Don't they teach this in school anymore?!

Lose vs. Loose

"I would like to lose five pounds."
"After losing five pounds, my jeans are loose."
"I have a lot of loose change in my couch cushions."
"I hope I don't lose my car keys again."
"What a loser!"

I know it doesn't make any sense, but that's just the way it is.

I'm pretty sure this is the best letter anybody ever got.

(Please note the question mark after his own name. Priceless.)

Tipping a sacred cow -- Theatre review: Inherit the Wind

“It might have been yesterday. It could be tomorrow.” So wrote playwrights Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee in the authors’ notes for their play Inherit the Wind—now playing at Waco Civic Theatre—when it was written in 1955. When they wrote those words, though, they weren’t exactly referring to the creationism/evolution debate—a milestone of which, the “Scopes monkey trial,” the play ostensibly depicts in a fictionalized account. They were obliquely referring to the aggressive anti-Communist investigations that rocked Washington and the entertainment industry during the 1950s. At the time, audiences recognized that Inherit the Wind, like The Crucible, was an allegory for the Red Scare.

But today, with the debate about what schoolchildren should be taught about the origins of humanity raging as fervently as ever, the play takes on a much more literal meaning in the minds of most playgoers. Should Darwin’s evolutionary theory be taught as scientific fact? Does the theory of creationism have any place in public schools? These questions are as relevant today as they were in 1955 or in 1925, when the Scopes trial took place. Inherit the Wind takes a rather one-sided approach to the issue, wherein lies the problem with this play: it is about as subtle as a punch on the nose.

The first half of Inherit the Wind sets up the debate: in the fictional town of Hillsboro, a biology teacher, Bertram Cates, awaits his trial for teaching evolution in the classroom, which is against the law. He is widely condemned by the townspeople, especially Rev. Jeremiah Brown, whose daughter Rachel is Cates’ girlfriend. Rachel is torn by her love of the two men. A cynical newsman, E. K. Hornbeck, comes to cover the trial, while two very prominent lawyers, prosecutor Matthew Harrison Brady and defense attorney Henry Drummond, descend on Hillsboro to argue the case. The trial takes on national significance, and the town becomes a carnival.

The townspeople of Hillsboro are portrayed as monolithic—an indistinguishable mass of brutish hicks. Unthinkingly, they damn Cates to hell because Brown tells them to. They are ignorant, mean-spirited and illiterate. (A couple of townspeople confess that they’ve never read The Origin of Species or the bible—because they can’t read. Yuk yuk!) Brady is a grandstanding buffoon, while his opponent, Drummond, is only interested in the cause of justice and the preservation of the “freedom to think.” Inherit the Wind is almost as bigoted as a minstrel show, with southern Christians as the butt of the joke. Its simplistic telling of a very complicated story does a disservice to both sides in the serious debate over what should be taught in schools about the origins of the earth and its inhabitants.

Waco Civic Theatre does an admirable job of capturing both the setting of the play and the big top atmosphere the town takes on during the trial. Designer/director George O’Connor makes the most of the theatre’s limited resources with an evocative set made primarily of white-painted wooden facades. The music is well-chosen, consisting mainly of pounding piano renditions of old Protestant hymns like “Standing on the Promises” and “The Lily of the Valley.”

The pace is brisk and sure-footed, and many of the actors are very good, particularly George Compton and James E. Johnson III as the twin towers of bombast, Brady and Drummond. However, there are some missteps that betray this production as community theater fare: inexperienced actors gesture stiffly like Vanna White presenting a vowel; picnickers eat with plastic spoons, an easily avoidable anachronism; and, strangely enough, an actor with a mostly-bald pate and a snow-white beard sports a forehead covered in thickly drawn-on black “wrinkles.”

Despite these deficiencies, in Inherit the Wind, Waco Civic Theatre has created an entertaining evening of theatre. Just don’t go expecting a nuanced look at an au courant debate. A play in which the only major female character utters the words “I haven’t ever really thought very much,” isn’t exactly progressive.

I write like a dude.

