A Mixed Day

Dad's lymph polyps are getting bigger. One is restricting his throat and the armpit growth is leaving stretch marks. They made an appointment this morning to start radiation treatment which is less intrusive than surgical removal. The radiation will be administered gradually. They'll call later today to say if they finally have a diagnosis.

I memorized the final pages of Act One yesterday. Now onto Act Two.

Picture of the Day
Someone got a haircut. She says she won't bother to straighten her hair every morning. She gave me a giant cookie, which we devoured during Lost and then fell into a sugar coma.


In the News
I don't know what angers me more: this new outburst of violence or the automatic reaction by Those Who Make Money by Talking. Here's what they'll tell their loyal listeners:

1) If another student had a gun, this wouldn't have happened.

2) The victims have been made docile by lovey-dovey parenting and cultural input to fight back. Which is a veiled way of saying "if I were there, this wouldn't have happened."

I've heard these arguments for years, and I heard them the loudest after 9/11. But what I don't hear is this: This is domestic terrorism. A suicide gunman is no different than a suicide bomber. And this is used to seemingly be the actions of Angry White Men. But, the Louisiana Tech shootings last week were the result of a female shooter. And the Virginia Tech shooter was Asian.That means this isn't just a Angry White Guy problem anymore. This isn't class warfare and people pissed off by Affirmative Action or immigration or such nonsense. Did you hear about the gay student shot at his high school and left brain dead earlier this week? Killed because he was gay.

This is a cultural symptom, and no empty-smiled political platitude is going to solve this. Don't blame the drugs (legal and illegal), don't blame the music, the games, the movies, or the books.

We have to fight the guns. Now.

And Happy Valentine's Day to You

I couldn't memorize any lines yesterday. My brain wasn't having any of it. I looked at one page all day long, and it just wouldn't take. And it wasn't a difficult page: My character plays devil's advocate to point out possible flaws in the murder scheme. Fifteen lines of dialogue with 12 questions. The rehearsal was canceled as the crew builds our set, and Your Sis and I enjoyed an early valentine dinner. I did wake up this morning and work over the lines of the last two pages of Act One, and I should have them in my head by the end of the day. And then it's onto Act Two.

Your Sister's gift indeed arrived yesterday, and I picked it up at Malaprops during pet duty. It's a collection of Robert McCloskey stories (Make Way for Ducklings, something about blueberries, etc.). I didn't grow up with these stories, but she showed me some of them a few years back. She seemed happy with it. This is really a holdover gift until she finds the jewelry she wants to ask for.


Moving Picture of the Day
Indy is your whip-cracking valentine.

Day 5: Back to Act One

I managed to stuff 17 pages of script into my head before tonight's rehearsal, but of course it all vanishes once I actually need it. Because this is only our second rehearsal for this act, we need our scripts for the stage movement, and because the lines are right there, the memory decides it's not needed and takes a nap.

The director pulled me aside before we get going to apologize for the late ending on Sunday. I assured him everything worked out and thanked him for the gesture. All was cool. There's some concern between the wife and the murderer involving the minx coat; both have to wear it in the play and it takes a beating when the body is dragged offstage. The director isn't worried, though.

I do manage to occasionally close the script and recite lines, and I feel good about that. I can also tell the other actors are reading at home, and the sense of progress is heartening. I'm trying to physically distinguish my character with posture and gestures and expressions. Again, I look to Jack Lemmon -- dramatic Lemmon, not comic Lemmon. I mean the guy from Towering Inferno, Airport '77, Glengarry Glen Ross, Days of Wine and Roses, etc. That Lemmon is effusive and confounded and irate and boiling and whining, and all of that just pours out of his head and shoulders and elbows. He's almost vaudeville in his manner, but he makes a perfect noir victim.

That's who I think my guy is right now, but that may change: The director has altered a small stage direction that could radically shift my character. The first act sees the con man explain a "perfect murder" to a guy losing everything in a divorce. As the script reads originally, my guy has no idea the murderer is spelling out a real plot; he thinks it's all hypothetical. At the end of the act, my guy doesn't see the murderer steal a key that will let him back into the house to kill the wife. The revision, however, has my guy see the key's removal without reaction, meaning he knows what's going to happen. That affects the inflection of his dialogue for the previous act. He's a co-conspirator, not a stooge. That also colors his subsequent lines when he pleads innocent. I gotta play with this. I don't think we can be unclear about my guy; the audience has to know where he stands, even if he pretends he's unaccountable.

The scene between the wife and husband is the best in the entire play. It's a great argument between unequals, and I think we both chomp into it before we close up for the night. My guy is an utter shit: he offers to chuck his mistress only when he learns he'll lose the house and allowance. On the other side, it's a great act for the wife actress. She takes the stage midway, destroys the spineless husband, and dies twice. All within 20 pages. There's no second act for her. She can put her feet up and gobble all the backstage snacks. Who wouldn't want this kind of role?

The next time we do this act, we're to be offbook. I'll need to recreate the set at home and memorize my stage movements over the next week. And then I'll need to start memorizing Act Two. I have roughly the same amount of time to learn roughly the same amount of pages.

