Game Change

Say what you want about her, but, Sarah Palin did make interesting copy in 2008. She is one of those candidates who make good copy, --- i.e. was interesting to watch. She was a uniter, and a divider. She was driven, and a puppet. She brought John McCain closer to winning, and cinched his defeat. Pick a side. Maybe, you will find the correct answer somewhere in between.... The movie is a couple of months old, but, HBO has a movie called ''Game Change'' about the 2008 McCain campaign selecting, and, coping with, Sarah Palin. It is a highly fascinationg-- and, by all accounts-- an accurate portrait of a naive woman being thrust onto the center stage of history. And, her enjoyment at her placement. The acting across the board is superb. Julianne Moore as Palin, Woody Harrelson as campaign guru Steve Schmidt, and the great Ed Harris as John McCain. All the information comes firsthand from the participants. Now, it is produced by Tom Hanks, a noted Hollywood liberal, but, it is very fair on how it presents its subject. This is key because it presents its facts as they were, with no spin applied. I will leave it up to you whether you believe they played fair. My thoughts are that they did... It certainly was an extraordinary time in history. It is just four years ago, but, so much has happened. Again, I will leave you all to your own judgments as to whether it was a successful four years. You will be voting that assessment in November. The movie shows those few months between the Palin selection in August 2008 and election night. The focus is clearly Palin, with McCain riding shotgun in the story. At first, Palin's appeal was in the fact she was unknown. She seemed untainted--- a valuable commodity in politics. She was attractive and she had stage presence, also a valuable addition to a campaign. We know live in a political world where what you say is not as important as how you present yourself. Barack Obama was called a rock star. Sarah Palin was called  a great actress. Between them both, John McCain was the lone wolf. He didn't have charisma. Instead, he spoke from the heart, clearly and sensibly. In today's world that is a major handicap... The cracks and flaws in Palin, as related by the movie, came soon after the selection. This sheltered woman was the Governor of Alaska, but, might have well have been from Mars. Woefully unprepared for her new role, there is a shocking scene where she has to be told that Germany was our enemy in World War Two. This scene sets up a series of revelations about her lack of knowledge. This is, of course, very frightening for someone who might be a heartbeat away from being President someday. The tone of the film then shifts from the fear of the McCain advisors that they indeed made a fatal flaw in selecting her, and, her undeniable charisma in putting her in front of a crowd. Even her most bitter critics have to concede her electric personality when on the national stage[ like Obama]. She gives a sensational speech when giving her acceptance speech to be the Vice President nominee. She even throws in an unscripted joke about lipstick. The campaign regains some enthusiasm after this. Then, she meets the media... She stumbles with embarrasing gaffes about Russia being neighbors to her beloved Alaska. Then, a suicidal interview with Katie Couric, in which she shows her lack of knowledge of foreign policy, and, even falters when asked what newspapers she reads. This lets the lions loose in the media [ which is in the tank for Obama]. Tina Fey and ''Saturday Night Live'' pick up the torch and skewer her without mercy. Behind the scenes, Palin is appalled and deeply hurt by these attacks. Because she is a newcomer on the national stage, she does not grasp that this is fair game nowadays for candidates. Her running mate, John McCain, in 2000, was charged by the Bush campaign, with fathering a bastard child-- a false and baseless charge. She is getting the baptism by fire that all novices get... Also, behind the scenes, her behavior turns dark and nasty. She refuses to comply with what is necessary to prepare her for the world. Her ego explodes and she becomes quite difficult for her staff to deal with. They gamely plow ahead in the hope she will put herself in their hands. The film shows these people as selfless and all giving to the goal of getting John McCain elected President. Most major campaigns have in-fighting, but, if this film has a flaw, it is that this in-fighting is not explored. The ''all for one and one for all'' mentality strains credibility, but, I will concede that issue in the overview of the story...  I liked how the film played fair with the Palin family. There are shots of them all together, as if they do everything together as a family unit. The subject of Bristol Palin being pregnant and being lambasted in the media is touched on, but, not in any great detail. And, that is how they should have done it. The Palin family was not the focus of the story. They appear and then disappear. As campaigns should be. The focus of running for President should be the candidate and the candidate alone. Too many cheap shots are taken by all sides in digging up the dirt on loved ones. They should be excluded, unless it is something major that would affect the candidates ability to govern. Hopefully, we will see this procedure of not involving the innocent bystanders in the coming months of Obama- Romney...Towards the end of the story, Sarah Palin loses her ability to see events in a clear and cohesive way. Indeed, there are conversations among the staff on whether she is having a nervous breakdown. This, too, is alarming for someone so close to the White House. McCain shows compassion for his co-candidate. They seem to have just a professional relationship, with no confidences being shared between them. That is because there is no time to be human. All candidates in a election become robots at some point. You have to. The only crack in this veneer comes late in the campaign , when McCain takes the microphone away from a woman who complains that Obama is an Arab and a bad person. McCain deftly takes the microphone and quietly informs the woman that Obama is a good family man with whom he disagrees with on issues. This small moment speaks volumes on the decency of John McCain... The film, of course, follows history with its ending. Then, a strange thing happens not generally known to the public. Sarah Palin wanted to speak a concession speech along with John McCain. This has never been done in the history of Presidential politics. She is firm in her decision when she is told no. She wants to go on and speak. The confrontation between her and the McCain staff is disturbing and fascinating. She has now come into her own and feeling her oats. There is no going back for her. Sarah Palin is now the leader of her party. McCain slows the train of ego for her and she backs down from her demand to speak. But, this woman has gone in a few months from an innocent to a barracuda. Such is the temptation and seduction of power... I highly recommend this movie if you are interested in this story. It is fair. Most of the parties involved in the story have praised its accuracy and tone. The lone exception, no surprise, is Sarah Palin. She seems to still be in her own world. Some love that world, some despise it. My opinion of her was never strong. I voted for the McCain-Palin ticket in 2008, but, because of John McCain, a genuine war-hero and good guy. I wanted him as President in 2000, but, he was steam rolled by the Bush forces. I still believe the world would have been much different had he gotten in then. Certainly, September 11, and, its aftermath, would have been handled better. It is all speculation, obviously. We might never have heard of Sarah Palin....

