Movies, Movies

I saw a three movies this weekend, three good movies. It was just too hot to stay outside for very long.

The Island
First, we finally rented The Island. Why do movie companies feel it necessary to spoil a suspenseful plot point on the back of the movie box? As John said (he saw it on a plane before), the movie is a whole lot better if you have no idea what's going on - but they spoil it on the back of the DVD box by giving away the entire mystery. For any of you who haven't seen it yet, I won't give it away, except to say: 1) Don't read the synopsis in the TV Guide or on the back of the DVD box - just don't. 2) How many out there think the movie was a metaphor promoting human curiosity and exposing the dangers of believing everything you're told?

It was a very good movie, suspenseful even if you know the mystery, but it would have been better if I didn't. Charlotte Johanssen and Ewan McGregor are two of many people who live in a sterile complex after the "contamination". Every now and again someone is chosen by lottery to go the the Island, the last place on earth that was not contaminated - a paradise. No one questions the nature of the contamination, or why the Island is clean, or why they all perform seemingly menial jobs for no apparent purpose, or why they can't have bacon for breakfast - except one. Lincoln (McGregor) asks too many questions, and eventually discovers what's really going on. He takes Jordan (Johannsen) and they escape together while narrowly avoiding a team of special ops military men who are hired to find them. Once you know what's really going on, you realize the movie raises certain moral questions.

Overall, I thought it was really good. It keeps you on your toes and there's plenty of character development so that you actually feel something. A lot of sci-fi, futuristic, action movies have no development (ID4, War of the Worlds) and consequently, you just don't give a flying fuck what happens to the characters. The acting is good, the effects are good.


Clerks II
Let me preface this by saying two things:

1. If you never saw the first one - see it before seeing this one. You won't understand a thing.
2. If you hated the first one - don't see this one. You won't understand a thing.

For Clerks fans, there's everything you could possibly expect from Dante, Randall, Jay and Silent Bob. Over-the-edge-bordering-on-NC-17 discussions involving all kinds of sexual depravity, including Kinky Kelly and the Sexy Stud - a live donkey show. Don't worry kids, they let you imagine most of it.

The Quick Stop burns down and Dante and Randall are stuck working at a Mooby's flipping burgers. Randall spends most of his time tormenting a 19-year old fellow Mooby's employee and Lord of the Rings geek about how Star Wars is superior to Tolkein and it's 27 endings for Return of the King. As usual, the film is carrier for Kevin Smith's opinions about movies. Clerks II is the last day of Dante's Mooby's career before he leaves New Jersey for Florida to get married. Of course, there's a love triangle (over Dante!? Please).

Overall, it's pretty predictable, but you're not going to see Clerks II because of it's suspenseful subplots, or because it will make Oscar history. You're going to see it because of Jay's reenactment of Buffalo Bill's dance from Silence of the Lambs, complete with the tuck...


Lady in the Water
OK, Thanks to Robot Chicken, I could not watch a trailer for this movie without saying "What a Tweest!". They had a sketch on RC where they spoof a few M. Night Shamylan movies and his claymation self pops out at the end, grins and says "What a tweest!"

This isn't a "typical" M. Night movie where there's something at the end that makes you go "whaaaaaaa?" It's a film adaptation of a bedtime story he made up for his kids, about a sea nymph who visits humans in order to relay an important message to a specific person living at the Cove. She's found by Paul Giamatti (Cleveland Heep) the building superintendent. Heep discovers bits and pieces of an old Asian bedtime story that explain why she is here and how to get her home. He has to find out who in the building serves each vital role in the story and has to get them together to send her home. Giamatti plays another tragically mundane character, and he does it well. You find out a bit more about each character in The Cove and how each character must discover his or her true purpose in life.

I thought it was very good and I think it's the best of his movies so far - even surpassing The Sixth Sense (whose magic is lost after the first time you see it). Lady in the Water, on the other hand, is a story with deep social undertones whose meaning won't fade over time.

