Howto: Blog (hint: not like me)

Mostly, I keep this blog for me.  I like to stick my head up my own ass every now and then and randomly read things I’ve written.  And then I bask in the warm glow of my ego.  And then I cry a little, because of all the wasted talent I might have.  And then I drink, and all is well with the world.

Some of us take this blogging thing more seriously.  Those some have even managed to make a living and find celebrity based on nothing more than their blogging.  Me, I work two jobs, 60-70 hours a week, and still don’t get recognized.  Sometimes in my own house.  And I sure can’t buy my way into the nice dinners and fancy parties.

Even sadder is that most all of the links on this blog have gone dead. And some things that were implemented with a specific design in mind have started to look like Jenna Jameson pregnant with twins: you remember the glory days, but only barely, and even then you wonder if you weren’t just high.

But for those of you that want to do it right, my friend Wade is launching the Birmingham Blogging Academy.  I remember helping him set up his first two blogs (although it was more than a little shocking to me today when I realized how long ago I helped him do so). And while I’ve forgotten more about web design than he’ll ever know, and my writing makes him weep like a paraplegic child at a track meet, he’s got one thing I’ll never have: common sense.  And the ability to teach.  And the gift of turning words into money. And the knowledge and understanding of modern counting systems.

Look, the guy’s got some craftsmanship to go with his artistic fancy word formation things.  You can see for yourself at www.wadeonbirmingham.com.  If any of you are serious about blogging — for money, for wider readership, for anything other than blatant narcissism or nostalgic masturbation while crying (goddamn, Naomi Watts is hot in Mulhooland Drive, isn’t she?), and maybe even then — you should consider what Wade can do for you.

Hey, Wade’s brown… What can brown do for you?  How about make you famous?  Or rich?  At least more educated.

(It’s even funnier since he used this joke in reference to America’s Next Top Heroin-Addicted Toothpick.)

The Utterly Umimpressive 1000th Post

I first found Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father through a Pajiba review.  I own way too many DVDs, and so my Netflix queue serves as a way to look for strange and potentially stupid movies that I would never think to rent at Blockbuster or see in the theaters, and a way to catch smaller-budget, independent releases and documentaries.

I highly recommend Zachary (an incredibly powerful documentary) but with a warehouse of reservations.  It’s some incredibly difficult material, a story about a man who was murdered by ex-girlfriend and his unborn baby and his parents and the custody battle.  And there’s more.  This is the kind of story that has a twist that not only fits nicely in with the cinematic traends of the last decade, but also will absolutely pummel you, emotionally, into a blubbering stain of tears and frustration.

The filmmaker, Kurt Kuenne, starts the movie as a tribute to the memory of a childhood friend who was murdered.  It rather quickly turns into a scrapbook of sorts, as in the process of filming, the news comes out that Shirley Turner, the accused murderer of Andrew Bagby, is pregnant with Andrew’s child. The tribute gets mixed in with the story of Andrew’s parents and their fight for custody, and the process of Turner’s extradition, and the impenetrable legal mess that will seem all too familiar to anyone who has gotten caught up in watching celebrity trials.

The film succeeds on a number of levels, most importantly as a tribute and scrapbooked biography of Andrew Bagby, as well as (on a lesser level) to his parents David and Kathleen.  While it seems obvious that focusing on the trial and extradition process will heighten the emtional impact of remembering Andrew, Kuenne does a remarkable job in transitioning from one subject to the other and back without it being jarring. While I can’t say that he’s a talented filmmaker, with nothing else in his oeuvre to which to compare it, Zachary is a remarkably powerful film.

That said, unless you are either familiar with the case and know the ending (you can look up Zachary’s story on Wikipedia to spoil it, though I won’t spell it out here) or completely hardened to the sometimes tragic realities of the world, proceed into viewing this movie with extreme caution.  Things don’t end well, and you really will get blindsided by the truth.

It’s a tough movie for me to watch, not because of the twist but rather my own experience with murdered fathers.  I’ve never really written about my feelings about Jessica McCord’s murder of Alan Bates, because I think after all these years I’m still trying to sort through them.  You can read the story at that link or any number of others — the story even made some of the television true crime shows.  It’s those sorts of lurid reaccountings that I have considered countering, time and again, by shooting a documentary of the story of Jessica and Alan, of how we knew them both in high school and watched her get pregnant with Gabrielle and watched them get married, and the births of Gabrielle and Madeleine, and the fights and the divorce.  Watching him move on to find happiness with Terra, and watching her date and have ugly breakups (and apparently, children…) with other friends of mine, and finally remarrying to Jeff McCord, and killing Alan and Terra.

It’s the conflicting emotions, the uncertainty of how I feel, that has kept me from making the film.  I and other people that I still talk to dated Jessica in high school and beyond.  Alan played drums on a few of my songs.  Me and my first wife played with the girls in Montevallo, and had drinks with Jessica and Alan, and visited their house. And I’m not certain that I could face Jessica, even behind a camera, and ask the questions that need to be asked.  I don’t know that I could ever be detached enough to make a documentary that was not blatantly slanted to the point of negating the “documentary” aspect.