I Remember....

I remember her smile and the way she smelled.... That is the first memory I have of my Mom. Soft hands that supported me when I learned how to eat, walk, and tie my shoes. My earliest memory of life involves her crying. I was around two and a half and I was watching some strange sight on T.V. that was upsetting her. It involved grown-ups and a long box that people walked behind. Everybody who followed that box was crying like my Mom. There were many children, some around my age, who were weeping along with the adults. So, naturally, I succumbed and starting crying along with everyone else. I found out later we were all watching Bobby Kennedy's funeral procession. Mom and Dad weren't strong fans of the Kennedy family, but, they felt bad for the children who had lost a father. Mom was sobbing for the kids. It was an introduction to my Mom that I never forgot. And, somewhere inside of me it showed me how loving she was to weep for strangers and their pain... I remember her warmth.... I was the youngest of three, and, anybody who is the runt of the litter can tell you of how great it is to be the baby in the family. All of your older siblings take the grief. They train the parents on the trials and tribulations of parenting. We ''babies'' get the dividends of that hard fought battle. I know I was pampered and fussed over as a kid. Never spoiled, but, perhaps, lucky in the attention that was directed at me for being last in the family chain. The first couple of years of my life Mom was the central focus for me. Most children have their first love in life being their Mom. It creates a bond that will never be broken. And, my Mom, with her gentleness and inner goodness, made me a most grateful child. When I was around three years old I was in the hospital for an operation on my right eye. It crossed as a child and surgery was needed to correct it [ I still am legally blind in my right eye]. Naturally, I was scared. The hospital allowed her to spend the night next to me. She sat in a chair right next to me all night. I am sure that chair was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, but, she didn't care. She was with me, as any Mom would be with their child. Her warmth was my comfortable blanket wrapped around me in the strange environment of a cold hospital.... I remember her touch... Being a child sent out into the world has to be the most traumatic experience for a Mom. I was only going to kindergarden, but, it must have been torture for her to see her ''baby'' slowly growing up. The youngest slightly leaving the nest. The first sign I was growing up and away from her. I made the first few steps gingerly, for I was very attached to her and was a shy child around strangers. I was the type of kid who his behind my Mom's legs if I met someone new to me. In my mind I didn't need the friendships of other children because I had my Mom and Dad and sister and brother. But, they all knew I must make those first few steps towards independence. And, I did. I made friends easy. That was more my Dad than my Mom because Dad was always more sociable. But, Mom was always there if I came across a person who was bad or mean to me. I cried some when I was a kid, but, never in front of anyone but Mom. Crying to her for me released whatever pain I might be feeling in my soul. Both of my parents and sister counseled sage advise of kindness and understanding, but, Mom had that special ''Mom Love'' that all children feel. Plus, she had that hug of hers. That glorious hug of joy that only a Mom can give to her child. Maybe, it goes back to the feeling of being in the womb. There is a comfort in being in your Mom's arms, a very safe feeling that she will protect you against all that is bad. I miss that hug.... I remember her strength.. Dad was the very successful head of our family. Never did he falter in his duties to us. But, as an example of the total committment both my parents had towards each other, Dad always deferred a little to Mom when it came to the home front and the raising of the kids. Behind my Dad's enormous personal strength and charisma he needed strong support. Mom was his strength and the backbone of our family unit. She was his Consigliori. The wise counselor at home. Mom was smart-- a lot smarter than I think she even realized. She excelled because of her natural intuition. She had that tough Irish Catholic spirit in her system. If we kids did something we shouldn't, as all kids do, Mom let us know. She could turn the dime on her emotions very easily. We got the Evil Eye and the cold feeling of we kids had made her angry. Dad was the softer touch, so, the most we got out of him was a disappointment in our actions. But, Mom, oh, boy, it could get rough!!!And, that was what we needed because without the ''heavy'' that she sometimes played, we kids would have turned out differently. I see it everyday at the school I am at with kids who have no structure at home and no parents who care. Thank God my sister and brother and me did not have that. So, we needed Mom to occasionally be the ''enforcer'' and to put us in our places. Mom never let us forgot what we had done [ all Mom's have that ''Mom Memory'' of past missdeeds that they drop on you as the years tumble on ]. At the time I suppose there was some resentment towards her from us for being called out for our crimes, but, looking back, it was exactly what we kids needed. A strong rebuke that you learn from. Everything worked out again after a while and Mom was Mom again. But, we learned our lesson. As well we should have.... I remember her laugh... Mom was a great audience. All of us kids inherited my Dad's sense of humor. Mom laughed at it all, even, though the more salty humor seemed to get by her. Which was good. That Irish Catholic schoolgirl naivete that she  had about her many times did not realize that she hearing some strong sexual innuendo humor around the family table [ yes, back in the old days, my family ate dinner together, with the T.V. off ] . She laughed though, because everybody else laughed. Making my parents laugh, folks, well, you felt like a million bucks!!! .... I remember her cooking.... For a non-Italian, this woman made the best gravy around. Her lasagna and pizza were my favorites. Pizza was always my request for Mom to make on my birthday.  