Jack Lemmon once described the genial, quick-witted Gelbart as "one of the greatest writers of comedy to have graced the arts in this century."
Gelbart's more than 60-year career began in radio during World War II when he was a 16-year-old student at Fairfax High School in Los Angeles. He wrote for "Duffy's Tavern" and radio shows starring Eddie Cantor, Joan Davis, Jack Paar, Jack Carson and Bob Hope, with whom he traveled overseas when Hope entertained the troops.
He moved into television with Hope in 1950 and spent the next few years writing for the comedian as well as for Red Buttons' comedy-variety series.
In 1955, Gelbart joined the fabled writing staff of "Caesar's Hour," Sid Caesar's post-"Your Show of Shows" TV comedy-variety series. Among his fellow writers were Neil Simon and Mel Brooks.
In the writers' room, as colleague Carl Reiner later told Time magazine, Gelbart "popped jokes like popcorn."
Indeed, after he went to work for "Caesar's Hour," Hope contacted Caesar to say, "I'll trade you two oil wells for one Gelbart."
And then there was "A Funny thing Happened on the Way to the Forum."
All of that, BEFOREM*A*S*H. That's enough for three careers.
Gelbart's influence on "MASH," Reynolds told the New York Times in 1989, was "seminal, basic and enormous."
"Larry not only had the wit and the jokes," Reynolds said, "he had a point of view. He not only had the ribald spirit, he had the sensibility to the premise -- the wastefulness of war."
Looking at the show's success, Gelbart told the New York Times, "It was a time -- it still is the time, to some degree -- of great disillusionment. And the characters filled a hero vacuum. I think they behaved in the way a viewer would like to think they would behave in a stressful situation."
A sense of disillusionment, he said, was part of his own personality.
"I'm not a comfortable person," he said. "There are a lot of elbows inside me bumping up against one another. I think that if you're a reasonably well-informed, caring person, you think life is basically sad . . . that this is a sad world we live in.
"The thing that most appealed to me about 'MASH' was not even the movie. It was the theme song ['Suicide is Painless' written by Johnny Mandel and Mike Altman], the movie music, which was written in a very minor key and appealed to me emotionally. And I know that I pegged all that comedy to that sound."
Anybody who writes comedy is following in his footsteps. A huge loss, and yet his work survives. Immortality the only way we get it. Rest in Peace, and thanks.
WELL THAT WAS really something. A lovely party with lots of fine writers who clean up better than you would think. Spotted in the crowd: Mark Ellis and Stephanie Morgenstern, creators of Flashpoint -- tanned and rested after a much deserved post-wrap vacation... Marvin Kaye and Chris Sheasgreen, creators of Less Than Kind...Rob Sheridan, just back from Montreal and the upcoming CBC show 18 to Life...Little Mosque scribes Jason Belleville and Karen Hill...Producer Danny Iron, Border-ites Brian Dennis and Janet MacLean, Rent-A-Goalie creator and "Cake" Christopher Bolton, everyone's favorite Montrealer Doug Taylor, Director Michael DeCarlo, Blacklist uber film scribe Elan Mastai, the always dapper and cool Noel Baker, Producers Raj Panikkar and Chris Szarka, Writer-Producer Sherry White, whose film Crackie is at TIFF this year...Producer Bill House and daughter Alex House -- who will rule us all one day -- and Shelley Eriksen, the inimitableBadLady, rocking the dressup along with the va va voomiest hostess, Karen Walton.
The table on the Patio held an ever-shifting phalanx of top talent. Early in the evening, fresh from his win as CFTPAProducer of the Year was Kevin Tierney. Later on, son Jacob showed up to draw in the praise for his big-buzz TIFF '09 film The Trotsky.
Bloggers & Forces of nature Jim Henshaw and Jill Golick also did their time at the magic picnic bench, as did Lost Girl's Peter Mohan, and the hardworkingest staff of the WGC -- Kelly Lynne Ashton and Mighty Maureen Parker -- who was just off a flight from another rewarding and fulfilling day slogging for writers in our nation's capital. (She de
served that extra beer, Kelly Lynne. Though the old slip-away-while-he-goes-to-the-bathroom trick was a teeny bit unworthy of our Scrapper-in-Chief.)
