Stansfield Blog

Special Announcement: Not “The End” – Just “To Be Continued.”

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 02:13:00 +0000

If you’ve read my essays over the last few days (and apparently someone has, according to the site – thanks, whoever you are), you know that a commitment I made to myself for 2011 was to publish something every day, without worrying whether it’s perfect or making it fit into a self-imposed format.

All well and good, right? But it put me in a bind. As it says on the right hand side of the screen, I had a “plan” for this blog. Out were diary entries, link-fests, cute cat pictures, and three-sentence punditry. In were long-form essays, cultural criticism, and archives of previously-published work. This blog would be a sort of fully-curated virtual portfolio.

Frankly, I still like that plan. The problem is that I haven’t been doing a good job of using the blog at all, let alone “curating” it. Over the years I’ve only published a handful of entries here. Meanwhile, on Facebook, Twitter, and just about everywhere else, I’ve posted often – maybe too much – but those posts have been brief, and were directed at a (relatively) limited audience, since I don’t “friend” people I’ve never met.

So: How could I keep this blog my “website of record,” while also sharing less “historic” thoughts with the public? Simple: A new blog. More importantly, a different sort of blog.

This week, unknown to all but a few, I’ve been learning how to use Tumblr. Not that I haven’t been satisfied with Blogger – I think it balances versatility, ease, and affordability better, than WordPress or other blogging platforms. However, Blogger is pretty specifically designed for blogs like this – not too short, not too heavy with graphics or photos, and not worth the effort it takes to post one or two sentences. Tumblr, on the other hand, has a different focus. It can take what I post to other sites – like Twitter, Youtube, and, yes, this one; combine it with stuff I post directly via the web, phone, or email; and then spit it all back out in a feed, or on Facebook, or back on Twitter again. In other words, I can post the same exact kinds of stuff I post on Facebook and bring it to a larger audience – and it will still go to Facebook, anyway.

Let me be clear – this blog isn’t going away. I’ll continue to post long-form pieces, and I hope to start doing what I intended all along and post some of my older stuff, as well. This will still be a “virtual portfolio,” but I will no longer feel the kind of pressure (and guilt) I’ve had about maintaining it. Meanwhile, when I post here, Tumblr will automatically be updated, and when I post on Tumblr the headlines will show up on the right side of this blog.

And, if you’re a Facebook friend, you’ll still be seeing the same links to news stories, videos, and other things I find interesting – but they’ll now be sent via Tumblr.

I hope that, if you find what I post here or on Facebook interesting, you will visit thestansfield.tumblr.com on a regular basis, and perhaps subscribe to the site’s feed or e-mail newsletter. My “official” first post is up now at this permalink.

Here’s to keeping resolutions!

New Year, New Actions- Do, Or Do Not

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 02:09:00 +0000

"Do. Or do not. There is no try."

In talking about the years prior to 2011, and the year still to come, I’ve been focusing on the idea of “resolutions” – not as agents of guilt, but as agents of change. Simply saying out loud (or writing down) where you are and where you want to be can make those ambitions more real, and therefore, more achievable. So far I’ve shared my ambitions to be more present; to be more aware of myself in how I look and how I “come across”; and to take more control over my relationships, both platonic and otherwise. That said, even though I‘ve written about how I want to look and how I want to act, but I’ve said very little about what I want to do.

It’s not enough to want something. It’s not even enough to be something. As human beings, it is important to be an “action figure.” And, as one of my favorite action figures once said, “There is no ‘try.’” And yet, I find over the last few years that I haven’t been “doing” what I want to. In 2011 I want that to change.

Something I want #3: I want to stop caring about being great at things, and start caring about just doing them. Ever since childhood, I was the kid who didn't want to do something unless I was already good at it. That’s deadly thinking, and a good way to avoid doing anything meaningful. This actually leads into two “sub-resolutions”:

I want to sing again. Solo. That’s pretty straightforward, actually. I used to be a pretty good singer, once upon a time. Other people seemed to think so, anyway. As the years have gone by and my range has shrunk, I’ve become more and more reluctant to sing by myself in front of people, and I haven’t pursued it. It’s a vicious cycle – the less I sing, the less robust my voice gets. The less robust my voice is, the less eager I am to sing. Well, I’m going to sing again this year. By myself. And you’re going to enjoy it or you’re going to stay out of my way.

I want to write. Every day. This is, I think, the hardest resolution for me to keep. I’ve always been someone who likes to “express myself,” but actually sitting down and writing is not something I do easily. Part of it is laziness – there’s always something else I could be doing. But a lot of it is perfectionism. I started this blog in order to have a place where I could display “good” writing. The problem is, “good” writing requires rewriting, too – so, by the time I’ve been happy enough with pieces to call them “good,” they’ve ceased to be particularly relevant or timely. Once again, it’s a self-defeating pattern. If I wait to be good all the time, nothing ever gets published. And so I never get better, and I give no reason for anyone to read what I have to say. I don’t want to stop caring about quality – but I have to become willing to accept when “good enough” is…good enough. For now, I’m going to keep this blog for “good” stuff, but I have decided that I need a place to just write, too, without worrying about it being good. There will be an announcement in this space about that tomorrow.

Ultimately the last three days’ worth of resolutions have shared something in common. They have all, ultimately, been about fear. Fear of doing, fear of how others see me, fear of loving, and fear of trying to be the best I can be because of fear of failure. Ultimately, then, I have just one resolution: I want to – no, I will – live my life without fear in 2011. And to do that I will work on three-to-five “SMART” goals. Too many? Too few? Who knows. But, at least they’re goals. Next time you see me, put me on the spot and ask me if I’ve been working on them, and maybe tell me some of yours. But not when I’ve been drinking, please – I’m saving that one for 2012. Happy New Year!

New Year, New Relationships- All You Need is Love

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 23:28:00 +0000

All You Need is Love

Yesterday, I talked about the conclusion I came to this year, that there is no shame in wanting to look better. It doesn't make you a narcissist to simply want to send the message that you care about your appearance. My second resolution is also about shame.

Something I want #2: I want to stop being embarrassed about the love I have to offer. I know there are some people who think I have no sense of embarrassment at all, but I’m not talking about my ability to make bad jokes or get very drunk and say inappropriate things. I’m talking about the embarrassment I have had for a long time about “putting myself out there.” In the past, when I have reached out to friends and potential friends, I have been shot down enough that I adopted an attitude of “let them come to me.” It seemed sensible at the time, especially since I have been told directly that there are people I’ve reached out to who actually don’t like me very much. So, even though I don’t hesitate to make the occasional wry comment or political argument or curmudgeonly quip, I have avoided letting people know just how much I like them and want to be friends with them. It can look desperate.

Well, so what – I’m desperate, then. If you don’t want to hang out with me or talk with me or be around me, that’s up to you. It’s not going to stop me from asking.

This is true both for friends and for potential romantic relationships, by the way. This past New Year’s Eve was better than a lot I’ve experienced, but I noticed something. There were at least four people in the room who, now or previously, I had enough of a “crush” on that I could see myself dating them. They were all kissing other people. What a bloody waste – it’s possible each of them would have rejected me if I’d asked them out. But it’s also possible they wouldn’t. I think I’m now less worried about rejection than I am about uncertainty.

There is, of course, another side to the coin, however, and that means knowing who deserves that love. Eventually, you have to know when to give up. This may sound mercenary, but the truth is that we only have a limited amount of time and resources for people. Those resources should ultimately go to people who care as much about you as you do for them. Do people deserve second chances? Sure. They even deserve third ones. But it is time to stop worrying about whether people like me, or why they don't like me, or if they like me as much as they like other people. If people are not going to give back what you give out, then start giving it out to someone who will.

This year, I am going to be less afraid of reaching out to people – and less guilty about walking away.

Next: The last part of the series. Why Yoda was right.

New Year, New Goals- Want Something

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 05:00:00 +0000

So, to recap, celebrating a new year got me in the mood to look back over the old one –and I ended up getting two for the price of one. 2009 was dreadful. 2010 was an improvement in every way. But why, then, do I sometimes feel so crappy? I have a job. I can pay my bills. I even have a social life. And yet, the same words keep coming up when I want to describe the down times. Lonely. Unattractive. Unfulfilled. Treading water. Do those feelings ever go away, totally? I don't know – probably not. But I think it's time to try to do something about them, or at least mitigate them.

Which brings me back to 2011 and, inevitably, resolutions. I’ve tended to be one of those people who think New Year’s resolutions are a waste of time, and so I rarely make them. And yet, after the year I’ve just had, I’m finally beginning to see the point. It doesn’t matter if the promises you make to yourself are impossible to keep. It doesn’t matter that they are inevitably broken. It doesn’t matter that you end up making yourself guilty over not accomplishing them once the New Year comes around again. What matters is that you have some kind of goal in the first place. To borrow – okay, steal – from a forty-year-old Broadway musical, when you blow out the candles on another year you should “want something. Want something.” So, keeping in mind my current employer’s insistence that goals should be “Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Time-Bound,” here is what I want in 2011.

Something I Want #1 – I want to care about my appearance. I’m not saying I want to become narcissistic or shallow. I’m just saying that a person needs to look like he gives a damn.

2009 was depressing. Not clinically – I’ve experienced enough clinical depression to know it when I see it – I’m talking about perfectly legitimate and justifiable misery. When you don’t have somewhere to go every day, you stop dressing to go out, and you stop doing anything that requires that you look in a mirror. When nobody wants to see you, why worry about how you’re seen?

As I said, 2010 was better. I found a job, and I ended up with a boss who doesn’t really care what I look like. That's to his credit – I’ll never know if any employers passed on me because of my weight or my thrifty suits or my thinning hair, but I know enough about the world we live in that I wouldn’t be surprised that they did. So, that's one big thing from 2010 to be thankful for – but between the inertia carried over from 2009 and the fact that my office is less-than-strict about appearance, I can’t say I’ve made a whole lot of effort to look my best.

Well, in 2011 I want to start caring again. What does that mean? Sure, it means losing weight like everyone else on Earth wants to do, and I’ve already gotten a jump on that by walking every day and rejoining the gym. But it also means putting in my contact lenses more often. It means shaving every other day instead of whenever I feel like it. It means getting a monthly haircut, and trying Rogaine, and putting my Toppik on even when I’m reasonably sure everyone I’ll be seeing has already seen my bald spot. It means saving up to get my teeth whitened. And it means dressing up occasionally, even if I don’t have to. I have some great ties- why should I only wear them when I’m forced to? I don’t need to look like everybody else does, but I want to start looking like I actually looked in a mirror before walking out the door.

If you don't look like you care about yourself, why would other people think you could care about them?

Next: Being unafraid to love, and being wise enough to let go.

New Year, New Me (New Version)- Good Bye, 2010*

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 05:51:00 +0000

2011 is here – it has been for two weeks, actually – and I'm not sure it's much different from 2010 or 2009. After all, the economy is still depressing, if not officially depressed; we have at least two more years of elected officials who believe they were elected to keep government from accomplishing anything; Americans are still in multiple countries fighting nebulous threats and dying for a living, whether we call them “wars” or not; and I’m still losing my hair.

However, the point of New Year's, arbitrary though it is, is how it forces us to do a little bit of looking backward and a lot of looking forward. So, that’s what I’m going to do over the next few days, whether I like it or not – and if some of what I see is relevant to other people, that's just gravy.

Personally, I have a great deal to be thankful for about 2010, but it also somehow makes me feel a bit guilty. While 2010 was not by any means all I wanted it to be, the fact of the matter is that my year was a hell of a lot better than a lot of other people’s, and it was also a hell of a lot better than my personal 2009 was. After all, I spent 2009 the way many Americans did: in perpetual anxiety. There was no period of more than a week during which I could be sure of a living income. I took advantage of unemployment insurance for the first time, but the money I received didn’t cover my rent, let alone all my other expenses, even when combined with the money I got from the occasional temp work I was offered and the editorial and pet-sitting services I advertised (to very little effect) on Craigslist and social networks. In 2009 I dropped the gym first, then cable television, then high-speed Internet, then Netflix, then almost all social contact, and I was still broke. I spent hours a day looking for work and only hours a month performing it.

I'd become a temp in the first place because it was difficult finding permanent employment – what was I supposed to do now that even temporary employment was unavailable? I wouldn't wish my 2009 on anyone, but the truth is I don't have to. No doubt, thousands of people were going through the exact same thing. Now, when I hear politicians talk of how unemployment benefits make people “lazy” and take away their incentive to look for a job, I’m tempted to punch in my computer screen – except on dial-up their speeches take so long to load that I’ve usually gone somewhere else before I hear what they have to say.

So, at the beginning of 2010, I was unemployed; broke; single; heavier than I’d been in several years; very lonely; facing the likelihood that my time in New York was coming to an end as well as the possibility I’d begin my middle-age years as a tenant of my parents. On the other hand, as of January 2011, I have been employed for eleven months; I have a tiny-but-existent financial “cushion”; I am (slowly) losing weight; I socialize again; and I still live in the same crappy apartment I’ve been living in for a decade-plus – though I’m still single and I still don’t have cable.

Am I still lonely? Sure. Do I look the way I want to look? No. Is my apartment open-house ready? Not on your life. But when I think of where I am in my life compared to where so many other people are in theirs, I can’t help feeling grateful, even though my life is not exactly what I want it to be. And that's the key, I think. Even if your 2010 was like my 2009, you can probably find something that went right. And all you need is one thing to build on.

Up Next: Improving 2011 By Improving Me

*If this post seems familiar to you, it means you've been reading - thanks! However, more than one person has told me that my post yesterday was too damn long and too damn self-centered. It was suggested that I might have more luck if I re-wrote it in serial form. If you already made it through the long version, feel free to skip over these. But stay tuned - after I'm done with this series, I'll be making an announcement related to the future of this blog and my future as a writer.

Who doesn't want smaller government? Is it you?

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 04:09:00 +0000

Today, the new Republican leadership announced from their newly-regained bully pulpit that a new day is dawning. They will work hard to ensure we enter a new era of smaller government -- one that is less involved in our lives and less expensive.

This is a great thing- Who isn’t in favor of less intrusive government? Who wouldn’t prefer that the government spend less? Wouldn’t you?

Well, wouldn’t you?

Are you sure? Are you sure you’re not some Commie European? Answer these questions and find out!

1. Did you think what happened in New Orleans a few years ago when there was bad weather was peachy?

2. What about what happened a few years later in the Gulf of Mexico?

3. When the banking system completely collapsed under the weight of its own greed, was that cool with you?

4. Are you a fan of Enron? How about Goldman Sachs? Bernie Madoff?

5. Do you think the democratic system works better when corporations are allowed to spend unlimited money on political races? Is your favorite expression, “What I don’t know can’t hurt me?

