I've changed both passwords and thought I'd give posterous one mo' try... So look forward to my usual puffandfluff very soon.

Thanks for sticking by me here at WHAT THE EFF.

LiNCOLN PARK

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Last weekend, I saw Wall Street 2 - Money Never Sleeps. Most of you know me to give succinct, twitter reviews of the movies I watch; but this one had to have a blog post.

So -- I can't remember the last time I left a movie -- and I actually felt giddy! I mean, I felt like those elders in the 'Kick The Can' episode of The Twilight Zone; who were transformed into freeze-tagging kids at the end (Of course, I'm way past my freeze-tagging prime, but I felt like I was right back in my high school and college heydays -- when everybody was carefree, curious, cute and occasionally stoned).

Are you wondering what is making me wax so corny? It's Oliver Stone's absolutely masterful mashup of cinema anecdotes within this one film.

• Right off the bat, Stone shows Eli Wallach, playing an ugly, greedy financier -- and amuses us with Shia LeBeauf's ringtone (derived from the film, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, where Eli Wallach defined the greedy, ugly charlatan).

• Next thing you know, Stone has us replete with references to the movie, Tron; from whizzing around in a tilt-a-whirl ride of simple animations (reminiscent of Flynn's fall into the Tron videogame) to the Brolin-LeBeauf bike race through a maze of open road.

• In the meantime, Stone has Gordon Gekko taking us back to Raiders of the Lost Ark with his lecture-hall-illoquy (I was just waiting for one of the students to close her eyelids in front of Gekko and expose the "I love you" written on them)... right before he takes us to Devil's Advocate and the scene on the train with Keanu Reeves... um, I mean, Shia LeBeauf....

• When Charlie Sheen makes his pock-marked cameo, I almost thought Ally Sheedy, Emilio Estevez and the rest of the brat pack were going to enter the dining room and sing 'Happy Birthday' to Molly Ringwald!

As for performances, Langella and Brolin are the KINGS (IMHO, Brolin was cheated out of an Oscar nod for "W"). Their penetrating performances in this film have Supporting Actor Oscar nods written all over them.

And what else is there to say about Michael Douglas -- other than we hope he goes into remission and graces us with his presence for many years to come. No other actor in our contemporary times has elevated the concept of greed-as-self-preservation to the level of sophistication and reflection as we have seen through his embodiment of Gordon Gekko.

This leads me to my last dance with film references:

• By the time the movie was at its redemptive end, I was hit with a lightning bolt... or should I say, a Jedi lightsaber. Somehow, I realized that the Wall Street saga was really written by George Lucas; and that the story of Gordon Gekko was really the story of Anakin Skywalker.
  

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Jeez. Evidently some fuckers think I need to help them sell nonsense from bogus links -- so they hijacked my posterous blog. I've deleted the entries because:

I don't need money fast...

I don't have any idea what wrinkle cream you should be using...

Your penis size is probably just fine....

I don't know any college girls for you to fukc...

Credit repair is not my literary genre...

I've changed my password here to something I will surely have trouble remembering; so I think I'll be okay. If not, then I guess it's off to WordPress, or somewhere else.

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WOW. OOF.

I just finished seeing Congressman Charlie Rangel call out the House Ethics Committee and say basically -- I may have been negligent, but I am not corrupt.  if you're going to accuse me, give me my damned trial and allow me to be heard.
 

Just a couple of weeks ago, Mrs. Shirley Sherrod was pleading to the news media to let her tell her side of the story when maliciously selected snippets of video showed her in a context completely contrary to the actual context of a public speech she gave.
 

Before that, although to no avail (because he never did defend himself), Former Chicago Governor Rod Blagojevich constantly plead in the media, for his right to be heard in regard to his alleged attempts to sell President Obama's former Chicago Senate seat.

Maybe it's just me -- but I'm seeing a trend here. It seems like, for better or worse, people are slowly losing their right to confront  (forget their accusers) any public accusations leveled against them. The viral aspect of digital communication is creating a sort-of Salem Witchunt environment; where any jackhole can make an assertion and the accused is  (momentarily, at least) burned at the stake based on loud, unrelenting assertions alone.