I thought Jocelyn Cornforth, fresh -- like, by minutes -- off the upcoming Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures, embodied the writerly spirit of the night, as she laughed boldly about her return to the ranks of the unemployed. (Right there with ya, sister. That's when you throw parties!) though Henshaw maintained that my pronouncing that Judith Klassen and RobynPalmer had just raised the party from a collective 6 to an 8 by being such 10's -- (gesturing to yours truly, Mohan and Henshaw on the 6) might have been up there, too. Specially since we're 4's at best.
There were plenty on hand from the (hopefully) next generation of creators, too. My boy Tommy Gushue was there along with his other newly minted Prime Time TV CFC residents, and the inimitable Ink Canada InkTerns.
Longtime readers will doubtless remember the stirring tales of Jimmy "The Bat" Battiston, who graced the place with his presence and allowed me to heap abuse on him once more, for old times sake.
WGC Communications Director David Kinahan and I talked copyright for the 100th time -- hey guys, get your statements in by Sunday! -- and later into the night, Duane Hill and Matt MacLennan recounted their "How to rent a 22 000 dollar a month house in L.A. and make it work for you" story once more. That story NEVER gets old.
All in all, a wonderful night. Thanks to all, and the fine staff of The Paddock for putting up with us. And thanks too to the attendees, who were very generous in their contributions to KIVA at the door.
AS GREAT as Josh Olson's column in the Village Voice was, the follow up from David Gerrold (writer of the classic Star Trek episode The Trouble With Tribbles) is even more worth reading. It's certainly more chilling.
Not too long ago, a writer of my acquaintance (a person of some fame in the industry) was hired to work on a major franchise. After several months of development, the project was making genuine progress and looked good. Then one day, out of the blue, an amateur from West Elbow, Nevada, sends him an email containing her outline for a spinoff of that franchise, asking him to help her sell it because "she has the story, but he has the access to the people who will produce it."
My friend backed away in horror, but the damage was done...
He had received this woman's email. Even the act of telling her, "No, I can't help you," was an acknowledgment of receipt. Therefore she could prove that he'd had access to her material -- and it didn't matter that he'd already done six months on the project -- her email had created a situation where she (and an unscrupulous lawyer) could claim that he had ripped off elements in her material.
Something like this has happened to every single writer I know. Myself included. The "you have the access" email is the worst thing ever. Ever. Ever.
UPDATE: I have no problem whatsoever using the wonderfulness of social media. I posted this to Facebook and got some GREAT comments -- some of which I will lovingly steal pass on and reproduce below:
Ha! Denis - I was gonna send you this for your site. Its hugely fun to read. I think his premise is bullshit. No time to pay it forward? Really? Forgot the albeit rare thrill of reading someone new and good? Writers shouldn't need encouragement? Too busy sweating the 'mot juste' for the hero of your dubious studio cartoon movie? Puh-leeez. Methinks he is just tortured about saying no. Very simple solve and I use it all the time if I am too busy. "I am not reading right now'
Being a newbie writer I've asked friends to read things before. But I always offer them the out of "if you're too busy to read this, I understand". And if they do agree to read it I try to be really clear in what I'm looking for feedback-wise, as opposed to just "what do you think? I'm a genius, right?" I understand where "History Of Violence" guy is coming from, but methinks he protests too much.
I REMEMBER WELL this beautiful view, and the numbers of times I marveled from this vantage.
It rose so improbably on that crowded island. You'd stand and try to see that statue below in the harbor, but the scale was off. It wasn't human scaled, but so very much larger.
And while we all wait for something to rise in its place, and in our hearts -- I guess the real lesson is to start building something of your own.
The sky is big. It always was. And it's still there. It always is.
I HAVE A curmudgeonly attitude toward the Toronto International Film Festival. Once upon a time, it was kind of like Charlie Brown's Christmas Tree. But, Toronto, dopes that we are, went looking for a little approval, as we always do, and now every September the traffic gets all snarly as we all put on our best whory pumps and trickforHollywood.
Ugh.
I know, I know, there's plenty to see that's not from Hollywood. But the fooferal of it all, the incessant climberism, is just ... ugh.
