The Artful Blog

7 more days on this phase...

2010-07-22T10:05:00.002-05:00

and I am down 32 pounds.

THIRTY

TWO

POUNDS!

My clothes are baggy...I am beyond the last notch on my belt and need to consider getting another one. My shorts sag below my butt to the point where I look like some sort of weird Indian gangsta rapper (somehow, those three words just look ridiculous next to one another). The most important thing is that I am still not hungry! I have my morning tea and eat my meager lunch and dinner without feeling hungry. Last night, it was 7 PM before I finally forced myself to get up and make my dinner (and this is on 700 calories per day). Next Friday, I will celebrate my first day of dietary freedom by dining at Girl and a Goat, but I think that I will still have food components on the mind. At least I will be able to eat 2000 calories, but this once in a lifetime reboot of my metabolism will likely have me tentative in terms of what I choose to eat.

The one thing I have not considered is the expense of new clothes (ok, now I am being snarky). But you have to understand-all of the weight gain happened between law school and now. None of my suits fit at...all. As for alterations to make them fit, they would still be too baggy for me to wear. I need new clothes.

OK-the last 7 days should be easy. I'll report the final weight loss amount in 7 days.

The First 10 Days are HIstory, so what result?

2010-06-28T14:02:00.002-05:00

So the first 10 days are down, and so am I. According to the bathroom scale, I am down 11 pounds. I really am losing about a pound a day, and i am doing it the right way (reduced fat and carb meals and very careful attention to my total daily calories). I think that the idea of rebooting my metabolism at my age is intriguing. I mean, science tells us that once you cross your early twenties, your metabolism starts an irreversible slide wherein your system is less adept at burning off food. Most things automatically go into long term storage. It is almost as if our bodies replicate the way most of us live life. You know-early on, we have nothing. We gradually acquire things and slow down as we get more and more content. Similarly, our metabolism in our youth is easy able to process food correctly provided that the right type of fuel is being fed into the system. As we get older, however, things just seem to...stick around...unless we go through the effort to burn it off. I think that I also just needed a reset button. After 5 years of eating poorly and putting off my own reset until "tomorrow", I woke up one day and decided that enough was enough. I hoped that I could just flip a virtual switch and turn on my will power, but having a real eating plan made all of the difference. I know what I need to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. I have my fridge stocked with so many choices for my meals that I never find myself merely grabbing a bag of chips or ordering out for a pizza.

The hardest adjustment has been going out with my friends. I never realized how much I used to eat and drink before! The ones I have told have been extremely supportive of my efforts and proud of the fact that I am sticking with it. At the same time, I think back to all of the social events I attend-almost every one of them revolve around drink and/or food. I am also a foodie and love fine dining. These things, when coupled with a sedentary lifestyle, have played havok with my physique. One of the more humorous side effects is the amount of money I have been saving by not going out and eating and drinking.

I still have 30 days to go, but if I can still continue creating new and interesting meals, these days should fly by. Last night, I had a sea salt and pepper crusted sea bass fillet that was amazing. I can't wait for dinner tonight.

Back Again...and Something to Blog About

2010-06-24T11:11:00.002-05:00

You know, when I was younger, this whole exercise/weight loss thing was a lot easier. I used to eat what I wanted and never really gain a significant amount of weight. When I was studying for my doctorate, I had a lot of time in between experiments and spent a lot of that time in the gym. It got to the point where I was working out so much and watching my diet with so much attention that I was able to compete (and place) in some natural bodybuilding competitions. The constant maintenance, however, was too much for me. Over the 12 years since that time, I have literally ballooned in weight. It really did creep up on me. I can trace it back to when I had a job that was heavy on travel. Instead of doing my hour or so in a hotel gym and eating carefully, I reverted to bad food habits (getting fast food to go and then eating in my hotel room in front of the TV). When I started law school, I found all sorts of excuses not to work out (class, studying, meetings, etc.) and also, all sorts of excuses to indulge in the law school diet of fatty foods. Things did not get any easier once I started my job, for now I was sedentary for 10 hours a day. My only real exercise was getting up to get lunch!

About 2 months ago, my financial advisor turned me on to a weight loss program that he said was perfect to jump start my system. No, this is not a commercial for that program. In fact, I am going to keep the name of the program secret for the next 35 days. My blog will be an account of my journey on this program. Once day, I want to look back and read about this (hopefully 30 lbs lighter!). Come along for the ride if you like.

I started the program on June 19th. I have been very strict and not cheated at all during these first 6 days. The wonderful thing is that, though I am restricted to 600 calories a day, I am not feeling hungry. The hunger pains were always my major limitation, and when they used to arrive, I would shovel in anything that would make them go away. I haven't missed the sugar and fat that I have given up, and I am thankful that this diet is also serving to reboot my system by detoxing my poor organs. My new scale arrives today, and I am kinda nervous. I really should have weighed myself before the start of the diet, but oh well. Now I look forward to seeing the daily changes. I'll start to report daily weight loss (or lack thereof) as it happens.

The End

2009-07-26T21:59:00.004-05:00

When I started this blog 4 years ago, it was intended to update friends and family on the details of my life as a law student. As time went on, the blog adapted, becoming part movie geek/nerd site and part storytelling site recounting my various adventures around Chicago. As time has progressed, I have suffered a certain loss of anonymity. I did not mind it, as most of the people who read my blog were friends of mine. At the same time, this lack of anonymity has kept me from sometimes opening up about my innermost thoughts and feelings.

During the last month, I have been absent from the blogsphere as I dealt with life as an attorney, a civil litigator in the field of intellectual property law. As my free time reduced itself by leaps and bounds, I noticed that I had to give up many of the things that I enjoy (some tv, video games, etc). At the same time, I realized that the blog could not serve its purpose as a web diary, for there were numerous times where I found myself editing my content for fear of hurting the people who might be reading. The problem, then, was that I was not being honest with myself, and I am a person who values trust over all else. Remember: "to thine own self be true."

I have a new blog site for myself. It is open to all (if you can find it), but I intend to keep this one a secret. I still will welcome anonymous feedback, but this is something I need to do for myself.

The funny thing is that I had written a very long and detailed account of my week at San Diego's ComicCon International show, but sometimes things pop in one's personal life that make one reflect on the bigger picture. I need to focus on that picture and get some of my thoughts recorded in anonymity. I started today, and it has been quite cathartic. I have a long way to go, however.

So thank you, dear readers, for keeping up with me. You were the reason I persevered. Maybe you will find me again.

In the meantime, read The Namby Pamby.

Sincerely

the Artful Blogger

In Honor of 40 Years Ago Today...

2009-07-20T10:14:00.004-05:00

This is a short update, but I wanted to share with you what was REALLY going through everyone's mind when Neil Armstrong took his famous "leap" 40 years ago today.

Click on the photo to embiggen and read the article. You will laugh. Trust me.

A Brief Respite

2009-07-13T08:52:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the brevity of the post, but I just wanted to announce the fact that I am, indeed, still alive. After months of dutifully updating my blog on a weekly basis, I have fallen off the wagon. However, I intend to rectify the situation this week. There is a lot of ground to cover, but as I am at work and have a full day ahead of me, that ground will have to wait until later tonight.

The Artful Dad

2009-06-21T14:40:00.003-05:00

He was born in Kerala but moved to Kolkota at a very young age. His childhood was spent running with his friends along the shores of the Bay of Bengal, skipping rocks on the water and watching the people all around him. In his memories, those are some of the happiest. Shortly thereafter, due to his parents' desire to travel "unfettered and free", he and his older sister were shuttled from relative to relative for the rest of his childhood. These relatives never treated him as part of the family; even minor infractions were met with severe corporal punishment. At heart, he was a sweet and gentle soul. Such treatment at the hands of people who are supposed to love you might have stomped out such a characteristic from most boys, but he took them as lessons on how not to treat people. His family was poor yet descended from the line of a minor king. Many of his relatives were wealthy and chose to flaunt that wealth in the face of the poor little boy who did not even have parents who wanted him around. He formed some friendships among his schoolmates, but every time he formed such friendships, he was shipped off to yet another relative.

He yearned for real affection, but as a result of his childhood, he became a bit of a loner. His parents reentered his life as a teenager, and he set about trying to please them as much as he could, playing the part of a dutiful son in an effort to earn their love (something that a son should NEVER have to do). He wanted to be an engineer, but his mother told him that his future lay in medicine. He dutifully followed his mother's wish and enrolled in medical school, earning medals for excellence. After completing his medical school education, the time came for placement in a residency program. Rather than paying a bribe that would ensure that he received a very cushy assignment at a top teaching hospital, he refused and was sent to a remote mountaintop village. He learned to love his life there, as the villagers were appreciative of his presence, and he was able to form friendships with many of them. Upon being accepted to a master's in surgery program, his father sent for him and told him that it was time for him to be married. He did not want to be married and told his father this, but his father told him that dutiful sons listen to their elders. He acquiesced.

Now, arranged marriages in India vary from region to region. In his home state, eligible bachelors were brought by their parents or other "head of the family" to the home of the parents of the prospective bride. The BRIDE would say whether or not she liked the groom, and that was that. On one occasion, the young man was taken by his uncle to the home of a prominent lawyer. The lawyer's daughter was completing her own medical education and was of marrying age. The young man was not interested and told his uncle that he had no intention of marrying a physician. The uncle did not want to insult the lawyer and insisted that his nephew accompany him to the house. When they arrived, the lawyer's daughter took notice of the shy, quiet and intelligent young man and noticed his gentle manner. She fell for him at that moment. Unfortunately. the reverse did not seem to be the case. Her father told her that the young man had no intention of ever marrying a doctor. She grew sad, but she would not allow this to get her down. Over the next year, the young man made several visits to her home to visit with her father, her cousin (another woman who was of marrying age), and her. The young man spent a lot of time talking to the cousin, and the young woman figured that that would be a match. Her father insisted that she get married soon, and she told him that if she could not have the young man, she did not care WHO she married. Her father set up a match with an engineer.

One night, the woman was working on her clinical rounds and was told that a "Dr. Artful" was on the phone for her. She was puzzled but took the call.

"Hello?" she said.
"Hi," the young man said. "Someone told me you were getting married."
"Yes," she replied. "to an engineer."
"But I thought that WE were going to, " he responded.
"Going to what?" she asked, still very confused.
"aaah...ummm.." the young man hemmed and hawed. " I thought that we were going to marry each other."

Her heart stopped. WHAT? The arrangements had already been made with the other family! And yet, the man of her dreams was back into it. She did the only thing that was logical. She fussed at him.

"You have been visiting our home for a year and never said anything!" she said.

"I know," he replied. "I was getting to know you. You were yourself when you were not trying to catch my eye, and I wanted to get to know the real you."

"But you said you never wanted to marry a doctor!" she countered. "I will NOT give up my career to marry you. You know that, right?"

"You are the exception to the rule-in so many ways. I did not want to marry a doctor, but you changed my mind. I only want to marry you." he said.

"You picked a fine time to say this! The arrangements have already been made!"

"What do I do?" he asked.

"Let me talk to my daddy," she replied. "We will be getting married. I will see to it. In the meantime, let your family know of this."

She immediately called her father, and after much melodrama and threats of suicide, her father acquiesced to his daughter's wishes.

And the young man? What was it about this woman who turned his head? He had been a loner up until this point, never seeking out or receiving honest affection. What he saw in her eyes was a kind soul, someone who he could see being by his side for years to come. He saw someone who would love him unconditionally and saw his children in her face. After a lifetime of denying that he wanted affection and desired the happiness that comes with finding one's soulmate, he could not deny his own feelings.

They were married and moved to the United States, leaving behind his family that never wanted him and the life that gave him so much unhappiness. He became a successful physician and an amazing husband and father. To this day, he is a kind, gentle, and affectionate soul who is all about giving hugs, smiling and laughing when his wife and two boys are around.

Last night, Grace and I attended an AMAZING performance of "Fiddler on the Roof", starring Chaim Topol as Tevye, the role he made famous first in London's West End and then in the Academy Award-winning film version. It also happens to be the favorite musical of the Artful Dad. As I watched Tevye sing "If I were a Rich Man", I saw Dad chafing at the teasing of his rich cousins and being made to feel insignificant. When Tzeitel begged her father to break off the match with Lazar Wolf, I saw the Artful Mom doing the same thing when the Dad made his affection for her known. And, most poignant for me, was the performance of "Do You Love Me" by Tevye and his wife Golda. You see, my parents still sometimes gently sing this to each other even after 43 years of marriage.

This morning, on Father's Day, I called to regale him with stories about how wonderful the musical was and how much I missed him. He asked a lot of questions about it (Did he tell the joke about the chicken? Did they have horses on the stage? How did they do the train station? How did Topol look?) and he was as excited as I was. At the end of our conversation, I told him how much I wished he had been there to watch it with me. He grew quiet, and I could almost see the smile on his face as he whispered into the phone "me too."

It is so hard to believe that I have such an amazingly loving father when I consider the lack of love he received as a child. I am glad that he had the fortitude to persevere through his hard childhood and not let that change the fundamentally wonderful person he is inside. Whenever someone tells me how much I remind them of my Dad, I take it as the highest compliment one could give me. You see, if I become 1/10 of the man my father is, I would consider myself to have lived a successful life.

Happy Father's Day, Artful Dad.

Second Post Today: Strange Search Term that Brought Someone to My Site

2009-06-18T13:05:00.003-05:00

OK, so one of my favorite posts was the one about my Mom. It turns out to be a popular post, as I have noticed on my tracking meter that quite a few people have read it.

So today, I was looking at the visitor stats and found that someone from India had clicked onto the story.

Awww, I thought to myself. Maybe someone has a similar story concerning their mother as well. That is awesome.

...until I discovered the google search terms that led them to my site:

"Only Stories that Indian Mom Became Pregnant by Her Own Son."

WHO THE HECK WOULD ENTER A SEARCH STRING LIKE THIS???? That was NOT what my story was about, but apparently it turns up in Google search because it has the words Indian, Mom, pregnant, and son as part of the overall story.

There are some deranged people out on the interwebs...

And All I Wanted Was a Free Movie...

2009-06-18T09:10:00.005-05:00

I love movies. I watch them, I analyze them, and I (subjectively) criticize them. Those of you who have been reading my site for a while know that my love for movies is great. For example, even during the summer of the bar (also known as last summer), I made it a point to see every single big summer release leading up to and including "The Dark Knight" in IMAX (ONE WEEK before the bar).

I can pretty much deconstruct my love of movies into two categories: 1) Great Spectacle and 2) Artistic Filmmaking. In fact, just by knowing the name of the director, I can usually discern which of the two categories a particular film might fall into. Michael Bay, the "auteur" of "Transformers"? Spectacle. I am only going to see "Transformers 2" for a chance to see an IMAX-sized Megan Fox...er... Optimus Prime (yeah, that's it) battle with Megatron. Ridley Scott? A toss-up. His brother, Tony Scott? Spectacle. Michael Mann? Well, here there is a bit of both. Mann started his career as a writer on "Hawaii Five-O", the quintessential cop procedural of the 1970s that had, as its main character, a tough as nails Dirty Harry-type cop with a brain named McGarrett (what a great detective name). He went on to create the quintessential cop show of the 1980s (the one that defined "gritty") in "Miami Vice" and "Crime Story." "Miami Vice", it should be noted, launched the career of Dick Wolf, the show runner for the later seasons of "Miami Vice". Most people now know Dick Wolf as the creator and mastermind behind the "Law & Order" franchise, but Mann gave Wolf his first start. Michael Mann left television and became an acclaimed feature director, starting out with "Manhunter", the original film adaptation of Thomas P. Harris's first Hannibal Lecter novel, "Red Dragon". He then went on to direct Daniel Day-Lewis in "The Last of the Mohicans" and really found his stride with one of the best crime films ever made (in my opinion), 1995's "Heat", based on the true story of Chicago thief extraordinaire, Neal McCauley. Transporting the story to Los Angeles was a stroke of genius, as the viewers were treated to AMAZING night visuals of LA. I grew to appreciate Mann's eye for photographing a city at night. His skills were on display more recently in the under appreciated "Collateral" and the similarly under appreciated "Miami Vice" motion picture. No one shoots a city at night like Michael Mann.

Obviously, I am a fan of the Mann. Last summer, I was excited to find that Mann was location shooting his next film here in Chicago, a film called "Public Enemies". It was the story of John Dillinger and the cop who tracked him down. Think "Heat" but in the Roaring 20s. Johnny Depp stars as John Dillinger and Christian Bale as the cop trying to stop him. Great stuff.

So this brings me to last Saturday. I was visiting a movie website that I frequent, and I noticed a contest for an advanced screening of "Public Enemies". The film is due to be released on July 1, but I could not pass up an opportunity to see the film...for FREE...2 weeks before that. I entered the contest. The contest required the entrant to write a 75 word paragraph describing their favorite movie gangster. This is what I wrote:

Favorite Movie Gangster: Sung Tse-Ho as played by Ti Lung in John Woo's "A Better Tomorrow"

Reason: Ho was my introduction to the antihero archetype of John Woo's HK gangster films. The character grows tremendously throughout the course of the first 2 "A Better Tomorrow" films and shows human traits of loyalty, remorse, and anger that lead to bloodly retribution when those close to him are threatened or killed. This showing of humanity in a gangster's guise allowed me to sympathize with the bad guys and root for Ho and Mark's success.

I won the tickets, and I was excited. And then I learned something else. Both Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are scheduled to attend the screening (what with it being the Chicago premiere and all). And, more important to me, is the fact that the Mann himself will be there. So while my friends squeal about Johnny Depp being in town, I am more excited by the chance to meet this most talented filmmaker.

And to think-when I entered the contest, all I wanted was a free movie...

The Struggle for Hours

2009-06-15T22:24:00.003-05:00

The billable hour is the bane of the existence of most civil attorneys. In order to HONESTLY bill the requisite 8.5 hours per day, an attorney usually must work 10-12 hours per day. Now, as one gets more efficient in one's work, the number of total hours that needs to be worked decreases until one can almost work an 8.5 hour day and bill for 8.5 hours. Until that point, however, younger lawyers (especially first years such as myself) struggle to to work diligently on projects while taking care to bill clients ONLY for hours that have been put into their specific projects. Of course, I am not going to knock the amount of hours that I have to work (well, not much). My firm compensates me quite well for my work. However, when I think of the actual amount of money that I get paid in relation to the salary that I am paid, the benefits appear to be less and less. There have been too many canceled plans with friends and loved ones and more than my share of working weekends.

I have reached the halfway point of my first year as an attorney (well, billable year, anyway). My firm's requirements for hours are 2000 billable hours (not too bad in a world where 2300-2800 per year is not unheard of, especially in the current economic climate). Today, I realized that my current workload is extremely light. I was worried. Though I know that, with the oncoming deluge of litigation I would again be busy, what was I going to do in the meantime? How would I make my hours? It was this fear that prompted me to tabulate the hours I have worked thus far. The result? So far, in 6 months, I have worked 1100 hours (billable).

Sweet.

What that means is that I am 100 hours ahead of pace. That equates to TWO WEEKS OF VACATION?

Yeah, I am done sweating my light workload for the rest of the week.

Namby, break out the 20 year old Macallan...

UPDATE:

A meeting today with the partner in charge of a big case (one that will engage me for years to come) pulled the trigger on a lot of activity. My chances of me billing my minimum hours TWO MONTHS IN ADVANCE just went way up. This will teach me to complain and worry about hours....

Stolen Lines #5

2009-06-08T21:32:00.003-05:00

Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?*

What a silly question-of course I had. It all started with my distrust of friends. With as many friends and acquaintances that I have now, it is hard to believe, but at one point, I trusted no one. The story is an old one-one of betrayal that, even now, some 22 years after it all happened, I still have problems writing about it. I had a best friend in school. We were both awkward kids trying to find our own way, but he and his family were always kind to me. They invited me to evenings a the local dinner theater and the various fish fries that would occur. We became very good friends. He was my first and closest buddy. I never flinched telling him about my worries, hopes and dreams. We talked about girls and the ones we were interested in. We talked about school and the changes that would occur once we were in the real world. We also talked about college and how we would still be best friends. Both of us were part of the gifted program in high school. We were in all of the accelerated courses together and, through most of high school, we were in academic competition with one another. I suppose it was that competition that proved to be too much for him.

I still remember the day of the betrayal. I was summoned to the principal's office. Apparently, someone had witnessed me cheating on a Government test. Really? I thought. That was odd. Government was one of my best classes. Why would someone think that I cheated? Nevertheless, the accusation was enough to put me on trial in front of the Honor Council. I was nervous-this was kind of surreal. At the trial, I was sure that I would be acquitted-I mean there was no evidence! This was too much.

And then my best friend showed up and told everyone there that he saw me change the answers on a test after it had been turned in. I was in shock. That had never happened. Yet, he was there bearing false witness. This was completely out of left field. I felt short of breath-my shirt felt tight around my chest. Just the other day, we had been making plans for after a running meet. Why was he doing this?

Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?

At that point, I realized that I could trust no one. I would spend the rest of my life alone and would drive people away just so I would not have to live through a betrayal like this ever again. I had my revenge, of sorts. All of this happened during my 10th grade year. I went back to school as an 11th grader, and though I had been acquitted, whispers followed me around school.

"Artful is a cheater...no wonder he does so well on tests...the teachers should watch him...I mean, his OWN BEST FRIEND knows...cheater..."

Those were some of my darkest days. I had no one in my corner. I remember being depressed and I remember the emptiness of my school existence. I just put my shoulder to the grindstone and soldiered on. I did pretty well that year, and eventually the whispers died down. My former friend had taken all of our mutual friends with him, and I was left alone.

And then a funny thing happened-the first day back for my senior year, I was notified that I was one of two National Merit Finalists from our school. There was no cheating one's way to THAT! I also started taping the high school football games, and as payment, the principal gave me the BEST PARKING SPOT IN SCHOOL-a visitor's space right in front of the building. Fall gave way to spring, and I found that I had been accepted to all five of the schools that I had applied to. I was being invited to some of the football parties. I was letting people get to know a version of me...but not the real me...for as people were extolling my virtues and letting me know how glad they were to finally get to know me, I knew that they were not learning about the real me. At the same time, I took a small measure of pleasure in the fact that I was in the "in crowd" while my former friend was on the outside looking in. At the same time, this was all just superficial. I was counting the days until I could escape to college.

The first semester of college, I stuck to my guns and tried to maintain my independence. I was not a nice person...no...scratch that...I was an ASSHOLE. I now recognize it for what it was-a defense mechanism designed to drive people away from me and keep myself safe from getting hurt. It seemed to work pretty well. I never saw my actions as those of an asshole, but in retrospect, I cringe over some of the things that I said and did. The night that it all changed is something that is etched in my memory. I was in bed while others in my suite in the dorm were outside my room. They did not know I was in the suite. I could hear them talking...and the conversation turned to me and what a jerk I was. I started. That was never my intention-I never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings; I just wanted to be left alone. When my roommate came in, he was shocked to find that I was there the whole time. I felt horrible, but I told him that it was not nice that people said things behind my back. He asked me what did I expect? I had reached the point where my reputation at school was in danger of being permanent. He then asked me...

Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?

I started. The problem was not with my former best friend-it was with ME. He will always have his shallow pathetic life, but that is no reason for me to have the SAME! My roommate (now one of my lifelong friends) and I spent the better part of the rest of the night talking. The next day, I took the step of finding everyone in my dorm suite and personally apologizing for my attitude and word of the previous six months. I knew that one apology would likely not be enough, and I intended that my actions would speak louder than my words. It took some time, but by the time my college years ended, I had made great strides and enjoyed many friendships. Since then, I have made a lot of friends, and the people who know me can attest to the fact that I am always ready with a smile on my face, a hug, and, where needed, a good glass of wine and a sofa for conversation.

Still...sometimes my mind goes back to the events of high school and the patience that my college roommate showed in giving me another chance. Where would I be had he not done that? Likely, I would be alone and would not have the blessings of so many friends and acquaintances who care about me. I made a conscious effort to change everything that night, and though it is hard sometimes, I still make an effort to be open and honest with the people that I meet. Of course, I always run the risk of getting hurt, but without risk, there could be no reward-and the rewards have vastly outweighed the hurt over the years.

*I stole the first line of this post from the play, Betrayal, by Harold Pinter as part of Grace's Stolen Lines series of blog posts.

Notes from Happy Hour at the Artful Blogger's Bachelor Pad

2009-06-05T17:03:00.005-05:00

Date: 06/04/09

Attendees: the Alleged Lady and the Namby Pamby (and two others). Daisy and the Esquirer were ensconced watching their beloved Red Wings lose to the awesome Penguins (heh heh) and Grace was otherwise occupied, so it was just the four of us.

Fun notes:

1) Namby was exhausted from his adventures of the previous evening (read no sleep for Namby). He and the Lady arrived at the same time, and they immediately wanted to see my new Denny Crane chairs. What are those, you may ask? Well, in the television show "Boston Legal", the characters Alan Shore and Denny Crane would close out each show sitting in amazing Italian plastic patio chairs that looked like easy chairs, smoking cigars and drinking Scotch. Yes, I purchased my own pair of these chairs for my balcony. After looking at (and experiencing) the chairs, Namby went inside to make himself a drink, and the Lady called for him to make one for her as well. Namby proceeded to make a dirty vodka on the rocks (Belvedere + olive juice) for the Lady-or so he thought. He was adding Bombay Sapphire gin to a martini shaker, and I asked him what he was doing? "Oh, making the Lady's drink", he proclaimed. "The Lady asked for Vodka, Namby", I replied. Namby looked at me quizzically and then nodded. He corrected himself and decided to make a gin and tonic for himself. At this point, one might assume that he simply poured the gin from the martini shaker into a glass and added tonic. One would be wrong. Namby proceeded to add tonic water to the shaker and SHAKE IT UP (cue song from the Cars).

Tonic water, as Namby soon realized, is carbonated. Cue gin and tonic carbonation explosion all over my living room.

Yes, the suave, debonair Namby Pamby was COMPLETELY out of it yesterday.

2) I put out an assortment of cheeses, fruits, and nuts. I tend to go overboard on my cheese trays, and I have a fondness for softer cheeses and some firmer Goudas. As my guests were remarking on the wonderful textures and flavors, the Lady offered this bon mot:

"I only really like them when they are REALLY HARD AND REALLY SMELLY."

Namby and I snorted (after all, at heart, we both have the sense of humor of 12 year olds).

"That's what she said."

3) Because he lives in the burbs, Namby has taken to occasionally crashing in my guest room. Unfortunately, on those occasions, he has failed to bring changes of clothes and...ah...undergarments. This has led to at least one occasion with Namby asking to borrow my underwear.

Yeah.

Anyway, on this occasion, I told Namby to remember a change of clothes for the next day. Namby showed up with a new shirt, a fresh box of underwear, and fresh socks. Because he left early enough to catch a train, he did not need them, but he proposed leaving the items at my place for future nights in town. So now-Namby has a drawer in a dresser in my guest room. I think that I feel a little uncomfortable with that. The Lady, of course, found this all hysterical.

4) The Lady kicks butt on the drums (when she does not drop the sticks), guitar, AND the microphone on Rock Band. Namby, on the other hand, made an admirable effort but was coordinationally challenged with the instruments (although, to his credit, this was his first time playing the game's instruments). Namby does, however, know how to belt out a tune.

5) Near the end of the evening, Namby proposes watching the film Iron Man, a film that the Lady had not watched. I set it up and we settle in to watch. Namby asks for more wine, and I provide it. He then promptly falls asleep.

6) The Lady and I agree that "When Harry Met Sally" is the best romcom out there. Namby feels it is "Love, Actually" and that "Notting Hill" is a close second. I think that Namby has an unhealthy infatuation with Hugh Grant.

I cannot wait for the next gathering.

Tips on Getting Tips from the Artful Blogger

2009-05-27T16:37:00.004-05:00

We have all been there-dining out with cheapskate friends who think nothing of running their waiter or waitress ragged and then neglects to leave any tip or-much worse-leaves something akin to loose change, believing that such monies pass as acceptable tips. I always cringed when I witnessed their actions. Wait staff (well, most of them, anyway) work hard for their money. They carry the food, bus the tables, refill our drinks, and bring us our check. They also listen to our myriad of demands for changes within the dishes that we order. In my life, for the most part, I have been lucky in that I have had good service when dining at restaurants. At the same time, I must mention that I am courteous and polite to the staff, never ordering them around or barking orders at them. They are people to and deserve the same respect that I would give my supervisors at work (something that the Artful parents instilled in me). The same goes for when I ride in cabs. For the most part, I am polite to my cab drivers and engage them in conversation about Chicago sports, whether it is a busy night for them, and what the tourists are doing in Chicago on a particular evening. As with wait staff, I am usually pretty generous about tipping in cabs.

In both cases, however, I have noticed that there are times where I really DO NOT WANT TO TIP ANYTHING. Poor service by itself is inexcusable, yet we have been conditioned to automatically tip for wait service and for cab service. So here is my list of "dos and don'ts" for wait staff and cab drivers for getting good tips from me:

Wait Staff:

Refill my drink with stealthy skill. If my soda is constantly being replenished in a manner where I do not notice the staff, that is amazing. These skillful individuals ALWAYS get an excellent tip from me.

Stop by to see if everything is OK with the meal. Do NOT just save these visits for when we JUST get the meal-at that time, we have not had a chance to partake and determine if everything is to our satisfaction. Check back periodically and do not disappear for long periods of time.

Pay attention to the needs of your customer. This Monday, my brother and sister-in-law took me to dinner to thank me for taking care of their awesome dog Pepper for the week (I really miss the dog now). While there, my sister-in-law wanted to order dessert to go, and we settled on an ice cream concoction. The waitress assured us that it would be packed and would make the 10 minute trip to my place with ease. She dropped off the dessert...and disappeared. No check came out. We waited for 5 minutes..then 10 minutes...then 15 minutes...at which time she stopped by our table to drop off our check. She then proceeded to disappear for ANOTHER 15 minutes-knowing that we had FREAKING ICE CREAM for take out. She should have been more aware-it is not that hard to close out a check and come back to check on payment. Epic FAIL for her.

Cabbies:

CLEAN YOUR CABS. Nothing is worse than being stuck in a cab with the windows shut with a cabbie who has not bathed since 1998. I am talking NAUSEATING. Either that or make sure the windows are rolled down....no, just bathe....PLEASE.

DO NOT TALK ON YOUR PHONE-I do not care if you do not talk to ME so long as you just pay attention to your freaking job! You have one thing to do-get me from point A to point B safely and efficiently. Remember that!

