Desmond And Charlie's Love Child Explains "Lost" In 3 Minutes

... using only Post-It notes, a cockney accent and bad hair.

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXIX: NFL Says “Too Bad” To Fat Cats Who No Likey Football Outside, Plus A Somber So Long To Epic “Lost”

Super Bowl in NY four years hence
Now let the bitching commence
“It’ll be cold,” complains the bitch
“And outside,” whines the rich
But football in the elements makes sense

Obama’s great move (‘bout time)
Was a response to the BP crime
A moratorium on Arctic drilling
To avoid more goddam oil spilling
Because it ain’t the oil that’s the slime

For “Sex and the City,” this one’s new
A show about three ‘hos and a shrew
Everyone’s been saying the same
That it’s both “cartoonish” and “lame”
Did Captain Obvious write this review?

Facebook privacy is the issue of the day
Selling information to third parties just won’t pay
They’ve got a broken business model
Can’t make money so they broke the bottle
Just quit being secretive—what do you say?

The ending we feared finally came
A finale worthy of the “Lost” name
It was the ultimate gift Jack gave
But his soul he ironically did save
Now TV will never be the same

Last time …

“Lost” Says Farewell, Part III: A Show That Can’t Be Categorized, A Purpose That Can’t Be Ignored

Despite my ramblings musings in Part I and Part II, I do realize that the most popular theory at the moment was that they did survive the crash after all and that the flash-sideways was purgatory. I’m certainly open-minded enough to accept that theory (which is what it is), but I certainly just thought the final scene of panning along the crash site and debris was another in a line of clues that they never survived at all, in addition to the admission that they filmed the final episode immediately after filming the pilot six years ago.

Personally, I think the writers spent so much time churning out red herrings that they eventually ran out of time and had all these spokes of the wheel that ended in corners, which forced them to take the relatively easy way out. But the characters were ever-present, and demanded our attention to the end. Sort of like Tony Soprano, all the characters have just enough of a mix of good and evil that you are not sure as a fan of who to like and why and who is ultimately good and bad. These determinations mostly depend on your perceptions, beliefs and life experiences.


“I’ll see you in another life, brother …”

If we accept that the show is primarily about Jack, then kind of about Hurley (including the protective, brother dynamic between the two of them both on and off the island), then you have to throw Desmond into the mix as well. This triumvirate forms the backbone of the series, with Des’s ability to withstand electromagnetism allowing him to get close enough to the source for him to “unplug” it, rendering the MIB mortal and starting the destruction of the island. The irony for Desmond in all of this is that his job for so long was to keep the source plugged by pushing buttons. Then, at the end, he symbolically removes the wine’s cork by removing the stone that was plugging the island’s malevolence.

In the flash-sideways, Des served as a conductor, a conduit who helped bring the survivors together to come to a realization of their alternate connections. By helping to “catalyze the awakenings,” as someone put it, he was able to eventually create the proper scenario for all of them to escape purgatory and “move on.” He was described as the show’s constant, making him one of the hubs in my opinion.


“We were brought here for a purpose, for a reason, all of us.”

At the end, Jack says that Locke was right about everything all along, specifically about how the island drew them all and was part of a larger purpose. Much of the series dwelled on the battle between the Man of Science (Jack) and the Man of Faith (Locke), and it is seemingly only through Locke’s death that Jack is able to reconcile himself to adopt faith in his life. Locke was on a literal and figurative walkabout, searching for something to believe in, when the island captured him. Stepping back from these circumstances, “Lost” can certainly be painted effectively as a character study on how a Man of Science eventually turns into a Man of Faith.

I’m going to miss Jack’s odyssey. I’m going to miss Sawyer’s hilarious nicknames. I’m going to miss Hurley’s “Dudes.” I’m going to miss the Charlie-Claire-Aaron pseudo-family. I’m going to miss Desmond’s pursuit of Penny against all odds. I’m going to miss the subtlety of Bernard and Rose. I’m going to miss the amazing Vincent. I’m going to miss the Sun-Jin love story that traveled over miles, language, absence, decades and other obstacles. I’m going to miss Linus as the official “Lost” punching bag. I’m going to miss the misunderstood Mr. Eko. I’m going to miss the queen of freedom fries, Rousseau. I’m going to miss the enigma, Charles Widmore. I’m going to miss the landscape as a central character. I’m going to miss Jacob’s calm wisdom and the Man in Black’s furious outrage. I’m going to miss Locke’s stoic regalness. I’m going to miss Sayid’s internal war. I’m going to miss the tragic Juliet. And I’m going to miss "Freckles" for so many reasons.

Oh, how I’m going to miss Freckles.


“If we can’t live together … we’re going to die alone.”

If you would have told me six years ago that I would have gotten reeled in by a show about an island that sometimes gets stuck in time and disappears, with three different timelines vying for attention, with random tropical polar bears, with a cast of personalities that is tripled by separate alternate-timeline identities, with plot lines that disappear into blind alleys and dead ends, with major characters that disappear for no reason at all, I likely would not have believed you. But what made “Lost” remarkable was its function as escapist TV; we were asked to believe in hydrogen bombs causing no damage, flash-sidewayses, a dude who doesn’t age and wears eyeliner, and an island that can’t be found on a map, and we never blinked. And that’s a credit to the writers and producers.

“Lost” was a primer on relativity, forgiveness, choice and consequence, point of view and flipping stereotypes, powered by an international cast and an approach that literally and figuratively altered the face of primetime television as we know it. Hell, at times, “Lost” became a caricature of itself. It was part love story, part examination on human nature, part redemption song, part religious morality play, part epic and part Shakespearian tragedy, and it could be as frustrating as it was entertaining. But if you were expecting a steady stream of easy resolutions, then you weren’t watching very closely over the last six years and 121.5 hours of episodes, and that’s on you, not the “Lost” team.