Some egghead came up with an algorithm that analyzes writing samples to determine the sex of the author. It's called "The Gender Genie." I gave it portions of three of the reviews I've recently written, and each time, it "guessed" I was male. This doesn't bother me. If anything, I take a small amount of pride in the fact that I don't write like a stereotypical girl, whatever that means. But I'm wondering--is this thing just whacked out? Try out some of your own stuff (it has settings for fiction, nonfiction, and blog post) and let me know what your results are.

Pity me. Pity meeeeee!

So, I've been feeling pretty crappy lately. Not super-horrible, just kind of crappy. Like, last week was spring break, which should be nice and relaxing. So how come I was sleeping for 10 hours at night and still needed a three-hour nap during the day?

Queen III, I know you know where I'm going with this.

Yup, I have mono. Again. I think I must be some kind of magnet for it. I had a pretty nasty case back in 2000, followed by a full complement of relapses. Most people (people who aren't Queen III and me, apparently) don't get it more than once, so I thought there's no way I'd get it again.

I guess I was wrong.


So, make sure you don't drink after me. Or kiss me on the mouth. Although that probably wouldn't have been a factor for most of you anyway.

Film Review: Zodiac

This one's a little older, but, I think, a little better.

And I thought it couldn’t be done. If you’d asked me last week, I would have told you there’s no way to make a boring movie about one of the most notorious unsolved serial killer cases in U.S. history. But I would have been wrong; Zodiac is a major disappointment.

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, a serial killer crisscrossed California. He killed or maimed random victims, primarily teenagers parked in lovers’ lanes. But his real obsession was fame. The killer, who styled himself “Zodiac,” called police to report his murders and began sending letters and puzzles to major newspapers. Largely because of this successful public relations campaign, California took notice. Fear gripped the Bay area for nearly a decade, and the local police departments were made fools of as time ticked by and the killer wasn’t caught.

Zodiac is based on the book of the same name by Robert Graysmith, formerly a political cartoonist for the San Francisco Chronicle. As his newspaper is the recipient of several missives and cryptograms from the killer, Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal) gets to know the case intimately. Meanwhile, Inspectors David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards) track down leads and several times seem to get close to solving the case, but are ultimately frustrated.

Zodiac is the long-awaited return of director David Fincher, whose most famous picture to date is Fight Club. He uses the same clipped direction and cool visual effects in Zodiac, but that’s where the similarities end. Unlike Fight Club, which is taut, clean, and suspenseful, Zodiac meanders. Subplots are brought up but never resolved. Characters are introduced for no apparent reason. One wonders whether Fincher ever watched his final cut.

Jake Gyllenhaal, who is a very competent actor, is hopelessly miscast as Graysmith. He is at least ten years too young for the part, and looks five years younger than he actually is. And, inexplicably, he spends the entire movie sporting a 2007 haircut and 1994 clothes.

During the second act of the movie, the filmmakers seem to forget about Graysmith. The action focuses on Toschi and Armstrong’s investigation. Did Gyllenhaal go on vacation? If so, would that he had stayed away. This part of the film is far more interesting than the scenes that focus on Graysmith’s fruitless obsession with Zodiac.

One of the most egregious problems with Zodiac is that we never identify with the victims. We are introduced to them only very briefly, and they come across as strange and unlikable. The young lovers seem not to particularly like each other. The audience doesn’t feel the victims’ panic and terror, which would have added a spark of humanity to an otherwise cold film. But everything about Zodiac is conducted at arm’s length.

When someone announces they’re going to make a film about an unsolved case, the natural question to ask is, “How will it end?” The answer, in this instance, is, “With a whimper.” When the Zodiac case goes cold, Graysmith’s obsession with it increases, to the detriment of his personal life. But it’s too late. The audience doesn’t really know Graysmith and has no reason to care about him. The final third of the film focuses on his personal investigation, which at some point turns into research for a nonfiction book. Watching someone conduct research for a book—now there’s fodder for absorbing cinema!

Ultimately, Zodiac is disappointing because it could have been so good. Mark Ruffalo gives a nuanced, quirky performance, as do Robert Downey Jr. as Paul Avery, the Chronicle’s lead crime reporter, and Brian Cox as Melvin Belli, an attorney who accidentally gets drawn into the case. It’s also nice to see the talented Anthony Edwards again.