Get there faster. You might think that you are pulling one over on me, but I know my way around Chicago in whatever state I may be in. Last night, I met the Namby Pamby out for drinks after work and haled a cab to get home. After I gave the cabdriver my address, he proceeded to turn left and head towards Michigan Avenue. At that point, I knew that he was NOT getting a good tip, for there is another street that he had to CROSS where, if he had taken it, I would be home much faster, as that street has 1/4 the number of lights and twice the speed limit. Furthermore, the cabdriver made his way gingerly through the streets in an OBVIOUS bid to catch some RED LIGHTS. Umm...no, I am trying to get some place as fast as possible. DO NOT PULL THAT BS ON ME. At one point, we were behind a car in the left lane and the right lane was open. By this time, I was HOT. I knew this guy was trying to gyp me and I said, out loud, "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!". Amazingly, the cabdriver rediscovered the gas pedal and zoomed all the way home. Nerts to him, though. Rather than the $3-6 tip I usually give based on speed of travel, he was allowed to keep the 50 cents left over when I handed him $7 for a $6.50 bill. AND he did not drop me off in front of my building near the door (2 car lengths away).

For those of you who need a laugh

2009-05-21T09:47:00.002-05:00

Grace posted this video a while back, but it still never ceases to make me laugh out loud. Enjoy!

My Stolen Lines #4

2009-05-17T21:43:00.003-05:00

Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking*

This is what it all came down to. 7 years in Baltimore, toiling for less than a living wage, trying to unlock secrets of the human genome and training myself to be a scientist. 7 years being summed up in a single one hour seminar given before the entire department, a question and answer session to follow with my dissertation committee.

I had come so far, yet I was frightened. As I drove into work, I started talking to myself:

Artful, you know more about this subject than ANYONE else in the room. You are an expert! You are the man! You are...completely pathetic and all by yourself. There is no one to celebrate with you when it is over. You are going to get into your car and drive to your best friends wedding. Jesus Christ...I have spent my 20s in school and have no one, and my best friend is getting on with his life and marrying the woman of his dreams. Where did the time go?

It has not SEEMED like 7 years. I remembered coming to Baltimore intending just to get my Masters as a stepping stone to going to medical school. I remembered moving to Baltimore right out of graduating from UVA and living in a dormitory a hop, skip and a jump away from Camden Yards.

When I first came to Baltimore, I remembered that I was amazed by the quality of individuals in my program. These were hardcore scientists, and I never felt that I measured up. Over time, however, I learned and became more adept at "doing the science." I mastered the fine art of immunohistochemistry, cell culture, and PCR. I KNEW the science backwards and forwards with my project.

My project...that in itself was a long road taken. Originally, I was looking at Peripheral Arterial Disease in the elderly and using a real patient population for my studies. I remember running people through stress tests and measuring their peak VO2. I remember administering resting metabolic rate tests to these individuals and learning how to take a blood pressure measurement manually while someone was on a treadmill. I remember meeting one of the best people I have ever met, someone I have since lost touch with-a very good friend. I also remember the day when my mentor lost his funding-2 years into my research. I had to start from scratch all over again, and I chose to go molecular.

The lab I chose was a good one, but the week before I joined, my new mentor lost his lab assistant of 9 years-the assistant had committed suicide. My mentor to be would never be the same after that. I became the de facto lab head, trying to work on my PhD while running the lab. I became frustrated, as I saw others in my department actually being trained and graduating while I was stuck in the lab. I was doing good work, yet my mentor never thought it was enough. I remember the day when I finally said ENOUGH! I scheduled a committee meeting, and at the end, one of the committee members told me that I was ready and I should write it up, My mentor was stunned, and I was elated.

I went on interviews for postdocs and accepted a position in Chicago so that I could be closer to my brother, who was starting his own fellowship. I was scheduled to move a month after my dissertation defense. I was scheduled to defend in September.

And the day before my defense, my mentor pulled one more cruel trick on me and said it was not good enough. I screamed to the heavens that night. WHY? I had endured so much. I had suffered. I had run the gauntlet, yet I was denied the last bit of satisfaction. I ended up moving in October, and I had to schedule my defense again. I remember the anticipation and the fear as if it were yesterday. I was staying at a hotel in town, and I had a rental car. The morning of my defense, I looked over my slides over and over again as I wolfed down breakfast. My stomach was uneasy, yet I knew that I would need my strength. I then got into my car and started what I hope would be the last drive I would have to make to campus.

Feeling both empowered and terrified as I drove into work, I looked up at the sky and started talking.

I went over my notes and then cursed the sky for putting me in this position. Where had the time gone? What happened if I did not pass? Would I have to move back here and start anew? Would I ever be able to go on with life? I felt so alone.

I arrived on campus and made my way to the seminar room. The seminar room was packed with members of the department. What I also noticed is that a lot of my friends were there, people who made the trip back just to support me. They took up the front rows of the room so that they could act as a line of defense for the hard questions. One of my best friends told me that if I was faced with the tough questions, I could look at her and she would nod her head in a gentle manner to assure me that I was doing fine.

I then gave the talk of my life. I do not know what happened, but I OWNED THE ROOM. Every snarky question that was asked by a faculty member was deftly met with sound scientific answers. My mentor even grudgingly had to admit that I had passed. The battle-no, the WAR-was over. I had done it. I had my PhD. I would always have it. I had not given up and fought the good fight. I was DONE WIITH SCHOOL (ok, maybe not).

Now, as I look back at those years in Baltimore, I cannot help but have mixed emotions. It was so much a part of my life-7 years in the same city meeting so many different people. Four of my best friends, 2 serious girlfriends, summer nights at the harbor, in Fells Point, in Canton, or in the mountains, winters spent struggling with the snow and the ice, never giving up and never surrendering my goal.

Since then, I have not gone back to my school. There are too many painful memories associated with it. Still, we all are the sum total of our life experiences. I would not be the person that I am today if I had not gone through my Baltimore experience. I would not have the friends I enjoy or my godson who currently resides in Florida. I knew moments of insane happiness and sadness in Baltimore. But the one thing Baltimore gave me that I have never experienced since and will likely never experience again was the high of seeing all of the signatures of my committee members on the dissertation passage report sheet. I HAD DONE IT! That is a high that made it all worthwhile, the only accomplishment in my life where the end was nowhere NEAR anticlimactic.

*I Stole the first line of this post from Stay Tuned, by Jennifer Weigel. This is part of Grace's ongoing Stolen Lines Experiment.

An X-Rated conversation with the Namby Pamby

2009-05-13T11:11:00.003-05:00

The setting: my car

The occupants: me and the Namby Pamby

The scene: driving north from Downtown Chicago for a sushi dinner with the Alleged Lady, Grace, and the Dirty Hippie

Cue scene:

Artful and Namby are driving through Namby's old neighborhood on the way north. Artful is behind the wheel and Namby is commenting on the sights and sounds.

Namby: "This was where my Jewel (a local grocery store) used to be."

Artful (trying to be witty like Namby. but failing miserably): "The Jewel of the Nile?"

Namby: "Where is that from?"

Artful: "Umm..the movie? "The Jewel of the Nile"? Sequel to "Romancing the Stone"

Namby: "That's where it's from!"

Silence, as I try to come up with something more witty. Then...

Artful: "I think it is also the name of a porn star."

Namby (laughing loudly): "Artful, you really are knowledgeable about all films!"

Now, keep in mind that I have NEVER frequented an adult theater, but I continued on, driven by Namby's laughter.

Artful (emboldened by Namby's laughter and trying to make it continue): "Yessir-nothing beats a good nudie theater. I mean, the soft focus, the soft seats..."

Namby: "Premoistened, of course..."

Artful: "Of course! and all the free tissues that you need...everyone there for the same purpose, a brotherhood of sorts. One giant circle jerk."

Namby (shouting and laughing with glee): "HA!! CIRCLE JERK!"

When uttering the words, Namby failed to realize that 1) he was shouting, as he does often and 2) the windows and sunroof of the car were open. These realizations slowly dawned on him when he looked to his right after shouting "CIRCLE JERK" and saw a woman in a car with her windows open, looking at the two of us with open disgust and turning away as Namby waved his fingers to her and sheepishly said "Hi!"

Seriously, I cannot make this stuff up.

Star Trek: The Review

2009-05-08T20:02:00.004-05:00

10 minutes.

That is all it took for JJ Abrams to make a believer out of me.

10 minutes.

Let us set the stage for my viewing of Star Trek. IMAX? Check. Perfect seats? Check. Enthusiastic crowd? Check. Worries? Check.

Why worries? Well, as I said in my earlier post, I grew up on classic Trek. The Next Generation was during my college and grad school years. I had read of how Abrams was making wholesale changes to canon, and that worried me. You see, he had attempted something similar with Superman a few years ago in which Luthor morphed into a survivor of the planet Krypton and Superman had all sorts of strange new powers.

Yeah, I know.

So as the lights dimmed, and the never ending parade of production company logos played out across the screen, I waited, anxiously. The giant IMAX screen was filled with the images of Abrams interpretation of a Starship bridge. There was no indication of when these events were taking place. We found out that we were on the bridge of the USS Kelvin. Business as usual is going on until a massive lightning storm anomaly appears in front of the ship. An enormous ship emerges from the anomaly-a great black hulking monstrosity with tentacles of metal reaching out towards the smaller ship. Immediately the Kelvin is under attack-an AMAZINGLY dynamic space battle. Gone are the days of slow moving models on strings with hit or miss phaser shots from the various banks. In this version ,the camera was dynamic as it swooped and turned around the space battle. However, as cool as that was, what caught my attention early on was the human component of the story. Within the first 10 minutes, Abrams introduced us to 3 characters who we honestly cared about and developed an emotional connection to before things changed for them forever. Right at the climax-opening title credit. I was breathless. I turned to Alleged Lady and said "THAT was the first FREAKING 10 minutes? HOLY CRAP-this is already one of the best Trek films I have seen."

I did have to adjust my feelings as the film wore on, however. It became not only one of the best Trek films I have ever watched but one of the most enjoyable action films I have ever watched. We the audience were treated to the creation of the legends of James Tiberius Kirk and Spock of Vulcan. We saw each of the secondary crew members have their moment in the sun. We see Karl Urban INHABIT the role of Leonard McCoy. Most importantly, we see a story that was NOT bogged down in technobabble and expansive views out the screen of the ship. With Abrams, the audience felt INVOLVED with the story and not mere spectators. The screenwriters made some bold story choices as well and changed the historical timeline for Trek for good. One major event was stunning in how it forever altered Spock's role in the story.

SPOILERS BELOW:

Changes in Trek lore include the destruction of the planet Vulcan, the death of Spock's mother Amanda, a libidinous Spock involved with Uhura, the death of Kirk's father well before he was supposed to die, and the permanent residence of Spock from 120 years into the future into the past. Of all of these changes, the only thing that did not sit well with me was the libidinous Spock. It changed one of the fundamental aspects of the character for no good reason. Other than that, however, none of the changes to Trek canon particularly bothered me in a "get a life" kind of way.

SPOILERS END:

The real effect of these changes is that now, many of the events first depicted in the original 1960s series never happened. That series is now considered an alternative timeline from what was introduced in Star Trek: the movie. That is not a big deal. What is important is that this movie injects energy into a moribund franchise that desperately needed it AND allowed people too eager to dismiss Star Trek as the epitome of nerddome to enjoy a new story and finally be able to understand what it was about the characters that made it so great. The music was great, the special effects were stunning, and the performances were...wow. Chris Pine IS James T. Kirk. Karl Urban IS Leonard McCoy.

I am excited for what the future of the franchise holds, and I am excited to see new fans embracing the...dare I say it...coolness of the franchise. I never thought that Star Trek would ever be considered cool, but as Chris Pine's steel blue eyes glared out across the screen (causing Alleged Lady to turn away from the "incredible hotness in front of" her), I knew that the cast would be a hit with the non-fans. This is the beginning of something great. I am glad that I got to experience it AND I cannot wait to see it again.

The Star Trek Post-pre movie

2009-05-06T17:15:00.004-05:00

Right about now, Daisy has already clicked off of my post. I know that she does this whenever I have a discussion about comics or any other thing that does not hold her fancy, but DAMMIT DAISY-if I have to put up with Fat Baby Fridays then you can deign to read some of my geek posts. You might even learn something :-). JK, Daisy-I tease because I love!

A-HEM. Anyway, this post is a prequel post to my midnight viewing of Star Trek (happening tomorrow night-IMAX BABY!). So far, advance word on the film from Trek fans has been incredibly mixed, but advanced word from EVERYONE has been stellar. See, this is the kind of Trek movie that is accessible to everyone, from what I hear. This is a good thing. With the success of Star Trek over the years has come a build up of canon-things that can and cannot be done within the stories due to the importance of continuity. By using time travel as a mechanism to induce change in Roddenberry's universe, JJ Abrahms is doing something unique in his relaunch-namely making Star Trek accessible to the masses and less geeky.

The actual allure of Star Trek for me starts with reruns that I watched as a child. At the time, there were no video tapes, dvds, laser discs, or blu-rays. Star Trek was off the air before I was born, and my older brother regaled me with stories of animated Star Trek-a show that he watched when HE was smaller. So it was with great excitement that we found out that our local affiliate was airing reruns of Star Trek every weeknight at 7 PM. From the first episode, I was hooked. Before the time of Trek conventions and before the multiple series and "that movie with the whales," Star Trek was the quintessential adventure series set in space. Of course, during the early years of Roddenberry, the storylines were, at times, melodramatic (as were the music and some of the situations). Even as a child, I found some of the episodes ridiculous (Really? A planet full of Nazis? Really? A planet full of Romans? Really? A planet full of gangsters?), but the chemistry was there among the crew members. The attention to realism and realistic science inspired countless boys and girls to become scientists and astronauts. Even some of the devices in the show inspired inventors, as the diagnostic beds in sick bay inspired CT and MRI scans and the communicators inspired the modern day flip phones. In the end, this was another version of Horatio Hornblower (has anyone ever read C.S. Forester's novels?)-albeit in space. Kirk, Spock and McCoy represented facets of the ego, superego, and the id.

What always pissed me off, however, is how those of us who were Trek fans were painted with the broad brush of being geeks BECAUSE of it. Why can't someone enjoy a show or work of fiction without being ostracized? I mean, I know that the technobabble in the show can sometimes be a bit much, but at least with the original series, it never got in the way of the story. There were some amazing stories told during the first season of Star Trek and into the second, and I pity those people who would not give the show a chance because "oh, it's Star Trek." Can you say "closed-minded"?

Why do I write this? Well, I know that the film is currently getting stellar reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. In fact, it currently looks to be one of the best reviewed films of the year. I am asking those of you who have never given Star Trek a chance or who have had the misfortune to experience some of the numerous Trek misfires over the years (any odd numbered Star Trek film, Voyager, and Enterprise) to give it another shot. This should be a fun film, a jumping on point. It is supposedly about the characters. Don't write it off simply because it is Star Trek.

I will post my review of the film sometime this weekend. Maybe I can even get Alleged Lady to chime in, as she is attending the viewing with me.

Oh the Spectacle!

2009-05-01T10:27:00.002-05:00

These are heady times for Chicago sports fans. The spring started off with the blockbuster trade that brought Jay Cutler, Denver's Pro Bowl quarterback, to Chicago. The Blackhawks, long the underappreciated and underfunded member of the Chicago sports pantheon (think LA Clippers), are the youngest, hottest team in the NHL. While they may not get the Cup this year, they are built for future success AND they won their first playoff series in over a decade. The real winner this spring has been the Bulls. From seemingly out of nowhere, this team has grown up. We have witnessed, in this first round, the birth of a playoff star in Derrick Rose. We have seen 5 overtime games, with the capper being the TRIPLE OVERTIME game from last night.

I was lucky enough to watch the game in the company of the Namby Pamby. It was the first Bulls playoff game I have been able to watch almost in its entirety. There are some thoughts that I had while watching the game. I could not believe the passion. I was blown away by the physicality and the shouting and taunting. I was enamoured by the slow burns and the fades, the ebbs and flows...I could not believe how fast the feet moved back and forth across the hardwood. I could see the excitement and the exhaustion manifest themselves as the game stretched on for over 4 hours. The sweat was pouring, the yelling and physicality became more emphatic, and I feared that someone would get hurt.

And that was just talking about what it was like to watch Namby watch the game. The game itself was entertaining too.

Blogging from Mid-Air

2009-04-25T08:03:00.002-05:00

As I write this entry, I am flying to Omaha for a wedding this weekend. No, I am not writing this in a word processing application and then porting it over to Blogger-I am literally on-line in midair!!!! Air travel just got a lot more fun.

I remember how bored I used to get while traveling to India as a young lad. The hours passed by interminably, the movies were bad, the stale air seemed to leach into my skin, drying it out with each passing minute, and, by the time I arrived in India, I felt as if I had been on a prison for the previous 18 hours.

Slowly, over the years, things started to change. I first noticed the changes right after the turn of the century, when my numerous flights for the biotech firm I worked for became shorter thanks to my iPod and to my PSP. Even having a computer on the flight was a blessing, for I could watch a movie and kind of tune out the rest of the world. Bringing DVDs with me soon gave way to me saving my DVDs in iTunes format on my hard drive so that I would not need to worry about dvd damage. I made most of my tv show dvds iTunes files, and it seemed as if this was the best it could get. No longer was I a slave to the awful in-flight magazines (you know, the ones that have the world maps at the end just to rub in the fact that there are so many places you will never visit). No longer did I peruse Skymall, thinking that a life sized Yoda would, in fact, make a great addition to my study. I could fire up my laptop and be lost in a tv show that I needed to catch up with. Of course, I also purchased a Slingbox-those nifty devices that allow you to stream live and dvr'd tv shows straight to your laptop. That enabled me, when I was on the ground, to move some of the files wirelessly to my laptop so that I could watch it while in flight.

Still, even with all of these extra-sensory stimuli, I always felt kind of disconnected with the real world (especially on a long flight). As of today, however, I recognize just how much air travel has changed. Once the flight reached cruising altitude, I was able to fire up my laptop and within minutes was surfing the web. I read about Matt Stafford's record setting contract, signed into AIM, and checked my work e-mail. I was even able to log into my work document retention database. How much freedom can one take?

So now I must end the post-I might pass the time by watching Sportscenter...live...on my laptop...while in the air....

I love the age that we live in!

A Birthday Conversation with the Artful Mom

2009-04-22T17:27:00.003-05:00

So the Artful Mom turned 67 on Tuesday. That is quite an achievement. I always find it amazing that she has been married to the Artful Dad for 42 years, so she has only spent a little over 1/3 of her life without him!

Me: "Happy Birthday, Mom!"

AM: "Thanks, sweetie. I wish you were here to celebrate with me!"

Me: "I wish I was there too. Did you get my card?"

AM: "Yes, I loved it!"

Me: "Are you and Dad doing anything special to celebrate your birthday?"

AM (keep in mind that my parents are, financially speaking, pretty well off by most standards): "YES! We are going to Chili's! I get a FREE DESSERT because it is my birthday!"

The Artful Parents rock.

Random Thoughts on the Way into Work

2009-04-16T08:54:00.002-05:00

1. Damn-people really DO listen to their iPods at too loud a volume. I see all of these kids (and more than a few adults) blasting away with their earbuds who don't know that one can never replace lost hearing. I then smile because the blaring of their iPods will have repercussions, and I am a firm believer in karma. I then grow sad because I know that these idiots will end up being supported by other taxpayers because OBVIOUSLY they are too stupid to understand the volume control on their iPods. I envision them gesturing to me (because, you know, they will not be able to hear) asking me for spare change. And then I am pissed. I want to rip the earbuds from their ears, stomp on them, and inform them of how their poor taste in music is poisoning the entire El experience. And then I laugh. "El Experience"? The overcrowding, the loud-talkers, and the pervasive smell of pee (sometimes)? The experience was spoiled long before the iPod ever arrived. I retreat back into my own private reverie, ignoring, once again, all of those people surrounding me.

2. When getting off the El, I notice a morbidly obese person (seriously) jostling her way in front of everyone near the exit door of the train. I always get on the same train car because I know that the exit doors, upon my arrival to my destination, will open right at the spot where there are stairs that take me out of the station. So this fat person is right in front of the doors. The train arrives, the doors slide open, and the morbidly obese person "rushes" to the stairs-and then proceeds to gingerly take them step by step-all the while holding up the rest of the rush hour passengers trying to get to work. You know, I get it. I am not exactly a svelte individual, but as Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "The right to swing one's fist ends where the other man's nose begins." I know that you have the right to gingerly take the stairs. Stairs are treacherous-especially in the wintertime. However, I see no reason for you, oh morbidly obese one, to push your way to the front only to hold everyone else up. Wait. Everyone else is moving so much faster than you anyway that you will not lose any time. I think to myself that I would not feel this way if she had not PUSHED her way in front of everyone as if she was in a hurry. Oh well. Time to exit the station and get breakfast.

3. The Jamba Juice location closest to my office is packed with customers. I am waiting in line, lost in my own thoughts, when I look around. Wow. Every single customer other than myself is a woman. Not only that-they are Hot (Hawt, even). Holy crap. Namby, you need to meet me for breakfast down here one day and see for yourself. Utterly, utterly ridiculous.

4. Mmmm...apple cinnamon steel cut oatmeal...and now my day begins.

Growing up at the age of 37

2009-04-12T18:54:00.003-05:00

As a career student, my own maturation, I believe, was severely hindered by being constantly surrounded by people who were, similarly, not mature. At the same time, many of my own habits and such remained unchanged since I was a pre-teen. This meant the collecting of nerds stuff (comics, toys, etc). I realized early on that I had a bit of a pack rat syndrome. I purchased SO MUCH junk over the years and always kept everything in their original packaging because that way, they would retain their value.

Remember Steve Carrell's character Andy from "The 40 Year Old Virgin?" Ummm....yeah....

After I started working at the firm, my work hours started taking over. My monthly comics shipment sat unread, and after three months, I realized that, FINALLY, I had outgrown this one aspect of my childhood. I canceled my monthly comics subscription. I soon noticed that I did not miss it. I also noticed that my own personal tastes for furnishings and such was developing to the point where I want to decorate my place in a tasteful, yet manly, way. However, in order to do that, there was also the rest of my collecting bug that needed to be kicked to the curb. I want to have a nice place, buy nicer clothes for work, and finally get a newer car. Those obsessions have replaced my childhood ones, and just as I used to get excited about a new toy or some other such nonsense, I find myself looking forward to getting deals on a Hugo Boss suit (this is a shout out to the impeccably dressed Namby Pamby) or a good deal on an off-lease car. This car:

My own interests in things of my childhood (FINALLY) are waning, and at the ripe age of 37, I find myself entertaining a brave new world of shopping as a grown up. I recognize that I still like toys, but the toys (clothes, car, etc.) are bigger and demand that I save up for them. While I recognize that I am giving up the instant gratification of a toy or comic, I recognize that there are bigger things to be concerned with. I want to save for retirement. I want to save in case I get fired. I want to get nicer things but not be in debt. I need to pay my student loan payments.

When did I become a responsible adult, anyway?

Oh right...the minute I saw my brother's new S5. Yup...that will do it every time...

Somewhere, James Beard is weeping

2009-04-06T19:16:00.003-05:00

After a tough day at work, I realized that I had not gone grocery shopping in a while AND I had not eaten anything since oatmeal for breakfast. I knew that I wanted a glass of wine with dinner, but what to eat?

So here I am, enjoying my dinner:

1. a glass of 2003 Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon

2. 3 White Castle Sliders

Wow, this wine really DOES go with everything...

A Sobering Realization

2009-04-05T21:38:00.002-05:00

I really cannot complain, you know. In this economy, with so many attorneys being fired, talk of reduction of salaries, and so many of my law classmates still striving to find jobs, I should not complain. After all, I have a great job. I love the people that I work with, I look forward to going into work every day, and I am busy. While our firm has had some slowdown, we are firing on all cylinders in other respects and are built to weather the recession intact. We are still looking to hire, too (engineers and scientists with MS or PhDs + JDs), but still, that speaks a lot about the financial health of our firm. They have not cut down on the amenities at the firm (which are, while not opulent as in some big firms, still very nice).

As an IP attorney working in biotech, however, there are some crossroads that one comes to. I have my doctorate in Molecular Endocrinology. In my previous life, I was a gene jockey. I love genetics, genomics, and molecular biology. It makes sense to me just as the notes on a page might make sense to a musician. When I set out to get my doctorate, I soon realized that a life at the bench was not for me. I tend to be more social and less the stereotype of the nebbish scientist hunched over tubes writing alone in his office, asking for money for research every five years. Although I loved the science, life as a scientist was not that appealing for me. I considered law school right out of my graduate program, but I chose to work as a postdoc and then in private industry. I recognized that, with the amazing advancements in gene sequencing that I was witnessing (climaxing, for me, with the completion of the race to sequence the human genome), I knew that the law would be the next avenue that would shape accessibility for so much of this information for the rest of the world. Patent law made sense to me. After all, it would allow me the chance to make a difference in helping shape the law as it applies to the rapid advances in scientific knowledge that seemed to move ahead of the law. Witness the great stem cell debate or the new testing centers for genetic factors. Imagine a world where employers and insurance companies demanded PCR tests and DNA profiles on their clients, employees and customers to determine predispositions to diseases and charging more or less for certain individuals. The privacy issues alone are staggering if one thinks about it.

One of the big areas for me has been in the arena of access to affordable pharmaceuticals. Lined up on one side of the line are big pharma, the companies that are the innovators yet justify the high costs of prescription medications through statements expounding on the high costs associated with R&D. On the other side are the generic manufacturers, those companies trying to bring products to market that are more affordable yet do not have the R & D expenses (thereby justifying their lower costs). Caught in the middle of this tug of war between these conglomerates is the consumer, everyone who needs medicine. Patents exist to reward innovation, but at what cost? If someone is dying yet cannot afford an expensive medication that is under patent protection, is that just? At the same time, the argument is that without patent protection, no one would feel inclined to innovate. Why put up all of the money to create something where others can just swoop in and copy it?

I always envisioned myself working on behalf of generic companies. After all, they are working to get the drugs to the people (affordably) faster. I could see myself involved in litigation with the big pharma companies, fighting on behalf of the underdogs. There is, however, one problem. In legal cannon, it is called conflict of interest, and it is exactly what it sounds like. it pretty much means that you cannot, without a waiver provided by your clients, represent adverse parties at the same time. Sometimes, the conflict can outlive the case itself and go on for the rest of your career-especially when you are privy to confidential corporate information from one of your clients.

Last week, I realized that I would, most likely, forever be barred from IP practice in terms of helping generic companies. This realization came as I was preparing patent applications for 2 of the largest name brand pharma companies in the world. Because they are such behemoths, I would most likely be conflicted out of any future work for generics against these companies.

It kinda saddened me. Here I am, not even a full 8 months into my legal career, and I already realize that I will, in all likelihood, not be able to do what I wanted to do. Can I still fight the good fight and do good? Yes. At the same time, I cannot use my knowledge on behalf of those who need it most.

Oh well-maybe things will change. I hope so. People who need medicine should be able to afford it. People who innovate need some sort of inducement to do so. What is the solution to this conundrum?

My Darkest Days are Ahead of Me...

2009-03-30T18:55:00.003-05:00

Hello all:

I have reached a crossroads in my life. After this Spring, nothing will ever be the same again. I know that I will not find the same happiness that I currently do with the simple things in life. A baby's smile...a dog's wagging tale...Namby's mocking laughter...no, there are things that will forever change for me after this Spring.

I have fought it for as long as I can. I have struggled not to have to go down this dark path of oblivion, but with my life being the way it is, I have no choice. As an attorney working the hours that I work and having the quality of life that I have, it is inevitable that I would be forced to make this most distasteful, life altering, and most likely foolhardy decision-the most foolhardy that I have ever made.

I know that my decision will haunt me for the rest of my days, that I will be consumed by the beast that I intend to unleash, and that my decisions today will, in all likelihood, cost me many of the friendships that I now enjoy. I know that, after this Spring, my parents will not recognize me, my brother will likely curse my name, and all others will wonder whatever happened to the sweet-natured guy who was so easy going-the guy who was always there for you.

As I said, I have fought against this decision for months. It has been a difficult time, but in the end, I give up and give in. I cannot fight it anymore. I must embark on this dark path, and I fear that will never return. Let my blog be a lasting memorial to the person that I was, and I hope that some of you will be able to help me through the hell that is to come. I liken this to Frodo's journey-though he survived, he never truly healed from the wound inflicted by the Nazgul on Weathertop. I know that that wound is soon in my future, and all I can do is suck it up and hope for the best.

So what is this dark path that I am taking? Why will I turn into an obsessed person who will soon be a cursing fool (where at present I loathe to curse)? What is the fundamental aspect of my nature that I will be changing for all time?

I am taking up golf. May God have mercy on my soul.

(Betcha thought I was going somewhere COMPLETELY different, didn't you? :-)

And for Those Of You Who Were Worried...No Need!

2009-03-29T11:03:00.001-05:00

Where I Am Part II...it kinda sucks...

2009-03-27T23:09:00.001-05:00

My Mindset Today...Be Warned...

2009-03-27T15:04:00.013-05:00

and if you cannot get that to work:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mqm3bO_pxA

Apparently, I am on The List...and it Feels Pretty Good...

2009-03-24T22:42:00.003-05:00

People who know me know that I am a big goofball. I love my childish things, and I love toys (both big boy and small kid) to the point where I have waaaay too many action figures in my collection and a lot of electronics to boot. I love to cook and bake, I love excellent wine and wine tastings, but I am never above a rousing game of Rock Band or a viewing of Futurama. Things being what they are, it is no surprise that people who are my friends see me in a certain way, a persona that is veerrry different from that which is my face in the working world.

At work, I cease being Artful and I become DR. BLOGGER. I refrain from speaking in Yoda's voice and do everything with purpose and confidence. I write briefs, answer patent examiners questions, confer with inventors and in-house counsel on a daily basis, lunch with partners, and interact with the staff on a boss-employee level (but always with respect, as the Artful Mom taught me). Somewhere between my condo filled with plastic electronic drum kits and the 32nd floor of the high rise where my office sits, with a view of downtown Chicago towards the lake, I transform from Artful to Dr. Blogger. I don't know what it is, but Dr. Blogger gets a lot more respect from people where Artful would not even get a second glance. Doors open, people respond, and things that I ask for get done.

Of course, it is strange to think that all of this is true. I am always the same person. That is fundamental and does not change. What changes is the public face because unfortunately, in the working world, such a demeanor is necessary to be taken seriously. There are, however, people who view Dr. Blogger in ways that they would never view poor, hapless Artful, so neatly personified in my Opus icon.

What do I mean? Well, this weekend I was dining with a few work colleagues. I had judged a legal competition, and we had decided to grab some food afterward. I hardly ever hang out with coworkers, so this was a welcome treat for me. So there we were, a male coworker and a female coworker and I, sitting down to dinner and wine. After a couple of hours, a few courses and a LOT of wine, the conversations became a little more...a...open. I, of course, was pretty sober. My coworkers...not so much. We started talking about the office and the people therein, as many coworkers do when they are out and about. I wondered aloud how people thought of me and expressed my fervent hope that I was not viewed as some kind of a-hole. The female co-worker rapidly disavowed me of that notion and, simultaneously, made my year.

Female co-worker: "Artful, really, you have nothing to worried about. Everyone at the firm really likes you."

Artful: "I don't buy that. I don't know everyone at the firm."

FCW: "Well, they know you or at least, they know OF you."

Artful: "Ooookaay-what the heck does that mean?"

