Here's a quote worth thinking about:

Man nurtures the suspicion that God, at the end of the day, takes something away from his life, that God is a competitor who limits our freedom and that we will be fully human only when we will have set him aside . . . There emerges in us the suspicion that the person who doesn't sin at all is basically a boring person, that something is lacking in his life, the dramatic dimension of being autonomous, that the freedom to say 'no' belongs to real human beings.

Overcome the temptation of a mediocre life, made of compromises with evil.

Posted by: annika at 09:27 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Just when i was about to give up on boring old Brittany and start blogging about Lindsay full time, the rumors start up again.

By way of introduction, here's the no shit sherlock quote of the year:

Her mom is very clear about the fact that she doesn't think Kevin is right for Britney . . . And [she] even suggests that maybe she shouldn't have married him to begin with.

So here we are, less than a year after the big wedding, and there's talk of a break-up.

Hard as that is to believe.

The marriage started off well. Brittany promising to pay for everything. Brittany buying Kevin a Ferrari. Brittany promising to help the child of Kevin's ex, whom he kicked to the curb when he found true love (and Brit's bank account). Kevin promising to help clean up after Bit-Bit more often. Brittany giving Kevin a hand-job in public. Ah, those were happy times.

Then came the thrilling news, after weeks of pointless denials that no one believed: Brittany was pregnant! And we all watched breathlessly as she went baby clothes shopping. We laughed adoringly while she "ate for two." We supported her, as i'm sure Kevin did, when she tried to quit smoking for the baby's sake. Then, when little SPF was born, like George Bailey we wept and prayed.

Wept and prayed.

i think i speak for all of us when i say i hoped things could have always stayed that perfect. After Brad and Jen, and Ben and Jen, and Renee and Ken, and Barbie and Ken, and Nick and Jess, and Paris², and Paris and Nicole, and ... i just don't know how many more celebrity break-ups i can take. But Kev and Brit, now that was one that was meant for the ages.

i mean, it was only two short weeks ago that we saw this happy scene: Kevin and Brittany strolling and waddling, respectively, out for a lovely day at a private beach.

But now we hear rumors of a great disturbance in paradise. As if dozens of Brittany fans suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.

Did Brittany throw Kevin out on his ass? Did she cut off Kevin's credit cards? Did Brittany's mom meet up with Kevin's ex, just to collect more dirt on the guilty guy? Did Kevin beg Brittany in Vegas to give him another chance. Did our girl hang tough. Did Kevin respond by saying: "Yo, least let me have the Ferrari back, bayatch." Did Brittany call him toxic? Did she throw his ring back, the one she paid for? Is it all over?

Nah, it was too good to be true.

Posted by: annika at 12:00 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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i did a search for Pearl Harbor poetry and i came up with this one, by Walt McDonald, published in Valparaiso Poetry Review.

It's nice, but this next one, also by McDonald is really nice, and still timely.

The War In Bosnia

Under darkness of stars our son flies
over Bosnia, keeping watch over snow.
Apache gunships will be out tonight.

The moon on foreign snowfields highlights
bodies running under trees, friend or foe.
Under darkness of stars our son flies

with star scope and rockets and wide eyes
over war zones bitter enemies know.
Apache gunships will be out tonight.

What keeps a nation armed and justifies
air power is such a killing field—we know,
but under darkness of stars our son flies.

In boots and parka, someone watches the skies
and owns disposable Stingers, and is cold.
Apache gunships will be out tonight.

I conjure God to stop him, warp his sights.
I stare with the prayer all fathers know.
Under darkness of stars our son flies.
Apache gunships will be out tonight.

Posted by: annika at 04:23 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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i took a mid-week study break this afternoon and saw Aeon Flux. This is an interesting movie to review because audience expectations can be all over the map. The original MTV cartoon has a cult following, so i imagine those viewers would be the most discerning. i liked the original cartoon, without being obsessed by it. i wanted to see it because i like sci-fi post-apocalyptic shit, especially with a kick-ass heroine. My boyfriend, of course, went along with the hope of seeing some t&a.

i would give Aeon Flux a solid three stars (liked it) on the Netflix five star scale. i wasn't expecting greatness, only coolness, which it delivered.