DMV

I've been to hell. I spell it...I spell it DMV
Anyone that's been there knows precisely what I mean
Stood there and I've waited and choked back the urge to scream
And if I had my druthers I'd screw a chimpanzee-call it pointless

Now, life's a bowl of bagel dogs, but there are unpleasantries
Cold toilet seats, dentist chairs and trips to DMV-call it pointless

I've been to hell. I spell it...I spell it DMV
Anyone that's been there knows precisely what I mean
I've stood in line and waited near an hour and fifteen
And if I had my druthers I'd screw that chimpanzee-call it pointless

Ah, so yesterday on my "relaxing" day off, I had to go to the DMV and replace my ID. I apparently lost it at SmartBar last saturday and didn't notice until Tuesday that I didn't have it. It wasn't horrible, but I did have a hell of a time finding anything official showing my address on it because John shreds all of our bills and bank statements. So I had to go to the bank and have them print out a mini statement so that it showed my address. Only later, at the DMV, did I find out that I could have used my voter registration card. Duh.

So I left the house at 11:30 and didn't get home until after 3pm.

And after all that, they wouldn't even let me take a new picture, they just printed off the old ID with the new address (I never changed my address since we moved last year) with the same old crappy picture. Oh the indignity!

Tonight we go over to SecretRudy's for yet another gay barbeque. We joked last weekend that they should just keep having barbeques - you know, the 3rd week anniversary of the closing of the gay games, etc...

This just in...

So we got a little note card in our mailbox last night from broadzilla, apologizing for her behavior. This is the second time she's written a note like that. Typical passive-agressive behavior, try to diffuse the situation with niceties and say that she didn't really mean what she said. That she likes us and she likes Annie but she doesn't like the barking.

Fine, I understand that. But that still doesn't change the fact that she tried to force us to allow her to care for our dog. We are going to start using the anti-barking device and see if that works. Maybe we need to give her some supplements to fight anxiety too. This dog takes more pills than John and I combined, so I'd like to not have to do that.

Tshsmom & Notta: Yeah, apartment life does depend greatly on your neighbors. The 3rd floor woman is great though. Broadzilla isn't all bad, but it seems that this stuff always comes up in summer - because she's at home all day. I do eventually want to own a place, but even the classic "chicago bungalow" is too expensive for us in any area we'd want to live. We need to wait until the bottom drops out of the housing market.

Pissed. Off.

Ok, so remember last year around this time when we were having problems with our new neighbor upstairs? The landlord, who is friends with this woman, told us "no problem" to some of the things we asked (like letting Annie in the yard, putting the motorcycle in the yard, etc) and then we got flak from the neighbor who apparently was unaware of her friend's compromises. Well, since then, we've had to rent a garage for the motorcycle (because she didn't like it in the yard), have the grills directly under our kitchen window (because she doesn't like them at the back of the yard), and greatly curtail Annie's use of the yard (because she's afraid of dogs).

Well, this two faced little bitch, (we'll call her broadzilla) who I thought for a while was actually getting better, really pissed John off last night. When we go out for the day, apparently Annie barks a lot. We've tried all kinds of things, and nothing works. We have this anti-barking thing that is supposed to make an upleasant tone whenever she barks. Problem with that is that it's audible to humans (and it is painful to the ears) and it reacts to any loud noise, not just barking. We will have to start using this again when we leave for the day I guess.

Now, I understand not wanting to hear a barking dog all day - that part I do understand. However, here's where she pissed us off:

First, Broadzilla knows everything about everything. Don't you hate people like that? I'm surprised she doesn't work for NASA because she's a fucking prodigy. Well, she doesn't like dogs, has no experience with dogs, and is afraid of dogs, and yet she tries to give us dog advice. Second, she's two faced. One minute she's your best friend, the next minute she's making some sarcastic, passive-aggressive remark about something you did.

