Hooray USA Day! to save country and politicians.Political leaders of both parties could not agree on cutbacks or tax increases to solve the growing U.S. debt crisis, so they did what they do best– achieved a brilliant compromise.
In a joint press conference, leaders from the Democratic and Republican parties shared the exciting news of Hooray USA Day!, a brilliant new plan designed to raise funds to pay down the country’s debt.
“We recently conducted a $62 billion study to determine how average Americans raise funds when they are in a financial squeeze,” said R. “Bucky” Temptkins, a Republican Senator from Idaho. “What we found was that some people starting cooking meth or engaging in prostitution, which while lucrative, did not sit well with our family values. Other ways they raised monies included yard sales and selling blood.”
“We also looked into how community groups raised funds,” continued Lawrence Moonpie, a West Virginia House Democrat. “We discovered many of these organizations hold bake sales or car washes and that these activities are quite effective at raising needed monies.”
“So,” said Sen. Temptkins proudly, “we came up with an innovative plan to save entitlement programs and tax cuts. It’s something we call…” both politicians beamed proudly as they shouted into the microphones in unison, “Hooray USA Day!”
The men high-fived, curtsied to each other and smiled broadly.
Rep. Moonpie continued, “Hooray USA Day! proves our nation is the greatest in the world because it preserves our precious political capital and raises funds solely with grassroot efforts.”
“The very efforts Tea Party types like and support,” said Sen. Temptkins, “and we only spent $480 million to come up with the catchy name Hooray USA Day!”
“It works like this,” said Rep. Moonpie, “on Saturday, August 20, we will divide our country into three fund raising forces. Those whose last names begin with the letters A through H will participate in a great bake sale, baking their favorite recipes and putting them up for sale to their fellow Americans. Those whose last names begin with I through Q will grab sponges, super chamois towels, buckets, hoses and host car washes in the parking lots of local supermarkets. And those whose last names begin with the letters R through Z will hold yard sales getting rid of all nonessential possessions.”
“Each activity will have a cash box,” continued Sen. Temptkins, “and at the end of the day a fleet of Brinks trucks will pick up the monies and take them to local banks where the funds will be tabulated and forwarded to Washington in order to pay down the debt. In a $610 million study we conducted, it is projected we can raise over $500 trillion with these Hooray USA Day! activities– provided we can get premium prices for our nation’s used Journey CDs, James Patterson books, ratty recliners and ‘Friends’ DVDs.”
Both politicians smiled broadly as Rep. Moonpie issued closing remarks. “We don’t have to cut anything from our budget or raise any taxes. Hooray USA Day! is the Godsend we’ve all been looking for! If it’s as successful as we think it’ll be, we may make it an annual event.”
Some film guru once stated that there are two types of movies: those stories about the human condition (timeless tales), and those that show you something you could never see otherwise (special effects extravaganzas).
Right now, you can see two prime examples of these movie types, each a standout in its particular weight class. For the human condition genre, we have the always scrappy Woody Allen weighing in with one of his best films of the past few decades: Midnight in Paris. And in the opposite corner, representing state of the art heavyweight special effects and 3-D whizbangery, Mr. over-the-top perennial heavyweight Michael Bay and his Transformers: Dark of the Moon.
Both are worth seeing for different reasons. Woody directs humans in a human story.I am a fan of the timeless tale human condition genre, and the simple premise of Midnight in Paris is one with real sticking power. Owen Wilson plays Gil, a successful Hollywood screenwriter who is miserable with his lot in life. He loves Paris, rainy nights and the romantic dream of writing the great novel. He yearns to be like Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Cole Porter and the posse of 1920’s artistic ex-pats who made Paris their home and playground. Gil is engaged to Inez, played by Rachel McAdams, a woman who was born into the finer things of life. Her parents are in Paris to help the couple make their wedding plans. Inez and her folks represent conformity, pragmatism, be-happy-with-what-you’ve-got-and-get-your-head-outta-the-cloudsism. They are the cold boot of reality kicking upside Gil’s silly romantic notions-filled head.
One night, Gil is alone on a contemplative stroll through the Paris streets. A clock strikes midnight, and a 1920’s auto rolls up and stops. The back door opens and Gil sees people in 1920’s dress slurping cocktails and laughing gayly. They invite him to join, and he does.
Off Gil goes to live it up with his heroes: Ernest, F. Scott, Zelda, Cole, Gertrude, Salvador, Pablo and more. He lives magically in his ideal period, the man out of time who finally finds his time. After a wild night, he is back to modern times and his modern life and modern problems. Like a junkie, once he’s had a taste of his pleasure-filled escape, he returns again and again to his midnight strolls that transport him back to his romanticized time.
Along the way, he falls in love– never a good idea for time travelers. And the happy couple have their own physics bending adventure with ironic and illuminating outcomes.