My first introduction to Charlize Theron was The Legend Of Bagger Vance, which i saw in a hotel room on free HBO. i still felt ripped off. She was horrible in that lemon of a movie. The second time i saw her she was partying with an apple, and the third time i saw her she was partying in orange.

But Charlize is a big star now, because she's won an Oscar. She deserves another nomination for having never blinked once during all 93 minutes of Aeon Flux. Nobody blinks in this movie, check it out, it's freaky.

The plot is this: Aeon Flux is a 25th century assassin, and part of a high-tech underground rebellion against a mildly oppressive government a la Logan's Run without the chanting crowds. She's sent on a mission to kill the head honcho, but once she gets there, she finds out that things are more complicated than they at first seemed. They never are in these types of movies. But thankfully the plot wasn't too convoluted for my finals-fatigued brain to follow.

There are at least two requisite bitch brawls, which aren't too bad, action wise. There's minimal reliance on sci-fi gadgetry, which i count as a good thing. The atmospherics can't quite match up to the original, but then the original is a cartoon. You have to inject some humanity into a live-action remake or it would be unwatchable. Still, i think this version captures enough of the original's dreamlike weirdness to satisfy most non-purists.

i wonder where the exteriors were shot. There's a nice balance between futuristic cold concrete and manicured gardens, so the background never looks too sterile. The climactic scene features gently falling cherry blossoms, which was a nice touch.

But my favorite part was the costumes. Chris didn't think there was enough skin, but i have only two words to say about the fashions: wedge heels. i think you know how i feel about this year's must-have boot. They're on my Xmas list. Charlize shows that you can run in them, snap a dude's neck like a twig in them, and still look good in a crouch. And she does do a lot of crouching, but why not, her ass was made to be in spandex.

Charlize spends most of the time in Aeon's signature black bodysuit, but her grand entrance is in a 25th century hooded leather suit that's too hot to describe, and the stills do not do it justice. She also wears a very svelte white number in one scene, that i like a lot. But above all else, it's the boots that make this movie, baby.

So, to sum up: i liked it. It's a little too short for me to recommend paying full price though. See it on matinee like i did, or wait for the DVD.

Posted by: annika at 10:24 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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At Berkeley, we had "the naked guy." Not to be outdone, U.C. Irvine can now boast about its "couple fucking in a professor's office."

Way to go aardvarks!*

Via Darleen.
_______________

* Or whatever they call themselves.

Posted by: annika at 08:46 AM | Comments (38) | Add Comment
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Today is the 37th anniversary of Elvis Presley's 1968 Comeback Special, a legendary event in music history.

From NME.com:

By the mid-'60s, The King was washed-up, so his detractors claimed. The world was being wowed by the experimentalism of The Beatles, the Stones' dirty rock'n'roll, the string-drenched sonic onslaught of Phil Spector. Presley was a distant memory, an anachronism, remembered mainly for his decline from hip-swivelling slick-haired rock Adonis to slightly campy balladeer sleepwalking through a string of bad movies. Then, in 1968, after years absent from live performance, Elvis decided to put on a show in Las Vegas, go back to his musical roots, perform some rock'n'roll standards with a stripped-down band, recapture the raw energy that characterized his '50s heyday.

It should've been a disaster - like, who was this old nark with his bad hair and blues standards? But no! He gathered together a coterie of brilliant musicians, including ace guitarist James Burton, slung on a leather jacket and a six-string, and got up onstage and blew everyone away.

He kicked off with 'Blue Suede Shoes', went on to do 'The Wonder Of You' which stayed at Number One in the UK for six weeks, joked with the band, improvised, messed around, looked cool, and won millions of fans back. From then on, until his death in '77, he remained The King, and his crown was never threatened again.

Posted by: annika at 01:01 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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Ok, so i joined the Frappr! bandwagon. Whatever, i'm a sheep. Put yourself on the map before this whole Frappr! craze blows over.

