Please stop calling babies miracles.

From Wikipedia:

A miracle is a sensibly perceptible interruption of the laws of nature, such that can only be explained by divine intervention, and is sometimes associated with a miracle-worker. Many folktales, religious texts, and people claim various events they refer to as "miraculous". People in different cultures have substantially different definitions of the word "miracle." Even within a specific religion there is often more than one of the term. Sometimes the term "miracle" may refer to the action of a supernatural being that is not a god. Thus, the term "divine intervention," by contrast, would refer specifically to the direct involvement of a deity.

In casual usage, "miracle" may also refer to any statistically unlikely but beneficial event, (such as the survival of a natural disaster) or even which regarded as "wonderful" regardless of its likelihood, such as birth. Other miracles might be: survival of a fatal illness, escaping a life threatening situation or 'beating the odds.'

Compare that with the fact that there are 129 MILLION human births every year. How could something that happens 4 times a second be a miracle? Its biology, and mundane biology at that. So go take your special little snowflake and fuck off, entitled parents.

Food and Fear

I'm sitting here watching Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations", and he's in Manhattan, dining at all the old, great pillars of fooddom. Old delis with their black crusted pastrami that isn't stringy, dry and fatty, but soft, tender, and moist. Italian eateries with grandmas who cook, serve, and clean, just like they have for 50 odd years. Chinese places with hidden menus that can only be ordered in Cantonese, and the list goes on. In the program, there are many many references to the places like TGI Fridays, Olive Garden, Outback, and the other places that are tangential, sterilized versions of these old standbys.

This made me think: How did these tangential versions come about? And how did they get to where they are today? I think that the original thought to bringing these estsablishments to life was to pay homage to the originals, and to bring the inner city neighborhoods out to the suburbs. But somewhere between that and now, the corporate Disneyheads got hold of it and decided to castrate it. Gone were the huge chops, home made sauce, or the other little touches that were deemed too scary, or too expensive, or not mainstream enough.

The question remains, was it the fault of the proprieters of these establishments, the corporate bean counters, or was it the fault of the dining public, allowing mediocrity to pervade their gastronomical lives? When the most exciting thing on the menu is an overcooked, oversalted chicken fajita, and that's only exciting because it sizzles? When the tiramisu is often served frozen? When the steak is so heavily seasoned, you can barely taste the meat? And people go to these places, by the hundreds. Every night I go by Chilis, Outback, The 99, and a few other restsaurants that are packed each and every night with people eating mediocre food and drinking mediocre beer.(another post entirely)

I think that it comes down to confort. People enjoy comfort. They enjoy getting the same thing every time, knowing that the ny strip steak will be exactly the same as the ny strip steak they had last time, and the time before that, and the time they were in Altoona. And the place in Altoona has the same interior, with the same waitstaff, and the same outfits and smiles and fun birthday songs for that wonderful little cherub at table 4. When you change things, or ask people to change, or even worse, force them to change, they hate it. I understand this, I hate change in certain parts of my life, like my work situation. So I can understand the fear, but I can't understand why people would take this attitude to food. Food is wonderful, and good food is a work of art, an expression of love from someone who wants to pass on a message. That message might be their own invention, or their grandmother's recipe, or simply the traditions of their homeland. Let them share. Let them show you their heart. Take an adventure, and you will be rewarded. Explore, and you wil be brought to wonderful gastronomical places, and you will come away with knowledge and happiness.

Animal Rescue: Rosie's story

Darren, one of the readers of this blog, and an excellent writer, posted the following statement in his blog:

Spoiling your pet is like creating an umbrella of compassion in a harsh and random world.

Better words could not be said. I'm not sure if Darren rescued his pets, but I believe he did. Even if he didn't, spoiling pets is a wonderful thing, made even more wonderful for rescues. I've had 3 beagles in my adult life, and they have all been spoiled rotten. Mostly because they had a hard life, and deserve it. I will be posting their stories one at a time. I was originally going to put them all together but this post came out longer than I had expected.



