Tim Russert: 1950-2008

We lost one of the last great old news men this week, and well before his time.

Tim Russert has died at 58 years old, and the hole he leaves may be impossible to fill. In a world where "Fair and Balanced" is a tacit omission on one side of TV news and an advertising slogan on the other, Russert was a genuine journalist. I never knew what side of the political fence he sat on, and I never felt that he was pushing an agenda, unlike, oh, pretty much everyone else on CNN, Fox, and MSNBC. Russert didn't just keep equanimity, he insisted on it, going so far as to refuse to work on-air with Keith Olbermann.

But Russert's own words provide a better tribute than any of my own. In an interview for the New Yorker shortly before his death, Russert said, “What cable emphasizes, more and more, is opinion, or even advocacy. Whether it’s Bill O’Reilly or Keith Olbermann or Lou Dobbs, that’s what that particular platform or venue does. It’s not what I do. What I do is different. I try very, very hard not to come up and say to people, ‘This is what I believe,’ or ‘This is good,’ or ‘This is bad.’ But, rather, ‘This is what I’m learning in my reporting,’ or ‘This is what my analysis shows based on my reporting.’ And as long as I can do that I’m very, very comfortable. And nobody has asked me to do anything but that.”

All of us, journalists and actors and realtors and steelworkers, can learn from that.

Andrew Hamm Narrates "RV 2007" on HGTV

Last year, I got a call pretty much out of the blue from Brainbox Talent and Studios in Silver Spring, Maryland, asking if I would be available to record a voice-over that week. I had submitted my voice to them several months earlier for a gig I didn't get and promptly forgot about it. Well, producer Jason Nicholls liked my voice, needed a younger-sounding artist, and had a tough deadline coming up. That, and the fact that I'm non-union, combined for a pretty cool experience recording what was essentially a "draft" track for Brainbox to submit a rough cut to HGTV. A one-afternoon gig, "more than beer money," as Jason described the pay, and a pleasant drive up and down I-95. Cool.

A few months later, Jason called me again. HGTV liked the show, and they liked my voice enough to want to use me for the final product. Another drive up to Maryland, another afternoon of talking, and more than more than beer money. A handful of lines needed to be re-recorded a few days later, but I was able to do that remotely from my home studio and send the files up to Brainbox via email. How awesome is that?!

Then a sad thing happened. I got so tied up with Doctor Faustus and Twelfth Night that I forgot to check when the show was airing! My national V/O debut and I totally missed it! I've been bumming about it for months.

But lo and behold! HGTV, knowing everyone in America will be watching football, is rebroadcasting RV 2007 this Sunday at 5:00 PM! So you can tune in during football commercial breaks to hear my stupid voice yapping about travel trailers and other such stuff.

Unfortunately, I will be busy playing music for Christ Church's birthday party while it's airing, so I will have to settle for the lesser thrill of watching a videotaped broadcast rather than the excitement of hearing my voice on live television. But I'm still excited as heck!

Flipping Channels: Bengals / Falcons and Tigers / Yankees

I'm super-sick with an upper respiratory infection, which is bad. What's good (kind of) is that I didn't really have enough gumption to do anything but flip channels last night. Since there was nothing good on the Discovery Channel (usually choice #1), I ended up bouncing between ESPN's football and ESPN2's baseball coverage. Some really interesting stuff happened.



Cincinnati Bengals at Atlanta Falcons. Obviously, there's a ton of scrutiny on the Vickless Falcons. It's unfortunate timing that Michael Vick's indictment came on the first day of training camp, his official plea entry came on the morning of a Monday Night Football preseason game, and his December sentencing date is another MNF date for the team. There's just no escaping it.

There's also no escaping the fact that Vick's replacement, QB Joey Harrington, has a terrible track record everywhere he has been. Since starting in Detroit as a highly-touted draft pick, dude's got a 55.2% completion percentage with 72 touchdowns and 77 interceptions for a less-than-average 68.1 career passer rating. Yikes. It's one of my little sports idiosyncrasies that I've always liked Harrington for some reason. He just comes across as a nice guy and a hard worker who has been saddled with some really bad teams. Maybe it's the Heath Shuler fan in me, but it breaks my heart when a Harrington, a Tim Couch, an Akili Smih, even a Ryan Leaf blows a bunch of potential. (Okay, not Ryan Leaf.)

So did we start to see some of that potential last night? Harrington went 13 of 21 for 164 yards and 2 very pretty touchdowns in the Falcons' 24-19 win. More than the stats, he just looked like a quarterback last night. The Falcons looked like they were his team and that they had been his team for a while.

Yes, it's preseason, but week three of preseason is the dress rehearsal game, first-team against first-team, and the Bengals are a tough opponent. It would be really nice to see Harrington have a breakout season for the Falcons and give some real hope to Atlanta sports fans. I don't think that's very likely, but it would be nice. Because make no mistake, no one is going to see the Falcons this year. Season ticket holders in Atlanta pay to see Michael Vick, not Warwick Dunn. When Vick had a season-ending injury a couple years back, the fans watched from their couches in droves. True, Atlanta doesn't have a history as a great sports city, what with not selling out first round Braves playoff games and the like, but their NFL fans deserve better than the Vick soap opera.