I ordered Your Sister's valentine gift from a local shop, and I hope it gets here by tomorrow. If not, I gotta get a back-up gift at the literal last second.

Picture of the Day
Kanye killed at Sunday's Grammys. I remember we talked about this song in Washington the morning after I saw the video for the first time. Is there a bigger solo star right now? Is he not rock and roll?

In the News
I got home in time to watch the Obama and McCain speeches, and McCain is in deep shit if he has to debate Barack. Obama was speaking to a civic center while McCain was in a hotel conference room, and it appeared as if he had two hundred supporters to Barack's thousands. There's still hope for Clinton (Edwards' delegates would tie her with Obama), but Huckabee can only wish for McCain to implode. The Washington, DC numbers are shocking: 114, 000 Democrats voted compared to the Republicans' 5,700. CNN has outdone themselves with their primary coverage. I watch it for hours.

Frustration

Dad called to say, again, that they still have no idea what he has. I'm starting to wonder if this isn't lymphoma. If local pathologists and a national convention of them can't ID your lymphoma, maybe you don't have lymphoma. It's possible, I suppose, that Dad's exposure to so many classic lymphoma influences has given him a super blood cancer with powers and abilities far above those of mortal lymphomas. They won't take another sample from him, much less deflate the giant armpit lump; they're afraid of jostling loose more of this mystery junk into his system.

Dad wouldn't be this far along in his diagnosis if he and Mom hadn't known some of the hospital staff. The first appointment was bumped up a few weeks. But now we're back to the normal "stress and wait" schedule. His health is the same. I guess this is what it means to live with cancer.

I'm up to page 16 in the script, and we finally go back to Act One tonight. I'll have to carry the script for the stage direction, but I hope this memorization at least helps me get more into character, as the director requested, on this, our whopping fifth rehearsal. Yes, I'm still fuming. A little voice in my head whispers "ego" and rolls it's imaginary eyes. A dozen other voices chirp in with "isn't this the theatre we were walking away from in November?" But it's a good role, and I was asked. So I will trudge on. Trudge trudge trudge.

We're still dying to know about last Saturday.

Picture of the Day
Coolest signboard job ever?

Days 3 and 4: Blocking Act Two

I got into a groove with memorization, and I now have the first 12 pages committed to memory. I think that's pretty good for five days' work. I can have Act One done by the end of this week.

I dodged a bullet of sorts in the casting. The girl who played the widow in the previous play is, as you might recall, a student of Your Sister. She emailed me to say, had time allowed, she would have auditioned for this play's mistress role. If she were cast, we would have smooched onstage. I'm 18 years older than her. That would rile up Mayberry. I think she's mature enough to handle Stage Kissing. The blue hairs watching? Not so much. Even her mom (whom I've met) might sit up a little straighter over that.

On Friday night, we sit around the table and write down the initial blocking for Act Two's first scene. The mistress is sick as is the director and his wife. We walk through the act afterward. We also bump up the age of the wife by ten years. There are also more changes to language and locations. Instead of Salisbury and London, we're talking Syracuse and New York. We leave about an hour early.

Sunday's rehearsal is much the same as we finish Act two with the murderer. He wonders how to play his character -- is he gay or is it all mind games? I think it's more kin to vampirism than sex, and there's no suggestion of anything physical happening between the two male characters. The play includes a line explaining the murderer as carrying hate for his step-dad and projecting it on my character, but it's fleeting compared to the cross-dressing and references to traveling as a married couple.

The director is concerned about our emotional flow throughout the play and singles me out as playing the role at too even a keel. I do not point out that this is only our fourth rehearsal, and we're walking with script binders and writing down blocking notes while we're crossing out anachronistic language. But I'm tempted. I'm leaning toward Jack Lemmon as a performer template, especially his work in Glengarry Glen Ross. I picture this play as a noir, and I'm playing the guy who makes his own torturous bed. The murderer here could very easily have been a femme fatale. It's noted that this will be the most risque show this theatre has tried, even when he dilute the hard language and play the murderer as straight.

The director also mentions that in order for the murderer to credibly knit onstage, the actor will need to learn simple stitches. We'll perform very close to our audience, and the majority female attendees will get distracted if he's not doing it right. I had to learn a piano chord for an earlier show for the same reason. The wife, mistress, and murderer have to wear identical wigs, and the mistress has to wear two at one time at the play's end. That actress works at a costume shop, though, and can get us wigs easily.

Despite the director's assurances, we run over our time, and it's 5:20 before I can pick up Your Sister to catch the live wrestling show in the next state. We were supposed to see Julius Caesar Friday night, but my rehearsals bumped me from the show, and she took the art teacher instead. For that, the acting note, and the long Sunday rehearsal, I'm grumpy as I run out the door.

Picture of the Day
We sat this close to the ring.

Day 2: Blocking Act One

I should mention we're back to the warehouse and the taped floors. But we do have a lot of furniture and props. The director also has very specific movements and cues, and tonight's three-hour block is used up by navigating through Act One's 25 pages. The blocking provides insights to the characters he wants from us. My guy is all reaction -- very passive, easily manipulated, defensive, pouty.