I realize that such assertions may be true; but they may not be true; case depending.  The ability to make your case against levied charges sould NEVER be dependent on your pre-judged guilt or innocence.  I don't think we need be Juris Doctors to figure that this applies to our contemporary interactivities, al well. We just need to actively engage the sentience which is supposed to separate us from the rest of the freaking Animal Kingdom.

Say it to my FACE, motherfucker!

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Check out the VIDEO, download/ scroll/ read the NOVEL; then let everybody know what you think of my second book, THE BREVITY OF THE SELVES

The Brevity of the Selves - Complete Novel

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Dear What The Effers,

     I want to write someone a letter. No, I'm not talking about the kind that you can cc: and bcc: off to God-knows-who-or-where via anonymous@yahoo.com . I'm referring to the kind we used to write when we had to get up and manually change our television channels (with that big KNOB they used to have on the front LOL) .

     I sat down to write a letter earlier this evening. I really did. I had the legal pad out; I found a click-pen from somewhere in a random drawer... I mean I HAD THIS THING FIGURED OUT.  In fact there were only two things that I was missing:

1.  A subject to write about

2. A person to write to

     Don't laugh -- I am a writer by trade and when it came down to penning a letter, I was stumped (not 2 mention, TERRIFIED) as to what I would want to expound upon to a person; who would then have the capability to save, scan, upload and exploit my letter over any video or digital outlet they chose.

     Once I finished hyperventilating over the "what-iffs", I realized that I don't know anyone who would want to read a letter from me, anyway. I mean, what I don't tweet, I blog -- or text -- or email -- or phone in -- or wire (my crumbsnatching daughter prefers this communication method ROFL). What the hell would I put in a letter -- when for example, everybody I know already knows that I eat pop-tarts in the morning ( 12:11 PM Aug 6th, 2009 from web ).

     I guess I can help save a tree and put my fantasies of buying ridiculously expensive stationery and waxy, personalized seals back into the forest of my mind. My printed letters are pretty much gone with the wind.

Sincerely,

LiNCOLN PARK

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I am having so much fun with my new PuPPY, ASHLeY, that I don't know what to do!!!!   She is wearing me the fuck out for sure, but I'm loving every exhausting minute of it. 

I never knew that I could adore a being so flatulent -- or who could interchange the word carpet with the word potty so easily -- but there it is.

I tippy-toe so as not to disturb her beauty sleep; I plow her with treats for doing nothing other than making little huff-puffs on my neck when she is wiped out from endless play and socky-chewing. what the beneful eff is wrong with me? Oh, thou hast slain me: PuPPY, take my purse: If ever thou wilt thrive. Jeez......

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OK -- so everybody knows I just went through a microdochectomy and I'm sore as fuck. that still doesn't stop mighty streams of nothingness from working their way through the lakebed which is my brain LOL

I feel that through the physical suffering I can acheive some kind of creative plateau, if you will. So -- it's back to the manuscript, for me.  

One of the parts in my book deals with the use of dough as a performance art tool; or as the essence of the piece.... whatever. In any event, don't ever fucking try to research the use of dough as a performance art medium; as you will be equally disappointed.

(I mean -- it's not like my character is running around the story with sophisticated, wireless, power tools and trying to recreate Shakespeare -- are there no dough-based chronicles to be found?)  LMAO

I suppose if I can find a way to stop obsessing about the spatial relationship between food and the pantries it gets stored in, my publisher can finally put out some copies of this madness.

BAKED-OFF is pure fun; and I've been through Hell and back trying to get it finished. Surgery, house hunting, writers' block --- you name the distraction. Still, I write -- and I believe with everything I know that the serious nature of these times call for pure absurdity in high-artistic construct. Know then, that I am devoted to writing stories for you; that are wrapped and warm in the gossamer blanket of such absurdity.  :D

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(click pix for article) cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com

I know times are hard these days, but a party where the guests have 2 foot their own expenses is not a party... it's a SALE. If they serve cake, it's a glorified BAKE SALE. Don't EVER invite me to an event like that. I can buy my OWN booze & pastries, thank you! LOL

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Let me tell you -- I was blubbering like a damned fool when I saw my book, HANDLE TiME , here in the stacks for the first time.  Maybe nobody will ever borrow it out -- but I know it's THERE -- for anyone who may want to read it; but can't pass the coin for books these days. STACKS ROCK! And -- so do my READERS!

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