#901. Gasparilla 2024

Gasparilla is a festival that’s kind of a big deal in Tampa, and has been for more than a century, celebrating a fictional pirate named Jose Gaspar. It’s a fine excuse to have a little fun, a parade (two!) filled with floats of folk called krewes who toss bead necklaces at the gathered crowds, and celebrate local lore (real and imagined).

When I moved to Tampa back in the fall of 2017, I had no idea this thing existed, but by January 2018 (Gasparilla happens twice every January), I was fully onboard. No, I haven’t yet dressed as a pirate (or anything else), but, y’know, maybe! 

I grew up in Lisbon Falls, Maine, which for the part forty-odd years has celebrated Moxie Day (which I’ve talked about a few times in this blog), and when I was living in Colorado Springs there was Pikes Peak or Bust, another commemorative event (this one based on real events). Moxie Day is a community event steeped in the community, which Gasparilla is not, at least not in the same way. Moxie Day has things like bake sales and recipe contests. Gasparilla is food trucks. 

Anyway, so the first Gasparilla parade is always the children’s version. The second, a week later, is the adults one, where there is much drinking (it also has the “invasion” reenacted). I used to try and attend both, but that may be firmly in the past tense, or at least has turned in that direction.

My favorite part is actually all the skeleton pirates that pop up to help celebrate. There’s also the Rough Riders (Tampa was a staging ground for the Spanish American War), the Conquistadors, and the cows from Chick-Fil-A (the sponsor of the children’s parade; I took pictures of them previously but not this year). 

So that was yesterday.

#900. Sandman, Titans, Frasier

Well, here we are again, this time talking about some other TV shows I've watched recently, just before those other ones from last week...

Let's start with Sandman.  I didn't get into the comics until about a decade ago.  I know, I know, that's like twenty years later than all the cool kids, but whenever it happened I finally got there.  The efforts to adapt Sandman to movie and/or TV were byzantine, but it finally happened, on Netflix, and that of course meant someone who has never had Netflix was possibly never going to see it...Until Netflix decided to release the first season on physical media.  Which of course I snapped up.

For a comic book steeped in the goth culture of its time, there were probably going to be a few changes to keep it from feeling dated.  So that happened.  Along with about half the cast, Death is now black, and not the other most goth character in the story, but it really doesn't matter.  Same character, just as awesome, and half the best episode of the season, along with Hob Gadling (a tweet referring to which went as viral as I'm likely to).  Listening to Morpheus after all this time, just having a voice for the character, that's the biggest adjustment to make.  Absolutely totally worth the wait.  Will they really be able to adapt the whole comic?  Time to tell!

Titans finished out its run, and I caught up of course on home media (the way I've watched the whole series), with its fourth season (one whole episode of which finally gave Beast Boy a proper spotlight, which owed more than a little to Grant Morrison's Animal Man), and the whole run has a very symmetrical feel to it, along with the sliding time scale of the X-Men movies as close to a true comic book experience as live action adaptations have gotten.  Any regular reader of comics will know superhero team lineups come and go, and usually have a beginning and end of some kind.  The show began with the Titans getting back together (some of its best early material across the first two seasons are flashbacks to the past, a whole prior lineup we get to see with some of them coming back for me, including Wonder Girl), and ends with the group going back its separate ways.

The whole series has gotten so little attention (mostly in the beginning, when observers called it "needlessly violent"), and as such will be a welcome bit of rediscovery in the years ahead.  Definitely one of the hidden gems of the streaming era.

Speaking of which!  All these shows I've talked about in the past few weeks have come from one streaming service or another.  This last one this week is no exception.  Frasier is a reboot/continuation of the classic Frasier sitcom, which itself was of course a spinoff of Cheers.  Early reviews criticized the new version as lacking the depth of comic talent, specifically the actors playing Frasier's son and Nigel's son, but I find their unique characters in the general franchise to be refreshing, helping establish yet another identity for the third look at Frasier's world we've gotten to see.  It's also one of those shows I'm baffled has to be relegated to streaming (Paramount+), although the broadcast chances are maybe dicey with sticking strictly to Kesley Grammer as central star (whereas Night Court had a new face to the premise, and what's now known as The Connors had a whole cast it brought back).

Anyway, this old fan loved the results, which also helped keep me visiting my Paramount+ account in the absence (a fairly rare occurrence) of new Star Trek material (not that the service doesn't have other material, too).  There was a time (certainly when my working status had much different parameters, much less working hours) when I watched a flood of television programming, at least one show every night.  We're not really in a golden age of network television (although I think Ghosts is a classic too many people sleep on), so I'm not missing too much, and most of what streaming offers I can reasonably catch up with as I want.  I've also been watching Yellowstone (but curiously, not the streaming spinoffs).  Cable (premium or otherwise) rarely has much to interest me, and much of what critics love these days is indistinguishable from what they love in film.

So I guess I can say I'm keeping up about as well as always.

#899. The Mandalorian, “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow”

Hmm. Let’s maybe get back a little more into blogging (last year is the first one I missed on this particular one since I started it back in 2002!). If I manage to keep this up, this’ll be a brief look at the highlights of what I’ve watched recently, hopefully on a weekly basis.

So this past week I finally saw the first two seasons of The Mandalorian. I’m really behind. I know this. This is a show that until a few weeks ago only existed on Disney+. Except for Paramount+ (and its predecessor CBS All Access) I haven’t really participated in the streaming future. I have spent most of my life without cable TV, too. I view it like that. 

So I finally got to watch it because someone decided to release those seasons in physical media. I got them on Blu-ray, which is itself a format I didn’t participate in until the pandemic started. But I’ve been catching up on that, too. I now have dozens of movies and TV shows on these slightly smaller, smoother, more visually detailed discs. The first one I got was, and also the impetus for, Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone, the directorial reimagining of the third film in the series, an attempt to finally make it respectable.

Not really the subject of this discussion. Anyway.

I didn’t really have an urge to watch any of the Star Wars TV shows. I’m a fan of the movies. Pretty much all of them. Modern Star Wars fans and I diverge on a lot of points. They like the cartoons, Rogue One…I don’t. I knew all about the Baby Yoda phenomenon. Kind of hard to avoid. I figured that was probably good enough.

Then this opportunity arose. So I dove in. The absolute best I can say is that it’s really interesting to watch familiar Star Wars elements sort of remixed. I mean, this is clearly (unlike, say, Rogue One) Star Wars. By the second season they’re clearly leaning more heavily into the connective material.

Let’s move on.

I’ve watched every episode of Star Trek. All of them. (Prodigy now being on Netflix, this will change for the foreseeable future.) I’ve followed and enjoyed each new show to varying degrees (Prodigy least, so kind of fortuitous). 

This being said, last year the best new episode in decades (since the end of Enterprise) happened, and in the series most capable of achieving the necessary episodic format to reach it. Which is to say, Strange New Worlds.

The episode is “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” (which you might have been able to guess from the title of this post). It features a character who’s been a regular in the series from the start, a descendant of Khan, being forced in the most literal way possible, to confront her ancestry. 

The whole episode is magical. La’an herself had already been a favorite of mine (as much as it pains her to think of them I love to hear her say “Gorn,” and she was by far the best element of the fantasy episode in the first season, when I truly noticed her for the first time). How she plays off Kirk, and how the episode leans into Kirk himself, interprets him (kind of how Grogu cleverly depicts Yoda’s quip to Luke all those years ago, about he could possibly be so big eating the way he did), which for a character who has existed for some sixty years and this is the third incarnation of him, that’s a special kind of breakthrough.

But yeah, it also dives deeply into Star Trek lore, by giving us a glimpse into Khan’s origins, and La’an’s continuing efforts to reconcile her lineage. The whole experience is, as I may have mentioned, perfect, for all the reasons I’ve touched on and many more besides. It’s the most richly articulated episodes in franchise history, and yeah, one of the best. I have a whole blog dedicated to the franchise, and I have painstakingly detailed the new classics as I’ve talked about all those episodes, classics in Star Trek having become harder to identify the older it’s gotten.

This one goes leagues beyond most of them. And it baffles me that nobody seems to recognize this. So I try to talk about it here and there. I just happened to watch it again, which is why I’m writing about it here now.

I’ve been a fan of Star Wars and Star Trek most of my life, so it’s always nice to know there’s still new stuff worth talking about all these many years later, past the formative material. That’s not a sentiment that gets expressed enough, not these days. I’ve tried most of my blogging experience to counteract that, so it’s fitting to reiterate the point when trying to get back into the swing of it.

Rogue One/Andor: Crimes Against Star Wars

When Rogue One set the new bar of fan interest in Star Wars (the only recent phenomenon would be Baby Yoda, which ironically actually plays into everything fans hated about the prequels, but let's just continue to pretend otherwise), it was really like a slap in the face to everything that had come before.

But let's explain that, shall we?