FCW (after 6 glasses of Riesling, mind you): "Well come ON, Artful. You KNOW that you are on THE LIST!!!"

Artful: ". . . . . "

FCW: "You KNOW-THE LIST!" (pause) "Oh....maybe I should not say anything else..."

Artful (thinking that it is something bad now): "No, no...I can take it. Am I on the list of office a-holes?"

FCW: "Hardly-see, sometimes the female attorneys and some of the female staff get together for drinks and we discuss things, and we made a list of..."

Artful (thinking the suspense unbearable): "OF WHAT???"

FCW: "of the male attorneys we want to get into bed with."

Silence around the table. FCW rapidly blushes and turns beet red. I, on the other hand, immediately get a giant grin on my face. Hot damn...maybe there IS something to the whole confidence thing after all. I mean, I would never act on it, but it is damn flattering to be objectified in THAT way after toiling way in the kingdom of the nerds for so long.

The silence was broken by male co-worker

MCW: "So how many people are on the list?"

FCW (now choosing her words carefully): "Ten"

MCW: "And where, exactly, is Artful?"

FCW: "Oh...umm...top 5." At this point, I was doing the Snoopy dance in my head-once again, not because I would ever act on it but because people considered me that attractive when I am in business mode.

MCW: "Where am I on the list?"

FCW: "Oooo...ummm...you aren't."

Would it be wrong to say that that statement made me even happier? Yes, sometimes, I can be that shallow. In the end, I recognize it for what it was. The Artful who plays video games and sits around in jeans and a sweatshirt was not the object of affection; it was Dr. Blogger, the professional patent attorney who is strong and forceful and gets things done.

But which one is the real me?

Like the Finer Things Club, but Better

2009-03-19T09:32:00.005-05:00

Last night was the first meeting of the Wednesday Night Club. In attendance were Daisy, PAG, the Alleged Lady, the Namby Pamby, and the Wayward Esquire. There will be many funny stories (I am sure) recounted in the blogs of my fellow bloggers, but this one story that I will recount requires a little background first.

Background Part I: The Esquire, Daisy, PAG and I attended the wedding of a friend of ours in the mecca of Rockford, IL last September. At the reception, our table was the most boisterous thanks to some hi jinks on the part of myself and the Esquire. Right as our 12 year-old level humor was cracking up the entire table (except for PAG and Daisy, who looked on in embarrassment), a gentleman named "Mr. Wizard" took center stage. He was a children's entertainer and told the story of the courtship of the wedded couple through a fairy tale complete with..props...Mr. Wizard proceed to tell the story of a man looking for a furry animal in the dense forest-and that was merely the first of many double entendres and phallic shaped instantly inflated balloon props that sent our table (already laughing over other things) over the edge. Our friends, the bride and groom, watched Mr. Wizard in stunned silence, but I must say it was the best entertainment I have ever witnessed at a wedding. I am still laughing at the memory as I type this.

Background Part II: When we gathered at the watering hole last night, Daisy joked that her mother had asked if her VERY SOUTHERN and old fashioned grandmother would be..OK...with me attending the wedding. You know, 'cause I am an Indian and all of that. We both laughed a little at that because Daisy has told her grandmother about me, and between my love of the novel "Chiefs" as well as through other things, I know that her grandmother would be fine with me (something that did not stop the Alleged Lady from wickedly suggesting that she and I share a deep and soulful interracial kiss right in front of Grandma Duke). Still, I took it for what it was-Daisy and I laughing about me not being allowed to enter the grounds because of my color. I joked that I could maybe park cars and that I might make some good tip money if people mistake me for a member of the wait staff.

Now we come to why you needed the background. As we were all discussing the wedding, I joked to Daisy "maybe you should invite Mr. Wizard." Predictably, Daisy, PAG, the Esquire, and myself started chortling as we all remembered the experience at the last wedding. UNPREDICTABLY, the largest laugh at my suggestion came from the Namby Pamby. As he recovered from his laughter, doubled over and all, I waited until he caught his breath.

Artful: "Wait, do you know the story of the wedding where there was that kids' entertainer Mr. Wizard?"

Namby: "Oh no! I thought you were suggesting that Daisy invite the KKK Wizard-you know, with it being the South and all."

Cue renewed laughter on all sides at the images of TWO visions in white at Daisy's wedding and a renewed discussion of the merits of "Blazing Saddles."

My Love-Hate Relationship With Facebook

2009-03-15T18:05:00.003-05:00

It all started my first year of law school. I was sitting in class (paying attention), and I noticed that many of my fellow first years were fixated on this web page that had photos on it. I was able to pick up the name of the application-something called Facebook. Back then, one had to have a university-based e-mail address in order to sign on (translation-no old people), but since I was able to slip under this barrier as a 34 year old graduate student, I decided to see what the fuss was about. What I discovered was a true monument to...well..MONUMENTS. A place for people to have their space a la My Space but better organized. A site where people could indulge the hidden (and not-so-hidden) voyeurs that resided within and at the same time could brag about how great they looked, the relationships they were in, and how many people were their "friends." I remember waiting on pins and needles for some people to accept my friend requests (I know, lame, but remember that law school is, in the words of Ms. Sharpe, "like high school with alcohol"), and I remember the brief feeling of self worth when one was accepted. Of course, nothing was better than RECEIVING a friend request because that just meant that someone WANTED to be your friend to the point of SEEKING YOU OUT! Quite the ego stroke.

Now, over time, I started doing a few more things through Facebook. It was a great way to keep track of people's birthdays, so I made it a point to attempt to stay up and be the FIRST person to wish them Happy Birthday. I started using the Event application to set up movie viewings and invite people to the annual Halloween blow-out. I also LOVED writing on people's walls. It was a nice way to communicate and get communication back. And then...it started becoming the BEST way to procrastinate. I wasted untold hours on Facebook...checking every 5 minutes or so because SOMETHING had to have changed, right? My friends grew from 10 to 100 to over 200 quite quickly. Do I really KNOW all of these people? No. I had put up so many pictures from my various events that I never stopped to consider how much of my privacy I had willingly given up for the sake of feeling good about my ego. I started to realize that Facebook makes it TOO easy not to maintain personal contact. I have this theory that man only ventured from his cave because he needed to find food and companionship. With the advent of the internet, after millenia of evolution, man has finally reached the point where he need never leave his cave. We have Peapod for groceries and Amazon for everything else. Facebook covers the social needs of man quite well (as do MMORPGs such as World of Warcraft). While all of this technology makes keeping in touch with people "easier", is that necessarily a good thing? Are we losing the ability to personally interact?

A few weeks ago, when I was contemplating the cessation of my blog (not gonna happen, so you are all stuck with my rants), I actually removed my Facebook profile for a week. Just a week. See, Facebook had tried to change the terms of use to read that they owned ALL of the content that we put on their site. I relented however, as having a minimal profile on Facebook with no pictures and even less information proved to be less taxing than fielding e-mails from people wondering why I "de-friended" them when, in fact, I had not. I did, however, vow to not depend on Facebook for most social interaction. I abhor communication strictly via text or internet. I understand that sometimes, this is more convenient for both parties, but I feel that it should be done as a means of last resort as opposed to the first option. I will admit that I was flattered when so many people wrote on MY wall for my birthday, and I made it a point to individually contact each person in turn to thank them (none of this blanket "thanks to everyone for their birthday greetings!" status nonsense). However, I am not going to do it anymore myself: no more wishing anyone Happy Birthday on Facebook. It is my own thing, and I do not begrudge anyone who does it. Maybe I am just being old fashioned, but I need to take a stand. Technology is forcing me to withdraw more and more from social interaction.

Now, what is amusing about this post is what happened after I started writing it. You see, I went to work early this morning to get some work done. After 4 hours at the office, I (yup) checked Facebook and found that one of my friends from high school was in town for a wedding and was in my neighborhood to boot! Thanks to Facebook, I was able to meet up with my friend and we talked as if 20 years had NOT passed since the last time we saw each other (ouch-I am old). It also turned out to be a business write off, as the husband of the couple whose wedding my friend was in town for is founding a software company in Chicago and needs an IP attorney. Can you say "business lunch"? In truth, my afternoon was only made possible by Facebook, for it was via Facebook that I was able to find her and, eventually, meet in Chicago when she lives in Raleigh, NC. I now have an open invite to stay with her and her husband the next time I am in Raleigh, and I extended the same invitation to her and her husband the next time THEYare in Chicago.

Maybe Facebook is a good thing in moderation. I dunno. Do you have any thoughts?

Watchmen

2009-03-07T00:46:00.009-06:00

"We in this country, in this generation, are by destiny, rather than choice, the watchmen on the walls of world freedom."
John F. Kennedy (from the speech he intended to give in Dallas the day of his assassination, as quoted by Alan Moore in the graphic novel "Watchmen").

Adaptations are a tricky business. Whenever a film maker undertakes adapting an existing work, he is working to please 2 audiences: those who are familiar with the source material and want to see everything faithfully reproduced for the screen and those who are NOT familiar with the work yet want to see a good film if not a faithful cinematic adaptation. Hollywood in general has taken note, and their wholesale bastardization of books, a practice that had its inception during the early studio days, has given way to an effort to please the fans of the source materials. Of course, because so much more can go into a book than the average 2 hour movie (stemming from a 130 page screenplay), usually some things have to be sacrificed for the big screen. Witness Warner Brothers' handling of the "Harry Potter" series. There is a LOT missing from the adaptations, but whereas Chris Columbus' first two films were the most faithful, they also tended to be the most boring. It was only when Alphonso Cuaron, Mike Newell, and David Yates took the reins of the franchise that the Potter series rose above the written word and became wonderful cinematic adaptations. Of course we were missing Hermione's whole Society for the Promotion of Elf Welfare subplot...but did we really miss it? In fact, the most successful, up until now, adaptation of a beloved work has been Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Long thought to be unfilmable, Jackson took pains to satisfy the legions of fans reared on the written adventures of the Baggins family. Of course, he, too, took liberty with the story, but the excision of Tom Bombadill and the barrow wight actually helped the story move along. Film makers thus are forced to walk a very narrow line in terms of being faithful to the written word but not a slave to it to the point where the word shackles the film maker and removes his own creative energy from the work.

Of course, the rules are different when film makers adapt graphic novels. Here, the creators of the works in question have already provided the blueprint and storyboard of the film through the creation of panels of art holding the words of the script. The best of these adaptations embrace the vision of the creator by framing shots as depicted within the comic panels. The creativity for the film maker lies not in recreating a classic but in interpreting such scenes in a new medium. Robert Rodriguez successfully accomplished this with his adaptation of Frank Miller's "Sin City" and Zack Snyder did the same with his adaptation of Miller's "300." Both of these works, however, were below the radar of most comics readers. Only the die hards really knew of them before the movies came out, but this is not the case for all graphic novels. Some graphic novels have rabid followings of legions of fans, akin to the fans of the Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings series. To them, the creator's written words are gospel and the artist's panels are the only true visualization of the story. How could a director possibly satisfy this exacting group of people?

Now, before I get into my review of "Watchmen," let me share with you my own personal history with the story. The year was 1986. I was 15 years old and had been collecting comics for about two years. I had already started getting Frank Miller's groundbreaking miniseries "Batman: The Dark Knight Returns" and, to this day, the original issues are in a special place in my collection. Another series caught my eye that year. The cover of the first issue was intriguing...a smiley face amidst what looked like blood.

I purchased the first issue and I was hooked...a story that started with the murder of a old super hero...one created just for the miniseries. Over the course of the next year, I was introduced to further pieces of the story, but nothing I had read in the previous 10 months prepared me for the climax of the story in issues 11 and 12. I was stunned. I was surprised. I am talking "The Usual Suspects" and "Se7en" levels of shock and surprise. I never even saw it coming. It stunned me and excited me. What a great WORK OF ART. Every year, I revisited "Watchmen" and re-read the story. Ever year, something new...some nuance or subtle symbolism that ran through the series-that had earlier escaped my notice would jump off the page and leave me with the same feeling as I had when I had first completed the miniseries. I still get that feeling every year when I read the complete work-it is THAT GOOD.

But how could something this creative...this amazing...this CINEMATIC in storytelling-so full of subtle nuance and compelling overlapping plotlines-be brought to the screen in any manner that would be even SORT of faithful to the source material. Word of an adaptation soon started circling after the success of Tim Burton's (now dated) adaptation of "Batman" in 1989. Sam Hamm was commissioned to write a script with Terry Gilliam attached to direct. Of course, this version, and many others like it, fell by the wayside. "Watchmen" writer Alan Moore went on record as saying that the graphic novel was unfilmable..that the whole reason of telling the story in the graphic novel format was because it could NOT be told via the medium of film. The times were also wrong for a film of this somber and adult material. After all, people wanted to see Jack Nicholson as the Joker and Michelle Pfieffer as Catwoman. This was before the highs of "Batman Begins", "X-Men", "The Dark Knight", "Spider-Man 2," and "Iron Man." This was before the lows of "Batman and Robin" and "Ghost Rider." So what changed everything?

The success of the adaptations of adult graphic novels such as "Sin City" and "300." In one fell swoop, these films caused Hollywood to sit up and take notice that faithful adaptations of adult graphic novels COULD be profitable. More importantly, the powers-that-be recognized that they did not have to "dumb down" the works for the mass audience. With the success of "300" behind him, Snyder made no secret that he wanted his next project to be "Watchmen." He even went so far as to include a single frame of a shot of Rorschach in a late trailer for "300."

Of course, the fanboys were nervous. Alan Moore refused to support the film in any way, but Snyder was able to enlist artist Dave Gibbons for help in creating the world of "Watchmen." When the first trailer came out, the fanboys (myself included) howled with glee, for we saw that Snyder had gone so far as to PERFECTLY TRANSLATE several scenes direct from the comics page onto the big screen. Still, the graphic novel was massive. How could Snyder possibly hope to create a faithful adaptation of such a dense work? What would be cut? Would the material cut include some of the most important aspects in search of a shorter run time?

Now, I was excited for the film, to the point where the minute that tickets went on sale for opening night at the Navy Pier IMAX, I purchased tickets for myself and a few other people...in JANUARY. As the time grew closer for the film's release, I started seeing 2 types of reviews-overwhelmingly positive and scathingly negative, with little few and far between. I also noticed something else...those who wrote the positive reviews "got" it. They were either fans of the source material or were sophisticated enough to follow the convoluted story, one that, to my understanding, never pandered to its audience or spoon fed it any exposition. The negative critics...well, I knew what to expect when reading their opinion of this "comic book" movie. I have a feeling that they were walking into the theater expecting to see "X-Men" or some other such nonsense. These are the people who did NOT get it. They did not want to get it. They saw Snyder's work as gratuitous in terms of the sex and violence depicted in a superhero movie. They missed the point that the film is NOT a superhero film. They also missed the point that Snyder did not create the controversial scenes in the film-he merely faithfully adapted them for a new medium.

Having now seen "Watchmen" in IMAX, all I am left with is a sense of awe. With the exception of an atrocious soundtrack (except for Dylan's "The Times They Are A'Changing" played over the opening credits), the entire film was a visual smorgasbord for this "Watchmen" fan. Repeatedly, I found myself smiling with glee as the images on the screen perfectly recreated the panels that are so ingrained in my memory. I saw an incredible performance by Jackie Earle Haley as Rorschach. I saw an amazing "acting" job by Billy Crudup as Dr. Manhattan. All of the performances were spot on, and the effects were well done as well. And people will NEVER see Jeffrey Dean Morgan (the beloved Denny Duquette from "Grey's Anatomy") in the same light again. He inhabited the skin of the morally corrupt Comedian, whose brutal murder begins the film.

So what is the film about? Ostensibly, the film is about a "hero killer", someone slowly taking out masked adventurers. But to what end? Along the way, we learn of the pasts of some of the heroes. We see them struggle with every day problems in realistic ways. We see "what could have been" if the American dream came true. We see the ugliest side of human nature and how that can drive even the most noblest of men to madness. This film provides an unflinching look into the human psyche, and it shrouds it within the garb of a "comic movie." Of course, there were some changes from the book, most notably the endgame. However, Snyder successfully retained the key elements of the story and blended them together to the point where this fanboy was shaking his head in incredulity by the end of the film. How did he do it?

Now, a warning. This film is NOT for everyone. It is VIOLENT. Extremely violent. Painfully violent. In spite of that, it works BECAUSE it feels real. This is not a Spider-Man film where the violence has no consequence. Here, the audience feels every punch and sees the realistic results.

This is a film about morally ambiguous costumed adventurers.-what I believe represent such adventurers if they existed in the real world. The film also creates a snapshot of the world in 1985. I remember the Cold War and the U.S.S.R. and the daily threat of nuclear war. Much as the graphic novel demands new visits every year, so too, I think, will this film. I cannot wait for the fully loaded ultimate blu-ray to be released in the fall (a lesser version is being released in the spring). Bravo, Zack Snyder. You filmed the unfilmable. Thank you for being faithful.

What an amazing experience.

Update: for a wonderful article on the source graphic novel click here.

Thank You! Come Again!

2009-03-06T11:29:00.005-06:00

Note: I love reading the Namby Pamby's call logs so much that I thought I would steal his idea and recount one of my own.

The phone rings in the Artful's office.

Artful: "Hello?"

Caller: "Is this Mr. Blogger?"

Artful (already irritated because, by the sound of the thick Indian accent on the other end, he knows what is coming): "Actually, it's DR. Blogger."

Caller: "Mr. Blogger (seriously??), I am calling from (generic Indian IP company) to tell you that we do a lot of consulting work for IP. We were wondering if you wanted to outsource your work to us."

Side note. I have been a bit worried as of late, for patent prosecution for biotech in our firm has nosedived within the last few months. I am on a lot of litigations, but still..what is going on? Now I have this Indian joker trying to take MORE work away in THIS economy? Riiiiight....

Back to the call...

Blogger: " I am a freaking first year associate. I have no power when it comes to making these decisions. "

Caller: "Mr. Blogger (again, really?), could you tell me who, in your firm, does have the power to make these decisions?"

Blogger (extremely irritated at this point): "No, and in the future, might I suggest that you pay more attention to whom you are calling? Dr. Blogger is now hanging up the phone. Thank you. Come again."

This was the 4th such call I have received recently. The only thing that I can figure is that the Indian patent firms think they have an "in" with my firm just because I am Indian. Sorry, it does not work that way. I was more pissed off than anything. I mean, why would you try to take my work away from me?

AND???? I know that it is pissy and snooty of me, but professionally, I am Dr. Blogger (though sometimes friends call me that just to poke fun and I feel embarrassed). If you are trying to get business, use the proper titles and let the other person tell you that the titles are unnecessary.

Yes, I really did say "Thank you, come again." And yes, I slipped into the heaviest Indian accent I could muster.

On second thought, maybe I should not have invited them to "come again." Crap...more calls are headed my way, aren't they?

A Nation of Cowards

2009-02-27T21:18:00.011-06:00

Eric Holder, our nation's first African American attorney general, made a very controversial statement earlier last month (celebrated as Black History Month). He said that we are a nation of cowards when it comes to discussing race. Race always seems to be the 2000 lb gorilla in the room-the thing that no one wants to talk about but is always present. For the most part, I think that many white Caucasians are reticent to speak honestly on race issues because they cannot win. If they speak highly of African Americans, they are seen as needlessly pandering to that population. If they speak ill IN ANY WAY of African Americans, they are immediate viewed as racists. As a member of neither group, I have seen this in action, and it is indeed sad. It is no wonder that we are a nation of cowards. Everyone walks around on egg shells trying not to upset the status quo. So where is a person to go where someone does not follow the status quo? Where are people fearless enough not to succumb to easy race baiting and state things in such stark terms that people should be forced to discuss race issues?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the comedy genre-most notably "Family Guy" and the Mel Brooks classic, "Blazing Saddles". Now, mind you, the central concept of these works-"making you feel uncomfortable enough to talk about it"-is not just limited to race relations. Sexual orientation and gender relations are also a part of the larger equations. Abortion, violence against women and gays, pedophilia-these are all very real problems in our society that are NOT going away unfortunately. People just do not discuss these topics at parties or other gatherings. As individuals move beyond high school and college, there are no fora where discourse on these topics can occur-and it does need to occur-not just in the news media but among the citizenry.

So what are we left with? Why, we are left with the satirists-those individuals who poke fun at our society and make us uncomfortable enough to face some real hard truths. Take "Family Guy," for example. There are more racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, misogynistic jokes per minute on "Family Guy" than on any other show on television. These jokes, alternatively, make me laugh and wince in uncomfortable silence. It is during these moments that Seth MacFarlane, "Family Guy's" creator, is at his most effective. On the surface, his show panders to the lowest common denominator, but the more intelligent television viewer ( I know, quite the oxymoron) will see the show as a stage upon which MacFarlane is able to strip away the curtain and focus in on the problems in our society, including racism, homophobia, violence against women, pedophilia, the great numbers of the poor and homeless in the wealthiest country in the world, and the lack of accommodation that all too often face the disabled. While it would be all to easy to dismiss MacFarlane's creations as ignorant caricatures of American society, I view them as providing the opportunity to demystify the taboo topics that we never...seem...to...talk about. I have actually had conversations when people are discussing a particular scene that may have been racist or sexist, and I am able to stop them and ask them "what was so funny about it?" More often than not, they stop and reflect on how their own passive acceptance is contributing to the problem rather than formulating a solution. Of course, the major problem with the shows is that the lowest common denominator likely fails to look beneath the surface and recognize it as satire. The optimist inside me would like to believe that the true leaders of society would be able to educate the lowest common denominator and address these very real problems in our society. Hopelessly naive? I prefer to think of myself as hopeFULLy naive.

It is interesting how 5 different people can watch something like "Blazing Saddles", and those 5 people can walk away with 5 different opinions. You will have someone laugh throughout the entire film and see it as "the way things are." These people are what is classified as the lowest common denominator. You then have the people who do not laugh at anything and repeatedly utter the phrase :"this is not that funny" or "I don't get it." These we classify as either humorless or those who are offended to the point where they cannot laugh. I classify these individuals as the ones who are the opposite of the lowest common denominator; at the same time, their refusal to find ANY humor leads me to believe that satire in any shape would be completely lost on them, thereby short circuiting any intelligent discourse that might otherwise have arisen. We then get the people who are ONLY offended by the racial material OR the sexist material OR the homophobic material, but not ALL three (as they should be). We deem these people the truly myopic. The fourth type of person is the transitional person-the one who laughs but who feels, in their heart of hearts, that something is amiss. These are the ones who can learn the most from the movie, especially at the hands of the fifth kind of person-the enlightened movie watcher who recognizes the issues, laughs at the ignorance in our society these films are clearly poking fun of, and educate (in reverse order) the other 4 types of people.

Don't get me wrong-sometimes you can just go to a movie and just enjoy yourself and laugh. I do, however, find it extremely short sighted for ANYONE to write off satire just because it offends their delicate sensibilities. My challenge to those people is to USE the material as the vehicles of change. It is too easy to change the channel to watch something as vapid as "Rob and Big", "Paradise Hotel", or "Rock of Love." It is much more difficult to watch something that offends you and use it as a vehicle for discussion.

After 3 years, this weekend I finally got around to watching "Good Night, and Good Luck", George Clooney's film covering CBS newsman Edward R. Murrow's face-off against Wisconsin Senator Joseph McCarthy during his anti-communist crusade of the 1950s. It is hard to believe it, but newsmen used to be respected. The media was not separated into "the right" and "the left"-before the drive of the all mighty dollar, newsmen heard a higher calling-that of the truth. Edward R. Murrow exemplified this in his confrontation with McCarthy. Everyone was too scared to take him on for fear of being labeled a terrorist...I mean COMMUNIST. Oops...anyway, it was only through the efforts of Murrow and his fellow newsmen at CBS that McCarthy was taken down and censured by the Senate. The media was looking out for the people-how sad that this ideal, so commonplace in the 1950s, should seem so revolutionary today. In the 1950s, we could look to reporters as the ultimate arbiters of truth and honest discussion of our nation's ills. Now? All we are left with is a never ending parade of political pundits trying to force their own agendas onto the American public. There seem to be no more heroes, especially not in the media, so who can we look to?

The changes need to start with US-The People (as in "We, the People of the United States"). The discussion of these very real problems with the world start with us. Although it may be easier for us to just focus on what the American Dream has come to mean (designer clothing, high living, and unbearable debt), we need to focus on what the dream COULD BE-accessible heath care not just for women but for ALL, in a system that does NOT punish those of us who work the hardest (i.e., the highest taxes paid by the those who have worked hardest to make the most money). We CAN have a society where racism by ALL races (yes, all races are guilty of it) is condemned in public by everyone. Our society can be the one to put an end to homophobia, violence against women, hunger and poverty, but it can only be that way if we stop being so focused on ourselves INDIVIDUALLY.

Unfortunately, Holder is right-we ARE a nation of cowards. In our struggles to not be contrary and hurt people's feelings, we allow these societal evils to flourish and grow even as we make noises as to how we need to stamp them out. It has to start with us. It has to start with painful honesty. There has to be an end to hypocrisy.

Watch This Space

2009-02-24T13:34:00.003-06:00

For there is more to come. Thanks to everyone for their show of support. I actually had no idea that people read this thing until I saw my inbox and the sweet comment from the irrepressible Daisy Duke.

You guys are great. My posts may be a bit hit or miss for a while, and I might not always be a shiny happy person, things could always be worse. At least I do not live in the slums of Mumbai!

For your entertainment today, I leave you with this post (courtesy of a reader who I will call Mrs. Sharpe) that is a sad commentary on the state law students today. Graduates of this school oughta be proud of the students who have taken their place since they have left:

http://campuslol.com/blog/index.php/2009/02/21/katrina-von-sutphin/

Wow (and not in a good way). So, she hopes to be employed by what kind of prestigious law firm?

The Artful Blogger-signing off...

2009-02-23T08:34:00.002-06:00

When I started this blog, it was meant to be an anonymous chronicle of my life as a law student at beyond, but it has grown to be so much more. I have been exposed to so many more people and other bloggers, but at the same time, I think that I have lost some of the freedom that comes from being able to blog anonymously. That, and some things that are happening in the real world, have made it hard to me to continue. I am going to "blog" the old fashioned way-in a written journal. I have started, and perhaps in the future you might find some of the pages in some obscure portion of the internet and wonder to yourself "is this Artful"? Thanks to all of you who have helped me through some of my best and worst times in my life. I appreciate it. I leave you with a movie quote (appropriate, I know) that kind of sums up where I am right now and why I need to reflect in a big way:

From Lethal Weapon

Murtaugh (upon being partnered with Riggs): "God hates me-that's what it is"

Riggs: "Hate him back-it works for me."

Time for Another Tale From the Past: Part I of the Great Black Car Story

2009-02-19T20:14:00.004-06:00

Many of you read and marveled at the wonder that is the Artful Mom. When I was thinking about that story, I started reminiscing about something else, an inanimate object for which I have an enormous amount of nostalgic affection. That object would be the first car purchased by the Artful Parents. To understand the hows and whys of how the Artful Parents ended up with the MOST AWESOME CAR, you have to understand that the Artful Dad was, and is, a car nut. He LOVES cars, and his love of cars is something that he has passed on to both the Artful Brother and myself. When AD and AM first arrived on these shores, their only objective was to save money so that they could return to India and open up their own clinic. Part of their salary, however, was going to pay off their flight here + room + board, and back then, foreign medical grads in Baltimore did not get paid a lot. Not at ALL. The AM, however, was, and is, a master of saving money. After scrimping, saving, and going without, she was able to save out of their meager paychecks $1000, a pretty nice sum of money in those days. She was so proud of herself. They had started their nest egg, and they would be independent before long.

Ahh...but here is where the Artful Dad made what at the time could have been a marriage-dissolving decision but what instead ended up as the best purchase he ever made. While roaming around the Baltimore suburbs, he happened to walk by a Mercedes dealership. Now, Mercedes was not the status symbol that it is today. Also, unlike today, Mercedes Benz automobiles were renown for their high quality. They were veritable TANKS. My father and mother had discussed purchasing one and having it shipped back to India when the time came to leave. Well...maybe discussed is the wrong word. Dad brought it up, and Mom said she would think about it. Well, that was all the Artful Dad needed to hear. In his mind, since Mom never said "no", she said "yes" (a mistake that she has never again made to this day). The day that Mom was celebrating having her first $1000 in the bank account, Dad was at R & H Motor Cars in Owings Mills, Maryland putting that same $1000 down as a down payment on the new member of the family. It was gorgeous. It was black. It had tailfins. It was all metal (no plastic on this puppy). There was no air conditioning either, and it was a diesel. It was a 1967 Mercedes Benz 200D.

Gorgeous, isn't it? The picture really does not do justice to what a behemoth this car was on the road. This was a BIG CAR. It had the most ingenious center console, a speedometer that was a mercury-like gauge that would change from yellow to red through different transitions that indicated when you needed to shift gears. It was a diesel too, so there was a lot of power. The AD purchased the car, and immediately he drove to the Maryland Department of Motor Vehicles to..ah..get his driver's license. The Artful Mom still tells the story of when he pulled up in his prize. She looked at it and immediately ran into their apartment crying. Poor Mom. All of her money gone. In her mind, the AD had not even asked her. Slowly, she started coming around-especially after Dad took her for a spin. You see, this was Dad's first car ever. He wanted to be able to take care of his wife and family, and in Baltimore, it was tough to get around solely on public transportation. The car was their ticket to freedom.

But why does a car, to this day, still hold such a very special place in the hearts of me and my family? What happened to the car? Are there any adventures to be told that occurred in the car? Tune in and find out in my next post...

Stolen Lines #2

2009-02-16T17:31:00.006-06:00

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

During the two years before I entered law school, I had a pretty fun job. I was an applications scientist for a Big Biotech Company (BBC). Now, BBC was based in California, but I was based out of Chicago. My office was my home, and it was a wonderful thing. I reported into my boss on occasion, but for the most part, I lived on the road. My territory extended, at its height, as far west as Colorado, as far north as Montana, as far south as Texas and as far east as Michigan. I had every single state in between, and the travel was...umm...extensive to say the least. I would fly out on Monday mornings and usually not come home until Friday evenings. I used to call my apartment at the time my $1000 per month storage unit. It was kinda sad. I loved the nomadic lifestyle my job afforded me, the flights, the meals, the rental cars, the hotels, the company car, the company phone, etc. All of the bells and whistles that makes business travel fun, I dug.

True story that puts into perspective how much I traveled. During my second week in law school, I was on my lunch break when my cell phone rang.

Artful: "Hello?"

Marriott VP: "Hello, is this Dr. Blogger?"

Artful (confused): "Umm...yes, why?"

Marriott VP: "Dr. Blogger, we noticed that you have not staying in our hotels in quite a while. We were concerned, as our Platinum Members are very important to us. Is there anything that we can do to make sure that you choose us in your business travels?"

Holy crap. Was he serious?

Artful: "No, no...I have not been traveling in a while."

Marriott VP: "Well, you let me know if there is anything we can do to help. Have a good day, sir."

Wow. I really used to travel a LOT.