Sometimes, I have dreams about her food. Sadly, I always wake up before I get to taste the food. Maybe, that means something, I don't know.... I remember her courage... That ugly brutal decade of the 90's, with all its sickness and death that invaded all of our lives. Mom was the rock again. She saw my Dad, the love of her life, slowly crumble before her eyes as that fucking cancer ate away his spirit and body. She would be strong for him. That support system and strength that came so naturally to her made my Dad want to live. Mom never gave up on him and seeing that, Dad never gave up. Then, the horror of horrors came with my brother's suicide and all that madness. Mom always had a special spot for my brother Tom. And, when he died I know a big part of her died, too. She held up well. But, six months to the day after Tom died my Mom found my Dad dead in bed. She was shattered again by loss. It took her months to be herself again, but, remarkably, she did. Then, she got sick. A quadruple by-pass surgery where her heart stopped 3 times in post-surgery recovery. She lived but her one kidney was destroyed and the other seriously damaged. The last year and a half of her life was dialysis and hospital visits. She fought it all, I am very proud to say, but, she went home to God on June 6, 1998. She may have faltered at times with all that she went through the last several years of her life, but, she never gave up trying. She had more courage than almost anyone I have ever known. This trait I admire about her above anything else..... I write this because Mother's Day is in a few days and you all know I miss her. I hope you all had a Mom like her in your lives. And, a Dad also. There are many testimonials about these two wonderful, caring, loving people from the many whose lives they magically touched. I am one of those people. I could not have written about them in many blogs if they weren't so wonderful. I miss them. One of the things that comforts me about losing a loved one is that I do not fear death. I am convinced I will see them all again.... Somehow, in some way, I will kiss my Mom this Sunday. And, I will be kissed back with love. And, the aroma of pizza from her....

Voices Carry

Jerry was not a murderer. But, by the laws of his religion, he was a taker of the most precious thing there is-- a human life. Jerry tried to reconcile his faith with his duty for his country. It was difficult. Jerry knew in his heart what he was and he tried to be the decent man he was raised to be. War is like that. It turns ordinary, good men into killing machines. Or, it tries to.. The Iraq War needed to be fought. At least, that was what Jerry was told. The War On Terror. After September 11th, there was the mad rush for retribution. We had been attacked, humiliated, and, most of all, had suffered. The thirst for blood was very much in the air. Jerry was no different than anyone else. He wanted to get the bastards for what they had done. That enemy that dared to attack us and to bring us harm and grief. He was in the majority and he was right. So, at the age of nineteen in 2002, Jerry joined the Marines and proudly followed his family's tradition of service to their country... Jerry went through the hell of basic training. It is the breaking down and building up of human beings-- turning them into raw fighting machines. Jerry knew there was always a sadistic streak that ran through this  particular branch of service. He did not mind. He knew he had to get his mind in a certain way of thinking because chances were very good that he would see combat soon and he needed to be of singular mind about it. Jerry went through his basic training and he was assigned a unit leaving for Afghanistan... Then something happened. It was called Iraq. That leftover war from 1991 that Jerry had heard about when he was a small boy. Saddam Hussain had never gone away and he was using Weapons Of Mass Destruction. The U.S. government had told their citizens that the next step on fighting terrorism was this country. Jerry was a little stunned by this because he knew that we were far from done in Afghanistan. Why go after another country when work still needed to be done elsewhere? Of course, Jerry had no say in the matter. He was a Marine and Marines go where they are assigned. His plans shifted from Afghanistan to Iraq. He was sent in with the first wave of troops in the Spring of 2003... What he and his fellow Marines saw there in their tour of duty forever changed him and numbed him to his core. It is said that when you face death and survive, you come out a changed person. It was true of Jerry. His innocence was lost there. The senseless destruction of the human form and body was his daily life. The blasting apart of human bodies. Babies dying in his arms. Children being trampled on by tanks. Women being raped and being stoned to death. Men being castrated at random. And, the smell. That awful smell of death... It was the same behavior that happens in any war. War does not pick its victims fairly. The brave and decent die horribly. The cowards survive and live a long life.  And, for some of soldiers-- both Allies and the Enemy--- he saw the pleasure that some got out of torture. Jerry remembered that his Dad had survived the horrors of the Bataan Death March in World War Two. The stories his father told [ always very reluctantly] made Jerry think twice about his combat duty. How the enemy, the Japanese, took great delight in not only slaughtering their prisoners, but, also, to put a touch of sadism in this task. One favorite trick was for the Japanese to bury an American up to his neck in the ground, still alive. Then, fresh jam was smeared all over the prisoners face. After a period of time, ants and other insects would crawl on the prisoners face, slowly eating away his face while he screamed in agony.Those stories always stayed with Jerry, but, he tried to push them to the back of his mind when he signed up. He welcomed that form of denial. It was necessary for him to go about this way of thinking in order to survive in war... Jerry tried to make friends over there. It was very hard. One days friend was another days dead body. Jerry did make a good friend, though. His name was Patrick. Patrick lived not too far from where Jerry grew up in Oregon. They had that bound. Patrick wanted to be a doctor. After all he had seen in combat Patrick thought saving lives was his destiny instead of taking them. Jerry confided, in one late