6. Do you think when our wars are fought by contractors it’s better than when they’re fought by our armed forces?

7. Do you think unemployment benefits are too generous? Social security makes us less secure? That Grandma should just suck it up and prioritize whether she wants to eat dinner or to take her pills?

8. Has the infant mortality rate gotten too low for your taste?

9. When we find out beef is tainted do you just switch to eggs? When the eggs turn out to be diseased do you switch to dog food? When the dog food turns out to be bad are you okay with just eating your dog?

10. When Mom loses her insurance for stupidly actually getting sick, do you tell her she should have just worn a scarf?

If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, you’ve passed! You like smaller government! Give yourself a gold star and keep voting Republican!

Of course, if you think smaller, less intrusive, less expensive government has anything to do with staying out of a couple’s wedding plans (no matter their gender); letting women control their own reproductive organs; letting people who wish to serve their country become soldiers even when they're not attracted to the opposite sex; letting people smoke what they want to in the privacy of their own homes; avoiding multi-trillion-dollar "pre-emptive" wars; or letting people live their lives free of the fear that the government can read their email, listen to their phone conversations, and lock them up any time it wants to – well, you’re clearly an idiot who has no idea what small government is all about.

Commie.

Theater Review: The Gayest Christmas Pageant Ever!

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 04:27:00 +0000

It has long been my opinion that a critic should strive to be balanced when it comes to the plays he criticizes. After all, even the worst productions tend to be made with good intentions. Even the worst productions tend to be made by people who want to be proud of their participation. And even the worst productions tend to be made with the idea of entertaining or enlightening their audiences in some way. That’s why it is so hard for me to write this review – because, well-intentioned though The Gayest Christmas Pageant Ever! may be, it really is one of the worst productions I have ever seen on a New York stage. The play, which was written, produced, and sound designed by Joe Marshall under the banner of the Alternative Theatre Company (which appears to go wherever Marshall goes, having originated in Phoenix, AZ, moved to Tucson, and recently relocated to New York), is a misbegotten effort from beginning to end. Plays can function and generate laughs even when their plots make no sense. They can make a point even when the characters are two-dimensional. They can survive poor direction, poor performances, and the occasional bad joke. But when one play features all of the above, it truly takes a Christmas miracle to turn tinsel into silver and gold, and the only miracle I witnessed at The Actor’s Playhouse was that the audience, by and large, returned to their seats after intermission.

The plot, such as it is, is based on a decent, or at least amusing, premise. In West Hollywood, producers Manny (Adam Weinstock) and Don (Blaine Pennington), founders of a theater company, are desperate to mount a money-making play after presenting a series of flops written and directed by Rod (played as a screeching sack of stereotypes by Jason B. Schmidt), their co-founder and Manny’s lover. Over Rod’s hurt objections, they hire creepy gay playwright M&M (Chris von Hoffman) to replace him as author of their yearly Christmas pageant, but are forced to use Rod’s script when M&M storms out in a rage, for predictably ridiculous reasons. Luckily for them, Rod’s script is not terrible – but, realizing that he will become insufferable if they admit that to him, they change the title and attempt to keep him away from the production.

Complicating their plan is the rest of the theater’s staff, including the "sassy" costume designer, Tarquin (Jonathan Chang); one-man-stage-crew (and perpetually stoned heterosexual) Jim (Ryan Wright); and Janet (Elyse Beyer), their reasonably competent but extremely high-strung stage manager. After Rod is conveniently sidelined by a falling stage light Jim incompetently rigged, they hire Margie (Crystal Cotton), a successful director from New York who knows Manny and Rod from The Old Days.

What follows are a series of excruciatingly tasteless jokes featuring a snow-excreting Santa Claus; a flatulent and deaf accompanist (Ree Davis); and Jim’s narcoleptic, Tourette’s afflicted bigot of a mother (Emily Schramel), whose apparent sole purpose is to give the author the chance to use the expression “darkie” in his script. Later, the cast of characters is joined by Jesus – yes, that Jesus – who, like Harvey the Rabbit, is only seen by Jim, and who proudly proclaims his own homosexuality and Latino pride (because, after all, what’s more of a laugh than the fact that there are Latinos named Jesus?).

Of course, in the tradition of Noises Off, everything that can go wrong with the production does. The cast is terrible. The crew is incompetent. And everyone keeps having to deal with Tyrone, the angry black guy who left his gun at the audition (played by a game Kershel Anthony).

This sounds like it could be a South Park-esque, irreverent, so-offensive-it’s-funny, celebration of poor taste, and at times it seems clear that that is Joe Marshall’s intention. Unfortunately, the jokes are not simply tasteless – they’re also completely unfunny. Jokes that didn’t land the first time are stretched into recurring gags. For example, Marshall tries to generate laughs by revealing the titles of two of Rod’s previous plays, (one being “Oklahomo”) and then, as the show goes on, continues the gag – by referring to the same two plays. Repeatedly. He couldn’t have come up with a few more puns? When things threaten to slow down, Marshall finds an excuse to bring back his unfunny bigot, his flamboyant Jesus, or his thuggish black man to act out some desperate stereotype or another, despite the fact that they don’t ever advance the action in any significant way. And, to further demonstrate his sophistication, the author has no trouble using stoner material that was dated back in the days of Cheech and Chong.

Meanwhile, the plot is not merely convoluted, but incoherent. For one thing, the playwright, for all of his supposed theatrical experience, seems to lack a working knowledge of how the theater business works, or simply thinks the audience won’t notice or care about the glaring incongruities. How has the theater company survived all this time? Do the founders have regular jobs? If they’re a legitimate company, why is the cast and crew made up of amateurs? And if they’re simply a community theater, why are they getting reviewed in major newspapers? If the play moved faster (or had more competent actors), these questions would be irrelevant, but Marshall feels the need to cram in social messages and romantic subplots at random moments, giving the audience just enough time to realize that none of what they’re seeing makes the least bit of sense.

As the second act opens, it seems for a moment that The Gayest Christmas Pageant Ever! is finding its purpose. When we see the problematic rehearsal for the play-within-the-play, there are some genuinely funny moments. However, things are quickly derailed again when Marshall insists on generating false tension by revealing Janet’s hitherto-unseen (and quickly handwaved-away) homophobia. After an incredibly out-of-place series of coming-out vignettes and a speech from Jim about tolerance, opening night arrives – and we’re treated to, basically, the same gags from the rehearsal scene, plus the aforementioned “Shitting Santa.” Predictably, the characters are heartbroken by their terrible review – and overjoyed when the terrible review leads to a sold-out run. If Marshall was trying to go for “Springtime For Hitler,” he should have realized that sending up bad plays acted by bad actors only works in a good play featuring good actors. Later, in a truly bizarre postscript, the heterosexual love interests (who, to Marshall’s credit, were developed with more nuance and compassion than any of the stock-stereotype gay male characters), are magically turned into a gay couple. For what purpose? Apparently only Jesus knows – and he doesn’t share.

In fairness, there are at least a few decent actors in the play, who deserved better material to work with. Cotton manages to create a believable character out of her worldly lesbian director, and the romantic leads, Wright and Beyer, are amiable if not particularly three-dimensional. In bit parts, Alexandra Dickson, who plays a butch (and put-upon) angel, and Kymberlie Joseph, channeling Hattie McDaniel as Tyrone’s mother, earn actual laughs during their brief appearances. Unfortunately, the rest of the cast struggles with the material, mugging through lines and situations that are already overly broad. Several of the actors seem to be genuine amateurs – Chang might have been funny, but it was hard to tell, since he had trouble projecting in the small space. Weinstock, whose theatrical credits are largely behind-the-scenes, looks and sounds uncomfortable on stage.

If this review seems unnecessarily harsh, it is only because plays like this are offensive at a deeper level than the jokes in them. Earlier, I wrote that most bad theater is made with good intentions, but my guest and I left The Gayest Christmas Pageant Ever! feeling doubtful that this play was mounted for anything other than cynical reasons. Sadly, if the play’s main purpose is to exploit audiences who will be attracted to anything with the word “gay” in the title, it may succeed. In promotional material, the producers quote comedienne Kathy Griffen proclaiming, “The title alone is brilliant!” While Griffin’s quote may be genuine, it’s hard to believe she saw the play before she made that statement. “Brilliant” title or not, the play is as much of a mess as the titular pageant. In a city full of talented playwrights and actors who can’t get a break, it is simply amazing that a show of this caliber can be mounted on an off-Broadway stage. Then again, when the playwright and the producer are one and the same, anything is possible. No matter Marshall’s intentions, he succeeds only in alienating the very audience he is trying to play to.

© 2009, Christopher Stansfield. Some rights reserved. This work is licensed to the public under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and may only be distributed according to the terms of said license. To view a copy of this license, please click here.

Book Review: And Another Thing... (Part Six in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series)

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 05:00:00 +0000

And Another Thing…, the continuation of the late Douglas Adams’s “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” series, was written in part because Adams didn’t get the chance to “set things right” before his untimely death at the age of 49. Whereas the penultimate Adams “H2G2” book, So Long, and Thanks For All The Fish, ended in a happy place for most of the characters, Adams’s last entry, Mostly Harmless, sneered at the concept of happy endings, leaving many readers rather UNhappy. Not that the series was ever cheery – it does, after all, open with Earth’s destruction. However, while earlier entries balanced cynicism with an affection for humanity’s foibles, Mostly Harmless was practically nihilistic. Adams later admitted that this was a result of his being severely depressed while writing the book, and planned to end the series – again – more positively. Since his death robbed fans of that ending, Adams’s widow asked author Eoin Colfer (Artemis Fowl) to give it a shot. While many might be happy to see Adams’s characters raised from the dead, they may wonder if it was worth the effort.

It’s important to note that Adams’s stories were, often, barely stories at all. Though there are Protagonists and Events, the “when” and “how” is rarely important, and the “why” tends to stay the same – people are foolish, and life is random. Still, even lacking basic storytelling conventions, the books are genius. For one thing, they’re laugh-out-loud funny. For another, the characters are easily identifiable. And finally, even though the Events aren’t important, the Deep Thoughts that they illustrate often are.

Since four or five different versions of the saga (which originated on BBC radio and was adapted into an LP, novels, a television series, and a film – each time with major plot changes) co-existed, all written or authorized by Adams, it’s clear that he cared less about “canon” than he did about provoking laughs. In that sense, Colfer makes a valiant effort to write a “Douglas Adams book.” Most of the essential elements are there – Colfer tweaks science fiction cliche, and the situations are suitably ironic, as in Adams's books. Of course, all of the major characters are back (as are many of the minor ones). Much of the book is, in fact, quite funny. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t fit with the rest of the series.

Colfer seems to acknowledge this: in a tongue-in-cheek preface he specifies that his book is an “appendix” to the series, rather than a true part of it. Which would all be very modest and self-effacing, if it weren’t for the fact that the cover declares in big, unmistakable letters, that it is “Part Six.”

One reason And Another Thing… doesn’t succeed is that Colfer has affection for the characters, but doesn’t seem to understand them. For example, here is his introduction to Arthur Dent, the main character of the saga (and the one Adams based on himself):

“Arthur’s university yearbook actually referred to him as ‘most likely to end up living in a hole in the Scottish highlands with only the chip on his shoulder for company.’”

It goes on to paint Dent as gloomy, pessimistic, and generally unlikeable.

True, one could get that impression of Arthur from his introduction in the first book – then again, the first time we see the character is while he’s facing the impending destruction of his home. Reading further, we learn that Arthur is a fundamentally decent, if unremarkable, human being. Though he is at times irritating, he is completely understandable. He can be petty, depressed, and self-absorbed, even in the face of the extinction of his species – but he is also one of the few beings that shows humanity, even briefly, to Marvin, the deeply depressed robot he meets on his adventures. He’s never shown to be friendless or unlikeable – clearly there was a reason his alien friend chose to save him in the first place – and as the series progresses, we find that, though he is frequently confused, he is also much deeper than the “evolved” species around him give him credit for being. Neither the best nor the brightest, he represents both what is bumbling and lovable about humanity. Somehow, Colfer misses all of that, and instead focuses on readers' mistaken first impression of the character.

In fact, he does that with all of the main characters. The alien Zaphod Beeblebrox, portrayed by Adams as a genius trying to be an idiot, is simply an idiot in And Another Thing.... Trillian, the second-to-last human, transforms from someone conflicted and competent to someone alternately brittle and insipid. Dent’s rescuer, Ford Prefect, is simply comic relief – when he’s used at all. Oddly enough, the characters Colfer devotes the most time to are Adams’s throwaways. They're all vaguely recognizable, but almost imperceptibly “off.” It left me with a feeling of warped perspective, as though I were reading the book with my glasses on backwards.

Another thing Colfer gets nearly, but not quite, right, is Adams’s narrative voice. That’s forgivable – it's unfair to expect an accomplished author to imitate someone else’s style – but Colfer tries to have it both ways. He doesn’t write like Adams did, but he picks up on the things that people loved about the original books – the endless footnotes and digressions, the recurring jokes – and then repeats them endlessly. Colfer writes like he’s desperate to prove that he’s fan enough to step into Adams’s shoes. Over and over, he sticks in references to Eccentrica Gallumbits, the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast, Gargleblasters, and other Adams in-jokes. At first these references cause warm recognition – then, they become tedious. Whereas Adams sparingly used his digressive “guide entries” to illustrate some of his larger points, Colfer puts one or two on nearly every page. And, while their quantity has increased, their quality is scattershot. The overkill is exhausting and irritating in the same way that amateur fan fiction is. Meanwhile, in place of wordplay, Colfer delivers endless puns, like the names Constant Mown, Carmen Ghettim, and Aseed Preflux – and the book eventually becomes frustrating to read. Colfer tries so hard to ingratiate himself to readers that he forgets to focus on what Adams would have – there are no Deep Thoughts here, just nostalgia and reiteration.

It is obvious that Colfer loves the H2G2 universe, so the book can’t be discounted as a cynical cash-grab. It also does succeed on one level – it wraps things up tidily (well, sort of) and gives the characters a happy ending (well, kind of). If And Another Thing… doesn’t exactly have a happy ending, it still ends on a hopeful and lighthearted enough note to be a step up from the previous book. Douglas Adams was not, himself, a cynical writer, contrary to popular belief. In fact, he was a disappointed idealist – aware that things are bad, but hopeful enough to refuse to give up. If things remain as uncertain at the conclusion of And Another Thing… as they are at the beginning, it’s in keeping with the rest of the series.

