Animation Domination

American Dad and family

Television nut that I am, Sundays from 8 to 9 are normally reserved for "Desperate Housewives". The debut was 9/25 (last night) and great as always. The best scene was a switching of neckties on a cadaver, right during a funeral service. But actually I digress. I'm here to talk about the Fox Sunday night lineup, which I took in during the last three weeks. Made use of a seldom-used bedroom VCR to record the Fox shows. No thanks to Toshiba, for that non-intuitive interface.

The night kicks off with "The Simpsons". This show is a personal favorite of mine -- much has been written about it already. The show is mildly seditious, but its long run (it's been on since 1989) has taken a toll on its quality. Nevermind that now -- its earlier contributions to pop culture (e.g., D'oh, kawabunga, Hi didly-i) will secure it a spot in the cartoon hall of fame. The show that comes on next is "War of the Worlds" (nothing to do with the Tom Cruise movie released earlier this year). It's a live action sitcom centering on a dysfunctional family headed by a politically incorrect dunderhead. He's played by comedian Michael Rapaport. The reviews I saw prior to watching it gave it a failing grade -- describing its humor as crass and juvenile. The Nielsen's tell another story -- it showed up as number 13 against killer competition on its premiere. Parts of it were outloud funny. I think envelope-pushing humor will always get a skeptical harrumph from mainstream critics. Older critics won't get the humor, and younger ones don't want to align with something that doesn't sweetly assuage everyone's feelings. If you want sweet assuaging, go to the WB network.

Next on the schedule is "Family Guy". I watched the first episode of this animated series when it debuted a few years ago. I was in a Simpsons-South Park mind set and couldn't shift gears fast enough mentally to appreciate the over-the-top gags this show offers. It was canceled, brought back by popular demand, and now I've come to love it. It's about an all-American family with maybe a couple of unusual features. The family pet is a dog named Brian; Brian has served in the Peace Corps, taught High School English and offered cogent adult advice to all the family members. The family's infant is named Stewie (voiced by Seth Green). Stewie is incredibly precocious, speaking in a haughty, British accent. He has giant ego and show business ambitions. Unfortunately, his brilliant rants sound like baby talk to the other family members so his genius is hidden. "Family Guy" will break every law of physics, math, propriety, comic timing, and what-have-you to do a gag. Sometimes it can veer toward the gross, but never on the scale of "Ren and Stimpy". The latter show commits the sin of grossing you out without any mitigating laugh. I have to admit that Stewie is my favorite character on "Family Guy". His sarcasm is sublime and almost always on the mark.

Next we have "American Dad", another animated series from the makers of "Family Guy". On initial episodes, critics thought it was too similar to "Family Guy" -- another series about a wacked out family. But on closer inspection, "Dad" has more political humor to mine. The father works for the CIA. The daughter is a strident liberal and the son is a Star Wars nerd. The character that buckles me over with laughter is a live-in alien named Roger who must remain concealed by the family. Roger is sarcastic, witty and a little fey -- OK maybe gay. On this week's episode, Roger is able to go to a Star Wars convention, because people will think he's merely in costume. He's recognized by a man whom he abducted and probed earlier on -- and the ensuing dialog is some of the most maddening, hilarious double-entendre ever done. What "Guy" and "Dad" have in common is an inspired madness, a willingness to do anything for a laugh. Some might compare the tone to "South Park", but "South Park" isn't as nuanced -- not as much character variety from which to mine humor.

Now, I'm mad at Fox. They've complicated Sundays by making me watch one ABC show while making sure to record their comedy fest. Fox's slogan is "Animation Domination". And that it is.

The New Apprentice

Jeff, You're not a fit


I usually hate reality TV, but the debut of Martha Stewart's "Apprentice" drew me in, like a moth to a flame. In the introduction, they give a brief history of Martha's career, including prison time. Did you know that Martha is America's first self-made, female billionaire? Very impressive. I've always admired Martha's pluckiness, and the fact that she never claimed any kind of victim status based on sexism. She simply pushed ahead, stepping over bodies as appropriate. Her empire started as a home kitchen catering business. She asked her husband at the time, a publishing executive, to advance her book "Entertaining". It landed in bookstores right as Reagan-era yuppiedom was taking off, and the book was a hit. The rest is history.

Martha's "Apprentice" is patterned very closely after the Donald's. On yesterday's debut, Team Matchstick took on Team Premius in a contest to see who could author a children's book. Teams had to do the story line, artwork and then read the story to a panel of first grade children. Team Matchstick was domineered by a team lead; think his name was Jeff, but must say I was sorting laundry so may have that detail wrong. Jeff was a bespectacled, bald art geek with strong opinions and little tact. He forced his dark, bastardization of "Hansel and Gretel" on the group. He wouldn't even let Donna, whose stomach was growling, get a banana before a test read. Team Premius pulled together much better, and did a humorous retake of "Jack and the Beanstalk". The children were OK with Gretel, but clearly loved Jack. The publishers gave the nod to Team Premius.

