See the Bandages? They're Mummies...

(not ghosts!)



Alas, I understand the confusion.

So, my Ma tought me how to make these Halloween Mummies. They're really fun to make and taste good enough to make an anorexic fall off the wagon ('cause she'd, like, wanna eat em! Get it? She hates eating but theyre so good!)

I find my posting this quick how-to to be wildly inappropiate for two reasons (not counting my previous attempt to make light of eating disorders): One, it's November 13th and therefore you'll look like an idiot (should have gone with the stupid cookies decorated to look like fat turkeys/the NBC logo) and Two, Mummies are disgusting.

According to Wikipedia, Mummies are "corpses whose skin and organs have been preserved by exposure to chemicals, extreme coldness (ice mummies), very low humidity, or lack of air when bodies are submerged in bogs" (Bogs?)

Who wants to eat a caricature of that? Why, you and your friends of course! Don't worry about these little fuckers reminding you of charred bodies wrapped in soggy bandages. They sorta look like ghosts anyway.

Here we go:

-Get Nutter butters
-and a basting brush (or, uh, a clean paintbrust. CLEAN!)
-White Chocolate chips
-Mini Semi Sweet Chocolate chips. If they don't have them, get black icing. My ma thinks red-hots would work, but that freaks me out. Don't get the full size chocolate chips or they'll look like crazy-mummies (unless you want to use one and go for a cyclops-mummy. I digress).

Melt the white chocolate over low heat until its all smooth. If you can't keep your chocolate covered mitts our of your mouth, pop in a piece of gum and save yourself the sugar rush.

Paint one side of the nutter-butters with the white chocolate. Don't paint the back or it'll stick. Paint the sides. After you finish 'em all, drag a fork across their little bodies to create the look of bandages (mmmm...preserved flesh!).

After you finish all that, place the eyes and stick them in the fridge overnight (or at least 2 hours) so everything sets.

I also recommend making a place card or something clarifying that they are MUMMIES...and not ghosts. (Seriously, ghosts are not peanut shaped!)

Enjoy!

The Little Things...

Yeah, how about a round of applause for the seating outside my gate in Kansas City! I haven't appreciated this kind of intuition since I discovered those hooks under the bar where you hang your purse. Let the phone/laptop/ipod/soul charging commence...

Related: This guy next to me just sneezed so loud I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or slug him in the neck.

A Verbal Thrashing to Judgy McJudgerson in the Elevator This Morning

You know, one of my favorite episodes of Sex and the City features a pissed off Carrie Bradshaw marching through Manhattan to the Upper East side apartment of friend Charlotte York. She's pissed at Charlotte and has showed up at her door, exasperated, ready to let her have it. Charlotte can't believe she walked all the way over in her new shoes.

"These shoes pinch my feet...but I love them." - Carrie sobs, thus delivering one of the greatest lines in the whole damn series.

"I'm in a financial cul-de-sac!"

I love my high heel shoes more than human babies. Some leave my toes looking like strangled, purple sausages by the end of the night. Others are, to me, more comfortable than a pair of flip-flops anyday. I don't care how many old trolls roll their eyes in the elevator and mumble something about how when you are as busy as they are, shoes must be selected on comfort, I'm rocking my heels until they have to pry them off my dead, lifeless limbs. After which I sincerely hope rigor mortis causes me to kick that shoe thief right in the eyeball.

I'm happy that lady's Dr. Scholl's Squeegie-Sols make it even easier for her to pick up her 19 kids from soccer practice before stomping off to the airport to pick up her mother-in-law. You know what? My "stripper shoes" make every single day of my painful quarter-life crisis damn near bearable. They pinch the living daylights out of my feet, but I love the hell out of them.

On that note, its time to return to the land of functioning adults.

Apparently they also call it, "The City of Big Shoulders"

(and other mindless musings on my wanderings in Chicago...)



