HinesSight

Wow! 10 year old girl drummer really has got the beat

Being semi-rhythm impaired (I've gotten a bit better after lots of dance lessons), watching this young girl play the drums looks akin to magic to me. 

Beautiful magic. I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I'm wrong, being reborn as someone with the ability to do this would be just fine. 

 

"Gravity" movie messes up some basic physics

Last night my wife and I saw Gravity, 3-D style, at Salem's eating/drinking-friendly Cinebarre movie house. 

My overall impression was great movie.

Not least, because no matter how bad a day I have from now on, remembering what it was like for Sandra Bullock to be lost in orbit, oxygen almost depleted, with no apparent way back to Earth, utterly isolated, will remind me that there are way worse sorts of days.

Watching Gravity, though, there were times when my semi-scientific mind went Huh? How could that be?

It turns out that I was justified in my skepticism about the physical plausibility of what I was seeing. Check out 'Gravity': Panel of astro-experts on the science behind the film. 

I recommend reading the Entertainment Weekly story only after you see the movie. There are some spoilers in there.

However, it won't give anything away to say that my #1 skeptical scene in Gravity also was singled out by the experts for special criticism. (I've edited out some spoilers in the quotes below.)

PP: Yeah, that scene was the one scene in the whole movie where I kind of went, “I have a hard time forgiving this.” ... She’s stopped, there’s nothing pulling on him now, it’s not like she’s hanging from a tree holding on to his wrist. There’s no force on him, all she had to do was very gently pull on the tether and he would have come floating up to her....

LC: Yeah, that was a horribly inaccurate thing. They stopped, so there’s nothing else pulling on him...The physics on that is totally wrong.

Super cute 4 year old dancing "gangnam style"

This video made me smile, a lot. And realize all is right with the world. So long as little girls dressed up for a wedding can dance with such energy and joy.

Have a watch. And laugh. (She warms up after a minute or two; her marvelous Gangnam style gets going after that.)

Twerking videos to clue in the clueless

I am hugely proud that my wife and I watched the recent MTV Video Music Awards. We are hip, with-it, cool seniors (both 64 years old) who appreciate the youthful side of life.

Like Miley Cyrus's uninhibited tongue-protruding booty-shaking performance at the VMA's. I liked Lady Gaga more, but we were impressed with how fully Miley has left behind her clean-cut Hannah Montana days.

Miley is on the right; Gaga on the left.

Both demonstrated a marvelous fact of modern culture: it is totally fine for females to strip almost naked and gyrate on national TV, but men must preserve their clothed dignity, by and large. I'm fine with this; my feminista wife, Laurel, not so much.

Our with-it'ness was not complete, though.

When I read stories about Miley's performance, I kept seeing references to her twerking. I was clueless about what this word meant. Laurel was also. We did correctly guess that it must have something to with either tongues or hips.

A bit of You Tube searching revealed the truth in the form of a "how to" video that has amassed 13,300,000 views. Good to know that people know what is important to learn in life.

 

I felt like I had the moves down in just a minute or so of practice. However, Laurel scoffed at my twerking. "Your butt is barely moving," she told me. I defensively argued back that Wikipedia says twerking usually is done by women (for obvious reasons).

 

This video convinced me that Wikipedia is absolutely on target. Though she does not win the booty-shaking competition, the blonde girl puts her heart butt into it at minutes 2 and 4 of the video. 

 

Each of the competitors puts Miley Cyrus to twerking shame. I had never seen her official "We Can't Stop" video. Spending three and a half minutes of my life watching it, I had difficulty thinking of any other 210 seconds I've experienced that was more painful. Maybe a root canal.

As an alternative, I recommend the video below to Miley Cyrus twerking fans. It is silent, probably for copyright reasons. But it appropriately focuses on the only redeeming quality of the "We Can't Stop" video: her ass.

 

Photos of wonderfully weird 2013 Oregon Country Fair

Friday Laurel and I made our annual pilgrimage south from staid sleepy Salem to the wonderfully bizarre, creative, and energetic Oregon Country Fair in Veneta-- one of the wonders of the world. 

(Including extra-terrestrial worlds; can't believe there is anything like the Oregon Country Fair anywhere in the universe.)

Here's some photographic glimpses of what we encountered. 

Soon after entering the Fair, we came across these two girls performing a charming "butterfly dance" to a group's music. Video recording isn't allowed at the Oregon Country Fair. Wish it was. The girls were enchanting.

These guys appeared to be shopping for an addition to their already impressive outfits at one of the many craft booths lining the Fair's shaded treed pathways.

I saw an unusually tall girl making her way through fairgoers.

When she passed me, I understood the source of her tallness.

Here's Laurel, my wife, with her blue hat and Most Colorful Backpack at the 2013 Oregon Country Fair. The girl next to her just had an attractive back.

In the mottled sun of a tye-dye booth, this guy looked like a fair-going human chameleon blending in with his environment.

So did my wife.

Kids often travel in style at the Oregon Country Fair. 

Mr. Video, or whatever he was called, is behind the picture frame -- a real live video game character. The kid in the lower left corner manipulates a joystick that "controls" Mr. Video, who yells out feedback to the game-player. Highly creative and entertaining. Only at the Oregon Country Fair...

People of all sorts take the opportunity to show their stuff.

I found some of that "stuff" more enjoyable to observe than other varieties. But, hey, it's all good.

Over at the Main Stage area this girl was demonstrating some skilled hula hoop moves to rockin' music. Loved to watch her. Had no idea what it's possible to do with a hula hoop.

Best alternative to the usual "Pick Up" sign ever. 

The booths blend harmoniously with their natural surroundings. This display looked like a colorful clothes river cascading out of the forest.

Perfect bathroom karma! While doing my, um, thing, I heard the sound of a parade approaching. Just had enough time to rush out of the stall and fire up my camera.

Laurel and I loved this tree. Couldn't capture the oak's full width and height in a single photo. Amazing tree.

Laurel, pausing along a tree-lined fair lane.

We took a break and sat on a bridge bench next to a man who seemed to be an Oregon Country Fair regular. People would say "Hi Ducks Guy!" to him. Major Oregon fan, obviously. Blended in well with the green foliage.

I call this photo, "Woman Contemplating Necklace Purchase." Ah, the concentration, the focus. Laurel, my wife, often has been told "you look like Joni Mitchell." True.

Just another Oregon Country Fair-goer. After a few minutes at the Fair, "normal" is redefined to mean whatever. I love the oft-seen banner at the Fair: yes, yes, yes.

Near the end of our time at the Fair we paused to watch an animated accordionist sing and play in a beautiful tent setting. Usually don't find accordian-playing too enjoyable, but this guy was great.

Leaving the fair, we encountered a Bug Man. First photo I took was before the wings unfolded. Glad I waited around to catch the full extended glory.

2013 World Beat Festival -- great multi-cultural fun

Every year I look forward to Salem's World Beat Festival. I'm never disappointed. For the suggested $5 donation you really get your money's worth. 

Today I was fortunate to arrive just in time to see a Japanese Martial Arts demonstration featuring students from Tokyo International University of America here in Salem. Highly enjoyable. Loved the drumming!

Also loved the veggie Himalayan noodle plate from the Kathmandu Cafe -- my usual World Beat lunch.

It's great to see lots of people out and about, enjoying themselves. Sadly, this is rarer than it should be in Salem. For a city of over 150,000, the citizenry is decidedly hidden most of the time.

Downtown, where the World Beat Festival is held at the riverfront, usually lacks this sort of happy energy. We need more of it.

Simple fun gathering places make a city more than bricks, concrete, and asphalt. Riverfront Park's splash fountain was a big hit with kids (and some adults) on this 90 degree late June day. It'd be nice if the Historic District had a mini-park with a fountain like this; sure would be better than vacant lots.

Walking by the river, just past the last World Beat Festival booths, I'm always reminded by how poorly Salem makes use of its riverfront. It's easily missed by downtown visitors, since you have to cross a very busy street and a large expanse of grass to get to the Willamette.

The SJPix guy was at the festival, taking photos of people who posed in front of a Statesman Journal front page mock-up. I walked by him at first, then my Inner Exhibitionist took control of me. 

I got out a Ninja Fan that I'd bought at an Asia-Pacific booth. I've played around with a fan in my Tai Chi classes a few times. My instructor knows a fan form that looks really cool, with the snappy openings and closings. 

I could tell that my Ninja Fan had a nice snap to it, even with my decidedly crappy current opening and closing technique. (Fans can be martial arts weapons.)

Anyway, I told the photographer that I needed a few seconds to channel my inner geisha. Then I posed with the fan demurely (????) hiding half of my face as I coquetteishly (????) gazed over the top of it. The question marks reflect the fact that I'm a 64 year old gray-haired guy who was wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses.

Somehow I suspect that I didn't pull off the geisha look very well.

But, hey, I've been refreshing the SJPix page regularly to see if today's photos are up yet. So if the Statesman Journal newspaper offers this as a way to garner more page views, they're succeeding.

If you live in Salem, don't miss the World Beat Festival. I'll probably return tomorrow for Middle Eastern belly-dancing at the ampitheatre.

My culinary connection with Bollywood

Oh, yeah. I'm almost a Bollywood star. 

Defining almost to mean... 

Someone who caused Shahid Kapoor, a Bollywood star, to become a vegetarian. Since what Kapoor eats is what makes him up, and I changed what he eats, ergo: I'm almost a Bollywood star.

(If you don't think too much about the logic of that last sentence.)

Read all about me!

Here's my bro, Shahid, looking cool and doing his dance thing. We vegetarians have got it going on, for sure.

 

Salem's US Bank tree cutting needs to be featured on The Daily Show

Us opponents of the senseless cutting-down of five beautiful Japanese Zelkova trees in downtown Salem are on a pretty good publicity roll: 

A few days ago the Statesman Journal published online a guest opinion by Carole Smith and me, "US Bank tree removal decision was horribly flawed." Today the paper printed my letter to the editor, titling it "City was wrong to let US Bank cut down trees." Carole has submitted her own letter, which hopefully will be published soon.

(Comment away on the guest opinion and letter, especially if you think we've expressed ourselves brilliantly and are on the proper side of truth, justice, baby birds, and shade trees.)

But there's more publicizing to be done. This afternoon, while mowing the grass, my mind popped up the best idea of all.

This crazy US bank tree cutting drama needs to be featured on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart!

Freaking f#!%ing genius, Brian! I told myself, as I do so often -- yet usually with considerably less reason.

The story is a natural for The Daily Show. That's obvious. I just can't decide which member of their news team would be the best fit to come out to Salem and report on the delicious absurdities of our downtown drama.

I like John Oliver a lot. But his English accent could be distracting.

Jason Jones probably would be best. He could project a requisite blend of sarcasm and outrage. Humorously, of course. Or I could easily see Samantha Bee doing some killer interviews with the story's Cast of Characters.

We've got at least...

The five trees themselves. Three have been cut down. Two remain. The arc of the story depends on what happens with the last two (more about that below).

Baby birds. They are what saved the two trees from being killed in the first wave of chainsaw attacks. Interviews with local Audubon types in bird suits would be in order.

Crazed French chef. David Rosales would be pleased, I'm sure, to re-enact his screaming protest of the tree-killings inside the US Bank lobby. 

Ambitious Public Works director. Peter Fernandez wants to spend $700 million or so on a Third Bridge that hardly anybody but the Chamber of Commerce and Realtor's Association wants. He approved the tree removals even though he was advised not to by City tree experts and its Shade Tree Committee.

Ambitious US Bank president. That is Ryan Allbritton who -- surprise! -- also is the incoming president of the Chamber of Commerce. 

Tree hugging opponents. Ah, one would be me, an Oregon stereotype: gray haired/bearded senior citizen skateboarder, electric car owner, vegetarian, save the Earth'er. Another, my comrade opponent: Carole Smith, downtown businesswoman and general pain-in-the-butt to conservative City politicians.

Marvelous scenes in a The Daily Show investigative bit present themselves to my imagination. And I'm not even a professional. For sure our Salemia team -- David Jenkins, a screenwriter, and Mike Perron, a person hard to describe -- could come up with some great ideas here.

I'll just give a few examples that easily came to mind:

Interviewer: Mr. Allbritton, I understand that a French chef was arrested in your lobby for screaming in outrage about what a giant U.S. bank had done. If this is illegal, why isn't most of the American public behind bars?

Allbritton: [mute irritated look]

------------------

Interviewer: Mr. Fernandez, you are the Public Works director of an Oregon town that is proud of winning 37 consecutive Tree City USA awards. Your department received an application to cut down five beautiful healthy downtown trees. The City's tree experts, independent arborists, and members of the public all advised you to prune, rather than kill, the trees. So naturally you decided to save the trees, right?

Fernandez: No, I issued a decision to kill them. 

Like I said, it's the ending of The Daily Show investigative bit that is in question here. This depends on whether US Bank and the City persist in cutting down the last two trees.

Speaking for the opponents, I'd much prefer to have a lighter-hearted positive ending.

Via this blog post, I now declare to US Bank that I am offering to devote some of my retired time, which could have gone to being a greeter at WalMart, to becoming a volunteer leaf raker for the downtown Salem US Bank branch.

I've heard from reliable sources (a term that makes me sound more like a real journalist than a blogger, assuming this is a step up) that US Bank wanted the trees removed because when they drop leaves in the fall, customers track them into the lobby.

Well, Mr. Allbritton, I'm your leaf-collecting man.

I live out in rural south Salem. We have some large oak trees around our house that shed more leaves than the remaining Zelkova trees at your bank do. I can handle leaf-picking-up duties for both our trees and your trees. 

Glad to help.

Even though it looks to me like US Bancorp made over five billion dollars last year, I can understand why bank executives might not want to spend money on picking up leaves from some beautiful trees on a public street adjoining the Ladd & Bush downtown branch. 

I'd do it for free, because this is the only remaining reason I can think of why US Bank would want to cut down the last two trees. Three of five have been removed, reducing any possible minor problems with them (such as sightlines to the building) by 60%.

Tree experts and the City's own urban forester say that pruning can resolve any other problems, such as branches being too close to the building. Liability issues associated with any future sidewalk problems that could be caused by roots isn't a concern; this was made clear in Fernandez' March 12 decision document.

All I ask -- and this is a "please" not a must -- is that I be able to wear a US Bank baseball cap while I pick up the leaves. This would show passers by that I'm someone officially associated with the bank, and just a crazy senior citizen skateboarder, not a crazy street person.

It'd be cool if the end of The Daily Show bit showed us all -- bank officials, City staff, opponents -- sitting down in Rosale's restaurant and sharing a "no hard feelings" toast together. Of course, there would have to be some humor here also. 

How about if bank president Ryan Allbritton doesn't like the taste of the French wine and starts screaming at Rosales, almost turning over a table. Then stops himself just in time... with a grin. Hug by Rosales. "We're brothers, man." 

The other possible ending? Not so heart-warming, if all five trees have been cut down. I'd rather not envision it. Let's be positive.

Save the last two trees, US Bank. You'd come out looking better in a The Daily Show segment. Also, in the eyes of the tree-loving public. 

Write US Bank and tell them you'd like to see a happier ending to the tree story. Just three dead trees, not five. 

[email protected]  
[email protected]
[email protected] 

Michelle Obama shows off "Evolution of Mom" moves

It's been a good show business week for the First Lady. Last night she announced the Oscar for Best Picture via satellite from the White House.

I thought she did a better job than many of the "real" presenters, including a curiously distracted Kristen Stewart. (In Stewart's defense, she arrived on crutches, so probably was in pain while onstage.)

Earlier, on Friday, Obama rocked some dance moves with a cross-dressing Jimmy Fallon on his show. I'm sure happy her husband beat Mitt Romney. Could Ann Romney have pulled off what Michelle Obama did? 

Watch and marvel at some damn good dancing. From the only real woman performing.

 

"Beasts of the Southern Wild," a paean to soulful strangeness

I loved the movie, "Beasts of the Southern Wild." Yesterday I tried to explain on my other blog what the film meant to me. 

