movie

simple, no hyperlinks, no news commentary, just close your eyes let the things happen.

There is tall grass and you are alone in an unfamiliar place. You are wearing clothes but they are not yours, although they fit really well. You vaguely remember a man with an absurdly waxed mustache and a hot air balloon.

All your internal organs are intact.

Suddenly the tall grass moves, shit, you had momentarily forgotten about the tall grass. Then, in super slow motion, an enormous elephant parts the grass, it rumbles toward you with dust slow motion flying everywhere and gutteral grunting noises emitting from deep within the beast.

Then it goes through you. It is a CGI elephant, so many things are ruined.

A new and terrifying trend

This article from the BBC website puts into a clear lens a disturbing new trend that is emerging: Climate-inspired conflict. The general idea is that climate change is causing wars over resources, especially in places like Africa where the average person relies very heavily on the land and water sources for their day to day survival (unlike most Americans). Darfur and South Sudan are examples of this but another fact is that places with extreme climates are simply more predisposed to war in my opinion. There is nothing as crippling to the progress as the hot humid days in the Carribbean part of Costa Rica mixed with devastating floods to make people angry as hell and with little recourse except depression or violent insurrection. Tropical weather is chill for awhile but then when you wanna get something done and the termites fucked it all up, what are you gonna do? Here's what, foment primordialist histories to give legitimacy to petty ethnic gripes and FUCK SHIT UP!

Book and Movie reviews all in one

I have seen two movies and read four books lately which is yet another sign that the universe is strangely out of whack. Here are some rudimentary and un-nuanced reviews.

Movies:

The Informant: This movie is entertaining but smug. Matt Damon is fat and acts pretty well but I didn't really like it overall, like an "average" or "C" grade I'd say.

A Serious Man: This movie is entertaining but smug. There are almost no actors I've heard of but they all act really well. There is some inconsolable DARKNESS up in this shit which might make it a Monstro Blog favorite. It clearly has some Job shit going down but I'm not smart enough anymore to full unpack it, to use a word loaded with bullshit.

Books:

Whatever it Takes: This book is awesome and inspiring.

Born to Run: This book is awesome and inspiring.

Outliers: This book is pop-science at its best, entertaining at times.

World According to Garp: This one has been on my list for awhile, it is full of darkness and beautifully written.

Tonight I am going to see a third movie to put things into slightly better balance, some little guy called "William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe" about a radical lawyer in the 60's and 70's, but I am also about to start a biography of Shel Silverstein, reading is becoming fun again. Who knew!

Non Sequitur?

Taking a short hiatus from bears, I was reminded that I hadn't seen a movie in almost three months and I'd like to talk about film for a post.

While there's many equally awesome directions you can go with the written word, the combination of unique abilities and limitations makes film an easier medium to declare favorites in. So here they are:

The greatest genre in film is the Western.

The greatest sub-genre in film is the Zombie Apocalypse.

That may sound like a non sequitur, but I have no problem reconciling these facts. Think about it: the only conceivable way to make Unforgiven a better film would've been to have the town of Big Whiskey also being overrun by zombies, and Clint Eastwood in stoic badass fashion dispatching them by the dozens BEFORE doing the same to Gene Hackman, all while whispering some dark "wisdom"-esque shit.

If you disagree you're simply wrong,
GRat

Let's just make this blog all about Bears

Bears will be the solution to armed insurrections in the world!

Further proof Stiles is a wimp

Last week Garrett posted this and then compared himself to this and then I also just read this, proving that Garrett is fully this.

I've seen this dog

I have seen this dog.

I lived right on Ocean Beach for about six months last year, and I'd often go to Dog Beach (a section of beach for letting dogs play - awesome, right!?!) to watch the puppies play and try to meet canine-friendly girls.

I thought this guy was a little strange at the time; he's blind so he was just sniffing everywhere. But JESUS he's big.

So there you have it, one year of living in San Diego and my celebrity-sighting count is as follows:

Gene Simmons the Rocker
Mitt Romney the Politician
Titan the Great Dane

Future Person.

