Last night Jim and Jeanene had all the kids over for a Folts Christmas dinner and to open presents - Sydney came down with Daniel, and of course Sean and Monika, Steven and Tanja were all there as well. It was fun to have the whole family there, and dinner was delicious!

Christmas 2007

The whole family (all 6 of us) spent Christmas eve together in Oregon at the Eastburn/Folts homestead, where we feasted on Mom's corn casserole (an ever-growing popular dish around this time of the year) and I tried a new recipe for nut loaf that turned out to look like a loaf of something, just nothing edible. Here's some pics of the family in action. It was a glutonous night and santa brought some fun presents, especially treasured were a book on Haku Maki (one of my favorite Japanese artists - see my blog below on LACMA) and a pretty diamond Seiko watch (what can I say, I like shinny, pretty things and this one has a purpose too!) Steven gave me a ticket for a free flight, and since he didn't specify how far we could go, I think I'll ask him to take us to Hawaii...

So During my time on Dancing with the Stars, one of our episodes starred the great Richard Simmons. I just love him - he's ham wrapped up in cheese tied with a shiny bow. Anyway, here's a clip from the shoot:

I'm suffering from a huge bout of guilt - I meant to write more of a journal of our trip to France last August, and now of course so much time has passed, it's already November, and I only put up one posting. Lame! So I'm kicking myself for not posting more of the pictures for family and friends to see. So in a half-assed attempt to rectify the situation, here's some more from the trip. Most of these pictures are from when we took the kids crabbing in Kersaint. Anthony is shown with little jelly crabbing shoes and in the corner of the photo you can see the purple crab bucket they were given, along with a crabbing net - so cute! It's hard to tell from the picture, but he caught a little crab. We practiced the catch and release system, as what do you do with an inch long crab anyway? Not exactly a meal.








We took them down to the beach while the tide was out, and I shot some pics of the marooned boats - it's amazing how far out the tide went, we were able to walk quite a distance from the beach. Some of the boats were tipped at dangerous looking angles, but we were told it causes them no real damage.

LACMA

I had a day off today, one of the last I suppose till December. So to celebrate, I went to LACMA and visited the Japanese exhibit. The Pavilion there houses the museum's collection of Japanese works dating from around 3000 b.c. to the twentieth century. The exhibit has a lot of Buddhist and Shinto related art, plus ceramics and kimono/textile work.

One of my favorite things about the exhibit was the museum's print collection, traditional woodblock prints from the Edo period (1615-1868), the late 18th and 19th centuries and also more recent artwork including post modern pieces. There I discovered this amazing post-modern Japanese artist by the name of Haku Maki. My favorite print of his is this one - I just love it. AND I found it online for only $325.00 and man, wouldn't it look great in my apartment? There's something so simple and evocative about it. It's really hard for me to say exactly why I like it so much.

It's also interesting how in Japanese art, calligraphy is so intrinsically wrapped up in imagery. The Japanese had (have?) a profound love of poetry and incorporated so much of it in their artwork. Gotta love them for that. These ideograms incorporate a duality of meaning in both the use of language to enhance the visual metaphors and the artistic interpretation of form to enhance the language. A great example of mixed media.

Can anybody identify the following two artists/pictures?

Okay, like an idiot, I took pictures of my two favorite paintings from the Louvre but forgot to also take pictures of the name/artist. So...anybody have a clue who painted these?

New Job

Ah, the BBC. Lovely. I started my new gig three weeks ago and so far it's been a crazy, whirlwind experience.

And I'm exhausted.

Starting this job was like getting thrown in the ocean to learn how to swim. I suppose my head will pop up sometime in December and I’ll wonder where the three months went and where I am, exactly.

I was driving to work the other day along Fairfax and wondered whose life I’d taken over. Somehow the move to LA, new apartment, new job, none of it felt like I was in the right life…or movie – It felt more like “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” and I’m cast as Pod Person #497. Anyway, thanks to my work schedule, I haven’t had much time to linger on the disassociation I was feeling.

Los Angeles, for it’s part, welcomed me back the way it always does – without so much as a “hello, how are you”.

And the most enjoyable thing about my new job is I get to prove myself all over again. I’m getting the chance to establish just what a wonderfully funny, witty and humble person I am. God, that is so tiring. Seriously, I feel like I’ve started high school and everyone’s been together in all their classes since eighth grade and I’m the new, geeky kid who doesn’t have any friends. No, no – I mean to sit by myself at this lunch table munching on my PBJ while you guys drive off campus in your convertible to go grab hamburgers.

Sigh. At least the other kids are nice.

By the way, the two pics are Joe and Victoria. We share an office with Katy, Dancing with the Stars ultimate Story Producer. The other picture is of our bungalow aka star wagon aka double wide trailer. I think I might miss this place when I'm gone. Particularly, I'll miss Joe's one-sided conversations with his wife, the Co-EP of the show. They bicker like any married couple but what we hear is only Joe's side...sometimes I find the conversations so amusing, especially when all I hear is "We're going to be ready to show you a cut at noon. Can you bring me a bagel and cream cheese?" They crack me up.

Kersaint via Port Sall via Brest

No internet connection. Two weeks, no internet connection. No phone calls, no emails, no work, no schedule. Just crepes, Cidre and sunshine. Oh la la. France is beautiful and I got to drive a Twingo at 100 km/hr. Above is a picture of Anthony, asleep on the TGV from Paris Gare Montparnasse on the way to Brest (a 4 hour ride at 186 miles an hour) They (the Mulays) arrived earlier that day and were exhausted. It was a long trip and if we ever make it back here, we're going to fly directly to Brest, which not only has a train station, but apparently an airport as well. Duh. Glad we were on top of that minor detail - could have saved ourselves like 10 hours of traveling, grumble, grumble, grumble.