New York Yankees at Detroit Tigers. It's a testament to the magnitude of this savage beat-down that Justin Verlander's (14-5) scoreless three-hit seven innings of pitching is a footnote to this game. The headline: Tigers 16, Yankees 0. Dang.

Yankee pitcher Mike Mussina's (8-10) line is downright sad. 3 IP, 9 hits, 6 runs (all earned), 1 walk, 0 strikeouts. Moose, a Yankee I actually kind of like (sort of, a teensy bit), has given up six runs in each of his last three starts, none of which has made it through the fourth inning. The unsung hero of this game: Yankee pitcher Sean Henn, redefining "taking one for the team" as he pitched 2.2 innings of relief, giving up 8 hits and 9 runs (7 earned). It was like watching batting practice. Every Tigers starter had at least one hit, the star being VCU's own Brandon Inge, 3 for 4 with 4 RBIs and 2 runs scored.

This is the kind of loss that sits like lead in a team's stomach for days, sometimes weeks. The Yankees are 8 games behind Boston in the East and 2 behind Seattle in the Wild Card. As much as I loathe the Yankees and their freaking swastika hats, I always thought they would be the Wild Card team. Now I'm not so sure. I think they may not make the playoffs.

Hee hee hee.

Unattractive Teacher Gets 10 Years for Sex with Student

A 35-year-old sixth grade science teacher convicted of having sex with a 13-year-old student has been sentenced to 10 years in prison. Here's the AP story.

So once again, the American judicial system has laid down the law. Under no circumstances is it acceptable for a teacher to have sexual relations with a student. Unless, of course, you're a cute chick. Men and unattractive women will get the maximum punishment.

Amber Jennings had her charges reduced from sex with a minor to disseminating harmful materials to a minor. Apparently all she did was email nude photos of herself to the student. That's not harmful, right? Because she's hot.

Margaret De Barraicua pled guilty to four counts of statutory rape after having sex with a 16-year-old special education student in her car. Parked behind an elementary school. With her two-year-old strapped in a car seat. One year of jail, five years' probation. Not hot exactly, but she certainly isn't unattractive.

Nicole Long was caught having sex with a 17-year-old boy while she was seven months pregrant. After pleading guilty to sexual battery, she was sentenced to three months in prison. Look at those adorable schoolmarm glasses! She looks kind of like one of my college girlfriends.

Everybody loves Debra Lafave, who was arrested for several counts of having sex with a 14-year-old. Her lawyer argued, "To place Debbie into a Florida state women's penitentiary, to place an attractive young woman in that kind of hell hole, is like putting a piece of raw meat in with the lions." The charges were dropped by the prosecution despite the fact that the judge had refused to accept details of the plea bargain and had indeed set a trial date. She got three months of house arrest and seven years of probation.

But America's real statutory sweetheart is Mary Kay Latourneau, right? She did jail time for having sex with a sixth grader, was released early for good behavior, then was caught in a steamed-up car with the same student. Sent back to prison for the original 7 years, she discovered she was pregnant with his second child, her sixth! (Dramatic music sting!) The boy always insisted that he was not a victim and that he loved Mary Kay. After serving her full sentence, she and her star-crossed wacky lover got married at a winery near Seattle. Entertainment Tonight paid for full access. No joke.

(In Washington, statutory rape is called "child rape." I like Washington.)

Change the genders in all these cases and you would see America's blood boil. It would be a national outrage, like the ongoing investigations into sexual abuse by Catholic priests. (Except, of course, for the fact that studies show that teachers molesting students massively dwarfs the risk of clergy molestation.) Somehow we have decided that if the adult in this transaction has a penis, it's more harmful and traumatic, as if penetration alone constitutes an act of abuse. And we certainly worship at the altar of beauty in this culture; there seems to be a very strong sentiment towards winking and saying, "I wish my hot teacher had been that cool when I was in high school."

Rape is always rape. Abuse is always abuse. Molestation is always molestation. The boys that these women are taking advantage of will be dealing with the effects of this in every interpersonal transaction for the rest of their lives. Innocence, once lost (or in these cases stolen), can not ever be returned. Trust betrayed is often irreparable. There is nothing "cool" or "sexy" about any kind of child rape. Unless, of course, the abuser is a hot woman and you're a TV executive. God, sometimes I just can't believe the unholy bargains we make to get money in this country.

So it's unfortunate for 35-year-old Rachel Holt, the woman in the headline, that she's not more attractive. Entertainment Tonight will not follow her every move, and her name will not become a household word. There's just no way to spin 28 counts of rape unless you've got the face and/or figure of a Playboy centerfold. Maybe that explains why Holt received a 10-year sentence where the average in similar cases is less than two.