Well, she told John that we should let her let Annie out in the yard with her when we're gone for the day. Not asked, not suggested - told. If it were our 3rd floor neighbor, I'd have no problem with it, because she actually likes Annie, Annie likes her, and most importantly - she is familiar with and understands and is comfortable around dogs. Broadzilla, on the other hand, is still sort of afraid of Annie when she barks at strangers (she can be intimidating if you don't know how to handle dogs) and in general does all the wrong things when it comes to dogs. She literally rolled her eyes in front of me when we told her about Annie's surgery and said that she would have put her down. We're supposed to trust her with our baby all day? Someone who thinks she should have been put down because surgery was expensive? I don't think so. There is no way she could or would be comfortable controlling Annie if she got worked up about something or a stranger came to the gate.

Broadzilla tried to pass this off (in her passive-aggressive manner) as her doing us a favor when in fact she is focused not on Annie's well being or on doing us a favor, but on her own comfort. Everything revolves around her and her little world and the way she wants it. She had the gall at one point in the conversation to say that she's been there for 5 years (as if that gives her dominion over the building and the way things should be) and replied to John when he said "things change" referring to her inability to adapt, that "things did change when we got here but now they're getting back to normal." How rude is that? Apparently things are only normal within her narrow confines of comfort and anything outside of that definition is "wrong." The scary thing is that this woman is a fucking teacher! She must be real understanding.

So she told John that we should just buy a place (as if that's her business) because in any multi-unit building we'll have a problem like this. It's interesting that she didn't see how this logic could be reversed - that if she wanted a place where she wanted total control of the yard and the way things were done that she should be the one to buy her own house. Also interesting, that our previous neighbors had no problems. But then again, they all liked dogs, and we trusted them to watch Annie because they had a dog and were genuinely concerned with Annie's welfare when they watched her. I can just imagine this bitch leaving the gate open for some reason and coming home to find Annie gone.

So John told her "no way" and cited most of the reasons I've mentioned above and she got indignant and spouted off about all she wants is a quiet Sunday and she would start calling the cops. She knew it would do no good because she would only be calling when we're not home, but she said she'd do it anyway. John was like "what the fuck." Not to mention that the day in question, Sunday, she had a friend over in the yard when we got home. Well, Annie doesn't like strangers. She gets very defensive and aggressive toward strangers, especially men, and can be intimidating to people who are used to dogs. There is no way in hell that this woman would be able to control Annie around a stranger when she is afraid of Annie herself. So the whole reason this came about - her wanting to spend a quiet Sunday with a friend - would not have been solved by her being able to let Annie out anyway.

So eventually John just told her the conversation was over, before he got too pissed off. He told her that if we'd known all of the problems we ended up having and all the things we've had to change - because of HER - that we never would have taken the apartment. She said something like this was the most "asinine argument" she'd ever had. Yeah, because it's A) not going her way and B) it's not her dog's well being that is in question.

More Johnnyisms

I must preface this by saying I have John's permission to post about this, just so you know.

John has weird dreams. Not a week goes by when he greets me in the morning with "you'll never believe the dream I had." For all of you who know how strange John can be in waking life, you can only imagine what his subconscious comes up with.

I rarely remember my dreams, and when I do, it's usually nonsensical snippets. Like this morning when I woke up and I was dreaming that I was in my parents basement with my old landlord building a wooden table, but he only brought 6 nails. So I had to go find more nails and there was a squirrel running around the basement.

One time, I caught John talking in his sleep, so I thought. I just heard this low "eaaah" kind of noise. I woke him up - I had to know what it was. He was dreaming that he was the recipient of a tickertape parade because he reverse engineered a mouse driver. The "eaaah" was cheering.

Sometimes he dreams about work and wakes up with a solution to a problem he was having the previous day.

There have been others, involving old pets or people from childhood.

This morning takes the cake in the realm of weird dreams though. He couldn't keep a straight face while telling me:

He was forced, at gunpoint, by Nazis with angel wings to wear a purple sequin butterfly costume and sing "Hot for Nectar" to the tune of "Hot for Teacher".

He told me this over an hour ago and I'm still laughing.

