happy holidays!

The greatest Chistmas laughter ever? A few years ago, my brother johnny and i were visiting bob and jan in the Poconos. They were singing in the Christmas Eve choir at church, so we went to hear them. We sat in the front row of the balcony. Well into the heart of the service, a group-sung hymn came up. We held our hymnal, and as the song was progressing, realized that the lyrics had a very bizarre grammatical structure. Every line of the chorus started with the verb. I casually leaned over to john, and on the next chorus whispered in a yoda voice, "Praise him, we do...worship him, we will."
It is only a mild exaggeration to say that two heathens nearly fell out of the balcony with suppressed laughter.
Happy holidays to all.

destructiveness

"I don't drink, and don't lie. Were every human so afflicted, i would never again be subject to moronic questions about why i don't get laid more."
-wrob

I'll stand by that statement, even though it is (for the sake of wit) a touch facile and simplistic.
Today, a third non-quality came to mind - destructiveness. It's possible that a lack of destructiveness may be one of the few concrete qualities which has long set me apart, as a human being.
Destructiveness is not evil. Destruction is an element of change. Whether with one person or millions, change requires a breaking down of the old. Creation is profoundly destructive.
The Harry Chapin song "Sniper" contains the lyric "I am a lover who's never been kissed, I am a fighter who's not made a fist". Though i've been kissed, i have indeed happily never made a fist. These two lines' proximity underscores the curious connection between loving and fighting. Both acts are profoundly penetrative. Many men (and some women, these days) acknowledge that they find the chase more compelling than the consummation.
Just as you don't need to google "crime of passion" to know there's a connection between love and hate, you don't have to watch lions mate to spot a connection between fighting and loving. Even among well-intentioned people, lies, half-truths, and sins of omission are part of nearly every sexual consummation. Selfishness is tied to romance in ways that few are ever able to be honest about. But as selfishness grows, so grows destructiveness.
Though i've been romantically involved with dozens of women, my lack of aggressiveness has reduced my number of "consummated" affairs. My personality is non-penetrative...okay, no, that's false. I'm penetrative, maybe even extremely so, but in a non-aggressive way. I've always been bored by the "chase", eager to skip to the communion of loving. There's never been an unplanned pregnancy in my life. My loving has been about nurturing (or at least the attempt to do so, as we humans fumble about, blindly seeking to fill our emptiness). My non-destructiveness has extended to all interpersonal relationships...i've long been aware that i'm one of the least likely people to offer personal advice.
Of course, i don't pretend that destructiveness has been alien to my spirit...were it so i never could have accepted a public speaking trophy, written a diatribe against makeup, or had a dream about trying to destroy a monster eel.
But now, the last year has brought me in touch with destructive interpersonal impulses. Every morning of my life i've awoken ready to live the most beautiful romantic story in the history of time...yet except for one or two years, my journey has been mostly solitary. Part of the reason may be that many women who desired me waited in vain for me to be more of a predator.
The scraping wound that has been in my spirit these past few years has manifested in both self-destructive and destructive impulses. My bloodied hunger for healing has nudged me toward ignoring some of my gentler wisdoms. I'm learning that a wounded creature becomes more impulsive and feral. It's like on some level, a part of me is seeking to reclaim my genetic birthright to be mindlessly sexualized. A tiny piece of me almost feels betrayed by my gentleness, and wishes to reclaim a decade or more of fucking. I'm long past ready to find the eye at the center of the storm. All my old habits of making sure that my partner isn't going too fast, for her sake or mine...these tendencies have been sorely tested lately.
Destructiveness of course does not stand apart from drinking and lying (indeed, the opposite is true). That being said, "I'm not destructive...were every human so afflicted, i would never again be subjected to moronic questions about why i don't get laid more", may be more concise than the earlier quote...
It is, however, entirely lacking in wit.
We'll go with the first one.

i walked

I walked through a land
A land I did not know

The thundering echo of a million dreams
The gasping howl of a million desires
fading

Through the meadow
to the water’s edge
I reach out

The naked infant turns
I look into my eyes
We embrace
Emptiness dies

different

I’m different
I’m a monkey in a tree
I’m different
Not sheep number six billion three

I’m different
I puzzle you? You puzzle me
I’m different
They all went that way…such idiocy

I’m different
You understand me? I disagree
I’m different
The impossible dream, finding my she

