Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
WHY IS DRAMA TAKEN MORE SERIOUSLY THAN COMEDY?
An author asked me to contemplate on that one. Here is what I sent him:
I produced many television comedies, and often we were a slave to the laughter of the audience. If they weren't laughing, something wasn't funny, so therefore the story wasn't working right somehow (or at least particular lines). And invariably the network executives, who generally had more respect for drama themselves, would feel emboldened enough to say "you call this funny". I am not sure if the reverse is true. Do they watch a rehearsal of say Gray's Anatomy and say "You call this sad?"
The question is much like "why aren't writers taken as seriously as directors"? It's all perception - as to whose job seems more difficult, more crucial, more important in human story telling. And the premise itself is a matter of definition. If the Academy Awards are a standard, then, yes, it appears dramas are given more respect, more gravitas. Who was more respected as a film maker and performer than Charlie Chaplin, for example; he is inarguably the king of film comedy, yet much of his glory comes as much from eating his shoes in the Klondike than his impeccable slapstick.
A psychologist once told me comedy can be defined as "manic denial" - we laugh at the big rich guy slipping on a banana peel as if to deny that authority, power, wealth, arrogance, whatever, and so therefore the embarrassing fall levels the playing field. And we laugh - worldwide (slapstick - pratfalls, torn pants, pies in the face - is no doubt the international comedy language). So when people say comedy generally lacks profundity, they are dead wrong and deserve a poke in the eye by Moe Howard.
I produced many television comedies, and often we were a slave to the laughter of the audience. If they weren't laughing, something wasn't funny, so therefore the story wasn't working right somehow (or at least particular lines). And invariably the network executives, who generally had more respect for drama themselves, would feel emboldened enough to say "you call this funny". I am not sure if the reverse is true. Do they watch a rehearsal of say Gray's Anatomy and say "You call this sad?"
The question is much like "why aren't writers taken as seriously as directors"? It's all perception - as to whose job seems more difficult, more crucial, more important in human story telling. And the premise itself is a matter of definition. If the Academy Awards are a standard, then, yes, it appears dramas are given more respect, more gravitas. Who was more respected as a film maker and performer than Charlie Chaplin, for example; he is inarguably the king of film comedy, yet much of his glory comes as much from eating his shoes in the Klondike than his impeccable slapstick.
A psychologist once told me comedy can be defined as "manic denial" - we laugh at the big rich guy slipping on a banana peel as if to deny that authority, power, wealth, arrogance, whatever, and so therefore the embarrassing fall levels the playing field. And we laugh - worldwide (slapstick - pratfalls, torn pants, pies in the face - is no doubt the international comedy language). So when people say comedy generally lacks profundity, they are dead wrong and deserve a poke in the eye by Moe Howard.
Comedy by its nature seems "light" and "easy" in that it seems as if it merely has to mock convention or the human condition. Many things that have brought us to tears, and anger, in real life, are hysterical when we see them re-enacted by characters on TV, especially in comedies dealing with husband and wife relationships, dating relationships, child rearing... or dealing with ones boss or co-workers.
So the trick about this question (or the "mislead" as we say in the business) is similar to how questions on a poll are asked. Many people when asked their most memorable films or TV shows or moments therein may well be split 50-50 on comedy and drama. No one forgets the heartiest laughs - even within the most dramatic films Goodfellas, and Deliverance come to mind) because constant dread is not possible in entertainment. The "light" moments do that just that... lighten things up between murders or tears and emotional turmoil. Or tension and suspense that would otherwise be unbearable; notice how witty Bond is... and there was plenty to laugh at in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
I think again the answer to why drama is taken more seriously than comedy goes back to perception, and the fact that comic tastes are a very "niche" things. The fact is, any professional will tell you that it is far more difficult to write comedy, especially on a wide basis (since comic tastes differ far more than tastes for drama; films like Casablanca, are probably more universally liked than say a Jerry Lewis film or the brilliantly literate British dark comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets). And any actor or director will tell you that performing and directing comedy are far more difficult that straight drama any day. Indeed some of the finest actors did some of the finest comedy.
Perhaps your question, in the end, is really a faulty one, because "drama" and "comedy" could not be more different elements. People respect comedy as much or more than drama if they really thought about it, but while people can be uniform on what's a great drama - or what they are supposed to think is a great drama - comedy is highly personal, differing almost literally from person to person. Why is broccoli taken more seriously than m&ms? Well, you're supposed to, I guess. And "m&m's" is a dumb name, will make you fat and rot your teeth - however they delightfully comforting in sweet chocolatude.
So the trick about this question (or the "mislead" as we say in the business) is similar to how questions on a poll are asked. Many people when asked their most memorable films or TV shows or moments therein may well be split 50-50 on comedy and drama. No one forgets the heartiest laughs - even within the most dramatic films Goodfellas, and Deliverance come to mind) because constant dread is not possible in entertainment. The "light" moments do that just that... lighten things up between murders or tears and emotional turmoil. Or tension and suspense that would otherwise be unbearable; notice how witty Bond is... and there was plenty to laugh at in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
I think again the answer to why drama is taken more seriously than comedy goes back to perception, and the fact that comic tastes are a very "niche" things. The fact is, any professional will tell you that it is far more difficult to write comedy, especially on a wide basis (since comic tastes differ far more than tastes for drama; films like Casablanca, are probably more universally liked than say a Jerry Lewis film or the brilliantly literate British dark comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets). And any actor or director will tell you that performing and directing comedy are far more difficult that straight drama any day. Indeed some of the finest actors did some of the finest comedy.
Perhaps your question, in the end, is really a faulty one, because "drama" and "comedy" could not be more different elements. People respect comedy as much or more than drama if they really thought about it, but while people can be uniform on what's a great drama - or what they are supposed to think is a great drama - comedy is highly personal, differing almost literally from person to person. Why is broccoli taken more seriously than m&ms? Well, you're supposed to, I guess. And "m&m's" is a dumb name, will make you fat and rot your teeth - however they delightfully comforting in sweet chocolatude.
But we can't live in a broccoli world, so perhaps m&ms are, in many ways, more crucial. But some people are allergic to chocolate. That's why there are thousands of candies, but pretty much one broccoli - or okay, you can mix it up with a carrot or a cauliflower.
The short answer is who the hell knows?
The short answer is who the hell knows?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
THE OIL NEXT TIME
God gave Noah the rainbow sign
No more water, the oil next time
It is somehow fitting that, five years after his infamous mishandling of duties as head of FEMA during the Hurricane Katrina aftermath, Michael “Brownie” Brown, of all people, would re-appear to offer up his much sought after expertise on the horrific BP Deepwater Horizon oil catastrophe - which, of course, is threatening the very same area that Katrina and the failed levees ravaged. Taking to the air with Rove- style talking points, Brown was back in his comfortable role as Republican lapdog, eagerly doing their lapping this time to shill for the beleaguered oil industry.
The same Brownie. Brownie, the face of Bush incompetency, of Bush sociopathy, of Bush cronyism: perfect storm meeting perfect storm in 2005.
Katrina, or something like it, was in many ways a predictable event. But so is the BP oil geyser (“spill” is too nice a word) that now threatens our very existence. One doesn’t need a Mayan doomsday calendar to see the march to the brink… just a good old American one:
Deregulation… the selection of 2000… 9/11… wars in Afghanistan and Iraq… the economic collapse of ’08 - a string of deadly dominoes began to fall in October 1980 – when Bush 41 managed to make a deal with the Iranian mullahs to hold on to the U.S. hostages till after the November election, assuring the defeat of environmentalist Jimmy Carter and the election of anti tree hugger Ronald Reagan.