Anyway, Genevieve picked us up along with her friend Laurence, a nice woman whose job as a "nose" is to sniff fragrances in Paris and who happens to live in a castle during major holidays. This is a picture of the last remaining tower on their property in Kersaint, built in the 1100s. No one lives in this particular tower (of course) but I'm including some photos of their home, which was a converted farm stable located within on castle grounds. Geesh, some people have tough, tough lives. The other picture is of Eric walking in front of some of the homes on their property. The land has been in the family for generations, with the parents living in one building, the son and his family, and the daughter and her family in another. Their main residences are all in Paris but they travel out here, to this town, every holiday. Almost all of the homes around this town are owned by families who live elsewhere during the rest of the year...families who have been coming here for generations and know each other. It's remarkable. On Laurence's property they have a pigeonnière, a large cistern that holds hundreds of pigeonholes and was once also the house of a hermit who lived there in the 1800s. There's a building next door that is solely for baking bread, and the beams in the house are remnants from the castle with dragons carved back in the 12th century framing the master suite. The story of the castle includes a legend of a local prince who returned from the crusades to learn from his step-mother of his sister's improper and immodest behavior during his absence. He was so enraged, that he immediately pulled out his sword and cut off her head in the castle's main courtyard, without even asking for an explanation from his sister, with whom he had always been very close. As her body lay twitching on the ground, the brother realized that his step-mother had been trying to stir up trouble and had succeeded and the prince was so overcome with guilt, he renounced his thrown and gave his life to the church. He was made a saint for all the work he did for the poor. Of course, that didn't bring his sister back to life. Sucked to be her.

I see Paris, I see France...

Somewhere between LA and Paris I lost my new necklace that my mother gave me on my last birthday and I’m angry at myself even though I can't help a broken clasp. That's how I'll start out the journal of my trip. It's all uphill from here.

The trip over was quite comfortable; I had a whole row to myself and spread out to sleep after watching BLADES OF GLORY, which was cute, especially after a nice, big glass of wine. Did you know that US Airways - otherwise known as "the one airline I will forever more avoid" doesn’t serve free drinks on international flights anymore? I can't believe it, all that money and they can't fork out for a couple lousy drinks? Just confirms my suspicion that "duty free" booze doesn't necessarily mean "cheap" booze, because if it did, the "one airline I will forever more avoid" would be able to buy a girl a drink.
Anyway.
I met a nice woman who conversed with me partly in French, partly in English…and mostly in arm waving. I arrived in Paris at about 8am, and found my way from the airport on the RER to the Chalet les Halles stop and transferred to the metro without much problem. In the metro, I got stuck in the turnstile, which has these tiny plastic doors that open when you insert your ticket, but mine closed on my backpack and I was wedged like a turtle unable to move either forward or backwards. After muttering a loud “fuck” but before having time to do anything about my predicament, the door magically opened, releasing me. I felt like an idiot. Stupid, stupid American. Anyway, I got off at the right stop, had some trouble finding my hotel but the room was clean and quiet. Just fine pour moi. I was wide awake, and should have stayed that way but I was just exhausted and the thought of having to speak French was stressing me out (why, who the fuck knows.) So I took a nap, and didn’t wake up till 5 pm. To refresh myself, I took a shower in the toilet (oh, wait, it wasn’t in the toilet, just so close I could have used it as a stool) and then I walked down and took a peek at the Eiffel tower and it’s swarm of tourists (how did Tom ever propose to Kat in that mass human ant hill under the tower? He loves that schmit I guess. Anyway, I walked down the Champs d’elysee a little and poked my head into Adias, Roxy and Zara…sheesh, it was like being at home except “home” was costing me 1.80 dollars to the euro. I did walk by some couture shops where I thought, this is what they were thinking about when they came up with the term Haute Couture. Beautiful. Anyway, I never did eat dinner, couldn’t stand having to try to butcher the French language trying to order. So all in all, I haven’t eaten since last night. I have a feeling though that starting tomorrow, I’ll make up for all that by scarfing down tons of food over the next two weeks.
...Which indeed, is exactly what happened.

Update to Spirited Away Post

By the way, I watched another Hayao Miyazaki film, the 1986 anime film Laputa: Castle in the Sky and I just have to say, it was really a disappointment after Spirited Away. This film was not half as good, nor half as engaging. Mostly, my problem with this film revolved around the underdeveloped and stereotypical main characters, Sheeta and Panzu. I really didn't care what happened to them, and it seems as if Miyazaki didn't care much either. Perhaps in this film, more than Spirited Away, Miyazaki's focus remained on the theme, so that his character were only backdrop.

The Young Visiters or Mr. Salteena's Plan

I watched a quirky little BBC film today, The Young Visiters (sic), or Mr. Salteena's Plan staring one of my favorite British actors Hugh Laurie. The great cast also included Jim Broadbent, Lyndsey Marshal (of HBO's Rome) and Bill Nighy - who needs no introduction. Filmed in 2003, this story comes to us via a novella written by a nine year old girl, Daisy Ashford, who wrote the story in just twelve days in 1890. Though the plot is indeed slightly naive (as someone once criticized F. Scott Fritzgerald's novel "This Side of Paradise" as being a "classic in a class with The Young Visiters.") What is not simple is the character development, plot structure and strangest of all (for a nine year old) the complexities and nuances of the romantic love-triangle. I was astounded to think that a child would be capable of creating a rich protagonist who, thwarted by his circumstances and class, manages to find love in such a (dare I say) fatalist way. At nine, Daisy Ashford understood the needs and wants of these well-developed characters in a way that lesser works by many professional writers do, and that, quite frankly, shocked me. I was really impressed by this piece, and something about it sort of tugs at me...hm. I'll have to give it a little more thought...all in all, definitely worth watching. I highly recommend it.

