When A Good Idea Becomes A Great Idea

I write this Blog as a way for me to do two things which I enjoy: exercise my God-given right to freedom of expression and write. This Blog is not a myriad of passing, scatterbrained thoughts swimming through my brain like a dog chasing cars, which I then sporadically post at my whimsy. They are well drawn, thought out, and delivered articles.

Some of them are crazy things happening in the World, which I like to highlight because they get swept under the carpet to more important issues like who's dating Jennifer Aniston. Others are things I think about which build up until I have to write it down. All of them are tempered with humor and wit.

When I started this Blog, I did something that many would say is a bad idea--I turned the comments off. Although some would definitely spin that fact into me not being able to handle the heat, the truth is actually a lot simpler.

I have avoided partaking in the more popular aspects of the internet for a long time. I didn't blog when blogging was the new big thing. I didn't join Myspace until it was already yesterday's news, then I realized how useless it was and I dumped it. I don't have a Facebook page, and I'm still trying to figure out why I should care about Twitter.

When I came to the realization that I wanted to write, and that no one in their right mind would ever let me write articles in a newspaper, I decided blogging was for me. When I started going through my thought process and planning my Blog, I made two major decisions:

The first decision, was that I would remain anonymous as long as I could. I don't need death threats or general pathetic drama because I'm expressing myself on the internet. I'm not afraid of the quote "Cyberbullies", I just don't have that kind of time. I suppose it's kind of ridiculous and doesn't matter, but whatever. It gave me the option to not post my real name, and I took it.

The second decision, was that I would turn off the comments. My posts are genuine articles. The subject matter is my opinion. When they're posted, that is the final word. When you read an article in the newspaper, you don't get to write your opinion of their opinion down on a blank spot underneath the article and then redistribute it for everyone to read. You get to write a letter to the columnist and tell him what a twit he is. This is why my e-mail address is in the top right corner of this blog.

I don't know who made this picture, but trust me, I give them full credit.

I have been on the internet since its inception. If there's one thing I know about, it's how easy it is for someone to hijack a blog, post forum, or any website which allows for posted comments.

Do I value your opinion? If you write me an e-mail, whether in agreement or disagreement, maintaining civility and restraint (no expletives), then the answer is yes. If you give me a garbled, incoherent, expletive-laden brain-flush, then the answer is no.

If required, I have all the time in the World to reply to your mail. However, I do not have time to get into a big internet drama where I get 4200 comments to one of my post and then spend the next week rebutting every comment. I don't have that kind of time or energy; I have another article to write and post.

Some people would consider this to be the coward's way out. I consider this to be the subject of this article.

Young Nathan and a few others have a blog called St. Eutychus. Nathan decided to post a blog entry entitled "Five things that would make atheists seem nicer". PZ Myers didn't like Nathan's post and decided to make his own blog entry "Advice for atheists?", and that's when the circus came to town.

Approximately two hundred comments from angry Atheists flaming Nathan ensued. This is my rough estimate, because some of the two hundred and twenty-two comments made were rebuttals from Nathan. Due to the influx in both comments and traffic, the blog was killed for nine hours until Nathan and his fellow bloggers could find a new host.

There are moments when we think we have good ideas. Then events happen which make us realize those good ideas were actually great ideas. As I'm standing in that moment, I would like to impart some wisdom to someone who is not.

Dear Nathan,

1. Turn the comments off.
2. Next time, and we all know there will be a next time, entitle your blog entry: Five things that would make me care what an Atheist thinks.

Then leave the entry blank.

The Director, The Dictator, & The Direct Democracy

Besides being a melting pot for not only its multicultural society but also some of the finest chocolate in the World, Switzerland is possibly best known for its staunch neutrality. For years, it has maintained this neutrality, but as time has gone by, piece at a time, their neutrality is waning.

All of this asks the question, without the neutrality Switzerland is famous for, what appeal will Switzerland hold? Sure there's Swiss Army Knives, Swatches, and Toblerone, but in all honesty, people like Switzerland because of Swiss Bank Accounts and it's a place to escape to with a certain amount of anonymity.