But back to what may be the Final Domino.
Now a radio talk show host in Colorado (also fitting), Brown declared that the Obama administration was somehow deliberately letting the BP oil disaster fester to prove that off-shore drilling is a bad thing, lest folks believe their lyin’ eyes… i.e., the thesis being that Obama is cynically taking advantage of a disaster for political gain!
Outrageous, appalling, cynical!
Why, that would be like accusing the Bush administration of making political hay of Katrina by casting blame on “state and local” officials (read: Democrats). Outrageous, appalling, cynical.
And, as it turns out, demonstrably effective: witness Governor Bobby Jindal, Republican.
So in the spirit of not letting any national calamity go to waste, the Republicans and their media mouthpieces have doggedly tried to hang the spill baby spill around the current President’s neck: Obama’s Katrina? read the graphics beneath the Fox “news” propagandists.
But then again, let us not be quick to eye roll. Perhaps calling this event “Obama’s Katrina” is a heartening realization on the part of Fox and the Republicans that the original Katrina was utterly bungled by Bush and Brownie.
No, wait. Damn. Doubtless, there’s videotape showing they thought Bush did a fabulous job in Katrina, a heckuva job if you will… so therefore is the moniker “Obama’s Katrina” actually a compliment? Nah, that’s wrong. Cue the eye rolls.
Anyway, the panicky Republicans, doing the bidding of their panicky oil partners, hastened to get out in front of this – terrified that not only would their “drill baby drill” mantra be used against them, in, say, a million campaign ads, but, more upsetting, that the drill baby drilling would, indeed, be stopped.
And so the event was downplayed in a let’s not throw the baby out with the oily bath water fashion. “Many say we over-reacted after 3 Mile Island,” said William Kristol, ever the ludicrous. “There hasn’t been a new nuclear reactor built since then. We can’t give up just because of one little accident.” That’s like some gung ho Japanese general saying we can’t surrender just because of one little atom bomb. “Hey,” added William. “I’m a drill baby drill guy,” as usual blind to the situation. Global warming denier George Will, in perhaps an attempt to put the accident in perspective, pointed out Massachusetts birds were in more danger of getting entangled in wind turbines along the coast than a little oil sloppage. And Rush Limbaugh, drilling deeper than BP for some spin, declared the spill was no biggee, that the ocean heals itself – don’t get crazed by Gore brainwashed seagull hugging liberal anti oil pro terrorist pussies.
And then there’s Halliburton, joining Brownie on stage once again.
Yes Halliburton was at the bottom of this oil rig accident. Literally. I don’t know the finer details, but evidently their job was to do some cementing a mile down in the ocean at the site where the precious fluid is extracted. And fail-safe measures failed. 11 men died in the explosion. And that is just the beginning of the human harvest. These 11 are certainly not the first unfortunates Halliburton incompetency, corner-cutting and graft have killed in their storied history. Now they’ve gone big time. Now they may have helped start a brand new string of events leading to the destruction of an entire ecosystem. Some call in Earth.
Halliburton, the self same company once run by Dick Cheney in his evil pre-evil Vice President days, the same company doing illegal business with Iraq (yeah, under Hussein) and bribing Nigerian oil officials for contracts, the same Halliburton that benefited from bidless contracts in Iraq and came up short about a bill, electrocuting American servicemen with shoddy plumbing work sub contracted to sub contractors.
Remember the falling dominoes? From 1981 to 1993, Reagan and Bush 41 served 12 longgggg years in the White House, de-regulating the oil industry willy nilly, busting unions, enacting Reaganomics by whacking taxes on the wealthy, killing the environment with such protectors as Interior Secretary James Watt (remember him?)… but most importantly, appointing members of the Supreme Court who might sound familiar: O’Connor. Rehnquist. Scalia. Kennedy. Thomas. The five of the infamous 5-4 Supreme Court vote of December 2000 that installed underachieving oilman George Bush, instead of environmentalist Al Gore, to the Presidency. But not only Bush strode into the White House, but so did former congressman, Defense Secretary and Halliburton honcho Dick Cheney. Oilmen were bunking in the White House. Bad ones.
Cheney in 2001, while ignoring the threat of Al Qaeda, held a Top Secret confab of energy moguls to craft American energy policy. And a lot of that had to do with de-regulating environmental protections… essentially letting the oil explorers, and service companies such as Halliburton, to “self regulate”, and buying congressmen like so many trinkets for their charm bracelet to ensure no principled do gooders prevail.
Dominoes falling, from 9/11 to Afghanistan to Iraq to warrantless wiretaps, to spill after spill after spill to “drill baby drill”… right up until April 20, 2010 – the date of the BP disaster, the worst ecological disaster in the history of mankind. And now we have millions of gallons of oil pouring into the Gulf of Mexico, with no end in sight.
It is quite possible that incompetence and unregulated oilmen may have sealed our doom- at long last. Even the Mayans must be surprised; they probably figured we would all end because of angry gods loosing lightning bolts… when really it may ironically be the result of our obsession with a by-product of the mouldering remains of Earth’s last great tenants: the dinosaurs. These beasts were wiped out by a mysterious calamity 65 million years ago. We can only speculate on what happened. Paleontologists may debate the intelligence of dinosaurs, but their demise was almost certainly not self imposed.
In a bittersweet bit of justice, or irony, now we see Jindal - the beneficiary of that “state and local” demonization post Katrina – desperately flying around in his helicopter, observing with horror the slick which has grown from the size of Rhode Island to the size of Delaware to the size of Maryland, probably to the size of Texas eventually (again, fitting), creeping like The Blob ever closer to the precious wetlands that defends New Orleans from hurricanes, and harbors precious natural resources. Livelihoods and lives are threatened. Now Jindal is beseeching the U.S. government for help, the help he scoffed at in his famous State of the Union response / coming out party.
And by contrast, Mississippi governor Haley Barbour, another piece of presumed Presidential timber, is using the patented George W. Bush “down play it” approach: “That oil spill is just a little sheen on the water. Happens all the time! Come to Mississippi and go shopping!” Texas Governor Perry writes it off as “an act of God”, I suppose beating Pat Robertson to the punch, and certainly giving Halliburton and British Petroleum an out -- but probably not with guys in congress like Henry Waxman. Or guys in the White House like Barack Obama.
There will come a time when the ecology cannot oblige human malfeasance, when the earth will take no more. This may be that time. The Gulf of Mexico, its resident fish and human neighbors on shore must battle the effects, short and long term, of a veritable ocean of oil. The latest and perhaps last domino in the string that began in October 1980, Domino Doom, may have fallen.
Never mind the Mayans and 2012. We might not make it that far.
No more water, the oil next time
It is somehow fitting that, five years after his infamous mishandling of duties as head of FEMA during the Hurricane Katrina aftermath, Michael “Brownie” Brown, of all people, would re-appear to offer up his much sought after expertise on the horrific BP Deepwater Horizon oil catastrophe - which, of course, is threatening the very same area that Katrina and the failed levees ravaged. Taking to the air with Rove- style talking points, Brown was back in his comfortable role as Republican lapdog, eagerly doing their lapping this time to shill for the beleaguered oil industry.