Spirited Away

Once in awhile a movie comes along that instantly draws you so deeply into another world that you just don't want it to end. Where every shot, every frame, is a surprise. Where you marvel at how someone could come up with such a complete universe where you never want to leave...

My friend watched "Spirited Away" and then she called me and said in a reverent tone, "you really have to watch this. I'm going to save the netflix DVD until you can see it." I don't care for japanime, so two weeks went by before I finally got around to watching it. But from the moment the film started, the house could have burned down around me and I would not have stopped this movie.

The story is about a ten year-old girl named Chihiro, who is traveling through the countryside with her parents on the way to their new home. Taking a shortcut, they get lost in the forest and ends up at a hillside tunnel. The parents decide to go exploring, but end up in a strange, deserted village. Chihiro is separated from her parents and left alone to discover that the world in which she now finds herself trapped is the spirit world. "Spirited Away" is about her journey home. Along the way, she meets a panapoly of fantastical creatures, must work as a slave in a bath house and battle the unknown evils of the spirit world - all the while struggling to retain the memory of her former life, her parents and her name, which she needs if she is ever to escape.



I can't recommend this film highly enough. There is more inventive genius wrapped up in this film that I can't wait to watch it again, knowing there will be plenty of new discoveries awaiting me.

Japanese Design

Simpsons

I'm a huge Simpsons fan. It's pretty much the one constant in my life, where I turn to learn all of life's lessons. I don't honestly know how I'll live once the show is canceled. FOX, for all your evil right-winged journalistic ways, I am grateful for this show.

And with fifteen years worth of material and counting, I'm pretty sure that even if some imbecilic FOX executive decides to euthanize the greatest creation TV has ever birthed, the Simpsons will continue to live forever in reruns, so that I can count of having it around in my life forever. But honestly, why tempt fate - there's no need to find out, cause I'll keep watching! So Matt Groenig, if you're reading this, let's work as a team and keep the Simpsons alive! I'll keep watching, I'll make kids watch it, my friends, everybody I know, just don't stop making the Simpsons. EVER. Ever....E V E R. Please!

What the rant? Uh...I guess it's because they're coming out with a Simpsons movie and that usually spells TV series death. Luckily Fox has bought another couple of seasons' worth - 18 and 19 I believe, which gives me some breathing room before I have to seriously start worrying again. Perhaps by then I'll have grown out of my need for the Simpsons. Perhaps...but I highly doubt it.

The Power of Green

check out this NY Times article.

John Turturro has acted in over 70 movies in his career, making a huge impression in some memorable films with the roles he's played by the Cohen brothers: Barton Fink, The Big Lebowski, O Brother Where Art Thou?, various Spike Lee films, The Luzhin Defense, and Quiz Show among others.

Mr. Turturro has that illusive trait common only among great actors. He always plays distinctively autonomous characters yet retains a powerful essence that marks each of them. There is a consistency to his ability to embody vulnerability and openness in a way that allows us as viewers to gain revelation and insight into the mind and actions of the person he's portraying. There is always a richness behind his movements.

Of course what I like best about watching him in films is that he knows how to pick good roles. That means when his name is on the cover of the DVD, I know most likely I'll enjoy the film itself. He likes complex characters, and it's obvious that he populates their world with even more nuances, making it a rich exeperience for me to watch him in action. Turturro is a part of my filmic litmus test for weeding through the millions of films available to screen.

If you haven't seen Barton Fink lately, rent it - it's worth watching again.

Chanteuse

It's Friday and it's a Nina Simone kind of night. I still regret missing her Seattle concert in 1998 - I often hit myself over the head for that serious lapse in judgement and obvious brain fart. Now I'll never get to see her expressive face in person - the legend behind that soulful voice - as she pelts out bittersweet songs that ride human passion between their tremolo notes and make you glad to be alive. Sigh.

There's a great quote from Nina, "Jazz is a white term used to define Black people. My music is Black Classical Music". Whether jazz or black classical music or something else, for me her music transcends definition - it's soulful, passionate, and timeless. I hear stories in her voice beyond the words - layers of emotion like colors that weave through the notes. When I listen to her sing it's like listening to that inner voice, the part of my conscience primordially connected to my soul, like hitting the note whose vibration makes glass hum.



I have two favorite Nina songs - one of them is Mississippi Goddamn and the other is Ne Me Quitte Pas, a cover of the Jacques Brel song.

300 reasons why you shouldn't feel bad about skipping the film 300

Or at least my opinion why you shouldn't bother.

My full review of this can be found on blogcritics.org:

Zack Snyder's adaptation of Frank Miller's graphic novel about the Battle of Thermopylae is a real snoozer. Let's talk about the cinematography first. Everyone seems to have good things to say about the look of this film. My opinion is whatever hype you've heard about the stylistic phantasmagoria of 300 is seriously overrated. First off, the desaturated, high contrast, high speed film stock look has been around forever (films like LORD OF THE RINGS, MATRIX and GLADIATOR come to mind, but really they were talking about it being an established style when I started film school in 2000). So what made this film so unique? The whole film had a enclosed cheesy set sort of feeling to it, and even when they were outside defending the Hot Gates and facing the massive Persian army, I kept wondering if somewhere out there, Captain Kirk was waiting to get his Star Trek set back.