In 2005, Angela Comer brought her 14-year-old "boyfriend" to Mexico where she planned to marry him. She also brought her 3-year-old son along for the trip. Her case hasn't yet been decided, so we may have a chance to get this one right. Then again, look at her picture. She just looks so adorable!

Glenn Beck: "Me, PETA, and Global Warming"

I freaking love Glenn Beck. Reprinted with no permission whatsoever.

The Real Story: Me, PETA & Global Warming

Updated March 08, 2007

By now you probably know my stance on global warming. Yes, the Earth's warmed a bit; no, I don't think there's anywhere near enough conclusive evidence to prove Miami will be under 20 feet of water if we all don't start panicking immediately.

I believe that global warming has become more about politics and redistribution of wealth than some altruistic notion of saving the planet and today the Real Story is that the most unlikely of organizations: PETA -- a group that I literally have nothing in common with, has helped make that point even more apparent. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I'm pretty sure PETA isn't a huge fan of this show. I mean, I'd like to eat a nice, pink-in-the-middle filet, stuffed with ham, topped with chicken, while wearing a full leather body suit......for every single meal. But thanks to global warming, PETA and I have finally found some common ground.

In a letter to Al Gore yesterday, PETA nicely explained to him that the single best way for an individual to fight global warming is to become a vegetarian. In fact, according to the United Nations -- an organization that Al Gore is usually quite fond of citing: "raising animals for food generates more greenhouse gases than all the cars and trucks in the world -- combined. That's not from PETA, that's from the U.N.! But it's not just them; university researchers have also determined that switching to a vegan diet has more of an impact on global warming than switching your car from a Camry to a Prius!

Now, Al, I understand that you can't change your carbon footprint easily-- I mean, you have to travel around in a jet to all those panic speeches you give, but what about your meat footprint? If you honestly -- and that's really the key word here, "honestly" -- believe that global warming is THE most important issue the world faces, bigger than terrorism or AIDS or hunger, then why haven't you started eating veggie burgers and drinking soy milk?

PETA's letter to you says it best, "...one good way to hush Rush Limbaugh and his ilk" -- hey, isn't that me? -- is to, "act as a role model in the fight against global warming (and) personally become a vegetarian." Al, I could not agree more with PETA than I do right now. If you want to insulate yourself from criticism, then don't be a hypocrite; live the life you preach!

But this isn't just about Al Gore, it's about all of the people who champion drastic lifestyle changes without leading by example. And since most of them love to use panic and fear as a motivational tool, I thought we'd give 'em a little taste of their own medicine. Click the link over the right called "An Inconvenient Meal" to see our little response.

Here's the link to "An Inconvenient Meal."

Incidentally, you may have noticed that I've added a couple links in the "News, Politics, and Opinion" section. Some good reading for those who oppose the intellecual tyranny of the Global Warming Panic movement.

Goodbye, Abnormal Jean

I can’t help but find the story of Anna Nicole Smith’s death tragic, not so much because of her death as because of the way it framed her life, a kaleidoscope of approval-grasping and self-destruction. Smith wanted to be Marilyn Monroe, and I guess she got what she wanted: money, fame, beauty, sex, scandal, and premature death. There was no way for her life to end other than this, sacrificed on the altar where we worship wealth and celebrity.

In life, Anna Nicole Smith was a walking, talking, giggling and jiggling tabloid headline: Playmate of the Year, gold-digger, trophy wife. Fluctuating weight, unpredictable scandalous behavior, drug abuse. Reality-television train-wreck, and finally grieving mother. In death, she becomes an icon of Warholian celebrity. She has become the poster child for the TV-age American Dream: fame and fortune as a goal, not a result of talent or achievement. Make no mistake, Anna Nicole Smith had no talent whatsoever. Her notoriety was based solely on her ability to remain notorious. Next up: Paris Hilton, whose only contribution to society is her prominence in society's so-called "high" regions.

Most interesting to me has been the wall-to-wall coverage of Smith’s passing by the television media, which has portrayed her in death as some combination of Marilyn Monroe, Mother Theresa and Mary Magdalene. Perhaps this is a post-mortem apology for treating her entire life like a series of punchlines to jokes you wouldn’t tell your mother. It’s all fun and games until someone loses their life.

Now sit back on your couch and watch as we learn nothing whatsoever from her life or her death. As we increasingly celebritize destructive behavior, the behavior has to become more and more destructive in order to titillate. Jerry Springer, Maury Povich, and their ilk will continue to make dysfunction and amorality into disposable entertainment. Ozzy Osbourne’s family gives way to Gene Simmons’, which will give way to Marilyn Manson’s, and eventually, I promise you, Charles Manson’s. American Idol will continue making fifteen-second celebrities out of people with dreams bigger than their talent or self-awareness. And no one will pay any attention whatsoever to what happens to these people when the red light on the camera turns off.