Because I was not a salesperson, I was usually met with open arms by most principal investigators in the labs I visited. I had the opportunity to travel to large companies like Monsanto and Eli Lilly to give scientific talks to everyone from lab technicians to boards of directors. I saw some amazing research and met some fascinating people along the journey. I also made it a point to visit the various points of interest in the places that I visited. After all, when does one have the chance to do something like that on the company's dime?

Among all of the places that I visited, however, one of the most powerful places, where I actually felt the ghosts of the past, was right here in Chicago. I was on the University of Chicago campus. It was a normal crisp fall day, and classes were in session, so the various areas around campus were filled with kids getting to class, their knapsacks haphazardly slung around their shoulders, young men and young women getting along with their lives. I remember walking across the street adjoining some buildings, but my attention was then diverted by a fascinating sculpture that was in the middle of this flat area. At first glance, I thought it was a sculpture of a tooth, but as I looked closer, its appearance seemed to alternate between a nuclear mushroom cloud and a skull. Seeing as how college campuses are hotbeds for protesters, I thought that it might have been placed there in honor of some famous protest or another.

I moved in to take a closer inspection of the monument. I circled it, staring at it intently and taking in its grotesque, yet haunting beauty. My eyes were then drawn to the unobtrusive plaque attached to the base. I moved in to read the words, and as I read them, I felt a shudder creep down my spine:

Here, on December 2, 1942, a small group of scientists under the supervision of Nobel laureate (1938) Enrico Fermi (1901-1954) achieved for the first time the controlled release of nuclear energy.

HOLY CRAP! This was where it all happened. The start of the Nuclear Age, the Cold War, the Berlin Wall, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the arms race whose conclusion could only be mutually assured destruction. I could almost close my eyes and hear the whispers of the scientists responsible, those who died eventually from the radiation poisoning and those who wished that they had never succeeded in creating a self sustaining nuclear reaction. I imagined the spirits of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the ultimate losers in Oppenheimer's and Fermi's work on the Manhattan Project, of which the U of C experiment was a part. I could almost see the spirits of the victims of the Chernobyl tragedy.

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

How could they NOT? Seeing this sculpture and being engulfed by the emotions that came from my realizations as to what a scientific experiment begat, my mind turned to so many other aspects of science that arise from the hubris of man. I sat in front of this sculpture for almost an hour, lost in thought and listening to the dead. I marveled at how low key this monument to the birth of the nuclear age appeared. The various young men and women never gave it a second glance. They just walked on to their next class, trying to grab a Starbucks, lost in thought and never thinking about what started over 60 years before on this very spot.

My later research uncovered more information on Fermi's team. Apparently, they conducted the experiment in absolute secrecy not knowing if they would blow up Chicago in the process. Some of the team members succumbed to radiation poisoning later in life, but Fermi went on to Los Alamos to continue his work on the Bomb. The labs were all underground beneath some old tennis courts within Stagg Field. The nuclear era, in all of its glory, sprang forth from this unassuming patch of land in northern Illinois, along the shores of Lake Michigan.

I would like to think that we, as a species, have learned the lessons of our hubris.

I stole the first line of this post from You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again, by Julia Phillips. This has been a part of Grace's Stolen Lines series.

A Review of "He's Just Not That Into You" starring the Namby Pamby and the Alleged Lady.

2009-02-10T22:23:00.008-06:00

Today was a normal day of drudgery at the firm. I was knee deep in deposition statements trying to put together a carefully annotated statement of facts for a summary judgment answer. I was also fact and cite checking another brief for a patent interference (where 2 inventors claim that they have invented the same invention, to be decided by the Board of Patent Appeals and Interferences at the USPTO). It was NOT looking like a sunny, funny day. And then...an e-mail from the Alleged Lady popped up asking us bloggers if anyone wanted to go to an evening showing of the chick flick du jour, "He's Just Not That Into You." Now, I was familiar with the source material of the film. I remember the episode of Sex and the City when Berger (Ron Livingston) enlightened the ladies as to how they needed to stop reading into guys reactions, responses and words in an effort to explain away boorish behavior. If memory serves, Miranda was the one who was trying to justify why a guy had not called her back, and while her friends were trying to make her feel better about herself, Berger broke in with "maybe he's just not that into you." It was as if a light bulb went off. Of course, later in the run, Berger became infamous as the man who broke up with Carrie via post it note (a precursor to today's text message and Facebook break ups), but still, women everywhere talked about that episode. The book provided a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of the boorish behavior that men resorted to in order to not call women or to break up with women they were not that into. I remember being bemused by the book, as I could recognize certain proclivities that I might have had as a teenager, maybe, but SURELY today's women could NOT be so naive as to fall for these tricks from all loser men out there. Surely guys were more mature than THIS when they dealt with the opposite sex.

Talk about naive. That would be me.

The more I spoke with my female friends (I have a lot of them), the more I realized that both sexes bore some of the blame. Women want to see the best in the worst of male specimens while ignoring lesser (but better) specimens around them. In contrast, too many men saw women as disposable playthings and tended to realize, too late, that they might have had something real. Ick. These boors were messing with women's minds to the point where women reacted with doubt whenever they were face to face with a good guy. Demystifying the guy mystique for women (here's the secret-there IS no guy mystique-we are pretty simple creatures, actually) would do a world of good.

So here it was, a long Tuesday at work, when the Alleged Lady laid out plans for an evening viewing of the film. Closet (or not so closet) chick flick fan the Namby Pamby and I were the only ones who chose to accompany the Lady (Alleged, that is). We decided to meet for a 7:15 show in downtown Chicago. Upon arriving at the theater (I was the first one), I noticed that there were a LOT of women at the theater...I mean, a LOT. Not only were the numbers startling-I also noticed that most of them were outfitted in couture (yes, I know what that is). It was then that I noticed that there was a special advanced screening of "Confessions of a Shopoholic" in the same theater complex as "He's Just Not That Into You." The estrogen levels at this complex were noticeably high. Namby soon arrived, and we marveled at the waves of impeccably dressed females marching up the escalators. It was actually kind of surreal. Finally, Alleged Lady (sans couture) arrived, and the three of us proceeded upstairs to purchase our tickets and watch the film. Having arrived at the actual theater a little late, we were forced to sit about 4 rows from the screen (something that would prove amusing later on). We settled in with some popcorn and sodas (sorry, Alleged Lady, with popcorn and COKES) and sat back to watch the film.

Without going into spoilers, the film played as a more modern version (from the female perspective) of the 1960s era sex comedy "A Guide for the Married Man". Different stories were interwoven that followed a group of acquaintances in Baltimore (with some fun "I used to live there!" flashbacks for me, a Maryland PhD). You had the woman who desperately wanted to be in a relationship but was bad about figuring it out, the male mentor who took pity on her but then ended up falling for her, a couple where the man was adamant about not being married and his girlfriend of 7 years who wanted the ring, the married couple where the wife was frigid and the husband cheated (although he struggled with the decision for...like...15 minutes or so), the safe guy hung up on a girl who used him whenever her own self esteem was down, and a woman who was so withdrawn from the personal aspects of dating that she resorted to text messages and MySpace connections in order to meet the dregs of male society. In spite of the archetypes and predictability of the endings, I liked the film. It was a thoroughly enjoyable romantic comedy that rang true (and was cringe worthy during several scenes) because the situations depicted on the screen were real. These kinds of scenes are wonderful in that they are ones we see in real life (well, except for several of the "Hollywood Ending" scenes near the end of the film). If anything, the film points out that everyone suffers from the same issues in relationships and that we should not feel bad for failing NOR should we give up. A happy resolution is not such a bad thing (I was gonna say "happy ending", but that has SUCH an X-rated connotation nowadays).

So what about my movie going companions. Well, the first question likely will be "where the hell was Daisy, and without Daisy, who would comment on the men of the film?" Well, Daisy promised her mom that they would see this film together this weekend, so she passed. The second question would likely be "were Namby Pamby and Alleged Lady good film companions?" Yes, decidedly so. Not only were they into the film, they also made pithy observations several times throughout. Namby's comments lit up the entire theater. Oh wait...no...that bright light was coming from his iPhone as he proceeded to check his messages every 5 minutes or so. Darn those phones are bright. The only reprieve I had was when, during a quiet moment in the film, Namby proceeded to DROP the phone (with a loud clatter) onto the floor of the theater. The Alleged Lady was far more entertaining. Remember how I said that we were sitting 4 rows from the front? Well, imagine if you are sitting that close when the images of Bradley Cooper and Scarlett Johansson's breasts are on the screen (no nudity, but still). Whenever Bradley Cooper appeared, Alleged Lady would hungrily whisper "he is so hot-I can't look at the screen for so long." During one particular point, as Cooper's baby blues were staring directly out of the screen, the Alleged Lady buried her head into the chair and said "IT'S LIKE AN ECLIPSE-I CAN'T STARE AT IT FOR LONG OR ELSE I'LL GO BLIND!" She's so awesome.

At the end, Namby and I agreed on one thing. All men are jerks except for us!

Super Bowl XLIII and an update on Eve

2009-02-02T09:19:00.002-06:00

I love it when I am right. It does not happen ALL that often (ok, maybe it does), but I really called it when I said I did not want to go to any Super Bowl parties. The Football Gods rewarded me with a game that could be considered one of the best ever. There were SO many twists and turns throughout the game, and it concluded with an AMAZING series of plays that will forever be remembered in the annals of NFL lore.

First Quarter: All Steelers. Roethlisberger led his team on a long offensive drive that consumed much of the first quarter. Although the Steelers ended up with a mere three points, the tone had been set. The Cardinals defense did not appear to be prepared to stop the Steelers, and I thought the Steelers were going to win this going away. The Cardinals had a single three and out during the entire first quarter and were not seen again until the second quarter. I was thinking that the Cardinals would not be able to score with their stars on the sidelines.

Second Quarter: Steelers score a touchdown on another clock eating drive and went up 10-0. I was ready to become disgusted and turn it off. It was then that some magic started happening. In less that 6 minutes, Kurt Warner led his team on an 83 yard TD drive. The Cardinals defense then held and the runback after the ensuing punt was run back into Steelers territory. With plenty of time left before the half, Warner then led his team to the brink of yet another score. On the threshold of going up 14-10 before the half, we, the audience, were treated to the longest play in Super Bowl history. Defensive Player of the Year, James Harrison, dropped into coverage and intercepted Warner's pass in the end zone. He proceeded (with the help of several illegal, if uncalled by the zebras, blocks by his teammates) to run the ball back 100 yards (!) and score a TD (he was actually tackled before the ball crossed the plane by Larry Fitzgerald-another bad call), the Steelers entered the locker room ahead by 10 points. Now, what I did not see anyone comment on is Fitzgerald's never-say-die attitude on this play. On the play, Fitzgerald had been headed in the opposite direction and was a good 10 yards downfield from Harrison at the time he realized that Warner had been picked. Fitzgerald, deep in his own end zone, turned on the jets and gave chase, weaving his way through Steeler defenders and caught Harrison BEFORE HE CROSSED THE GOAL LINE. A lot of other offensive players would have given up, but Fitzgerald did not. Although he had been a non-factor in the game to that point, he showed his mettle. At half time, it looked like the Cardinals were toast.

Halftime: GO BRUCE

3rd quarter: Only 1 score: Steelers score again-3 points. 8 minute drive. The score was 20-7, a 13 point deficit. I started paying more attention to the commercials and started feeling bad for Kurt Warner. He should not have ended his career like this....

4th quarter: the best 4th quarter I have watched in a LONG time. Larry Fitzgerald is ALIVE; Warner goes into a no huddle and does not give the Steelers defense time to adjust. He proceeded to pick apart the Steelers' #1 rated defense with pinpoint accurate pass and a jump ball to Fitzgerald in the corner of the end zone. The score is 20-14...hmm...interesting... 2 quick series by the Steelers and the Cardinals, and the Cardinals pin the Steelers on their 2 yard line (pushed back to the 1 yard line thanks to the thuggish actions of James Harrison-he should have been ejected for throwing punches at a guy who was down on the ground-classy). Steelers appear to escape (NO!) but then the refs FINALLY get a call right and call holding on a Steelers lineman in the end zone. Folks, that means SAFETY. The score was now 20-16 (with the Cards still needing a TD for the go ahead score). So following a safety, the opposing team has to free kick the ball to the other side. The Steelers punt to the Cards, and there was NO return. Warner went back to work. Right before one play, Madden pointed out how far back the safeties were playing to take away the deep pass (very conservative on the part of the Steelers). Madden noted that all Warner had to do was use the center of the field and the Cardinals would continue to have success. Sure enough, on the next play, Warner found Fitzgerald, who turned on the jets and outraced the entire Steelers secondary into the endzone. TOUCHDOWN! Cards are ahead!!! End of story, right? Wrong. See, The Cardinals had left too much time on the clock, Warner knew it. He had been in this situation before in Super Bowl XXXVI, when Brady came back and won the game. While his teammates were celebrating, Warner (with good reason) had a sick look on his face. Roethlisberger and wideout Santonio Holmes proceeded to put on a passing clinic, with Big Ben finding Holmes in the back of the end zone with less than 40 seconds left for the go ahead TD-and WHAT A CATCH! Tiptoe, complete control, while being defended by 3 Cardinals. Wow....

This was one for the ages folks. I have serious doubts as to whether the Steelers would have won without the generous calls they received from the zebras, but that is neither here nor there. I thoroughly enjoyed the game, and I had the best seat in the house for it. God bless high definition and Dolby Digital 5.1! I even rewound and re-watched certain plays as they happened thanks to the magic of DVR.

Yeah...still no Super Bowl parties for me next year...nope.

On another note, my friend Eve is doing well. She is getting the best treatment at one of the top medical institutions in the world. On a happier note, Wally proposed to her. The sad thing is that Wally proposed in the shadow of Eve's medical hardship. The cool thing is that he had the ring for a while. He had intended to propose well before this, and by timing it just right, she knows exactly what she has to live for. Congrats to both Eve and Wally. I cannot wait for the wedding-it will be a blast!

I Don't Do Super Bowl Parties

2009-01-30T17:40:00.005-06:00

For the most part, I do not enjoy parties at all. I have a bad habit of committing to things and then, as soon as I do so, I try everything in my power to get out of them. Being a patent attorney helps in these situations, as there is always some deadline that I actually have to meet. Usually, however, these deadlines occur during weekdays, so I am stuck with the weekend get togethers. Or am I?

Since I purchased my condo, I have had a lot of people over to see it and to hang out. This is making up for a lot of lost time, for when I lived at my old place, I hardly ever had people over. I lived in a small "garden apartment", i.e., the basement of a house. The ceilings were low, and there never seemed to be enough room for me let alone anyone else. I hated (HATED) the bathroom. It was a tiny closet compared to what I have now.

So upon moving to my condo, I started invited people over. It seemed like the right thing to do. After all, they had always been so kind because they always invited me over to their places when I did not have the ability to reciprocate. Now, however, most of the people that I would have over have BEEN over. I am over the whole "have a gathering at my house" bug, especially after the last one where 2 of my expensive wine glasses were shattered.

That still leaves me with the problem of not having to attend other people's gatherings. My M.O. usually is to start out "out of sorts" and to fade into the background of gatherings to listen to what other people say. I then find an opening and join in the conversation. At the same time, my desire to go out has diminished greatly within these last few months because I LOVE being at home. It is all MINE. I love it. I spend so much time at work that I hardly ever get to spend a lot of quality time at home. I have no roommates, and my neighborhood is QUIET. My place is clean (well, most of the time...there is usually some sort of clutter), and I love the solitude. I am flattered that people invite me to gatherings, but nowadays it takes something special (such as the Chicago visit of Katie from Overflowing Brain) to make me want to "emerge from my cave", so to speak.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, this weekend is the Super Bowl. This weekend is the last real fun party weekend for another month (Oscars parties). Everyone gathers to watch the commercials and the big game. The spectacle is the thing, and the Super Bowl has become the champion among sports championships. A one-off winner take all in professional sports. No best of seven series. No arbitrary selection of participants (hello, BCS). No-this is The Game. People plan for their Super Bowl parties. They have mounds of food, lots to drink, and lots of guests.

I hate it all except for the game.

Since the 1996 game (Packers/Patriots), I have only attended 2 Super Bowl parties. I did not have a great time at either one of them. Why? Because there were a lot of non-football fans gathered who were inconsiderate of those of us who live and die by the happenings of the NFL. These are the people who insist on socializing and talking during the game itself yet have the temerity to "Shuuush" people when the freaking COMMERCIALS are on.

WTF??????????

Now, since that 1996 game, I paid attention to how much fun I had during Super Bowls. I have found that 80% of the time, I really enjoyed the Super Bowls. That means 8 out of 10 times, I had a good time. Can you guess the 2 times where I wished I was by myself? Yup. Those would be the Super Bowl parties. I have fond memories of:

1) John Elway and Terrell Davis willing the Broncos to victory against a Packers team to whom everyone had essentially awarded the championship. It was a knock down drag out fight. I remember Davis leaving with a migraine during the 2nd quarter, in incredible pain. I remember how the Broncos looked vulnerable. I then remember Davis' triumphant return during the second half and how he kept pounding at the Packer defensive line until they were too tired to stand. It was one of the closest Super Bowls of the previous 14 years, and it was the first time in 14 years that an AFC stood triumphant over an NFC team. It was the saving of the legacy of John Elway, a player I despised (but I still had to respect his tenacity).

2) John Elway's MVP performance in the next Super Bowl and how he retired soon after. This game was not as close, but it was a lot of fun to watch.

3) The Greatest Show On Turf (the Rams offense) led by a former grocery store shelf stocker versus the hard hitting Tennessee Titans of Eddie George and Steve "Air" McNair. I remember the Titans being down by 10 points and then rallying to tie it up with 2:12 left and the announcing talking Overtime. I remember Kurt Warner (the aforementioned store stocker) unleashing a 73 yard bomb on the next possession that found a home in the waiting arms of the speedy Isaac Bruce to put the Rams ahead again. I also remember an incredible drive by the Titans, one which featured an amazing escape from a surefire sack by the fleet-footed Steve McNair. I remember his pass to Kevin Dyson and how Dyson was stopped one foot short of the goal line on the last play of the game. Sigh...THAT, my friends, is a Super Bowl.

4) The 2000 Super Bowl featured my Ravens and was one of the 2 parties I attended within the last 10 years. It was a church party in Baltimore, and my friends had strong armed me into attending. It was all right, but the truth is, very little of the game has stayed with me. I blame the party.

5) My first Super Bowl in Chicago was spent watching the Patriots versus the Rams. A little known QB named Tom Brady led the Patriots to a 20-17 win against a Rams team that was a heavy favorite. I saw Kurt Warner rally his team and tie it up. I also saw a cool and composed Brady go under center with less than 2 minutes left and drive towards field goal range. I remember Adam Vinatieri drilling the field goal that won the Patriots their first of 3 titles this decade. I also remember that Super Bowl as the one that had U2 as the halftime show, the Super Bowl post 9/11. It was amazing and completely memorable WITHOUT a party.

6) The storyline for the 2002 Super Bowl was Jon Gruden versus his old team, the Oakland Raiders. Gruden knew that offense like no one did, and he spent the week preparing his team to face the Raiders. It was not even close, as Rich Gannon broke the Super Bowl record for interceptions in the face of the Buccaneers relentless pass defense. In his first year in Tampa Bay, fortune had smiled on Gruden by giving him the Raiders as an opponent. Would the Bucs have had such an easy time with another AFC team? One wonders. This Super Bowl was also the first one that I watched on my then-new 42 inch widescreen TV. I had the best seat in the house-on my sofa watching the game. Awesome.

7) The 2003 and 2007 Super Bowls are the most memorable in my book. 2003 featured the return of Tom Brady and the Patriots facing a team that had entered the league a mere 8 years prior to that. The Panthers had ridden Stephen Davis, their powerful running back, to the Super Bowl. Indeed, the Panthers were seen as a one trick pony. No one thought that Jake Delhomme, the former back-up in New Orleans, could lead a team if it came down to a shootout. I distinctly remember watching the first half; the Patriots stopped Davis, and the Panthers looked as if they did not belong. I saw the frustration building on Delhomme's face, as it looked as it he was wilting under the hot lights of the Super Bowl. Ahh....but when the second half started, Delhomme started leading his team. I witnessed this quarterback, who as much as anyone relied on the running of Davis, carry his team on his back with his leadership in the huddle and his AMAZING passes. The second half turned into a shoot-out, with Brady and Delhomme trading TD passes. With less than 2 minutes left, Delhomme tied up the score with a long bomb to Mohammed. If not for an errant kickoff by John Kasey, the Panthers normally surefire kicker, Vinatieri might not have been able to kick his second Super Bow game winner. It was an exciting game, and I loved watching Delhomme's transformation on this stage. Magical.

8) New England versus Philadelphia was memorable only because of the fact that Philly really should have won the game. The reason that they lost? Poor conditioning on the part of Donovan McNabb. McNabb spent most of the 4th quarter dehydrated and slow. When the Eagles should have been in a hurry up, the tempo was slower than usual because McNabb was throwing up in the huddle and having a hard time catching his breath.

9) Pittsburgh v. Seattle: one of the WORST Super Bowls ever. The game looked as if there were 2 junior college teams duking it out, and the officiating was horrible, no doubt swayed by all of the terrible towels swirling in the stadium. A true yawner.

10) Indianapolis versus Chicago: the OPPOSITE of Jake Delhomme = Rex Grossman. When given the opportunity to help his team win, he actually handed the Colts the victory with his picks. Most of them were "what the heck was he thinking" throw. The Bears defense took away the big play for the most part save for one early long TD pass; they kept the game close. I always wondered what would have happened if Lovie Smith had benched Grossman during the 3rd quarter...

11) New England versus the New York Giants: wow-just wow. First of all, I DID attend a gathering of people at the behest of my friends. They were very kind in making sure that I had a great seat and even saved my spot for me. This game was remarkable because, once again, I saw a QB come of age. My respect for Eli Manning grew immensely that night, and where most parties had people talking and mixing, the 3rd and 4th quarter of THIS game was marked by people WATCHING THE GAME IN STUNNED SILENCE. It was magical. I am so fortunate to have watched the most amazing play in Super Bowl history unfold live. Manning surrounded by a blitzing Patriots defense...almost going down...staying upright and scrambling....finding David Tyree down the center of the field....unleashing a missile that was WAAAY over Tyree's head, and Tyree's amazing leap....Tyree keeping the ball glued to his helmet as Rodney Harrison tried to wrest control of the ball away from him on the way down. Catch. Wow. Manning led his team winning score with less than a minute left. Not enough time for Brady, who had been PUNISHED all day by the Patriots defense. An amazing game. A unique situation.

So out of these last 11 games, I have been to 2 gatherings. I prefer to watch it on my own, taking in the coaching strategies, finding out clues from the coordinators, and dissecting the battle...er..GAME plan. It does not matter whether I have a rooting interest in a team-what I am looking for is that moment where a player makes the difference...Jermaine Lewis in 2000...Brady and Vinatieri in 2001...Delhomme in 2003...Manning in 2007...THOSE are the moments that I seek. I love to analyze these things WITHOUT distraction. And to all of you who say "football takes so long between plays that you can have conversation and not miss anything", I say that you are not real NFL fans. Call me one day when you, too, actually strategize when you play Madden on your gaming system. Let me know when you look at the chalk talk or if you wake up at 5 AM to watch the best NFL show on TV, the Edge NFL Match-up.

Until then, I can be found on my sofa, with a roaring fireplace beneath my NEW mammoth HDTV, immersed by Dolby Digital 5.1 and a 1080i picture with the best seat in the house.

Enjoy the game!

Things Happen That Take You By Surprise

2009-01-26T21:44:00.004-06:00

I have a very good friend. Let's call her Eve. Eve and I became fast friends in law school. I remember the day that it happened. It was in Civil Procedure class. Our professor must have watched "Paper Chase" one too many times, for he fancied himself John Houseman. He would chose a different victim every class, and for that entire class, you were his bitch. It did not matter if you struggled or how long it took you to figure out his question-he stayed on you the entire time. We were all intimidated by this professor. The scary part was that we never knew who he was going to call on. Every day, those of us who he had not called on would wait with baited breath, for he would only put you on call once during the semester. Early on in the semester, it was open season. So many victims for him to chose from.

The first semester of law school is a scary time anyway. You are trying to figure so many things out, but you do not want anyone to figure out that you do not have any earthly idea what you are doing. You worry about being found out-about being proven an idiot in front of your peers to the point where they will point and whisper about you as you sit in the student lounge. Of course, what we failed to realize is that we ALL felt that way. When our Civ Pro professor had his victim, we all felt sorry for the victim because NO ONE knew the cases as he wanted us to. EVERYONE looked like an idiot, even the brightest among us.

Enter Eve. Eve was one of his first victims, and it happened early on in the semester. He had a field day with Eve, but she acquitted herself quite admirably-I daresay more than anyone else could have managed with the impossible case that day. I noticed Eve leaving class dejected-I knew that she must have felt awful in spite of the fact that she did relatively well. This was still early on in the semester when we did not know our classmates, but I took it upon myself to approach her and say: "you did really well in Civ Pro today-I doubt I could have even come up with ONE coherent answer, but you danced with the devil and beat him."

The look of gratitude that flooded over her face was one that I would never forget. Her self doubt was washed away, and in its place was a tentative confidence. She asked me "Do you REALLY think so?" I nodded "absolutely-everyone in the class was impressed-including me. Way to go."

I left it at that. A couple of days later I was in the library, studying the maligned case of "Pennoyer v. Neff." The best way to describe that case would be as a hazing ritual that Civ Pro professors put their students through. I was at a study carrel, and I noticed Eve walking toward me.

"Do YOU understand this case?" she asked.

"Nope," I answered. With that, we figured it out together. I found out a lot about her-how she came from a large family, how her boyfriend had a tough upbringing but was a whiz with complicated mathematics (think Good Will Hunting), how her parents were 20 years apart in age, and how she was almost wait listed from our law school. We became very good friends, and she was one of my first real friends that first year of law school. She and her boyfriend Wally came to my first giant law school party, and i immediately developed a mancrush on him-he was (and is) such a great guy. Eve ended up with one of the highest GPAs from our section after first year, and she was a shoo-in for law review. She was brilliant, but she always had time to help others. She went to school for public interest, but when she was offered a job with one of the top 50 firms in the WORLD (yes, the WORLD), she saw an opportunity to pay off her debt and save so that she could pursue pro bono work for the needy. She took the job and for the last 6 months, she has been succeeding at that.

Things were tough the last year of law school, for Eve's father was diagnosed with cancer. Eve spent many weekends in Minnesota with her family, visiting her father and comforting her Mom. Several times, Eve did not know if her time with her father would be her last. During all of this time, she still remained the same awesome, smart, sassy, sexy young woman who I considered as close to me as a little sister. I could talk to her about anything, and she could do the same with me.

After graduation, Wally and Eve moved in together in a fabulous apartment right in downtown Chicago. The two of us would get together on occasion for a quick lunch and to catch up on things. She still traveled on the weekends to see her Dad, who, thanks to a tragic setback, had to be put into a retirement nursing home. 2009 was shaping up to be an incredible year for Eve. This was the year that she would realize so many of her dreams. She was succeeding as an attorney at a top 50 firm, her relationship with her awesome boyfriend was going well, and she had her eyes on a goal.

This weekend, Eve was traveling back to the airport in Minnesota after having visited her parents. She was driving along the road and passed out at the wheel. She woke up to find herself in a ditch (I'll bet you thought this was going to end differently). Eve was confused as to what happened.

This evening, I was in Jewel doing some grocery shopping. Eve tried calling, but I was in a bad area for cell phone reception. She left a message, but I did not listen to it. I called her back as soon as I got to the car.

"Hi Eve!" I said. "How are you? Sorry about that. I had bad reception."

Eve: "That's OK...so, did you listen to my message?"

Me (still happy): "No, I figured I would just call you back. What's up"

Eve: "Well, I was calling my closest friends because I figured they should know..."

My heart sank. Oh no, I thought, Eve's dad died. I steeled myself for the bad news...and received even worse news.

Eve: "So I kind of have a brain tumor...."

Silence...what do you say when someone you care about tells you something like this? I immediately started asking questions, trying to figure out some way the doctors could be wrong and some way that this was all some sort of macabre joke.

It wasn't. Eve had a brain tumor. Best case scenario is full recovery. Worst case is that she dies, Somewhere in the middle are 2 other options: 1) they could remove the tumor, but since it is so close to the speech center of the brain, she would be rendered unable to speak for the rest of her life or 2) she could live with the tumor and live for another 10-15 years.

Goddamn it...SHE IS ONLY 26.....

All of a sudden, my own problems at work seem so small. All of a sudden, I felt the need to talk to my brother and my parents to remind them how much I love them. All of a sudden, I want to tell my friends how much I care for all of them. All of a sudden, I am wondering: Why her and not me...she is such a great person...this is NOT fair...

Eve seems to be in good spirits, but I am sad and worried. There are so many other things I am worried about tonight, this and one other thing that I will not speak about here (some of you know). Everything else can go to hell because everything else does not matter.

What matters is that my friend, a sweet young girl of 26 with her whole life ahead of her, has a brain tumor. And I will be damned if I am not there for her, Wally, and the rest of her family for whatever they need.

Proper Sidewalk Etiquette

2009-01-22T22:36:00.005-06:00

1. If you are with a group of people and are spread across the sidewalk, be aware of a) people behind you who want to get past and b) people ahead of you headed in your direction. We all have equal rights to the sidewalk. Don't be a sidewalk hog.

2. They are called sideWALKS not sideRIDES; ergo, bicycles do NOT belong on sidewalks. Take it to the streets.

3. Spitting on the sidewalk is a disgusting habit. If you do it, you are a disgusting person.

4. I do not CARE if it is raining in the city-golf umbrellas belong on the golf course. They have NO BUSINESS on the streets of a major metropolitan city during rush hour.

5. If you are going to check out the sites and stare at the Sears Tower, DO NOT BLOCK THE FREAKING SIDEWALK WHERE PEOPLE WITH JOBS ARE TRYING TO GET TO WORK.

6. Don't walk in the MIDDLE of the freaking sidewalk. Choose a side. It's easy-there are 2 to choose from!

7. If you have a wheelie bag, it is YOUR responsibility to keep it out of everyone's way. After all, we are all trying to share the same sidewalk space. If you do not keep it out of my way, I reserve the right to take it from you and toss it into the middle of the street.

8. If you walk your dog during the winter, pick up the dog poop-especially if the dog poops on the sidewalk. I don't care if he or she did it in the snow-the snow melts, and what is left is feces on the sidewalk.

9. When you exit a building, stop and look both ways before entering the flow of traffic. Sometimes this can be hard (revolving door and people coming behind you), but remember that the people already walking on the sidewalk are the ones who have the right of way.

10. From Brita (I could not have said it any better and probably would have said it a lot worse): Also note the use of cell phone walkers who smash into you with their elbows sticking out...I reserve the right to throw you AND your cell into the street...Like what is this? 1999? Get a bluetooth already!