It was a wonderful ride that we didn’t want to ever end, and that’s certainly where some of the hurt feelings over the finale truly stem from. Maybe we’ll see you in another life, “Lost”; until then, I’ll never hear the phrase, “Where are we?” without thinking of that tragically beautiful beach.

And thinking of those six years when I was “Lost.”

“Lost” Says Farewell, Part II: Equal Parts Copout, Hedonism, Character Study and Poetic Beauty

As we discussed in Part I, if you accept all the religious imagery as overt and not symbolic, then the “moving on” obviously means the passing to heaven or hell. With the redemption experienced by all of those who arrived in the church (on a side note, I loved the cryptic line from Jin to Sawyer, “We’ll see you there”), they’re headed to heaven; however, Linus can’t enter the church, meaning that his destination is still very much in doubt, with atonement still needing to take place on his part.

After circling the coffin and working up the strength to open it, Jack finally comes to the realization -- with the help of his own personal Obi-Wan Kenobi, his aptly named father, Christian Shephard -- that he has died. The coffin itself symbolizes the death of his other, “island” life, and the fact that his father is there is fitting in the sense that Jack’s life has largely been about redeeming his relationship with his Dad. I found the dialogue here vague to the point where it was obvious that the producers designed it that way; phrases like, “Everyone dies sometime” and “You all needed each other” come across as pure copouts, which is where some of the minor fanbase outrage comes from.

In my view, these folks made the island together in their mind’s eyes, as a place to ensure that no one died alone on the plane, without a purpose to their lives. Similar to “Shutter Island,” I think it’s possible that the dead survivors created this scenario in purgatory as an attempt to find meaning in their lives … they fabricated this adventure tale as a vehicle and a platform to demonstrate that they can address their flaws. The island has been referred to as a means to an end elsewhere, and I think that would be logical in this context.

However, the whole go-to-the-light stuff was a bit too in-your-face, obvious and literal to avoid being cheesy. In that sense, Jack returning to the bamboo where the show started, laying in the same spot, having Vincent lick his hand, and having his eye slowly close, was partly copout and partly poetic beauty.


“This would be so sweet if we weren’t all about to die.”

I’ll start off by saying, with “an unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality” (thanks, Costanza), that I found the dawning realizations of alternate connections simply and utterly beautiful. The goodbye scene between Jack and Kate was very moving and emotional as well.

That being said, the incestuous relationships on the island were more than a little creepy. Jack was with Juliet on the island and in the flash-sideways; she was, in fact, the mother of his son, David, even though they divorced. Jack was also with Kate (sort of) on the island and off the island, when they raised Aaron together, but Jack’s inner pull to the island and fear of Kate’s past and secret eventually deteriorates him and activates his self-destructive impulses. In the end, Jack winds up with the bad girl (Kate) instead of the good girl (Juliet), partly because he is drawn to those he can fix and partly because he and Kate were kindred souls from their very first moments on the island, when she literally and figuratively helps to put a broken Jack back together again.

Sawyer was with Juliet in Dharmaville 1974, before she died thanks to the hydrogen bomb, and they are reunited in the flash-sideways over a vending machine. He was also with Kate on the island, sharing moments of passion fueled by their inherent questionable pasts and natures. In the end, echoing his life, Sawyer ends up with the good girl (Juliet) instead of the bad girl (Kate), with Juliet teaching him what unconditional love really is, something he never learned from his dysfunctional parents before they died.

These intertwined love and lust stories led Jimmy Kimmel to quip that they were stranded on some kind of wife-swapping Hedonism island after all.

At its core, “Lost” is a character study, an examination of relationships, which is reflected by the ending, when we see Jack-Kate, Sawyer-Juliet, Sun-Jin, Sayid-Shannon, Charlie-Claire, Hurley-Libby, Penny-Desmond, Bernard-Rose (and even Daniel-Charlotte in the flash-sideways) all reunited in the church.

In my mind, the relationship progressions and character evolutions were and always will be the most underrated aspect of “Lost.”



“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pilot.”

On the other hand, some of the coincidences and overlooks that were rampant in the finale certainly went a long way toward eroding fan faith in some quarters. You have Richard Alpert and Frank Lapidis mysteriously -- and somewhat conveniently -- alive. Richard, after seeing his own gray hair, suddenly decides that he wants to live, while finding a bobbing Lapidis amidst the wreckage of the destroyed submarine allows the mission to change from destroying the plane to flying it to safety and rescue.

I found the re-introduction of Shannon and Boone almost unbelievably awkward, and it was made worse when Sayid quickly shrugs off his pining over Nadia to get with Shannon, who just stands around looking moony-eyed. Boone coming back was a nice nod to his death in the early days of the show, but perhaps he could have had a more significant role than getting the shit kicked out of him so a swarthy Iranian torturer can start bagging his sister? And if you’re going to bring back dead folks, how about Nikki (yes, please) and Paulo? For that matter, didn’t Miles/Enos end up stealing Nikki and Paulo’s treasure at one point? Whatever happened with that?

Also, who were the skeletons in the source cave? What the hell role did Eloise Hawking/Widmore play in the flash-sideways, with her cryptic warnings that didn’t amount to anything? Claire seemed to go from Bat-Shit Crazy to Contemplative Wise rather quickly thanks to Kate’s words, didn’t she? I loved the re-intro of Bernard, Rose and Vincent, and I appreciate their desire to “stay out of the drama,” but it would have been nice to see them a bit more, no? And that was a rather quick backstage delivery of Aaron, right? And Jack seemed to get more done after taking a knife to the kidney than most folks do in their entire lives, or is it just me?

