15 December 2013
19 January 2010
The movie is a visual spectacle, although the story is effectively a warmed-over version of Dances with Wolves. The tall blue people live in community with nature, and the evil space-Americans want to come and take their land and natural wealth.
Let's deconstruct the deconstruction for a moment, mmkay?
First, what sort of message does this movie (and the dozens of others from the same template) give us? That outsiders should not come uninvited into a strange land and partake of the local wealth? Sounds reasonable, until we consider that illegal immigrants from Mexico are coming into the US uninvited to partake of the local wealth. Oops, didn't think of that!
Second, what sort of culture do these blue people have? Is it really something that any modern American of any stripe would want to live under? Granted, I have only slight clues from which to judge, but here are some key aspects of their culture:
- Arranged marriages.
- Hereditary leadership.
- Strict religious observance.
- Lifelong pair bonding beween male & female (evidently premarital, extramarital, and homosexual relations would be impermissable).
- Primitive technology. No phone, no light, no motorcar, not a single luxury. No TV, no blockbuster 3D movies, no snarky blogs.
- Entrenched warrior class. These people can't be all that sweet & peaceful if they have a warrior class. These blue guys aren't Smurfs, they're more like the Irish, who fight among themselves until the English come along.
- Extraordinarily conservative society. If they've lived the same way for centuries, then that's pretty much the textbook definition of fundamentalism.
Anyway, Andrew didn't much care for Avatar, and in a way I'm glad. He's more focused on current reality, than on imagined futures that can't happen.
16 December 2009
I went online about two weeks ago to order AAA maps. They came in the mail, but we determined this week that we neglected to order one map we needed. Betsy visits our local AAA office in person to get that map. First, the main receptionist speaks to her in the hushed sotto voce tones of a librarian. Are people studying here at the AAA office? Betsy tells her what she wants in her normal voice, and the receptionist logs it into their computer system, which tracks and assigns work to the various sections of the office: maps, travel agent, membership, insurance, etc. Betsy then proceeds to the map desk, where a pleasant young woman sits, waiting for her computer to register the assigned task from the receptionist. Evidently my wife moves faster than electrons, because she arrived at the map desk well in advance of her map order. Betsy paced uncomfortably, unsure of the protocol. Should she just verbally announce the one map that she wants, as people did in the previous millenium? If she did, is the woman allowed to act without authorization from the computer?
Did I mention that Betsy is the only customer in the entire establishment?
Finally, the computer pops up with instructions, and the clerk leaps to life. Betsy has her map of Georgia, and makes her escape.
Why couldn't the receptionist have just hollered, "Hey Sylvia, we need a Georgia map," rather than waiting for the computer to tell her what to do? Would that violate the whisper-only policy at the AAA? Did they put this system in place to protect AAA member confidentiality? After all, what if someone comes in looking for AAA discounts on bordellos or dog fights or something?
13 December 2009
Max has behaved much like a middle-aged TV star, threatened by a younger, more youthful starlet. He's forced himself into acting more cute and playful around us, while exhibiting a thinly-veiled hostility towards Oreo. Oreo, for his part, has tried to remain non-threatening towards Max, and acknowledge him as alpha-cat. I've sought to reduce tensions by providing two litter boxes, two food bowls, and showering each of them with reassuring attention and affection. They now co-exist for hours without incident, much like People's Republic of China and the USSR in the 1960s. Perhaps I'm the Henry Kissinger of cats.
Speaking of ol' Hank, my wife Betsy insists that his accent is fake. She thinks that he affected it in his youth, playing on the American presumption that anyone with a German accent (and lacking a toothbrush mustache) must be smart (cf: Albert Einstein). She's heard him speak German, and he's terrible. Also, she tells me that his older brother speaks English largely indisinguishable from native-born Americans. Since it's harder for older children to pick up a new language, how could the younger brother have a thick accent while the older lacks it? Didn't they both escape from the Nazis and move to the US at the same time?
My wife ... queen of the pointless conspiracy theories.
07 December 2009
I don't consider myself a food snob, but -- sheesh -- I do have some standards.
01 December 2009
Alfonso Ribeiro. Our current cat, Max, remains unimpressed by his cuteness and polydactyly. We thought we had a family to adopt him, but alas, generations of bland Anglo-Saxon interbreeding have left their two children with manifest allergies. Now we have the unwelcome responsibility to take him to the Cat Gulag, otherwise known as the animal shelter.
30 November 2009
Since Betsy and I have been together for so many years, I know her so well that I can now anticipate in advance what she's likely to think or do or say. This is quite a timesaver. Sometimes, I'll sit with her, and think about saying something. Then I think what she'd say back to me, and how I'd respond, and how she'd respond to my response. Then I start laughing, because in my head she really zinged me. Not only is she funny in reality, she's also funny in theory. Meanwhile, back in the real world, all she sees is me laughing for no apparent reason, which makes her agree with Billy Corns.