And for those of you who really liked the oracle scene with the girl swimming in the air. I'll concede that it was a nifty effect. My only problem with it was the pained look on her face. She was obviously holding her breath (they shot her underwater) but she was trying hard to appear as though she wasn't. She could have used some lessons from Miss Tyra Banks - from that episode of America's Next Top Model when the challenge was underwater photography. Even I found myself prefering to watch her boobies than her eyes popping out of her head like a drowning squirrel.
And when Zach slowed down the action to show the full effect of the fighting, I know he was going for something special, but I don't think he achieved his desired results. Cause he slowed them down to such an extent that I wanted to kick the projector to get it going again. It was like listening to a scratched record that just keeps repeating. repeating. repeating.

And what was with all the bad guys being black or having fake-and-bake tans, while all the Greeks were so white, and many of them had Scottish or English accents. That was kind of rude. And last time I checked, Most Greek guys are hairy. These guys were smoother than a babies butt. I mean, is Zack trying to reach the twenty-something gay demographic or what??!!? Speaking of what he's trying to accomplish, there's a great article in the Toronto Star by Ephraim Lytle, assistant professor of Hellenistic history at the University of Toronto, called Sparta? No. This is Madness. He talks about the gross historical inaccuracies of the film, if you're interested. Remember folks, Titanic did well at the box office too and it was a huge piece of shite. So no matter what a movie grosses, just because a bunch of us wasted our money on it doesn't make it good.

Perhaps, we'll need to look more in depth at the story because it just oozes political rhetoric. The only problem is, the story isn't deep enough to analyze. So the only thing I'm going to say about the theme is I had a severe headache from getting pounded over the head with the message that 'we're in a fight for Western Civilization here folks'. Gee, when every other word they yell is "free" or "freedom", when Queen Gorgo tells us "freedom isn't free" (there's a funny reference to this line in a review in the NY Times by A.O. Scott where he says "Another movie — Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s “Team America,” whose wooden puppets were more compelling actors than most of the cast of “300” — calculated the cost at $1.05.")

But by far, the worst thing about this movie, was the gay Mr. Clean. Sorry, but all of you Rodrigo Santoro fans out there get ready for a shocker - he kind of sucked in this movie. He had more make up on than a two-dollar whore, and whoever applied the gold rings to his face did such a fabulous job that you could see the clear demarcation between the fake bronzer and the fake skin itself. Yuck!

And when Xerxes puts his hands on King Leonidas' shoulders, everyone in the audience laughed. It was moronic. I got so bored by this movie that I started to count the Star Wars rip offs: there's Jabba the Hut. And those guys in the masks sound like Darth Vadar. That little guy on the top of the hill looks like Yoda. But it seemed like Zach was throwing in a little bit of everything, cause even Frodo was there.

As the credits rolled, I turned to my friend and said "300 was brought to you this evening by the US Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines" and that's exactly how it felt - a poorly made propaganda film. Stupid, stupid, stupid. By the end, I was half expecting the national anthem, so I held my hand over my heart, just in case.

God Bless America.

There are things I know I know, things I know I don't know, and things I don't even know I don't know....

But the worst is there are things I don't even know that I've forgotten...

And that's where Amazon comes to the rescue.

We love Amazon for a number of reasons: like other sites, it offers many sellers under one roof so you can comparison shop (though I dislike the additional shipping charges which really add up). and let's not forget their customer feedback, which is so pervasive, that even when I'm purchasing from other sites these days, I cross-check Amazon for reviews. And last but not least, if you like a particular book or CD, there's the section entitled "Customers who bought this item also bought..." which has, over the years, revealed a labyrinth of musical discovery, though I have a sneaky suspicion everything leads back to Coldplay, but that's another story.

But the best thing about Amazon is by far one of its least used features: the wish list. Sure, you can stick a book or two in there and your family and friends can find an easy gift, but I've found a better purpose. Whether or not Amazon intended it, it's become an extremely handy cache to offset my increasingly lazy memory.

For example: one list is entitled "Newbies". It includes bands I've just discovered that sound pretty good, but I don't them like enough to want to commit to buying an entire CD. On the other hand, I don't want to forget them either if they came to town, or maybe they'll come out with something else that I'll like enough to buy, so I keep them there.

Then I also have a list called "Fluff" - which is filled with all of the crap novels I'd like to pick up at second-hand stores, borrow from the library or buy at the airport to read when I'm on the road working.

Lastly, I need a list for all the books I encounter in my day to day life that capture my attention for one reason or another. This list is the most important...I can't live without it! Do you know how long I've lived on this planet wishing I could just remember the name of that book I read about by that guy...oh, what was his name - you know the one - the one with the guy who has that amazing thing happen to him, and, you know! Yeah. It sucks! So now, whenever I read something and I think I might want to read it or I need to remember it, I just pop over to amazon, and throw the book in my wish list.

And if it's there, I can relax, knowing that someone else is storing part of my memory for me. Currently that list is over seven pages long and growing.

And for movies....I do the same thing - but with Netflix. It's the part of my brain that stores all the hundreds of movies I want to watch. Currently there are only 448 films in my queue, but I haven't been keeping up with it lately. It's about time to refresh my list.

So here's a tip for today. If you've got a bad memory like me, and you read a lot or you like lists - try utilizing Amazon and Netflix. And when you try to find the name of that author who wrote that book about the juggling monkey - and you remember his name, you'll have me to thank!

There is one secret though - you have to have enough short term memory to store the name of the book till you can go to Amazon's site, put the book into the search box, and then add it to your wish list! Good luck!