I guess these are liberties that had to be taken in order to get to the finish line, and I get that. But damn … no Walt, Michael or Mr. Eko for the junkies?

[Editor's Note: Stay tuned for Part III, since it's impossible to talk about a six-year show ending with a two-and-a-half-hour finale in one post. Giddyup.]

“Lost” Says Farewell, Part I: A Morality Tale of the Quest for Peace and Redemption

In the next-to-last episode of “Lost,” Jacob and MIB’s surrogate mother tells the twins’ mother (before killing her), “Every question I answer will simply lead to another question.” This quote could aptly serve as the epitaph for “Lost,” which recently ended with an epic two-and-a-half-hour finale that was shrouded amidst mixed audience response. These words echo over the entire six-year series, and one can imagine it being bandied about by the producers and writers as they struggled to find the best ending for this TV-show-turned-worldwide phenomenon. In constructing and deconstructing plot lines, the powers-that-be created so many branching questions, theories and queries that I believe they ultimately accepted that they had effectively written themselves into too many corners. As a group, they collectively threw their hands up and decided to just end the show as emotionally and easily as possible.

A copout? Sure. Fitting? Uh-huh. The way it had to be? Yes.

Because as many references and similarities as there are to “Star Wars” (and there are tons), “Lost” was never going to be as deftly and cleverly tied up as that unforgettable epic. Yet the sense of entitlement that has pervaded our society leads so many to believe that they have bought or earned something with six years worth of viewing, that they are somehow owed everything tied up neatly with a bow and served up to them on a silver platter. They think they traded six years for the right to demand answers, and plenty of them, within 150 minutes, if you please.

But “Lost,” like life itself, isn’t that simple. Ultimately, that’s one of the messages that the producers worked so hard to share with the audience that they listened to and forged such a rare bond with. Whether they stumbled into this ending on accident or not is debatable, but the reality is that there was never going to be a finale that answered all of the questions and made everything all of a sudden make sense. Because that was part of the magic of the show; it reeled you in and made you an active participant. A large portion of how invested and involved you got in the series depended on how willing you were to suspend belief, to challenge assumptions, to buck the ordinary. And they carried that through the finale, asking you to decide for yourself what you chose to believe about the controversial ending.

“Guys … where are we?”

Did all the Losties die on Oceanic 815’s impact on the island? Did the survivors eventually make it off the island, live alternate lives and eventually reunite in death? Was it all a purgatory after all? I personally choose to believe that everyone died in the crash and that the island was a purgatory that was consciously created by the collective souls of the flawed, the lonely, the searching. What brought these characters together were these shared traits; redemption and resolution of these flaws eventually reunited them once again in the afterlife. Keep in mind the repeated phrase “Nothing is irreversible”:

Jack
Flaw: Living in his father’s shadow, his life is dominated by the sense that he’s just not good enough
Redemption: Becomes a father who learns from his father’s mistakes, becomes a leader, learns to relinquish power, then ultimately finds his purpose is truly about saving others, on the island and in the ER, finds and (arguably) fixes Kate

Hurley
Flaw: Lives in his own mind as the unluckiest lucky man ever, feeling that he lives under a bad sign, with zero confidence and no companionship
Redemption: Finds inner confidence through the family of survivors, eventually becomes a leader by having others believe in him, finds Libby

Sawyer
Flaw: The unstable rogue, chasing his namesake, his criminal actions mirror the con that is his life
Redemption: Allows himself to fully love Juliet and becomes a cop in an effort to turn violence into help for others

Kate
Flaw: The beautiful murderer who is always running away from the past
Redemption: She becomes a mother and a wife, falling for Jack and finding a stable home and family

Sayid
Flaw: An expert torturer who can’t escape violence and death in his life and can’t stop chasing what he can’t have, Nadia
Redemption: Escapes his stereotype as a murderer by sparing Desmond and sacrificing himself to save others on the sub, earning him a second chance at love by finding Shannon

Jin
Flaw: Rigidly traditional man who is indebted to a mercenary businessman for rescuing him, making him a bad husband to the businessman’s daughter
Redemption: Sacrifices himself for Sun, becomes a father, becomes a hero, forgives and is forgiven

Sun
Flaw: Stuck in the middle of a clash of cultures, she fights traditional roles and mores, becoming an adulterer in the process
Redemption: Becomes a mother, finds Jin again, forgives and is forgiven

On a secondary level, Benjamin Linus’s flaw is that he is a power-hungry, malevolent man who seeks redemption by taking a secondary role and reveling in the fact that someone (Hurley) actually asks him for help. But the fact that Linus isn’t “ready” to enter the church at the end seems to suggest that he has not completely given up on the idea that might be able to influence Hurley into using the island for his own means or eventually usurping Hurley’s power.


"Tell me I'm going to see you again"

Of course, there are several interpretations about the ending, with no clear “right” choice. And that’s part of the beauty of the show; after 121.5 hours, your belief still largely dictates the ending that you want, the finish that best fits your personality, your soul. I might feel that the island represents purgatory, with Jacob figuratively filling in the role of a god recruiting for heaven and the MIB figuratively serving as the devil bringing souls to hell.

In that sense, the show took a very surprising religious turn, to me at least. We are somewhat clued in when Kate laughingly questions the seemingly ridiculous name of “Christian Shephard.” With incantations, drinking of liquids with transmutative properties, the metaphor of the wine bottle with the cork in it, martyrdom, the Biblical names, the symbolic light, the church ending … it is almost as if the churchy overtones were there all along, yet maybe we chose to overlook them.

