SPOILER-FREE SECTION

House of Cards is the first great film of 2013. Oh, what is our industry to do when the walls between film and television’s dimensions dissolve completely? Netflix Original Series made TV history yesterday when they launched all 13 episodes of their remake of the 1990 British Series of the same name. The idea is that we have become a nation of gluttonous Roku addicts, and we want it all and we want it now. I’m not going to debate the ethics of Season Dumping here, and I will only comment on the quality of the program itself, which is to say extremely high.

I think it’s best to review a show like this taking all of its twists and turns into account, so that is why below I have posted a SPOILERS section. But for those who are still watching the show or have yet to start, I will let you know, without ruining anything, that this is quality craftsmanship. David Fincher directs the first two episodes, and they have his signature expensive grimness all over it. It’s clear from the first moments that this is a show that knows its story is ultimately a tragedy.

Kevin Spacey plays Frank Underwood, multi-term Congressman and House Majority Whip: he uses persuasion and intimidation to keep those lovable scamps in Congress working together and keeps the bowel movements of Democracy flowing regularly.

“I’m not going to be a plumber forever,” he tells us (Oh, he talks to the audience sometimes– I’d get used to that if I were you– It can be highly entertaining). Frank’s put his years of service in, and he just helped President Walker secure his election with the indication that if he did, he’d get Secretary of State. Just one of the many back-scratches that folks in Washington like Frank specialize in and live off of. However, casual betrayal also happens from time to time, and this time it happens to Frank. The President’s new Chief of Staff breaks the bad news to him that he’s needed more in Congress, and they’ll be giving Secretary of State to an ineffective twit.

So begins House of Cards‘s Shakespearean revenge plot. Frank is far too clever and knows far too many secrets to be slapped around like this. His wife, Claire (Robin Wright), calculates with him, as does his reliable minions, right-hand man Doug Stamper, vice-ridden and blackmailed Congressman Peter Russo and ambitious newspaper blogger Zoe Barnes.

The writing is dynamite at inciting intrigue and putting wicked things to say in Kevin Spacey’s mouth. The direction is smooth and sure with highlights being Fincher directing the vibrant first two, Batman pariah Joel Schumacher directing the juicily distracting middle two, and HBO series pro Allen Coulter directing the absorbing yet alienating final two. The cinematography looks like a million bucks. The acting is just the right kind of sublime you get when you’ve got a talented team who gives a shit about what they’re doing.

Having seen and adored the original House of Cards, which followed Chief Whip Francis Urquhart’s wide swath of vengeance towards becoming Prime Minister of Britain, I can say that when it comes to TV, Americans seem more interested in subplots than the Brits. The UK 1st season is over and done (deadly, deadly done) in 4 hours. In the current US version, our Francis’s path to revenge gets a tad lost in a 13-hour forest of lobbyists, corporate stooges, crooked non-profit shenanigans, art museums, old drinking buddies, library dedications, small town municipal squabbles, sexual harassment lawsuits, mundane marital compromises and crises upon crises upon crises of conscience. The revenge plot, needless to say, loses its fire a bit.

The show did get me thinking one thing: if Richard III had Call of Duty: Black Ops to blow off steam with at the end of day’s toil, possibly those young princes might not have needed to die in the tower. Maybe, maybe not.

Having said that, how Frank does manage to work his way up from middle management took me very much by surprise with its simplicity and ingenuity. I wonder what Prime Minister Francis Urquhart would think, though, about his American counterpart’s shortcomings in the ambition department.

If you aren’t a Netflix streaming member, you can still watch the first episode on their site for free. For those of you who are members, all 13 episodes are at your fingertips now. Don’t hesitate. When you’re done, come on back here and read the rest of my SPOILER-FILLED review, which will begin in 3…2…1…

SPOILER-FILLED SEASON REVIEW

Yay! You’ve made it through the first season of House of Cards! To warn you again, I will be discussing SPOILERS within this series, as well as those in the British one, for proper comparison.

I will be the first to say that I don’t agree leaving us on a cliffhanger is the wisest course of action. By this time, Francis should be President, not Vice President, and Zoe should be scraped off the steps of the Smithsonian. Instead, we close not on a wicked union of victory and horror, but on just another swampy stepping stone toward a vaguely certain future.

I want to discuss the nature of dramatic tragedy, then I want to discuss the nature of dramatic revenge, both genres in which House of Cards would be welcome.

First off, for all the prestige, pedigree and beauty David Fincher brought to this program, ultimately I think he was the wrong choice. Fincher likes it dark. Every one of his films is dark in subject matter, tone and (Always) in visuals. His characters are solemn, tortured souls who are very sorry to be alive but fight to stay that way because death is worse. He’d turn The Music Man into King Lear. Speaking of music, the score matches the visuals dirge for dirge. We know right away that tragedy will strike everyone.