"Remember, there are always other fish in the sea. Not as pretty, nor as rich, but fish nonetheless." - Ancient Cookie Wisdom

Every once in awhile I get totally obsessed with baked goods. Don't ask me what causes it, I don't know. But this week, the objects of my desire definitely seems to be the fortune cookie. Partially it's because I keep getting dragged to the Dragon Buffet during lunch where I've been o.d.ing on them lately, but it's also because they're really yummy with tea (which I drink a lot of) and they're really simple in design... but I think the main reason is I often find myself thinking that my sage waitress is watching me during lunch while I eat to ascertain my true nature and then she quickly writes up a personalized message and sticks it into the fortune cookie just for me. Like this one:

Among the lucky, you are the chosen one

I mean, that's creepy, isn't it?!?

Though sometimes I get a snooty one, and I really don't appreciate the tone:

Do not let ambitions overshadow small success

Small success? Listen, sweetie cakes, you don't know who you're talking to. Nobody puts Baby in the corner, nobody.

Am I the only nutter out there who can't stop thinking about CFCs? I hope not. I'm going to have to do a little more research and find some blogs that specialize in this particular fetish. Oh, and don't forget to click on the oracle below who will enlighten you with your fortune for the day.

Here's one good site you can check out about the history of fortune cookies, and of course, as always, the best place to start for all facts is wiki. Who would have thought that the CFC was invented in California? No wonder I like them so much!

Dark Days

Watched a good documentary this weekend - Dark Days (2000) by Marc Singer. It's a film about the mole people (homeless heroin addicts) who live in the tunnels underneath New York city and their lives underground: how they build homes for themselves, and the simple acts that give them power over their lives and also emphasize the universal need we all share for a sense of home.

As we shift through the dark space of their world that is at once claustrophobic and cavernous, we see the mundane rituals of ordinary life play out: cooking, raising pets, cleaning, showering. The men (and one woman) of this film speak of a life lived autonomous from societal intervention. One senses that the filmmaker, and more adamantly the homeless themselves, are trying to convince us that here in the subterranean garbage disposal of life, their needs are being met by the trash of the world that is chewed up and spit out. In the film, these leftovers become a metaphor for the people themselves - as they revel in finding a treasure of discarded donuts left in a trash bin or show their opportunistic nature by collecting cans for cash to buy heroin. So our waste turns into their livelihood. We see them cook cornbread as they settle down for the night in front of their TV, radio or space heater. "We're not homeless," one man tells us, "homeless is when you don't have a home." But then his friend corrects him. "Nah, you're still homeless. You just ain't helpless." But as the film progresses, we start to perceive something in the darkness, something invisible around the edges that keeps them buried underground; it's their addiction to drugs, and the memories of past lives that are fraught with anguish and suffering. They are lost souls - shadow people moving through an ethereal, timeless landscape. I won't tell you anything else about the film, so in case you haven't seen it yourself, I won't be spoiling it for you.

One note though, I didn't love the ending - but I forgive Mr. Singer who, after all, had never made a movie before, and lived underground for years while shooting this documentary and used the homeless people around him as his film crew. I can't blame him for needing this ending, nor am I sure I would have chosen differently. See what you think.

To read more about Marc Singers experience while making his movie check out Austin Chronicle article with director Marc Singer.

Scambaiters

he wanted this............................he got this

btw, I wasted the better part of the day today catching up on Mike Berry's site 419 Eater. The first time I happened across it was a couple of years ago after reading an article about the Powerbook Prank, a hilarious account of an eBay scammer who got his comeuppance. (see pic above) Click here for the article. It made me feel slightly better about all of those thousands of annoying emails I get every year from spammers. Oooh, I just hate these guys!

Here are two that were in my inbox this morning. The first one, Tina, is all business. She/he doesn't even bother to fill in my name - instead she/he leaves it "Dear," - I mean, where's the love "Tina"?

FROM TINA JAME.
LOME TOGO WEST AFRICA.

DEAR,

MY NAME IS TINA JAME. THE ONLY DAUGHTER OF LATE MR AND MRS KOFFI JAME, PLEASE AND PLEASE DO NOT BE EMBARASED,I AM SEEKING YOUR ATTENTION TO HELP ME TRANSFER THE SUM OF ($4.5,000,000,00 US DOLLARS) FOUR MILLION FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND UNITED STATE AMERICAN DOLLARS. IN YOUR ACCOUNT PLEASE IT IS MORE THAN URGENT.

MOREOVER, DEAR, I AM WILLING TO OFFER YOU 15% OF THE TOTAL SUM AS COMPENSATION FOR YOUR EFFORT/INPUT AFTER THE SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER OF THIS FUND INTO YOUR NOMINATED ACCOUNT OVERSEAS.

Then there is Mrs. Destiny Henry. Someone put a little thought into this one. Course, I upchucked at "Dear Beloved in Christ", so I didn't read it, but I'm sure it's a heart wrenching tale:

DEAR BELOVED IN CHRIST,
IT IS BY THE GRACE OF GOD THAT I RECEIVED CHRIST,KNOWING THE TRUTH AND THE TRUTH HAVE SET ME FREE.HAVING KNOWN THE TRUTH I HAD NO CHOICE THAN TO DO WHAT IS LAWFUL AND RIGHT IN THE SIGHT OF GOD FOR ETERNAL LIFE AND IN THE SIGHT OF MAN FOR WITNESS OF GOD´S MERCY AND GLORY UPON MY LIFE.