Posted by: annika at 08:21 PM | Comments (27) | Add Comment
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Is more movies about a family with a zillion kids.

<sarc>Keep them coming please.</sarc>

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Ten Marines were killed by a roadside bomb near Fallujah today. This is tragic, obviously, and i'm exasperated that we haven't killed all them fuckers yet. But really, it only takes a couple of lowlifes to plant these bombs, and how many are discovered and destroyed without killing anybody? Yet everytime the enemy gets lucky, the anti-war media (who are on the side of the enemy) use the event to hammer another wedge into our resolve.

Here, Reuters Foundation Alertnet (i'm not sure what that is, but their slogan seems to be "Alerting Humanitarians to Emergencies," whatever that means.) chose to highlight the latest casualties by celebrating some past terrorist successes in Iraq.

Surprise, people die in a war. Civilians die. Soldiers die. Marines die. It's how wars are fought and won and lost. i understand the political reasons for not focusing attention on enemy body counts. It wasn't really a good indicator in Vietnam either. But i do detect a little bit of glee in these left wing media outlets, whenever some of ours die. How about a little perspective? How about a list of the "Deadliest Incidents" for the terrorists since we began kicking their asses over there? That list would be much longer.

But since the media is on the side of the enemy, they wouldn't want to publicize anything that might hurt enemy morale, or boost our own.

Update: Not all of the media is on the side of the enemy. Thank goodness for the exceptions.

Via Sarah.

Posted by: annika at 09:41 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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Ken Wheaton:

[The] irony in all these death-penalty stories: A media that typically sees Born-Again Christians as suspect suddenly finds the Born-Again Christian a nobel [sic?] figure. Listen, I have no truck with Born-Agains and I hold them suspect as well, but I find this odd: Having blood on your hands is a forgivable offense; trying to hang the Ten Commandments in a public school makes you a threat to society.

Posted by: annika at 08:35 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Has anyone ever used the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button on Google?

i haven't. But that's only because in all this excitement i can't remember if he fired six shots or only five.

Punk.

Posted by: annika at 08:14 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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My money is on Randall. He's a team player, who knows when to lead, and when to play the supporting role. His past mistakes have not stuck to him. The chick, on the other hand, will always be remembered for her ill-advised loyalty to that loser friend of hers in one of the earlier episodes. She's good, but can Trump expect that she'll never make another judgment call like that?

It seems this season can't end soon enough for Trump. He axed two last night. Anybody know if the show's been picked up for another season? i think Trump's getting bored with it, like the show is one of his ex-wives.

Posted by: annika at 08:10 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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i'm telling you, i'm perplexed by the media. Why is this a story?

Since early this year, the Information Operations Task Force in Baghdad has used Lincoln Group to plant stories in the Iraqi media that trumpet the successes of U.S. and Iraqi troops against insurgents, U.S.-led efforts to rebuild Iraq, and rising anti-insurgent sentiment among the Iraqi people, according to senior military officials and documents obtained by The Times.

Posted by: annika at 08:19 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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If i'm not mistaken, the item Jack is holding in this picture is a Heckler & Koch Universale Selbstladepistole.

If so, is that another reason for me to love Jack Bauer, or is it another reason for me to love the USP?

Link via Dawn.

Posted by: annika at 07:50 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Deroy Murdock's NRO piece on New Orleans today reminds me of the Ride Through Chernobyl site i posted about last year. Just the other day i was wondering if anybody was going to update us about New Orleans, or if it was just another important story about which the media had lost interest.

The column is worth a read, and there are some eerie pictures. Here's the key quote for me:

'I see a lot of media coverage, especially on television,' [local radio GM, David] Freedman says. 'It seems that there's always so much focus on the music, and the spirit, and the life of that music...But don't be fooled. This city is deeply wounded. I'd say it's like an amputee with phantom memory.'