Don't feel like I succeeded. This try likely won't be much more successful. After all, what I love about "Beasts of the Southern Wild" is its -- no big surprise -- beastliness and wildness.

Guess I could roar. Or jump up on a table and scream "I'm the man! I'm the man!" like the marvelous Hushpuppy does in the movie. Or trample down buildings like the aurochs do.

Or... I can type away and try to say what I feel in words that are pale shadows of how the movie moved me. OK, I'll do that.

Watching the movie, I became aware of how judgmental I've been about rural southern rednecks, including the black equivalent, who obviously don't have red necks, nor the same political philosophy. 

My wife and I are card-carrying Chevy Volt-driving, Starbucks Pike Place-ordering, obsessively-recycling, vegetarian-eating, healthful habits-following Oregonians. I wasn't born in a bayou. I was born in freaking Massachusetts, and still feel the psychic influence of my comparatively prim and proper New England heritage.

Compared, that is, to the world of coastal Louisiana shown in "Beasts of the Southern Wild" -- which must be fairly close to reality, because I couldn't help but feel this is so real throughout the movie.

What those strange soulful denizens of a land perched between sea and land, between chaos and stability, between drunkenness and sobriety, have is what I want. Well, let's say that I want to really want what they have, since right now I talk strange soulfulness more than I practice it.

I was inspired by the movie. I was moved by the movie. I was attracted by the movie. 

My alcoholic consumption is pretty much limited to one glass of red wine per night, consumed not for purposes of intoxication, but for heart-healthiness. Yet I loved watching the human beasts of the southern wild clutch beers and other instruments of alcohol ingestion almost as often as not. I loved how they yelled, and screamed, and danced, and broke rules of all kinds -- safety, child protective, medical, environmental, whatever. 

Understand: I still love my green, organized, methodical, practical, reasonable lifestyle. But I must have a longing for more beastly wildness, or I wouldn't have loved watching "Beasts of the Southern Wild" so much.

Echoing Freud, I usually feel like I'm not really discontented with civilization. Until I'm exposed to another view of what "civilized" means, like what is shown in this movie. Wikipedia's summary of Freud's book does ring true.

In this seminal book, Sigmund Freud enumerates what he sees as the fundamental tensions between civilization and the individual.

The primary friction, he asserts, stems from the individual's quest for instinctual freedom and civilization's contrary demand for conformity and instinctual repression. Many of humankind's primitive instincts (for example, the desire to kill and the insatiable craving for sexual gratification) are clearly harmful to the well-being of a human community.

As a result, civilization creates laws that prohibit killing, rape, and adultery, and it implements severe punishments if such rules are broken. This process, argues Freud, is an inherent quality of civilization that instills perpetual feelings of discontent in its citizens.

l don't long for lawlessness. Just more strange soulfulness. Not dancing naked under Oregon's fir trees on a cold wintry night while coyotes and wolves surround me with howls. But the everyday clothed wild-animal-free equivalent.

Lots of wonderfully human emotions were on exhibit in "Beasts of the Southern Wild." One wasn't: fear. Nor its cousins: anxiety, worry, tentativeness. (Well, maybe a tiny bit, but barely.)

I loved how people in The Bathtub really lived their lives in the movie. No one was just going through the motions, playing a role, doing what was expected of them, drawing completely within civilization's lines.

They screamed when they were excited, cried when they were sad, threw stuff when they were angry, fired shotguns at a hurricane when they wanted the storm to stop. Reasonable people could reasonably argue that a lot of dysfunction was on display in "Beasts of the Southern Wild."

Can't argue with that assessment. I just don't feel like being a reasonable person arguing reasonably. I loved the beastly wildness of the movie, and the people in it. If that's dysfunction, let's have more of it. 

(Tomorrow I might read this and want to add... "within reason." But I hope I don't.)

Pickpocket Apollo Robbins: so smooth at stealing

If you think you'd know if a skilled pickpocket was taking your watch, wallet, or cell phone, think again. That's the lesson I've learned from watching a video of theatrical pickpocket (meaning, a legal "stealer") Apollo Robbins.

I've watched the video several times, I'm so fascinated by Robbins. His physical skills are amazing, but its the smoothness of his whole persona that is particularly impressive. Without that, his pickpocketing would be much less successful.

Have a look. And a read, if you click on that link. 

DirecTV raises rates 5%. Still no Pac 12 Network.

Overly optimistic me actually was eager to open a recent email from DirecTV with a subject line, "Information about your DIRECTV account."

I hoped the big news was that, finally, DIrecTV had reached a deal with the Pac 12 Network, and that I wouldn't have to miss any more football, basketball, or baseball games shown only on that network.

But no. I learned that we're going to pay 4.5% or so more this year. For nothing that means anything to me. Disney Jr. channel has been added along with some other yawn-inducing programming. Whoopee.

Here's what I told DirecTV, using their email link. No doubt this message will be treated by DirecTV with the same attention and respect that my other communications with them about the Pac 12 Network have been.

Namely, they will ignore what their customers want. 

I just got your email that our DirecTV bill will be going up by about 4.5%. I also am painfully aware that you still don't offer the Pac 12 Network. After missing a bunch of Oregon and Oregon State football games, I'm now getting to miss a bunch of Oregon and Oregon State basketball games.

Can hardly wait for baseball season, when I'll get to miss more Pac 12 sporting events that DISH customers get to watch, but not me -- who stupidly switched from DISH to DirecTV because I thought you cared more about your customers.

Your main argument for not making a deal with the Pac 12 Network, as so many other "cable" companies have done, was that rates would increase with an unfair deal.

Well, now rates have increased. And you STILL aren't offering the Pac 12 Network.

If I'm going to pay more, I'd like to get more. Eventually people like me are going to dump DirecTV for one of your competitors. Please wake up and smell the lost-customer roses. Make a deal with the Pac 12 Network. 

NOW!

"One Pound Fish" hasn't taken over my brain. But is trying to.

I suppose there's worse ways to go crazy than have your mind repeat the "One Pound Fish" ditty incessantly. So far, that hasn't happened to me. But it could...

Be warned. If you're prone to catchy songs playing uncontrollably in your head, don't watch these videos.

(Assuming you're one of the few people in the world, which included me up until a few days ago, who hasn't seen them yet.)

Background story here.

This is the original video of the fish seller.

 

And this is the jazzed up post-viral video version.

 

 

New "Vancouvria" episode shows how scary Portland is

I love Vancouvria. Though only disseminated via You Tube, It's a lot funnier than the IFC's Portlandia in my utterly objective and unarguable opinion.

Episode 1 of Season 2 has been released by the Vancouvria folks. It's great!

"Big City Survival Class" shows how Vancouverites who are terrified of crossing the Columbia into Portland are cured of their fears. Sort of. Have a look, and laugh.

 

Seemingly I shouldn't be too scared of Portland, judging from the final few minutes of the video showing photos of the Vancouverites making their post-therapy field trip to the Mysterious Land across the bridge.

I ride a skateboard.

OK, a longboard, but that's an intimate relative of what's shown in one of the photos. I also have no problem with naked bike riding. Or naked anything, for that matter. And I usually wear a "hoodie" sweatshirt that bears a close tye-dyed resemblance to an item of clothing that repels two Vancouverites.

Here's me.

And here's a scene from "Big City Survival Class."

However, I will admit to being clueless about how to ride Portland mass transit, especially light rail and streetcars. Back in my Portland State University days, the 1970's, I was adept at riding Tri Met buses.

Now I'm almost as wary of the MAX light rail system as the Vancouvria guy who thinks "M" stands for murder. Watching Portland news from the safety of our rural south Salem home, we regularly see reports of muggings, beatings, and other mayhem on MAX. 

So far as I remember, though, none of these involved a gray-haired senior citizen wearing a colorful tye-dyed hoodie with "Neskowin" emblazoned across the front. I should be OK if I ever dare to set foot on MAX.

Keep up the creative energy, Vancouvria. I look forward to the rest of your Season 2 episodes. There's got to be an episode focused on Washington's recently-passed laws that legalize marijuana and gay marriage, especially since Oregon hasn't legalized either.

In September I correctly anticipated that marijuana tourism would be coming to Washington state from Portlanders and other Oregonians. Sounds like a great way for Vancouvria to show that their town is cooler than Portland -- in a few ways.

Not Salem though. This is the comment I left on the latest Vancouvria You Tube video.

Us residents of Salem, affectionately known as So-lame to locals in the know, are afraid of visiting BOTH Portland and Vancouver. We've heard there actually are people on the sidewalks downtown in those cities. Scary! I'm used to a pleasingly boring and deserted downtown. Also, reportedly noise comes from restaurants and other night spots after 11 pm in Portland and Vancouver because people are inside... still awake! Super scary.

U.S. troops vs. Miami Dolphin cheerleaders in "Call Me Maybe" videos

Gorgeous! Both the guys and gals. Take your pick. Who do you respond to the most after hearing Call Me Maybe?

The split screen version is my favorite. The troops in Afghanistan did a terrific job mimicing the Miami Dolphins cheerleaders. Whoever shot the video was highly skilled also. 

 

Here's the troops by themselves.

 

And the cheerleaders by themselves.

 

2012 Oregon-OSU Civil War game not on DirecTV. Curses!

I wanted to put genuine profanity in the title of this post. But my sense of cyberspace propriety stopped me. Until now...

Fuck you, DirecTV! Fuck you, Pac 12 Network!

May you and your progeny (assuming corporations have progeny, but aren't they people too?) endure eternal torture in whatever hell is reserved for heartless, greedy, uncaring bastards who put their own selfish interest above the needs of others.

Like me. 

I've been annoyed with DirecTV for several months. Virtually every other "cable" provider has worked out an agreement with the Pac 12 Network. But not DirecTV. So I've been missing Oregon and Oregon State football games I wanted to see.

However, I kept remembering a promise I got from DirecTV customer service:

In addition, the vast majority of games, and those with the most conference or national title implications, will instead be televised by the ESPN family of networks and ABC Sports, FOX Sports and FSN, FX, CBS Sports and CBS Sports Network, NBC Sport and NBC Sports Network, and several other regional services, all of which are available on DIRECTV.

Oh, really? You liars!!! 

If Oregon doesn't beat Oregon State this Saturday, it's already-slim national championship hopes will be flushed completely down the BCS toilet. Ditto for its conference title hope, since Oregon has to win and Stanford has to lose this weekend for that to happen.

So DirecTV is screwing me and other subscribers out of being able to watch one of the most important Pac 12 football games of the season. There's no Pac 12 Network deal in sight.

I need to be temporarily adopted by a Comcast customer. From noon to four pm this Saturday. I've had all of my shots. I'm housetrained. I don't bite (anyone but DirecTV and Pac 12 Network employees). I'm not finicky (just put some chips and dip in my bowl).

Or I guess I could find a sports bar. I don't drink much, but I could make an exception this Saturday. That drunk screaming Fuck you, DirecTV! at the television would be me.

I'll be happy with whoever wins the football game. But DirecTV is the big loser regardless. Football fans in Oregon are going to remember your uncaring mendacity for a long, long time.

Surprise! "The Happy Movie" made me happy.

Thank you, Salem Progressive Film Series, for showing "The Happy Movie" last Thursday.

I enjoy going to your showings at the Grand Theatre, but usually they're a bit of a downer. After all, economic inequality, pollution, environmental degradation, and other socially significant subjects aren't exactly smile-inducers.

But happiness is. I hugely enjoyed learning about what contributes to happiness from experts in psychology, and also seeing happy people in action. 

Here's some themes from the movie that I remember. 

Flow. Yeah, flowing with life is the way to go. There was quite a bit of talk about flow, losing yourself in an activity to such an extent there's minimal difference between you and what you're doing. In other words, your focus is on the here and now, not the there and then.

I recall that during a narration of what flow means, the screen briefly showed a skateboarder sliding down a handrail. Being a geezer skateboarder/longboarder myself, my inner dude said right on. 

Along this line, I'll take this opportunity to premiere my own cinematic creation, the considerably less entertaining You Tube video that I filmed, directed, and starred in on the very afternoon before I watched The Happy Movie: "Big Stick longboarding, senior citizen style."

Description:

Risking my iPhone, I Kahuna Big Stick my way down a trail one-handed, videoing my marvelous 64 year old longboarding technique. Note the (accidental) cinematic effect at the end, where my dark glasses reflect my longboard rolling back down the slope toward me. Oscar for short subject, please!

 

This is an example of flow. I really enjoy longboarding because when I do it (up to four miles now), I'm really just doing it. Since I've only been into longboarding for about three months, my skills, and lack thereof, require me to focus pretty intensely on what's coming up on the trail. 

A rock, twig, broken pavement, sudden steep spot -- those sorts of things are a bigger deal to beginner me than they would be to a young dude or dudette who grew up with a skateboard as almost a bodily appendage. So I can't let my mind wander, enhancing a sense of flow.

Pleasingly, "The Happy Movie" showed examples of people who are still flowing with activities that they're experts in. Like a Brazilian surfer of indeterminate age (fifties?) who spoke movingly of what it means to him to become part of a wave on his board.

Compassion and service. Most of us wouldn't consider caring for the dying in a Calcutta center run by the Mother Teresa organization to be happiness-inducing. But the movie showed a man who had happily been there for over a decade, giving food and drink to the terminally ill, cleaning their sores, replacing their bandages. 

He was a Catholic, yet didn't emphasize the religious side of his service. He felt good helping others. I had the feeling that he'd be doing the same thing even if there wasn't a theological justification for his compassion.

This is borne out by studies which show that everywhere around the world, among believers and nonbelievers alike, people enjoy helping other people. Along with helping animals and the environment. Meditation was discussed in the movie, the sort of compassion-centered "may all be happy" meditative exercises favored by Buddhism.

Wishing other people good, even your enemies, makes you happy. I need to remember this the next time (which will be soon, believe me) I read or hear someone making a political assertion contrary to mine that deeply irritates me. 

I guess a place to start would be a minimalist compassion meditation like, "May those fucking idiots who haven't a clue be happy... and also wake up to the correct political point of view, which just happens to be mine, as soon as possible."

Hey, got to start somewhere.

Being social. I was surprised to hear in the movie that Japan is the least happy industrialized country in the world. The scenes of Japanese life, which admittedly were chosen to make that point, certainly reflected that. Japanese people seemingly are still heavy on the "workaholic" side of the scale, with too many leading emotionally isolated lives.

By contrast, a divorced woman in Denmark (I believe it was) is shown living happily with her child in a shared housing setup -- where families have individual living spaces, but share cooking, child care, and other duties.

She spoke about how great it was to only have to cook dinner for everybody once or twice a month, rather than prepare an evening meal for her own family every day. Plus, the social support she got from like-minded housing companions meant a lot to her.

Okinawa was presented as an interesting counter to nearby Japan. On that island people still live close to the earth, gardening for the pleasure of it, as well for the need of it. Relating to nature isn't the same as relating to humans. However, happiness is enhanced by feeling close to the natural world, just as being with other people makes us happy.

(Usually. I've been at some social gatherings that made me yearn for an isolation cell in a penitentiary.)

The Okinawans appear to have a marvelously age-integrated culture. Instead of the young doing their thing, and the elderly theirs, different generations rarely meeting, "The Happy Movie" showed Okinawa children and elders dancing and playing together. 

If you ever have a chance to see the film, do it. Likely it'll make you happy. I agreed with almost everything I saw in the movie. Except perhaps, the oft-heard admonition that once people attain a decent standard of living, getting more material stuff doesn't make them happier.

Huh?

Getting the iPhone 5 after being stuck with an iPhone 4 for ages (OK, two and a half years, but it felt like eternity) has made me really happy. Being able to upgrade my aging 13 inch MacBook Pro laptop to a retina display model would make me even happier.

Are you listening, Apple? How about contributing to an increase in the world's happiness level by releasing a 13 inch Retina MacBook Pro at the same time as the rumored iPad Mini this month?