Below is John's artistic interpretation:

Oy what a weekend

So I'm recovering from my first of 6 four-day weeks in a row. I had a bunch of vacation time to use before the end of August (our fiscal year mirrors the academic year and goes Sept to Aug) and didn't have any reason to take it all at once. We have no vacations planned until the Vegas birthday extravaganza in October and sitting around at home for a week would drive me bonkers. So I decided to take a bunch of Fridays off and one long weekend in August to go down to St. Louis and visit Heathen and Cillic - if their power is back on by then of course. Those poor kids had to abandon their apartment for cooler pastures this past week because of 100+ degree heat and no power. So send them thoughts of glaciers and cool breezes. If this continues, I may in fact, as Cillic said, get to see a skyscraper melt.

Friday John and I went out to breakfast to a little place (the little place is what we call it) that was down the block from our old apartment. Then I ran some errands, got a few rows done on the skirt I'm knitting for myself, and then went off to see my lady friends for the women's circle ~V started last year. The Queen of the Universe correctly placed the flavor of my new favorite white wine from a previous post. It's tart like grapefruit. It doesn't taste like grapefruit, but it has a tartness similar to citrus. That explains why I like it. Compared to this stuff, Pinot Grigio tastes like water.

Saturday we didn't do much. We ran up to Chicago Cycle center to get a few things and John washed the bike. I made bbq chicken wings with my newly perfected dry rub spice to bring to the last of the gay games barbeques. We headed over to the bbq around 7 or so ate, drank, and were merry. The posse headed to boystown at about 11pm and man was it crazy. Not that I expected anything less on the closing day of the games. We ended up at Smartbar and actually got a booth!!! I haven't actually gone out dancing in many years. I like going to neo with Heathen & Cillic for the music and the atmosphere, but I can't dance to that music. SecretRudy told us his trick for keeping cool at a club was to hold his drink against his chest. So I slipped my drink into my shirt and let it sit there on my shelf. Someone has a picture of Rudy sipping the straw from my cleavage - I need a copy of that...

I think I finally left around 2:30. Hopped in a cab, took a shower to get the club stink off me, took some ibprofen and went to bed.

Sunday my folks had a bbq with an old family friend - our old neighbor from our old block when I was a kid. I haven't seen him since our wedding reception. As usual he brought a bottle of the latest wine he made. It was good, somewhere between a beaujolais and a merlot. He and his wife, who are both from Latvia, used to make currant wine and my parents still have a few bottles. Dad opened one from 1992 and it was still good. Very sweet, but a good desert wine. So we visited for a while and then rode home.

Now back to work. One of these fridays I am going to go to the Thousand Waves Spa on Belmont. It's a Japanese style spa for women only. They do massages and wraps and stuff and also have steam showers and spa baths that are included in the cost of any treatments. I desperately need a massage - my neck has been killing me for near a month now and the monster ibprofens and muscle relaxers just aren't working.

No preaching zone

Last week, I ordered a few things from the Flying Spaghetti Monster store, including a decal for my motorcycle helmet. One of the things I found was a door plaque (below) for the No Preaching Zone.



It would have come in handy last Saturday when Jehovah's Witnesses came to our door. I always think of things to say after the fact. I could have told them simply that I didn't have time because I had to get ready for a gay barbeque. Or as Donna suggested, say I have no interest since there's no way at this point in my life that I could possibly be one of the 144,000 souls that will make it into heaven. I politely said no thanks and sent them on their way, back out into the 98 degree heat.

The sign has replaced our previous door decoration, a framed Nation issue cover (thanks Joe) from November 2000.

The gray area between lack of choice and personal responsibility

About a month ago there was a small debate going on at United We Lay about obesity. While most readers agreed that obesity is a problem and that a lot of health problems could be averted if more people got off their asses and out of the cars and were more active, there was a debate regarding how much of the problem can be fully rested on individuals. Sure, there's fat people out there who are simply lazy and there are a few with genetic problems. However, when you parse health problems by other factors, such as race and class, some disturbing trends emerge. Minorities and the poor are far more likely to not only be overweight, but to have poor nutrition and very few health care options.

