Bryan Joiner

Why then I

Spamalot

I get a lot of Spam at work and it’s almost always from exquisitely-named fake people. Seriously, I think the best part of being a spammer is thinking up the names, unless they come from a name generator, which seems pretty likely. I want to meet these people.

Delbert Lugo
Gregorio Burton
Lonnie Herrera
Aguirre
Demetrius Barlow
Douglas Quick
Luann Ziegler
Williams Mogaji
Penny Spaulding
Arnold Dove
Stark E. Beatrix
Buford McCord
Cecilia G. Gentry
Kory Land
Conception Colbert
Blanchard
Tracy Farr
Brigitte Byers

To the judges:

Bronze: Williams Mogaji
Silver: Conception Colbert
Gold: Stark E. Beatrix

Slate

For those of you who didn’t see, Slate linked over to me this morning in this article.

Great Quote – Don DeLillo

“War is the form nostalgia takes when men are hard-pressed to say something good about their country.”

From White Noise

The full quote, if you’re interested:

“Nostalgia is a product of dissatisfaction and rage. It’s a settling of grievances between the present and past. The more powerful the nostalgia, the closer you come to violence. War is the form nostalgia takes when men are hard-pressed to say something good about their country.”

President Simpson?

There was an article in The New York Times yesterday about Hillary Clinton’s letters to a pen-pal in college. They heavily excerpt the letters, and I can’t help but think that Hillary Rodham sounds a LOT like Lisa Simpson, who in fact, became President in one forward-looking Simpsons episode.

“Since Xmas vacation, I’ve gone through three and a half metamorphoses and am beginning to feel as though there is a smorgasbord of personalities spread before me. So far, I’ve used alienated academic, involved pseudo-hippie, educational and social reformer and one-half of withdrawn simplicity.”

“Sunday was lethargic from the beginning as I wallowed in a morass of general and specific dislike and pity for most people but me especially.”

“Can you be a misanthrope and still love or enjoy some individuals? How about a compassionate misanthrope?”

“I’d play out in the patch of sunlight that broke the density of the elms in front of our house and pretend there were heavenly movie cameras watching my every move.”

For what it’s worth, sounding like Lisa Simpson is a good thing, despite my “Major Problem” from last week.

A Major Problem

I’m going to talk presidential politics for a moment. I’m really disgusted that Hillary Clinton is the front-runner for the Democratic nomination. It bothers me to no end. I watched the YouTube debates at work and was consistently shocked with her non-answers to, well, everything — it’s as if she won’t commit to any policy lest she win the presidency and be accused of not keeping her promises. I call bullshit. You have to say something outside of “George Bush shouldn’t be president,” if you want my vote, and Hillary fails almost 100% of the time to get outside of this narrative. Yet she still leads in national polls, though not in Iowa (which is telling), because of the one thing she has on her side that no one else does — Bill Clinton.

It’s a tragedy for the Democrats that Bill Clinton is bound by love to support his wife’s nomination. (You can insert jokes about possibly putting “love” in quotes. I won’t.) The Democratic party has a kingmaker, and it’s Bill Clinton, who rocketed to that status with king-sized ideas and a king-sized bed full of charisma. Hillary recites nothing but talking points and, in large groups, is as charismatic as a podium.* Here’s the problem: there’s no way Bill Clinton would support Hillary if they were not married — Barack Obama is far more in the Clinton mold — and his endorsement throws so much false weight behind his wife that it’s impossible to fairly balance it. If Hillary wasn’t running, he probably wouldn’t support anybody (like 2004), and just support the eventual nominee, but now, in the event Hillary doesn’t win the nomination (here’s hoping), his eventual endorsement of the winner will be compromised. Or maybe it won’t: maybe others would come to the conclusion to which I have come. Actually, that would almost certainly happen. But there’s some work to do first.

Hillary is the only candidate on the Democratic side who stands for almost nothing; outside of “being a presidential candidate,” the only policy I can really associate her with is failed health-care reform, but I consider that a positive (hey, she tried), even if others don’t. Barack Obama stands for youth, vigor and new ideas, and is the obvious successor to Bill Clinton; John Edwards stands for the poor (or he did in 2004; I think that was his shot); Bill Richardson, whom I support, and whom I believe will be the vice presidential candidate for either Hillary or Obama, stands for experience; Joe Biden stands for “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore,” specifically on the issue of drugs (he HATES drugs); Mike Gravel stands for the angry eat-the-rich iconoclast contingent and Dennis Kucinich is the ideological iconoclast. I will actually correct myself here: based on the debates, Chris Dodd stands for perhaps less than Hillary. From what I can tell, Chris Dodd stands for, “Give Chris Dodd a cabinet position when you are elected.”