I AM MRS.DESTINY HENRY FROM GHANA.I AM MARRIED TO DR.FRANK HENRY WHO WORKED WITH CHEVRON/TEXACO IN EGYPT FOR TWENTY YEARS BEFORE HE DIED IN THE YEAR 2002.WE WERE MARRIED FOR TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS WITHOUT A CHILD, HE DIED DURING ONE OF THE RIOTS IN THE EGYPT .HE WAS HELD HOSTAGE AND SLAIN TO DEATH BY PROTESTING YOUTHS OF THE REGION IN EDO STATE BEFORE HIS DEATH WE WERE BOTH BORN AGAIN CHRISTIANS.

SINCE HIS DEATH I DECIDED NOT TO RE-MARRY.WHEN MY LATE HUSBAND WAS ALIVE HE DEPOSITED THE SUM OF (US3.5M)WITH A BANK IN THE NIGERIA AND NOW THE MANAGEMENT OF THE BANK HAVE JUST WROTE ME TO COME FORWARD TO RECEIVE THE MONEY OR RATHER ISSUE A LETTER OF AUTHORISATION TO SOMEBODY TO RECEIVE IT ON MY BEHALF IF I CAN NOT COME OVER BECAUSE OF MY CONDITION AT HAND.I AM PRESENTLY WITH MY LAPTOP IN A HOSPITAL WHERE I HAVE BEEN UNDERGOING TREATMENT FOR CANCER OF THE LUNGS, I HAVE SINCE LOST MY
ABILITY TO TALK AND MY DOCTORS HAVE TOLD ME THAT I HAVE ONLY A FEW MONTHS TO LIVE.

IT IS MY LAST WISH TO SEE THAT THIS MONEY IS INVESTED AND AT THE END OF EVERY YEAR DISTRIBUTED AMONG CHARITY ORGANISATION. AND FOR YOUR COMPESATION, AS SOON AS THE MONEY ENTERS YOUR ACCOUNT TAKE 30%OF THE TOTAL MONEY, WHILE 70% WILL BE FOR THE WORK OF GOD.

I TOOK THIS DECISION BECAUSE I KNOW THAT THERE ARE ALOT OF POOR PEOPLE SUFFERING FROM DIFFERENT KIND OF DISEASE AND NOBODY TO COME TO THEIR AID.WITH GOD ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. AS SOON AS I RECEIVE YOUR REPLY I SHALL GIVE YOU THE CONTACT OF THE BANK IN NIGERIA WERE THE MONEY IS BEEN DEPOSITED .I WILL ALSO ISSUE YOU A LETTER OF AUTHORITY AND CERTIFICATE OF CLAIM THAT WILL PROVE YOU AS THE NEW BENEFICIARY OF THIS FUND. GET BACK TO ME AT ASAP I AWAIT YOUR URGENT REPLY.
YOURS IN CHRIST,
MRS.DESTINY HENRY

Needless to say, it's a good idea to never respond to these people. I just hit the spam key and send them away, without even opening them.

Anyway, Mike's got a great site dedicated to wasting the time of these Internet slugs. He has found creative (and oh-so-amusing) ways to mess with their minds, and you can spend hours there, checking out the forums of baiters discussing tactics, reading pages of correspondences back and forth between Mike and his scammer 'victims' - there are even audio files and wonderfully photoshoped pics to laugh at. If you've never read his site, check it out. You'll feel like a million bucks when you're done, like you've run a marathon, or helped a little old lady across the street, or gotten your tires realigned. It's just the world, balancing itself out a little.

Oh, and Mike spoke with Xeni Jardin on NPR's "Day to Day". Click here for a link to that article. There's one particular scam he did that involves the email crooks acting out a Monty Python sketch - you wouldn't believe how stupid these guys are! Unbelievable!

Beverly Hills Hippie

I'm getting really tired of hearing people around the office call me a hippie. Look, just because I don't eat red meat, consider myself a liberal who supports environmental causes and yeah, so what if I believe in strong social institutions that benefit all Americans, that doesn't mean I don't shave my pits and play the damn didgeridoo in the park! Okay, so I went to India. Fine. But I hate the smell of patchouli and I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to tie dye. I don't know how many other hippies these days shop at Barneys and love to gab about the amazing powers of restylane. And let me tell you, if I could afford it, I'd run out and buy a puggle, name him Channel and I'd carry him around in the sickest Luis Vuitton carrier you ever did see.
And honestly, the closest I've ever wanted to get to a commune was the Farmers Market on the 3rd street promenade in Santa Monica.

And while I'm at it, when my friend V and I relax on the weekends with our lattes, tofu scrambles and organic fruit, we like to read US magazine, In Touch and Ok! and talk smack about Paris Hilton's dead-eyes, so there. I think I've made my point. I don't really have a funny way to end this ranting and raving, so how about just another suggestion for a good blog. If you like celebrity gossip, here's a great one: Celebitchy or Perez Hilton's site Celebrity Juice, Not from Concentrate.

Sarah Silverman as Miss Borat?

I really like Sarah Silverman - I even liked some of her movie Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic. Okay, I liked the standup part of it. The rest was boring. But the article below from Der Spiegel compares her to Borat and I guess in a way, I can see why. Their controversial style is political and social satire meant to reflect back to us the continued prevalence of bigotry in our society. Baron Cohen explains his work best when he says it is a 'dramatic demonstration of how racism feeds on dumb conformity as much as rabid bigotry'. With Sarah, I think she just likes poop jokes. And let’s face it, who doesn’t? I mean, potty humor is funny. But she admits to admiring Sasha's work, and there's a quote from her in the article below, where she says that Borat "was the most intellectually backwards and yet most important films that I've seen in years." The fact that she thinks his work is intellectually backwards and doesn't recognize her own propensity for scatological humor is slightly amusing.