Somewhere in America, some pretty young blond-haired blue-eyed girl is starting today on her dream to become the next Anna Nicole Smith.

Prince's Super Bowl©® Halftime Show

I can't possibly be the only person in America who thinks this image is just as filthy as Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction.

Super Bowl©® XLI Is Here!

This is it! Your destination for useless chat about Super Bowl©® XLI, or Forty-One, whichever you prefer!

Watch the game with a laptop on your, you know, lap and stuff! I'll be at the Creasy party chiming in with whatever nonsense myself and the local partying yokels have to share. Tune in early, open the Comments window, and refresh often.

My Last Crazy Week

Last week was exam week at Henrico High, and having given my exam the previous Friday I had no students. I'm pretty sure the light week at school was the only thing that kept me sane.

Doctor Faustus is coming down the stretch, and it seems like when I wasn't in rehearsal I was doing sound design, shopping for props (My kingdom for a spork!), or gluing giant Mega-Bloks together. Mostly shopping for props. Then on Monday came a wonderful complication.

While waiting around the office for a staff meeting, I got a phone call from Jason Nichols of Brainbox Productions in Silver Spring, Maryland. I had done a little voice-over thing with Jason in October which I had entirely given up on; he needed a voice for a draft of a show for HGTV. There had been a possibility that HGTV would want my voice for the final show, but since it had been three months I had long since given up on it.

But lo and behold, after going through several other voices, HGTV wanted mine. So I drove up to DC on Wednesday night, stayed with Paul and Chris, watched Army of Darkness, Ice Age II, Mythbusters, and Future Weapons over a nice bottle of red wine, and on Thursday morning recorded my first national voice-over gig.

I could get used to being paid $200+ per hour for talking.

Seriously, this was actually a fairly low-paying non-union gig. But I really had a blast, we had a good time in the studio, we knocked it out in half a day, and the people at Brainbox said they're very eager to use me more. (In fact, they submitted my voice in December for a pilot, but nothing came of it.) The show is called RV 2007, and I'll let you all know when it's going to air.

So I drove back from Maryland just in time to avoid the worst of the traffic, and stumbled into the Blue Room to rehearse Doctor Faustus. We had our first full run-throughs on Friday and Saturday, and the show looks delightful. I still need to find a damn spork, but...

Then, this weekend, I played percussion in Keith Tan's band as he played a concert at Bethea Baptist Church way out past Short Pump. Keith's music is just amazing. I want to be in a band with him forever.

Now it's a teacher work day and my work for the semester has actually been done for a week. I'll be strolling into the classroom in about an hour to dot the I's and cross the T's and eat lunch with the other art teachers, and then our second semester begins tomorrow. Doctor Faustus opens Friday, the Super Bowl is Sunday, and Twelfth Night begins rehearsal on Monday.

Breathe, Hamm. Breathe.

"Ask Andrew!"

Welcome back to "Ask Andrew," where I publicize interesting email conversations with my friends. Brad from Seattle writes in:

I read on imdb.com that many right wing Christians hate Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. I don't have a TV. Can you inform of (a) why they would hate it and (b) your opinions.

Thanks,
Brad

Well, Brad,

One of the principal characters of Studio 60 is a left-wing comedy writer who delights in writing sketches that tweak the Evangelical right.

Hating the show because of Matt is the stupidest thing ever. First of all, the writing hardly glorifies his opinions; he is painted as pretty much the most intolerant person on the show. Secondly, his ex-girlfriend and the show's female lead, Harriet, is an Evangelical Christian, and she's the best-written and most multi-dimensional Christian character on TV in years, maybe ever. You want to know what Aaron Sorkin thinks of Christianity? Look at Harriet, not Matt. And look at Sorkin's long history of great respect for religion and people of faith (Jeremy and Isaac from Sports Night, Jed and Abbey Bartlett from The West Wing).

I think the show is just magnificent. It's taking a bit longer than his previous shows to get its feet under itself, and Sorkin foolishly made Matt's anti-Christian stance the main story of the first few episodes, but it's very good. Heck, with Heroes coming on right before it, NBC's Monday night alone is worth having a TV for.

Thanks for writing in, Brad. And everyone should feel free to email questions, both silly and serious. Just "Ask Andrew!"

TV Land Ranks TV Catchphrases

In true VH1 style, TV Land has ranked the top TV Catchphrases of all time, to be counted down over five days beginning December 11.

Phrases notably missing:

"He's dead, Jim."

"Engage."

"I pity the fool!"

It's ironic that "I pity the fool" is missing on a network that airs the show I Pity the Fool.

And of course, being a Firefly fan, I'd vote in "Shiny," but what can you do...

On Michael Richards and the N-word.

This has been the best week ever for Mel Gibson. Finally, he is no longer bigot-of-the moment, vilified in story and song, his every explanation not enough and his every apology not sufficient. That role has fallen to Michael Richards of Seinfeld fame, who shocked America with an expletive-laden tirade against two black hecklers in a comedy club earlier this week. Unfortunately for Richards, the act was caught on tape and has been seen all over the web and television.

