Blog Frog

http://sks.sirs.com/cgi-bin/hst-article-display?id=SNJ1316-0-8318&artno=0000262080&type=ART&shfilter=U&key=&title=Time%20to%20Tame%20TV%20Violence&res=Y&ren=Y&gov=Y&lnk=Y&ic=Y

This article is about how most parents believe that congress should make attempts to regulate violence on TV. Government regulation is, however, difficult in this case because violence in speech and other depictions of violence are protected under the First Amendment. Other arguments against government interference could be the true obligations of parents and the definition of violence. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) proposes that cable and satellite subscribers purchase the channels that they want, and not the channels that will make them feel uncomfortable.  

http://sks.sirs.com/cgi-bin/hst-article-display?id=SNJ1316-0-8318&artno=0000270774&type=ART&shfilter=U&key=&title=The%20Moral%20Cost%20of%20Video%20Games&res=Y&ren=Y&gov=Y&lnk=Y&ic=Y

The author of this article feels that the real problem with violence in video games is not the graphic depictions, but the lack of moral conscience on behalf of the player. The author hopes to broaden the debate on video games and concentrate on not only the short-term effects, like what is actually on the screen, but also the effects that playing video games have on self-control, values, and attitude.

http://sks.sirs.com/cgi-bin/hst-article-display?id=SNJ1316-0-8318&artno=0000266261&type=ART&shfilter=U&key=&title=Sex%2C%20Violence%20Cram%20TV%27s%20%27Family%20Hour%2C%27%20Study%20Says&res=Y&ren=Y&gov=Y&lnk=Y&ic=Y

This article is about how studies show how much sex and violence has increased on television in the past few years. The author states that the television broadcasters responded by claiming that the solution is “parental involvement and blocking techniques.” The Parents Television Council studied 180 hours of programming on six networks and found that moments consisting of violence increased immensely since the last study, as did sexual content.

http://sks.sirs.com/cgi-bin/hst-article-display?id=SNJ1316-0-8318&artno=0000270189&type=ART&shfilter=U&key=&title=Mind%2DAltering%20Media&res=Y&ren=Y&gov=Y&lnk=Y&ic=Y

This article is all about the effects that television and other popular forms of media have on the mind, especially the mind of a child. The author feels there are three types of effects that portrayals of violence have on the viewer: imitation, desensitization, and the “mean world” effect, where people feel more vulnerable after seeing images of violence. The author feels that the only thing that can be done about violence in media boils down to the individual choices people make, especially as parents.

I love movies. They are my first and foremost passion and without them I’m some kind of walking stick. I’m fortunate enough to work at a library which has literally opened up a world of new cinematic possibilities to me. A world of flickering black and white images, subtitles, and unconventional plot structures, but mostly pure joy and euphoria. It may be old news now, at least to the cinephiles, but small towns are a horrible place to see interesting movies. Being outside of the closest major movie market – New York – I can’t help but feel that I’m far, far away from all my celluloid dreams, even though we’re in the age of digital technology, and therefore, movies.

Smaller, so-called “indie” movies and foreign movies never get here. Ever. And it’s a bummer because the occasional swashbuckling pirate adventure or transforming robot super-flick tends to leave me cold. Every movie that I want to see is playing at one theater in New York, and every movie that I aim to aviod is playing at every theater within a good 25 miles of where I live. At least there’s still DVD’s, even if I prefer the magical, atmospheric experience of watching a movie with a large crowd. There’s just something about – it’s sexy and passionate knowing that everyone is experiencing the same thing as you, only in their own way. 

2007 was a good year for American movies, and with the heightening of the Writer’s Guild strike in Hollywood, this may be the last great year for American movies for a long time. Among those American movies, Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood and Todd Hayne’s I’m Not There were, for me, two of the very best.

“There Will Be Blood” ^

There Will Be Blood stars Daniel Day-Lewis as Daniel Plainview, an oil man in the late 19th century and into the 20th who strikes in a small town out West with his son, all while conflicting with the town’s fervent preacher and landowner (Paul Dano), family obligations, deceit, and his own corruption. It’s hard not to get overwhelmed at such ambitious scale: you can almost feel the greatness of the filmmaking burning through you. It will surely rank as one of the great cinematic achievements of this century, and Day-Lewis gives what is probably the most ferociously eccentric and powerful performances in recent years.

