Through Early Morning Fog I See

Aww, man. I hate when I see these headlines. Robert Altman, one of my favorite directors of modern cinema, has died. He was a fucking genius, people. If you don't believe me, watch one of his movies. Any one of his movies, those which the critics loved (Nashville, M*A*S*H, The Player) or those which the critics did not (When You Comin' Back to the 5 & Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean; Popeye or Pret a Porter).

Tonight at the Casita de Zapatos, we will be having an Altman retrospective, including M*A*S*H, The Player (at least the 5-minute opening pan...what a shot) and Prairie Home Companion.

To continue this emphemeral pop-culture entry, what the fuck happened to Michael Richards? I never found him particularly funny, except intermitantly as Kramer, but still, I never suspected him of racism, either.

I'm not buying his explanation for one minute. I mean, there have been times when I've had blood in my eye, and a burning rage exploding in my brain, and it never once led me to use the "N" word, or to make approving remarks about lynchings. No, I think and hope that the industry analysis of this being a career-ending move are correct.

Many years ago, when the RLA and I lived in Clovis, New Mexico (Don't ask. Scorched earth epicenter of racism, hatred and all that is wrong with America) I was actually dragged down to the dean's office at the little community college where we were teaching, because I shoved a middle-aged student assistant up against a wall, and explained to her very firmly and with very naughty language why the use of the "N" word was not acceptable in my class room. I was told that what she did was protected by free speech, what I did was considered assault. I told the dean that I considered what she did racism, and what I did education. We agreed to disagree. I didn't teach there again.

And then we have O.J. and his now-cancelled book and tv special. Despite the publisher claiming that old chestnut free speech, and that as a victim herself of domestic violence she considered this his confession, and wait. I have to stop myself right there.

Yes, he had the right to write his book. That is free speech. I have the right not to buy it, or not to watch his television interview. That is free will. But somewhere between the two is the right of the publisher not to buy the manuscript and the right of the television network to turn down the proposal. Like so many other things in this life, just because you can doesn't mean that you should.

And it isn't a confession, at all, is it? It was explicitly NOT a confession. It was a nyah, nyah, nyah. It was a big old fuck you at the American system of jurisprudence and OJ's protection under double indemnity. What happens next, anybody can guess: some lunatic vigillante will probably gun OJ down on the streets of Miami. And unfortunately, Florida, unlike New Mexico, does not accept the defense of "he needed killin'".

Have I missed any of the week's highlights? Oh, yeah. TomKat. He's gay. She's brainwashed. The baby was by way of a turkey baster and/or test tube. Who are they kidding... And the quote by Georgio Armani, that the wedding was sealed by an "everlasting kiss"? Even that was a manufactured thing. A quote from one of The Boss's oldest, bestest songs: Born to Run.