In the Heat of the Night

Yes, They Got this Idea from Me

It is 11:20 PM here on the East Coast of the U.S. and it's probably 85 degrees with high humidity and even sitting with two fans blowing on me, I am sweating like crazy. The Midwest and Northeast have been in the grip of an early heatwave all weekend long. For me, the 'Unofficial Start of Summer' has turned into the Official Start of Misery. of course, living in a valley doesn't help. The humidity just gets trapped, lingering around and making everyone miserable.

Those who know Uncle P well, know that I am a sweater (no, not this, which is referred to as a 'jumper' in the U.K. - who knows why). I am fine if it's just hot; I may glisten a bit or get darkened underarms. But add humidity and I am just a nasty, sweaty mess who may as well be a visual joke in an "Airplane!" movie. It's uncomfortable and embarrassing. People actually stare in horror as water literally pours down my face, soaking my shirts and making me look like some kind of insane, drowned rat. I am actually considering Botox injections in my forehead and scalp to alleviate the problem. 

Of course, to add insult to injury, my main home AC unit refuses to turn on. I don't know if it's the unit itself, or the dedicated 220v outlet (yes, the breaker is on), so I don't know whether to call an HVAC guy or an electrician. So the ridiculous combination of late-May heat and humidity led to a rather inactive holiday weekend. I did go out to breakfast with K, Q and Dale this morning, though I promptly returned home to sit and veg out in front of the boob tube, while three fans worked to keep me as dry as possible. Thank goodness I added premium channels to my cable last week. At least I managed to keep my self entertained. And I know it's genetic. My maternal grandmother could stand naked in a blizzard and still perspire.I have been this way all my life and before you suggest it, I am not diabetic nor do I have any of the other conditions or diseases associated with excessive perspiration. It's just the unluck of the draw...

If the rest of the summer is anything like this past weekend, I'll probably be a dried-out husk by late July, having rendered all by bodily fluids into a disgusting, sweaty puddle long before my birthday. Damn! I really wanted to see The Dark Knight Rises, too. Maybe my friends will be kind enough to prop my mummified corpse in a corner of the theater when they go to see it.

More, anon.
Prospero

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How Did This Happen?

I am not a sports fan, by any means. In fact, I hate football. But this post isn't about football. This post is about pain; betrayal; indifference; criminal behavior and a particularly vile human being.

Yes, Joe Paterno led the winningest college football team of all time for more years than I've been alive. That's something to be proud of, I guess. But at what cost?

When the scandal first broke, many of my friends and co-workers were stunned. I was horrified. You all know the details, I'm sure. Jerry Sandusky, a married man with children and former assistant coach at Penn State, has been accused of molesting boys he mentored as part of the Second Mile Foundation, a charity he founded. Some of these boys were as young as seven years-old!

Sandusky was caught twice; once by a janitor in 2000 and again by Graduate Assistant Mike McQueary in 2002. Neither of them went to the police. The janitor, Jim Calhoun, told a co-worker but feared for his job. McQueary went to Paterno, who in turn reported the incident to his supervisor. NO ONE went to the police and neither of the men tried to intervene, even though they walked in on Sandusky while he was raping a young boy. Yes, you read that correctly. The two men walked in on the acts, but neither tried to stop them. WHAT?!?

There are so many things wrong about this whole mess, I can't even begin to count them. And just as sickening as the abuse, is the cover-up. Why has it taken 11 years for this to come to light? Why was Sandusky allowed access to these children? Why didn't anyone call the police? Jesus wept!

To me, there is nothing worse than the abuse of a child; be it mental, physical, emotional or sexual. As far as I am concerned, Sandusky should be castrated and locked away alone in a dark room for the rest of his life. As for Paterno and the others who have lost their jobs, I don't feel sorry for a single one of them. It's called "silent assent" and by not reporting the abuse to the police immediately, they are just as culpable. 

And of course, homophobic a-holes are using the whole thing to make the point that gay men are pedophiles, which just makes me angrier at Sandusky. The truth is, pedophilia has nothing to do with sexual orientation. Still, creeps like Bryan Brown, Maggie Gallagher and Rick Santorum will use the situation to promote their anti-gay platforms, despite every report which confirms that sexual orientation is never the motivator in such cases.

Everybody loses here. Paterno; the former President of Penn State; McQueary; Penn State students and players; Penn State fans and supporters, and the LGBT community. Of course, those most hurt -- the victims of Sandusky's assaults -- are the ones we should be concentrating on. These poor kids will never trust an authority figure again. And can you blame them? No. Blame Sandusky and everyone else who lied and covered for him. I  have absolutely zero sympathy for those who ruined their own lives by doing nothing to stop a monster from destroying the innocence of so many. In fact, the whole thing makes me sick to my stomach.

OK - another rant over, though I'm sure as more details come to light, I'll be angrier and angrier about the whole thing.

More, anon.

Prospero

You have read this article College / Criminals / Disgusting / Penn State / Ramblings / Sports with the title Disgusting. You can bookmark this page URL https://tammycross.blogspot.com/2011/11/how-did-this-happen.html. Thanks!

A Movie in the Worst of Taste

I was going to talk about this movie earlier this week, but it slipped my mind until I saw another trailer for it today.