The same Brownie. Brownie, the face of Bush incompetency, of Bush sociopathy, of Bush cronyism: perfect storm meeting perfect storm in 2005.
Katrina, or something like it, was in many ways a predictable event. But so is the BP oil geyser (“spill” is too nice a word) that now threatens our very existence. One doesn’t need a Mayan doomsday calendar to see the march to the brink… just a good old American one:
Deregulation… the selection of 2000… 9/11… wars in Afghanistan and Iraq… the economic collapse of ’08 - a string of deadly dominoes began to fall in October 1980 – when Bush 41 managed to make a deal with the Iranian mullahs to hold on to the U.S. hostages till after the November election, assuring the defeat of environmentalist Jimmy Carter and the election of anti tree hugger Ronald Reagan.
But back to what may be the Final Domino.
Now a radio talk show host in Colorado (also fitting), Brown declared that the Obama administration was somehow deliberately letting the BP oil disaster fester to prove that off-shore drilling is a bad thing, lest folks believe their lyin’ eyes… i.e., the thesis being that Obama is cynically taking advantage of a disaster for political gain!
Outrageous, appalling, cynical!
Why, that would be like accusing the Bush administration of making political hay of Katrina by casting blame on “state and local” officials (read: Democrats). Outrageous, appalling, cynical.
And, as it turns out, demonstrably effective: witness Governor Bobby Jindal, Republican.
So in the spirit of not letting any national calamity go to waste, the Republicans and their media mouthpieces have doggedly tried to hang the spill baby spill around the current President’s neck: Obama’s Katrina? read the graphics beneath the Fox “news” propagandists.
But then again, let us not be quick to eye roll. Perhaps calling this event “Obama’s Katrina” is a heartening realization on the part of Fox and the Republicans that the original Katrina was utterly bungled by Bush and Brownie.
No, wait. Damn. Doubtless, there’s videotape showing they thought Bush did a fabulous job in Katrina, a heckuva job if you will… so therefore is the moniker “Obama’s Katrina” actually a compliment? Nah, that’s wrong. Cue the eye rolls.
Anyway, the panicky Republicans, doing the bidding of their panicky oil partners, hastened to get out in front of this – terrified that not only would their “drill baby drill” mantra be used against them, in, say, a million campaign ads, but, more upsetting, that the drill baby drilling would, indeed, be stopped.
And so the event was downplayed in a let’s not throw the baby out with the oily bath water fashion. “Many say we over-reacted after 3 Mile Island,” said William Kristol, ever the ludicrous. “There hasn’t been a new nuclear reactor built since then. We can’t give up just because of one little accident.” That’s like some gung ho Japanese general saying we can’t surrender just because of one little atom bomb. “Hey,” added William. “I’m a drill baby drill guy,” as usual blind to the situation. Global warming denier George Will, in perhaps an attempt to put the accident in perspective, pointed out Massachusetts birds were in more danger of getting entangled in wind turbines along the coast than a little oil sloppage. And Rush Limbaugh, drilling deeper than BP for some spin, declared the spill was no biggee, that the ocean heals itself – don’t get crazed by Gore brainwashed seagull hugging liberal anti oil pro terrorist pussies.
And then there’s Halliburton, joining Brownie on stage once again.
Yes Halliburton was at the bottom of this oil rig accident. Literally. I don’t know the finer details, but evidently their job was to do some cementing a mile down in the ocean at the site where the precious fluid is extracted. And fail-safe measures failed. 11 men died in the explosion. And that is just the beginning of the human harvest. These 11 are certainly not the first unfortunates Halliburton incompetency, corner-cutting and graft have killed in their storied history. Now they’ve gone big time. Now they may have helped start a brand new string of events leading to the destruction of an entire ecosystem. Some call in Earth.
Halliburton, the self same company once run by Dick Cheney in his evil pre-evil Vice President days, the same company doing illegal business with Iraq (yeah, under Hussein) and bribing Nigerian oil officials for contracts, the same Halliburton that benefited from bidless contracts in Iraq and came up short about a bill, electrocuting American servicemen with shoddy plumbing work sub contracted to sub contractors.
Remember the falling dominoes? From 1981 to 1993, Reagan and Bush 41 served 12 longgggg years in the White House, de-regulating the oil industry willy nilly, busting unions, enacting Reaganomics by whacking taxes on the wealthy, killing the environment with such protectors as Interior Secretary James Watt (remember him?)… but most importantly, appointing members of the Supreme Court who might sound familiar: O’Connor. Rehnquist. Scalia. Kennedy. Thomas. The five of the infamous 5-4 Supreme Court vote of December 2000 that installed underachieving oilman George Bush, instead of environmentalist Al Gore, to the Presidency. But not only Bush strode into the White House, but so did former congressman, Defense Secretary and Halliburton honcho Dick Cheney. Oilmen were bunking in the White House. Bad ones.
Cheney in 2001, while ignoring the threat of Al Qaeda, held a Top Secret confab of energy moguls to craft American energy policy. And a lot of that had to do with de-regulating environmental protections… essentially letting the oil explorers, and service companies such as Halliburton, to “self regulate”, and buying congressmen like so many trinkets for their charm bracelet to ensure no principled do gooders prevail.
Dominoes falling, from 9/11 to Afghanistan to Iraq to warrantless wiretaps, to spill after spill after spill to “drill baby drill”… right up until April 20, 2010 – the date of the BP disaster, the worst ecological disaster in the history of mankind. And now we have millions of gallons of oil pouring into the Gulf of Mexico, with no end in sight.
It is quite possible that incompetence and unregulated oilmen may have sealed our doom- at long last. Even the Mayans must be surprised; they probably figured we would all end because of angry gods loosing lightning bolts… when really it may ironically be the result of our obsession with a by-product of the mouldering remains of Earth’s last great tenants: the dinosaurs. These beasts were wiped out by a mysterious calamity 65 million years ago. We can only speculate on what happened. Paleontologists may debate the intelligence of dinosaurs, but their demise was almost certainly not self imposed.
In a bittersweet bit of justice, or irony, now we see Jindal - the beneficiary of that “state and local” demonization post Katrina – desperately flying around in his helicopter, observing with horror the slick which has grown from the size of Rhode Island to the size of Delaware to the size of Maryland, probably to the size of Texas eventually (again, fitting), creeping like The Blob ever closer to the precious wetlands that defends New Orleans from hurricanes, and harbors precious natural resources. Livelihoods and lives are threatened. Now Jindal is beseeching the U.S. government for help, the help he scoffed at in his famous State of the Union response / coming out party.
And by contrast, Mississippi governor Haley Barbour, another piece of presumed Presidential timber, is using the patented George W. Bush “down play it” approach: “That oil spill is just a little sheen on the water. Happens all the time! Come to Mississippi and go shopping!” Texas Governor Perry writes it off as “an act of God”, I suppose beating Pat Robertson to the punch, and certainly giving Halliburton and British Petroleum an out -- but probably not with guys in congress like Henry Waxman. Or guys in the White House like Barack Obama.
There will come a time when the ecology cannot oblige human malfeasance, when the earth will take no more. This may be that time. The Gulf of Mexico, its resident fish and human neighbors on shore must battle the effects, short and long term, of a veritable ocean of oil. The latest and perhaps last domino in the string that began in October 1980, Domino Doom, may have fallen.