In the end, where they are is secondary to the idea that this is, at its heart, a morality tale. It’s a story of flawed characters (think “Wizard of Oz”) who are thrown into a situation—self-created or not—that forces them to face their flaws and adapt as people. Jacob tells them they are all lonely, looking for something they can’t find in the “real” world (life), and in accepting his sacrificial role, Jack admits that the island is the one thing in his life that he hasn’t managed to ruin.

“I’ll go where the light’s brightest.”

Everything ends at the source, which is a bit of clever irony. At this point, my belief is that all the major characters are already dead and trying to help Jack see the same truth so that he can ascend or descend. Desmond tries to tell him that the source lets you be with the ones you love, but Jack responds that there are no shortcuts and no do-overs, making you believe that he still feels he has yet to redeem himself, has yet to perform the heroic action that will help him find the elusive peace he doesn’t even know he is seeking.

And in the end, “Lost” is all about Jack’s quest for peace and redemption; it always was. His own harshest critic, he can’t fully appreciate how others view him, but only perceives himself in his father’s critical eyes. When Kate tells him, “Let the island sink,” she’s telling him to let it all go, to let the albatross that’s been hanging around his neck slip away, to allow himself to ease his burden. He says he can’t because he’s not ready yet. Kate telling him she loves him, Hurley telling him he believes in him and Sawyer thanking him all go a long way toward pushing him toward peace, but as the show states, how others view you doesn’t matter compared to what you feel about yourself.

Locke tells him, “Jack, I hope that somebody does for you what you just did for me,” in wishing for him found peace. Jack finally lets go when Kate says, “I know you don’t understand yet, but if you come with me, you will.”

But what does letting go -- and moving on -- really mean?

[Editor's Note: Stay tuned for Part II, since it's impossible to talk about a six-year show ending with a two-and-a-half-hour finale in one post. Giddyup.]

In “Shutter Island,” Scorsese Turns Instant-Classic Book Into Potentially Epic Movie

Teddy Daniels: “Why are you all wet, baby?”

It had been a long wait to see one of my favorite recent books, “Shutter Island” by Dennis Lehane, hit the big screen. The trailer was released nearly a year ago, which prompted my excitement at the time, and learning of the involvement of near-genius director Martin Scorsese certainly only added to my interest level. The delayed release of this much-anticipated flick was a disappointment, so when I was able to take it all in at Raleighwood recently with a beer in my hand, I was admittedly near-giddy.

The ultimate setup for a letdown, yes? But no. Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio, Ben Kingsley and Co. more than delivered.

As much more of a psychological thriller than his customary detective stories set in Boston, Lehane arguably creates a career-defining work here, and Scorsese not only does it justice and honors, but takes it to another level. He pulls off a masterpiece of setting in this one, painting Shutter Island as an Alcatraz-like outcropping, very true to the book. In fact, most of the visual imagery and setting is almost exactly as you pictured it in your mind as you read Lehane’s words, a welcome surprise in an industry where films very rarely are able to fulfill what the book creates in your mind’s eye. Throw in an almost-perfect soundtrack that punctuates and complements the action beautifully, and you begin to see the mastery that is Scorsese.

I’ve often made it clear that I’m not a big fan of DiCaprio, and he is occasionally guilty in his role as U.S. marshal Teddy Daniels of overacting and becoming a bit of a caricature of a troubled detective. In that sense, his portrayal, along with the usage of vivid flashbacks and some irregular behavior, sap a bit of the surprise element that is inherent in this story. I don’t think I’m giving away too much when I say that the drama and tension built into the closing scenes of the movie, while very good, don’t quite live up to what was generated by the conclusion of the book. That being said, DiCaprio still does a strong job, and he’s complemented well by the once-overrated Mark Ruffalo as his slightly mysterious partner. Emily Mortimer is an inspired choice as the missing prisoner, Rachel, but, simply and honestly, Michelle Williams felt like a miscast as Daniels’s one-time love interest, Dolores Chanal.

But it is Ben Kingsley as Dr. Cawley that gives the flick its backbone and steals many of the scenes that may have faltered otherwise. Presiding over a forebidding facility that houses the most violent of the criminally insane, Kingsley is as stately as always, but also brings a taste of potential malevolence to the role. He helps to serve as the fulcrum for one of the movie’s central premises, which is the idea that once you are deemed insane, you can’t be taken seriously, no matter what you say, because the perception that you are crazy clouds and discredits both your words and actions. Likewise, however, and underneath it all, the film also could argue the opposite: that once you are esteemed to be bonafide, you can say and act insane and it will still be taken as the gospel if you are perceived to be a member of the upper crust. In this way, Scorsese challenges us to recognize that it works both ways.

I will say that a new perspective and opinion that was shared about the movie’s ending was a revelation to me, proving that sometime a fresh pair of eyes can bring up a myriad of possibilities to something you thought you knew well. And it’s also a complex, many-layered flick that begs to be pondered, thought of, marinated over and seen more than once, being that it is a piece that’s populated with many sides, angles, perspectives and facades.

Once you’ve seen “Shutter Island,” you’ll see for yourself how difficult it is to review and talk about without feeling as if you’ve given away too much. But I don’t think I’m giving away the farm when I tell you that Scorsese has done it once again, this time eclipsing a very formidable obstacle: taking a tremendous book and crafting it into a tremendous film.