Tell DirecTV how you feel about not getting Pac-12 games

Five weeks ago I started telling DirecTV that I wanted them to offer the Pac-12 Network now.

I've emailed customer service. I've had the Pac-12 channel finder notify DirecTV that I want to see every Oregon and Oregon State football game this season, not just the ones on channels (like ESPN) DirecTV does offer.

Four weeks ago I blogged about how DirecTV's excuses for shutting its subscribers out of the Pac-12 Network were annoying. 

They're much more annoying now.

Last Saturday I missed the Oregon State-Arizona game, which, when I read about it in the freaking newspaper the next day, turned out to have been tremendously exciting. Also, tremendously satisfying for us Oregonians, since OSU pulled out a win with a touchdown in the last few minutes.

I've read the DirecTV statement that they're ready to offer the games once they get a "fair deal" from the Pac-12 Network. Well, I'm sure the Pac-12 Network is a greedy corporate bastard, just as DirecTV is. 

But other "cable" systems, like Dish, DirecTV's satellite competitor, have managed to work out a deal with the Pac-12 Network that they found acceptable. So this holier-than-thou talk about fairness isn't cutting it with me.

Next Saturday I'm slated to miss another important Oregon State game against Washington State that's only being televised on the Pac-12 Network.

DirecTV customer service said in an email to me, "the vast majority of games, and those with the most conference or national title implications, will instead be televised by the ESPN family of networks and ABC Sports, FOX Sports and FSN, FX, CBS Sports and CBS Sports Network, NBC Sport and NBC Sports Network, and several other regional services, all of which are available on DIRECTV."

Hey, DirecTV: that's a lie.

Oregon currently is ranked #2 in the country; Oregon State #14. Both are undefeated. Thus every football game they play, every one, has important conference and national title implications.

So show the games!

Work out a deal with the Pac-12 Network like your competitors have. Every day you don't is another day that your subscribers who are Pac-12 fans are cursing you when, once again, they miss a game that is important to them.

I'm about to tell the DirecTV Corporate Office what I've just said in this blog post. Click here to express your own feelings. (Or the link at the top of this page, if that one doesn't work.)

Obviously DirecTV isn't getting a strong enough message from its disgruntled subscribers, or they'd have done the same sort of Pac-12 deal that Dish and others have accepted. (At the moment, reports are that no deal is in the works -- deeply irritating.)

I like DirecTV, so I'm reluctant to cancel and jump ship to the Dish Network. But if this ridiculous pissing match with the Pac-12 Network goes on much longer, I'm going to be seriously tempted to say goodbye to DirecTV.

DirecTV Pac-12 Network excuses are annoying

The sports page informs me that next Saturday's Oregon-Fresno State game only will be televised on the new Pac-12 Network. I want to watch the game. But paternalistic DirecTV doesn't feel that I should. 

Today, once again, I contacted DirecTV, saying that one of their Important Subscribers, namely, me, wanted the pissing match between them and the Pac-12 Network to be resolved. Pronto! Before Saturday. 

I got an annoying email response from a customer service rep. My reactions to the annoyances are in italics.

Dear Mr. Hines, 

Thank you for writing about the Pac 12 Sports Network. I see you are one of our loyal customers, and we would like you to know that we appreciate your business.

Believe me, I don't feel very loyal at the moment. I switched to DirecTV from Dish after Dish dropped CBS shows, such as our must-see Survivor, over a contract dispute. So I'd drop DirecTV in an instant if we had a viable cable alternative. But since we live in the boonies, I'm stuck with satellite.

I know that this channel is important to you.

Wow, very astute. Must be the frequent complaining I've been doing via email and Twitter ever since I realized that DirecTV wasn't going to carry the Pac-12 Network at the start of football season.

We have been in discussions with the Pac 12 Conference Commissioner and Pac-12 Networks representatives for several months and hope to reach an agreement that will be fair for both those customers who want to receive Pac 12 programming and those who do not. For the latest information on channel additions, please visit our web site at www.directv.com/pr.

Pardon my self-centeredness, but I don't give a rip about DirecTV customers who don't want to get the PAC-12 Network. I'm forced to pay for lots of channels that I never watch, but other subscribers do, so why can't those other subscribers pay for a channel that I will watch? 

In addition, the vast majority of games, and those with the most conference or national title implications, will instead be televised by the ESPN family of networks and ABC Sports, FOX Sports and FSN, FX, CBS Sports and CBS Sports Network, NBC Sport and NBC Sports Network, and several other regional services, all of which are available on DIRECTV.

First, I don't believe this "vast majority" stuff. But maybe you're right. What's annoying is your assumption that I should only be interested in games with "conference or national title implications." I guess this means DirecTV won't have any OSU games, since likely the Beavers will suck this year and have no chance at the Pac-12 title. Still, I'd like to watch them when I want to. So don't tell me which football games I should be interested in, when the Pac-12 Network will be televising all of them, to my understanding.

Our goal is to always strive to provide our customers the very best TV experience at the most reasonable cost, and so we would hope to provide Pac-12 Networks to the fans whom most want it without burdening non-sports fans with an unreasonable additional expense.  

OK. So do it. I'd be happy to pay 80 cents a month more for the Pac-12 Network. I leave that much in the tip jar at a coffee house when I buy a 16 ounce caffeine fix and a whole grain bagel. Just cut the crap with all that talk about "goal" and "hope." Simply do it! Sign a deal with the Pac-12 Network.

I appreciate the opportunity to assist you. 

And I appreciate the opportunity to sarcastically criticize you.

Whatever happened to the adage "the customer is always right"? I know that DirecTV is getting lots of pressure from subscribers to add the Pac-12 Network. Yet nothing has happened so far. 

Aside from subscribers jumping ship to another TV provider. Keep it up, DirecTV, and you'll learn how loyal to you your avid Pac-12 sports fans are. My prediction: not much.

Note: if DirecTV still doesn't have the Pac-12 Network by this weekend, check out a Washington State fan's humorous suggestions for what else you can do other than watch football. Such as Go to Michael's with your wife to get scrapbooking materials.

Yikes! Scary! Hope I don't have a nightmare about that tonight.

Speaking of nightmares, the Pac-12 Network is encouraging DirecTV subscribers to give their satellite service a fright by signing up with a competitor who does carry the network. Good for them. I suspect the Pac-12 Network is just as greedy as DirecTV, but my sympathies are with the Network, since I want to be able to watch every Pac-12 game, not just the ones DirecTV thinks I should want to watch.

Tell DirecTV you want the Pac-12 network. Now!

Saturday the OSU Beavers and Oregon Ducks start their football seasons. But us DirecTV subscribers won't be able to watch the Beavers on the Pac-12 network unless DirecTV works out a deal to get the channel.

Do it, DirecTV!

It wasn't long ago that we lost Comedy Central and other channels because of a corporate pissing match with Viacom. It was a pain in the butt to try to find The Colbert Report, Daily Show, and other necessities of life on Hulu or wherever.

Don't screw us DirecTV subscribers again with a Pac-12 Network dispute. 

If you're a DirecTV subscriber in Pac-12 land, head over to the Pac-12 Network channel finder to see if the channel is available to you yet. If it isn't, use the handy "I want it!" feature to send DirecTV a message. I just did.

Things are looking fairly positive for us football fans who have DirecTV. But pressure still needs to be put on DirecTV. They need to work out a deal BEFORE this weekend, not after.

Jack Reacher movie must show he's the toughest Jack

Back in 2006, after extensive watching/reading research, I concluded that Jack Reacher, ex-MP hero of the terrific book series by Lee Child, was tougher than Jack Bauer, terrorist battling hero of the terrific TV series "24."

In an unarmed mano-a-mano, you’d have to bet on Reacher. He’s 6’ 5” and about 250 pounds. Puny Bauer and his pussy martial arts moves would barely get Reacher warmed up.

I fondly remember one Reacher bar fight which began with him calmly sitting at a table. He’s confronted by half a dozen guys out to give him a bad time. Reacher suggests that they should take a hike. Their leader says, “If we don’t, what are you going to do?”

Reacher then describes in exquisite detail what will happen. “You and I are going to go out to the parking lot. You’re going to take a swing at me and I’ll break your jaw. Then you’ll take another swing and I’ll break your right kneecap. After that, I’m going to come back inside and finish my beer." Which, of course, is exactly what happened.

Bauer can handle himself in any sort of situation, but almost always he’s got a gun in his hand. In the last Lee Child book I read, “One Shot,” Reacher dispatches four well-armed guys (who seriously deserved to be dispatched) with just a knife. Bauer maybe could do that too, but he’d have to work at it harder than the other Jack.

Having read every novel Lee Child has published so far, I'm enthused about the Jack Reacher movie scheduled for release in late December, 2012. 

But Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher? Horrible casting mistake.

Maybe good for the box office, but no way is Cruise a believable Reacher to anyone, like me, who is intimately familiar with Reacher's (admittedly fictional) personality, demeanor, and overall macho'osity.

I'll try to keep an open mind, though.

Cruise might pull it off. He's just so damn small. And lacking the blunt brute force of Jack Reacher. Still, I can visualize Cruise's acting having the requisite cockiness. I just finished Lee Child's "The Affair," which I believe is the most recent Jack Reacher novel.

Loved it. The passages where Reacher deals with some tough southern rednecks are classic. Excerpts:

I looked at the alpha dog and said, "This is your plan?"

He didn't answer.

I said, "Four guys? Is that all?"

He didn't answer.

...I said, "It's a shame one of you isn't bigger. Or two or three of you. Or all of you, actually."

No answer.

Reacher advises them to rethink their plan and come back with dozens of guys, a big overwhelming force. Ending with: "I'll be here. Whenever you're ready." Later, they do come back. In a disappointing way for Reacher.

"Six of you?" I said. "Is that it?"

No answer.

"That's kind of incremental, isn't it?" I said. "I was hoping for something a little more radical. Like the difference between an airborne company and an armored division. I guess we were thinking along different lines. I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed."

Naturally it turns out that Jack Reacher was right. Six big rednecks was nowhere near enough manpower to defeat Reacher. However, he did get a little blood on his newly bought shirt. Not his own, of course. That irritated him. 

But didn't interfere with his diner "date" with the awesomely beautiful woman who serves as sheriff of the small town. Jack Reacher never loses a fight. Or a woman he wants to bed. He's the toughest and coolest Jack.

For sure. Don't blow it, Tom Cruise. Us Jack Reacher fans will never forgive you if you do. Sadly, the trailer for the Jack Reacher movie isn't encouraging. Cruise just doesn't have the Reacher vibe.

 

Great "Newsroom" speech: America isn't greatest country

Thank you, HBO. Thank you, Aaron Sorkin. Someone needed to say this -- no, scream it -- on nationwide TV.

The United States isn't the greatest country in the world.

Last night my wife and I watched the premiere of a new HBO series, "The Newsroom." Jeff Daniels plays a news anchor who can't take the bullshit anymore during a panel discussion and tells it like this country is.

Thanks to GQ.com, here's a transcript of the terrific mini-speech from How to Write an Aaron Sorkin Script, by Aaron Sorkin.

A song in a musical works best when a character has to sing— when words won't do the trick anymore. The same idea applies to a long speech in a play or a movie or on television. You want to force the character out of a conversational pattern. In the pilot of The Newsroom, a new series for HBO, TV news anchor Will McAvoy (Jeff Daniels) emotionally checked out years ago, and now he's sitting on a college panel, hearing the same shouting match between right and left he's been hearing forever, and the arguments have become noise. A student asks what makes America the world's greatest country, and Will dodges the question with glib answers. But the moderator keeps needling him until...snap.

Will 
It's not the greatest country in the world, professor, that's my answer.

Moderator 
[pause] You're saying—

Will
Yes.

Moderator
Let's talk about—

Start off easy. First get rid of the two noisemakers.

Will 
Fine. [to the liberal panelist] Sharon, the NEA is a loser. Yeah, it accounts for a penny out of our paychecks, but he [gesturing to the conservative panelist] gets to hit you with it anytime he wants. It doesn't cost money, it costs votes. It costs airtime and column inches. You know why people don't like liberals? Because they lose. If liberals are so fuckin' smart, how come they lose so GODDAM ALWAYS!

The use of inappropriate language has a purpose—the filter's off.

And [to the conservative panelist] with a straight face, you're going to tell students that America's so starspangled awesome that we're the only ones in the world who have freedom? Canada has freedom, Japan has freedom, the UK, France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Australia, Belgium has freedom. Two hundred seven sovereign states in the world, like 180 of them have freedom.

The fact-dump that's coming now serves several purposes. It backs up his argument, it reveals him to be exceptional (what normal person has these stats at their fingertips?), but mostly it's musical. This is the allegro.

And you—sorority girl—yeah—just in case you accidentally wander into a voting booth one day, there are some things you should know, and one of them is that there is absolutely no evidence to support the statement that we're the greatest country in the world. We're seventh in literacy, twenty-seventh in math, twenty-second in science, forty-ninth in life expectancy, 178th in infant mortality, third in median household income, number four in labor force, and number four in exports. We lead the world in only three categories: number of incarcerated citizens per capita, number of adults who believe angels are real, and defense spending, where we spend more than the next twenty-six countries combined, twenty-five of whom are allies. None of this is the fault of a 20-year-old college student, but you, nonetheless, are without a doubt, a member of the WORST-period-GENERATION-period-EVER-period, so when you ask what makes us the greatest country in the world, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about?! Yosemite?!!!

[Cell-phone cameras are everywhere— people are tweeting and texting away.]

Now we slow down and get a glimpse into his pain. The oratorical technique is called "floating opposites"— we did, we didn't, we did, we didn't... But rhythmically you don't want this to be too on the money. You're not just testing the human ear anymore; you want people to hear what he's saying.

We sure used to be. We stood up for what was right! We fought for moral reasons, we passed and struck down laws for moral reasons. We waged wars on poverty, not poor people. We sacrificed, we cared about our neighbors, we put our money where our mouths were, and we never beat our chest. We built great big things, made ungodly technological advances, explored the universe, cured diseases, and cultivated the world's greatest artists and the world's greatest economy. We reached for the stars, and we acted like men. We aspired to intelligence; we didn't belittle it; it didn't make us feel inferior. We didn't identify ourselves by who we voted for in the last election, and we didn't scare so easy. And we were able to be all these things and do all these things because we were informed. By great men, men who were revered. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one—America is not the greatest country in the world anymore.

To resolve a melody, you have to end on either the tonic or the dominant. (Try humming "Mary Had a Little Lamb" right now, but leave off "snow." You'll feel like you need to sneeze.) So Will ends where he started. Then, just to acknowledge that he just sang an aria— which is unusual in the course of a normal conversation—he turns to the moderator who'd been needling him and casually asks...

Will 
[to moderator] Enough?

Here's a You Tube video that shows part of Will's truth-telling at the beginning. I sure wish we had more politicians who talked like this. They might not get elected, but I'd vote for them.

 

PETA now has a XXX web site. It's animalistic!

Way to go, PETA. You're making good use of the new .xxx domain option with www.peta.xxx

Personally, I wasn't turned on by seeing porn star Ron Jeremy featured on the home page, but my male eyes quickly turned leftward (natural for me) to an image of Sasha Grey -- another former porn star who supports the animal side of both humans and animals.

PETA enticed my throbbing attention deeper into the site with...

PETA is not new to the world of adult entertainment. In fact, we've been collaborating with some of the most legendary XXX stars for years. Thanks to the availability of .xxx domain names, we can now house all our adult content in one spot. Stick around and take a look at some of PETA's most sizzling ads of all time.

Have a look. Then read the reasons for PETA's naked ad campaigns.

Creative Portland marriage proposal gets Storm Large's "fuck, yes"

Since I'm a big fan of Storm Large, I wish I could obey her Twitter tweet.

My good friend Amy just got engaged, and..no pressure, boys...but this is how the fuck you do it. http://vimeo.com/42828824 

However, I'm already married.