George Lucas didn't exactly go out of his way to explain the nature of the Rebel Alliance.  The version we saw in A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi was basically an army that continually fought against the Empire, no matter how mismatched they seemed to be.

The version of the Rebel Alliance as envisioned by Rogue One and its prequel series Andor is at best akin to the French Resistance during WWII, and at worst the Arab insurgencies we typically call terrorists, because they just like to blow things up.  

The version of the Rebel Alliance presented by Lucas was very much in the spirit of the American Revolution, a war fought on conventional terms.  Lucas himself envisioned Star Wars as a response to the Vietnam War, although he didn't go out of his way to make the point.  The North Vietnamese did not fight a conventional war.  (Nor did the Taliban, or the Iraqis.  If anyone would bother to remember how the wars with Native American tribes actually played out, we'd see some actual parallels in history.)  That's why it was such a difficult war to fight, why it dragged on for years, because it was impossible to achieve any real objectives.

The Rebel Alliance engaged the Empire when and where it needed to, fighting on the Empire's terms.  

Lucas never really showed what life was like under the Empire.  We saw Darth Vader, we saw the hooded Emperor, we saw military leaders, we saw Stormtroopers.  We saw leaders of individual worlds working with the Rebellion, though they hid their allegiances as much as possible.

We in essence saw a very small portrait of what life was actually like.  We saw a world that seemed totally untouched by the Empire.  We saw another with a thriving business economy that made a deal with the Empire and was left with a permanent garrison, which meant the loss of autonomy.

We saw so very little.  

We saw smugglers working independently, whose rough lives were totally untouched except for attempts to check their activities by the Empire.  

We saw the Imperial Academy as a viable path for youths in search of a future.  We saw the Rebellion as a romantic ideal.  We saw old heroes hiding away for years.  We saw the offspring of Vader hiding from him, from the Emperor.  We saw the Jedi reduced to the idea of some old religion in the span of only a few decades, both by ordinary people and even those interacting with a remnant within the Empire itself.  

We saw an Empire really only interested in control, but leaving powerful regional gangsters in play.

We saw the Rebellion with its own fleet, however small in comparison, hiding away at one location or another, striking out even against the most feared weapons of the Empire.

We did see the Empire use such weapons against entire worlds.  We saw that only the Rebel Alliance seemed at all concerned about this.  But genocidal tyrants are surely known for their outrages.  

We didn't see any efforts to topple the Emperor from power from within.

That would be interesting to see.

We didn't see the Rebels acting as terrorists.

But somehow that's how fans are starting to see them in their preferred new circumstances.  I have a problem with this.  

All the complaints about what Lucas did, what J.J. Abrams, what Rian Johnson did, did they ever fundamentally alter the Star Wars saga?  Did they change the basic character of the good guys?  

If you want to explore the story in ways that haven't been seen before, do it in ways that don't destroy the story.  

A Cheatsheet to Creating Star Wars

Surprisingly, Star Wars in fact did not simply invent itself into existence.  George Lucas worked on a number of drafts (eventually adapted into an excellent comic book entitled The Star Wars by Jonathan Rinzler and Mike Mayhew) before settling on the story and elements as they first appeared in theaters in 1977.  For the purposes of this article, I am confining myself to inspiration Lucas himself would have had, and not more familiar anecdotes like where John Williams adapted previous film scores for his famous fanfares.  Incredibly, some of this does not seem to have been part of the lore, or at least widely speculated.  

Let's get some of the obvious ingredients out of the way.  Frank Herbert claimed Lucas stole Dune (originally published in 1965) wholesale.  There's certainly some merit, insofar as a desert planet and an upstart hero with budding special abilities from an old society and an empire in the mix goes, but otherwise, in terms of what Star Wars (which is what Star Wars was in 1977, not Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope) was on release, it's kind of a stretch.

Lucas himself always said he originally envisioned Flash Gordon, and only settled on original creations later.  The particular Flash Gordon he had in mind, although it's often said he was inspired by the theatrical serials, was probably the 1954-1955 TV series.  

George Lucas was born on May 14, 1944.  He would have been an ideal kid audience for the series, which was adapted from the comic strip begun in 1934 and first filmed in three movie serials from 1936 to 1940, all before his birth.  

Another avowed source of inspiration for Lucas was The Hidden Fortress, released in 1958, as well as the less well-known The Dam Busters, from 1955, which helped inform the end sequence trench run on the Death Star.

All this is well and good, and well-documented.  Here's where we perhaps find fresh material.

I only read Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy a few years back.  Foundation (1951), Foundation and Empire (1952), and Second Foundation (1953) are certainly well-known to genre fans, but are seldom, if ever, talked about in conjunction with Star Wars, and yet, once past the intellectual exercise that is the first book, I found an astounding number of parallels, both in plot and dialogue (just pointing them all out would require a reread and its own article), from throughout the Star Wars saga (one of the more obvious ones being the Mutant being a precursor to the Emperor).

Watching Ben-Hur (1959) as an adult (I only remember watching it as a kid because the climactic chariot race has a few memorable beats that stuck in latent memory) it was impossible not to hear parallels between the British-sounding characters talking about the (Roman) empire in it and the British-sounding characters in Star Wars talking about the Empire, including frequent references to "the emperor" (when in more recent years it's not often you think of the caesars under that term).  It becomes all the more obvious Lucas had Ben-Hur on the brain when he circles around to the prequels later and focuses them on the conflict between adoptive brothers Anakin and Obi-Wan, just as Ben-Hur does with the title character and Messala, who engage in the climactic race after an equally dramatic falling out.

Now, here's where I include some interesting casting choices as part of the mix.

The voice of Darth Vader is one of the signature elements of all Star Wars lore, and here I'm talking about James Earl Jones, and you have surely heard plenty about how that happened.  But what about why?  I happened to be watching old Sherlock Holmes material during the pandemic, when I came upon this scene:

That's the voice of Dr. Watson as portrayed by Howard Marion-Crawford in the 1955 episode "The Case of the Reluctant Carpenter" of the US Sherlock Holmes TV series.  I think you'll agree that it sounds uncannily like Jones, especially as he sounds in the first Star Wars film.  Here's where my point about all the 1950s material the young George Lucas absorbed comes into play.  Whether it was a conscious decision or not, it seems probable to suggest that the future filmmaker heard that voice and filed it away.

The actor himself would have been unavailable when Lucas began filming, having passed away in 1969.  Watching much more of the series you would no doubt be aware that his voice was hardly consistent in its delivery, so that you might never suspect upon watching just any episode.  But to my ear it was unmistakable, and it caused me to take immediate notice.

I previously wrote about Harrison Ford appearing in Gunsmoke (he made two appearances, but the relevant episode is "Whelan's Men" in which he portrays a character named Hobey) in 1973, featuring a scene that nearly exactly parallels the infamous "Han shot first" cantina sequence, a clip I was previously able to include in a post centering on the parallels but now seems unavailable.  But if you happen to be keeping score, it's the twentieth episode of Gunsmoke's eighteenth season.  (If for some reason I had previously misidentified the role, then it's his other appearance, in a different role.)  It's very likely that this was no coincidence.

In the years since Lucas directed the prequels, it's become fashionable to doubt his creative abilities, and even to suggest that the genius of the original films derives from editing.  Pointing out where he came up with various elements isn't to take away from Lucas as the creator of Star Wars, but rather the genius it took to synthesize not only all that material but reconcile it with the ideas he'd already toyed with in order to create a filmable concept.

It may be a saga set in a galaxy far, far away, but for Lucas "long ago" was his childhood, as it often is.  

The Magnar of Thenn

 I abandoned George R.R. Martin's A Dance with Dragons this morning.  I read nearly eight hundred pages, only a few hundred left before I would've been done.  Dragons is the fifth and to date most recent entry in Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, the basis for Game of Thrones, which concluded its television run amid ridicule after spending the vast majority of it amid wild acclaim.  Mostly, fans were upset that one of the major characters didn't end up on the Iron Throne, although to be fair, the final occupant was one of them, just not one of their favorites, instead the one who kind of combined King Arthur and Merlin (the whole series one long origin story!) without anyone bothering to notice.

Anyway, I abandoned it because it was terrible, and I was finally fed up with it.  Terrible, not because I disapproved of Martin's lust for sex and violence (the very things that brought so many fans to the TV series), but for his imagination being far more attuned to world-building world-building and world-building rather than anything resembling internal logic.

Granted, I'm not really a fan of fantasy.  My only real interests in fantasy are the Chronicles of Narnia (which is designed to be devoured by eager young readers) and Harry Potter (which began as such and then grew up along the way, like the characters).  While everyone else salivated over Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings films, I observed with restraint from a distance, and found it amusing that he brought the same, if not better, skill to his Hobbit films, and to considerably less acclaim.  I was never a fan of Excalibur, dull and dreary, flashy, desperate.  I liked my Arthur in prose, thank you.