Warden: “If I were to sink my teeth into your eye right now, could you stop me before I blinded you?”
Daniels: “Give it a try.”
Warden: “That’s the spirit.”

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXVIII: Tuna And The ‘Fins Finally Take A High Road, Plus “Lost” Sets Up A Momentous Finale

The heart of the franchise after Dan
Zach Thomas, beloved by every Dolfan
It’s been coming for far too long
Took three years to right a wrong
But #54 retiring a ‘Fin is what’s right, man

Concerns about just who plays
Led to transfers for Davis and Mays
They did it the right way at State
Now start over with a blank slate
Wish them luck in the rest of their days

Doper Landis said Lance took the PED route
His credibility is quite a bit in doubt
So some think the claims by Landis
Are more than a little outlandish
But in this day and age, can you rule them out?

A big offseason for Henne
The problems on “D” are many
Gotta rich receiver with two bad hips
A ‘backer who can only run his lips
At least it’s good to see the return of Penny

Freaking Ben Linus just won’t die
But Widmore and Richard go bye
Who now protects the Source?
Why, it’s Jack, of course
Can Locke use Des to blow the island sky high?

Last time …

Deep Thoughts By No-Look McFadden: Episode 19

#1
There really isn’t much I can add to this to make it any funnier. So behold … the Better Marriage Blanket.

#2
I admit that I got the giggles watching Walter toking the kind bud on the retro episode of “Fringe.” Then Throwback Dunham walked in and those giggles quickly turned into gasps.

#3
Do you remember when Indiana Jones was forced to drink the blood of kali ma in the “Temple of Doom”? Well, when Ube is on the changing table, her shimmying looks almost exactly like Indy’s (5:38 mark of this video). Makes for some nervous moments.

#4
We love El Rodeo. To paraphrase “City Slickers,” “It’s hot, cheap and plenty of it.” And no one is claiming that it’s going to win any awards in the Mexican culinary realm.
But even they could not have been thrilled one Friday night when a horse trailer showed up in their parking lot.
And now to quote “Seinfeld” during the episode about Kenny Rogers Roasters: “That’s not going to be good for business.”
“That’s not going to be good for anybody.”

#5
I loved the A-Team as a kid. Hell, maybe my first shoplifting experience involved ripping open a Mr. T action figure package and bogarting some of his weaponry.
That being said, I don’t think I can adequately describe how freaking stupid the new A-Team movie looks.

#6
If rumors are true and “24” is going off the air for good after this season, they’re certainly not holding back anything. In a scene that had to challenge the censors, Jack Bauer gives his hostage an awake stomach exam with a knife in order to retrieve a SIM card. And apparently, stomach acid has little effect on SIM cards, because it still worked. Kudos, Sprint!

#7
How is Houston Texans linebacker Brian Cushing different than San Diego’s Shawne Merriman? After it was announced that Cushing would receive a four-game suspension for failing a drug test, the AP decided to revote on the Defensive Rookie of the Year Award, which Cushing had won. After the 2005 season, Merriman won Defensive Rookie of the Year, even though he failed a drug test and was suspended for the first four games of 2006. He finished third in the Defensive Player of the Year voting after that season, sparking Dolphins defensive end Jason Taylor, who won the award, to ask how a guy who was doing ‘roids could be eligible for such a reward.
What has changed since then?

#8
A few great recent references on “30 Rock”: a church called “Our Lady of Reluctant Integration” and a product called Pajamaralls -- yup, a Snuggie knockoff that combines pajamas and overalls. Love it.

#9
I consider myself very open-minded when it comes to social media channels and emerging social networking platforms. But I just can't shake the opinion that FourSquare is really, really fucking stupid.

#10
Huge ups to former NC State golfer Timmy Clark. Recently dogged by criticism that he’s the best player never to have won a PGA event (although nearly $15 million in career earnings isn’t a bad consolation prize), all he did was go out and win the freaking Players Championship, the so-called “fifth major.” Powered by a mesmerizing four-birdie-in-a-row streak in the middle of his final round, he came from behind and drained a clutch eight-footer to prove he wouldn’t be denied on this day.
Great “W” for T.C., and one that was celebrated throughout Wolfpack Nation.

A Bunch More Reasons To Be Missing Hurley Soon ...

A bit like the "F" word in "Big Lebowski," Hurley says "Dude" a lot on "Lost." And someone with a lot of time on their hands decided to track just how often.

Good times.

Yup: “Hoosiers” Is Still Pretty Awesome-Like

Randomly yelling out “Run the picket fence!” at the end of close games, comparing Butler’s run in the NCAA tourney to that of Hickory High, muttering “My team is on the floor” after each and every disqualification, likening Jimmy Chitwood to Scott Wood, and screaming “Don’t get caught watching the paint dry!” to someone who’s getting backdoored left and right isn’t quite as fun if your audience is someone who’s never seen “Hoosiers.”

So in order to rectify that, we finally got around to watching “Hoosiers” again the other day (it was made a quarter of a century ago—can that really be possible?). And it was just as great as always. In fact, outside of the brutally awkward and painfully icky courtship of Gene Hackman and Barbara Hershey, it is about as close to a perfect sports movie as you will find.

And now I finally have some context to some important wisecracks … “Sun don't shine on the same dog's ass everyday, but, mister you ain't seen a ray of light since you got here.”

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXVII: Mother Earth Is Crying, Plus “Lost” Twins Fight For The Light

What was blue, we’ve turned black
Of calamities, there is no lack
We kill oceans with our black gold
To the green we’ve our souls sold
Ever think the Earth’s fighting back?

