What Happened to Jordan's Leg?

Brad's mom said she ran into Jordan and he has a broken leg. Now how did that happen? Of course if it happened to anyone it would be Jordan. I don't know what it is but Jordan seems to get hurt easy.

Life for us is going quite well Brad got box office tickets to see the Dimondbacks play this weekend so we will be heading up to Phoenix. It will be our first trip to Phoenix since we have been here. I have a job working as a receptionist at a staffing company. Considering all I do is answer phones and play on the internet I get paid really well. We really like our ward and have made some good friends I am the primary teacher for the 10 year olds.

Hope your summer is going well!

New Arrivals

Kenny is the proud father of two new arrivals: his first son,, was born a few weeks ago and is already a champ weighing in at 13 pounds. Scout, the German Shepherd, also joined the family a few weeks ago and gets more attention than the new baby (the dog is already doing tricks while all the baby can do is lay there and stare).

Life in Tucson

Well someone needed to update this site so I thought I would tell ya how life is treating us. It has been three weeks since Brad and I have left Utah and have been living in Tucson. Brad is really enjoying his job. His company really treats him well and Brad really likes his co-workers. I still haven't been able to find a job yet but I'm still looking. Maybe I'm just too picky.

Brad celebrated his 26th birthday yesterday. It was just the two of us and I felt a little uncomfortable singing Happy Birthday all by myself, but it was nice and relaxing. Since Brad worked a 13 hour shift yesterday he really wasn't in the mood to go out so I made him dinner and we watched a movie.

Brad and I have been trying to do a little sight seeing. Over the holiday weekend we went to Old Tucson where they shoot all the cowboy movies like John Wayne, the Three Amigos, and even a film that Ronald Reagan was in. It was fun but the hot weather we had to walk in made us tired. We also went to our nearby Indian Reservation to check out their casino since I am now old enough to gamble. On my first dollar I made $17. So I took Brad out to dinner with the money I made.

Enjoy the weather in Utah because the news said last year Tucson went 39 days of tempertures being over 100 deg. They said this year might be worse. Tomorrow is supposed to be 108 deg. so we'll see... Hope all is well!

Havyn vs The Bear

Really wasn't much of a fight. Havyn got an early jump with a chokehold and slowly rendered the bear into submission. She had this eerie smile the whole time, like she enjoyed destroying the bear. Well, to be honest, the bear had it coming; he'd muddled something under his breath about her wearing a boy's shirt. And She flat out didn't like that. After it was over she stuck her fist in her mouth for a victory blood-lap, all the while snapping the bear's spinal cord with her other hand. While I was documenting this moment she looked at me with this you're-next cold stare. I got goose bumps. I better watch my back; I mean, you saw what she did to that bear. She's quite a fighter really. I just hope she can channel that aggression on the softball field.

Jack of All Trades, Master of None

I've got the 'poor me' blues; and the chorus--which endlessly pings the walls of my noggin--has more staying power than any childhood incy-wincy-twinkle-tune. I've even tried listening to the Best of the Bee Gees; you know, counter attack, fight fire with fire, but all that's done is heightened the octave of which the 'poor me' blues now pings. Now I feel like the bastard child of Maurice Gibbs and B.B. King. I just hope I don't get diabetes.

The source of my blues stems from not knowing what the hell I should do with my life; well, that and the fact that I just stubbed my toe for the second time tonight. I'm done with school (one more class to go) and yet I'm as lost now as I was when I started. I'm so lost I'm even contemplating law enforcement. The thing that really gets me, is how easy it seems to fit together for everyone else. I hear Ricky knew what he wanted to be just after his birth when he showed the doctor how to stitch up his own level-three tear. Jake was hammering things before he could walk and Kenny, well let's just say Kenny should have been born in Kansas 100 years ago. Cook is to sales what Ahmin is to Logan's Heros and Danny's about as civil engineerish as one can be (take that any way you want to.) I knew Josh was going to be a lawyer when I first met him; since then he's made me proud by arguing everything that's ever come out of my mouth. The other five, Nick, Brad, Nate, Seth and Jordan have all either wanted to go into teeth or medicine, and nothing else from what I recall. And then there's me, who once wanted nothing more than to deliver the mail. I've also thought about nursing, counseling, teaching, writing, film making and stripping (which I know would be very lucrative for someone with a body like mine.)

But here I sit, thinking about starting all over after 4 years of journalism and go pre-med (mainly because everyone else is doing it. I was always a sucker for peer pressure).

Why Am I so fickle? Why can't I just make a decision and stick to it? I feel like Holden Caulfield and the main character from Office Space. If I could do anything in the whole world I would do NOTHING. And I would do Nothing all day long and be perfectly content. Now to figure out a way to get paid for it.

