The end is near

And desperation is your ally, sweetheart. Chris Buckley could not be more spot on. Respect could be garnered if they would simply speak on the strengths of their own platform instead of trying to win the fear vote. Sad.

Right recognition

The Nobel committee missed the boat, but good for the European Parliament for giving honor where it's due. (HT Thunderstruck)

Money wasted, style ignored

If you're going to spend $150,000 on a wardrobe for a candidate, at least don't dress her dowdily. And I'm thinking maybe I need to become a makeup artist.

Achtung Baby Faith

If there were only one U2 album I could listen to the rest of my life, it would be . . . iTunes "Complete U2." No, but seriously. It would be Achtung Baby for so many reasons. Stephen Catanzarite offers a few of them. (HT Thunderstruck)

A New Call

Steve Beard (creator of Thunderstruck) has a great review of Call+Response at NRO:

According to the 2008 U.S. State Department “Trafficking in Persons Report,” approximately 800,000 people are trafficked across national borders. That does not include the millions trafficked within their own countries. “Approximately 80 percent of transnational victims are women and girls and up to 50 percent are minors,” states the report. “Human traffickers prey on the vulnerable. Their targets are often children and young women, and their ploys are creative and ruthless, designed to trick, coerce, and win the confidence of potential victims. Very often these ruses involve promises of a better life through employment, educational opportunities, or marriage.”
“We’re not talking about good or bad business practices or working conditions,” former ambassador John Miller testifies in the film. “We’re talking about slavery. We’re talking about the loss of freedom and the threats of force or the actual use of violence to deprive people of freedom.”

As a United Nations Goodwill Ambassador against Trafficking and Slavery, British actress Julia Ormond visits places around the globe suspected of benefiting from slave labor and interviewing those who’ve been set free. “This is about people being held often at gunpoint, being chained, being electrocuted, being drugged, being thrown out of windows, having their families threatened that they’ll kill them,” she says in the film.

In researching his book Not For Sale, professor David Batstone — featured in Call + Response — traveled to Cambodia, Thailand, Peru, India, Uganda, South Africa, and Eastern Europe to investigate modern-day slavery. His findings are breathtaking. “Girls and boys, women and men of all ages are forced to toil in the rug looms of Nepal, sell their bodies in the brothels of Rome, break rocks in the quarries of Pakistan, and fight wars in the jungles of Africa,” he writes. “Go behind the façade in
any major town or city in the world today and you are likely to find a thriving commerce in human beings.”

There are many things you can do to stop this evil. Go to http://www.callandresponse.com/ to learn how.

Why I'm proud to be an American

We can laugh at ourselves in the most serious of times.

Fellow Xers, we need a new niche

Because we've become cliche.

Ann Hornaday had a great piece this past Sunday in the Washington Post, "From Indie Chic to Indie, Sheesh." It's cringe-inducing. In sum, mentioning so many movies I love -- and still do, despite her column -- she boiled "indie films" down to, essentially, the Gen X stereotype writ large. You know that stereotype: We're cynical, apathetic, self-absorbed slackers. And every time we hear that stereotype invoked against us, we balk: "No! We're much more!" At least I do; I always think, No, we're wall-breakers, open-minded, activist-oriented, and engaged. Some of us anyway.

And then along comes Hornaday with a perfect description of the films that define us, or at least have enraptured us, the past 20 years -- a description that's spot on. And a description that not only captures these films in a nutshell -- but also perfectly fit into the Gen X Stereotype Mold. (Yipe!)

American independent films used to be the stuff of the cognoscenti,
denizens of film festivals and art houses who laughed knowingly at their inside
jokes, appreciated their scratchy production values and applauded their formal
daring. It all changed in 1994, when the $8 million "Pulp Fiction" surpassed
$100 million at the U.S. box office. Since then, "low budget" films have been
steadily churned out by boutique arms of big studios and ambitious young
filmmakers looking for a hot Hollywood career.

By the time "Juno" screenwriter Diablo Cody won the Oscar this year, it was
painfully clear that the very principles that made indies so attractive in the
first place had morphed into tired, cynical mannerisms: Spontaneity became false
and studied; intimacy became precious; daring became shock value for its own
sake; personal became shallow and solipsistic; and willingness to challenge
linear narrative became pretentious and incoherent.

But there's hope:

Can indies be saved? Yes, but only as long as the question is framed
differently. It's time to stop talking about budgets, "edge" and filmmakers'
come-from-behind biographies -- indeed, maybe the word "indie" itself should be
banished -- and instead rediscover values like intelligence, emotional truth,
moral heft and restraint, which will endure long after indie-chic signifiers and
smug hermeticism have worn themselves out. . . .

Some of the best films of this year have been indies, in the most classical
sense of the word. "Frozen River," "Chop Shop" and "The Visitor" (by "The
Station Agent's" Tom McCarthy) each tells a well-crafted story about characters
we haven't seen before, in spontaneous, unstudied ease. Another bright spot on
the horizon is "Wellness," by Jake Mahaffy, which has barely been seen on the
festival circuit but turns heads wherever it's played. Mahaffy's unsettling,
finely observed drama about a traveling salesman in Pennsylvania suggests the
possibility for a new cinematic genre: post-industrial American neorealism. . .
.

