a dying art

The convenience of the web is nice and all, but there really is something to be said for picking up an actual newspaper now and then. Today's Tribune reviewed two recent concerts, and...well...where else are you going to see big, side-by-side photos of Britney Spears and Prof. Peter Schickele? not online, that's fo' sho'.

new to the roll of Nifty Strangers: Bob Mould, ex-Hüsker Dü guitarist. Probably one of the last things he wants me to think of him as some 15 years post-Hüskers, but there it is.

Never thought I'd see the day...



Tom Tomorrow and Scott Monty are about as politically polar as you can get, yet they both found common ground this week in a recent report that 60% of U.S. corporations paid no federal taxes between 1996 and 2000. Railing against corporate misdeeds and the government which allows same is familiar turf for the penguin-drawer, but not Mr. Monty. So welcome to the left, Scott. I'm hard at work on a tinfoil chapeau for you.

what's been going on

I got a job; another contract at the place I've been working at most steadily since 3Com broke up with me. This time through '04, but with as always, potential for more.



From one obscure sport to another: K. signed us up for a fencing class, and we're two weeks in. She's always wanted to try it and was looking for something to improve upper-body strength. I took a semester in college and enjoyed it quite a bit. I was actually looking for it a few years ago, but could only find inconveniently-located classes in those creepy adult education catalogs. Finally the Evanston park district got wise and offered classes. So, another way to settle domestic disputes.



And this dovetailed nicely with curling's end. Near the end of the season I went on my first two out-of-town bonspiels. My teams made the semifinals of the second event in one, and won the fourth event in another. At the club, my two March events were designed to give newer curlers experience at vice and skip. As such, I quickly found my level of incompetence and we went 2-3 in both. Barring some spring and summer events, that's it until October.



I got Kirsti the Best TV Show Ever for her birthday. Much enjoyment being had.



To those in the know attending TRASHionals, three words: Lunch. Money. Expansion. Bwahahaa!

Now that's a resurrection movie...

Saw Dawn of the Dead tonight. Loved it. Loved the music, loved the cameos and visual nods to the original (but missed the return of the WGON 'copter! I'll have to see it again). Loved the big plot holes. Great opening. Great credits (beg. and end). What's not so hot? A few too many characters. Some bad long-shot CGI. And that ain't Milwaukee. I might bring the old boardgame to gaming on Thursday.

Get thee behind me, Mel...



In trying to encapsulate my thoughts on Passion of the Christ, the work of three very talented people immediately came to mind.



The first two are Tony Hendra and Sean Kelly, who summarized Gibson's fetish in a fake hymn from their book Not the Bible:



O bloody bloody Jesus, I love your blood so red,

I love the bloody corpuscles streaming from your head;

O bloody bloody Jesus, I love thy crimson tide,

I love the bloody Roman spear that got stuck in your side;

O rare and bloody Jesus, I love thy hands that bled,

I love the nails that pierced them, O Jesus, red and dead;

I'd love to drink the blood O Lord, that drips from off thy feet,

And wash my hands and brush my teeth; O Lord would that be sweet!

O bloody bloody Jesus, I love thy blood so red;

I loved you when you were alive, but I love you better dead!



The other is cartoonist and local genius Lynda Barry, who back in 1986 drew Marlys trying to save a failed home-ec project (Tangy Breakfast Squares) with presentation: "You watch. No one give anything less than a B-minus to the shape of the cross." This, to me, sums up the "Christian" reaction to TPotC, as well as most contemporary Christian pop culture offerings: support X because it shares a viewpoint, not because it's any damn good.



And The Passion isn't. I suppose it's "powerful," in the same sort of way a kick in the groin is powerful. But there's just nothing to recommend. I suppose if there's a saving grace, it's that the Passion-going audience might now stop being wusses about subtitles long enough to check out Pasolini's The Gospel According to St. Matthew, a film with some actual spirituality in it, if not behind it.

Hey, y'know, I still haven't been gone as long as this guy, who is still apparently stoked about BU basketball's chances in the NCAA tournament. Oh, wait...



After several weeks of 12-to-15-hour workdays, the light is finally appearing at the end of the tunnel. Just in time for me to take a breath...before diving into TRASH questions. Oh joy.