Ironically, if all readers wanted was a happy ending, they already had an Adams-approved one. The radio adaptation of Mostly Harmless added a positive epilogue that the novel lacked – and, even though the radio show was made posthumously, it was based on Adams’s own notes. The BBC production (available on CD) has never been promoted to American audiences, and it’s a shame, because – happy ending or not – And Another Thing… lacks purpose. Colfer seems to have made a list of the elements he needed to include, put them together, and then, after realizing he had several parts left over, shrugged his shoulders hoping nobody would notice. Like an Ikea futon with missing screws, the book doesn’t hold up to close inspection. Colfer, who is successful enough in his own right that he didn’t need the paycheck, deserves credit for giving And Another Thing… his best effort. Unfortunately, readers would have been better served if he had just turned down the assignment in the first place.

Theater Review: ROOMS a rock romance

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 05:00:00 +0000

ROOMS a rock romance (sic) tries very hard to give the audience for a “a rock romance,” what it wants – loud, heavy music combined with a love story straight out of The Idiot’s Guide to Romantic Comedy – and in that sense, at least, it does exactly what it needs to. Yes, Boy meets Girl. Boy also loses Girl. Does Boy win Girl back? I don’t want to spoil anything, but if you can watch the opening scene without figuring out exactly what happens in the closing scene, you probably aren’t paying enough attention to care.

If New World Stages is attempting to maintain a precisely-varied roster (it seems like there’s always one show for the kids; one for their grandparents; one that’s “serious”; one that’s titillating; one that “rocks”; and, of course, one that’s Altar Boyz and one that’s Naked Boys Singing), ROOMS is the perfect replacement for Rock of Ages, which has transferred to Broadway. Like that musical, ROOMS demands little of its audience, but provides a solid hour-or-so of diversion. Unfortunately, I found myself wishing that the book’s authors (Paul Scott Goodman and Miriam Gordon) would gather enough courage to take the risk of challenging the audience’s expectations once or twice.

The book’s banality is especially disappointing because the two stars, Leslie Kritzer and Doug Kreeger, are very talented: it is clear that they’ve worked hard to connect with their roles and with the audience. Kreeger, in particular, wrings every bit of emotion possible out of his portrayal of Ian, a depressed, phobic, working-class Glasgow musician with a heavy drinking problem. He combines this emotionality with a strong singing voice, and uses both to powerful effect in numbers like “Fear of Flying” and “Clean.” Kritzer is slightly less successful as Monica P. Miller, a Jewish Scottish Princess whose sheer ambition (her motto: “Whatever It Takes”) leads her to become, consecutively, a Bat Mitzvah entertainer; punk rocker; cabaret singer; and jingle writer. Though Kritzer is a gifted comic, she’s less believable during those moments she’s called upon to show vulnerability. This isn’t entirely her fault – her character largely operates on one unchanging level throughout the show, until a rather forced and perfunctory climax. Kritzer is also a strong singer, but she and Kreeger are both hindered by Scottish accents that too often seem cribbed from tapes of Uncle Scrooge McDuck and Star Trek’s Scotty – their artificiality is frequently distracting and adds little.

There is not much to say about the show’s songs (also written by Goodman). They are rhythmic (and loud) enough to keep things interesting, and they are entertaining. However, many of them lack melody: it’s surprising that a show about aspiring pop stars has so few musical hooks. I enjoyed the music while I was in the theater, but I can’t honestly remember much of it a day later. (It is also clear that Goodman has no real knowledge of punk rock beyond a few surface traits – and someone should inform him and Gordon that punk and New Wave are not the same thing, despite the terms being used interchangeably throughout the show.)

Scott Schwartz, the show’s director, deserves credit for staging the two actors (and one door) cleverly and organically. Under his direction, the first half of the show has several memorable comedic moments, and he directs the more serious portion of the show with sensitivity and honesty.

Ultimately, ROOMS a rock romance succeeds in providing a night’s entertainment, and the actors’ performances, at least, are worth seeing. It’s just a shame that their charisma isn’t being showcased in something a bit more thought-provoking.

ROOMS a rock romance is in an open-ended run at New World Stages, 340
West 50th Street, Clinton; (212) 239-6200, telecharge.com.

Film Review: Watchmen

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 05:00:00 +0000

Watchmen is not a movie about superheroes. For one thing, barely any of the characters in the film do anything heroic. Secondly, none of the people in Watchmen (with one notable exception) has any super-powers to speak of. What Watchmen is about can apparently be debated – Alan Moore, the writer of the comic book that the film is adapted from, thought it was about misplaced hero worship. On the other hand, Watchmen’s director, Zack Snyder, apparently thinks it’s a celebration of bone-crushing, blood-spurting violence. I think it’s about three hours long.

In the year or so that rumors have been spreading through the “fan community” (an expression used earnestly by comic book readers and derisively by everyone else) about the long-awaited adaptation of Watchmen, a great deal of worry has arisen regarding whether Watchmen would be faithful to the comic. Those fears will be put to rest by the film that was released yesterday. With the exception of the infamous “squid monster” and several of the more meta-textual elements of the series, Watchmen, the movie, is faithful to a fault to Watchmen, the comic book. All 300-plus pages of plot, subplot, and back-story have been crammed into a 160-minute film – and it feels like it. By using (Watchmen artist) Dave Gibbons’ original drawings as a strict storyboard and, at times, cribbing whole paragraphs of dialogue from the comic, Snyder and writers David Hayter and Alex Tse can all sincerely claim religious fidelity to the original text. Unfortunately, they get all the details right while somehow missing the point of the book – rather like a Catholic who reads the New Testament and thinks the story is “about” torture. (I’m looking at you, Mr. Gibson.)

Watchmen begins, portentously, with violence. For about five minutes, audience members are treated to the furniture-splintering, tooth-loosening, bone-crushing, window-smashing murder of Edward Blake (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), whom we soon learn was once a costumed vigilante and government operative codenamed “The Comedian.” Then, to get audiences acquainted with the universe this murder mystery is set in, an extended title credits sequence follows. Despite it being (painfully) set to Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A’Changin,” this sequence is probably the cleverest part of the film. In very little time, the various tableaux depicted (including warped versions of famous scenes like V-E Day in Times Square, the assassination of JFK, and Studio 54) manage to illustrate the differences between our world and the world of the Watchmen; the realities of superhero life; and much of the flashback material from the comic book that could not be included in the actual film.

The credits are handled in such a witty, seamless manner that one can be forgiven for expecting the rest of the film to be as smooth and understandable. Unfortunately, once the “real” movie gets underway, the labyrinthine plot complications and myriad characters that are so enjoyable to read at one’s own pace feel rushed and one-dimensional within the confines of a film (even one as long as this one). In rapid succession, the rest of the cast is introduced: psychotic, Objectivist Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley); Nite Owls I and II (the latter also known as wimpy technogeek Dan Drieberg, played by Patrick Wilson); the first and second Silk Spectres (Carla Gugino and Malin Ackerman, respectively); Ozymandias (“world’s smartest human” Adrian Veidt, played by Matthew Goode); and finally, Dr. Manhattan, a God-like CGI superman with blue skin (and little clothing). Manhattan (played by Billy Crudup in pre-origin flashbacks and voiced by him in present-day sequences) is less a character than he is a catalyst: it is largely his presence during the Vietnam War and other pivotal moments of history that caused Watchmen’s Earth to look so different from our own (one major difference: Richard Nixon is still president in 1985, when the film is set.)

The particulars of the convoluted (even for a comic book movie) plot are largely unimportant. While Rorschach and his somewhat-more-reluctant allies investigate the Comedian’s murder, Ozymandias concerns himself with the rapidly growing threat of nuclear devastation and Dr. Manhattan decides to abandon humanity, since it has already, clearly, abandoned him. In the original comic book, the prosaic details of the interwoven plots and flashbacks served to illuminate a philosophical worldview. In the movie, they serve as a staging ground for ever-escalating scenes of violence and pessimism.

It is true that Watchmen doesn’t contain any scenes of violence that aren’t in the comic. However, the execution of these scenes is radically different. Events such as the Comedian’s murder and an attempted mugging appear in the comic book as series of a few panels each. Much of the actual action is left off the page, and (notably for a comic book) few, if any, sound effects are employed. Compare that to the movie – before the Comedian’s attempted rape of Silk Spectre is averted, Gugino and Morgan have punched, kicked, bitten, and thrown each other through furniture in a sequence that could have been cut from Mr. and Mrs. Smith. An assassination attempt that, in the comic, consists of one secretary getting shot, becomes an orgy of bullets through heads, chests, and abdomens. Rorschach’s murder of a child molester, represented in the comic by a burning building and some chilling dialogue, is replaced by a series of cleaver blows to the molester’s skull. Each of these examples is underscored by the full range of wince-producing Foley sound effects – one can only guess at how many watermelons were slaughtered to produce the cleaver sequence. While Moore and Gibbons, of necessity, depicted violence in order to underscore the neuroses of their characters, Snyder depicts it because he apparently thinks it looks cool (his previous film, 300, is further evidence of this mindset), and ends up demonstrating that he has completely missed the point.

If lack of subtlety is apparent in the action sequences, Snyder can be applauded for the consistency of his approach. Watchmen’s one sex scene is portrayed in three panels of undressing and several more of post-coital pillow talk in the comic book. In the movie, we get several minutes of sweaty humping and thrusting in numerous positions, backed by Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” It’s hard to know what’s more laughable – the soft-core Cinemax-style sex or the cliché background music. The soundtrack, in fact, is a glaring example of Snyder’s sledgehammer approach to storytelling. Besides the aforementioned Dylan and Cohen songs, there’s “The Sounds of Silence” at a funeral, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” during a business meeting, and even “Ride of the Valkyries” during the Vietnam War. (Someone should tell Snyder that that particular song didn’t play during the actual war, Coppola aside.)

Of course, there’s also the issue of Dr. Manhattan’s body parts. While male full-frontal nudity is, due to Americans’ (im)maturity, somewhat daring in a mainstream film (and fans would accuse the filmmakers of cowardice if they hadn’t depicted Manhattan as he is in the comic), Snyder and his team are, once again, guilty of a “hey, look at this,” sensibility. The Doctor Manhattan of the comics is discreetly endowed (as one would expect a man unconcerned with appearances to be), but the one in the movie has such a large, constantly-swinging (in that slithery, CGI way) member that it is, predictably, distracting (and does not encourage any sort of mature response on the part of the audience). Aesthetic choices like these make the film seem more like a parody of the book it is based on than the reverent re-imagining it tries to be.

Some of this lack of nuance extends to the dialogue, as well, which features several lines of the “audience-is-too-stupid-to-understand-otherwise” variety. If one has read the comic book, it is jarring to hear the characters referred to repeatedly as “The Watchmen.” That word never appears in the comic except on the cover and in occasional background graffiti, but here it’s used as though the characters are a team of mutants or a doo-wop ensemble. I can picture a studio executive saying, “I like the movie, but people are gonna wonder when the Watchmen show up!” Likewise, the narration, which is essential in a static medium like comic books, is completely redundant in a movie like this – excerpts from Rorschach’s journal are one thing, but Dr. Manhattan soliloquizing about his lack of humanity is completely unnecessary. There is also one thuddingly-obvious line in the picture that rips off the climax of The Empire Strikes Back. I half-expected to see Malin Ackerman get her hand chopped off after it was spoken.

Despite Snyder’s ham-handed rendering of the material, the actors can at least, by and large, be commended for taking their roles seriously and finding emotional touchstones in the material. Wilson is nuanced and even touching as Drieberg (who is depicted as a sort of reverse comic book archetype – in this case, Clark Kent is the real man and Superman the pose.) Morgan is convincing as the amoral Comedian, and, though he can’t do much as Dr. Manhattan other than speak in a detached monotone, Crudup makes the most of his limited role. Unfortunately, both Ackerman and Goode are badly miscast: the former comes off as a one-note bimbo, and Goode plays captain-of-industry Veidt as a peroxided club-kid with an indeterminate accent. However, the truly revelatory performance of the movie belongs to Haley. Though his unyielding, psychotic Rorschach is covered by a mask during the majority of the film, his voice is appropriately chilling – and, when the mask finally comes off, Haley is genuinely frightening and all-too believable.

It would also be unfair of me not to point out that, visually, the film is stunning. Aside from a leopard creature and Dr. Manhattan himself (I still think that CGI-rendered humans and animals are jarring when shown in motion), the effects are beautifully rendered, and the art direction and set design somehow look simultaneously fantastic and realistic. It is clear that, in that respect, Snyder cared about what he was doing. In fact, “lack of care,” is one thing I cannot accuse Snyder of, in general. Every long minute of Watchmen shows that Snyder cares tremendously about both the book he’s adapting and the movie he’s making. I only wish I could believe that his care came with genuine understanding.

WATCHMEN: directed by Zack Snyder; written by David Hayter and Alex Tse, based on the graphic novel illustrated by Dave Gibbons; and released by Warner Brothers
Pictures and Paramount Pictures. Running time: 2 hours 40 minutes.

WITH: Malin Akerman (Laurie Jupiter/Silk Spectre II), Billy Crudup (Jon Osterman/Dr. Manhattan), Matthew Goode (Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias), Carla Gugino (Sally Jupiter/Silk Spectre), Jackie Earle Haley (Walter Kovacs/Rorschach), Jeffrey Dean Morgan (Edward Blake/the Comedian) and Patrick Wilson (Dan Dreiberg/Nite Owl II).

Theater Review: Guys and Dolls

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:00:00 +0000

There are really only two artistic reasons to revive a musical. One is to make a show that is old and familiar into something fresh and newly relevant. The second is to reproduce a classic faithfully in order to present it to audiences who never had a chance to see the original. There is something to be said for the latter reasoning — recent revivals like A Chorus Line and The Fantasticks have succeeded to varying degrees as trapped-in-amber photocopies — and the former method is currently being employed with South Pacific, a show that everybody has seen in one form or another. Unfortunately, the newest revival of Guys and Dolls doesn’t seem to know what sort of revival it’s trying to be, and it fails on both levels. An almost purely mechanical piece of theater, Guys and Dolls somehow manages to be overly familiar and gimmicky at the same time.

Guys and Dolls is considered by many to be the prototypical musical. Nearly every song in Frank Loesser’s still-magnificent score went on to become a standard, and Abe Burrows’s book is a model of comic and dramatic economy, intertwining plots and characters from several of Damon Runyon’s short stories with original material. It has been revived on Broadway about a hundred times (give or take a few), most notably in a critically-adored 1992 production. Combine those productions with the thousands that take place every year in summer stock, bus-and-truck tours, dinner theaters, and high school auditoriums (not to mention frequent television airings of the 1955 film adaptation), and it becomes hard to believe that any lover of musical theater is unfamiliar with the story of Nathan Detroit, Miss Adelaide, Sky Masterson, and Sarah Brown.