After a State grad lost one in a bar
New iPhone searches have gone far
They turn up without fail
Even on the Ho Chi Minh Trail
Good pub to shine Apple’s star

“Superconferences” the talk of the day
One step below playing for pay
The Big 12 raped by the Big 10?
The SEC stealing from the ACC again?
Amateurism has almost gone away

Miro, Del.icio.us and FriendFeed
Utterli, Audacity, 12 seconds.tv
For pictures, use Flickr
To converse, how about Twitter
Be so cutting edge that you’ll bleed

Turns out they were twins after all,
Black vs. white, then the fall
Their mother killed giving birth
Thought the island was all the Earth
Better protect the cave of light, y’all

Last time …

Dance Like Basement Artie

It's no "little kicks" dance like Elaine's from "Seinfeld," but it'll do in a pinch.

So live a little. Do the Spooner.

“Beatrice and Virgil” Fearlessly Addresses The Indescribable Unaddressable

“Henry had written a novel because there was a hole in him that needed filling, a question that needed answering, a patch of canvas that needed painting—that blend of anxiety, curiosity and joy that is at the origin of art—and he had filled the hole, answered the question, splashed colour on the canvas, all done for himself, because he had to.”

“‘Fiction and nonfiction are not so easily divided. Fiction may not be real, but it’s true; it goes beyond the garland of facts to get to emotional and psychological truths. As for nonfiction, for history, it may be real, but its truth is slippery, hard to access, with no fixed meaning bolted to it.’”

“Words are cold, muddy toads trying to understand sprites in a field—but they’re all we have.”

When I was told that the author of “Life of Pi,” a book I really enjoyed, had written another one that spoke to the Holocaust, I was intrigued. Yann Martel relied extensively on an animal to tell much of his previous story, so I couldn’t help but wonder whether he would employ a similar technique in discussing the Holocaust. So when “Beatrice and Virgil” landed in my lap as a birthday present, I jumped into it toot-sweet, aided by a few days in the OBX sun to do so.

Right from the start, the book struck me as semi-autobiographical (not the least reason being that the lead character’s and the author’s sons share the same name, Theo), with much of the focus on a writer struggling to follow up his impressive first novel, which, not coincidentally, was told from the point of view of animals. Henry, the novelist, spoke in a dialogue that was a bit too poetic for me to believe as part of normal and common conversation, but the idea for his second novel was fascinating. Without giving too much of that away, his unique take on the Holocaust, which he finally completed, was derided by his inner circle, including agent, publisher and bookseller. The criticism and dismissal of what could be considered his life’s work sends Henry into something akin to a breakdown, and he moves to a big city with his pregnant wife, gives up writing and dabbles in music and acting. I did take issue with this development; if Henry was truly as successful with his initial novel as was described, his second novel would have been treated more gently and been published by somebody.

“In the normal course of things, editors flatter writers into seeing everything that’s wrong with their book. Every compliment hides a criticism. It’s a diplomatic way to proceed, meant to improve a book without crushing its author’s spirit.”

“‘I wrote my book on the Holocaust without worrying about where the fucking bar code would go.’”

Henry seems to have found happiness in the exploration and anonymity before he receives a fan letter asking for his help, which leads him to a taxidermy shop, which leads him to a mysterious taxidermist, which serves as the real start to the tale. Martel painstakingly details anything and everything within the taxidermy shop, which lends to an air of overseriousness that almost makes you think that Martel is simply showing off all the research he did into taxidermy. However, the time and detail that go into the descriptions seem to lead to a sense of foreboding that pervades not only the shop and its owner, but eventually the story itself. And it’s hard to shake.

The taxidermist reveals that he has spent a lifetime writing scenes about the relationship between a donkey (Beatrice) and a howler monkey (Virgil), and eventually, it begins to emerge that his story, as well, seems to relate to the Holocaust. Just underneath all of the metaphors and euphemisms, the feeling that Beatrice and Virgil are trying to escape brutal experiences similar to the Holocaust becomes apparent. However, Martel writes in such a way as to leave so much unsaid and so much left for the reader to infer; a lot of the book seems to revolve around waiting for something interesting to happen. The climax of the story seems to hang just outside of our reach throughout the middle of the book.

“‘How can there be anything beautiful after what we’ve lived through? It’s incomprehensible. It’s an insult. Oh, Beatrice, how are we going to talk about what happened to us one day when it’s over?”

“‘I can’t anymore. Not laugh, or even try to laugh. About anything.’
‘Then those criminals have truly robbed us of everything.’”

“‘Well, the silence, did you hear it?
‘Yes.
‘And?
‘It was thousands of shadows pressing on me.
‘What were they saying?
‘They were lamenting the passing of their unfinished lives.’”

While his wife and other observers are immediately overwhelmed by the general creepiness of the taxidermist, Henry seems to be oblivious to it and ignores it from the start. One can only surmise that Henry is sucked in by the feeling of his writing talents being needed again; his fans validate his need to feel successful and to point up how necessary he still is to the literary world. While he seems to thrive on the anonymity, his ego and pride are just below the surface, and, using few words, the taxidermist feeds that selfish streak in the perfect ways.

On another level, I believe there is a recognition within Henry that the taxidermist has, against all odds, actually written a better and more poignant Holocaust story, so Henry becomes very attached to and possessive of the story—almost obsessed. As others shrink away from the taxidermist, Henry is drawn to both him and his story as an excuse to begin writing again. The taxidermist claims his book is about the extinction of two-thirds of the planet’s animals, seeming to paint himself as the world’s ultimate environmentalist. When Henry’s dog and cat unexpectedly die due to rabies, it seems to bring him closer to understanding and begins to crystallize in his mind who and what the taxidermist really is.

