GOP should take a vow of poverty

Guess what? Hoovervilles are back! Thanks, Republicans!

Okay, I think it's pretty clear to most people that I think the GOP is a party full of assholes.

How could I not? Or to put it another way, why should I feel any different? What have they done for me, ever? And before anyone can say "What about Reagan?" let me say this: Old Ronnie sucked.

He came off as kind of a nice old fart, but really, his policies stank: he lied about Iran-Contra (you remember that, when we dealt with a terrorist nation and even sold them arms, all so that we could turn around and illicitly support a bunch of killers in Central America), he drove up the national debt in numbers that were until that time unthinkable; he invaded Grenada; in short, he was a dick. There, I said it.

But I digress. The question now is, how can the party of Drinky McDumbAss (also known as George Bush) make me like them?

Simple: take a vow of poverty.

Seriously, if Boner and all his pals in congress took a vow of poverty to show America how to cut spending in a meaningful way, I'd sit up and take notice. If they then cut all their staffs in half, took public transportation, and gave all their worldly goods to charity in this time of need, I'd think that maybe they weren't all bad. Most of the Republicans seem to court the vote of the religious right- which is to say Christian fundamentalists- and I am fairly certain Jesus would totally approve of this.

Now, I realize there could be some problems. If, for instance, Rush Limbaugh got in on this and decided to try and emulate St. Francis (who was pretty cool) by walking around naked, that would be a bad thing. (I do think that fat bastard should sell his gold microphone and give the proceeds to charity. Yes, he's entitled to it- but there's something sort of Marie Antoinette in it's lavishness that doesn't sit well in these times of need)

Just think of all the money the government would save. It could be millions. Hell, if they only took a cut in pay and benefits equal to what they think the auto union workers should take, that would go a long way in cutting the deficit. It could certainly help keep some of the 8,800 teachers from being fired in LA. Or maybe the saved money could go towards helping New Orleans get back on it's feet.

So how about it, party of old white dudes, with a few women and people of color? Why not have every local, state, and federal Repub. in office refuse to be paid, and have the money go back into the budgets from whence they came?

Stop following Anus, God of Speaking out of both sides of your Ass, and start following the example set by that carpenter dude.

Lead by example.

ENIK'S CIRCLE

So Sunday, like a lot of people, I watched the Super Bowl and all of it's bonus features- the pre-show, the post-show, Bruce Springsteen- and the commercials. All of it was pretty cool- and I especially like seeing Obama having the guts to actually say he was for Pittsburgh- as opposed to some equivocating "may the best team win" baloney that you would expect from a politician- but what got me the most excited was the trailer for the new movie version of The Land of the Lost starring Will Ferrell. I used to watch that show when it first came out, and I really loved it.
And I have this weird memory of a certain episode that I wasn't sure I had really seen, or only imagined or dreamt I had seen- the storyline seems so strange, so over the top for Saturday morning early 1970's fare. As the years have passed, I've become less and less sure as to whether I ever really saw the episode in question or had made it up due to an overactive imagination coupled with a fascination and fear of death.

Here's what I remember from Land of the Lost in general, and of that existential episode in particular. Marshall, Will, and Holly, on a routine expedition, met the greatest earthquake ever known- and were sucked down this giant toilet bowl in granite of some sort to this place with several moons, lots of odd flora and fauna, and dinosaurs- not to mention monkey people and the dreaded Sleestack- or maybe it's Sleezstack- these bug-like lizard people who hiss a lot and don't take kindly to the Marshall clan. How the Marshall's survive in this strange world is basically the show. But that was just the beginning. Soon after their arrival, they meet Enik (whose name just happens to be the Greek word for cinema spelled backwards)- a tan looking sleeztack who can talk and is groovy and not quite so mean as his cousins- who turn out to be his descendants, as he comes from a distant past, and for some reason (like voting Republican too often) his people have become a bunch of cranky assholes. Among the cool things Enik can do is move these power crystals around in these funky little pyramids called Pylons that are all over the place. Ok- Marshalls, dinosaurs, multiple moons, monkey people, sleeztacks, and funky ass Enik. That's the general stuff about Land O' Lost.

Now the weird episode. Somehow, the Marshalls and Enik end up in this particularly powerful Pylon, and Enik is like "Hey, I have some serious shit to tell you about", and Mr. Marshall says "Oh?" and Enik is like "Yeah. It's pretty heavy. You better sit down." Picking up on the heaviness, Mr. Marshall tells Enik to give it to him straight, so Enik tells him "you don't belong here, amigo- something is all wrong with you being here". At this point, Marshall is getting pretty pissed off, and Enik can tell, so he shows him some stuff- telling him "this is not going to be so nice, but you asked for it, so here goes". Then Enik moves some crystals around, and on the screen in the Pylon they see the accident that brought them to the Land of the Lost in the first place- and Marshall gets all serious and says "there's no way we could have lived through that", and Enik goes "You didn't". Then they see the three dead Marshalls, and talk about some variation on Nietzsche and his theory of eternal recurrence. End of show.
Now that is a weird thing to have on a kiddie show- and you can see why I thought maybe I had dreamt it up.