Recently, Switzerland has been the subject of much ado in the press when Filmmaker Roman Polanski was detained in Switzerland this weekend while attending the Zurich Film Festival. Officially invited by the Swiss government to attend, Mr. Polanski was greeted by a less than hospitable welcome as he arrived in the nation's largest city.

Roman Polanski's arrest in Zurich at the weekend has caused headlines around the world and anger among many.

But legally, Switzerland's extradition agreement with the United States is clear.

The US had issued an international arrest warrant for Mr Polanski. US officials apparently pointed out that the film director would be on Swiss soil on Saturday, and asked the Swiss authorities to detain him.

Switzerland's Justice Minister Eveline Widmer-Schlumpf did not hesitate.

"We have an agreement with the US to apprehend those wanted for offences," she said.

"When we knew Mr Polanski was here and the US asked us to act, it was our duty to do so."

The arrest has caused an enormous backlash and garnered fierce criticism and outrage around the World, but in particular amongst the Swiss citizens.

Many Swiss - especially those who turned up at Zurich's film festival expecting to see Mr Polanski receive a lifetime achievement award - feel the police action ordered by the government was clumsy, even cruel.

"How the Swiss can invite him to an official event to receive an award, and then arrest him, I can't understand it," said one visitor. "It's ludicrous, ridiculous."

"I think it is shameful, bothering an old man like that," said another. "I am ashamed to be Swiss."

Swiss political parties on the left and the right have their doubts too.

"For me this arrest is impossible to understand," said Ueli Leuenberger of the Green Party. "He was an honoured guest in our country."

On the Swiss political front, there is much anger from both sides considering this a political ploy and is being criticized as "Switzerland's eagerness to carry out US instructions."

"It's ridiculous and just shows what happens when we try to serve foreign masters," said Mr. Toni Brunner of the Swiss People's Party.

Notwithstanding all of the criticism and disapproval, the Swiss government is still sticking to its guns on the issue stating:

"What we are talking about is the statutory rape of a 13-year-old girl, one of the most serious crimes there is," said Christophe Darbellay of the Christian Democrats.

"I think Mr Polanski should be extradited to the United States as soon as possible."

It is very clear expeditious extradition will not be the case. In mere minutes of Mr. Polanski being detained this has already become a highly politicized international incident. The US has sixty days to serve its extradition request at which time not only can Mr. Polanski appeal it in the Swiss courts, but so can France and even Switzerland itself.

It is not clear whether the critics of this arrest condone the actions of Mr. Polanski or merely despise the deeper ramifications this action holds on the international reputation and intranational fundamentals of Switzerland.

It is suspected that Mr. Polanski's lawyer will request bail due to the length of time it will take for the Swiss courts to come to a final decision in the matter; however, given Mr. Polanski's prior history of fleeing, it is questionable whether or not it will be granted.

The All New MacGyver Snacks, direct from Switzerland.

Interestingly enough, Mr. Polanski's woes occurred three days after Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi addressed the U.N. General Assembly in New York City. In his address, he criticized the United Nations for being unfair to small nations. Even more interesting, a few weeks prior to his address, the Libyan dictator submitted a proposal to the U.N. to abolish Switzerland and divide it up into three parts, giving them back to France, Germany, and Italy respectively.

Gaddafi, who randomly gives improv performances as a fruitcake, has a new found angst towards the vanilla nation after Gadaffi's son Hannibal and his wife were arrested in Switzerland for alledgedly beating two servants at their hotel. He immediately retaliated by closing all Swiss interests in Libya and withrawing more than five billion dollars from Swiss bank accounts.

Public outrage grew from chocolate-covered pistachio lovers everywhere, then they realized pistachios come from Iran, and grew unanimously silent from the subsequent embarrassment.

Although the motion was thrown out because it violates the U.N. Charter, which states that no member country can threaten the existence of another, some Swiss leaders are still concerned that Libya could use its yearlong presidency of the U.N. General Assembly, which began on Sept. 15, to keep up Gaddafi's vitriolic attacks on their country.