This evening I have begun to refer to myself in the future person. Please note the difference between future tense and future person. My sentences will still happen in past, present, and future tense, but the noun with which I refer to myself will be defined based on one possibility among many about how I may exist in the future. From this point forward I will refer to myself as the future implications and results of my life and my actions. When I want a bottle of wine, I will say "My destiny would like to try a bottle of 1997 Jordan Estates, please." If I am asking someone to call me back on a voicemail message, I'll say "It's the children of my children's children, dude. Hit me up when you get this if you want to go poach some cougs tonight." When I go to the pharmacy, my prescription on the bottle will read "A corpse returned to the soil from which it came" above my address. 

Bears

Two weeks ago I went camping in the Pisgah National Forest and hiked Mt. Mitchell, which at ~6700 feet is the highest mountain in the Appalachian mountains and the highest point on the continent east of Colorado. On my way up, alone and on a remote stretch of trail to the top, I came face to face with Stephen Colbert's worst enemy: a bear.

OK, I'd like to be dramatic and all when telling the story: how I threw my backpack to the ground, ripped off my shirt, pounded my chest while letting out a primal cry, then charged the bear and wrestled it into Sam Johnson-like submission. But that isn't what happened.

What really went down was this: I turned a corner around a big rock formation and saw this big pile of black fur in the middle of the trail, about a dozen feet in front of me. It was getting late in the day and there was pretty thick fog - I think the thing was sleeping to be honest. Anyway, I wasn't quite sure it wasn't a dog until it got up, looked at me, and promptly ran like hell from the trail up the side of mountain. It was just a little guy, no taller than my hip and I doubt much more than 100lbs. But it was still the closest I've ever been to one (by far), and I was totally alone. So there you have it, I've officially stared down a bear.

I was mildly impressed with myself until I saw this story.

Showoff.

Miracle of the Modern World: Sexy Sexegenarians

There was a time - it wasn't so long ago - when being over age 40 meant a woman could not be attractive anymore. Really. I know this is hard to accept in an age when anyone with a TV can expose themselves to the Courtney Cox-driven nightmare Cougar Town, but it's true: the hot older woman is a relatively new phenomenon of the modern age. And I like it.

Recall that throughout most of human history, the majority of people never made it out of their 30s. There's a reason the aging process begins at 30: in the cave days, you were retiring to Florida by then.

So given that the environment which we evolved in - i.e., you're dead by 40 - it's understandable that female beauty would be assumed to vanish by that age. You don't need nice skin when it's just going to be devoured by a saber-toothed tiger any day now. That's why one must recognize the amazing possibilities of the modern age: the attractive, older, woman.

As far as I can tell, this trend is less than 50 years old. I mean, even in the paleo-modern age of the the late eighteenth century, Catherine the Great still had to jump a horse because no dude would step up after her 40th birthday. This phenomenon traces to a specific time, which I place in the 1950s. Why, you ask? Because it was in the 1950s that the guys who wrote The Graduate came of age, the first open cultural reference to the hot, older, woman.

So, 50+ years later, what's changed? Women have stayed hotter longer. Score one for civilization. The classic example is Sofia Loren, whom the average 20 year-old found bone-able well into her 70s. But I'm not interested in outliers, I'm interested in trends, and the trend is this: there are some hot 60+ females out there. What a wonderful world.

Alright, you want my picks. Fine, I'll play.

Because I'm a politics geek, I'm going to focus on some of the women that I spend a lot of time watching and reading about. Here are 3 examples, from each side of the aisle, because an attractive 60 year-old deserves better than a purely partisan admirer:


The Lefty: Elizabeth Warren, 60, Chair of the Congressional Oversight Panel



Elizabeth makes this list for two reasons. First, her background: she's from the heartland (daughter of poor Oklahoma farmers), she worked her way to the top, and she's scary smart; intelligence is sexy. Second, she looks seriously great for 60, I mean, she looks like she's in her 40s. She reminds me of some of those cute, nerdy, mid-length hair, usually-wearing-glasses girls from college. You know, the ones you passed in the library on your way to a Monstro party. And since those 18-22 year-old girls looked like they were in their 40s, she fits the fantasy perfectly. Anytime you have "60" and "fantasy" in your description, you make my list.