"Chicago has a strange metaphysical elegance of death about it." - Claes Oldenburg

Aside from child-like curiosity and general love of being out of the office, there were about 37 reasons I was excited to go to Chicago this September. Could be a certain nostalgia with the Midwest (the peaceful remains of an otherwise disastrous phase in my post-college existence), or perhaps a romantic idealization with Prohibition/Organized Crime (I still can’t get my hair to do that 1920s wave thing). Either way, Chicago certainly did not fail to deliver.

Let me just say first that Los Angeles was in the middle of a Holy-Shitballs Heat Wave when I departed on Monday afternoon. 113 degrees of smoggy, skin cancer goodness beat down on me as I awaited my flyaway bus to Union Station (read: do your friends a solid and take them all the way to the damn airport). When I landed, it was 49 degrees in Chicago.
You know how they say lazy people who suddenly over-exercise run the risk of dropping dead of a massive heart attack? I am sure a 60 degree change in temperature, along with humidity, jet lag, and a Xanax hangover isn’t so good on the ol’ bones either.
25 bucks later, my cab driver dropped me off at the Congress Plaza Hotel on Michigan Ave. (I was supposed to stay at The W, but I discovered this place shortly before I left).

The Congress Plaza was built in 1893 and is apparently one of the most haunted places in Chicago. It features the Gatsby-esque “Gold Ball Room,” along with creepy old elevators, huge chandeliers, and a night check in guy/caretaker that I am not entirely certain was alive.

"You've always been the caretaker here..."

I swam past the pools of blood pouring out of the elevator, got to my floor, side-stepped the creepy twin girls, and entered my room shortly thereafter. It had a fantastic view of Lake Michigan (at which point I would like to comment on the weirdness of seeing a body of water that big without waves).

Tony...I'm Scared

Most of the next day was spent in the office, doing office-like things.

I did, however, use the long working day as an opportunity to make some interesting and perhaps inappropriate generalizations about Chicago and its people. Huzzah!

1) They get to work friggin’ early. Like 6am early.

2) Every person I passed on the street was either white, or black. Ponder that for a moment.

3) Chicagoians are used to the kind of cold that would keep a wooly mammoth preserved for an entire geologic age. This being said, they dress as though it is about 20 degrees colder than it actually is. 60 degrees ain’t that bad, but everyone around me was in light coats and scarves.

4) New York makes you want to yell in a bad accent. In Los Angeles you wear tight clothes and talk about who you know. DC makes you want to go back to school and get 17 advanced degrees (or at least up the ADD meds). Chicago? Chicago makes you romanticize the early 20th century. Although crammed with newer, and unnecessarily tall buildings, Chicago is full of very old structures that remind you of a time when men carried Tommy-guns and ended sentences with, “see?” A time when rich décor and elaborate architecture was still classy. Most importantly, a time where all women could successfully construct finger waves.

Get it girl.

5) People are noticeably more overweight than in other cities I have seen before. This being said, more than a few Chicagoians I spoke to directly expressed their concern with chemicals in food. They fear saccharin, aspartame, corn syrup, soy, fast food meat, and generally anything else with a long list of ingredients. Apparently it's either brain tumors or a fat ass (Too far?...too far).

6) They dye the Chicago river green on St Patty’s day.

"Like microwaves and Facebook, I get the feeling this won't end well"

7) Freeways are called “expressways.”

8) White women in Chicago (actually, the midwest in general) seem to be really serious about their hair. I see alot of big-fat highlights, A-line cuts, torture-by-flatiron, etc. Even women in shitty clothes had perfectly blow-dryed hair... highlighted within an inch of its life.


Getting dressed takes 30 seconds. Hair? 2 Hours

Later that evening I went to a neighborhood called Wicker Park to hang out with a friend I met about a year or so back. Kinda looked like Silverlake, Brooklyn, and San Fran all in one. Yet the little things (rust-colored subway track suspended over a section of a three way intersection, horizontal business signs shorting out) gave it its own Chicago twist.

This is not Wicker Park. I just needed to stick this cool downtown shot somewhere. Go with it.


