Is Henry Paulson President Now?

Where has Bush been? Did he call it quits after that discussion with Putin at the Olympics? Damn, I can't even watch sports and have a chat without someone criticizing me, I'm done with this President thing.

I'm reading all these stories saying that our situation is/is not similar to 1929 and in every one there's a picture of Hank wearing his blue suit, slightly hunched and reassuringly bald, exiting one shiny glass and marble building or another.

From the NYTimes, Sheryl Gay Stolberg writes:

"It was brief, two minutes. His brow was furrowed, and his words were careful: “The American people can be sure we will continue to act to strengthen and stabilize our financial markets and improve investor confidence.” Then, having imparted no specifics, he once again slipped out of sight."

He basically came out, pointed at Paulson, and said: He's got this one.

Bush met with John Kufuor, the president of Ghana, on Monday. “Your tenure has been full of events and challenges, some very mind-boggling and hair-raising,” Mr. Kufuor told Mr. Bush, raising more than a few eyebrows. “You are a survivor,” the Ghanaian leader told the American president. “And my hope is that history would prove kinder to you.”

You know you're a lame duck when even the President of Ghana feels sorry for you.

Magic 8 Ball Predicts 49ers and Raiders Victories

Is there a more cherished icon of classic American kitsch than the Magic 8 Ball? I mean really now? I was hanging out with my roommate a couple of nights ago, and there in his room, resting on the ironing board, was the legendary soothsaying device in question. I said, "OK, let's try this thing out," and I handed it to him. He turned it upside down, and with the appropriate gravitas, shook it and asked, "Will Obama be the next president of the United States?" The 8 Ball's response: "It is certain." You heard it here first, folks.

Then I did one. "Will the Milwaukee Brewers...make the playoffs?" The 8 Ball's reply: "Don't count on it." Indeed, given the team's recent September slide, I'd say the 8 Ball might be on the mark with that one.

My roommate took another shot. "Will Obama...win Ohio?" "Outlook good." "All right, I'm liking these answers," my roommate observed.

My turn again. "Has McCain ever had...a penis...in his ass?" "Reply hazy, try again." We both groaned in frustration.

My roommate went political one last time. "Will Sarah Palin...help McCain...win the election?" "It is certain." We looked at each other in puzzlement. How could both Obama and McCain win the election? The 8 Ball was giving us conflicting answers!

"How about some football questions," I said. My roommate gritted his teeth. "Will the Cleveland Browns...win the Super Bowl?" "My reply is no." "OK, that sounds about right," he said.

I then asked, "Will the Raiders...win the Super Bowl?" "Don't count on it."

My roommate grabbed it back and shook it rather vehemently. "Will the Raiders...win a game this year?" "Signs point to yes." "Damn." He paused in thought, then shook even harder. "Will the Niners...win a game this year?" "You may rely on it." "All right, all right, those were stupid questions," he admitted.

And yet little did we know how quickly the 8 Ball's prophecy would prove to be correct! I mean, hell, after the 49ers fell behind 14-0 in the first five minutes against the Seahawks I was pretty much like, "So...which week are we playing the Rams again?" Suddenly I tune in an hour later and it's 27-20 with the Niners ahead. Come again? Final score 33-30 - Niners win. Did I mention that this was the Seahawks? In Seattle? Let's hear it for former UC Davis quarterback J.T. O'Sullivan, who became the first Niners QB to throw for more than 300 yards in a game since 2004. I suppose throwing for more than 300 yards in a game isn't supposed to be particularly rare, but as Colonel Dryden says in Lawrence of Arabia, "Big things have small beginnings, sir." As for the Raiders beating the Chiefs, well, the Chiefs stink anyway.

Of course, we neglected to ask the 8 Ball if the Niners and Raiders would win more than one game this season. But sometimes it's best not to ask the 8 Ball too much.

Shine On You Crazy Synthesizer Guy

Will all those people clamoring for a full-fledged Pink Floyd reunion finally shut up now? Rick ol' boy, we hardly knew ye.