night conversation, that he did not know what he wanted to do. Then, looking at the destruction and blood and stench around him, Jerry stated whatever he did after his tour was up he wanted to make things beautiful, to make things grow instead of watching them die.... After a year together, Jerry and Patrick heard that their unit may be reassigned back home. They were overjoyed with the thought of seeing their families again. One day, walking down the street, a small child brought them both a flower. At first, they were on their guard, because who knew what this child was holding. The child, maybe around eight years old, was a little angel. She smiled at them in genuine warmth and thanked them for liberating her country. After all the horrors of the last year this small act of friendliness warmed Jerry and his friend. Then the mortar fire started... Jerry and Patrick took cover immediately. The little girl disappeared somewhere. Jerry and Patrick started firing in the direction they thought the attack was coming from. Lying in the ditch together, side by side, all chaos was going on around them. Jerry saw a some movement across the road where he thought it was coming from and turned to Patrick to tell him. Jerry stopped short. He was suddenly drenched in blood like someone had sprayed him with a hose. When he cleared his eyes Jerry saw that Patrick did not have a head anymore... It was after Patrick's death that the nightmares started. Jerry had a classic case of Survivors  Guilt. Patrick had died and Jerry went on living. But, he wasn't really living in the normal way. Jerry was now sleepwalking through life. He knew that deaths of friends in war is as old as war itself. He was no different than the millions of other veterans of wars in history. However, seeing it first-hand seered his memory in agony. When Jerry dreamed, he was trying to save Patrick but unable to. Patrick was calling for help. These cries tore through Jerry's soul. One persistant dream had Patrick walking among a sea of armless children, all of them pleading for Jerry to deliver them from their suffering.The abrupt wakeups from these nightmares brought fresh pain. The dream could be dismissed but the pain and loss could not. After his year of active duty Jerry was sent home. Dean Man Walking.... When Jerry came home the horror of war came with him. There was no discharge from what he had seen. He began to see life in a different way. He was once a bright-eyed young man in love with the image of the dashing soldier being a hero. He thought war was like in the movies. You would walk off into the sunset and go on with your life. But, of course, that is not how it really is. Jerry saw, in his mind, the face of every person who had died in front of him. Hundreds of them. Soldiers and civilians alike. He saw and heard the screams. They were in the confines of his mind and soul. Therapy was not going to shake that out of his system. By his own account, Jerry had killed 32 people in Iraq, most of them the innocent victims of war.  Some, on whatever mission he may have been on , some out of self-protection. He didn't know them but he had an idea of whom they were. They were families. They had the same hopes and dreams for the future that he had. They wanted life. And, they lost it. Jerry knew he was doing his duty but one day in combat had convinced him that all war is senseless madness. A bunch of leaders using innocents for personal power. Some madmen, Jerry realized, needed to be stopped, like a Hitler or a Bin Laden. But, this war was not so easily defined. Jerry only saw the deadly results and not the grasp of power of heads of state. Again, Jerry knew this all along, but, when the blood of children and friends is running down your face it brings it all home all too clearly... Six months after he got home, Jerry started to hear the Voices. At first, they were whispers in his mind. Soon, they got louder in intensity. The Voices seemed to be calling him from far away. And, they were angry. The Voices told Jerry he had no right to be alive with all of the death that he had caused. The Voices told him he should not be having any enjoyment when he had caused so much pain, The Voices told him the only solution was to kill himself. Only then would the pain be relieved and he would be set free... Jerry knew his mind was playing tricks with him. It was post-traumatic stress from combat duty. Survivors Guilt again. But, as is the case of any tortured mind all reason leaves when guilt and sorrow enter unwanted. Jerry could not dismiss all that he had seen. Sometimes, the flashbacks he had when he was awake resulted in moments when he though he was going crazy. Uncontrolled, sudden anger--- like, when someone looked cross-eyed in traffic at him, or, some idiot in a bar, who had never seen combat, told him what war was like and was cavalier about the loss of life-- seized him and drove the demons into the forefront of his personality. Jerry also suffered from too much time on his hands. He moved back with his parents after coming home and was unable to hold a job. His high school girlfriend was long gone, and, no other woman would take a chance on dating a high-strung ex-Marine. So, his mind worked overtime against him. The Voices grew in demand... On October 17th, 2010, Jerry listened to the Voices. His shotgun was next to his body. The force of the impact had blown Jerry's head all over the walls... Somewhere, in that mess that used to be Jerry, was a once vital, sensitive human being. That person, who was a Boy-Scout and sang in the church choir. That person, who dreamed of making the world a more beautiful place.... The police found the suicide note that Jerry had written. It was simple but from his heart...'' My dear family, I am sorry for what I have done. I could not stand the pain any longer and I needed to leave this life. It was not your fault. You gave me love and I am grateful. My actions do not reflect on you, or, any lack of love and support. I cannot get over the horror I have seen and the death I have caused. I have given the world death and I must be punished. War made me what I am. If anyone shall take notice of my death, please let it be this: THIS IS THE REAL FACE OF WAR. THE INJURED AND THE GRIEVING. THERE IS NO POWER IN KILLING FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS. WE MUST FOREVER TRY TO STOP THE FOLLY THAT IS WAR!!!''....

