The Chess Player Makes a Questionable Move

Obama, Like Clinton Before Him,  Is Starting to Show Some Wear

The deal with the GOP when concerning the Afghan war?  Looks suspiciously like the Big Sellout of progressives by Bubba when he pushed through NAFTA:

It was 16 years ago this month when Clinton assembled his coalition with the GOP to bulldoze public skepticism about the trade treaty and overpower a stop-NAFTA movement led by unions, environmentalists and consumer rights groups. How did Clinton win his majority in Congress? With the votes of almost 80 percent of GOP senators and nearly 70 percent of House Republicans. Democrats in the House voted against NAFTA by more than 3 to 2, with fierce opponents including the Democratic majority leader and majority whip.

To get a majority today in Congress on Afghanistan, the Obama White House is apparently bent on a strategy replicating the tragic farce that Clinton pulled off: Ignore the informed doubts of your own party while making common cause with extremist Republicans who never accepted your presidency in the first place.

I'm starting to feel the creep of doubt overtake my initial optimism about the President.  I still want to believe in the change that he promised a year ago and, for the most part, I still do.  In spite of Clinton's many screw-ups, I'm still a HUGE Bill Clinton fan and would rather have a flawed, potentially corrupt Liberal who can read and write and pronounce big words like "nuclear" than have a savant, frat-boy idiot and his dark Sith lord from the Viet Nam Architecture in charge.

I am, however, ashamed of Clinton for NAFTA.  More so than for the blowjob he was impeached over.  And I think Obama's Afghan War is going to be ultimately more damaging to us than the under-stimulating Stimulus Package or his backroom deal with Big Pharma.  No one remembers that LBJ got us substantive Civil Rights - they remember he was the guy who proliferated Viet Nam.  No one remembers that Nixon opened commerce with China - they remember he was a liar and a criminal.

President Obama should think hard about selling the Progressives out on this.  I'm sure he is.  I hope he's right.

Friday Roundup: Mystery Solved - This Ad Sucks!

The World is Kind of Remarkable...


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First They Came for the Smokers and I said Nothing...

The War on Terr is a farce.  The War on Drugs is a multi-billion dollar industry that has failed.  The War on Cigarettes is still in its infancy.  Now, the War on FAT is beginning to become real:

Lincoln University, the nation’s first historically black college in Oxford, Pennsylvania, has decided that a handful of students won’t be getting their diplomas this spring. It wasn’t because they were underachieving kids caught in a “senior slump,” had pending library charges, or even disciplinary issues. This group of over two dozen African American students will not get to walk across the stage and shake hands in front of their proud parents because they’re fat.

Yup.  Knew it was coming.  It all boils down to those who feel that all those pesky choices people have need to be curbed for the good of all.  That by placing penalties for lifestyle choices (and trust me, being 100 pounds overweight is as much about choosing to eat that Twinkie as smoking is a choice to light up) it encourages people to become more homogenized and like everyone else.  Granted, the bellies on these particular Sneeches are huge and ungainly, but the patrician need to dictate personal choices that ultimately only harm the chooser is an insidious thing.
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Someone Got Paid to Write This Shit...

I want to see this movie.

I like Robert Downey, Jr.

I like Sherlock Holmes (you ever see Young Sherlock Holmes?  Love that flick...)

This print ad makes me NOT want to see this movie.

This lame print ad that some lame jackass wrote and was paid a hefty sum of cabbage to write?  It makes me sad.  Deep in my soul sad.  Even sadder than when American Airlines used Gershwin to sell airline tickets.  Even sadder than when Nike used John Lennon to sell shoes made in sweat shops.

This ad makes me sad because it could've been written by a smart second grader.  Or a high functioning mongoloid.  Or a Neocon Teabagger.

I will never - EVER - drink 7-Eleven coffee again.  Because every time I need a caffeine jolt and enter a 7-Eleven, I will see in my mind some jackass laughing as if this line was interesting or original or worth the ink put on the paper.