Which is its first mistake.

House of Cards is a comedy that becomes a tragedy because of an unfortunate series of events. We delight in Francis’s exploits because it’s wish fulfillment. We’d love to outwit and dethrone our boss after losing a promotion. That’s where the allure of revenge stories stem. Delight and bloodlust. Striking back without thought of the lives it ruins because we too have been hurt, and this is only right. When revenge unravels and becomes tragedy is when the good stuff happens. But the sting of tragedy comes from us expecting otherwise. It’s Greek vs. Shakespeare.

Greek Tragedy is an inevitable march of doom. Shakespearean Tragedy is good intentions led to hellish consequences by bad luck and character flaws. Which kind is more popular today?

I wanted to share in Frank Underwood’s joy in cutting a swath through his clueless colleagues. But rarely was there joy, save for moments in the first half of the season, mostly when Frank would read about his handiwork in the paper over a plate of local-boy spare ribs. He smears a bloody cut of barbecue sauce over a picture of his recently defeated opponent, and I wanted more.

Most of the story’s faltering comes from two vitally important female characters, his wife Claire and his mistress/protege Zoe. Claire is not exactly the guiding hand of Lady Macbeth we were led to believe she would be. She supports her husband, yes. She’s cold, undoubtedly, especially when she’s giving a brief handjob to a dying former bodyguard, or when she fires her longtime collaborator after forcing HER to fire half their beloved staff at her pet non-profit Clean Water Initiative. However, this bloated storyline goes nowhere, except to derail her husband’s Delaware Bill and sew distrust between them… except that it isn’t clear why he cares, given that it was his plan anyway to embarrass Congressman Russo and drive him to drink.

All in all, this Lady M becomes too wrapped up in her own work to scheme much for her husband’s, which is great for real life, but this is revenge drama, dammit, and I want my scheming! Diane Fletcher, who played the original Francis’s wife, was a monstrous spider woman who could eat Robin Wright for breakfast. Had this series been spearheaded by a gay man, we would’ve never gotten a wife character so wishy-washy.

(NOTE: She is delicious is a small scene in Episode 2. She’s just fired her partner, who bemoans that she’s a 59 year old woman who will have to get a job bagging groceries. On her way home, Wright stops for a latte, and is kept waiting by the middle-aged cashier who has to have her teenage manager help her through the complicated menu register. Wright stands patiently, her tiny heart shivering in the cold with each passing second)

The most important character of all is the young reporter who enters into a relationship with Frank, and they mutually trade insider intel. In the British series, the girl was ambitious and did sleep with our main character, but sex was an afterthought, as was career advancement. Sex and promotions was too pedestrian for our original British characters. He got off on his influence over her, the almost fatherly advice he would impart. She got off on someone taking her seriously for once and giving her a real schooling. Our American characters are swallowed up in pride. She disrespects the shit out of him, and he has nothing but contempt for her. If and when he does throw her to her death in Season 2, there will be no heartbreak. These two should have confided in each other so much more deeply. His trespass of killing her to save his own ass will eat him alive not because it’s against the law or immoral, but because he will so desperately miss their little talks.

All in all, when one finishes the season, one gets a feeling of both cinema interruptus and continued hatred for the United States Congress. Frank spends episode after episode trying to reach higher office but keeps getting distracted with subplots of billionaires and corporate intrigue hooey. It’s a perfect metaphor for American politics. Even in revenge, politicians can’t get anything done because they spend too much time monkeying around with corporate lobbyists.

It isn’t even clear at the end if Frank still holds a grudge. He’s elated to have secured the Vice Presidency. So what? It’s the President he has a beef with, and revenge against the big man consumed every waking moment of the British character. I’m sure Frank still has plans for next season to go all the way, but how is that satisfying for an audience? By the time he gets there, the series risks us not caring. By the end of the first season, Francis Urquhart was Prime Fucking Minister, and that nosy reporter was a stain on the ground. And in Season 2, he took on the King of England. Underwood has limited ambition in comparison.

I guess Shakespearean revenge plots never translate quite right into postwar America. The English have a capacity for seeing a job through to the end with a stiff upper lip, while any American desire for revenge loses intensity in an abyss of self-reflection and video games.

The series is best in the little moments and sequences. I enjoyed watching Underwood pray his way out of a paper bag with the small-town couple who had lost their daughter, I liked the sturm and drang needed to get the Education Bill passed and the way Frank demolished the teacher’s strike. I just wish it hadn’t ended on such a blah, commonplace cliffhanger. The ringing phone our character doesn’t hear.