I have a friend who's become increasingly casual over the years, who was a big fantasy fan in high school (I don't know if he still is), and the day I knew there was a massive difference between us was when I read just some of his favorite material, and had the extremely bad form to be honest about how I felt about it, in front of a whole English class (I absolutely still feel bad about it, but to be fair, I rarely know, when I'm actually talking, and it's not joking, if I'm saying the right thing or only what my introvert brain is processing as what I understand and what others probably won't, and my complete inability to bridge the gap between).

I did read the Tolkien books.  I actually read The Hobbit, in grade school, thanks to that friend (although I took greater interest in other recommendations he shared over the years, notably Maniac Magee and Jeff Smith's Bone, both of which remain treasured favorites).  I was reading the Lord of the Rings books in 2000, before the movies began premiering, and in one of the few instances where I care about adaptation fidelity, I will admit one of the problems I had with The Two Towers was Jackson's pointless deviations (although, again, I have no such problem with his inventive storytelling in the later Hobbit films).  I drew the line at The Silmarillion, the kind of Middle-Earth myth fiction that was Tolkien at his most indulgent.  Unreadable drivel.

Martin is Tolkien with about a tenth of the scholarly credentials, and even less imagination.  He's only really concerned with world-building, as I may have suggested earlier.  The whole of Dragons, which again is five books into the series, is a thousand pages of world-building!  Even the dialogue is endless world-building!  He scarcely seems to be aware that advancing the plot is even remotely necessary!  It's all foreboding!  It's every single character dreading what comes next!  Endlessly!  (Quite literally so, as Martin is a decade into writing the sixth book!  Of a projected seven!)

And so much of it is mindless drivel.  As I said, I never really got into fantasy, so it's largely a genre that's a foreign language to me.  As far as I can tell, it's composed almost entirely of the merging of another era's fiction and a fictional version of that era, so that the entire landscape is composed of a merging of fact and fiction.  And as that landscape has developed over the years, it apparently becomes less and less necessary for the fantasy to have any bearing in reality.

Such is Martin's imagination that I counted a number of eras in which his landscape might have seemed to have plausibly drawn from, and vast distances, and time, from which they would exist apart from each other.  Even the conceptions are difficult to reconcile in a context missing a key motivating factor from the real world (the existence of Christianity; if I were entirely cynical about the whole affair, I'd suggest it does exist in the series, but in a number of forms, including the dreaded White Walkers, so that it simultaneously informs the world that is being threatened and the world that threatens it).

But in two elements I did find something to admire.  One was Daenerys Targaryen at last taking flight on one of her dragons, the only sequence I read that wasn't exposition, and the other was a character name I found particularly charming: the Magnar of Thenn.

As a writer, I am particularly partial to cool names.  I love finding them in the real world, and I love using them, or creating them, in my fiction.  The main characters in Martin's work tend to have cool names, and then there's an avalanche of anonymous and yet laboriously named characters no one could ever possibly care about, few of which are interesting in any way except some which do have some interesting feature that will never be drawn on, when even the main characters spend all their time mulling over things rather than, y'know, doing anything.

The Magnar of Thenn gets married.  That's all he does.  But he has an evocative title, one of the few "wildlings" in this particular book to have been given any real depth (I imagine the wildlings represent native populations, whether the Druidic Britains the Romans encountered or, for example, any number of Native American tribes, so calling them wildlings is one of the many lazy copouts Martin is all too happy to settle for; his entire vision of Westeros, again, is all over the place and can never really be properly reconciled), even if only in that title.

I would've been happier to read a book with Dany riding her dragon and the Magnar of Thenn getting married somehow being important to that, and just about everything else being omitted.  Martin writes everything he thinks is interesting.  Most of the time it isn't, and he can't be bothered to tell the difference.

Jack Nicholson’s Final Role

How Do You Know was released in theaters December 2010.

My mother had just begun her battle with cancer. I was still working at Borders. My niece wasn’t born yet, but she was developing in uterus. 

And this was Jack Nicholson’s final film. It was also James L. Brooks’s final film.

I’m watching it for the first time as I write this. I lost track of Nicholson’s career, how long ago it ended. He’s 84 now, so he retired from acting in his 70s. Watching him in How is actually strange; even though I had seen him in plenty of movies from around that time, including one of my all-time favorites, The Departed, from four years earlier, he clearly seems older. It’s not hugely surprising that he decided he was done. He goes for the usual Nicholson gusto, but doesn’t really have it anymore. And it’s even a pretty small part. He plays at least fourth banana behind leads Reese Witherspoon, Paul Rudd and Owen Wilson (all three known for being extremely likable, and living up to it), and arguably behind even Kathryn Hahn, who at this point was still building her career of stealing scenes in supporting roles.

Nicholson famously dominated the screen. That was his whole thing. He wasn’t by any stretch a conventional leading man, but he ascended assuredly up the Hollywood ladder in the ‘70s until he was his own genre. Somehow he seemed like he’d do it forever, and then he was just gone. And he’s stayed gone for more than a decade.

How was received as a minor rom com, of little note. No one knew it would be Nicholson’s last film, although if you read between the lines you can tell Brooks knew it was his last. And probably even as he was filming, Nicholson did, too. 

The problem with a lot of critics is that they all too often take their job for granted. Witherspoon infuses her performance with the kind of determination to prove herself beyond the Legally Blonde reputation she had theoretically achieved with the Oscar win for Walk the Line, but she knew as well as anyone that when a mainstream leading actress wins one of those, it’s basically a gimme, and nobody really expects anything “good” from them again. And Rudd is Rudd, and Wilson of course is Wilson, which is to say reliably watchable. Rudd still gets taken for granted a decade later, and yeah, so does Wilson.

The thing about movies is that once an initial reception has been registered, it’s very hard to change (even cult films never really break out of cult status). I’m not saying that just because it’s Nicholson’s (and Brooks’) final film, you should consider it, I don’t know, a classic. But it didn’t deserve to be dismissed in 2010, and it does deserve a look in 2021. It’s a good movie with a great cast. But yeah, it’s now got a distinct historic sheen to it, and is well worth the effort of appreciating it for that. 

The Rise of Skywalker’s Emperor Explained

Let’s just get out of the way the fact that a lot of fans think The Rise of Skywalker was stupid. Star Wars fans generally have thought the latest Star Wars movie was stupid since Return of the Jedi. It really doesn’t matter what Star Wars fans say. Three trilogies are now complete, the saga is finished, and now fans can go enjoy their adorable Baby Yoda and not bother worrying about their idiot hypocrisy.

Anyway, Rise of Skywalker featured the return of the Emperor. This may be confusing since the Emperor returned, in the comics, years ago. Boba Fett returned in the comics years ago. Darth Maul was brought back long before he popped up at the end of Solo. These things happen. This particular return is somewhat less randomly nonsensical, and let me explain why:

In my personal favorite Star Wars film, Revenge of the Sith, the Emperor, slightly before he became the Emperor, had an illuminating discussion with Anakin Skywalker (best scene in Star Wars history), in which he explains what exactly sets the Sith apart from the Jedi. He says the Sith use the Force “in ways some might find unnatural,” while arguing that they could even prevent death itself. By the end of the movie he’s done exactly that, of course, transforming the horribly mutilated Anakin into Darth Vader. He also states that the Sith have the ability to create life itself.

In the movies, the life of Anakin Skywalker was never fully explained. There’s a theory that the Emperor actually used the Force to impregnate Shmi Skywalker. He likely did much the same to produce the heir who ended up rebelling and leaving Rey on Jakku. At the end of Return of the Jedi, the Emperor seems to have been killed. It’s equally likely he used the dark powers of the Sith to keep himself alive, but in a greatly compromised state, sort of like Voldemort in the Harry Potter saga, until he could find the power to revive himself. He states that all the previous Sith live on in him (he likely stole the Force from them, as he seems to from Mace Windu in Revenge of the Sith; “Unlimited power!), which might explain why he never has an apprentice who’s near his equal, in power or cunning, but also why he covets Anakin so much, because he alone seems to have anywhere near equal access to the Force, aside from Yoda. The ability to resist him is what scares the Emperor the most, because otherwise he always gets exactly what he wants.

Then Rey does what no one else could do, because in his arrogance the Emperor created the very conditions needed to defeat him. And to complete the irony, Rey rejects her lineage and embraces that of the man he literally created to ensure he would never lose his power. Well, yes, she is a Skywalker, if you really think about it...

US Presidents

I'm not going to attempt to rank them much less come up with some definitive top ten of the very best.  A lot of it is completely relative as it is, although there were some who were mere officeholders and some who attempted great things, some who were caught up in hard times and some who rode good times.  So I'm going to give some thoughts to all the US Presidents, including a +, -, or n, for neutral, indication of their overall impact (with the two most recent receiving that distinction, as it's far too early to rationally judge them). 