Back in the CV

Hey folks. It's been too long since I had a chance to catch up with most of you. Where to begin? Last August I married my favorite classmate Maybell. Then I tricked her (twice now, if you count the marriage) into leaving the warm California sun behind and starting our careers in Logan. We just pulled into the valley yesterday and are starting to unpack our things. We'll be in SLC until the end of July studying for the Bar, then starting our law practices here in August. Then we start paying off our student loans. For the next twenty years or so. I've started a trust fund at the bank and Jack has given me his solemn promise to contribute all the proceeds from his book to our student loan fund. So go buy the book!!! Anyway, hope everybody is doing well and we'd love to hear from you.

Graduation

Well Brad finally did it. It took 5 long years but he successfully graduated with a Bachelors degree in Science. He majored in Industrial Hygiene with an emphasis in Public Health.

We are now in Tucson Arizona. Today was Brad's first day on the job. He is in training right now and will officially start work next week. The weather here is incredibly HOT! It is going to take me a while to get used to it.

The one good thing about our apartment is that we live right across the street from Hollywood video. Our neighobors are quite interesting they are either Mexican or disabled. Yesterday we had quite the experience with some of younger neighbors. While trying to do our laundry a nine year old mexican started to beat up Brad because he wanted to be my girlfriend. It was funny at first until he really started to punch Brad.

Hope your summer has lots of adventures and keep in touch.

Best Films of 2005

2005 was a good year for film and a good year for film makers. The great auteur's, namely Ingmar Bergman, Terrence Mallick, Steven Speilberg, Woody Allen and David Cronenberg slapped the silverscreen with back-to-form cinema sweetness(with the movies Saraband, The New World, Munich, Match Point and A History of Violence respectively). Peter Jackson shredded all doubt by surpassing post Lord of the Rings expectations with King Kong. And, the irresistible indie genre saw its fair share of low-budget but on-the-money bull's-eyes. The Academy nominated 5 limited released, box-office light weights for best picture and the under appreciated Crash-- a film released 6 months before its oscar nominated counterparts-- baffled those in the Brokeback Mountain camp by stealing their "sure thing," golden boy statuette right from under their cowboy hats. It was a good year for film in deed. My picks for the top 10 of 2005:

10)Devil's Rejects
9)Nine Lives
8)Crash
7)The squid and the whale
6)Palindromes
5)A History of Violence
4)King Kong
3)Junebug
2)Munich
1)Shopgirl


Honorable Mentions: Hustle and Flow, Layer Cake, Sin City, Match Point, Saraband, Rize, Murderball, Good Night and Good Luck, Mysterious Skin, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.

Anhders

Hello from Idaho. We hope you like the picture of our growing family. Brownie the calf joined us this spring. His hutch sits in our front yard because we got tired of waiting to find a home with a pasture. Despite our rural setting, we still get some pretty wierd looks from cars that drive by and see a calf in the front yard. Luckily our landlord is very easy-going. If you look close you will also see the bump that is to be our litle boy due in May. Our little girl just turned 2 and lately her favorite thing to do is put on her big rubber boots and jump into the calf's pen-- her dad is so proud. We just bought 5 acres and are getting ready to build a home. We hope to do a lot of the work ourselves, so it will be a very busy summer. We're looking forward to hearing from everyone.

Moving to Arizona

Well I thought I would try and write our first blog to try and keep Jack happy. Next week Brad and I will be driving 12-14 hrs to our new home in Tucson Arizona. I'm told that I'm in for one long hot summer. Brad got a job with Phelps Dodge a minning company where he will be doing the health and safety for the employees. It will be an exciting and new adventure for us, because it looks like it is going to be a permanent thing. So I hope people will use this site to keep us updated with what is going on in Logan. Wish us luck!

Silly Rascals, Blogs Are For Posting

Hey you nitwitted nittwitters, post away. I want to see some pics. I want to see what a mini Ricky Gardner in pink looks like and a farm-loving Cleat. I want to see Philedelphia Cook, the California Chambers, the Cherry-Buck-eyes and all you Pre Med Study sluts. Most importantly, I want to see pics of Brad's sweaty face working in the Tucson mine and Danny, Mr. 'I coined the slack A' phrase Macfarlene and his fam. In the meantime you'll have to put up with my overly-zealous proud-pappy phase. And Jon, you better upload stories about Europe by the truck-load.

My Favorite 'Unconventional' Movie Monologue Blips

Mark Borchardt and Uncle Bill in American Movie

"Last night, man, I was so drunk, I was calling Morocco, man. Trying to get to the Hotel Hilton at Tangiers in Casablanca, man. That's pathetic, man. Is that what you wanna do with your life? Suck down peppermint schnapps and try to call Morocco at 2:00 in the morning? That's senseless. But that's what happens, man."

"I was called to the bathroom at the cemetery to take care of something. I walked in the bathroom, and in the middle toilet right there... somebody didn't shit in the toilet, somebody shat on the toilet. They shat on the wall, they shat on the floor. I had to clean it up, man, but before that, for about 10 to 15 seconds man, I just stared at somebody's shit, man. To be totally honest with you, man, it was a really, really profound moment. Cuz I was thinkin', "I'm 30 years old, and in about 10 seconds I gotta start cleaning up somebody's shit, man."