“I’m Not There” ^

I’m Not There, in which six different actors portray an “idea” of that cultural wonder known as Bob Dylan, is a vision/exploration/meditation/experiment/dream. It goes deep inside not only your mind, but Dylan’s, and takes all conventional and linear narrative designs and shuffles them up. It demands you give yourself in and leave behind anything you thought movies could do. Cate Blanchett, who plays one version of Dylan named Judd Quinn, proves, once again, why she is the best actress working today. The beauty I’ve come to realize about the film is that it answers no questions, and need it shouldn’t, or can’t, really. It remains as elusive as Dylan himself, and much like his music, it sets you free.

My other favorite releases of last year include, in no particular order, Ratatouille, Zodiac, The Lives of Others, Eastern Promises, Juno, Sweeney Todd, No Country for Old Men, Superbad, Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten, The Darjeeling Limited, The Simpsons Movie, Away from Her, Knocked Up, The Bourne Ultimatum, Sicko, and Year of the Dog – though I still feel unqualified considering the colossal amount I have yet to see, but will once time permits.

“Superbad” ^

My favorite performances include Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood, Cate Blanchett in I’m Not There, Julie Christie in Away from Her, Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd, Ulrich Mühe in The Lives of Others, Ellen Page in Juno, Philip Seymour Hoffman in Charlie Wilson’s War, Leslie Mann in Knocked Up, Michael Cera in Juno/Superbad, Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men, Viggo Mortensen in Eastern Promises.

I’m watching Goodfellas. This will be my very last post of 2007. I hope everyone is getting their kicks, relaxed and well, prepared to embrace the new year with an open mind. I actully don’t have anything particular to share, although I do think the lack of being in school and consistently trying to wrap my mind around certain things on the high school curriculum has eased the neurons in my brain. However, no school also means that I can look at different, probably more important things in a simpler yet deeper way. So technically, the very absence of skool haz mayd mee more smart. In the sense that I suppose I’ve stopped taking so much for granted, and I feel closer to my conscience.

I’m just rambling. I can’t tell if I like the commercials with the turtles or if I’m annoyed by them. Perhaps I’m putting too much thought into the wrong things, therefore contradicting the entire first paragraph. I also hope everyone had a delightful holiday, filled with eggnogs and misteltoes and sugarplums. Of course, I wouldn’t know much about that kind of stuff – being that my middle name is, of course, Scrooge, so humbugs are more my beat. Lately I’ve approached the holiday season with a sense of funk, because I’m dull and spiritless I suppose. Maybe ever since The Wizard of Oz I’ve been a bit afraid of the dangerous potential of trees, especially with their ability to attack in order to prevent humans from taking their apples, and so I’ve always been skeptical in terms of inviting them into our homes. And so that’s why I cut off all my tree’s branches.

Of course, I’m just kidding. Can’t you tell from looking at the glow in my eye? Oh that’s right, you can’t see me. That’s one reason why I resent online communities. Because they omit the awkward sexiness of eye contact. But I don’t mean that of edublogs. I’ve actually come to terms with this blog and I think our relationship is pretty solid. Maybe I’ll take this blog to dinner or the movies. We can go see P.S. I Love You (ooooh yeah.) Is it 11:00 already? I love how old people always make a comment about “the time going by” everytime they note the time. They always tend to say something like, “Oh boy, where did all that time go? The years, they’re going by so fast. I used to be your age until I slowly metamorphosed into this old, senile wrinkle.” Okay, so I’m sure you’ve never heard an old person say that, and neither have I. But that doesn’t mean that someone hasn’t. Some puckered pops in Minnesota has probably said that. And I hope he makes it out okay.

I hope we all make it out of 2007 okay. Take care and see you next year.

 Insincererly,                                                                                                                                                                                                    Tom

Looking back on the landscape of 2007 – the trends, the scandals, the personal misadventures and mistakes, one cannot help but feel something of an uncanny sense of ambivalence. Then again, I suppose that’s common regarding a year in retrospect. I don’t know about anyone else, but New Years’ is always a melancholic time for me: I feel like a NAVY Seal watching the battleship that he never got any sleep on sink. And maybe I feel like that because I dress like a sailor on New Years’ Eve.

And here’s another analogy: 2007 was like a giant, awkward, trying-so-hard-for-extravagancy-but-verging-on-mediocrity dance number. You look around to see if anyone really understands it but they’re just as aloof and confused as you are; caught off guard by its gaudiness and almost offended by how uncomfortable it’s making you. And yet, we all remain silently cavalier because the lack of coherence is too much to make sense of.