I guess that part of my problem, too, is that I want answers that I will probably never get.  You’ll never hear the absolute uncolored truth from certain people in certain contexts.  There’s no closure in some places, no reconciliation of what you know and what you suspect.  Sometimes, bad things happen, and there’s no explanation forthcoming, and never will.

While Zachary does a few things that  I take issue with (while I accept that documentary filmmaking involves some level of emotional manipulation, there are times throughout that it feels like too much, almost stepping into lurid Dateline-inspired amounts), those things can be forgiven for two reasons.  One is the childhood connection between the filmmaker and the film’s subject.  The other is that Kuenne gives the focus of the film one final twist, not only remembering Andrew and telling the story of his death and his child and the tragic mistakes of the Canadian level system, but also paying tribute to perhaps the most victimized by the entire ordeal, Andrew’s parents.  To me, this justifies and prior tweaking of the emotional strings.

While I still consider the documentary that I want to make, returning to it even though I’ve all but given up on filmmaking, exiting on a note that I can be proud of, I think it will never get farther than intent.  I don’t know that I’d ever be able to finish the edit to my satisfaction, even were I to be able to get through production, and I’d certainly not be capable of justifying the invariable manipulation that I’d create with my perspective.  Hopefully someone more talented and detached than I will find the time and the interest to do the story justice, though I would hope that they are as successful as Kuenne if they try.

25 random songs

Putting my iTunes into random mode, here’s what I get (and keep in mind that I have my entire music collection, 112+ GB, loaded in here, so this is a complete “random” sampling”):

  1. The Room of Oracles (Harold Budd, The Room)
  2. Afraid (David Bowie, Heathen)
  3. Will We Remain (Cloudscape, Crimson Skies)
  4. The Rumble (Steve Vai, Archives Vol IV)
  5. The Trial (Pink Floyd, The Wall)
  6. My Redemption, Your Demise (Lamb of God, As the Palaces Burn)
  7. Fuel Injection Stingray (Marty Friedman, Live in Europe)
  8. Seventh Wave (Devin Townsend, Ocean Machine)
  9. What Once Was… (Billy Sheehan, Compression)
  10. For Good (Aeon Spoke, Above the Buried Cry)
  11. Numb (Portishead, Dummy)
  12. Section 17 (Suitcase Calling) (The Polyphonic Spree, Together We’re Heavy)
  13. Flying High Again (Ozzy Osbourne, Diary of a Madman)
  14. Teaching Mathematics Again (James Horner, A Beautiful Mind OST)
  15. Lost Souls (Doves, Lost Souls)
  16. My Fairy King (Queen, Queen)
  17. All The Wild Horses (Ray Lamontagne, Trouble)
  18. High (Ambeon, Fate of a Dreamer)
  19. Part of Me (Chris Cornell, Scream)
  20. Pretty Woman (Van Halen, Diver Down)
  21. While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Beatles, White Album)
  22. Strange Ritual (David Byrne, David Byrne)
  23. D.O.A. (Van Halen, II)
  24. ! (Foreward) (Pain of Salvation, Hereafter)
  25. Milliontown (Frost*, Milliontown)

Apropos, of course, of absolutely shit, unless you want to pull a Freud and figure out everything you never cared about me from it.

There must be some kind of way out of here…

..because we’re led by jokers and thieves.

From the Birmingham News:

Commissioner Shelia Smoot says mayors ‘crossed the line;’ county will begin collecting debts from cities

The Jefferson County Mayors Association today approved a resolution supporting the concept of a county manager.

“We voted on the principle we supported the idea of the county having a county manager,” Richardson said. “We didn’t specify any legislation or any particular bill in Montgomery.”

Earlier in the day, Commissioner Commissioner Shelia Smoot said area municipalities owe the county “hundreds of thousands of dollars” and that area mayors have “crossed the line” by publicly supporting a county manager.

Smoot passed out a document showing nearly a dozen cities still owed their share of prorated personnel board costs and money for traffic signal maintenance.

“The bottom line is many of them are strapped for cash, and the reason why we know is because we are always bailing them out,” Smoot said. “Right about now, we have some things we need to do, and the collectors will be calling.

So, Birmingham politics has gone from the meeting room to the sandbox.  We’ve got a corrupt mayor and a corrupt county commission who seem to care about themselves and their egos and career perks a lot, inversely proportional to how much they care about those that elected them. They would rather put the sewer debt into receivership, no matter what the cost to us taxpayers and water users, rather than declare bankruptcy.  Smoot is claiming the right to use a bodyguard with county monies, even as the county edges closer to the largest municipal bankruptcy in the history of the U.S.  And now, petty childish reactions.

I can’t imagine why Smoot is getting threats.  Not that I condone such actions — I think the courts are the way to get rid of terrible, clueless politicians — but it’s not exactly a mystery why it could happen.

I ask with all seriousness: is it possible to impeach a county commission?