In 30 Minutes or Less, Jesse Eisenberg (Zombieland; The Social Network) plays a pizza delivery boy who gets a bomb strapped to his chest by two idiots (Danny McBride and Nick Swardson) who force him to rob a bank. Eisenberg drags buddy Aziz Ansari ("Parks and Recreation") along for the ride. All of this is supposedly played for laughs. 

I say supposedly because the thing is, this happened in real life a few years ago with tragic results.

In August of 2003, pizza deliveryman Brian Douglas Wells was arrested after robbing a bank while wearing a collar bomb, which he claimed he had been forced to wear. After a standoff with police, the bomb went off, killing him. 

It was later learned that Wells, an Erie, PA high-school dropout, was in on the plot but thought the bomb was going to be a fake. When he learned it was real, he tried to back out and after tussling with his accomplices, was in fact forced to go through with the robbery. In 2008, accomplice Kenneth Barnes was sentenced to 45 years in federal prison; in 2010, accomplice Marjorie Diehl-Armstrong was sentenced to life plus 30 years for her role in the robbery/murder.

Why writer Micheal Dilberti, director Ruben Fleischer (Zombieland) and company think this is fodder for a raunchy comedy is beyond me. And worst of all, it just looks awful:

Thankfully, the movie's been getting terrible reviews. It currently stands at a paltry 45% on RottenTomatoes and critic Leonard Maltin says "What can I say about a movie that made me want to take a shower and cleanse myself, afterward?"

Maybe if they had made a serious drama about the true events, they could have had a compelling film on their hands. It all sounded like something out of heist-gone-wrong movie when it was happening. 

Everyone involved in this movie should be ashamed of themselves. This is Hollywood at its worst, exploiting a real-life tragedy for cheap laughs. And anyone who pays to see this movie should be ashamed of themselves, as well. Disgusting and disturbing (gee, Uncle P, how do you really feel?).

More, anon.

Prospero

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Creepy Face Is Creepy

Our old friend Pareidolia is back, with a twisted vengeance. To many people, bugs are creepy enough as it is (though I only really have a problem with houseflies, because they eat feces). Add a creepy, one-eyed, mustachioed cowboy hidden in the folds of their insectoid anatomy, and many folks just lose their sh*t. Like my poor sister did. "I won't sleep for a week," she emailed me in response to my sending her this picture.

The folks at Icanhascheezburger (LOLCats) have an entire blog devoted to this topic, called Happy Chair is Happy. Of course, most of the images there are of inanimate objects, which most rational adults can look at with humor and move on. But when an image such as the one above belongs to a living thing, people tend to freak out a little. Of course, the freak-outs tend to be a little more extreme when the images are perceived to be of a religious or "holy" nature.

I love that so many people can be fooled by these images. We are conditioned from birth to recognize certain things, especially our own mothers' faces. Is it really surprising we should continue to do so throughout the rest of our lives? But knowing the difference between reality and coincidence is what separates the fools from the rationalists. Am I saying that there is a difference between the guy who sees Jesus on a toasted English muffin and the guy who admits that the random pattern of toaster marks might resemble the face of Jesus (as if anyone who didn't live 2011 years ago in Jerusalem would know the difference, anyway)? Yes. Yes, I am.

And while it may be fun and exciting to see Mother Teresa's face in the folds of a cinnamon bun, it's no more important (or miraculous) than recognizing Godzilla in a cloud off the coast of New England or a cowboy on the shoulder of a grasshopper.

More, anon.

Prospero

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The Most Disgusting Thing You'll See This Week

I know I blogged briefly about this movie before, but now that its release seems eminent, I thought I should give it its own post.

The Human Centipede may well be the one Horror movie that your Uncle P just cannot see. Why? Well... its the whole 'Feces Factor.'

The plot apparently concerns a mad German scientist (is there any other kind?) who wants to connect people's mouths to other people's anuses. Why? I have no idea. The whole conceit is so repulsive to me, I can hardly believe I'm posting about it.

Dutch Writer/Director Tom Six has made only a handful of films, most of which sound as equally repulsive. And the film's international cast seems to have no problem with the movie's theme, or the face-to-ass performances it required of them (which makes Uncle P question their sanity). Honestly, I cannot imagine a more repulsive film (and that's counting the infamous "Two Girls, One Cup" video). Nor can I imagine the amount of money that it would take for me to accept a role in this movie. Ugh!

Released by IFC Films (which automatically loses points in my personal "Respectability" list), The Human Centipede will likely be Direct-to-DVD. Honestly, I hope no one in his or her right mind will buy or rent this vile exercise in depravity. So why am I posting about it? Simply to warn you, Dear Readers, from watching it. Just thinking about it makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Yuck! Really? This movie got funding? From whom? Whomever it may be, I never hope to meet them. Though if I should, I'll be sure to smack them, hard.

I had hoped to have a review of Clash of the Titans for you tonight, but an exhausting weekend of Spring Cleaning and long-overdue kitchen painting kept me from my favorite multiplex. I will hopefully see it one night this coming week. Though, based on what other movie bloggers have had to say, I may want to wait until it is available On Demand.

More, anon.

Prospero

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