My personal favorite Rick Wright anecdote: Before drummer Nick Mason published his Floyd memoir Inside Out, he sent copies of the manuscript to each of the other remaining band members for feedback. David Gilmour made a few notes here and there, but mostly agreed with Nick's version of events. Roger Waters wrote all over the manuscript, constantly making corrections and arguing over details. Rick Wright just wrote back saying something along the lines of, "Yeah Nick, looks good to me, honestly, I don't really remember any of it."

Perhaps the keyboardists' demise will call attention to his epic solo output, consisting of "God that must be a solo album" titles like Wet Dream (1978), Broken China (1996), and Identity (1984), a collaboration with Dave Harris released under the band name Zee.

Legion of Doom Meets to Decide Fate of America

From the Wall Street Journal: "The Federal Reserve Bank of New York held an emergency meeting Friday night with top Wall Street executives to discuss the future of venerable firm Lehman Brothers Holdings Inc. and the parlous state of U.S. financial markets.

...

In attendance from were government officials, including New York Fed President Timothy Geithner, Mr. Paulson and Securities and Exchange Commission Chairman Christopher Cox. The Wall Street executives included Morgan Stanley Chief Executive John Mack, Merrill Lynch Chief Executive John Thain, J.P. Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon, Goldman Sachs Group CEO Lloyd Blankfein, Citigroup Inc. head Vikram Pandit and representatives from the Royal Bank of Scotland Group PLC and Bank of New York Mellon Corp., among others."


Lex Luthor presiding over the meeting.

The Diving Bell And The Butterfly (Schnabel)

Sickness will surely take the mind
Where minds can't usually go
Come on the amazing journey
And learn all you should know

- The Who, "Amazing Journey"

And you thought your life was tough!

I'd say the main philosophical essence of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly can be boiled down to this: it doesn't take much to live a meaningful life. Here is a man who can only blink his left eye, and yet he does more in that condition than most people ever do in a lifetime.

On a basic level, Jean-Dominique Bauby's life is tragic. One day he's a handsome, talented, wealthy fashion editor, the next day he's a a victim of "locked-in syndrome," unable to move anything other than his two eyes, one of which becomes infected and is quickly sewn up. Not exactly the most pleasant situation to be in. But come on! His pre-stroke life was absurd. Imagine if he simply lived his fancy French fashion editor life, slept with beautiful women, raised a nice, loving family, ate delectable French cuisine in a luxurious chateau, and then died? Who would've cared? Sure, his life would have been nice, but it would also have been unexceptional. He would have missed out on the endless beauty of inner experience. So, in a sense, I feel bad that he had this horrible stroke, blinked his left eye for a couple of years and then caught pnuemonia and died. But on the other hand, it was the only thing that made his life truly interesting and memorable. Without the stroke and the memoir, he would have been just another rich French sleazeball.

Occasionally the film flashes back to moments in Jean-Do's pre-stroke life. And every time the film does so, you realize that you don't really relate to pre-stroke Jean-Do at all. Pre-stroke Jean-Do is callow and boring. But Jean-Do as Left Eye Man? Now this guy I like. This guy I can relate to, because his condition places him on the fringes of human experience - a more interesting place from which to dwell.

Do you ever get the feeling that you're just going through life as though you really have no control over the world around you, and all you can do is watch the world go by while you're left to deal with your own inner reactions? In some sense I often feel like I'm paralyzed - not physically, but emotionally, as though the safest thing to do is to simply step back from the flames and observe life from a distance. On some level that is the modus operandi of the film geek. Jean-Do experiences his life in much the same way as a film geek does, except he has no choice. Film geeks have a choice, but due to certain psychological problems perhaps they don't feel as though they do. I came out of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly realizing that I still have a lot of choice, and that I still have some autonomy over my body, and that I should exploit that autonomy in the here and now because it may not always be with me. It's the rare film that can make you feel grateful you're still able to move your cheekbones.