Mel Brooks' The Producers

"Bloom, I'm drowning. Other men sail through life, but I’ve struck a reef. Bloom, I'm going under. I'm condemned by a society that demands success when all I can offer is failure. Bloom, I'm reaching out to you. Don't send me to prison... HEEELLP!"

David Byrne of The Talking Heads in True Stories

"I really enjoy forgetting. When I first come to a place, I notice all the little details. I notice the way the sky looks. The color of white paper. The way people walk. Doorknobs. Everything. Then I get used to the place and I don't notice those things anymore. So only by forgetting can I see the place again as it really is."

"I have something to say about the difference between American and European cities. But I've forgotten what it is. I have it written down at home though."

Amy Adams in Junebug

"I don't want your water breaking. We just had the upholstery cleaned."

"Where would I be if I was a screwdriver?"

Office Space

"Good evening Sir, my name is Steve. I come from a rough area. I used to be addicted to crack but now I am off it and trying to stay clean. That is why I am selling magazine subscriptions."

Celebrating life Through Tragedy

As a parent one can't help think about what 'could' happen. Tragic anecdotes of impromptu fatal child accidents fill you with mass dumpings of fear and anxiety. Sometimes over-protectedness streamlines a semi-caustious eye into an ever-anticipating accident-preventive parental nut. A feather-soft bonk on the head becomes 911 trauma-rama; and a sniffly nose becomes a symptom for the plague of death.

But when these terrible accidents do happen, I'd like to think I'd be able to handle it the way Wesley's parents did. Wesley died in a freak accident. It was nobody's fault. His bicycle helmet got caught on a swing chain while playing on his playground in his fenced-in backyard. The chin strap strangled him.

His obit celebrates his short life:

Even as an infant, on Sunday mornings, his mommy and daddy and sissy taught him to dance in a little cottage on Imperial street. In the years he traversed this earth, he continued to dance with a rhythm in his steps and a song in his heart...

Wesley went to Disneyland for the first time in his life this past Christmas, where he waved at Santa Claus and napped on his dad's lap in the ice cream parlor in between fun. It was on this vacation where Wesley first placed his little toes in the ocean near Diver's cove in Laguna Beach. He said: "Dad CAN-I-FORNIA is the best trip I've ever been on."

Wesley was also introduced to skiing for the first time this year. He loved every minute on the snow with his mom, sissy and very special friends.

Wesley was a student at the Jewish Community Center early child development program and was loved by his teachers.

To parents, his father incites:

We ask that all who read this hold your children a little tighter tonight. Give them their dreams. Look them in the eyes every day and tell them you love them.

I work with Wesley's Aunt Jill. Jill's 2-and-a-half-year-old son Logan wants to know what's wrong with Wesley. "How come Wesley's not here?" Logan asked at the funeral. The two boys and another cousin were best buddies and known within the family as the three amigos. "I'll be batman and Wesley will be Spiderman when he comes over," Logan says. Logan, although appropiately told by his parents about what happened with Wesley doesn't understand. "Oh, you mean he got hurt, I'll make him better," Logan says. Jill, the usual personification of giddy positivity feels burdened by relating --in comprehendible two-year-old fashion-- the truth about Wesley.

Variants of pressure live abundantly in the lives of parents. Stress can steal sleepy time and sufficate daylight hours. It can peruse the mind even during nonchalant moments and lead to excessive worry and rumination. It can but it doesn't have to. Unfortantetly, accidents happen. In the meantime celebrate living.

Favorite 'Bad Movie' Scene

While most movies suck like a redneck chick's hickie loving beau, they can usually hide their bruises better. Some scenes save a movie like a turtleneck on a promiscuous tramp. But, like the turtleneck they only hide a portion of the pic. A stinker is still a stinker. My all time favorite, 'turtleneck' scence:

True Romance's "eggplant" scene:

This racist clash between Dennis Hopper and Christopher Walker is one the best verbal showdown duels on film. Walker's godfather-like character, sharp and slick, belittles Hopper's blue collar trailer trash with grace and spite. Out of no where, Hopper shoots back with a family tree history tale of Walker's origins. Now, Hopper's on top, confident and strong pounding this monologue-rebuke down Walker's throat. It's classic mobster ball breaking. Of course, Walker's the one with the gun.

Explicitly Stereotypical

I want to stress what Crash is really about. The best way I can do this is quote my favorite online critic and fellow USU student Alex Jackson.

It’s a film about racism. Don’t think that it’s about anything other than racism any more than Traffic is about anything other than the drug trade. It’s a broad epic film about a specific social issue. Second, the characters in Crash are not human beings. They are placeholders representing the converging attitudes and frustrations of their host race and ethnicity. Yes, the film is not at all subtle, and no, these characters are not at all three-dimensional (though writer/director Paul Haggis has his characters do lots of contradictory things and his talented cast successfully finds ways to join these contradictions in order to give their characters the illusion of depth). Subtleness and three-dimensionality are not virtues in this situation, though. Racism is a fairly complex issue and in order to examine its complexities we need everything to be blown-up and larger than life.