In financing, lineage and vision, these movies are as independent as they
come. But none of them looks or sounds or acts like "Little Miss Juno Dynamite."
Instead, they look and sound and act exactly the way they should. They don't
concern themselves with being cutting-edge or groundbreaking; rather, as Chekhov
exhorted, they simply care about "what flows freely from the heart." Devoid of
mannerisms, gimmicks or look-at-me gestures, they do the truly radical thing.
They tell their stories simply and well. Move over, indie: Old-school classicism
may be making its own comeback.

All, it's time for a rewrite. There are stories to tell.

Sure, gas prices are high, but how are you eating?

Probably better than most, if you're a Westerner.

"The poor are usually neglected. I think they're going to be even more neglected right now."--Jeffrey Sachs, development expert and adviser to UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon. (via UN Wire)

Please let it be true

A friend noted recently he received a record number of e-mails in a day: 300. I had to wonder, how many were spam? According to the Guardian however, the U.S. just shut down a major global spam gang. (via UN Wire)

Refreshing words from McCain -- go figure

The anger is getting raw at Republican rallies and John McCain is acting to tamp it down. McCain was booed by his own supporters Friday when, in an abrupt switch from raising questions about Barack Obama's character, he described the Democrat as a "decent person and a person that you do not have to be scared of as president of the United States."

More.

'The New Abolitionists'

As mentioned previously, here is my interview with Justin Dillon, producer of Call+Response.

The film you must see

The Washington Post's Style section today features an article on a film opening tomorrow, October 10: Call+Response, which I first discussed here.

The film goes undercover in the brothels of Cambodia, the brick kilns of India and near the dead lakes of Ghana to reveal that in 2008, the slave trade that we hoped was halted in the 1800s with emancipation in the United States and elsewhere is alive and escalating, feeding the dark side of globalization. The State Department estimates that at least 800,000 people of all ages are sold across borders each year, many of them to make products we use, wear or eat without knowing the origin.

"There are more slaves today than ever before in human history," Dillon said in an interview. "In 2007, slave traders made more money than Google, Nike and Starbucks combined."

Think that sex slavery is "not our problem" in the States? Think again: Even the Today Show had a difficult feature story on this human-right atrocity right in our backyard.

I have an interview with Call+Response producer Justin Dillon that will be posted soon. His dedication and passion on this issue is admirable.

Make your plans this weekend to see Call+Response. We must never become comfortable in our complacency. And there are things you can do in your corner of the world to make an impact on this issue: to stop human trafficking our lifetime. You can start by paying the ticket price to see this film. One hundred percent of the proceeds go toward activist groups fighting on the frontlines against human slavery.

Hook, line, and sinker

How (part of) the Church was bought. (HT Thunderstruck)

'Let Them Know They're Enough'

At my daughter's back-to-school night the helicopter parents were there in force, and the teachers knew it. My daughter's extended language arts teacher handled it beautifully.

"Extended" means "advanced" -- the higher level version of the class. So naturally, it's a class that includes many, let's say, "intimately involved" parents. Which is good! Really. But there's a line between involved and overbearing. I have to watch where my toe's going.

But all that to say, this is a class where the students are precocious, and some parents may be obnoxious. God bless 'em . . .

So, my daughter's teacher, Mrs. P., relayed a story to illustrate a point. She said when she first became pregnant, she didn't think, "I hope I have the next president" or "I hope I have the next Olympic gold-medal winner." She said, "I hope that he's healthy -- just that he's healthy." And then "if he ties his shoe, that's a bonus," and "if he graduates high school, that's a bonus." But just that he is, she said, "that's enough. He is enough just as he is, however he is." This is the point where I got a little verklempt.

She noted how she came from Fairfax County, Va., where if you didn't letter/pin in three sports and get nothing but A's, you weren't doing something right; you weren't enough. Meanwhile her mom always let her know she was enough; she loved her as she was, and it made all the difference in Mrs. P's life. She said that she knew the types of students in this class pushed themselves hard. "If they miss a homework assignment, they're in tears," she said. "They don't know if it will be all right."

Mrs. P. then looked at the parents and respectfully asked us always "to let them know that they're enough," no matter what. Wise words.

(My post first appeared at The Point.)

This is good eating

And the drive to Locke Modern Country Store is nice too. Gourmet foods, wines from all over the globe, amazing prepared food. An unexpected find in a small town.

I'd like to live in their world

From Reveries:

"I used to buy Sirius stock to keep myself from buying more Hermes scarves," says shopper Jan Goode in a New York Times piece by Susan Dominus (9/26/08). "Now my Hermes holdings are much more valuable than my Sirius stock ... Sirius is at 90 cents a share. I should have been buying scarves all along." Such was the rationalization of one wealthy woman for standing "on" line to get into a Hermes sample sale on West 18th Street in N.Y.C.