Wicked

2009-01-20T23:03:00.005-06:00

Wow.

I have just completed watching a performance of "Wicked." It is now 11 PM, but I had to write this post anyway because I wanted the experience of the day to be fresh in my mind when I write the post. The sights, the sounds, the annoying people in the audience (more on that later)...but it all started with the most hectic of work days.

Things were going along smoothly in the morning. I had to do some research in an old laboratory notebook looking for some endocrine hormone related studies pertaining to a patent interference proceeding (the mechanics of which I will NOT bore you with at this time...maybe later). In the background, on my computer screen, I had the live ABC feed for President Obama's inauguration playing on my computer in the background. I was feeling GOOD-it was the perfect day and looked to be even better. I had my performance of "Wicked" to look forward to, and I had planned out my afternoon perfectly. All I had to do was complete that task and then do some document review (mindless discovery work) for a few hours. I was then going to walk to the Ford Theater and watch the show. Of course, work has a way of messing up our best laid plans. Exactly 1.5 hours before I left for the show, one of the partners sent down a research task that HAD to be completed tonight. There is a client meeting scheduled for tomorrow, and this research HAD to get done and would I mind doing it? Mind? Yes. Say no? Uh-uh. I set about working on it in a fevered pitch and was handed ANOTHER grenade-a copyright search for a character in the public domain. THIS was fun. I love stuff dealing with characters, and I had done some other research on Oz to prepare myself for "Wicked."

More on that later. So I finished the research task, finding cases ON POINT and CURRENT and ACING OPPOSING COUNSEL's so-called precedent (yeah, I said it) within ONE HOUR. Talk about efficient. I then took some time to familiarize myself with the state of public domain with respect to fictional characters. Now I will not share with you the name of the character in question (obviously, there is some attorney-client privilege that comes into play here), but I will share with you what I know about the characters from L. Frank Baum's "Oz" series. Did you know that for all works from Baum published before 1922, the fictional characters are in the public domain? That means ANYONE can use them without paying any copyright fees. This would explain a lot from what I saw in the show tonight (but I am getting ahead of myself yet again).

Going into the show, I had no idea about the storyline or what I would learn about the witches of Oz. I knew that the musical was acclaimed and that a lot of people that I know and trust in such matters loved it, but that was all. So I set off from work (in plenty of time) to walk to the theater where it was showing. I had purchased a will call ticket, so I wanted to get to the box office in plenty of time. Now, "Wicked" has been playing for over 4 years now, and I figured that it would not be that crowded. Boy was I wrong. When I reached the Ford Theater, I noticed a line snaking out the front door-and this was 45 minutes before showtime. It took me 10 minutes to get my ticket from the Will Call box and then another 15 minutes to wait for my seating area to open up. The Ford Theater is an old school theater, a former movie theater that has ornate gold inlays as part of its decoration. The stage is a classic proscenium stage, and I noticed an ornate border surrounding the centerpiece, a map of Oz that also served as a curtain. The Ford Theater also has the most intensely uncomfortable seats.

The theater was PACKED-waves of people and families came crashing in one after another. I started to feel a little squished (no doubt to the giant overweight woman that reeked of old person seated to my right). What IS that smell, anyway? Finally, the lights turned down, and the show began.

What can I say? I am still relatively blown away. First of all, the performances were spot on. This was not some performance of "Phantom" where people were merely going through the motions of a show they had performed several times before. No, these performers were giving it their all, and the audience appreciated it. Dee Roscioli was amazing in the role of Elphaba, the woman who would become the Wicked Witch of the West. Equally amazing was Annaleigh Ashford in the role of Galinda/Glinda. Without the performances of these two actresses, the story would have fallen flat, for so much depends on how much the audience buys into their interactions. The music and lyrics were also perfect. As with the story, both danced the fine line between comedy and drama. The audience let itself be carried away with "Popular", "I'm Not that Girl", "Defying Gravity", and especially "For Good." The musical talents of the ensemble-well, all I can say is that, having watched quite a few Broadway shows ON BROADWAY in my time, this was far and away one of the best that I have watched.

One of the more remarkable things was how the stage served the production yet never became its own distraction. I remember watching "Les Miserables" on Broadway and being distracted from the amazing music because of the centerpiece of the stage, a turntable kind of device that would noisily spin during Act and Scene changes. That took me out of the musical. When I saw "Dirty Dancing" recently, I was taken out of the story by the "gee whiz" aspects of the stage production, including the overly elaborate "bridge to the staff quarters" and the painstaking re-creation of the sets from the film. "Wicked" did it right. Of course, there were some elaborate set pieces, but they never overshadowed the show itself. Much as a special effect should serve the story, so too did the stage pieces serve the overarching need-nothing appeared to be mere window dressing. And remember what I said about the public domain? Well, I knew that the ruby slippers were actually the intellectual property (copyrighted and trademarked) by MGM, for in the original novel, the slippers were silver. Lo and behold, when the sparkly slippers made their appearance on the stage (and no, I will not tell you why they were there), they were, indeed, silver-the public domain slippers as it were. Of course, the imaginative geniuses behind the show used one key portion of the show to illuminate the stage with a reddish/purple light that, in that instant, made the silver slippers appear to be ruby in color. When that happened, I jsut shook my head in amazement, as I was impressed by the ingenuity shown by the technical staff to give the audience what they wanted while at the same time staying within the allowed intellectual property boundaries. Note to self...stop being such a huge intellectual property nerd...

What about the story? Well, I cannot discuss it because I had so much joy in watching it unfold myself (except for the second Act-more on that in a second). If you want to discover another layer to the story of Oz, a prequel and also a parallel story to the "Wizard of Oz," then you should definitely go to see this musical. Unlike George Lucas' atrocious "Star Wars" prequels, Winnie Holzman and company got it right with the denizens of Oz.

So why was I not surprised by some of the revelations in the second half? Well, during the intermission, an audience member sitting a couple of rows up from me was speaking to who I assume was her father and proceeded to recite everything THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE SECOND ACT. As, in mounting horror, I realized what she was doing, I quickly tried to distract myself from her piercing, irritating, high-pitched voice. I partially succeeded, but I was irritated that some of the surprises had been ruined for me. I suppose it is poetic justice, as some of you readers know of my penchant (inadvertently) to spoil TV episodes that you might not have watched (and you know who you are). Still, if you are at the freaking show, WHY WOULD YOU PROCEED TO TELL EVERYONE WITHIN LISTENING RANGE WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? We GET it-you love the show and have seen it many times before. Shut the HELL UP!!

Other than that, I took in the crowds and listened to the gentle demands (seriously, no sarcasm intended) of a young girl that her father buy a "Wicked" t-shirt. The father said no, and I quietly laughed to myself, as I know that, if I have a daughter, I would be putty in her hands, and I knew that the father would cave. Sure enough, at intermission, he got up to scavenge for his little girl, who was sitting behind me and was incredibly well behaved for the entire show. She even stopped asking for a t-shirt immediately upon her father telling her to stop.

Yeah, if I have a daughter, I will be completely useless in the "telling her no to what she wants" department. I also thought it was cool that this was something they were sharing together. "Wicked" is an amazing show to attend as a family, and other than for Disney productions, these types of shows are sadly few and far between.

Bottom line-if you have yet to see this show, go and see it. You will not be disappointed.

Wow...I really did not expect to be as impressed with the show as I am.

On This MLK Weekend, a True Story From the Family Files...

2009-01-18T14:55:00.003-06:00

When my parents completed their residency training in this country, they looked around the country for a place that would be ideal to practice medicine yet also be conducive to raising children and having some sort of quality of life. The coastal areas were very attractive to them, yet they did not want to settle in a place that had severe winters. After a personal visit from the administrator of a small Virginia hospital, they settled in southeast Virginia, in the Hampton Roads area. At the time, the Artful Brother started attending school in one town before having to switch to another school prior to his 3rd grade year. The school that the Brother was to attend was founded during the 60s in an effort to avoid desegregation efforts by Congress and the Supreme Court. The Artful Brother was a typical 8 year old, a hell raiser who looked the role of the innocent, but in school, he always behaved and was a great student.

On that first day of school, he went out on the playground during recess with his new classmates and was running happily on the peanut shell-based surface (safety, don't you know). It was a crisp fall day, and he was just learning that maybe he could fit in among all of these Southern Virginians. He was unfazed by the lack of...color ...in the classroom save for himself. Because this had often been the case thus far in his childhood to date, he never gave it a second thought.

Lost in his reverie, he did not notice the trio of bullies that was watching him. Now don't worry, he was not physically attacked or humiliated. That would be a difficult story. No, what happened instead could have had more serious consequences had it occurred to anyone with less fortitude than the Artful Brother.

Artful Brother to the bullies: " Hi, my name is _____. What are your names?"

Bully (silent, then): "What are you doing here?"

Brother: "I just started school here. It's really nice. Is this your first day here too?"

Bully: "No, but we BELONG here. You don't."

Brother: "Huh?"

Bully: "Our school doesn't allow niggers."

Pause for a second, and focus on the various layers of ignorance that underlie that statement.

Artful Brother: "What's a nigger?"

Just then, the bell rang and the face off ended, with the Artful Brother never getting the answer to his question. The need for an answer dogged him, however, for to this day, the Artful Brother is a learning sponge who always wants to learn new things. The Artful Brother made his way home and was sitting down to dinner with the Artful Mom (the Artful Dad was at the hospital).

Artful Mom: "How was school today, honey?"

Artful Brother: "It was OK-the teacher is really nice and so are most of the kids."

Artful Mom (relieved): "Oh that's good!"

Artful Brother: "Mom...what's a nigger?"

Artful Mom (her heart sinking): "It is a name that people without education call people who are different from them (note how Mom put a generality into the target group being denigrated-in her teaching, any racial slurs attack all races equally). Why do you ask?"

Artful Brother (thinking): "Oh no reason. This guy named Bully called me that today, and I did not know why."

Artful Mom (hiding her sadness and her desire to cry for her boy): "Just ignore him, sweetie. He doesn't know what he is saying because he is just a small boy like you. Stay away from him, though, until he learns that what he said was wrong."

Artful Brother: "OK, Mom."

What a horrible experience for the Artful Brother-face to face with the most abhorrent racism on his first day of school. By itself, this would be a sad story, but there is a coda to it, one that would only occur 9 years later.

It is now Senior Year for the Artful Brother. He has excelled in academics throughout his entire career and he is getting ready to graduate and go on to a great college. He has so many friends in the school and the small Southern town where the Artful Parents settled. He has also achieved the singular honor of being the school's valedictorian (having also been voted Most Likely to Succeed). He is the first minority to be the school valedictorian, and he is honored and humbled. He gives an amazing speech on friendship and the importance of friends in ones life. In the crowd, the Artful Parents and I watched proudly, and I saw tears in Mom's eyes that seemed a bit bittersweet. I asked her, "Mom, are you happy?" She answered, "I could not be happier...but there is more. I will tell you later."

All of my brother's graduating class surrounded him and congratulated him after the ceremony, but Bully was missing. Of course, one would assume that Bully was still a bitter little boy blinded by racism, but there was another reason for his absence. Bully never made the grades that allowed him to graduate, and he flunked during the school year twice (making up the grades over the summer). Bully was allowed to graduate in summer school, far from the cheers and accolades that met the boy (now man) who he had mercilessly teased as a child. The Artful Brother, to this day, has never mentioned this story and has carried himself with the utmost pride.

After the ceremony, I asked Mom why she was crying.

She composed herself, then began: "When your father and I completed our residency training in this country . . . "

Fantasy Films, or Khan Noonien Singh v. Henry Higgins

2009-01-15T20:26:00.004-06:00

Fantasy films come in all shapes and sizes, and most of them are easily broken down into subcategories. First, there are the hardcore true fantasy films, such as "Lord of the Rings", "Conan the Barbarian", and "The Chronicles of Narnia"-sword and sorcery epics where there are heroes, monsters, magic, and forests...lots and lots of forests. Next, you have the science fiction films, those that begin with "Star"-"Star Wars", "Star Trek", "Stargate"-all about exciting adventures from the future or from a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. These films are marked by alien creatures, ray guns, space ships, and clear cut heroes and villains. Third, you have horror films, those films with creatures from the great beyond, devils, demons, Freddies, Jasons, and Michael Myers (no, not "Austin Powers"-the OTHER Michael Myers). These films are marked by nubile young people in abandoned cabins or home alone with no parents being stalked by bogeymen who hate misbehaving kids...unstoppable killing machines whose every kill shows imagination and ingenuity that would be more at place in an ad agency than in a home with a machete. Finally, you have the animated films, those Disney, Pixar, Dreamworks candy-coated confections filled with songs and dance where the animals help you out of jams and where there is always a happy ending-safe for kids (most of the time), and fun for the whole family.

When I was a child, I gravitated towards these types of films (well, except for horror films-remind me to tell you one day of my first screening of "Jaws"...in a theater . . .at the age of 7), and I used to love superheroes, comics, toys, and fantasy (ok, ok...I admit it...I am still a huge nerd who loves his superheroes-no surprise to longtime readers of this site). I used to spend a lot of time by myself creating new adventures, playing with my action figures, and just crafting stories. My parents used to worry...they would tell me "Artful, you are living in a fantasy world. Those movies are not realistic in any way. Why do you like them so much?"

Ahhh....but my parents loved fantasy films even more than I did. True, they hated cartoons (well, except for "Lady and the Tramp"-my Dad always got a kick out the Italian chefs calling Lady a "cocker Spanish-girl"), fantasy, horror, and ESPECIALLY science fiction. My brother had to fight tooth and nail to see the original "Star Wars" in the theater (during its initial run-limited engagement my ass...). But to all of their protests and hatred of all things sci-fi, I blissfully said nothing in defense, for I knew that my parents loved fantasy films in their own way.

My parents LOVED classic musicals.

Musicals are the ultimate in fantasy films. Love stories in far off places or far off times, where everyone is dressed impeccably and can dance with abandon through the streets of Paris, where the daughter of a dustman could become a duchess in a flower shop, where a governess could teach a crusty old Captain to love again with the spectre of Nazi Germany hovering over them...where New York street gangs could have been companies in the Bolshoi . . .and where a sailor On the Town could dance with Jerry Mouse. Yes, my parents loved musicals, and through their love of musicals, I found an appreciation for them as well. I remember that my folks would not let my brother and I watch Lerner and Lowe's "My Fair Lady" because Henry Higgins yelled "damn" several times near the end of the film. They also thought the street gangs of "West Side Story" and the violent deaths of Riff and 'Nardo were way too violent for kids (nevermind that I had already been traumatized by Quint's grisly death-by-shark in "Jaws" ). My memories from childhood are of family movie nights revisiting a more innocent time when we could believe that people just might start dancing down the streets, where even Brando could sing (OK, maybe not, but "Guys and Dolls" is a LOT of fun to watch).

What I love about musicals is that, like some of the very best animated cartoons of the Warner Brothers era, they could be enjoyed on several levels by young and old alike. There are many themes that I never picked up on while growing up, yet they became apparent to me as I matured. Take "Fiddler on the Roof" for example. I always found Tevye to be a bit whiny-I mean, how bad could he have it? A loving wife, 5 lovely daughters, lots of friends in the village-why did he seem so sad? And yet...as I grew older, I understood his struggle to the changes in tradition, the things that he knew, the way things are-his struggle against change itself. The first suitor sought both his blessing and his permission. The suitor for his second daughter did not seek his permission, but he only sought his blessing. The suitor for his third daughter Hava...the apple of his eye, his favorite...well, he sought neither as their marriage went against all tradition (I can still see Topol in the role yelling at the sky in futility "TRADITION!!!"). Such a great film.

Out of all of the the great musicals, the one that has been a true revelation to me as I have aged has been "Gigi", Vincente Minnelli's adaptation of the Collete short story about a young girl coming of age in turn of the century Paris. Leslie Caron is amazing in the title role, and Maurice Chevalier is in his element as Louis Jourdan's uncle, scheming and advising his nephew to just enjoy his bachelor life (who cares who he harms?). The songs are amazing, and Minnelli knew how to shoot Paris. The only thing that saddens me is that I could never see Paris as it was. With the advent of letterboxing, I was finally able to see the film as it was meant to be seen, and all I could think was "wow!" Now, most of you know of my love of film, and this love can tend towards the maudlin and the sentimental at times. but Minnelli framed one of the most beautiful shots I have ever seen on film (and those of you who have been fortunate enough to witness the shot understand). The scene is near the end of the film. Jourdan's character is in a hansom cab and is take to a giant park. We see this gorgeous fountain (all lit up at night as most Parisian fountains are) and we see the silhouette of the cab pull up in front of the fountain. We then see the cab pull away, and on the left side of the screen, in silhouette, we see Gaston (Jourdan's character), top hat on, his head down, thinking things over.

My God, what an amazing shot. I wish I had that shot framed.

Mind you, this was not a shot of a duel between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker. This was not Gandalf's face-off with the Balrog on the Bridge at Khazad-dum. This was not even gorgeous waltz of the robots from "Wall-E"-no, this shot is from a 1950s musical about a young girl coming of age in Paris. This shot is probably my favorite film shot of all (with a close second being Will Kane alone on the deserted city streets in "High Noon").

Since those early days, my love of musicals has continued unabated. When I lived in Baltimore for grad school (round 1), I sometimes made day trips to New York to catch shows on Broadway. This was how I was able to see "Phantom of the Opera" (with and without Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman), "Cats", "Cabaret", "Beauty and the Beast", "Miss Saigon", "Rent" with the original cast, "The Lion King", and, before he died, Rex Harrison in a revival of "My Fair Lady." Living in Chicago, I have been fortunate enough to see even more musicals, as the theater district in Chicago has so many great shows.

I am writing all of this because, in less than 2 weeks, "Wicked" is having its final curtain in Chicago. After assuming that it would be here forever, I was taken by surprise, for I never had a chance to see it and was worried that I would miss it. Thankfully, I now have my ticket and will be seeing it next Tuesday night. All I know about it is that it has something to do with the origins of the witches of Oz. That is all. Well, that and the fact that everyone who has ever seen the show has fallen in love with it. The anticipation is there, and I am looking forward to yet another wonderful experience.

Now, over the years, my male brethren have given me a lot of grief for my love of musicals, and I really do not care. I feel sad for them because their own insecurities and small mindedness are causing them to miss out on some amazing performances.

I leave you with this little bit of trivia. Ricardo Montalban passed away this week. To most people, he was best known as the mysterious Mr. Roarke of "Fantasy Island" or KHHHAAAAAN! from "Star Trek: the Wrath of Khan." Few people know that Mr. Montalban, after becoming a star in Mexican cinema, starred on Broadway opposite Lena Horne in the musical "Jamaica." Khan as a calypso singer? Believe it!

Regression, or the Artful Parents and the TiVo

2009-01-13T08:47:00.004-06:00

This Christmas, I purchased an HD TiVo for my parents. My parents are in their late sixties and early 70s, but they tend to be rather technically savvy. My mom surfs the web like a pro and considers any day that does not include time with her Wii and Wii Fit to have been a wasted day. She is also obsessed with Tetris. My dad set up the entire home entertainment system-and this was after he turned 70, mind you. I remember having conversations with him about HDMI versions (we agreed that 1.3a was the way to go) and whether his receiver should be merely pass-through or decoding.

Yeah, I know.

Anyway, the one constant in all of their purchases is that my Mom's first response to any electronics purchase is "No!" My father and I, however, have realized that Mom usually comes around once we show her how the technology can benefit them. This was the case with DVR. Ever since I learned the joys of the DVR so many years ago, I knew that it would be something both of my parents could enjoy. Beyond the benefit of easy recording and convenience, there was that whole thing of "being able to pause live TV while you go to pee" that makes DVR wonderful. My dad had long been sold on it, but my mom...well, "No!"

Now, this Christmas was the first Christmas in a few years that I could afford to purchase something nice for them. I chose TiVo, much to my father's delight. The newer TiVos not only record in HD but also allow one to stream video from Netflix straight to the TV without the hassle of bothering with DVDs, the mail, and such. I had been streaming Netflix through my Xbox for a while, and I was amazed at how easy it was to set up. I also get a couple of the DVDs every month through the mail, but I was never getting the full benefit of my Netflix membership. I figured that once I set up the TiVo and showed Mom and Dad how to use it, I could set them up with my Netflix account, thereby making it a family account that I would pay for and that they could use.

Predictably, my parents loved the TiVo. I mean, who wouldn't? Mom became enamoured with this puzzle game that came with the system, and Dad immediately set about trying to set up the system to record his beloved "Saturday Night Live." I showed them how to add films to the instant queue and how to search for movies and then returned to Chicago. After a couple of days, I noticed that they had watched...a LOT of movies on Netflix. I mean...a LOT. My instant queue was filled with so many films that I myself would never dream of watching. I also started getting "Netflix recommendations for Artful" that were...well, they were not even close. After my initial bemusement, I started to add some titles to my own instant queue and then stopped. At 37, I realized that I had allowed my parents to have full access to my movie viewing habits. Now, I am not someone who likes abnormal films or anything, and Netflix does not deal in porn or stuff like that, but I have had to struggle a bit with this little loss of privacy. Have I really regressed back to the point in childhood where Mom and Dad can monitor fully an aspect of my life?

The point really hit home when I wanted to add a film to my queue but refrained from doing so based on the title of the film and the inevitable questions that the Artful Mom and Dad would ask if it showed up in my queue. It is a Canadian film, a comedy about the struggles in relationships that people go through, a story told through a series of vignettes (5, to be precise). The film received excellent reviews and is SO MUCH better than the title. In fact, there is supposedly very little in the way of risque subject matter other than some salty language. It has been described as similar to "The 40 Year Old Virgin" and "American Pie", riotous sex comedies that have a heart. It sounds like a great film...but I refuse to put it in my Netflix queue based solely on my concern over my parents' response if they saw it in there.

The title?

Umm...Young People F****ing.

Yeah, try explaining THAT title to the Artful Parents...

The Story of Troy

2009-01-07T09:25:00.003-06:00

During an on-line chat with Eddie one day, I made a comment that was a bit out of character for me (and said completely in jest). This was the chat dialogue that followed:

Eddie: "This is not Artful! Who is this?"

Artful: "Troy."

Eddie: " hahahaa (sidenote-Eddie abhors shorthand such as 'lol' while on-line chatting)-Troy McClure?"

Artful: "No, just Troy...no last name. Troy."

With that exchange, Troy has become my alter ego. We have since filled in Troy's background. He is from East London (as that is the only sort of "English from the UK" that I can speak). He is a bruiser, but he is always good for a larf. Soon enough, whenever Eddie and Missy were around, they would invariably start referring to me as Troy, a funny in-joke that had to be explained to anyone standing around why they were calling an Indian guy by the name of Troy.

Flash forward to Monday. I left the office briefly around midday to grab a takeout lunch from a place close to work. Now, I have a typically hard to pronounce Indian name (at least, for people NOT from India), and I usually have to explain to various cashiers, hosts and hostesses exactly how to pronounce it and how to spell it. On this occasion, I felt inspired:

Cashier: "And what is your name for the order?"

Artful (confidently): "Troy...yup, that's my name."

Cashier: "Oooh! Troy. That is a very strong sounding name!"

Seriously, you can't make this stuff up.

Artful (not expecting this reaction): "Really? Ummm...why do you say that?"

Cashier: "It just is-it is a lot stronger sounding than Jasmine at least (which turned out to be her name)."

Upon returning to the office, I immediately shared the experience with Eddie, who "hahahaa'd" (lol'd) and seemed extremely pleased. He also confirmed my suspicions that the cashier was, in fact, hitting on me.

As that has never occurred in instances where I gave my real name, I can only assume that her interest was due to the power of Troy.

So if you are out and about in Chicago and see an Indian guy in his 30s who answers to the name of Troy, you might just have met me!

Stolen Lines #1

2009-01-05T19:05:00.003-06:00

I tried to think of the right answer. Unable to think of that, I spoke anyway.

As my mouth opened and I formed the words, my mind went back to the first moment I saw her. I was a grad student, and I had just come out of a long term, bad relationship. At the time I was in the relationship, I did not think it was necessarily bad. After all, when one is in a relationship, we are often blind to the bad stuff. It is only with time and distance can we see the toxicity of certain relationships. My previous girlfriend had been my polar opposite. Where I was passive, she was aggressive. Where I tended to be mellow, she tended to be...well, MEAN. It took the observation of my best friend at the time for me to actually focus on what the heck I was doing in the relationship. I was driven to succeed in school, and I had a clear notion of what I wanted to do with my life. She was haunted by the demons of her childhood, and the manic-depression that haunted her mother was, in retrospect, rearing its ugly head in her. The break-up was not pleasant, and as she was my first long-term girlfriend, it was hard on me. Of course, it is easy now to see that it would never have worked out. At the time, however, I was wondering if I would ever find someone ever again.

But then I noticed K. Now, K was also a graduate student studying in a lab a few floors above me. She was attractive, quiet, and intelligent. She seemed to also have a direction to her life, a purpose. I was very shy and, having just emerged from a bad relationship. was reluctant to embark on dating once again. Luckily, one of my lab mates took it upon herself to set things in motion by finding out K's situation. She was single and had come out of a bad co-dependent relationship herself. She was not looking, but one of her requirements would be a guy who was not so needy. I appeared to fit the bill.

Our first date was a movie, the Ethan Hawke version of "Great Expectations." I think that both K and I were expecting a classic romance, but it was a little more risque than we would have liked. We went for coffee afterward, and we discussed the rigors of being grad students, bits and pieces about our research, and aspects about our interests. I found out that K fancied herself an actress and had even taken part in a few productions in town. I discovered that she owned her home in a trendy area of town. I also discovered that she was very close to her recently widowed mother. She loved to cook and entertain. Everything should have worked, right?

Over time, however, cracks appeared in the veneer of our relationship. What had once started out so promising ended with with a tearful farewell.

Lost in my reverie, and attempting to think of the right answer to her question: "Why do you want to break up?", I was distracted by figuring out what I SHOULD say rather than what the right answer was. I mean, I was unable to come up with the right answer because there was no SINGLE right answer-just a conglomeration of issues that told me that she wasn't the one. Sometimes, the truth in break ups can hurt a lot more than non sequitur reasons.

The right answer? Well...first, there was the fact that, once again, I had followed my pattern of being the rescuer-the person who comes in and takes care of a bird with a wing down. K was the bird in this case, an amazing person who, when we met, thought she was nothing special who had been used and abused by her previous boyfriend (mentally and not physically). I set about to disavow her of this notion, and I succeeded to a certain extent. The unwelcome side effect of this was that K started clinging to me in the most suffocating way. Every second of every day, she wanted to know what I was doing, who I was with, and when we would see each other next. Actually, to call it suffocating would be understating the situation. She would pop into my lab and visit me at all times, even where I was trying to work. That, in itself was not sooo bad, but it got to the point where I could hardly get any work done. She was ALWAYS hovering nearby or calling me on the phone.

There were also the father figure issues-her father had passed away 2 years before, and she still felt the void. However, she often put me in the position of her father. Ummm......yuck?

And, of course, there were superficial things. I must admit that, in retrospect, I could have handle the break up better. After all, maybe I could have helped her change things. However, there are some things that are just SO fundamental that a passing comment is just not enough.

She had awful personal hygiene.

There, I said it. Now, you might say: "But Artful, how bad could it be? I mean, you would have keyed in on it early on, right?"

Umm...no, sometimes the judicious and strategic application of perfume and hand lotion can cover up big defects. The eye-opening moment for me was during the first weekend we spent together, 2 months into our relationship. We had gone hiking in the summer heat, and upon returning to the hotel, I immediately made a beeline to the bathroom to shower. After I had dressed and emerged, she stated that she wanted to go to dinner.

"OK," I thought, "she obviously did not sweat as much as I did. I mean, maybe those pits under her arms are from water that she splashed up there when I was not looking. Maybe she is just really hungry and will shower after dinner."

We went to dinner and returned to our room. I brushed my teeth because I wanted to give her the bathroom. She....did not need it. After I left the bathroom, she entered to use the toilet. I heard the flush but then no running water afterwards-SHE HAD NOT WASHED HER HANDS!!! As it turned out, she had also not bothered to shower or brush her teeth. We went to sleep (and I was completely grossed out by that point). The next morning, I showered, shaved, and brushed my teeth. She did none of those things (and yes, some of them were DEFINITELY required). Mind you, this was day 2 . . . in the summer. . . umm, yeah.

On day 4, we left. She had not bathed or brushed her teeth during this time. In retrospect, maybe she was trying to get rid of me? But no...then what was up with the clingyness and the entreaties for intimacy (yeah-as if THAT would happen after what I witnessed)?

At the time of the break-up (shortly after this weekend), the right answer would have been "you are too clingy and unhygienic, and my germophobic ass just cannot handle that!". Instead, I trotted out the old tried and true "this is just a bad time in my life."

OK, I KNOW that that is SUCH a guy line, but keep in mind that a) my last break up was still fresh in my mind AND b) I was SO immature (barely in my 20s at the time and not ready for ANY relationship. At least I deserve credit for telling her directly and not complaining to my friends about it, playing the a-hole guy card by being mean and forcing her to break-up first, or ignoring her and hoping that she would break up with me. I followed up that line with something that was, actually, true: "it's not you, its me." It WAS me. I was the one who was feeling claustrophobic. I was the one who had germ issues. I was the coward who could not tell her these things. In my mind, she was better off. Would it have been better to stay in the relationship for the sake of the relationship? I think not. I had made that mistake previously. It would also not be fair to her. Honesty would have devastated her. I have had friends tell me that I should have informed her of the hygiene thing, but whenever they told me that, I countered with "HOW?"

In retrospect, there are a lot of things I could have said that would have been better. Hindsight is, after all, 20/20. Unable to think of the right answer that summer evening, I spoke anyway, and thankfully, I was able to end the relationship with a minimum of tears. I hope that K has found happiness with someone else-I really do.

Postscript-since that time, my best friend has referred to girlfriend #1 as "the mean one" and K as "the stinky one." Thanks, Aaron.

Note: I stole the first two sentences from Night of the Avenging Blowfish, by John Welter, as part of Grace's experiment.

Random Thought of the Day

2009-01-05T11:12:00.004-06:00

I was reading how President-Elect Barack Obama was flying around in one of the presidential planes when I came to the following passage:

Although the airplane was not called Air Force One because Obama is not yet president, it had all the trappings of the real thing: the presidential seal at the front of the plane, name cards with the presidential seal and cups and plates emblazoned with "Air Force One."

I then got to thinking: "wouldn't it be great if there was really a presidential SEAL?" I mean, imagine a marine mammal sitting at the front of the plane barking at the Commander in Chief.

Strange I know, but this is how my brain works.

The next Presidential Seal?