I’ll say no more than this is a charming, magical and lasting movie that uses imagination and the human condition as special effects to make a simple, yet profound point. And Owen Wilson is certainly not the Owen Wilson we saw in Marley & Me. Thank God.
Chalk one up for the Woodman and the human condition timeless tale with a dash of magic thrown in for good measure. This is a terrific film. Michael directs human props in a special effects story.Which brings us to Transformers: Dark of the Moon. But before I get started, let me disclose my prejudices right up front.
1. I’m not a Michael Bay fan. His commercial work was great, his features work overblown.
2. I’m not a fan of big stupid special effects movies. For the most part, the stories are lame and the effects don’t stick in my memory banks.
3. I’m not a big fan of Shia LaBeouf. The guy doesn’t have much gravitas, soul, screen presence. He can act, but he’s like diluted vanilla.
4. Don’t much care for Transformers. This could be a result of having stepped on too many of the damn things when our kids played with them– a time when Transformers littered our house ready to transform from toys into implements of painful death.
5. I think most 3-D movies are gimmicks not worthy of the upcharge for the silly glasses required to view them
All these prejudices aside, I’m glad I saw this film. It was the coolest 3-D movie I’ve ever seen, and Michael Bay has some amazing camerawork. In a weird way, what makes Bay obnoxious in two dimensions makes him pretty spectacular in three. It’s like icing on top of frosting that somehow works for a visual feast worth attending.
The plot? Well, yeah, there’s a plot: an alien spacecraft crashes on the moon, N.A.S.A. alerts the White House and the next thing you know, J.F.K. initiates the space program to get a man on the moon to investigate before the Ruskies do. We all thought the moon mission was for pride, but it was to investigate the crashed alien spacecraft– why must our leaders always deceive us?
Yada blah blah yada and here we are in the present or near future and Autobots are helping our government and evil Decepticons (nasty Transformers who need a good talking to so that they’ll maybe straighten up and fly right!) want to take over our planet and the key to the whole shebang are some special rods that were on that spacecraft that crashed into the moon and well, Yada blah blah yada.
Yeah, there’s a plot and there’s some talented actors trapped in the plot: John Turturro, Frances McDormand, John Malkovich and Dr. McDreamy himself. Shia LeBeouf has him a hot new girlfriend, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, and Michael Bay is more than happy to show us why she’s a star in the Victoria’s Secret catalog. The script does not develop her character any further than commentary from all perspectives that she’s a hottie. It doesn’t really matter, the humans serve only one purpose in this film: give some puny scale against which the mighty Transformers might dominate and intimidate.
And that’s where this film shines. The effects work is stunning. The 3-D shot composition, especially in master shots with tiny humans in foreground and massive Transformer and breathtaking vistas in background are what make this film worth forking over the extra bucks for the glasses.
If you cheap out and see the film in 2-D, be warned– you’ll only be magnifying the silliness of this affair.
The movie clocks in at over two and a half hours. It could have easily lost a half hour or forty-five minutes, but when you’re guorging yourself, what’s some extra cheese?
All in all, this film is worth sitting through for the amusement park adventure of the spectacular destruction of Chicago and some famous landmarks. Don’t expect much more than that, and you’ll enjoy your long, noisy ride.
The tough guy mobster was all weak-kneed for the whipped cream!When notorious Boston mobster and public enemy #1, 81-year old Whitey Bulger was captured last week in Santa Monica where he had been on the lam for 15 years, many were shocked and surprised. But one person was not: Tim Ergskins, the barista working the Starbucks on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica.
“The old dude was a regular,” said the young cappuccino slinger. “Like clockwork, every morning at 8:20, he and his old lady would come strong with the same order: vente triple-shot skinny latte, no foam, and a grande caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream. That old gangsta surely liked him some whipped cream, he did.”
Ergskins, a six year veteran in the caffeine wars, said he was suspicious about Bulger from the beginning. “The guy didn’t talk much, but when he did, he said mobby things like, ‘Do it, punk, or I’ll kill ya, ya dirty rat!’ Or, ‘Why, I oughta give you some concrete shoes and a nice swim in the ocean.’ Or, ‘Wise guy, huh? Howzabout I give you some extra lead in your diet?!’ I mean, it was kind of creepy how aggressive the old coot could get.”
The 27-year old barista shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “I should have known something was up, but Bulger always tipped a crisp $100 bill into the jar. I just figured he appreciated my art. It’s weird.”
Osama bin Laden had unfulfilled wishes before he kicked it.In the stash of info and porn gathered from Osama bin Laden’s crib/compound on May 1, a rare insight into the madman was released today: his official personal bucket list.
In a world exclusive, The Lint Screen is pleased to present it in its entirety. (NOTE: The original list was in the angry kook’s handwriting, which was atrocious, on note paper that had leprechauns riding unicorns beneath vibrant-colored rainbows.)
