I know a guy who lies. All the time. About really big stuff, about his past and his job and his schooling and the famous actress who hit on him last night. He’s egregious about it, spinning the kinds of yarns that almost dare you to look him in the eye and say “You’re full of shit.”
This article in the New Yorker about suspense writer Dan Mallory reminded me of this dude I know. Mallory tells the same kinds of lies that this guy tells, the big sweeping kind. About cancer and dead parents, about personal heroism and personal sacrifice. Liars like these are destabilizing, because they call into question everything you know about them. I would sit across from this guy at lunch and he would tell me about things that were happening in his life and I wouldn’t know if he was shoveling shit or not. Some people can deal with that – I have to imagine that by now everybody he knows is aware he’s a liar on a pathological level – but I can’t. It’s too disorienting, and that was before he told some whoppers about me.
Continue reading “Lying Liars And The Lies They Tell”
I have a little dog. He’s a barrel-chested, bow-legged little white weirdo with an Orc-like underbite and a wonderful, friendly demeanor. He’s a rescue; he was found on the streets of the San Gabriel Valley wandering alone, and I adopted him from the good and kind people at Good Dog-Dog Talk. I named him Oliver Reed because he sort of looks like the Werewolf of London, and also because he drinks a lot and gets into these unstoppable humping fits.
Oliver is a good guy, and he’s my best friend. He’s the sweetest dog you could hope to meet; I stopped taking him to the dog park because rather than run with the other pups he would cuddle up with the other owners to get and give love. I was taking him there for exercise, not to two-time me! Oliver just wants to get pet and to cuddle up with you. He loves everybody.
But there are some things he just hates. He flips out over certain things – he flips out over bigger dogs, for instance. He loses his mind when motorcycles ride by. And this morning he went fucking berserk on his morning walk when the big street sweeping Zamboni came down my block. He was barking and jumping in the air, almost flipping over as he hit the tension point on the leash. Here’s this little dog (he’s 16 pounds but should be like 12. I know, I’m a bad dad) trying to KILL this one ton metal monstrosity going down the street.
Continue reading “My Dog Vs The Street Sweeper”
This week we all saw the sorry spectacle of a group of MAGAt teen bullies surrounding a Native American elder as he was doing a ritual chant at the Indigenous Peoples March in Washington DC. The kids, decked out their red hats of hate, were surrounding and harassing the man, and the video is a shocking and disturbing look at the worst that is happening to our society today.
It’s worth noting that the story remains in flux, and as I am writing this there is a longer video that shows a group of Black Israelites may have actually riled everybody up in advance. As a New Yorker I am very familiar with how Black Israelites – a religion whose more public, fringe members tend to be anti-Semitic black supremacists – will yell offensive stuff at people as they walk by; this doesn’t let the MAGAts off the hook by any means, but I do think it’s worth noting that the situation was complex and fluid and the result of the collision of a number of forms of hate, in the middle of which Nathan Phillips found himself trying to de-escalate things.
But I’m less interested in talking about what happened before the start of the video we’ve all seen on our feeds non-stop these past few days and more interested in how we reacted to it. This, I think, is where the really instructive stuff happens. After all, we cannot control how other people behave, as much as we wish we could (we’ve all had that thought, “If I ruled the world for just a day things would be much better!”). We can only control how we react to things – or rather how we respond to them. In turn how we respond has a ripple effect that plays out across our social networks, through our families, through the people we encounter every day.
Continue reading “Nathan Phillips Teaches Us Bravery In The Face Of Hate”
When Patrick Swayze’s Dalton shows up at the hospital with a gaping knife wound in his side (in a spot similar to where Christ was speared by the Roman soldier. HMMMM…), Kelly Lynch’s Doctor Clay prepares to stitch him up. She asks if he would like a local anesthetic and he turns it down.
“You like pain?” she asks him.
“Pain don’t hurt,” he replies.
At first blush this sounds like lunkheaded macho bullshit, like a lot of what you find in the movie Road House in general, but it’s actually profound. And it’s deeply wise. It’s just some of the wisdom that Dalton displays (“Nobody ever wins a fight,” said in the same scene, is pretty great as well, if undercut by the whole entire motion picture).
Continue reading ““Pain Don’t Hurt.””
I watched an episode of Tidying Up With Marie Kondo last night and it was… fine. I like these kinds of shows, and I get emotionally entwined with the people who are having themselves/their homes made over. I wept through both seasons of the new Queer Eye (which, by the way, really impacted my understanding of post-Industrial Revolution broken masculinity, and is a subject I’ve been taking notes on for the past year). I like watching all home makeover shows. I like the little dramas, and I like feeling inspired to take action in my own life.
But watching this show I suddenly realized something I had missed before, and it was the subtle way that shows like this reinforce really bad messaging about change, and how it works. It’s the exact kind of messaging that leads to people getting discouraged and dropping their New Year’s Resolutions, by the way.
At the end of the episode, after a few days of decluttering and tidying, this gay couple in WeHo sat down to discuss how this experience changed them. They both said they were dramatically altered, that their approach to life and emotions had been forever rejiggered, and that they cherished their now-tidy home. And I was suddenly struck with the thought “This is bullshit.”