Never mind the Mayans and 2012. We might not make it that far.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
ONE OF THE GREAT APRIL FOOLS PRANKS
By the vaunted BBC on April 1st, 1957. Straight report, read by noted BBC TV newsman, talked about the spaghetti trees of Switzerland. See the original TV broadcast, and the aftermath here.
AT LONG LAST, OBAMA'S GOIN' BUSH
It’s déjà vu all over again, as Yogi Berra once said. Senate goes on recess, and the sitting President of the United States makes a shitload of recess appointments from Camp David. Then he sneaks into Afghanistan for a surprise visit.
However, before March of 2010, none of the above followed on the heels of the most historic pieces of legislation in 45 years, and perhaps the biggest political triumph since Truman defeated Dewey.
Finally it’s happening. Obama’s goin’ Bush.
We’ve been begging him to do it till our knees got bloody. Well, at least mine did. Please Mr. President. You won the election. Sizably. Fair and square. Despite Diebold and Frank Luntz. Despite Reverend Wright and Bill Ayres. And without aid of any Supreme Court justices. You were who we have been waiting for for eight desperate years – and longer. And not just an alternative guy with a “D” after your name, which believe me would have been just as acceptable, but beyond everyone’s wildest dreams: a rock star who could fill stadiums worldwide with fans not just enjoying the music, but the words of hope.
The sigh of relief could be heard around the world, almost literally – like when you turn on Skype.
Yes you entered into a mess of financial meltdown, war and torture. You acted quickly and effectively. But then one word put things in a tizzy.
Bipartisanship.
For six of the eight Bush years, the Republicans held the two houses of congresses with the thinnest of majorities. But like Bush, they ruled not as if they won by meager margins in a divided country, but as if they won ALL the votes. They’d just as soon have the Democrats go home, and they might as well have. You want to filibuster? Really, liberal pussies? Just try it and watch something nuclear happen. Snap! And how about a couple massive tax cuts to go along with two wars we’re not gonna pay for. Deficit? Nobody cares about deficits. Snap! Oh, got a problem with our neo fascist candidate for ambassador to the UN who hates the UN? Recess appointment, anyone? SNAP! The Democrats squawked a little, and the Republicans laughed. Or they said “9/11” a lot. And the Dems backed down. Yes there was “bipartisanship” – usually it meant some Republican co sponsoring a bill with Joe Lieberman.
But in 2008 things changed drastically, about as drastically as possible, in fact. The first black person was elected president, and the Democrats amassed huge majorities in both houses of congress.
If the Bush years were Sean Hannity’s wet dream, this had to be his nightmare. Yet, the Republicans seemed to be unaware that their own wanton adventures got
them into this predicament. Or maybe they just didn’t have any choice; after all, their constituents who sent them to Washington insisted on being represented lest they get angry.
And you don’t want to make constituents like Exxon, Wellpoint or GE angry.
So the GOP instead decided to rule “as if” - “as if” 40 members in the Senate represented a sort of “super minority”, since by establishing an eternal filibuster. 60 became a threshold in the otherwise “majority rules” body. A threshold not just for controversial topics. EVERYTHING.
EVERYTHING.
And while progressives knew just by the mere presence of Joe Lieberman, the “60 votes” was never filibuster proof, the Republicans knew this all too well, but they were, true to form, using it as a scare tactic: Democrats ruling congress, possible Kenyan black man in the White House = recipe for socialist terrorist disaster of Hitlerian proportions.
Then came January 19, 2010. Dateline Massachusetts, in a special election, Republican Scott Brown was elected to the U.S. Senate fill the seat held for nearly 50 years by Edward M. Kennedy. Massafreakingchusetts, the bluest of the blue states, the ONE state that voted for McGovern in 1972, you broke our hearts just when we needed you most.
OK now up was down, day is night, dogs and cats sleeping together…
And to drive the irony stake even further into the heart – for his entire career, he was Kennedy champion of health care reform – the very health care reform Brown promised to help defeat as soon as he got his earlier-than-usual swear in (accommodated by the accommodating Harry Reid).
So now they had it, their 41-vote SUPER DUPER minority. Snap! So naturally, hyper heated right wing media declared in the Massachusetts Miracle, proof that health care was dead, that Obama was dead, that Democrats were dead, that Olbermann was dead, that every enemy alive was dead, and that there was musing about Scott Brown’s national intentions for 2012; Hmmm, a great white hope not named Palin?
Was this really a trend? (Yes, Virginia and New Jersey went down in flames just two months before – they too, of course, were, according to not just Fox News, but the reliable “liberal media” idiots like Chris Matthews, Candy Crowley and Chuck Todd, referenda on health care, on Obama, on Bill Ayres, on Sarah Palin, on FDR… anything but John Corzine failures as governor, and the Democratic candidate in Virginia running AWAY from Obama’s policies). And even Brown himself barely let it be known in the campaign that he was a Republican. But still, did people really want to give power back to the guys who messed things up so intolerably?
Liberal Democrats across the land, of course, were devastated but not surprised. Indeed they were almost felt like saying “Uh, huh, got what you deserved!” They’re playing hardball, and you’re still clinging to that word.
Bipartisanship.
Virginia goes. And New Jersey. Now Massachusetts fires away. But instead it’s “Thank you sir I’ll have another.”
So all that the liberals were drooling for with the momentous election of Obama, and this phat congressional majority was slipping away, much of it self inflicted, by the Baucus bumbling, and Obama’s apparent lack of fire and leadership. Obama pinned the success and very existence of his administration on health care reform, and so did the Republicans (“Make this his Waterloo,” said Jim DeMint). When would we ever have this perfect storm” again? We had a majority, but it STILL wasn’t enough. Again, Republicans knew all this too well, and calculated the Democrats, and their young, inexperienced leader, were too soft – or just as much on the take as they were – to do anything that required big brass Bush balls.
Yes Bush, that guy. We knew Bush, in some ways, had it right: his approach, was a simple one (well d’uh, nothing complex about him): “I won - well, OK, I stole, but anyway, let’s not quibble, I’m here, I’m the President, I’m the decider, this is what the American people want me to do so I’m doing it.” And he had Tom DeLay and Bill Frist bringin' down the hammers.
The Republicans strategy was to delay until they and Frank Luntz could convince enough tea baggers and independents that another “change” was needed – presumably back to them. Was it possible people were buying this? And now they had they had Scott 41.
Well, one thing about Scott 41, Lieberman 59 didn’t mean as much as Lieberman 60; same goes for Landrieu, Lincoln and the irrepressible Nelsons.
But ironically, it was Scott Brown’s every election that pushed the Democrats to action. Obama was indeed playing chess, not checkers. But the tension was about to kill us all.
We started hearing rumblings not long after the invincible Scott 41 took oath of office.
And, ever the chess player, Obama let them do it to themselves. Suckered into the open health care summit, the Talking Points could not be pried from the Republicans’ cold white hands: let’s start over, they kept saying, with a clean sheet of paper. One guy must’ve known this was sounding silly, so he tried to mix it up with “let’s shake the etcha-sketch”. But there was a key moment in the whole charade. When Mitch McConnell complained about the Democrats taking up an unfair share of time, Obama copped to it: “That’s my fault. I talked longer, but then, I get to do that – I’m the President”. YES! SNAP!
The Dems were going reconciliation in the Senate to get the health care finale passed. Snap!
In the House, a few Democrats had to be rustled for the vote. Dennis Kucinich was neutralized. Snap! Bart Stupak, trying a to make abortion illegal in a back door fashion, was neutralized (he did get famous, but so did his membership in The Family, and so was unfortunate happenstance that he is Michael Moore’s congressman). Snap!