Jackson’s point illustrates the true nature and purpose of Crash’s characters. Its fun to think this is a meditative exploration into real Los Angeles. But in this case, Haggis just uses L.A. as a backdrop to play out his point. He could have used any town in America. Racism is not exclusive to L.A but since its universally known as a melting pot of diversity it seemed a logical choice for Haggis.

Explicit Stereotyping
The Eastern European shop owner exchanged a heated confrontation with locksmith, and Mexican-American Daniel. The shop owner felt he was being cheated, partly because the two couldn’t communicate and partly because he harbored certain prejudices toward Daniel’s ethnicity. Daniel’s appearance: shaved head, tattoos, and a wife-beater tank tap fit the requirements for the shop owner’s definition of a lazy, low balling Mexican. When Daniel tried to explain that he couldn’t fix the lock because the door was not aligned correctly, the shop owner shouted obscenities and blamed Daniel when his shop was broken into and vandalized. The shop owner applied his anger and explicit stereotypical grudge-riddled vendetta toward Daniel and tried to kill him. The expression, an engaging encounter involving a gun and torn conscious, was public, not necessarily because people were or weren’t around but because it was done without any hesitation or discretion. The Fundamental Attribution Error refers to the observer’s bias and is supported in this case. Unknown to the shop owner, Daniel was actually an honest hardworking father who had been at the mercy of implicit stereotyping earlier in the film (with Sandra Bullock’s character). Daniel is aware of how difficult it is for him to convey his true character in an area where people like him are easily pointed out for societal flaws. The shop owner knew nothing of his reformation or renewal work ethic, and only saw him as a stereotype. Luckily the shop owner’s forward thinking daughter, who must have known of her father’s impulsiveness, bought blanks for his gun instead of the real thing. The encounter with Daniel could have ended messy.

Implicit Stereotyping
Whereas explicit stereotyping is conscious, deliberative, and controllable, implicit stereotyping involves a lack of awareness and automatic activation. In the beginning of the film, Jean (Sandra Bullock) and her husband walk by two young black guys in an upper class part of town. Jean unconsciously veers out of the way of the two young men to avoid them. Later in the film we find Jean as a bitter, homemaking burnout. She is a racist but doesn’t know it. Her aggression toward other races is built on her silver-spooned fed upbringing. She is entitled and they (everyone else) are her stepping stools to high society. She sees the two young black men on the street as thieves or muggers. She doesn’t feel these two young black men should be in her side of town. Although her expression of the stereotype is done publicly, Jean feels it’s justified because of who she is and what she is. Therefore it’s not a matter of a public or private forum; it’s a matter of entitlement and internal class distinctions. She would have done the same thing in front of a large crowd. Jean represents the implicit stereotyper in all of us. She is the most universal character. Her role as a housewife indicates that it could be anybody. Jean’s expressions however, do not support the Fundamental Attribution Error because she’s right. At least in this case she is. The young boys do mug them and steal their car. In addition, it’s important to point out the active narration provided by Anthony (Chris "Ludacris" Bridges). Anthony, an articulate, well-dressed carjacker is also bitter and tired of being stereotyped. He feels that America owes him because of its history with inequality. Anthony would bite the hand that feeds him and then complain that it doesn’t taste good enough; all the while expressing how much the hand owes it to him to feed him. He symbolizes the obvious, out-in-front contradictory nature of himself and others like him; as well as the irony in openly rebuking the very nature of the very thing your engaging in.

Undoubtedly Duba

Dibley's pups

Duba, the sole survivor

Last day with Mom and Dad

Duba Now

We had this great idea: Breed Dibley, sell the pups and use the money to pay off Havyn's birth bills. If it sounds too easy it probably is. Dibley's pups came a week early and we weren't ready. She had them throughout the house. Blood splattered our carpet, couches and the christmas decorations in the closet. It was the one saturday that Ty and I couldn't be home, but by our estimations we didn't need to be. We found Duba, the largest of the four pups, through his this-can't-be-right cries. He was tucked inbetween the micro-fiber love-seat cushions. The other three were scattered throughout the closet. We placed them in Dibley's Welping box and let Mom go to work. Unfortanately Mom didn't want to go to work.

Less then a week later I sat peering at the remaining two through the incubator glass at the animal hospital. Both on inabators. Their two siblings died in my hands a few days earlier. Life is fleeting. When you watch something, no matter how small, take its last breath you feel its death. Its muscles stiffen and skin grows cold. The transition from life to death is soft and slow. I remember giving some make-shift form of CPR to try to revive the first one. The second one's neck looked broken, it went much quicker. Dibley had been moving her pups back and forth in her welping box since their births. Each one had puncture holes. Duba was the biggest. Being nearly twice the size of the other three and much more lively, Duba surivived when the others couldn't. It was almost as if he was fighting to live. After his sister died we brought him home and hand fed him every two hours for four weeks. He continued to get stronger, livelier and more playful.