It's hard not to chalk all of this up to an increasing feeling of a great negative change which is saturating life and the World as we know it. It's hard not to ask, what kind of World are we living in when you can't even trust Switzerland to be neutral anymore? Quintessentially, everything does change. In general, change is random, but as time moves forward it increasingly is not for the better.

Though this seems to be, in a way, marking an end of an era, one has to question the common sense of such a policy change. With a World which seems to be gearing up for the next World War on a day-to-day basis, is it really a wise decision for Switzerland to give up its neutrality?

It's Only a Movie! - Part 3

Invoking fear is definitely a task which is easier to talk about than perform. Fear comes in all shapes and sizes. There are over 600 documented phobias, including Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia, or fear of the number 666. Try saying that ten times really fast.

Although there are many ways to go about this, I tend to lean towards the Less is More doctrine. One of the classic cases of this, is the movie Jaws. It's one of the scarier movies ever made, and it's all because Spielberg couldn't get the mechanical shark to work. Spielberg even admits that if he showed the shark as much as he wanted, it wouldn't have been as intense when Brody finally saw the shark. The scene where Roy Scheider first sees the shark, which is the first time the audience sees the shark, is one of the most memorable moments in movie history.

The one fear that is inherent in every human being, is the fear of the unknown. We all fear what we don't know or what we can't see. In a movie, once you show the monster, you've basically let the cat out of the bag, and it's just a weird looking tabby at that point. It also becomes increasingly difficult to maintain an element of suspense and fear once the audience has seen the monster. Once again, to reference Jaws, the shark shows up at about the end of the second act.

Introducing the evil to your audience is a matter which goes back to that prenuptial agreement you made with your audience. You don't build the audience up and then introduce them to a midget in a red jogging suit wielding a smoked herring. Even if he can chop down a tree with it, or bring about the Zombie Apocalypse, you've broken the contract.

I've always theorized that you could make a successful Horror Film where you never actually showed the monster. Of course, no one in Hollywood would ever have the guts to try it. Even in a movie like The Entity, you still had the four-cheese ending where they froze the demon so the audience could see the unseeable before the movie ended. At the end of the day, there's always going to be that movie executive who wants to see the monster.

He's right behind me, isn't he?

Possibly the biggest problems with the entire horror genre, is that it's become a cliché infested laundry sack. For some reason, when a filmmaker gets on-board a Horror Film, he feels the need to pay homage to every Horror Film he's ever seen. A director, who couldn't even make a battered wife's tale of triumph for the Lifetime Movie Network, all of a sudden becomes a walking, talking encyclopedia of Horror Film knowledge, and doesn't pass up a single chance to inject a cliché into a scene.

One of the worst clichés, which has probably been used more than the Wilhelm Scream, is the Kitty Cat Double Jump. They hear a noise in the house, slowly creep around to investigate it without making a noise, and the cat pops out and scares them (Jump 1). Oh, it's just the cat...then they calm down, turn around, and the killer shows up (Jump 2). It's been used to death.

I always wanted to see it go another way. They see the cat, turn around, then you see the cat's head grow ginormous, and then he opens his mouth and devours them. That would definitely teach them not to write off the cute little cat. Eh, you're just a stupid little cat, I'm not afraid of you--CHOMP!!! (If any Horror Filmmakers out there are interested, that idea is on sale this month for only $4,999.)

Today's filmmakers need to stop cannibalizing and get their own ideas. They need to get creative and actually earn their paychecks. I don't want to see the same thing I've seen a thousand times. I don't care about your inside jokes, clichés, or homages which you hold so dear because you think it makes you clever. If I cared, I'd go see one of the movies you're ripping off, because in most cases, it was infinitely better than the tub of lard you just belched out in front of me and called a movie.

Hey, Kid, you want to see a magic trick? No thank you.