And my proposal to Laurel some twenty-three years ago was horrible, compared to how the marvelously creative guy who put together this lip-sync'ed marvel did it. Very Portlandia'ish.

When I proposed to Laurel, it was so half-assed Laurel wasn't sure what I was saying. "Are you asking me to marry you?", she said. "Yes," I told her. Not exactly the stuff romance novels are made of.

Oh well.

I'm happy this woman got to enjoy such a great proposal. The look on her face (in the corner of the video) as she watches the dancers is wonderful. Congrats to Isaac Lamb and his bride-to-be. You showed me way up, Isaac. 

Good for you.

According to the Oregonian, your video has gone viral (gotten 1.4 million hits already) and national TV interviews await you. Couldn't happen to a better couple, judging by the six minutes I've known you via the video.

"Real-life Barbie" does appear to be a real woman

When I came across mention of a real-life Barbie on my Twitter feed, naturally my curiosity was aroused. I've always thought Barbie was hot (though my most ardent attraction is to a more mature, yet similarly curvaceous comic strip character, Blondie).

A 21-year-old girl, who has become an internet sensation in her home country of Russia, claims on her blog to be the most famed woman on the Russian-language internet.

Valeria Lukyanova's doll-like features, long blonde hair and 'perfect' body make her look like a real life Barbie.

In fact, with her tiny waist and large breasts, she bears such a resemblance to the famed plastic doll that cynical web users have been speculating about whether or not she is real.

After careful Googling, I've concluded that, yes, Lukyanova is for real. At least, as real as a Barbie-in-the-flesh produced by gobs of makeup and, most likely, plastic surgery can be.

Her Facebook page has so many photos and videos of her, it's difficult to believe that Lukyanona is purely an artifical creature. She's undeniably beautiful. Yet also a bit creepy, when she's in her full-on Barbie look.

Here's some more photos...

Video of father-daughter wedding dance I'm envious of

When my daughter, Celeste, got married, I wasn't the dancing fool that I am now.

By "fool," I mean that my dancing is more fun for me than it is artistic to look at; also that I now feel foolish for not having started to take ballroom lessons earlier than my wife and I did, because we really enjoy dancing.

If I had my father-daughter wedding dance to do over again, I'd love it to look like this one. I think I could handle most of the moves this fellow gray-haired guy throws out on the dance floor so engagingly.

His daughter is enjoyable to look at also. Congratulations father and daughter. You've brought smiles, and likely some joyful tears, to many people. 

 

Storm Large dazzles Salem in Oregon Symphony show

Last Friday my wife and I went to see the Oregon Symphony in Salem even though we don't like classical music. Or, usually, symphonies.

But Storm Large, Portland's rock goddess, was singing along with the symphony in "The Perfect Storm" show that moved to the Schnitzer Concert Hall this weekend. Which also featured rock violinist Aaron Meyer in the first part of the program -- another amazing performer.

Large was on her best behavior during her sultry lounge-singer sort of performance. She noted this near the end of her show, saying something like "Salem, I bet you were wondering what you were going to get tonight. But look! I didn't curse once. And I wore underwear!"

She was dressed elegantly in a slinky black dress, nicely made up in glittery eye shadow, her blonde hair neatly coiffed. But anyone who saw her sing on Rock Star SuperNova back in 2006 knows that Large has a whole other way of being "Ladylike" (her original song).

 

Storm Large's versatility is hugely impressive. Like Lady Gaga, she can play sophisticated nightclub singer or down-and-dirty rocker. I forked out for center seats, six rows back, in Willamette University's Smith Auditorium.

Good choice.

I loved being able to clearly see Large's expressive face. Not to mention her attractive body. In 2011 she took the place of Pink Martini's lead singer, China Forbes, who had vocal cord surgery. Here's a video of her singing with Pink Martini in her sophisticated style.

 

And then there's "8 Miles Wide" from her show Crazy Enough. Hint: she's not talking about the Grand Canyon, but rather, um, a intimate bit of womanly geography.

 

Friday night Large said she had a "kink" for love songs.

Especially for love songs about relationships that end badly. Even better... love songs about relationships that start badly. I loved her honest, pleasingly cynical, yet still hopeful attitude toward love. Yeah, it hurts. But oh so good.

A big audience pleaser was her unique rendition of "Hopelessly Devoted." Large said the original singer (Olivia Newton-John in Grease, I assume) got it all wrong. Large told us that if she was jilted by a jerk, she wouldn't be sitting on a swing, softly singing about the break-up. 

The guy would be duct-taped in an empty warehouse, his head over a toilet, getting what he deserved. 

 

Her emotionally honest approach to love is even more bluntly revealed in Large's wonderful "I Want You to Die." Great lyrics. Note to self: If you're ever reborn and somehow are on the edge of fulfilling your karmic desire to have a romantic relationship with a reincarnated Storm Large, don't!

For obvious reasons.

 

Storm Large is a fascinating personality. Seeing her perform close-up Friday night, I could tell that a complex, intelligent, highly engaging woman was singing beautifully with the Oregon Symphony.

In an interview with Rosie O'Donnell, Large talks about her childhood, her mentally ill mother, and forgiveness. Honest. Real. Super talented. That's Storm Large. Portland, and Oregon, is fortunate to have her.

 

"Motherfucking Bike" (almost) makes me want to ride one

I have a mountain bike. But I shun mountains, because they are so up'ity. Flat or downhill... that's my ideal bicycling terrain. 

Since we live in the hills of rural south Salem, this constrains my interest in bike-riding. But after watching "Motherfucking Bike," I was (almost) inspired to join the motherfuckingbike movement -- not that I have any idea what it is.

 

However, from the video I seem to be too old to join the two-wheeled non-motorized hipsters.

And my 63 year old sense of propriety -- what's left of it -- wonders if the lyrics to Motherfucking Bike are just a bit inflammatory, feeding in as they do to the stereotype of anarchist bicyclists ignoring traffic laws and claiming to own the road.

Of course, what else would you expect from from a video called Motherfucking Bike?

Here's the lyrics.

I rise in the morning, and greet the day
pull out the bike and I'm on my way
The transportation shows I care
Every turn of the pedal - cleans the air
Greener than green, I'm saving the planet
just like my friends Daryl, Sean, Toby and Janet
no greenhouse gas, a tiny carbon footprint up your ass
I'm on a motherfucking bike

Sharing my aggression is what that I do
Every day I'm riding the 'Tour de Fuck You'
Banging on hoods and kicking in fenders
a right-of-way-aholic on a permanent bender
Running red lights at the fat intersection
Cutout seat protects my erection
You like the bird, in my hand?
Take two from a motherfucking track stand on my bike
I'm on a motherfucking bike
I'm on a motherfucking bike

Skinny-ass pants, the 'stache is fat
the canvas kicks, the ear-flap hat
Got no gears so you best not dis me
yeah bitch, it's a motherfuckin fixie
Middle of the street is where you're gonna find me
a shitload of traffic backed up behind me
Critical Mass is a Facebook "like"
I'm on a motherfucking bike
I'm on a motherfucking bike
(horn and bell solo)

Young girls who dance like Tina Turner. What's up?

Today my wife, Laurel, and I got our first look at big-time children's dance competition. We spent most of the day watching the Los Angeles regionals of The American Dance Awards, held in Lake Elsinore, California at Lakeside High School.

Our four-year old granddaughter apparently was the youngest contestant, dancing in two six-and-under categories (small group tap and small group jazz).

We loved every moment of the dancing.

My daughter was fearful that we'd get bored with the all day competition. Early on she slipped me her car keys, figuring that Laurel and I would want to head someplace else while we waited for our granddaughter's dances, scheduled for 12:45 and 4:25 pm.

No way.

Aside from a lunch break, we were glued to our seats in the auditorium. After almost every performance I'd say things to Laurel like: "Wow!" "Amazing!" "Unbelievable!" "That looked professional!" "So cute!" and other exclamations of wonderment.

The dancers, mostly girls but also some boys, ranged in age from four to twenty-one. Their energy, skill level, enthusiasm, charisma, and overall watchability was exceptional. We expected to see some good dancing.

What we got was great dancing.

However, in case any parents of certain eight and under girls were sitting behind me, I want to explain why I laughed (not very loudly, but almost uncontrollably) during some of their performances. I wasn't laughing at their dancing, which was terrific.

What almost brought tears of hilarity to my eyes was the sight of little girls doing a highly credible impersonation of Tina Turner shaking it. 

Now, I'm old enough to have seen Tina Turner perform in person at the Winterland in San Francisco sometime in the late 1960's. At least I think that's where it was. Much of the 60's is a brain-blur to me, for reasons that should be obvious.

Young people can get a taste of Turner on You Tube, which includes being able to watch Beyonce perform "Proud Mary" at a Tina Turner tribute in a fashion that does Tina proud.

 

Today I was awestruck at how little girls just a few years older than my granddaughter could dance so Tina Turner/Beyonce'ish -- complete with "big girl" makeup, costumes, and pouty demeanor. At first my mind bounced back and forth between wow, that's so wrong! and wow, that's so right!

It didn't take long for me to settle in on so right!

The little girls clearly were enjoying themselves. They were getting to play dress-up on a big stage in front of an appreciative audience. They obviously had practiced long and hard. There wasn't anything remotely lewd or sexual about their dancing.

I just kept thinking, "Wow, you've come a long way, baby." Back in my California childhood days, few kids danced at all. We were forced to learn some square dancing during P.E. in high school, all prim and proper. 

Nobody would have believed that in 2012, girls eight and younger would be made up with lots of eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick, then shake their child bodies in glittery, skimpy outfits like twenty year-olds at a nightclub. But, hey, why not?

The kids I watched today were having fun. No matter what their age, it looked to me like the music they were dancing to, and their dance moves, were what they wanted to do. Sure, their dance instructors did most or all of the choreographing. They know, though, what appeals to children nowadays. 

Hip-hop culture, and it's jazzy variants, seemingly has spread to every dancing age group. I say, great. The dances I watched today brought smiles and energy to my social-security eligible body. Keep it up, kids. 

If you want to dance like Tina Turner, go for it. Even if you're five years old.

"The Artist" movie inspires me to... express myself!

When I first heard about "The Artist" (2011) I thought, "This is a movie that I should like, but won't." Black and white. Almost entirely silent, as regards speaking. French actors/director. An homage to films of the 20's and 30's.

I figured "The Artist" would be one of those films my wife and I go to at Salem Cinema because it's an artsy, indie movie that's getting a lot of attention. Afterwards we'd look at each other and say, "What was that all about?," then go home and watch something genuinely enjoyable on TV, like The Colbert Report.

Wrong. I was so wrong.

Last night we went to see "The Artist" with some friends. Loved it. Not only is it one of the best movies I've ever seen, it's one of the most memorable. There are quite a few scenes in it that I hope I'll never forget, and likely never will. 

Go see it, if you're able to. If not, put the movie on your Netflix queue, now. 

What grabbed me the most about "The Artist" was the incredible performances by the lead actors, Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo. Their faces are so wonderfully expressive. Their movements, equally so. Watch videos of the trailer and other clips. You'll see what I mean.

Words are important to me. As they are to everybody. We use so many of them every day, speaking, writing, reading. Yet...

"The Artist" showed how so much can be expressed in wordless bodily ways, either with or without accompanying words. Great actors like Dujardin and Bejo know how to do this. I was amazed at how easy it was to follow the plot of this movie with very few silent movie captions shown on the screen.

As with art, so with life. Do we really pay attention to body language, our physical surroundings, the sights, sounds, smells, and such which surround us every waking moment of every day? 

And do we freely express ourselves as we respond to all this sensory stimulation?

How much do we hold in, repress, keep under control? Sure, few of us are as engagingly attractive as Dujardin and Bejo. But everybody can let loose what is within through smiles, frowns, gestures, laughter, tears -- whatever feelings beg to be let loose from the emotional cage we often keep ourselves cooped up in.

A few days ago my wife and I took part in a two-hour meeting where everybody was upset about something or other. It wasn't pleasant. Yet it was satisfying. I got to express myself in ways I hadn't been able to before through emails and phone conversations.

I was pissed at how I'd been treated by some other people. Before the meeting started we were warned by the facilitator to "self soothe" if our feelings got too intense, to use "I" messages rather than accusatory language -- all that good counseling stuff.

When my turn came to say what I wanted in the five minutes allotted to me, the facilitator interrupted me partway through. "Too intense." "Too much energy." "Too much body language." 

At the time I tried to look contrite.

But at the moment, as now, I actually felt good that what I was feeling within me was being expressed so vividly to other people. If I'd felt OK with the crappy way I'd been treated by some members of the group, then I would have acted all calm, positive, and huggie-feely. I didn't though. What other people saw was what there was: irritation, dissatisfaction, a desire to change things for the better.

In "The Artist" the main characters go through lots of ups and downs. They don't keep their emotional reactions to these roller coaster rides of life a secret. They're expressed marvelously in ways both subtle and in-your-face.

I'm inspired. To do the same. To let what is within be shared without more freely, openly, energetically. Without words. With words. Whatever. However.

Not crazily; not hurtfully; not aggressively. Honestly.

Life is too short to be lived within cages of our own making. Dujardin's character, George Valentin, gambles on a self-financed silent film just as "talkies" are about to take over the movie industry. He fails at the box office. And succeeds as an artist, as a man, as a human being.

Here's Richard Roeper's A+ video review. 

 

"Portlandia" needs a comedy makeover

My wife and I live in Salem, a.k.a. "So-lame," Portland's dowdy, plain, uncool neighbor to the south. We wish our city could be half as ravishingly interesting as Portland is. No, one-tenth as interesting.

Heck, give us any little slice of Portland and we'd devour it hungrily. (Salem just got it's first Trader Joe's store, eons after Portland, Corvallis, and Eugene got theirs. We still don't have a true vegetarian restaurant, much less a vegan one.)

So we really want to enjoy IFC's "Portlandia."

We watched every episode of Season 1, chuckling only episodically. It kept seeming like Portlandia was on the verge of being a spot-on laugh-worthy satire of Portland's cultural quirks, but the cable series never got there.

I blogged last February:

The saying, Keep Portland Weird, is truthful.

Portland is weird in many wonderful ways. Once in a while Portlandia manages to successfully satirize those quirks, such as in the opening episode where a hipster couple grill their restaurant server about how happily the chicken they're considering ordering was raised.

Problem is, most of the time Portlandia is absorbed in its own self-reflective cinematic weirdness. It's sort of satirizing itself, which isn't funny. Meaning, typically the sketches don't make fun of some green/ environmental/ progressive/ cultural Portland excess, but are over-the-top in their own right.

Like, in the most recent episode, the mayor asking the main characters to form a baseball team, which they do in a wholly unrealistic manner. Or the sketch where the stars are chefs getting photographed for a magazine story, and start posing in increasingly bizarre ways.

What's that got to do with Portland? It was good acting, but ultimately uncomedic -- except in a "that was really weird" sense. Again, Portland's weirdness is getting lost in Portlandia's own weirdness, causing the original premise of the series to be forgotten.

Watching the first episode of Season 2, I feel that everything I said before still applies. Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein, the couple who appear in various guises throughout Portlandia, would start off with a promising sketch premise.

Greenies who consider they can pickle anything. Outdoorshumans who arrive at an air mattress-friendly river over-prepared for white water. A nightspot "mixologist" who is way too into the intricacies of cocktail preparation. 

In each case I was prepared to laugh at the humor in the situation. Playing the sketch more subtly, not desperately milking it for laughs, that would have been much more comedic than -- as noted above -- steadily ratcheting up the ridiculousness until the original premise got lost in excessive craziness.

The only part of the first episode that got my wife and me laughing out loud was the scene in a southern California restaurant where Armisen and Brownstein just want some simple food, and the waiter (oops, "server") keeps leading them through complicated menu options. 