Havyn was born when Duba was five weeks old. We were swamped with responsiblities and made the decision to sell him, even after committing to keep him a few days earlier. We hated to see him go but were happy with who he went with.

Even though the whole dibley breeding/birthing experience was sad and difficult it acted as a parental precurser for Havyn. By the time she came around we were used to crawling out of bed every two hours and fixing up a bottle. We knew about the art of sucking and proper bottle nipples. We were used to having patience with sucking too fast and spit-up clean-up on asile floor.

Now looking back I can't imagine not having the experience of taking care of little, run-in-to-anything-and-everything Duba. He helped us more than we helped him.

My New Perspective

Havyn's happy as a lark

punky Havyn

Our first family portrait

When I'm cruising around Blogger checking out the various blogs I see many a baby-page-blog. Proud parents uploading baby pics by the folder load, and commenting on the ins and outs of their baby's lives. A lot of this stuff is easy, cheesy and quick: a pic and a caption, a pic and a caption and an occasional comment on how exhausted the parent is.

Most of this stuff is universal: baby ate, she was so cute; baby slept and oh how cute she was; baby pooped, and if there wasn't the darndest poop-relief cute expression on her face.

Most of these blogs I came across were set up just for this purpose. And what a purpose indeed. Comedian David Cross has this schtick on one of his CD's where he comments about what it's like to be the non-parent friend to these overly exited parent types. To paraphrase, "Oh my baby was so cute, he ate a grape today, you should have seen him eat this grape." Cross fires four letter worded sarcastic quips, indicating how great it must be to watch your kid eat a grape. He pounds across how little he cares about his friend's kids and their grape eating moments and goes on and on about various related experiences and how he could care less. I laughed my ass off while listening. He definetly had a point. But when you're a parent, no matter how cynical and hip, it's different. Watching this little spasm-frenzied milk spitter smile, laugh and feel the water of a bath for the first time is enchanting. Especially since the proudful humming of the inward thought that "this little bobble-head is mine" replays like a broken record. Every move, either controlled or not is realized as a first, and there's something poetically rich about it.

The Hostel Brokeback Saga

As seen on Hard News Cafe

Being a Utah native and growing up LDS in a predominately LDS community, I'm very familiar with Jazz owner and the you-know-this-guy car dealing czar Larry H. Miller. Miller, during the opening weekend of Brokeback Mountain at his Salt Lake Jordan Commons Megaplex this summer pulled the picture hours before its Utah début. Of course this sparked a fiery controversy with community members. Supposedly Miller had just heard that morning that the film was about homosexuality and made the call to pull the film. Miller is known for his deep religious conviction. He doesn't go to Jazz games on Sundays and bankrolls LDS film projects.

The controversy, of course, was good publicity for Brokeback. As a limited release film Brokeback surpassed box office predictions and received all kinds of accolades. It also did well in Utah and eventually came to Logan and stayed for an astonishing four weeks (those of you who know Logan, know that that's saying something). Miller, when asked by the local Media as to why he did it, said he didn't agree with the content and got a lot of flack and praise for saying that. My staunch, straight arrow father called him a hero. Others called him a hypocrite, pointing out other films that the church would also frown upon that were shown in his theaters at the same time as Brokeback. Case in Point, Eli Roth's Hostel. After having seen both Films, I can't help but comment.

Hostel is brutally baked with decapitations, chainsaw limb hacking, disembowelments, eye plucking and brick powered skull bashing. In addition it blows Brokeback out of the water in the sex/nudity category as well. This film boarders on NC-17 and by nature is anti-American, inhumane, sadistic, cruel and bloodthirsty. But, one thing is for sure there are no homosexuals, if anything, the film is also anti-gay. One scene shows a man on a train touch the knee of the man he's sitting next to and get's called a 'faggot.'

In contrast, Brokeback is the classic tragic love story. It follows the romantic and secretive 20 year relationship of cowboy's Jack and Enis and profoundly defies the stereotypical masculine nature of the cowboy image. It provokes altered, off-the-beaten-path thinking and promotes conversation about the traditionally taboo subject of homosexuality. It's also a reflective portrait of small-town America and typical conservative, xenophobic closed-mindedness.

So, Is Miller heroic for standing up for his values and standards or is he just another homophobe? Had he seen both films would his decision still have been the same? Perhaps this is just another illustration on mainstream society's homophobia. Does showing Hostel over Brokeback imply that Miller would rather promote brutality and merciless killings over homosexuality? If the content concern for Miller was sex scenes, why didn't he pull Hostel and many other films like it that showcase explicit erotica? Would he rather watch people die than see men kiss?

At the time's of Miller's decision I posed this hypothetical question to a co-worker while conversing about the situation. "Would you rather watch 2 guys kiss or someone get decapitated?" Surprisingly his answer was the later. My co-worker is a non-traditional male nurse and just got his doctorate degree. I was banking on a different answer from him. So maybe Miller's not so far off. Maybe the later would be the consensus of most Americans. I would like to hope it wouldn't be.