But this is America, bitches. We like our shows all at once and to go on and on and on until we don’t care anymore. We like our Hobbits in three parts, our Office sitcoms in 9 seasons instead of 2, and a question mark on every “The End”.

I come here today in defense of finality. Both of these shows are brilliantly created and steered. One turned a comedy into a tragedy, the other turned a tragedy into a tiresome Bergman-esque melancholic look at work and marriage. It’s like someone doing Woody Allen doing Ingmar Bergman. But at least those other guys still would have chucked the girl off the roof.

“Django Unchained” Originals (EXPLICIT)

The Golden Globes have come and gone, and they proved infinitely entertaining (as my post yesterday pointed out). The Oscars are also approaching next month, but there’s one category in both award shows that I feel is woefully broken: Best Original Song.

Gone are the days of “My Heart Will Go On” and “Theme from Shaft” when more than usual public attention was paid to this category that normally sees songs nominated that are vanilla non-presences, add-ons to popular musicals or the occasional Bond song. This year proved no different, as I can assuredly tell you that among the five songs nominated by the Academy and the Hollywood Foreign Press, one of them is Adele’s “Skyfall” and the others are ear vomit.

Well, one film that IS getting a lot of critical attention in other categories is Quentin Tarantino’s 7th film, the brutal and mesmerizing Django Unchained. I thought this was the best movie of 2012, just like Inglorious Basterds was the best movie of 2009 and so on back. Strip away the controversy (the stupid, stupid controversy), Tarantino is one of the only filmmakers who understands that films are for audiences. He understands that audiences aren’t dum-dums, but he also grasps that audiences are still human beings with nerve endings and pressure points. Films still retain a unique ability to work those areas to make us feel things other than bleakness.

That’s why with all the awards attention it is getting, it’s still not enough, I tell you!

Mr. Tarantino’s previous films relied entirely on record store findings and scores from other films (he did this marvelously). But what we are seeing on Django Unchained is his first foray into a dusting of original recordings onto his already fine platter of scavenged gold. Three of these recordings made it into the film, but all four (totally eligible for awards consideration) are distinguished in their own way, exemplary pieces of music that enhance the story they score. I wanted to give them some attention.

John Legend – “Who Did That to You?”

SOULLLLLLLLL. Mr. Legend’s got suave soul. A thrilling horseback ride to face the bad guys is the backdrop for this highly snubbed original.

Rick Ross – “100 Black Coffins”

Beware. This is rap. I beg you to still give this fun, dramatic original its due even if it isn’t your cup of tea. Appearing at the halfway point of the movie when Django embarks on his risky rescue mission into Calvin Candie’s world, this music not only toughens up the mood, but is a definitive “No Turning Back Now” sign (thanks to its sore thumbedness) that the previous light-ish hijinks are about to get very serious. It does this so well, that even as a non-rap guy, I must tip my hat.

Elisa Toffoli & Ennio Morricone – “Ancora Qui”

Christoph Waltz’s Dr. Schultz finally finds Django’s long-suffering wife Hildi, and this reunion is peppered elegantly with a rare Ennio Morricone original (Mr. Morricone’s music has featured heavily in Tarantino’s movies since Kill Bill, but they’ve always been from other pictures).

Frank Ocean – “Wise Man”

Ocean’s track was cut from the final film and wasn’t released on the soundtrack, but everyone loved this sweet, sorrowful piece. There just wasn’t space for it, especially during the squishy, peppy ending. Still a gorgeous song.

The Golden Globes were last week, and my oh my, was that an entertaining and eventful night! As of late, these shows have become kind of “meh,” but this year, the show elicited three “MUST SEE” videos.

First and foremost, you’ve probably seen this bit already that Will Ferrell and Kristen Wiig did when introducing the award for Best Actress in a Comedy. What you probably haven’t grasped is the BRASS OVARIES it took to do something like this. Watch it, and then I’ll give you a play-by-play.

Okay, first, HILARIOUS. Second, these motherfuckers went onstage in front of all of Hollywood and, during a show that’s already a lean three hours, did what felt like (in a good way) ten minutes of this shit. And not just ten minutes of the type of award show Schempiness that people can smile and nod through. Ten minutes of typically very alienating awkwardness that splits the room up into Jennifer Lawrence cacklers and Tommy Lee Jones Easter-Island heads coming to kill you. Oh, also, touching on the underlying joke that nobody saw these movies and more than half of the nominees didn’t even show up for it.

GOLD! Gold, Jerry! GOLD!

