It's Either Sadness or Bookphoria...

Friday, November 1, 2013

Fred Flintstone, they're coming for you again next...

It's November 1, which means the holiday season will soon be upon us. And with that, comes society's need for increasing politically correctedness, which inevitably winds up upsetting more people than it soothes.

By now, you've probably seen or heard about Hallmark's decision to change the text on its "Deck the Halls" ornament from "Don we now our gay apparel" (the lyrics of the Christmas carol) to "Don we now our fun apparel." Because, you know, the word "gay" has multiple meanings, and Hallmark didn't want the ornament to get misconstrued.

Look, I know there are still lots of people out there who have a problem with the existence of gay people. Heck, the Tennessee state legislature has tried numerous times to pass a law that prohibits schools from even mentioning the word "gay." But honestly, where this Christmas carol is concerned, who out there other than Beavis and Butthead and perhaps others of that same maturity level really think "homosexual" when they're singing Deck the Halls?

Hallmark's original rationale for the name change was as follows: "When the lyrics to 'Deck the Halls' were translated from Gaelic and published in English back in the 1800s, the word 'gay' meant festive or merry," Kristi Ernsting told The Huffington Post in an email. "Today it has multiple meanings ... the trend of wearing festively decorated Christmas sweaters to parties is all about fun, and this ornament is intended to play into that, so the planning team decided to say what we meant: 'fun.'" She added: "That’s the spirit we intended and the spirit in which we hope ornament buyers will take it."

Thankfully, public reaction to this decision has been mostly negative against Hallmark, much to their surprise. The company updated its statement Thursday, saying it was surprised by the public's response and that it now realized it shouldn't have changed the lyrics.

"We've been surprised at the wide range of reactions expressed about the change of lyrics on this ornament, and we're sorry to have caused so much concern," the statement read. "We never intend to offend or make political statements with our products and in hindsight, we realize we shouldn't have changed the lyrics on the ornament."

That being said, they're still selling the ornament.

It reminds me of the time when the lyrics to The Flintstones was changed from "We'll have a gay old time" to "We'll have a great old time," when the cartoon was updated a bit to include the Shmoo. Come on, people.

But then again, it's the holidays. Everyone is always aggravated about something.

Cool cover song of the week...

While it's difficult to truly assemble a list of my favorite songs given how long I've been a music fan, one song that continually comes to mind when I think about tackling that task is Bill Withers' Ain't No Sunshine. First of all, Withers' voice is so resonant and rich (on this and so many of his other songs), and this song in particular is plaintive and mournful, yet I don't find it depressing in any way. It's just such a beautiful song.

Amazingly, Ain't No Sunshine was originally released by Withers as the B-side to another single called Harlem (remember B-sides?), yet disc jockeys played Ain't No Sunshine instead. In September 1971, it reached #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #6 on the U.S. R&B charts. Rolling Stone ranked the song as #285 on its list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.

I stumbled on this cover version of Ain't No Sunshine by a band called Silent Rider, and I can't get it out of my head. It's totally different from Withers' version and some purists may totally loathe it, but I think it's pretty cool and ethereal sounding.

Here's Silent Rider's version:

Here's a version by American Idol's Season 8 winner, Kris Allen:

And here's the master, Mr. Withers himself:

Check out my previous Cool Cover Songs of the Week:

Borderline by The Counting Crows

How Deep Is Your Love by The Bird and The Bee

Life in a Northern Town by Sugarland, Little Big Town, and Jake Owen

I Don't Want to Talk About It by The Indigo Girls

Only You by Joshua Radin

Pure Imagination by Maroon 5

I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by Blake Stratton

What a Fool Believes by Neri Per Caso

Poker Face by Daughtry

Back to Black by Ronnie Spector

I Will Survive by Cake

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by The Stereophonics

Rolling in the Deep by John Legend

Go Your Own Way by Lissie

Winner Takes it All by McFly

What a Wonderful World by Joey Ramone

Careless Whisper by Seether

I Walk the Line by Live

Dear Prudence by Siouxsie and The Banshees

Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm

Who Wants to Live Forever by Breaking Benjamin

Redemption Song by Chris Cornell and Audioslave

Love Me Tender by Chris Isaak and Brandi Carlile

All You Need is Love by The Flaming Lips

Lovesong by Adele

I Love It by Robin Thicke

Billie Jean by The Civil Wars

Across the Universe by The Scorpions

Can't Hold Us by Pentatonix

Wicked Game by James Vincent McMorrow

Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now) by The Postal Service

Jolene by The White Stripes

Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground) by Justin Timberlake

More Than This by Norah Jones

Royals by Mayer Hawthorne

I Can't Go for That (No Can Do) by The Bird and The Bee

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Punny Halloween costumes...

