei. Someone's bound to notice if one (or all) of them going missing.
But then again, I still have my concerns. How long can you remain in a room full of flesh-eating zombies before they start to lose their composure? Has the show's lack of on-screen guest eviscerations merely been a barely maintained safety record just begging to be broken? At what point do the par cans and tungsten stop being mere lighting and start acting as the heat lamps at a hot buffet?
Hence my dilemma. Do I stroll into a studio filled living dead fiends armed with nothing more than a smile and good intentions, or do I march in with fire axe in hand and risk committing a major faux pas? I'll most likely settle on the former; it's probably hard to interview someone while they cradle a shotgun and glare suspiciously. But I'll be sure to send updates to my Facebook and Twitter feeds to keep you up to date on my safety status. Of course, my last words on Earth might end up being a poorly spelled tweet about being barricaded in the green room, but I guess that's a risk I'll have to take. Wish me luck.
Related articles
- Horror-Comedy 'Zombies Ate My Neighbors' in Development, Based on the '90s Video Game (slashfilm.com)
- App of the Day: Dead Rising Mobile for iPhone [Video] (gizmodo.com)
- "More Online Zombie Content Than You Can Shake a Dismembered Limb At" and related posts (blogs.amctv.com)
- Best "chainsaw vs. zombie" scene we've seen in ages. Plus campy kinky sex! [DVD Review] (io9.com)
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Errata, by Charles Simic
Image via Wikipedia Where it says snow
read teeth-marks of a virgin
Where it says knife read
you passed through my bones
like a police-whistle
Where it says table read horse
Where it says horse read my migrant's bundle
Apples are to remain apples
Each time a hat appears
think of Isaac Newton
reading the Old Testament
Remove all periods
They are scars made by words
I couldn't bring myself to say
Put a finger over each sunrise
it will blind you otherwise
That damn ant is still stirring
Will there be time left to list
all errors to replace
all hands guns owls plates
all cigars ponds woods and reach
that beer-bottle my greatest mistake
the word I allowed to be written
when I should have shouted
her name
errata - Charles Simic
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Short Story Saturday: The Unavoidable Dilemma of Chauncey P. Simm
Image by katiecarman via Flickr She stood framed in the splintered doorway of our spacious loft apartment, her full lips stained and puffy from an excess of pistachio nuts. I knelt in the far corner, the random fragments of my Berlin Wall Commemorative Beer Stein clutched in disbelieving hands. Her glare traveled across the room like a retired postal worker on a three day excursion through Fort Lauderdale, pausing momentarily near the singed potted palm for directions to the pitiful loser, then parking a few inches from my tear stained face and delivering her scorn through a passenger door window cracked open enough to let the contempt out and keep the air conditioning in. There was a pause during which I was meant to do or say something, but my copy of the event’s script had accidentally made it into the washing machine with my Day-Glo Buddhist robes, the words running together so that all I knew for sure was that I was supposed to do something with a ‘P’ and an ‘E’ in it.
The moment passed, lost like a child in Sears, and before I knew what had happened, she spoke those fateful words.
“Squeaky cheese,” she said.
Then the door slammed shut, and I could hear her turn on her heels and stalk away huffily. I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat like an olive laced toothpick. That was it. She was gone.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
That Sinking Feeling...
Image via WikipediaI find that the older I get, the more I feel like the guy who accidentally joins a suicide cult, thinking it was some kind of social club. I can clearly empathize with the surreal sensation of confusion that must undoubtedly accompany the man as he stands there surrounded by smiling fanatics clad in purple robes, stares down at the Dixie cup of poison-laced grape juice clutched in his hand and thinks to himself, "Did I miss something?"
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