How I Intend to Be a Better Person in 2009

2009-01-03T11:02:00.005-06:00

Resolutions are interesting things. Most of the time, we look at short term goals that we might have and write those into the resolutions. Very few of us, however, take the coming of a new year as an opportunity to truly do some soul searching to discover what we should inherently change about ourselves. The problem is that the older we get, the more ingrained our bad habits seem to be and the more we struggle to keep up with the changes we want to make. After all, it is so much easier to sit in front of a warm fire than go outside into the bitter Chicago cold and take a long walk. It is so much easier to sit in front of the TV rather than finding activities to do outside the home or to do things around the house. When one lives, as I do, by himself, it can be even harder, as there is no other person to whom you must hold yourself accountable. There is no one there to say "it is time to mop the floors, do the laundry, pay the bills, get up, make breakfast, go to work, go grocery shopping, go to the gym, make appointments, fill the tank, talk to the management company, call the cable company about the service, call your mom, call you dad, call your brother, make travel plans for next year, remember student loan payments, etc." I tend to keep a lot of my tasks in my head, and I have noticed a decrease in my memory pertaining to tasks as I have grown older. Hence, one of the first fundamental changes I would like to make is to keep a planner that outlines my responsibilities on a week-to-week basis, factoring in hard times for grocery shopping, chores, and going to the gym. If I can do anything for 3 weeks without interruption, I have noticed that such things become habits. Organization is the key to success in my book.

The other thing that I want to do in the new year is to be a better friend. This fundamental change comes from my own bad habit of not calling my friends enough. Months can go by before I realize that I have not spoken to 2 of my best friends in the entire world. Now, one might say that they should call me as well, but conversations are a 2 way street. I need to make more of an effort to speak to them on a regular basis (or at least until they tell me to stop) and to be a good friend in other ways. Oftentimes, I struggle with the problem of not wanting to point out issues for fear of antagonizing my friends. I believe the best approach to this issue would be to focus on myself and try to address my own individual issues. After all, who am I to criticize where I have so much to work on?

Hand in hand with this is something that I have been doing for years. For the most part, I do not speak to friends about friends unless EVERYONE knows what is going on. For example, if I have a problem with friend 1, I will NOT complain about friend 1 to friend 2 unless I have already discussed the issue with friend 1 to begin with. Granted, we all need to vent to a third party, but it seems unfair to vent where one party has not had an opportunity to air grievances first. At the same time, I want to refrain to talking to ANYONE but that individual if I am having issues with them. Trust is one of the primary cornerstones for any good relationship, and it can crumble where we speak to others (complain/talk smack/bitch) about issues we may have with friends without being upfront and honest with them. In order to be a better person, I refuse to speak ill of my friends in any way, shape or form. While they may frustrate me at times, I am sure that I frustrate the heck out of them as well, and I know that I would not like it if they were complaining about me without confronting me directly. That is not friendship, is it? So I need to be a better friend in this regard.

Fundamental changes are not easy tp make, but I think that I am headed in the right direction, 2008 was hard on a lot of my friends, but all in all, it treated me pretty well on balance. I hope that I will continue to learn and grow in 2009. I look forward to having all of you along for the ride!

The Struggles of an Optimist in the Second City

2008-12-17T08:51:00.004-06:00

Many of you probably have never heard of Robert Evans. He was a B-movie actor of the 1950s who went on to form Evan-Picone with his brother Charles and was then selected by Charles Bluhdorn, the chairman of Gulf + Western, to run Paramount Pictures in the late 1960s and into the 1970s. Under Evan's watch, the studio went from last place to first with hits such as "Rosemary's Baby," "The Godfather", "The Godfather Part II", "Love Story", "Chinatown", and "Goodbye, Columbus." His memoir, "The Kid Stays in the Picture" is an amazing and insightful read, and is filled with all sorts of great lines.

For example, Evans was personally selected by Norma Shearer, the wife of the late great Irving Thalberg, to play Thalberg in a film about the life of Lon Chaney, "The Man of a Thousand Faces." Being a neophyte, Evans loved watching the dailies, those pieces of film that had just been shot. He noticed, however, that his co-star, James Cagney (who was the star of the picture) never had any interest in watching the dailies.

Evans asked Cagney: "Mr. Cagney, I noticed that you never watch the dailies. How come?"

Cagney replied: "Kid, the dailies don't mean anything. You can shoot a great shot, but it has to cut together in order to make a great movie. Why do you think there are so many beautiful brides and so many ugly wives?"

Very sexist comment, to be sure, but one could just as easily substitute "groom" and "husband" into the equation above to make the same point. We always hope for the best and try our best to succeed, but it takes hard work to get to where we need to go. Cagney's point was simply that just because you shot a great scene does not mean the hard work is over; rather, it means that the hard work is just beginning. One has to believe, however, that the payoff is worth it.

I am surrounded by friends who are in varying stages of their law careers. Many have yet to find a job, and this sort of difficulty can be maddening when one considers that they put in so much time and money to get their degrees. The economy, the corrupt politicians of Chicago, and the lack of a credible career services office at my alma mater have a lot to do with it. One of my friends has departed to become a scuba instructor in the Bahamas. Another works at Macy's trying to make ends meet. Yet another was THE reason (yes, I believe that she was the SOLE reason) that North Carolina turned from red to blue in the last election, but even SHE has been denied a job.

I am also surrounded by friends who actually have their dream jobs, yet are unhappy with them. It is almost as if they struggled to attain the goal, climbing the mountain carefully and dodging all of the hazards-only to find that view from the top looked out onto 3 brick walls and a Denny's. To be sure, some have their dream jobs and LOVE them, but at the same time, where is their fairness when their dream jobs involve the most beneficial of public services yet does not pay them enough to pay off their education loans?

It is difficult for me to feel happy about my own situation when I know that people I care about are struggling. I am 37 and had a long "career" as a student before I finally attained my goal. I do love my job, and I am well compensated for it. However, this success did not come overnight and had MORE than its share of paycheck-to-paycheck struggles and debt. I wore the same wardrobe until the shirts and pants became tattered and frayed. I lived on a student budget for over 14 years of my adult life hoping that it would all pay off. I could tell by virtue of smell alone the type of Ramen noodles someone might be cooking. I would stock up on pasta sauce when the cheap stuff hit $1.00 a jar because I knew that that would be several meals. I could not afford to eat out at all and did not have cable TV. I had a car, but I hardly drove it because I was scared about possible repair costs. During all of those dark times, I never gave up hope. I was an optimist of the worst kind, but it paid off. Many of my friends only came to know me once I arrived at law school, but the person I am is a direct result of the struggles I experienced during graduate school in Baltimore.

I am still an optimist, but with so many friends unhappy during this holiday season, my optimism is being tested. I know that I did not want to see such things when I was a student. Such things only served as stark reminders of my own lack of accomplishments at that time.

The only thing I can do is remind my friends that they have at least a decade on me. They already have their degrees and can go back and get more degrees and STILL end up ahead of where I am at 37. The 1990s for me were one long blur of laboratory work and scientific writing. I would hate to think what would have happened if I gave up hope and just accepted my situation.

Success does not happen overnight, but when it does happen, the struggles that one has had to endure will make the experience that much sweeter. With the friends that I have, I am confident that they will find their success sooner rather than later because they are incredible people.

The Artful Mom

2008-12-02T21:53:00.002-06:00

Imagine, if you will, a young woman from South India. She meets the man of her dreams at the tender age of 23 and is married to him at the tender age of 24. He is 28, quiet but respectful. He has dreams of escaping the provincial life that would be his as a mountain top physician in India. Raised on films from the West, he knows that his best chances for success would be time spent in either England or the United States as a physician. She is close to her family-extremely close, and the two families are at odds with one another soon after the wedding. She knows that if they stay in India, their marriage would be in jeopardy. Her husband hatches a plan to go to the United States to escape the family in-fighting. She acquiesces. In December, less than a month before they are to depart, she finds out that she is pregnant. She knows that her father, a powerful attorney for the Indian government, would not let her leave if he knew this. She confides in her mother, who keeps the secret.

The couple embark on their journey to the United States. The wife cries the entire flight, homesick for the only place she has ever known. Her husband tries in vain to comfort her, but he is worried as well. He only knows that they have temporary positions. He has no idea of where they will be living or what to expect. All he knows is that she is his responsibility.

On a snowy January day, the couple reach Friendship Airport in Baltimore, MD. All they have with them is a small suitcase with some clothes and clothes hangers as well as $40 between them. There is no one to meet them at the airport, so they have to call their employer to ask what to do. Slowly, they start to adapt to the culture. Every day, the couple fights and every night, she cries herself to sleep. She is only 24, pregnant, in a strange country with a man she has only known for less than 2 years. There is no family around to support her during her pregnancy and no friends for that matter. Furthermore, she is a working physician who is putting in many long hours. This is the 1960s, before maternity leave was a part of the lexicon. The women's lib movement was just gaining steam. The wife is oblivious to all of this, for all she knows is her husband, her job, the child that is growing in her belly, and the loneliness that is being in a strange place without the support system she grew up with.

Time goes on, and she gives birth to a beautiful baby boy. However, the wife (now mother) is worried. After all, she does not know who to trust with her most precious thing in the entire universe. She has found a lot of joy in her baby boy, but her job as a working physician in the 1960s does not allow her the luxury to stay at home with her son (something that would be a completely different story today). There are news stories about depraved babysitters drugging babies to keep them quiet, and she fears for her child's safety. With her only thought being the safety of her child, she makes a decision that will haunt her for the rest of her life. She bundles up her 6 week old child, the most precious thing she has, and sends him on a plane to the waiting arms of her parents. She cries for weeks, and her husband comforts her. The sadness brings them closer together, and now she has a reason to work. She wants to get to the point where she can bring him back as soon as possible. Two long years later, that finally happens.

Her heart is broken over and over as her little boy hardly knows her. With time, however, that changes. She still regrets the lost time. Imagine, in this time before video recorders, missing your child's first steps, first words, first EVERYTHING. Her heart aches when she thinks about this, and she finds the greatest joy in hugging her little boy. She and her husband still talk of moving back to India eventually. Another child arrives, and this time the wife can spend time with him. She has made a life in the US, with friends who care for her. During her pregnancy, however, her husband has to return to India, for his father is deathly ill. The husband struggles with his decision, for he knows that he should stay with his pregnant wife. However, she is not the helpless person she seemed to be when they arrived 3.5 years ago. She is stronger. She insists that he go to his father's bedside. Her boy becomes the man of the house, and she endures a summer without her husband and pregnant. He comes back in time for the birth of her second son, and the family is complete. She is strong, and she has so many friends. She is gratified to find that her older son is SO protective of his little brother (something that would continue well into adulthood).

While struggling with a new culture and so many challenges with a new marriage, she has found success in her career. The family decides to stay in the United States and becomes citizens. The wife and mother starts a solo family practice in a small town in Virginia in an area that needs primary care physicians. She runs the household, she runs her office, and she is always there for her kids whenever they need her.

The years roll by. Her husband has a successful career as a surgeon, working longer hours than she, but she takes care of everything (the household, the kids and her own career) without complaint. Her oldest boy graduates at the top of his high school class and goes on to a top college and medical school. He does his residency at yet another top school and becomes a successful specialist in Chicago. Her younger son also graduates from a top school and becomes, for a time, a career student before finding his calling as an attorney (also in Chicago). She is there every step of the way, supporting both kids with her time and advice. At the same time, her medical practice is thriving. Over the years she sees her patients, the kids of her patients, and then the grandkids of her patients. The baby wall in her office (that bulletin board of the pictures of babies she has treated in the womb and out) is overflowing with stories. Her husband retires and repays her by taking care of HER and letting her focus on her work while he cooks, cleans and takes care of the family finances.

Finally, after 32 years as a solo practitioner, she decides to retire and enjoy her remaining years in happy retirement with her soulmate. To her, he is still the quiet, respectful man she fell in love with 43 years ago. Her children are happy and successful, and that is what gives her the greatest contentment. She has lived her life for the three men in her life, and without her, the three men would have been nothing. She has been the most amazing role model, the perfect image of the independent woman combined with wife and mother. True, she still has regrets. She sees her older boy and visualizes him as the 6 week old that she sent away, and her heart aches still. She sees that her sons live far away, and she wishes that were not the case.

On the whole, however, looking at the life of this woman, I challenge anyone to say that she did not live the most amazing and fulfilling life. To this day, she is still full of life and smiles for all who cross her path, and I cannot believe my fortune sometimes in having her as my mom.

So as she prepares to retire this December, I thought it important to share her story. The story SO FAR, that is. Isn't it amazing? Isn't SHE amazing? I think so.

Dear Idiot Socializing Fat People at the Gym:

2008-11-20T10:25:00.002-06:00

You annoy me. You piss me off. I mean, there I am, trying to get my plump ass back into shape and you are standing around right in my line of sight talking and conversing loudly for 20 FREAKING MINUTES!! Don't you know how distracting you are to someone trying to concentrate on exercise? Don't you realize that there is such a thing as personal boundaries? Don't you know how BAD YOU SMELL? Sheesh. It is not as if TALKING is any great form of exercise.

Here's a hint for you: the "club" in health club is NOT the same thing as the "club" in dance club. People are here to train and workout, NOT socialize for hours. Sure, you can socialize, but try to do it away from the workout floor where people are trying to get a workout in and stay in their zone. Here's ANOTHER hint for you: people do not like having to squeeze past your smelly selves. WHY DO YOU PLANT YOURSELVES IN THE MIDDLE OF A WEIGHT ROOM THOROUGHFARE? MOVE!!!! And, finally, hint #3: if you really wanted to get in shape, you would know that one of the goals in a workout is to maintain an elevated heart rate for a sustained period of time. TALKING DOES NOT DO THIS-well, unless the conversation makes you angry. Neither one of your smelly selves seemed to be mad.

Please take note of this, and move your smelly selves out of the way for the good of everyone around you, but especially for the well-being of my plump ass sweating oh so hotly on the machine right next to you.

Sincerely,

Artful

"Quantum of Solace" = Ehh....

2008-11-16T13:37:00.004-06:00

Ever since "Casino Royale" reignited the Bond franchise with a much needed reboot of the Bond story, I looked forward to the next chapter. As a life long Bond fan, I found Daniel Craig's portrayal of the famed literary character a refreshing change to the status quo, and I loved the origin aspects that the producers brought to the table. Advanced word on the next film in the Bond series, "Quantum of Solace" suggested that this film would be the first true sequel in the franchise's history. The story would begin a mere hour after the final scenes from "Casino Royale", with the interrogation of the villainous Mr. White. The producers continued with the same screenwriting team responsible for the last film, Paul Haggis, Neal Purvis, and Robert Wade. It seemed as if this iteration of Bond would last more than one film, and I was excited for the possibilities. What sort of tortured moments for Bond would we see in the wake of his beloved Vesper's death? What kind of storyline would the writer's craft? What would acclaimed director Marc Forster ("Finding Neverland") bring to the table in his first true action film?

Unfortunately, "Quantum of Solace" is merely a collection of great moments that "might have been". The audience is, indeed thrust into the action immediately after the studio trademarks flash on the screen, and we are with Bond as he is racing in his Aston Martin DBS through a winding Italian roadway. During this first chase scene, I started to get a little concerned. It seemed that Marc Forster had decided to lift a page from the directing playbook of fellow director Paul Greengrass ("United 93", "The Bourne Supremacy". and "The Bourne Ultimatum") in that Forster used jump cuts and quick edits to convey action and intensity, with the overall result being disorientation for the movie watcher. Instead of being treated to an exciting chase, I was treated to flashes of what looked to be an exciting chase that was marred by this MTV style of movie making. I have already ranted about Greengrass' failure to utilize Moscow in the car chase scene in "Bourne", where Greengrass treated us instead to shots of Matt Damon shifting gears in his car. Here, it looked to be more of the same. I was disappointed in Forster's style as soon as the chase popped onto the screen.

The opening credit sequence itself was underwhelming. There was no opening gun barrel (it would appear in the end). Moreover, though it appeared to play with the motif of the Bolivian desert, the reintroduction of the silhouetted nudes juxtaposed with a too flashy constellation motif made me feel as if I were in a combination strip club/planetarium in the desert. This was a shame, as I rather enjoyed the theme song performed by Alicia Keys and Jack White. This seemed a step back from the opening credit sequence in the first film.

From there, the audience is treated to (SPOILER WARNING):

1) Bond's chase of a double agent through the streets and rooftops in an Italian town. I think I liked it better when I saw it in "The Bourne Ultimatum" when it was Jason Bourne and Tangiers.

2) Bond's close quarters battle with an assassin prior to his first meeting with his female "partner" for the rest of the film and the main villain."

3) A boat chase sequence every bit as disorienting as the car chase from the earlier part of the film.

4) A HORRIBLE montage sequence of a running gunbattle at an opera, with the shots of Bond's battle matched up with a soundtrack of the opera being performed. YUCK! Forster is no Coppola.

5) Two truly forgettable Bond girls who could not act their way out of a paper bag. Eva Green's Vesper really set the bar high for Bond women. The casting here was a swing and a miss.

6) The setting of the final battle. A hotel. In the middle of a desert. Run by fuel cells. What the heck????? Why make a return to the "giant explosion of the bad guy's base" cliche of earlier Bond films?

7) The lame plot of the villain itself. The villain, Dominic Greene, is attempting to extort money from governments of the different South American governments for their water supplies. The sole instance we see of the impact of his actions is a shot of a few villagers not able to get water from a spigot. Oooooo-scary! Very disappointing villainy.

To be sure, there were some aspects of the film that I enjoyed. Whenever Dame Judi Dench's M was on the screen, the scenes cracked with sharp writing and sharper acting. The homage to "Goldfinger" was affecting and powerful at the same time. I also loved the dialogue concerning how governments deal with people who would normally be considered villains during the Cold War. I particularly loved the line "If we could not deal with villains, we would have no one left to deal with." The moral ambivalence on the part of all parties save for Bond and M rang true, and I loved the emphasis on this ambiguity. One of my favorite moments of the film occurred at the opera (before the abhorrent gunbattle). Bond is attempting to discover the identities of the members of Quantum, and he sets up his post looking at the audience with a pilfered Quantum earpiece, listening in on the conference that is going on within the audience itself. After listening in, he announces his presence, and as the members of Quantum rise from their spots in the audience to make their escape, Bond photographs many of them and sends the data back to the MI6. This was a smarter Bond, not one who was a bull in a china shop. He has LEARNED from the last film the importance of surveillance and the importance of working as part of a larger team.

My other favorite sequence was the final one in the film-Bond's confrontation with Vesper's Algerian boyfriend. Personally, I thought that it should have been near the beginning of the film. The sequence also saddened me because it appeared to have been shot by Martin Campbell as a coda to "Casino Royale." Why could the rest of the film not have done the same? Instead, the audience was left with mishmash of plotlines that do not mesh well together at all.

I was disappointed in this film. Although I would not go so far as to call this "The Bond Supremacy", as so many reviewers have done, I can see where they are coming from. Filmmakers need to get away from this method of action filmmaking. The film also needed more character development sequences. Everytime there was the opportunity (with a favorite being Bond's inability to sleep on an overnight plane flight to South America), the filmmakers dropped the ball in the next scene. Here's hoping that the writers and director for the next Bond film will take a look at what worked in "Casino Royale" and bring the character back to greatness.

Craig is still Bond in my book. He just needs the stories to let him prove it.

What The Heck is WRONG with Consumers?

2008-11-13T08:58:00.002-06:00

Over the last few months, all of us have been battered with what seems like an endless barrage of news concerning financial meltdowns. First, it was the subprime mortgage market. Next, it was the debt market that relied on the subprime mortgage markets. As banks and financial houses continued to fold, the stock market started its tumble. As consumer confidence eroded, credit slowed to a crawl and then stopped. Small businesses can no longer get the loans required to start up. Without the small businesses, people cannot get jobs. Without jobs, people cannot purchase durable goods or invest in the future through the stock market. Unemployment is skyrocketing, and the odds are that we have not seen the worst of it. The so-called "bailout" programs being touted by the current administration and Congress promise to leave so much debt on the American ledger, with no clear cut plan as to how this debt should be paid back, that I fear our children and children's children will be paying the price for our mistakes.

Yes, I said OUR mistakes. A lot of ink has been wasted writing on how the banks are to blame for giving out mortgages to people who should not have qualified in the first place. Of COURSE they are to blame, those evil "predatory lenders" who "trapped consumers" and caused this housing crisis in the first place. At the same time, I feel that not enough attention has been paid to the duties of the individuals to take responsibility for their own actions. Many individuals no doubt knew that there were issues with their income levels and possibility of repayment, yet they took on an inordinate amount of debt without doing the necessary research required. STUPID STUPID STUPID! Don't try to tell me that "these were unsophisticated buyers" who "were waylaid into unfair terms by evil doers." Many of these buyers know exactly what they need to to to manipulate the system. Their mistakes are what we are paying for now, not just those of the banks and other financial institutions. The bailouts will allow these individuals to walk away scott free.

Now a lot of you will read this and merely think that I am spouting off about stuff I know nothing about. I mean, I am more fortunate than a lot of people. What I do know are the lessons of my youth. I know of people who could not afford food and shelter yet were working and spending their money on designer clothes. I know of college kids who rang up incredible amounts of debt on credit cards and then were "shocked" when they were unable to pay. YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO PAY MONEY BACK-SOMETIMES WITH INTEREST!!! Geez. How simple a lesson can that be? Now, I know that there are a lot of hard working people, some of whom are friends of mine, out there just trying to make ends meet. I know that they do not HAVE credit cards or have regular mortgages that they struggle to pay each month. Is it fair to them to have to pay for the mistakes of others?

I was raised in a household where the operative mantra was "save save save." My parents were relatively successful, yet you would not have known it by looking at us. We did not wear designer clothes or have designer accessories, my brother's first car was a $500 1973 Plymouth Duster with a CB radio (in 1985) that was sold later on for the exact same amount. I have had a job of some sort continuously since I was 14 years old, and I have saved every step of the way. Even today, I have some hobbies that people might consider a waste of money, but I ALWAYS put 10% of EVERY paycheck into regular old savings. Nowadays, this is a lot easier than in the past, but I did this even when money was extremely tight. At those times, I did without. Even now, however, I am trying to find ways to cut expenses (not easy in a city that has the highest taxes of any city in the country-including NY). My bills are paid off first every month and THEN the savings go in. I factor in the amount I need for food and transportation, and then I look at what is left. Starting in February, that means student loan payments. This month, I cancelled my 10 year (!) comics subscription solely because I felt that, at this point, it was a waste of my money. Through all of my struggles, from a student on through graduate school and while paying for law school, I have never had to depend on ANYONE to pay my bills. I managed on my own and took pride in that fact.

The name of this blog is "Rants and Ramblings", and this post is a little of both. Today, I saw the news that consumer groups are trying to convince Congress to allow banks to forgive CREDIT CARD DEBT. WHAT? REALLY? So pretty much, the people who are responsible for putting us in this situation get a FREE PASS? Whose fault is it that they are in so much debt? WHOSE? Not mine! Yet, I am paying for someone else's designer clothes, expensive dining out habit, or comic book habit! Is that fair to me? Is that fair to those friends of mine who are doing without credit cards and living paycheck to paycheck?

I agree that something has to be done to help the economy, but I do not support a wholesale bailout of companies nor of individuals saddled with credit card debt. Sure, give them the money to get out of their current situation, but DON'T make it a gift. Make them pay it back. Garnish wages. Garnish company profits. Make the stockholders decide whether or not a company is being fiscally responsible. Only by taking responsibility for the current crisis can companies and individuals learn the easiest fundamental truth about economics: if you spend more than what you earn, you will be in DEBT!!

In honor of the release of "Quantum of Solace": my previous post on "Casino Royale"

2008-11-12T09:54:00.005-06:00

I am actually going to write a new, more in-depth review for "Casino Royale" tomorrow. Does it hold up after repeated viewing? What aspects about it particularly appealed to me? Why should you care? After that, look for my review of "Quantum of Solace" on Saturday evening. Now, here is my original post on Daniel Craig's first Bond film.

My father and I have always enjoyed movies. I credit Dad with instilling in me an appreciation for the craft and artistry involved in making movies. I don’t think that Dad knows that my lifelong appreciation for movies began the summer between 5th and 6th grade. During the school year, my father had purchased a very heavy and exotic looking device that, for all intents and purposes, looked like a giant tape recorder. My father was excited about this giant box, and my brother and I could not understand why. Our confusion lasted as long as it took for my Dad to put a tape into the box and press “play.” We found ourselves watching a movie on TV. We were able to pause it so we could go to the bathroom or get snacks. My mind was really blown away when my Dad was able to play a TV show that had been on 2 nights before. Wow. The family VCR was definitely a hit, and I think that we were among the first adopters of the new technology. Dad, in his infinite wisdom, had even chosen a VHS machine instead of Betamax. His decision was highly prescient. Our love affair with the VCR intensified upon Dad’s purchase of a video camera. Now, we were able to film all of our family’s special moments and watch them instantaneously instead of waiting weeks for Super 8 film to develop. No more setting up the projector and the screen. It was all so awesome. I know that, in a world of tiny camcorders, digital cameras, and DVRs this all might seem a bit trite, but I grew up in a time where we had 3 channels (6 after Dad set up a UHF/VHF antenna). It really seemed like magic to me.

The VCR was also the way that Dad and I bonded. My parents were very good about choosing appropriate films for my brother and me (resulting in me not seeing “My Fair Lady”, a “G” rated film, mind you, for a few years because Henry Higgins yells the word “Damn” several times). The real fun came during the aforementioned summer when Dad took my brother and me to the video store, the Video Discount Warehouse, located in Portsmouth, VA. This was a time before the ubiquitous Blockbuster Video, Hollywood Video, Erol’s, Movie Gallery, and Family Video. Every Wednesday, Dad would take us there and let my brother and me choose movies. I still remember how the films had stickers on the spines (red “As” for new releases, blue “Bs” for slightly older releases, and green “Cs” for old releases and kid films). Dad would always let my brother and me choose the maximum 6 movies, and he did not limit us to the most inexpensive lists. Sometimes, he would gently make suggestions if we could not decide. I used to look forward to my Wednesdays with Dad because they were true bonding times. Neither of us was into baseball as many fathers and sons are, so we bonded over films. I think that, except for my love of science fiction films, we have a pretty similar taste in movies to this very day.

One of the films that we rented that summer was a recent blockbuster, “Octopussy.” Up to that point, I had only watched part of a James Bond film, and it had bored me to tears. The film was “From Russia, With Love,” and I remember when it was broadcast on ABC falling asleep while watching it. I also remember my parents’ amusement at my comment upon viewing the moment when Bond, fresh from the shower with a towel around his waist, finds Tatiana Romanova in his bedroom, sits down on the bed, and starts his seduction. My comment? “Wouldn’t he be embarrassed if his towel fell off.” Hey, I was pretty young, so I didn’t quite get the sexual overtones of Bond. I think that my parents were both amused and comforted by my naivety. Anyway, “Octopussy” was available, and we rented it. I was mesmerized from the first moments of the film. Roger Moore became the Bond of my childhood the moment he flew out of Cuba using the tiny jet in the pre-credit sequence. The next time we went to the video store, Dad let me rent the max number of Bond films. I devoured them over the next few days. My favorite Bond when I was a youngster was Roger Moore; I think that a lot of this had to do with the foppishness of his performance. As a kid, you never want to fell as if the hero is really in any danger, and I never felt that Moore was ever in any danger.

Time went on. As I reached my teen-aged years, Moore gave way to Dalton, and my appreciation for the performances of Dalton and Connery grew. My appreciation was born both out of a more mature appreciation for how the character was portrayed (with me wanting more realism from my action heroes) and out of my appreciation for Ian Fleming's original James Bond novels. Connery came closest to Fleming’s description of Bond, and and I later learned that Fleming, impressed with Connery’s portrayal of his creation, introduced a Scottish background into Bond’s backstory during the writing of "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," which coincided with the filming of "Goldfinger". Dalton took his cue from the Fleming novels, but subpar screenplays and having the role of the follow-up to the popular Moore (not to mention a long drawn-out lawsuit concerning the character of Bond), proved to be Dalton’s undoing. I always felt that Dalton received short shrift for his portrayal, and it is not deserved. He did the Fleming Bond proud. Between the last Dalton film, 1989’s “License to Kill” and 1995, there were no Bond films as the lawsuit was litigated.

In 1995, however, Pierce Brosnan was given the role and was superb in the film “Goldeneye.” Brosnan proved to be a worthy successor to the Bond mantle, and the story also gave the audience an all too rare glimpse into the psyche of Bond. There were not a lot of gadgets in the film, and Brosnan gave a subtly nuanced performance as Bond, finding middle ground between the intensity of Dalton and the foppishness of Moore. Still, I never thought that Brosnan could compare to Connery from the first 3 Bond films. Sadly, the quality of the films deteriorated rapidly shortly after that (a remote control BMW in “Tomorrow Never Dies,” Denise Richards as a nuclear scientist in “The World is Not Enough,” and an INVISIBLE CAR and a diamond-satellite refuge from “Diamond are Forever” in “Die Another Day”). The future looked bleak. Brosnan was starting to look a little too old for the role (a role that was originally offered to him in 1986 before NBC screwed that up). The screenplays by Purvis and Wade were ludicrous, and I started to wonder about the viability of the franchise. I found myself reading the books, and I wondered why the filmmakers couldn’t just make a straight translation of Fleming’s novels. The thing that every single Bond film has missed was Fleming’s character. The movie Bond (with the noted exceptions of Dalton, Connery’s first 3 films, and George Lazenby’s single film portrayal in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”) all missed the boat when it came to understanding the character of Bond. Bond is an assassin, a cold, calculating, cruel weapon of the MI6.

Word then started coming about a NEW Bond. This Bond would be Daniel Craig, Paul Newman’s weak son in “The Road to Perdition.” I was a bit nervous about this until I saw his performance in Steven Spielberg’s “Munich”; his performance in that film convinced me that Craig might be a good Bond, but I was skeptical as to whether the producers would actually take advantage of Craig’s talent by providing a good screenplay. When the trailers for the new film started to play, I started getting more excited. This was a different kind of Bond, one who seemed to have sprung from the pages of Fleming’s novel. “Casino Royale” opened yesterday. I saw it today.

Wow.

The origin of Bond proved to be every bit as satisfying as that of Batman in “Batman Begins.” The screenwriters (the much maligned Purvis and Wade, with an assist from "Crash" writer/director Paul Haggis) crafted an excellent story, using Fleming’s novel as the template and FAITHFULLY ADAPTING it, changing some minor aspects that had to be changed due to the post-Cold War world we live in. We see the 2 kills that made Bond 007 (2 kills, 2 “0s”, hence 00…and this is straight from Fleming's 1952 novel). Daniel Craig IS James Bond to the point who…dare I say it…not only challenges Connery’s portrayal but actually SURPASSED it in many ways. The plotline is timely and not far fetched, the stunts were not ridiculous, and there were no gadgets. The wonderful thing is that we get to see what made Bond BOND. I cannot recommend this film enough. Halfway through the film, I reflected on what a good film it was, not just what a good “James Bond” film it was. Several things made me smile…retaining Rene Mathis and Felix Leiter as characters from the novel, the creation (lifted straight from Fleming’s novel) of the James Bond martini, the total lack of slapstick and ridiculous science, the acting of Daniel Craig, the soundtrack (both Chris Cornell's throwback of an opening song, AND the string-heavy instrumental soundtrack that was a throwback to the great Bond soundtracks of the 1960s), and the overall “feel” of the film. This film felt like a classic 1960s Bond film sans rocket packs and bulletproof cars. Much of the dialogue was lifted straight from the novel, and I was pleased. This is a great film. I cannot recommend it enough. I was also impressed with the pacing. In most action films, the character scenes are too often viewed as filler for the action sequences, but the scenes had true import in this movie. In the end, when Bond (excuse me, Daniel Craig) delivers the famous introduction, I was smiling. When the original arrangement of Monty Norman’s James Bond theme played over the final credits, I was smiling even more broadly. Even the theme was as it was in the early Connery films. This was a great Bond film. This was a great spy movie. This is one of my favorite films of the year. Wow. Congratulations, Daniel Craig. May the producers continue to provide good screenplays for you to use, and may we continue to see you as Bond for years to come.