The other ten-minute awkward joke was Jodie Foster’s lifetime achievement award speech, where she chose a very Riddler-esque way of calling for more celebrity privacy by way of coming out. Here’s a silly Onion News video about the speech:

She more or less declared that she was a lesbian (which she already had basically said at another ceremony years ago), but it was a very passionate speech nonetheless. However, I couldn’t help be reminded of a story about Laurence Olivier being given a lifetime achievement award at the Oscars in the 70s. His speech was reportedly full of similar passion and fire, inspiring wide-mouthed awe from the audience. However, later that week, Marlon Brando called Olivier to congratulate him, and he said “That speech was really something, but…it didn’t mean anything.” And Olivier said “EXACTLY! It was bullshit, but I said it with a flair, and that is acting!”

The last video you guys should see is this two-part webchat called “GWISSUES” (smart video, iffy name). Hollywood/Washington PR guy Howard Bragman runs a chat with out gay newsmen Thomas Roberts, Don Lemon and Charles Perez, and they talk about being out at work and (in the second part) get to the Jodie Foster story. It’s a very honest discussion with three newsmen that are refreshing when they’re a little more at ease. Worth your time!

“There’s a new tax on wearing puffy director pants.” — Mayor Quimby

It’s fancy time again in Hollywood, which means Oscars are coming, which means I stop watching the same episodes of Sex & The City long enough to finally get to that AIDS documentary that’s been on my queue. And by AIDS documentary I am not referring to Sex & The City 2.

The nominations were announced this morning, so without further ado…release the squabbling!

THE TEN NOMINEES FOR ‘MY BIGGEST OSCAR SQUABBLES’ of 2012!

1. What Came Out in 2012?

Oscar eligibility rules are kept in a perpetual fog inside a vault in Burbank. Everyone everywhere else in the world? Good luck thinking of what your favorite film of last year was. Already so far, I’ve asked this question to friends and have gotten Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (2011) and Martha Marcy May Marlene (also 2011). Michael and I saw a trailer for Zero Dark Thirty, and it said “December.” It being January, Michael wanted to know why we couldn’t see that one. I then spent half an hour explaining independent film distribution in limited-to-wide-release for Oscar consideration in a theater whisper. He was sorry he asked.

2. What Have I Been Doing All Year?

It’s impossible to see every movie up for consideration, and there’s always going to be some that I just never get to. Funnily/frustrating enough, the movies I never get to seem to are the one that gets everyone’s engines running come Oscar night. Artist? Waited too late, and I finally saw it Oscar weekend will all the other grandmas. Million Dollar Baby? Still have never seen it. Crash? Saw it years later, and fuck that piece of shit.

This year, it’s Beasts of the Southern Wild and Life of Pi that I never got to, and what do you know?

The good news is that this has been a terrific year of movies, and the dollars I’ve spent so far have not been wasted.

3. We’re Still Playing Oscar Catch-Up

Leonardo DiCaprio and Samuel L. Jackson will be waiting to get their due for the rest of their lives.

4. I Have to Remind My Facebook Friends That Homeland is a TV Show and Can’t Be Nominated for an Oscar

Most of my friends have migrated entirely to TV and really only watch Oscar movies in order to be caught up for the Oscars. Isn’t that a peculiar twist of fate? The nominations were all over my feed today, and it didn’t take but an hour and a couple to shift the conversation to Justified.

5. Everyone is Racist and Against Women

I don’t know how Quentin Tarantino managed to take everyone I follow on Twitter and kick all their mothers down a flight of stairs, but he must have. The outpouring of sentiment towards Django (and the rest of his body of work for that matter) has been ranging from “how dare he!” to “eh, it was a little long.” This not only confuses me, it severely disappoints me. Not just because I’m shocked at the disrespect of who I consider to be one of the finest filmmakers of modern times, but because of the subject matter. Yes, a white man made a movie about slavery. In fact, two white men made movies about slavery this year, the other being Spielberg’s Lincoln. The only difference I see is that Tarantino cut checks to over 300 black actors versus Spielberg’s four or five little-to-no speaking parts. I’m not disparaging Spielberg here, I’m just a little aghast that nobody seems even…glad these stories were told, simply because the (most-likely very period accurate) language was not sanitized and the filmmaker wasn’t black. William Friedkin and Ang Lee have both made two very gay movies, and I’m not about to be miffed that they didn’t suck a cock first.

Another bunch of feathers ruffled is the lack of a nomination for Kathryn Bigelow, who made her bones as the first female Best Director three years ago with The Hurt Locker. Are Academy voters anti-woman? Probably not. Probably not even healthy to think that way. In fact, it probably bugs the shit out of Kathryn Bigelow that people keep referring to her as a female director. At least they aren’t calling her a directress.

6. The Categories are Broken

I remember watching the Oscars and loving every single “Best Original Song”. Now, I can’t even remember what’s nominated. They wrote a song (“Suddenly”) for Les Miserables JUST to get a nomination. Look what’s become of us, industry, and despair! The music that moved that movie along lied in Anne Hathaway. That song is the one that will be a classic. That’s the one that should be remembered on Oscar night. Something needs to be done about these shenanigans.