With Halloween coming tomorrow, my greatest challenge is avoiding the bags of candy I've hidden so I don't open them prior to the trick-or-treaters' arrival. And while I don't need a costume, I saw these on the web and couldn't resist sharing, in case someone is in need of inspiration...

Here go some of the "punnier" costumes you'll see:

Dust Bunny

Freudian Slip

Chicken Cordon Blue (It's okay to groan.)

Spice Girl (Hopefully you won't start singing "Wannabe" after this...)

And here's my favorite:

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Monday, October 28, 2013

Book Review: "Any Resemblance to Actual Persons" by Kevin Allardice

Failed child sitcom actor-turned-unpublished author-turned-frustrated college instructor Paul McWeeney has a bit of a problem. His older sister, Edie, aided by memories she has suddenly "recaptured" (or imagined, as far as Paul is concerned), has decided that their Hollywood writer father was the perpetrator in the famed Black Dahlia case. And worse than that, Edie has put her memories down on paper—and this tell-all exposé is about to hit the presses, released by the one publisher Paul has so desperately wanted to work with for years.

While the fact that Edie is about to expose their late father as a violent murderer is certainly upsetting, what is truly sending Paul off the rails is that his sister, who has never succeeded at anything, is about to get her book published, while Paul, whose agent has allegedly been shopping his two novels around for years, can't catch a break. So he does the only sensible thing—he writes a letter to the publisher to tell them Edie is utterly wrong and they should cease and desist from publishing her book or face legal consequences.

"I will disprove all of this. Our father did no such thing. My sister is not of sound mind, and this should disqualify her from having a book published."

Any Resemblance to Actual Persons is Paul's ever-growing missive to the publisher. But in his effort to refute Edie's claims, Paul takes us on a meandering account of his unsatisfying teaching career, his frustration about not being published, his brief stint as a sitcom actor in the mid-1960s, his relationships with members of family, his lack of romantic luck, and pretty much everything else that crosses his mind as it crosses his mind. In short, Paul is about as unreliable as a narrator as he claims Edie is.

As Paul becomes more frantic to debunk his sister's accusations, he becomes even more mired in his own issues—and a growing dependency on Ritalin and other substances isn't helping his increasingly manic nature. Then he realizes that the best offense against Edie's claims is to find the real Black Dahlia killer (despite the fact that the case has baffled Los Angeles detectives for more than 60 years). And he comes up with one doozy of a theory.

"It's just that the more I write, the more I realize there's more to write, since I know what I need to offer here is not simply a dry wrangling of facts: I am also a character witness, after all, someone who can attest to the honorable character of George McWeeney and the mendacious, attention-seeking character of Edie McWeeney."

Paul is a pseudo-intellectual who believes he's far more erudite and knowledgeable than anyone else around him. His letter (all 250+ pages of it) grows more and more rambling, panicky, paranoid, and difficult to follow, as he finds himself unsure whether the memories he's citing are his own, Edie's, or something he's written in his own fictionalized accounts of his life. Some of this is tremendously amusing, but after a while, you begin to realize that Paul is, well, a bit of a bore. As Paul's grip on reality becomes more and more tenuous and his narrative grows more and more feverish, I started to lose interest and focused more on my wondering just how Kevin Allardice was going to tie up the plot rather than what Paul was saying.

Despite its challenges, this is a tremendously unique concept, and Allardice is an excellent writer, as Paul uses five words where one would do. His use of language is impressively creative, and I look forward to seeing where his career takes him.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Movie Review: "All is Lost"

In my favorite movie of all time, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, after a particularly disturbing trip on the "Wonkatania," spoiled Veruca Salt turns to her father and says, "Daddy, I do not want a boat like this."

After watching Robert Redford as a sailor battling the elements all alone in All is Lost, I can unequivocally say, I do not want a boat like this. Or any boat for that matter...

All is Lost opens with Redford's character (listed in the credits only as "Our Man") dictating a note of farewell to someone, remarking that "all is lost," and apologizing. It's a bit of a downer. The movie then flashes back eight days earlier, as he wakes up on his boat somewhere in the Indian Ocean to find it has run aground of a wayward shipping container and sustained some fairly major damage. Water rushes in at a brisk pace, and although clothing, supplies, and equipment are ruined, through some ingenuity (as well as some burlap and glue), he is able to repair the hole and move away from the container.

But that's just the start of his harrowing journey. Although quite an experienced sailor, he faces furies of nature which leave him shaking his head, gasping for breath, fighting for his life, and honestly, wondering what next. Suffice it to say, after battling some colossal storms and sustaining irreparable damage to his boat, he winds up having to abandon ship and seek refuge in a life raft. (And no, he isn't accompanied by a tiger named Richard Parker.)