Super 'Spoiled' Sweet 16

Entitled rampaging teens on MTV's "Super Sweet 16" demand, command and repremand everyone in their path. They sulk, pout, beg and temper-tantrum like terrible-two-year-olds. The only difference is they get the latest BMW sportscar when their parents give in. Self-proclaimed diva's and daddy's-little-princesses are followed by MTV's cameras as they plan and promote their self-indulgent birthday bashes. Being the priviliged, coming-of-age youth of America has its price, and in this case, the parents pick up the tab. As with most reality shows, and especially MTV teen reality programs, "Sweet 16" follows a simple, scripted formula: watch child beg for the best, spirial out of control when things don't go her way and sigh at the end how wonderful it was to feel famous for a day.

How does it feel for the viewer? "Time" Magazine's Ana Marie Cox says it best:

To witness such unself-conscious acquisitiveness in one sitting is like eating an entire normal-kid birthday-party sheet cake, wax decorative candles and all. There's the same queasy sense of monochromatic excess because all the shows are alike, from the fake panic that the party may not happen to the scary-sexy dry humping on the dance floor. And no matter what the nominal theme of the party--California beach party, Moulin Rouge, the color pink--each guest of honor is really after only one thing. "I feel famous. I love it," says one. Another: "I definitely felt like I was famous." Yet one more: "I felt like such a star." The teenagers take on all the tics of fame, from tiny dogs to referring to oneself in the third person. We are all Paris Hilton now

The ungrategul diva's and their enabling parents make great drama-trauma tv, but more importantly, as with most my other favorite guilty-pleasure programs, they reinforce the notion of my own supposed stability. Which is the greatest, half-ass reason to justify watching these exploitative meditations of American society.

Embedded or 'Inbedded' Journalism

Embedded journalism is a political strategy to control content flow in the Iraq war resulting in limited skewed coverage. The limited coverage ranges from loss of objectivity due to uncontrolled assignment locations to the dependent and fraternal nature of the relationships of reporters and soldiers in their assigned units. Reporter’s views are altered and their empathy increased when their dependency to survive is solely based on the soldiers in their units, whose psychological and emotional states may be affected by what is reported.

“The embedded reporters depended on the men and women in the units they were attached to for food, water, companionship and indeed for their survival at times. Gordon Dillow, a reporter for the Orange County Register, wrote in the Columbia Journalism Review, that he found himself falling in love with his subjects. ‘I fell in love with ‘my’ Marines.’ In some stories, he said, “I wasn’t reporting the truth; the point was I was reporting the Marine grunt truth—which had also become my truth.” There was no misrepresenting of facts, just an empathetic tone, reports that often lacked a skeptical edge” (Pember, "Mass Media Law," p.87).

Bob Steele, from the Poynter Institute, says the access "has allowed reporters and photographers to get closer to understanding (the complexities of war), to tell the stories of fear and competence, to tell the stories of skill and confusion. I think that's healthy." But, Steele cautioned that “while closeness can breed understanding, journalists must remain objective and not write about ‘we’ or ‘our,’ but about ‘they.’ There's nothing wrong with having respect in our hearts for the men and women who are fighting this war, or respect for the men and women who are marching in the anti-war protests. The key is to make sure those beliefs don't color reporting” (Pros and Cons of Embedded Journalism on www.pbs.org).

In the process of embedding journalists the war coverage may be distorted or even shaped to protect the troops. However, Journalism ethics demand objective coverage so to perpetuate and promote open and honest communication with the audience in contrast to shifting the news to protect the soldiers.

Syracuse University Professor Robert Thompson warns, “When you are part of the troops that you’re going in with, these are your fellow human beings. You are being potentially shot a together, and I think there is a sense that you become part of that group in a way that a journalist doesn’t necessarily want to be” (Pros and Cons of Embedded Journalism on www.PBS.org).

Some critics felt that the level of oversight was too strict and that embedded journalists would “make reports that were too sympathetic to the American side of the war, leading to use of the alternate term ‘inbedded journalist’ or ‘inbeds’” (Embedded Journalist on http://en.wikipedia.org).

The embedded journalists feel pressure to adhere to the agenda of the unit their assigned, and often times feel the repercussions of reporting ‘negative’ stories differing from the views or intentions of the members in their unit.

“When journalists working for the Washington Times revealed that two U.S. Marines had died when they were ordered to swim across a canal in full battle gear without a safety line, they were blackballed by the unit with which they were embedded, cut off from all information. They eventually joined another unit” (Pember,"Mass Media Law," p.86).

In addition to reporting empathetically, being subjected to only a fixed area and unit may alter the reporter’s perception of the war. Part of the process of embedding journalists is to unite them with a particular unit whom they will be with for the duration of their report. The unit’s location assignment is now the reporter’s, and the reporter’s experience and perception of the war is based on where he is assigned. This strips the reporter of an objective opinion because it controls his experience to a limited, fixed area.