For those of you interested in watching the films in chronological order:
1) Dr. No
2) From Russia, With Love
3) Goldfinger
4) Thunderball
5) You Only Live Twice
6) On Her Majesty's Secret Service
7) Diamonds Are Forever
8) Live and Let Die
9) The Man With the Golden Gun
10) The Spy Who Loved Me
11) Moonraker
12) For Your Eyes Only
13) Octopussy
14) A View to a Kill
15) The Living Daylights
16) License to Kill
17) Goldeneye
18) Tomorrow Never Dies
19) The World is Not Enough
20) Die Another Day
21) Casino Royale
22) Quantum of Solace (to be released on 11/14/08 in the United States)

Note..I realize that there was an earlier version of Casino Royale, and I know that Connery was in the Thunderball remake, Never Say Never Again, but the only authentic Bond films (in my opinion) are the ones from Eon Productions.

Yet ANOTHER Take on the Election-a personal perspective

2008-11-05T08:59:00.003-06:00

My parents are unabashed Republicans. I grew up during the era of Reagan and George H.W. Bush, during the Cold War, before the 24 hour news and internet of today. While the Democrats were bumbling their way through numerous presidential defeats, Reagan presided over one of the most prosperous times in American history. While his policies would, ultimately, lead to the recession that denied George H.W. Bush a second term in office, Reagan was the standard bearer for Republican presidents (warts and all). He and Gorbachev developed a rapport that resulted n the destruction of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War. His back door dealings, as illegal as they were, resulted in the freeing of the American hostages held for almost a full year in Iran (and one of the kidnappers was the current Iranian president!). Having been weaned on Reagan's America and the careful lessons of my parents, I registered as a Republican when I turned 18. I voted for Bush in the first Clinton campaign, but I attended the Clinton inauguration. There was a sense of change in the air, a sense of hopefulness. Hand in hand with a Republican Congress, Clinton's administration presided over the most prosperous economy the country had ever experienced. After the first four years of William Jefferson Clinton, I cast my first ballot for a Democrat and felt justified in my decision. Dole did not represent progress the way that Clinton did. Clinton produced results (except for the universal health care initiative spearheaded by the First Lady).

Right around the time of Clinton's second term, when the first allegations about Clinton's marital infidelities started to make their rounds, the first cracks in the leadership and ideology of the Republican Party started to make their presence known. In their kowtowing to the ideologies of the far right, they forgot about their more moderate party members. Now, I am not in any way, shape, or form condoning adultery. However, Clinton's success both on the world stage and for this country should have been the focus and not what he did on his private time. Many of you would disagree, and say that the President is a symbol. I agree. However, the symbolic "purity" of the American President likely went out the door with my beloved Thomas Jefferson and his dalliance with Sally Hemings, a woman who was NOT his wife. The office is just that...an office. Placing the man on some sort of moral pedestal is rather asinine.

But I digress. This alliance of the Republican Party with the far right slowly started to make its presence know during Dole's campaign. Rather than focusing on the issues at hand that were concerning most Americans (growing unrest overseas, the unregulated financial markets, etc.). they chose instead to focus on Clinton's private life. This did not improve during the contest between George W. Bush and Al Gore, as the election debacle of 2000 showed. Through cunning and subterfuge, the Republicans stole the election. What the heck? This was not the party that I signed up for! This was a party who was looking for power at ANY cost-even where that cost would be the welfare of the American people.

And then 9/11 happened, and Bush rose to the occasion. He and fellow Republican Rudolph Guliani, the outgoing mayor of New York City, symbolized leadership when the country most needed it. Bush calmed our fears, told us everything would be all right, and took some action to calm the world. He was our president. The only problem was that he was just not smart enough to recognize that all of his own actions were being carefully controlled and orchestrated by the Republican leadership. After 9/11, Bush failed as a leader, using the attacks as an excuse to invade a sovereign nation without any provocation other than a bit of name calling. He ignored the growing financial problems at home and discarded Clinton's budgetary means for eliminating the national debt within our lifetime. At the same time, in the back of my mind, I could not ignore my own misgivings about the fact that he had STOLEN the election. As young men and women died in the mountains of Afghanistan and the deserts of Iraq, the pockets of the Vice President (a Haliburton board member) and many of Bush's oil cronies were being lined with money made possible by the war-blood money.

The issue with Kerry in the election of 2004 was not the "stupidity of the American people" but, for me, was one of the devil you know versus the devil that you don't. The American people were faced with two choices for President who, on paper, looked a lot alike. Older white men, Yale grads and fellow Skull and Bones members. If you have seen one, you have seen them all. The images of Bush's leadership during 9/11 and the constant beating of the drum for consistent leadership during the military actions in Afghanistan and Iraq cost Kerry the election. However, my enduring memory of that election was the "Swift Boat Veterans" advertisements orchestrated by the Republican Party. At that moment, I knew that the "Party of Lincoln" had lost its way. However, there was one bright spot during the dark days of 2004. During the Democratic National Convention, a young junior senator from Illinois was chosen to give the keynote address. Most people outside of his home state did not know who he was, but those of us lucky enough to have him represent us in the Senate knew of his oratory skills and his amazing credentials. Columbia undergrad and Harvard Law School. Head of Harvard Law Review. Professor of Constitutional Law at the prestigious University of Chicago School of Law. A self-made man in every sense of the word who was NOT born with a silver spoon in his mouth but who had an amazing brain.

That night, Barack Obama was introduced to the world, and the world took notice. Using that speech as a springboard, Obama catapulted himself into the national consciousness and with one fell swoop, was placed on the short list of viable presidential candidates for the Democratic Party. When the time came to select the Democratic candidate, the list consisted of Senator Hilary Clinton, John Edwards, and, trailing both, Barack Obama. Obama, undaunted, carefully mapped out a campaign strategy that would give him the candidacy. The heated rhetoric that flew between the Obama and Clinton camps looked for a time to be just as suicidal as the actions of the Republican Party over the previous 8 years. Meanwhile, Senator John McCain, with no true challengers, sat back and watched. If anything, the lack of any real challengers for McCain was an albatross around his neck, for the contentiousness of the campaigns between Clinton and Obama overshadowed McCain's easy victories in the primaries. McCain should have used the extra time to come up with a message, a platform, and to vet a proper vice-presidential candidate. He failed miserably on all counts.

Now, up until the primaries, I was still hopeful for the Republican Party. I believed that if McCain separated himself from the current Republican leadership, he could bring the party back in a way that would resonate around the world. All he needed to do was denounce the alliance with the far right in favor of the more moderate Republicans. Bipartisanism at its best starts in the middle. McCain, however, did not do that. He embraced the Republican machine and used it to his advantage. He surrounded himself with the same right wing syncophants, those emboldened by their campaigns against Clinton, Gore, and Kerry. There was a smugness about the Republican Party, a disdain for the intelligence of the American people, including some of their own party members.

Obama's campaign was run like a perfectly-oiled machine. He surrounded himself with good people, people who KNEW what they were doing and believed in HIS message. This was not a case where there was a puppet master and a puppet. Obama was also not surrounded by "party people." Just from watching how well his campaign was run, I learned two things: 1) Obama would make a hell of a president and 2) he KNOWS how to surround himself with people who succeed at their jobs. In contrast, McCain surrounded himself with party people who, in their underestimation of the intelligence of the American people (and American women in particular), honestly thought that they could do anything and still win. The minute Sarah Palin was chosen as the Vice-Presidential Candidate, the minute chance that I might vote for McCain evaporated. You see, that was the signal to me that voting for McCain would be a continuation of the worst presidential administration in my lifetime. It would be run by the same puppetmasters in control of Bush. Sure, I would pay higher taxes, but "what does it profit a man to gain the world, yet lose his soul"?

In the end, I believe in Barack Obama. His victory tells me that it is possible for ANYONE born in this country to become president, even someone like me, the child of immigrants from South India. His victory also signals to the world that they should not give up on the United States. For the first time in a long time, I am looking forward to a new administration.

Disclaimer: these are my own views of the events that occurred over the last 20 years. I am sure that people will disagree with my take, but I don't care. That is what makes a blog a wonderful thing!!

My Favorite Movies: High Noon

2008-10-22T08:57:00.006-05:00

Hollywood in the '50s was a much different place than it is today. Oh sure, you had all of the fashion, gossip, intrigue, and excitement, but beneath that sheen of glamour lay one of the most right wing agendas ever. Much of this had to do with the continued persecution of the Jewish people and the desire from Hollywood execs to keep this persecution out of Hollywood. After all, without the efforts of such pioneers as Louis B. Mayer, David Selznick, Irving Thalberg, Carl Laemmle, Darryl Zanuck, Harry Cohn, and Jack Warner, we might not even have the Hollywood that we have today. Still, the common threat that all of these great men faced was the fear of persecution because of their religious or social beliefs. In trying to stem anti-Semitism, these leaders of Hollywood took the route of being the MOST American they could be. For a time, this worked. After all, the rise of Hollywood thanks to the great studio systems of the 20s-40s is the stuff of legends. The 1950s, however, would be a different story.

In 1947, the House Un-American Activities Committee (yes, there was actually something called this) launched an investigation into the "infiltration of Communists in Hollywood." Part of this investigation consisted of 9 days of hearings whereby various Hollywood craftsmen (actors, directors, writers) were called before Congress to testify as to the infiltration of Communist propaganda in Hollywood and to"name names" of Communist sympathizers. This was a classic case of guilt by suspicion. Where the craftsmen named no names or refused to answer questions, they were immediately considered guilty. The Hollywood 10, 10 individuals who refused to kowtow to this most UNAMERICAN of committees, were instantly blacklisted by all of Hollywood. Think of it: these individuals were denied the opportunity to practice their craft for most of the rest of their lives because they EXERCISED THEIR RIGHTS. Furthermore, they refused to name names. Even while "upstanding Americans" like John Wayne, Elia Kazan, and Ronald Reagan were damning their fellow workers to suspicion (grounded or not) by naming names, these 10 stood their ground-and were left alone on an island, isolated for doing what was right.

One of these individuals was a screenwriter named Carl Forman. Forman could not get hired in Hollywood after this, and he tried to write and submit screenplays under pseudonyms. One of his screenplays told the story of a small town sheriff who, years earlier with the help of the townspeople, had cleared out the most evil of evil men, Frank Miller. In his story, Miller's sentence was commuted, and the sheriff tries to round up a posse from among the town men, only to be rebuffed and standing alone against the coming storm. It was the perfect allegory to the era of blacklisting and the story of the Hollywood Ten, dressed up in that most innocuous of genres-the Western. Of course, since Foreman could not submit the story, now fleshed out with details from a short story called "the Tin Star", by John Cunningham, needed his production partner, Stanley Kramer, to have the production see the light of day. The name of the film was "High Noon".

At first glance, "High Noon" seems to be a most conventional Western. The title itself conjures up images of a "showdown at high noon between the noble sheriff and the desperadoes", but the actual story is much deeper than that. This film could be considered the first existential Western, the forerunner to such films as Clint Eastwood's "Unforgiven" and Kevin Reynold's "Open Range." The film's opening sequence is filled with iconic imagery and sound. With the opening notes of "Do Not Forsake Me" (with a rhythm track evoking the sound of a slow trotting horse), we see a lone cowboy resting under a tree, smoking a cigarette. Tex Ritter's song then begins in earnest, and it tells the story through the rest of the opening credits, a forlorn ballad of loneliness in the face of pending danger. The one cowboy gets on his horse and rides to meet a second, and the two together ride to meet a third. They all ride, three abreast as the song ends, to reach the train depot of the town of Hadleyville. The depot manager recognizes all three and is frightened, but he becomes more frightened when he receives a telegram. He sneaks out and races to the Marshal's office, where the marriage of Sheriff Will Kane (Gary Cooper) and his Quaker wife Amy (Grace Kelly) has just taken place. Amy is happy that Will is leaving the violent life of a sheriff, for Quakers do not condone violence of any type. Their happiness is short lived however, as the depot manager brings the shocking news that Frank Miller, a ruthless killer who Kane arrested years ago, was released from jail and is on his way back on the noon train, most likely to get his revenge. Kane looks at the clock, and from this point on, the clock becomes a main character in the film. The story is told in real time, meaning one minute of screen time passes for each minute of real time.

Kane figures it will be easy-after all the townspeople helped him last time, and they reaped the benefits of his efforts. Surely they would help him in his time of need. What happens next, in the real time of the film, is the slow rejection of Kane by all of the people that he met. All of them, save for his wife (who also rejects him because of his intent to follow through on a violent course of action) have their own motives, none of which are the same. But we are left with an interesting morality tale, the lone person who wants to do what is right but has his faith in the people he is trying to help shaken beyond redemption. Even as the townspeople are urging him to leave town, he refuses to back down for the sake of the town itself. His reward? Being left to face certain death at the hands of 4 killers.

The film is one of my favorites for so many reasons. The iconic imagery, the setting, the excellent acting, the characters. I will give you a run down:

1) Gary Cooper: he deservedly won an Academy Award for his nuanced portrayal of Will Kane. In a time of Hollywood he-man, Cooper brought a realistic vulnerability to the square jawed nature of Will Kane. As the film progresses, we see close-ups of Cooper's features and the fear that is building inside him as he realizes that he will likely have to stand alone. A masterful performance.

2) The camera work is astounding. In watching the film, one feels enveloped by the story and invested in its outcome. Fred Zinneman did a wonderful job using certain camera setups to evoke emotions from his audience. I never cease to be amazed by one famous camera shot...just before high noon itself, where the camera, on a crane, focuses first on Kane and then gradually pulls back. Cooper's body language nicely captures the fear and isolation that the character should be feeling at that point, and the crane shot is one long withdrawal until Cooper, a tall guy, looks tiny and insignificant against the backdrop of the deserted town streets.

3) The music. Tex Ritter (John Ritter's dad) was a famous country western cowboy singer of the era. The ballad that begins the film picks up during the film itself, with several musical cues, complete with lyrics, evoking the inner workings of Kane's mind without having to resort to any sort of voice over. For me, it is one of the best film scores ever because the music is SO intertwined with the success of the film.

4) The final shot of the film. For those of you who have never watched the film, I will not spoil it. However, I will tell you that this is #1 on my list of favorite last shots EVER. When you see it, you will understand.

"High Noon" works on many levels. It works as an excellent non-conventional Western with an engaging story, top notch production values, and excellent performances. It also works as a wonderful allegory for the story of the Hollywood 10, albeit with a much happier ending. For these reasons and more, "High Noon" is on my short list of favorite films.

Various things that I wonder about . . .

2008-10-17T08:32:00.002-05:00

1) So why is it that every laundry and dry cleaning store seems to be owned and operated by individuals from East Asia. Now, I am Asian myself, so please do not take this as me being at all racist, but ever since I was a wee lad in Virginia, all of the dry cleaning establishments have been run (quite well, mind you) by individuals from East Asia. What gives? And on the same subject, why are all the Dunkin' Donuts here (and, it seems, elsewhere) run by individuals who are, like me, South Asian. I man, I can laugh about Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, he of the PhD in Engineering, owning and operating a convenience store. It is funny 'cause its true. But why?

2) The other day, a homeless man approached me and asked for change. This happens almost on a daily basis here in Chicago, and I would not have given it another thought but for the specificity of the request. You see, most of the time, I will get the generic "spare change?" query, and as I rarely carry cash around anymore, I can say with conviction "I'm sorry, but I have no cash." On this occasion, the individual asked: "Excuse me, but do you have 41 cents?" I kind of did a double take, for the request was so darned specific. Not a dollar, not 50 cents, but 41 cents. Now granted, this may have been the amount that the guy needed to get on a bus, buy a sandwich, or secure a 40 for the night, but I was taken aback (and a bit impressed) by the request for 41 cents. I had to give him that exact amount and count it out, and he was happy. Has anyone else run into awfully specific requests for spare change?

3) Do sirens on the city streets REALLY NEED to be as loud as they are? I can here them on the 32nd floor of my building. When I am street level, it is even worse.

Welcome to the First Day of the Rest of Your Life

2008-10-07T14:01:00.002-05:00

So there I was, during the first week at work, stressing and stressing about the bar exam. I was one of those sick individuals who looked up my essays to discover the points of law that I missed and worried and fretted that that would be enough for me to get a failing grade. AARGH! The agony was unbearable. I must explain at this point that no member of my firm who is currently working here has failed the bar. Therefore, I did not want to be the first. All during the first week, me and my fellow first year associated were vetted and congratulated and welcomed, yet all of us felt uneasy, for as much as we hoped to have passed the bar, we honestly had NO IDEA how we had done.

The initial newness of the job had worn off, and the middle of September found me settling into a normal routine of work and going home. I was able to put the bar aside and just look forward to work. I had a career (finally) and was doing something that I enjoyed. The first paycheck arrived, and all I thought was: "Hallelujah! I can pay my mortgage this month." Slowly, however, the specter of bar results began to rear its ugly head. As the time grew nearer, there was a noticeable increase in anxiety from my fellow test takers. I had resolved not to worry. After all, I had another chance to take it before my firm would "suggest" that I find employment elsewhere. At the same time, I dreaded the process of studying for the bar and going through that hell again. My fellow first years and I were hopeful, yet we were tentative.

On Monday, September 29, a message posted on the Illinois Bar website, informing all of us that bar results would be posted late in the afternoon the next day. The message instructed us to wait until we had received our individual notification before checking our bar results. Everyone was on DEFINITE pins and needles the night before the results were to be posted. The air around Chicago was papable with the tension of thousands of young adults whose life courses would be determined by a simple message on a website: pass or fail.

So on Tuesday, September 30, everyone waited.....

and waited.....

and waited......

E-mails flew back and forth among friends " has it posted yet, has it posted yet, are there results yet? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE????" Of course, everyone was careful to follow (ignore) the Illinois Bar's instruction to wait until we received an e-mail.

At 4 PM, the collective power of thousands of bar takers succeeded in crashing the servers at the Illinois Bar site. Along with that came the sobering realization that we would NOT be finding out our results for another few hours. *GROAN*

I was getting absolutely NO WORK accomplished, so I went home. I quickly started cooking. Chicken Tikka Masala. Beef Rogan Josh, Chicken curry...anything to get my mind off the results. Time ticked by slowly, and no new e-mails were forthcoming. I waited...

and waited...

and waited...

at 2:30 AM. I received an email. With my heart pounding like a jackhammer, I logged onto the website to read the first line of the letter to me: We are pleased to inform you...

YYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES! The 3 years of tortuous work and the worry and the strain were all worth it! I had passed!

And then I had to go to sleep and prepare for the next day at work. This proved to be the beginning of the BEST WEEK EVER. Why the beginning? More on that next time . . .

A Very Special Artful Birthday

2008-10-05T15:43:00.005-05:00

We now return you to our regularly scheduled program . . .catching you all up on the excitement that is my life.

When last we left off , I had just returned to Chicago from a visit with my parents. Work was to start that Tuesday after Labor Day. I had a restful Labor Day weekend in order to gear up for the long week ahead. I was worried about so many things (passing the bar, starting my real work, etc.) but at least I had a belated birthday dinner with PAG and Xander to look forward to. Xander and PAG, in addition to being friends of Daisy, are friends of mine as well (funny how that works). Xander is, in fact, one of my very best friends. Since the bar, where we were in the same classroom for the review courses for most of the summer, we had not hung out as guy friends should. He and PAG were traveling a bit, and whenever they were in town, I was out of town. Finally, PAG (being the scheduling maven that she is), tied down a date where all three of us could go to dinner. I suggested a quaint Italian restaurant near my own place, and PAG and Xander agreed. PAG then took it upon herself to change the venue. I understood; after all, PAG has EXCELLENT taste in restaurants, and when she informed me that we were still going to have Italian food, I was happy. The only problem was that the day of our dinner, she was going to be in class, so Xander and I were stuck with nothing to do until PAG got out of work. We decided to go down to Rock Bottom and sample a few of their fall microbrews while waiting for PAG to get out of her class. Finally, at 7:30, Xander received PAG's text that she was on her way and that we should get to the restaurant.

So we walked the 2 blocks to the restaurant. It was good to speak with Xander after so long. We walked into the restaurant, and Xander gave the hostess PAG's name. She was already here! As Xander took the lead, I started looking around for a short red head seated at one of the tables. I turned around to look for Xander, and he had stepped off to the side. "Huh", I thought. "where's he go?"

"SURPRISE!!!!!"

I was stunned. There, off to the side in a private dining room, was PAG, but she was not alone. She was surrounded by some of my very best friends in the world. Hey, there's Smart Hottie! There's Daisy and the Wayward Esquire! Eddie! All in all, 13 friends in all gathered on a weeknight for me (for me!!) to celebrate my birthday. I was stunned. I was overcome with emotion. No one had ever done anything like this for me EVER. PAG was so happy to have pulled off the PERFECT SURPRISE. I was none the wiser. Everyone was there for me. I still cannot believe this. Over wine and some of the best gourmet pizza I have ever tasted, we laughed, talked and socialized for a few hours. For one small moment in time, the rest of the world and my worries melted away, and I could enjoy the company of my best friends.

Thank you, PAG. I will never forget this nor will I forget PAGMom's gift of a "justice scales" paperweight and a congratulatory card that plays the theme to "Law and Order". Wow. Just wow.

Next up-did I pass the bar? Tune in to find out.

Meeting Grace

2008-09-26T21:14:00.001-05:00

You may have noticed that there is a new link from my blog this morning. Law With Grace has been a longtime read of mine ever since Daisy started blogging. I remember clicking onto Grace's blog for the first time, and I found her entries to be warm, hysterical, and poignant all at the same time (a real trick). My favorite Grace post can be found here. In reading the post, I found myself reminiscing about a sofa, an ex-girlfriend, and the very issues and emotions that Grace described in her post that day. I thought to myself: (1) the quality of my posts is EXTREMELY low compared to this and (2) Grace is gifted.

Now, Grace is well known in our circle of blogging friends. She was one of the first to start the cathartic process of blogging, and Daisy, Namby, the Wayward Esquire, Anonymous Hottie, and Eddie had all met and reveled in the wonderfulness that is Grace.

Until last night, I had never met her.

The funny thing is that I was surrounded by people who insisted that my memory was faulty, that Grace and I had had NUMEROUS conversations and "remember that time when Artful and Grace...?" Umm, no, because Artful had never MET Grace. It seemed that we just kept missing each other. She would go to some functions where the rest were gathered, and I would be at others. Somehow, along the way, our paths never crossed.

Grace took it upon herself to organize a post-work happy hour gathering for all of us. With the exception of AH, we were all in town and amenable to getting together for some post-work fun. I must admit to being kind of nervous. You see, all of the other bloggers and I were friends, as they were with Grace, but this was one of those "will my friends get along when they meet each other?" kind of moments. I have always felt that bringing friends together is a lot more loaded with minefields than bringing a significant other to meet your friends. While significant others come and go, friends are for life. What happens if she can't stand me? What does that do to my friendships with the others? Would we all be able to still get along?

So there I was, walking into the tavern at just after 5 PM yesterday. I looked around and immediately spotted (and heard) the Wayward Esquire. Across from him was Eddie and at the other end of the table was Daisy. Daisy was deep in conversation with a tall, gorgeous blonde dressed in a business suit. In all fairness to Daisy, let me also disclose that Daisy is also a gorgeous blonde, so it crossed my mind that such women really DO hang out in groups. Then, I began to get nervous. Could that be Grace? Holy crap is she hot! I made idle conversation with Eddie and the Wayward Esquire until the gorgeous blonde (the one that I did not know) noticed my presence at the table.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded to know.

"Uhh...who the hell are YOU?" I asked, tentatively, in return (I know, smooth, right?).

"I asked you first." she replied, a challenge still in her eye.

"I asked you second." I replied meekly, averting my eyes.

Eddie, who, by this time, had rightfully grown tired of this back and forth, said " she has you there."

She stared at me and I stared at her. Defeated, I broke into a smile and extended my hand and said: "It is so nice to finally meet you!"

Grace took mercy on me and broke into a dazzling smile (one of those that can melt hearts): "It is nice to meet you too. Wait, you get a hug."

With that, Grace walked around the table and I received a heartfelt, warm embrace and a kiss on my cheek. Instantaneously, Grace and I were good friends. I found myself telling her things that few of the others knew about me, and Grace smiled, laughed, and listened. I told her of how her posted story of the IKEA picture affected me, and she accepted my compliments modestly. When Namby arrived, the party finally felt complete. As Namby tossed peanuts into the beer mugs surrounding us and he, Eddie, and the Wayward Esquire belted out Monty Python tunes, our party was one of laughter and conversation. Any passersby would have assumed that the six of us were lifelong friends rather than just people who met through law school and through law school friends, much less THAT NIGHT. The friendships among all of the bloggers survived the first meeting of me and Grace, and I look forward to many more evenings of fun.

So, what are my impressions of Grace? Intelligent, witty, gorgeous, vivacious, intense, warm, funny, irrepressible, and...dare I say it...yes, I must...AMAZING. All of you should be so lucky to know someone like her.

Little Drummer Nerd

2008-09-25T13:26:00.003-05:00

A brief interlude in my "let's catch up on the boring life of the Artful Blogger":

IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday, Eddie was kind enough to go to my management office and pick up the ULTIMATE in wasteful purchases. Amazon rocks for such purchases. We went to a local Irish Pub (where we scored Guinness openers and where Eddie scored a T-Shirt) to dine on some very good food. After hanging out with Eddie, I went home and set about putting together my most nerdy of purchases:

Yes, what are are looking at is the Ion Drum Kit manufactured EXCLUSIVELY for use with Rock Band and Rock Band 2 for the X-Box. This drum kit is around twice the price of the normal kit, but it sports a metal bass pedal, metal structure, and professional-grade drum heads. The coolest thing of all is that, should I one day be able to master Keith Moon's masterful drum work in "Won't Get Fooled Again" and fancy myself a real drummer, I can swap out the Xbox "brain" and install a "brain" for the set that would enable me to use them as a REAL SET OF DRUMS!!!!!

(Pantpantpant.....)

OK, so I am a little excited, and i have not even had the opportunity to try them out, as assembly took an abnormally long time. Tonight, on the other hand, I plan on breaking them in.

Oh...and I also purchased a professional drum "throne"(you know, those three legged metal stools that drummers use?). Yeah, I bought one to play my video game drum set up. I am THAT COOL (or not).

We now will return you to your regularly scheduled program.

Eddie's Place-or where everybody knows your name

2008-09-18T08:33:00.004-05:00

So I had returned from my trip out East. I was now in possession of a new (well, new to me anyway as it was manufactured in the 1990s) vehicle. I was still faced with the insurmountable task of unpacking and getting ready for my first day of work the following Tuesday. PAG and Xander had already made plans with me for dinner the following Wednesday, but I was feeling rather isolated sitting in my new place staring at mounds and mounds of boxes (a major downside of being a comic and toy collector). I mean, Scuba Steve and Anonymous Hottie, the two longest-lived individuals in the area where I moved, were out gallivanting the various wildernesses of Colorado and Grenada (was the Ford Grenada named after the island or vice versa? I forget), and Daisy and BSSMOW lived too far away for easy access and were busy in their own right. As a result, I was left to my own devices-or so I thought.

Enter Eddie and HASWOE.

Now, save for a few occasions (including the disastrous screening experience that was Speed Racer), I had never had an opportunity to hang out with Eddie and HASWOE. After all, they lived far away in the mecca that was MY haunt for the FIRST 7 year period of my graduate study (long after I had moved away from said mecca). They, in their infinite consideration, had sought to throw a housewarming party when I would be in town, but my schedule of the previous 2 weeks (traveling and my brother's wedding) prevented me from being present for either of the 2 weekends that they had available, so I told them not to worry about me. They ended up having what sounds like a fabulous housewarming party, and I was sad that I missed it.

While sitting at the computer by my lonesome on Friday night (yes, I am quite the party cossack), Eddie and I start gChatting). We agree that brunch the next morning would be fun. Wow! I had plans for Saturday morning! The next morning, I walked the 2 blocks to Eddie and HASWOE's place and was comforted by the fact that it took scarcely 5 minutes to cover the distance from my place to theirs. We had a fabulous brunch, killing time by shopping at a local gourmet and liquor store. My mind, however, was elsewhere a lot of the time, as I was thinking about all of the moving out from my old place that still needed to be done. As soon as brunch was over, we walked back to our respective places, and I immediately felt alone again. What the heck? I LOVE being alone. What's the deal here?

So there I was, the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, having no plans whatsoever except to move more things from my old place and to fall asleep with college football on in the background. Having done much of the moving and returned to my new place, I was exhausted and collapsed on my sofa. As I was drifting in and out of sleep, my phone rang:

Eddie: "Do you have plans for tonight"

Me (still sleepy): "zxfdfdfssfxzzfxfzzz? asd .fdsfa sd.fewrewqwef!"

Eddie (patiently): "Do you have plans for tonight?"

Me (with the fog of REM sleep lifting): "No no..I thought I might sit here in the dark by myself turning on and off the light switch while listening to Madame Butterfly." Wait...no, actually I said "No plans, dude. What do you have in mind?"

Eddie: "HASWOE and I were going to grill out and, since you missed the housewarming, we wanted you to come over. You need to see how well Ralphie (the grill that Eddie and I put together..um..together) works."

Immediately, my spirits lifted. I mean, sure, I missed the housewarming, but here, I was able to have Eddie and HASWOE all to myself! Those of you who read Eddie's blog can get a sense of how fun the two of them are. Now fully awake, I told Eddie: "When and where, and what can I bring?"

Eddie, or course, said "nothing-and whenever you want to come over." Cool.

I headed over to the Eddie house and was met immediately by the yapping of Crossers. Eddie came to the door (HASWOE was immersed in her own closet-organization hell). Eddie and I bantered back and forth in the kitchen and then moved out to the balcony where Ralphie lives. As Eddie prepared to grill, HASWOE joined us, and, over wine and cheese, we sat and chatted. The weather was perfect and the conversation was intelligent.

"Wow," I thought. "So THIS is what this is like."