• George Washington (1789-1797) (+) The first and among the easiest consensus as being a positive influence on (father of) his country. 
• John Adams (1797-1801) (+) These early Presidents almost by default achieved great things, regardless of how even partisan politics this soon threatened to smear their reputations.  The second one was the first victim of this trend, but the dude was great by any reasonable standard.
• Thomas Jefferson (1801-1809) (+) The first politician to emerge as President, beneficiary of some of the greatest myth-making the country has ever seen, and probably deserves it.
• James Madison (1809-1817) (+) Arguably the guy who had the most heavy lifting of the early Presidents, at the end of the Founding Fathers era, left holding the bag on the perennially underappreciated War of 1812 climax.
• James Monroe (1817-1825) (+) Arguably the President who most ensured that the Civil War would eventually happen, but also the bridge between the foundation of the country and the next generation.
• John Quincy Adams (1825-1829) (+) Arguably better post-Presidency, where his role in attempting to hold the line of the country's moral character set the standard for which the Union was eventually preserved.
• Andrew Jackson (1829-1837) (-) Here's one of the most famous early Presidents, and the most famous post-Founders era, who solidified the role of petty politics for future generations.
• Martin Van Buren (1937-1841) (n) Jackson's appointed successor, knew enough not play the game in exactly the same way, likely figured that out when Jackson's policies ultimately proved disastrous.
• William Henry Harrison (1841) (n) Died almost instantly but election proved that the Jacksonian era was already being repudiated.
• John Tyler (1841-1845) (n) The politics of character assassination if you don't like the guy in office began with Tyler, "His Accidency," although in practice he proved that the system absolutely worked.  However, after term in office, sullied legacy by signing up with the Confederacy.
• James Polk (1845-1849) (n) A strong record of expanding American territory ended up producing mixed results leading up to Civil War.
• Zachary Taylor (1849-1850) (n) Abbreviated term indicated a figure closer to Lincoln than might be expected from obscure legacy.
• Millard Fillmore (1850-1853) (-) The weakening Presidency meant great politicians were less likely to find themselves in the office, and the others only managed to dig deeper toward Civil War.
• Franklin Pierce (1853-1857) (-) Virtually guaranteed Civil War.
• James Buchanan (1857-1861) (-) Guaranteed Civil War.
• Abraham Lincoln (1861-1865) (+) After winning the war and subsequently being assassinated, elevated to sainthood, but at the time was considered the worst president ever.  But now routinely considered the best.  And he probably was.
• Andrew Johnson (1865-1869) (+) Everything everyone hated about Lincoln was basically dumped on this guy, given the thankless task of Reconstruction.  And so the petty politics that almost ruined Lincoln, ended up being Johnson's legacy.  Undeservedly.
• Ulysses S. Grant (1869-1877) (+) Politics were broken well before the Civil War, but somehow everyone likes to blame Grant for the state of affairs he and his predecessor had to deal with.  The fact that the Union held together and we of course still have it today is proof enough that no matter how difficult the process, his and Johnson's work was a success.
• Rutherford B. Hayes (1877-1881) (+) So thankless a task was Reconstruction that hardly anyone knows this guy even existed today.
• James A. Garfield (1881) (n) Another brief Presidency and the second assassination, and all he ended up doing was proving how ridiculous politics are.
• Chester Arthur (1881-1885) (+) A quiet plus here for having the bravery to represent political reform, which at this point was clearly badly needed.
• Grover Cleveland (1885-1889) (1893-1897) (-) The only nonconsecutive two-term President thus far, he was kind of the personification of the Republican Party's degeneracy, signaling the first cracks that would eventually shatter under Democratic pressure, in fact the party's first (and second) office holder since the Civil War.
• Benjamin Harrison (1889-1893) (n) The Republicans had this guy in between the Cleveland administrations, but he ended up being blamed for a recession.  Maybe the Civil War had something to do with that? 
• William McKinley (1897-1901) (+) A return to a more confident Presidency, at last.
• Theodore Roosevelt (1901-1909) (+) Literally enshrined on Mount Rushmore.  The last of the strong Presidents until, well, his cousin.
• William Taft (1909-1913) (+) Teddy was pretty annoyed that his chosen successor wasn't enough like him.  But close enough.
• Woodrow Wilson (1913-1921) (-) Democratic Party mythmaking began with this guy, praised as the genius behind the League of Nations, but also the guy Teddy Roosevelt openly despised.  I tend to agree with Teddy.  Also not famous enough for being the bastard who actually screened Birth of a Nation at the White House.
• Warren Harding (1921-1923) (-) A weak President at pretty much the worst time.  Probably most responsible for the Great Depression.
• Calvin Coolidge (1923-1929) (-) Harding and Coolidge were literally the Great Depression versions of pre-Civil War Presidents.
• Herbert Hoover (1929-1933) (+) Blamed for the Great Depression.  Which was ridiculous.  Immediately set about an FDR-type program.  Which didn't even work for FDR until WWII.
• Franklin Roosevelt (1933-1945) (+) Deserves praise not so much for the New Deal as the brilliant prosecution of WWII.
• Harry Truman (1945-1953) (-) The asshole who actually dropped not one but two atomic bombs.  History will eventually get around to condemning him.
• Dwight Eisenhower (1953-1961) (+) Perhaps the last President not to be defined wholly by his political affiliation.  Thankless task of handling the early Cold War.
• John Kennedy (1961-1963) (+) The last great man in office.
• Lyndon Johnson (1963-1969) (+) Everything good he did was following the Kennedy playbook. 
• Richard Nixon (1969-1974) (+) Angered political opponents mostly for successfully completing the ideas of his immediate predecessors (who were technically party rivals).
• Gerald Ford (1974-1977) (n) Sort of proved how harmless the Nixon administration really was.  And that's about it.
• Jimmy Carter (1977-1981) (-) Perhaps a really great person, but a terrible President.
• Ronald Reagan (1981-1989) (+) Ushered in the modern era by ending the Cold War.  Every Democratic Party candidate ever since has had to pretend this didn't happen.  And we're somehow actually letting that work.
• George Bush (1989-1993) (+) Put the finishing touches on Reagan's administration.
• Bill Clinton (1993-2001) (n) It's hard to know what exactly he accomplished.  He inherited an economy primed by the accomplishments of his immediate predecessors.  And generally still gets all the credit.
• George W. Bush (2001-2009) (+) The thankless task of leading the country post-9/11.  And his opponents almost immediately politicized it.
• Barack Obama (2009-2017) (n) Hard to know what he really accomplished yet.
• Donald Trump (2017-present) (n) Hard to know what he's really accomplished yet.  Political strife not a legitimate determinant. 

The End of the World Comes Daily

There he is.

You know he's there,
you've been watching him all day,
and so you know where he is.

Sometimes it comes as a surprise,
but most of the time
you know where he is.

He's still learning.

He's literally learning everything,
because that's what's happening;
everything's new to him.

And most of the time
he loves it.

He loves exploring,
and o god it fills you with joy
knowing how he sees wonder
everywhere.

But then he cries.

Sometimes it isn't obvious
and sometimes it is.

Sometimes,
sometimes,
it's that simple reason,
that he slipped,
or was knocked over,
or tripped,
or in all other words
fell.

And he cries.

He cries like it's the end of the world.

It's the first language we all learn,
the first thing we assume we know,
that the end of the world has come,
again.

And it's like that
over and over again,
and you have to remember,
this is his life,
this is how he's experiencing,
how he's learning,
the world.

And somehow,
it's the end of the world
every day.

And he gets right back up,
sometimes with a little help,
sometimes with a lot,
but he gets right back up,
and then it's another day,
and another,
and he's learning,
and he's growing,
and the world begins
to lurch a little less.

But every now and again,
the world ends again.

And you give him what you can,
you give him love.

Because that's what you do
when the world ends.

What else could there be?

Eventually he will dust himself off,
and it won't be so bad,
and he won't hardly cry at all.

Then, of course,
when he does,
you continue to love him.

Because that's the way the world ends.

Cults of Personality

I admit that I first heard Living Colour's song "Cult of Personality" as wrestler CM Punk's entrance music.  The song is about charismatic people who trick other people into following them, their charisma often masking their true identities as ruthless dictators.  The 20th century was awash in the cult of personality.  Here in the 21st century, a lot of people have decided that a much-maligned US president was destined to join the ranks of the cult of personality.  But the thing is, the US presidency is somewhat...immune from what Living Colour was singing about.  There're just too many checks and balances in place.  No matter how big the personality and no matter the character of the cult, the system keeps the president within reasonable confines.

But that doesn't mean the cult of personality has nothing to do with the presidency. 

I'm here to argue that the most surefire way to win the presidency is by cult of personality.  Simply put, the biggest personality invariably wins on election day.  It doesn't matter how the personality is defined.  The biggest, the best, the most easily defined personality wins.  I defy you to name an election outcome that contradicts this. 

