Enough is enough…all right!? I mean, how much more can a guy take? Adding insult to injury was never attractive, nor the proper thing to do. It’s not like I didn’t have enough dings in my body from shopping on Black Friday that I needed to be hit again. This time, sucker punched. Not only that, but I am still healing from the deep cut experienced a couple of years ago.
Confused?...So am I. To use ghetto parlance, “Why they gotta be hatin’?” Today, while decompressing from a brief exposure to Black Friday shopping, I perused the Internet. Totally harmless, right? So I thought. I went to a completely innocuous site. It is a site I visit regularly to get my news of the world. Completely credible. It’s FoxNews.com. It was then and there that I discovered some bonehead at DC Comics decided to knock off Batman. I mean totally whack the poor bastard. I thought it was a complete disregard for protocol and manners. The smug S.O.B. actually sounded upbeat and chipper about the whole matter in the interview. Damned punk!
Technically, Batman is not actually dead. Yeah, right! Supposedly, Bruce Wayne was killed by a mysterious stranger claiming to be none other than his long-thought dead father. Weird and creepy, but a cool Shakespearean plot twist. Excellent for Hamlet or Macbeth, but not for the Dark Knight. No way, no how. Perhaps I am a bit too much of a traditionalist, but you just don’t treat superheroes that way. It’s disrespectful.
Of course, there is still the unresolved issue of the assassination of Captain America that occurred two years ago. Now, I can’t bellow and whine too much, because I always get a great lesson out of it for my American History classes each year. However, you still don’t need to go off and kill an icon such as Captain America or Batman on a whim. I believe the blame rests squarely on two individuals equally.
The editor and writer should both have their heads on a block for this lame brained move. Cruel and unusual punishment you say? Go ask Bruce Wayne and Steve Rogers what they think about this bold editorial move? I mean, I see no need for a head if you are not going to use it or its only use is as a rectal probe. Killing off a major superhero seems like a wimpy way of boosting sales or to get out of an embarrassing spot of writer’s block. It is just totally unacceptable. If it’s a tight creative spot your crew can’t get out of, maybe you don’t have the right people doing the job…
A bit too rash in my response? I think not…Just look at the other headlines swarming the news today and take a little reality trip with me. Senseless terrorist bombings in India, stocks still shaky, and employment a gamble at best is what most of us have to deal with. Now untie this paradox for me. Why kill off national and cultural icons now?
Perhaps you might answer to shake things up a bit. Or maybe to grab peoples’ attention and make them sit up for a moment. Aren’t we already doing enough of that? Don ‘t we deserve a little respite for the over taxing stimulus and sensations thrown at us every waking moment of every day? Maybe I am just yelling at a wall here, but it works. Just looked what happened in Berlin in 1989. Don’t stop speaking, even if you the only voice. Listen to us you corporate greed mongers, and quit killing our superheroes.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thinking about being thankful
It is the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The bird is in the midst of its thawing bath, the pumpkin pie cheese cakes are cooling and the banana bread is finishing its tour of duty in the oven. Forecasts call for a rainy cool front to cone through sometime tomorrow. Luckily I have firewood split and plan on bringing in an extra load first thing tomorrow. But not everything is routine or rosy.
I don’t have to tell anyone about the anxiety gripping the nation. It’s as if the Grinch came early and came hard. And I don’t have any pat answers or solutions to the problems we are wrestling with. I always remember what I was once told when I found myself in a state of seemingly unending existential dread and anxiety. Basically the maxim goes that you can cry in your cornflakes, but it only will make them soggier. With this in mind, I did what most red-blooded Americans do. I jumped on the internet.
Nostalgia quickly set in. I have been assured this is a terminal issue, especially with history teachers. I wanted to listen to music. Something soothing. Something with soul. Something with a message of hope. I had recently changed my setting on my Gmail account to one with backgrounds of outer space. This tripped the memory fantastic.
As the seasons have changed, my mood has moved with the stars. Saturn and Venus are about to align in their interstellar dance. I joked with my wife on night on our regular constitutionals around the block with our dog, that this was our dance playing out among the heavens. After sixteen years of connubial bliss, no questions were asked about which plant was who in the duet. This got me thinking about Vangelis.
Odd, I know. Things seem to work out this way. But I remember watching Cosmos on PBS, thinking that Carl Sagan was related to our nerdy, Northern neighbor across the street and loving the music. Of course, thanks to the miracle of modern technology, the track was available online for my listening pleasure. And listen I did.
Not only did I listen to that particular track, but many others that evening. It was a beautiful stroll down memory lane, literally. It was blissful and relaxing. I am sure that there is some sort of psychological and/or physiological, and possibly theological, aspect and explanation of this particular phenomenal experience. However, I don’t want to know and do not particularly care for an explanation. I am happy as is.