I don't want to be barraged with mind-blowing visual and sound effects at the expense of absolutely no character development or reason for me to care about the movie. Anyone can come up with a visually stunning way for someone to die, but it takes real talent to use it to kill a character in your movie and make me care. More than ever, I'm sick of Barbie-esque teens running around screaming, while large men with butcher's knives who don't know how to die stalk them. But--Hey, it sells tickets.

It's Only a Movie! - Part 2

To create suspense and a suspenseful environment, you have to hold your audience by the hand. The most important thing to remember, is you're leading them to the thrills. You're not rushing them to it on a forklift and then smashing them into the wall. There's a rhyme and meter to suspense, which leads them where you want to take them, then it skips a beat, and then you're there.

Today's Horror Films tend to go two ways on this. They either speed through it to get to the payoff, because after all, they did spend millions of dollars and hundreds of manhours making the special effects, who cares about all of that character development and suspense hokum?, or they over-exacerbate the suspense to the point where the payoff could never make up for the anguish you just had to endure getting there. I call the latter The De Palma Syndrome.

The most important factor to suspense and the subsequent fear that follows is character development. The audience has to actually care about the people in the movie. They have to feel something about them--good or bad. They also have to be able to connect with them. If the characters are completely unlikeable, where's the horror? You don't care if they live, and in all actuality, you want to see them die.

But Ashley is a 16-year-old teenager who never hurt a fly, and the big man with the butcher's knife is going to kill her... Who cares!?

When the audience cares about the characters and connects with them, they begin to put themselves in their shoes. They begin to think, what if that were me? What would I do in this situation? That's when you have them where you want them. That's when you can scare them. This has been the number one downfall of practically every Horror Film for at least the last fifteen years.

In case you were wondering, this is a Director.

Notice, he's not holding a turkey.

The thing filmmakers need to realize, is they're magicians. They're making illusions, doing sleight of hand, and every other trick in the book. They have to treat their audience just like a master magician would. The audience is not stupid, you're going to have to work your rear off to pull the wool over their eyes, and don't forget--never let them see the wires.

No one would know who Houdini, Blackstone, or Copperfield were if they made even a fourth of the mistakes most filmmakers do, and filmmakers have the luxury of multiple takes and editing. As many people as there are who go over a film through its creation process, it's completely unforgivable to botch it up as bad as your average Horror Film.

There was no greater director in the history of film than Alfred Hitchcock, and his success was completely based off him always staying at least one step ahead of the audience and understanding the value of suspense. To quote Hitchcock, "There is no terror in a bang, only the anticipation of it."

It's not how they die, it's how bad the audience defecated themselves before they died. Today's Directors would do well to take this advice and realize suspense is greater than blood-splattering gore. It's also cheaper.

It's Only a Movie! - Part 1

In order to make a working Horror Film, your audience must suspend their belief. Suspension of belief is the primary element of any film, but in the Horror genre, it's an imperative. This is something which is not only lost on today's filmmakers, it seems to be completely beyond their grasp.

Today's Horror Movies are nothing more than fluff, and most of them border on pornography. It's eighty to ninety minutes of who-ever-heard-of-them teen actors running around screaming while the killer stalks them, so he can kill them in the next really cool way the writer or director thought up from watching a billion other lousy slasher flicks.

Why is the killer killing them? Because he's crazy. If you're looking for something psychologically deeper than that, there's always Transformers 2 next door. After all, we all know that is what you do when you are crazy. You don't smear peanut butter all over your naked body and go streaking through the mall; you relentlessly kill new and uninteresting teenagers in new and uninteresting ways, because it's what you gotta do!

Oh, and sometimes...ssshh come over here. Okay, now don't tell anyone...sometimes, other people are in on it with you. I know Dude, true story.

I saw Prom Night the other day--the remake. I'm going to try and keep this as brief as possible, because I generally don't aim for people to fall asleep in the middle of my articles. I also want to preface this by telling you that at about twenty-five to thirty minutes in, Countdown with Keith Olbermann actually looked like a viable viewing alternative.