When a show is that familiar, it is imperative to infuse any new production with new energy, and director Des McAnuff (late of Jersey Boys) has added a few elements that beg to be regarded as serious “concepts.” A new prologue and epilogue featuring Damon Runyon (Raymond Del Barrio) and his typewriter bookend the show, and a great deal of time and energy is devoted to new, highly acrobatic choreography by Sergio Trujillo: if the idea of breakdancing in a production of Guys and Dolls appalls you, you’ll want to stay home. The set design is also distinctly modern — the orchestra has been moved backstage from its pit in order to extend the stage, and a giant Jumbotron screen serves as a modern (and frankly, tacky) backdrop. Moreover, the numbers featuring Miss Adelaide and her Hot Box Girls are treated somewhat more honestly (that is to say, sexually) than in previous incarnations of the show, and Miss Adelaide herself, as portrayed by Lauren Graham, is a harder character than she has previously been shown to be. She retains few of the squeaky, Betty Boop-esque mannerisms that have become associated with her.

Unfortunately, these changes are purely cosmetic. Rather than revealing anything new about the very familiar characters and situations, the overly long dance breaks and videos of airplanes heading to and arriving from Cuba simply slow down the show. Moreover, they serve as reminders that there really is nothing new going on onstage. For one thing, McAnuff’s staging is rote to the point of being amateurish. It is possible to anticipate every musical solo, because the character delivering it will have invariably made his or her way downstage to sing it directly to the audience. Similarly, romantic duets are presented in strict profile, and dance solos typically end up center stage. This kind of “look-at-me” obviousness gives the production the feel of a high school musical.

The real problem, however, is that Guys and Dolls doesn’t truly work unless the characters are treated as real people with real problems and real emotions. When characters are written as cartoonish stereotypes, as these characters arguably are, the director should be willing and able to bring them down to earth and find ways to make them real. However, McAnuff fails on that level. He seems to see the show as all surface — he apparently made little effort to lead the cast to emotionally-resonant performances. Unfortunately, he has no help from the performers.

Anyone who has attempted to deliver dialogue from Guys and Dolls can be forgiven for thinking that the phrasing is a bit artificial. It is — in fact, the particular patois of Runyon’s New York was largely created by Runyon himself. However, if an actor truly works to understand his character, and speaks Burrows’s words with conviction, it is easy to believe what is happening on stage — this has been proven in numerous productions, most recently in the 1992 revival. How unfortunate, then, that most of the cast recite their lines as though they’re reading them phonetically off a TelePrompTer. It is perhaps for this reason that Kate Jennings Grant, as Salvation Army officer Sarah Brown, fares best of the four leads. As one of the few actors unencumbered with “Runyonese,” Grant evinces more of a connection with her character, and her conflicted feelings for Sky Masterson (Craig Bierko) ring true, as do her solos, which are delivered in a clear and winning voice.

Far less successful are Graham and Oliver Platt, who plays Nathan Detroit. Though both actors (neither of whom is known for musical theater work) have on-key, inoffensive singing voices, neither seem comfortable in their roles. They both do what they’re “supposed to,” (Graham sneezes gamely while Platt’s eyes dart about constantly) but there is nothing in their performances that suggests they believe what they’re saying or that they even know what feelings they’re portraying. As they struggle to define their characters, they also struggle to find any chemistry with each other, making their pairing as unrealistic as their line readings are. Chemistry is also a problem with Grant and Bierko as Sarah and Sky — though both are veteran musical theater performers, they seem more concerned with “doing Guys and Dolls” than they are with making their courtship believable.

The remaining members of the cast similarly struggle to make what they’re doing and saying meaningful. Again, the Salvation Army members come off a bit better than their gangland counterparts do. Jim Ortlieb is surprisingly effective in the unrewarding role of Arvide Abernathy, and comes off as genuinely affectionate toward Sarah. The always-reliable Mary Testa is given little to do as General Cartwright, but does what she can with what she has. Tituss Burgess and Steve Rosen (as Nicely-Nicely and Benny Southstreet), however, are all mannerism and no heart. Burgess’ gospel-ized rendition of “Sit Down You’re Rockin’ The Boat” is loud, but toothless.

Guys and Dolls is durable — if not unkillable. This production will not erase the memory of previous ones, and this surely is not the last time the show will be revived. I only hope that the next group of people to present Guys and Dolls on Broadway has a clear motive in doing so, beyond the promise of reliable box office returns. This production, unfortunately, seems to have no real purpose in mind at all: and it shows.

My Fair Palin- A Musical Fantasia- Part Two

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 20:35:00 +0000

ACT 2

SCENE 1

Another McCain rally.
MCCAIN stands alone DS. He has visibly aged since the last time he appeared, and he looks increasingly desperate.

JUST YOU WAIT, JOE THE PLUMBER
(To the tune of “Just You Wait”)

MCCAIN: (singing)
Just you wait, Joe the Plumber, just you wait!
You’ll be sorry if Barack is head of state!
You'll be broke, because he’ll tax you!
Do you think that’s fair? I axe you!
Just you wait, Joe the Plumber, just you wait!
Just you wait, Joe the Plumber, when you’re sick!
Barack says you’ll have insurance- it’s a trick!
‘Cause a doctor won’t improve things ‘til the government approves things!
Oh ho ho, Joe the Plumber, just you wait!

Ooooooh Joe the Plumber!
Just you wait until he taxes your small biz!
Ooooooh Joe the Plumber!
Don’t you know that that’s what socialism is?
We just want things to be more fair but Obama wants class warfare!
Oh ho ho, Joe the Plumber!
Oh ho ho, Joe the Plumber!
Just! You! Wait!
(Lights out.)

SCENE 2

Sarah Palin press conference.
SCHMIDT and MCCAIN stand USL, as they look upon PALIN standing DSR at a podium. PALIN continues to wear the trapped expression she wore in SCENE 5. She is faced by a handful of weary REPORTERS DSC.

SCHMIDT: I swear, we’re still okay, Senator! You’re the comeback king! We’re gonna win this thing, I promise! We’re not dead yet!

SHE COULDN'T ANSWER RIGHT
(To the tune of “I Could Have Danced All Night”)

MCCAIN:
Dead! Dead! How could we not be dead?
There's just no way we'll ever make up ground!
Win? Win? We’re never gonna win!
Not unless Bin Laden bombs a town!

She couldn't answer right
She couldn't answer right
Until she read her notes.
She's making people scared
‘Cause she's so unprepared
And now we're losing votes!

I do not know how she can go and give them
Only non-sequiters all night.

I only know if she
Get asked about Muthee
She couldn’t ans- ans- answer right!
(music ends)

MCCAIN: Why are we doing this?!

SCHMIDT: We had to eventually let her talk to the press- it looks bad when we sequester her.

MCCAIN: And this doesn’t make us look bad? She hasn’t answered a question
coherently yet! When she was asked what magazines she read she looked like she was about to have a breakdown!

SCHMIDT: Don’t worry- it’s almost over. She just has to hold out a little longer.

MCCAIN’S CAMPAIGN
(To the tune of “The Rain In Spain”)

REPORTERS: (singing)
Poor campaign reporters!
Poor campaign reporters!
Night and day
We ask away!
Oh, poor campaign reporters!
All day long, asking her; while she rambles glassy-eyed!
All day long, asking her; how she’s qualified!

REPORTER: (spoken)
Governor Palin, many people feel that this campaign is showing signs of desperation. One day Senator McCain claims the fundamentals of the economy are strong. The next day McCain claims he’s been warning about economic disaster for years. One day Obama has been learning hatred at a radical Christian church, the next day he’s a Muslim terrorist. One day Colin Powell is a hero of the Republican Party, the next day he’s a racist who is only endorsing Obama because they’re both black. There seems to be a failure to stay “on message.” Right now, how would you characterize this campaign?

(PALIN at first looks stunned, then slowly breaks into a maniacal grin. As the song progresses she slips into near-catatonia. It is clear that she is having a nervous breakdown.)

PALIN: McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane.

REPORTER: Again?

PALIN: McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane.

MCCAIN: Oh, God, she’s lost it! I think she’s lost it!

PALIN: (sings)
McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane.

SCHMIDT: (spoken)
Oh shit, we’ve lost it! We’ve clearly lost it!

REPORTER:
Now once again, how is McCain?

PALIN:
He’s insane! He’s insane!

REPORTER:
And what of his campaign?

PALIN:
Inane! Inane!

PALIN AND REPORTERS:
McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane.
McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane!

REPORTER:
In PA, Michigan, and VA…?

PALIN:
Upsets can hardly happen.
(spoken)
How strange of them to let me run!

REPORTER:
Now once again, what about McCain?

PALIN:
He’s insane! He’s insane!

REPORTER:
And what’s this damn campaign?

PALIN:
Inane! Inane!

PALIN AND REPORTERS:
McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane.
McCain’s campaign is, plainly, just inane!

(MCCAIN and SCHMIDT quickly cross DSR, where they wrestle PALIN offstage.)

SCENE 3

McCain Campaign Headquarters. Election Day.
MCCAIN paces back and forth DSL. SCHMIDT and PALIN stand DSR.

WITHOUT YOU

MCCAIN: (spoken)
What a fool I was! What an imbecilic fool!
To think you two would help me win!
(sings)
What a fool I was, what a post-traumatic fool,
There are things that you just cannot spin!
Now, I must say to you, “my friends,”
Sarah Palin is not what she pretends!

(MCCAIN crosses to PALIN)
I might still have a chance without you!
My plans I could advance without you!
If I’d chosen Romney
Or hell, even Rudy
I could run the country without you!

I would look fit to lead without you!
Wouldn’t have to concede without you!
I could make my ascent, my win I would cement, yes I’d be president without you!
Yes it’s true! Without you!

PALIN:
You, my friend, who vet so well,
You can go to H-E-double-hockey-sticks!

I still have a career without you!
They still think I’m sincere without you!
And in 2012 I will run by myself without you!

MCCAIN: (spoken)
You little c---!

PALIN:
Without your record I will look more clean!
Without your angry talk I’ll look less mean!
Without your baggy jowls I’ll look more fit!
If I don’t have your baggage, Johnny- I’m legit!
I will go it alone without you
I can stand on my own without you
So go back to AZ
In four years you will see
What a winner I’ll be
Without you!

(PALIN storms off SR angrily. SCHMIDT shakes his head and also exits SR. MCCAIN is left alone. Offstage, a REPORTER starts reading electoral vote tallies.)

REPORTER (VO): Florida’s results are in and we’re calling it for Obama. That is 27 more electoral votes….

I’VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO THIS RACE

(To the tune of “I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face”)

MCCAIN:
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to this race.
Is this all really how it ends?
I've grown accustomed to my Less-
Than-Straight-Talking Express.
The preyed-on fears,
The lies. The smears.
They’re second nature to me now;
Like calling everyone “my friends.”
I was perceived as independent during my 2000 campaign;
Surely I could always act like that year’s John McCain.
But I’m accustomed to the slobs;
The angry, racist mobs.
Accustomed to this race.

(Spoken)
Sarah Palin! What an infantile idea. What a clueless,
stupid, brainless thing to do! I regret it! I regret it!
It was doomed before we blew off Lieberman.

(Singing)
I can see her then, Governor of NowheresVille
With her wretched little redneck husband Todd.
With her endless, stupid, chants of “Drill, Baby, Drill”
And her certainty that she was pals with God.
She tried to play the tough reformer,
And showed she had no ethics, instead.
Responses couldn’t be lukewarmer,
To a woman without one brain in her head!
Ha!
After four years of a Barack Obama rule
When’s he’s finally mopped up George Dubya’s mess
She’ll be nothing more than a helium-voiced fool
In a twenty-thousand-dollar Neiman dress.
Oh, poor Sarah. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!
How poignant it'll be when she starts running in ’12.
And she’s not even invited on “The View.”
All her grand ambitions, she’ll tearfully shelve—

(Spoken)

Will I invite her to a Georgetown cocktail party?
Give her my endorsement or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?

(Sings)
I'm a “real” American;
The sort who never could, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly never budge.
Just a “real” American.
But, I shall never take her back,
If she came begging for advice!
Let her promise me a place
In her presidential race
I will slam the door and Vote Obama twice!

(Spoken)
Sarah Palin! Hah!

(Sings)
But I'm so used to hearing Fox
And their faux scandals and shocks.
My vile attacks.
Her Joe Sixpacks
Are second nature to me now;
Like robo-calls and Town Hall meets.
I'm very grateful that I went to
Nam and was a tortured vet.
Surely that’s a tale that
I can still exploit-

And yet,
I've grown accustomed to the thought
Of “President McCain.”
Accustomed to this race.

(MCCAIN shuffles L and pauses to shake his head. PALIN enters DSR, crosses to MCCAIN and takes his hand as music gets louder. They both slowly exit L.)

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

© 2008, Christopher Stansfield. Some rights reserved. This work is licensed to the public under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and may only be distributed according to the terms of said license. To view a copy of this license, please click here.

My Fair Palin- A Musical Fantasia- Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 02:38:00 +0000

As I've followed the current presidential race and occasionally posted my thoughts here, the responses I've been receiving have been- well, negligible, to be honest. I'm confident only that two people are actually reading this blog- and one of them is my sister.

That said, there are clearly people who at least are aware of the fact I've been opining on the election, (even if they're not reading what I have to write), because more than one has expressed surprise that I'd have the nerve. After all, who the heck do I think I am? I'm just a guy who hangs out at piano bars and goes to the theater (when he can afford it).

And then it hit me- I am eminently qualified to write about this years campaigns precisely BECAUSE of my love of musical theater. The ups and downs of this election season have been nothing if not theatrical. So, I got to thinking- what exactly would the McCain Campaign look like if it were staged with music? What would the "arc" be? With apologies to Lerner, and Lowe, this is what I came up with. (I was once told that every household has at least one copy of the cast album of the musical I'm about to lovingly rip-off, so if you can't follow along without it go put it on the record player. What, people don't have those anymore? I'm screwed.)

MY FAIR PALIN: A MUSICAL FANTASIA
ACT 1, SCENE 1:

McCain Campaign Headquarters.

AT RISE: We see JOHN MCCAIN and STEVE SCHMIDT (McCain’s top advisor) sitting on a sofa watching BARACK OBAMA’S latest speech on CNN.

SCHMIDT: I’m telling you boss, we have this in the bag!

MCCAIN: Really? He seems so eloquent!

SCHMIDT: That’s exactly it! America doesn’t like eloquent! Why do you think Dubya was elected twice?

WHY CAN’T THE DEMS

(to the tune of “Why Can’t the English?”)

SCHMIDT: (Sung)
Look at him, a prisoner of his party!
Insisting that it’s good to be a smarty!
By rights he should be taken out and decked,
For insisting on showing off his intellect!

OBAMA VO: (Spoken)

“Nuance.”

SCHMIDT: (Spoken)
“Nuance!
Heavens, what a word! (He sings)
This is why those Democratic asses,
Never can appeal to all the masses!

MCCAIN (Spoken):
Come on, I don’t think that’s the only reason!