When called to the boardroom, Team Matchstick devolved into nasty sniping, always fun to watch. Jeff, Donna and some Ad exec whose name escapes me were called back to see "who must leave". Martha is way too nice to say, "Ya fired!". Instead, she says either, "You must go" or, "You're not a fit". Somehow, I think I'd rather hear the Donald. Jeff ended up getting his walking papers, and rightly so. A hastily made up team of eight, looking for TV exposure and face time, does not need a tyrannical ass for a team lead. They need someone more photogenic, with a better disposition. I will say, Jeff gets to dish the dirt on all the morning talk shows the next day, so speak kindly of the dead.

In sum, I cannot believe that I sank to the level of watching this show. In my defense, the TV was already tuned to NBC and I was doing household chores. Normally, the TV would serve as background noise. Only when they showed Martha driving to work in her new Suburban was I dumbstruck. She has more money than Croesus, and she still drives a Chevrolet SUV? How genuine, while simultaneously frightening. I love Martha Stewart. Just don't ask me to be an apprentice on her show.

The Artist Within

I'm looking for raw umber


It started when I was in preschool. I wanted to be an artist. There was some type of expressive energy inside of me, and it wanted to come out as a picture, maybe a painting. There was a song in my heart -- it wanted to be sung, maybe played soulfully on a coronet. Problem is and was, I have no talent in those areas. In elementary school, I progressed slowly. People would look curiously at my picture and say, "What's that?" I improved to such an extent that they could make out what I was drawing. More tactful types would offer up tips on things like balance, color and perspective. Others would laugh outright. In about 5th grade, I noticed that one boy next to me could doodle a great picture of a hot rod. Another could doodle pictures of Batman and Superman all in the space of a minute. My doodles were truly doodles. By 8th grade, I had to throw in the towel. I told my art teacher that I wanted to be an artist. Then I noticed, the people next to me in class, crass ruffians with no artistic career goals, could paint better than me. Enough already! I quit! My art teacher liked me and gave me an 'A-' out of sympathy -- maybe the only time I got a sympathy grade like that.

Starting in 6th grade, I joined the school band playing the trumpet. I wowed'em on the 2nd practice because I could play the scale quickly, and also "Mary Had a Little Lamb". Alas, that was the pinnacle of my music career. The band teacher soon saw exactly how much potential I had and gave me "Glow Worm" as my piece to practice on. If one recalls, that's the same song that Lucy Ricardo squawked out on the saxophone on "I Love Lucy". Lucy was trying to be bad, for comedic purposes. My musical grandeur continued two more years thru junior high, where band directors put me in 3rd part (3rd part mind you, not 3rd chair). In that illustrious place, I would get to play a whole note every few minutes. I would endure this insult, while first part trumpeters would be doing staccato virtuosos at the other end of the row. The humiliation I endured. :-) The insult added to injury is that I had to wear a polyester orange & gray band uniform with high-water pants. I finally took the hint at the end of eighth grade, and "lost" my trumpet. My mother wondered where it went, but she didn't look too hard.

Speaking of parents, their loving guidance is what brings us along. Neither of my parents were what you would call patrons of the arts. My father deemed it unmanly (I heard that remark!), and my Mother has a tepid interest at best. "Blame the parents" is only part of my mantra. I realize that my innate lack of ability was there all along -- just nice to get words of encouragement, not raspberries or indifference. To parents everywhere -- if your child brings you a ghastly paint smudge on construction paper, you display it on the fridge with magnets, immediately. You tell him that he's the next Picasso. It won't advance his art career, but it will give your child the "mojo" to try any and everything -- and eventually succeed at something. I still have a set of 24 crayons with colors like "Cornflower Blue" and "Sienna". I'll wax creative now and then, but now I go for the abstract, Jackson Pollock thing. The pictures can be viewed at the Penrose gallery. (I live on Penrose). I still have that song, and I sing. Only now I sing to my cat, with lyrics sometimes altered for a cat audience. The artist lives!

Whitewash

Could it Happen Again?

About a year ago, journalist Annie Jacobsen related a terrifying thing she and her husband experienced on Flight 327 from Detroit to Los Angeles. The story-in-a-nutshell is that 7 Middle Eastern men stood up all at the same time and used the rest room in serial order. This was done just as the plane had cleared for landing and terminal restrooms would've been available in short order. At this point in time, the FBI had already been investigating groups that engaged in "dry runs" to assemble bombs in airplane lavatories. The Office of Homeland Security identified the men as belonging to a Syrian backup band for a singer named Nour Mehana. The Federal Air Marshals Service was extremely perturbed by Ms. Jacobsen's article and sought to quash it. Mind you, they weren't bothered by the events described, but the publishing of the article itself. FAMS said that the band was on the up-and-up and had even followed them to the casino where they were performing. One year later, FAMS admitted on record that they never followed anyone to a casino.