A Lethal Weapon

It is the most interesting role Mel Gibson has ever played. Even his acting skills--which are one-note performances-- can't compare with his latest, fascinating character. He is playing a psycho, a man on the edge of madness, someone who will do bodily injury to either himself or someone else. A ticking time bomb ready to do fatal damage. And, as we all have heard, he is playing his real- life self.... Now, I have never been a fan of Mel Gibson. I do not dislike him or am jealous of his looks , as many men are [ jealousy ain't in my DNA, folks]. I always found him to be a bland actor. Once in a while I would like a movie he was in but, rarely for his acting. He always has seemed too jittery for my tastes. A nervous guy who made me nervous watching him. But, for most of his career, he banked on his good looks to drive him to stardom. And, it sure did. I have never met a woman who did not have a serious case of the hots for the man. Many a girlfriend would drag me to his films so she could feast on him. I didn't mind. Everybody should have the right to gaze lustfully at your favorite sex object. Plus, I benefitted from the experience of her being turned on, if you know what I am saying. So, Mel Gibson was just another actor I tolerated while waiting for a good performance from a real actor. This is not a criticism of him, but, I always liked real acting as opposed to movie star acting. Mel Gibson sure has qualified as a movie star, I grant you that. From the early 80's until, oh, the early part of this century, he was a top dog in Hollywood. Money and adulation flowed from his loyal fan base and he successfully maintained a series of career moves. He went from actor to producer to director. He even picked up an Oscar for his overpraised movie ''Braveheart''. He was riding high all these years and making money for himself and the studio. With that, he seemed to be a Teflon actor. Nothing could stain his reputation... Now, we know there was a demon side to him. One of the tricks of Hollywood is to hide the real person from his or her adoring public. This is not new. Most performers are vastly different people than what their public believes they are. And, that is ok also. It is not necessary for a performer in any field to lead a life of virtue. We are all human beings with human being faults-- and, that applies to our stars. As long as they are not horrible, abusive human people, then how they are personally is of no importance. The only thing that should matter to the public is the product they give you. If you are satisfied with it then the job of the performer is done.... Mel Gibson, and his real self, slips away from this point. We have all heard the tapes of his rantings. He seems like a man at war with himself and the world. His screams seem like the screams of someone in physical agony, of a man screaming in madness. It goes beyond a mere cry for help. The man seems to be the type of people we hear about after a tragedy. You know, the person who shoots up the workplace because the torment in his soul has been unleashed. I would be very leery to let someone I care about anywhere near his presence. The rage that seems to be in his soul comes out in frightening intensity. I hope I am wrong about this, but, one day it could prove to be fatal... I saw him the other night on the ''Tonight Show''. He was promoting his newest project, whatever it is. The audience seemed on edge watching him, as did Jay Leno. We have all heard so much of his behavior in the last few years I guess I was expecting anything from him [ and, I must admit I watched him to see what his behavior would be like, normally, I would not have watched him ]. He tried to be cute and joking about his most recent breakdown. This is another trick a performer has when they have an audience watching: to manipulate the crowd and put them on his side. Gibson tried to spin his latest escapade into a comic story where he was the victim being taped in his house. He does have a point because he didn't know he was being taped, and, legally, there could be an issue. The tape, made by the son of a screenwriter that Gibson was fueding with because of a movie script, showed Gibson screaming at the Heaven's again about how he has been wronged. I am not sure Mel Gibson was successful the other night with the ''Tonight Show'' audience in swaying them to his side. There was a few nervous laughs, but, no great marching to his side of the audience's sympathy... How this madness could have been kept hidden all of these years is amazing. One trip I made to L.A. in the mid-90's, I met , through a mutual friend, Mel Gibson's personal assistant. I  his name was Doug and he seemed like a good guy. I was with other friends who worked for stars so I was enjoying the stories of people who worked for the Rich and Famous. Doug worked for Tom Cruise and Jodie Foster before Gibson. He said Mel was a good guy. Real done to earth man who loved his family and was very religious. Also, very funny. Doug liked my sense of humor and said that Mel and myself would hit it off very well together, bouncing thoughts off each other. Doug invited me on the set of Mel's newest movie he was filming, ''Conspiracy Theory,'' to have lunch with him. I was flying out of town the next day, so, I had to decline. I am curious now about if I had been able to make that lunch date. Would I have seen the madness lurking there? Sometimes a complete stranger sees a person more clearly than a close friend. Maybe I would have seen a man gripped by his demons and crying out for help. Maybe I would seen a man severely filled with self-loathing and hate for the outside world. Maybe I would have seen a complete phony who has fooled everyone else around him and his audience... Had I gone to that lunch my guess is I would have seen a charming guy playing ''Mel Gibson'' to the world. It is a role he has played for a few decades until it caught up to him. Now, he must face who he really is. If his family and friends truly love him then they will get him the help he desperately needs, perhaps, even being placed in an institution. This does not seem extreme to me. He is crazy. Whatever therapy he has had obviously is not effective. He needs help immediately and forcefully... Otherwise, think of that scene in ''Lethal Weapon'' when he is sitting in his trailer, drunk, playing with a loaded gun. That image is close to reality...