7. Crash Cleaned Up in 2005, So These Statues are Worthless Paperweights Now

It’s really awful. The host of that show was Jon Stewart, and I remember him joking about how much they were winning while the telecast was going on.

8. Yes, But How Do We Get People to Watch the Broadcast?

One of the best movies made this year, in my opinion, is This is 40. Loved it. Thought Leslie Mann was nominate-able, and it never appeared on anyone’s radar for even a second.

The Oscars want Titanic-level viewers again, but the movies that everyone sees now aren’t worth nominating, and the nominated movies barely show up in theaters. I’m the exact audience for Amour, and I’m telling you, I’m clueless where to go and see it, and I live in Hollywood, for Christ’s sake! I could borrow a “For Your Consideration” screener from an industry-connected friend, but screw that. That’s not what film is about, and it certainly shouldn’t be what the Oscars are about.

9. You Have My Attention, Folks!

Hearing a lot of bitching about how long movies are right now. I don’t care. In fact, the best movies I’ve seen this year have been long’uns. If I’m liking a movie, I like to hang out in the world. A lot of people are in a big damn hurry to get out the second they sit down. Probably because the Oscars are in a month, and they’ve got a stack of movie screeners to get through.

10. Only 2 of These Geniuses Ended Up with a Nomination, So Let’s All Just Have a Good Time…

Congress is Back in Session! (Sorry)

Long story short, America has some spending cuts to make, but we are never too broke to drop the gay marriage fight. Millions funding the legal defense of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) will continue, and Hurricane Sandy Relief funding will stop, as will the now discontinued Violence Against Women Act (VAWA). Why allow something as cut-and-dry-good as VAWA to expire? Some lefties were trying to get the definition of battered women to include lesbians and Native American tribeswomen.

They obviously weren’t fans of this year’s National Book Award winner.

So, why would Republican congressmen, who were so thoroughly defeated in last year’s election thanks in large part to their out of control assault on long dormant women’s causes, come anywhere near this hot potato?

Simple. They are trying to EXPLODE my Facebook feed with funny/angry (fangry?) eCards, and they won’t rest until I’ve abandoned social media altogether.

Going to need a little break from these, friends.

We Suck at Nomenclature! (No Joke, We are Utter Failures in This Department)

I’m saying it here and now: LGBT is a shit acronym. It spells nothing, it doesn’t roll off the tongue, its bizarre structure makes it easy for one to keep adding new letters as time goes by, and it is now burned so thoroughly into our language that there’s no ditching it now.

So, we’re at it again. Illinois is up next for marriage equality, and a bill is currently doing well for itself in the state government, but… We have this Twitter hashtag to support it called #ILequality. It sounds like “ill-equality.” Hell, it sounds like “ill-equipped.” Whatever it is, it’s a negation, but when it comes to the mashed together nature of hashtags, you’re bound to get some stinkers. We could even spin it as street talk for “good.” Like that equality is so “ill.” Do kids even say “ill” anymore? What do I know? I just referred to slang as “Street Talk.”

“Street Talk.” Worst Sequel Ever.

Lastly, and most seriously, Uganda has been skirting an anti-homosexuality bill for years, and weeks ago it looked close to happening. It’s being (rightly) referred to as the “Kill the Gays” Bill, because it makes being gay an offense punishable by life in prison or death. There are several unconfirmed reports that the death penalty has been stripped, but the facts on that are about as sure as a pinky promise. Also, life in prison? Pretty much death right there. The supporters are talking up the bill’s (ALLEGED!) death penalty removal like we’re supposed to thank them. They’re forgetting the life in prison part for gay people, their wedding guests and any family members who don’t turn them in to the authorities. But no more death penalty, hey!

Anyway, point is, this is not a strictly Ugandan affair anymore. American preacher Scott Lively has been the Johnny Appleseed of anti-gay sentiment in Uganda since 2002. See his greatest hits: Gays are Pedophiles, Gays are Nazis, and While We’re At it Gays Created Hitler. Regardless, he’s a well man who is so far getting away with this puppeteering act.

Until LGBT (acronym shudder) activists in Uganda decided to sue Scott Lively in a Massachusetts court for crimes against humanity. There’s a lot of juice to their case, and I applaud this maneuver (these ARE crimes against humanity), but there’s the little matter of the organization’s nomenclature:

Sexual Minorities of Uganda, otherwise calling themselves “SMUG.”

Listen, the facts are on SMUG’s side, but damn. SMUG. How about don’t acronym it at all? I wish you all the best, SMUG. With a name like SMUG, they’ve got to have a good case.