Mystery Solved.  7-Eleven has great coffee.

Sorry to have ruined your weekend.
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I'm Not Sure What to Say...

A Year to Be Thankful

2009 Has Been Quite a Ride

Ah, gluttony! Today is the day we partake in overeating on purpose, spending time with family (of either our choosing or the one we were born or married into), and watching steroid-riddled wife-beating, gun-toting athletes earn millions of dollars for television conglomerates owned by arms manufacturers.

I don't use Thanksgiving as a wrap-up of the year - that comes in about a month or so - but I would like to simply point out a few things that I'm genuinely thankful for this past year.

•  Off Loop Theater

Yeah - she often serves as my whipping post throughout the year, but Off Loop Theater has been prolific and turbulent and, most importantly, is surviving this effing recession with the pluck and stamina one expects from those shifty little gypsies.  I'm thankful for the folks at WNEP Theater for rallying behind The (edward) Hopper Project after what could've been it's death knell and for the companies out there constantly busting ass to crowds of 4 to 84.


•  My Friends

Joe, Bob, and Rebar are just great people and I'm luckier than I deserve to be to have such intelligent, loyal and honest companions.  The Gosses (all four of them) have been more supportive than I could ask.  The sheer number of people I consider important in my daily walk has increased and I figure that's a good thing.  I can only hope I can be as good to these comrades of mine as they are to me.

•  My Family

My mom and dad are amazing.  And unlike so many families I know, we all get along incredibly well and love each other vocally as well as in deeds.  My sister is a rockstar and my niece and nephews are just incredible people.  Love 'em all more than a freaking blogpost can indicate.  Can't wait to see them this Christmas.

•  My Job

Man, do I love working at WBEZ and with the crew of Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me!  I'm daily challenged with new things to produce and am regularly working with the smartest, most dedicated people in Chicago.  This year I have produced a graffiti art gallery with a hip hop poetry culminating performance, an Expo for Global Activists, a filmless festival, a chef's battle, a faith-based discussion in one of the largest churches in downtown Chicago. I've got to hang out with Carl Kasell, Peter Sagal, Paula Poundstone, Paul Provenza, Ira Glass, and meet Denis Leary, Leonard Nimoy, and Al Gore.  And I am able to pay my bills and eat.  In this economy, that's something to be truly thankful for.

•  New Beginnings and Possibilities


I'm officially not allowed to blog about someone.  So I won't.  But I'm thankful to have someone I'm not allowed to blog about in my life.  So there.

Have a lovely day eating and being thankful.  Thanksgiving is the dual legacy of both our own gratitude for what bounty is before us and the fact that, as Americans, we will kill and maim anyone to get and keep that bounty.  So eat up and then go out and beat up someone indigenous to the area after buying their home with some beads and giving them a disease-laden blanket.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I Believe...

...that the only choice that ends up bearing no fruit whatsoever is the choice not to choose.

...that, when a holiday designated to be for giving thanks for what one is grateful for arrives, taking stock of possesions rarely makes the list. So why is it that we spend so much time during the rest of the year stockpiling stuff instead of being thankful for the things in life that actually matter?

...that those in the country dead set against a public option are both at odds with both the belief that government should be for all of the People and the Free Market ideology that they espouse so fervently. So what do they want? Whatever it is, I can only conclude it has more to do with their asses up in air with their heads embedded in the ground...

...that it is the artist's job to create content and it is the audience's job to derive meaning from it.

...that extremism is good for adding spice and nuance to legislation rather than dictating the terms of it.

Dear AWG...

AWG,

I believe my dad is become one of those stupid, fear promoting, anti-healthcare, anti-Obama, crazy douchebags.  Somehow he has in his mind that the current healthcare bill has abortion included in it, and it will supposedly cost $2.5 trillion.  How do I face this Thanksgiving dinner without becoming a miserable drunk?