Ms. Jacobsen has a wonderfully tenacious approach, and followed the details like a bloodhound. Several things fell out from her follow-up. A researcher for National Review found out that one of the Nour Mehana's songs was a glorification of suicide bombers. Jacobsen tracked down one of Mehana's promoters and found out that the singer charges 32K per appearance. One of the venue employees estimate that the proceeds from an appearance was 24K -- an 8K loss. Why were Syrian musicians flown in for a money-losing appearance; there are quite a few Syrian musicians already here, looking for work. Other promoters familiar with Mehana had vague and contradictory information on the backup band. Their names and whereabouts were unknown. Jacobsen finally obtained a photo of Mehana and his backup band taken two weeks prior to Flight 327 -- the men shown were not the men on the flight.

As it stands now, Homeland Security and the House Judiciary are one year into investigating the matter with no results thus far. One has to ask -- could 9/11 happen again? Could it happen according to the 9/11 blueprint or something similar? Not only "yes", but "yes" emphatically. To the extent that we don't have a handle, it could be much worse -- a dirty bomb or an atom bomb. At that point, the United States government and all the non-terroristic world would need to confront the full scope of oil politics and pernicious religious fundamentalism. The two don't mix very well. What is the long-term prognosis for the situation? Here I will look into my crystal ball.

First we should have less reliance on Saudi oil. This alone will take financial leverage away from terrorists. It will probably be accomplished by developing alternate forms of energy. Next, what we will have is a "Gaza-fication" of the entire Middle East. Countries that foster or tolerate terrorism will face economic sanctions, blockades, physical isolation and finally physical containment within a walled perimeter -- rather like lions at the zoo. Is that a violation of the Social Contract? It would be if all the players were rational humans. It isn't anything but taming of a beast, when religious zealotry becomes a monster unleashed. What of Ms. Jacobsen's findings? From every sign and signpost, it looks like her articles will have to be at last punctuated with some maniacal demon's dirty bomb.

City on the Brink

Woman with Infant at the Evacuation Staging Area

As New Orleans swelters in 20 feet of water and near chaos, I have to say it is one of my favorite American cities. Not by chance did our Southwest Airlines team choose the Big Easy as our daytrip destination. Even in off seasons, the French Quarter, casino, Audubon Zoo, aquarium and many other sights offer a tantalizing array of activities for every taste. The city is truly an inspiration.

Before talking about the recovery fiasco, I'd like to address a comment by our Speaker of the House, Dennis Hastert, questioning whether New Orleans should even be rebuilt below sea level. With all due respect, several great American cities are in areas of natural vulnerability -- San Francisco, LA and Miami for example. We would not consider letting these slip away. San Francisco was leveled in 1906 and was completely rebuilt. Man is a resilient and engineering creature -- he will master his environment. Much of New Orleans is intact; the French Quarter was barely flooded, Harrah's Casino has minor roof damage and the Audubon Zoo was almost untouched. There is far too much invested emotionally and economically to let it go. Perish the thought, and shame on Mr. Hastert.

There are some things that could have been done prior to the hurricane that would have helped. If the Army Corp of Engineers had received its full funding request for the levee redesign, it would have possibly avoided the flood. That budget was sliced in half by the current administration -- hindsight as they say. Much can be said of the efforts since -- which seem anemic and inadequate to say the least. Let's look at what we have on day 4 of the ongoing tragedy:

STATE/LOCAL - It was probably an overraction to evacuate all these people to other states. The evacuees are mostly poor and without transportation; it's entirely likely that they'll become permanent transplants in their new cities of Houston, Dallas, or Baton Rouge. This will put tremendous job/housing/social service stresses on the acquiring cities. It will also impede the recovery of New Orleans. It would have been better to evacuate the people to adjacent dry ground, in temporary housing and encampments. They could travel to work places as they come back online, and maintain better communication with friends and relatives.

NATIONAL GUARD - We hear that thousands have been dispatched to New Orleans. The city is in anarchy, and nary a guardsman is anywhere to be seen on a TV camera. Where are they -- on the perimeter of the city? Don't they wear uniforms? It seems that an armed, trained militia could bring unruly hurricane victims into line quickly.

FEMA - Here is the saddest spectacle of all. After three full days of thirst, starvation, unsanitary conditions and no medical care, the Superdome inhabitants were seeing nothing -- NOT A THING. A trickling of busses and a couple of hasty, tentative air lifts that brought not nearly enough water. There should be a cornucopia of water, sack lunches, porta-potties, clean clothes, toiletries, nurse care, cots, bedding etc brought to these people. If shots are being fired, those missing Guardsmen mentioned above should be instituting a rigorous order to make sure aide workers are unimpeded.

The entire world is watching the Superdome. It will stand as an everlasting embarrassment to this nation and the Bush administration if this agony is left to drag out longer. Over enough time, the water will evaporate by itself. Over enough time, even an old woman with gout can probably walk across the remaining I-10 bridge, from the Superdome to Baton Rouge. But there won't be enough time ever to dissipate the outrage, anger and social after-effects of such an ill-managed recovery. New Orleans will come back bigger and stronger than before, but not without injury to its working class, and not without a sustained injury to our national sense of well-being.