“Even reporters who supported the system [embedded journalism] admitted that it provided viewers and readers with only a tiny slice of what was happening in the war. New York reporter Vincent Morris said, ‘This war is whatever piece of dirt you are sitting on.’ He was attached to a helicopter unit, so the war is about helicopters, he said. Reporters were not permitted to leave their units to look outside, at what was happening elsewhere. Eric Sorenson, president of MSNBC, estimated that the embedded reporters saw far less than 10 percent of what actually was taking place, and that is what they reported” (Pember, "Mass Media Law," p.87).

Embedding journalists may have been part of a political strategy to reconcile bad publicity generated by past military conflicts for allegations of censorship, such as in Deseret Storm. In contrast, some critics feel the government during the Vietnam War resulted in to much freedom for the press. Embedded journalism may have been a strategy to balance war coverage by allowing press free reign within certain boundaries and guidelines. In this technological age, where computer-mediated communication allows anybody to post comments and opinions it may also have been in the government’s best interest to control the flow of information by embedding journalists in actual military units. Regardless the reason embedded journalism results in worse news coverage and is a form of censorship that violates First Amendment rights:

“The objectivity of embedded journalists has been repeatedly called into question. This is often raised not so much as a direct violation of the First Amendment (in the sense of a law prohibiting journalists from reporting certain issues) as it is a violation of the free speech principles behind the First Amendment of preserving the independence of a watchdog press. Usually the charge is not that embedded journalists have deliberately become government propaganda machines, but that by unconsciously associating themselves so closely with a military unit, they have become unable to objectively report on the war without placing themselves on the military’s side” (National Security on the Press on www.ezinearticles.com/?National-Security-and-the-Press-Part-Four---The-Risks-of-Embedded-Journalists&id=83556).

If embedded journalism results in worse coverage, then what is ‘better’ coverage? In order to act as ‘gatekeepers’ and ‘watchdogs’ of information journalists adhere to ethical standards so to promote the best possible news coverage. “
Public enlightenment is the forerunner of justice and the foundation of democracy. The duty of the journalist is to further those ends by seeking truth and providing a fair and comprehensive account of events and issues. Conscientious journalists from all media and specialties strive to serve the public with thoroughness and honesty. Professional integrity is the cornerstone of a journalist's credibility. Members of the Society share a dedication to ethical behavior and adopt this code to declare the Society's principles and standards of practice” (Code of Ethics on www.spj.org).

If embedded journalism results in limited skewed coverage and represents a subjective or empathetic tone then, according to the Society of Professional Journalist’s Code of Ethics, it doesn’t meet the high standards of journalistic practice, and therefore, results in worse news coverage. The standard for war time journalism has also been set.

“Several months after the Gulf War, a committee representing most of the nation's major news media issued a report stating that ‘independent’ and ‘uncensored reporting’ should be ‘the principal means of coverage’ for all future wars and military operations. The report also proposed some battlefield press rules, including the following:

1. The Pentagon should accredit independent journalists, who must observe ‘a clear set of military security guidelines that protect U.S. forces and their operations.’ Violators of these guidelines should be expelled from the combat zone.

2. Press pools should be used only during the first 2-36 hours of any major military operation.

3. Reporters should have free access to all major military units.

4. The military should not monitor or interfere with press interviews or any part of the reporting process.

5. Written dispatches and pictures from the field should not be subject to any ‘military security review."
The press argued that these rules would ensure press freedom and offer security to our military forces” (Press Freedom vs. Military Censorship on http://www.crf-usa.org).

‘Better’ news coverage is the adherence to the ethical standards of practice and exhibiting this responsibility by reporting the news fair and objectively. Embedded journalism, by nature, restricts the reporter to a limited sector of the news and instills a brotherhood loyalty to depict the war empathetically to those you see it with. This conflicts with the journalists code of ethics and results in worse news coverage in juxtaposition to the intended ‘gatekeeper,’ objective point of view initially sought for.

Liking "King Kong" means being sophisticated

Being somewhat a film buff and certainly an avid participant of film criticism, I was stupified when my brother-in-law tried arguing why film critics, and critics in general were cynical naysayers and unneeded. True, his argument was nothing more than a bitter opinion about people who dislike the movies he likes, but he was somewhat pasionate in conveying his opinion. He tried telling me that critics are negative people and that we don't need this negativity in our lives. He suggested that we watch the movies we want and not be swayed by the views of these "detractors." It was pointless to argue. The conversation was a bit silly really. But then I got thinking, being a 'avid participant of film criticism,' who's right and who's wrong? Are there any actual experts? I know we end up jumping into a roundtable on asthestics, and the definiton of art but is it so bad to love what many would call a terrible film? All rhetoric questions really. I did stumble across an intersting perspective at Film Freak Central however.