I spent the entire evening at a place called the Violet Hour (http://www.theviolethour.com/). They had a menu of insane cocktails with the weirdest ingredients, but they certainly result in a fun buzz. My friend grew up on the south side of Chicago, but received a Dartmouth education before emerging himself in the wild world of Insurance. You know, philosophizing on politics with those who see eye-to-eye with you is always a fun way to spend an evening. However, hearing things from the point of view of a person with an entirely different background, not to mention a Chicago upbringing, was particularly enlightening and thus worth a mention here.


I woke up in the morning with a sugar-hangover-headache and, I swear to god, a feeling that there was a ghost in my freezing-cold room. I decided then was a good time to pack my shit, fumble with that damn remote-control express checkout TV thing, and get the hell out of there.

"Come and Play with Us..."

I still had one more day to spend in Chicago. Alas, it involved the kind of work that'll induce sleep better than Ambien...or even C-Span.

"Frankly I'd rather be playing with the dead twins"

Oddly enough, the Chicago branch of my company happened to be moving offices during my visit, so I got a taste of the old and a glimpse of the new. Basically, everything looks exactly the same as our Los Angeles office except, you know, its Chicago outside.


After a productive day collaborating with my heavily-accented Midwestern colleagues, I headed to the airport and flew the hell home.

It wasn’t until I settled back into my apartment that I realized how different Chicago really is. Most cities have a certain characteristic, if not pop-culture familiarity, that makes them feasible to get your head around. Chicago is a classy kind of old, a different kind of quirky, and an interesting kind of diverse. The weather and the wind would make it difficult for me to imagine myself living there. Alas, it was certainly one of the more notable wanderings of my year.


"Chicago is not the most corrupt American city. It's the most theatrically corrupt." - Studs Terkel, 1978


That's all.

On having your mind blown...

You know how every now and then you learn something new that apparently everyone else already knows? It's like you missed that day of school or something. Bewildered, you sit with the feeling that the lights are on, but nobody's home.

My brilliant friend from high school, Megan, just passed the New York bar. Yet, it is only in the last few days that she learned that the phrase, "For all intents and purposes," was not said, "For all intensive purposes."

See what I mean? I love things like this. They don't speak to anyone's intelligence but rather, offer an honest glimpse at a person who just so happened to miss a random piece of information.

Now its my turn. Last night, I am plopped on my keister at my Aunt's house when this really old guy pops on the screen. He starts going off about the census report, making sarcastic remarks about the family politics involved in choosing "Person Number 1" and "Person Number 2." It was like he was promoting the importance of the Census, but also making fun of it. It was brilliant. I was perplexed.

Everyone else in the room was sort of watching with a familiar smirk that I could only recognize as the look of people enjoying something they had seen before. I knew my dunce moment was impending.

Alas, despite watching 60 Minutes for years (but apparently not finishing), it turns out I am the only human being in the Western Hemisphere who didn't know who Andy Rooney was.

We are going to excuse the fact that I showed up late to this party and just be glad I showed up at all.

Fun Recipe No. 2 - Pumpkin Cheesecake Bars

Okay...maybe just a bite. ONE bite.
Alright stoners...saddle up. This one is easy easy easy to make and it will make you feel like a pro. So, without further ado...

Stuff You'll Need:

-15 by 10 inch Jellyroll pan (or a shallow pan. You know what, just buy a damn tin one at the store)
-3 eggs
-1 16oz pkg o’ pound cake mix (don’t use angel food cake. That’s just wrong)
-2 tbsp butta!
-4 teaspoons pumpkin spice. (Find it in the spice aisle next to the cinnamon. Keep looking…keep looking…There it is!)
-8oz of cream cheese. Get the full fat kind. Do it.
-15 oz can of pure pumpkin. DO NOT get pumpkin pie mix. Get pumpkin. Like I said.
-Kitchen Aid or hand held mixer. Do not tell yourself you can do it by hand. You will only fail miserably and make yourself terribly upset.
-14oz can of EAGLE sweetened condensed milk. NOT EVAPORATED milk. I have made this mistake before and regretted it ever since.
-1/2 cup o’ mixed nuts

-Preheat that oven to 350 (if you are my sister, make sure you REMOVE the pans you store in there because getting them out later will be painful for everyone involved)

Let's start with the crust:

1) Combine butter, pound cake, 1 egg and 2 tbsp of pumpkin spice. Mix with wooden spoon to combine it and then use the mixer until its crumbly. WARNING – use a big bowl, and use the mixer on low or you will catapult crumbs across your kitchen.