Within living memory, Kennedy famously bested Nixon because he was better on camera, and a whole mythology soon followed, even if he became incredibly contentious, capped off by the assassination that has become his chief legacy.  Johnson (who in personality was pretty much exactly the equal of the current president, although media coverage greatly diverges) didn't have to worry about campaigning, since he essentially acted as Kennedy's surrogate until he decided he wouldn't run again, at which point Nixon no longer had a problem of rivals.  Then the Democrats found their next surrogate Kennedy (Carter, followed by Clinton, followed by Obama).  Republicans had a movie star(ish) in Reagan (H.W. Bush slipped in one term essentially riding his coattails), and then W. Bush won over a robot with a lockbox (and later, too late, an environmental messiah complex).

Reasonably, the current president had no real competition.  His rival in the election was the Clinton with no personality.  It'd've been a far different story if Clinton had run with Clinton (just imagine!).  Instead we have an endless bemoaning of the (latest) end of the world.  And yet, the presidency remains the same as ever, and...will anyone figure out how these elections are really won?

If history proves anything, no.  But campaigns can produce counterfeit cults.  Isn't that really the whole idea? 

We Bare Bears, Cupcake ATMs

Discovered We Bare Bears a little while back.  For anyone who's seen it, We Bare Bears becomes a cult-like obsession.  Grizz.  Pan Pan.  Ice Bear.  Mostly Ice Bear.

Anyway, so in one episode the bears temporarily (very temporarily) work at a cupcake ATM.  A cupcake ATM is something you find in the yuppy quarter of your average city.  (More on this in a bit.)  Basically it's a kind of vending machine for cupcakes.

I ended up finding a cupcake ATM here in sunny Tampa a few months back.  Last weekend I actually took the opportunity to have a cupcake from it. 

In the We Bare Bears episode, there's a ton of customization available.  At the Sprinkles cupcake ATM, there wasn't.  It was, as far as I could tell, just the flavoring of the frosting.  I don't know if cupcake ATMs simplified in the years since the cartoon version, or if the cartoon version was a horrible lie, or if the Sprinkles (that's the name of the yuppy bakery where you can also, y'know, go inside and order normal-style) cupcake ATM was itself limited in comparison.

The cupcake I got (black & white! like the cookie that made Seinfeld sick!) was delivered, as in the cartoon, in a box.  The (black & white!) frosting was great.  The cupcake was dry. 

Again, I don't know if that's standard.  I mean, cupcakes being kept in boxes, waiting to be ordered.  Not a lot of people using the cupcake ATM that day.  The novelty of it (and I'm a guy who loves novelties) was more than enough to interest me.  I saw some people taking pictures with it.  (The cupcake ATM, I mean.)  You kind of expect the cupcake to dry out.  Is everyone else okay with that?  I guess?  Yuppies like dry baked goods?  Or maybe that's why there wasn't a lot of actual business at this particular cupcake ATM?  I sat near it for at least an hour, waiting for a movie, reading Stephen King's The Langoliers.  (No crazy people tried to stab me due to vivid childhood trauma.)

Still, on the whole?  Ice Bear approves.

Replacing the last post that was last available as an update.

Gosh, the last time I actually posted here was a pretty depressing thought.  I started a new job soon after that and, rest assured, things have generally improved for me.

As for whether or not I begin blogging here again, I honestly don't know.  Even though it's my original blog, I began to associate it with negative thoughts and decided to sort of abandon it.  But my blogging here hasn't always been terribly frequent.  Maybe I'll just start doing random poetry and stuff here.  We'll see.

Anthony Bourdain's suicide

So, celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain committed suicide.  It's hard not to include him in the ranks of famous deaths more closely associated with rock stars.  That is to say, people maniacally driven by their chosen passion.  Talent seems to eat itself, sometimes.  It becomes inescapable, until one chooses the most impossible escape possible.

Talent can be consuming.  For the people enjoying the fruits of the talent, all they see is the good it brings.  But talent is all-consuming.  It has ferocious demands.  You can't escape it.  You can't walk away.  In fact, anytime you see a case of someone walking away from talent, it's the story of a true survivor.

Suicide always seems incomprehensible on the other side.  How could they have possibly chosen to do that?  Especially when it's someone famous.  People assume famous people have achieved the dream.  Dreams can be nightmares. 

Suicide is something I've thought a lot about over the years.  For nearly fifteen years.  The world is an unfriendly place.  I like to think, sometimes, if I just get to fulfill my dreams...But then something like this happens, and it's a reminder all over again that dreams can be nightmares.  It's an awful thought.  But you need someone who understands, and sometimes that's impossible.  It's awful to be caught alone in this world.

While everyone else mourns Bourdain and finds his decision inexplicable, or uses the opportunity to advocate suicide prevention...I can't help but have other thoughts. 

The case for the adjusted box office.

Recently I really got into the concept of adjusted box office totals.  It put things into perspective.  But I still like the unadjusted box office receiving primary attention. 

Its main strength is keeping the focus on the here-and-now.  It helps new things seem relevant.  If we really were guiding ourselves by the adjusted box office, we'd realize how much times really have changed, that it really is tough to compete with the past.  And listen, I see that enough already.  Music critics remain frozen by the popular acts of yesterday.  The stuff they like today is all indy stuff, stuff few people enjoy.  Really, only the critics and hipsters.  It's different with books.  Keeping the classics alive and relevant in that context means a much bigger window: centuries and even millennia.  That's definitely worth preserving.  But movies aren't that old.  And the art of filmmaking has definitely changed since its origins a little over a century ago.

Gone with the Wind remains, with the adjusted box office, the most popular film ever made.  I think it's a terrible movie, except for Clark Gable, for too many reasons.  It doesn't work as well in 2018 as it did 1939, and all its rereleases.  It just doesn't, and it would be horrible to try and insist it does.  It would be one thing if its period-specific qualities reflected well, or commented insightfully, on its times.  But they don't.

Most of the other adjusted box office hits have aged much better than that, and that's great.  In terms of how easy it was to rack up a lot of money, hey, there used to be a lot more money available.  You don't realize that until you look at stuff like adjusted box office totals.  It isn't really that there's a lot more stuff to entertain us in 2018.  We still have big hits.  We just have shorter attention spans, and we're a lot more vicious now, I think, than we have been since movies became the popular art form.  We spend a lot more time talking about the stuff we hate.  And maybe it's also because of changing demographics.  There are fewer babies being born.  That shifts things considerably right there.  An aging population will naturally have less patience, without any help from an increased cynical outlook.

So it's good to have the illusion that what we like matters.  It does matter, in the present.  It drives us to seek new things, even if it seems we spend all our time rejecting it.  It keeps everyone striving for new challenges, especially if we keep rejecting everything.  I mean, you couldn't ask for a better audience!  A hungrier audience!  An audience that never feels satiated is one that will always be looking for the next big thing.  Eventually something truly big happens.  That's going to be the biggest surprise of all.  We haven't been close in years. 

So while I've gained newfound appreciation for the adjusted box office, I think I'll keep my focus on the unadjusted one.  It's the most fascinating game in town.

Adjusted Box Office 6/4/18

The idea of the adjusted all-time box office never appealed to me.  It always seemed like a way to hang onto the idea that movies that were once popular technically still counted as popular.  Another way might be that movies today maybe really aren't as popular as they used to be, which is unsettling to think.  Today we have outrageous box office totals compared to just a handful of years ago.  But the fact is, even those hits barely scratch the surface of all-time popularity.  People just don't go to the movies like they used to.  The idea of adjusted grosses helps put into perspective the ridiculousness of inflation most of all.  That's just one indication of where the economy still has a long way to go to recover from the Great Recession.  Folks, we're not even close, but a lot of people decided it was good enough years ago.

So, after a long time silently (mostly) protesting the idea of the adjusted gross, let's see what it looks like, the top fifty movies, and where current massive hits fall within them:

1. Gone with the Wind (adjusted: $1,850B; unadjusted: $198M) (1939)
This has always been the most problematic element of the adjusted box office list.  In hindsight it's a massive indication of how far the culture had to go from segregated times, as it celebrates the Lost Cause, which itself was all about being unapologetic about the slave-holding past.  Even as we condemn a president many claim is motivated by racist views, the most successful movie in American history suggests the rest of us aren't really any better.

2. Star Wars (adjusted: $1,631B; unadjusted: $460M) (1977)
In the modern era, Star Wars defined the blockbuster, made the blockbuster, and its legacy is still felt today in a continuing series of sequels and spin-offs.  Until inflation went into overdrive, it was still firmly nestled in the unadjusted top ten.  Here it's still up there, and unlikely to leave anytime soon.

3. The Sound of Music (adjusted: $1,304B; unadjusted: $158M) (1965)
Today it seems totally impossible for a musical to be a massive hit without being a kid's animated flick, but the genre used to be a reliable source of big business.  This was the last and biggest of them.