I’m different
No good for anyone, you see
I’m different
And no one’s any good for me

"Soap"

1977-1981
In the discussion of the greatest TV shows of all time, one gem gets overlooked more than any other. SOAP gets neglected because it doesn't fit into the established categories. Hysterical and half an hour, but not a sitcom, SOAP spoofed the ridiculous banality of soap operas. And obviously it's had a lasting effect on the genre, as modern soap operas are bastions of credible situations and believable characters.
Or not.
Created by Susan Harris, SOAP was as barrier-breaking as it was funny. It had one of TV's first openly gay major characters. It showed us a high school teenager having an affair with his female teacher (i admit, i thought "oh those silly, over-imaginative writers" when i first watched it). And happily, it was the first show to use the word "boffed".
Richard Mulligan's Burt is one of the most towering physical comedy performances ever. Catherine Helmond and Cathryn Damon were the emotional center of the lunacy. Robert Gillaume took all kinds of flak for signing on to play a black servant, but in Benson he created an iconic character of dignity and humor. Billy Crystal gave a stereotype a heart. Arthur Peterson's portrayal of the Major is purely priceless. Jay Johnson as Chuck and Bob made us believe a doll was as real as any human. Robert Urich was there (which of course is pretty much a given if you're discussing american TV from the 70s to 90s). Ted Wass and Lynne Moody played a loving interracial couple, something i'd never seen. Harold Gould's monologue to the suicidal Jodie is one of the most heart-rending moments in TV history.
Part of the fun of watching Soap today is the parade of actors and bit actors who went on to greater fame. We've got Boss Hogg, Col. Flagg, Johnny Fever and Arthur Carlson, Norm, Mona, Miracle Max, K.I.T.T., Marie Barone, Red, the new Galactica doc...plus Robert Englund, Jack Gilford, and Joe Montegna. A "greatest episodes" list is pretty pointless, because the level of silly wonderfulness never dropped off. Here's to one of TV's landmark shows, and one of the greatest comedic ensembles ever.

"Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip"

2006-2007
Ah, here we are, reveling in the joy that is season three of STUDIO 60! It's December, so we may be treated to yet another amazing Christmas episo-

Oh yeah. I forgot.

STUDIO 60 was cancelled after one season.
You know, that 30 ROCK FROM THE SUN may be brilliant. Any show that taps into Alec Baldwin's comic side is on the right track. I wouldn't know anything about it though, as i've never seen 30 ROCK, and have no plans to do so. I realize that's a tiny bit unfair, but at some point in these shows' concurrent initial seasons, someone decided that two programs about the backstage goings-on of an SNL-style show were one too many. When the dust cleared, STUDIO 60 was gone.
It was going to be one of the best ever, maybe as good as its Aaron Sorkin predecessor THE WEST WING.
Oh, to be sure, they were still finding their first-season feet a bit...but actually less so than WEST WING and any number of other legendary shows. You know how i know? Because i wouldn't have watched the complete series five times in a row on my home dvd player if the show had been only about potential. Five times in a row, plus when it aired the year before. I'd never done anything like that before.
The writing was intelligent, funny, and socially relevant, and the number of shows in TV history which have been all three of those can be counted on one hand, i'm sure. The directing was laser-precise, and the production values were silly good...few casts have ever had so amazing a set. The acting was across-the-board unimpeachable. Bradley Whitford was a rock. Matthew Perry was up to the task of changing the minds of Friends-haters everywhere. Amanda Peet was all over the place and thoroughly believable. Steven Weber brought great sympathy and humor to his oft-antagonistic role. Sarah Paulson is an absolute treasure. Timothy Busfield was beautiful, and never got to the story lines which would have involved him more in following seasons. D.L. Hughley didn't miss a step. If Nate Corddry isn't getting more work, somebody's not paying attention. Merritt Wever was going to be the next Janel Moloney. Ed Asner, Ayda Field, Lucy Kenwright, and Mark McKinney played their roles so well you hoped that they would appear each episode.
HIGHLIGHTS AND LOWLIGHTS
Episode 1: Sharp, airtight, and made luminous by the Emmy-winning (i may be making that up) performance of Judd Hirsch as Wes Mendell, the patriarch who loses his job for telling the truth on-air. The exquisite Donna Murphy also appears, but is underused.
Episode 2: The "Model of a Modern Network TV Show" number is probably funnier than most production numbers on any real sketch comedy show.
Episode 3: Rob Reiner's Schlomo appearance is classic. Science schmience.
Episode 5: Achingly beautiful music by Sting.
Episode 6: Another guest actor Emmy, for Eli Wallach (although we don't quite buy that Cal wouldn't have known the Hollywood Ten).
Episode 7-8: Yet another Emmy, for the irrepressible John Goodman as Judge Bebe! Also notable for getting the Zhang Tao storyline rolling, which features the saucy Julia Ling, and the less saucy Raymond Ma.
Episode 11: "The Christmas Show", the best of the series, with the most moving musical moment i've ever witnessed on serial TV.
Episode 15: "The Friday Night Slaughter", the worst of the series...but still pretty good.
Episode 17: Busfield's biggest episode, made more sweet by the appearance of Allison Janney, the two of whom created WEST WING's most memorable couple. Such fast-paced fun that i watched it five times without even realizing that the show's two biggest stars aren't in the episode.
Episode 19-22: Despite shining guest performances by James Lesure and J.D. Walsh, the final four-episode arc struggles (and not just because of the most quease-inducing sorkin line of dialogue ever, matt's "Show me something"). But to say that it got too heavy, is simplistic. If WEST WING showed us anything, it's that the heavy episodes were often the best. I call it bad timing, that when the show's fate was hanging in the balance, they detoured away from funny. If the show had gone on, i don't think anyone would have thought these episodes weak at all.