2) Press into the bottom of the pan.

That wasn’t so hard was it?

On to the filling!

1) Soften the cream cheese in the microwave for 35 seconds (or leave it out for 30 minutes before you do this). DON’T melt it.

2) Use mixer and beat cream cheese till fluffy. SLOWLY add in the condensed milk, can of pumpkin, and the remaining 2 tbsp of pie spice. Mix until it has the consistency of pudding

3) Pour over crust. Top with Nuts

4) Bake for 30-35 minutes or until set.

5) Cool for at least 30 minutes (I prefer to cool overnight)

6) Cut into bars. Makes about 48.

An Unnecessarily Close Look at Home Alone

So, although I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT, I don't fully understand this movie.




Buzz, it's your girlfriend! Woof!
Home Alone, released in 1990, is the story of a young brat who is left home alone as his family flies off to Paris for Christmas. Left at the home under the presumption that he "made his family disappear," Kevin, well, does a bunch of kid shit and then booby-traps the house in an effort to thwart two moronic and apparently invincible robbers. (Sidenote: Jokes aside, I maintain this is Daniel Stern's finest work, surpassing even his feels-kicking Wonder Years narration)




The Wet Bandits. "That's the WET bandits! W...E...Erm.......T! ..."
I remember seeing this 2 or 3 times in the theaters and laughing my 6 year old ass off. Turns out gratuitous violence is pretty hysterical as long as the results aren't realistic...at all. (They really should make an Unfunny Home Alone and show what actually happens when your freezing bare feet crush glass). Anyway, watching the movie at 28? Still friggin hilarious, but a lot of things just don't make sense. Once again, I cannot ignore the insanity with which some things are carried out (most notably, the characters' general mistrust and the overall incompetence of the grossly underused Chicago Police Department). More on that later.

Let's examine:

1) Why don't the parents stick up for Kevin...at all? I get that Kevin is a little shit, and the house is crowded...but Buzz was unneccessarily disgusting and rude, the girl cousins or whatever were completely bitchy, and Uncle Frank was just a dick. Sure, there were 15 people in the house and he was the only one "making trouble", but I refuse to believe it was unprovoked. I'd have been ripping heads off.




"Look what ya did you little jerk!"
(Sidenote: My mother once told me when I was 8 that if any one ever said this to me in her presence, she'd punch them in the face. I once saw my Ma punch a guy in the face who was beating up on his kid, so I know she meant it. My Ma rules).
2) How in the hell did the parents manage to board the plane without Kevin? I know they were in a hurry and the neighbor brat looked like Kevin, blah blah blah. I don't care. Those parents would have had to have his passport and boarding documents because Kevin could no doubt be trusted with them. Who ended up with them? When they were carefully helping Fuller, the youngest, through security, did anyone ever think, "Hey, where the hell is Kevin?" That's just bad parenting right there.

3) You people couldn't get ahold of ANYONE?!? Anyone? At all? Call the police, fire department, search and rescue, child protective services, local news, neighborhood watch, every local business within walking distance, every volunteer organization in the area, the CHURCH THAT WAS 2 BLOCKS AWAY. Fax everyone on the west coast. Go to the embassy! Hell, include his damn picture on the fax since you no doubt still possess the kid's passport. Finally, if the Chicago PD is being difficult...Call Again. Call again and again and again until they take your ass SERIOUSLY. In other words, don't stop until the marines barge through your front door with a battering ram, storm the house like its a meth lab, and retrieve a no doubt traumatized Kevin from under his parents' huge red bed. Get SOMEONE on the phone!


No No No No No! This is CHRISTMAS! The season of perpetual HOPE!

4) Note to Uncle Frank: asking the McCallisters if it makes them feel any better that you forgot your reading glasses is a dumbass thing to say.