We spend the first segment of the rehearsal replacing the English idioms and softening the cursing. This isn't unusual for community theatre. Often, the audience is made up of the reserved, older types, and they spook easily. Out go the "bastards" and a few "hells." Technically, this is against the rules of the contract with the script provider, but it's almost universal. When we performed Barefoot in the Park about ten years back, we changed the core line of the play -- the one with the play's title -- because it has a "goddamned." If you drive away the blue hairs, you lose business. Also, like with Barefoot, I've also warned the wife of the impending stage kisses.

Speaking of the script, I have to admit how scared I became last night when looking at the schedule. We rehearse Act One twice in the next two weeks, and we're to be off book by that second night. That gives me two weeks to memorize Act One, but that's almost all away from the practice space and the other actors. This will be rote memorization (the hardest kind for dialogue), and the volume of it requires I learn about one scene every two days. This is professional-grade scheduling, and I am, in every sense, an amateur.

My script is already scribbled with stage directions, and I'm starting to underline which words I'll emphasize.

Lookee here. When you click on the below images, they open to proportional size. Here's what the last play looked like. I'm Flint:



This is the current play. I'm Brian:



I'm going to wake up earlier to give me more time to tackle the scenes. Act Two is a little bigger than the first act, and I'm making with the yak-yak in both acts. This could be the toughest play I've ever tried, and I'll need a long break when this is over.

Starting Up the Play

Your Sister was more disheartened than I to learn I was out of the contest. She was oddly quiet for a while. Me, I'm planning to make a minicomic out of the proposals; it could be listed as a business expense on next year's taxes.

+ + +

Six of us met for the read-through last night: the four actors, the director, and his wife. This was the first chance for me to read the script, and my first thought upon opening it is that this will be the toughest script I've had to memorize. It's dense, even at a seemingly short 68 pages. The dialogue is single spaced and packed tight. It's twice the text of the last script, and my part then was considered too long to memorize. I have 2 weeks to learn Act One's 25 pages, and that breaks down to about 2 pages a day. Starting right now. This is daunting. The two actors indeed carry the show.

The play itself is simple enough: con guy kills the wife of a schlub and then blackmails him in a psychosexual melodrama. One set, two acts, four people (con guy, husband, wife, mistress). I met the latter tonight, and everyone seems to have the same idea of the type of play. That helps, especially with this tight rehearsal schedule. We open in five weeks.

The director set down his rules in a friendly manner and explained he won't allow the kind of ugly backstage drama they had on the last few shows. He then gave short character notes to get our heads right and asked us to determine if we wanted to try the play with the original British accents. By the end of the read, I asked out of that. It's going to be tough enough learning this in an American dialect. If we had another three weeks, maybe. He seemed OK with that. Everybody did. And that's a relief. He's planned out this play for months if not years. He has the set design and blocking in mind already, and he gave us a full rehearsal script on the first day. He's ready to roll.

It's going to be a fun part to play. My guy's a washed-up sportsman mooching off the missus and trapped by the con guy because he's easily manipulated and weak. And then he cracks by the play's end. I didn't really have a character in the last play -- just a stack of questions to recite -- and I'm looking forward to this role. I'm already thinking of actors to emulate (William H. Macy, Paul Giamatti, etc.).

I started my usual theatre diet (soup and bread) last night because I had so little time between work and rehearsal. When this is over, I should be in good shape to start running again. If I have any brains left.

Picture of the Day
Quick! To the Bat-bat!



In the News(papers)
My old weekly newspaper has again gone under. It closed about three months after I moved in 2004 and came back about than a year later under a new name and owned by James, the writer with whom I butted heads. As of Friday, the print version is again no more, and a posting on their website says he's walking away and leaving the online presence in other hands. James cites "a level of support hard to obtain without excessive pandering in a free publication funded solely by advertising dollars." I don't know what he expected after working for the same free paper for years.

I think "pandering" refers to his perception of a stubborn audience he couldn't win over; the paper was distinct in the area for its progressive voice, and, unfortunately, that voice tended to get shrill. He might also complain about the weekly tabloid launched by the town daily, but that paper is a hollow ad vehicle lacking any substance. There were enough willing, small businesses in the area to support our weekly before the decision was made to slough them and target high-end clients already dedicated to the daily. The paper had a bad business model, and this is what happens to bad business models.

+ + +

I'm dying to know what Tuesday was like for you. Spill it.

Super Bowl Weekend

I auditioned for another play with the local group. This is a four-person murder drama with a different director, and he approached me a few months back to audition. Three people showed up Saturday for the first audition, and I was one of them. The others were there for the young con guy and the older man's wife. We read long scenes (instead of the usual two-page readings), and we were close to blocking and directing the scenes. If we three people are cast, that would leave a younger woman's role, and she would be the mistress of the character I read for. I hope that doesn't go to one of Your Sister's students. Tad awkward. I should find out today if I got the role.

We watched Omega Man, the second film adaptation of I Am Legend, and the last before the Will Smith movie.