The debate was whether or not someone whose choices are severly limited because of factors they cannot change are still equally responsible for the outcome. For instance: A rich, white woman who is fat because she sits on her ass and drives her SUV 3 blocks to the Haagen Daas every day vs. a poor, black teenager who is fat because the only food available to him (in terms of location and cost) is poor in quality. Does that black teenager share equally with the white woman in the personal responsibility of his health problems resulting from poor diet? Some folks would likely still place the blame equally. The kid's mother should shop at a different store. The kid should eat more vegetables. The fact that that is much easier said than done, in a place like Chicago, wouldn't cross their minds.

I can say from experience, that the quality of food in grocery stores goes down with the income level of the neighborhood. The ease of access to grocery stores also decreases with the income level of the neighborhood. Is it fair to preach personal responsibility and then not give someone equal access to better choices? Can we fault someone for a poor diet when they would otherwise have to travel an hour and a half (by bus) in the dead of winter for quality, affordable groceries?

It's no secret that poor neighborhoods, at least in Chicago, have always had fewer services and businesses within the same distance as higher income neighborhoods.

Well this just in from the Chicago Tribune:


In `food deserts' of city, healthy eating a mirage
Study: More fast food, fewer grocers for blacks

By Johnathon E. Briggs
Tribune staff reporter
Published July 18, 2006

For African-Americans who live in "food deserts" on Chicago's South and West Sides, where fast-food restaurants are plentiful and grocery stores are scarce, a lack of choices is more than an inconvenience. A provocative new study concludes that residents are more likely to die prematurely from diabetes, cancer and other ailments.

The study, to be released Tuesday, is the latest in a series looking at the way Chicago residents get their food, and the most far reaching in its conclusions.

Mari Gallagher, the consultant who conducted the study for LaSalle Bank, stops short of saying there is a cause-and-effect relationship between living in a food desert and developing a disease.

But she says the evidence offers a "statistically significant" link between food options and health conditions that suggests food deserts may "pose serious health and wellness challenges to the residents who live within them and the city as a whole."

"At first glance we might only guess that these differences influence the health of those who live in the neighborhoods," George Kaplan, director of the Center for Social Epidemiology and Population Health at the University of Michigan School of Public Health, wrote in the foreword to the study. "The report provides evidence that suggests that our guesses are correct."

On Tuesday, city officials will meet with advocates, health-care professionals and business representatives at the Palmer House Hilton to discuss the findings at a forum hosted by the Local Initiative Support Corporation of Chicago, a community-development group.

More than half a million Chicagoans live in food deserts, the study finds, and about 400,000 live in areas with an imbalance of food choices, meaning that residents often find it more difficult to eat an apple instead of a candy bar, a salad instead of French fries.

The new study is a sequel to a 2005 report that found that poor residents of Chicago's South Side live in a "commercial desert" where they have little access to major grocers, pharmacies or other retailers, but have plenty of liquor stores and fast-food restaurants.

That study, however, did not measure the potential health consequences such deserts have on residents.

Block-by-block data

Starting with the fundamental premise that the well-being of urban communities is a block-by-block phenomenon, Gallagher measured the distance from every Chicago block to the nearest grocery store and fast-food restaurant. She then developed a score to quantify the balance of food choice available to residents.

Finally, Gallagher compared food access to health outcomes shown in Cook County death records, city epidemiology data and outside studies. Gallagher said her calculations show that the correlation between food choice and health holds true regardless of differences in education, income and race.

Overall, though, the study shows the worst food choices fell in African-American neighborhoods.

On average, blacks travel the farthest distance to any type of grocery store--.59 miles compared with the city average of .45 miles--and their low-access neighborhoods cluster on the South and West Sides.

People who live in majority white neighborhoods traveled an average of .39 miles to grocery stores, while predominantly Latino or diverse census tracts showed a .36-mile average trip for groceries.