5) Okay, why didn't the pizza guy call the police when Kevin turned up the mobster movie? If that kid really believed he was being shot at, you'd think he'd high-tail it back to Little Nero's and TELL SOMEONE? Really, the general theme of refusing the assistance of local law enforcement is baffling to me. (Another sidenote: the whole thing with the pizza guy knocking down the statue over and over is just classic comedy. Well done, prop guy).





"Too bad Acey ain't in charge no more"
6) What would lead the Wet Bandits to the sudden conclusion that Kevin is home alone? I know that while pillaging the neighbors, they overheard the voice message from the father, but surely they believed that someone else was home with an 8 year old? How do you go from thinking there is a party the night before to suddenly coming to the conclusion that an 8 year old has been left alone indefinitely? Shit. Even if he was home alone at the moment you saw his decorating the tree, surely someone was on their way back? Plus, they never factored in the apparent mafia murder they thought they witnessed.


Dad, can you come here and help me?"

7) I would like to know why Kevin never thought to tell someone what was going on, especially when he knew he was about to get robbed and possibly mutilated. However, I will forgive this as it is apparent he was afraid of unintended consequences (juvie, creepy foster families, being fed to the downstairs furnace...)




"Hello"
8) I get comedic slapstick comedy, but these guys were impervious to both pain and visable injury. The iron should have knocked Marv's face in a la Casino. The swinging paintbuckets should have blown all of their teeth out. Nail through the foot equals GAME OVER. The blowtorch should have melted Harry's head off. What about when they beat the shit out of eachother with the crowbar? If nothing else, the swing into the side of the brick house should have been the END of the confrontation, period. I reiterate my previous suggestion that someone make an Unfunny Home Alone. Seriously, the movie would belong in the Saw franchise (and I know you sick bastards love Saw).

9) If Creepy Neighbor Shovel Man is such a good citizen that he salts and shovels everyones sidewalk, why didn't he notice that all the houses were being robbed all week? On that note, these people were careful enough to have automated lights in their house to deflect intruders, but no actual ALARMS?


"Ooooo mummies!"
10) Didn't the police think to question Kevin at all after Marv and Harry were arrested? Further, wouldn't they want to question the PARENTS? I also wonder why Creepy Neighbor Shovel Man never thought to ask about Kevin's family. You'd think after rescuing someone who was about to have their fingers chewed off, you might want to, I don't know, keep them company? Also, wow, Shovel Man's estranged son must have been waiting by the phone. Guy decides to reconcile on Christmas eve and a van shows up the next morning with his 27 family members giving out bear hugs in ugly sweaters.

11) Wait, let's go back a second, was Harry really going to chew Kevin's fingers off? Ew. (Saw 17. Mark. My. Words).

Okay, that is all for now. I will once again leave off with a shout out to my favorite character of this film. This one goes out to Buzz McCallister, who, although fat and rude, came up with the best way to list a series of facts I have ever seen.



We have smoke detectors... Thank you all.

Oh, and PS - If you ever wonder why you love Home Alone so much, I firmly believe this is not only because John Hughes wrote it (he loves that goofy family crap), but also because Chris Columbus was the director and in his infinate wisdom, cast it well and made sure John Williams did the music. Columbus also did this with the first Harry Potter, ensuring a well cast franchise with near-viral theme music. I digress.

Fun Recipe No. 1 - Chocolate Mousse Pie

This is a picture of a slice of Chocolate Mousse Pie. It's the most delicious dessert in the world and it's sort of easy to make, as long as you can seperate an egg and whip egg whites (the two hardest steps).

So in my traditional bossy and dry tone, Imma teach you how to make this calorie bomb. You can make it for your sweetheart on Valentine's Day (spike it with Ipecac Syrup if you hate the bastard).

Here we go:

Crap You'll Need:

-9 in Springform pan. Don't even think about using a bundt cake pan. You'll be sorry. Very sorry.
-6 eggs
-2 pkgs of Safeway Chocolate Chuck Brownie Cookies (basically, they're Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookies)
-2/3 sticks o' butta
-12oz bag of nestle semi sweet chocolate chips
-a bunch of powdered sugar
-Quart of Heavy Whipping Cream
-Kitchen Aid or hand held mixer. Do not tell yourself you can do it by hand. You will only fail miserably and make yourself terribly upset.
-A plan for how you're gonna lose the weight you're about to gain.