The interesting difference between Sarah and Sasha comes down to how they've decided to play their characters and how we identify with them. Sasha makes his social commentary by acting like a clueless dumbass, thus allowing the people around him to feel comfortable enough to drop any social niceties they use as a veneer to mask their true feelings; such as their bigotry, racism, or homophobia. And many people who watch his movie and are unfamiliar with Sasha Baron Cohen and the fact that he is in character really hate him, because of course Borat is as bigoted as everyone else in the movie, and that's the point. But even when we're in on the joke, how do we identify with the character Borat himself? Yes, he is obliviously offensive and crude (not to mention oblivious), yet Borat is also from Kazakhstan and Sasha has intentionally kept up an ambiguity as to his character's religious identity – is he Christian? Muslim? Just what is he? If he's Muslim, what is he saying about Muslims? And what does that say about us that we're laughing at him with such ease? The only thing we can discern for sure is that he is anti-Semitic. J. Hoberman from the Villiage Voice writes, “Borat is also a non-Christian other who—by virtue of his primitive nature—ridicules the hypocrisy of the dominant social order.” Hoberman goes on to quote the sociologist John Murray Cuddihy in his The Ordeal of Civility – where he speaks of the newly enlightened Jewish thinkers assimilated into the modern world, Marx, Freud, and Claude Lévi-Strauss all being similarly obsessed with "the raw, the coarse, the vulgar, the naked" and exposing the way in which these things were sublimated by the civil "niceness" of Western culture. (http://www.villagevoice.com/film/0644,hoberman,74897,20.html)

According to Cuddihy’s definition, Sarah Silverman fits the pattern of enlightened Jewish thinker – she is just as obsessed with the sublimation of the “vulgar, the coarse, and the raw”. But Sarah doesn’t have to expose the hypocrisy in others because she embodies both the western i.e. modern and the vulgar i.e. primitive within her own character. She is hypocrisy, all wrapped up in a cute little girly package. Borat's just too hairy to pull that off. But in his own way because Sasha intentionally neutralizes some aspects of the nature of his character he has created comedy that makes us think. And that in and of itself is enough of a reason to watch him.

Miss Borat

Von Marc Pitzke , New York

Pupsen ist noch harmlos: Die US-Komikerin Sarah Silverman schockiert mit Witzen über Vaginas und Flatulenzen. Jetzt wird sie salonfähig: Der TV-Kabelkanal Comedy Central hat ihr eine eigene Sitcom gegeben. Vor Tabubrüchen schreckt sie trotzdem nicht zurück.

Sarah Silverman liebt Fäkalwitze. Zum Beispiel übers Furzen. Dazu erfand sie gerade einen ganzen TV-Sketch. Der ging so: Silverman sitzt mit Freunden beim Brunch in einem Restaurant. Einer nach dem anderen lässt lachend einen fahren. Als Silverman dran ist, drückt auch sie fröhlich - und erstarrt dann entsetzt zur Salzsäule. Die Kamera zoomt auf ihr Gesicht. Sie flüstert: "Ich hab' in die Hose gemacht."

Tabubrecherin Silverman: Meisterin des Fäkalwitzes

Doch damit nicht genug. Nahtlos geht die Szene in ein Musikvideo über. Silverman in einem weißen Wallekleid bei Sonnenuntergang am Felsenstrand, den Weltfrieden besingend: "Ich wollte doch nur sein wie die anderen", flötet sie verträumt, "but I pooped instead".

Man merkt schnell: Sarah Silverman, 36, ist keine normale Komödiantin. Sie schreckt vor nichts zurück: "Silverman bricht Tabus, von denen die meisten nicht mal wissen, dass sie sie haben", schrieb die "New York Times". Ein Pups ist dabei noch harmlos: Er ist, sagt sie, "die universelle Zeichensprache der Comedy".

Männer dürfen so was ja. Die Schreckensherrschaft des flatulenten Macho-Witzes ist ungebrochen: im Kino, in der TV-Late-Night, in Comedy Clubs. Frauen dürfen allenfalls platte Parodien wagen. Erst recht, wenn sie so lieblich sind wie Silverman mit ihrem unschuldigen Engelslächeln. Das setzt sie auch nicht ab, wenn sie Autogrammkarten unterzeichnet - mit "Vagina Silverman".

Die Geräusche der Vagina

Sarah Silverman kommt gerade zur rechten Zeit, denn die US-Comedy steckt in der Sinnkrise, im Niemandsland zwischen politischer Korrektheit und Anarchie, und Silverman ist der weibliche Borat - ein Vergleich, den sie selbst ermutigt. "Borat", sagt sie über den erfolgreichen Film ihres britischen Kollegen Baron Cohen, "war der geistig zurückgebliebenste und doch wichtigste Film, den ich seit Jahren gesehen habe."

Denn auch ihr eigener Witz gärt in den Grenzgefilden des guten Geschmacks. Sie macht sich über Schwule, Schwarze, Juden, Behinderte, Obdachlose und Leukämie-Patienten lustig. Sie wirft mit Sprüchen um sich, die den Zensurpäpsten die Galle aufkochen lassen. Und trotzdem hat sie jetzt den Sprung in den Mainstream geschafft - mit einer eigenen Sitcom im Kabelkanal Comedy Central, Heimat von "South Park" und Jon Stewart.

"Hey", trällert sie in einem Promo-Trailer, gekleidet in einen blütenweißen Tennisdress. "Für die meisten von euch, die Comedy Central gucken: Näher an eine Vagina werdet ihr nicht kommen!" Ja, vor allem die weibliche Anatomie hat es ihr angetan: Eine ganze Folge des "Sarah Silverman Programs" widmet sich diversen Geräuschen, die selbiges Organ machen kann.