OSAMA BIN LADEN’S SECRET BUCKET LIST TOP SECRET!!! DON’T READ– THIS MEANS YOU!!!! SERIOUSLY, DON’T READ THIS!
1. To play Nathan Detroit in a Broadway production of “Guys And Dolls” or Tony in “West Side Story.” I know I can nail “Somewhere.”
2. Enroll in DeVry and get that degree in neuroscience or vinyl repair.
3. Eat 24 White Castles.
4. Get some killer porn– something with Debbie Reynolds maybe.
5. Start a new terrorist club: The Carefree Kidz
6. See the Grand Canyon. Blow it up.
7. Get a better driver’s license picture, one that doesn’t make me look so fat.
8. Appear on “Dancing With Stars,” tango like there’s no tomorrow.
9. Guest host for Leno.
10. Direct a feature.
11. Shake hands with Bono, sing “Pride: In The Name of Love.”
12. Defy gravity just once.
13. See Eiffel Tower. Blow it up.
14. Learn some bitchin’ guitar licks, shred like crazy.
15. Cut off this damned beard. Itches like fiberglass insulation with itching powder in it.
16. Find a wounded bird. Step on it.
17. Play the slots at Wynne, catch Garth Brooks, eat a steak and don’t even count calories!!!
18. See all the wonders of the world. Blow them up.
19. Work with Woody Allen or Adam West.
20. What was that noise I just heard? Is there someone in the house? It’s the middle of the night for pete’s sake. Are those soldiers? What are they doing here…
Think of the saddest tearjerker movie you’ve ever seen, now prepare for it to become #2 on the soggy hankie list.
The documentary Inside Job is a must-see film about the financial meltdown that crippled the world thanks to the piggy greed of fat cat pin stripers on Wall Street and in the government.
It's all they can eat, and we'll pick up the tab.When a country allows five financial lobbyists for every politician and $5 billion in annual lobbying funds, what else could we expect but the best politicians money can buy?
There’s plenty of evil bastards to blame: financial firm scumbags, shady politicians in the pockets of lobbyists and academics getting their palms greased to concoct and support the tools for raping the public to benefit the rich.
Inside Job brilliantly shows us how we’ve gotten to the place we are today–– with 1% of the nation’s population controlling 23% of its wealth.
There are heroes in this movie; people who spoke and wrote and questioned the madness that was going on, all to no avail. Reason lost out to greed; the greed of financial firms to gamble, the greed of politicians to allow the rules to change to protect the greedy and the greed of the public to actually believe they could get something for nothing (or next to nothing).
None of it would have been possible had the laws not been changed and had regulation been enforced. But it wasn’t. We let Alan Greenspan and the Wall Street goons lead us down an ideological path to the guillotines.
The fix was in–– the bastards won, our economy almost collapsed and the public bailed out all those responsible.
The saddest part of all is this: nothing’s really changed except that we’ve had our coffers raped. The rich are richer. Too big to fail is now super-sized too big to fail. Politicians are still funded shills for our corporate overlords.
Inside Job lays it all out and you can see many of the worst elements of our society on camera actually trying to support their cases. In the end, we’ve all been played for suckers, and while I’d love to say this is a movie that could never be made again, I’m afraid such is not the case.
As Charles Ferguson, the filmmaker said in his Academy Awards acceptance speech for best documentary, “Not one of these guys is in jail yet.” And the very same people responsible for much of the robbery are still empowered in government, still lobbying, still playing three card monty with bad debt. We can all sleep well knowing the foxes are guarding the hen house.
Cry, America. Cry enough to wring your hankie because your wallet’s already been wrung dry.
I have a new identity, one for serving slabs o’ justice.One day it shows up unannounced, like an obnoxious person you knew from college that you had hoped you’d never see again.
It’s a summons for jury duty; your civic duty for being a counted by the census.
I had served once before, 15 years ago. Here in Gwinnett County, Georgia, jury duty could be as long as a week. Every night I must call to see if I’m required to show up the next day. In my previous experience, I did. It was one long week and the only trial I heard was a fender bender.
I lobbied hard for the death penalty, to no avail.
So here I was again, 8 A.M. Monday. There were over 250 citizens dutifully processed and filed into the large holding room. The officials got us organized into batches of 12. That organization process took three full hours.
I was juror #17 and had the pleasure of being seated in front of two women who chattered on and on throughout the morning. One woman (juror #47) was loud, the other (juror #48) spoke in whispered tones that I couldn’t really hear. Perhaps a neighborhood dog heard her.
Juror #47 is in her early 60s, with black hair. She wore a white cotton pants suit, a blue blouse, tan flats, a blue canvas hat with flowers and tinted prescription glasses.