I wish every sketch in Portlandia could be played like this one was. Most viewers could identify with the situation, having encountered similar trendy restaurants and best-friend servers. The dialogue was just slightly on the zany side of believable, not on the outer limits. I could easily visualize something like this ordering disaster actually happening.

But otherwise my wife and I kept asking each other, "Is that supposed to be funny?" For us, it wasn't. Hopefully Portlandia will find its groove in later episodes. Portland deserves to be made fun of. 

"House of Lies" resonates with our cynical souls

Damn you, Showtime! Last year I cancelled your half of our HBO/Showtime subscription, because you didn't have on anything we liked to watch. 

But last night we took advantage of DirecTV's offer to see Showtime premieres for free. And already we're hooked on "House of Lies." 

What's not to like about cynicism, sex, money-grubbing management consultants, dysfunctional relationships, and other reflections of reality? About halfway through the first episode, my wife said "This is our kind of show."

A quick review of some early reviews, here, here, and here, indicates that our enthusiasm isn't universally shared. Well, we're used to liking TV shows that others don't have the good taste to appreciate. (We still miss "Cop Rock.")

Keep it up, Showtime. Given all the explicit sex on the show, that shouldn't be difficult.

Stick with the stop-action scenes that some find corny. Stick with the profanity that offends delicate ears. Stick with the depiction of corporate CEO's as uncaring about the public good (the most unarguably truthful aspect of the show). 

My wife and I will be laughing with you. And, damn you Showtime!, paying another $13 a month, or whatever it is, for the privilege of feeding our love of cynicism.

Here's a promo that gives a feel for House of Lies; it starts after the 30 second intro.

[Update: "House of Lies" already is changing my life. Can't tell if it is for the worse, or for the better. That's the beauty of this show. Cynicism promotes a so what? moral ambiguity.

In my usual quasi-neurotic fashion, this afternoon I was mulling over the pros and cons of taking the last few pieces of a tasty tofu dish at the LifeSource Natural Foods deli area. A woman was standing beside me, spooning mashed potatoes into her container, seemingly glancing at how I was steadily depleting the tofu.

I considered leaving a few pieces for her, even though there barely was enough tofu for my wife and me to eat tonight. Then "House of Lies" came to mind. I thought, Screw it.

If it's OK for Don Cheadle to go to a strip club, pick up a dancer, persuade her to pretend that she's his wife during an important dinner meeting with a corporate client, and then get into a fight with the prospective client after the stripper gets it on with the guy's wife in the women's restroom, after which she tells her husband that sex with the stripper is way better than with him, which understandably puts the guy in a foul mood -- then damn it, I should be able to take the last few pieces of tofu at a deli without feeling like a sinner.

After I did just that, the woman said to me, "That tofu is really good. I bought some earlier today." Great decision, Brian, I told myself. It would have been stupid to sacrifice my tofu-desire when my fellow shopper didn't even want any. Plus, I enjoyed living on the edge, just like the characters in "House of Lies" do.

Today, taking the last pieces of tofu. Tomorrow, who knows how wild and even crazier I may become, spurred on by the example of "House of Lies."] 

Cavalia is a magical horse show -- Portlanders, go see it!

It's been quite an entertainment week for us. Fresh from seeing Cirque du Soleil's tribute to Michael Jackson at the Rose Garden, last Tuesday we headed to the Pearl District for Cavalia -- a horse show unlike any other. 

There's a connection between Cirque du Soleil and Cavalia: Cavalia's artistic director, Normand Latourelle helped Cirque du Soleil get off the ground and was bought out by the Cirque founders. This helps explain why the Cavalia experience is so similar to the magical atmosphere of Cirque du Soleil.

Well, the parking lot wasn't anything special. But the sight of the gigantic tents housing Cavalia was. I believe the main tent is one of the largest in the world. (All photos taken in dim light with my iPhone 4, which explains the quality of the pics.)

We splurged on Rendez-vous VIP tickets. Good choice. Before the show started we got to gorge on "free" food and drinks in the Rendez-vous tent. Plus, shop for Cavalia-themed merchandise. 

There were plenty of vegetarian choices for us. Pesto pasta, asparagus, hummus/pita bread, salad, and more. Plus good wine served up generously. Along with private VIP bathrooms so we Rendez-vous'ers didn't have to mingle with the plebeian Cavalia-goers when a call of nature was sensed.

Speaking of nature...

We got to Portland early to miss the worst of the late afternoon freeway tieups. Laurel headed to Whole Foods while I trekked to Powell's on Burnside, a Bookstore Wonder of the World. Browsing the new non-fiction section I ended up buying David Abram's "Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology."

Also, Abram's first book, because I could tell I was going to enjoy "Becoming Animal" a lot. I started reading "The Spell of the Sensuous" while sipping a latte in Powell's Books coffee shop, waiting for Laurel to meet me.

The book was an excellent pre-Cavalia mood primer. Abrams starts off "The Spell of the Sensuous" with:

Humans are tuned for relationship. The eyes, the skin, the tongue, ears, and nostrils -- all are gates where our body receives the nourishment of otherness. This landscape of shadowed voices, these feathered bodies and antlers and tumbling streams -- these breathing shapes are our family, the beings with whom we are engaged, with whom we struggle and suffer and celebrate. ...The simple premise of this book is that we are human only in contact, and conviviality, with what is not human.

Such is what Cavalia is all about, the horse-human relationship.

Those who expect something else, like the people who left unjustifed "Much of the show was boring" comments on a Yelp review of a Cavalia show in Burbank, are going to miss out on a full Cavalia experience. 

My wife and I are decent horse riders, she more than me. So we probably were better suited than many in the audience to appreciate the astounding skills of both the humans and the horses in the show. The intimate communication between horse and rider/trainer was obvious, yet often difficult to discern explicitly, it seemed so natural.

Case in point: the woman in the second act who engages in a spectacular display of equine choreography with six horses, standing on the sandstrewn Cavalia stage with just her soft voice and a flexible "stick" to control the horses.

A dog trainer would be hard pressed to get six border collies to do what the stallions (or geldings) were accomplishing with seeming ease. Three would circle in one direction, while the other three would circle the other way. Then one horse would break out of the pattern and do something different. 

There's also quite a bit of non-horse performing in the show, probably because the horses need a break now and then. Some of the acrobatics and dancing didn't seem to have much connection with anything horse'ish, but that was fine with me.

Again, this isn't Cirque du Soleil. The non-horse stunts aren't the core of Cavalia. When a bunch of stallions gallop by after an acrobatic interlude, the energy of the show ramps up again.

After it was over, we Rendez-vous ticket holders got a tour of the stables. The horses were being fed, so most had their heads down, munching away, which made my iPhone photography kind of difficult.

(Note: if you also get a chance to walk through the stables, make sure you know how to turn your camera's flash off. It was irritating to see some people flashing away in horse's faces, even though they were repeatedly told "no flash photography.")

Each horse has its own quite-cushy stall. Here's Laurel gazing into one.

We saw a young woman braiding manes. She does a great job. That'd be a cool thing to put on a resume, "Mane braider for a touring horse show."

I didn't know horses got into postures like this. This young horse cozied up to the wall of its stall just like our dog does. Serena loves to curl up on her back, with her paws pressed against something solid.

When I came to a stall where the occupant was standing up and posing nicely, I had to take advantage of the opportunity.

Bottom line, Portlanders: go see Cavalia. It'll be in town until December 4. You'll enjoy it even if you aren't a super horse-lover, but it'll mean more to you if you are.

Here's some You Tube videos of Cavalia. Enjoy the two-dimensional experience, which naturally isn't the same as being there.

 

 

Last observation: quite a few Burbank complainers thought the Cavalia seating was very uncomfortable. We don't agree. The folding seats have backs, and they aren't painful "buckets" like some Yelp commenters said. Cavalia is a Canadian show. Probably the seats were designed for normal human bodies, not oversized/overfed American butts. 

Michael Jackson The Immortal World Tour -- we loved it! (and our VIP seats)

Last Friday we braved a few snow showers in Portland to reach the Rose Garden, where we had tickets to see Cirque du Soleil's "Michael Jackson The Immortal World Tour." Here's my five word review: Wow, Wow, and more Wow!

This show is special. It isn't like a good movie where you enjoy it a lot, but the impact of the flick fades quickly. I'm still affected by this magical production. 

It starts strong, and builds from there.

Eventually I felt immersed in an almost other-worldly experience. Understand, I'm not at all religious. But "Michael Jackson The Immortal World Tour" has moments that can only be described as deeply spiritual -- though not at all godly.

Some performances in the show are manly powerful. Others are womanly delicate. This reflects the dual nature of Michael Jackson. And, heck, of ourselves, whatever our yin/yang blend is.

I came away from the show with several life insights affirmed and strengthened. Diversity, creative self-expression, pushing the personal edge, daring to be different, acting confidently -- this is a big part of what life is all about.

Maybe the entire part. Michael Jackson showed this; so does the Cirque du Soleil tribute to him.

My wife and I decided to blow some of our Social Security income on VIP tickets. If you're considering doing the same, my advice is do it, if possible. But not for the rather cheesy gift bag, which is the only non-seating VIP benefit we got, aside from "free" parking.

On the positive side, I'm pretty sure that we and our fellow VIP'ers had the choicest seats in the arena. This alone is worth the extra VIP cost, in my utterly subjective opinion. We were seated near the runway that projects out from the main stage, about two-thirds of the way down (that is, closer to the end of the runway than the beginning).

Perfect, because much of the show takes place on the runway.

We had great views of the performers, close enough to clearly see their expressions, costumes, makeup, athleticism, dancing ability, and hot bodies. Sure, images of them were projected onto a screen above the stage, but that isn't as good as seeing the performers up close and personal.

I don't know if my wife heard all of my frequent "I can't believe it!" and "Wow!" utterances, since we were wearing earplugs. This is another theme of the show, one shared with all Cirque du Soleil productions: what we human beings are capable of doing, and being, is far beyond the everyday normal.

That's inspiring. Most of us can't run away and join the circus. But everyone can be all that he/she can be, which probably is quite a bit more than what we allow to be expressed.

One of the most mind-blowing performances was by champion pole dancer Felix Cane, who also was high on my personal hot body ranking. I can't begin to describe what Felix can do with a tall pole. Her body and athletic ability border on the miraculous.

(Note: my wife questions whether Felix Cane is the woman we saw in the show. I'll agree that the pole dancer at the Rose Garden performance seemed shorter than Felix. But the moves in this video look just the same as what the dancer we saw did. And Felix is listed in our program.)

Check her out:

 

And here's the Official Preview of the show:

  

 

What "Salemia" taught me about myself (and Salem)

Wow!

Only about six hours left until the premiere of "Salemia," an event that has been eagerly awaited in Oregon's capital -- by those involved with the film, at least -- since the notion of a response to "Portlandia" was birthed from the fertile comedic mind-wombs of local filmmakers Mike Perron and Dave Jenkins.

(Check out Part 1 of an Q & A interview by Emily Grosvenor with Mike and Dave on her Desperately Seeking Salem site.)

After shamelessly sucking up to Mike and Dave through a series of fawning blog posts, and stammering through an audition last February at a "Salemia" casting call, I was thrilled to get a small role as a crusty transient, the precise smallness of which will be revealed at the premiere this evening -- 7:45 pm, Grand Theatre, advance tickets available at Travel Salem or Salem Cinema.

Checking out recent Twitter tweets from "Salemia" cast members, it's obvious that a certain amount of utterly understandable nervousness is in the air, or more accurately, the minds of amateur actors having yin/yang emotional anticipations:

It'll be wonderful to see myself in the film
It'll be horrible to see myself in the film

Well, what I've learned from my involvement with "Salemia" is that being concerned with wonderful and horrible is a creative process downer. 

As a writer/author, I knew this already. But my brief acting experience in front of a camera hammered home that lesson in a fresh fashion. Driving home after the filming on a cool, rainy April day, my inner critic kept telling me You could have done better; why didn't you do/say X instead of Y?

After awhile I told my alter (or super) ego, Shut the fuck up! Sure, I would have liked to do some things differently, to relive certain filming moments. But moments never can be redone or relived. Life only happens once. 

To look back is to miss the present moment. Art is about what's happening now, fully expressing what is present in that happening moment. 

And not only art: life as a whole. For example, I'd love it if Salem was a cooler, hipper, more energetic and interesting place than it is. "if's" aren't reality, though. Only "is" is (at the risk of sounding like BIll Clinton).

What we have to deal with is what can be expressed now. Our only choice is how fully to engage ourselves.

My old friend, synchronicity, paid a visit this morning as I was reading "How to Believe in Nothing." Here's a story by author Michael Misita that resonated with my inner aspiring actor, as also with my inner aspiring liver of life.

Expressing one's self can be frightening for most people. I remember an acting class I attended many years ago in New York City. The two actors on stage were doing one of the most boring scenes I had ever witnessed. It wasn't the fault of the material they were performing; it was them.

"What do you think you're doing up there?" the teacher asked them.

After a long pause, one of the actors shyly suggested, "Acting?"

We all laughed.

"We're trying to be real," added the other actor. "I don't want to over-act."

"What do you people think real is?" the teacher inquired. "Certainly not the behavior most people display in their everyday lives. Out there, everyone is repressed, and you think that is an example of real life? As actors, it is our responsibility to express ourselves in a way that everyday people do not because they are too self-conscious. You're not here to be self-conscious. A little over-acting would do you a world of good and hold your audience's attention a whole lot more. They don't pay to come to the theater or go to a movie to see what they can see in their everyday lives. They come to the theater to feel something. They come to see someone express themselves in a way they feel they cannot. Everyone wants to express himself but almost everyone is deathly afraid to do it."

There was momentary silence in the room, then the teacher said, "Now, start the scene again, and for God's sake, give it some life. Take some chances, show some passion, stop playing it safe. Express yourselves!"

Great advice. Mike and Dave have done just that with "Salemia." Kudos and congratulations to them. May all Salemites be inspired to follow in their creative footsteps and do as advised above:

Take some chances, show some passion, stop playing it safe. Express yourselves!

This is what Salem needs. Heck, this is what we all need.

"Smash" -- another great Willamette Univ. Theatre play

If you live in the Salem, Oregon area and enjoy going to plays, check out the Willamette University Theatre offerings. For a long time my wife and I had season tickets to Pentacle Theatre, but we came to yearn for edgier, less predictable plays.

Belatedly, we discovered Salem Repertory Theatre; unfortunately, just before SRT went out of business. Liking the SRT style (basically, anything goes), we were enthused with the first Willamette University Theatre production we went to, "Aquitania."

I didn't understand it, which I assumed meant that it was a deep, thought-provoking, mind-blowing play. Regardless, I'd rather be confused by a play than be bored by it.

"Smash" is the kickoff to Willamette University Theatre's (WUT) new season. It's based on a George Bernard Shaw novel about socialism. Up until intermission I didn't understand Smash very well either. But that's one reason intermissions exist.

So a woman can explain to her significant other (a.k.a. confused husband) what is really happening in the play.

In my defense, there are a lot of words in Smash.

I had the feeling that (1) the playwright, Jeffrey Hatcher, wanted to get a lot of thoughts across in a limited time, and (2) the WUT actors wanted to express those many thoughts rapidly in believable English accents so the audience members would be immersed in a flow of oft-complex verbiage which would carry them along in more of a feeling than thinking drama consciousness vessel.

Or maybe my brain just wasn't working very well during the first act.

Support for that hypothesis is found in the fact that when we walked into the lobby at intermission and I told my wife "This play is really hard to make sense of," she replied, "What are you talking about?"

Laurel agreed with me that the rapid-fire English accents could be tough to decipher at times. But in quick succession she cleared up a number of questions that had me baffled through much of Act 1.

(My wife is a retired psychotherapist, so it isn't surprising that she could pick up on narrative subtleties or obvious'ties which eluded me.)

For example...

Q. Why doesn't Henrietta recognize the husband, Sidney, who left her at the altar, post-marriage, when all he's done to disguise himself is grow a mustache?
A. She does! Didn't you get this? She obviously recognized him, but she didn't want anyone else to know this.