Cutting over bits that would make this movie actually seem interesting, the basic idea is a teacher, who is crazy and obsessed with a student, kills her family and almost kills her. Fast-forward to whatever randomly decided upon time increment later--usually six months or three years. She's living with her Aunt and Uncle in a new place where no one seems to know about her past issues. It's Prom Night. As she's getting prepped and heading to the Prom, the psycho teacher breaks out of the loony bin and makes his way to the Prom.

The Prom is in a swanky hotel, the dance is held in one of the auditoriums, and if you haven't already guessed, he starts killing everyone. Here's the problem with this movie: The Killer. Okay, so that's far from the only problem, but it's the one I've narrowed down.

Since when does being crazy make you a Ninja Master? I really wish someone could explain this to me. Political Pundits said racism was the elephant in the room no one was talking about. I say the idea that just being crazy and having the urge to kill makes you James Bond meets Jack the Ripper is trumpeting like the brass section down at the Copacabana over in the corner, and we need to take it down and sell its tusks on the Black Market to bankroll a real movie.

If anybody asks, I'm not here...hic!

There are three key elements to making a working Horror Movie. For the purposes of this Blog, I will give you four:

1. Suspension of belief.
2. Suspense.
3. Fear.
4. $$$$ CHA-CHING $$$$ (aka Profit)

When you make a Horror Film, ninety-five percent of the elements which make up the story exist in the realm of fantastical. When you make the film, you are making a pact with your audience--a prenuptial agreement. You are saying:

If you, The Audience, do solemnly promise to accept the fact that Robot Zombie Ninjas, which will hereafter be refered to as Ninzombots, could indeed exist in all of the badassitudinosity we are about to display, I, The Director, do solemnly promise not to deliver you Wank Handerson, the gun-dropping Hero who expends over 2,000 bullets and only hits 3 Ninzombots, yet dodges every projectile sent in his direction minus the one that grazes his leg just because it looks cool to kill Ninzombots with a limp. I additionally promise not to forget exactly what the message or plot of my movie was at approximately 15 minutes before the end, making you feel like a complete sucker.

It is very rare that the subject matter of a Horror Film produces suspension of belief from the audience without asking, and usually asking very nicely with buttered popcorn on top. It is at that point, however, when you can actually start to get down to business.

The business of a Horror Film is to scare and frighten the audience. Once they've accepted the demons you've created, then you can get to the fun part.

Sticky Fingers and The Sultan of Swat...Sort of

It was the summer of 1989 when two kids met for the first time out on the baseball field in New Sharon, ME. I remember the first time I saw Brett Andrew Griswold, he was the spitting image of Bart Simpson and just as mischievous. Although I was a little bigger than Brett, we were both bigger than most eleven-year-olds--a fact that made us both popular and beneficial to the team.

We became friends from the first time we talked. We had many things in common. We had both had health problems when we were younger. I had suffered from Asthma, and he had issues with a congenital heart condition. Because of this, we had both been frail and hadn't ever been very physically active.

I'm not sure what the driving force for either of us was to play baseball, but we both had a want and a need to play. We had both tried out for the local Little League team and had been rejected. They were a bunch of elitist jackasses and told us both we would never make it. Neither of us were much into being told no, especially from a smug Dairy Farmer who thought he was a baseball coach, so we didn't give up and tried out for the Farm League.

That was where we met, out on the baseball diamond. Brett made Pitcher and I made Second Base. As I said before, I'm not sure what drove us to play baseball to begin with, but after about the fourth week of practice, we both saw the movie Major League and the rest is history.

This guy's the out you've been waiting your whole life for.

Brett was a very sweet kid and had a big heart, but he also had a temper. One of the funnier stories of our childhood friendship was how I got my first BB Gun. I got twenty-five dollars from my dad and bought it from Brett's mother. He had shot a neighbor kid who he didn't like after they got into an argument, so his parents had taken it away from him. They were afraid he would just do something like that again, so if I hadn't have bought it, they would have thrown it away.