But, really, as usual, the Republicans did it to themselves.
And it’s all about tea.
The tea baggers had finally encroached on, and engulfed, the mainstream of the Grand Old Party. As John McCain cringed the other day in Arizona, the running mate he made famous, Sarah Palin was re-filling her 15 minutes of fame card. (McCain cannot stop making the same deal with the devil he made that put her on the ticket in the first place) She gave her “ich bin ein Tea Partyer” spiel… dragging the desperate old maverick along with her. He made no mention of his promise of no cooperation with the Democrats for the rest of the year – perhaps because he had already fulfilled that promise in the first part of the year. Michael Steele, the head of the Republican Party, welcomed the tea partyers. John Boehner and Eric Cantor turned a blind eye to the specter of fanatical supporters spitting and heckling congressmen as they entered the Capitol, and threw bricks through the office windows of other Democrats. Karl Rove said the Democrats were exacerbating the atmosphere of violence by reporting on it all the time.
But by this time, Obama was back out on the campaign trail, and on television. Hey, we thought. We’re going to do this! Be with us, or be on the wrong side of history. Because we are going to do this, Bush-style.
It was Waterloo all right officially on March 24, 2010. So DeMint had it sort of right. Except Obama was Wellington, and the Republicans were Napoleon. BOOM! There it is! Obama checkmated DeMint’s very flawed Waterloo Offense.
With that amazing victory by Obama and the Democrats, things got a little brighter in the world, and certainly in the progressive world. No, there was not a public option, and a few things would not materialize for several years (but after all, Teddy Roosevelt first advanced this notion in 1912 so this is speedy stuff). But not only was the camel’s nose under the tent, the beast was licking the breakfast dishes and spray-painting on the walls. It exists, so it can be tweaked.
The Republicans continued their delay tactics to the end, but they flopped. Even Coburn’s “Viagra amendment” went flaccid - ironic, because the Republicans were displaying a definite air of impotence.
Waterloo II was rapidly becoming the least of their problems. After all, as with the stimulus packaged they opposed in lockstep, no doubt they will tout health care reforms in their districts with props.
No, the Republicans have two other battles, which are existential. First, they have welded themselves to the tea people and they realize now this is a very scary-azz genie that cannot be put back into the teapot. In the bargain, moderate Republicans, if there were any left, have been marginalized. They got a taste of it with New York 23.
And the other front is an energized Democratic Party, led by a victorious Obama who now doing what they dared him to do.
He’s goin’ Bush.
The Republicans know what that means, and they know how that goes. As always, the bullies overplayed their hand and now they cannot depend on the Dems, or Obama, to pussy out on things.
Flush from an undeniably huge political (and humanitarian) victory, he is now making recess appointments – not of candidates who are horrific, like John Bolton who would never have passed muster, but who have been merely held up by Republicans because they can. Recess appointments – Bush-style. Music to my ears!
I’m waiting for Obama’s first signing statement. Suh-NAP!
However, before March of 2010, none of the above followed on the heels of the most historic pieces of legislation in 45 years, and perhaps the biggest political triumph since Truman defeated Dewey.
Finally it’s happening. Obama’s goin’ Bush.
We’ve been begging him to do it till our knees got bloody. Well, at least mine did. Please Mr. President. You won the election. Sizably. Fair and square. Despite Diebold and Frank Luntz. Despite Reverend Wright and Bill Ayres. And without aid of any Supreme Court justices. You were who we have been waiting for for eight desperate years – and longer. And not just an alternative guy with a “D” after your name, which believe me would have been just as acceptable, but beyond everyone’s wildest dreams: a rock star who could fill stadiums worldwide with fans not just enjoying the music, but the words of hope.
The sigh of relief could be heard around the world, almost literally – like when you turn on Skype.
Yes you entered into a mess of financial meltdown, war and torture. You acted quickly and effectively. But then one word put things in a tizzy.
Bipartisanship.
For six of the eight Bush years, the Republicans held the two houses of congresses with the thinnest of majorities. But like Bush, they ruled not as if they won by meager margins in a divided country, but as if they won ALL the votes. They’d just as soon have the Democrats go home, and they might as well have. You want to filibuster? Really, liberal pussies? Just try it and watch something nuclear happen. Snap! And how about a couple massive tax cuts to go along with two wars we’re not gonna pay for. Deficit? Nobody cares about deficits. Snap! Oh, got a problem with our neo fascist candidate for ambassador to the UN who hates the UN? Recess appointment, anyone? SNAP! The Democrats squawked a little, and the Republicans laughed. Or they said “9/11” a lot. And the Dems backed down. Yes there was “bipartisanship” – usually it meant some Republican co sponsoring a bill with Joe Lieberman.
But in 2008 things changed drastically, about as drastically as possible, in fact. The first black person was elected president, and the Democrats amassed huge majorities in both houses of congress.
If the Bush years were Sean Hannity’s wet dream, this had to be his nightmare. Yet, the Republicans seemed to be unaware that their own wanton adventures got
them into this predicament. Or maybe they just didn’t have any choice; after all, their constituents who sent them to Washington insisted on being represented lest they get angry.
And you don’t want to make constituents like Exxon, Wellpoint or GE angry.
So the GOP instead decided to rule “as if” - “as if” 40 members in the Senate represented a sort of “super minority”, since by establishing an eternal filibuster. 60 became a threshold in the otherwise “majority rules” body. A threshold not just for controversial topics. EVERYTHING.
EVERYTHING.
And while progressives knew just by the mere presence of Joe Lieberman, the “60 votes” was never filibuster proof, the Republicans knew this all too well, but they were, true to form, using it as a scare tactic: Democrats ruling congress, possible Kenyan black man in the White House = recipe for socialist terrorist disaster of Hitlerian proportions.
Then came January 19, 2010. Dateline Massachusetts, in a special election, Republican Scott Brown was elected to the U.S. Senate fill the seat held for nearly 50 years by Edward M. Kennedy. Massafreakingchusetts, the bluest of the blue states, the ONE state that voted for McGovern in 1972, you broke our hearts just when we needed you most.
OK now up was down, day is night, dogs and cats sleeping together…
And to drive the irony stake even further into the heart – for his entire career, he was Kennedy champion of health care reform – the very health care reform Brown promised to help defeat as soon as he got his earlier-than-usual swear in (accommodated by the accommodating Harry Reid).
So now they had it, their 41-vote SUPER DUPER minority. Snap! So naturally, hyper heated right wing media declared in the Massachusetts Miracle, proof that health care was dead, that Obama was dead, that Democrats were dead, that Olbermann was dead, that every enemy alive was dead, and that there was musing about Scott Brown’s national intentions for 2012; Hmmm, a great white hope not named Palin?
Was this really a trend? (Yes, Virginia and New Jersey went down in flames just two months before – they too, of course, were, according to not just Fox News, but the reliable “liberal media” idiots like Chris Matthews, Candy Crowley and Chuck Todd, referenda on health care, on Obama, on Bill Ayres, on Sarah Palin, on FDR… anything but John Corzine failures as governor, and the Democratic candidate in Virginia running AWAY from Obama’s policies). And even Brown himself barely let it be known in the campaign that he was a Republican. But still, did people really want to give power back to the guys who messed things up so intolerably?