I have always thought very highly of Michael Richards as a comic actor, highly enough that I refuse to disrespect him by just calling him "Kramer," as so many commentators have been doing this week. Seriously, I still have VCU students and alumni calling me "Scmendimann," and I did Picasso at the Lapin Agile like three years ago. Can we please have the respect to call actors by their actual names? And anyway, if you're going to pigeonhole Richards by naming him for his greatest role, it's obviously Stanley Spadowski from U.H.F.

If you'll look at my previous posts regarding audience behavior, you might deduce that I'm likely to have some measure of sympathy for Richards in this situation. Audiences, especially modern ones trained on how to behave by years of practice on their living room couches, don't exactly have a history of great respect for live performers, particularly comedians. There seems to be a tacet understanding that your $5 cover and two-drink minimum give you license to act like an ass. By all accounts, Richards' tormentors had something coming to them. Where the controversy erupts is in the question of whether they had F-bombs coming to them, or more specifically, the N-word.

Ah, there it is. "The N-Word." Am I in trouble for just saying that, much less the word itself? I am, after all, white-skinned like Richards. Am I allowed to use the N-word under any circumstances? Can I even say the "N-word"-word without your hackles rising? What I'm finding interesting this week is less Richards' actions and more--you guessed it--the coverage of the story.

In addition to the speculation about Richards' motivation, his possible racism, and his likely-wrecked career, I've heard a lot of discussion about just who is allowed to use the N-word and when. Apparently, you can say it in comedy clubs, and you can say it if you're black. (Richards was in a comedy club, but being white and Jewish, he is apparently not permitted to say it.) According to most people I've heard, being white and saying this word is simply inexcusable under any circumstances. It's a bad word, with hateful connotations and centuries of oppressive history behind it.

Something about that opinion has always rubbed me the wrong way, and recently a few things have happened that solidified it for me. So thank you, Michael Richards, for this instructive lesson in How to Screw Up Publicly and Get Yourself Labeled a Racist. Hopefully, I can discuss this topic without falling into the same swiftly-sinking boat with you.

The Friday after Thanksgiving, I watched a little television. Actually, I watched quite a lot; I have had the stomach flu all week and all I'm good for is sitting. A week later, all the TV news networks are still talking Michael Richards, and showing clips from his comedy club tirade, F- and N-words bleeped out for our sensitive ears. In between episodes of Dirty Jobs and Modern Marvels, I flipped channels.

There, on the USA Network, was some gangsta movie starring Ice Cube, wherein every actor dropped N-words like pronouns. Unbleeped. In the middle of the afternoon. The day after Thanksgiving, with school out and the kids at home. And I wasn't actually watching the movie, I was switching channels; this word came up often enough that every time I made a three-second stop on the channel I heard it. So apparently this word, so horrible that no white person can say it, is perfectly acceptable for midday broadcast on the network that I used to love for the "USA Network Cartoon Express." just as long as a black guy is saying it.

Does no one else see the complete and utter hypocrisy of this? Do you understand, white people who work as news anchors are bleeping this word out on networks designed for the sole purpose of relating the news. White journalists can't report the fact that he said "n#####," but black actors can drop it like unwanted pennies in the middle of the afternoon on basic freaking cable? And the same night, I saw a Biography Channel show about Richard Pryor, praising him as an innovator and a bridge-builder with the N-word gloriously and boldly part of his album titles. At least the narrator, who sounded white, was allowed to say the word.

Is it a bad word? Then stop saying it. Because if it's a word only certain people can use, I can get behind that; I don't want kids dropping F-bombs and calling each other A-holes. That's why we have TV and movie ratings systems. But nothing should be rated B for Black or W for White. If the word is bad, bleep it out. But sure as hell don't broadcast it in the middle of the damn day and say it's okay because a black dude is saying it.

Is it a bad word? Then stop saying it. Why do black people get a pass on this? (Warning: offensive words ahead.) Jews don't greet each other with, "What's up, kike?" Italians don't say "That's my dago right there," and Asians don't say "All my slants in the house say yeah!" All of these racial slurs have similar histories to the N-word. What other group gets to use a word this offensive without anyone questioning it? There's a term that describes "only one race gets to do this thing." The term is "prejudice."

And it's not just the N-word. Apparently we can't even say anything that sounds like the N-word. In rehearsals for Julius Caesar a few months ago, we came upon the lines "And nature must obey necessity; / Which we will niggard with a little rest." "Niggard," which the American Heritage Dictionary defines as "1. n. A stingy, grasping person; a miser. 2. adj. Stingy; miserly.[Middle English nigard, perhaps from nig, stingy person, of Scandinavian origin.]" Shakespeare, in typical fashion, turns it into a verb. Our director, wishing to avoid any problems, chose to change the word to "neglect." I argued the point, mainly just to play devil's advocate, but was overruled.