The order goes like this:
I Am Legend story
The Last Man on Earth film
The Omega Man film
I Am Legend film

I can definitively say now that the Smith movie adapted Omega Man, and the filmmakers may never have even glanced at the cover of the original story. Given that, they did a nice job. Omega man is a vehicle for Charlton Heston, and I tried to prepare Your Sister for his fiery machismo. He did spend a third of the movie shirtless before discovering and conquering the supercool, leather-clad, black mama. Your Sis now also has the story in print. I haven't read it in ten years or so, but I remember it as a good precursor to Stephen King.

Dad looks OK. The growth under his arm is mostly internal, and it's mostly an inconvenience. The doctor's report says he has enlarged nodes throughout his torso, some possibly causing his heart to race but that could be from the caffeine. He's eating well and seemed in good spirits. We did have a long sit-down about domestic budgeting and insurance planning. He also wants to buy us stuff, and I'm trying to politely decline.

I didn't make the cut for the superheroine contest, and I won't know what the winning proposals look like for another month. They better be good. They better win me over.

Hey, any luck seeing Hillary today?

Picture of the Day
Is Indy looking for the Ark?

Good News

Dad's lymphoma is apparently only limited to his lymph system. No cancer in any organs. However, the pathologists disagree on what kind he has. One is attending a Texas convention this weekend and may take the biopsy with him. He won't know for a week perhaps. Until then, the Super Bowl party is so very on.

We lost power from an ice storm, and we might not get it back until midnight. Your Sis is with me in Asheville. Here's how accustomed Your Parents' cats are: The silver one meets me at the door now.

The season premiere of Lost was kick-ass.

Picture of the Day
Russian missile launch, I think.

Pins. Needles.

A lot happens today, and I'm helpless to move any of them along.

We'll know what Dad has tonight. They sit down with the doctors around 5, and then they'll call me. We already know that Dad has some good news about this; this isn't the worst-case scenario. But what Dad hears tonight will literally affect the rest of his life, and that's daunting.

Today is the deadline for the comic contest, and the ever-possible slam-dunk proposal that will knock mine out of contention might still be out there. I've seen some art by the guy assigned to draw the comic, and I'm not sure what I suggested would work with his cheesecake style. I could try to write to his strengths, but my proposals don't immediately shout "cheesecake."

The new season of Lost starts tonight. The "enhanced" rerun of the season finale last night was brutal. The pop-up information was meant to win over new viewers, but was so dense that it doubled the amount of information they had to process. I don't know how new people could process it. We couldn't watch the whole thing, and, for the second night, we watched American Idol.

Today will drag by like some horrible dragging thing.

Picture of the Day
A new pic from this year's Indy film.

Good News

The system didn't save my response to your comments earlier, and I wanted you to know I appreciate your regards. And the Star Wars link.

My Mom called me last night to say that the doctors called them with the results of My Dad's MRI and announced "there's nothing between his ears." It was great relief to My Mom, who needed some good news. We've already talked about a possible Super Bowl party at their house (doesn't hurt that they have HDTV), and both seemed up for it depending on the diagnosis on Thursday.

Your Sister has another cold and is relegated to the sick bed.

Stupidly, I'm already planning my next step for the comic contest, as if my progression is a lock. I should hear something by Monday.

Picture of the Day
Maybe so.


In the News
Giuliani's campaign may take on epic stature as an example of how to blow an early lead by going into cruise control. Once again, the Democrat candidate won more votes than the leading GOP candidate, but more Republicans voted overall. Edwards and Rudy are to formally quite the race today. I don't get the theory that Edwards's endorsement would cement the race for Hillary or Barack. He's not doing that well to wield such alleged power.

The McCain win is interesting for what it does to the mighty talk shows. The major voices -- Limbaugh, Hannity, Coulter, Savage, Drudge, Bennett -- have made their bones by riling up their fanbases against McCain. He's considered too moderate for their ideal of conservatism, and he's been the anti-Bush since the 2000 campaign. Now, however, he's the front-runner, and they find themselves on the fringe which ruins their notions of political and cultural savvy. They backed the wrong horses, and they have to eat crow.

Things Happen in Batches

Dad is still undergoing tests to determine just what variety he has, but the doctors said he has Stage 4. This means it's spread throughout the lymph system. There's no sign yet that it has hit any organs though. Already, they know his lungs are OK (I don't know how this is possible; he's smoked for 40+ years) . The tests he has today through Thursday (CT, MRI, PET) will verify there are no tumors in organs, but the blood work already suggests there are none.

Mom is taking it hard. I'm not sure she understands that Stage 4, while daunting, doesn't mean he has the worst diagnosis. If this is Hodgkins, he's still in good shape. If it's not, he's still potentially salvageable. There's no way to know until Thursday night, when the doctor sits down with them. They know that treatment wouldn't start until Monday at the earliest. He is cycling off antibiotics as they're making him nauseous, and he needs to eat. He's already pretty thin (132 pounds at 5'6"), but he can pack on pounds over the weekend. I'm hoping to throw him a Super Bowl party at his house (just us four) so he'll have a reason to eat all day.

The best thing now is that Dad is still up and about, eating, and spreading the news through his church's prayer lines. Mom says he's already decided to pursue all the medical options, which is a relief. We've argued over science vs. God before. Also, Mom has now put her foot in the pro-stem cell camp.