Ihr Aufstieg, der sich 2005 mit einer Schock-Szene im Comedy-Untergrundfilm "The Aristocrats" manifestierte ("der erste aus Kot gemachte Wohlfühlfilm", lobte "Newsweek"), ist bezeichnend: Lange fristete Silverman mit ihrem Humor und der Miene einer frommen Klosterschülerin ein Schattendasein am Rande der Standup-Szene. "Stille Verderbtheit", so nannte es ihr Kollege Michael McKean, mit dem sie für "Saturday Night Live" Sketche schrieb.

"Juden lieben Antisemitismus"

Doch stille Verderbtheit ist heute salonfähig geworden. Selbst vor den Anschlägen vom 11. September 2001 macht sie nicht mehr halt, auch das ein Zeichen der Zeit: "Die waren verheerend, mehr als verheerend", sagt sie tief betroffen. "Besonders für mich, denn es war derselbe Tag, an dem ich herausfand, dass der Soy Chai Latte 9000 Kalorien hat. Ich habe den jeden Tag getrunken. Du hörst Soy, du denkst gesund. Und das ist eine Lüge!"

Oder Schwarze: "Jeder gibt den Juden die Schuld am Tod Christi. Und die versuchen es den Römern zuzuschieben. Ich bin eine der wenigen, die glauben, dass es die Schwarzen waren." Seit dem rassistischen Live-Ausbruch des früheren "Seinfeld"-Stars Michael Richards, der seine Club-Zuschauer im November 2006 als "Nigger" beschimpfte, fasst die gesamte Entertainment-Branche der USA Schwarze mit Samthandschuhen an. Nur Silverman nicht.

Oder war das doch eher ein Witz über Juden? "Juden lieben richtigen Antisemitismus", sagt Silverman, jetzt plötzlich völlig ernst. "Denn das ist etwas, was man fassen kann, um zu zeigen, wie real es ist. Es ist nicht nur Gas in der Luft." Silverman selbst kommt aus einer liberal-jüdischen Familie in New Hampshire. Ihr Vater brachte ihr schon als Dreijährige bei, "Bitch-Bastard-Damn-Shit" zu sagen. Als sie sechs war, ließen die Eltern sich scheiden. Silverman wurde, wie sie sagt, zur "knallharten Bettnässerin".

Blutfleck im Schritt

Den Rest ihrer Kindheit beschreibt sie so: "Ich würde es nicht noch mal machen wollen." Sie war schwer depressiv, landete bei einem Psychiater, der ihr das Antidepressivum Xanax verschrieb und sich dann umbrachte. Damals begann sie mit Standup-Comedy. Schmerz nährt bekanntlich den Humor.

Sie zog nach Manhattan, besuchte kurz die New York University und juxte sich durch die einschlägigen Clubs. Schließlich wurde sie von "Saturday Night Live" entdeckt, wo sie in der selben Saison arbeitete wie Mike Myers und Adam Sandler, einem alten Schulkameraden. Ihr einziger Sketch, der es bis zur Kostümprobe schaffte, wurde jedoch kurz vor der Show "gekillt", und zum Ende des Saison wurde sie wieder gefeuert.

Es folgten lange Jahre in den Comedy Clubs, Gastrollen in TV-Shows, Filmklamotten, in denen Sarah schockieren durfte. Einmal malte sie sich einen "Blutfleck" in den Schritt und tat ahnunglos, um die Reaktion des Saals zu testen. Nein, sie habe nicht ihre Periode, sagte sie am Ende: "Ich hatte heute zum ersten Mal Analverkehr." Ihr Konzertfilm "Jesus is Magic" brachte ihr 2005 erstmals ein breiteres Publikum - auch wenn die Kritiker ihn freudig verrissen. "Das verletzte meine Gefühle total", sagt sie heute noch. "Es war wie ein Tritt in den Magen."

Dann kam "The Aristocrats", ein Film, der einfach nur daraus bestand, dass eine Reihe von Komikern den selben sämigen Witz erzählten. Silverman gab ihm ihren eigenen Dreh: Sie erzählte von Joe Franklin, einem alten TV-Talkmaster. Und dann, ohne Vorwarnung, sprach sie in die Kamera: "Joe Franklin hat mich vergewaltigt." Franklin fand das gar nicht komisch und drohte mit Klage. Silverman schlug ungerührt zurück: "Der hat nicht den Mumm, zu klagen."

Fürze ziehen immer

Im vergangenen Jahr wurde sie eingeladen, die Spirit Awards zu moderieren, die Underground-Oscars am Tag vor der eigentlichen Oscar-Verleihung, zu der die Stars in ein Zelt am Strand kommen. Auch dort plapperte sie wie üblich von ihrer Vagina. Der Unterschied zu früher: Dieses Jahr wurde sie erneut als als Zeremonienmeisterin eingeladen. Die Zeit ist endlich reif für Sarah Silverman.

In ihrer Sitcom spielt sie ein Zerrbild ihrer selbst namens Sarah Silverman: rücksichtslos, arrogant, selbstverliebt, manipulativ. Das Debüt lockte 1,8 Millionen Zuschauer vor die Mattscheibe - die beste Serienpremiere auf Comedy Central seit 2004. Zahlen, die ihr langsam zu denken geben: Kann etwas noch subversiv sein, das solchen Erfolg hat? "Ich weiß nicht, wie lange es noch rebellisch ist, wenn jeder meinen Standpunkt vertritt. Es wird abgedroschen und irrelevant."

Nur die Fürze, die ziehen natürlich immer.