Rosie: Rosie was my second beagle, and the first of my adult life. My wife and I had been thinking about getting a dog, after I took her to the Beagle Rescue Education and Welfare(BREW) Beaglefest, back in 2003. She had been reticent about getting a beagle, in fear that they would be too much trouble. But after a few months of looking at Rosie's bio up on the BREW site, we decided that we would give her a happy home. Rosie was a very special girl, and had had a terribly hard life. When we got her, she was 9 or 10, and we knew that she wasn't going to be around for another decade, but we wanted to give her a retirement that she could enjoy. She had been on the adoption site for 6 months, and no one was giving her a chance because she had medical conditions that cost upwards of $200/month to treat. My wife is an incredibly compassionate person, and said "This is the dog for us." She was quiet, she was a couch potato, she wanted to be an only dog, and she loved people. Perfect. We went through the adoption process, and became the new forever home for Rosie Buttons. We added the Buttons, because it fit, and because we didn't want to change her given name from the adoption.

Rosie was pretty healthy, overall, when we got her, except she needed to pee every couple of hours, and was thirsty all the time. Later, we discovered this was Cushing's Disease, but at the time, there was some controversy about what it was, and we kept her on the medicine she had been on in foster care. She was an aloof dog, but LOVED her people. She wouldn't sit in your lap, but she would sit by your side, and was distraught whenever we would go out for long periods of time.

The life that Rosie had before getting into the adoption group was a horrible one, by any standards. She was kept in the bathroom most of the day, and her owners didn't understand her need to go out a lot, so when she had accidents, they would beat her. To her dying day, she was afraid of anything like a broom, or a chair, or anything with a stick-like protrusion. It broke my heart whenever I would mop the floor and she'd go running for the bedroom with her tail between her legs. Still does, just thinking about it. But even with the bad life, and illness, and old age, she was a very good dog, who loved exploring on walks, trying to find road snacks and obsessing over a year-old dead squirrel embedded in a chain link fence in our neighborhood. When it snowed, she would run around with her mouth open, and to the ground, gobbling up as much snow as she could before we made her go inside, shivering like a leaf. She was loved by everyone, especially the pug/Jack Russel next door, Zeus.

Rosie got sick in 2005, and we weren't sure why. She got very frail, very quickly, and it wasn't until we had taken her several times to Angell Memorial Hospital before we discovered that she definitely had Cushings Disease, and that it would take quite a bit to even get it into remission. What Cushing's disease does is to make the adrenal gland go haywire, making it produce adrenaline nonstop. This makes the kidneys kick in more, and all the organs in the body work harder. Its like running in terror ALL THE TIME. Rosie panted a lot, was hot in the middle of the winter, and was starting to look run down. Meanwhile, we had a wedding to plan and take part in, and Rosie was getting worse.

We made the decision to take Rosie with us on our honeymoon, to a local B&B, Restful Paws, out in Brookfield, MA. Its more than a dog-friendly B&B, its a dog-welcoming one that caters to dogs and people who love and pamper their dogs. After several weeks of a very hectic, lonely life, when we had very little time for her, Rosie deserved to take it easy with us. She loved it at Restful Paws. She was pampered, she was able to stay with people all day, and she got the best treats and treatment she had had in a long time. It was a good thing we did that too, because shortly after that, she started to go downhill quickly.

In November 2005, Rosie got precipitously worse. We had been treating her Cushings, and things hadn't improved much, but we hadn't expected them to. One morning, however, she couldn't raise her head above horizontal. This concerned us, so we took her in to Angell, and had some tests done. As it turns out, the Cushings was masking another problem, a slipped disc in her neck. The adrenaline was covering up the pain and trauma, and getting her help in one respect ended up adding to her pain. So, we cut back on her medicine for the Cushings for that reason, and because we realized that she did not have long left. We hoped a few months, but it ended up only being a few weeks. After more of a quick decline, and a daily signs of less energy, we took her in again, and found out that she had a tumor not only on her adrenal gland, but on her kidney as well. Neither were operable. We took her home, in shock, knowing that she had very little time left, but after a night of Rosie looking paniced, panting and laying on her side, in obvious pain, we took her back the next morning to be put to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It was December 4th, 2005. It snowed that day, which was one of Rosie's favorite things in the world. We thought it was a fitting sign.