Maggie Gallagher is Finished! (For Now)

Former National Organization for Marriage (NOM) head Maggie Gallagher wrapped up her final syndicated column this week. For the uninitiated, Maggie’s column dealt with sex, marriage and babies, during which she fulfilled the societal demand for a Carrie Bradshaw with more Puritanical judgment and minus the gay fan base.

She’s stopping the column not because she’s out of things to say, but because it’s distracting her from her new website MaggieGallagher.com. In her final post, she basically wants to continue being the voice of women who want to feel better about not asking their neighbors about their gay kids.

She also makes a plea for a like-minded “generation of culture creators, of storytellers, with the credentials to name reality…” No, she didn’t write this post drunk on Red Stag. I merely declined to preface her earlier description of “reality namers” as people in Hollywood, and her lament about why there aren’t enough TV shows about florists politely refusing to serve two lesbians (presumably right before a laugh track sting).

I’m with you, Mags. This show needs to be shitcanned pronto!

I’ve got two reasons why she’ll be waiting a long time. One: She’s already got her “reality namer.” Ender’s Game, big budget movie out this year by friend of NOM Orson Scott Card. While we probably won’t be treated to a scene where Colonel Graff pays his salary from Catholic tithings, he is nevertheless NOM in spirit. Plus, there is always other books in Mr. Scott Card’s collection. Books like Hamlet’s Father, wherein the King was a gay pedophile who regularly molested Hamlet, Horatio, Laertes, AND Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. He turned Horatio gay from molesting, but was unable to turn Hamlet through molesting, or something like that. It was a pretty thick novella. It’s going to take me a while to get through it.

Even with something not as a rape-y in their arsenal, a right-leaning reality namer would probably only fare as well as Fox News’s answer to The Daily Show, The Half-Hour News Hour, which featured the comedy stylings of Ann Coulter and Lorenzo Lamas and had an inglorious run from 2007 to 2007. In their defense, it’s really hard to sell right-wing slop to Fox News watchers. I hear they did manage to snag the coveted “TV Left On for Dog While Owner is Away” market.

All lukewarm things must come to an end, though. The Huffington Post conducted an “exit” interview with Ms. Gallagher on the eve of her final column, and one of the final questions and answers rang especially true (Bolding mine):

Interviewer: Do you think anything positive could come from states legalizing same-sex marriage?

Gallagher: Not really. I hope I’m wrong though. Oh, except for making it less likely the Supreme Court will decide that gay people are politically powerless and need special court protection to function in a democracy.

Oh, and of course it would make some gay people happy so that’s a good thing. Good that someone will be happy!

I don’t speak “Street Talk” or anything, but that right there was some cold-ass shit.

Chicago at this time of year gets a magnificent soft winter sunlight. “New York in your pocket” is how I think of my home city with its snow-salted skyline. For people who presently live there, I’m sure my carrying on is a little silly, possibly even enraging, since you are most definitely in the grip of a 20 below chill as of this writing. Ah, but for me, Chicago will always be that little world in the snow globe. I make it a point to revisit no less than once a year to preserve that feeling (and also, I guess, to see my family or whatever).

It’s not just Chicago, either. The whole state’s got quite a list of bona fides: we’ve produced Lincoln, Barack Obama, license plates with Lincoln’s face on it, a first-rate prison system strong enough to  hold several of our former governors and a dizzying pizza-to-citizen ratio. We’ve been home to Oprah, Ebert and John Hughes. We even let Michael Bay swindle us into filming here for Transformers 3, even though it ended up costing us millions compared to what we were paid. And if there’s a beloved comedian who has ever eaten, drugged or fucked himself to death, you can be sure Chicago was his home (or his tomb)!

Nevertheless, regrettable!

I am encouraged, then, to witness the rapid moving of Illinois’s state government bowels towards a marriage equality decision.

The Senate sub-committee voted today 8-5 to pass a marriage equality bill on to the full senate. This measure is supported by Governor Pat Quinn, Chicago Mayor Rahm “R-bomb” Emmanuel, and enjoys a slight edge of support in the Congress. However, when it comes to gay rights, such matters are easier said than done in Congress, and Chicago boasts some of America’s mouthiest Cardinals, so I’d say this little party is just beginning.

The National Organization for Marriage has already threatened to put up $250,000 to fight for the dismissal of any Illinois Republicans who vote for the measure, but there’s that small matter of our unprecedented winning streak in November, so I’d say that’s put a lot of people in a “Saying Yes” mood. Support us with the Twitter hashtag #ILequality, which unfortunately sounds like a negation. Use it anyway!

As Illinois boys Wayne & Garth might say–

“Game on!”

