More Proof That I'm Not So Bright

Ever since I saw the movie "Little Miss Sunshine" I have been smugly confident that I was only one who noticed how much the film cribbed from "The Grapes of Wrath." This morning a Google search, of all things, proved how wrong I was. Not only had other people made the connection, they also noticed how many similarities the film had with "National Lampoon's Family Vacation." I hadn't noticed these similarities, in part because I've never been a huge fan of that movie and because I havn't seen it in about 15 years. At any rate, let's summarize what the film has in common with "The Grapes of Wrath:"

• Doomed roadtrip to California (a sort of promised land).
• A highly unreliable yet decidedly all-American form of transportation (Joads' Jalopy, the Hoover's VW van). Incidentally - a good dissertation chapter for somebody who actually has talent and is in Cinema would be to look at these movies using the theoretical model developed by James Chandler.
  
• Young female who is the hope of the family.
• Terse young man.
• Father unable to provide for the family/make good decisions.
• Financial crisis.
• Mother who holds everything together.
• Death of the matriarch in the midst of it all (Arkin's character is sufficiently feminized through his attention to Olive to make this argument viable. Plus, the porno addiction subplot never really went very far).
• The Hoover's original location is never disclosed. We only know how far they have to go to get where they are going. I think that this is ultimately not dissimilar from Steinbeck's placing of the Joads in Oklahoma - a kind of cultural and geographical Nowheresville - even now, but especially during the depression (afterall, only 20 some-odd years before the novel was written Oklahoma was still 'Indian Territory' and was the last blank spot on a map of the contiguous 48).
• We aren't experiencing a Dustbowl right now - but global warming will fix that in no time. Additionally, after Katrina we know that we're all fucked if something like that happens again.
  
• How much more do you need? I think this list will suffice.

One point of contention I do have with those who have already pointed out the similarities between the two texts. Some tried to make the claim that things aren't really that bad for the Hoovers. Certainly, its not like they just lost the farm to the banker-man, but things are pretty bleak nonetheless. They face a financially uncertain future and exhibit exactly the same kind of morose, dispirited ennui that the Joads practically ooze. The key difference here is that Steinbeck had the perspective to write-in all the socioeconomic elements of despair that we associate with the depression. "Little Miss Sunshine" doesn't have that kind of perspective because it is written in the midst of a slow, disastrous national crisis. Rather than make these things explicit, the film assumes that the audience knows of what it speaks. In any major American theater a majority of the people in attendance are tied to unreliable transportation, have no long-term hope, probably don't have or can't afford insurance. Above all, we're all effected by the perverse American sense of social Darwinism which dictates that we all have to figure out a way to survive or be ruthlessly cast aside. The Joads were willing to go to California to pick apples, but we live in the age of the culture industry. It is fitting then, that "Little Miss Sunshine" made the transition into this new, more modern venue. And really, the point is the same - be exploited by the agricultural industry or be exploited by the culture industry. In my mind this is the great failure of the movie. By making such a joke of Olive's performance at the end it ultimately makes light of the kind of exploitation that each and every one of us would sell our souls for. Fame and fortune seem like the only truly safe antidotes to the creeping cultural and economic slide that our country is currently undergoing. However, we have to bear in mind that the film is a film. Its part of the culture industry that it fails to critique. In that sense we should not be surprised as the fox will always relish his chance to guard the hen house.

This blog kills fascists.

Hell or no Hell - Tulsa Sucks

There have some recent events in my life that have made me wonder whether or not it is worth living. I know, I know, this sounds awfully 'goodbye cruel world' or like something that total asshat of a whiner Hamlet claims to have said, but really, there is a valid question in here somewhere. If you don't feel like you have much to look back on fondly, don't get much pleasure out of your daily life and have suspicions about your future happiness and well-being, doesn't at least the contemplation of 'alternative options' make sense?

Of course, one of the things to consider is that there is a very real possibility, if you take several different religions and a few thousand years of human history and literature at face value, that there are penalties for early withdrawal from this mortal coil. This consideration, of course, is one of the reasons that you, dear reader, may still tan your soul on the orangy-glow of my consciousness - via the internet.

Anyway, todayI heard a fascinating story on 'This American Life' about Carlton Pearson, the evangelical minister and head of a once massively popular church in my hometown (Tulsa, Oklahoma) called Higher Dimensions. When I was a kid we usedto make fun of this guy alot (we called it 'Higher Deceptions') because evangelicals are, frankly, assholes. The most minor theological difference is enough to make them scream 'heretic!,' and his brand of snake-handling was just a little too snakey for me. Also, he's black and most Tulsidians are racist garbage (I include my teenage self in the category). As it turns out, Mr. Pearson has come to the conclusion that there is no hell. Apparantly, hell is what we have made of the Earth God has given us. Not only is Jesus not required for salvation, but the answer to all our problems lies not in so much more theological in-fighting, but in combating the shit that leads to weeping and gnashing of teeth on an all too daily basis.

Now, I must digress at this moment and point out something that I find terribly funny. The notion that an evangelical minister would come to the conclusion that this quotidian world is, in fact, hell, and that this man happened to live in Tulsa is just poetically fitting. I doubt that he would have come to this conclusion if he was head of, say, the First Penecostal Church of Zurich or Barbados or something. So, on a purely semantic level I want to revel in the fact that an ordained minister has, in a sense, decreed that TULSA OKLAHOMA IS HELL ITSELF. Okay, so he and I are on the same page here.