And it's gotten worse since I became a certified weirdo.
I admit it. There's no way to deny it. I've become a weirdo. The mostly-extroversion and loud booming, slightly Noo Yawk accented voice (I mean, really, why do I sound this way? I've lived in Canada since before I had chest hair; who am I kidding?) is just a cover. I'm an odd duck just like every other writer in the world.
Once upon a time, my more social impulses were employed regularly...I'd have to go to the office every day, and knowing you had to interact with strangers kept you looser and more sanguine about the experience. Now, in those times I am not on a show, I have pretty much the perfect misanthrope's life -- I see who I want to see, mostly when I want to see them. Interactions with others I don't know are kept to a minimum. I live in my head. I pound the keyboard.
And like any skill you don't use, or any muscle, if you do that long enough your ability to bob and weave at a party starts to atrophy. I still may have the loud laugh, and be able to give into my inner Irishman now and again; but that's a performance reserved more and more for those who I know, who are near, and dear.
And the rest of the time it's the weirdo.
So the social aspect of the Festival is something I have a love-hate relationship with. There are people who I genuinely like who I only ever see a the two or three TIFF parties I go to each year. And that's grand. But as for the other kind -- with the watching and the who's wearing who and the did you see this'es -- meh -- I could mostly care less. And the pretentiousness! Ugh. I tells ya, it makes me wish I had a story like this. (via MattMac & Barb Haynes)
Beautiful, right? But note the reflexive defensive tone. Writer! Weirdo! Crammed in the corner watching the world go by. Staring at the actors and wondering, "who ARE you people?"
So tonight's my favorite kind of social experiment. An invitation-only soiree that mixes the streams -- Sharks and Jets, Film Writers and TV writers, together in a room. There will be the lovely Karen Walton, my co-host with the mo-host, handling all of the glamor and sparkly duties. I'll choose my corner and defend it.
And there are a few things that I can guarantee you right now:
The women will be dressed better than the men.
The women will all be more interested in what the other women are wearing than the men.
The film writers will be better dressed than the TV writers.
The TV writers will laugh more.
People will fight for the corners. Kind of like Hockey, that.
There will be a few lines said that could bring down a government minister or start a holy war.
The code phrase for "Get me out of this conversation!" is "Did the shrimp go by yet?" Just FYI.
There will be flirting that makes Rocky's courtship of Adrian look like Rasputin mackin on the Czarina.
The fact that I'm one of the ones with the drink tickets will completely short out my usual party M.O. which is basically the search for more drink tickets. I have no idea what I'm going to do with that time dividend.
I have high hopes and goals. I want to meet at least three film writer types I've never met before. The first TIFF party I threw a couple years back snagged me a couple of good new friends. Oh that that can continue -- that yea, I may transcend the weirdness.
Writers are easy people to shmooze. A tiny drop of praise will win us over forever.
Hopefully the small contingent of newbies we've invited will instinctively know the golden rule: don't ask advice, and don't treat it as film school. Don't make me say the mean thing. Be interesting, and tell a great story. I still remember the guy who told me about being chased by a bear.
Actually, come to think of it, if you've got a being chased by a bear story, that would probably be appropriate for any TIFF party. And if not, fuck'em. I don't trust anyone who doesn't like a good chased by a bear story.
The only question that's liable to stump me is: have you seen any films? Ehh... I don't know. Really? See, this is why it's genius having the party the opening night -- it's totally legit that you haven't seen anything yet. Heh heh. Gold! What are you seeing/excited about? Have at it below. Please, give me suggestions so I can fake like I care, and like I'm actually going to line up at Roy Thomson Hall and not wait for video.
Weird, ANDLame.
So, anyway, that's it. Oh, one more piece of writerly party advice.
Remember -- I don't care how liberal your standards are...Pad Thai is NOT a finger food.
MARC WEISBLOTT's a Toronto online Journo type who's depressed me for years. Not because of anything he's written, mind you. He's usually wicked and funny and on point and says things that other people don't say, or comes up with a fresh take here and there.
Nope. It's cause from projects with The Toronto Star, to Better Living Centre, to his time shepherding eye's online wares, time and again Weisblott puts together these smart, funny, informative local projects that manage to reflect both the city I live in, Toronto, and its connection to the larger culture. In my mind, it's the very definition of what online portal sites should be -- not shovelware from a print source, but something with a fresh and different take.