And that’s when it hit. I was happy. It was wonderful. Looking around, seeing the mess we are currently in, I was still smiling. Why? Because I found some things to be grateful and thankful for. Of course, I am always thankful for my family, my country, and most of all for my Savior. But time and again, little things pop up that add to these staples.
This was one of those times. Amidst all of these calamities and woes, I found that I was thankful for being born and growing up when I did. The 1970s and ‘80s saw their own share of troubles, and we lived through them just fine. I know we will make it through these. But something more tangible and sweeter came out of this dim epiphany. For me, it was more important.
Still listening to the Cosmos Theme by Vangelis and blissfully tripping through my dusty synapses of memories, I realized that some of my teachers were none other than Carl Sagan. Along with the late Dr. Sagan was the indomitable Jacques Cousteau. It was because of Cousteau that I took French as my foreign language in high school. I believe that to be successful on PBS I had to wear a read beanie cap and speak with a French accent. Perhaps, this was part of the reason I was also a swimmer in high school. Many others made the list, such as Mr. Rogers, Jim Henson, and Jane Goodall. While this is not necessarily a complete list, it did show me something or two about being thankful. Thankful for having these individuals share their experiences and wonder with me, even if it was through a television set. Thankful for their inspiration and excitement that led me to living a life of the mind, even if I am a middle school teacher. Thankful, that even in the dark days of the Cold War and the Energy Crisis, they showed me that there was still so much to hope for a dream for…Thank you…
I don’t have to tell anyone about the anxiety gripping the nation. It’s as if the Grinch came early and came hard. And I don’t have any pat answers or solutions to the problems we are wrestling with. I always remember what I was once told when I found myself in a state of seemingly unending existential dread and anxiety. Basically the maxim goes that you can cry in your cornflakes, but it only will make them soggier. With this in mind, I did what most red-blooded Americans do. I jumped on the internet.
Nostalgia quickly set in. I have been assured this is a terminal issue, especially with history teachers. I wanted to listen to music. Something soothing. Something with soul. Something with a message of hope. I had recently changed my setting on my Gmail account to one with backgrounds of outer space. This tripped the memory fantastic.
As the seasons have changed, my mood has moved with the stars. Saturn and Venus are about to align in their interstellar dance. I joked with my wife on night on our regular constitutionals around the block with our dog, that this was our dance playing out among the heavens. After sixteen years of connubial bliss, no questions were asked about which plant was who in the duet. This got me thinking about Vangelis.
Odd, I know. Things seem to work out this way. But I remember watching Cosmos on PBS, thinking that Carl Sagan was related to our nerdy, Northern neighbor across the street and loving the music. Of course, thanks to the miracle of modern technology, the track was available online for my listening pleasure. And listen I did.
Not only did I listen to that particular track, but many others that evening. It was a beautiful stroll down memory lane, literally. It was blissful and relaxing. I am sure that there is some sort of psychological and/or physiological, and possibly theological, aspect and explanation of this particular phenomenal experience. However, I don’t want to know and do not particularly care for an explanation. I am happy as is.
And that’s when it hit. I was happy. It was wonderful. Looking around, seeing the mess we are currently in, I was still smiling. Why? Because I found some things to be grateful and thankful for. Of course, I am always thankful for my family, my country, and most of all for my Savior. But time and again, little things pop up that add to these staples.
This was one of those times. Amidst all of these calamities and woes, I found that I was thankful for being born and growing up when I did. The 1970s and ‘80s saw their own share of troubles, and we lived through them just fine. I know we will make it through these. But something more tangible and sweeter came out of this dim epiphany. For me, it was more important.
Still listening to the Cosmos Theme by Vangelis and blissfully tripping through my dusty synapses of memories, I realized that some of my teachers were none other than Carl Sagan. Along with the late Dr. Sagan was the indomitable Jacques Cousteau. It was because of Cousteau that I took French as my foreign language in high school. I believe that to be successful on PBS I had to wear a read beanie cap and speak with a French accent. Perhaps, this was part of the reason I was also a swimmer in high school. Many others made the list, such as Mr. Rogers, Jim Henson, and Jane Goodall. While this is not necessarily a complete list, it did show me something or two about being thankful. Thankful for having these individuals share their experiences and wonder with me, even if it was through a television set. Thankful for their inspiration and excitement that led me to living a life of the mind, even if I am a middle school teacher. Thankful, that even in the dark days of the Cold War and the Energy Crisis, they showed me that there was still so much to hope for a dream for…Thank you…
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