SCHMIDT (Spoken):
Isn’t it? (He sings)

Hear him talk about PA,
It will take your breath away!
Saying that it clings to guns and God.
“Obama,” says the NRA,

“Wants to take your guns away!”
That’s how we’ll convince them he’s a fraud!

Hear that Hillary- or worse
Hear a Kennedy converse!
It distances them all right off the bat!
All of them keep their words straight

And make sure they enunciate!

I ask you, John, who wants to vote for that?

It's “nuance” and “smarts” that keep them from their prize

Not our dirty tricks and filthy lies!

Why can’t the Dems teach all their members how to speak?
They have to know their manner is far too slick and sleek!
If you sound like Al Gore does instead of the way Bush sounds
The rural voters throw you to the hounds!

MCCAIN: (spoken)
Seriously?

SCHMIDT:

A Democrat’s way of speaking almost always is defeatist!
The moment he talks he gives us all the chance to shout “elitist!”

Use proper English and they’ll think something’s amiss!

Oh, why can't the Dem’crats learn to

MISpronounce words like “nuke-you-ler” so they hurt a person’s ears?

If you say “ain’t” you’ll hear the voters' cheers!

Words that end “I-N-G?” Make certain the “g” sound disappears!

George Dubya hasn’t used one in years!

Why can’t the Dems teach all their members how to speak?
Looking educated simply makes them all look weak!

If you use proper English you're regarded as a freak!

Oh why can’t the Dem’crats?

Why can’t the Dem’crats

Learn To Speak?

SCENE 1A:

MCCAIN: You have a point. We’re really going to have to choose a running-mate who doesn’t seem too slick, too elitist. So that rules out Romney. How about Lieberman?

SCHMIDT: Lieberman’s a Jew! They’re ALL elitist!

MCCAIN: Oh, right. But who?

SCHMIDT: I’m glad you asked. Let me introduce you to Governor Sarah Palin!

(SARAH PALIN, an attractive woman with bangs and glasses pops up from behind the sofa, momentarily startling MCCAIN.)

PALIN: Ta-dahh!

WOULDN’T I BE MAVERICKY?

(To the tune of “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly)

PALIN: (singing)

I’m feeling bored today I think I’ll shoot a caribou!

SCHMIDT: (humming)

Mmmmmm.

PALIN:
If I’m allowed I think I’ll also ban a book or two.

SCHMIDT:

Mmmmmmm.

PALIN:

When I make policy I just ask what would Jesus do!

SCHMIDT:

Mmmm, Mmmm- Wouldn't she be mavericky?

PALIN:
All I want is a VP spot,
I’m exactly what Biden’s not!

And don’t you think I’m hot?

Oh wouldn't I be mavericky?

Lots of oil in Alaska state

Bible-thumpers will think I’m great!

Make me your running mate!

Oh wouldn’t I be mavericky?

Oh, so mavericky I’ll win over women who liked Hill.
I will really shake things up
When I try to ban the Pill!

I fought off that Bridge to Nowhere

Sure I did! Really- no, I swear!

But you don’t even care

‘Cause wouldn’t I be mavericky?

MCCAIN:

Mavericky?

SCHMIDT:

Mavericky!

PALIN:

Mavericky!

ALL:
Mavericky.

SCENE 2

MCCAIN and SCHMIDT sit on the sofa DSL while PALIN stands USR The two men are prepping PALIN as she pretends to field reporters’ questions.

SCHMIDT (speaking into his pen as if it were a microphone): But Sarah, what do you say to the people who claim your husband was a member of a revolutionary political party that supports the idea of Alaska seceding from the United States? Do you associate with terrorists?

PALIN: Oh, well I don’t know ‘bout that sorta thing, but I’ll tell you who associates with terrorists! Barack Obama, that’s who! Why, he’s friends with someone who by his own admittance wanted to bring down the country! You betcha!

SCHMIDT: Brilliant answer!

MCCAIN: I don’t know- I feel like we should have asked Sarah some of these questions BEFORE we announced her as my running mate! I mean, how’s she going to deal with all these skeletons in her closet?

SCHMIDT: Easy, John- she’s hot! Nobody’s gonna attack a hot woman! All she needs is a little bit of pluck! Watch this! Sarah, some people are saying that you lied when you said you were against the Bridge To Nowhere- how do you respond?

WITH A LITTLE BIT OF PLUCK

(To the tune of "With A Little Bit of Luck")

PALIN: (singing)

The Congress gave me four hundred-some million

To build a bridge that I wanted to build
The Congress gave me four hundred-some million,

But

With a little bit of pluck, with a little bit of pluck

I’ll claim I’m the one who got it killed!

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of pluck I got it killed!

SCHMIDT: (spoken)

What about the charges against your office back home in Alaska?

PALIN:

Alaska brought an ethics charge against me
On my abuse of power they’re fixated

Alaska brought an ethics charge against me

But
With a little bit of pluck, with a little bit of pluck,
I’ll pretend that I was vindicated!

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of pluck it was negated!

Oh, I could tell the honest story
But with a little bit of pluck the charge I’ll duck!

I asked a librarian how I ban books

If I don’t like the messages they share.

I asked a librarian how to ban books-

But
With a little bit of pluck, With a little bit of pluck,
(winking)

I’ll just point out that they’re all still there!

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of pluck I’ll say I’m fair!
With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of lies and pluck!

MCCAIN: (spoken)

But what about your daughter’s…condition?

PALIN:

I am opposed to real sex education

But Bristol’s pregnancy I must report

I am opposed to real sex education

But
With a little bit of pluck, With a little bit of pluck,
I’ll just say

I’m proud she won’t abort!

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of luck, she won’t abort!

Sure I may be a big hypocrite
But with a little bit of pluck I’ll dodge the muck!

Oh sure it’s true, my husband wants to secede

And he belongs to radical fringe groups.
Oh ya, it’s true, my husband wants to secede

But
With a little bit of pluck, With a little bit of pluck,
I’ll just wink and make the press my dupes!

(winks)

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of pluck the press won’t swoop!

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of lies and pluck!

MCCAIN AND SALTER:
She doesn’t have a single explanation
For all the scandals that she’s in knee-deep!
And what she lacks is one qualification!

But
With a little bit of pluck, With a little bit of pluck,
Dumb Americans will make her Veep!

With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of pluck, they’ll make her Veep!
With a little bit...with a little bit...
With a little bit of lies and pluck!

SCENE 3

A McCain/Palin Rally.

PALIN stands DS as she addresses an unseen crowd.

PALIN:

I’m just so glad to see you all here in what I like to call the ‘real America.” You all have real American values! Not like those people in fake America where they’re all latte-sippin’ elitists! They all think they’re better than you because they had a pair of towers! After all,

I’M A REAL AMERICAN

(To the tune of “I’m An Ordinary Man.”)

PALIN: (sings)

You’re all real Americans,
Who desire nothing more than for our country to stand tall,
And to protect it from the terrorists who wanna see it fall!

You’re real Americans, who like to sit in pews!

Who want us all to be

Completely free

(Unless, of course, you don’t share all our views.)

You’re all real Americans!

But

Let Obama win this race-

And don’cha know, there will be sobs!
He is not like you or I

And our freedoms all will die

When he gives that guy Bill Ayers and his terr'ist slayers jobs!

Let Obama win this race-

And all our liberty he’ll steal!
Can’t you tell the way he talks

And that cocky way he walks

Is elitist! The effete-ist! So we cannot let him beat us- HE’S NOT REAL!

You want to go and do some hunting?
Well, he’ll just take your guns away!
And you can forget goin’ to church-

When he makes it a crime to pray!

Don’t let Obama win this race!

‘Cause that would be a real disgrace!

I can guarantee, you betcha

That the terrorists will getcha

And I know it’s what your thinkin’-

That’s the reason that I’m winkin’!

We can never let Obama win this race!

(PALIN basks in the applause of her supporters and barely flinches when, OS, someone shouts, “Kill him!”)

SCENE 4

McCain/Palin Campaign Headquarters.

MCCAIN stands SL with SCHMIDT. Despite PALIN’S apparent triumph in the previous scene he looks agitated. PALIN sits on the sofa, looking lost and confused.

MCCAIN: I know she’s playing well to the base, but as soon as she goes off message she’s a disaster! How can we let her make this trip to New York?

SCHMIDT: Don’t worry- she’s gonna pose for some pictures and look Vice Presidential. That’s it! We’ve lined up Kissinger and a real top-drawer list of diplomats. All anyone is going to see is poise! I promise!

MCCAIN: You’d better make sure of it! So far she isn’t working out the way you promised!

DON’T LET HER SPEAK TO THE PRESS

(To the tune of "Get Me To The Church On Time")

MCCAIN: (sings)

She’s meeting Henry in the morning!

What they’ll discuss I cannot guess!

Our Iraq missions?

Talk preconditions?

Just don’t let her speak to the press!

She’ll be in New York in the morning!

Make sure she’s wearing a tight dress!

Don’t let her take questions!
That’s my one suggestion!

Please, don’t let her speak to the press!

If they have cameras

Go let ‘em shoot

But if they take notes,

Give ‘em all the boot!

She’s meeting Karzai in the morning!

And this is one thing I must stress!

She’s good at winking!

But not great at thinking!

Don’t you let her speak

Please just don’t let her speak

For God’s sake, don’t let her speak to the press!

SCENE 5

The Vice Presidential debate.

JOE BIDEN, a man with a comb-over and an easy-going smile, stands USL with an unnamed advisor. BIDEN looks confident as his adviser frets. SARAH PALIN stands USR with JOE SCHMIDT. DSL and DSR are two podiums.

ADVISOR: Just remember, Joe- watch the verbal diarrhea! We don’t want any gaffes and we don’t want you to look boring! And be respectful!

BIDEN: Don’t sweat it! For once I’m not the one who has to worry! (He sings)

AT THE V.P. DEBATE

(To the tune of "On The Street Where You Live")

BIDEN: (singing)
I have often talked like a blowhard bore;
But I’ve never met somebody whose skills were so poor!
All at once am I several stories high

Knowing Palin’s the one I‘ll debate!

Did she really hunt from a flying plane?
Can she see Vladimir Putin through her windowpane?

Did she know McCain and Bush share a brain?
I’m so glad Palin’s who I’ll debate!

And oh! I’ll take her to task, too
‘Cause I know she won’t have a plan!
(Stage whispering to SR)

Just hope, they don't ever ask you
Who commands our forces in Afghanistan!

(Singing)

People mock my hair- they don't bother me.
For I’m sure that I will kick her ass on live TV!
Let the time go by, I won't care if I
Make her look bad at the Veep debate!

(The two candidates cross DS, shake hands, and then walk to their podia, while their aides remain USL and USR in the wings. A strobe light turns on and shows BIDEN’S face grow more and more confident as PALIN begins to look like a caribou caught in headlights. After a minute of pantomime, the two shake hands again and walk off USL and USR respectively. SCHMIDT is left standing, alone, USR. Tight spotlight on SCHMIDT as he slowly puts his head in his hands.)

INTERMISSION

What Colin Powell's Endorsement "Means"

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 15:09:00 +0000

As has been predicted for several days, the former Secretary of State, Ret. Gen. Colin Powell, announced on today's Meet the Press that he will be voting for Sen. Barack Obama in this year's presidential election. Powell, who has been repeatedly and lavishly praised by Obama's opponent, Sen. John McCain, over the last eight years, claimed to be "disappointed" with both McCain's campaign tactics and his choice of running-mate (Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin). He cited Obama as a "transformational" candidate.

So, what, exactly, does this mean for the candidates' campaigns? Pundits on the left(ish) side of the political spectrum are predictably enthusiastic about this turn of events- Powell has always been perceived by many as a statesman-like figure whose military and foreign policy background are unassailable. More importantly, he is a Republican who served Pres. G.W. Bush, and thus his endorsement appears to be another piece of evidence supporting the idea that the Republican "brand" is so damaged that its own followers are "seeing the light." Expressions like "the final nail in McCain's coffin" have been used by some with glee. There's no question that this is not a good thing for McCain.

This particular image of Powell, however, is not necessarily an accurate one- people with short memories on the Left might want to remind themselves of Powell's complicity, even cowardice, in promoting the Bush administration's Iraq War. If Powell's own dishonesty in endorsing that war isn't directly responsible for the thousands of American and Iraqi lives (and billions of taxpayer dollars) that have been unnecessarily lost in the last several years, then it is certainly a major factor. It is valid to ask why Obama supporters should even be PROUD of this endorsement- and to wonder why Powell is considered "credible" in a way that other Bush administration figures are not. Most people learn at a very early age that it helps to be popular with the big men on campus, but that popularity doesn't always speak well of us or our goals. Would we be this excited if the endorsement had come from Donald Rumsfeld? How would that endorsement be any different, really?

The fact is, Powell's endorsement doesn't actually "mean" much- at least not to Obama supporters. It is important to keep in mind that Obama already had a clear lead in both polls and in the Electoral College tally that various news and punditry organizations maintain. If one looked at the CNN map last night, things already seemed pretty dire for the McCain camp.

If we take as a given the "solid" Democratic and Republican states in the current map, and also assume that the current analysis of which states are "leaning" one way or another is accurate (we should do neither, of course- the election is not won or lost, yet, and complacency can ONLY be a bad thing), then the current conventional wisdom is that there are only six states that can not already be "called" for one candidate or another. In order to capture the 270 electoral votes he would need to win or tie, McCain would need to win ALL SIX of those states, AND, in the next two weeks, change the minds of at least one and possibly two of the states that are currently considered "blue" or "blue-leaning." Obama needs (according to CNN) only to "hang in" for the next two weeks to capture the presidency. Considering the financial and logistical resources it will take to vigorously campaign in that many states- resources the McCain campaign does not have- McCain's chances look slim. This is a fact that McCain himself has already acknowledged, saying that "Obama is already measuring the drapes" for the White House. As usual, McCain's attempt to be snide (he would say "funny") backfires- as with most of McCain's quips, his sarcasm instead reveals McCain's own inner mind- even HE doesn't really think he can win at this point.

So really, a Powell endorsement of Obama only "hurts" the McCain campaign in the same way that a pin-up girl painted on the Enola Gay would have "hurt" Hiroshima- it's not the injury- it's the insult.

However, Powell's endorsement may still have MEANING, even if it doesn't actually affect things much- and that meaning will come from the inevitable reaction of those on the Right whose egos are assuredly bruised by this endorsement. It will become very interesting to parse the words of prominent McCain officials and supporters in the next few days, because they will undoubtedly reveal a great deal about the Republican mind. I predict three separate reactions. The first two are easy to guess, if we look at what happened to Scott McLellan, Richard Clarke, and Anthony Zinni, among other former Bush administration staffers who have since criticized their former employers. The somewhat more politic among Republican die-hards will sadly shrug and shake their heads (or provide a written equivalent) and claim that Powell is "out-of-touch," "misinformed," or "deluded." The more bellicose (severe blond women with prominent adam's apples and Fox News blowhards among them) will have no qualms about calling Powell a "traitor" or otherwise impugning his motives (perhaps suggesting that he's "auditioning for a spot in the next administration," as they did of Clarke.) They will do this despite eight years of statements praising Powell and treating him as a Republican hero, and they will do it without irony, because they are convinced that Americans can only remember back as far as last week.