The bill (neither House nor Senate nor combined) ever funded abortions.  In fact, as it now reads, insurers that currently cover abortion will no longer be able to.

The House Bill that passed would cost $900 billion over ten years.  The Senate would cost $859 billion over ten years.  In addition, both bills have been estimated to save an additional $400 - 500 billion through lower insurance premiums and streamlined Medicare costs.  Those numbers are from the Congressional Budget Office which is nonpartisan.

Most important, I think, is to ask questions rather than try to change his mind.  His mind won't be changed.  Ask him questions that lead him to see how misinformed he is without judging his opinion (I know - it's hard). If that doesn't work, punch him in the balls every time he starts up with his crazy ranting.  If people can't learn to read and absorb information, perhaps physical pain will help.  That also might just make you feel better...

"Obama is a Social-"
**WHACK!!**
"...ooowwww...but where's his birth cert-"
**SLAM!!**
"...uhhhhhhh...drool...cough...o-bama? he supports abort..."
**SMACK!!**

"...tur...key?"

Hope that helps and have a great Thanksgiving holiday!

DANCE REVIEW: Step Afrika

Step Afrika
At the Chicago Human Rhythm Project 20th Anniversary
Harris Theater in Millennium Park

As a theater guy, a dance concert is a pretty rare thing.  I should go to more of them but with countless opportunities (many of them missed) to see live theater in Chicago and less time to accommodate most evenings out, I sadly don't attend too much in the way of dance.

Step Afrika made me realize what I've been missing.

The headliner for Saturday night's twentieth anniversary celebration of the Chicago Human Rhythm Project (an organization whose mission is specifically centered on "tap and percussive arts"), Step Afrika was preceded by two younger groups, The South Shore Drill Team, whose enthusiasm and skill twirling rifles and dancing culminated in a genuinely cool combination of spectacle, Michael Jackson and the Obama acceptance speech in election night (which pointed out how truly musical Obama's natural cadence is) and the Trinity Academy of Irish Dance, a group of young rubber-legged girls who were incredibly gifted as well as especially disciplined in their presentation.

And then came Step Afrika.

Reminiscent of Broadway shows like STOMP and Tap Dogs, Step Afrika is a series of choreographed moments with short comic vignettes that incorporate dance.  Integrated into the evening were short explanations of stepping (a dance form that combines traditional tap dancing, Zulu tribal dancing, and hip hop infused dance moves that originated out of the African American fraternaties and sororities as part of pledging exercises) and demonstrations of both straight up Zulu tribal choreography and South African gumboot dance.

The ten-member troupe was amazing in its ability to dance out incredibly intricate dances that incorporated clapping, snapping, stomping, tap dance, and hambone techniques of slapping body parts for percussive sound while also allowing each member to showcase individual styles and personalities.  Standouts included the fierce and high spirited Makeda Abraham, the winning charm of Michael Alford II, and the incredible muscular dancing acumen of Ryan Johnson (whose solo tap dance number was as funny in its use of the audience as it was spectacularly well performed.)

The staged scenes were less successful, both because the microphones were trained at the floor and thus washed out any distinction in words spoken and because these folks were here for their dancing chops, not their acting skill.  That said, the shorter moments in between dances were charming - the longer ones were...well, long.

But you don't come to see Step Afrika for their comedic bits.  You come for the dance - and, man, they deliver.  Fierce and muscular, the group was relentless and heightened the show with each successive piece.  For 90-minutes, the roof of the Harris shook with the raw, focused rhythm created by these ambassodors from DC and, if you ever get a chance to catch them on tour (they perform year round all over the globe) you absolutely should.