4. E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (adjusted: $1,299B; unadjusted: $435M) (1982)
The truth is, Steven Spielberg's instincts became adopted by kids animated flicks, too.  That's exactly what this would be in 2018.

5. Titanic (adjusted: $1,241B; unadjusted: $659M) (1997)
The last of the adult dramas to hit big, and to hit so big it was totally inconceivable.  Also since ignored as an object lesson is box office projecting; everyone said this would be a disaster of a different kind.

6. The Ten Commandments (adjusted: $1,199B; unadjusted: $65M) (1956)
Arguably, after Star Wars this is the old-time blockbuster with the longest legs: it's still broadcast every year at Eastertime.

7. Jaws (adjusted: $1,173B; unadjusted: $260M) (1975)
Along with Star Wars, gave birth to the modern blockbuster.

8. Doctor Zhivago (adjusted: $1,137B; unadjusted: $111M) (1965)
A somewhat lost famous example of the classic Hollywood historic epic.

9. The Exorcist (adjusted: $1,013B; unadjusted: $232M) (1973)
The prototype of the horror genre, still completely unmatched, except by the recent trend of microbudget productions.

10. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (adjusted: $998M; unadjusted: $84M) (1937)
This is how Disney happened, and what Disney chased for years, until it had enough money to buy blockbuster franchises.

11. Star Wars: The Force Awakens (adjusted: $990M; unadjusted: $936M) (2015)
The biggest modern hit doesn't even crack the top ten!  Its box office total looks completely ridiculous because it is, but it does represent a lot of money, and exposure.  That's more than any other Star Wars movie besides the original made.  Clearly that means a lot of people who weren't around for the original's release saw it and tried to comprehend what they saw, and are still trying to reconcile the saga with today's movies.  That's what's happened to the last few movies.

12. 101 Dalmatians (adjusted: $915M; unadjusted: $144M) (1961)
In hindsight it's not surprising that this was the first movie Disney translated from animated to live action, years later.  What's surprising is that Disney still hasn't done it for its biggest hit.

13. Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (adjusted: $899M; unadjusted: $290M) (1980)
The somewhat screwy economics of the few years between the second and third entries in the saga, apparently, mean the third made more at the time, but less in hindsight.

14. Ben-Hur (adjusted: $897M; unadjusted: $74M) (1959)
The shifting values of the population means that one of the biggest box office successes in one era was a total flop, as a remake, in another.

15. Avatar (adjusted: $891M; unadjusted: $760M) (2009)
James Cameron's massive success a second time became something a lot of people struggled to downplay.  The real results won't be known until the sequels finally appear.

16. Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (adjusted: $861M; unadjusted: $309M) (1983)
This is that third Star Wars movie.

17. Jurassic Park (adjusted: $839M; unadjusted: $402M) (1993)
Spielberg made Jaws and helped set the stage for Star Wars; years later he made this, and did it again.

18. Star Wars: The Phantom Menace (adjusted: $827M; unadjusted: $474M) (1999)
Looking at the adjusted grosses, it doesn't seem so surprising that the prequels proved less popular than the original Star Wars movies; the unadjusted grosses tell a very different story.  They really were less popular all along.

19. The Lion King (adjusted: $816M; unadjusted: $422M) (1994)
The artistic high point of the Disney animated renaissance.

20. The Sting (adjusted: $816M; unadjusted: $156M) (1973)
This may be the epitome of Old Hollywood, the system where stars sold the material above everything else.  This is the second teaming of Paul Newman and Robert Redford, after Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

21. Raiders of the Lost Ark (adjusted: $811M; unadjusted: $248M) (1981)
Spielberg and Star Wars creator George Lucas collaborate for the ultimate combination of old and new Hollywood: Harrison Ford, emerging as a star, in blockbuster material.

22. The Graduate (adjusted: $783M; unadjusted: $104M) (1967)
Dustin Hoffman, once dismissed as unlikely to be a star, proved to field one of the most successful star-based movies ever.

23. Fantasia (adjusted: $760M; unadjusted: $76M) (1941)
Arguably still the most innovative movie ever made.

24. Jurassic World (adjusted: $724M; unadjusted: $652M) (2015)
After the second and third in the franchise underperformed, it seemed as if this concept was done, but the fourth brought it back to blockbuster status.

25. The Godfather (adjusted: $722M; unadjusted: $134M) (1972)
Heralded a new era of superstar directing in Hollywood and highlighted Marlon Brando one last time and Michael Pacino for the first.

26. Forrest Gump (adjusted: $720M; unadjusted: $330M) (1994)
A lot of people struggle to interpret this one's draw, and that's when you know the era of the star was effectively over, because it's really down to Tom Hanks.

27. Mary Poppins (adjusted: $716M; unadjusted: $102M) (1964)
Disney magic pure and simple.

28. Grease (adjusted: $705M; unadjusted: $188M) (1978)
The musical and the bad boy tale (Rebel Without a Cause, The Wild One) converge to solidify John Travolta for the first time in his career as a star.  The rest of his career is further proof of the death of the star.

29. Marvel's The Avengers (adjusted: $704M; unadjusted: $623M) (2012)
Proof of concept for the further franchise.

30. Black Panther (adjusted: $699M; unadjusted: same) (2018)
Here's the biggest hit of 2018, which seems like it made totally outlandish money.  But in reality good enough for thirtieth on this list.

31. Thunderball (adjusted: $685M; unadjusted: $63M) (1965)
In unadjusted grosses Daniel Craig's James Bond movies were the most successful ever.  But here we see Sean Connery officially earning his legendary status.

32. The Dark Knight (adjusted: $682M; unadjusted: $534M) (2008)
A huge part of this one's success was seeing Heath Ledger posthumously fulfill his early potential as a new Hollywood star.

33. The Jungle Book (adjusted: $674M; unadjusted: $141M) (1967)
One of Disney's last big hits from its original golden age.

34. Sleeping Beauty (adjusted: $665M; unadjusted: $51M) (1959)
I don't know about you, but I know this one a lot more because I know it exists than remember having ever actually seen it.  It feels like a belated attempt to recapture the original Disney princess magic.

35. Ghostbusters (adjusted: $651M; unadjusted: $242M) (1984)
The '80s, where combining blockbuster elements and comedy was a thing well before Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle.

36. Shrek 2 (adjusted: $650M; unadjusted: $441M) (2004)
The biggest non-Disney animated success is perhaps predictably a satire of the traditional Disney archetype.

37. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (adjusted: $646M; unadjusted: $102M) (1969)
Here's Newman and Redford in their first big success!

38. Avengers: Infinity War (adjusted: $643M; unadjusted: same) (2018)
Here's the other big 2018 success, in perspective.

39. Love Story (adjusted: $641M; unadjusted $106M) (1970)
I'm sure there are still big fans of this one, but it's a notable exception to everything else on the list so far, which require no reminder for what it actually is. 

40. Spider-Man (adjusted: $636M; unadjusted: $403M) (2002)
There will always be speculation that this was as big a hit as it was because it's set in New York City, after 9/11.

41. Independence Day (adjusted: $634M; unadjusted: $306M) (1996)
Besides Jurassic Park this was the movie that opened the door for blockbusters again.

42. Home Alone (adjusted: $620M; unadjusted: $285M) (1990)
Made child actors capable of being stars again and totally redefined slapstick humor.

43. Star Wars: The Last Jedi (adjusted: $619M; unadjusted: $620M) (2017)
Interestingly it's actually lost a little money; that's inflation working for you!  But you can again see where older Star Wars fans can be resentful; the new movies are getting comparable exposure to the original ones.

44. Pinocchio (adjusted: $617M; unadjusted: $84M) (1940)
Another Disney animated classic.

45. Cleopatra (adjusted: $615M; unadjusted: $57M) (1963)
This was the template Titanic was trying to improve on, a famously expensive movie that was a perceived box office failure because of how much it needed to make to cover expenses.  Hollywood is once again reaching that point, pouring more and money into movies expected to be blockbusters, and risking bigger and bigger disappointments.

46. Beverly Hills Cop (adjusted: $615M; unadjusted: $234M) (1984)
Eddie Murphy later struggled to maintain his status as a big star, but clearly he earned it early in his career.  But he really shouldn't feel too bad: he was one of the last true stars Hollywood ever found, and what happened to him meant...no one really followed after him.

47. Goldfinger (adjusted: $607M; unadjusted: $51M) (1964)
Here's another Sean Connery turn as James Bond, in case you were doubting his massive success.

48. Airport (adjusted: $605M; unadjusted: $100M) (1970)
Inarguably became much better known in parody form: Leslie Nielsen's later Airplane!

49. American Graffiti (adjusted: $601M; unadjusted: $115M) (1973)
Star Wars fans like to assume George Lucas made his name with Star wars.  Well, no.  He made his name with American Graffiti.  Proof.