It’s actually funny how much we expect out of years, and how much we think we’re going to change, when really, it’s only the last digit of four numbers that changes. A year is merely a man-made method for organization, classification, and recording that has been used for no longer than a few, well, years. And yet, these four numbers control just about the entire structure and function of society. Without these numbers, what order does the world have? There’s nothing but chaos. Lately, it doesn’t matter what year it is: American politics will still be corrupt, celebrities will continue to make fools out of themselves, and the Internet will consume everyone’s lives.

However, I did have quite a few laughs in 2007. Perhaps one too many. And it seemed to hold together a little bit better than 2006. Here are, for me, the 10 things I enjoyed the most about the past three-hundred and sixty something days, now a mere memory.

10. The Bird of Paradise from the Discovery Channel’s Planet Earth. Never before have I seen a creature so subliminally surreal, and never before have I seen nature convey such a sense of behavioral rejection as this Bird clumsily and beautifully displays.

9. Juno. Jason Reitman’s new movie starring Ellen Page as a pregnant teenager who seeks an adoptive couple and love is smart, quick, witty, and very funny. It is also a warm and generous film about how we cope with being ourselves and communicating with others. Its cheerful spirit reminded me of how heavy movies aim to be these days, and how lightness can connect an audience in a bubble of pure delight.

8. Kurt Vonnegut: R.I.P. Wise, funny, and humane. His collection of essays in his last book A Man without a Country about art, politics, humor, and people is like a revelation of common sense, wit, and honorable human decency.

7. New York City. Fond memories of running through a bus terminal (twice), desperately searching for a towed-away car, and meeting a favorite comedian, among other adventures, are for keeps, just like the city has always been.

6. Judd Apatow. Because he’s changing the mechanics of comedy on screen and because Knocked Up, which he wrote and directed, and because Superbad, which he produced, made me laugh harder than anything else at the movies this year.

5. Driving. Very cliché, but let’s face it, getting your license is the most liberating event in your life and if I had to suffer my mother’s nagging in the passenger seat one more time, I would not be writing this. Nor would I any longer have a soul.

4. The Summer. Usually not my favorite season, but it must have done something right. Once again, the freedom speaks for itself, and I assure you, without those broken chains, I’d be a real bull with nothing to offer but my horns.

3. Ratatouille. By far the most imaginative piece of animated art I’ve ever seen, as well as an overwhelmingly gorgeous visual feast that involves every sense. There’s not much more I can say about this except that it transcends anything that even aimed at trying to pleasure this year.

2. Pauline Kael. Because her lyrical use of words and the way she structures her sentences are just about the closest any writing I’ve read has come to a great piece of jazz, or any great piece of music for that matter. Her film criticism is the biggest influence on my writing and a day without reading it would feel like an empty day. Her writing is the only criticism that makes the reader feel a deep sense of gratitude for the vernacular, and I suppose a “thank you” would be the only way of expressing that gratitude.

1. Steve Martin. His brand of stand-up in the ‘70’s is the biggest influence on my comic perspective of the world, and his career as performer, actor, and writer is one in which I could only hope to one day emulate. From his first two comedy albums, Let’s Get Small and A Wild and Crazy Guys, to his classic Tonight Show act, “The Great Flydini,” to his movies, to his pieces in The New Yorker, to his new memoir of doing stand-up, Born Standing Up, his life in show business has, at least for me, set an ultimate standard of a performer and an artist’s consciousness.  

Other Reasons why 2007 wasn’t such a labyrinthine bummer:

David Fincher’s movie Zodiac, J.P. Donleavy’s book The Ginger Man, Tina Fey and her show 30 Rock starring the hilarious Alec Baldwin, The Simpsons Movie, Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road, The Kinks, Dan Perjovschi, David Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises, the Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men, and Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd, which are just about the bloodiest, most violent yet deeply engaging movies I’ve seen in recent memory, which seem to validate that notion that when we laugh it is an automatic response to our own mortality, and in those cases, other peoples’ gruesome mortality.  And, of course, Creative Writing.