But theological problems persist. Question #1 - C.S. Lewis once famously claimed that people like Pearson, whose theology is a bit muddled at best, have to deal with the cold hard reality that the person of Christ must be one of three things. He must be either insane, a fantastically effective liar, or the true son of God. These days I'm starting to wonder if perhaps that isn't a false dilemma fallacy. Must those categories be mutually exclusive? Is it not possible that Christ could have been as crazy as his ardent admirerers (like Mel Gibson), and still be something fantastically divine? I'm just going to assume that He wasn't a liar - if for no other reason than liars on that scale tend to WANT things, and as far as I know Jesus didn't have a harem or a nice car or any of the other accoutrements that tend to signal that one is a bonafide liar. Also, to be fair, most of the really loopy ideas in Christian theology cannot be blamed on Christ. All that bullshit about the Virgin birth and Transubstantiation came later and can be attributed to much more obviously unhinged persons.

At any rate, Pearson's theology seems not to deny the supernatural, but to reject Biblical authority. I guess this means that God can still talk to people (good news for Schizophrenics everywhere!) and miracles and cool magical stuff like healing and what-not are still possible (I still feel cheated that I never, in alll my years as an Evangelical, saw a fucking miracle - not even a crap one like healing of Eczema or levitation or nose-stealing or pulling a quater from someone's ear).

So in the end Peason's theology seems tome like an odd mix of old-fashioned hoo-doo and a large dose of 'it's okay - you aren't going to hell afterall.' My first though was that it's nice to know I won't go to Hell, according to this learned and seemingly sane man. I'm a bit annoyed that God is still 'personal' in his worldview. I wish God would either talk to me directly or leave me the fuck alone - but that's for another entry. Anyway, in a sense I think that there is something valid about this expression of spirituality. People for centuries have believed that the gods could do things and that were supernatural, and hadno need to burden the process with alot of boring theology. If there is a God I'm sure that it can do lots of things that we can't explain, if only because we aren't that bright.

Why do people have to assume that for God to have power It must also have an eternal torture chamber?

The obvious answer is that people really are so horrible that they like the idea of a hell because it gives them a chance for social distinction. Personally, I hope there is a hell for cops who infringe upon one's right to alter one's consciousness with things that grow out of the ground. To me that's a damnable offence. So its a good thing I'm not in a position to make those decisions.

So, to get back to the original question - does belif in a hell make it more or less hard for one to kill onself? If everlasting reward awaits us all- why not head for the gun cabinet and get it overwith? Onthe other hand, if there isno hell, if the world is ourstomake better and sin has nothing to do with any of it, why not stick around and try to fix some of the mess we have created?


Either way - the notion of a God without a Hell isn't that much less absurd than the idea of a God WITH a hell. It's a helluva lot more comforting, but in the end, its still a firm devotion to the idea that an invisible entity knows the thoughts of every person in the world and is personally invested in their lives but is unwilling to actually lift a divine finger and do anything.

Alls I know is that I'm glad I don't live in Tulsa anymore.

Musing on Music

I have to post something more substantial than the previous post or the night will be wholly lost. Right now I'm listening to some blues station on iTunes radio. I'm doing this because I'm horrendously depressed at the moment and this kind of music somehow helps me verbalize the way I feel. Or maybe Its just nice to have someone agree with me that that the world is indeed nothing but a continuum between pain and boredom. Schopenhauer would liked the blues. Anyway, a brilliant musician I knew as a teenager once made the pithily absurd comment that 'music is mood food.' This stuck with me not so much because it was eloquent (obviously its not) but because it was uttered by one of the smartest, most talented people I have ever known.

I have noticed that to an extent this is true. Oftentimes I try to listen to certain types of music to force myself to feel a certain way. For example, often when I am bored and having a hard time focusing on my work and generally acting like a petulant highschooler I try to listen to very esoteric music, classical music, Bach, Early Music - that kind of thing - in order to somehow gain access to a part of my personality that seems temporarily out of service. I'm not sure exactly how the line of reasoning works, but its something along the lines of 'erudite people listen to stuff like this, maybe if I do too I will be able to be erudite myself, maybe this will help me write my paper.'

Sometimes it works. Usually it just makes me feel like that much more of a failure because as I increasingly fall down the rabbit hole of insecurity when faced with a big assignment I begin to feel that I am not one of those people - I am not erudite, I am not smart or insightful - I can't feel anything when I hear this music - this music, written by geniuses, does nothing for me. I'm not part of the club and I never will be...... Or so goes the voice in my head.


So right now I'm listening to blues. Not the shitty Chicago-style crap with allot of brass and (egad) Major keys. No, right now I am listening to The dirty kind of blues that's all in a minor key. Preferably in the key of E, B or F. There's this notion that some people are blessed with a disorder called synesthesia where the senses get confused and cross with one another. People on lysergic acid have this experience when they 'see music' or 'taste colors' or whatever. Well, I don't have this in any full-blown sense, but I do feel that certain keys have certain colors. To me B is blue, D is green, A is red, E is dark blue or purple and F (which is only a half step from E can either be brown (when its major) or a very very dark purple when its Minor. For this reason 'When the Levee Breaks" by Led Zeppelin is always like looking straight into the void for me. Its the deepest, darkest sound I can imagine.


So there's no real conclusion to this. How can one wrap up anything anyway? This music isn't going to help me get anything done. It might help me feel what I already feel, which seems like an odd thing to do, but people try get more access to their emotions through drugs and alcohol and therapy all the time, so I guess its not an entirely crazy thing to attempt. Speaking of which, I should really be drinking to do this properly.

I've always wanted to do one of these 'meme' things. I feel like such a dork. This is my first foray into blogging, and its lame as hell, but there it is.


Teacher :: Tweed
Fifty :: Cent
Crossword :: Crosswalk
Stuffed :: Shirt
Family :: Portrait
Purr :: Tour
Toad :: "Mr. Toad?"
Cocktail :: Gin
Insecurity :: Daily
Magical :: Bullshit

Testing

Testing Testing - SIBILANTS SIBILANTS - I am the king of rock, ain't nuttin' highah