Leathery Goodness

George Clooney steps behind the camera for the fourth time in Leatherheads, a screwball comedy in which Clooney also stars. The plot revolves around the early days of professional and college football, loosely based on actual events. After working with the Coen Brothers on at least three of their films, its easy to see where Clooney picked up some of his directing skill. Leatherheads is almost as good as Burn After Reading in terms of laughs, sharp dialogue and a tangled plot.

Set in the mid-1920's, when college football was incredibly popular and professional football was still "underground" (and muddy), Leatherheads is the story of Dodge Connelly (Clooney) and Carter "The Bullet" Rutherford (John Krasinski a.k.a Jim from the Office) who try to make football a legitimate sport and win the heart of Lexie Littleton (Renee Zellweger) in the process.

Does it sound like you've heard this story before? Yet even when Clooney is serving up something cliché, he adds a personal, Coen-esque twist to it. Even tackling on the plot of (yet another?) football film, Clooney takes us into the world of prohibition, down-and-dirty sports and nasty politics. The attention to detail, including the leather helmets the players wear (from which the movie gets its title), add more life than your average football/inspirational blah like We Are Marshall or Remember the Titans.

Sure, the Duluth Bulldogs are an underdog team (no pun intended) up against an insurmountable football team, and sure, they win in the end, but the movie is so wrapped up in story that by the ending, you really don't care about the grand finalé, you care about the people. That's more important.

Considering the intended audience for this film would be hipsters or mature members of the Facebook generation, the vein of this movie's message, in all likelyhood, could be that once football was rough, surprising and actually interesting, unlike today. This decade's breed of teenager cares less and less about sports (unless you count the XBOX 360 versions) and more about Guitar Hero and Zelda. Games where participation is often more rewarding. Watching football is overly formulated and predictable to the average member of the 21st century. In fact, most people watch the Super Bowl just because of the commercials.

Perhaps the main point of this movie is that the government decided to govern the rules of football, which instantly made it boring. Leatherheads is almost promoting a view that says "keep government out of professional sports" because 90 years ago, they dehumanized it. The government added a shitload of rules making it nearly impossible to score, making every play the same and lulling audiences to sleep. If only, Leatherheads suggests, football was the same, we'd have more of a human element in one of our national pastimes.

Fiberglass

New fiction at http://menemenetekel.blogspot.com/2008/10/fiberglass.html

BUY MY VOTE

On Friday, I registered to get a new social security card because my last one was lost in a move or something. Maybe an illegal stole it and that's why my credit is so good. What a fascist institution the social security system is. I become a 9-digit number to the state so they can keep track of everything important I do. Work, get a house, get married, etc. None of that is their business, but with the help of their police state tactics they can stick their nose in my life (and take money from me in the process).

If you don't think that's fascist, I strongly encourage you to look that word up. As far as I know, even Nazi Germany didn't have a social system like America.

I also registered to vote.

It was cool, at least, so I'm told. It's the only thing that makes me an American citizen. Took 5 mins and under occupation I put: AWESOME. When I get my card in the mail, it should (at least, it better) say I am awesome for a living.

Yes, I think voting is a waste of time, but I'm still going to do it. My cousin wants me to vote for Bob Barr (since Matt isn't old enough to participate). That's a good idea, but I still don't know who I'm going to pretend to elect yet. So I am offering my vote for sale. I will vote for the candidate of the person who offers me the most money. Starting bid is $20.

This is a great opportunity for you! Imagine, you now have TWO voices in this fascist state that doesn't care what you think. If you really think your idol needs to be in office, the chances are just that much higher if you pay me off.

It's illegal, totally illegal, federal crime, makes me a felon. If I get caught. So this is the part where I say I'm joking and you can give me the money as "a gift". I'm still gonna vote for who I want.

But seriously. C'mon, $20.00 cash. It's not that much. And who knows? Maybe your fascist of choice will win! Every stupid vote counts, right?

The only thing I can see going wrong is if someone offers me the most money NOT to vote.
I'd take it. In fact, I may threaten to vote for McCain unless you pay. Take my vote ransom. Ha!

Good luck this November. There are people like me choosing the next president.

Fashionable

My photography professor said it straight, "Advertising tries to get you to part with your money." Then he encouraged the class to make photos that did just that, manipulated people into BUY BUY BUY.
If you agree that art is an expression of the soul, then perhaps you agree that creating something to sell something cheapens the soul. You put a pricetag on something and then it becomes measurable against other things.
I don't like commercial art because all it represents is the exchange of money, something I don't think is very important. But if you think the opposite, fine.
Selling art in a gallery isn't the same thing. That's more of a "here, I made this, you can forever share this expression for this price" and that explains why art is expensive. It's the application of humanity. It should be overpriced, sometimes.

But since I didn't respect my teacher's assignment, so I did pictures of my friends cross-dressing. It seemed the most controversial anti-commercial thing I could do and still get a passing grade.

Brian, my male model, was incredible, even paid for the dresses we went across town to gather. I spent a roll and a quarter of film on him, mostly prancing around, flirting with a stolen balloon, fooling around on a school playground we trespassed onto. Some people gave him raised eyebrows, compliments and talked to him.

Laura, my female model, wore some random designer t-shirts I found in my laundry. No idea how they got there. She tried to pose like a guy would and she pulled it off well, but the pictures still didn't come out very well. I think it was my fault. Still, I really liked her dress-jacket idea, where she turned a hoodie upside down and zipped it up over her bra. Improvisation is great.

I don't think my photo teacher was amused. But I felt blissful and free because I did what I wanted. I expressed art in a way that isn't salable. That, in itself, is invaluable.

Bullets

My roommate's father came to visit and brought a pistol with him, one that he'd recently bought out of paranoia of the state of the States. We went out to shoot it, at this alcove dug into a mountain. Most of the rocks were volcanic and pieces of shot up computers and broken bottles littered between them. Train tracks were nearby and when we weren't deafened by gunshots, the racing rattling of an Amtrak overpowered our hearing. It was a strange environment, far from the Flagstaff I'm used to.
It was great fun, since I've barely ever shot a gun. I think I was pretty accurate. The best part of the day was when a chipmunk scampered by our shooting range and Kyle tried to shoot it. Every blast seemed to confuse the varmint and it would run over to the puffs of dust where a bullet had just hit. It wasn't smart enough to run away until Kyle was out of ammunition.
Then I tried loading a clip and it snapped up and caught my pinkie finger. I'm a moron and have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to guns except 'pull the trigger'. It left an interesting wound however, like leprosy or little leeches.

The Revolution is Not Over

Voice of Reason.

Bulletin Board

Some people part of a gay activist group have been putting up posters around school accusing me of accusing them of things. For example, "A large percentage of straight people are child molesters. Would you want a heterosexual man teaching YOUR kids?" At the bottom is an advertisement for their group and when it meets. Because after it was assumed that I just assume things, I really want to join their little sect.
So on the poster that says, "What do you think CAUSED your heterosexuality?" I wrote in bold letters; BOOBS.
I think it's clear what I'm against here (pithy unorganized organizations that cause more problems then they solve), not homosexuality.
Anyway, the poster was removed the next day.