Sadly, Hillary stands for less than most of the Republican candidates as well. I don’t agree with their platforms, but I know what they stand for, or once stood for. John McCain is the former war hero and iconoclast turned party hack, but trying to overcome the second part; Rudy Giuliani is the tough-talk former mayor of NYC and 9/11 hero; Sam Brownback is the guy who doesn’t believe in evolution; Mike Huckabee, the plain-spoken, fresh-thinking former Arkansas governor (for the record, while I disagree with much of his platform, I recognize that if I DID agree with it, I would love this guy); Duncan Hunter, who Wikipedia tells me stands for pro-life stuff; Ron Paul, the real righty iconoclast; Tom Tancredo, immigration reform; Fred Thompson, the new Reagan and Tommy Thompson, all around nice guy from Wisconsin (because isn’t everyone from Wisconsin nice?). The only guy who truly stands for absolutely, positively nothing is Mitt Romney, who is even more transparent than Hillary in his no-ideas, vanilla upon vanilla presentation of the party-line candidacy. We must do everything in our power to stop this man from being elected president. Really. He’s the ideological successor to George Bush, able to be molded by Republican interests forever and ever. This cannot happen. Giuliani, for all his flaws, has a spine, and McCain would probably cut the BS once in office. One would think.

But that’s not a big worry of mine. The Democrats should walk into the White House. There’s absolutely no reason for them to lose. Things are so much worse than they were in 2004, when they should have walked in, that it seems inevitable. So let’s make really sure to pick the right candidates for the right reasons. If you like Hillary Clinton because you think she’s another Bill Clinton, think again. I’m not telling anyone not to vote for her, but I’m saying, to quote the Geico caveman, “Maybe do a little research.” That’s all. Cut through the fog. Listen to what she says. There’s not much there.

* There is a caveat to this. As a newspaper reporter for several years in New York, I covered many events at which Hillary attended, and met her several times. In small groups, she does extremely well with crowds that often have mixed feelings about her. It’s odd, because I’ve met Bill Clinton as well, and he has almost the opposite effect: on TV, it looks like he loves going through crowds, whereas in person I always got the sense that it’s not so much meeting you that he likes, but the fact that you like meeting him so much. I’m not trying to bring Bill down, because he could and would engage person in this country in a conversation and love it as much as they did, but in those one- and tw0-second encounters, Hillary is extremely good at projecting empathy and happiness. She’s almost always smiling, which works in person, but I think it has the opposite effect on TV — it makes her seem phony.

Tired.

But happy that Grant Alan Joiner, Esq., will be making landfall in NYC in another 10 days.

The Transformers Rant

“It’s really amazing that a lot of people liked the movie. Some dude from my college who is on Myspace asked me to explain why I didnt like it. I was like, how can I even begin to explain that this movie is bad to someone who likes it. It’s like someone walking over to you and asking you why you don’t like to eat dog shit” – email I received

I have seen several movies lately, the most recent being Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which was notable for three reasons: 1) it is an astoundingly creepy movie, commendably so; 2) Harry looks like he should be playing striker in the English Premier League at this point, he’s so old; 3) we used our tickets to get 10 percent off our post-movie meal at a local diner.*

Previous to Harry Potter, I saw Transformers, a trauma into which I have delved slightly on this blog.** I will attempt to discuss this experience further, but I’m not sure the scars have completely healed, so you must forgive me if I falter. This was the single worst piece of film-making I have ever seen, without question. Though I stayed until the conclusion of the 2 and a half hour a[xxx]tion of the ideals of humanity and the good of the civilized world, I would rather watch the only film on which I have walked out — Problem Child 2 — on loop, with my eyes jammed open, than revisit Transformers in the theater. I would rather find a time machine, travel to the instant before I was to buy my ticket and break my kneecaps—both of them—to prevent me from seeing this film, and then stab myself in the eyes just to be sure I got the point across. I would rather watch NASCAR with Bill O’Reilly or date Ann Coulter. If Hillary Clinton ran for president on a “No Transformers sequel” platform, I would vote for her. Twice. In each election.