Liberal Democrats across the land, of course, were devastated but not surprised. Indeed they were almost felt like saying “Uh, huh, got what you deserved!” They’re playing hardball, and you’re still clinging to that word.
Bipartisanship.
Virginia goes. And New Jersey. Now Massachusetts fires away. But instead it’s “Thank you sir I’ll have another.”
So all that the liberals were drooling for with the momentous election of Obama, and this phat congressional majority was slipping away, much of it self inflicted, by the Baucus bumbling, and Obama’s apparent lack of fire and leadership. Obama pinned the success and very existence of his administration on health care reform, and so did the Republicans (“Make this his Waterloo,” said Jim DeMint). When would we ever have this perfect storm” again? We had a majority, but it STILL wasn’t enough. Again, Republicans knew all this too well, and calculated the Democrats, and their young, inexperienced leader, were too soft – or just as much on the take as they were – to do anything that required big brass Bush balls.
Yes Bush, that guy. We knew Bush, in some ways, had it right: his approach, was a simple one (well d’uh, nothing complex about him): “I won - well, OK, I stole, but anyway, let’s not quibble, I’m here, I’m the President, I’m the decider, this is what the American people want me to do so I’m doing it.” And he had Tom DeLay and Bill Frist bringin' down the hammers.
The Republicans strategy was to delay until they and Frank Luntz could convince enough tea baggers and independents that another “change” was needed – presumably back to them. Was it possible people were buying this? And now they had they had Scott 41.
Well, one thing about Scott 41, Lieberman 59 didn’t mean as much as Lieberman 60; same goes for Landrieu, Lincoln and the irrepressible Nelsons.
But ironically, it was Scott Brown’s every election that pushed the Democrats to action. Obama was indeed playing chess, not checkers. But the tension was about to kill us all.
We started hearing rumblings not long after the invincible Scott 41 took oath of office.
And, ever the chess player, Obama let them do it to themselves. Suckered into the open health care summit, the Talking Points could not be pried from the Republicans’ cold white hands: let’s start over, they kept saying, with a clean sheet of paper. One guy must’ve known this was sounding silly, so he tried to mix it up with “let’s shake the etcha-sketch”. But there was a key moment in the whole charade. When Mitch McConnell complained about the Democrats taking up an unfair share of time, Obama copped to it: “That’s my fault. I talked longer, but then, I get to do that – I’m the President”. YES! SNAP!
The Dems were going reconciliation in the Senate to get the health care finale passed. Snap!
In the House, a few Democrats had to be rustled for the vote. Dennis Kucinich was neutralized. Snap! Bart Stupak, trying a to make abortion illegal in a back door fashion, was neutralized (he did get famous, but so did his membership in The Family, and so was unfortunate happenstance that he is Michael Moore’s congressman). Snap!
But, really, as usual, the Republicans did it to themselves.
And it’s all about tea.
The tea baggers had finally encroached on, and engulfed, the mainstream of the Grand Old Party. As John McCain cringed the other day in Arizona, the running mate he made famous, Sarah Palin was re-filling her 15 minutes of fame card. (McCain cannot stop making the same deal with the devil he made that put her on the ticket in the first place) She gave her “ich bin ein Tea Partyer” spiel… dragging the desperate old maverick along with her. He made no mention of his promise of no cooperation with the Democrats for the rest of the year – perhaps because he had already fulfilled that promise in the first part of the year. Michael Steele, the head of the Republican Party, welcomed the tea partyers. John Boehner and Eric Cantor turned a blind eye to the specter of fanatical supporters spitting and heckling congressmen as they entered the Capitol, and threw bricks through the office windows of other Democrats. Karl Rove said the Democrats were exacerbating the atmosphere of violence by reporting on it all the time.
But by this time, Obama was back out on the campaign trail, and on television. Hey, we thought. We’re going to do this! Be with us, or be on the wrong side of history. Because we are going to do this, Bush-style.
It was Waterloo all right officially on March 24, 2010. So DeMint had it sort of right. Except Obama was Wellington, and the Republicans were Napoleon. BOOM! There it is! Obama checkmated DeMint’s very flawed Waterloo Offense.
With that amazing victory by Obama and the Democrats, things got a little brighter in the world, and certainly in the progressive world. No, there was not a public option, and a few things would not materialize for several years (but after all, Teddy Roosevelt first advanced this notion in 1912 so this is speedy stuff). But not only was the camel’s nose under the tent, the beast was licking the breakfast dishes and spray-painting on the walls. It exists, so it can be tweaked.
The Republicans continued their delay tactics to the end, but they flopped. Even Coburn’s “Viagra amendment” went flaccid - ironic, because the Republicans were displaying a definite air of impotence.
Waterloo II was rapidly becoming the least of their problems. After all, as with the stimulus packaged they opposed in lockstep, no doubt they will tout health care reforms in their districts with props.
No, the Republicans have two other battles, which are existential. First, they have welded themselves to the tea people and they realize now this is a very scary-azz genie that cannot be put back into the teapot. In the bargain, moderate Republicans, if there were any left, have been marginalized. They got a taste of it with New York 23.
And the other front is an energized Democratic Party, led by a victorious Obama who now doing what they dared him to do.
He’s goin’ Bush.
The Republicans know what that means, and they know how that goes. As always, the bullies overplayed their hand and now they cannot depend on the Dems, or Obama, to pussy out on things.
Flush from an undeniably huge political (and humanitarian) victory, he is now making recess appointments – not of candidates who are horrific, like John Bolton who would never have passed muster, but who have been merely held up by Republicans because they can. Recess appointments – Bush-style. Music to my ears!
I’m waiting for Obama’s first signing statement. Suh-NAP!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Christmas Tale by Edgar Allan Bobby
It was Christmas. The tree was up in the living room, presents and wrapping paper and bulbs and lights were scattered here and there in prep for the big day.
Mal Cooper was getting more than a little annoyed. "Where is she!" he said out loud. His wife Eileen was only going out for, as she put it, "about an hour... would you look after Tony?" Tony was their six-year-old, home from first grade for the Christmas break. Mal, an exec with Mylar Electronics for 14 years, was now an ex-exec. The 00's were good, but the bubble burst and it's been lean times. Mylar, and hence, Mal, were early casualties of peace.
As a result, Mal was home a lot these days, making calls, trying to hook on somewhere else. And, being home a lot made him constantly "available" for yard duty, handiwork duty, and babysitting duty.
It was probably the anxiety of being not only out of work, but possibly out of a career that kept him from enjoying this extra time with his wife and child. Oh, he enjoyed time with Tony, taking him to school and picking him up, teaching him to ride his bike, teaching him to draw. But it wasn't helping the boy's well being when there was the constant tension between his parents.
Their long term troubles have only been exacerbated by this crisis period, this extra time together.
Like now, today, he gets a call for an interview... and she's late! He's faced with the prospect of dragging his kid into an office with him. That's a nifty first impression. But he was going to have to do it if she didn't get home soon.
His annoyance was building. He was taking her lateness personally. She didn't bother to call, just assumed he was going to bum it in the house all day again.
He was fast reaching the "fail-safe point". He had to give himself a half hour what with traffic to make it down to Universal Dynamics out in Northridge. So he told Tony to get his shoes and jacket on. Sorry, the Lego fort would have to wait.
Where the fuck was she!
As Tony dressed with the usual molasses speed of a six year old, Mal stared out the window that overlooked the driveway... as if that would conjure up his wife's red Lexus to roll up the street, and cause the garage door to pop up.
