Fast Words From The IOC

The IOC is the biggest joke. Let's condemn Bolt for his "antics"; how they are not a measure of respect for his competitors. It typical behavior from people who don't understand the true nature of competition. Yes, it's my whole Larry Bird school of sports, even on the largest stage. But I tire of the "why didn't he shake hands?" or "why did he parade around the track screaming he was number 1?" criticism when it's a simple answer. It was his moment. He worked to achieve it. He worked and ran to stand alone. Let him. (And by the way, that 200M run was amazing. Into a headwind?)

Is he a better person if he shakes hands and goes on about with his antics? Maybe. Is he a worse person because he did not? No. He just shattered an virtually unbreakable world record. Give him his moment.

No. The IOC must condemn. Olympics! Higher, Faster, Stronger! Shake Hands! Do Not Focus On Enjoying Winning! Hug! Move On! London 2012! Get Rid Of Softball! Badminton Doubles But No Olympic Golf! The Chinese Are Democratic Afterall! No Human Rights Injustice! Fake Fireworks Are Cool! Lipsynching Is The New Steroid! Sports Are Not Really Sports Unless We Have Judges Who Have Never Competed In The Sports Judging The Sports!

Oh, and all this is coming out of one side of the IOC's mouth. Here's what they're not addressing.

On Phelps

So the Mrs. was working Saturday night in the ER. A little boy, about 8 comes in. They put him in a room. He complains loudly. Not because of the ailment, but because there was no T.V. in that particular room. He was scared he couldn't watch Phelps win gold. Then the Mrs. started talking to him about the races. This kid, 8 years old, then came back with the awesomeness that was that 100M Butterfly finish. About how he took that last half-stroke. About how he touched the wall an infinite minuteness before the other guy. The Mrs. said his facing was beaming.

That's why I love the Olympics. I worked at them in '02; been there, done that. I didn't enjoy the Olympics that year. Though I saw every event and heard the finishes and stood directly next to the take-off point for the Gold Medal ski-jump (a hill I later slid down) -- I even rode the lift back up the mountain with the jumpers (I had all access passes for the ski jump and luge). I even saw a moose. But it wasn't the same. And until Phelps' run, my Olympic awe had been spoiled by everything wrong the the Games. Then the Mrs. told me the story and I remembered my own story and I remembered why I love the Games:

In '02 Jimmy Shea made an improbable run at Gold in the Men's Skeleton I was working down the hill from the track in the Media Compound (I could see the finish area from where we were located). The place was brimming with buzz. Everyone was walking up to see the final run. But the peon that I was, I had to stay put in the trailer in case something was needed. So me and a few other peons were forced to watch it on a small T.V. We couldn't even walk across the compound to the Japanese Trailer that had HD. But as he was coming down we began to hear the roar. Instead of watching it, I walked outside and listened to it. Coming down the mountain. A load, ominous, snow-echoing roar. I started screaming in my solitude for Shea. Screaming for him to win. I knew the second he did. I could hear it. I still can.

I heard the roars when Phelps won every medal. That something great and grand was going on. I felt connected, hearing the story hours later, with that little boy in the hospital sick at not being able to watch it. We don't know if did get to see the final race. Though I'm sure, I'm positive, he heard it.

The Problem Of The Dark Knight

Much has been said about this movie. It's darkness, it's performances, it's awesomeness. I loved the movie. Loved every second of every minute. It, at times, brought out the child in me. The fist-pumping, adrenaline-rushing, beat-the-bad-guys child in me. If you have not seen it, you should, just as an exercise in why movies can be cool.

Ledger's performance was good, perhaps even great. He did not supersede any previous interpretation of the Joker, he merely brought his own to the role. Embodied it in his own way. Whatever you read about the excellence he called upon, his Joker is worthy of the approbation. And if the Joker never appears on screen again, it may very well be because it never needs to. And while I liked Ledger, I still stand by Nicholson who was vastly different in his approach. While Ledger nailed every mannerism, every dark nuance of the character that could manifest itself physically did (especially the tongue flickering), the villain lacked swagger. Nicholson gave the Joker that villainous swagger, an arrogance, a propensity for narcissism and evil. Ledger's Joker was vastly dark but I perceived him as a lightweight. Just because he kills coldly and without pretense does not necessarily make him a worthy adversary -- though I concede he was to Batman. Ledger's Joker lacked some weight, some material, physical swagger that precedes him in the moments before he appears on screen. With Nicholson, you felt the Joker coming before he appeared. I didn't get that with Ledger. Still good though, perhaps Oscar worthy too.

