There's something about being on a TV set that incites disillusionment. Up close, sets are two-dimensional, three-walled artifices that are too colorful and sterile to be lived in. When you're standing on set with four cameras, two boom mikes and 15 crew members staring you in the face, the whole enterprise suddenly seems less like magic and more like a sham.
When a coworker of mine gave me the idea for this column, he did so with the stipulation that I use the line "Bill Belichick is playing chess while every other NFL coach is playing checkers." Now I can't endorse that statement in good consciousness; it undersells the brilliance of the man who is clearly the best, most intelligent, most cunning, most daring, most fashionable coach in modern professional sports.
There are five movie posters hanging in my room back home. Three of them are of romantic comedies. I've received a number of comments from friends who come to visit. "Dude … you have a poster of ‘When Harry Met Sally' … you know that, right?"
When Doug Flutie addressed the campus on Tuesday night as part of Tufts' Lecture Series, he discussed several of his experiences as a quarterback in the Canadian Football League. One of them in particular stands out. He talked about a play in which he tried to twist out of the grasp of an opposing defensive end, spun around to his blind side and turned directly into a brutal helmet-to-helmet hit laid on him by another defender that split his own helmet in two.
Ah, Thanksgiving. A holiday combining two of our top three favorite things: family and gravy. Yet our third favorite thing, movies, is inexplicably absent. It makes no sense! Other holidays get their own movies. We could spend weeks rattling off Christmas movies; even Hannukah has Adam Sandler's "Eight Crazy Nights" (2002). What a "farkakte" movie that was! Halloween films get horror, and you can always count on a couple of romantic comedies in the middle of February. Even the relatively obscure Groundhog Day got the 1993 eponymous, existential comedy starring Bill Murray.
The arrival of her memoir, "Going Rogue," further reinforces the fact that Sarah Palin refuses to go away. The folksy, not-even-one-term governor from Alaska has absolutely captivated a large number of American conservatives; Sarah PAC, the political action committee Palin created in January 2009, raised upwards of $730,000 in just five months, presumably to support a Palin 2012 presidential bid.
In last week's column, I reflected on some current trends in the music industry and ended by lamenting the imminent demise of the album. This week, in order to prove just how out of touch and behind the times I am, I'd like to address another worry I have about the changing tides of the music world: I don't think we've made enough room for live music.
Emoticons are a phenomenon I have never quite been able to stomach. Nothing bodes worse for a potential friendship with me than a smiley face with a wink or a disjointed heart that has mathematical significance. It usually goes something like this: I am making plans with someone via text message. We decide to meet in Davis at 7. I say that this sounds good to me, and this is the reply I get:
Perfection. This weekend was all about it. And I'm not talking about the Indianapolis Colts or the New Orleans Saints.
Up to this point in his career, Chad Ochocinco (see: Johnson) has been most well-known for his elaborate — some would say obnoxious — touchdown celebrations and apparently lackluster grasp of the Spanish language. I say let the man dance.
In the fleeting dreams of my early childhood, I thought it would be cool to make my living as a writer. I didn't know what I wanted to write, though. In my tween years, I flitted between fantasies of being a movie critic, a TV columnist, a pop culture essayist and a comic book writer. And thanks in great part to the publication you now hold in your hands, I've gotten to try a little of all of these things (well, not comics — my brain just doesn't work that way). I still like to write, obviously, but I think I've gotten that pipe dream out of my system.
Last week, I talked about the culture of forgiveness within sports and how it seems to take so little to accept an athlete who has cheated or committed a crime back into our good graces. There are, of course, a couple of conditions: The athlete needs to show remorse that we can accept as genuine, and he needs to continue to perform well on the field upon return.
Nowadays, virtually all films are based on a prior story — whether it's a book, graphic novel, Broadway show or an "amazingly true" tale. Movie executives are desperate for ideas and, in their search to find original concepts, they have turned to the video game industry.
I've received mixed reviews about my last article not because it addressed a delicate subject but because I mentioned my large nipples. My friends have approached me in the past week and tried to reassure me that they're totally normal. And even though I still see budding breasts on my chest, I appreciate the support. But it got me thinking about another aspect of self-image that guys never have to deal with: boobs.
It took hours of political wrangling and arm-twisting, but at 11:07 p.m. on Saturday night, House Majority Leader Nancy Pelosi rapped her gavel and the Obama administration's sweeping health care bill — HR 3962, the Affordable Health Care for America Act — was passed in the House of Representatives by a slim 220-215 margin: 219 Democrats and 1 Republican for, 176 Republicans and 39 Democrats against. The House Democrats had less than 12 hours to recover before the obligatory rounds of Sunday talk shows, but this pales in comparison to the political storm awaiting Senate Democrats in the coming days and weeks.
I guess I'm glad I was in LA instead of Boston for the MLB playoffs this year. I got to hear mutterings of a Dodgers-Angels "freeway series" (yeah, dream on, but sorry, this ain't New York). And that the Angels-Yankees series was kind of a squeaker, huh? Dodgers fans are almost like Red Sox fans and that is saying something. (You decide what.)
The Obama administration foresaw two potential outcomes of last month's nullification of a purported election victory for the incumbent President of Afghanistan Hamid Karzai. President Obama and top foreign policy brass hoped for a runoff election or some form of power-sharing agreement between Karzai and his opponent, former Afghanistan Foreign Minister Abdullah Abdullah. The United States ultimately wanted an Afghan leadership that was not only popularly elected, but also seen as legitimate in the eyes of the people, as this would best combat the Afghan insurgency. Abdullah and Karzai both agreed to a runoff on Nov. 7 and all seemed well. But the United States never foresaw what lurked behind door number three.
There are some acts that simply should not be done by certain people. Lactose-intolerant individuals should avoid ice cream sundaes. Alex Rodriguez should pass on those tic-tacs. Are you Albus Dumbledore? Stay away from Snape. But all of these examples pale in comparison to what Orlando Magic sharpshooter J.J. Redick announced on Thursday.
This has been an extremely emotional week for me, but I think that I have gathered enough strength due to the kindness and support of family and friends to retell my story with composure.
Whether it's a first date or a typical Friday evening with your significant other, it's often hard to think of original plans for a night (or day) out.