Other Stuff:
1) Your Sis went to the eye doctor after suffering a localized headache. The doc says she's OK despite the laser pointer. The moron who lives across the street is known as a harmless dumb-ass, and the school isn't postponing the fire drill. There's little likelihood this will develop beyond Sunday's stupidity.

2) I sent off my superheroine submissions yesterday and received the automatic email receipt. I slapped together 6 proposals and should find out before the end of the week if I'm one of the ten semifinalists.

3) The next local play auditions are this weekend. The director asked me back in December to read for it. I don't think I can commit to this now. I may audition just in case, but my heart isn't in it. Still, it might be a needed distraction.

Picture of the Day
This looks like a good idea right now.


In The News
The State of the Union address was weak, weak, and weak some more. The first third as a list of pie-in-the-sky bill proposals, the next third was a defense of the Iraq policy, and the last was a broad appeal to come together and play nice. I was nodding off, and I usually love these things.

+ + +

The Florida primary is today. Finally. This is make or break for Giuliani, and he's banking on the already submitted absentee ballots to give him the win. He's polling in third place.

An Odd Weekend

On Friday night, we visited Kathy and Travis and another couple for what Kathy is calling Cuisine and Conversation. This will be the first of four monthly meetings where we gobble grub and sit around answering questions from a book of them. It centers on spirituality, and it's not as stuffy as I worried it would be. It went fine. The next nights will probably move from house to house.

When I got home I found a message from My Parents. Dad officially has lymphoma. A Friday test and a Monday exam should tell us which kind it is. I looked it up on WEBMD, and read all the varieties of Hodgkin's and non-Hodgkin's and survivability rates and treatments. I think we'll know by the end of today which kind it is and what medicine they'll consider. Dad, except for the lymph swelling, says he's OK. He's still going to work, still getting groceries. He unfortunately is a prime candidate for lymphoma: He's an older male who worked around chemicals all his life. He may also have used black hair dye (a strong precursor). We'll know more later in the week, and we'll visit him this weekend, maybe watch the Super Bowl with them.

We watched I Am Legend Saturday night. It's a strong movie that has almost nothing to do with the original novel, and Your Sister is a bit obsessed with both now. We talked about the film throughout the weekend and then hit Blockbuster to rent the first two film adaptations of the story: The Last Man on Earth and Omega Man. It appears that the Will Smith movie is based more on those two films than the original novel. We watched Last Man Sunday night, and it's a surprisingly good, cheapie horror film starring my beloved Vincent Price.

But what happened earlier that night was really strange. I picked up Your Sister from the school around 6:45 so we could drive for pizza and the movies. She was standing outside talking on the cell phone, and as she hopped in the car, she said someone from the house across the street was aiming a laser sight at her. She was warning the remaining teacher in the building. I stopped the car out of sight and called 911. We told the officer what was going on, and as we waited for him to arrive, Your Sister noticed people were leaving the home.

We drove back around through the parking lot, told the last teacher what we were doing, and drove in front of the house. Your Sis wanted their license plate numbers, so I turned around in the road. They saw us and hastily hopped in a truck to leave. We parked in the road to get the number of another car in the driveway and to keep them from leaving. The truck pulled into the school parking lot and drove around to the back of it, obviously to hide. The cop car pulled up next to us, we told him about the truck, and he gave chase. With the other car's number, we drove after the cop, saw him pull over the truck, and we parked in the lot to wait for him. He drove up a few minutes later and said he was going to talk to the folks at the house (who had not left yet). He said we didn't need to do anything else, and we left for dinner. Your Sis called the principal and suggested he follow up on it.

Later in the night, she remembered the school has a fire drill tomorrow, and she wants to request it be canceled. We don't know if that sight was attached to anything, and it may have just been dumb rednecks playing with toys. But we're in mountain country with a high percentage of gun ownership and a disproportionate number of dumb yokels. Why not play it safe for a few days? Along with pizza, she downed a few beers to calm down. I can't blame her. I suggested she wear a different jacket and hat and drive to school just to be safe. She was standing in the dark, and there's no way they could have seen which teacher was out there. But now they might be stupidly offended that we called the cops on them. Oh, and we drive past their house every day.

Picture of the Day
The spacesuit of Apollo 13 commander Jim Lovell.

Back to Comics

I narrowed down the causes of my recent back agony to my new office chair. When I grabbed the former corner office of our most recent departure, I kept her chair and desk set. The chair, I realized, is a four-wheeled torture device, and I traded it out for my old chair, and now my back is in bliss. No more pain.

I've narrowed down my comic proposals to five, keeping the weaker option among them just in case. The trick with that one was coming up with a catchy heroine name after I crafted my snazzy premise. And I'm not sure I've done that; I've settled on a moniker for now, but I don't think it will catch fire for the judges. I've reduced them to smaller paragraphs, and after running them past Your Sister, I'll email them Monday. The problem is that these ideas are practically fully formed (with designs and names), but the proposals need to be small. I'm cutting out the meat to make the platter prettier.

Picture of the Day
Bionic contacts lenses that might replace certain surgeries.


In The News
Kucinich is giving up today on his presidential campaign. His fans are loyal to a fault, but what skunks his chances isn't his ideas but his stature. He simply can't rile up support from casual audiences, and if it wasn't for his Irish wife, he would have received zero mainstream coverage.

