Triangle Tara 4 Charity Dolls Because I Can't Afford One But Maybe Some Of You Can

For those of you who can afford to help out, here is a fucking kick-ass way to do so and get an awesome toy in return.

Do They Really Hate Our Freedom? Do They Really?

Here's a picture of my old friend John's car, circa mid '90's.

Oh John, you crazy paranoid bastard. I miss seeing you on a daily basis. You also had a bumper sticker at one point that said, "Free or Drug Free, America Can't be Both." And that is also very true.

It was David Cross who said it best and I'm paraphrasing because I'm just too lazy to look up the exact quote.

If the terrorists actually hated freedom, the Netherlands would be the largest smoking crater on the planet.

As would Canada, Switzerland, Sweden and every other country that is truly freer than we are.

And, in case you care, I'm listening to:

#66 Antichrist - Lars von Trier (2009) - “Nature is Satan’s Church”

Before I start, let me say that I would absolutely recommend that about 90% of you not see Lars von Trier's new masterpiece, Antichrist.

It is unbelievably hard to watch. If Antichrist were food, it would be Guatemalan insanity peppers.

Yes, it is brilliant and von Trier comes closer than ever to reaching the greatness of Breaking the Waves, (#28 on my top 100 list if you were wondering) but seriously, I would not wish this film on most people.

The vast majority of you will not appreciate or understand that and I do not mean that as an insult in any way.

On the contrary, I think that there must be something wrong with me the way I connected so deeply with Charlotte Gainsbourg's character, the figurative Antichrist for whom the film is named, and felt like I understood this movie so well.

Having said that, this is not only an unusually astute film, but also a very important one, socially and philosophically speaking, that the remaining 10% of you must seek out, no matter how hard it is going to be to find.

And it is going to be fucking near impossible to find seeing as how we live in a town without an art-house to speak of and when, at last this is released on DVD I can pretty much guarantee that you'll have to seek it out at an independent shop or buy it online.

And if it ends up making a run at the Tivoli, I'll apologize. They ran Inland Empire and for that, I am eternally grateful. That was Lynch's first film to come out after I moved here and I really thought I was going to miss it so Tivoli, thank you.

One more thing before I dig in.

This is being promoted as a horror film. Oh my God, it is so not.

It is horrifying, revolting even. It says something about a film that it made me look away a couple of times.

But it is not your standard horror fare as there is not a single thrill to be had.

There is also no paranormal element. The title, Antichrist, is metaphorical.

So here we go.

It would be very hard, if not impossible, to argue that Lars von Trier’s Breaking the Waves was not easily one of the best films to come out of the independent revolution of the 1990’s.

It is equally impossible to talk about feminism in film without talking at length about von Trier's body of work.

He may be one of the most misunderstood filmmakers not only of our, but of any time.

I have heard von Trier called a misogynist, which is a laughable accusation.

I don't remember which critic it was, but someone actually called Breaking a "celebration of women's suffering."

Clearly, the suffering of women is the theme that ties his films together, but this misery seems to make him by turns weary, morose and livid.

I truly wonder if something horrible happened to a woman that he loved at some point early in his life for this to be so rooted in his cognition.

Breaking was a grizzly epic, a thesis on both the suffering and the heroism of women.

It was one of those rare film, I think there have only been six or seven of them, when I sat through the credits and several minutes of employees cleaning up popcorn after the showing because I was just too emotionally exhausted to move.

My heart still breaks every time I think of Bess’ willingness to forfeit her very soul trying to save someone she loves, losing her life in the process.

Seriously, try to wrap your mind around the gravity of Bess' actions.

She believes with all of her being that her actions will condemn her to an eternity in the fires of hell.

This belief is very real to her and this danger of burning forever is as real to her as any worldly, physical danger is to anyone.

And she makes the sacrifice anyway to redeem this man she so desperately loves.

Bess is one of the most beautiful and selfless characters, not only in film, but in art.

Von Trier followed Breaking the Waves with Dancer in the Dark, another tribute to women’s proclivity to self-sacrifice.

Selma's child will not go blind even though it will cost Selma her life.

Again, a woman, suffering and selfless.

That was followed by Dogville, where the other side of the coin of the misery of women was wrath rather than nobility.

Von Trier's anger, like Grace's was more than understandable and even righteous up to a point.

These are three masterpieces that will stay with you forever once you’ve seen them and von Trier’s latest film, Antichrist is no exception.

To say that the opening sequence of Antichrist plays out like one of Lynch’s Obsession commercials would be accurate but flippant, thick and unfair.

We are treated, right out of the gate, to a black and white montage of Willem Dafoe making sweet slo-mo love to his special lady inter-cut with images of a toddler wandering around the apartment with an aria from Rinaldo by Handel playing in the background.

Von Trier isn't exactly going for subtle here. Character with a God complex accompanied by music by Handel, the guy who composed The Messiah.

The first thing that struck me was just how goddamn un-Dogma this movie was.

Then, we are jerked from this surreal opening straight into a beautifully shot, devastating tragedy.

