Tagged: poetry
Effort vs. Execution, A Joint Review of Equalizer 2 & Equalizer 3, by Antoine Fuqua
My wife mentioned that she wanted to watch the new Equalizer, but I couldn’t recall ever taking time for Equalizer 2. So we started with 2, and then moved to 3. “Decent and in order.”
Oh, and we have this new TV which does that thing where even Hollywood films appear like they are home videos. Know what I am talking about? Probably not. I have not found many who can see what I see, but having taken about 12 years off TV, I can tell that the image is far, far different than it used to be.
I bring up this image quality thing because it is part of the problem with Equalizer 2, but not 3. On these new TV’s, the CGI, if any corners were cut, looks terrible. Like it used to look before it got good and seamless, really, with the Avengers film. So 3 must have had a bigger budget—itself no surprise as they were probably caught off guard by how many went to see the sequel to a standard action film. Apparently, they were not monitoring Mr. Wick’s success. If they make a 4, I’d rush to see it because they will surely be in full stride (and direct competition) with John.
The story in 2 was also less than compelling. The start was great, but the moment we hear the “bad guy” stop pretending he is innocent, the movie, for all intents and purposes, ends. And this happened near the half-way point. And the CGI wasn’t even introduced until the end. So we went from worse to “worser”, to play off David Ayers’ Street Kings opening.
But again, we were only watching 2 to get to feel right about watching 3. And 3 delivered.
These two films (I can barely recall the first one) are incredibly violent. Shockingly so. So don’t think you should bend the rules with your kid and show them their first R-rated feature with one of these. You’ll regret it. But they do the right thing of making the bad guys really bad, and Denzel, well, he’s Denzel. And in 3 we got to see a CGI free Denzel film. Or one that had the budget to make it look like CGI wasn’t used.
You know what makes Denzel great? He’s almost a one trick pony. But the trick is the equivalent of harnessing the power of the Sun. He is so great because of how he, in almost every movie, can give a particular look which makes you sympathize whole-heartedly with his character. Of course his speaking and speeches are excellent. And who doesn’t want to move like he moves? And think like he thinks. But the silent look he gives is something that I want to never be able to produce. I don’t want that pain, that history, that store of feeling. I don’t want that library of unspoken, but not forgotten, words. But I do sympathize.
Final note: his other recent film, “The Little Things” is decent. Don’t skip it if you are at all intrigued.
Name Change Coming Soon
I’ve been thinking it’s time to more accurately entitle this blog of mine. So a name change (just superficial—website will stay the same) from Captain’s Log to something else is coming soon.
The point of this post is to say, “Don’t be alarmed. It is still me. I just feel like I need to admit that I’m hijacking the mood when I drop the lure of being an interesting pilot/Captain who can also write well and has a unique perspective, but, really, I am just a blogger who blogs fearlessly—which means writes well.”
More to follow.
Free Vacuums
Mindlessly, perhaps distractedly, I sat at a stop light, patiently waiting my turn on this December evening. My eyes fell upon a sign over to the right on a building that said, “Free Vacuums”.
Now at work, the vacuum we have is terrible. It is one of those canister kinds that lets you see the dust swirling as evidence that it is working—that is, until it isn’t working and the dust just sits and now the volume seems to loud and you wonder if it always was this loud or has it just gotten louder when it stopped working correctly? I hate the canister kind. I’ve always preferred Oreck and bagged vacuums, myself. Just keep it simple.
Back to the sign, I thought, “How could they possibly have enough vacuums for any and all comers?” I wish, for your sake, you could have seen what I imagined the inside of this store looked like. Just a smorgasbord of refurbished (that’s surely the only type that could be free) vacuums. The old chrome ones, and maybe an Oreck a day was set out for a lucky shopper.
It didn’t seem real, but then who does like vacuuming? And I have been trying to give away a washer and dryer and am resolved that it will simply cost money to have someone pick them up. Maybe the vacuum market is similar? And maybe there is a government program to help encourage clean houses? Who knows?
Let me be clear, I almost re-routed in the direction of the sign.
Then it hit me. I almost couldn’t look again for shame and embarrassment. And I have barely been able to stop laughing long enough to type this out—of which the only reason I type is because the two people I called to share a good laugh with didn’t answer.
It was a car wash! Ha. Free vacuums!
As if someone would just give away vacuums.
Hahahahahahahahaha.