I liken these internal conversations to the famous Schroedinger's Cat thought experiment. Until I actually posit a statement to her, Betsy's possible responses are part of a quantum system which remains a linear combination of states, each of which resembles different classical states. Only until I speak out loud and she responds will the superposition of her response collapse into a definite state, measurable by classical methodologies (such as hearing).
In this way, Betsy combines the best of a real wife with the best of an imaginary wife. She's the full package!
07 November 2009
Of all the stupid things he can do to his hair, this is pretty mild. I can live with it. One of our friends' boy used to have girl hair -- not merely long hair, but girl hair. He has since cut it to a normal length, but left a four-inch rat tail. Evidently he styles himself after Anakin Skywalker. I guess that means he wants to grow up to be a bad Canadian actor.
03 November 2009
01 November 2009
Tell me again why we play this semi-annual game with the time. "It gives us more time in the morning." No, it doesn't. We have the same amount of time that we always had, we've just adjusted when we arise to utilize the daylight. We confuse our pets, who tell time with their circadian rhythms, by suddenly adjusting when we feed or walk them in the morning. It takes our cats and dogs a few days to adjust. They just chalk it up to one more inexplicable human behavior. The cats and dogs have this one right, I must say.
My wife is a sworn enemy of the wind chill factor, but she loves daylight savings time. She's a big fan of clock games in general. She has deliberately set our bedroom clock eleven minutes fast. Why? So I have more time in the morning. Duh! You don't have any more time than you already did, you're just calling that time something different. But I need more time to get ready, so by setting the clock eleven minutes fast, it gives me a buffer. If you need more time in the morning to get ready, why not just set the alarm to ring eleven minutes sooner? You don't understand! No, I understand all too well.
24 October 2009
No, the picture isn't distorted, the fellow in the middle is indeed a moose. Notice that he earned an award that day for having the highest physical fitness performance of the entire OCS class (or could you tell?). I'm sure his distant ancestors wreaked havoc on invading Romans. I trust he won't follow all his ancestral warrior traditions.
12 October 2009
No trip to Boston would be complete without a visit to Faneuil Hall Marketplace. The food complements the street performers nicely.
Who would have thought that Larry Bird's feet weren't much bigger than mine?
Charlotte has no idea who Red Auerbach was. The Celtics sure could use him again.
Charlotte much preferred this "statue," who was really a street performer with remarkably durable skin.
11 October 2009
Great-Grammie Ritchie took center stage. Her eyesight isn't great, but her mind is just as sharp and opinionated as it ever was.
10 October 2009
While in Boston, I visited my friend Brian, and his wife Debbie and son Brendan. They live only a few miles from my father.
Poor Charlotte found herself the oldest child, with all the implied responsibilities. Debbie's friend was also visiting, with her two young boys. Thus Charlotte had to deal with three boys ranging in ages from four to eight. She stepped right up and tried to manage them, to allow the adults to gab. I'm so proud of her maturity and responsibility. In this photo, look how smart she is -- she knows that smothering leaves less evidence than any other method.
We visited the Topsfield Fair, America's oldest agricultural fair. Charlotte, the future veterinarian, delighted in all the animals. She and Grammie took a ride on an elephant. I, for one, never knew that elephants were native to Massachusetts. We all learned something that day.
09 October 2009
06 October 2009
05 October 2009
Another double-A baseball team has decided to abandon Conneticut for the greener pastures of the Old Dominion. There's currently a contest to name this new team. All of the current possibilities are absolutely dreadful. Rhinos? Oh, I see the connection ... those huge herds of armored beasts roaming central Virginia. Hambones? Generations of junior high school boys yet unborn will delight in mocking them. Flying squirrels? Feh.
Now here's something we hope you'll really like.
02 October 2009
This facility is much bigger than the portion of the Manassas armory that they currently share with two other units. The main concerns revolve around the fact that until recently it was the forensic laboratory for the VSP. That means that it has a large area for cutting up corpses. Ick. In addition to an environmental investigation for mold and blood-borne pathogens in the ducts and plumbing, we also need to consider bidding a contract for ghost mitigation.
29 September 2009
28 September 2009
Today I find my future veterinarian Charlotte studying armadillos. That brought forth a number of armadillo-themed jokes and stories from me. While stationed at Ft Sill, OK, for artillery school, a few of us took a long weekend to visit Dallas. I found it odd that as soon as we crossed the Texas border, we started finding dead armadillos by the side of the road. How do they know to die on the Texas side of the border? The armadillo's defense against danger is to roll into a ball, which makes sense when confronted by a small predator. It doesn't work as well against a Ford F-150 traveling at 75 mph.
This is the Texas version of the famous "why did the chicken cross the road joke" (the original version of which Aaron told Moses to cheer him up during a battle with the Amalekites).
Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: To show the armadillo it could be done.