“It wasn’t that he saw the Holocaust in everything. It’s that he saw everything in the Holocaust, not only camp victims, but also capitalists and many others, perhaps even clowns.”

As the taxidermist’s tale takes a frightening turn toward violence, the audience is subjected to some scenes of very-hard-to-read brutality and torture. The almost-clinical wording of the scenes begins to unravel the truth of their author, as revelations are unveiled slowly and dramatically. However, as a reader, your suspicions that you’ve had throughout are largely validated, leading to the natural question of wondering why it took Henry so long to realize them and why he had been so blinded. The tension-filled and dramatic conclusion is very well done, though it brings up even more questions. We are left to question whether Henry is tabbed by the taxidermist as the natural author to tell his story for him, and we see at the end, through Henry’s chilling writing, that the taxidermist’s play haunts Henry and may never quite leave him.

“Here was irrefutable proof that he was using the Holocaust to speak of the extermination of animal life. Doomed creatures that could not speak for themselves were being given the voice of a most articulate people who had been similarly doomed. He was seeing the tragic fate of animals through the tragic fate of Jews. The Holocaust as allegory.”

“The man, despite the play and the conversations they’d had, remained a mystery to him. Worse: a void.”

“There was silence, that silence the taxidermist was so comfortable with, in person and in his writing, that silence in which things can grow or rot.”

“Beatrice and Virgil” is rife with symbolism, using the technique extraordinary well as a tool to tackle an almost impossible topic. Martel’s writing is stark overall, but he excels at using scant words to spark voluminous emotion and evocative imagery. Parts of the novel reminded me very much of the short story “Apt Pupil,” by Stephen King. Delving too much into King’s efforts would reveal too much about the ending of Martel’s fine novel here, but let’s just say that the Holocaust is a huge character in that one as well.

In the end, the best way to put it is that “Beatrice and Virgil” finds a way to sneak up on you. Due to the relatively slow pacing and the fact that it is only around 200 pages long, you spend much of the reading wondering just where the story is going. But when it’s over, the effect is similar to that of a kidney punch, leaving you gasping for air and pondering just what the hell happened. The true appreciation and borderline magic of Martel’s work comes in the aftermath, as you’re forced to examine and apply value to what you’ve just digested. He’s accomplished a clever, clever trick, in finding such a remarkable and unique approach to analyzing such a taboo subject -- leaving you to silently clap your applause in the wake of the total experience.

“‘My story has no story.
It rests on the fact of murder.’”-- the taxidermist’s note

“Afterwards, when it’s all over, you meet God. What do you say to God?”
-- Games for Gustav, Game Number Nine

Do Not Taunt Happy Fun Ball ...

More proof that SNL has never recovered from the loss of Phil Hartman.

“Funny People” Needed To Be Shorter And Funnier With Less Drama And Knishes

I wasn’t too thrilled to see “Funny People” because, frankly, I find the Jew-o (like “duo,” only more Hebrewish) of Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill sort of, well, insufferable. Throw in a way-jumped-the-shark Adam Sandler (also a Jew), the direction of hyper-overrated Judd Apatow, a terminal disease making up the bulk of the plot and standup comedy within a movie and … well, let’s just say it’s not my kind of flick.

Of course, it was funny in parts (“Get into a ball! Get into a ball!” and “I thought this was a Panda Express” were particularly memorable), but it was interminably long at two-and-a-half hours, and that just didn’t help. I also found that the lines between real-life Sandler and the fictional lead character of George Simmons were very blurry, and it was hard to tell whether that was a conscious choice by Apatow or something that just evolved as the film progressed.

The most awkward aspect of "Funny People" was how it tried to achieve the balance between comedy and drama; I just had a hard time staying on the tightrope that they were walking. A flick like this asks you to expend a lot of emotional energy, and it just didn’t pull that off, despite how very long it was. It was also kind of difficult to respect the nonexistent sexual tension between Sandler and Leslie Mann—but then again, Leslie Mann is married to Apatow, so I guess if that’s a fact you can suspend disbelief of just about anything.

Anyway, this one came across as distracted and confused to me, so my pervasive thought is that Apatow, who has made his career on the simple and the scatological, bit off more than he could chew here. In the future, he and the rest of his Hecrew (“Hebrew” + “crew”) should just stick to the basics and leave the drama alone.

Mazel tov!

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXVI: Kickin’ It OBX Style, Plus Fond Farewell To Three Survivors

A year celebrated down in Nags Head
A vacation to prep for what’s ahead
Bodie Lighthouse was under repair
The aquarium was pretty fair
Ube’s first trip to the beach where we wed

(why there was no Limerick Friday last week)

The hopes of a program changed overnight
A trio arriving with talent top-flight
A city’s been waiting on the edge
Now Pack Nation, come in off that ledge
C.J. Leslie, welcome to the Red and White

Ernie Harwell was quite a find
Out of sight but not out of mind
They say nothing good will last
A voice of baseball has passed
Detroit and the sport lost one of a kind

How low can a team go?
Ask Dez Bryant if his mom’s a ho
The Dolphins are missing some class
Jeff Ireland is a pompous ass
Lots to apologize for in Miami, dontcha know

“I’m with him,” said Jack
As the smoke monster did attack
Then a bomb blew the sub sky high
To Sayid, Jin and Sun we said goodbye
That made it dusty in here, that’s a fac’

Last time …

Funky, Funky North Carolina

Good times.