American Divorce: The Way I See It
I believe in writing. I have been at this blog for a decade now. In the beginning, I liked encouragement. These days, I couldn’t care less when someone encourages me about my writing. It always has this air of “I wouldn’t have thought you were a good writer…” and that kinda bothers me. Why not? What about me sounds like bad writing? My job? My hobbies? The things I like to talk about? My clothes? Seriously, there is no signal that suggests that I wouldn’t be able to hold my own with a pen/keyboard.
Now-13.5 H- has shared that she reads these posts, and that the result of my “woman hater” (which would be “female hater” if I want to encourage the child to learn reading comprehension–I do–it’s “female hater” and I define “female” in contradistinction to “woman” in the post, H-) post from the other day is that she doesn’t want to see me or talk to me (at least for now). In any case, and this is the point of this opening, with encouragement, with discouragement, I maintain that writing is good. The rest of this post, then, the part that pertains to the title, is Exhibit A.
The last two posts have been on the topic of men and women and our relationships. In the background, many more thoughts and conversations have been taking place because of these posts and the events which inspired them. So again, I want to write, to catalog. I want to think on them.
The most important result of writing about my friend’s looming divorce (in which his wife of twenty years is going to steal his military retirement and hold hostage his two children in Europe, all with the blessing of Missouri and general American Culture), is my own wife and I have come to a shocking realization and subsequent clarity of our perspectives. We laid in bed the other night and bickered about whether I was claiming my friend was ‘perfect’ when I asserted that ‘he did nothing to make her steal from him’. In other words, we realized that even the two of us, husband and wife, see the eternal institutions of marriage and divorce TOTALLY different. (Makes ya wonder what any of us are even doing.)
(You with me thus far?)
I believe this woman–er, this female–, E-, is a terrible creature–less than human–worse than Hitler. I wrote as much a few days back. She is terrible, not for crimes committed, but for crimes she is going to commit until one of them dies. And I further maintain that my friend did not and does not have any influence on E-‘s decision to commit these twin crimes (to keep it simple, we’ll just call stealing his money and stealing his children the only two crimes–but there are more).
My wife hears me say this and responds, “Oh yeah! I’m sure he is perfect. All your friends are perfect!”
(The point of this post is to report to you, dear reader, not the entirety of the conversation, but the fruit.)
With this, I finally saw the stumbling block to my wife and I’s communication.
So I began again, in a new vein, “Do you remember that video of the blacks brawling at Disneyland several years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Remember how the dude just punches his girlfriend in the face? He just turns and punches her. It was horrific. I had never seen anything like that ever. That’s why I showed it to you. Do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember!”
“Okay. Did that woman have anything to do with him punching her? Was there anything she did that caused him to punch her? Were any of his needs not met by her and so he punched her? Is there anything she did that alleviates his punch of its evil?”
“That’s totally-“
“-‘No’. The correct answer is, ‘No. She had nothing to do with him punching her. A man punching a woman is wrong. It is always wrong. It is squarely wrong. It is never her fault. It is never something she caused. It is just wrong.’ And I am saying that, for precisely the same reasons, these women who divorce a man and then proceed to steal from him are likewise wrong. They are likewise committing evil. My friend has no more responsibility for E-‘s evil actions (continual actions keep in mind) than that woman did for her boyfriend’s punch (probably plural). And stop with ‘the Law’. The ‘Law’ has no bearing on my opinion, and, in fact, is the reason I am so adamant about this belief of mine. All these wives hide behind the ‘Law’ and comfort themselves with the thought that they are somehow not accountable for the evil they are committing since it is the ‘Law’. The ‘Law’, in this case, is immoral and needs to adapt to the times. Whatever the reasoning that went into ‘woman gets half the retirement’ was, it is now different. The ‘Law’ needs to change. You can’t take a husband and expect him to somehow ‘prevent’ divorce, when all the while, all that is required for a divorce is the wife saying, ‘I want a divorce.’ The way a wife would prove her innocence, would prove she had endured something terrible, is to not take the money. Just divorce him and move on with your life. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ What E- and all the wives are doing is morally wrong–evil.”
****
What do you think, dear reader? Think my wife bought my rant? Have I made a dent in your thinking with this analogy, ex-wife collecting retirement as same ‘obvious’ evil as man punching woman? Or do you need it in codified writing? Is it possible for my friend to have been an unqualified good husband and father and this still be the result of his behavior?
Or is the fairer sex just too pure to sow and reap evil? Too feeble to ever work for a living? Too unstable to ever reach old age without the financial backing of a man?