The third, and most pernicious, response will be overtly stated by only a few, but "subtly" alluded to by many more. Those people will point out a fact about Powell that is obvious on the surface- he is a black man. Then, they will remind people that the presidential candidate he is supporting is a black man, too (or at least not white- concepts like mixed-race backgrounds tend to be a bit 'nuanced" for a lot of people). And they will go on to say that Powell's endorsement doesn't matter because, after all, that one commonality is the only reason he is endorsing Obama. Powell's previous political convictions will have little bearing on their statements of "fact." After all, to many, black people who support the Republican party, like Powell, Clarence Thomas, and Condoleezza Rice, tend to be regarded as independent thinkers only as long as they stay "in house" and parrot the party line. Once they cross that line they fall into the category of all those other black people who traditionally vote as Democrats- narrowly self-interested and racist.
If you think I'm being cynical (or "playing the race card") you can be excused and forgiven- but only if you haven't been paying attention to what's been going on around the country in the last several months. Obama's campaign has been an eye-opener in that it has shown just how far America has come with regards to civil rights- in the grand scheme of things, forty years from Jim Crow to a possible black president is astounding, and something the country should be proud of. It has also shown how much farther many people still have to go. One needn't even argue that references to Obama as being "different from us," and as "having different values" are subtly racist when we have plenty of examples of good, old-fashioned, OVERT racism to choose from in the last several weeks- from the mock-up Food Stamps picturing a watermelon-eating Obama to videos of people making statements like "I'm afraid the blacks will take over." In an environment like that, do I think Powell's endorsement will believed by many people to be reflective only of his racial interests rather than by any reasoned understanding of his policy goals? Of course I do.

In order to see what Powell's endorsement "means," we are going to have to watch and see what it "means" about Republicans, because it, frankly, means little for Democrats. I am curious to see how accurate my predictions are, and intend to post with a follow-up in the next few days. I'm feeling pretty confident, having predicted to my friends and family both the references to "Joe the Plumber" and the use of the phrase "class warfare" in the last debate. But don't confuse "confident," with "happy." That will only come if, in two weeks, CNN's electoral map proves to be prescient.

Why is Joe the Plumber Doing So Much Better Than Other Plumbers?

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 17:00:00 +0000

The star of the last night's third (and, mercifully, last) presidential debate was neither Barack Obama nor John McCain (nor even Bob Schieffer, who somehow managed to look fair and dignified even while allowing Sen. McCain to interrupt Sen. Obama 15 times, and even while letting Sen. McCain get the last word on 7 out of nine topics). No, the star of the show was "Joe the Plumber," an ostensibly "undecided" voter who questioned Obama about his tax policy while the latter was campaigning in Ohio last Sunday. "Joe," (real name: Samuel Joseph Wurzelbacher) was concerned about how Obama's tax plan, which proposes tax increases on people and small business netting over $250,000 a year, would affect his chance to buy the plumbing company he's been working for for several years. You can see Obama's response on YouTube here. McCain brought up "Joe's" sorry plight, and forced Obama to confront "Joe" directly. All in all, Joe the Plumber was mentioned a total of 26 times, according to the CBS News transcript. There's just one little odd thing about Joe....

From the Bureau of Labor Statistics "Occupational Outlook Handbook":

"Pipelayers, plumbers, pipefitters, and steamfitters are among the highest paid construction occupations....in May 2004, median hourly earnings of plumbers, pipefitters, and steamfitters were $19.85. The middle 50 percent earned between $15.01 and $26.67. The lowest 10 percent earned less than $11.62, and the highest 10 percent earned more than $33.72. "

If, as Joe claims, he is working 10-12 hour days, and he is earning the "top" $33.72 an hour (hell, I'll round it to $34), EVEN PRESUMING HE WORKS WEEKENDS AND HOLIDAYS AND NEVER GETS SICK OR TAKES A VACATION, that comes out to....LESS THAN $150,000 A YEAR.

You're going to point out that those number are from 2004- so I ask whether it seems likely that in four years the average earnings of plumbers has gone up 66%- which is what would need to happen to bring Joe the Plumber up over Obama's threshold. Well, does it?

So, this means one of the following:
1. Joe REALLY overcharges.
2. Joe lays more pipe weekly than JFK and Clinton did in their entire adult lives.
3. Joe is a good plumber, but really, really, bad at math.
or,
4. "Joe the Plumber" is a McCain plant deliberately inserted into the campaign in order to stir up untruths about Obama's tax proposals.

I think you all know where I'm personally leaning on this one.

UPDATE: he following facts are now known about "Joe the Plumber":

FACT- Joe does NOT, in fact, make $250,000 a year, or anywhere near it. He admitted that in an interview with Katie Couric.

FACT- Joe was NOT "undecided." In that same interview, he claims "not to have been swayed by the debate" AND that he pretty much knew who he was voting for. That adds up to his having been 'decided" AT LEAST before the debate.

FACT- Joe is a registered Republican.

FACT- "Joe the Plumber" (Samuel Joseph Wurzelbacher) is believed to be closely related to ROBERT Wurzelbacher, a prominent Republican donor, and- get this- the son-in-law of CHARLES KEATING, JR and Vice President of the parent company of the S&L that started the whole scandal.

FACT: Joe the Plumber (who moves around a heck of a lot) shouldn't really worry about tax increases, because he apparently doesn't bother to pay his taxes anyway.

FACT: Joe the Plumber ISN"T EVEN REALLY A PLUMBER. At least, not a legal one.

McCain Wins Debate Before It Occurs- Rest Of Us Thrilled We Don't Have to Watch It

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 21:18:00 +0000

From today's online Washington Post:
http://voices.washingtonpost.com/thefix/2008/09/mccain_wins_debate.html

Now, I understand that these ads generally HAVE to be designed and distributed before the debate in order to launch them as soon after the debate as possible, and that no matter what happens, both sides are going to declare themselves the winner. (When was the last time anyone left a political debate saying, "Well, you know, I kind of sucked. Gotta bring the A Game next time...") I have no doubt that the Obama camp has already created an ad that praises his own performance.

However, this particular instance seems to prove two things:
1. The McCain campaign is incompetent- how could they not make sure that this wasn't released early?
2. John McCain never had any intention of skipping the debate, as many of us had already figured out.

Of the two points, (1) is the minor one- after all, the only people who haven't noticed how off-the-rails the McCain campaign has gone are the "true believers" who will wrap their minds around six or seven contradictory concepts just so that they don't have to face the reality of what they're voting for. And believe me, that isn't a swipe at Republicans- plenty of them have been quoted in recent times making statements that all pretty much add up to "OMG, WTF" in teenager-speak.

No, what is truly appalling is point (2), proof that the McCain campaign will do anything- ANYTHING- to get ahead, including cynically manipulating the worst financial crisis in America in decades to engage in cheap political theater. McCain's choice to "suspend" his campaign for several days (something which did not ever actually happen according to volunteers across the country on the local level and MARK SALTER HIMSELF, (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/25/mccain-campaign-still-act_n_129327.html and http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/09/26/unsuspended-mccain-aide-c_n_129680.html)) was a good distraction from the disastrous interviews he and Palin have been giving- when, of course, they ever let the media talk to them.

Far more importantly, it is clear that his little roadshow production of "Mr. McCain Goes To Washington" had the effect of doing actual harm to the bipartisan effort to get a bailout bill passed- an effort that was within hours of succeeding until McCain rode in on his pony to speak to John Boehner. (Side note- at this point, many people, even on the left, may be thrilled- after all, nobody with any sense of morality or intelligence really wants to start doling this kind of corporate welfare out, especially in the form of the bill that was originally presented. But it's going to happen one way or another, and Democrats were on track to making it happen the right way- with oversight, possible equity, and concessions for the non-rich people who have been affected. Now, who knows?)

I don't think its much of a leap to suggest that McCain's help in stalling things was as calculated as everything else about this campaign. After all, with a bill passed and some idea of what is going to be done about the economy, the biggest story of the next two news cycles would, of course, be the debate and the aftermath (the swell time when both campaigns declare "victory" (usually after the debate has actually happened) and everyone else starts pointing out the lies and half-truths that were spat out). Now we enter the debate with an America that is as confused and in flux as before- and the media can keep up the business of discussing this economic disaster and what anyone is doing about it rather than focusing on the utter bankruptcy of McCain's "ideas."

The one bright spot to all of this is that, knowing McCain has already "won," I may just go out and do something more entertaining than screaming at my television for an hour tonight. After all, the McCain camp has yet to let reality actually enter in to their plans up until this point- it would be naive to think it will now.

The GOP Throws a Tantrum: Gen. Petraeus is Rubber- MoveOn.org is Glue!

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Tue, 18 Sep 2007 12:39:00 +0000

Today Arianna Huffington has weighed in on the latest Iraq "controversy" that has the GOP up in arms. No, silly, it's not the fact that our non-military contract mercenaries are causing more trouble in Iraq (or the fact that the Iraqi government apparently doesn't have the authority to do anything about it)! It's the fact that MoveOn.org called Gen. Petraeus names! Is there nothing those insidious lefties won't do? This is just going too far! Next thing you know, MoveOn will be getting 4,000 US soldiers and countless more Iraqi civilians killed in a war for oil and corporate profiteering!

We all know how sensitive military men (and the rapidly-fading politicians who hide behind them) can get. If MoveOn.org continues being so mean, the GOP may threaten to take its ball and go tell Mommy. But that's okay- we still get to say, "Liar, liar, pants on fire!" to Bush, Petraeus, and everyone who tries to hide behind cherry-picked data and political smokescreens.
Read Huffington's column here.

Naomi Wolf's "Ten Steps to Fascism"

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sun, 29 Apr 2007 05:05:00 +0000

When I started posting on this blog, I made it clear that I was going to use it as an archive of my fully-formed writing rather than as a "traditional" blog, with a lot of links and a few pithy, first-draft comments scattered about. Even so, a piece of writing occasionally comes along that says everything I'd like to better and more coherently than I ever could do. So, for once, this is going to be that "traditional blog." Here's an excerpt of Naomi Wolf's masterly analysis of the last seven years. I hope you'll click the link to read the rest:

"Last autumn, there was a military coup in Thailand. The leaders of the coup took a number of steps, rather systematically, as if they had a shopping list. In a sense, they did. Within a matter of days, democracy had been closed down: the coup leaders declared martial law, sent armed soldiers into residential areas, took over radio and TV stations, issued restrictions on the press, tightened some limits on travel, and took certain activists into custody.

They were not figuring these things out as they went along. If you look at history, you can see that there is essentially a blueprint for turning an open society into a dictatorship. That blueprint has been used again and again in more and less bloody, more and less terrifying ways. But it is always effective. It is very difficult and arduous to create and sustain a democracy - but history shows that closing one down is much simpler. You simply have to be willing to take the 10 steps.

As difficult as this is to contemplate, it is clear, if you are willing to look, that each of these 10 steps has already been initiated today in the United States by the Bush administration.

Because Americans like me were born in freedom, we have a hard time even considering that it is possible for us to become as unfree - domestically - as many other nations. Because we no longer learn much about our rights or our system of government - the task of being aware of the constitution has been outsourced from citizens' ownership to being the domain of professionals such as lawyers and professors - we scarcely recognise the checks and balances that the founders put in place, even as they are being systematically dismantled. Because we don't learn much about European history, the setting up of a department of "homeland" security - remember who else was keen on the word "homeland" - didn't raise the alarm bells it might have.

It is my argument that, beneath our very noses, George Bush and his administration are using time-tested tactics to close down an open society. It is time for us to be willing to think the unthinkable - as the author and political journalist Joe Conason, has put it, that it can happen here. And that we are further along than we realise.

Conason eloquently warned of the danger of American authoritarianism. I am arguing that we need also to look at the lessons of European and other kinds of fascism to understand the potential seriousness of the events we see unfolding in the US."

Read more about the ten steps here:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/usa/story/0,,2064157,00.html

© 2007, Christopher Stansfield. Some rights reserved. This work is licensed to the public under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and may only be distributed according to the terms of said license. To view a copy of this license, please click here.

Don Imus: Did The Punishment Fit the Crime?

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Fri, 27 Apr 2007 00:14:00 +0000

(This entry was adapted from a letter sent to the television show Countdown With Keith Olbermann while the controversy was still at the top of the news cycle. It has been altered so as to be more meaningful to a general audience.)

As I write this, it is the end of a week during which the Don Imus controversy has been the focal point of every television news and opinion show on the air, not to mention countless magazines, newspapers and blogs. Now that the man has been fired and the proverbial pound of flesh has been shaved off the corpse of his career, I wonder whether it isn’t beneath all of us to keep this story going. In fact, continuing to attack Imus is both petty and unfair. If Don Imus’s statements are now to be considered the pinnacle of racism, a huge segment of our population needs to start getting fitted for white sheets.

I am no fan of Don Imus- in fact, I can’t recall ever having listened to his radio show, as the whole concept of “shock” radio is unappealing to me. Like many others, I found the comments that led to his downfall abhorrent, and, after learning of some of the other things he has said throughout his career, I have no doubt that the man is a bigot. It is right and just that Mr. Imus should have to take responsibility for his statements, and it is right and just that there be consequences for those statements. That said, shouldn’t punishment at all times be appropriate to the crime at hand? Shouldn’t they be appropriately timed? While it is clear that Don Imus has engaged in a pattern of racially and sexually insensitive remarks, and that there has been outrage from the public on those occasions, it is not at all clear that Imus was ever officially warned by his employers, MSNBC and CBS Radio, that he would lose his job if he didn’t stop making such remarks. Without a warning, why on Earth wouldn’t Imus feel he could just go on as he had for years? It was apparent that few cared, and that the few who did didn’t represent a loss of income for the man or his employers. It is perfectly reasonably that Imus would not edit himself- nobody has ever attempted to edit him.

Adults are not much different from children- if they are not given effective and concrete warnings about their behavior, they have little incentive to stop that behavior. If little Tommy kicks little Peggy in the shins, he will keep kicking her until he’s told not to. In the same vein, punishment for adults works best when it’ threatened in the same manner punishment for children is. If a child talks back to his mother, it is not right that he be sent to his room for two weeks unless he has already been warned that such is the consequence of his behavior. When a broadcaster says offensive things, it is not right that he should be fired when he has never been warned that such are the consequence of those statements.