Posted by: annika at 07:41 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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No poem today. Instead, i will quote some advice on how to read poetry, especially difficult poetry, which i discovered in the November 7, 2005, issue of The New Yorker. The advice comes from a worthy source, the great poet John Ashbery, in a long but fabulous piece about the poet, written by Larissa MacFarquhar.

This is how Ashbery reads. When he sits down with a book of poems by somebody else he goes through it quickly. He forms a first impression of a poem almost at once, and if he isn't grabbed by it he'll flip ahead and read something else. But if he's caught up he'll keep going, still reading quite fast, not making any attempt to understand what's going on but feeling that on some other level something is clicking between him and the poem, something is working. He knows implicitly that he's getting it, though he would find it difficult to say at this point what, exactly, he's getting. It's the sound of the poem, though not literally so--it's something like the sound produced by meaning, which lets you know that there's meaning there even though you don't know what it is yet. Later, if he likes the poem, he will go back and read it more carefully, trying to get at its meaning in a more conventional way, but it's really that first impression which counts.

. . .

It isn't that he believes that a poem can mean anything, or means nothing, or that language is irreducibly ambiguous, or that only an excavation of the author's unconscious can provide the key, or that the author's intention is irrelevant, or anything like that. He isn't interested in theory. It's simply that, for him, poems are pleasuable tools. He wants a poem to do something to him, to spark a thought or, even better, a verse of his own; he has no urge to do something to the poem.

People often tell him that they never understood his poems, or never understood them so well, until they heard him read them out loud. . . . [A] person might understand them better in readings because he is forced to listen to them in real time. He can't go back and try to make sense of this line or that, as he could if he were reading it in a book: if something sounds odd he must simply accept it and continue to listen, letting his mind catch on one phrase or another. And if he finds himself suddenly jolting back to attention after a minute or two of wondering whether he remembered to lock his apartment, or whether a crack in the ceiling looks more like a fried egg or France, or whether he should have a hamburger for dinner, he must accept that he has missed a bit of the poem, there is no retrieving it, and just enjoy what is left without worrying too much about how it all fits together.

Posted by: annika at 09:18 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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by annika b.

If i had a blog i would write about only shiny things
like my hair, or your nose

If i had a blog i would post naked pictures all the time
but of you

i would also post drink recipes,
and then drink them while blogging

If you had a blog you would name it after my cat, if i had a cat

If i had a blog i would write stupid free verse while listening
to my professor, and the boy with slightly wavy hair
who only raises his hand when he has something funny to say

Having a blog would be like being a superhero
but without the costume or the cool powers
i would wear boots and my underwear would be on the outside.

Posted by: annika at 10:20 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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Trust me on this one. Go with the Steelers and the eight points. Let the crowd bet Indy, they're going down. Trust me.

Update: Or not.

Posted by: annika at 04:44 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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1 Thanks for the scoop. In the spirit of Costanza, I'll be betting my pile on the Colts.

Posted by: Casca at November 28, 2005 05:38 PM (qBTBH)

2 Bold. Very bold. My heart is with you, but my head still says Indy.

Posted by: zombyboy at November 28, 2005 05:42 PM (2Msy9)

3 I feel for the referees on this one...how can they screw BOTH these teams?

Posted by: MacStansbury at November 28, 2005 05:54 PM (FmdLR)

4 Damn, should Manning get paid for shit like that? I mean, he didn't even break a sweat, and now he's on the sidelines in his baseball cap sipping gatorade. They should make him buy a ticket. Poor Cower, it's too early in the evening to be bleeding from the ass already.

Posted by: Casca at November 28, 2005 06:16 PM (qBTBH)

5 Yes, it's still early, but I'm thinking you'd be willing to give up those 8 points and take Indy right about now. Fewest points allowed, second-most points scored. If you're betting on points, you wouldn't want to bet against Indy this year.

Posted by: Daniel J at November 28, 2005 06:19 PM (dF3La)

6 Well it's official. After the onside kick, Cower doesn't just "look" stupid...

Posted by: Casca at November 28, 2005 07:53 PM (qBTBH)

7 Oh, Anni, Anni... I love my Colts, but I feel so bad for your MNF record this year. Please don't pick Indy to win the Superbowl. Pleeeaaaase don't.