The S.C. Democrat primary is tomorrow, and everyone's tired of hearing Obama vs. the Two Clintons. And, barring a second-place win, Edwards is perceived as a lame runner trying to finish a marathon. He can't even get enough bad press to help his cause.

The NY Times endorsed McCain and Hillary, but this comment about Giuliani was the most eye-catching:

"The real Mr. Giuliani, whom many New Yorkers came to know and mistrust, is a narrow, obsessively secretive, vindictive man who saw no need to limit police power. Racial polarization was as much a legacy of his tenure as the rebirth of Times Square. Mr. Giuliani's arrogance and bad judgment are breathtaking. . . . The Rudolph Giuliani of 2008 first shamelessly turned the horror of 9/11 into a lucrative business, with a secret client list, then exploited his city's and the country's nightmare to promote his presidential campaign."

The stimulus package might not get the Senate rubber stamp that would send it unscathed to the president's desk. If the Senate decides to tinker with rebate amounts, the bill would have to go back to the House and then might not pass Bush's standards. I like the idea of getting $600 from the government, but one wonders:

1) How much this adds to the deficit?
2) How much better the economy would hum along if we all paid less in taxes to begin with?
3) Isn't this a form of welfare?
3) Why are we having to ask these questions during a Republican administration?

Bonus
Making the rounds today is the comprehensive list of reasons why David Banner became the Hulk on the TV series. Trivia: The name was changed from the comics' "Bruce Banner" because the first name was considered gay. It's also my middle name.

Avoiding the Draft

One of Your Sister's coworkers has restarted her effort to recruit me as a teacher. The last two times she's called, she's given me the hard sell. But she also mentioned an option I'm not so averse to: Reading storybooks at the elementary school. Her husband teaches there, and he likes to bring in guests for storytime. Not only would it give provide a small theatrical outlet, but it would get me out of work.

Picture of the Day
Last year, the U.S. Army paid for subtle advertisements in Marvel comic books. Instead of buying regular full-page ads, they paid instead for army logos and placards to appear inside of comic panels. This year, ABC is doing the same to sell Lost. Below, you'll see a pic of Kate and a drawing of someone who appears to be modeled after Hurley.


Recent comic artists are also drawing celebrities as characters in comics, and Sawyer is obviously starring in a current Marvel comic, probably without the actor's knowledge or permission. You can see more examples from just one title here.

Also, keep in mind that Lost runs on Thursdays starting next week.

In the News

My dad's having a health scare involving his lymph nodes. The doctors think it might be MRSA as his bloodwork doesn't suggest any tumors. His tests were supposed to come back yesterday but didn't. Hopefully, he'll find out something on Friday. He's taking medicine that doesn't affect his diet or sleep. His side of the family has multiple cancer problems, and Mom's worried about this flaring up in him. He's lost a lot of siblings (but then, he had 12), and unlike the majority of them, Dad stayed thin. Then again, Mom and Dad smoke like chimneys.

Two Three biggish news items hit yesterday.

1. THE OSCAR NOMINATIONS

Performance by an actor in a leading role
George Clooney in “Michael Clayton”

Daniel Day-Lewis in “There Will Be Blood”

Johnny Depp in “Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber of Fleet Street”

Tommy Lee Jones in “In the Valley of Elah”

Viggo Mortensen in “Eastern Promises”

Performance by an actor in a supporting role
Casey Affleck in “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford”

Javier Bardem in “No Country for Old Men”

Philip Seymour Hoffman in “Charlie Wilson’s War”

Hal Holbrook in “Into the Wild”

Tom Wilkinson in “Michael Clayton”

Performance by an actress in a leading role
Cate Blanchett in “Elizabeth: The Golden Age”

Julie Christie in “Away from Her”

Marion Cotillard in “La Vie en Rose”

Laura Linney in “The Savages”

Ellen Page in “Juno” (Fox Searchlight)

Performance by an actress in a supporting role
Cate Blanchett in “I’m Not There”

Ruby Dee in “American Gangster”

Saoirse Ronan in “Atonement”

Amy Ryan in “Gone Baby Gone”

Tilda Swinton in “Michael Clayton”

Best animated feature film of the year
“Persepolis”

“Ratatouille”

“Surf's Up”

Best documentary feature
“No End in Sight”

“Operation Homecoming: Writing the Wartime Experience”

“Sicko”

“Taxi to the Dark Side”

“War/Dance”

Best foreign language film of the year
“Beaufort” Israel

“The Counterfeiters” Austria

“Katyń” Poland

“Mongol” Kazakhstan

“12” Russia

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original song)
“Falling Slowly” from “Once”

“Happy Working Song” from “Enchanted”

“Raise It Up” from “August Rush”

“So Close” from “Enchanted”

“That’s How You Know” from “Enchanted”

Best motion picture of the year
“Atonement”

“Juno”

“Michael Clayton”

“No Country for Old Men”

“There Will Be Blood”

Achievement in visual effects
“The Golden Compass”

“Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End”

“Transformers”

Adapted screenplay
“Atonement”

“Away from Her”

“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”

“No Country for Old Men”

“There Will Be Blood”

Original screenplay
“Juno”

“Lars and the Real Girl”

“Michael Clayton”

“Ratatouille”

“The Savages”

I haven't seen a lot of this, although I adored Ratatouille. No Country For Old Men is playing in town, but I don't think I'll get to see it before it's ultimately replaced by Alvin and the Chipmunks. I'm glad to see Blanchett nominated, and I think this is the second straight year she's been nominated in the lead and supporting categories.