50. The Robe (adjusted: $599M; unadjusted: $36M) (1953)
The most successful movie featuring Jesus ever made; technically a follow-up, featuring what happens after the crucifixion.

B = billion, M = million

Source: Box Office Mojo

The Yellow King

their long hair
tied up to the crest of their heads
like manes

Poseidon: always Earth-Shaker

I had been taught
it was the mark of a king
to receive homage with grace.

There is always
some small hitch
at Troizen;
we do not do these things
with the smoothness of Athens.

My grandfather felt the cleaver's edge;
he reared up like a tower,
feeling his death,
dragging the men
like children;
the scarlet cleft in the white throat,
the rank hot smell;
the ruin of beauty,
the fall of strength,
the ebb of valor.

Then it was that I heard
a sea-sound in my ears.

He paused in thought.
Moira? he said.
The finished shape
of our fate,
the line drawn round it.

When the work of the King Horse was done,
he was given to the god,
as you saw yesterday.
And in those days,
said my great-grandfather,
as with the King Horse,
so with the King.

That he chose short life with glory,
and to walk with the god,
rather than live long,
unknown like stall-fed ox.

Deixos, the Horse Master's son,
who feared nothing four-footed.

Deixos slipped,
and fell in
while the beast was watching.

Henceforth, he said,
you will know it again.
If it comes to you, run out of doors,
and call to the people that Poseidon
is angry.
Then they can save themselves,
before the houses fall.
Such warnings are a favor of the god.
Try to be worthy.

How far man is,
even at his height of fortune,
below the Immortals.

A half-grown boar,
whose tusks were showing,
in the Great Hall when the King of Tiryns
was dining there.

I had never before singled out Apollo for worship.

Do not be late tonight,
or you will miss the harper.

The Cretans had halved it with their hoists.

Then the stones rose up slowly,
and slid into the bed the Cretans made for them.
And they stood fast.

One does not ask a priestess
how she knows things.

They are of the seed of Hephaistos,
Lord of the Earth Fire.

Though he didn't stand by you,
he did the next best thing;
he gave you a son who will.

Poor boy, it's not your fault
you know nothing. 
Talk to your grandfather.
It is better from him than me.

The grain was small in the ear,
ad the grapes were like hedgerow berries;
the dust lay deep,
so that men's feet sank in it,
and nothing prospered but the flies.
And with the drought came a sickness,
which, sparing the old,
took children and maidens and young men.

Sometimes it thunders,
or one hears the lion.

To be a king, I thought,
what is it?
To do justice,
go to war for one's people,
make their peace with the gods?
Surely, it is this.

In the midst,
straight before me,
stood a stately woman,
with a slave holding a sunshade
over her head.
She was about seven and twenty;
her hair, which was crowned
with a diadem of purple
stitched with gold,
was as red as firelit copper.

I have grieved longer for a dog
than they did for him.

So the man had not even left
a name behind him.

The troops were led by Xanthos,
the queen's brother.

I was the King;
and I was still new enough in Eleusis
to suppose this meant something.

Every day the Queen held audience.

Fathers were nobody in Eleusis,
and could not choose wives
for their own sons.

The young Companions
were escorting me,
as they did everywhere.

Now I began to seek
for occupation. 
It is not in my nature
to do nothing.

Because of some oracle concerning me
which had been kept secret from the people.
I remembered the dead King's laughter;
but it told one nothing.

When a man lives like this,
a youth he can choose for himself,
who looks up to him
and copies him
and boasts of his friendship,
will give him more pride in himself
than the womenfolk at home.
I see no sense in looking down on this.

Even kings have names where I come from.
Mine is Theseus.

He calls us to a high place,
my father said,
and we leap down to him.
We go of ourselves.

He put his black hairy hands on Chryse
and ran them all over her.

Seeing Minos in his bull-mask,
of whom not one cried aloud.

The Cretan double ax,
the sacred Labrys.

The bull chooses the team,
not the other way.

Ways of divining:
with sands of pebbles,
with water-droppings
or with bees or slivers of ivory,
with birds, like the Hellenes,
or, as the Sauromantians do,
with lizards.

It was said that if a dancer lived three years,
the Goddess set him free.
No one could remember anyone
lasting half as long.

But I cannot keep from putting my hand
to what I find about me.

It was the look of those who had had bad auguries;
those who had been brought young from home,
and were growing out of their strength and speed.

Helike was bull-shy.

A team that gave no show
would be broken up
before next day was out,
even if no one died.

But she had trusted me,
because of our vow.
This was the first test of it.

That any good we do in the bull ring
will profit for that insolent swine?

His father was a bull-leaper.
The Bull Court was the only place
in the Labyrinth
where speech was free.

A great impiety!
She used to follow him
into the Bull Court,
she was so besotted,
and hide herself in the wooden bull.
My friend said that is only vulgar talk.
But she was made for him,
quite out of her head.

The child is the mother's.
So the King kept quiet
to save his face,
and let it pass for his.

We have craft laws in Attica.
And for the farmers, too.

Well, if the King of your country
ever lands here, Theseus,
he'll find plenty of us
to fight for him,
in return for laws like that.

Box Office 2017

US box office totals (via Box Office Mojo) from 2017, as of 4/7/18.  M = millions, T = thousands

1. Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi ($620M)
This latest entry in the Star Wars saga has proven incredibly divisive, which is just about what you'd expect.  Anything less and they probably weren't even trying.  The fact that it made the most money in its particular year of release is also everything you need to know.

2. Beauty and the Beast ($504M)
I'm legitimately flabbergasted by this.  How did this even happen?  It's not so much endless sequels that're the problem, but that Disney can literally remake its own movies and they're big hits.  Will anyone actually think of this as nostalgically as its animated predecessor?

3. Wonder Woman ($412M)
DC scored its lone legitimate popular hit in the Man of Steel sequence to date with this, ironically paving the way for an even bigger hit for Marvel's Avengers flick with Black Panther in 2018.  One wonders what the result would've been if the movies had flip-flopped releases.

4. Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle ($403M)
A massive surprise success at the end of the year.  This is probably one update that will be remembered better than its predecessor.

5. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 ($389M)
Arguably, this and the first one will prove more important to the legacy of the Avengers films than films actually starring Avengers.

6. Spider-Man: Homecoming ($334M)
Not a fan.  I suspect a second entry will perform significantly less well.

7. It ($327M)
Another surprise hit from the year, and Stephen King's first blockbuster adaptation in a few years.

8. Thor: Ragnarok ($315M)
I suspect this'll cool down to a more cult-level hit in the years to come.

9. Despicable Me 3 ($264M)
Kind of bloomed into a Shrek level franchise.

10. Justice League ($229M)
For a movie that was considered a disaster, it still cracked the top ten, which is admirable.  In years past this would've qualified it as an unqualified favorite movie memory.  We've been living in distorted times, folks.