Yet all of these ventures have failed. They fold after awhile, and a part of my daily reading goes away. And I make sad face.
SO I FIGURED it was time. Time to sit down, buckle down, what have you and decide, what am I going to root for this fall? I have those DVD's of LIFE waiting to be watched, to fill in the holes I might have missed on that stupendous show when it aired. And I'm loathe to activate that Sci-Fi gene, since it so often leads to cancellation and disappointment (Oh Journeyman, wherefore art thou?) but I think I've narrowed down my list of "I've got high hopes for this" to four. But some of them come with ghosts.
Happy Family looks sharp and funny, and it reminds me of Sons & Daughters, which I absolutely loved. I hope this one catches fire. And if it does, I don't know how well that bodes for the Parenthood Remake. If this does catch fire, I wonder what it will do to the perception of the whole "family" debate in the USA? And I wonder if Fred Goss will be somewhere nursing a whiskey-sized beef ready to ESSSPLODE at any moment?
Community just looks flat-out funny. And a great partner for The Office at 9:30 on Thursday. I just have to make sure I jump on that remote quick so that I don't accidentally burn my eyes on The Jay Leno Show.
I love reinvention. Okay, this is self-serving maybe, cause I freelanced one episode. But here's a show with top-Canadian talent running everything behind the scenes. A new D.O.P. and look, new tone...a really good guy named Andy Mikita kicking ass and taking names along with Rob Cooper and Brad Wright and the "room o'showrunners" to beat the stuffing out of what you thought STARGATE was about on TV. They're going out on a limb here -- pretty far. And I'm gonna bet they pull it off.
Why? Because it's V, and it's got whatshername from FIREFLY, to boot. HELL YEAH, that's why!
I'll definitely also be keeping up with Glee, and I can't get Bored to Death out of my head since I saw those three eps. Otherwise, I think I'll do my due diligence and check out one or two eps of other shows along the way, but nothing really grabs me -- with the possible exception of The Good Wife, and only if it's more West Wing than Judging Amy.
IT'S ALMOST MY favourite illustration of the dearth of health in the Canadian TV industry. In the USA you've got Futon Critic, Zap2It.com, or any other number of portals that make money by bringing you all the latest scoop and sourcing articles about new TV shows.
In Canada, there's one place to go for that stuff. And it's run by a single volunteer out in B.C., who doesn't even work in the TV industry.
People in the biz have known for awhile now that if your show gets mentioned in any substantive way, you're going to see it up on Tv, Eh? Diane's on top of the industry in a way that should probably shame a lot of Canadian publicists.
For fall, she's doing the inevitable -- a great idea that I wish I'd thought of before. She's not above bribing you to write about Canadian TV shows. Whether it's a blog or a good Twitter bombing -- she's got prize packs and she's not afraid to give them out.
Pore over the deets at TV, Eh? And remember, negative Nellies -- a volunteer with no stake's put all this together. What have you done for your industry today?
I MADE IT through about eight minutes of the premiere of the new Melrose Place last night before shaking it off. Somewhere between the Seth Cohen-wannabe and Sydney in the pool I realized that the most important part of the TV guilty pleasure was the pleasure part. They don't call it "Guilty TV dreary."
So instead I dipped into a great series that I didn't watch enough during its two year run, Life. Both seasons are now available on DVD. Go, mourn at what you missed. (And yes, smuggington who watched it, save the, "I watched it!" comment. It's really no better than typing "First!")
But the bad taste of MP got me thinking about those thirtysomething DVD's I was watching last weekend. Too much hairspray. Too many skinny ties -- and did we really think power suspenders were a good idea? I mean ... really?
It's the quintessential boomer navel-gazing show -- pilloried and praised; absolutely influential to all that followed. Celebrator of character, freer from the shackles of genre --
So, then.
Say you're a mid level exec. The blood is just dry on the contract. Satan's packing up the suitcase of blow and getting out of your office, and you now have the power to do what you've always wanted to do:
Re-imagine thirtysomething.