Nothing. No sign.
He knew she was going to the gym, then to the grocery. No way that takes three hours. She could've done any number of things she likes to do in her travels: the old book shop, the video rental store, coffee with her running buddy Abby.
Mal didn't like Abby - the nosey, the needy. Mal didn't like a lot of Eileen's friends. Another source of tension.
Goddammit! Why does she do this crap!
Of course, this wasn't always the way he felt about Eileen. She was always the "love of his life", whom he worshipped from afar in high school... and finally was able to win 10 years later at a class reunion.
But now, ten years after that, what with reality setting in and all, they were at each other’s throats a lot. They regularly pushed each other’s buttons, deliberately or not.
They got into therapy about a year ago. Mal calls it the weekly "war room". It's where Eileen feels free to berate him for his insensitivities, temper, and general lack of an excuse for living. At least that's Mal's interpretations. He takes the same weekly opportunity to vent about her lack of support, lack of sensuality, and general over-reaction and exaggeration of his short comings.
He thought, maybe he'd give Abby a call. It was worth a shot. He picked up the phone receiver - no dial tone. My God! The phone was out of order! But he'd just gotten a call a couple of hours ago for the meeting!
Then he remembered... the phone bill. It was past due, but he'd gotten an extension till... yesterday. He'd forgotten, she'd forgotten... yet another weight on his shoulders to deal with. It did explain - maybe - why he hadn't heard from her. She would usually call when she was real late, at least to check on Tony.
But then Mal remembered his iPhone... one of the vestiges of perks he enjoyed. It was always on, as it was today. She would have called that number. It hadn't rung.
He hooked the zipper of Tony's leather jacket.
"Are you mad to mommy?" asked Tony, who could also pick up on when Mal was upset. And he was usually upset about Eileen.
"Uh, no, why do you say that?"
"Because you have a mad face."
"I just... don't know where she is."
"She went to the store. But she doesn't take that long at the store," said Tony, joining in the speculation.
As he hustled Tony to the car, keeping his eye on the street for a last minute reprieve from that Lexus, Mal was starting to get a little worried.
Angry, hurt, resentful or whatever he might be toward her right now, he knew deep down that she was not thoughtless. She would have called if she was going to be this late.
Yet she hadn't, at least not on the hand-held. A thought suddenly struck Mal.
Maybe she couldn't call.
And if something happened to her, nobody else could either.
There had been a lot of car jackings in the area, and she was slight. And attractive. And drove that damned red Lexus that nobody could miss.
A number of scenarios raced through Mal's mind. They had had words even that morning before she left... average "words", to be sure, but the little, niggling, energy draining little conflicts that added up, like pixels in a newspaper photo that are insignificant on their own, but, together, en masse, create a very big picture.
For whatever reason, as he drove off down their street - hoping for her to pass them en route home, Mal was having all these crazy thoughts about something being wrong. And what if something had gone wrong?
He tried to think rationally. It's not like she's been missing for eight hours or a day. Even with as much crime as there is in the news - including their own "safe" neighborhood, it was still one of the more remote possibilities.
It had never entered his mind before that anything would happen to her. Obviously people get into accidents everyday. But in that situation, unless she was unconscious, surely someone, like the police, would phone. Or send someone out to the house since the phone was disconnected.
But if she was kidnapped... obviously, she couldn't call. Maybe some crazy had her at gunpoint, forcing her to drive to some remote location... or forced her into the trunk... and, subsequently, raped her. Killed her.
Why were all these thoughts racing through his head! He was on his way to the meeting, but he drove by the neighborhood grocery, quickly scouring the parking lot as he did. Tony did too. "I don't see the Lexus," said Tony.
Well, they didn't really make a close examination. He still had to make it to the meeting.
But his mind was not on the meeting. It was if he was now convinced that her being merely an hour late was without reasonable explanations, like someone lose track of time, or going on an extra errand. Now his thinking was getting catastrophic: it was if the only possible explanation was violent accident, or foul play. Even the less sensational, but still semi-morbid in-between possibilities of flat tire, engine trouble, dog bite... they weren't even considered.
And as he zeroed in all these terrible scenarios, his son was all the while asking questions about, "How do they put those giant letters up on the buildings?" "Would you die if you touched the sun?" Mal tried to answer each one thoughtfully, to cover up his concerns and to not take them out on his son in the form of impatience. But he also tried to answer each one so as not to precipitate more questions.
But the portion of his brain that is in charge of rational thought was pumping out enough electricity to keep him on the road to his appointment... enough rational thought to tell him, it's more than likely that she's okay so go on and get this job.
By the time he arrived at the business tower, his mind was shutting down. He started to drive into the exit driveway at the parking structure... he could barely comprehend the instructions of the attendant. He was totally preoccupied. What if he returns home and there are cops waiting for him - to tell him his wife was dead? He imagined the horrible reality of getting that news... but how do you "imagine" reality? Imagining something may conjure up a terrible feeling... but how would he handle the reality... the very possible reality? "She was the love of my life!" he could hear himself saying. "It can't be happening!"
Tony was meanwhile asking a million questions about how elevators work and how do they build tall buildings.
The receptionist at Bradury&Co. was happy to keep Tony entertained in the foyer, and Mal battled to keep the thoughts about Eileen's whereabouts to the back of his mind.
He battled to keep focused on the meeting at hand, and he thinks he did well.
Afterwards, he rescued the receptionist who was gamely fielding Tony's questions about God and why plants are green. He dragged Tony away from the her bowl of mints, gave a noble friendly nod to the two other guys who he figured to be his competition, and off they went.
On the drive back, Tony insisted they go through the parking lot of the supermarket and look for Eileen's car.
Shit! Never mind murder, or accident, or forgetting the time. Was she fucking around? No, not at Christmas. But then, why not. He dismissed it almost immediately, but almost immediately built on it that particular fantasy.
Mal's reasoning was starting to return to him. "Let's see if she's home first... then we'll go looking for her."
Yeah, it finally occurred to him that he had conjured up these fantastic scenes of murder precisely the way a hypochondriac turns headache into brain tumor. He was almost convinced that he, indeed, was going to see her again.
He imagined seeing her again, and he became as manic as he had been depressed. He had just taken himself through a wholly imaginary ride... which made even their most vehement arguments seem absurdly petty... a waste of precious time together. Maybe this was the tonic he needed, to put their mundane conflicts into perspective. After all, it wasn't so far fetched... people do get killed in accidents, murdered, traumatized. And it's often sudden, random, inexplicable... yet we still take our lives and loved ones for granted. He increased the speed as his anxiety grew.
A profound philosophical breakthrough was now obsessing Mal as he cruised home, obsessing him as much as the terrible thoughts before had. He regretted all the ways he needlessly hurt her. His petty sensitivities, jealousies, hurts that he took out on her. Indeed, he had taken her for granted. She was a wonderful woman - beautiful, gifted, admired by others... yet he had inflicted pain out of his own selfishness. He desperately wanted her back now. He wanted to start all over, and love her properly. And in so doing, he was sure she would love him properly. In any case, he would take the initiative, forgive her her flaws. As Thomas Jefferson once said, a mate is like a prized, well constructed harpsichord... one would not discard it, and ignore its overall beauty, because of one or two flat keys.