With its pornographic, incomprehensible violence; its mosaic of plagiarized scenes from Top Gun, Batman, The Matrix, Armageddon and Independence Day, to name, oh, about half; to its jerkoff message of American greatness brought to you by the U.S. military, Hasbro, about 15 people who should be/are supermodels, Autobots and Ford, the movie might as well be entitled An Open Letter to al Qaeda.*** Or, better yet, why not just call it Bullseye? This is the low point in American/western “culture” as I know it, edging out George W. Bush’s re-election, in which less than .5 percent of the world’s population decided that the remaining 99.5+ percent deserved to be miserable because they preferred a President who was “like them” instead of one who was “qualified to lead the world.” Unfortunately, the Transformers phenomenon cuts across party lines, meaning something closer to 1 percent of the world’s population has decided they’d rather sit in a movie theater and masturbate to explosions, Megan Fox the American flag than develop a cogent thought on, well, anything. We can’t save us from ourselves—that much is clear—so maybe toys can do it! Whoopee!

We are literally worshiping toys. Not ideas. Not greatness. Not even goodness or averageness or mediocrity or Kansas City Royals-like futility. Toys. Things of play. The Transformers movie isn’t the start of this; my friends remember individual Transformers episodes and characters from the 1980s, and I have no idea how they do this. Crap like that was supposed to be amusing and disposable (I watched the cartoon religiously), but it’s the trash on which we’ve built our society. Sometimes I think I’m the crazy one, and then I see Transformers, and I realize that it’s not that everyone has lost their goddamn mind: it’s that they don’t work anymore. This is normal. It’s normal to go to a movie theater and watch controlled detonations on sound sets with pretty people running, all slowed down so that you can take in every inch of it in the most overwhelming sensory manner possible. Harry Potter is the world of one woman’s incredible imagination, and stimulates the brain as much as the eyes; Transformers was dreamed up by Hasbro executives who wanted you to spend money on their toys instead of, you know, buying healthier food or something. Not that health food was all the rage in the 1980s, but it’s not like we’re getting smarter. We’ve just stopped acting like idiots in a very small way, but we still destroy the planet (and argue about it?!?!) and give millions of dollars to an asshole like Michael Bay, a man whose defining feature is his ability to hold a giant mirror up to us and show us, exactly how vapid and soulless we are.

* Had I done this with Transformers, I would feel the absolutely tiniest bit better.

** I also saw Rashomon, and it was excellent.

*** It is worth noting that the entire movie would have been redeemed if John Turturro had been dressed as “The Jesus” from The Big Lebowski in his role as a bizarro over-acting FBI agent. Transformers would have been instead been exposed as a critique of our society, and a brilliant one at that. Alas.

Scattered

My attention is scattered about 7 different ways these days, so I have very little for you. I have decompressed by watching episodes of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends when I get home from work, as I was given the DVD. Very good stuff.

I am disappointed that I broke my computer while en route to Hong Kong; you’ll just have to wait for me to carve out some time at work for me to jot down some trip details. Some post-trip details include seeing Transformers,  which is the worst item of any form of media that I have ever consumed, and possibly the low point in the history of Western or human civilization (it’s that or the Bush presidency). I say this without any trace of irony – I will need three months worth of quality entertainment to wash that film from my body and mind. I started with Rashomon, last night, and continue reading White Noise, which is superlatively excellent. I love many lines, including many of the more cutting ones about the clutter of our society, but then I find something like:

The refrigerator throbbed massively.

… and I love it. Four words, and so well done.

My Boys!

Most of you know that I play many fantasy sports. Well, here are my team names from the past seven years, a combination of inside jokes, pop culture references and utter nonsense that should make my mom proud. This is all I got for today. Thanks to Yahoo! for remembering all these.

Don’t Stop Believing
Cuyahoga Sheet Metal
Free Pie And Chips
The Jerks
Ruppert Mundys
Con Pedro Se Come
Taco-Flavored Kisses
Wyld Stallyns
I Got That Yayo
Hooters
U.S. Citizens
Nigerois
Nigerians
(I ran these teams in concurrent baseball leagues after I learn that residents of Niger were Nigerois, not “Nigerians.” Those are resident of Nigeria)
Fergus Wins!
Best Picks!
Hoo Rah For Bill
Wet Bandits
Javier Rodriguez
Sex-For-Cash Robots
Chimps Win!
No Yankees
Jose Cruz Jr. Felix
Carne Asada Steak
Tom Brady
Only Flaherty Did It
Pats in the 2K1
Antowain Smith
Clippers
Eliza Dushku
Boston Celtics
Ben Brissons
Sid Colton All-Stars
This Team Rules

When I Write About Books…

… as I did today, I usually do so at book-loop.blogspot.com. This is mostly in an effort to bring my massive personal readership to the site in the hopes of expanding our readership and forming an identity. Anyone who wants to join is welcome. We’re not sure what we’re doing yet, but we’re trying and we’ll take all the help we can get.