All of it's up for grabs. Cameos by the old cast? Remake? Re-invention? What are the new issues? What do they all do? Is there a Miles Drentell? What is the what?
I KNOW WE usually like to truck in depressing Canadian-centric news for artists here, but today's gem comes from the ancestral homeland, where the Irish Scriptwriters' Guild reports they're looking to spike tax breaks for artists while continuing to support them for sport.
Sound...uh, familiar at all?
I wouldn't worry about it. We all know how much Ireland is renowned for its many many sportsmen. When did a creative artist of any significance come from that little island nation, anyway?
...although their tax department recommends income averaging, which -- in case you're checking -- is way more progressive a position than that taken by Revenue Canada. (The WGC has been trying to get Income Averaging looked at for years.)
A FORMER STUDENT of mine, David Dick, has got hisself a highly provocative and interesting blog post that posits the question: is the quest for more female eyeballs (and the "right kind" of female eyeballs) killing TeeVee?
It's a cracker of a read.
Specialty channels originally launched as niche brands targeting a narrow audience using cheaply obtained programming dilute their brands to reach a more general audience — and not just any audience, but a more femaleaudience. Male- or gender-neutral-oriented programming is pushed to the side as more stereotypically “female” programming slowly creeps further and further up the dial. As a feminist, what perturbs me most about this is the insinuation that women don’t like generalised programming: to reach a female audience, one must feed them a steady diet of love triangles and talk shows. Because let’s face it — it’s not really a female audience these channels are after, it’s a certain type of female audience. Not all women watch TV, after all, but you’d never guess: TV programmers project television as an accurate mirror of the world. It is in fact extremely warped: this mirror doesn’t reflect women with interests in business, the arts, science, or current affairs at all...
For years, there have been two types of ads on TV: ads aimed at children (which form a small fraction of all ads, since kids have no money to spend) and ads aimed at young parents, in particular young mothers. There are ads for home cleansers, yogurt that helps you poop, instant rice, affordable 4-door sedans, and Tylenol. The tone of the ads is equally important: we are exposed over and over to the archetype of the Savvy White Woman, who knows just which products to buy and is happy to recommend them, occasionally counterposed with the Bumbling Emasculated Husband, who would be lost without his wife. (Again, it would be convenient to blame networks for taking such a sexist approach to ad programming, but the sad fact is, young families are the people who spend the most money on advertised goods, and most purchases for home and children are made by women. And the condescending tone of the ads themselves can only be blamed on ad agencies.)
In defense of the TV ad programmers, they go after the money: they program ads to the people watching … and it’s largely mothers with young kids who are watching (or more accurately, who are watching and then spending). Daytime TV has always been exclusively the purview of women, but primetime viewers, which used to include male viewers with gender-neutral programming, has slipped as non-public TV viewership has shifted towards the 18-to-49 year old female demographic. Watching TV is now, unbelievably, a feminine thing to do. Male viewers, on the other hand, have left for other media, primarily video games and the Internet.
In 2007 (the most recent year for which I can find data in toto), the top ten shows averaged over the year were: 1. American Idol (Wednesday edition), 2. American Idol (Tuesday edition), 3. Dancing With the Stars (Monday edition), 4. Dancing With the Stars (Tuesday edition), 5. Sunday Night Football, 6. CSI, 7. (tie:) Grey’s Anatomy / Samantha Who, 9. House, 10. CSI: Miami.
There are one male-oriented and three gender-neutral shows on that list: football, and the two CSIs and House, respectively. The rest are distinctly estrogen-loaded. Contrast this with the top ten most pirated shows of 2007: (basically, shows that appeal to the largest audience of people who don’t watch TV, but rather spend their time in front of a computer): 1. Heroes, 2. Top Gear, 3. Battlestar Galactica, 4. Lost, 5. Prison Break, 6. Desperate Housewives, 7. 24, 8. Family Guy, 9. Dexter, 10. Scrubs. By my count, this list contains one female-oriented show, three gender-neutral shows (that’s being generous), and six male-oriented shows.