11. Logan ($226M) Will probably be remembered as the best X-Men flick in the sequence...12. The Fate of the Furious ($226M) This franchise cycles back down to earth, ironically after having definitely left strict plausibility behind...13. Coco ($209M) There's so little difference between Disney and Pixar animated flicks at this point, they're losing meaning.  Clearly the market has crashed because of it...14. Dunkirk ($188M) This is how far down you have to go to find a movie that would've been in the top ten, easily, ten years ago...15. Get Out ($176M) Massive hype for a horror movie with a sheen of social relevance...18. The Greatest Showman ($172M) Hugh Jackman arguably had his best year ever...19. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales ($172M) Disney hugely screwed up one of its own franchises.  Contrary to popular belief, Disney is not invincible these days...20. Kong: Skull Island ($168M) I honestly have no idea how this was a hit, except that John C. Reilly probably helped make it one, in the trailers, and probably Jumanji a much bigger one later...21. Cars 3 ($152M) The moment Pixar pumped out a third let alone second installment in a franchise that appeals only to young viewers, you know they've lost it...22. War for the Planet of the Apes ($146M) Have no idea how this latest version of the franchise has made any money, especially when the first one was so terrible, and people somehow still haven't realized it...23. Split ($138M) The Shyamalan renaissance concludes with a movie that will hopefully help him actually return to form next time, rather than merely pander to the horror crowd...24. Wonder ($132M) Speaking of pandering.  Wait, is this a whole era of pandering? Seems like it...25. Transformers: The Last Knight ($130M) Should've left well enough alone, or simply waited a few years to release it...26. Girls Trip ($115M) The success of Bridesmaids resulted in everything but movies actually worth remembering...27. Fifty Shades Darker ($114M) How can so many people go see a movie no one will probably admit watching?  Let alone a sequel?  And a third one in 2018...28. Baby Driver ($107M) Edgar Wright scores his biggest hit with material that's arguably contrary to everything that made his career.  Seems legit...29. Pitch Perfect 3 ($104M) Wait, forget everything I said earlier.  This is the heir of the Bridesmaids effect.  And the one that actually made sequels...30. Daddy's Home 2 ($104M) In a lot of other years this would be considered classic material.  But now it's just lost in the shuffle...31. Murder on the Orient Express ($102M) Relatively low gross seems like a big victory for adult material these days...34. Blade Runner 2049 ($92M) I don't know who thought it would be a huge blockbuster.  This counts as a huge victory...35. John Wick: Chapter Two ($92M) Suddenly cult movies are making big money...39. The Post ($81M) Spielberg is the guy who apparently makes the Trump movie, and nobody cares...40. The Mummy ($80M) Tom Cruise is really struggling...41. The Hitman's Bodyguard ($75M) On the other hand, this is a huge victory for Ryan Reynolds...42. Alien: Covenant ($74M) Probably pushed too quickly for another one.  Cult level...46. The Shape of Water ($64M) Voted Best Picture at the Oscars.  Deemed creepy by everyone else...48. Baywatch ($58M) In another year this would've performed, and been received, much differently.  It's no longer the '90s...50. Darkest Hour ($56M) Gary Oldman makes Churchill popular again...52. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri ($54M) Kind of inexplicable that the more people heard about this, the less they seemed to know what to make of it.  That's 2017 in a nutshell...53. Atomic Blonde ($51M) Seems capable of becoming a cult favorite...54. American Made ($51M) Seems capable of being a hindsight critical favorite in Cruise's career...55. The Dark Tower ($50M) If someone had told me that this would fail and It would triumph, I would've slapped them.  I'll slap yu now for saying this was the right outcome...56. Lady Bird ($48M) This is what finally makes people realize Saoirse Ronan exists?  2017, folks...65. The Big Sick ($42M) Given the hype around it, you would've expected it to have made a lot more...66. Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets ($41M) The cult movies makes virtually no money at all.  That about makes sense...69. King Arthur: Legend of the Sword ($39M) I have to assume everyone who talks about it didn't actually see it, and everyone who doesn't did...70. Jigsaw ($38M) Kind of brilliant that they finally outright called one of these that...74. Wind River ($33M) In a different era, this is the kind of adult movie that would've made more...83. I, Tonya ($29M) Only Margot Robbie could've made Tonya Harding that much money...84. Hostiles ($29M) This is another adult drama you would've actually heard of in years past...85. Molly's Game ($28M) Kind of incredible that Jessica Chastain and Aaron Sorkin end up virtually ignored...88. Lucky Logan ($27M) Seems like this should've gotten at least as much interest as Baby Driver...93. Gifted ($24M) If an Avenger makes a good movie and he's out of costume, apparently it doesn't count...100. The Disaster Artist ($21M) Kind of weird that a whole movie was made and outright celebrated whose only reason to exist is to mock another movie that no one's actually heard of...101. Phantom Thread ($21M) Daniel Day-Lewis apparently retires having conceded that his career is mostly trading on the stereotype of awards season fodder...108. Call Me by Your Name ($18M) Apparently even when he's in a movie that critics love Armie Hammer is still basically ignored...109. mother! ($17M) Became the most infamous movie hardly anyone saw...117. It Comes At Night ($13M) Seems like it would've been a big hit in another time...121. Battle of the Sexes ($12M) Kind of hard to figure out why this flew under the radar...123. Roman J. Israel, Esq. ($11M) Denzel Washington makes a movie and no one even knows...125. The Beguiled ($10M) Part of the problem women have as directors is that they eventually get ignored even when they're doing exceptional work...130. The Lost City of Z ($8M) This is another movie that was swallowed whole by the blockbuster era...145. The Florida Project ($5M) Good reputation.  Hardly anyone saw it...159. Table 19 ($3M) Comedies have been hit hardest in the current era...171. Wolf Warrior 2 ($2M) Kind of unofficially a companion to Captain America: The Winter Soldier...182. T2: Trainspotting ($2M) One of the more surprising flops of the year...186. The Killing of a Sacred Der ($2M) How do you suppress bold new cinematic talent?  By pretending it isn't happening...181. Good Time ($2M) In which Robert Pattinson is loved for something other than playing a sparkly vampire...208. A Ghost Story ($1M) This is some more of that bold new cinematic talent being ignored...209. Professor Marston & the Wonder Women ($1M) Kind of surprising that it was completely ignored...The Only Living Boy in New York ($624T) Marc Webb discovers that the blockbuster era has little room for him.  Again...357. The Bad Batch ($180T) Would you believe Jim Carrey appears in this?  He does...

A cloak

Quora

I guess I've been using Quora heavily since about March.  I originally joined Quora in 2015, but it was one of those things, eventually, that I quickly abandoned, until I decided it was a better and more interesting thing than I'd thought.

Quora is a community where you post questions and people respond because they think they have an authoritative answer.  The emails I get provide a digest of responses to various questions, picked because they've been voted by members as good answers.  I don't always agree.  Actually, that's half of why I started taking a more active role.

I've done a lot of Star Wars answers.  I never get tired of that.  It's fun challenging conventional wisdom, because conventional wisdom often seems to be wrong, which seems more appropriate the more you think about it.  People specialize in group think more often than they'd care to admit.  They become convinced that their thoughts are their own, but being social creatures we rely on the opinions of our peers for a lot of the decisions we make, and then convince ourselves that there are valid personal reasons why we reached them.  Yeah.  Few of us seem to have the courage for bold opinions. 

Well, anyway, you can check out my responses here.

Here's to you, Frank Anicetti

Frank Anicetti, legendary proprietor of legacy soft drink Moxie, the hometown hero of Lisbon Falls, Maine, has passed away.  Frank became well-known to Stephen King fans who'd never made the annual trip to the Moxie Festival, in the pages of 11/22/63, which also reminded even those who had just why Kennebec Fruit Company, the actual name of what was colloquially known as the Moxie Store, had "fruit" in its name.  If anyone was an institution in Lisbon Falls, if there was one person you had to visit, it was Frank, who was always happy to tell stories.  He retired last year, and it's not hard to guess that giving up the store took away his purpose in life.  The store is being converted into Frank's Pub, hopefully still on track to open by Moxie Day this year (7/8/17), and I'm guessing there will be even more incentive for devotees to gather and celebration Frank's legacy.

 

But don't let me tell you about Frank, let's listen to Frank himself:

 

 

Well, damn, I think I just got all the hate for the Star Wars prequels

Before you read much further, you ought to know: I still love the Star Wars prequels.  I still love The Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, Revenge of the Sith.  But I think I finally get why they're so easy to hate.

And no, it's not what you think.

So let me explain.  I also love the Pirates of the Caribbean films.  I love Curse of the Black Pearl, Dead Man's Chest, At World's End.  But I don't love On Stranger Tides.  And so there's where we reach my point.  On Stranger Tides is the Star Wars prequels of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.  As in, I don't really understand why its exists.  And the thing is, there's soon going to be another one, Dead Men Tell No Tales.  And I suppose the book's still open on that one.  But still.  The original three tell such a complete story.  The next two don't seem...relevant.  That's what I mean. 

Dead Man's Chest is actually hugely relevant to this analogy.  It's the second of the Pirates movies, and like The Empire Strikes Back (the second of the original Star Wars trilogy), it expands on everything that made the first one good, while doing it so well and in such a way that it makes both easier to love and gives the first further justification by making the experience deeper than it previously seemed to have any right to be. 

And like Return of the Jedi (for some fans, anyway; this is the third film in the original Star Wars trilogy, of course), At World's End finishes out the story, but doesn't quite measure up to its predecessor(s). 

On Stranger Tides focuses almost exclusively on Jack Sparrow, the breakout character of the original Pirates trilogy, just as the Star Wars prequels focuses almost exclusively on Darth Vader (specifically, his origin story).  To my mind, I don't see the point, if Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann aren't there somewhere, too.  Star Wars fans rightly kind of began to view the original trilogy to focus at least as much on Han Solo as any other element, Harrison Ford going on to be one of the biggest stars in Hollywood and all.

So the Star Wars prequels, more or less, whatever their creative merit, probably seemed downright incomprehensible to fans of the original trilogy.  That's what I'm saying.  Incomprehensible, inexplicable, everything they...really didn't want to see.  That's it, really, they rejected these things because they seemed pointless, offensiveness in any number of ways because they didn't conform to what fans loved so much about the originals.

That's On Stranger Tides for me.  Dead Man's Chest, I loved it so much when I first saw it, became one of my all-time favorite movies, period, in and out of the Pirates movies.  I care about the Pirates movies today because of it.  But I'll never have that relationship with On Stranger Tides. 

I really, really don't get that one.  I just don't see the point.  Clearly much of it was developed to ape as much of the originals as possible, but because it lacked the specific cast that made them so memorable, the specific story, and replaced them with plug-ins that meant...less, I just can't understand the point of taking it seriously.

So that's what I assume Star Wars fans think about the prequels.  Feel free to disagree, but that's my theory.