2. FRED THOMPSON QUIT.
Shocking only for the fanfare that precluded his campaign. He was the GOP savior, the star coming off the bench to win one for the team, the new Reagan, the rare celebrity Republican who could turn his fame into political success. But he entered so late into the race that he never got his sea legs, and his alleged fame didn't play with the young crowd. Also, his heart wasn't in it. I mean, look at the guy. What in his bearing suggests he's gonna wear a dumb smile and wave to the crowds? He's a cranky old man. That kind of figure can't win an election. This is why Cheney didn't run for the top spot. I enjoy the debate about who he will support now as if he has any clout he can bestow onto another candidate. Thompson ran because the other guys supposedly couldn't win; why would he back one of them?

3. HEATH LEDGER DIED
I only saw the guy in Brokeback Mountain, but I marveled at his created voice and mannerisms. He deserved an Oscar. Of course, we geeks are shaken because he's the new Joker in this summer's Batman film.

Picture of the Day
For just £100,000, you too can reserve your seat aboard Virgin's space plane.




From ThisIsLondon.co.uk:

The Virgin Galactic spacecraft, which was being unveiled in New York today, is already under construction. Test flights are expected to begin in June, with commercial flights starting 12 months later.

More than 200 potential astronauts are believed to have already paid deposits for the 100,000 flights, including actress Victoria Principal, scientist Stephen Hawking, and Princess Beatrice.

Flights will last for two hours and will include four and a half minutes of weightlessness.

The 60-ft ship is expected to reach an altitude of 110km - 68 miles - and will be launched from underneath a mother ship called White Knight.

Once the mother ship reaches 50,000 feet, which was the cruising altitude of Concorde, the spaceship is released and its rocket is fired, accelerating the craft up to 2,500mph, and taking it to 110km, officially making its passengers astronauts.

There's no way I'm going up on the first flight.

We Saw Shows

I spent some hours pounding out and refining proposals for the super-heroine contest. I now have five really good stories, and I'll spend the next week refining them further. I don't think I'll get a full ten complete, but I'd rather not dilute my submissions for the sake of numbers. Your Sister is pushing me to apply for the creative director job, but I don't have the necessary experience. They want seven years of book publishing, a very different creature from magazines and newspapers.

A daylong snow shower didn't postpone the Saturday production of Top Secret, a reading theatre play about the Washington Post fighting the Nixon Administration to publish the Pentagon Papers on Vietnam. This is the show featuring Your Sister's crush guy, but it also gave us a pack of Those Guys, supporting actors you see constantly without knowing their names. It was a good show, and it flew by within ten hours. Your Sis sneaked over to Mast general to buy me a sack of Krackle. We spent Sunday watching quality football.

I had Monday off, and I managed to see Cloverfield, the NY monster movie shot like Blair Witch. It's good. It's not much more than an experiment of style, but it succeeds in being both harrowing and cool. Maybe a bit better than The Mist. Including those two films and 28 Weeks Later, I've had good luck with horror movies lately. Once again, I shared a theatre with an idiot who brought along a child too young for this kind of film, and naturally the kid freaked. I don't blame him one bit, but that father should be strung up.

Picture of the Day
A new picture of Mercury



In the News
The Democrat campaign ads are breeding like rabbits as the local weekend primary approaches. Edwards has no chance. None. The Huckabee campaign has ended the press transportation to cover its events, and the Florida events have been scaled back. Giuliani, who is banking on his first win there, is still an underdog to Romney. Thompson may pull out of the running as early as today.

Snow Day

We got hammered by snow Thursday, shocking everyone because the weathermen got it completely right. They said the snow would start about 7 pm Wednesday night, and by 8:30, our deck was completely white. We both had Thursday off, and we moseyed about town. There was one restaurant open -- one -- and we had Hawaiian pizza, the traditional winter feast of tis modest hamlet.

I called work this morning and discovered Asheville got virtually nothing compared to us, and yes the office was open. I shoveled the driveway in record time (wrenching it into utter agony, I must admit; I'm getting old) and drove in. We're expecting more snow tonight, threatening tomorrow's play starring Your Sister's high-school celebrity crush.

I had two opportunities drop in my lap.

1. A writing contest for a new creator-owned super heroine. A large publisher wants to start a new series with a brand-new character, and they're taking brief descriptions from applicants. Then voters will determine whose proposal becomes a comic. It's comics version of American Idol. I have plenty of these characters ready to package this way, and I'm giving myself a ten-proposal quote to fill.

2. A local book publisher needs a creative director, and the job sounds right up my alley. Unfortunately, it's also in Asheville, so unless it pays much more than the current job, it does me no good to apply. The commute would still be a problem.

I'll keep you informed.

Moving Picture of the Day
Your Sister says hi.