Indeed, not since possibly Memento has a film so completely taken me inside the experience of another person; it's like it cuts into the very spirit of consciousness itself. When the movie was over it took me a couple of hours before I could fully accept that I was not Jean-Do and that I could move my hands and legs just fine. Of course, with an inner life like his, Diving Bell doesn't even necessarily make "locked-in syndrome" seem all that bad half the time. As he says, "Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed: my imagination and my memory." There are scenes here that are wild and transcendent: shots of birds flying, or of glaciers crumbling in slow motion. I mean, this movie is a trip.

It's also a bit of an apology. For example, there is a moment in this film, around the one quarter mark, that packs the proverbial wallop: Up until a certain point, Jean-Do has only been able to answer yes or no questions (by blinking once for "yes" and twice for "no"). A speech therapist comes in and explains that she's devised a special alphabet that arranges letters by order of usage frequency, and that what she will do is recite letters until Jean-Do hears the one he wishes to use, and in this way he will be able to write full sentences. She is very enthusiastic and excited about this technique. Jean-Do, in voice-over, thinks to himself that this is the stupidest thing he's ever heard of and that she's reciting the letters way too fast. He finally begins to cooperate and the therapist begins spelling his sentence out loud. When she realizes, out loud, that he is spelling "I want death," she begins to cry and she starts insulting Jean-Do for his undiluted pessimism and complete lack of appreciation for her efforts. She steps out of the room, gathers her composure, and then cheerfully sits down to start again.

You see, Jean-Do's condition isn't just about Jean-Do, but also about the therapist. And what right does Jean-Do have to take away this opportunity from the therapist, who very much wants to help him communicate? And what right does he have to take away his personality and his perfectly functioning thoughts and emotions from his family, his friends, and those who still wish he remain a part of their lives? The scene made me realize what he must have realized: that even after a massive stroke, his feelings are not the only feelings that matter. And so, because the stroke does not ultimately kill him, he has the chance to reevaluate his womanizing ways and atone for his karmic sins, whatever they may be.

No, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is not necessarily an easy watch. Indeed, I found the film so powerful that although I enjoyed it, I quickly felt as though I wanted to take my mind as far away from fancy French countrysides as I possibly could (which is partly why I began listening to rap). But powerful is not the same as depressing. Jean-Do does not ask for anyone's pity. He simply takes the hand that he's been dealt and he embraces that shit. Or the eye, rather.

"Film critic" rating: ****
"Little Earl" rating: ****

The Decline of Western Civilization Presents: Hole In The Wall

After watching the premiere of J.J. Abrams' new show "Fringe" last night (quick review: it's no "Lost"), I caught the filler show that Fox threw up before the good ol' 10 o'clock news came on. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you "Hole in the Wall".

The whole premise of the show consists entirely of a moving wall coming towards spandex-clad contestants, who must make the appropriate shape of the hole with their bodies lest they get pushed into the pool of green ooze behind them. As you may have guessed it's based on a Japanese game show.

Honestly, I thought it was a joke. The contestants are dressed in spandex and bike helmets, the people in the audience are cheering with way too much enthusiasm, the announcer is way over the top, and to top it off each competing team has a theme, this episode was "The 6-packs" vs. "The beer bellies". Friends, Romans, Bloggers, here we have an example of the Decline of Western Civilization.

Have we really been reduced to this? Millions, nay, billions of years of evolution and we've come to Hole in the Wall? Maye it's a sign of Non-Intelligent Design. Ugh. Well Reuters has a nice write-up of the show. Their reporter sees the whole thing as parody, that's it not meant to be taken seriously. Ok, sure, but that doesn't excuse it from being terrible. I mean, if the hole in the wall segment was part of something larger, say an event on American Gladiators, at least we could say "Well it's just a silly event", but the thing is, the hole in the wall is the premise of the ENTIRE show. That's it, there's nothing else. Half an hour (and this was just the preview I saw, apparently the real show will be an entire hour) of people playing human Tetris.