I basically distrust the idea of the film expert simply because so few of them are really experts. There are really three kinds of film buffs: the classic film buffs who are well-aquainted with Hollywood studio films from the pre-MPAA era; the cult film buffs who are junkies for sensation, the Quentin Tarantinos and Psychotronic Movie Guide crowd, if you will, they're well-aquainted with anything "exploitation"; and then there are the art film buffs, who tend to be the most arrogant of the bunch-- the self-proclaimed experts of films. The problem with these guys is that they only watch the "cream" of the exploitation and classic genres. The only way you can get them to watch the "dregs" is if the dregs are playing in theaters across the country and are topical. Because they don't watch the shitty classics and the shitty exploitation films, they're unfamiliar with the genre conventions and can often have a grossly slanted view of something like, say, film noir.

If you think yourself a film expert you sure as fuck better be able to converse fluently about hardcore porn from the early eighties. To say nothing of the Friday the 13th decalog. I'd also love to hear your opinion on the nine films that James Cagney made between The Public Enemy and Footlight Parade.

It's not just breadth and depth of knowledge about film. I always go back on that rant that these arbitrators of film culture are not experts on psychology, sociology, theology, anthropology, geography, history, or philosophy. Many are well-read, few if any well-read enough to justify their position in deciding what's art and what's not. Are there gradients? I would assume, but as there could hardly ever be anybody who is qualified to be an arbitrator of film culture, that line that somebody must cross in order to determine what's great art will be pretty much perpetually undefined.

So basically, Joe Blow's opinion really is as good as yours and mine. Find something you like, find something you hate; figure out what you like and what you hate and why. Any asshole with a keyboard can be a film critic, all you need is an opinion that you're going to stand by. I've found myself searching on the IMDB for people who love (or even just like) Man of the House, Firewall, and Dukes of Hazzard and see if they hate anything "good". I did find one Firewall fan who also really liked Aeon Flux, Uptown Girls, Resident Evil: Apocalypse and The Skeleton Key and disliked King Kong. (He also disliked 2046, but then again so did I). Granted for every film that this guy dislikes there're ten that he likes. That seems to be the dominant trend among the "bad" movie fans and disqualifies them from being regarded as valid film critics. Not because they're not sophisticated enough to like King Kong, but just because they don't have real opinions. But still, if you think that The Skeleton Key is a good movie and King Kong isn't you might be seeing something that the rest of us aren't and I'm eager to find out what it is. The Skeleton Key fans usually disappoint me, but you know I can't take the elitist position because, basically, there for the grace of God go I.

All the little in-betweens

America is a place of strong opinions. The left the right, the middle and all the little in-betweens need to articulate thier woes, worries and whims. They need to yelp and pout and let it all out, and create the sounds of democracy and freedom. Most people, in the process of recieving such "noise" wait to talk instead of listening. So much of this process seems to be one sided. I like to think I would listen to the illustrator of this painting describe it's meaning to me before spouting out my spew. I'd like to think I'd listen with the hope of being enlightened. But who's to say what I'd do. What do you think?

"The Mother and Child Reunion"

Impossible to describe, in an all inclusive manner, the up-and-down twirl-around, emotionally-charged-freight-train experience of having a child. I remember counting, pushing, blood-soaked orifice peering and sweaty furrowed brows. I remember the ground-hog like peek Havyn's slimy noggin first made. It reached the war-torn, moistened surface with valiant effort and remained the clogged-drain object for many more pain stinging pushes. Doctor wanted to suction her out. He nabbed a make-shift suction cupper and began the bruising. Her head, swelled and oozy, slipped through. The scene was familiar. I watched with interest years earlier at "the Miracle of Birth" tape during Health Ed. Most kids collapsed their heads against their desks, muddling out "eeewwww" and "siiiick." I, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, soaked in every detail. The vagina is a fascinating thing. No other body part emits such candid duality. One moment it's the tunnel to light and life, where education awaits, and the next it's the x-rated provocateur, luring men like mice to a trap.

When Havyn finally squeezed through, she was put aboard the mother ship of nursery carts. She was an awakening creature of the night, slimy and dark. Her caterwaul pierced the air like a fog horn. Nurses snaked her throat like plumbers to a drain, stuffing the probes in and suctioning meconium out. I stood between my little yelping goo ball and the abyss from which she exited. The doctor threaded his needle, calmed my wife with statements like "perfectly normal," and "happens all the time" and began the forging of the "level two," torn, animal-bite-like surface. She was white and barely moving. Her marathon, 21 hours of 2-minuet-apart contracting stomach muscles was over. The cause for her laborious, courageous effort laid 20 feet away but to her, seemingly forever. Havyn's high-decibel concert seemed to be nearing its finale. Wrapped like a burrito in a pink blanket, the nurse handed her to me and pointed to my wife. In moments like these you forget about science and biology. You don't pay attention to truths of a newborns black and white, foot-long visual capabilities. When you look in her eyes you know she's looking back. I had 20 feet with her and felt like an armored Truck driver carrying a sack of fortune, nothing was going to stop me from getting to my destination. Now, quiet, clean and warm, Havyn was nothing like the hideous mucky monster baby who crawled from out of the dark. She laid still and peaceful and I was soaking up this long-awaited meeting but something compelled me to hastely approach my wife. Because, in the words of Paul Simon "the mother and child reunion was only a motion away."