This is a movie about one man's fight against nature, a fight for his own survival. Redford is the only character in the movie, and he barely speaks—in fact, probably some of the most powerful scenes in the movie are conveyed through facial expressions, gestures, and grimaces. At 77, Redford's face bears all of the crags of age and the wind-beaten ruddiness of an outdoor life. He even does many of his own stunts. And he is powerfully magnetic throughout, whether battling storms or as his courage begins to give way to despair.

The movie reminded me a bit of Gravity in that both films mainly rely on one actor's interactions with the world around them. And much like that film, All is Lost suffers a bit from "what else can go wrong" syndrome from time to time, as just when it appears that Redford's character has found a solution to a problem, his legs are kicked out from under him again. But I felt the former film had a little more heart, because you had the opportunity to get to know Sandra Bullock's character a bit, while Redford's character is kept at an emotional distance from the audience.

I'll admit I wasn't quite looking forward to this movie because I didn't know how nearly two hours of one man lost at sea could hold my interest. It did, although I struggled a bit. It's a tremendously bleak story, and if you aren't familiar with sailing (which I am not), you won't quite understand Redford's actions at the start of the movie. But ultimately, his performance is so powerful, you want to see how he'll handle the next challenge thrown at him. (And if you see this movie, please let me know so we can discuss your interpretation of the ending.)

Needless to say, I'm in no hurry to get on a boat anytime soon...

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Book Review: "Son of a Gun: A Memoir" by Justin St. Germain

In Tombstone, Arizona, near the site of the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral is a plaque commemorating Frank and Tom McLaury, brothers who died in the gun battle. It says, "One owes respect to the living. But to the dead, one owes nothing but the truth."

In September 2001, Justin St. Germain's mother, Debbie, was shot to death in a trailer in Tombstone, apparently by her fifth husband. Debbie, her many relationships, and her murder were fodder for gossip among Tombstone's residents, and her death was also sensationalized by the media ("A real-life Old West murder mystery," one news network commented). But for Justin and his older brother, Josh, Debbie's murder leaves them with painful memories, unresolved emotions, and lots of questions.

Justin tries to understand why his mother, an intelligent, independent, feisty, former Army paratrooper, would enter into so many relationships with unstable men who abused her physically and emotionally, and some who even abused her sons. Why would she continue to repeat the same patterns over and over again, knowing she could never change these men, and probably inherently realizing she was on a self-destructive path? Why would a woman so fiercely loyal to her sons, willing to sacrifice everything for them, resign herself to her own unhappiness and potential harm?

For a number of years after his mother's death, Justin tries to build a new life for himself in San Francisco, away from the town where he spent most of his childhood watching and experiencing her dangerous relationships. But even after finding a woman he wants to settle down with, he can't get his mother's murder off his mind. He can't sleep without a gun or other weapon under his bed for comfort. And he still can't seem to get the closure he so desperately needs.

With no other recourse available, Justin returns to Tombstone to try and make some sense of the woman his mother was and the men she married. He meets with his former stepfathers to try and understand their relationships with Debbie, and tries to determine whether everyone missed the warning signs that could have prevented her death. And at the same time, Justin tries to resolve his own feelings for his mother, a woman he simultaneously loved and resented for putting him into so many volatile situations with so many men.

Son of a Gun is a very moving account of a young man's search for answers he probably knows he'll never find. Interspersed with some historical facts about Tombstone and Wyatt Earp, the book accurately describes the range of emotions felt after a loved one is murdered. This is quite compelling—you want everything to be resolved, to know what happened, even as you know it's impossible. Justin St. Germain is a very talented writer, and I hope that he'll continue writing in the future.

Cool cover song of the week...

What would 80s music have been without Hall & Oates? I can't even imagine. So many of their songs remind me of a specific place or time, and I honestly just loved Daryl Hall's vocal range. One of their hits was even on my first K-TEL compilation album (please don't tell me if you don't remember what those were).

I Can't Go for That (No Can Do) was the duo's second hit single off Private Eyes, and the fourth number-one song of their career. It held the #1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 for 10 weeks in late 1981/early 1982. VH1 ranked the song #6 on its list of the top 100 songs of the 80s, and according to BMI, this is one of 14 Hall & Oates songs that have been played on the radio over one million times.

Indie pop duo The Bird and The Bee released Interpreting the Masters Volume 1: A Tribute to Daryl Hall and John Oates in 2010. While there are a number of great Hall & Oates covers on the album, this one combines a little of the song's soul with a different, slightly twee twist that is the hallmark of The Bird and The Bee's vocals.

Here's their version:

Here's a version by Brian McKnight:

And here's the original. There's no touching this.