“When March Went Mad” Recalls Happier Times For Pack Nation

“There is no other coach—I say this in hindsight of having covered college basketball for the last 20 years—no other coach I know of who could have won a national championship with that team. He created a belief, an aura, an environment for that team to do things that even we did not know we were capable of doing without him.”
-- Terry Gannon

“There is no way that anybody could ever tell me that there wasn’t divine intervention involved. I think we were instruments. I think we transcended normal basketball.”
-- Thurl Bailey

“When March Went Mad” is a great story with a great title (which Seth Davis, unbelievably, stole for his own book) for a great (read: captive) audience. The story of the 1983 Wolfpack would not be believable if it weren’t true; even Disney would have laughed it out of town and derided it as a “Hoosiers” knockoff. But it happened. And author Tim Peeler painstakingly researches the team and the tale a quarter-century after it all happened to re-create it for another generation.

And surely, a captive audience is more willing to forgive the holes and errors that come along with a book like this, one that appears to have been somewhat rushed to print. So there were a ton of smaller mistakes, yet some of the problems are almost unforgiveable: in the pictures area, legendary Pack coach Kay Yow is referred to as “Coach Wow” in an unfortunate typo. One chapter actually ends in the middle of a sentence, something so amazing that it challenges belief.

Elsewhere, Peeler relies a bit too much on the lazy and the cliché, with seemingly every major player on the team being tabbed as the “heart” of the NC State team at one point or another. While the format of using each member of the team to tell the story from their own perspective is unique, it does lead to a lot of repetition, jumping timelines and slight awkwardness. Also, it would have been nice to include a photo of each player within the chapter that detailed them specifically; considering Peeler’s access to the Wolfpack record books and memorabilia, this seemingly would have been easy. The chronology becomes a bit hard to follow, with games discussed and summarized, then described in even greater detail. The team’s ongoing record is rarely discussed, leading to some miscalculations, certainly a strange approach for a season-long chronicle.

On the plus side, there were some great revelations that even the biggest Pack fan may not have known. For instance, I was pretty young when all this went down, but I didn’t know that it was a myth that State needed to win the ACC Tournament that year to get into the NCAAs; Peeler documents and proves that the Wolfpack’s record was solid enough to earn inclusion even after its first win in the tourney. Also, it’s revealed that even after winning the ACC Tournament in Greensboro, N.C., NC State is sent to Corvalis, Ore., while UNC got to play in Greensboro instead—even though the Wolfpack beat the Heels twice and won the league. Peeler notes that State officials were later told that, had State lost the ACC Tournament finale to Virginia, the Pack would have stayed in Greensboro for the opening rounds of the NCAA tourney.

There is also some room for commentary on the current state of college sports, with Dereck Whittenburg making a pointed statement that could be applied to a certain coach in Kentucky (and lots of other places):

“I think college basketball has lost its way with that; it’s ‘win at all costs’ and ‘forget about the kids who graduate. I think coaching is not about how many championships you win, it’s about how many lives you empower and how many people you put out there who can be productive in society.”

Of course and inevitably, any discussion of the ’83 Wolfpack centers around that great gravitational, magnetic force, Jim Valvano. Peeler doesn’t shy away from talking about V’s eventual downfall, his error of juggling too many balls in the air. Yet there were tremendous anecdotes shared about the passionate coach:

“If you think we have come all this way, won all these close games, and made it to the national championship game just to hold the ball in front of 50 million people, you are out of your fucking minds. We are going to shove it up their ass. This is what we have been fighting for!”
-- Jim Valvano

“Pam Valvano, Jim’s wife of 25 years, was used to finding 3x5 index cards listing simply stated life goals in her husband’s clothes. For years, those cards contained his dreams. One said, ‘Become Division I head coach,’ another said, ‘Get an NCAA bid,’ and another said, ‘Win the national championship.’ The last one she ever found simply read, ‘Find a cure for cancer.’ Valvano’s dreams were always bigger than the cards he used.”

“What I think is ironic is that Jimmy’s legacy isn’t basketball anymore. It’s not the ’83 championship anymore. It’s fighting cancer and the V Foundation. Jimmy had incredible foresight. He was always ahead of his time. His mind operated always in the future. That was one of his problems, too. He wasn’t in the present too much. He was rarely in the past. But he was always in the future.”
-- Bobby Cremins

“You know what Jimmy’d say about the V Foundation? He would say, ‘Jesus Christ, Nick, can’t you do a little better? What the hell is taking you so long? I got you started. I gave you the speech. And this is all you have done?’”
-- Nick Valvano

The book finds its stride at the end, as the Wolfpack players try to find a way to capture in words the feeling of winning it all, against all odds:

“I can pick out the two of us together dancing across the floor. Everything that I had worked for in my life came together in that moment: all those shots I had taken in the snow in Joliet, Illinois; all that time I spent working with my dad. To be able to share that with him on the floor—the guy who had taken me every step of the way—was just an incredible moment.
“They say getting married and having kids are wonderful things, and they are. But this was something so different. For a dad and his kid to share it, it was the greatest moment of my life …
“I have never encountered a person who didn’t know what that was. It has somehow become a sports version of the Kennedy assassination, the man walking on the moon, or 9/11. people remember where they were. They are always willing to convey what they were doing. Most of the stories start with, ‘I was in a bar …’”
-- Terry Gannon

“People talk to their sons and grandsons about it and tell them about one of the greatest finishes in NCAA history. People love that underdog story. It lives on. People are always asking me about it, and it never, ever, ever gets old.”
-- Thurl Bailey

In the end, the mistakes cast a relatively small shadow on the book as a whole, a kind of sad indicator of a small-scale job. Yet Peeler succeeds best by doing the easiest and most prudent thing: stand out of the way of a story that endures and let it tell itself.