Continue reading “The Danger Of Makeover TV, or, “These Pants Don’t Fit Anymore””
For years Yoda’s famous advice to Luke Skywalker on Dagobah vexed me. “Do or do not, there is no try” always struck me as fatally reductive, and too results-oriented. It felt less like spiritual wisdom and more like corporate motivational drivel.
In fact, the phrase calls to mind Nike’s “Just Do It” slogan, center of one of the most famous ad campaigns of the 20th century*. But as is so often the case with stuff that gets printed on motivational posters or superimposed on images of ladies doing yoga on the beach and then shared on Facebook, there’s true wisdom in there. You just gotta get past the bullshit to see the beauty.
Continue reading ““Do. Or Do Not. There Is No Try.””
This contains minor spoilers for Netflix’s Black Mirror: Bandersnatch.
I’m in the minority on Black Mirror’s Bandersnatch interactive episode – I find Charlie Brooker’s anti-humanism increasingly tiresome, and out of place in a world that desperately needs positivity*, and I also think that the meta-within-meta concept is student-level stuff and not half as clever as it thinks it is – but I was intrigued by the way the episode approaches the concept of free will. Free will is one of the underpinnings of our modern society – we all operate under the assumption that we have it, after all – but it’s less clear cut than that.
The usual free will debates are free will vs destiny, which fall into the theistic realm – destiny is a supernatural concept that requires some kind of a guiding force. But for the past few decades the real debate has shifted inward, to the self, rather than outward to God or the Fates or whatever. It’s possible that we don’t have free will because we are, essentially, robots whose programming allows us to justify the actions we are forced to take as choices we make.
You see this in Bandersnatch, as Stefan becomes slowly aware that he’s not the one making the choices in his life. In the context of the show this is a fourth wall break, but it read to me as being quite close to some of the stuff I’ve been learning about the human mind in the past couple of years, and that is quite close to research that has changed the way we look at the world and our place in it.
Continue reading “BLACK MIRROR: BANDERSNATCH And The Illusion Of Free Will”
Perspective is everything. Like in the picture above – using forced perspective, Peter Jackson was able to have Elijah Wood and Sir Ian McKellen together in a scene where one is hobbit-sized and the other human sized without resorting to computer trickery.
I think about perspective a lot when I’m driving. I don’t have a big car, so when I’m on the highway (and thanks to my commute I’m on A LOT of LA highways), I usually can’t see beyond the car in front of me. When traffic is being a pain in the ass I’ll get annoyed at the person in front of me, blaming them for the slowdown – get off your fucking phone!, I’ll think to myself – but when I get into the other lane I’ll get a new perspective on the situation. Sometimes the slowdown is for sure because of the guy in front of me, but sometimes there are extentuating factors.
Here’s one that happened a couple of weeks ago: I was mad at this SUV in front of me, just trundling along in the fast lane while other cars were whizzing by in other lanes. When I finally got an opening I pulled to the right and sped up, and as soon as I did I saw that the SUV was in fact trapped behind a big, slow-moving Lincoln. So I sped up to get a look at the driver of the Lincoln, and maybe give them a bit of stink eye or pull in front of them to remind them what a real driver does on the highway.
It was a little old lady in the Lincoln. Maybe six hundred years old, hunched over the steering wheel in that posture that indicates she’s sitting on a phone book in order to be able to see out the window.
Continue reading “Change Your Perspective, Change Your Life”
When I was a kid the movies saved my life. I grew up in a single parent household with a mother whose emotional neglect bordered on abuse; I suffered from an undiagnosed anxiety disorder and the parts of my brain that were not broken operated so differently from the other kids that I had a hard time making friends or forging any connections. I found a lot of solace in TV and comics and books, and on TV I began watching movies, which our local stations ran all weekend and after school and late at night. Then I began going to the movies, to the little Main Street Twin (which now somehow has like eight screens), and eventually I took the train into Manhattan to see older and weirder movies. VHS opened the world up for me, and it was off to the races from there.
The movies offered a refuge and an outlet, they let me dream and hope. I was a troubled, poor kid from Queens who couldn’t have been farther from the movie industry, but in that world I saw meaning and in those movies I saw my fears and my dreams reflected back at me. I was so alone all the time, but not when I was watching a movie.
I spent all of my free time immersed in movies. Eventually I spent ALL of my time immersed in movies, making an unlikely career out of them.
Continue reading “The Movies Are Still Saving My Life”
It’s the most wonderful time of year: the time when people show up on social media to fight for the idea that Die Hard is a Christmas movie. The thing is… there’s nobody to fight. Nobody really DISAGREES with that position; at most people like me respond to “Die Hard is a Christmas movie!” arguments with “Sure… okay. Whatever. I guess.”
This comes to mind because I saw this tweet from a friend of mine:
And I thought it was very funny, but also very true. And not just true about Die Hard As Christmas Movie, but about all things in our lives.
Continue reading “Nobody Cares That DIE HARD Is A Christmas Movie”