Q. Why did Henrietta say that would-be socialist Sidney disappeared because he was abducted, rather than speaking the truth: that he left her at the altar because he feared that marriage would dilute his pro-socialist zeal?
A. What did I just tell you?! Henrietta can't let on to her father, or anyone else, that she recognizes Sidney, so the abduction story was made up.

Intermission went on in this vein.

I was pleased to have Smash explained to me, but my male ego was pretty much, well, smashed by the time Act 2 started.

I started to worry about my general ability to understand human interactions, but then rationalized away that anxiety by telling myself that most people in my life don't have English accents, and they don't talk as fact as the WUT actors.

Embarassingly, after the play was over my wife -- rather gleefully -- got to explain to me what "Smash" alluded to, after I'd expressed my meta-perplexity about the title of the play.

The lesson for me here, which I'll take to heart, is to read the entire Director's Notes before a play starts, instead of using the restroom. (Or ideally, getting to a play early enought to do both.)

Laurel had remembered reading that Hatcher wanted to show how becoming too "preachy" about a social cause can be as off-putting as a Jehovah's Witness at your door. Yes, socialism or semi-socialism or slight-socialism has a lot of pluses. However, trying to smash those who resist what you're advocating usually isn't the best way to influence people.

My wife and I both thoroughly enjoyed Smash (me, especially after I understood it, more or less).

We were impressed with the fine acting of each and every member of the cast. I thought Josh Rice did a particularly good job playing Sidney, though the dramatic expressiveness of Margaret Smith, who played a girl's school headmistress, also was hugely entertaining.

It was refreshing to be exposed to a play that we'd never heard of, yet was about a subject that is as topical today as it was back in the late 1800's: how to change the world without being a total asshole about it.

"Salemia" premiere is October 19. Wake up, Salem!

Maybe this will wake up sleepy Salem, the Oregon blandburger stuck between the spicy buns of Portland and Eugene:  

Salemia, our response to IFC's Portlandia, will premiere at the Grand Theatre (191 High Street NE) on Wednesday, October 19, 7:45 pm -- as part of the Salem Film Festival.

Check out the You Tube teaser/intro, which features an absolutely perfect theme song by a local band, Axolotl Daydream.

(Oh, by the way, just in case you don't notice, my name appears at the 43 second mark, not that I'm into self-promotion, leaving aside this self-serving blog that I've devoted myself to for eight years; also, there is no connection between the words "Brian Hines" and the large bicycling butt shown above my name, which, thankfully, does not belong to me.)

 

Yeah, "Bring You Down" marvelously captures the Salem vibe. I'm too geezer'ish to understand most of the lyrics to the song, but I could decipher these lines:

No, I don't want to bring you down.
Sometimes, there's no place else to go.

You nailed it, Axolotl Daydream (whose band leader is TIm King). That's Salem! It tries hard to be an interesting, creative, energetic, stimulating, forward-looking city, but almost always it disappoints.

Which won't be the case with "Salemia," I'm betting. Filmmakers Mike Perron and Dave Jenkins are talented enough to be immune to Salem's Blah Witch curse.

But what if, against all odds, they aren't? What if "Salemia" turns out to be boring? Well, the film will still be a great success, because it will have wonderfully reflected its subject matter.

So come out and cheer/boo Salemia on October 19 at the Grand Theatre. No reason not to, Salemites, since there isn't much else to do in this town on a Wednesday night.

Why the Oregon football team lost to LSU

Wow, that's a gutsy title for this blog post.

Me, little blogger Brian, is going to explain why the Oregon Ducks, ranked #3 in the country for a frustratingly brief time this 2011 football season, lost ignominiously to the LSU TIgers last Saturday.

(The final score 40-27, doesn't reflect how badly the Ducks were dominated by the Tigers.)

My qualifications for this feat?

I've never played organized football at any level. I watch a lot of college football on TV but haven't gone to a live game for decades. I know next to nothing about the intricacies of play calling, defensive and offensive strategizing, all that X's and O's stuff.

But I know what I feel. And watching the Oregon - LSU game a few days ago left me feeling that the Ducks offense has caught a serious case of uncertainty.

Last season the Ducks were like a hurry-up-offense force of nature. I could feel the power, the confidence, the attitude of you can't stop us. Once the offense got rolling, the speed with which they ran plays obviously disconcerted the opposing defense.

I could tell how quickly the Ducks were playing by how often, and how much, I needed to press the "back six seconds" button on my DirecTV DVR after pressing the "forward 30 seconds" button after a play was called dead in order to avoid announcer blather; usually a college team takes almost exactly 30 seconds to get the next play underway, but with the Ducks I'd usually have to rewind to catch the beginning of the play.

But at the end of last season, especially in the BCS Championship game, and notably last Saturday, quarterback Darron Thomas habitually engaged in start-and-stop behavior that struck me as seriously disruptive to the offensive flow.

Everything would look fine as the Duck offense lined up for a play. I'd think, "Quick, run the play, keep the pressure on." But instead:

Thomas would look toward the sideline. Then quite a few Ducks would get out of their stance and do the same thing. Thomas then would jog up to various players, apparently whispering "this now is the play" words in their ears. Or maybe he was telling them what kind of pizza he planned to eat after the game. I don't know.

Regardless...

This got really old after a while. I didn't keep track of how often the Ducks failed to run their usual speedy offense, but it was a high percentage of the plays. I'd watch the play clock and realize that this supposedly hurry-up offense was taking almost the entire time available to them.

So what's the point of all this (1) get-ready-for-the-play, then (2) get-out-of-the-ready-for-the-play stance, followed by (3) talk-it-over-while-the-LSU-defense-calmly-looks-on?

It made the Duck offense look more than a little ridiculous, especially when after all this hemming and hawing the play would net a whole two yards, or whatever.

Whoopee. (I believe the Ducks had less than 100 yards rushing for the entire game.)

Now, I don't really know what Thomas and the rest of the Duck offense are doing when they stand up, look over toward the sideline, and apparently peer at the strange cards held up to indicate the play.

Back in the old days, I recall, quarterbacks called the play in the huddle, usually on their own. Then the offense would break the huddle, get in their stances, and run the play.

Sweet and simple. Also, clear and confident.

My impression of the Oregon Ducks football team, v. 2011, is that it's become too obsessed with cuteness. Not exactly in an appearance sense, though there's some of that too (the uniforms worn in the LSU game didn't project a sense of macho toughness, but rather isn't this a slimming look?

LSU, like other SEC teams, and like big powerful teams from other conferences that regularly beat up the Ducks in crucial games, simply outmuscled and outplayed Oregon.

Razzle-dazzle, running backward to go forward, carrying the ball in one hand, fancy option fakes/handoffs -- the Ducks were really cute.  But especially now that other coaches are deeply familiar with Oregon's offensive style, cuteness isn't going to cut it.

I hope the Ducks offense gets back to its previous version of smash-mouth football. Oregon won't ever look like a southern or mid-west team filled with 300 pound muscled human hunks of corn-fed beef. The Eugene vibe is too organic for that.

But most of the time, at least run your damn plays without looking like you're changing your mind. Less cute and more cutthroat, then maybe you'll go 11-1 this year.

Soccer's penalty kicks need booting

I have a plan to fix soccer ("football," in the non-United States world). I'm uniquely qualified for this, because I know next to nothing about soccer, and until today I'd never watched an entire match on TV without fastforwarding through the boring parts.

Which for me, has been every part except for the thirty seconds before and after a goal was scored, which means I'd end up watching just a few minutes of a 90 minute match.

But this afternoon I got drawn into watching the entire Japan vs. USA 2011 Women's World Cup final, all 120 minutes of the regular and overtime period. The overtime ended with the match tied 2-2, at which point my DirecTV recording ended.

I'd forgotten to add on some extra recording time. So I didn't know the final outcome until I headed to New York Times online and learned that the United States lost 3-1 on penalty kicks.

I'm glad my DVR recording of the match didn't include the penalty kick portion. Through the first 12O minutes of what I consider the "real" match, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed watching the play, even though I didn't really understand the strategy and subtleties of what was going on.

However, the overall flow and rhythm of soccer, the ebb and flow of the different teams' attacking and defending styles -- that started to make a certain amount of sense to my neophyte soccer-watching brain.

So up to that point the soccer gods, and soccer-promoting associations, should have been pleased. I'm the sort of fan that soccer needs to attract if it's going to grow in the United States: someone who has been mildly interested in soccer, but never before to the extent of watching an entire match.

The penalty kick decider really turned me off, though. It just seems like the wrong way to choose a victor, in much the same fashion as deciding who won a basketball game by a free throw contest would be.

Except, even more so.

Watching the soccer match, I was struck by how wonderfully teamcentric this sport is. Yes, the star players were focused on by the announcers. But if I hadn't been told who they were, it would have been difficult for this nearly-blank slate soccer viewer to identify them.

In soccer it isn't possible for a player to make the equivalent of a 99 yard touchdown run, or a fast break dribbling sprint that ends in a slam dunk. (At least, seemingly this would be extremely rare.) Almost always it takes a team to score a goal, whereas in other sports individiual prowess is a much bigger factor in who wins a game.

Thus it seems horribly wrong to spoil 120 minutes of gripping talented teamwork by the United States and Japan by having the match decided with four freaking penalty kicks by single players facing a single goalkeeper.

Shannon Boxx, the first American shooter, was thwarted by a kick save from Ayumi Kaihori. That seemed to unnerve and deflate the United States. Carli Lloyd ballooned her kick. Kaihori made another save on Tobin Heath. Only Wambach had the poise to make her penalty kick for the Americans.

...With a chance to earn a victory that once seemed beyond reach, the Japanese midfielder Saki Kumagai put her hands on her hips, stretched her arms and put her shot into the top left corner.

It seems to me that who wins a sporting event should be decided by a method that meshes with the overall vibe or style of the sport. Team sports should be decided in a team fashion, not by individual players missing or making a shot by a matter of inches.

I heard one of the announcers speak of a "golden goal." This reminded me that, not very long ago, soccer matches which ended in a tie went to a sudden death overtime where whoever scored the first goal was the victor.

Sure, Wikipedia informed me that problems with the golden goal method led to it being replaced by the penalty kicks approach. From my admittedly soccer-uninformed newbie perspective, I find the whole penalty kick thing deeply unsatisfying and discordant.

How would fans of American football feel if games that were tied after the end of regulation and an overtime period came to be decided by field goal kickers trying to score from the forty-five yard line?

Fans would say, "Hey, let the teams play it out. Why should just a couple of players decide the outcome? That isn't right."

Well, that's how I feel about the victor of soccer matches being determined by whether a goalie guesses correctly to dive to his/her right or left. That's just a crappy way to end an otherwise entertaining, hard fought match.

Boot the penalty kicks, soccer. This potential fan would like you a lot more for it.

Photos of 2011 Oregon Country Fair -- weird and wonderful

I bet there's nothing like the Oregon Country Fair anywhere else in the United States. Heck, maybe the world. It's a celebration of what made the 60's so magical: freedom, creativity, love, expressiveness, community, caring.

Sure, the magic faded (I was at Altamont, the 1969 antithesis to Woodstock: nasty and murderous). But every year it lives on in a beautiful rural setting in Veneta, outside of Eugene, for a weekend in July.

Here's some photos from opening day 2011, Friday. My wife, Laurel, and I had a great time. The weather was perfect. Per usual, the Fair staff and volunteers did an amazingly competent organizational job.

After parking in a big grassy field, it doesn't take long to realize that you're walking to the fair with an unusual cast of characters.

Not being an aggressive photographer (I don't like asking people to pose), when I saw other cameras pointed at an appealing subject, I grabbed mine also.

One of Laurel's first stops was a cookie booth. The guy in the antlers sold her three yummy cookies.
This trash area featured a recycling guru. I never saw him move from his cross-legged position on a barrel. Impressive. He gave expert advice on where to put various items of litter: napkin, paper plate, cup, food remnants.

I got lunch at the Nearly Normal's booth. Laurel chose Tofu Palace. After getting her plate we sat down in a cool, straw-strewn area behind the booth. Great dining experience.

Which included music. And views of towering trees. Laurel wondered what the squirrels and other wildlife think about having their home invaded by thousands of people every year. My guess: Far out, man!

While Laurel shopped at her favorite cap and t-shirt booth for what seemed like eons, I had plenty of time to observe the passing throngs of people dressed in astoundingly diverse ways. These were two musician entertainers who stopped to play a while.

This little girl was super cute. She could use some work on her spelling, but her singing was charming. I put a buck in her tip hat, even though the sign said I didn't have to.

In the past my wife and I haven't dressed up when we came to the Oregon Country Fair. This year, though, we were drawn into a mask booth, along with lots of other people. We tried on quite a few masks, waiting to hear an inner voice that said, This is you!

Laurel went with a basic black cat look, which she accessorized with some yellow head dress fixings she found at another booth. This dog sculture sure seems to approve of her mask choice.

I embraced my inner African chieftain. Or whatever... I wanted head feathers that would harmonize with my beard and hair. I never thought about how the dangling wood thingies would feel, though, bouncing against my cheeks as I walked around for hours and hours. Well, sacrifices must be made for one's art.

I enjoyed the fair more after getting masked up. A photographer with a fancy camera even made a point of getting a close-up of me. Turnaround is fair play, given how many photos I've taken of weirdly dressed people at the fair.

Parades erupt periodically, making their way down the tree-shaded paths between the booths. The best way to describe them is... indescribable.

It's difficult to tell the difference between weirdly dressed parade participants and weirdly dressed fairgoers. These were the latter. I think. Reality gets blurry after a few hours at the fair.

In a semi-quiet corner of the fair, we came across this guy talking on his cell phone. His sign said: "Druid. Shaman Consultations. Poems Crafted. Mantic Arts. Spinal Healing." I wasn't aware of the light beaming on him until I got home and looked at my photos. Hey, maybe he really is a druid shaman.

The booths are wonderfully colorful. If there's a more beautiful outdoor fair, with higher quality and more interesting wares for sale, I'd sure like to know about it. But I don't think the Oregon Country Fair has much competition.

There were quite a few "stilt" walkers using a high-tech looking gadget that I don't know the name of.

Free hugs! The price was right. The girls were huggable. They attracted quite a bit of business while I watched.

Including a walking tree. Only in Eugene...

The drumming circle gets me entranced.

Partly because the dancers are entrancing.

Laurel found these younger females equally easy to look at. The girls were super-cute together, big sister and little sister, I assume. Probably reminded Laurel of her growing-up years (she's the youngest of three sisters).

Walking back to our car, I was struck by this woman's striking costume. How do people know where to buy this stuff? Guess I don't frequent 20-something stores and resale shops.

But at least now I've made a start on my own Oregon Country Fair persona. I need a chieftain staff. And a (fake) lion skin cloak.

Today I wore my 2011 Oregon Country Fair t-shirt (individually tie-dyed). Tomorrow I'll wear it again. Got to keep the 60's alive. Fitting, since I'm 62.

"Salemia" could be a lot funnier than "Portlandia"

Yesterday I survived -- no, thrived -- my audition for a part in "Salemia," Salem's answer to "Portlandia" -- an Independent Film Channel series that casts a quirky eye on lifestyles in the city that is an hour drive to the north and lightyears distant on a Hipness Distance Scale.

After the casting call went out, I got excited about appearing in a video series that will poke both gentle and finger-in-the-eye fun at our excessively boring city. (There's some controversy over how to pronounce "Salemia." To me, it has to be Sa-lame-ia.")

But then I remembered all the times I'd watched aspiring dancers audition for So You Think You Can Dance. And how the judges would ridicule those whose dancing skill self-evaluation was wildly out of whack with reality.

I thought I could act. What if I was so wrong, the Audition Meisters threw me out of the room after a cursory look, leaving me to tearily skulk my way out of downtown Salem's IKE Box past other auditioners who'd be thinking, "there but for my talent, goes me."