It’s been one week since the election, and boy, the Internet has been a tree of delicious, ripe fruit for gay-friendly people! The whirlwind re-election of Barack Obama, the hobbling of the Tea Party, the self-destruction of poisonous GOP puppet master Karl Rove, the clean sweep of gay marriage initiatives… Let me just say that I wake up every morning to a pan of freshly baked schadenfreude thanks to the outpouring of mean-spirited Republican anguish at these results.

I know the Internet won’t be this good to me forever, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

The National Organization for Marriage (NOMNOMNOM) has been ashen-faced/crestfallen/taken aback/beside herself for days that their tactics of branding us faith traitors and half-a-pedophiles didn’t work forever. Among the justifications for why their campaigns were a disastrous waste of time, resources, misappropriated Church tithings and Chick-Fil-A sandwiches:

*The 4 states they lost in were in “deep blue states” (One of Maggie’s “deep blues”? Minnesota, home of the bushel of gay teen suicides that put It Gets Better on the map)

*Yeah, we lost marriage battles, but Romney lost those states even harder! (The facts are technically in their favor here. However, in our defense, a win is a win. There’s really nothing like winning. *roguish wink*)

*We were outspent 4-to-1! (You have us there. We are all Double-Income-No-Kids stinkin’ rich! Not like those broke assholes you had on your side, Mitt Romney and the “Vatican”.)

*We were outspent 8-to-1! (Well, which is it?)

*Hollywood! (Glee‘s only current function is to shoulder blame from right-wing groups. What will everyone point to when it’s cancelled never?)

However, this is all smokescreen to disguise traditional marriage’s true enemy…Starbucks.

Yes, NOM lost big, and now they’re regrouping and channeling their impotent rage in the direction of upscale coffee stores. Last year, NOM ran a public embarrassment successful campaign against the gay-friendly Starbucks called “Dump Starbucks.” Anyway, the boycott was about as successful as the gay boycott of Chick-Fil-A. Both chains responded to the outcry with a cheery “thanks for the free press!” and proceeded to expand their stores amidst a national recession.

Brian Brown, head of NOM, is renewing his campaign against Starbucks in the wake of his election defeat. He has pledged, not unlike Al Capone-hunting Elliot Ness, to squeeze Starbucks by cutting off their funds. You see, Starbucks is hoping to expand to countries in the Middle East like Qatar and India, and Mr. Brown is going to make sure he’s the monkey wrench in these plans. (Bolding mine)

“So for example, in Qatar, in the Middle East, we’ve begun working to make sure that there’s some price to be paid for this,” Brian Brown says in audio recording of the conference call, which can [be] heard on the Independent’s website. “These are not countries that look kindly on same-sex marriage. And this is where Starbucks wants to expand, as well as India. So we have done some of this; we’ve got to do a lot more.”

Give ‘em hell, Brian! In fact, not only is the Middle East unfriendly to same-sex marriage, they are positively lynching-mad about anything same-sex whatsoever. Just yesterday, Ugandan Parliament Speaker Rebecca Kadaga said she hopes to pass the infamous “Kill the Gays” bill (which previously mandated a death sentence or life imprisonment for gays) as an “early Christmas gift”. Godspeed, Mr. Brown! I am certain your plan to meddle in deadly serious foreign affairs just to lick your wounds and settle an impossible to settle score with a latte shop will not backfire on you in any way, you tragic, tragic clown.

Yet not all is sunny in Starbucks-land. The store has become so strapped for cash that they have successfully negotiated a permanent residence in Walt Disney World’s Main Street, USA. The Starbucks will take over the Main Street Bakery in January.

That Disney must sure be desperate to allow such branding on their home turf. Is it possible their star is fading?

No.

Will NOM go against the entire Family now? Starbucks is now in bed with Disney and Star Wars. Boycott them all? In my dreams, you all drink Folgers at Knott’s Berry Farm and watch trailers for Ender’s Game on your Galaxy Tablets. And then you look up to the sky, curse living in the greatest country in the world and wonder if it was all worth it.

We won. Your life remains the same. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

]]> http://stayonfountain.com/the-round-up/nom-classless-piece-shit-3.html/feed 2 http://stayonfountain.com/drink-with-me/adam-drink-election-day.html http://stayonfountain.com/drink-with-me/adam-drink-election-day.html#comments Tue, 06 Nov 2012 07:14:46 +0000 Adam http://stayonfountain.com/?p=4129

“It’s not about political parties, it’s about the cocktail party!” – James Carville (D) and a silent, fuming Mary Matalin (R)

That’s right, it’s been one long year of campaigning, and another long year of Republican primaries, but we’re finally wrapping this big piece of crap up. In a way, this election has been the Avengers of elections:

*Exhausting length? CHECK

*Cost unimaginable sums of money to produce? CHECK

*Too many characters? CHECK

*Pandering to women, yet still under-representing women? CHECK

*Sound and fury, signifying nothing? CHECK

That last part rings especially true because there been a lot of yelling discussion about how a vote for (BLANK) is a vote for our complete annihilation as a country and as a superpower. I think we’ve all made our beds by now, cast our early votes or have made up our minds who we’re voting for. If this election will indeed be the undoing of our country, it’s out of our hands now, so best pick up a drink and toast our good fortune to live in a country that allows us to get this upset over anything.

