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March 24, 2004

Life Lessons Through Liquor

Alcohol is a crutch. It's a stress reliever. A stress inducer. A game face. It's an indicator of one's success as well as one's downfall. It can be used to celebrate a joyous occasion and it can lead to a tragic event. It's good for your health and bad for your health. It can cost as much as you want or as little as you can afford. It can be used to toast a marriage and to forget a divorce. Like a gun, it all depends on the person, and what they choose to do with it.

Now, I'm not a drinker, but my family is well-versed in libations. One side of my family, in particular, seems to be in a race to the grave with a bottle in their hands. Many of those who've already died, died young. And many of those who are still living don't have much living left. And, with this being the week of St. Patrick's Day, should I dare mention that this side of my family is almost entirely Irish? Memories of my childhood are smattered with images of drunk aunts, uncles, and cousins at the local Irish club. At first, these images were scary. Then, they became funny. Now, they're just sad. It's sad to think about how much life these people missed simply because they couldn't get their heads out of the bottle.

The other side of my family handles their liquor a little bit better. But there is one person (who shall remain nameless) who, after a few after dinner Southern Comforts, magically transforms into an incoherent crooner, accompanying himself equally as incoherently on the piano. He'll then move to a recliner, and fall asleep watching TV with his glass balanced perfectly on the armrest. Amazing.

I worked in restaurants for the better part of ten years, and have seen all kinds of people (including many public figures you would know) in various stages of intoxication. Some would get mean, some would get flirtatious, and some would say things they'd never have said if they'd been sober...and if they had known that, one day, I'd be the editor of a local newspaper.

In social occasions, I'm usually the one being accosted by a drunk person who desperately wants me to "join the party." He or she will ask me over and over and over (and over) again if I want a drink. Is it insecurity on their part? Do they feel self-conscious or gulity that they're drinking and I'm not? Or have they simply forgotten that they've already asked me? I don't care if people want to drink. Why do they care if I don't?

I try not to judge, but I'll admit that I'd rather spend my time with sober people than drunk people. I understand that many folks struggle with problems bigger than I could ever imagine. Going through those struggles with a sound mind, though, teaches you how to better deal with them (or even avoid them completely) the next time around. Avoiding problems by getting drunk takes away life's one common purpose: learning.

Posted by colrus at 03:22 AM | TrackBack

March 02, 2004

The Passion of the Barbershop 2

Barbershop 2 is not anti-semitic. That was one thing I was pretty sure of before I went to see it. And, upon watching the film, I was right.

When this past weekend rolled around, I seriously contemplated going to see Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. I mean, after all, I had spent the last year listening to, watching, and reading the comments of imbeciles WHO HADN'T EVEN SEEN THE FILM OR EVEN READ A SCREENPLAY and who decided that it was their duty to tell the world that the film was not only anti-semitic, but that Mel Gibson didn't paticularly care for Jews, and that he shared his father's vague-though-questionable views on, among other things, the Holocaust. I've often noticed in my lifetime that when people go out of their way to bash something that they know nothing about, the very thing they're bashing usually winds up having some merit. So, after months and months of witnessing this Mel bashing, I decided that I'd have to see the film, if only to see what all the fuss was about.

But as The Passion made it to theatres, my desire to see the film has increasingly dissolved as I've listened to, watched, or read many people's reactions to the film. Entire church congregations are replacing Sunday morning services with trips to see the film, and many people of faith are hoping that this film - one man's interpretaton of the crucifixion of Christ - will lead people to the Lord.

Why does it take a movie - and a selectively scripturally-faithful one, at that - to excite people about God? Why do so many folks who already believe in Christ feel the need to watch a movie like this? If their belief is truly living and breathing, why do they mindlessly flock to the theatres? Is there something in the film that they don't know already? And how do they reconcile Gibson's artistic choices when those choices might fly in the face of what they believe?

Of course, along with the film came the usual Passion-related merchandise, which only made me want to see the film even less. A particularly nauseous moment came when I learned of the most popular item: a 2-inch-long pewter nail pendant, meant to be a replica of the nails used in the Crucifixion. An estimated 75,000 nail pendants, which come harnessed to leather cords, have been sold so far. I humbly ask you, why do people always feel the need to "honor" sacred people, places, and events by buying mass-produced, exceedingly schmaltzy and downright cheap crap? Shouldn't the event, itself, be plenty of cause for remembrance? Do you really need a "Christian-y" souvenir, too? Does nothing fall out of reach of Hollywood's marketing arm?

I guess that's my ultimate point. The Passion is simply a film, and Mel Gibson chose to express his vision through the Hollywood machine. He could have written a book, painted a painting, or preached at a church. But that's not what he does. Gibson makes films - Hollywood films - and along with Hollywood comes exposure, merchandising, and controversy. For folks to view this film as Gospel truth is just as wrong as Gibson, himself, flying off the handle at criticism of himself, his father or the film; which is just as bad as my complaints about people buying Passion souvenirs. Neither Gibson, the filmgoers, or myself should expect too much from a movie.

As I stood outside the theatre last Saturday night, I couldn't have seen The Passion even if I'd wanted to. It was already sold out. So I decided to see Barbershop 2, instead. It was a good, funny film. And after this week of heavy thought and discussion, I needed a good, funny film. In fact, the only serious thought I had while watching Barbershop 2 was, "Should I laugh along with the black folks as the black folks in the movie make jokes about white folks, or will they crucify me?"

They didn't.

Man, that Cedric is hilarious.

Posted by colrus at 03:51 PM | TrackBack