 (For a sweet video of the Bird of Paradise, shimmy up this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kBg_LxS9E0)

Of course, all I really want for Christmas is a pony, but I don’t think I’ll be getting that. Which is exactly why I’m asking for a Hummer, a Jaguar, a jaguar, a new iPod, a new iPhone, a new iRazor and a new iToothbrush. An iToaster would be nice. Oh, and of course that electric, high-resolution, multimedia, high fructose, digitally-advanced, micro-instant, super-downloadable, giga-pillow that I’ve always wanted. And a silver spoon. But that’s it! That’s all I need. And world peace. And the new album from The Conformist Consumer Zombies, my favorite band ever. And anything else the mass mainstream culture can produce during the holidays that may tickle my fancy.

But seriously, I know if I tell you guys what I really want you’ll completely drop everything and go out of your way to get it for me, which is why I will remain silent. But if you do happen to venture off to the almighty metropolis of magnificent, meandering, multifaceted moral malaise that may be the mall, pick me up a pair of socks, a book, and a snow shovel. And world peace.

I find that my life is a consistent series of phases. Some last longer than others, some last not long at all, and some don’t even seem to go anywhere. Right now, I am in a phase that is interested in a giant stew of things – from the movies of the great French director Francois Truffaut, to David Bowie, to The Kinks, to African tribal music, to the art of David Hockney and blueberries. But next week, it might as well be a different phase.

Perhaps the phases we go through are a direct response to a specific mood which in itselt is merely a subconscious reaction to a particular atmosphere. I wonder if the fact that we’re slowly approaching the holidays (oh who am I kidding, we’ve been there since November 14th,) has anything to do with my mood, and therefore, the mood requires a certain look, or sound, or taste, or overall feeling and experience of the mind.

Maybe hearing Christmas songs and seeing the decorations brings back fond or melancholic memories of childhood, and my mind and heart balance out and conjure up a desire of a certain kind, but which is also based on all of my experiences that have led up to the phase I’m going through now. But how could my childhood Christmas memories lead to “Ziggy Stardust”?

I’m sure none of you understand what I’m saying but I suppose what I’m really trying to say is that our interests are something that are constantly changing and evolving, which means we as people must be changing. Sometimes, I find, I’m surprised to return to an interest that has left me for a while, and I respond to it differently than I did the first time, which means that I must of obtained some new knowledge that I hadn’t acquired last time, which means that I’m still growing. And we never stop growing. We’re constantly learning new things and developing and adapting and becoming more resilient and flexible. And after all, the mind is a terrible thing to waste.

But language is also music. – Francois Truffaut in L’Enfant Sauvage (The Wild Child.)

Hello Dolly,

It’s the end of the world as we know it. We keep spending most our lives living in the gangsta’s paradise. Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting. Turn and face the strange ch-ch-changes. The times, they are a–changin’. This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius. It’s a small world after all. And I think to myself: what a wonderful world. A whole new world. Walk this way – to a deluxe apartment in the sky. Come and knock on my door, I’ll be waiting for you.

Billie Jean is not my lover. I love you, I honestly love you. I love you just the way you are. I can’t see me lovin’ nobody but you for all my life. Love is all around, no need to waste it. All you need is love. Can you feel the love tonight? For as long as I know how to love I know I’ll stay alive. The love shack is a little old place where we can get together. What’s love got to do with it? Jungle love: it’s driving me mad, it’s making me crazy. Take another little piece of my heart now, baby. If I only had a heart. You’re so vein, I bet you think this letter is about you. I wanna be sedated. No woman, no cry.

I believe I can fly. Do you believe in magic? Why don’t you come with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride? Relax, don’t do it, when you want to go to it. Don’t worry, be happy. Take a sad song and make it better. New York, New York, Georgia on my mind. California dreamin’ on such a winter’s day. The stars at night are big and bright: deep in the heart of Texas. Baby, I was born to run. Born free, as free as the wind blows. ‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky.

Goodbye,
Ruby Tuesday

P.S. – I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.

Let me begin by saying that I know I have not written anything on my blog in quite a few days, so forgive me for seeming rusty. Secondly, it is increasingly difficult to get access to the computer when your father is madly obsessed with internet poker. You can stand anywhere within the perimeter of my property, and can hear when he has a royal flush. And yes, I realize using the term “property” somewhat makes me sound like a snobbish upper-class Brit. Language is a tricky concept.

These are some important things I’ve learned in my 17 years on Earth. By the way, today is something like my 6,244th day alive. And no I won’t calculate the minutes.

