2011 — 3 May: Tuesday
It was cool enough at 04:30 this morning for my heating system to stir into life. But, at a more civilised hour, it's nice and somewhat sunny. Speaking of "civilised", I was skimming around this Interweb malarkey and landed on this little lump of (welcome) rationality.1 Source and snippet:
See, here's the thing. When faced with horrors in our past — our personal history, or our human history — non-believers don't have any need to defend them.
When non-believers look at a human history full of genocide, infanticide, slavery, forced marriage, etc. etc. etc., we're entirely free to say, "Damn. That was terrible.
That was some seriously screwed-up shit we did. We were wrong to do that. Let's not ever do that again."
But for people who believe in a holy book, it's not that simple. When faced with horrors in their religion's history — horrors that their holy book defends, and
even praises — believers have to do one of two things. They have to either a) cherry-pick the bits they like and ignore the bits they don't; or b) come up with
contorted rationalizations for why the most blatant, grotesque, black-and-white evil really isn't all that bad.
Nothing new, I agree, but worth repeating. Though, in my opinion, believers don't actually feel obliged to do any such thing. They are happy if they just simply carry on believing.2 As for the turning of a previous pope into a saint... well, just don't get me started. Not before breakfast. And not without something stronger than decaff.
I feel in need of another picture of Christa :-)
That's better! This shot dates back to 1976, in Old Windsor.
Critical appraisal
Here's a nice piece looking back at Pauline Kael's "reign". Who she? Well, I stole the title of one of her collections to use on a mug for Christa, if you need a clue. Source and snippet:
The knottiest problem for mainstream film critics regards the preponderance of trash that they have to treat seriously, or at least entertainingly — what can you
say about Michael Bay adventures and Adam Sandler comedies week after week? Today's most quick-witted reviewer, The New Yorker's Anthony Lane, has never really resolved
the dilemma. He seems to write in two completely different registers, depending on whether the film is a noisy Angelina Jolie shoot-'em-up (in which a fundamental
disregard is implied by the vamping plot summaries and Catskill lounge humor) or a small-budget French pastoral drama (in which a fundamental respect is conveyed by
subdued backgrounding and delicate scene analysis).
But Kael wrote with the same spontaneity and intelligence about popular entertainment as about the films of Renoir and Antonioni. The key was that her criticism
continued to flow from the experience of viewing the film — if it made her feel good, then it was good.
I note, on re-reading my diary entry with the "mug shot", I still have yet to receive the refund for the amount I was overcharged for my (Saturday) driving test. Do I look surprised?
I got back from...
... my short pre-lunch expotition into Soton just in time to snag a couple of DVDs from Mr Postie and whisk one of them — unopened — over to Brian to help him complete his Michelle Pfeiffer collection.3 That left me with the documentary about the world's largest garbage dump:
I then grabbed a bite to eat, saddled up the Yaris, and dashed up to the care-home both with the next chocolate ration and to point out that the new direct debit was for about 10% of the correct total for the month. Getting back just a few minutes ago, I've now finally been able to unpack and scan the three interesting-looking books I'd found in town (though, naturally, I'd forgotten to take my Waterstone's "points card" with me so I must try to remember not to destroy my receipt before my next visit):
- Personal Copy
If Ray Gosling is merely half as amiable in print as he showed himself to be on a couple of BBC4 documentaries in the last couple of years I shall be well-pleased - The Hunting of the Snark
This will nicely complement both my 1976 Folio Society edition (illustrated by Quentin Blake) and the 1967 Penguin version I have that's very eruditely annotated by the late Martin Gardner. Artist Mahendra Singh says he had fun "fitting Lewis Carroll into a proto-Surrealist straitjacket with matching Dada cufflinks". Cool - Depresso
I only ever bought one previous book by "Brick", back in my ever-so-slightly more radical mid-1980s when, quite frankly, the mad world we inhabit seemed to enjoy its MAD games of nuclear brinksmanship
I think I've earned my next cuppa and a spot of "feet up" time. It's 17:25 and delightfully sunny. [Pause] Snark remains as mad and maddening as ever.
So long, and thanks for all the rockets...
He may have missed out on a "Hugo" nomination for the first time since 1979, but David Langford's ever-reliable "Ansible" this month brings:
A 'Sci-Fi and Fantasy Friendly Church Service' near Melbourne, encouraging fans to come in costume and hear moral lessons drawn from The Lord of the Rings,
Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Star Wars, was frowned on by a rival pastor: "I don't have a problem with people enjoying
sci-fi, but church isn't the place to encourage escapism and fancy dress," Mentone Baptist minister Murray Campbell said.
(Herald Sun, Australia, 6 April)
Time for an evening meal, methinks. I'm starving, as usual.
Every time I...
... re-watch "Into the Night" (and I've just finished doing so, yet again) I think to myself: this time, I'll spot every cameo performance. But I still haven't figured out which 'Federal Agent' is played by Jonathan Demme near the end. John Landis also filmed an accompanying BB King documentary that's very enjoyable. But why is the sound (film and documentary) only monophonic?