Head or Gut, pt III(a)

I see that there’re others out there who think the same as I do.  Let’s hope that they keep watch, since they’re actually in a position to do something about it:

“I applaud the president for his commitment to help keep American families in their homes. However, I strongly urge him to ensure that borrowers and lenders who made bad decisions are not rewarded at the expense of the more than 90 percent of working-class American families that are still making their mortgage payments without government assistance.”

For the record, this is part of what Obama said earlier today: “It will not rescue the unscrupulous or irresponsible by throwing good taxpayer money after bad loans. It will not help speculators who took risky bets on a rising market and bought homes not to live in but to sell. It will not help dishonest lenders who acted irresponsibly, distorting the facts and dismissing the fine print at the expense of buyers who didn’t know better. And it will not reward folks who bought homes they knew from the beginning they would never be able to afford. So I just want to make this clear: This plan will not save every home.”

(From The Birmingham News)

Head or Gut, pt. III

So, when I was a teenager, I ran with The Wrong Crowd. On a number of levels, I’m lucky to be here at all, much less as prosperous, healthy and happy* as I am. I had a number of friends who weren’t and aren’t so lucky.  Some died, some made mistakes that ruined the rest of their lives.

Two friends — let’s call them Goofus and Gallant, because I loved Highlights For Kids — had plenty of run-ins with the law.  It’s not that their parents didn’t teach them better, or that they weren’t aware of what they were doing.  They just got caught up in the moments, maybe got greedy every now and then, just like the rest of us.  It’s what teenagers do.  They just got caught with their hands in the cookie jar more often than the rest of us.

Goofus had parents that some would call “enablers.”  Every time he got caught, his parents bailed him out, paid his fines for him, pulled strings with lawyers or city leaders they knew, and got him out of the situation with as little consequence as was possible.

Gallant’s parents bailed him out the first time, and explained to him that, as much as they loved him, next time he was on his own.  And they didn’t lie — he got caught for a DUI for his second offense, and paid every penny of the fine himself, lost his car, and worked off every minute of the community service they gave him.

That was Gallant’s last offense, by the way.  I’m sure that since then he’s skirted a law or two, but he knows: action has reaction.  Behavior has consequence. Having done so before, he is careful not to take any actions for which he is not willing to suffer consequence.

Goofus had a last offense, too.  Nothing big — it was some sort of robbery that involved drugs.  But his parents are dead, and were when he got caught.  And no one was there to bail him out.  And he got killed in prison, as I understand, in a fight over a carton of cigarettes with a 20 year old kid who was doing time for gang-related homicide.

And no, I’ve never been to jail, nor do I have any sort of a criminal record.  Though I was once arrested (though not booked) for doing gargoyle impressions.

Okay, so that’s a little melodramatic, perhaps (though true), when all I’m trying to say is that this whole economic bail-out thing reeks of over-protective parenting that ultimately harms the child.  Give the banks all this money, keep them from facing the results of their predatory lending and other greedy practices, and all you’re doing is saying, “Hey, that was really bad, and we caught you.  Try again.  See if you can do it without getting caught.”  Same goes for the automobile manufacturers who failed to keep up with the competition, and the homeowners who took out mortgages that they could clearly not afford.

Am I a little bitter that myself and a lot of my friends and family and peers have walked a very careful path, and paid off our credit cards instead of declaring bankruptcy, and lived a little no-frills so that we could pay the debts and mortgages that we incurred, and have continued living in apartments until we could actually afford a mortage? Goddamned right I am.  Because we have voluntarily suffered because it’s the right thing to do, and we don’t get rewarded.  The bad guys — the bankers and CEOs and homeowners that shouldn’t have been and the rest: they don’t get punished.  In fact, they get a hand back up.  Status quo holds, all is well, and forward we go.

I know that there are people out there that genuinely need to be helped — there are a lot of good people that probably didn’t know what they were getting into, and were told by “experts,” people that they trusted, that they could afford this loan or that investment.  I don’t blame the victims all the time.  But I do know that there are a lot of people out there that are knowningly guilty but passing themselves off as victims just the same.

I also know that without some form of governmental stimulus (and the next person who calls it a spendulus bill better follow that phrase up with a reasonable alternative, or I’m punching you in the throat for being a whiny bitch), the economy would probably collapse on itself and eat the souls of innocent kittens across the universe.  But you know what?  Maybe that’s what should have happened.

If you run through the streets of gang-infested urbans areas shouting racial epithets and provoking danger, then you kinda deserve whatever happens to you.  And you’re sure as fuck not allowed to play the victim later.

Maybe it really is the case that nice guys finish last, and that by living the moral life, I deny myself the spoils and rewards that I could have in my reach.  But then, I think there’s some related comfort when I hear Phil Plait (Bad Astronomy — if you have any interest in astronomy, check it out) say, “But I have found over the years that the hardest thing to accept as a skeptic is that the Universe doesn’t care what you think is true, it only cares about what is true.” [emphasis mine]

What does that mean?  I have no idea.  But at least I’m not in jail. Or worse.

* You think this is bad, you should hear me bitch about the world when I’m not happy.