THEATER REVIEW: The Man Who Was Thursday

The Man Who Was Thursday
Written by Bilal Dardai
Based on the novel by G. K. Chesterton
Directed by Jessica Hutchinson
Presented by New Leaf Theatre


Part satire (the story revolves around a group of ordinary British citizens enlisted by Scotland Yard to infiltrate the Central European Council of Anarchists in order to snuff them out), part farce (a balloon chase, bloodless duels, lots of goofy British wordplay, and a host of mistaken identities), crammed into two wood paneled rooms navigated by moving the audience from room to room and changing bench placement to force perspective), The Man Who Was Thursday reminded me a bit of the film version of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang without the music.  And, for the most part, it works on that exact level - a goof on darker fare like The Bourne Identity (CCBB was itself a spoof of James Bond penned by Ian Fleming) that exposes the inherent silliness of the spy tale while telling a ripping yarn of intrigue and undercover shenanigans.

The whole thing relies on a delicate balancing act between effectively communicating the convoluted plot (which requires pages and pages of windy speeches and explanations), moving things around without having the semi-promenade style of staging become too much the point of focus, and keeping things somewhat believable without becoming too melodramatic on one side and simply muggy on the other side.  Hutchinson is successful in this balancing act most of the time and the play works far more often than it doesn't.

The declarative arch-British acting style is, in and of itself, at odds with the intimacy of the room - having an anarchist yelling about his place in the order of things on stage is one thing; having him do the same thing two feet from you is another thing altogether.  The combination of the two styles (hammy British Black Adder-esque acting and the immediacy of being in the same playing space as the actors) suffers the tendency to feel one is in a room filled with people pretending to be British - which they are - and this, in turn, pulls one out of the play to be more amused by the act of putting on the play.  Given that this is a play about people pretending to be other people written by a NeoFuturist, I suppose this makes sense but it rarely felt intentional.

For example, the laconic Andy Hager puts on a passable German accent which turns out to be a fake thus making it obvious it was a put-on from the start.  Conversely, Nick Mikula begins things with the least convincing accent work in the entire production and it turns out that it isn't supposed to be a fake.  Some speeches get the tongue-in-cheek treatment while others are simply shrieked as if by screaming them out, they'll be funnier (they aren't.)

SIDENOTE:  Are there no women or any other ethnicity present in the anarchist world of Chesterton?  It felt a bit strange watching ten white men in a play written by Bilal Dardai and directed by Jessica Hutchinson  - not necessarily a criticism of the piece, but notable nonetheless...

Lastly (in the negative column), sitting on a backless bench for nearly two hours is fine if discomfort is your goal.  Nathan Robbel's And They Put Handcuffs on the Flowers placed us on very uncomfortable seating but it was in support of the "you are in this prison" aesthetic.  If it is not your goal, it just detracts from the evening's festivities.

On the positive notes, both Dan Granata and Ted Evans are standouts in a very capable cast - Granada grounds the entire piece with his deft portrayal of the protagonist Gabriel Syme and has the music of the British dialect well in hand.  Evans' transformation from the creepy Dr. Bull to the much more ebullient character underneath is so much fun and so well done, it was as engaging as the big reveal of the entire Council of villains, a moment so cool and well staged that it jazzed up the whole evening.

Hutchinson's staging is clever and playful and only takes too long once (the switching of the bench positions took far too long for the moment to be considered a transition.)  It takes a real director to juggle a balloon chase, a full-on swordfight, and the bombing of London effectively in the tiny space available and she pulls it off like a magician with a rabbit.  Her choices of musical scoring are both inspired and fun and Jess knows how to make a bizarre chase scene in a tiny room work well.

The ending note perplexes me, though.  After all the wackiness afoot, Syme asks "While we were all going through this, who was watching the real anarchists?" to be answered with the one true anarchist in the mix committing an act of terrorism to close the show.  While I understand the idea, I'm not entirely sold on the abrupt switch in tone and I'm not sure Dardai earns the gravity of his point - it feels tagged on like a clumsy "gotcha!" without implicating those of us in the room as observers.  Without that personal indictment, it has less to say about us and more about Other Governments and People With Silly Accents.

In the end, however, as promised by the only genuine bomb-thrower of the bunch, it was definitely an entertaining evening.