Ok got it? Here we go. Let's start with the crust:

1) Break those brownie cookies up and toss 'em into a bag. Smash em until they resemble dirt from a potted plant. A food processor helps, but I'm betting you don't have one. So smash away.
2)Melt the stick of butter. All the way.
3) Pour butter into bag with crumbs and squish it with your hands until you have an even, damp mixture. Mmmmm.
4) Press into ungreased springform pan. Start with the bottom and work up the sides. Crust should go to the edges. If you run out, your crust is too thick. Keep workin'
5) Done? Good, stick it in the fridge.

Okay on to the filling. Basically, you are making three mixtures and you are going to FOLD (not mix, FOLD) them together at the end).

1) First thing: Seperate 4 of the eggs. Thus, you should have a bowl of 4 egg whites and a bowl of 4 egg yolks. Dont get ANY yolk in the egg whites. Again, you will fail. Remember you have 2 more eggs that you are not seperating. Those'll come in, don't worry.

2) Melt the chocolate chips in a little bitty pan over really low heat. Stir it so it doesn't burn and keep going until its all melted and smooth. Turn heat off and let it cool for 3 minutes. Then, add two whole eggs plus the 4 egg yolks to the melted chocolate and stip it. Got it? Good. Leave it alone and move on to the next mixture.

3) In a big bowl, whip the egg whites. Yes, if you whip egg whites long enough, they whip up like whipped cream. Wow! Be patient though. It takes a LONG time. Like, a full 10 minutes on high speed. It's like magic though, you whip and whip and whip and suddenly...it thickens. When STIFF peaks form, you know you've made it. make sure its fully done or...FAIL. Stick whipped egg whites in the fridge.

4)3rd mixture: Pour 2 cups of heavy whipping cream and add 6 tbsp of powdered sugar into another big bowl. Whipp until stiff peaks form. Don't over whip or it will "break" and look yellowish. This will only take 3 minutes

Combining it:

1)FOLD egg whites in with whipped cream. To do this, get one of those plastic floppy spatula things that bakers use. Put some of the egg white on top of the cream and FOLD (bring the bottom to the top, folding it over itself. Don't start mixing like a jerk). Add slowly, folding...folding. With me?

2) When you're done, fold the chocolate in. Slowly. Little at a time. Fold Fold. Mouse should look like, and be about as thick as, brown puddling but taste 300 times better.

3) Pour it in the crust. Should come to 1/2 inch below crust.

Refridgerate overnight! Preferably 15-24 hours! Make sure there are no cut onions or garlic in the fridge or it will take on the taste.

15 Minutes before you serve, whip 1 cup of whipped cream with 3 tbsps of powdered sugar, just like you did yesterday, and spread over the top.

Finally: make sure you remove the outside of the pan. Don't be a jackass and try to dig it out.

Enjoy!

A Lesson from Sarah Palin

A funny thing happened this weekend. I was watching the madness that was the Tea Party Convention, a far-right circus act that concluded Saturday evening, with Alaska's very own Sarah Palin. For over an hour Ms. Palin rambled about the failures of the Obama administration, lambasted large government, high taxes and a defecit problem with no end in sight, and promised a return to "common sense" small government and low taxes should she find herself leader of the free world.

Sunday morning I tried to gather what I could from the media as to the general reaction of the convention, and Palin's speech. Meet the Press had Dee Dee Myers, former press secretary to Bill Clinton, commenting on the Tea Party agenda in general. Opposite her was a Republican "talking-head" commenting on how Palin has really shown herself to be quite a contender (though specifically for what I do not know). Other than this, the media was fairly silent on the matter as it was, after all, Sunday.

I was left, therefore, on my own to figure out how I felt about her speech and the Tea party movement in general. This was fine by me. This is how it should be, after all.