damn you, ryle!

Do you know what it feels like to come up with an idea no human being has ever had before?
Nope, neither do i.
But for a week or two in 1995, i thought that maybe i had. I was working on a master's degree in philosophy, at West Chester U. of PA. In my three semesters i became the department's only graduate assistant, and resurrected the long-dormant philosophy club (my one presidency...wheeee). I graduated something cum laude. It was a very cool year and a half.
In one of my courses, we were studying Gilbert Ryle's "systematically misleading expressions". The ten-cent explanation: certain phrases are inherently dishonest because their construction implies the existence of something which doesn't exist. For example, saying "carnivorous cows don't exist" implies that they do exist, as something must exist to have attributes. The way to correct that phrase would be to say "there is no such thing which is both carnivorous and a cow". This is all a bit egg-headed, but stick with me.
People use systematically misleading expressions all the time, often with no problem, as most people don't need a philosopher to tell them that carnivorous cows don't exist. But we shape our thoughts in words, and if there are lies hidden within our language that we are blind to, the quality of our thought will suffer.
For a week or two, i thought i had come up with a systematically misleading expression no one had ever thought of. A very important one too, one which we all use every day, not realizing that it prevents us from relating to our own human nature more truthfully. Think about the following phrases: "my hands are sticky", "my head hurts", and "my sense of humor is dry" (or a parallel construction such as "her butt is bangin'"). We've all used this grammatical construction, probably every day of our lives. And there is a huge lie hiding inside it.
Anybody spot it?
No, "she ain't got no bangin' butt!" is not the correct response.
The lie is that the construction implies ownership. "My" head. "My" sense of humor. "Her" butt. Is it not strange that our language implies we have the same relationship with our feet as we do with our shoes? We don't "own" a head or a sense of humor. We are a head, we are fingers, we are a sense of humor (despite occasional evidence to the contrary). "Owning" our head invokes a self which is different from our physical, thinking being. Of course, those who believe people are immortal might be thrilled with this. Since the fear of death is the most basic human fear, our primary existential condition, it's easy to perceive why we may have shaped our language this way. Without realizing it, we've all been walking around every day of our lives affirming that we ain't gonna die, even though every measurable piece of evidence screams that we will.
So how do we re-construct this part of our language? Well, clumsily. It will take a while for more honest language to not feel silly. "My head hurts" might become "rob-head hurts". I know, pretty weird. "Her butt is bangin'" becomes "Jenny-butt is bangin'!" Hmm, that last one feels less clumsy, somehow.
Anyway, after a week or two, i read Ryle's next article. And damn double-damn him, he based his next article on my idea. I knew it wasn't going to turn the world on its head, but...still.
Ah well. For a week i walked under the rarefied sun of original human thought. I suppose that's a week more than most get. But try out "Jenny-butt is bangin'" the next time you're at a party. Once the humor fades, you may actually feel a little different in a way that you can't even explain.