1. A Chia Pet is a horrible gift for a bald man. Or woman.
2. That I am not as scared of a spider in a large parking lot as I am in, let’s say, a broom closet.
3. “Are you having a mid-life crisis or are you just happy to see me?” is a terrible way to joke around with your friend’s dad.
4. Just because a woman goes by “Mrs. Robinson” does not mean you should joke about her seducing you.
5. That not every person in High School has seen The Graduate, and therefore, may not get the joke above.
6. That someone in the world makes a living out of mixing denture paste. Probably.
7. Jumping around is a great way to express yourself.
8. That old ladies sometimes need maps that lead to the grocery store entrance.
9. That owls really aren’t interesting in estimating the correct number of licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
10. That a lantern is not the same thing as a finger warmer.

A short conversation:
A: “I like U2.”
B: “Me too!”
A: “You too?”

Something I heard a girl once say in the hallway:
“We’re the most stupidest people I know.”

Next week on Blog Frog: Tom’s friendship with Tom takes a serious turn for the worst. Meanwhile, Tom’s lawyer, Tom, is killed in a bullfight, and Tom rescues a cat from a burning dog house. Also, Tom struggles for survival as he remains locked in a fully stocked Wal-Mart. Alone.

I find myself in a plight, coming to the inevitable and wholly depressing conclusion that I am completely devoid of unique ideas to splatter over the canvas that is my blog. I’m afraid to report that I have turned into, among many things and above all, a very lazy individual. I’ve also become a terrible hypochondriac and a brilliantly miserable procrastinator to the point of pregnant-woman hysterics and border-approaching insanity. And when those things aren’t busy consuming my well-being, a vast spectrum of school, work, family obligations, nagging friends, and turkey-infested holidays get in my way. But now, my path is clear, and I have these precious yet far too fleeting moments to further provide the intricate, forever growing web of cyber-options and electronic, gigabyte powered super-downloads with some thoughts of my own.  

I figured since I’m currently experiencing a scarcity of inspiration, partly due to my will to not feel like doing anything, I will write about the tiny little things that all come together collectively to give my life a sense of purpose. Those wonderful little things that inspire/influence/instigate me in any way, shape, or form. And henceforth, I embark on this perilous journey into recent memory… 

Well for starters, I suppose I should name the people responsible for my choice of future career: Steve Martin, especially his first two comedy albums, Let’s Get Small and A Wild and Crazy Guy. Woody Allen and his 1960’s nightclub comedy, not to mention his 1971 appearance on The Dick Cavett Show, also not to mention his movies, one of which inspired the idea for this post. George Carlin is perhaps the single reason why I consciously decided I wanted to be a stand-up comedian. Not to mention Demetri Martin and Steven Wright and Zach Galifianakis and Richard Pryor and Conan O’Brien, among others.  

In terms of the cinema, I love the movies of Robert Altman and Alfred Hitchcock and Francois Truffaut and Federico Fellini and Wes Anderson and Jean Renoir and Alexander Payne. I love the cartoons and covers of The New Yorker magazine. I especially love the visually singular colored-pencil drawings of Saul Steinberg and the hilariously dark, often cruel but always clever cartoons of Charles Addams. Not to mention the quirky, insightfully oddball drawings of Roz Chast. And also the scribbled drawings of Dan Perjovschi, which are always a surfeit of social and political commentary. They are all art that, for me at least, are just as and if not more genuinely sublime than anything by Titian or Rembrandt.  

And as far as music goes, the following are songs that, more recently, I have listened to rather profusely: “Car” by Built to Spill, “I’ve Seen All Good People” by Yes, “Winter’s Love” by Animal Collective, “Saint Simon” by The Shins, “3^rd Planet” by Modest Mouse, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” by Wilco, “No Cars Go” by The Arcade Fire,  “America” by Simon and Garfunkel, and “Stephanie Says” by The Velvet Underground. But music is something that is constantly changing, like energy. Writing never fails to excite me. One sentence can make me appreciate a writer for an extended period of time. I find that Pauline Kael consistently has this effect on me. As does the writing of J.D. Salinger, F. Scott Fitzgerald, J.P. Donleavy, Cormac McCarthy, Jack Kerouac, Kurt Vonnegut, Franz Kafka, and once again, Steve Martin, whose new memoir of doing stand-up comedy I  read quite rapidly.  

This post will self-destruct in 5 seconds…