In majority white, Latino and diverse tracts, the distance to the nearest grocery store and the nearest fast-food restaurant is about equal.

In a typical African-American block, the nearest grocery store is about twice as far as the nearest fast-food restaurant, which makes following dietary recommendations more difficult for the 521,000 who live in the 287 worst grocery-store-access tracts, the report said.

People who live in food deserts are more likely to die prematurely and at greater rates from diabetes, cancer, cardiovascular disease and obesity, according to the study, which also tabulated years of potential life lost.

For example, 11 out of every 1,000 people in neighborhoods with the worst food access die of cardiovascular disease, compared with fewer than 6 out of 1,000 in the neighborhoods with the best choices.

The diabetes death rate in the worst food deserts is 1.27 per 1,000, compared with .56 per 1,000 in the best tracts, the study concluded.

And in general, as grocery store access decreases, obesity increases, the study found.

Other factors cited

Chicago Health Commissioner Dr. Terry Mason wondered, however, if other factors besides physical distance to grocery stores explain dire health outcomes for blacks, including access to quality health care and cultural differences.

"Whether you have a PhD from Harvard or you were a high-school dropout, in most African-American families on Sunday everybody is eating the same thing," said Mason, who is black. "We have a pattern of eating that contributes to diseases."

Adam Drewnowski, director of the Nutritional Science Program at the University of Washington, who has studied why obesity affects mostly minorities and the poor, called the study "a step, absolutely, in the right direction" for examining the link between environment and health in Chicago.

But he said the health disparities cannot be separated from economic inequity.

"If you're finding huge disparities, say, in levels of obesity by neighborhood, then you can't really say that people with genetic deficiencies up and move to the South Side," Drewnowski said. "The only deficiency, frankly, is in the wallet."

Though he had not read the report, he said he suspects it suffers from what he dubs the "Chernobyl model of nutrition"--a model that would suggest mere proximity to McDonald's means people will be obese and diabetic, while living nearer to Whole Foods would make people healthy.

"Physical access, I suspect, is not as important as economic distance," Drewnowski said. "The issue of economic distance is trickier to handle. Higher minimum wage? Health insurance? What do you do?"

White Wine & Gay Games

So SecretRudy's beau 'M' is playing tennis in the gay games this year. They had a kickoff bbq Saturday afternoon where 'M' and his fellow gamer weighed the pro's and con's of actually marching in the opening ceremonies. Pro: It's once in a lifetime kind of opportunity. Con: It's fucking 95 degrees outside. They decided they'd rather hang with friends and go to the closing ceremony instead.

After watching the live webcast of the opening ceremony, 'M' said he made the right choice. It took an hour plus to run through all the countries. Larger countries like Canada, Australia, and the US were called by state/province. Then the opening song was by this guy named Billy Porter - but both Donna and I took one look at him and yelled almost in unison "Sex'l Chocolate!" He didn't have jerry curls, but he had long braids and a bright lavender suit. He was slightly better than Mister Randy Watson! (clap clap clap). That boy good...

At the bbq, I expanded my newly found taste for white wine. I never liked white wine, probably because the few times I tried it, the person I tried it with was drinking something super sweet or syrupy. I found a Portuguese white that I really like at a local wine shop by my apartment. I bought it for my dad, and tried it when he opened it - it's my new favorite white wine. It's called Encruzado, from the lesser known Dao region and is, according to the wine merchant, pretty rare in the States. So everyone I've told about it can't find it anywhere. If you find one, try it, it's really great. Nice and dry, fruity - but not sweet.

What retard decided that Chicago in the middle of July would be a good place to hold a sporting tournament? Seriously. 'M' played tennis in the games Sunday afternoon in 97 degree heat (plus humidity). We all went down to cheer him on, only to find out that a) there was no place to sit and b) you're not allowed to cheer. We ended up sitting in the grass in the shade and got a semi-decent view of the game. It was best that we sat off to the side too, because 'M' lost the first set and we started making jokes about spiking his opponent's water. We started out tame, with suggestions like ExLax or Metamucil and go progressively meaner to things like Drano.