The rest of the film continues to break pretty much every rule that von Trier set up for the Dogma movement, but you can still see that harsh realism under the surface, trying to claw its way out of every dream sequence, every camera trick, every metaphor, every art-house cliché.

This is probably the first time I have ever used the word cliché without meaning it as a rebuke.

Von Trier swings them like a hammer with deliberate purpose, contrasting them with the realism of the harsh, raw open-nerved emotions his characters are dealing with.

The dream sequences and artsy flashbacks cut into the horrific realism the way the musical numbers broke up the tragic evens of Dancer.

Willem Dafoe is a therapist whose wife is understandably falling apart after the death of their child.

Dafoe quickly finds fault with the care she is receiving from a colleague and breaks one of the rules he lives by as a therapist: don’t treat family.

Of course, it isn’t long before he finds himself breaking another rule: don’t fuck your patient.

But give the guy a break.

He’s married to the woman.

Still. Turns out, banging your

patient, even if you’re married to her is not a good idea.

It is established almost immediately that this film is about payback.

The puzzle lies in figuring out which character has it coming.

You have the therapist, Willem Dafoe’s best performance since The Last Temptation of Christ, whose narcissism is so bountiful, whose God-complex is so vast that von Trier names the film after the character who defies him: Antichrist.

And just as we have tentatively decided who to indict, we realize, to our shame that nobody has it coming. We have spent a hundred minutes thinking about blame, as have the characters in this harsh and disturbing film.

But despite the events in the opening sequence, bad things do not happen because we fuck.

And suppressing our sexuality to the point of mutilation, sometimes figurative, sometimes tragically literal is never the answer.

Von Trier’s point here is this: Nature is not Satan’s church.

It sounds like a ridiculous notion, but it’s ingrained in our collective psyche nevertheless.

We think of human sexuality, the most natural thing in the world, as a breeding ground for all that is wicked.

We do in fact believe that nature is Satan’s church.

But we do not have it coming. We do not deserve it. We have to stop punishing ourselves.

It’s more than sad, it is appalling how people see God, but this is an accurate portrait of how western Christianity has set him up.

Like von Trier presents Willem Dafoe's therapist, Christians have painted God as a malicious being who talks about love, but whose sole purpose is actually to dole out unflinching, unforgiving and unjust punishment.

Too many see him as evangelical America has presented him: as a brute to be followed by the anonymous and faceless masses.

That is how so many see God because that is what too many of our religious leaders have been insisting for centuries that he is.

Bryan Cranston And Emmy Voters Will Be Welcomed Into The BatCave: Stay Out Of My Territory

Bryan Cranston won again. It restores one's faith in mankind.

Who would have guessed, years ago, that the dad from Malcolm in the Middle would end up being like the coolest motherfucker alive?

There is absolutely no question that, along with Dexter, Breaking Bad is one of the two best shows currently in production.

There are surprises at every single turn and not a single one of them feels forced.

Everything that happens grows organically from our protagonist, played with an unheard of credibility by Cranston.

The fact that Bryan Cranston has won two Emmys in a row is very heartening. Maybe the world doesn't have as bad taste as I thought.

Christ, he's the only actor I know who can play that contradiction that is an emotionally vulnerable bad-ass.

I'm tagging this post film instead of TV just because Breaking Bad is actually better than most moving abortions of sadly incompetent storytelling masquerading as television and films being cranked out today.

Bryan Cranston, Verily, I say to thee, this day (well, not this day but when the time comes) shalt thou be with me in the BatCave.

And if you care, I'm listening to:

I Guess I Can't Argue With You There

Okay, you win.

And in case you care, I'm listening to:

I Heart Protesters

Oh God, why did we put her in that Chinese nursing home?

One Without The Other

Mr. President, I really want to support you.

I do.

But if you pass an individual mandate for everyone to carry Medical insurance, you have to accompany it with a public option and an employer mandate.

And please stop saying that this mandate is comparable to the requirement for every driver to carry auto insurance. That requirement is to offset liability for harm that you might accidentally cause somebody else.

Huge difference.

You don't have to compromise the way the Clinton administration did.

You have the majority.

You have the upper hand.

Is it so outrageous to ask you to put the single payer option back on the table?

Please don't give away so much that this reform turns into a payday for insurance companies and a screwing for the poor.

Actually, as long as I'm asking for things, is there any way I can talk you into having an intern break into Senator Baucus' office and take a shit on his desk?

Workers Unite!

And, in case anyone cares, I'm listening to:

A Reasonable Parson

This was encouraging.

Reverend Tchividjian, grandson of Billy Graham gets to keep his job at Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Fort Lauderdale.

Coral Ridge, under Rev. D. James Kennedy was a fiercely political voice of opposition to both reproductive rights and gay rights.

Rev. Tchividjian, like his grandfather, believes that the primary function of a church is to meet the spiritual needs of its congregation, not a cynical political tool.

Naturally, this does not sit well with some worshipers.