On NASCAR Drivers Getting Suspended for Social Meeja Activities
A NASCAR driver was suspended the other day for “liking” a post which changed the word “sea” to “knee” in the Little Mermaid song “Under the Sea” and overlayed these lyrics to the infamous picture of the one and only, and murdered, Mr. George Floyd.
Here’s the apology as recorded by the young man.
“I am disappointed in myself for my lack of attention and actions on social media,” Gragson posted Saturday. “I understand the severity of this situation. I love and appreciate everyone. I try to treat everyone equally no matter who they are. I messed up plain and simple.”
I enjoy a challenge. So I’m challenging myself to apologize/react better. Not just to coach him as he was clearly coached here, (despite the tone sounding kinda genuine), but to actually step into his shoes and tell the truth. (I say his reaction was clearly coached as it contains the self-flagellation bit: “disappointed in myself”, the particular sin: socially unacceptably unaware of “severity”, and irrefutable defense of general character: “I love everyone”, and restatement of remorse: “messed up”. In short, authentic talking doesn’t sound like that. Nor does that “apology” actually mean anything. So I want to see if I can walk in his shoes and react to his suspension in a way that both gets his job back and is bounded by the truth.)
Here goes.
****
“I am not going to change the way I live because of this suspension. You want me to explain? Here it is.
“If you took a moment to look at my life, you’d have to conclude I am living my dream. There are hard days, sure. But mostly, I just go by instinct and it has proven successful. To be clear, you all would be gravely mistaken if you took me for a thinker. Hell, I barely ever read. I just ‘do’. And this happens to make me good at racing cars.
“In any case, I don’t want to be a thinker. So I’m not going to change. Someone will pay me to race.
“Oh, and, if you think my having thoughtlessly ‘liked’ a post on Insta reveals some sort of character flaw, that it is evidence of some deep, dark, shameful belief system that is bad for me and is yet another black cloud for NASCAR on the topic of Dee-Eee-Ayye, then you should know that, again, I think you are the one in error.
“That’s the end of my thoughts on the suspension. All this thinking is starting to make my head hurt.”
****
Whaddya tink? Scale of 1-10, ten being tops, how’s my effort hit ya?
Where We Differ
This is where we differ.
Your main goal is to get money.
My main goal is to not need money.
It’s that simple.
Good luck.
My Review of Oppenheimer, by Christopher Nolan
I’ve always heard that the newspaper USA Today was written at a third grade reading level. A reading level is an interesting concept. Try this sentence from USA Today’s The Weather Book by Jack Williams, “A fusion reaction fuses atoms together, creating other kinds of atoms and giving off energy.”
No third grader on earth could understand whatever that means. A few savants may sound smart trying, but keep in mind that they would never actually be explaining that sentence to us.
I also remember that in the 1950s children encyclopedia, so-called The Book of Knowledge, the author of the chapter on “atoms” began by having a child imagine cutting up a candle into smaller parts. And then smaller parts. And then smaller parts. Even then, you could still reform the candle parts back into shape. But, the author went on, there are even smaller parts, which when the candle is cut down to these teeny sizes, it wouldn’t matter what happened, they could not reassemble to build a candle.
Can anyone explain that concept? I feel like I get it. But it’s basically saying that there is something besides the obvious ingredients comprising the obvious objects. And that fact is something I can repeat, but I do not understand it.
The problem, so far as I can tell, is essentially one of “barrier to entry”. Atoms and Fusion Reactions require knowledge of such things as very few of us will ever think it worthwhile to learn and master.
Therefore, allow me to state the obvious: if you leave the theater believing that you now know something about atom bombs, you’re fooling yourself.
Mr. Nolan doesn’t abstain from attempting a layman’s explanation, but he also doesn’t belabor the point. Perhaps he doesn’t get it either.
The reason I open the review with this lengthy aside is because I, as I suspect you, had nursed the idea that maybe Nolan could succeed where others failed when I first heard he was making this movie. But he didn’t really even try. And I was a fool for thinking he might. The film is called, “Oppenheimer,” not, “Atom Bomb.”
Moving to my next hope for the movie.
Does Mr. Nolan satisfy my curiosity about the man Oppenheimer, which is bracketed by the following two questions:
1. What exactly was his role in the “invention”?
2. How would some nerdy academic handle being responsible for such death then and forevermore?
Yes. And no.