Oh, and in case you think I'm cherry picking photos since she normally wears glasses, she looks cute with them on too:





The Righty: Bay Buccanan, 60, Former U.S. Treasurer



Ok, admittedly, pickings were a little slimmer on the right. The Repubs tend to do better with the hot younger women, while the Dems age better and require fewer former cheerleaders, skewing the sample. But Bay's a hottie at 60. She's the brains behind everything I love about her brother Pat Buccanan with none of his trodlydite-like outdatedness; couple that with model hair, great form in a suit jacket, and sexy librarian glasses, and you make my list every time.





The Goes-Both-Ways: Arianna Huffington, 59, Founder of The Huffington Post



OK, I'm cheating just a tad here: Arianna's a couple months shy of 60. So what. It's not like this is gonna change in the next six months. Deal with it.

Arianna's "I'm a Republican when I'm marrying for money but then I'm a rabid liberal after the divorce alimony starts rolling in" indicisiveness may be annoying, but she's still damn hot. It's not just the "She's how old!?!" looks either: she exudes attainable sexiness. She's rich, powerful, looks incredible, and you just know that if you took her out for wine and dinner you'd have a sporting chance of going back to her place. And then there's that accent...

Comparison shot: this is how great Arianna looks for her age: look how BAD Bill Maher looks standing next to her. And he's 5 years younger.


Alright Monstro blog readers, I have a call to action for you. I know I'm missing some hot 60 year-olds out there (is Pam Anderson 60 yet?). The comments section is for listing my omissions.



Paper due in 13 hours and doing everything in my power to procrastinate,

GRat

Lighting and Mood and Music

They all can work together if you let them and then there is a harmony born out of cosmic synergy. Right now I am the last one in the office, the quiet hasn't become depressing since it is only 5:11pm, the silence is peaceful as the week runs out and I gaze out the window over the calm waters of the bay and beyond to Yerba Buena Island as Daylight Savings Time has allowed, now the sun sets early enough to reflect back into my eyes off the shiny objects known as houses and building on the west-facing east bay hills. I put on "Transformation" by David Gray and "I and Love and You" by the Avett Brothers and sink into a satisfied calmness at my desk.

I am forever meant to be a hairy beast

For the last few years I've pretty consistently tried having a beard of some form or another. I don't know whether this was to avoid shaving (probably) or because I like to give people hope upon seeing me that they've found a missing link (also likely). This week I decided I wanted to see what it's like for all the clean cut douche bags that I share downtown sf with so I've been shaving everyday. Well for four days at least. Now I cannot do it, my face is a mess of zits, cuts, rashes, it's unbelievable. I pretty much look like this. I got good shaving cream and am using a new razor. It is not meant to be.

Sandwich Day!

Stop the presses, the blogrolls, the toilet bowls, today is November 3rd. The top of the blog post could have told you that so I will make this slightly more worth your while than when you need to fill in a date, can't remember what it is and go over to the Monstro Blog to get all your pressing life questions answered.

November 3rd is muthafuckin sandwich day! (ADD sidenote of the day: spell check wants to correct "muthafuckin" to azimuthal)

Sandwich Day is named after John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich who was born on November 3, 1718. I doubt the fool ate a sandwich the day he was born, probably just sucked some titty milk, but the day is celebrated today. I was talking about celebrations in my prior post and I think birthdays of famous people are too obvious, make it on the day he had his first sandwich. That would be like celebrating the moon landing on Neil Armstrong's birthday.

It was said that he ordered a piece of meat to be tucked between two pieces of bread to sustain him at the gambling table and soon others were ordering, "the same as Sandwich" and a legend was born.

I know that at least 50% of my meals involve a sandwich. This leads me to some pierceing questions.

What is the best sandwich?