The Rebel At 75

He came at us grinning wildly from underneath a football helmut, riding on top of a Harley. He waved at the camera-- meaning us, the audience-- while he was on that motorcycle. At that moment, in the film ''Easy Rider'', in that year of 1969, Jack Nicholson became a star. And, the world of film--and, pop culture-- has always been grateful.... Jack Nicholson turns 75 at the end of this month. It seems almost unbelievable that this iconic rebel and personality and symbol of the freedom of youth will be that age. Like Frank Sinatra before him, Jack [ beloved icons only require one name because they are so beloved, like Frank] is eternally young and rebellious in the publics mind. This man of swagger and vitality is in the autumn of his years, and certainly, has slowed down with time. But, Jack is ageless. Gracing life with a gusto of living life to the fullest that has always amused the public. His characters on film seem to be a window of whom he is off-screen. A no-bullshit guy from Jersey who takes life on his own terms. Not wanting to hurt anyone except the phonies who control us all. That spirit of rebellion inflames his work and his personal life. He is that rare combination of superb actor and Movie Star.... I obviously do not know the man. My perspective of him comes from closely studying him for years, for he is my favorite actor. Whether he is or is not his characters in private life is not important . He projects his likability through his actions on us and we project them back. It is that surrender of our feelings to him that creates that wonderful bond we have with him: therefore, We Know Jack... For my younger friends reading this who only know his work from his recent films, where he has played on the ''Jack'' persona instead of getting into a fresh character, I urge you to go back into the past and discover his genius from his 70's period. Before ''Easy Rider'' propelled him to the forefront of acting, Jack spent a good 10 years slugging it out in the Hollywood trenches, through some God-awful ''B'' movies, looking for his break. This period can be excused : you have to take whatever role you get to pay the rent. Start then with '' Five Easy Pieces'', his first film after ''Easy Rider''. In ''Five Easy Pieces'', released in 1970, Jack was a mirror for a lost generation just finding its way out of the turbulant 60's. The Baby Boomers needed an actor to express their dissatisfaction of what life had become. The deep divisions in this country over civil rights and the war in Vietnam had found a voice in music, but, not in the movies. Youth needed an actor to show it was throwing off the shackles of the previous generations ideals. Jack sang, with his acting, all of those hopes and dreams and anti-establishment feelings that was in the core of the Boomers. Take his classic moment in the diner in ''Five Easy Pieces''. Every serious film fan knows, or, should know this movie moment. It involves Jack simply trying to get toast for his order. The snotty waitress-- representing the establishment of doing things ''our way''-- rudely tells him he can't get his toast and just has to except what the menu tells him he gets. With precision type authority, Jack tells the waitress off . I will not ruin the moment if you have never seen it. YouTube it. It is priceless.But, that moment shows, as in many Nicholson movies, that he is speaking up for us up there on-screen. We have all been through those moments of authority telling us we can't do something, even though it is hurting no one, and we have earned the right to have our damn toast anyway we want it. Jack is our Fighter, voicing our rage at outrage.The blue-collar guy fighting our battles for us... Bad Ass Jack on-screen also shows a soft, caring heart. Witness the tender moment in ''Terms Of Endearment'', when after rejecting Shirley Maclaine, he shows up unannounced to hold her and comfort her when she needs him the most. Witness the sweet moments in ''As Good As It Gets'', when after learning to care for his gay friend whom he has always rejected, Jack takes him into his home and shelters him. Or, the moment at dinner when he tells Helen Hunt that he is taking the pills he hates for her, so, he can become a better man for her. Or, in the underrated movie ''About Schmidt'', where he plays a lonely man haunted by his wife's death and his inability to bond with his estranged daughter. These moments in these fine movies show a tender heart beating beneath the swagger, something many of us have. These moments  poignancy and human caring forever cement our audience relationship with Jack.... The great actor Gene Hackman once said that the reason he goes to a Jack Nicholson movie is that he feels that Jack knows a secret about the world, or, about relationships, or, about being the essence of cool, and, Hackman believes that every movie Jack makes he will impart that secret to all of us, the audience. He never does, says Hackman, and that is why Hackman will watch his movies over and over: to find that secret of life.... Part of Nicholson's charisma comes from his much discussed personal life. That image of him that spices up his performances. By all accounts, Jack spent most of his adult life as a swinging bachelor who constantly draws women into his orbit. With his pals Marlon Brando and Warren Beatty, they were the most notorious Hollywood ladies men of the last 50 years. These famous and rich men-- who were neighbors, inspiring the Beverly Hills police department to label their street ''Bad Boy Lane'' because of the endless parties and women--- enjoyed with relish all of the trappings of success. Beatty eventually settled down, Brando, of course, died, but, Jack still keeps the hedonistic flame burning up there on Mulholland Drive. Women report that he takes care of them, both in the bedroom and out. He has had many children with many women, and, seems to be a doting father. The Rascal Jack still remains, though. Every once in a while, you will hear of a lady he is dating--usually several decades his junior. The flaw in his relationships with women is his inability to stay faithful. He never hid this fact from them, but, his carousing of thousands of women [ by his own account] has stopped him from having a serious, long term companion at this stage of his life. Jack still enjoys playing the Rogue. Maybe, it is tied into his characters in his movies: you can't control a Rebel. As a fellow guy who loves women I give Jack high marks at his age, still in there pitching..... It is not necessary to enjoy the person and their personal exploits in order to enjoy their work. That is the ultimate statement of any artist. The work. And, Jack Nicholson has the largest canvass of quality work of any film actor for the last 40 plus years. A review: a drifter who embodies a lost generation in ''Five Easy Pieces''. A career sailor bent on showing a poor soul one last good time in ''The Last Detail.'' Private eye Jake Gittes plowing through corruption, and finally learning, a secret that shocks his soul in his best movie, ''Chinatown.'' The ultimate rebel against the establishment, McMurphy, in his second best movie, ''One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.'' A madman on the loose in ''The Shining''. '' That astronaut who loves Shirley Maclaine in ''Terms Of Endearment.'' The dumb, comic hitman in ''Prizzi's Honor''. A bum haunted by his past in the great ''Ironweed''. A wild comic turn in ''Batman''. His few good scenes in the otherwise laughable ''A Few Good Men''. A blistering performance as Jimmy Hoffa in ''Hoffa''. The father who seeks revenge against the man who killed his daughter accidentally in the interesting Sean Penn directed movie ''The Crossing Guard''. That angry and isolated artist who learns about friendship and love in ''As Good As It Gets''. A retired man who finds himself, late in life, in ''About Schmidt''. And, his no-holds barred performance in Martin Scorsese's ''The Departed''. These works brought Jack 3 Academy Awards and the respect of the industry. He is, by common consensus, the most admired and popular man in the Hollywood community. When he comes down from Mulholland Drive to work, a ripple runs through the industry and the public. He is Our Jack, the beloved symbol of the times we have lived in.... In closing I do have a Jack story. I was an extra on ''Hoffa'' in 1992, when it filmed in Chicago for 2 weeks. It was a night shoot, so the actual work started in the wee hours. One night, I saw Jack, uh, ''altered'' from the ''spices of life''. I was standing next to him and Danny DeVito, who was directing. DeVito asked Jack if he was ok. Jack smiled that killer smile of his and said yes. I did not talk to Jack that night, my error, but, it was fun to be in his presence and to see him work. The nights I saw him act he was flawless. Never a mistake. Prepared and punctual. Except for one night he was late... You see, the Bulls were playing Portland in the championship and we were waiting for him. This was the time before cell phones, so, one of the extras called home on a pay phone and spoke with his wife. The man said, yes, we were waiting for Nicholson. Nobody knew where he was. The wife then told her husband that she was watching him at that moment on T.V. He was sitting in the crowd, shades on, with a beautiful woman next to him. High on life. Rebel to the end.... Happy Birthday, Jack!!!!!