The way he accomplishes this paradox is by sticking to purely emotional storytelling where paradox is not forbidden. While there are many moments which caused me to wonder, “Did that really happen?,” there were many more which unexpectedly evoked near tears and kept me deep in contemplation about implications of what Nolan seemed to be trying to say rather than poised to fact check every seeming “they must have a record of this” moment.
On the whole, everything about the movie works. The chosen vessel for storytelling works. The casting works. The psycho-sapio sex scene works. The conveyance of palpable stress works. And, most importantly, the a-bomb test works.
Great Comebacks, Too Late
I sometimes come up with amazing comebacks, too late to use. Oh well.
The first that comes to mind was once a scammer left a voicemail about legal action blah blah blah. Since I was divorced and always fearing some new bullshit from my ex, I called the number back. The dude proceeded to deliver the scam flawlessly but something just wasn’t right. Again, since I was divorced, I knew legal things didn’t happen quickly, or need to. So I finally just told him that I didn’t believe him. He seemed to have enjoyed being called out, just concluding, “Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, take your chances,” or some such thing.
Only later did I wish I said, “You sound black.” (He did. And I’m certain he was. But even if I’m wrong, it would’ve been hilarious.)
Tonight, another zinger came to mind only too late.
I have been sharing with folks at work (healthcare) that I am enjoying, if three years after the trend, cold showers. Well, this elicits all sorts of responses, mostly enjoyable to engage. One such response was, “I bet it opens your pores.”
My too little, too late response is, “‘Pores open?’ I was only aware of five senses.”
So funny. Or would’ve been.
The Reunion Will Be Beautiful
Back in college, over twenty years ago now, in a Political Science class, we read a book called The Origins of Major War. As usual in college courses, we had to write a paper afterward. My paper had a killer thesis.
You see, one of the defining traits of “major war” is that the countries which are labeled “hegemonic” (essentially a synonym of “major”) are involved. That, of course, is circular, but not weakening. America was/is hegemonic. So my thesis, still startlingly profound, was, “The United States will be in the next Major War.”
Can you feel it? Wow. Just amazing. So true, and so provocative.
What role will we play? Defender of all that is good? Do we begin it? Do we end it? Read on, we must, the reader surely concludes.
Well, I am back to more reading on this Sunday and have similarly struck another mega-epic-super-provocative-wow-factor-bursting-standard-breaking thesis. Ready?
The reunion will be beautiful.
Life right now is not beautiful. We do not like life.
There are too many indicators to list. It will suffice to say you don’t like me. And I don’t particularly like you. This is funny because you don’t know me and I don’t know you. But it’s true nonetheless. Life is a mess. Life is not beautiful. Anyone who says otherwise is just plain lying.
But, but! The reunion? Maybe not soon enough, but any reunion will be beautiful.
How do I know? And how can you, likewise, be certain?
Because union is a defining quality of beauty. No different than major wars are fought by major countries, the re-union will be be-autiful—otherwise, it ain’t either. No beauty, no union. No (re)union, no beauty. Feel me?
Hold on a little longer, folks. No need to languish in uncertainty over the question of the future, ie, “Am I really going to have to withdraw from our BS society to be happy?” Just do what you have to do for now.
The reunion will be beautiful.
PS – Thanks, Percy Bysshe Shelley.
With Great Books, It Happens Every Time
February 2, 2023 CE I began the fourth reading from the third volume of The Great Ideas Program, which, as longtime readers know, is intended to be used alongside the voluminous Great Books of the Western World sets. This fourth reading was the introductory salvo of Nichomachus of Gerasa’s Introduction to Arithmetic, written sometime around 100 AD.
Today, just now, after four long months and many fits and starts—not to mention giving serious consideration to giving up the reading of such dry and pointless prose in favor of books that align with my intellectual habits—I concluded the reading.
And I feel great. I feel like I have a new lease on life.
Before we address whether it is the coffee, which I confess I am running high on or not, I want to clarify that I actually have a new understanding of early math and this new understanding is actually useful to me. (As it would be to anyone.)
The understanding and its usefulness goes like this, “Life is huge.” Followed immediately by, “It cannot be exhausted, used up, depleted, drained, found out, solved, or emptied.”
But you, the driver, have to challenge yourself. You have to read books. And I say, “Start with good books. No, start with the Great Books of the Western World. You will not be disappointed.”
I have lived with the rule-of-thumb that I’m “not gonna read any book that’s newer than 100 years old until I have caught up” for nearly 20 years. I haven’t adhered to it perfectly, but it has served me well and I heartily recommend it.
Best wishes.