I got around to seeing Up In The Air yesterday. And for anyone who hasn't checked it out, you really should. I'll warn you that it is extremely depressing, but like the best art, truthful. Basically, it's telling viewers what many of us know, have long suspected, or been afraid to admit: that we are doomed. Clooney is pretty convincing as a guy who has given up all hope for the normal "happiness" that life might have to offer, as he lives out of a suitcase in Hilton after Hilton all over the country. There comes a key point during the film where, after attending his sister's wedding with this babe, decides that maybe he does want a chance at the normal "happiness" society deems acceptable. What he does is he runs out of this motivational speech he's giving in Vegas (a speech about the benefits of having no ties to anyone or anything) and races to Chicago to sweep this babe off her feet and live happily ever after (Clooney falls for her after several weeks of casual sex here and there around the country - and it's believable that Clooney would fall for this babe, as she's bright, funny, and smoking hot). Now, I casually said to the person sitting next to me, as Clooney was about to walk up to the brownstone this babe lived in "I bet her husband opens the door." And although her husband did not open the door, it became quickly apparent that Clooney's babe was a married mom with a couple of kids and had no interest in Clooney beyond a casual fling here and there. See, just as Clooney is finally willing to change his ways and get with this babe on some meaningful level, reality smacks him in the face. He ends up pretty much where he started, alone (although he does connect somewhat with his sisters at one point, so that's slightly good I guess). It goes to show once again, that there really is little point to life and no matter how much effort you put out and are willing to change for the hope of "happiness" with someone, you're fucked. You're alone. Everything about this movie is really good, really truthful, and yes, really depressing. Jason Reitman did something very hard in the directing world, he followed one of the best films you'll see (Juno) with something even better, and in a way even truer (although there are some depressing truths explored in Juno as well). I don't really have a film to compare Up In The Air with that leaps to mind (maybe The Accidental Tourist, in a way). As far as Clooney, he's so good that I can only imagine two other actors who would have been as good in this part (Downey and Cusack).
There is a phrase used in Up In The Air that really struck me when I heard it. When Clooney is discussing what he means to the babe who ended up being married with the kids (this is in a phone conversation after he impulsively showed up at her door), she describes him as a parentheses. And that is one of the more powerful analogies I've ever heard. As readers of this blog know, I use lots of parentheses and parenthetical devices when writing. As many of you also know, the information or comments that appears inside parentheses is not essential. In the case of this blog, they're generally irrelevant asides inside stories or comments that are irrelevant asides to begin with. So, to be called a parentheses by the girl you think you've fallen for had to be devastating for Clooney. I think the phrase is so spot on and applies so perfectly to me (an amusing diversion in short doses, but no one you'd be remotely interested in for a sustainable length of time), that I'm considering changing the name of this blog to: The Parentheses From Hawaii. Granted, it doesn't quite roll off the tongue the same way...
I was flipping around the old TV a bit and saw that America's Most Competent Karaoke Singer Competition is back on. It was highly disappointing though. There weren't nearly enough terrible singers on there to keep me amused. Instead, they focused on kids with uplifting stories who are fighting for their dreams against all odds. It was saccharine and vomit-inducing. If I wanna see inspirational stories of young singing hopefuls trying to battle problems to realize their dreams, I could go to Karaoke night at the Ramada on Loch Raven. Believe me, those folks are fighting long odds and have tons of obstacles in their paths to glory. The main obstacles being that they are talentless, ugly as sin, smell bad, and hang out at the Ramada.
Well, the coaching carousal has been rocked by Pete Carroll's decision to go to Seattle. I think they must have guaranteed Carroll like $7 million a year to get him to leave LA. I don't know why else he'd take it except for the dough. Unless USC is close to coming under NCAA sanctions for the Reggie Bush stuff, if that's the case then maybe Carroll wants to get away before having to personally suffer any consequences. For what it's worth, the Seahwaks can be good again soon. They need a couple of playmakers, better health/depth on the offensive line, and to groom a successor to Hasselback. The bigger stunner than Carroll going to the Seahawks is Jane Kiffin, er...Lane Kiffin going to USC after 1 year at Tennessee. I think the reason Kiffin jumped is that he may have some NCAA sanctions coming in Knoxville himself down the line and doesn't want to be around for those. Instead, he can be in LA to face Carroll's possible sanctions and say things like, "Well, I wasn't the head coach here at the time..." Now, as for who the Vols should hire next, my vote would be Charlie Weis, Romeo Crennel, or some other failed, heavy Belichick lacky. The good Vols fans deserve another guy who resembles Phil Fulmer in girth.
There are rumors that The Tiger has checked into a Sex Rehab in Arizona. I don't know why The Tiger would do such a thing. I've seen a few episodes of Celebrity Sex Rehab With Dr Drew and the whole thing is pretty silly. If you want to kick skanks for some reason, you'd think Sex Rehab is the last place to do so, as those clinics would have to be teeming with skanks just begging to be done by someone as rich and famous as The Tiger. Also, remember this: Rehab is for quitters.
I saw where a Japanese guy who was unfortunate enough to be in both Hiroshima and Nagasaki when the atomic bombs were dropped in 1945 died last week. He somehow managed to live into his 90's. And I wonder if there has ever been a guy quite as bizarrely intertwined with history as this Japanese dude. It's unimaginable to think about what must have been going through the minds of folks in Hiroshima when the bomb hit (the ones who didn't die instantly or almost instantly anyway). To survive it and then 3 days later to have it happen again has to be beyond the worst cruelty I can think of. And to have to walk around the next 64 years or so with that in your memory is also unimaginable. And I saw where some folks argue this guy was "lucky" to have survived both bombs. And I'm not sure "lucky" is quite the word I'd use. More like permanently horrified would be my guess. He probably lived every moment of every day of the rest of his life thinking about the bombings and wondering when the next one would hit. That's hardly a "lucky" way to go through life. It reminds me of that scene in Schindler's List where the prisoners are rounded up, stripped, herded into what they assume is a gas chamber to die, screaming and crying, then just when they expect the gas to come and kill them, instead water comes out and they get an actual bath. Forgetting the possible historical inaccuracies of the scene for a moment, that has to be one of the cruelest things you could do to someone. Then to go through life with the memory of the horror of being certain you were about to die, only to feel guilty because you didn't and millions of others did, that's about the cruelest thing I can think of. That or this poor Japanese man who had to walk around 64 years in a similar state of horrible flashback mixed with an overwhelming survivor's guilt. As I've said before on this blog, the 20th Century was a doozie. Awful, awful things. And some day I'll post my thoughts about the Allied bombing of Dresden (I almost got beaten up after a History class in college by an angry mob of well meaning, but overly simplistic patriotic guys after expressing my take on that - and that's the truth).
Butterscotch street lamps mark my path
Mark my path
Mark my path, down
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