But after seeing the trailer during the Super Bowl, I was reminded yet again of that strange episode- of how it dawned on me that the Land of the Lost was really the Land of the Dead- and I turned to Google.

Turns out it really was an episode, called Circle, written by Larry Niven and David Gerrold. It was the final episode of the first season, when they thought there wasn't going to be a season two. Oddly, the show got picked up and the whole they're all dead thing went away- but I never forgot that. I was eight when I saw Circle. Weird.

So what has that to do with things today?

Not much- except for this- I think we are kind of in a Land of the Lost right now, a crazy place where the past, the present, and the future are all happening at the same time- there are deadly dinosaurs running around in the form of greedy CEOs and senators against stimulating the economy, preserving the environment, letting gay people marry, etc.- there are Sleaze Stacks like Madoff and Cheney and Bush- who are like devolved, smelly versions of human beings-
and if we don't stop all the madness that has reigned over us for the past eight years, we'll be looking at ourselves sprawled on the side of a riverbank, realizing that we're the walking dead.

Fare Thee Well, George Francis

George Francis died the other day. He was 112. He was the oldest man living in the U.S. at the time of his departure for points unknown, for that undiscovered country old Billy Bob you-know-who wrote about way back when. I think a lot about death and time and what happens when we shuffle off this mortal coil- even more so around the holidays when so many ghosts of Christmas past run amok- so I took particular interest in this story about Mr. Francis and his recent demise. Here was a guy who was born when years, as counted in the western world, began with 18- as in the Nineteenth Century. Too bad he didn't get to see tomorrow and all that it will bring. But then again, 112 years is a lot of living, and that guy got to see a lot of stuff none of us will ever, unless we somehow become friends with Marty McFly and his time traveling DeLorean. If I live to be 112, I wonder what things I will see- what new wonders, what epic tragedies? I guess (and by the way, I am dropping the use of the small "i" when I say I) I've seen a lot in my days- but there's a lot I'd like to see that hasn't happened yet- like people on Mars, contact with Aliens, a feature film of The Hobbit. Yeah, I dream big.

So.

This morning, I saw the stupidest segment on the Today show- wherein this super white bread reporter was pondering whether Barack Obama is as "gangsta" as Fifty-Cent. Nothing like a bunch of honkeys trying to act street to make one want to barf. It just blew my mind that, with all that is happening in the country, with all that is riding on the upcoming presidency- this is something they choose to take the time to make an entire segment out of- how cool is Obama? Seriously, that's just lame. It was sort of like when Doctor Evil told his son Scott "I'm hip, I'm with it" and then went into a bizarre version of the Macarana.

Speaking of the new Administration, I got an e-mail the other day urging the creation of a Secretary of the Arts- which I think is an awesome idea. Here is a link with more on the subject:
www.petitiononline.com/esnyc/petition.html. I hope you all sign it, and pass it along to everyone you know- we should be the world leader in the arts, not the world slacker.

What? We don't slack? There are great things going on right here, right now?
I know, but I still think our government needs to get a better grasp of the Arts and their place in society.

Okay, that's it- my first blog of 2009- sort of rambling, but I only had one cup of coffee so far, so what do you expect?

And lest I end without at least one plug, the web site is up for Gravity and Glass, which is producing my new play Hela and Troy- here's the link:
Gravity and Glass.

So. let's all live to 113 at least, and let's all be gangsta cool the whole ride.

Cesta hořícího muže

Hi- the translated title of Burning the Old Man has changed, and I know you all would want to know that- so below is the blurb on the play. I think my new favorite word is neohipiku.

Kelly McAllister: Cesta hořícího muže

Překlad Víktor Janiš
Režie Maria Záchenská

Česká premiéra duben 2009

Dva rozhádaní bratři vyrážejí na přání nedávno zesnulého otce na cestu k místu, které si jejich příbuzný vyvolil jako místo posledního odpočinku. Uváznou těsně před cílem, v laciném hotýlku kdesi v poušti společně s barmankou, dvojicí neohipíků a rozzlobeným mužem středního věku. Putování s urnou je hořkosladká a velmi vtipná hra o smrti, nepříjemných rodinných pravdách i o plameni vášně, který dřímá v každém z nás a který může být tak snadno uhašen.