Posted by: E.M.H. at November 28, 2005 09:04 PM (ZswBn)

8 OK, Annie: Time to hang up your cleats. This was as bad as your Tom Cruise dream.

Posted by: shelly at November 28, 2005 10:28 PM (6mUkl)

9 I hope Indy can go the distance and get those '72 Dolphins to shut up.

Posted by: Kyle N at November 29, 2005 03:54 AM (n1Ilb)

10 Annie, I think that you should have stuck with last week's pick method.

Posted by: physics geek at November 29, 2005 06:40 AM (Xvrs7)

11 Anni, I think I see the great harmonic of your life: Your political ideology and football handicapping methodology are about equal in their constricted view of reality.

Posted by: Strawman at November 29, 2005 07:33 AM (0ZdtC)

12 Annie: USC opens a 21 1/2 point favorite over UCLA Saturday afternoon/evening. How about a blog on the REAL Biggest Game? (Maybe, just maybe, if we ignore him he'll go away.)

Posted by: shelly at November 29, 2005 08:27 AM (6mUkl)

13 These should make you feel better, annika, although I admit I'm not sure about the bow, either.

Posted by: Victor at November 29, 2005 09:25 AM (L3qPK)

14 no the bow is fine.

Posted by: annika at November 29, 2005 10:54 AM (zAOEU)

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Remember that Seinfeld episode where Jerry wrote down a joke he dreamed up in the middle of the night? Then he couldn't read what he had written and when he finally figured it out, it wasn't funny at all. That happens to me too.

Like last night, for instance. i had this dream about a new Tom Cruise movie called The Last Chiropractor. The promo was something like:

[cue announcer's voice]

Years of sleeping on Japanese bamboo mats have led Tom Cruise to his greatest role as...

...The Last Chiropractor!

[cue Tom Cruise's voice]

"You don't know the history of myofascial release therapy, I DO!"

[cue announcer's voice]

In the face of musculoligamentous sprain/strain...

In the sacroiliac of One Man...

Lies the Soul of a Warrior.

Once he risked his life for honor and country, but now his world has changed. Subluxation has replaced full cervical range of motion, and in the place of freedom and valor, he only finds chronic radiating pain, especially at levels C5-6 and L5-S1.

Thrust now into harsh and unfamiliar territory, with his life and perhaps more important, his spine, in the balance, the troubled American soldier finds himself at the center of a violent and epic struggle between the soft tissues of his neck and back, with only his sense of honor and a thorough knowledge of flexion/distraction technique to guide him.

Tom Cruise is...

...The Last Chiropractor!

Posted by: annika at 10:45 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Yep, i'm still getting emails from LL fans all over the world, based on my humorous post from nine months ago. i don't know what's more absurd, the number of LL fans out there, or the fact that so many of them seem to lack any sense of irony.

Here's the latest one:

Hi, I'm [name redacted] from belgium (so my English isn't good at all but i'm going to try it) I love Lindsay Lohan, she is so beautiful, she is HOT. So my point is : if you got the e-mail, or phone number of Lindsay please give it to me, she is the perfect girl I just want to see her in Real, and I want to be her friend. She is a idol fot every girl, I like her style, the way she dresses her self, everything. You probably think that I'm a freak of her, but not I that way, you know. I'm 16 years old and please say against Lindsay that there is someone in Belgium who's a great fan of her. And maybe if I graduate when I'm 18, my parents said I could study in the USA, to play baseball also because it's my sport, maybe I will be a pro someday and maybe then Lindsay wil meet me ( Maybe), It's my dream to be a pro baseballer, and to have Lindsay as my girlfriend !!, and if that dream ever come true I will be the happiest man of the world I swear, so please introduce me to Lindsay if you ever got her e-mail or phonenumber.

Thanks for listening to me, it means a lot

[name redacted]

Update: It's not looking good for Belgium dude. This is how LL treats people who are not in her social stratosphere.

Posted by: annika at 10:10 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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