Nanny 911

It seems like the U.S. is changing from a bipartisan political system to a bipolar one. The Republican right(eous) are in a perpetual manic phase and the Democrats are in a depressed one. Unless we get some Capitol Hill liberals and middle-of-the-roaders on some Zoloft soon, we're screwed.

The religious right's loss in courts over the Schiavo case will just give more fuel to the neocons who want to teach the "activist" judiciary a lesson, as reported on NPR this weekend. A pretty frightening thought. Their first goal is to punish with the purse strings. Ah, yes. The good old checks-and-blackmail system of government.

Speaking of purse strings, Dubya didn't seem to be so focused on "a culture of life" back in his governor days, according to this excerpt from a pointed piece about our new "nanny government" by Marc Cooper in the L.A. Weekly:

"...in 1999, Governor Bush supported and signed the Texas Futile Care Act, which allows hospitals to disconnect life-support equipment, over the objection of family members, when patients are judged irrecoverable and when private funds for their sustenance have run out."

And, while we're at it, how's about a little more federal funding for eating disorder treatment and prevention, hey nanny, nannies? If Terri hadn't starved herself because of her bulimia in the first place, she never would have become the lightning rod for your coldly calculated compassion.

Tube time

Leave it to The Simpsons to come up with the best web address ever: www.springfieldisforgayloversofmarriage.com.

I'm so bummed that Arrested Development isn't as funny this year, going the way of more slapdash slapstick. A series of water cooler conversations has led me to compile a three-point theory on what's gone awry. First of all, it would be hard to top the 22 episode perfection of the first season under any conditions. The term "masterpiece" applies. Second of all, building fresh storylines based on fairly one-dimensional characters is a tall order. Third of all, 22 episodes is way too many to maintain quality control with this kind of intricately overlapping storytelling. As one water cooler commentator pointed out, why do you think all the HBO shows are so good? They only have to squeeze out a dozen episodes or so without the arbitrary fall premiere pressure. All that said, Arrested is still funnier than almost everything else on TV. I guess you just never forget your first--let me finish--season.

Cute kid quote alert

After a day frolicking in the park with my friend and her four-year-old son, we chowed on our respective poisons. For the boy, a 7-11 Sponge Bob slushee. For us adult types, 31 Flavors sundaes. We then retired to the vehicle to drive home. Maybe it was the sugar rush afterglow or the shifting late afternoon sunlight, but the young lad became reflective and launched into a somber carseat monologue.

"Sometimes, I get cranky and frustrated and I'll throw things at someone and be mad and then I'll feel sad to them."

"Then do you say you're sorry?" I asked, twisting my head to peer around the passenger seat's shoulder.

"Yes," he murmured, squinting slightly. "Then I say I'm sorry and I say a whole bunch of nice things to them."

"That's an important thing to do," I replied, feeling all Coach Carter and ish. Then the tow-headed tot Little Man Tate'd me:

"Yes, that's the most important-nist part of being a friend."

Man overboard overheard

Male coworker #1 points at a picture on his computer screen and asks, "Do you think this girl is hot?"

Male coworker #2 cranes his neck down to peer at chick and says, "Yeeeah!"

Male coworker #1 responds, "Oh, cool. Because I was talking to her last night at a bar and I don't remember her looking this good. I'm overanalyzing her features now, like an art director."

Male coworker #2, "She's definitely hot. Call her up, man."

Thanks for joining us for another episode of "Conversations You Were Afraid Were Happening But Hoped Weren't."

Bend it like Beck

A fun new toy for you and you and you: the Beck lyrics randomizer.

Deconstructing Carrey

I rewatched “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” last night and had the same reaction as the first time I saw it. I felt frazzled during the first third or so with the fractured storytelling/editing technique, then, finally, touched and transported by how well it captures the sometimes bruising bliss of love. The scene lit through the quilt seemed especially beautiful this time around.

During the Academy Awards show, I wasn’t that worked up when Charlie Kaufman won the Best Original Screenplay Oscar, since it felt like he and his script were such obviously deserving recipients. The second viewing of the film made me realize that it’s pretty incredible that the Academy honored such a risk-taking film. Good sign.

Watching the special features section made me realize how well Kate Winslet pulled off her American accent. It also occurred to me that the wacky chick genre is hot with three T’s of late. Another case in point outside of tangerine-tressed Clementine: the (to me, super duper annoying) hamster cadaver-holding Natalie Portman of “Garden State.” What up with that? Maybe leftover Annie Hall envy?

In music news, I really like Bright Eyes’ new album “I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning.” The previous album “Lifted” didn’t do much for me, unlike most folks, but this new one is acoustic and poetic in a stripped-down backroom bar, Woody Guthrie-esque way that shows this Colin dude is living up to the hype. “First Day of My Life” is a love song in the aforementioned bruised bliss genre and it’s great to hear a youngun’ singing about current world events in addition to the requisite dating dilemmas. Good sign.

Things TV teaches us - part two

TV teaches us by providing mottos for more successful living.

Lesson one from Donald Trump on The Apprentice:

"Go big or go home."

Lesson two from Jessie on The Contender:

"Go hard or go home."

Boo

"Fans don't boo nobodies."
- Reggie Jackson

Sometimes if I'm feeling sorry for myself, I'll try to think of a situation where something could be worse. This week it was: "I could be dating a sports fanatic."

Type-casting

Living in the ciudad de Los Angeles means that celebrity sightings are not a rare occurence. Although it's been a dry star-spotting spell for me lately, I did get treated to a glimpse of my other comedy crush, Mr. Wallace Langham (Arrested Development's Will Arnett being the latter to his former), at a comedy show.

Actually, I didn't even know that Wallace Langham was his name until I looked him up on IMDB after my sighting. I've been watching old episodes of The Larry Sanders Show lately and admiring W.L.'s comic chops as the bitter writer Phil. And then there was his hilarious turn as Carrie's sty-eyed simu-date on Sex and the City.

Fortunately, I didn't get within fawning distance of him or there could have been an I'm-not-worthy kowtow a la Wayne's World if I had. Not knowing his actual name probably would've made a poor impression anyway: "I love your work...you."

Now that I think about it, Wallace and Will look a lot alike and have played very similar acridly funny asses. And here I thought I was over that type.

Ben missing out

Why is it just now I'm stumbling across the polished pop perfection of Ben Folds' "Rockin' the Suburbs" album? It would be nice to have some kind of recognition system in place to acknowledge a person who discovers something last.

In other Ben news, I'm thunderstrucked by two charming, stripped-down delights on Ben Lee's new "Awake is the New Sleep" album: the hooky head-nodder "Catch My Disease" and the get-off-your-beanbag-and-do-something upper "Whatever It Is." Unfortunately, almost all the rest of the album is like the aural version of Olestra--slides in your ear and out without leaving anything in your system.