Six church members organized an effort to oust Rev. Tchividjian, calling his leadership a "disaster" claiming that he has shown "a complete lack of respect."

The church voted to keep Rev. Tchividjian by more than a two-to-one margin.

So more Christians than we realize believe that the church is more than just another group of conservative lobbyists.

Once again, this is encouraging.

And if it matters, I'm listening to:

And later, I plan to listen to:

The Tattooed Girl by Joyce Carol Oates

The Tattooed Girl by Joyce Carol Oates is quite simply a horrifying, heartbreaking story.

It actually recalls the underhanded sadism that was in Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been, which just so happened to be my introduction to Oates.

It's haunted me ever since I read it.

This story will in turns surprise, repulse and touch you.

Early in the book, we are introduced to a character, Dmitri the waiter, who doesn’t seem like a bad guy at first, and then, as Oates gradually and methodically peels back his layers, we are shocked to find that he is truly and evil fuck.

His brutality is truly sickening and through his character, Oates manages to do the impossible. As I was reading one passage, I felt ashamed of myself.

Not because I had done anything even close to that, but because I was a man.

Or rather because I was human.

The characters in this book are more than dysfunctional; they are simply broken.

It’s odd but strangely touching how two people, so fucked up they could hardly pass for rational develop this kind of affection, friendship, love and then complete dependency.

This book is filled with surprises and I’m not talking about show-offy twists in the vein of Shyamalan or Palahniuk, (although I do think Palahniuk is the exception to the rule as far as dramatic surprises go. He is one of the few that can pull it off and make it feel organic.)

Oates amazed me with how quickly the hatred of her characters can turn to love and vice versa.

She offers insight into why some people love monsters unconditionally.

Another surprise is the tender romance that blossoms between Joshua Siegl and Sondra Blumenthal, who is pretty much the only functional character in this story.

What sets Oates apart is that most writers feel a need to define their characters whereas Oates realizes that this is not always possible since most people don’t know who they are themselves.

Still, she treats her characters with an affection and delicacy that is so rare in an age of mostly cynical and sarcastic art.

This, like Oates' Black Water,' is an incredible, devastating novel and seriously, whether you’ve read Oates or not, whether you’ve liked her before or not, give this one a shot because not only does Oates understand the craft of writing better than most writers, she understand what it means to be human more than most people.

Joker, 100 Bullets & Azarello vs. Miller

So I picked up Joker by Brian Azzarello &Lee Bermajo at Half Price Books for like $9.

I devoured it immediately.

First, the artwork by Bermajo is just some of the best work I have ever seen.

I could put the story aside entirely and spend hours going through the book, just staring at the pictures. Look at the Joker's mouth on the cover art. It's scary as hell.

I had never read anything of Azzarello's before, but I had heard good things about 100 Bullets.

I don't think I had gotten more than four or five pages into Joker before I decided that I was going to buy every issue or graphic novel of 100 Bullets I could get my hands on.

Azzarello has that fundamental skill that so many writers are lacking. He knows how to tell a story and even better than that, he can give us characters that are rich and surprising.

And offering the reader any kind of a surprise when you're working with characters that we've all known for decades from other comics, graphic novels, TV shows, movies and even music is especially challenging.

When Joker opens up, our favorite comic book sociopath has just been inexplicably released from Arkham Asylum.

The book never explains why he was let out and, for what the focus of the story is, it doesn't matter.

Azzarello seems to understand that here, it would be unnecessary exposition.

What follows is just an insane ride seen through the eyes of one of the Joker's wannabe goons. Our bumbling protagonist, like us, doesn't know where he's going.

We're all of us just following the Joker out of loyalty, thrill-seeking or just curiosity to see what the crazy bastard is going to do next, who knows?

Suffice it to say that it's worth seeking out and it's worth shelling out the sticker price. This ranks up there with the great graphic novels and, in my humble opinion, beats the hell out of Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns.

Although when the Joker takes aim at Batman in The Dark Knight Returns and simply mutters the word, 'darling' under his breath before he fires still stands as possibly my favorite comic book moment ever.

Now, it was on to 100 Bullets.

Quick run down of the premise.

Somebody is wronged and a mystery man appears, offering a gun, evidence against whoever fucked them over, 100 bullets and a guarantee of impunity should they opt for revenge.

A friend at work, (hi, Jennifer!) was kind enough to loan me the first of the graphic novels, First Shot, Last Call, which contains two stories.

In the first, a woman is released from prison and on her way home to an empty house since her husband and son were killed during her incarceration.

And the rest of the story is her coming to grips with what happened and deciding whether or not to take advantage of the generous offer of revenge that has been offered to her on a silver platter.

The second story revolves around a bartender who has lost his entire life because he was framed as a pedophile.

Again, he is offered evidence as to who set him up along with a gun, some ammo and a promise of absolution.

The two heroes/anti-heroes take different paths with alternately exhilerating and devastating results.

And now, I have to read every other 100 Bullets comic/graphic novel out there.

I hereby declare Azzarallo to be the shit.

And in case you care, I'm listening to: