I was in a mad search for Emerson Lake and Palmer's work I Believe in Father Christmas for the longest time simply because I'd only heard it two or three times in my youth and then once again around 1995...
The odd thing was there seemed to be no end of blogs, lists, links and general music sites that had their tomes to tell, both pro and con, to the song.
What intrigued me while I searched through some of the sites was the level of dim stupidity of some of the writers that saw 'Father Christmas' as "anti-Christmas".
To tell the truth- like many a pop song; sure it has a resonance of a jaded individual fed up with "Jesus this" and "Manger that" but that shows the duplicitously closed mind of the religious right and the anti-religious's zealous notion that there was yet another Christian hating artist they could put on their Holiday playlist and feel triumphant at not having to listen to something with the heinous word "Jesus" in it.
I'd point to these people both pro and con and tell them to get a life- but then, here I am writing in my own blog ont he very subject... Let's have a look at the lyrics- bear with me, I promise to have a relatively fresh look for you...
They said there'll be snow at Christmas
They said there'll be peace on earth
But instead it just kept on raining
A veil of tears for the virgin birth.
I remember one Christmas morning
A Winters light and the distant choir
And the peal of a bell and that Christmas tree smell
Eyes full a tinsel and fire.
They sold me a dream of Christmas
They sold me a silent night
They told me a fairy story
Till I believed in the Israelite.
And I believed in Father Christmas
I looked to the sky with excited eyes
Than I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him through his disguise.
I wish you a hopeful Christmas
I wish you a brave new year
All anguish, pain, and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear.
They said there'd be snow at Christmas
They said there'd be peace on earth.
Hallelujah, Noel, Be it heaven or hell,
The Christmas we get we deserve.
Okay- now if we followed the most popular Google inculcation of the song, we'd all believe that ELP was a gaggle of Christian hating antisemitic rockers with a "moral" message assuaging the glories of the holiday. The particular entry even tries to point out the intonation of the song by comparing the lyrics to his/her interpretation of them...
Well, first off- the "child" that wrote his prose on the subject claims that every radio station in America plays this song every Christmas- if that's the case where have I been for the last 30 years? I remember when it debuted, and I barely heard it since.
One of the things that makes art what it is- is not only what it says "now" but what it says "later".
The first passage is actually an alliteration to the Vietnam war. A soldier would feel every bit the emotions of that first passage- there seems to be a lot of truth in it- change some of the lyrics to refer to sand and you might have today...
The second set of lyrics makes reference to the beauty of childhood and the experiences of cognizant realizations about Christmas- even if only in the mind of a child- but the passage is referential of the past- this is forlorning. Put another way, one could say "The remembrance of youth is a sigh".
The third phrase is that of a person that DISCOVERS Christ. He was sold the story of a man with a beard- which he believed until he learned of another "reason for the season" It melds into the fourth phrase which speaks of a new enlightenment that takes him from the world of a child to that of a cognizant person who understands the gift of this baby in a manger...
The fifth phrase is that of sincerity- previous authors that see this as chidedness or some form of sarcasm see it only in their own hearts- nothing you'd tell them would or will change that.
The last phrase is actually forshadow.
"The Christmas we get we deserve". Whether Santa, The Manger, or nothing but warm eggnog laced with rum or strychnine, we must choose to place ourselves in this world and the Christmas season bears us the privilege of hindsight, foresight and reflection on the here and now.
Whether profited, squandered, learned or ignored, we truly do get the Christmas we deserve...
I continue to be: Russ
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
Giving Thanks
The holidays are upon us...
Granted, we'd survived Halloween already- so The Holidays, more truthfully, are already in full swing.
Halloween for me as a kid was an interlude to the monthly addition of Thanksgiving, Christmas and eventually New years. You didn't get a day off for Halloween and more-n-more these days with the "sensibilities" [read: Political Correctness] of religious fearmongering, Halloween is almost extinct. So, though Halloween counts- it doesn't figure nearly as prevalently in my mind as all the others...
Ah, but then there's Thanksgiving...
Now that's a holiday for me.
Here's the funny part- I actually preferred Thanksgiving, not because of the Macy's parade or the turkey on the table, or any of that Norman Rockwell wholesomeness- no, I preferred this holiday because it was the first time since summer that I might get to see my cousin Eric.
I came from a family of nomads. No doubt about it- when Clan Rose took off from the Scottish Lowlands to Ireland, and from there to America I don't think until my Grandfather [or perhaps his father] did my family tree ever settle down. The only dichotomy to this story is that my cousin Eric was associated to me by family only in marriage- you see, he was my Stepmother's nephew...
At any rate, the reason for mentioning the Nomadic reference was that Eric's family also seemed to be destined for some of that roaming lifestyle. There was the longest time that he lived in Oklahoma [if I'm correct, he still does] and my only chance to see him was when he'd come over for a certain amount of the summer and most of the major holidays.
He was my "first" cousin as I had no extended relatives from my parents that I was aware. And, of course, he was closer to my twin and my age. Add to that the same sense of twisted humor [even back when we were prepubescent] and a fresh viewpoint...
There was never a time I can think of to this day, that I didn't treasure.
He has his own kids now. I have mine.
He [from what I remember] is still living in Oklahoma, I now live in Florida.
The last time I saw him was around 2002 or 2003, and the time we would have spent together was spent trying to make the rounds so that we felt that no one had been overlooked or ignored. Stifle that time with tending to our own families and their needs, our time together only mattered in minutes.
But, though I won't see him [or most anyone else] this holiday season, I'll still carry those youthful, wide-eyed memories of suacer gun battles and playing poker in the attic crawlspace, with the doors locked so all our "little cousins" would leave us alone.
If my Blog entry title is to have meaning, I'd have to say that it's not the forlorning of what I had that would make this holiday special. My time of fascination has given way to basting turkeys and making sure nobody burns my pies.
No; for me giving Thanks will be making sure that my son [and soon expected daughter] will have those same opportunities. Those same wide-eyed expressions. Those cousins and sisters and brothers to want for and gleefully play together, slowly to one day look back and realize what this was all about.
For me; the transition to the most powerful of expressions has finally been granted. I now hold in my hand [along with "Momma Bear"] the power to make memories for our children. As our parents and grandparents before us provided the foundation and safe environment for us to lose ourselves from our daily rituals and enjoy our relatives- now it's time for me to pick up that torch and light the way for mine.
It's not easy, this change in roles.
But it is necessary.
Peace be with you all. Especially those far from us. The holidays are tough with no one else arround- they're even tougher alone.
I continue to be: Russ
Granted, we'd survived Halloween already- so The Holidays, more truthfully, are already in full swing.
Halloween for me as a kid was an interlude to the monthly addition of Thanksgiving, Christmas and eventually New years. You didn't get a day off for Halloween and more-n-more these days with the "sensibilities" [read: Political Correctness] of religious fearmongering, Halloween is almost extinct. So, though Halloween counts- it doesn't figure nearly as prevalently in my mind as all the others...
Ah, but then there's Thanksgiving...
Now that's a holiday for me.
Here's the funny part- I actually preferred Thanksgiving, not because of the Macy's parade or the turkey on the table, or any of that Norman Rockwell wholesomeness- no, I preferred this holiday because it was the first time since summer that I might get to see my cousin Eric.
I came from a family of nomads. No doubt about it- when Clan Rose took off from the Scottish Lowlands to Ireland, and from there to America I don't think until my Grandfather [or perhaps his father] did my family tree ever settle down. The only dichotomy to this story is that my cousin Eric was associated to me by family only in marriage- you see, he was my Stepmother's nephew...
At any rate, the reason for mentioning the Nomadic reference was that Eric's family also seemed to be destined for some of that roaming lifestyle. There was the longest time that he lived in Oklahoma [if I'm correct, he still does] and my only chance to see him was when he'd come over for a certain amount of the summer and most of the major holidays.
He was my "first" cousin as I had no extended relatives from my parents that I was aware. And, of course, he was closer to my twin and my age. Add to that the same sense of twisted humor [even back when we were prepubescent] and a fresh viewpoint...
There was never a time I can think of to this day, that I didn't treasure.
He has his own kids now. I have mine.
He [from what I remember] is still living in Oklahoma, I now live in Florida.
The last time I saw him was around 2002 or 2003, and the time we would have spent together was spent trying to make the rounds so that we felt that no one had been overlooked or ignored. Stifle that time with tending to our own families and their needs, our time together only mattered in minutes.
But, though I won't see him [or most anyone else] this holiday season, I'll still carry those youthful, wide-eyed memories of suacer gun battles and playing poker in the attic crawlspace, with the doors locked so all our "little cousins" would leave us alone.
If my Blog entry title is to have meaning, I'd have to say that it's not the forlorning of what I had that would make this holiday special. My time of fascination has given way to basting turkeys and making sure nobody burns my pies.
No; for me giving Thanks will be making sure that my son [and soon expected daughter] will have those same opportunities. Those same wide-eyed expressions. Those cousins and sisters and brothers to want for and gleefully play together, slowly to one day look back and realize what this was all about.
For me; the transition to the most powerful of expressions has finally been granted. I now hold in my hand [along with "Momma Bear"] the power to make memories for our children. As our parents and grandparents before us provided the foundation and safe environment for us to lose ourselves from our daily rituals and enjoy our relatives- now it's time for me to pick up that torch and light the way for mine.
It's not easy, this change in roles.
But it is necessary.
Peace be with you all. Especially those far from us. The holidays are tough with no one else arround- they're even tougher alone.
I continue to be: Russ
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Coke Classic
Just when you thought it was safe to come out from under the fad blocking bed comes the one thing a middle-aged man desperately doesn't want to confront... The resurgence of his youth as a pop icon.
I remember [God, I really am sounding old! I'm starting off stories like my grandfather would!] the 1970s when there was a popular resurfacing of all things 50s... George Lucas had struck a nerve [not to mention a vein of gold at the box office] with his film American graffiti... Soon following in those footsteps was TV and musicals delving into the idealized memories of the post war 1950s- even hoopskirts and James Dean haircuts looked to be fashionable [of a sort] for a while.
Remember of course that this was the 1970s... The decade inventors of cocaine "The Drug That's Not Addictive!", drop in, light up and drop out were common sayings and counter culture comic books were the rage.
At some point I lost track of what pop iconographic elements we'd pay homage to while an older kid and then a young adult through the 1980s... With Raiders of The Lost Ark we had the resurgence of the Fedora- and films like Blade Runner defined style that was decidedly retro 40s...
Bottling the ends of this rant- I happened to catch the Saturday Night Live "1980s" reunion type program just the other night and it caught me... I'm getting nostalgic.
I wasn't too hip to the new SNL cast back in 1980 to 82- it would seem that most anyone else wasn't either. The original cast was the best- perhaps logically if not fanatically but I didn't pick up on the whole SNL decade that made up the 1980s and now I'm wishing I had.
I saw bands that by today's analysis are relegated to convention; but, oh were they blossoming under the light of pop stardom at the time... Tom Petty, Fine Young Cannibals, Freddy Mercury, The Cowboy Junkies [Sweet Jane]... People of my time I suppose.
Perhaps it was the world of music that I grew up within, that draws me back to the lyrics in those very self-same tunes; their echoes of a new sound then, showcasing their shadows and relegated anonymity in today's harsh, forgetful world. When Billy Joel sang of his iconic character and being asked to play a tune for an aged gentleman who remembered a song "sad and it's sweet, I knew it complete- when I wore a younger man's clothes..."
I'm beginning to empathize with that old man.
We say we're not like wolves, that we tend to those fading from today; but quite frankly we do leave the dead of the pack behind- all one has to do is look at the pop icons of yesterday-year to see that.
Heaven help me I miss Magnum PI, ABC [look it up- it's a band...], Howard Jones and Bill Cosby trying to hawk the benefits of "New Coke".
I miss Prince in all his Purpleness. I miss parachute pants. I miss hair bands, I miss Gremlins.
I miss Lame'!! Versace, I couldn't care less that you were gay; you gave me reason to live when I'd see a woman dressed in that glistening plastic/nylon golden, or silver cloth! God bless you where-ever you are!
I even miss women wearing those little pump/boot combo shoes [there was a decidedly less glamorous name for them- ask your parents kiddies- I'm sure they'll tell you about them...].
Gosh darn-it, I miss the 80s- but glamorizing that decade defies analysis simply because it already defied the self same microscope back then.
Yeah, to some this is an old man's bchnmoan- maybe it is...
And heaven forbid I should quote another line from a Billy Joel song, but he was right [and I'm sure he got the notion from somebody wiser than him, but not so wise to make a song around it!]...
"The good old days weren't always good, and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems..."
I continue to be: Russ
I remember [God, I really am sounding old! I'm starting off stories like my grandfather would!] the 1970s when there was a popular resurfacing of all things 50s... George Lucas had struck a nerve [not to mention a vein of gold at the box office] with his film American graffiti... Soon following in those footsteps was TV and musicals delving into the idealized memories of the post war 1950s- even hoopskirts and James Dean haircuts looked to be fashionable [of a sort] for a while.
Remember of course that this was the 1970s... The decade inventors of cocaine "The Drug That's Not Addictive!", drop in, light up and drop out were common sayings and counter culture comic books were the rage.
At some point I lost track of what pop iconographic elements we'd pay homage to while an older kid and then a young adult through the 1980s... With Raiders of The Lost Ark we had the resurgence of the Fedora- and films like Blade Runner defined style that was decidedly retro 40s...
Bottling the ends of this rant- I happened to catch the Saturday Night Live "1980s" reunion type program just the other night and it caught me... I'm getting nostalgic.
I wasn't too hip to the new SNL cast back in 1980 to 82- it would seem that most anyone else wasn't either. The original cast was the best- perhaps logically if not fanatically but I didn't pick up on the whole SNL decade that made up the 1980s and now I'm wishing I had.
I saw bands that by today's analysis are relegated to convention; but, oh were they blossoming under the light of pop stardom at the time... Tom Petty, Fine Young Cannibals, Freddy Mercury, The Cowboy Junkies [Sweet Jane]... People of my time I suppose.
Perhaps it was the world of music that I grew up within, that draws me back to the lyrics in those very self-same tunes; their echoes of a new sound then, showcasing their shadows and relegated anonymity in today's harsh, forgetful world. When Billy Joel sang of his iconic character and being asked to play a tune for an aged gentleman who remembered a song "sad and it's sweet, I knew it complete- when I wore a younger man's clothes..."
I'm beginning to empathize with that old man.
We say we're not like wolves, that we tend to those fading from today; but quite frankly we do leave the dead of the pack behind- all one has to do is look at the pop icons of yesterday-year to see that.
Heaven help me I miss Magnum PI, ABC [look it up- it's a band...], Howard Jones and Bill Cosby trying to hawk the benefits of "New Coke".
I miss Prince in all his Purpleness. I miss parachute pants. I miss hair bands, I miss Gremlins.
I miss Lame'!! Versace, I couldn't care less that you were gay; you gave me reason to live when I'd see a woman dressed in that glistening plastic/nylon golden, or silver cloth! God bless you where-ever you are!
I even miss women wearing those little pump/boot combo shoes [there was a decidedly less glamorous name for them- ask your parents kiddies- I'm sure they'll tell you about them...].
Gosh darn-it, I miss the 80s- but glamorizing that decade defies analysis simply because it already defied the self same microscope back then.
Yeah, to some this is an old man's bchnmoan- maybe it is...
And heaven forbid I should quote another line from a Billy Joel song, but he was right [and I'm sure he got the notion from somebody wiser than him, but not so wise to make a song around it!]...
"The good old days weren't always good, and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems..."
I continue to be: Russ
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
New Spin on an Olde Topic
There's a joke that's been floating around, probably for ages, that pits atheists against God...
Believe or disbelieve; the power of the story is surely debatable if not undeniable.
Now, before I go much further, let's just get out in the open my side of this story.
I happen to be a "believer". If that's troubling to you that just can't stomach such "ancient" deliberations, all I'll ask is that you get used to it. I'm certainly used to you.
Those that want to gripe about "expression" from a Constitutional standpoint seem to forget that the line is "Freedom OF Religion" not 'Freedom FROM Religion". If you think you're a junior lawyer type because you took Social Studies 101 at the local community college- belly up to Russ's bar here and drink like an adult. Trust me when I tell you, you'll be puking in the corner when I'm done with you.
Tell you what; I'll take this a step further and come to a compromise with you God haters...
I'll keep loving Jesus in my quiet indominatable way and not rub your nose in it- and you can continue to disavow there's any God and that your life is totally under your own control; but you have to shut your yap if I choose to bless my meal- capice?
Either way, you'll be insulted with my story and that's just too bad. You see, if in your Godless realm you're insulted by the medieval likes of me, who's really the fool here? This is a story that can have either professing their "right" or cause and neither is the worse off. I suppose we'll see.
On with the story...
Take any college campus in America- your choice, this story has it's roots planted in every Ivy League and small city college all over the world- so where isn't important.
At "X College" a Morals and Ethics professor decided one day to shock his beleaguered students with the ultimate act of defiance. He was going to prove that god did not exist.
Having announced this to the throng of students, the auditorium went morgue silent- all attention was drawn to the professor and his willful act of catrission.
"God- if you do exist, I demand that you prove yourself by acting out upon me..." he began.
Noting the bug eyed expression of many in the large room, he smirked as he continued.
"If you truly do exist- knock me off this pulpit! I am but one man and defy you to prove your existence! I will only give you fifteen minutes to prove your power over me!"
As the captive audience sat dumbfounded the professor flipped his jacket sleeves in a flourished ruffle and continued on with his lesson plan. By the time 5 minutes had passed he paused for a moment, mockingly looked to the heavens and pronounced, "Ten minutes, God! You've got ten minutes to show yourself and knock me off this pulpit!"
Without even so much as an acknowledgement that he'd said such a thing, the professor continued on with [insert morals or ethical study here]. Again, after another 5 minutes, the professor grinned an evil grin and shouted at the ceiling...
"God- you're trying my patience! If you exist, you have a lousy way of showing it! You have 5 minutes to show yourself or I'll have proved my point that you don't exist!"
With two minutes left in the professor's "God Countdown Showdown" he placed his arms in a faux crucifix style and taunted God to reveal himself.
Then came the final 30 seconds.
Exuding all manner of braggadocio, the professor began a countdown with the mark of 30 seconds.
Off in the corner as the count reached 25, a lone figure was seen walking from the middle of the auditorium, his expression only that of calm, quiet, determination.
The countdown still filed in ernest, the professor mockingly dripping his cadence with sarcasm and droll wit. The lone figure was just short of the pulpit as the count reached 'ten'.
At the count of three, the figure was immediately upon the professor cocked back and administering a rock solid punch to the forehead of the professor, just as the count reached "one".
There the professor layed, sprawled on the floor of the pulpit, out cold. The lone figure sharply turning and taking an open seat at the very front of auditorium, as close as he could be to the now unconscious professor.
Again, everyone in the auditorium were silent, gawking, mouths agape at the sight they had all just witnessed.
Eventually the professor regained his senses, if not his composure, and scowled at the silent, yet strangely meek young man across from him.
"What the hell did you do that for?" The professor blurted. "I was trying to prove a point!"
With all candor, the young man spoke, "God couldn't come to the pulpit right now, he's currently out protecting my brothers and sisters who's lives have been shed and are in harm's way so that you can spout off that drivel."
"Brothers and Sisters?!" The Professor sputters. "What are you, some kind of Jesus freak? Brothers and sisters indeed!"
The young man sadly smiles, "Since God couldn't come right away to accept your call, he sent me."
"What makes you think you're so special you impudent thug?" The Professor mocks.
"I guess you could say that God wanted to send you the very best. I was a United States Navy SEAL. He wanted to be sure you got HIS point."
I continue to be: Russ
Believe or disbelieve; the power of the story is surely debatable if not undeniable.
Now, before I go much further, let's just get out in the open my side of this story.
I happen to be a "believer". If that's troubling to you that just can't stomach such "ancient" deliberations, all I'll ask is that you get used to it. I'm certainly used to you.
Those that want to gripe about "expression" from a Constitutional standpoint seem to forget that the line is "Freedom OF Religion" not 'Freedom FROM Religion". If you think you're a junior lawyer type because you took Social Studies 101 at the local community college- belly up to Russ's bar here and drink like an adult. Trust me when I tell you, you'll be puking in the corner when I'm done with you.
Tell you what; I'll take this a step further and come to a compromise with you God haters...
I'll keep loving Jesus in my quiet indominatable way and not rub your nose in it- and you can continue to disavow there's any God and that your life is totally under your own control; but you have to shut your yap if I choose to bless my meal- capice?
Either way, you'll be insulted with my story and that's just too bad. You see, if in your Godless realm you're insulted by the medieval likes of me, who's really the fool here? This is a story that can have either professing their "right" or cause and neither is the worse off. I suppose we'll see.
On with the story...
Take any college campus in America- your choice, this story has it's roots planted in every Ivy League and small city college all over the world- so where isn't important.
At "X College" a Morals and Ethics professor decided one day to shock his beleaguered students with the ultimate act of defiance. He was going to prove that god did not exist.
Having announced this to the throng of students, the auditorium went morgue silent- all attention was drawn to the professor and his willful act of catrission.
"God- if you do exist, I demand that you prove yourself by acting out upon me..." he began.
Noting the bug eyed expression of many in the large room, he smirked as he continued.
"If you truly do exist- knock me off this pulpit! I am but one man and defy you to prove your existence! I will only give you fifteen minutes to prove your power over me!"
As the captive audience sat dumbfounded the professor flipped his jacket sleeves in a flourished ruffle and continued on with his lesson plan. By the time 5 minutes had passed he paused for a moment, mockingly looked to the heavens and pronounced, "Ten minutes, God! You've got ten minutes to show yourself and knock me off this pulpit!"
Without even so much as an acknowledgement that he'd said such a thing, the professor continued on with [insert morals or ethical study here]. Again, after another 5 minutes, the professor grinned an evil grin and shouted at the ceiling...
"God- you're trying my patience! If you exist, you have a lousy way of showing it! You have 5 minutes to show yourself or I'll have proved my point that you don't exist!"
With two minutes left in the professor's "God Countdown Showdown" he placed his arms in a faux crucifix style and taunted God to reveal himself.
Then came the final 30 seconds.
Exuding all manner of braggadocio, the professor began a countdown with the mark of 30 seconds.
Off in the corner as the count reached 25, a lone figure was seen walking from the middle of the auditorium, his expression only that of calm, quiet, determination.
The countdown still filed in ernest, the professor mockingly dripping his cadence with sarcasm and droll wit. The lone figure was just short of the pulpit as the count reached 'ten'.
At the count of three, the figure was immediately upon the professor cocked back and administering a rock solid punch to the forehead of the professor, just as the count reached "one".
There the professor layed, sprawled on the floor of the pulpit, out cold. The lone figure sharply turning and taking an open seat at the very front of auditorium, as close as he could be to the now unconscious professor.
Again, everyone in the auditorium were silent, gawking, mouths agape at the sight they had all just witnessed.
Eventually the professor regained his senses, if not his composure, and scowled at the silent, yet strangely meek young man across from him.
"What the hell did you do that for?" The professor blurted. "I was trying to prove a point!"
With all candor, the young man spoke, "God couldn't come to the pulpit right now, he's currently out protecting my brothers and sisters who's lives have been shed and are in harm's way so that you can spout off that drivel."
"Brothers and Sisters?!" The Professor sputters. "What are you, some kind of Jesus freak? Brothers and sisters indeed!"
The young man sadly smiles, "Since God couldn't come right away to accept your call, he sent me."
"What makes you think you're so special you impudent thug?" The Professor mocks.
"I guess you could say that God wanted to send you the very best. I was a United States Navy SEAL. He wanted to be sure you got HIS point."
I continue to be: Russ
Friday, November 04, 2005
Land of The Dead
I don't know if one could call this particular feeling I've been having as a form of enlightenment, or just an amusing notion played out to it's inevitable conclusions.
There's been a few films out recently that are commonly referred to as "survival horror" genre movies. George Romero kind of created the genre with the release of his low budget cult classic Night of the Living Dead, which not only put him on the map- but had the strange ability to put Pittsburgh back on the map as well.
The Survival Horror movie usually revolves around a mismatched group of desperate people trying to fend off, outrun, or otherwise stay one step ahead of an ever increasing army of "X".
"X" tends to be the one variable factor that's unleashed on our hapless group of heroes and heroines- they can be anything from acid bleeding xenomorphs [Aliens] to the living dead I'd mentioned earlier. The idea being that this allows the audience to be voyueristically compelled into a human relations character study by placing The Human Condition into an extreme environment or event and noting the reactions played out between the survivors.
The oddity I want to present to you fine readers, is simply this- "Do you ever catch yourself playing out this scenario in your own day-to-day life?"
There's a line in most of these "undead" movies that has one character noting to another "These dead people keep walking around acting like they're alive."
Only to be followed with the retort, "You call what we're doing living? Isn't this nothing more than an act?"
Have you ever had a day so mundane that you were able to step out of it and notice the milling and shuffling of the people around you? Depending on your area of the country [planet?] and whether you're in a rural, urban or suburban setting; this could play out one of many ways...
Could something be said about yourself as a survival character in these regards? Granted, it's all play- and what you think you see in yourself, real or imagined, could be played out as your own character study.
Would you go the mindset of The Survivalist- plotting your barricade, your food stores and your escape methods from your office building in the event the undead start looking for brains... Or perhaps you're the Thunder Road type, where only constantly moving with the wind in your hair and the zombies too far back to even care...
Now for the Zen-Taoist part to this post...
Have you looked around yourself and started noting your friends and acquaintances and then taking tally of who would survive and who would become chowder? Now there's an interesting perspective on not only yourself- but on how you perceive others!
Now- taking this just one more step further; have you looked around and noted your location, your perspective on the day and then whether you see any difference between The Living and The Existing..?
Do you see yourself as Alive, [vibrant, involved, engaged] or simply alive [existing, breathing, using up oxygen and space]?
George Romero has said in an interview that his films revolve around The Problem. Whether social discourse, racism, yuppie-ism any number of "isms" out there; the undertone to his films were to expose and confront The Problem. Many times to a gruesome and otherwise ugly truth.
The scary part is, that whatever "ism" is exposed within the mise-en-scene of these films, the survivors are only respites of humanity by the end of the movies.
Even though the credits roll, much like real life, The Problem is still out there and by running away, our heroes have only prolonged facing the inevitable, oppressive encroachment.
I continue to be; Russ
There's been a few films out recently that are commonly referred to as "survival horror" genre movies. George Romero kind of created the genre with the release of his low budget cult classic Night of the Living Dead, which not only put him on the map- but had the strange ability to put Pittsburgh back on the map as well.
The Survival Horror movie usually revolves around a mismatched group of desperate people trying to fend off, outrun, or otherwise stay one step ahead of an ever increasing army of "X".
"X" tends to be the one variable factor that's unleashed on our hapless group of heroes and heroines- they can be anything from acid bleeding xenomorphs [Aliens] to the living dead I'd mentioned earlier. The idea being that this allows the audience to be voyueristically compelled into a human relations character study by placing The Human Condition into an extreme environment or event and noting the reactions played out between the survivors.
The oddity I want to present to you fine readers, is simply this- "Do you ever catch yourself playing out this scenario in your own day-to-day life?"
There's a line in most of these "undead" movies that has one character noting to another "These dead people keep walking around acting like they're alive."
Only to be followed with the retort, "You call what we're doing living? Isn't this nothing more than an act?"
Have you ever had a day so mundane that you were able to step out of it and notice the milling and shuffling of the people around you? Depending on your area of the country [planet?] and whether you're in a rural, urban or suburban setting; this could play out one of many ways...
Could something be said about yourself as a survival character in these regards? Granted, it's all play- and what you think you see in yourself, real or imagined, could be played out as your own character study.
Would you go the mindset of The Survivalist- plotting your barricade, your food stores and your escape methods from your office building in the event the undead start looking for brains... Or perhaps you're the Thunder Road type, where only constantly moving with the wind in your hair and the zombies too far back to even care...
Now for the Zen-Taoist part to this post...
Have you looked around yourself and started noting your friends and acquaintances and then taking tally of who would survive and who would become chowder? Now there's an interesting perspective on not only yourself- but on how you perceive others!
Now- taking this just one more step further; have you looked around and noted your location, your perspective on the day and then whether you see any difference between The Living and The Existing..?
Do you see yourself as Alive, [vibrant, involved, engaged] or simply alive [existing, breathing, using up oxygen and space]?
George Romero has said in an interview that his films revolve around The Problem. Whether social discourse, racism, yuppie-ism any number of "isms" out there; the undertone to his films were to expose and confront The Problem. Many times to a gruesome and otherwise ugly truth.
The scary part is, that whatever "ism" is exposed within the mise-en-scene of these films, the survivors are only respites of humanity by the end of the movies.
Even though the credits roll, much like real life, The Problem is still out there and by running away, our heroes have only prolonged facing the inevitable, oppressive encroachment.
I continue to be; Russ
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Bark Vader
Just to prove that not every bone in my body is curmudgeonly, here's a photo for the poor family dog made up as Daddy and Son's favorite movie villain...
Yes, it's the Bark Lord of the Sith himself!
Though belated, Happy Halloween to everyone!
Yes, it's the Bark Lord of the Sith himself!
Though belated, Happy Halloween to everyone!
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