I'm happy to report that none of my fears came to pass. Mike Perron and David Jenkins were exceedingly polite, friendly, conversational, and most of all, funny. They're a comedic odd couple, with the emphasis on odd (in the very best sense of the word).

One of them would have an idea about a Salemia sketch. Then the other would run with it, carrying it onward into deeper humor territory. These guys are good. I mostly sat across the table from them, my eyes darting back and forth from witty gibe to clever observation and back again, like I was at a Comic Tennis Match.

Robin, David's wife, womaned the audition sign-up table. After mine was over, I couldn't resist talking with her, hoping she'd offer up some insights into her husband. She told me that he was pretty much always that way, seeing the humorous side of wherever he looked.

That's a great talent.

Life can be tough: unforgiving, painful, hard to deal with. Being able to smile and laugh at the right moments (wrong ones too) helps us to handle what we're rather not be dealing with.

Such as, a overly boring city. Named "Salem." I'm looking forward to the production of Salemia. Even more, to watching the episodes. If I get a part, great. If not, I'll cheer Salemia on from my blogger sidelines.

(Though hopefully Mike and Dave will realize that my many years of blogging have enabled me to support my Inner Actor by drawing on the emotions of those writing experiences, notably including outrage, intense outrage, and outrageous outrage. Along with, egocentric opinionating, ridicule, and self-aborption.)

Watching the most recent episode of Portlandia last night, I kept thinking, "Salemia could be a lot better." Here's the main reason:

The saying, Keep Portland Weird, is truthful.

Portland is weird in many wonderful ways. Once in a while Portlandia manages to successfully satirize those quirks, such as in the opening episode where a hipster couple grill their restaurant server about how happily the chicken they're considering ordering was raised.

Problem is, most of the time Portlandia is absorbed in its own self-reflective cinematic weirdness. It's sort of satirizing itself, which isn't funny. Meaning, typically the sketches don't make fun of some green/ environmental/ progressive/ cultural Portland excess, but are over-the-top in their own right.

Like, in the most recent episode, the mayor asking the main characters to form a baseball team, which they do in a wholly unrealistic manner. Or the sketch where the stars are chefs getting photographed for a magazine story, and start posing in increasingly bizarre ways.

What's that got to do with Portland? It was good acting, but ultimately uncomedic -- except in a "that was really weird" sense. Again, Portland's weirdness is getting lost in Portlandia's own weirdness, causing the original premise of the series to be forgotten.

Salemia can learn from Portlandia's failings.

There's plenty to laugh about in Salem. I should know, having lived here for thirty-four years. No need to conjure up jokes when a city is filled with can you believe this? quirks that beg to be highlighted satirically.

Bellydance Superstars shimmy up Salem

Wow. Wow. Wow.

That's my three word review of the Bellydance Superstars "Bombay Bellywood" show that my wife and I saw last night at Salem's historic and marvelously restored Elsinore Theatre (a beautiful place that matched the gorgeous'osity of the dancers).

I love belly dancing. Whenever I can, I watch a live performance. These superstars lived up to their name for me. The two hour show was the most riveting display of belly dancing I've ever seen, or may ever see.

Yes, I readily admit that my male eyes were nearly popping out of my head during some of the most sensual, sexy, and scintillating performances.

But at the same time, I was fascinated by how natural it looked for women to be dancing with each other, and really, for each other -- not just for men (even though the times one woman danced to the beat of the excellent tabla player were the most erotic moments of the show for me).

Browsing through the Bellydance Superstars web site, I came across a review called "Belly dancing celebrates the beauty of femininity."

I LOVE BELLY dancing! I have always regarded it as a divine dance that celebrates the sacred feminine. Belly dancing requires balance, grace and strength, yet it is accessible for every woman regardless of age, weight or ethnicity.

Now, before you get your feminist panties in a bunch, belly dancing is not a dance to seduce men. That's a western-cultural misperception. To the contrary, belly dancing is one of the oldest-documented dances, and it was created by women, for women.

...Moria Chappell, 31, is one of Superstars' amazing dancers. She recently spent an afternoon with me, sharing her passion about this womanly art.

Q: Moria, many people have misperceptions about belly dancing. What are your thoughts on that?

A: It's a women's art. You dance more for yourself than anyone else. The audience can watch and be inspired. It's a sense of appreciation for women's bodies. It's a very different standard. It's a celebration of curves and how to move in a women's body.

Belly dancing is decidedly a woman's dance, so bringing it to the public sphere gives women a chance to be women in a place of power.

I can testify to that, since I was powerless to take my eyes away from the stage during the entire Bombay Bellywood show (the only thing that came between me and the dancers from our center section, Row K seats was the wide David Crosby'eque gray hair of the guy who sat in front of me, but at least he wasn't also tall).

Every dancer was transfixing, but one stole the stage in my utterly subjective Wow! opinion. Meera.

She wasn't the sexiest dancer. She didn't have the most beautiful body. I don't even think she was technically much better, if at all, than other lead dancers in the show.

What she had was an inexpressible presence, a quality shared by the other Bellydance Superstars standouts. Skill and technique can only take a dancer so far, as the movie "Black Swan" demonstrated. Beyond that, some inner essence propels an artist onward.

Meera had it. She clearly was the most proficient classical Indian dancer, and the show's Bollywood expert. More importantly, she had a certain more.

Which was expressed on her face with every move. I loved how she could go in an instant from an engaging smile to a pouty compression of her lips, and then into another expression that somehow resonated perfectly with each beat of the music.

Less attractive to me, yet undeniably intriguing, was the only male dancer, the androgynous Samir. A few times I've seen men belly dance and this never seemed right to me.

It didn't last night either, though his contortionist abilities elicited a different sort of Wow! in my psyche.

"Portlandia" makes this Salemite envious

Last night my wife and I watched the first episode of IFC's Portlandia with more than a little city-envy. Portland is just way hipper, greener, progressive, and energetic than our sleepy Salem.

I can't begin to imagine what a comparable Salemandia TV series would be like. All I know is that it'd be boring.

Comparatively, I have to admit. Meaning, Salem has the geographical misfortune of being located between two of the most interesting cities in the United States, Portland and Eugene.

So the yawn with which we Salemites describe our town is a relative evaluation, not absolute. Case in point: I just got back from a vegan potluck gathering, which shows that some people in Salem are as culinarily cutting edge as Portlanders are.

At the potluck I talked with a youngish (late twenties?) girl about Portlandia and what it's like for someone her age to live here. She said, "Recently I lived in Grants Pass for six months, so that colors how I look at Salem. I'm much happier here, though admittedly it's nothing like Portland or Eugene."

She then made an interesting point which I hadn't thought of before during my thirty-three years of Salem living.

"I like Salem because it forces me to be more creative than I'd be in a more with-it city. If I want to be with fellow vegans, I need to organize a group, or otherwise reach out. In Portland there's lots of alternative lifestyle options right at hand; here, often you have to fashion them yourself."

Good point.

I then told her, mistakenly it turns out, that since the first episode of Portlandia showed a newly arrived girl about her age being stripped of a nose ring and earrings (too San Francisco'ish), she'd have to give up her own piercings and earrings if she moved to Portland.

However, upon a second watching of that scene, I realized that the girl's piercing got the Portland hipster OK, so I was only half right.

My other favorite scene in the Portlandia premiere (which had some decided cinematic rough spots) was at the restaurant where an excruciatingly ecologically conscious couple is grilling their server about how humanely the chicken they're thinking of ordering was raised.

I used to be a member of an India-based, guru-centered meditation system which was strictly vegetarian. So much so, we weren't supposed to eat cheese made with animal rennet.

I didn't think it was a big deal if I ate some specks of cow hoof, or whatever rennet is made of, but sometimes I'd be at a restaurant with fellow disciples who considered this to be horrible karma.

So they'd grill the hapless waiter or waitress while I looked on in embarrassed quasi-horror. "Does the cheese on your pizza contain animal rennet? What brand is it? Please go and check, we can't eat anything that isn't purely vegetarian."

Thus I found the Portlandia restaurant scene entirely believable, up to a point. (I never knew anybody who took a drive to check out a cheese source, but the group I was part of did put a lot of effort into analyzing the vegetarian vs. animal rennet ingredients of every major cheese producer in the United States.)

My favorite line in the show was, "Portland is the city where young people go to retire." 

Being retired myself, though old, I'm entirely on board with the Portlandia lifestyle of getting up at eleven and, maybe, working a few hours a week at a coffee shop. Only difference is, I don't work at a coffee house; I drink the brew and blog there.

Otherwise, aside from a lack of piercings and failure to ever attend Clown School, I could easily be a happy resident of Portlandia.

(The Portland Oregonian asked readers to write their own reviews of the show. I looked over some of them. Here's one I liked from "Valdez":)

I think this show is HILARIOUS! I thought it was a fairly spot on parody of the city that I live in and love so much. Come on, you guys don't know the various characters in this show?

The bike nazi guy that I saw in the previews/web exclusives is my best bud at work -- a guy that while riding his bike will scream at cars and kick them if they get too close or invade his "space." My wife has a friend that went to CLOWN SCHOOL. And all the hot chicks really do wear glasses!

My wife and I used to drive out to Corbett to buy chickens from our own personal chicken farmer, taking great solace in the well-being and "happy lives" the chickens led - before we ate them! ha ha ha

This show cracks me up. The "put a bird on it" stuff is SO true, too! I posted the advance Hulu exclusive on Facebook and ALL of my friends thought it was hilarious. Good job Fred and Carrie! Thanks for exposing Portland's funny idiosyncrasies in a fun and hip way. LOVE THE MUSIC, choices, too!!!

The meaning of "Black Swan" -- perfection is a bitch

My wife and I watched "Black Swan" at Salem Cinema a few days ago.

Most movies fade from my mind in much less time, but this engrossing flick has stuck with me as I ponder the question that often pops into my mind as the closing credits of an artsy film start to roll:

What the fuck was that all about?

Now, I considered substituting "#@$!*&" or "f__k" for the fully expressed word, but this would be at odds with the main meaning Black Swan left with me. In short...

Questing for perfection ultimately leads to a decidedly imperfect life.

When we got home after seeing the movie, I fired up my laptop and read Roger Ebert's review. Since he's my favorite reviewer, and I admire his personal philosophy of living (as expressed through Ebert's entertaining blog), it pleased me that we were on the same Black Swan meaning wavelength.

The tragedy of Nina, and of many young performers and athletes, is that perfection in one area of life has led to sacrifices in many of the others. At a young age, everything becomes focused on pleasing someone (a parent, a coach, a partner), and somehow it gets wired in that the person can never be pleased. One becomes perfect in every area except for life itself.

Thumbs up to that. This resonates with a post I recently wrote on my other blog, "Dance, and live, like nobody (even God) is watching."

Lots of people believe that God or some other higher power is watching everything they do, along with knowing all that they think and feel. This is much more anxiety-producing than wondering if other dancers are dissing your moves. But there's a commonality between secular and religious "dancing."

In both cases, there's no need to worry about what you look like to someone else. What's important is how you look (or feel) to yourself. You can't dance well, in life as a whole or on the hardwood, if you aren't confidently enjoying what you're doing.

Dance. Like nobody is watching.

In Black Swan, Nina drives herself crazy -- literally -- because she's fallen under the spell of being A Perfect Ballet Dancer. The head honcho of her ballet company, Thomas, wants to cast her as the lead in "Swan Lake."

After watching part of Nina's audition, he tells her that if all she had to dance was the White Swan persona, she'd have the part. But now he wants to see her Black Swan, which requires her to project a darker, more sensual, sexier, edgier Nina.

The rest of the movie is an intense, sweaty-palmed, edge-of-the-seat exploration of how an artist's commitment to perfect technique needs to evolve into a higher form of art. A philosophically inclined reviewer of the movie interpreted this as the distinction between Nietzche's Apollonian and Dionysian art.

Could be. I don't know, not being much into Nietzche. Or, art.

However, we're all artists of a sort, since daily, hourly, minutely, and momently we're creating our own lives. The basic question Black Swan raised for me is whether we do this mechanically, logically, detachedly, and drivenly -- or flowingly, intuitively, absorbedly, and relaxedly.

Either way could lie madness (at the extreme, as Nina manifests; mild to moderate craziness is a more likely side effect of overdosing on Artistic Expression).

All I can say is that perfect sweet little Nina's transformation into the sultry decidedly flawed Black Swan moved me deeply. I was inwardly cheering her on, even as it became more and more obvious where she was being led.

More accurately, where she was taking herself. In one passionate scene, Thomas and Nina get it on during a private rehearsal. She lets herself go, sexually. Then Thomas turns away, barking "You were letting me seduce you. You need to be the seducer!"

And so she does, with fascinating consequences.

Rather than letting bitchy Perfection rule her life, driving her crazy with endless "You can do better than that" criticizing, Nina dives into the deep end of her artistic pool, where alluring yet dangerous Imperfection lurks below the surface.

I left the movie applauding her choice.

Yet I understand why people are afraid of leaving the shallows. I'm also torn between staying mostly neatly, cleanly dry in the wading pool of life, and getting drippily, messily wet in the boundless sea where the Wild Things prowl.

White Swan. Black Swan. In a way we're all auditioning for the part Nina sought. It's up to us to decide what we're willing to sacrifice, or embrace, to express our inner artist.

Bristol Palin boosted by Tea Party vote fraud

Bristol Palin, Sarah Palin's daughter, is a mediocre dancer. I've watched every episode of Dancing With the Stars this season, so I can testify to that. She's been in the bottom two many times, saved only by viewer votes -- not the judge's scores.

Last night Bristol made it into next week's final (top three will compete) by beating out Brandy, a far superior dancer. Brandy got 57 points from the judges on Monday, the competition night, including perfect 10's for her Tango, while Bristol got 53.

What bugs me -- a lot -- about the viewer voting is that Tea Party types appear to have hijacked it in a fraudulent manner for purely political ends. The rest of the blogosphere also is ticked off about this, for good reason.

When I went to vote for Jennifer Grey Monday night by phone after watching the recorded episode fairly late in the evening, I got a message that voting could only be done on the ABC web site now.

OK. I dutifully clicked on the "vote" button and was met with a request to register. I entered my real email address, along with other genuine information, and got to cast five votes.

I played the Dancing With the Stars voting game fairly.

But there's been a concerted effort by Tea Party types to make a political statement by elevating Bristol Palin into the finals (or even the championship, a dreadful thought) through fraudulent voting.

By fraudulent, I mean that ABC clearly intends that one person get five votes. Or at least, that one real email address gets five votes. However, the Jezebel web site has revealed "How Palin conservatives are cheating the DWTS voting system."

It's been alleged that the Tea Party's "Operation Bristol" is keeping the teen mom in the competition. However, the real conspiracy is that her conservative supporters have figured out a way to exploit ABC.com's email-voting feature, allowing infinite votes.

While Bristol Palin denies any Tea Party conspiracy theories, there's no denying that conservatives have been pushing for votes for Bristol, using blogs and Twitter to start a movement.

But what isn't widely known is the evidence—via message board comments on some conservative sites—that this mobilization involves fixing this (albeit meaningless) election through a technical snafu on ABC's website, which allows Palin's supporters to cast an infinite number of email votes:

Here's a hint: They don't have to be VALID email addresses to register them with ABC.com, there is apparently no validation process. The just have to be formatted like a valid email address, and you must use a valid zip code and a birthdate that makes you old enough to vote. I'm voting like a democrat, all night long…

No, it doesn't have to be a valid email address – I had one of my anonymous ones [email protected] that I used, and then just did the sign-up process all over again with [email protected] and it worked.

Got my 80 votes in online…took 2 hours. I am beat

I only got 42 in, I have some catching up to do!

Lord have mercy, I voted for 3 hours online! I got 300 in.

It doesn't bother me that conservatives are voting for Bristol Palin, even though she's a worse dancer than almost everybody who has been eliminated from Dancing With the Stars this season.