-wow, hard to say, there are SO MANY good ones, BLT, Reuben, prosciutto, too many to say.

On to more important questions.

Why did it take until the 1700's for the sandwich to become institutionalized! That means there were literally THOUSANDS of years of human existence where this was not a known, common thing. Dark ages indeed!

and lastly, why the fuck does every portrait of someone from this era look exactly like George Washington?

Holiday, ritual and celebration

Holidays, rituals and celebrations are important.

That is my simple thesis. I was making my way into SF on BART Saturday night for a Halloween party and the scene on the BART train was reminiscent of Burning Man, everyone was in pretty ridiculous costumes and no one was batting an eye. It was fantastic. I'm sure there is some scholarly research done on the "why" of holidays, why do we do them? My arm-chair analysis is that historically a lot of them were based around harvests and seasons but they served a deeper purpose: as outlets.

The Tarahumara tribe of Mexico is known for having insanely low cancer rates, high physical fitness, and in communities that have been unscathed by the more corrupting of modernity's influences, no crime whatsoever. Scientists hypothesize that living this way for years has actually now made their brains rather incapable of lying! These are seemingly idyllic people but they also have rituals from time to time where they brew huge vats of corn beer and liquor and drink until the women tear each other's clothes off and wrestle to settle deep seated animosities and men, normally so polite and shy will grope and grab women. Take me there, holy shit. The point though is that celebrations and holidays are necessary for people. People who are creative, vibrant, seeking creatures who can sink into ruts and get bored and need the occasional change of pace switcheroo.

So keep dressing up and being weird every now and then!

The Stinger: marvel of evolution

I went camping last weekend in the Pisgah National Forest and Mitchell State Park. It was a much needed break from school - I'd been working 18+ hour days for three weeks without a day off and had to get in some mountains. I pointed the car west towards Asheville, NC, the only town east of Denver where I'd ever considering living long-term.

I went solo, visionquest-style, parking the car in a bank parking lot in the town of Old Fort (named for the roots of the town - an Revolution-era Cherokee fighting outpost) and walking off into the woods with a backpack. There are few greater feelings than trudging off on your own away from civilization with nothing to do and nowhere to be for two days.

Anyways, now to the point of my post: after I found a good "home base" spot to pitch my tent at the foot of Mt. Mitchell, I starting unpacking the non-essentials for climbing the mountain into the tent. While doing this a hornet got into the tent.

I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall (or tree, given the location) to watch what happened. I dropped everything and ran like a madman out of the tent, hat in hand swinging wildly at the wind, just generally freaking the fuck out. I'm terrified of stinging insects because I get stung a lot and usually not for any good reason (unless you call Karma a good reason), so I REALLY make sure to get out of those bastards' way. The hornet left and I didn't get stung.

Hiking by yourself lets you think. On my way up Mitchell, I thought about my encounter with the hornet earlier, and about stinging insects in general. Then it hit me: the stinger is perhaps the most amazing evolutionary development ever in terms of evening up inter-species conflict.

Let's take a look at my situation to flesh this out a bit: I am a human being, a homo sapien to those of you not afraid of gay jokes. Our species is a highly evolved bunch of mammals, a group that ditched insects to start the long slog towards world domination about 400 million years ago. Our brains are so advanced that they've allowed members of our species to travel to the friggin' Moon. As a particular example of my species I'm well within human norms: I stand just over six feet tall and weigh about 200 pounds.

The hornet, by comparison, just can't keep up. It's species has remained virtually unchanged for over a hundred million years. It's "brain" is really just a simple, non-vertibrate nervous system, that functions almost entirely on pre-programmed instinct rather than innovation and decision-making. What I'm trying to say is, they ain't going to the Moon anytime soon. On top of that, they're only about an inch long and weigh about a tenth of an ounce, one 74th of my height and one 32,000th of my mass.

Alright oddsmakers: who should be running from who?

Behold the stinger. Marvel of evolution.

Then, while thinking about that, I got within 10 feet of a black bear. But that's for another post.