Will Washington State allow marriage equality? Probably.

Will California repeal its death penalty? Probably not, but it would have been nice to get rid of Charles Manson when we had the chance.

Will Virginia vote for Mitt Romney or the President? Don’t spoil it! I want to be surprised!

This year, if you have followed the news at all, you have been put through unimaginable torture and deserve the night off next Tuesday. A tip for your drink of choice:

Sparkling Swing State Shooters

Being a resident of solid blue California, our largest-in-the-nation 55 electoral college votes are already neatly tucked away, so we’re not deciding any election any time soon. This election will be determined, once again, by the “Swing States”: Ohio, Virginia, Florida, Wisconsin, New Hampshire, Iowa and Colorado. While you watch the results spill in, take a sip of your two options:

The ‘Leans Obama’

1 part red table wine or dark Sangria

2 parts Ginger Ale

Tall glass of ice

This light blue drink will give you a friendly, affordable buzz on whenever President Obama pulls in another victory state.

–

The ‘Leans Romney’

 1 part Bacardi Raspberry Mojito mix

2 parts Ginger Ale

Tall glass of ice

This fancier pink drink that comes on sweet and leaves you bitter is a nice compliment to Governor Romney’s next win.

Election Day. Relax. It’s only a game.

“For now, let’s call her Cleopatra.”

Eccentric musician Frank Ocean has had a tremendous surge in the last year. This is surprising because, as I wrote the other day about David Lynch’s music, Ocean is not exactly the norm. His biggest singles of the moment, “Thinking About You” and “Pyramids” (which he performed brilliantly on Saturday Night Live) defy easy categorization.

Like Lynch’s works, they are mood pieces that aim to disrupt and then disarm. This is the bellwether of good art. Disrupt= This is something different. Pay attention. Sometimes this goes so far as to be something you don’t want to hear, such as dissonance (although there is far greater use of disruptive dissonance in Lynch’s work). Then, Disarm= It’s different, but you like it. Either the disruptive qualities fold into pleasantness, or to greater effect, the disruption builds a world around you and the musician. The world the artist has crafted becomes your normal, for the moment. The oddness becomes comforting. This is what they mean when they say you become “transported.” For a brief time, the artist has tricked you into seeing the world differently. If that isn’t art’s ultimate goal, then it sure should be up there.

I don’t know if Frank Ocean has ever seen a David Lynch film, or vice versa, but the disrupt/disarm at work in “Pyramids,” especially when John Mayer makes an extended appearance, tells me that their worlds would be friends.

The video is NSFW:

“I want to have a good day today.”

David Lynch has returned to his unsettling music career in the six years since he’s made a film (2006′s underrated, horrific, Laura Dern-cry-face slog Inland Empire). Last year, he released the album Crazy Clown Time, which you can sample on his site DavidLynch.com, along with spooky mood pieces from Inland, as well as previously unavailable Twin Peaks tracks from Angelo Badalamenti.

He’s a nut, to be sure, but a sweet nut, and there’s an optimism that pumps beneath his horror. I’ve been getting Michael into Twin Peaks, and Lynch’s baffling mystery led him to ask me the inevitable question: “Does Lynch care if you get it or not?”

My first response is no, but then I always think about it after. To say ‘no,’ isn’t fair to Lynch, who really is making movies closer to art and music than he is to a narrative. He doesn’t want to present a finished question and answer package because he wants you to keep thinking about his story when it’s over. I consider his pieces a sharpening stone for my own imagination.

I need my imagination sharper lately because I’ve found myself with a world-class case of writer’s block. I am completing a new novel, and my usual prolific nature has slowed lately as my block has gathered dominance over me. To a non-writer, writer’s block may seem nothing to, ahem, write home about. I must tell you, though, to a writer, specifically one such as myself who writes everyday, writing is a big part of my identity. To have writer’s block for this long has been devastating. My personality, even my identity, feels challenged when I wake up and go to work, not knowing if I’ll get a flood river or a few leaky drips.

“Good Day Today” has been my song for a while now. If you feel blocked, I’d suggest giving it a listen. Lynch’s works contain everything a frustrated soul requires: a disruptive somberness to make you listen, and notes of disarming nature-based pleasantness to reassure you that it will all work itself out in time, as it always does…