There are three striking things about these lists. The first is obviously that shows watched online are much more heavily male-skewed than shows watched on the TV set. So we can conclude there is a demand for male-friendly shows — just not necessarily a demand for them on TV. Secondly, not one of these shows appears on both lists. It’s as if they were two completely different media — and they are, in terms of delivery, but all 20 of these shows were produced for television; webcast and piracy are marginal revenue streams at best and totally unintended at worst. In reality, the disparity is due to two totally different audiences, made up of two totally different demographics.
Another striking difference is the formats of the shows involved: the TV list contains mainly shows that are self-contained, as opposed to serial. These shows are also (dare I say it?) pretty low-concept. The pirated shows are not only higher-concept, but are also mainly serials (seven, by my count).
THANKS TO SEVERAL people who sent me emails on my appearance on CIUT's "Take5" program this morning (er, even the guy who misspelled every third word and seems to think I'm a fascist-socialist-communist* [*U.S. health care debate version -- where these words are interchangeable]).
To expand on my point to the "fair" copyright crowd -- be careful who your allies are. Inasmuch as artists and copyright holders with concerns about business models and monetization aren't you're enemy -- or the record companies...
...know that besides all the self-proclaimed pirates who want it cuz they can get it for free, you've also got all those wonderful Fanfic fabulists to deal with.
Oh, we've had our run-ins with the Fanfic types here before. But they're not as fun and ultimately hilarious as (Tv scribe and (legit) tie-in-novelist) Lee Goldberg's expert tracking of the delusions of a crowd for whom "fair copyright" means...uh...well....go read it for yourselves.
WELL, DOWN SOUTH today there's screaming headlines about "Glenn Beck claims his first scalp," and up here the gear up to the Toronto Film Fest is all about how a Director and a bunch of celebs have taken a bold stand for censorship in the face of a programming choice they don't like. The silly season continues into the fall it seems.
I don't want to talk about film directors or Van Jones. And I wrote as much today in an email to a friend who asked about the latter.
It seems to me that we've reached a point in history where the Internet rules have extended everywhere. It's important to say the nastiest thing you can as quickly as you can. If you can prove Godwin's law and work in a Nazi smear, so much the better.
But Internet rules should not apply to the public discourse. It cheapens us, and it fails us, and it celebrates our worst when the problems facing us demand our best. So here's what I wrote to my friend today about Van Jones:
There's no question to me that the problem we have now in the United States is that we have a "heat" party and a "heat and light" party. And the "heat" party got to where they are now -- a fading rump, because all they have left is heat -- having chased anyone who offered any light but Jesus out of their tent. The only shot they've got down there is that the "heat and light" party start finding a way to make the latter feel as substantial as the former. We have to demand our media start to sell the light.
So Van Jones wasn't a story until his resignation. So what? Maybe somebody should have vetted this guy earlier, or maybe it's blown up out of all proportion.
But really, as the right fulminates, where are the major policy ideas -- the new ones -- to face what the US needs faced right now? There are none. But there is Obama's birth certificate, and death panels instead of actual policy discussion, and the ridiculous notion that the President of the United States addressing school kids is controversial.
Nobody comes off well here. Nobody. So you can't tell me that what needed to be done was more coverage of Van Jones leading up to this. We need less. Less coverage of Michelle Bachman when she floats crazy conspiracy theories on the floor of the United States Congress. Daniel Inhofe wants to deny climate change? Fine. He shouldn't be reported on -- ever.
All that space devoted to the bullshit sideshow should go to actually explaining and informing the American people about things like health care, green initiatives in energy, etc.
What's happened now is that the worst of the United States media's lazy framing -- the who's up who's down horserace of the permanent campaign -- has become the default 24/7. It's sucking the air out of the room for every possible permutation of story. They say, about Obama, "the President hasn't made his case."
Well where was he supposed to make that case? How much airtime was spent on crazy people bringing guns to rallies and people who knew nothing shouting? Was he supposed to make his case there? As the papers reported dutifully for the last week that there were fears that the President's address to children was going to be something -- anything -- other than "work hard, stay in school," was it supposed to be there?