Another said: "Even if the economy's down, a sale is all the more reason to buy something nice." She continued: "Buy something nice, it makes you look good, you feel good. If you pay full price and things are unstable at your job, it takes away the enjoyment." Of course, "not paying full price" at a Hermes sample sale means "a $900 pair of boots or $280 leatherbound hunting horn the size of a comb." And spending "nothing" apparently means dropping at least a grand.

As one shopper put it: "Even if I don't find anything, I still spend a thousand. It's like Costco." Only without the "lightbulbs, toilet paper or toothpaste." But it's not as though some of these shoppers weren't feeling just a little guilty. "I'll only buy if it's something I really need," said one. Others wouldn't give their names because they were playing hooky from work to attend the sale. "Let's just say my bank's still around," hinted one anonymous shopper, "That narrows it down to about four." To which another retorted: "Stop bragging!"

Actually, no. If I'm going to "therapy shop," I'll support a friend's endeavor.

What faith sometimes looks like

Joe Biden, on the death of his wife and daughter in 1992. (HT Thunderstruck)

Morphing around

Getting this idea from Ness. Morphthing.com is a silly, little addictive site where you can fiddle with your image and 'morph' it with another.

Like my friend, I've combined with two celebrities I've been compared to. First, me (an image Angie took):

Next, Fiona Apple:

And voila:

Kinda scary...

Then, Piper Perabo:

And the morph:

Yeah, I'm with Angie: I'll stick with the person I've morphed into. ( :

Wisdom from Wilde

One of my favorite quotes -- reminded of it today from Sojourners "Voice of the day":

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." -- Oscar Wilde

Now, this is a block party

This is what community looks like.

Diners and other dives

Why an all-night diner beats a four-star restaurant -- two words: community and equality.

Don't get me wrong -- I do love fine food; Jeffrey Steingarten is one of my favorite writers. But reading this article in the Los Angeles Times brought back fun memories from college -- namely, playing cheap pool at Gene's (where you banged your cue stick on the floor to get the table reset) followed by consuming questionable food at the T Room (AKA the TT, Tea Room, Texas Tea Room, or Texas Inn) at some ungodly hour. At the T Room, a retro diner complete with the lingo yelled by charming waitresses named Flo (at least, they could be named Flo), most of my friends loved the oddball sandwich called the cheesy western (whoever thought that one up must have stock in Tums): It was a burger topped with a fried egg and this horrid-looking mustard-relish sauce that made whatever that topping is on a Big Mac look appetizing. I stuck with the "hots" (hot dogs), which looked suspect, topped with even more suspect-looking chili. I have no idea, upon recollection, why. Here's one blogger with similar memories.

But back to the greatness of these fine eating establishments. Regarding equality, as this reviewer notes, ". . . when you get the urge, it all works, sitting there on a stool in a tiny restaurant, breathing second-hand smoke and passing pleasantries with a homeless drunk on one side of you and a bank president on the other. That's culture; that's atmosphere." Well, I'll skip the second-hand smoke, but it sounds to me like an establishment a certain carpenter might have frequented. (No, I'm not trying to pull a "WWJD?" I don't know that. ... Neither do you.)

Maybe "WWJD?" was what these guys had in mind, as described in the Times article:

At the counter this night is Esmeralda Cordova, a sad-eyed singer-songwriter sipping from a bowl of tomato-basil soup. A late-night regular, she appreciates Fred 62's easygoing comfort: "The great thing about diners is you can come by yourself and no one feels sorry for you," she explains. "It's not like a restaurant."

Her waitress returns with the bill, sheepishly explaining that two gentlemen have paid her tab and left a note. Inside, a hand-printed paragraph explains that Jesus loves her and that, although she seemed troubled, things will get better. The note is unsigned, and the men responsible are gone.

Well, that's a bold and presumptuous move by those mystery men. I got to remember that, though, next time I'm in a diner, to put on a sad face and see if I can finagle a free meal. ( : But this songwriter touches on the richness of diners: that you encounter community even when you're looking for isolation. You're not there to see and be seen and stand out; you're there to blend in and join in, find common ground. And get a greasy meal you can no longer get from the fast-food restaurants scrambling to avoid the next Big Tobacco: Big Fat. Makes some of those weird orange "hots" at the T Room sound appetizing again.

A diner is about the only place where you can see "night-crawling hipsters, post-rehearsal musicians and coffee-addled high school kids alike," as well as "rumpled hipsters [who] sit with punks in hoodies while miniskirted club kids chatter near couples in their 40s from the neighborhood." Another place might be -- or at least should be -- a well-mixed church. In this suburban age where every congregant or parishioner is wearing the same wardrobe from Banana Republic or Urban Outfitters, that would be refreshing.

(This post first appeared at The Point.)

'Like an unchecked cancer'

Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man’s sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.
-- Martin Luther King Jr.

(courtesy Sojourners 'Verse and Voice of the Day')