First of all, "neglect" doesn't mean the same as "niggard." In fact, it isn't even close. Actually, nothing means the same as "niggard;" there are no useful synonyms. Secondly, it's Shakespeare, and I absolutely believe that you don't change a playwright's words because they're too hard for you to work with. Thirdly, "niggard" is quite simply not an offensive word, and frankly if you're offended by a near-homonym, that's your problem, not Shakespeare's or mine. As I argued that day, if we're doing a British sex comedy, do we change the word "knickers?" That sounds just as much like the N-word as "niggard" does. What if, in the same play, a character wants to smoke and asks for a "fag?" That's a pretty offensive word there. Changing "niggard" because of a sound-alike is, to me, surrender to racism. It means the bastards won; they made us change our behavior. Interestingly, our director told us that he has done shows where the black members of the cast refused to change "niggard" to another word. They insisted on saying it. Smart actors.

Clearly, Michael Richards has made a complete fool of himself, whether or not he's actually a racist, and his career is pretty much over. Next stop: The Surreal Life. (Actually, that's a pretty brilliant idea. I bet all the other cast members will call him "Kramer.") But this isn't about Michael Richards any more; in fact, I'm kind of grateful to him for bringing this issue to the fore in my mind.

What concerns me is that it seems like we're much less interested in the use of an offensive word than in the color of the skin of the people who use it, context be damned. Which is the greater crime: Richards' use of the N-word, or his using it without the proper license?

All Things Loud and Stupid

Man, watching NFL games on Fox is just wonderful fodder for blogs every Sunday. Heck, the commercials alone are gold. Here are a few thoughts:

1) This year, Fox is blaring the national feed commercials at least 25% louder than the game broadcast. It's making me wish my radio simulcast wasn't so far out of sync; I can't stand having to turn the volume down every time they take a commercial break. Please, Fox: have mercy on my ears.

2) I am so incredibly sick of the "Iron Man" truck commercials. Aside from the fact that I hate the song "Iron Man" (largely because it has nothing to do with Tony Stark, Iron Man, my favorite comic book character of all time), I really don't need the same commercial every break, sometimes twice.

3) The Nissan Titan Heisman trophy commercial is almost as dumb as the football robot. Aside from the moronic image of buffaloes, cowboys, Trojans, hornets, a tornado, and what I'm assuming is a dump-truck-sized bouncing buckeye assaulting Manhattan streets, the Heisman is an individual award. Show me the individual candidates charging through the streets, not emblems of their teams.

4) Put the emblems of the teams in the National Championship commercial instead of the guys in uniform climbing giant ladders into the sky to reach pointlessly toward a giant crystal football suspended in mid-air. Seriously: almost as dumb as the robot. Very very close.

5) "Army Strong" is an infinitely better slogan than "An Army of One." As my father once said, " 'An Army of One.' To hell with all the other guys."

6) Tony Siragusa is incredibly stupid and may be the single most annoying and worthless sideline reporter of all time.

7) Even if the Redskins get the rest of their team together into contender quality, the secondary is so embarassingly bad that the team stands no chance.

At 1:36 PM, the Fox feed is so messed up that the picture is squashed into the top half of the screen and the bottom half is a bunch of flashing blue/black/white digital static. I know the weather on the East Coast is really bad, but can our technology really not compensate for rain? Ooh, now it's red!

Seriously, I think the flashing screen is giving me a migraine. Maybe I'll just turn on the radio.

At 1:39, it's green.

Whoa, now it's gone entirely.

The Fox NFL Sunday Robot Is a Transformer.

The FOX football robot is a transformer. It turns from an incredibly stupid linebacker-shaped robot into a jumbotron. It's the stupidest thing I've ever seen. As such, it deserves its own theme song.

The Fox robot!
More than meets the Eye!
Football teams wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of
Other football teams!

Please let Optimus Prime show up and kill it.

Feel free to post your own lyrics!

Vote Democratic or the Republicans Will Kill Michael J. Fox

In a season of record lows for political campaigning, manipulation and mud-slinging, we've reached depths this week previously un-dreamt-of. I can't figure out which is my favorite: Michael J. Fox's insinuation that Republicans don't care about disease or the escalating shenanigans in the Webb-Allen race that have Virginia smelling like a fresh pile of manure. Never in my life did I think it would be so transparently easy to defend Rush Limbaugh.

In case you live under a rock in a cave on the Moon, here's a recap: Michael J. Fox, exhibiting extreme side-effects from Parkinson's disease, has appeared in a political ad for Missouri Democrat Claire McCaskill that is making the rounds on YouTube. The core message: Fox shares McCaskill's "hope for cures," as opposed to Republican Jim Talent, who "opposes stem cell research." (Bad Jim Talent! Bad!) According to Fox, that unconscionable bastard Talent even "wanted to criminalize the science that gives us a chance for hope." The ad has inspired international debate, much of it focusing on the fact that Rush Limbaugh had the gall to challenge the facts of the ad as well as the extremity of Fox's apparent symptoms.