Random Thoughts: April 2012

Several people have asked me if I am going to write a blog about the case of Trayvon Martin. My response is, in due time. I am old-fashioned. I want to hear the facts in the case and know the whole story first before I venture a opinion. That is how I am-- and, how all people should be-- in a case like this that seems to have many layers to it. We should know ALL of the facts before we start passing our own judgments. There will be plenty of time for people to take sides and to throw rocks. What does gall me is, once again, we see the professional hustlers and publicity-seeking maggots who immediately jump on any story to further their own personal careers. Not just the race-baiters like a Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, but the always on-the-make media types who spin and manipulate a story for their own personal power. People like Nancy Grace and Piers Morgan and the vile TMZ show and website. These people claim to keep us ''informed'', that is their mantra. What they do is create more divisions by playing the juicy side to any story. These jackals, like Jackson and Sharpton, are usually exploiting the real problems of race and inequality in society, for again, personal career gain [ which translates into profits for them]. It is a form of grave robbing when death is the central issue in the story. But, they will spin it for themselves. I just want to be there when they try to explain their actions to God.... And, speaking of Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton: this sad case is the latest example of a lifetime of these two shysters picking their battles when they should be fighting the real problem of the disease of violence. These two show up wherever, stir up whomever, threaten the powers that be with the barely veiled threat of violence and retaliation, and, usually claim victory when a settlement has been reached. Also, as with any shady and questionable deal, there are pockets being lined close to them [ check the famous hustling act Jackson did when he went after Budweiser years ago. His sons ended up with a distribution deal with the company].  The real problem that should be addressed is the appalling murder rate in the inner-city. Decent , innocent families are losing children to the problems of gangs, and, the no-value  feeling placed on a human life. Drugs fester in an alarming rate. Drive-by shootings happen every week. It is like the lawless Old West. The police are not welcome, so, it falls on the internal population to take charge-- peacefully and through communal action. There is where Jackson and Sharpton should be if they truly did care about people. Solving the horror of an ever-expanding world of crime and murder. Alas, there is no glory for them here. Also, there is a different kind of threat to them that would finally see the light of day: that they will fail and be exposed for the charlatans and exploiters of human misery that they are. I just want to be there when they explain their actions to God.... Charles Manson was denied parole again. It is sure to be his last time for he is 77 years old. He will die in prison. I have noticed that our old friends in the media call him ''Charlie'', almost in an affectionate manner. Like he is a favorite drinking buddy, or, a rascal who does cute, harmless things. His name should be announced properly, for as we know, he is no friend to mankind. That we utter his name at all is obscene,  that is what he always wanted. For some strange reason, in the last 40 years, he has attained a strange level of celebrity. Bands write songs about him, misguided kids think he is the ultimate symbol of anti-establishment. I have a deep knowledge of him and I do not know why, for I certainly do not admire him. Perhaps, it is because of the fascination with evil that we all have. We must study it, of course. If we do not, and just dismiss it, then it has the chance of reappearing again in some form-- the old saying of those that do not learn from the mistakes in history are doomed to repeat them. It seems obscene, though, to remember his man while I am sitting calmly and peacefully and safely in my home, away from the madness and horror that the world can be, but, I do. I can't help thinking Sharon Tate felt that same comfort and serenity and peace sitting in her home that terrible night. The killers then broke into her house and shattered that feeling. Let us remember those final moments for her : she was eight months pregnant, begging for her life and the life of her unborn son. And, these monsters, on the orders of Charles Manson, held her down and took turns stabbing her. Her last word was ''Mother''. She was calling out for her Mom. To have this scum alive, while Sharon Tate and her unborn son have missed out on life for forty years, is beyond obscene. Manson and his people were given the death penalty when convicted, but, it was overturned one year later by the California Supreme Court. The sentences were changed to life in prison with a chance for parole, which is where the farce of their parole hearings happen every few years. I wish I could be there when Manson and the killers face God. I think we all know what will happen... So, it looks like Mitt Romney will be the candidate to go up against President Obama. Excited? I am not. But, he will do battle with the President in November, so, look for both parties to, once again, tell us they have the right guy to solve all of our problems and lead us into the promised land. That is nice of them because I know every politician sits around worrying desperately about me and my life. Just the other day, the White House personally called me and asked if I am in good health and if I am eating a lot of cheddar cheeseballs. That these candidates have my well being foremost in their minds fills me with a swelling pride. Here is what they can really do for me, whichever one of them wins in November: Leave me and my loved ones alone. Keep the government away from my life. I will live it honestly and without harming anyone. I do not need the government to tell me how, and what my life should be. Stay away from all of us because we are tired of the same bullshit of some new politician selling us the same bill of goods every election. Too many lives have been lost in the political agenda that they ALL have. Too much of our treasure has been spent. And, our childrens future- the most important issue out there- is no longer secure. If you truly want to do something, Romney or Obama, then secure this future for them. Work together and stop the schoolyard arguing and name calling. Fix the debt and keep us safe. Get us out of unwinnable wars before more blood is spilled. Give us a strong economy where we all have a chance to find our spot. For the last dozen years, we have experienced a world none of us ever imagined would happen. Politicians and world leaders created this world, therefore, you have the ability to solve the problems that exist. I am no naive rookie. I know some will not go along with this plan, but, most must. Dignity of an honest way of living has gone away. Bring it back, along with the ability of being kind. Come together for our children and your children. Then, when it is the time, I would like to be there when God tells you that you did well....