In the News
The GOP primary in South Carolina is tomorrow, and Huckabee is courting the locals by equating homosexuality with bestiality and supporting the state's right to fly the Confederate flag.

Watching American Idol

As Your Sister's semester winds down, a few students and teachers are letting the pressure get to them. One kid still owes her the final pages of his research papers after pretending he didn't know how to send an email attachment. Another has her mom ask Your Sis what could be done to help her grades, but she asked on the last day of classes. A teacher decided she wasn't going to help in pre-exam remediation despite the standing order from Your Sis.

American Idol started its seventh season last night, and I asked her if she wanted to try it. Maybe give her some conversational ammo for the students. The auditions are my favorite part. I appreciate the quick movement from applicant to applicant, and I enjoy the assurance that there are people who sing worse than I. In contrast, the second half of the show is a parade of whining and griping, both from the contestants and judges. The first part of the season is a game show; the second is a reality show.

We saw the usual stream of variety. Some incredibly, unfairly talented people were also gorgeous. These people are the next evolutionary advances ,and we poor Morlocks can only scheme to steal their fire. Some people were clearly seeking TV time: One guy dressed in the Slave Leia outfit and was allowed to come back after he promised to wax his chest hair. He did. Sang about three notes before getting yanked.

But the ending was a singular oddity. There were two girls left: a brunette and a blonde. The brunette went first. She dressed up in her costume from the Los Angeles Star Wars Convention -- Star Wars belt buckle, clip-on hair rolls, tight black dress, silver platform shoes. In her pre-singing interviews, she bragged she wasn't wearing make-up, made a Star Trek insult, and impersonated Chewbacca. She galloped into the audition and made nervous conversation (I can't imagine how anxious that scenario must be for the borderline talented). Then she sang. And she wasn't bad. A little soft, maybe (again, nerves), but she had a nice, even sound. The problem was that she was jittery and socially awkward. She was a nerd.

And when she lost, she went off to the cameras. Complained that the show only wanted cookie-cutter looks and voices and needed an "oddball" like her. But while she was ranting, the show aired a montage of the previous two hours' winners, and she had a point. I couldn't tell if the show was trying to prove her wrong with the majority of petite women and their blinding white smiles or if we were supposed to nod in silent agreement, that yes, it's unfair that society wants pretty things to stare at for six months at a time.

Ultimately, her adamant goofiness was her poison pill. She set those judges up to see her as an insincere applicant, and she dared them to give her a pass. Anyone who's seen the show -- anyone who knows of the show -- is aware that applicants are prepared to be pop stars. And even pseudo-punk pop girls wear makeup. Presentation is crucial to your audition. Her outfit was a protest to the show's bread-and-butter. She was borderline, and if she had slipped off her high horse and met them halfway, she might be in Hollywood right now instead of becoming another failed contestant bitching on camera into her cell phone.

She wasn't as offensively stupid as the veterinarian student rocker who went apeshit against Simon despite what might have be the most pleasant rejection from all three judges. Clearly, when she got on camera to curse him out, she had a prepared speech. Unfortunately, she scrambled it and came across as a loon.

Oh, and the thin blonde after the Star wars girl was approved after offering a weaker audition. She won on personality.

I don't know if we'll watch again. It's entirely Your Sister's call. I'd be curious to watch more.

Picture of the Day
The latest picture from this year's Indiana Jones film.


In The News
Even though Romney took Michigan, the GOP is only accepting half the delegates as punishment for the early primary. He may have taken the state, but he doesn't get the full benefits.

South Carolina comes an even bigger primary now that Romney, Huckabee, and McCain have all won at least one state. All three, Thompson, and Paul are running ads here. Giuliani is a non-entity, betting on Florida for his first primary win. Obama and Edwards have TV ads, but I don't remember any for Clinton. To be fair, we don't watch much of the local affiliates. American Idol and Terminator are both on FOX, and only football and Lost make us watch ABC.

The GOP primary in SC is Saturday, and the Democrats' is a week later.

A Short Meeting

The education board held its regular meeting at the local library to recognize the new nationally certified teachers. We knew two of the three. Your Sis also got to stand up as one of the county's 40+ certified educators. There were snacks.

Before we slunk away, one of the board members noted that they would visit school campuses to personally see the items needing repair. He made a point to address all the principals (absent and present) to say he only wanted to see those items and not be subjected to a "dog-and-pony show." I can appreciate a non-nonsense approach. I'm sure these folks have to glad-hand their way through weekly needless and time-consuming formality.

(In fact they instigated some last night. The meeting began with the Pledge of Allegiance. The only flag was the outdoor lighted banner, and no one could see it from our room. We all rose, covered our heart, turned to the nearest door, and pledged allegiance to the buffet bar.) Anyway, this particular board member's delivery suggested a cowboy attitude I'm sure he cribbed from his favorite radio talk-show host. Maybe he was hoping to impress a newspaper reporter.

We watched the second episode of the Terminator series, and Your Sis loves it much more than the weak Bionic Woman reboot they tried in the fall. Penny from Lost (Desmond's girl) is now a supporting character on the series, and I don't know what this will mean for her Lost character.

Picture of the Day
Is this thing on?