If you've seen it, you've seen the darkness of the film. It's strength. It's brilliance of it's characters. It's non-plot plot. The problem of evil. It was at the forefront of the movie and it cannot be ignored. It's also at the forefront of life around us. The movie did well to incorporate the goodness of mankind, even in small amounts as a necessary adversary, as the true rival of the evil. I compare the problem of evil in this movie to the problem of good in another movie I just watched: Lars and the Real Girl. For that entire film I wanted, expected, anticipated the proclivity man has for evil to show itself. But it never did. That movie was all about the problem of good. It believed in the goodness of people in large amounts. I highly recommend Lars and the Real Girl. It is utterly moving.

Now The Dark Knight believed in it too. And perhaps, in the small amounts we saw we came away with the notion that goodness, even as small of a grain of sand, can combat and overturn and right the largest amounts of evil.

One other thing, I tire of ketch phrases. Perhaps that's the staple of comic books, but the "he's more than a hero" sounds more like a Nickelback lyric than good writing.

A Quote In August

"The evocation of far is a peaceful corridor paved with unflagging and tranquil faith and peopled with kind and nameless faces and voices."

William Faulkner, Light in August

Magical Reality T.V.

In anticipation of my reading One Hundred Years of Solitude, I, in my research, have looked up the term magical realism, which plays a large role in this novel. I'm not sure I entirely grasp the concept-- though I liken it to the technique in Scrubs. Perhaps it's because such things, especially in literature, never seem to strike me as odd or difficult or anything apart from reality. So to categorize it muddies my understanding of its sequellas.

And I am serious: if I should run into a unicorn while on walk, I would not be the least bit surprised. If a lamppost should turn into an elephant, I would not be surprised. If both daylight and night grow longer but the day length remains the same, I would not be surprised.

Suppose for a second that a reality television producer, fresh of his latest success of putting 6 animals (lion, zebra, fly, monkey, dog, cat) and 3 Hot People in a house for 10 weeks and allowing America to vote each one off based on a serious of challenges that involves, but is not limited to, surviving, decides to further push the limits. He or she pitches the concept of magical realism in this fashion. Assembled would be Chewbacca, Frodo, a Gummi Bear, Captain Kirk, Hari Seldon, and three randomly selected Americans who are extremely good-looking and who also think they can dance. Let the mayhem ensue!

Magical Reality T.V. : One Ring, In a Galaxy Far, Far Away, Bouncing Here and There And Everywhere, Boldly Going Where No Man Has Gone Before, uh Who's Hari Seldon? And The Hottest Contests Ever To Be See Dancing On T.V.! This Thursday @ 9pm.

Garcia Marquez would be proud.

Twenty-One, Some 50 Years Later

In lieu of my dirge on How To Read A Book, I stumbled across a piece by one of its authors, Charles Van Doren. His personage, ever since I saw Redford's "Quiz Show", has fascinated me. I am persuaded that it wasn't the pursuit of fame or greed that brought on his fall. But it was something in him, and for that he sought to make it right. I am always glad I convinced my father to rent that movie years ago.

Anyway, he penned a piece for The New Yorker recently about the saga. Can't say life has changed much with the infusion of reality television. It's greatest loss, however, has been the person of character.

On Biting The Hand... And Legs... And Face

It's perhaps our first violent instinct. Our first weapon. Our first acts of a malevolent nature: biting.

That Isaac has started biting has fueled my curiosity (Literally, at times, the hand that is feeding him). Why is this the case?

In thinking about it I have not come to take lightly now the Biblical story of Adam and Eve taking a bite of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. There is present the immediate act of disobedience. The Fall of Man most certainly occurred the moment the fruit was pierced. It was the first physical, violent act of the rebellion.

I find the association between Isaac's recent behavior and the most primal of stories our mankind's rebellion all curious and interesting.