Spring Forward

I once heard the reason we love baseball in our culture is because it takes us Home. Home being the symbol of comfort. Home is the place where we get away from the madness of the world. Home is where we love and are loved back. You are Safe At Home. That is the whole purpose of a baseball player--- to go Home... Spring always brings that same sense of the comfort of Home and the renewal of life. Baseball can be also called the sport of that same renewal of life. We have made it through the stormy tempest of Winter. Through the cold and lifeless feeling that those months entail. Like a bear, you just want to hibernate. Do not wake me until life starts up again in the Spring. I do not want to expend much energy and effort because of the bleakness of these surroundings. I will renew in the Spring. And, then, the magic starts... Start, obviously, with the nicer weather. That first really NICE day!!! The sun shines. The birds sing. There is an extra step in a person's being. Smiles come easily and often to your face. You feel life entering your system again. And, that feeling you had as a kid makes a welcome reappearance. That feeling of endless possibilities that the day will bring to you. The next six months will be good to you because you have earned it. You will smell the freshly cut lawn. You will enjoy the aroma of charcoal while a barbecue is near [ I much prefer the old-fashioned way of charcoal cooking than a gas grill] The cooking of steaks and burgers and brauts--- ask yourself this, do you eat brauts anytime in the Winter? The heavy clothing gets put away in a drawer or the back of the closet to be forgotten until the late Fall. Out comes the short-sleeve shirts and the shorts. And, if you are like me, you have put on some pounds over the last few months, so, you are left with the nagging question: do I go on a dreaded diet or do I just buy new clothes in a bigger size? I try a diet at the beginning of Spring, but, I cheerfully fail to succeed and end up buying the new clothes, or, try stuffing my Greek-like physique into my existing clothes. I sure have popped a lot of buttons doing that.... Spring brings back the memories of youth. Middle-age adults join softball teams and other outdoor sports. This is fun, to be sure, but, also to channel the memories of playing ball with your friends so long ago. The fun you had as a kid of being active and having no worries jumps back and swims into your soul, albeit in a much slower form... Sitting outside with my parents when I was a kid has always stayed with me . It was simple, but, very satisfying. We had a patio outside our house-- this is when houses had patios and not decks like today-- and, we would talk, laugh, argue, and, most importantly, feel the joy of being with each other that only family can inspire. The weather seemed nicer then, the air filled with life and times together that would last forever. We were living the moment with each other. All was well. Safe At Home..... I still love to sit outside and enjoy the prospect of doing next to nothing. I enjoy the tranquility. Sometimes, I may be with a large group of people having a great party. We sit around and bullshit to nothing in particular. We play games. We swim. We have some tasty food and some good beverages. And, sometimes, I am sitting contently on my balcony at home, chatting with the neighbors, smoking a good cigar, having a glass of wine or three, with a female friend as my co-pilot. Sometimes, I am alone. These special times all are flowing together in the good times that Spring inspires. I enjoy this speed. I suppose, in some form, I am calling on the past with my departed family members. I feel their presense strongly at moments like this in this Spring weather. They are singing to me in the wind... And, Spring brings me baseball and the Chicago Cubs. The Cubs were my first love as a child. We all know that you never get over your first love. I knew all the players and their numbers. There is a blog from a year ago that I wrote talking about my memories and history with this club. Now, well meaning friends of mine, who are not fans of this team, often ask me, being as smart as I am, how can I continue to follow a team that has always been the laughingstock of sports? Why put myself through the pain of this madness year after year? It is a valid question, I grant you. No sports team in the history of sports has done more for the art of losing and breaking their fans hearts than the Chicago Cubs. My answer? Well, I guess it is tied a little into my feelings of Spring. That promise and renewal of life. That seeps into my feeling for the Cubs. Unlike when I was a kid, I know that the winning or losing of this team is not tied into my own personal happiness and self-worth. There are some sad, misguided adults who still carry that cross with them, but, not me. I believe in the redemption of this team, just as Spring redeems us all from the horror that is Winter. I am not conned easily, my dear reader. I know that they are not going to be good this year. Realism and common sense do exist in most of us Cubs fans. We see the mountain they have to climb. I don't care. The simple fact is this team gives me pleasure. I have always rooted for the underdog-- since I am one, and, I am guessing you all are also. The Cubs are the beaten down people who still rise and begin anew every year. They plant the seed of life and hope for life growth. Just like Spring....  So, we have all made it through the darkness of Winter. Spring has sprung and we reap the rewards. Summer will be here soon, but, Spring must be enjoyed. It is the new-born baby of seasons. All is new and all is fresh. Get out and enjoy it. Sit outside in a nice comfortable chair while your loved ones are around you. Close your eyes and feel the breeze and the warmth of the sun. Enjoy the calm and the goodness of being alive. The world spins around you, but, this is the important world for you. I will send you my love in that wind as I am enjoying it also.... Safe At Home....