First off, I don't believe that Sarah Palin will run in 2012. If she does, I don't think the RNC will allow her the nomination as she is too much of a liability. The alternative, running as a third party candidate, will guarantee a (possibly historical) landslide victory for Obama. If she runs, she is going to have to explain why she resigned. Thus far, we have no other reason to go off of other than she just didn't like the job. It was too hard. People were mean to her. Whatever.

She would never be able to debate Obama. Ever. She is simply not well-informed enough so as to ever be properly briefed and prepared to discuss the specifics of actual issues in depth. I believe that if you want to debate real issues and express discontent with policies you do not agree with, you have to show up ready to talk about those issues in depth. It is okay to fundamentally disagree with Obama's principles. Millions upon millions do. However, if you choose to stand on your soapbox and proclaim revolution, you had better take the next step: educating yourself on everything about the presidency and the decisions made within so you can discuss them at length.

This is the problem with the media. They have oversimplified issues and seemingly de-mystified public office, giving American's the false impression that anyone can do it. It takes a great mind to lead a country. It takes a great mind to lead a congressional district, a school district, or a girl scout troop. Empathy, self-control, morale, and brains. Calling for common sense in government is one thing, but believing that politicians who have done little more than give 10-word sound bites as to why something is or isn't working is irresponsible.

What I did learn from my Sunday of Political Contemplation is that Sarah Palin, in my opinion, is a walking, talking microcosm of a general attitude in this country. The first is a legitimate fear, frustration, and intolerance with the size of government. Another is a fatigue with the constant blaming of the world's problems on President Bush (who, I might add, oversaw the largest expansion of government since LBJ). Finally, a competitive nature that has reached the point where issues are irrelevant, and instead, politicans alone lead the cause. This is evident by both the right's blind refusal to cooperate with Obama in any way (even if it were on an issue they would favor under Bush), by the Tea Party's assigning of an already infamous figurehead to what was supposed to be a grassroots movement, and even some niavete on the part Democrats for thinking Obama was without political flaws. Politics has reached a point where one side of the aisle wants the other to fail. Political discussion, in short, bears little resemblance to the actual issues at hand.

Monday morning I woke up to find MSNBC, CNN, NBC, and ABC talking not about the contents of Palin's speech, or how the convention represented a growing attitude that should not be dismissed (but rather investigated at length). Oh no. Instead, they focused on Palin's criticism of Obama using a teleprompter (as have the presidents before him) while she had a few notes on her hand. Was this fair? Was she a hypocrite? Or, were these just little cliff notes to remind her of her talking points.

...and the wonder why the intellect has been replaced with mindless sport.

It's not "Just a Movie!"

You know, I am really tired of getting this response when I ask what I feel to be legitimate questions about the details of a movie. See, I don't buy it. A movie, by nature, sets up a universe for you and asks the viewer to accept and imagine within the parameters of that universe. Thus, when a movie breaks its own rules, or just plain doesn't make sense, I have questions. Tough questions. I want to speak to someone.

As a result of both this annoyance and a persistent case of ADD, I have decided to post a list of questions pertaining to a movie every now and then.

The first? Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, a 1974 Film based on the Roald Dahl book, brings to the silver screen the story of broke-ass Charlie, a blonde American kid living, for whatever reason, in Europe. You know the story, the kid gets the 5th ticket and ends up inheriting the the factory from Gene Wilder, a Michael Jackson-ish loner with hair almost as fabulous as Charlie's.

I accept the movie's ridiculous plot, I really do. That is part of the fun. However, there is a constant, persistent weirdness with the way certain things are carried out that I feel this film must be the first to be subjected to my line of questions. So without further ado...

"WTF, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?"

1) The factory, and therefore Charlie's town appears to be in Germany. Many of the townspeople are American, but several (including the Teacher, are British). What's the deal there?

2) Why does the teacher have to be such a dick?

If you were to eat 200 Wonka Bars, apart from being dreadfully sick..."

That class size was pretty small, so surely the teacher knew a thing or two about each of his students. Surely he knew Charlie was poor as fuck. It just wasn't necessary to berate him for only being able to purchase 2 chocolate bars. As a licensed educator he is no doubt educated somewhat in child psycology and development. Thus, when Charlie meekly admitted that he doesn't "care much for chocolate," the teacher should have known Charlie was covering for the fact that he ain't got no money (take yo broke ass home!) and been cool about it. Dick.