More Film Noir

The picture on the right(I hope, the pics have been acting strange for me lately) is Orson Welles, during his years when he was impersonating a walrus, Charlton Heston, and two schmoes. Its from Touch of Evil, and shows a perfect film noir shot, as very few could do. Orson was one of those people. Take a closer look, and you'lls see a few things. Orson is disheveled, unshaven, and corpulent. Chuck Heston is upright, stoic, clean, and crisp. You realize that Welles is the bad guy, and that Hestson is the good guy, but look even closer now. The light from the "window"(a classic noir shot) hits the 4 people on their upper half, adding focus to their faces.

Heston's face is in the light with a dark background, putting it in sharp contrast. He's looking straight forward, and is in the position of strength, with his fists clenched, ready for action. Welles's face is half in shadow, with the dirty, off white wall behind him matching the sweaty pallor of his big mug. His hands are in his pockets, which tells us that he's hiding something. The other two are instantly seen as having no importance, even though the short mexican man(its okay to call him that, he's really mexican in the movie) is the one talking. The real battle is between Heston and Welles, and the audience instantly knows it.

Now, this is just one shot from the movie, one instant in time, and even though our minds don't out and out tell us what is going on, we recognize things, and are told things by the director with shadow, light, focus, and framing. Thats what makes a director great, and that's what is a staple of good Film Noir.

This scene is a relatively minor one, and not one of the three that pop into my head when I think about Touch of Evil. The first is a 3 1/2 minute long continuous shot that opens the film. It sets the tone and the tension of the movie immediately, as you watch a car go across the US/Mexico border after having watched a man put a bomb in its trunk.

The second is powerful for another reason, and follows another Film Noir tradition of things happening without explicitly being shown. Vivian Leigh(again) is in a hotel room, and a gang of bikers sis in the room next door, making a racket. She gets worried, tries to call the front desk, but he doesn't want to have anything to do with it. The scene crescendos in lockstep with the ever louder music, as the bikers come in to the room, trap Vivian, close in on her, and drug her. They don't tell you or show you what happens, but the next you see Vivian, she's in a different hotel, waking up. Was she raped? Unlike lesser movies, its not the focus, so its never mentioned.

The third scene is one of pure rage, that Heston pulls off well. He beats the ever loving hell out of the biker gang, one by one, in the process picking up a man with one hand, carrying him a few feet, and then driving him down a bar and into the wall. Again, its a hint that something else happened with those bikers.

Thats it for now, I suppose.

Psycho is not a film noir.

Psycho is not film noir. Psycho is a thriller, or a psychological suspense film, but it is not a film noir, for many reasons.

1)Subject - the subject is psychological in nature, and is about a crazy murderer. This is not normal fare for a noir. There's a direct relationship between the killer and the victim, which is also rare in noirs. Noirs usually deal with a shady person, or gang, and deals with crime, usually. Murders may happen, but they're not the sole reason for the "evil" character.

2)Cinematography - This may be where people get the idea that psycho is a noir. Many of the shots in psycho borrow from the film noir genre, using light and dark, intersecting shadows, off-center subjects, odd angles, etc. But that was also just Hitchcock's style, you can find that in many of his films.

3)The Antihero - Usually in noir, but not always, there is an anti-hero, or a reluctant hero. A dirty, possibly corrupt person who will do whatever it takes to do "the right thing". Bogey was excellent at playing these parts, and Sam Spade is the quintessential anti-hero. There's no such person in Psycho, Sam Loomis certainly isn't one, and everyone else is a victim. Also, in most film-noirs, there are no squeaky clean characters, or if they are, they are offed pretty quickly, or are seen as a point of derision and scorn.(Laszlo in Casablanca pops into my head)

4)Focus - the focus in Psycho is on the murderer, and the murdering, and keeping the suspense high. In a noir, there may be suspense, but it is rarely the main focus of the film. When Sam Spade is looking down the barrel of Kasper Gutman's gun, there's tension there, but not the same tension as when Vivian Leigh is about to get stabbed in the shower.

The Hitchcock film that I would have a hard time choosing between film noir and suspense is "Rear Window". There's no hero, the filming is right, the focus is almost right, but the subject is still the murder, and the tension of the final scenes.