Feeling Groovy

You ever notice how life is like a bowl of chocolates? Wait a minute- i've heard that somewhere, in some strange dream that mashed up Andy Rooney and Forrest Gump. Still, it is a pretty good thing, life. Of late, i've been thinking positively. Yes, i know- what a shock. Me, thinking things will turn out well. What can i say? We live on this beautiful planet, that has birds and music and the Beatles and Obama and my wife's celestial eyes- i have never, even at times of great despair- never found this world to be anything but a miracle. So, here we are at that time of year in America when we all are supposed to think about what we are thankful for- and i thought I'd share a couple things, and then ask you all to send in things you're thankful for as well, so that we can all groove in karmic goodness.
i am thankful for this moment i had during the opening night of the play i've been working on with Watershed High up in Boulder. It was an original piece put together by the students, and was one of those shows that came together and surpassed all expectations, and was a huge success. i was in the theatre, watching the kids perform- the house was full, the play was stunning, and all the kids had this look of wondrous magic on their faces. And i thought, wow, i had something to do with getting them to that place. Cool. Thanks Universe.
i'm also thankful for my wife's encouragement with my writing. She's the education director for Clementine Art School (see link to the right), and leaves for work about two hours before i do- and often i take that time to get some writing in- being the wife of a writer who is still waiting for that big break can be rough, but she's the best. So thanks, gorgeous.
And this morning i'm thankful to Gravity and Glass Productions, who have wisely decided to include my new one act Hela and Troy in their Valentines Week-end presentation of one-acts at CenterStage in NYC. So thanks!
Yes, life is being good to me right now. i think it always is- yes, there are things that suck, like death, the current administration, etc.- but all in all, i dig it.

Change feels good

i woke up this morning feeling exceptionally wonderful- like i was about to go on a trip to Europe or had just won the Pulitzer Prize or something. i don't know why, exactly. i just feel great. Maybe i'm in the middle of a mood swing, and in reality i am in dire straits, psychologically speaking. But i don't think so. Part of it has to do with Barak Obama winning the election- no doubt. i didn't realize just how down these past eight years had gotten me until Tuesday night. It's like we all were stuck in a horrible situation and were pretending it wasn't so bad- like we were collectively the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail or something. And i mean after Arthur chopped off all his limbs and he said "it's just a flesh wound." That was us every time we watched the news and some new terrible decision had been made by the Decider. "Just a flesh wound". But those days are gone. When it was announced that our long national nightmare was over, i sat there on the couch at our friends Tim and Steph's house, and had the most complete catharsis of my life- it was just insane. All these pent up feelings of joy and sorrow and hope and fear came flying out, like all those vices that flew out of Pandora's box back in the days of myth. In a nano-second, i cried, laughed, gasped, cheered, wished my mother and father could have lived to see this day, jumped up and down, and cried some more. All in a nano-second. My soul felt better- feels better- is better.
Whoopee.
i've always kind of felt like there is a specific path i am supposed to follow- like there are things i am meant to do. i know, it's magical thinking. Whatever. i still feel that way. There have been times when i've known i was in the wrong place- like when my boss at the restaurant where i worked as a singing waiter told me that if i had to shovel shit, i should be the best shit shoveler there was. No, i thought- if my job is shoveling shit, then it's time to seek other employment- which i did. Sitting there listening to that bizarre advice was a moment when i knew i had strayed from my path. Something was wrong- the world was not working the way it was supposed to. That's how i've felt ever since the nightmare in Florida that gave us the current Pretender-in-Chief. Like something was amiss. Now, there have also been times when i've known, with absolute certainty, that i was where i was supposed to be, like the day i got married. There we were in Prague, the City of Magic, saying our vows while the ancient clocked chimed and thousands of passersby cheered and took snapshots. i was where i was supposed to be, doing exactly what i was supposed to be doing, and all was well with the world.
When the election was called for Obama, i knew that the world was back on track- and that somehow, i too was on the right path.
And things are starting to click in my life. Final paperwork is being signed in Prague right now for a production of Burning the Old Man set to go up in April at Vaclav Havel's old theatre, Divaldlo na Zabradli. The latest book i'm featured in, One on One- The Best Men's Monologue's for the 21st Century, hit the bookshelves this week, and i am very proud of that- especially since it also features such stellar writers as August Wilson and Spaulding Gray. Work on the tv project about Edgar Cayce that i'm working on with my buddy Myles Reed is coming together- whole new stand alone episode set to be sent out, and i am confident some wise producer will read it and say, "yes, with the way those glorious winds of change are blowing, now is the time to green light this baby!". Oh yes, it will happen.

In short, things just rock right now.

i'm even excited to rake the leaves out back.

So thanks, Mr. Obama, for helping put the world back in order.

Going Obama in Denver

I live in a battleground state - which makes it sound like I'm in No Man's Land, and that when I look out the window I should see nothing but trenches, barbed wire, and smoke rising from machine gun nests. "Well, Lieutenant McAllister, the GOP is 40 clicks past that blasted out farmhouse- your mission is to take five of your best men and retake the district. God be with you". Instead, I look up and down my street, and I see suburbia- quiet houses, leaves falling, people out walking their dogs- you know, the usual thing conjured in most of our minds when we hear of the ubiquitous "Main Street". It doesn't feel like a battleground- it feels like America.
On Sunday, Obama gave a speech downtown, and we decided to go. It was a great day. I got up a little before 8, made coffee for myself and Lisa, and then headed downtown. Lisa and some friends were meeting me later, so I had a nice half hour stroll on a gorgeous Autumn morning. As I neared the park where the speech was going to be, more and more people appeared, walking along, smiling, drinking coffee, wearing pins and stickers and tee shirts proclaiming their support for Obama-Biden. There was this electric excitement in the air- it reminded me of what it felt like in high school when you went to a concert- an electric sense of expectation and good fortune. Several helicopters hovered over downtown, buzzing in the distance. About ten blocks from the park, I began running into volunteers telling people where to go, how to get in, and so

on.

Some on them had info on state elections- amendments, state senators, etc. My anticipation was rising, and I just felt great- I felt magic, blessed- like the Blues Brothers, I was on a mission from God.

I was going to see the next President of the United States. Oh yes, I was.

There's an area in downtown Denver called the Golden Triangle, which includes the state Capital, the new Art Museum, the Main Library, and the Civic Park where the speech was going to take place. It's one of those great places full of parks, plaza's, and noteworthy architecture. I walked along past the giant Cow statues (yes, we have giant bovine statuary here in the Mile High City), through the plaza in front of the museum, and came upon the Great Line. It stretched out from the park, then turned, circled around the library, and headed back, like a great U of humanity. I began to realize that there were going to be a lot of people.
I walked past the crowd, to see where the line started and to take it all in. Near the gates stood a solitary figure, a McCain supporter with a big sign saying Obama was a socialist. I asked him if he believed that, and he told me that he was a veteran, that he was 60 years old, and that he had never been scared of any politician before- but that Obama frightened him. He pointed at my Obama shirt and said "that guy scares me. His domestic stuff is okay, but there's no way he can lead our troops over seas." He seemed nice enough- just of a vastly different opinion than mine. Next, I walked the line, around the library, along the edge of the park, and down Colfax- one of the main streets in that section of town.
I walked through the upper end of the park, through the throngs, and came across a group of protesters. Most of them wore togas, and one of them was dressed up like a big orange cat or bear or something. I asked of them what the togas were for, and was told it signified how "Obama thinks he's all like a Greek dude, standing in front of those columns!". I asked him if he meant the columns Obama stood in front of when he gave his acceptance speech during the DNC. "Yeah," he said, "he thinks he's like Jesus or something".

"Don't you think that's a stretch?" I asked. "Yeah, totally. He's not a messiah!". I began to suspect this guy and his pals were nuts.
I walked on, and literally ran into an old friend, which I took as a sign that I was where I was supposed to be. That's me and my old pal Dan in the photo with Obama waving- we're in the middle, about halfway up the crowd. It might be hard to make us out as there were over 100,000 people in the park that day. Lisa showed up, as did our friends the Andersons- and we basked in the glow of the event. The warm up acts were Governor Ritter, Senator Salazar, the Democratic nominee for Senator Udall- lots of really great people, and we listened to them happily- but everyone was waiting for the big event- Obama. And finally, he walked out. The crowd went nuts. It really is like a rock concert to see this guy speak. He walks on stage, and it's like when Bono walked out during the Unforgettable Fire tour, way back in the eighties. Somehow, Obama (and Bono) know how to connect to a crowd. It's that X factor that people either have, or don't. Clinton had it, too- that ability to communicate. I don't know why more people don't have- but they don't. I mean, look at President Dummy- every time old George speaks, I don't feel like I've been spoken to as much as I feel like I've been lied to yet again.

After the speech, we made our way towards home, stopping for a late breakfast and to talk about the speech. Lisa and I decided to vote early, which you can do here in Colorado- and yesterday, we did just that. The voting center was packed, but we only had to wait about half an hour. I brought my passport as my means of identification, because I didn't want to have any trouble voting, and a passport is the best means of I.D. Maybe I was being over cautious, but then again, maybe I wasn't. I worry because I think the GOP cheats, that they have for at least the past eight years and that they are going to cheat this time. I bet you dollars to doughnuts that the exit polls will show a much larger margin of victory for Obama than what the precincts counts will show- not due to the mythical "Bradley effect", but due to cheating on behalf of a washed up party that is more out of touch with the public than Richard III was in Act Five. I can see it now, some GOP operative somewhere on election night, or maybe many of them, writhing about in the agony of defeat, realising that this time they just couldn't cheat their way into the White House, screaming "Another ballot box, another ballot box, my kingdom for another ballot box."