It was now as if his wife really had narrowly escaped from awful fate. He felt like he'd been given a second chance, every way as real seeming as if he really had experienced such a near miss. He was going to love her as a love of ones life should be loved. The woman he pined for, and never felt worthy of... the woman he had won, and felt such triumph in doing so.
They pulled onto their street... and into the driveway. Mal's mouth was dry as he punched the garage door opener key. Both his and Tony's eyes were fixed on the garage as it was slowly revealed by the large rising door... to reveal... the red Lexus in its usual spot.
She was home.
They flew into the house. Eileen opened the door at the sound of Tony's pounding. She was bewildered when Mal gave her the biggest hug. He felt like George Baily coming home from his encounter with the angel in "It's a Wonderful Life". For that moment Mal felt true revival as he hugged his woman. Shopping bags from Nieman's, Sack's and Target were evidence of her whereabouts. She always overbought, especially in the holidays.
Perhaps it was her bewilderment that she didn't hug back with much intensity. Perhaps she was waiting for his usual angry retort in such circumstances. "Where the hell were you!? I had to drag the kid to this meeting..." were not outrageous predictions in this case. But this time, Mal was a different man. A reformed man.
Tony was the first to start babbling about, "We didn't know what happened to you..." and Mal filled her in on their getting, uh "concerned"... and gave most of the credit of real worry to Tony. "You were worried about me, Tony??" she said with glee, as if it were another confirmation of his love for his mother. She hugged the boy with great relish.
"I thought you were going to take out the trash?" she blurted as Mal plopped in an easy chair. It was about the first words out of her mouth. The mouth attached to that face in an expression he perceived to be one of loathing. Of age old disappointment in her decision to marry him.
The euphoria vanished from his being before it began. "I forgot, okay?" He said it in that annoying voice.
"Never mind, I'll do," she said. "Don't let me disturb you."
"I'll do it."
"Please, don't. I don't want to have to pay for it!"
"You're not paying for it. I'm fine."
Tony tried to block out the typical vitriol by becoming engrossed in "Rocky and Bullwinkle". But soon a knock on the door came, and Tony was whisked off to spend the night at a friend's. Mal and Eileen put on their best "perfect couple" faces as they greeted Mrs. Claremont and Stevie, a friend from school. Eileen gave Tony his little suitcase, and only one of several instructions before he zoomed off out the door to join his friend.
Now Mal and Eileen were alone. As he resumed his chores and lugged the plastic enclosed trash to the trashcan outside, he was aware of his failure to keep his own promise. He almost had to laugh at how that glee at seeing the car in the garage was, within minutes, vanquished. He was back to taking her for granted. It was all back to normal.
Apparently what he was learning from this experience was merely that he had a vivid imagination. Maybe they were just simply doomed as a couple. He thought maybe it would all be better once he started earning money again, but when he was flying high with a great salary, expense account and vacations, they were nevertheless arguing nonstop.
It was the money, or more precisely, the lack of it, that precipitated their next spat, soon after he returned from the garbage bins. "The phone. What happened?"
"I thought you were going to pay it." Mal said, probably beating Eileen to the same sentence.
"No, you had made the arrangements. I didn't know it was due yesterday."
"Yep, and they just pulled the plug."
"Well, we've got to have a phone. God, I can't take this stress... I can't be responsible for everything."
"Nobody asked you to. And where the fuck were you anyway? I told you I had the interview. I had to drag fucking Tony with me."
"'Fucking Tony'. Uh huh. Nice."
The argument progressed and escalated quickly to their usual recording.
"It always gets around to being my fault, doesn't it?" Mal was into his favorite button pushing mode.
"I know you think you're the center of the universe, but I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about me."
"You always say you're talking about you, but it always gets around to your misery being my fault."
"I'm so sick and tired of this same damn discussion! I can't stand it!"
"Here we go again," Mal with all sarcasm he could muster. He knew now the argument was going into ballistic mode, and there was no coming back to a rational discussion. This was the core of all conflict between them, no matter how minuscule the point of origin. It's why there's so much concern about Muslims and Jews acquiring nuclear devices. They would be tossed almost as soon as manufactured.
"Oh, I can't stand to hear that whining voice!" Eileen had already reached her threshold.
"Jesus, you can't wait to get to this point... it's like you're just waiting for the excuse." It's almost a plea from Mal, not wanting to believe she has such contempt for him.
"You give me plenty," she says. Then, "Why do you stay here... you don't like me."
"You say these hateful things, then you twist it to somehow I'm the one who doesn't like you!"
They are going now, like a well oiled machine.
"Dammit, just shut up! Stop it! Stop it!" she is furious now. Livid. It's like all the resentments she holds for him are bubbling over like a volcano.
"What brought this all on?"
"You did! Ten years of you!" She was really boring in now.
He was getting furious himself, filling with contempt which was composed mostly of fear and hurt. The early part of their marriage was indeed marred by his jealousy of her ex-loves... but despite his maturing from such behavior, she never seemed to forget.
There were, of course, good times, loving times... but during these clashes, she was so glib at recalling ugly moments that seemed to condemn the entire 10 years of marriage as, for her, a hellish nightmare. He had let her down, misrepresented himself somehow. Disappointed.
Those attributions galled him, zapped him hard every time they were repeated.
The clash escalated to as bad an explosion as they had ever had - this less than an hour after his opening the garage door and feeling such gladness at the presence of her car.
Now she was so bitterly frustrated at his sarcastic words that she flung a book at him. He was furious - and, not a little afraid. "I hate this marriage! I don't want to see your face again!"
"Get out! Get out!" She screamed, and grabbed for something else to throw - his beloved iPhone. It glanced off his head, and smashed into bits against the wall. He fell into the tree as he dodged the missile.
He lunged at her, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Let go of me! I hate you!" He was enraged, his mind was blank. He smashed her against a wall, her head slamming hard. Mistletoe hanging above dropped on her head as the wall vibrated with the jolt. His hands were around her neck... he squeezed hard at the same time he kept slamming her head against the wall.
Soon he realized she was limp. She was unconscious. She was dead.
His scream was probably blood curdling. He held his wife's lifeless body in his arms, trying pathetically to retrieve her consciousness. The phone didn't work... the hand held lay in shards. He was frantic.
He hadn't heard Abby pounding on the door. She had been concerned about the disconnected phone. She imagined something horrible had happened, so she rushed over... in time to hear the awful scream. She called the police from a neighbor's house.
They found Mal on the floor, holding his wife, sobbing, utterly devastated. He had indeed had his "second chance" when he had walked in the door. But there was no third chance for him, for them.
"This isn't happening," he pleaded. "She was the love of my life!"
* * * * *
(c)1993, 2009 Robert P. Illes
Thursday, November 19, 2009
BOBBY WILL PUNCH UP YOUR SCRIPT
By popular demand, or is it reprimand, Bobby will again personally revise, edit, and otherwise "punch up" (professional tv and film writing term) your script, whether you are a professional, or a gifted amateur or somewhere in between. For a comedy, I'll add or suggest jokes, funny dialogue and/or sequences. But I also have done drama, and written scripts over the years that producers have called "a horror!". Rates are extremely reasonable, and the turnaround is quick, varying from screenplay to sitcom to sketches. I've been writing professionally in TV and films for a long time, so I can help you with sage insight. Write to me at bobbygoode@yahoo.com for "more details" and be to be eligible for the home game. And, guess what: Testimonials upon request! PS Funny is Money is heard nightly at 9 PM Pacific on www.shokusradio.com.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)