It was due to one of his fits of temper that our friendship became cemented. During one of the early scrimmages in the season, he got into a fight with one of the kids from the opposing team and the Umpire over a call on a pitch, and after a few expletives, he was benched for three games.

He was not only our best pitcher, he was basically our only pitcher, so the coach asked for volunteers to replace him for the three games. Being a good friend, I volunteered. If Brett couldn't pitch, at least he could rest easy knowing someone who wasn't going to try and steal his position was substituting for him.

It turns out that not only was I good at it, I had the best fastball in the league. My first game, I pitched a perfect game. Not exactly what we had planned, but I still didn't take his position. I remained on Second Base and only pitched as an alternate.

We were a new team in the league, and we were waiting for it to come down from the powers-that-were as to what our team's name would be. I'm not sure if it was a cosmic joke or some kind of crazy fate, but we were designated The Indians. We wore that mantle with pride and made it stand for something. Between Brett's Rollie Fingers pitching and my Babe Ruth hitting, we brought the team to victory for the two seasons we played.

As for our moment of glory, the first scrimmage of our second season was against the Little League team that shot us down--The Yankees. We beat the pants off of them, and then rubbed it in. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I don't know about that, but it's pretty damned tasty.

Around the beginning of 1992, my parents had decided they wanted to visit Israel. Family friends had moved there some months earlier and the father's boss called my father to offer him a job. It was an opportunity of a lifetime that neither of my parents wanted to turn down, so they went for it.

Brett and my relationship was somewhat strained for the rest of the time we had together. We were more than friends, we were brothers, and we were about to be separated. Neither of us officially knew how long it would be, or if we'd ever see each other again, but in our hearts, we both knew it was the end. We even tried to get his mother to let him come with us, but she understandably said no.

In August, we said our goodbyes and that was that. I wrote him a few times, but in the end it was too painful, so I just stopped writing. There hasn't been a day of my life I didn't think about him. A few years back, I searched Myspace and saw that he had a page. He looked happy and like he was doing okay.

I thought about re-establishing a connection with him, but in the end I thought it would be best to just leave things the way they were, with all the good memories intact. Last night I found out my friend, Brett Andrew Griswold, died on April 17th, 2008. He died of natural causes, due to his congenital heart condition. He was 29.

His mother, Ellen, died three days ago. I'm still not sure, but I think if I had it to do over again, I can't say that I would have been any better at staying in touch with him, but I think I would have at least sent him an e-mail when I found him a few years ago.

He was my best and only friend in my childhood, and he will be missed.

A Penny for Your Thoughts

Article 1 Article 2

I've heard of getting blood from a turnip, but this is nuts:

MIAMI (Reuters) - A Florida woman was sentenced on Monday to a year and a day in prison for keeping her dead mother's body in a bedroom for years while collecting more than $230,000 in pension benefits, prosecutors said.

Penelope Sharon Jordan, 61, of Sebastian, Florida, pleaded guilty to theft of government funds in June, the U.S. Attorney's Office in Miami said.

I can't even begin to imagine what has to be going through your mind to do something like this. To say that it's heinous is the understatement of the Century. The worst part is, I know someone is out there right now saying, "I'm sure she had her reasons..." Let the cringing begin.

Jordan told the court she concealed her mother's death in order to continue collecting her Social Security and military pension benefits. Over a six-year period she received $61,415 in Social Security payments and $176,461 from the military pension.

She was ordered to repay $237,876 to the government.

I can haz phat lewtz?

Because at the end of the day, that's what it's all about. Let's forget all about this woman's greedy, ghoulish acts for money, who cares? The government is going to get their money back! After all, we're sending the rest of Society a message. If you hide your mother's dead body in your spare bedroom and collect her pension for more than six years, all you'll have to do is one year and one day in prison and pay the money back.

I'm sure by the time Penny gets out she'll be able to declare bankruptcy and not have to pay back a dime, if they don't just auction off her house. Either way, the punishment definitely does not fit the crime. It just seems to me like we would want to put more value on human life and on dignity in death.