What irritates me, big time, is that the show's producers and ABC decided to make a political statement by featuring Bristol and her mother, Sarah, in a mid-term election year. (Sarah is shown in the front row at many of the competitions, and she's also featured in background stories about Bristol.)

This vitually guaranteed that Dancing With the Stars would morph into politics-centered viewer voting by Tea Party zealots. Many, if not most, could care less about the show, Bristol Palin, or dancing.

For example, here's what one right-winger says:

For conservatives, enjoy the fun of finally, at last, getting a taste of what it’s like to be a Democrat.  You can vote as much as you want. You can vote using all sorts of names.  You can vote all day. You can’t get paid to vote, because you aren’t really a Democrat, silly, but you can get as close as you can possibly get without being in a union or taking part in ACORN.

Dancing With the Stars made a big mistake in allowing political activism to take over an entertainment show in a fraudulent manner. I've lost all confidence in the DWTS voting system, and now view the finale as a joke.

My only reason for watching will be to see how many people in the audience boo if Bristol Palin wins the Mirror Ball trophy, which she has an excellent chance of doing given how Tea Party folks are willing to cheat in order to stack the voting for a bad dancer.

"Aquitania" -- a great Willamette U theatre production

Until last night I'd never been to a play at Willamette University. After seeing "Aquitania," I'm pretty sure I'll be returning to the university's terrific remodeled theatre.
Download Willamette University Theatre story

I've bemoaned the lack of support for the arts here in sleepy Salem, Oregon, but I guess I need to do more moaning at the guy I look at in the mirror every day, since my wife and I haven't been taking much advantage of Willamette U's cultural opportunities.

For a long time we had season tickets to Pentacle Theatre. Then we gave those up and started going to Salem Repertory Theatre productions, which were more modern, edgier, and thought-provoking. Unfortunately, we discovered SRT shortly before it shut down for lack of support.

That won't happen to the Willamette University Theatre Department, I assume, which is good news.

Because the production of "Aquitania" was highly enjoyable: great acting, singing, set design, and costuming. Best of all, while driving home I said to my wife, "I liked the play a lot, but I didn't really understand what was going on."

Which was the point of the play, so I guess in a way I did get it.

"Aquitania" messes with your mind, being set in a mythical (yet also real) place, where the characters deal with magic (and also reality), drifting back and forth through time (unless the whole play is the dream of the young girl playing a board game, who also is the heroine who learns from the girl what she once knew but has to remember again).

I recycled my program in a box in the theatre lobby, so I'm unable to praise certain actors by name. I'll simply give special kudos to the three beautiful singers and whoever played Gano, the bad guy. All captured my attention whenever they walked on stage, for excellent high-talent reasons.

Curious about the origins of "Aquitania," and why a Google search didn't turn up much info about the play, I learned that it is the creation of Stephen Legawiec, who founded the Ziggurat Theatre Ensemble to "explore the relevance of myth and ritual to a contemporary audience."

Legawiec is the author of -- wow -- 26 plays. Judging from "Aquitania," which is both intellectually challenging and artistically pleasing, he's a deeply creative guy. Hopefully Legawiec is still creating (the last production of Ziggurat was in 2007).

 

Bummer! Still no Comcast Sports Net NW on my DirecTV

Ah, tomorrow looks like a great football day here in rural south Salem. It'll probably be raining, which makes for an outdoor chore-free afternoon. Plus, both the Beavers and Ducks football games are televised.

Oregon State vs. Louisville and Oregon vs. Portland State University -- here I come! All I have to do is fire up my HD DirecTV, which gets jillions (more or less) of channels for the billions of bucks (or so it seems) I pay for programming every month.

Oh. Forgot. DirecTV doesn't carry a certain channel.

Comcast SportsNet Northwest, which happens to be the freakin' channel I need to see the Ducks roll up, over, and through the PSU Vikings. Most likely. Hey, sports miracles do happen.

I've been through this frustration before, when DirecTV dropped the Versus sports channel, leaving me to listen to an OSU-Arizona game on a tinny-sounding radio. Versus is owned by Comcast, so we've got the same cast of characters playing out the current Comcast versus DirecTV pissing match.

In this instance it sure looks like Comcast is the bad guy. The head of the Sports Fan Coalition says this in "Comcast is holding Trail Blazers fans hostage, you could be next."

People in Portland love their beer. At last count, Portland had more breweries than any other city in the country. But Portlanders also love their Trail Blazers. The city has one of the most passionate fan bases in the NBA. Yet, for the last few years they've been getting a raw deal. And not just at the hands of the Lakers.

Comcast is the biggest villain in Portland right now.

...In 2007, the Trail Blazers signed a 10-year, $120 million agreement with Comcast, giving the company the rights to show Trail Blazer games on Comcast Sports Network. Not surprisingly, Comcast then jacked up the fees for other cable and satellite carriers in the region to show Blazers games. In effect, Comcast is forcing customers to switch to Comcast in order to see Blazers games. (Comcast has signed agreements with local cable carriers who don't compete with Comcast.)

Nevermind that Blazers fans in rural areas can't even get Comcast service (or local cable service) if they wanted to.

Yeah, that's me. A fan in a rural area.

I'm not a big Blazers fan, but I like to watch college football and other sports. Out here in the boonies there isn't any cable TV. Just satellite. And Comcast is demanding an excessive amount for SportsNet NW in an obvious attempt to get new subscribers.

Except, of course, lots of people in Oregon can't subscribe to Comcast because it isn't available. Nonetheless, Comcast says "screw them; they can listen to the Blazers, Ducks, and Beavers on a tinny radio."

Oregonian sports columnist singles out the same evil-doer in the SportsNet NW access battle: Comcast.

Canby serves as a case study of why the Trail Blazers made a major blunder three seasons ago when they gave Comcast exclusive rights to broadcast their games on Comcast SportsNet Northwest.

Before Comcast showed up Canby Telcom had televised Blazers games for years without an issue. The relationship between the franchise and the cable company was just fine until the Blazers signed a 10-year, $120 million agreement to give exclusivity to Comcast.

That move threatens to rip apart the fan base at the seams.

Because Comcast moved in, hiked rates for the channel, and used the Blazers as if they were a crow bar to pry non-Comcast customers from their satellite and cable providers.

The Federal Communication Commission mandates that Comcast make the channel available to all competitors, and so it is -- just not at a price many can stomach.

I moved to Salem from Portland in 1977. We bought a house in town that had cable. Every Trail Blazers game, so far as I remember, was shown. For no extra charge. I became a big fan, watching the 1977-78 team win the NBA championship.

Times have changed. Greed is dominating Comcast's corporate decisions.

The Trail Blazers management has asked the FCC to force Comcast to make their games available to subscribers of other programmers like DirecTV and Dish Network. But they're locked into a stupid ten year agreement that gives Comcast the right to televise most Blazers games, but doesn't contain an ironclad requirement that the feed be shared with DirecTV, Dish, et. al.

So I'll be watching the Beavers tomorrow, not the Ducks. Nor PSU. This would be a big televised stage for Portland State to play on -- Vikings vs. Ducks in Autzen Stadium -- but lots of Oregon sports fans won't be able to see them.

I'll send some curses Comcast's way when the PSU - Oregon game starts at 3:15 pm. Maybe if enough people emit sufficient negative energy, it'll jolt the money-mad Comcast execs out of their irritating "let them watch ESPN" attitude.

Alex and Twitch's dance message: "Get out of your mind!"

Sometimes great performances on So You Think You Can Dance touch a deep emotional chord with me. Last night my wife and I started to make our way through some recorded episodes. We came to Alex and Twitch's astounding hip-hop dance, "Get out of your mind!"

We watched it twice. Today I saw it twice more, having been able to find it online. You'll probably have to wait for an ad to finish before seeing the video, but believe me, you need to wait. Then, enjoy.

What's amazing is that Alex is an accomplished ballet dancer. Hip-hop seemingly would be way out of his comfort zone. But he nailed this piece, both creatively and emotionally. The audience went wild, and the judges said it was one of the best performances ever on the show.

I loved the notion of a psychiatrist jumping up, hitting his patient with a clipboard, and rocking out to "Get out of your mind!" Sanity is so overrated. I'll take Alex and Twitch's craziness over sensible sobriety anytime.

To be able to just let go like that, on a stage with many millions watching live television, terrific! This is where dance melds with philosophy, broadly speaking, as so many art forms do.

I kept recalling the performance today. How Alex gets off his therapeutic couch and dances his way to mental health by saying fuck it. Which is what the actual lyrics to "Get out of your mind" (by Lil' Jon) say a lot.

The version of the song played on So You Think You Can Dance was considerably cleaned up. Here's the original of some lyrics heard on the performance:

Grab dat bottle, twist dat cap
Hold it in the air and tip it back
I'm drunk as hell, I'm off Patron
I really don't dance but I'm in the zone
Move bitch get out the way
I'm runnin' over nigga's like a runaway train
I grab my beer, you do the same
Shake that shit and make it rain!

I don't give a fuck! I don't give a fuck! --- FUCK IT!
I don't give a fuck! I don't give a fuck! --- FUCK IT!
I don't give a fuck! I don't give a fuck! --- FUCK IT!
Lets fuckin' lose it!

Get outta your mind! (x3)
Fuck that shit! Get outta your mind!
Get outta your mind! (x3)
Fuck that shit! Get outta your mind!

Cheap therapy. Not recommended for everyone, but, hey, if it works for you, it works.

Photos of 2010 Oregon Country Fair

Last year, after a long absence, we returned to the 60's and had a great time at the Oregon Country Fair in Veneta (outside of Eugene). Friday we fired up our Prius and hybrid'ed our way down I-5 again, hoping the mid-90's heat wouldn't mess up our mellow.

It didn't. 

Shortly after we parked our car and started walking across grassy fields (double entendre entirely appropriate), we came across a purple-tailed horse. I instantly felt at home. And wondered what it would have been like to come to the fair in my LSD-taking days. (I would have named the horse "Trippy," for sure.)
 

Our first stop was at the Golden Avatar booth just inside the entry gate. We ate here last year and loved the vegetarian Indian food. This is an outpost of a Eugene restaurant that we need to start frequenting.
 

I mean, look at that plate! I instantly got the munchies without any extra herbal encouragement. This was the $9 vegan plate, a cornucopia of different tastes.
 

While Laurel was browsing a clothes booth (the Country Fair abounds with shopping opportunities of all sorts), I decided to stand by a beautiful sloping tree, point my camera at the passers-by, and press the shutter button whenever the fancy struck me. I liked the plethora of gray-haired guys roughly my age who weren't acting their age.
 
This couple were visions in green. Well, she had less green on than he did, but that didn't take away from her viewability. With the weather so warm, the scantily clad women-watching possibilities were rich this year.
 

The artistry of the Oregon Country Fair organizers (which must include a great number of talented volunteers) is hugely impressive. The natural wood art is a constant source of delight.
 

We found our way to the Main Stage where young and old alike were rocking out to an unknown (to me) band.
 

The crowd was kept cool by a welcome stream of water.
 

Just past the Main Stage we came to a Herbal Shakes food booth that isn't in evidence at the corn dog and curly fries dominated Oregon State Fair.
 

I found it interesting that even a barefoot, leaf-clad girl still has her cellphone close to ear. 
 

Laurel made a stop at a richly colored organic orange juice bar. Nothing like freshly squeezed orange juice on a hot day. I lucked out: Laurel took a few sips, then decided she wanted something less intensely flavored. Me, I liked the "intense."
 

Over in a less crowded section of the fair some kids were playing chess with kid-sized pieces under the shade of a marvelously mossy tree.

This musical group was pleasant to listen to. Around almost every corner in the meandering Oregon Country Fair woodsy layout we came across talented musicians entertaining visitors.
 

Whimsy abounds.
 

Thankfully, just before we were going to head to the exit a quirky Country Fair parade passed by. The guy on the left wasn't part of the official action. But then, there isn't much "official" when it comes to the Oregon Country Fair.
 

The parade was great to watch coming...
 

And going.

 
Just before we left, we got some slices of carrot cake and cups of coffee to sustain ourselves for the drive back to Salem. A member of a musical group who we'd heard (and enjoyed) earlier in the day passed by our seating spot. She seemed to epitomize the hang-loose, have-fun vibe of the Fair. 

My tips for watching World Cup soccer

I've enjoyed the two World Cup soccer matches that I've watched on TV. Naturally they've both featured the United States team -- when they played England and Slovenia -- because I'm only interested in soccer on the rare occasions when the game means something to my national interest.

By "enjoyed," I mean that I followed the tips I shared in How to enjoyably watch hockey and soccer on TV.

(1) Record the event.

(2) Press "Play."

(3) Then -- this is really important, because life is short and you don't want to waste it on meaningless stuff -- immediately press the fast forward button repeatedly until it is at the fastest speed where the score being shown is still readable.

(4) Wait a while until you see the score has changed. Could be a long while, even at fast forwarding speed.

(5) Press "Play."

(6) Rewind/go back to fifteen seconds or so before the goal was scored.

(7) Watch the goal. Say "Nice, "Cool," "Crappy goalkeeping," or whatever else pops into your head.

(8) Repeat 3 through 7 until the game is over.

(9) Turn the TV off, content that you've watched hockey or soccer in the most efficient and enjoyable fashion if you're part of the 99% of humanity (in the United States, at least) who couldn't care less about the sports but sometimes want to act like they do, sort of.

This has enabled me to get the gist of the U.S. team's World Cup matches in considerably less time than the 90 minutes they last. Usually I fast forward until I see that a goal has been scored, then watch a minute or so before and after this rare event.

Given that the U.S. matches have been 1-1 and 2-2, it doesn't take me long to feel like I'm doing my patriotic duty to (halfheartedly) show some interest in my country's team.

Anyway, I have no idea what's going on in between the goal-scoring. A bunch of guys move the ball up and down the field with their legs, heads, and chests in some sort of mysterious fashion which isn't interesting to me.

Which brings me to my second tip: to appreciate soccer more deeply than the shallow way I've been watching the World Cup, I think it's necessary to embrace a philosophical world view that is at odds with how most Americans see things.

As an aid to getting into this frame of mind, I recommend watching some European films of the existential variety.

The kind that you can imagine Jean Paul Sartre positively reviewing. The kind where the closing credits come on and you slump in your seat with a despairing What the #@$%&! was that about? running through your head. (The original version of "The Vanishing" comes to mind.)

We Americans tend to like order, rules, and easily understood morality. Football (our kind, not soccer) and basketball have discernible plays/strategy. When an infraction is noted by a referee, the reason is clear -- even if not agreed with by a player or fan.

Contrast this with the United States vs. Slovenia World Cup match, where I watched more of the event than the tips above called for since I found the controversy over the disallowed goal that would have won the game for the U.S. was so fascinating.

The referee, Koman Coulibaly, never gave a reason for blowing his whistle. Unless he decides to speak up we'll never know what sort of foul he believed he witnessed, since soccer doesn't require the ref to explain himself, or even indicate which player was responsible for the no-no that cost the U.S. a win.

So in soccer the players run around in a seemingly quasi-random fashion for 90 minutes, often accomplishing nothing, no goal at all by either side, with arbitrary decisions by a laconic referee frequently determining the outcome of the match.

Wonderfully existential.

But frustrating to observe for those with a typical American mind set. Consider this marvelous quotation about the disallowed goal attributed to the president of FIFA, the international soccer organization.

"In perhaps every other sport, an explanation of a decisive play would have been provided. But Sepp Blatter, the president of FIFA, has ignored calls for video replay and has decided against putting additional referees on the end line, saying he did not want technology to rule the game. He has also said that he likes the debate that follows matches, believing that uncertainty and subjectivity boost the sport."

Yes, c'est la vie. Or as we put it, "shit happens."

It's a universal attitude. But for Americans, it's something to be resisted, fought against, a temporary unwelcome situation. For the international soccer culture, it's the way things are, no big deal.