Zodiac has good dialogue and great music, and its subject matter has fascinated people for nearly 40 years. But it lacks cohesiveness and, like so many movies today, is far too long. Fincher missed out on an opportunity to make a timeless thriller that captures the terror of a city held at gunpoint by a madman. Instead, he made a dull procedural about cops and newsmen who, at the end of the day, failed to get their man.

Film Review - 300

Hi, gang. I'm writing movie reviews now for one of my classes. Fun, huh? Why work when you can do this for no money? Let me know what you think. There was lots of stuff I could have gone into here, but I have a word limit...


It should come as no surprise that 300 is reaping box office gold. The film is a startlingly stylish, artfully crafted retelling of one of history’s really great stories. It’s based on Frank Miller’s popular graphic novels, but don’t go to 300 expecting a comic book. What you’ll see will more closely resemble a spoken-word opera.

Set in the Greek city-state of Sparta in 480 B.C., 300 is the story of King Leonidas’ personal battle--some might call it a suicide mission--against Xerxes, the powerful “god-king” of Persia.
Sparta has an intensely patriotic and heroic view of itself as a society. Strength and courage are its most highly prized virtues, and soldiers dream of dying valiantly on the battlefield at the hand of an honorable foe. Little boys are taken away from their families and put through brutal training regimes and, when they get older, terrifying initiations. The result is an uber-elite fighting force--these are not just soldiers, they are warriors.

Leonidas, the king, is as tough as any of them. When King Xerxes of Persia sends an envoy demanding Sparta pay a tribute, the money isn’t the issue. Self-respect is. Leonidas refuses to submit to the more powerful king, even though he knows it will mean war. Face is everything in Sparta.

But the king does not have absolute authority; he must work with a council of representatives. The council refuses to send troops for a war with Persia, so Leonidas acts on his own authority, taking his 300 personal bodyguards to meet the Persians at the Hot Gates (Thermopylae).

300 was written and directed by Zack Snyder, who has only a handful of credits to his name, the most recognizable being his 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake. After his masterful work on 300, it is likely we will be hearing his name a lot more often.

Shot in front of blue screens and worked on in post-production for over a year, 300 is a design showpiece from the opening logo to the end credits. Color is used to perfectly beautiful effect--armor and endless wheat fields gleam in a watery, grainy gold sunlight while deep crimson robes ripple and pop on the wind. And then there are the bodies. Loincloths and heavy trains seem mighty impractical for fighting, but they sure do highlight those eight-pack abs nicely.

But who cares what the Spartans really wore into battle? 300 is not about historical accuracy. It’s about history as we wish it had been: clear-cut, black-and-white, and wonderfully heroic. Our own times seem full of uncertainties and moral gray areas, so it is refreshingly empowering to imagine ourselves a past free of ambiguity and doubt, to immerse ourselves in a culture that can look death in the eye without flinching.

The genius of 300 is that it is something we haven’t seen before. The beautiful, unusual styling, heightened drama, and heroic storytelling make for an experience far more visceral than what one usually experiences at the movies. It’s more akin to theater, and the influence of the classical Greek tragedies can be clearly seen. But theater doesn’t have technology like this. 300 is Greek tragedy on steroids. Zack Snyder may have created a new genre--the video game opera.

Cute Kid Day!

Just wanted to remind you all how cute my little niece and nephew are!

Zach is a very serious Texas Ranger.

Lillie is sometimes a kitty.

Happy "Birthday" to Me!

You know you're getting old when it takes five figures to express your age.

I'm 10,000 days old today!

How many days old are you?

Happy Texas Independence Day!

Those of you who are lucky enough to have been born here,
take a moment today to think about your many blessings.

For Starshine

Who is this dork?

Starshine asked to see my "Mary Poppins" scarf when I finished it... I can do you one better! Here are both the Mary Poppins scarves I made. My new favorite--super easy and fast. Want one? Send me your mailing address! I'm not kididng--I have a million scarves and I live in Texas!