Two facts need to be stated right here and now.

One: Limbaugh apologized on-air less than five minutes after suggesting that Fox might be exaggerating his symptoms. (I dare you to find me a news outlet that's reporting that.) He apologized again the next day after Fox clarified that his uncontrollable movements were a result of dyskinesia, a common side-effect of Parkinson's medication. (Try to find that on CNN.com.) He also devoted much of the rest of the week to learning about Parkinson's disease and passing the information on to his listeners.

Two: Fox has admitted in his book and on television with Diane Sawyer that he has, in the past, intentionally over- or under-medicated himself to increase his symptoms for theatrical effect. He most famously did this in 1999 before--surprise surprise--testifying before the U.S. Senate on the subject of embryonic stem cell research. So perhaps Limbaugh needn't have apologized for suggesting that Fox may have done something that he has a track record of actually doing.

This may be the single most repugnant moment in decades of American politics, and it's exactly what Ann Coulter got in so much trouble for attacking a few months ago. The strategy of using ultra-sympathetic figures such as Michael J. Fox, 9/11 widows, and Cindy Sheehan to place a party's issues above criticism is disingenuous at best and diabolical at worst. Hey there, Claire: Are your ideas so bankrupt that you have to trot out a sick celebrity to shill for you? After all, no one gets to tell a vulnerable, sick man that he's wrong; that would be cruel and insensitive. No one gets to accuse Marty McFly of being a liar, right? Only a monstrously evil conservative would do such a thing. This isn't as new as it seems; John Edwards assured voters that if John Kerry was elected President Christopher Reeve would walk again. I wish I was joking.

I love Michael J. Fox. I love his work as an actor; Back to the Future and Family Ties were big parts of my young life. And I greatly respect the progress his foundation has made. But I am completely disgusted by his appearance in this ad, and I can't imagine spending money on his films any time soon.

So let's put the manipulative emotional appeal aside and look at the facts for a minute. First of all, there is no evidence that embryonic stem cell research holds the key to curing Parkinson's or paralysis, only speculation. Secondly, other approaches, such as adult stem cell research, have yielded very promising results. In fact, Fox's foundation has spent $1.9 million pioneering a new gene therapy treatment at a Chicago hospital that may reduce Parkinson's symptoms by as much as 40%. Thirdly, the science that Jim Talent wants to "criminalize" is not stem cell research at all: it's human cloning, which is illegal almost everywhere in the world.

But that's not the message of the ad. The message of the ad is this: Only Democrats care about disease. Only Democrats care about Parkinson's and Alzheimer's and spinal paralysis. Republicans don't care if you get hurt or sick or die. Talent isn't just against hope, he's against even "a chance for hope." Only Democrats offer you hope. A vote for the left is a vote for hope!

"Disingenuous" is too small a word. "Reprehensible" is getting warmer. "Completely and utterly disgusting" is four words, but it will have to do.

Isn't disease something we can all agree that everybody is against? Are we so convinced that the American people are a race of drooling couch potatoes that we don't even TRY to win elections based on the value of our plans and ideas any more? Do we not see that the more we cater to the lowest common denominator in this most crucial of social interactions, the more the bar descends? Television isn't rotting this country's mind away, our duly elected leaders are.

There's another way to look at the real message of this ad: by following the money trail. A wealthy husband and wife have provided 97% of the funds supporting the stem cell research proposal in Missouri. James and Virginia Stowers, both cancer survivors, have contributed $25.5 million to the cause. Their Stowers Institute for Medical Research is a Kansas City non-profit organization seeking to prevent and cure diseases through gene research. An admirable goal. However, it should be noted that the $25.5 million they have spent on this political campaign is $1.5 million more than Great Britain has spent on Parkinson's disease research since 2004. I have to say, using $25.5 million that could have been spent on research grants to get a Constitutional amendment passed sounds far more like a political or financial stake than medical research to me.

This is not about legalizing or criminalizing embryonic stem cell research, which is legal and ongoing. It's about assigning Federal funding to lines of research that private investors won't touch because they would rather put their money in other areas which have shown promise and verifiable results. In other words, the private sector, responsible for almost every significant medical advance of the past century, isn't terribly interested in embryonic stem cell research because they have very little reason to believe it will yield any results.

Capping it all is Fox's insistence this week that he thinks the issue of research funding should be "bipartisan." He said, "You know what? I don't really care about politics." REALLY? Then why are you only coming out making commercials in an election year, and only for Democrats? If you're going to lie to me, Mr. Fox, at least come up with something remotely plausible.

And finally: Here in Virginia, we have the choice of all choices: Vote for Republican George "Macaca" Allen, who may or may not have used the N-word thirty years ago, or Democrat James Webb, who wrote novels including sexually explicit material involving under-aged sex, talented strippers (if you don't already know, you don't want to), and a father placing his son's member in his mouth, as well as suggesting in writing several years ago that women entered the Naval Academy to have easy access to multiple male sex partners.