Jones resigning was the best thing he's probably done for the Obama administration. Try to smother the latest fire, so that the Glenn Beck Rush Limbaugh party can't run around like chickens with their heads cut off for another week -- and once again escape any kind of attention to the fact that their party is intellectually bankrupt, with no new ideas, and a failed passel of policies that they couldn't make work over the last eight years -- which shouldn't be a surprise, because they didn't really work when they tried them out under Reagan and Bush I either -- anything that stops that is good strategic politics. And if the left of Obama's party can't see that, then they should be ignored too. Enough. We have suffered too long because the party with the greater discipline is the one without any new ideas.
There was a brief, shining audacity of hope moment for me last year. I think of it even now, and seize upon it and hope that maybe, somehow we can see its like again.
That's when the whole Reverend Wright thing popped up. And the Right wing noise machine and the oh-not-really-we're-pretty-scared-actually so-called "Liberal" media suited up and got ready to go on the field and start calling all the old standbys from the Swift Boat, knock-em-down playbook...
..and then the Candidate stood up and gave one of the most remarkable speeches I've seen in my 35 years or so of paying attention to this kind of stuff. (And I can claim that, cause I stayed home sick from school at my Grandma's place to watch Carter's inaugural in 1977 -- I was a fairly serious eight year old.)
The way that Obama spoke truth about race that day, and the problems of framing how he subject of -- forgive me -- the subject of black and white was anything but... gave me hope. Because it was rational, and showed grace and forgiveness and understanding and sense, and a little bit of wisdom, too.
That flame of hope flickered brighter in the following days, when all the old plays seemed to come up short. They couldn't grab traction with Wright. They tried to trash how he talked about his Grandma, they tried to say that he hadn't gone far enough with Wright...The Pundits kept trying to say that Obama was still going to take a hit, still going to take a hit...
...and he didn't.
So, I don't want to talk about Van Jones. Not now. I simply do not care. I want to talk about getting those 50 million Americans covered. I want to talk about making it so that the pre-existing condition thing doesn't trap people in jobs, and that the whole sorry spectacle of U.S. insurance is whacked at the knees and made to heel for what's best for the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness for a beleageured and oh-so-tired people.
And then I want to move on to the next thing. And the thing after that. And the thing after that. And I want the screaming from Rush and Glenn and all the rest to fade away in the rearview.
You want to know what I think about Van Jones? I think Al Franken. In many ways, this is the best piece of tape I've seen in weeks. It's the one that makes me feel just a little bit like how I felt when Obama gave that speech about race.
It's an elected official having a talk with some excited and angry citizens, primed with talking points. It's about speaking calmly, about what needs to be done and why. Leave it to the comedian to speak truth to the mob.
You give me Van Jones? No sale. I want more of this:
FOR THOSE OF you in the Toronto broadcast/listening area, I will be on Take5, the morning show of CIUT Toronto 89.5 FM, talking about the Canadian Copyright Consultations.
The interview should happen shortly after 8:30 A.M. today. (Tuesday)
WELL, WHAT DO you know. My Labor Day present is a chance to rest, because today, Uncle Alex Epstein over at Complications Ensue has the sermon of the day. It's well worth a read by Canadian Creatives. And as you fight all the myriad, byzantine bullshit, remember that this is why we fight:
Laurie Finstad's dark thriller/drama DURHAM COUNTY has finally made it to the States, on the new Ion network, so it's finally got a New York Times review. And a nice one too. But I thought the lede was interesting:
Any lingering illusion that Canada is a milder, blander version of the United States is dispelled by “Durham County,” a Canadian-made crime series that begins on Monday on the Ion network.
Countries make culture in part to bind themselves together. Countries without a strong sense of themselves through culture will fall apart. But another reason for nations to fund their own culture is international relations. If you don't export movies and TV, no one will have any idea who you are. Other countries might know what you can make, and if you have guns they'll respect those. But at a basic level, exported popular culture is how we learn about each other.
But relatively few people outside of Canada have a clue what Canadians are like, because Canada exports a lot less popular culture than it ought to, given it's a nation of 22 million English speakers, roughly on par with Australia. Americans think that Canadians are milder, blander white people but otherwise just like them. And yes, life in Canada is milder, except for the weather, because Canada has a functioning health care system and America has madness, and Canadians don't shoot each other nearly so much in spite of owning just as many guns. But Canadians aren't particularly white anymore, and we're not bland, and we're just as capable of being atrocious to each other as Americans are.