The Reuters article is actually pretty good, especially this part: "Each challenge is prefaced with a dramatic electronic countdown and announcer Mark Thompson's triple-entendre intonation, "It's time to face the hole!" Hilarious. Hmm, who knows, maybe I need to give Hole in the Wall another chance?

Noel from Oasis Assaulted; Indie Fans Rejoice

The story began when a 47-year-old Canadian man charged onto the stage at an Oasis concert in Toronto. Pitchfork was quick to pick up the story. Pitchfork newsman Matthew Solarski attempts to explain his interest in the manner:

"We bring you now to Oasis, rolling through 1995 classic "Morning Glory" at the Virgin Festival in Toronto last night (September 7). That's Liam on the mic and brother Noel on guitar to the viewer's right. Oh, and a word of caution: make sure you're not drinking anything around the 1:30 mark.

I'd like to think the "You know you should so I guess you might as well" egged that dude on. [Thanks to reader Jack Perira for the tip.]

Now of course we don't condone such random acts of violence, but much like "America's Funniest Home Videos" taught a generation to find humor in the amusingly painful moments of others, we laugh here because it is funny. It also helps knowing that Noel and the rest of Oasis simply dusted off for a few minutes and carried on with the gig."

Let's just come out and say it, hearing that a man of Noel Gallagher's nature got shoved while playing a show is funny.

Then we got an "Oasis Update" in which Mr. Solarski sounded a note of regret for his earlier joking: "Okay, we admit it. Upon first viewing the YouTube clip of Noel Gallagher getting knocked on his ass by an unnamed assailant during last night's Oasis set at the Virgin Festival, we LOL'd. Kind of a lot. Perhaps we even felt a smidgen of schadenfreude, too. But it would seem those reactions were a bit premature. According to a message just posted to their website, Oasis are taking the matter very seriously."

We here at Cosmic American Blog relish the schadenfreude.

Oasis's next show was postponed because, "Noel fell heavily on to his monitor speakers when he was pushed suddenly from behind by his attacker and suffered bruising to his ribs and hip. He was examined in a local hospital after the band's performance and has been advised to rest." I'm sure it doesn't feel good, but that doesn't sound too serious either.

Oddly enough, even 47-year-old Canadians are prone to occasional random violence. I'm sure he wasn't expecting to seriously injure Noel, or then be arrested for assault, but that's why you don't do stupid things like hit people in the head with baseball bats or shove random rich famous people. That sort of thing works a lot better in cartoons.

Number 3: Resident Evil 4 - Pre-title sequence (Capcom, 2005)

The opening of 2005's Resident Evil 4 starts off as quite the innocuous "first level" but just as the player begins to grasp the gameplay's basic concepts, turns into one of the most thrilling, exciting, nail-biting sequences in modern gaming, and hot damn is it fun!

In Resident Evil 4 you find yourselves back in the shoes of Leon Kennedy, star of Resident Evil 2. In the opening cinematic we listen as Leon summarizes the events of RE2 (townsfolk turn into zombies created by evil corporation, Leon saving the day - the usual zombie plot). We learn that Leon has gone from lowly police officer to government agent superstar. When word breaks that the President's daughter Ashley has been kidnapped while travelling abroad, Leon is sent to an unnamed foreign country (ahem... Spain) to her last known whereabouts to track her down and bring her back.

When you arrive on the outskirts of a small country village everything appears normal. You enter a house asking a local resident about Ashley. While Leon talks, the resident sits there with his back towards Leon stoking his fireplace. Suddenly he turns around wielding an axe. You respond swiftly, taking him out. You take out a few more folk along the road as they attempt to attack you. They don't look like zombies, they just look angry... strange.

Ok, so you've gotten about 10 minutes to try out the controls, get a basic idea of how to aim and shoot, taking out a couple 'non-zombies' when without warning the game amps up the difficulty of the situation to a nearly absurd degree. You enter the village proper and see the residents going about their business. You creep around the side of a house to get a better look. One of the townsfolk spots you and then suddenly the townsfolk go f-ing batshit crazy!

