It's been a while, my friends. I apologize for nothing.
Let's get started, shall we?
As the haul from Christmas gets sorted into piles, I am once again inundated with media. Hooray! It's hard to get away from it, considering my friends and family know how much I enjoy books, music, and movies (and conversely, how much I distrust my friends and family to purchase clothes that I might actually wear. The comedian Jim Gaffigan put it best when he noted if he gets clothes he doesn't like, he won't return it; he'll throw it out: “Oooh, you got me an errand for Christmas.”). It's equally hard to get away from it considering that I ask my family for books and movies.
But I like books, movies, and music. And I will share that “like” with you.
First up: Stephen Colbert's I Am America (And So Can You!). Any fan of the show will enjoy this continuation of Colbert's perfectly executed satire of any conservative talking-head on cable news. The book uses irreverence, stupidity, and parodied bigotry to provide a “hand-book” for the 21st Century American.
An Anti-Communist Manifesto, if you will.
It's incredibly amusing. One feature I particularly enjoy is his use of annotations and foot-notes to provide comedic commentary. Too often under-utilized in any entertaining and/or commercial text, it also gives the book the air of a pseudo-scholarly piece, thus perpetuating the “ludicrousness” of his words even more. It helps, too (at least for me), that these asides are usually puns.
What surprised me was that there was still material to delve, here. You would figure that, even with all the wonderful nonsense Conservatives serve up on a daily basis, eventually we'd reach the point where we have to go: We get it! Mission accomplished, Mr. Colbert! But this book has enough originality to remain fresh and laugh-out-loud funny.
However, there is one thing that bothers me: the preponderance of gay-jokes. I'm not offended by the jokes, because I know it's simply an extension Colbert's alter-ego. What I'm offended by is the lack of creativity. Here's the thing: My friends and I go to the gay-joke well (and the mom-joke well – essentially the same aquifer) all the time, for the most part ironically, but even more so because we tend to be uncreative (somewhat taking away from the irony). The big thing is though, that my friends and I are not professional comedians. Hell, I'd be willing to admit that many of my friends are the opposite of professional comedians (which might make them torturers or onions – you know, making other people cry). Therefore, I would expect a professional like Stephen Colbert to not dip his bucket in such a dried up well (when I pay for a joke, I want it juicy).
Some of the gay-jokes are funny, though. Makes me wonder if they'll be so funny when I'm burning in hell (which, after all the “flamer” jokes would be the ultimate irony, eh?)
I believe I've mentioned a little television program called “Futurama”? Not only was it one of the best cartoons ever, I would go out on a limb and say it was some of the best television, period. What it did in its four short seasons was combine the wackiness and intelligence of “The Simpsons” with the creativity and heart that was unique for a show of its kind. Whereas the “The Simpsons” had some sweet episodes (generally Lisa-driven) and “South Park” showed a social-conscience, “Futurama” decided to give its characters a humanity that was oddly opposed to the fact that many of the characters actually weren't human. One would think, given the futuristic, science-fiction setting of the show, that there would be a consistent zaniness that would override any sort of emotion. And yet, the writers and producers are aware enough to play on the fact that the main character, Fry, although enjoying his time in the year 3000, is still someone a thousand years past his own time (and thus past his family and memories). If you want to watch a show that will make you laugh and cry, watch the “Jurassic Bark” episode. If it doesn't move you, then you are a cold-hearted bastard.
The reason I'm writing about “Futurama” (a show that was canceled 4 years ago), is because the DVDs are all out. If you have the time, watch them on their own, and then go back and watch them with the commentaries. The three voice actors who consistently show up – Billy West, John DiMaggio, and Maurice LaMarche – are genuinely funny people, and even though they may not be commenting on the show you're watching (which is why you should definitely watch the episode first), they pretty much double the comedy on the DVDs. And David X. Cohen, the executive producer, is really funny too – while providing interesting insights about the making of the episodes.
More importantly: “Futurama” is back! Kind of. What I mean is that a new “episode” (which is really movie-length), has been released on DVD, and it was everything I had been waiting for. Titled “Bender's Big Score,” it's not the funniest “Futurama” I've ever seen. In fact, the beginning is almost pathetically sophomoric, going after juvenile jokes, almost as if the writers had a hard time getting into the rhythm after the long hiatus. But as the movie progresses, the show gets its legs back underneath it, and before you know it, we're back where the show left off: smart and funny science-fiction. The commentary, too, is fantastic.
I hope, of course, that this will be the beginning of getting this show back on the air with new episodes. For now, I know there will be three more straight-to-DVD movies, and I will be waiting breathlessly.
Okay, I'll probably breathe.
Richard Ford is one of those authors I had heard of only recently, and was surprised to find out that he's kind of a big deal. Pulitzers tend to do that for authors. So I decided I'd give him a shot and, as I usually do in situations with unfamiliar authors, I went straight for the jugular. I figure, if its an author I'm supposed to read, I might as well read that persons seminal piece, in Ford's case, Independence Day.
I was slightly disappointed that no aliens battled Will Smith for the resources of Earth.
What I wasn't disappointed by was how Ford was able to turn 450 pages of a rather boring story, and keep my interest the entire way through. And, it is boring, perhaps purposefully so. Independence Day is the story of Frank Bascombe, a man who epitomizes “mid-life crisis.” While not going crazy with a ridiculous car or younger woman (although he does flashback to a time when he spent a year in France with a med school student), he has clearly come through the traumatic experiences of his son dying and getting divorced with a radically changed philosophy.
In an odd way, he reminds me of Ron Livingston's character from Office Space – nothing really fazes him anymore. He is content to be content, moving through the part of his life Ford constantly points to as the “Existence Period.” It is almost depressing, seeing this lonely man live out a weekend of phony connections, and yet I have no sympathy for him, nor do I think he's asking for any. Bascombe is not, in any way, a loser (making the Willy Loman comparisons from some of the cover-copy disingenuous). Rather, he's man who is relatively successful economically, has a beautiful lady-friend, enjoys his job (despite people constantly denigrating it), and is excited for the time he will spend with his troubled son and the holiday in general. All in all, things are generally looking pretty good for a guy who, in 1988, is looking at a troubled economy and unsure political future.
What really impressed me was that, despite it's firm setting in an era that we are long past, I had no problem connecting with the story. For one thing, Ford is not shy about going all expository on us, interspersing dialogue with dense essays about Frank's beliefs and exploring the meanings behind the places and events going on around the characters. For another, Bascombe is funny in a way that makes us laugh with him, and not at him. Maybe it's the wrong impression, but I connect with him and enjoy him. His is an American life, but he isn't dragged down by it as so often movies and literature want us to believe is our natural condition. He is a father who isn't set up as being entirely at fault – his ex-wife, Ann, shares a great deal of the burden for the family's problems. Bascombe is, then, atypical of the American Man as such a being is often portrayed.
Frank Bascombe is a guy who moves past his flaws and, ultimately, learns from them. And if that isn't great writing, then maybe you should stop reading this blog.*
*Please don't stop reading this blog.
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