I hope you’re happy, America

You voted off Kevin Covais, Ariel’s favorite on “American Idol.” My fourteen year old daughter was right in the wheelhouse of his Long Island boy’s target audience, and she was really pìššëd øff this morning. Kevin, if you’re reading this–my daughter still adores you.

PAD

E for ENOUGH ALREADY

If I see one more article about Alan Moore being “swindled” by DC or how Hollywood has destroyed his graphic novel, I’m going to go on a vendetta of my own.

Most recently was an article in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune which ended with the following quote from a retailer:

“If he had been doing novels that were this successful for this long, they’d probably take more care with making movies out of his products. But it’s only comics, you know?”

Aw, c’mon. Putting aside the insanely faithful adaptation of “Sin City,” it has nothing to do with comics and everything to do with Hollywood. I suspect the name “Nathaniel Hawthorne” will be remembered long after Alan Moore, and I, and every other comic book writer are forgotten, and they STILL gave “The Scarlet Letter” a happy ending. Popular movies such as “Oh God,” “Kramer Vs. Kramer,” and even underrated great films such as “The Mighty Quinn,” have huge differences from the novels on which they were based. Disney’s people haven’t met a classic that they couldn’t transform into something else entirely (have you ever actually READ “Pinocchio?” He steps on the cricket and kills it in, like, chapter 2. And P.L. Travers’ “Mary Poppins” is an acerbic, middle aged woman, not the chipper, youthful, dancing Julie Andrews.)

Film adaptations are just that: Adaptations. They often bear little-to-no resemblance to the source material. The benefit of them is that the successful ones put copies of the books into the hands of customers who otherwise might never have heard of the work, much less purchased it.

Alan Moore can refuse all the money from the Hollywood versions he wants, but I daresay he won’t be turning his nose up at the increased royalties such films generate for the books.

PAD

Fifty nine

Wake up at 3:21 AM from bizarre dream where Im shaking hands with Gerald Ford for some reason to discover it’s freezing. Check thermostat to discover the temperature has dropped to fifty nine. Go downstairs; same thing. Go to furnace, discover it’s nonoperational. Hit the reset; fires for about five seconds and then goes out again. Call heating company, told service man will be in touch within half an hour. Strip heavy blankets off own bed, go put them on Ariel and Caroline, both of whom are still sleeping, to give them additional warmth. Pull on heavy sweats and sweat shirt, go downstairs to work and wait for repairman to call.

PAD

So…it’s uncivil now…?

On another thread, a poster said that Iraq was “on the brink of a bloody civil war,” and I realized that I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. “On the brink of civil war.” “On the edge of civil war.” Lots of commentators have been saying that.

And it made me wonder: Is there a tipping point of some sort? Are we waiting for some type of official declaration? Because people of the same nationality are busy aggressively killing each other. What makes them NOT at civil war already? Do they need uniforms, flags, and a catchy anthem or something? Putting aside the notion that “civil war” is right up there with “jumbo shrimp” as an oxymoron (or “President Bush,” which is a plain old moron), at what point amidst the rapidly ascending body count, explosions, beheadings and murders, does someone say, “Okay, that’s it, they’ve jumped over the brink and it’s civil war.”

PAD