Suspending Don Imus was a perfectly reasonable response to his remarks, and Imus should additionally have been made to promise that he would never make such remarks again, lest he lose his job. If he refused to make that promise, or broke that promise in the future, firing would be perfectly reasonable- but not until then. One might feel that that is too lenient; that any proof that one is bigoted is enough to justify taking away his livelihood and publicly raking him across the coals. Reasonable people, on the other hand, who can follow that line of thought to its inevitable conclusion, feel that actions and words may be punishable in a free society, but thoughts are not. Perhaps the man is a bigot, but it is not his bigoted mind that should be punished: it is his bigoted words. And the punishment he received for those words was unjust. It is a convenient way for his employers to look like heroes without ever admitting that they could have put an end to his behavior years ago and did so only after they received uncomfortable attention.

I am well aware, as is anyone familiar with the way broadcast media works, that broadcasters have the ability to employ a time delay when material goes out live. If Imus has a history of making these inappropriate statements, why wasn’t he forced to work with a delay? And if there was, in fact, a delay, how can MSNBC and CBS Radio pretend to have been so offended by Imus’s words when that delay was never utilized? Imus had a certain degree of power as a celebrity, but his ex-employers had the power of the paycheck, and are thus far more powerful than Don Imus ever was. Where was the admission of guilt on the part of MSNBC and CBS Radio? “Liberal media” shows such as The Daily Show and Countdown With Keith Olbermann frequently (and correctly) lambaste President Bush for throwing his subordinates “under the bus” when his misdeeds and mistakes are discovered. How is this situation any different?
I have to question the smirking condescension and mock indignation that are invariably employed by commentators in response to Imus’s own defense: that this condemnation of him is an example of rank hypocrisy. Imus was wrong to speak as he did, but he is not wrong that something stinks about the way he has been treated. The fact that the Rev. Al Sharpton was the one person who was most stridently and vocally called for Imus’s firing, no matter what apologies or promises the latter offered, underscores this hypocrisy. Sharpton is a man who, to this day, refuses to offer any apology to the many people who were hurt by his manipulation of the Tawana Brawley case, his support of the anti-Semitic orchestrators of the Million Man March (and his own well-documented history of making anti-Semitic remarks), or his own history of divisive and inflammatory behavior. How can Sharpton possibly take the moral high-ground here? Even if Imus’s apologies were disingenuous, the fact that they were offered at all still beats Sharpton’s record by a mile.

Without a doubt, the media needs to continue to explore the issue of race- and not just when high-profile white men say obnoxious and hateful things. I would hope the media could do so without employing Imus as a convenient whipping boy. The man’s career is dead- throw some dirt over it and walk away. There is real racism to fight, racism that exists in governmental policy and human actions, not just in words. There is also other news out there- news that I daresay is more important than the incoherent “humor” of a man whose entire act was based on the fact that he was angry and misanthropic.

© 2007, Christopher Stansfield, with the exception of elements owned by Blogger. Entries are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and therefore may be freely copied and distributed as long as they are attributed to Christopher Stansfield and not textually altered in any way, shape, or form. To view a copy of this Creative Commons license, please click here. To learn more about Creative Commons licensing in general, or to find out how to become a Creative Commons licensor, please click here.

The Pilates Experiment

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 23:12:00 +0000

My calf hurts.

No, that's not specific enough. It's not grand enough a way of describing how my calf (actually, come to think of it, both of my calves, and also my thighs, and much of my lower back and my abs and, yes, my chest, too…and my ass) feels. My calf (along with all those other body parts) feels like it's been rung through one of those old fashioned laundry presses you see in Colonial Williamsburg or on those PBS shows where a family is force to pretend it's living in a different century (admittedly, I've never watched those shows, but I see the commercials, so I know what that sort of press looks like). It feels like the grapes must have felt like when Lucille Ball and that fat Italian woman stomped on them in that episode of I Love Lucy where everyone goes to Italy and hilarity ensues. If feels like the vein in Alberto Gonzales's head must feel like whenever the Attorney General testifies before Congress. (If I want this piece to have any relevance a few years from now I'll have to change that last line, but for now I'll leave it in.)

Why do various muscles that I never really noticed I have (and that no one else has likely ever noticed I have) feel so wrenched and twisted and pounded upon? Simple. I took a "Pilates For Beginners" class.

Taking a pilates class has long been one of those things I told myself I'd eventually get around to doing, like learning conversational French, watching all of Fellini's films, and getting hair transplants. As in most of the odd-numbered years of my life (and some of the even-numbered ones) I'm slightly out of shape- like a beanbag chair is "slightly unsupportive." And even though I grew up to a height of 5'10" in college, a perfectly acceptable average male height, I was, for much of my childhood, smaller than most everyone around me, so the idea of making myself look taller through lengthening my vertebra and improving my posture is extremely appealing. That said, I can't claim I ever went to any great lengths to fulfill my pilates ambition (if by "great lengths" one means actually looking up the times the classes were offered.) However, when an acquaintance of mine sent out a bulletin saying that he had recently become a pilates instructor and was looking for enrollees for his class, I happened to be online and happened to be slightly drunk, so I said "sure" and told him I'd be there for his first class. After all, I wouldn't only be helping myself, I reasoned. I'd be doing a good deed by playing guinea pig and giving a nice guy a boost in his career.

I wasn't at all dissuaded: not by the fact that I was told the workout would be intense; nor the fact that I was warned to make sure I had underwear on if I planned to wear shorts; nor even by the fact that the instructor has spent a large portion of his professional life dressed up in a variety of blue-colored bunny rabbit costumes and platform shoes. In fact, I was encouraged by that last bit, as I reasoned that a seven-foot tall blue rabbit was not likely to be a particularly didactic or harsh instructor. I was also encouraged by the fact that he had recently lost a great deal of weight and was thus fitting into smaller (though still blue) bunny costumes. If pilates was the way he did it, then hell, maybe I too would eventually look good in tights and long ears if I followed the same route.

I don't want anyone reading the next few paragraphs to think I was hopelessly ignorant or naïve about what I was getting into. I did have some idea of what pilates actually is. I've often heard that it's all about strengthening one's "core" (whatever that is) and paying more attention to one's body as a whole (rather than avoiding the very thought of one's body as a whole, as I've been doing for much of my adult life.) I knew a lot of dancers did it. Who doesn't want to look like a dancer? (Well, maybe not Fred "Rerun" Berry, but all of the other dancers.) And I knew there wasn't any weight lifting or running in place or sweating to the oldies involved. I thought it was vaguely like yoga or tai chi, where one stays in one place and somehow gets all the physical benefits a marathon runner gets, without the heavy breathing, blisters, and chapped nipples.

So, I was really rather excited. I was doing something proactive. I was able to swallow my fear of group exercise (correctly assuming that nobody would really be able to watch what I was doing since they would be too busy paying attention to themselves.) I knew I wouldn't be perfect right off the bat, but I was prepared to be grown up and work hard at it until I was the best damned pilates practitioner I could be.

I was, in other words, completely delusional.

Pilates hurts. I don't want to dissuade anyone from taking the classes, especially anyone who wants to take a class with a giant rabbit instructor, but pilates really, really hurts. It especially hurts if you're someone who is overweight, not especially coordinated, flat-footed, and have been walking on the balls of your feet your entire life, making your calves and hamstrings as tight as a G-string (on a musical instrument, not a stripper). I was right about the exercises largely taking place within a small user-defined area, but that doesn't really matter when you're asked to do things like lie on your back with your feet a couple of inches off the ground, your hip and shoulder bones dug into the mat, and your neck straight but off the ground. Read that last sentence again and see if you can follow what I'm saying. Now try to imagine being an overweight person who is asked to go directly from flat-on-your-back to sitting up without rolling over or using your arms for support.

The instructor, who is freakishly tall even without the platform shoes and rabbit ears, looked even taller as he loomed over me. I was right that he wasn't a harsh taskmaster. He was reassuring, positive, upbeat, and encouraging, a little like high school gym teachers are supposed to be and exactly like high school gym teachers never are. And yet, I found myself irrationally hating him every time he came to stand on my feet in an effort to help me "roll up" into position. I resented his cheer as my sweat literally dripped off of my head and on to the nice clean new gym mats that had been installed for the occasion. Every time he said to me, "I bet you never knew how tight your hamstrings are," visions of Elmer Fudd and his double-barreled shot gun popped up in my head. I wanted Bugs Bunny dead. I wanted Peter Rabbit dead. I wanted the Easter Bunny and Thumper and every other cheerful member of the order lagomorpha exterminated.

Even as I sit here, a tightly coiled bundle of pain, I can acknowledge that, in retrospect, I was being unfair. And yet, as mature and self-improving and low-pressure as the workout environment was, I simply couldn't help my feelings. I'm 15 again, standing under the ropes course at my high school, watching all the other students having fun walking on rope bridges and swinging from cables and eventually getting to use one of those neat ziplines James Bond's always hanging from- and I can't do it because my fat, weak body can't climb the rope ladder to get to the course, no matter how many times I make the attempt. In the pilates teacher's warm encouragement I see Mr. Butler, with his cheesy moustache and cleft chin, rolling his eyes and looking exasperated. I promise myself I won't give up, but as I struggle to keep from weeping with frustration I wonder why I, an adult, have to put myself through this shit.

As I relive both the events of the other day and the events of my childhood, the question of what makes an adult an adult keeps coming back to me. Throughout my childhood, I was always ahead of my peers in some ways and horribly behind them in others. I was a gifted reader and writer, had an extraordinarily retentive memory, and, according to some, I was also a pretty decent performer and public speaker. Those things came easily to me, and I was able to coast on them well into junior high school. But being able to coast in some areas can set one up for defeat in other areas, unless you have enough character and work ethic as a child to push yourself in the things you're not immediately talented at. I didn't have that character as a child. If I attempted to do something and I ended up looking foolish, I did my very best to avoid doing it ever again.

I can remember days on the beach playing catch with my father (a talented and athletic man, and, like the Blue Bunny, uncommonly patient and encouraging.) Despite the fact that he never lost his temper with me and did his best not to ever make me feel bad about my lack of hand-eye coordination, I simply couldn't stand how it felt when the ball would fly past me, or land in the sand at my feet, or, worst of all, land in my "lead hands" and bounce out again. My father would have been willing to practice with me for hours if I had asked him. I never asked him.

I never had any immediate talent in athletics, so I decided I didn't like athletics. I didn't like athletics, so I didn't ever practice them, and thus, I remained untalented. This Catch-22 not only led to me being a fairly graceless mover in my daily life- it also played a large part in the recurring struggle I've had with my weight since my pre-teen years. I resigned myself to being the last picked for every team. I resigned myself to taking "breaks" when the others were running laps. I resigned myself to standing under that rope ladder and never making it to that damn zip line. I simply resigned. And I never got any better. I told myself I didn't care. I cared. I care.

As I headed into my delayed adulthood, I resolved that I was going to be a better adult than I was a child. I would no longer give up on things just because they were difficult for me- I would push until I got as far as I could. In many ways I've fulfilled that goal. A kid who was so modest and embarrassed about his body in high school that he never changed in front of the other kids can now go into a gym locker room and calmly put on his shorts in front of better-built, better-looking men. I can (and do) workout regularly (okay, semi-regularly) and I don't worry whether I'm lifting as much weight as the guy next to me or whether my treadmill is turned up as high as the anorexic blond girl's is. I'm still not good at it, and no matter how many people tell me that eventually I'll "love it," I've never loved it in my life and I doubt I ever will. But I do it anyway.

I've worked hard on other areas of my life, too. There was once a time when I would see someone I was attracted to for friendship or romance and, scared of rejection, just accept that nothing could ever happen. Anyone who knows me nowadays would never accuse me of being shy or scared- that took work. That took working on my personality and forcing myself to socialize, rather than blithely accepting that I'd "never fit in."

I've much to be proud of, and that's why I keep coming back to the question: when you're an adult and you try something new, is it more mature to press on no matter how bad you are at it and how crappy you feel afterwards? Or is it more mature to recognize your limitations and give up before you make a bad situation worse? I want sticktoitiveness. I want to fight. And yet, the five foot walk from my bed to my desk to write this was so excruciating that I feel I must have been doing something differently than the others did. I clearly need more strength and flexibility in my legs, if I'm ever going to become accomplished at this pilates stuff. So, do I keep going to classes, slowing them down while the instructor sits on my legs, or do I choose, instead, to try an exercise that comes easier to me? The "comes easy" thing scares me- I want to be a better adult than I was a child. But when is it more adult and rational to take the easier way out?

I've decided, for now, to split the difference. I know now where the most problematic areas of my very problematic body are, and they are surprisingly not the ones I thought they'd be. I'm going back into the gym, working on the stretches my orthopedist gave me and that I long ago grew bored of. I'm making sure I wear my orthotics all the time, even though it means swapping them in and out of various pairs of shoes. I'm going to make my legs and abs strong. And I'm going to go back to pilates class. Just not next week. But I will. I promise. And if you're reading this, you have, unbeknownst to you when you started reading this, entered into a contract. Every time I see you, or at any interval of your choosing, you are to ask me- "Have you gone back to the class yet?" Shame me into it. Because I promise you, I will be a better adult than I was a child.

© 2007, Christopher Stansfield, with the exception of elements owned by Blogger. Entries are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and therefore may be freely copied and distributed as long as they are attributed to Christopher Stansfield and not textually altered in any way, shape, or form. To view a copy of this Creative Commons license, please click here. To learn more about Creative Commons licensing in general, or to find out how to become a Creative Commons licensor, please click here.

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Gift Certificate (Or, "In Praise of Spanky's BBQ and The Onion.")

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Tue, 27 Mar 2007 20:25:00 +0000

Well, it's official- I am my grandmother's grandson (Irene Zenker (1908-2004)). I learned from her that when a company screws up, you should tell them. Over the years, I've done just that, but as I never got the results Grandmom did, I became increasingly convinced of the decline in customer service in this country. It's so rare to actually get results, I feel compelled to praise the businesses that actually take the time to care. Thus, thank you, The Onion, and especially, thank you, Spanky's BBQ.

You see, a couple of weeks ago, the satirical newspaper The Onion co-sponsored and heavily promoted an event with Spanky's BBQ, a restaurant in New York that serves, well, barbecue. In an event cleverly called the "Pig Fest," Spanky's would, for two hours only (7:00-9:00 PM), serve half-priced beers. No big deal, that- a lot of restaurants and bars routinely have specials like that. But the hook was that, in addition to the cheap beer, there would be a whole roast suckling pig, and free pork and sides to anyone who RSVP'd. With all due respect to my Kosher, Muslim, and vegetarian/vegan friends (not to mention my fellow lovers of "Babe" and "Charlotte's Web"), the prospect of free pork was too good to pass up. A couple of bucks for a beer would get me and a friend a free dinner for the night. Based on my impression of New York restaurant prices, that's a savings of, I think, $134,000 (give or take a buck.)