3) Why are the Grandparents sharing a bed? I can see two, but four? Where is the father? Why did he leave his broke, old, crusty parents behind and why isn't the mother asking some TOUGH questions about it?! ("Mr and Mrs Blahblah. Your son is a deadbeat. He has left this family to go run off with 'Debbie the Cabaret Singer' and that means your days of sitting in bed with my parents are OVER. I am no longer obligated to sponge bathe your old, wrinkly skin. GTF out!)

4) On that note: Why isn't the mother asking some questions about the fact that the lazy ass grandfather is SUDDENLY able to get off his ass when it comes time to go to the factory? YOU"VE BEEN ABLE TO WALK THIS WHOLE TIME?!?

5) Even more on that note: Why didn't the mother smack the shit out of Charlie when he announced he was taking Grandpa Joe? Charlie, you little shit, your mother does everything around here! She even washes your smelly underwear on a badass, old-school washboard. Grandpa Joe does nothing but lay on his ass, slowly developing gangrene (its beginning to smell like almonds!) while faking paralysis. In addition, he is stealing money from the newspaper delivery fund, which effectively supports the entire family, to purchase tobacco, only to pass himself off as a hero when he buys you a friggin' chocolate bar with your own money!

6) Okay, I get it. The tickets are a big deal. But I am really supposed to believe that the Queen would drop a million pounds for a box of bars? Bitch, buy yourself, and 3000 other people, a lifetime supply of chocolate and wait for the PBS documentary, "Tour of the Wonka Factory" to come out. Done and Done.

7) No one thought to ask why Slugworth randomly showed up right as the tickets were found?

"10,000 of these..."

Okay maybe not the other four, since he showed up when the media did, presumably a few days later. However with Charlie, he was lurking in an alley minutes later! Charlie, despite being in shock, should have said, "Dude, if you are stealth enough to have spies in the factory detecting exactly where the tickets were being shipped out to, why didn't you just a) have them snatch a gobstopper while they were there or b) win one of the damn tickets yourself? Creepster." Instead of testing these kids on their loyalty, Wonka, you should have tested them on their common sense!

8) Really Augustus? You fat slob.

9) Wouldn't that contract they had to sign in the waiting room, being illegible and basically forced, be considered executed in bad faith?

"You're Always making things Difficult!"

10)How do I get my paws on one on those gold hand coat hangers?



11)How is it that all of the tickets just happened to be discovered by 11 year olds? Wonka said he wanted to find a child (which in itself raises serious questions). Did he ever consider that, say, a stressed-out twenty something woman might find a ticket in the midst of losing her battle with chocolate avoidance?

12) In the end Wonka decides to move the entire Bucket family into the factory. Let's examine the costs in 2010 USD:

(this being at the VERY LEAST)

Suitable Lodging for the Buckets: $5,000/mo.
Food: $1,000/mo.
Healthcare: Free because it's Europe (huzzah!)
Shit Charlie is gonna need because he is a kid: $500/mo.
Utilities for the Buckets: $500/mo.
Allowance for the Buckets: $1,000/mo.
Private School Tuition/Tutor for Charlie: $50,000/yr
Business Advisors for Charlie: $100,000/yr
Lawyers to figure out this mess: $250,000
Business School for Charlie: $50,000/yr.
Funeral Costs as the Family Starts Dying off: $20,000
Additional Lawyers to make sure Charlie's Father Doesn't Return Looking for "his" Share: $25,000

Years before Charlie generates any income for the business: 15-20

Really, Wonka? You couldn't find ANYONE to run the factory? It is going to take more untrustworthy adults to prep this little bastard than it would just hiring another nice pervert like you. Jackass.


That is all for now. In closing I would like to say to the ever-inquisitive Mr. Mike TeeVee (who raised a good few questions himself in the movie's dismal remake):



You are a god among ants. Don't let anyone tell you any different.