A huge mob makes its way towards you, armed with axes, pitchforks, and other blunt instruments. At this point you have several options open but the most common one is to barricade yourself inside a nearby house. You run inside, you can move dressers and tables in front of the doors and windows to slow the oncoming mob. You think you're safe for a minute when suddenly there's a guy with a freakin' burlap sack over his head wielding a chainsaw coming through the door straight at you!!

You run upstairs, find a shotgun mounted on the wall and take it. The townsfolk are putting ladders up to climb through the second story windows, and they've made it past your barricades and are moving inside the house towards the staircase. The chainsaw wielding maniac is gunning right for you, with the intent to stick that chainsaw right in your head. You do the only thing you can, you just start shooting in every direction. You take out one guy only to have three more directly behind him, you shoot the chainsaw guy right in the face with the shotgun yet he still gets back up! Some crazed woman is running at you with an axe! You don't know what to do, you're shooting at this crazed mob but they just keep coming at you, you're running out of ammo, you're thinking "Oh shit, am I really supposed be taking on ALL these people this damn early in the game??!?"

And then as suddenly as it began - it stops. Church bells ring in the distance, the townsfolk turn around and leave, making their way towards the church, muttering something about "Lord Saddler". Leon walks outside. As Leon whirls around asking himself where everybody went the camera pulls away, moving to an aerial view of the town, and THEN, finally, the title of the game comes up, with the words "Resident Evil" and you realize that you've only just seen the intro to the game. Then you're aware that you've just pissed your pants.

Watch a video here (sorry for the poor quality but it's the only decent one I could find).

New Pedophiles On The Block

Ladies and gentlemen: the album the world has been waiting for! According to AMG's Stephen Thomas Erlewine, New Kids On The Block's comeback effort The Block "sounds nothing like the New Kids, nor does it feel like them, either: this is grim, joyless mechanical music, only made uglier by the group's sunny past, as it plays like those cheerful kids grew up to be the dirtiest of old men." Try these song titles on for size: "Big Girl Now," "Put It On My Tab," "Stare At You." Mmm mmm mmm. And don't forget "Click Click Click" and "Lights, Camera, Action," which, Erlewine writes, "both enthusiastically celebrate homegrown pornography." And who could fail to be drawn in by the "brittle, skittish rhythms" that contain "no hook in earshot"? Oh baby. Nothing gets me going like five over-the hill teen idols shamelessly hitting on my daughter.

John McCain: The "Speech": The "Discussion"

I caught the tale end of McCain's acceptance speech. Now, I didn't see the whole thing. But I can tell you one thing: I don't know if speechmaking is his forte. I mean, here it was, the biggest speech of his entire political career, and it was like a book report. It was like a book report from that kid who hates giving book reports so he just strung it together the night before and read it dutifully in front of the class the next day without any passion or fire. I couldn't believe this was actually McCain's nomination speech. I turned to my roommate and said, "So this is a clip from an earlier speech, right?" He said, "No, this is it." He didn't even spend that much time attacking Obama. Apparently, from what I read afterward, it was all about "We've got to take a good, hard look at ourselves as a party, and turn things around." I don't know if soul-searching becomes Republicans well, but hey, at least they're giving it a shot. Seriously, I've seen funerals that were more exciting. The applause nearly tripled when Palin walked out there. They should just switch the ticket. That's what they should do. She's a firecracker. McCain is like that Fourth of July fireworks display where the town really doesn't have a lot of money and the organizers don't really know what they're doing and you're expecting this big finale at the end, and there's a small burst of about three or four fireworks and you're liking it but you're thinking, "OK, that was cool, now here comes the finale!" But after a minute or so you realize that's really the end.

Of course, a presidential election isn't about who gives the best speeches and who doesn't. Which, for McCain, is a good thing I'd say.