Juror #48 is about the same age, taller and stouter in brown polyester slacks, a white top, brown flats and a magnificent doo of bright blond hair. What follows are some of the things I heard coming out of juror #47’s active mouth:
“Timothy Geithner got his job in the Obama administration because because his parents were friends with Barack’s mother.”
“Barack was put into power by George Soros, who is his puppet master.”Juror #47 (on left) tells secrets at day's end.“The Democrats don’t want to bring down debt, ever! They just want to tax and hurt small businesses.”
“Soros wants to make the dollar worth ten cents. He wants to topple the U.S. He’s done it to other countries.”
“All this pay to teachers and social security and medicare is a big Ponzi scheme.”
“Glenn Beck predicted the leftist activists would cause troubles in the mideast, and look what happened. Rioting in Greece– something’s going on. The left is sending activists to the middle east. All this trouble going on, then it clicked in my head– Glenn said so, too! They’re trying to keep it a secret, but Glenn was waking people up.”
“A lot of people couldn’t handle what Glenn was saying so they stopped watching him, but it was true. Then Soros put out a contract on Glenn. Glenn knew it and said it. Glenn had such courage!”
“You know, that old show ‘The Twilight Zone’– it predicted a lot of this mess. I miss that show. I wish that guy who hosted it hadn’t smoked himself to death. We could use him today!”
“Obama promised everything to everybody and it’s just deceit. The press protected him, but Glenn Beck told the truth.”
“That Michele Bachmann is amazing. Has her own kids plus 20-some foster kids and she’s in politics– how’s she do it all?!”
“The people advising Obama don’t know what they’re talking about. Herman Cain said he’d pick the right people!”
“No matter who the Republicans put up for president, the dems will dig up dirt on them. That’s what they do.”
“The democrats have made this country a laughingstock.”
“A lot of people in this country have no idea what’s really going on.”
“That’s what I liked about Glenn. He said, ‘Do your own research!’, and I did.”
“George Soros is the puppet master. He wants it left, then pulls it to the center. I’ve watched it over and over again, but now I have insider information. Soros pulls all the strings.”
So it went for a couple hours. I never knew how much I didn’t know.
After three long hours of sitting and playing musical chairs to get assigned numbers and batched in dozens, four groups of 12 were ushered into a courtroom where we faced the judge, an assistant district attorney, a defendant and his two attorneys plus a court reporter who talked into some contraption. The judge was a Georgian with a heavy accent and a propensity to mumble. I didn’t hear much of what he said. Maybe that neighborhood dog did.
The gist of our case involved marijuana. We were asked a series of questions from the prosecutor and defense attorney: “Have you ever smoked marijuana?” “Do you think it should be legalized?” “If you do think it should be legalized, could you follow the judge’s instructions to obey Georgia law that says no amount of marijuana is legal– could you prosecute by the letter of the law?” “Do you know or are you related to any law enforcement officers?” “Do you believe that Rod Serling and Glenn Beck are angels of truth and that George Soros and Barack Obama are devils of destruction?”
O.K., I made that last question up. Sorry.Sign outside the courtroom. I wonder what the long umbrella incident was. Anyone have any guesses?This round of questioning with all 48 potential jurors went on for a good 20 minutes. The first batch of 12 were asked to stay for further questioning while the rest of us got a lunch break.
I believe Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall famously said, “One cannot be judgmental on an empty stomach. Hey, uh, you going to eat the rest of that sandwich, or what?”
After lunch, we reassembled in the big room we’d lived in all morning, then my group of 12 was ushered back to court and into the official juror’s box. Comfy chair, padded with good leaning action. A juror could fall in love here.
Each of us was asked questions by attorneys and the judge. When it came my turn, they confirmed that I had responded marijuana should be legalized. They explained that under Georgia law, any amount of marijuana is considered illegal. Could I follow the judge’s instruction and prosecute on the basis of the law? Good question. I told the truth that while I’d like to believe I could follow the letter of the law, I felt that too much energy, time and money was wasted on these type of cases. There are more important things we should be focused on instead of pot violations. This perspective would naturally have to influence my ability to prosecute to the full extent of the law. There were nods given by questioners, and notes taken.
After a half hour of questioning, we 12 were taken back to the big room to wait another hour while two more batches of potential jurors went through hot box grilling.
Finally, seven hours after my arrival, the 48 potential jurors were brought back to the courtroom and 12 were selected as OFFICIAL jurors to serve on this post trial. I was not selected. Jurors #47 and #48 didn’t make the grade, either.
Perhaps George Soros had them black-balled.
We were dismissed and I left the courtroom. In front of me, Juror #47 found a new friend to tell her political secrets to.
Now, every night this week, I must call in to see if I am required to show up for another round on “Who gets to be a juror?!”
Today, I’m free, but I know so much more than I did yesterday. Justice was served.