So, of course, I RSVP'd, and, of course, easily convinced one of my more carnivorous friends to join me. We arrived at about 8:10- not early, but not late, either. We checked in with the smiling (and cute) girl who had been employed by the Onion for the event, and were directed to the bar to buy our drinks. The harried (but presumably happily compensated) bartenders got our drinks, and we sidled over to the pork table... which was empty. Well, not entirely empty. One sad dinner roll remained. Though my friend and I were, at this point, ravenous, neither of us wanted to look like shnorrers (a fine old Yiddish word- look it up), so we left the roll and walked back to the bartenders. "When will you be bringing out more pork?" we asked. "Oh," he replied, "they've wrapped up for the night."

This was annoying on several levels- for one thing, the event was advertised as going until 9, and the clear teaser for the event was the food. The food had "wrapped up," I learned, at least an hour early. More importantly, when we signed in, we were not informed that there was to be no more food- we were just sent to the bar to spend money, which the bartenders took without any warning that there would be no pork to accompany our Coronas.

So, that night, I did what my grandmother taught me- I wrote a letter (though Grandmom would have written it by hand and paid for a stamp- I just used the miraculous modern convenience of e-mail.) Fully expecting never to hear from anyone, I sent this note, which I feel was "light" enough that it wouldn't seem the work of a crank, but serious enough to get the point across- you be the judge (note, the letter has been edited for brevity, but no significant content has changed):

"To Whom It May Concern:
Having left the Spanky's event a half-hour ago, I thought I'd pass along three tips in the spirit of bonhomie and neighborliness:

Tip One: When you've heavily advertised an event as taking place between 7:00 PM and 9:00 PM, and the main draw of the event is free food, it's preferable that the food actually be available until nearly 9:00, rather than being "wrapped up" (bartender's words) sometime before 8:15.

Tip Two: On those unfortunate occasions when an event has effectively ended early it's preferable that the check-in person let attendees know that it's ended, instead of sending them to buy drinks.

Tip Three: It's preferable that the sponsors pass Tip Two along to the bartenders- in other words, it's nice when the bartenders tell patrons that the food is gone BEFORE taking their money.

I don't mean to sound cheap (though I am) or unreasonable. If I'd arrived at, say, 8:55 rather than 8:15, I'd accept that the fault was mine. But, as you know, there are numerous events going on in New York on any given night. I had a choice between your event and going to Penang to see a friend's band perform, for example. If the value-added-incentive meant to pull people to your event and away from others doesn't actually exist as advertised, goodwill can be lost. Certainly, if the idea was to bring new customers to Spanky's, the restaurant's done nothing to make me want to take my friends there.

Next time I attend an Onion event, I hope for better.

Sincerely,
Christopher Stansfield"

Not bad, right? Pretty eloquent, and reasonably self-deprecating (I do, after all, admit that I'm cheap.) I didn't threaten or cajole, just stated a few facts. I emailed the letter to the Onion and CC'd it to Spanky's, and there I thought it would die.

Until the very next day, when I received the following response from the Onion (again edited so as not to reveal details of the newspaper/sponsor relationship that were divulged):

"Hi Chris,
Thanks for your note and I apologize for your frustration last night. Your points are valid.... (DETAILS WITHHELD)
In any case, we really should have said, "While supplies last" in the e-mail and we certainly should have cut things off more quickly once we realized the food had run out. Neither The Onion nor the restaurant realized the type of turnout we would have....
Thanks again for coming out and we'll do our best to ensure a better party next time around.
(NAME WITHHELD)"

Wow. That was pretty impressive, especially since it arrived early in the day. That implied to me that the letter was given some priority, and that the Onion, well, cares. So I wrote back:

"Dear (NAME WITHHELD),
I appreciate your quick, polite response to my email, as well as the apology...(DETAILS WITHHELD) it's to your credit (and the Onion's) that you responded at all- that's much more than many other businesses would do under the circumstances. Better luck next time!
Sincerely,
Chris Stansfield"

Note, by the way, that I'm downright chummy with the Onion staffer at this point- I'm no longer "Christopher Stansfield," but rather, "Chris." Again, I thought this would be the end of things, and I was actually pretty satisfied. But then, a few days later, I received another email- this time from Spanky's (presumably an employee, and not "Spanky," himself):

"Dear Christopher,first of all please let me apologize for your unfortunate experience at the pig fest. On behalf of Spankys bbq I would like to invite you and a guest in for lunch or for dinner. I am mailing a fifty dollar gift certificate to (MY ADDRESS WITHHELD, EVEN THOUGH I'M LISTED).Please call me if you would like to get in touch. Robert Protter (PHONE NUMBER WITHHELD)."

Holy Toledo! That's a hell of a response! After all, I wasn't really "entitled" to anything more than an apology, but now I have fifty bucks to spend on meat, alcohol, or whatever- and I checked out the menu- I can actually use the gift certificate for two full meals and not have to dig into my own wallet. I haven't redeemed the coupons yet (if anyone wants to join me, send me a note and I'll choose the wittiest and most eloquent friend to be my date.)

So, what have I learned from this experience?

One: Grandmom was right- sometimes it pays to be a cranky consumer.
Two: The Onion is awesome.
Three: Spanky's BBQ is also awesome.

Perhaps you, the reader, have learned something as well- next time you feel screwed by a business, take the five minutes to (humorously (or if you can't do humorous, politely)) let the business know. It works better than bitching to me about it over the phone. Or over coffee. Or in a bar. Or anywhere, for that matter. In other words, stop bitching to me, I have my own problems.

And, more importantly- go eat at Spanky's!

© 2007, Christopher Stansfield. Some rights reserved. This work is licensed to the public under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and may only be distributed according to the terms of said license. To view a copy of this license, please click here.

What's going on with Jon Stewart?

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 10:59:00 +0000

Has anybody else noticed that in the couple of days since Jon's masterful interview of John Bolton (in which we saw that a basic cable comedian has a better grasp of the Constitution and democratic theory than the man we sent to represent us in the United Nations), The Daily Show has, well, sucked? I know it's only been a few days, but here's how the week wrapped up:

The day after the Bolton interview, a good chunk of time was given over to a phone interview with Doris Kearns Goodwin (who is almost always a welcome presence), during which the bulk of the conversation consisted of Doris reaffirming that Jon Stewart is smarter than John Bolton. Sure, it's true, but is it really necessary? Couldn't the time have been better used commenting on the news of the day rather than defending something that needed no defense? The liberals who watch the show already figured out that John Bolton really IS a douchebag after all, and that Jon Stewart tore him apart in a dignified and polite manner- quite a mean feat. The conservatives aren't going to have their minds changed. So, like I said- why waste the time doing a public victory dance?

The rest of the episode featured a truly bizarre interview with Chris Hansen of "To Catch a Predator." We get it- molestation is bad- but how about mentioning the sensational and salacious ratings-grabbing manner in which "To Catch a Predator" goes about its work? Or mentioning that children still face far more danger from people they know than they do from Internet weirdos? What about some indication that Jon realizes Chris Hansen comes across as more smarmy than the predators he's "catching?" (Even "The Soup" on E!, a network not noted for its penetrating social commentary, has picked up on this last fact.) Instead of asking one single insightful question about the very real issues of due process and civil liberties raised by the series (which is largely founded on the extra-legal efforts of a vigilante group), Jon lobbed softballs and basically fawned over the guy like a panicked father (which is, I guess, what Stewart is.)

Incidentally, my old friend, Legal Aid attorney Shana Skaletsky, wrote a very good blog essay about "To Catch a Predator" that raises all the questions Jon Stewart didn't. Check it (and a brief bit of added commentary from yours truly) out here: http://shanaelyse.blogs.friendster.com/potpourri_/2007/03/to_catch_a_what.html)

Finally, the last episode of the week discussed only one piece of actual "new" news- the utterly absurd (and frankly, rude) treatment that Al Gore received at the hands of Senator Jim Inhofe (R-Oklahoma) during a hearing on climate change. Rather than take a moment to skewer Inhofe (the last man on Earth who still pretends he doesn't believe in global warming), Stewart instead focused on the fact that Gore has gained weight and implied the same thing Bill O'Reilly and his ilk do- that Al's just an egotistical blowhard. You know, it's possible to make jokes that actually reveal things to people they don't already know from the news: the Daily Show used to be expert at it, and Keith Olbermann is doing a great job of it on MSNBC.

So, what's the deal? After the Bolton interview, was there pressure from within or without to be more "fair and balanced" in the show's attacks? Is there an exchange rate in place? (For every joke about Tony Snow and Karl Rove there has to be one about Hillary Clinton or Al Gore?) Or is Jon just off his feed?

AIDS Walk 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Sat, 17 Mar 2007 09:43:00 +0000

Friends,
I know a lot of you don't have a great deal of money to throw around (I'm right there with you.) But, I really feel that the AIDS Crisis is too big to be fought only by the well-off. That is why I'm walking this year, and that is why I hope that you will pledge any small amount of money you can to me and, by extension, to the organizations and people who benefit from the money raised.

I'd be willing to bet that all of you know at least one person who has been infected with HIV/AIDS...some of you may be infected yourselves; you may have felt the nervousness and anticipation that comes from being tested, the panic that comes when you weren't as careful as you usually are, just that once; you may know the whirlwind of emotions that comes when someone you love tells you he or she has an incurable illness.

We live in a wonderful time, because progress has been made and continues to be made: Some studies estimate that newly-infected people can live for thirty years or more after infection. But the medicine is expensive, it can carry terrible side effects, and it does not work for everyone. There is no way to lead a totally "normal" life with HIV. If it isn't the medication, it's the constant need to monitor one's health. If it isn't the financial cost, it's the psychic cost: a fear every time you make a new friend or make a new date. All one has to do to understand that particular burden is to go to any number of dating sites where prospective mates say loudly and rudely and without the slightest bit of compassion or self-awareness, "Negative only."

Every day more progress is made. More medicines are developed, vaccines are tested, and even when they fail, they give researchers new leads to follow. But this can only continue if we all do what we can. Those people who don't have the means to take care of themselves can only be taken care of if we all do what we can. This crisis can only end IF WE ALL DO WHAT WE CAN.

So, help me do what I can. Or make a donation to another walker, or a donation directly to the AIDS Walk site. Walk yourself. Form a team. Volunteer on the day of the walk and in the days leading up to it. This isn't about my ego- that's why I've set a relatively low "goal." This is about the people around you. DO WHAT YOU CAN.
You can donate at my page: http://aidswalknewyork2007.kintera.org/chrisstansfield
Thank you.
Love,
Chris

© 2007, Christopher Stansfield. Some rights reserved. This work is licensed to the public under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and may only be distributed according to the terms of said license. To view a copy of this license, please click here.

Ben Stein and the holidays, or "Yes, Virginia, there is an Establishment Clause."

noreply@blogger.com (Christopher Stansfield) — Fri, 12 Jan 2007 13:19:00 +0000

Lawyer/actor/game show host/political commentator (not necessarily in that order) Ben Stein delivered a commentary on CBS Sunday Morning, 12/18/05 . Since then, the essay has been copied and emailed by every right-winger, Christian-rights activist, and First Amendment-hater in the country, two Decembers in a row. The original text can be found on Ben's webpage (address above.) My original response, in a slightly different form, first appeared on the comments section of Lance Bass's Myspace blog. (Don't ask.) Here it is:

Yes, Mr. Stein, There Is An Establishment Clause by Christopher Stansfield

In his much spammed and blogged-about commentary on 12/18/05 (yes, this speech is now officially a year old), Lawyer/Character "Actor"/Nixon speechwriter Ben Stein admits, "I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are." This admission is an old speechwriter's trick to get the audience on his side- after all, how can one fail to respect someone who finds the obviously ludicrous...well, ludicrous? Arguing with Mr. Stein about the importance of the former Mr.-and-Mrs.-Lachey would be like wearing a "Don't Support Our Troops," shirt.

Of course, Stein's next confession involves a 180-degree turn: "I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees."

Okay, fair enough- I am not aware of any real textual link between the celebrity publicity machine and the religious significance of Coniferous trees, but the insistence that Christmas trees should be called Christmas trees seems like another unassailable position.
And then he goes on: "It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away. I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat."

Well. Now it seems ol' Ben's getting to his real point: God-loving Americans are abused! They are under continual attack! The atheists are on the march!

I admire and respect Ben Stein- despite our many political differences, he seems to have more common sense than much of his ideological crowd. That said, the concept that this country is somehow being hijacked by atheists or "bashes Christians" should inspire as much incredulous outrage as the concept that "The Jews started all wars" (Mel Gibson, 2006) or that Muhammad only brought the world "evil and inhuman things" (Pope Benedict XVI).

In battles between the atheist, agnostic, or simply irreligious versus the rights of those on "God's side," the winners are, more often than not, the religious. In this country, disputes both semantic and important between Christians versus those who are not often tend to favor Christian causes and beliefs. (If you can't research stem cells, evolution, or the morning-after pill, chances are it's not because of fundamentalist Hindus.)

I too, have no problem with people wishing me a "Merry Christmas" without inquiring whether I celebrate, nor do I find it offensive to receive a Christmas card or see someone's lovingly cared-for creche on his well-manicured lawn. (Though, inexplicably, religious rightists find it horribly offensive to use the religion-neutral phrase "Happy Holidays" when doing business.) I do, however, oppose the historical and continual erosion of the Establishment Clause and Equal-Protection Clause.

Manger scenes on private lawns or in private businesses are fine. Manger scenes on publicly-held land are not- it's as simple as that. To those who think the removal of Christmas trees from government- and common-held spaces is "anti-Christian," there is a simple compromise that can keep them there- celebrate other religions, as well. But this "religious (read: Christian) nation" (founded in a large part by agnostics and deists) simply cannot have that- look to the recent case of Sea-Tac airport, which decided to remove its fifteen Christmas trees because it couldn't stand the notion of putting up a menorah- and then proceeded to use the media to make the complainant (a rabbi) look "anti-Christian."

I'm glad Mr. Stein feels neither discriminated against nor threatened. Living in a metropolitan area with his level of fame and success can help insulate him from such fears. However, those non-Christians living in this country who genuinely are threatened and discriminated against have a right to stand up for themselves, and that does not make them anti-Christian. It simply makes them American.

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof...." - The Constitution of The United States of America

"Government should not prefer one religion to another, or religion to irreligion" (emphasis added)"- Justice David Souter, writing for the majority, in Board of Education of Kiryas Joel Village School District v. Grumet, 512 U.S. 687.

This article © 2007, Christopher Stansfield. Some rights reserved. This work is licensed to the public under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License, and may only be distributed according to the terms of said license. To view a copy of this license, please click here.