What shall we do? Vote for the racist or the sexist?

Wait, you mean there's more to the election than that? These guys have stances on actual issues that could affect my life?

You could have fooled me.

Award shows are the anti-art

What is it about an artist's work that makes it superior to another artist's work?

Is it the amount of time and effort a director pours into his project, evidenced by lost weight and grey hair?

Is it the level of research a designer does into a time period and the amount of fine detail?

Is it the complete transformation an actor makes into her role?

Is it critical acclaim, the amount of enthusiasm with which thumbs were raised?

Or is it the bottom line: box-office receipts?

Well, it's Oscar season, and my fellow performing artists are going to be staying up past their bedtimes tonight, giddy with anticipation and wondering which of this year's uber-politically-correct-films-that-most-Americans-didn't-see will win. As for me, I'll be sleeping when Brokeback Mountain wins its big award, or possibly reading old issues of Thunderbolts while listening to Dream Theater.

Why all this vitriol, or at least disinterest? Because artistic award shows offend me as an artist. That's right, I said "offend," a word I don't use very often, but which I throw down here with no hesitation.

Art is not sports. There's no "winner." In fact, it's pretty obnoxious to say someone's art is "better" or "worse" than someone else's at all, much less claiming their work to be "the best." (For the record, Pat's the best.™) Different artists make different choices, they have different agendas, and they have different tools to work with. Is the The Garden of Delights better than the Last Supper? Is Rodin's Burghers of Calais superior to Michaelengelo's David? They're all trying to accomplish different ends through different means, and presuming to deduce which is the "best" is absurd at best and profoundly arrogant at worst. Every artistic endeavor is inherently different from every other one, and there is precious little objective "quality" to be described.

Even if there was an objective standard by which individual art could be defined, it would be impossible to separate performances from their context. Every effective acting performance I've ever seen has been the result of an ensemble of other committed actors, most have been made possible by a sophisticated script, all have been profoundly influenced by a strong director's crafting, and most have been assisted by the environment of setting, costume, and makeup. I'm looking at you, Sean Astin in Return of the King. At least the SAG Awards have a "Best Ensemble" award. Contrarily, how many fine actors (Natalie Portman) have been hung out to dry by directors for whom the acting is a low storytelling priority (George Lucas)? The Golden Globes and Academy Awards seem to think you can take the elements of filmmaking and separate them from each other like a scientist dissecting a dead rat to see what killed it. "And the Oscar for Best Spleen goes to..." Every performing-artistic endeavor is the result of collaboration and environment, and cannot be separated from its context for individual judgment.

This is all, of course, ignoring the biggest problem with the Oscars, and with almost all awards shows: the means by which awards are given. Who are the members of the Academy to be determining whether or not someone's art is successful, much less superior? The film wasn't made for them, it was made for the audience. All art is made for the audience, and only the audience has a right to judge its merits. Did the funny movie make you laugh? Did the tragic movie make you cry? Did the musical make you leave the cinema humming? Did the sci-fi-extravaganza make your kid beg for action figures and playsets? Then it was a success. At least the People's Choice Awards have the right people voting, and use the word "Favorite" on their honors.

The Oscars are unbelievably disingenuous: artists voting on which artists are the best, then charging millions of dollars for corporations to advertise in the middle of this mass-back-patting intellectual superiority festival while hyping it up for millions of audience members to watch. Hey, at least the audience got a little taste of the transaction at the back end there.

This year's Oscars are among the worst in recent memory. Not a single film up for Best Picture of the Year is even sniffing the upper eschelon of box office receipts for the year. Many of this year's nominees only played in large markets, where the most intellectually enlightened urbanites half-filled the art houses where they were screened. Not that this is easy to discover; the studios are very close-vested about releasing the numbers for several of these films. Hollywood doesn't want anyone knowing that Brokeback Mountain isn't the massive commercial crossover hit the Today show makes you think it is.

As a final note, how much money was spent on that dress? How many people could that money have fed today? Can we please take all this Entertainment Tonight / People Magazine attention and put it someplace that actually benefits someone who isn't already a millionaire?

Here are the movies from the past couple years that really moved me, that made me smile and feel warm, that made me cry, that made me angry, that lifted my heart: The Lord of the Rings, Napoleon Dynamite, Amelie, Spider-Man 2, The Road to Perdition, Sin City, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Phantom of the Opera, The New World, Garden State, The Incredibles, Seabiscuit. Of these, my current favorites are probably Amelie, which made me laugh and cry with delight, Spider-Man 2, which was the most moving film I saw in all of 2004, Napoleon Dynamite, which restored my faith in youth, and The Lord of the Rings, which is without a doubt my favorite movie ever.

Yes, I know The Return of the King won 11 Oscars. But I wasn't watching. And I won't be watching this year.