In short order, HASWOE and Eddie have become two close friends. This is not my normal MO. Usually, people have to be around me for months before they enter what De Niro, in "Meet the Parents" so aptly called the Circle of Trust. The two of them are as warm and wonderful a couple as any that I have met. Since then, we have hung out a lot together, and their place feels like home. Even the dogs have become accustomed to my presence. So to all of you out there who read Eddie's blog and think that he and HASWOE are awesome, I am here to tell you that, with ONE EXCEPTION, you are correct.

The evil couple introduced me to authentic imported British chocolate, and it has become my heroin. I am always looking for my next fix. DAMN YOU EDDIE!!!!

The Road West-Part II

2008-09-11T23:17:00.003-05:00

So there I was...in the Northwest Baltimore suburb of Owings Mills, staying at the rather nice Hyatt Place. It was early in the morning of August 27, and I set out on the road. As I mentioned, my original plan to travel via I-70 changed at the last minute, and it dawned on me, as I made my way on to I-68 that (a) I had no road map or atlas of any kind, (b) I had no GPS or phone with any sort of GPS, and (c) I am a man-therefore, I was willing to end up in Florida before stooping to the level to asking for directions. I vaguely remembered that to get to I-80, I would have to drive to Pittsburgh, so away I went. My only stop during the morning was to refuel at a McDonalds in the rural mecca of Cumberland, MD. Now, I am a lover of Southern style biscuits. You can TASTE the lard in a properly made Southern biscuits, and the biscuits that I would eat from fast food chains in the Midwest never seemed to measure up to the SAME biscuits prepared in the ovens of the SAME fast food joints located in Southern states. I'd like to think that the attention to detail that the "biscuit artisans" of the Southern McDonalds observed was due to their own watchful and clucking Grandmothers who KNEW how to make a good biscuit. So it was with great anticipation that I ordered my Southern style Chicken biscuit from McDonalds in Cumberland, and oh man....it did NOT disappoint. The biscuit was hot out of the oven, and the chicken was piping hot as well and perfectly seasoned. I luxuriated over ever bite, and took my time. Although Chicago is my adopted hometown, there are just SOME THINGS that I cannot find in Chicago. Thankfully, those things are alive and well on the road to Cleveland.

So I made my way on I-68 and passed through West Virginia, looping North towards Cleveland. I ended up reaching Cleveland at around 1:30 PM and checked into my hotel. I then made my way to my buddy Aaron's place, and we tooled around North Olmsted for a bit. He and his wife Julie were to take to out to celebrate my birthday, and we had a wonderful evening at Champps. Aaron's original intention was to take me to a nice restaurant, but in actuality, I was looking more for a bistro atmosphere and not a fancy sit-down situation. Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all. We made our way back to Aaron's place, and the kids were already asleep. I put in the first disc of "Arrested Development: Season One", and Aaron and Julie were both hooked by the saga of the Bluths, as I knew they would be. What a great series! Early the next morning, Aaron and I dined at the middle America mecca that is Baker's Square, and I immediately understood one of the root causes for the obesity epidemic in the United States (notwithstanding my own fascination with Southern-style biscuits...so good...). Everything on the Baker's Square menu was laden with fats and carbs. Just by glancing at the menu, I could tell that the entire menu was a landmine. No wonder corporations like Baker's Square, Denny's and IHOP refuse to publish their nutritional information! They would never get people in the door if they knew. Uusually in situations like this, I opt for the fruit plate and oatmeal, but those self-same restaurants always have the WORST oatmeal..a watery gruel that one cannot justify paying for. Would it be too much to ask for some good old fashioned steel-cut oats?

Breakfast aside, Aaron and I had a good time just relaxing and talking. We always have excellent conversations, and these quite moments with one's friends are something that I treasure. The time then came for my return trip to Chicago, and I made my way back to I-80. The trip was uneventful, but I was pleased to see that the Indiana Toll authority would now recognize my I-Pass...this will make trips East that much easier. Now if only the Ohio toll authority would catch up.

When I arrived home, I felt different than I had in the past. This is the first time EVER...well, since moving from my parents' home in Virginia...that I felt like I was HOME. There were the walls, cabinets, granite countertops, and paint colors that I (well, with AH's help with the colors, at least) had chosen. There was MY entertainment set-up. There was MY ginormous king size comfy bed. I felt like I was home, and it felt good. I still need to have a housewarming party, but I also need to do some unpacking. Oh well...time enough for that later.

Next time....my first weeks at work and the fun that is having Eddie and HASWOE living so close by.

So now I am a full-time attorney..at least until October 1...

2008-09-09T09:33:00.003-05:00

Has it really been 3 weeks since my last update? So much has happened since then! With so much material, I can stretch out my normal large updates into several smaller ones, just to get those of you who stopped checking my site back into the habit of checking it.

So...August 21 was the last entry, and I was in Virginia. I had a wonderful time resting with my folks after a rather tumultuous few weeks (closing, packing, moving, parent's visit to new place, and my brother's wedding). I celebrated my birthday on August 25 with my parents and then hit the road the next day. Yes, I said hit the road. My parents gifted me their 1992 car for the trip, and it made the trip amazingly low stress. My folks had meticulously maintained the car, and it was in garage-kept condition. Only time will tell if the rough streets of Chicago will be so kind to it (I am thinking NO).

My first stop on the road trip back was Baltimore. Now, I had not been to Baltimore in quite some time, and my first impression upon getting to the city was "how the heck did I ever enjoy living here?" The contrast to my adopted city of Chicago was startling. Baltimore has an industrial feel that goes beyond mere blue collar. I can love a blue collar city, but it is tough to love one that is clearly on the decline. I had forgotten how rude the people could be, and I was dismayed to find that many of my former haunts had deteriorated to the point where I hardly recognized them anymore. Eddie had prepared me for this, but to actually see it with my own eyes..well..it was tough. I ended up staying the evening in Owings Mills, a now overgrown suburb of Baltimore located on the Northwest side. At least I had a fun dinner with friends at McCormick and Schmicks. I was looking forward to having some good seafood, but sadly, the barramudi I ordered was woefully overdone. At least the hoisin sauce rescued the dish a little bit, but I was disappointed. How can a restaurant located on the water screw up a basic fish preparation? I think that the world class restaurants in Chicago have raised my expectation for proper dinner preparation.

I then went to sleep, but I woke up early the next morning to continue my trip. I hopped onto interstate 70 and enjoyed the morning drive, for at that time of the day, there was very little traffic on the road. I had intended to take the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but a radio warning informed me that construction delays were severe. I instead opted to go west via I-68, through West Virginia and the Cumberland Gap.

Join me tomorrow when I regale you with Part II of my trip-from West Virginia to Cleveland.

Phew!

2008-08-21T15:03:00.002-05:00

What a busy busy few weeks! I am sure that many of you might have thought I have just given up on the blog, but I assure you that this is not the case. There are just so many things that are tied into the beginning of my new life that I have barely had the time to catch my breath. I will try to share with you the highlights of the whirlwind that has been my last few weeks.

1) I closed on my condo. Yes, I am finally a homeowner. In this time of housing market uncertainty with banks, mortgage companies, and title companies scrutinizing each and every application with a fine toothed comb, I was able to convince them that I was a good risk. Of course, the closing was not without its share of anxiety. I had to come up with an extra 5% down payment within 2 weeks of the closing. If that were not enough, the day of the closing almost became the day that was NOT the closing. So there I was, sitting at Chicago Title Company with my agent, my attorney, and my mortgage broker signing away my life. The closing was going along very smoothly until the title agent asked about the certificate that brought me in compliance with the new Illinois Anti-Predatory Lending law that went into effect the month before. The minute my mortgage broker said "huh?", I started sweating. You see, I had already reserved the movers and the freight elevator for a Monday move, and here it was, Friday, and I might not close until Monday night. Panic set in, and I felt a little angry and frustrated. I had jumped through a LOT of hoops just to get to this point, and I could not believe that a little bit of red tape (a form that needed to be filled out by computer) would be the thing that threw a wrench in the works. Thankfully, the title agent was amazing. Not only did he stay with the closing throughout the next 5 hours (I was told to go home and wait), but he also stayed later than 6 PM on a Friday because he, too, recognized that this was not my fault and I should not be penalized for a new law whose implementation NO ONE understands. I ended up closing. On Friday. During this period of uncertainty, I became more aware of how much I wanted my new place, and I was glad that, by the end of 08-08-08, I was a new homeowner.

2. Moving. Having concluded the closing drama, I spent the next 2 days packing for the move. I expected the movers to be ready by 10 AM and be down at the new place by 1 PM (when I had reserved the freight elevator). Instead, I received a call at 7:30 (!) the next morning, with the movers telling me that they were outside. They had the truck loaded up by 9:30 and were on the way to my place by 10. We waited out another set of people who were moving in, but the movers started up again and completed the move by 1:30 PM. I was finally in my new place, surrounded by boxes, and utterly exhausted. Of course, the gas alarm was beeping every 30 seconds thanks to a low battery (and I did not have a ladder tall enough to reach it-my new place is a loft). The contractors had also failed to light the hot water heater, so I went back to the old place to shower. After moving day, I really needed one. Still, it was nice to spend my first night in my new place. With all of the boxes surrounding me, it should come as no surprise that I started with all of my electronics. A man's gotta be able to play Guitar Hero, right? The place is looking pretty good. Anonymous Hottie continued her design efforts by introducing me to her furniture guy. A major purchase is in the offing. At least I had enough furniture to entertain my parents. After all, they were coming into town for my brother's wedding on Thursday and would be staying with me on Thursday night. EGADS!!!!! At least it forced me to get the place habitable for guests. My parents loved the place and declared that I had done well (and I basked in the afterglow of THAT comment).

3. My Brother's Wedding. Many of you know of the drama that has surrounded my brother's wedding. There has been a little animosity on both sides (well, OK, mostly the GROOM's side of the family), but my folks were there for my brother, and my brother was great in getting them there. After spending Thursday night in my place, all of us went to stay at the wedding hotel in Itasca. My brother had arranged for suites at the Westin there, the site of the wedding. There, in a large tent on the Westin grounds, I watched my brother get married in a traditional (2 hours long!) Hindu ceremony. Of course, my brother being my brother, he decided to make a substitution to the tradition of the groom riding in on a horse. He decorated his BMW motorcycle with the headdress reserved for the ceremonial horse and rode it, with his best man and groomsmen surrounding him, to the ceremony. After all, he reasoned, why settle for one horse when you can have 90 (horsepower)? So I was one of the groomesmen and was dressed in traditional Indian garb for the ceremony. The unfortunate thing was that traditional Indian garb is VERY SIMILAR to traditional Muslim garb, and there was an Orthodox Jewish wedding that was occurring at the very same venue after our service. I can only imagine the feelings of concernation among the assembled members of Jewish society at the site of so many people dressed as we were.

So the wedding and the pictures went off without a hitch, and it was now time to get ready for the reception. I was exhausted, but I was looking forward to the reception. After all, I had no responsibilities except to look after my folks. This was also the reason my sister-in-law told me not to bring a date. Oh well. All of the groomsmen looked replendent in their back suits and red ties as we marched in with the bridesmaids. The food at the cocktail hour was excellent, and I was settling back for an enjoyable evening when I saw the emcee, my sister-in-law's cousin, approaching our table.

"So you are set for your speech, right?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied confidently. "Wait, what?"
"The bride's side has 4 speakers and the groom's side has 3," he replied. "Your brother said that his best man, you, and another member of his wedding party are giving speeches."
"Oh, ok." I responded. Then, "wait, what?"

Right about that time, the first of the speeches started, and the salad course was beginning. I had 5 speeches worth of time to think about what I would say. I paid attention to the speeches and took in what was working with the crowd and what was not working. Then, with no rehearsal and no true outline of what I would say, I was called to the floor. Thanks to the stress of the occasion + a few glasses of wine, I was able to deliver a speech that was probably better than something I might have agonized over. I was proud of myself, but I was also grateful that my brother and sister-in-law seemed to really like it. I also wanted to throttle my brother for putting me in that situation, but that's just him.

I think that my favorite part of the wedding had to be the post reception party. My brother, his bride, and a few close family members and friends retired to one of the suites for some wine, pizza, and Olympics coverage. I went to sleep at 4 and was awoken by my Mom's phone call at 8:30. Some things never change.

4. Recovery. The rest of the week was recovery and more unpacking. I now am the proud possessor of an HD-DVR + the NFL Sunday Ticket, courtesy of Direct TV. I also realized the benefits of living 3 blocks away from Eddie and Anonymous Hottie. We were able to hang out on Monday and Tuesday. On Monday, Eddie and I assembled his new grill (cue manly music), and he, HASWOE, and I met Anonymous Hottie and another friend out for a late dinner. The next morning, I went over to Eddie's again to watch for furniture delivery from AH's furniture store (well, she doesn't OWN it, but all of us were turned onto it because of her), and Eddie and I dined on sandwiches from an AMAZING new Italian Deli in my new neighborhood. I can already see that living so close to so many of my friends is going to be a wonderful experience. And Eddie, I am not just saying that because you let me mooch off of your internet service. On Wednesday, I flew home to Virginia for some R & R, as work (for real) begins the day after Labor Day.

I hope that you all are having a pleasant summer. I cannot believe that it is almost over. I only hope that the rest of the year will be as fun.

One month off and the Summer Movie Season in Review

2008-08-03T20:41:00.004-05:00

Part I: Personal Stuff (the year in review)

This has been quite the busy year for me. I know that I have not been sharing a lot regarding my personal life (boring as it is), but my buddy Aaron was remarking on how many changes I experienced over the last year, and the list is amazing. Here is the year in review:

1. I completed law school. This was the last degree I will ever get. Really. It is. Honest Injun. No fooling. I am NOT going for my MBA. Nope. Not even for the executive program on weekends. Law school was an interesting exercise. I was able to live like a 25 year old for three more years, and I did not even come close to pulling THAT off. Finishing law school is the beginning of my real life. No more will I wander into a classroom to learn something for the sake of a test. When I first entered law school, I had doubts as to whether I could pull it off. I mean, it had been a good 10 years since my last written exam, and now I would be pitted against a group of students who were well versed in test taking as a result of their recent pasts in college. I felt that I was at a distinct disadvantage, but when the dust settled, I graduated with honors. This is something that would not have been possible without the care and support of my friends and family (you all know who you are, and the list is long but distinguished).

2. I took the Illinois State Bar Exam. Um...my mind is still in shock over the sheer difficulty of this most heinous of hazing rituals. The preparation for this test made for the single worst summer of my life. If I failed, at least the next time I take it will be in the dead of winter, and I will have a study buddy in HASWOE.

3. I took (and passed) the Examination for Admission to Pratice before the United States Patent and Trademark Office (the Patent Bar). Yes, I took this exam and passed it. Unlike the Illinois Bar exam, the USPTO test is taken at a computer testing site, and you are immediately told whether or not you passed. I took the test the second week of May, and I passed. This was one of the hurdles I needed to leap over in order to realize my goal of becoming a patent attorney. I was also the first person in my firm's entering class to pass it. At least I will not have to study for it while working! Please let there be no more tests!!!

4. My apartment was broken into. Many of you longtime readers are already aware of this, but my place was broken into while I was out of town for a weekend. I must take this opportunity to give a shout out to State Farm insurance, for they made my claim process painless and quick, and I was almost whole again (in terms of items that were missing) within a month. Wow. This, of course, was a major stressor in my life.

5. I purchased my first home. The closing is this Friday, and I am extremely excited about it. Of course, for the sake of sanity, I really should have thought better of undergoing two of the most stressful events that one can experience all at the same time (bar exam and home purchase), but the timing seemed right, and I fell in love with my new condo. I expect to move a week from Monday, and all of my friends (especially AH, Daisy, and HASWOE) have been extremely helpful with decorating and logistics suggestions concerning the new place. The housewarming should be a lot of fun.

6. I start a brand new job the day after Labor Day. The job market is not too kind out there for recently graduated attorneys, so I consider myself lucky to have a position at a good firm. I am not so naive as to believe that my PhD had nothing to do with my procuring a position, but I suppose this is a benefit for having taken my lumps in getting my degree. And here I thought the 90s were a complete waste :-)

Whew! What a list! And most of these things only happened within the last 7 months! I still have a good 5 months of the year to go, and I anticipate that (for better or for worse), October 1 will be a banner date . This is the date that the results of the bar are announced. At least I can pretend that I passed for another 2 months. I know that, on that date, I will be checking the website, my heart beating through my chest in full on tachycardia. Good times.

I must mention that NONE of this would have been possible without the support of all of my friends here in Chicago (and some who are NOW in Chicago). The list includes Xander, Daisy, AH, Scuba Steve, Eddie, HASWOE, Missy, Ricedogg and wife of Ricedogg, Funniestthing and Julie, my brother, his fiance, and, most of all, my parents. You all are the best, and there were so many times during this last year where you did something that, while you might not have known it at the time, made a HUGE deal of difference in my life. Thank you.

Part II: The Summer Movie Season.

As I write this entry, "The Dark Knight" is a few million away from passing the $400 million barrier and I am basking in the glow of a really enjoyable summer movie season. I still remember the horrible movie season of 2006, a season that spilled over into 2007 with the yawn-inspiring releases of "Spider-Man 3", "Shrek 3", and "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End." And then, the summer picked up with the releases of "Order of the Phoenix", "Live Free or Die Hard", "The Bourne Ultimatum", and "The Simpsons Movie". This summer, there were relatively few clunkers. I think that I was able to avoid a lot of them simply by reading the ratings at rottentomatoes.com before making my movie going decisions. As for the rankings of the list, the list merely reflects my own feelings as to which films I believe really succeeded (for me) this summer. Of the top 5, 3 have been the subject of multiple viewings. I have not yet watched "Stepbrothers", "The Clone Wars", or "Death Race", but I will be seeing them soon enough. For the moment, here is my list of the top films of the summer.

1. "The Dark Knight": No surprise here. Director Christopher Nolan picked up where he left off with "Batman Begins" and created a comic book movie that was one in the truest sense of the word. The Nolan brothers crafted a story that perfectly captured the nuances of the Batman universe while grounding it in reality. Much was made of how movie goers were motivated to see the film because of the death of Heath Ledger, but I believe a lot of the excitement surrounding this film was the crossover appeal from their first film. This film had it all (dark humor, angst, a gripping storyline, twists and turns, and respect for the underlying mythology). I loved it. #1 with a bullet.

2. "Wall-E": Now, this film has been a controversial topic of conversation for my friends and I. I noticed something quite amusing. When I discussed the film with my married or "coupled" friends, they seemed to focus on the environmental message and the problem with Pixar's failure at even attempting subtlety. When I discussed the film with my single friends, they marveled at the romantic aspects of the film, the throwback nature of Wall-E and Eve's romance that harkened back to a more innocent time. What does that say about the existence of romance where people are already coupled? Maybe nothing, but it was an interesting phenomenon nonetheless. I stand by my earlier review in which I stated that "Wall-E" is my favorite Pixar film. Time will tell; maybe "The Incredibles" will regain the top spot. Who knows.

3. "Iron Man": What do you get when you combine a top notch director, an Academy Award-winning cast, and a faithful comics adaptation updated for the 00s? You get "Iron Man", the best pure popcorn film of the summer. There was nothing particularly deep about "Iron Man", but it did have a minimal level of the requisite seriousness required to inspire Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) into acting for the good of all. With this film, Jon Favreau cemented his reputation as a versatile director who is as at home with comedy ("Elf") as he is with a big budget studio summer tentpole film. I only hope that Marvel Films can keep the same cast and crew together for "Iron Man 2". "Iron Man" also wins the award for the best post-credit sequence of the summer.

4. tie-"Wanted" and "The Incredible Hulk": First, "Wanted". I am rarely surprised by action films anymore. I think it is because most stories within the general action genre are rather hackneyed and poorly executed. "Wanted" changed the rules for action films. Rather than the Michael Bay meets Tony Scott look of 90s action films, "Wanted" takes the lessons learned from films such as "The Matrix" (stories and stunts) and marries them to the fun vibe from 80s action films. I cannot wait for the sequel. As for "The Incredible Hulk", I only know of one person who enjoyed Ang Lee's travesty from a few years ago (Eddie, how can you actually LIKE that piece of tripe?). Marvel Films got it right this time and created a "Hulk" film that marries the best of the comics with the nostalgia of the television show from the late 1970s. The action sequences are fun to watch and the story is grounded in the romance between Betty and Bruce. Ed Norton and Liv Tyler have the chemistry so sorely missing from the Jennifer Connelly-Eric Bana coupling from the earlier film. A lot of you never gave this film a chance in the theaters. Please do so when it comes to video. It deserves to be seen (maybe as a double feature with "Iron Man", goven Robert Downey Jr.'s cameo as Tony Stark in "Hulk").

5. "Sex and the City": Now, I know that a lot of people (women and men alike) might disagree with this ranking, but I stand by it. Although I enjoyed it as a good sequel to the television series of the same name, there was nothing in the film that could not have been done for the small screen. Michael Patrick King fell into the trap of most small screen directors in failing to take advantage of the big screen. I expected New York to "pop", and I expected something more than just another good story about Samantha, Charlotte, Carrie, and Miranda. That is not to say that I did not enjoy the story. It is just that, in a summer of great films, this was just adequate. It is exactly what it should have been-but nothing more. That having been said, I would see another "SATC" film. There...I said it.

6. "Hellboy: The Golden Army": Wow-"Hellboy" is kinda low, huh? I suppose this comes from the little known factor of the forgettable film-those films that are good and enjoyable when you watch them but then fall away from your memory the minute you leave the theater. I felt this way about "Hellboy" and "Get Smart". "Hellboy" had wonderful visuals, a great story, and wonderful acting. With all that having been said, I did not really give the film a second thought upon leaving the theater. I would recommend it for a fun evening, but my thoughts following "Hellboy" were a far cry from my thoughts after my first screening of "The Dark Knight." When I left "The Dark Knight", the film was in my thoughts for hours. Indeed, I had numerous phone calls from people who accompanied me to that film just so they could discuss the film...hours after the fact. "Hellboy"? Not so much.

7. "Get Smart": I thoroughly enjoyed this film, but like "Hellboy", this is a film that just fell away from me after I left the theater. I loved the story, I loved the fact that Max was not an incompetent boob, I LOVE Anne Hathaway (seriously...I love her), and I appreciated the various homages the film paid to its inspiration-the Mel Brooks-Buck Henry-Don Adams series of the 1960s. With this having been said, this could just as easily been a rental.

8. "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull": I must admit to being a bit surprised myself with how low I ranked this film. At the time of my earlier review, I was still reeling from the horrible experience of "Speed Racer", so perhaps my mood upon watching the film was simply one of relief for seeing something familiar. However, familiar just doesn't cut it when you are up against some truly good films. As the summer went on, Dr. Henry Jones' latest adventure just does not measure up. It just seemed like lazy filmmaking where the writer (in this case, George Lucas) was playing it safe and not taking any chances. Sometimes that can work, and Harrison Ford ably recaptured his glory days with his performance. Unfortunately, in the end, that simply was not enough. I had the distinct impression that I had seen it all before. Whereas this film would have been a blockbuster in the 1980s, a small part of me would prefer to believe that we were still more sophisticated than THAT...but then I remember how much I enjoyed "Rocky IV" and I cringe.

I will not rank the other film I saw this summer. That would be "Speed Racer". The less said about that travesty the better. Let's hope that the Wachowskis find their way...and soon.

So I did not see "The Happening", "Kung Fu Panda", "Prince Caspian", and "Hancock." Maybe that is why I enjoyed the summer as much as I did. I still have high (heh) hopes for "Pineapple Express" and "Tropic Thunder" as well as "Stepbrothers", but the real big films of the summer have come and gone. It was a good summer, and next summer looks to be pretty good as well if for no other reason than I will NOT be studying for the bar exam.

The rest of the year still looks to be fun, with "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince", "Righteous Kill", and "Quantum of Solace" coming in the fall. Stay tuned for more reviews, and let me know what else you might want me to write about.

Batman Week Concludes: The Dark Knight Returns

2008-07-20T17:53:00.011-05:00

So the big day finally arrived! The biggest movie of the summer! In IMAX, no less. I had a group 20 people (organized by yours truly) there to watch the film and experience it with me (yes, Daisy, AH, and Scuba Steve were there and Eddie, in spirit if not in fact). The screening started with a brief teaser for "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" in IMAX 3-D (yes-going to be there opening weekend...next...) and then the trailer for Zack Snyder's "Watchmen" film, based on the graphic novel by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. I will be writing a column on "Watchmen" (one of the best works of fiction ever written, by the way) in the future. And then...the main event....

The deep base from Zimmer and Newton Howard's soundtrack started, and the Warner Brothers and DC Comics emblems flashed on the screen and disappeared. From the distinctive opening notes of the soundtrack that announced this as a Batman film, the music shifted to the eerie strains of "Why So Serious", a track that reflected the tonal shift that this film would represent versus the previous film. We see a group of gangsters dressed in clown mask...and a solitary figure standing on the street corner, his scraggly green (GREEN!!!!) hair blowing gently in the wind, his back to us, holding, with his left hand by his side, a similar clown mask. The mayhem begins as the Joker is introduced to the audience, representative of all of the chaos that is sure to follow. This was no villainous R'as Al Ghul or Scarecrow-level of lower tier villain. The Joker represented chaos in all of its glory. Did I mention this sequence was shot completely in IMAX (taking up the vast expanse of the IMAX screen? WOW. We track Batman to a parking garage fighting off Russian mobsters, a gang of Batman-inspired vigilantes, and the Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy reprising his role in a nice little cameo). The movie then begins in earnest, and we learn that new cops and a new DA have restored hope to Gotham, a hope that remains so long as Batman is serving as guardian over the city. In their efforts to halt organized crime in Gotham, they have driven the criminal underworld to the brink, and the Joker is there with an offer for them-an offer to kill Batman. While this is occurring, Gordon, DA Harvey Dent, and Batman are showing just how far they will take their "ends justify the means" approach to cleaning up Gotham by working covertly to kidnap a Chinese national (the mob banker of Gotham) and return him to Gotham. This is a little unsettling; gone is the clear cut line between what was right and what was wrong that seemed so apparent in the first film. How can there be a clear cut line when chaos is just around the corner? Even though Batman has the mantle of the bat to protect those that he loves, it is not enough to protect those who fearlessly are out in front without the benefit of such disguises. All of these parties pay dearly not only for their own moral transgressions but also for daring to hope in a city that could give birth to a creature such as the Joker.

It is extremely difficult to speak of different aspects of the film without going into specific plot points. I must warn that the following will be one of my patented "favorite moments from the film" bullet point list, and it WILL be full of spoilers, so read on at your own peril.

Still reading?

OK-here I go:

1) The establishing shot of Gotham through the lens of an IMAX camera was astonishing to behold. Everything was crystal clear, and the shot provided an amazing sense of perspective from the skies of the city.

2) The introduction of the Joker and the performance of the late Heath Ledger throughout the film. Wow. At times, I forgot that I was watching an actor. Ledger inhabited the role of the Joker to an amazing level. He created an unforgettable character and was faithful enough to the comics versions of the Joker to satisfy even the most die hard of Batman fans (such as myself). From his voice innotations to the way he wielded his daggers, the Joker was a living unpredictable force of mayhem in an arena (a comic book film) where such things should not exist. In point of fact, one could almost sense the palpable tension that gripped the movie audience whenever the Joker was on the screen, as no one could predict what he would do next. While I marveled at the performance, I am also saddened by the knowledge that we will never see this actor in another new film. This was a performance for the ages.

3) The action sequences over Hong Kong were amazing (also shot in IMAX). Batman's assault on the skyscraper and his amazing escape with his hostage were truly amazing to behold. If I have not mentioned this before, let me say that this film needs to be experienced in IMAX.

4) The capture of the Joker: round one. The chase sequences were breathtaking and the last minute rescue of the Dark Knight by an unforeseen participant was a joy to behold. The interrogation scene between Batman and the Joker was hard to watch. After all, Batman is one of the good guys. He was played by Adam West, for gosh sakes! Here, he mercilessly pummels the Joker while demanding information, and, even more disturbingly, the Joker lets him know that there is nothing Batman can do to him. He just does not care. The tragic sequence of events that unfolds soon after this...well, even though I could spoil it for you, there are some things that need to be experienced. The interrogation scene also held a special place for me because of its eerie resemblance to a similar scene at the beginning of Alan Moore and Brian Bolland's graphic novel "The Killing Joke." This was a great way to pay homage to this excellent story.

5) Speaking of "The Killing Joke", I also loved how the Joker HAD no origin. He just simply seemed to...just...be. I was taken with how the Nolans chose to purposefully keep the origin of the Joker a mystery, and the fact that the Joker used as his henchmen many of the escapees of Arkham from the first film made his anarchaic tendencies all that more chilling. There have been many Joker origin stories, but the Nolans' approach (there IS no origin) is, by far, the best of them all.

6) The Nolans seemed to borrow from a lot of Batman graphic novels. The look-alike Batman vigilante echoed the Mutant gang/Sons of Batman from Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight Returns", and the tragic rise and fall of Harvey Dent owed a lot to Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale's maxi-series "Batman: The Long Halloween". The slogan "I believe in Harvey Dent", the character of Maroni (portrayed by Eric Roberts),the decision of the mob to "go to the freaks" to deal with Batman, and even the scenes with Dent and Gordon all seemed to be lifted directly from "The Long Halloween". In the film, Dent's transformation to Two-Face was tragic and affecting, and the excellent CGI work that was used to give actor Aaron Eckhart the gruesome visage of Two-Face deserves special attention. Finally, the devil's choice that the Joker gave the citizens of Gotham at the climax of the film mirrored the Joker's feelings from "The Killing Joke"-namely, the feeling that everyone has the capability to feel (or not feel) as the Joker does and all it takes is something to push them over-was wonderfully realized as the expected response does not materialize at all. Confused? Trust me, see the film and it will all make sense.

7) The supporting cast. From Morgan Freeman's quiet humor in light situations and his gravity in serious situations to Michael Caine's similar approach, Lucius Fox and Alfred continued to be indispensable parts of Bruce Wayne's fight for Gotham. I particularly loved a scene between Alfred and Bruce that mirrored one from the first film. The scene in the first film was where Bruce, after the funeral, breaks down as he believes the death of his parents to be his fault. Something similar is at work here, and Alfred, as always, knows what to say.

8) The final face-off between the Joker and Batman, where the Joker intones how Batman will not kill him and how their fates will forever be intertwined. Now, because their fates have been intertwined for almost 70 years in the comics, this particular bit of dialogue rang true and also reflected a similar conversation between Batman and Joker in "The Killing Joke", but in that story, Batman was giving this same bit of reasoning to the Joker.

9) The ambiguous ending. Sure, most of the good guys were standing at the end, but at what cost? The city has been put through the ringer yet again, and every single person has lost something. The final voice over montage delivered by Gordon was eloquent. In the hands of an actor other than Gary Oldman, the monologue might have seemed cheesy. Here, it seemed sad, as Gordon informs his child of how Batman is to be hunted and to be viewed as an outlaw for the good of the city.

There is SO MUCH more that I could write about the film, and I will probably re-visit it when it comes out on home video. For now, all I can say is that Hollywood saved the best of the summer for last. Bravo!