Despite the heat, it was fun and he won and goes on to the next round Monday morning! So wish him luck!

A romp through suburbia

So, a few nights ago John and I took a ride out to our closest surburban neighbor, Lincolnwood, to order a security storm door for our back porch (it will allow better air flow through our apartment). John said he wanted to have dinner at the Olive Garden. "Er, um, OK," I said. John said he'd never been there. I warned him that it was the Denny's of EYEtalian cuisine, but he insisted. That's OK, because the previous week when we had priced doors at said Lowes store, I made him eat at Ruby Tuesday, another suburban mall cullinary mainstay, and we had THE WORST Queso Fundido ever.

So we get there and there's actually a wait - on a Tuesday night. As we were seated, John stole a couple crayons from the Host desk. The Host returned to our table a couple minutes later with the children's menu and said he saw John took the crayons and thought he might want to color. Ppppppt. So he did.

Long story short, it wasn't terrible, but with all the other choices for Italian food we have in and around the city - why would anyone really want to go there? I can understand in places where maybe there really isn't anywhere else. It was mediocre. John said his Chicken Parmesan tasted exactly like an Italian chicken sandwich he once got at Burger King. My Parmesan crusted Tilapia was decent. The fish itself was good. The side pasta with vegetables was pretty bad though. There was a flavor I couldn't quite place. Then it came to me: old garlic. You know the taste like too much garlic powder? Or that pre-crushed garlic packed in olive oil? When you use too much of that, it tastes musky instead of sharp like fresh garlic. OOG.

I did like my dessert though.

This is why I'm not a fan of places like Olive Garden (or Bennigan's or Chili's or Flingers) in general though: They are the epitome of the pre-fab, sheltered culture of American suburbia. No matter where you go, you'll be comfortable (within your narrow suburban confines) because you'll have your shiny new subdivision where all the houses look the same, and you can have the same exact meal in Naperville, IL as you can in Orange County, CA. These types of restaurants, at least in the Chicago area, are also concentrated around shopping malls - another bastion of American gluttany. Find me an Olive Garden that isn't in or within 3 blocks of a shopping mall. I'll give you a dollar.

What kills me most is when I see tourists in Chicago who seek these places out. There's a Bennigan's downtown, within walking distance of 3 locally-owned, and far superior pubs. Why bother going on vacation if you're just going to eat the same shit you can eat at home? Part of the fun and excitement of travelling is trying new things. Just shows you how sheltered we've become - and also why Americans can be such dicks when traveling abroad. If we can't be bothered to try new things in our own country, then of course we will balk when we find out that the food in Italy is nothing like the Olive Garden.

Then, of course, there's the corporate implications. I like supporting independently owned restaurants when I can, as opposed to corporate conglomerates. I like restuarants where someone in the kitchen is actually cooking as opposed to simply assembling ingredients prepared and packaged from some central headquarters - ensuring that no matter where you go, your food will be the exact same.

Now, don't go pegging me for a food snob either. There are some foods and chains that are good at what they do. Portillo's is one that comes to mind - though they're primarily limited to the Chicago region. They have some of the best burgers and italian sausage. However, some dishes and cuisines just can't be done in this pre-fab fashion.

Needless to say, now that John has experienced the wonder that is Olive Garden, we have no need to go back.

Rape and war

"A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground"
-- Cheyenne proverb

After hearing the horrible story about an Iraqi girl that was raped and her and her family murdered by US Troops, I began thinking again about the connection between rape and war. I have more questions than answers about this topic, so if it's answers you're seeking, they're not here.

I was discussing this yesterday with a friend and I said that it's unfortunately not surprising to me to see stories about civilians being raped by soldiers. We were discussing the specific case of the Iraqi girl now in the news. While, I believe part of it has to do with the combination of military training and soldiers occupying civilian areas, this is not the whole answer. Sure, you train young men to see the "enemy" as less human, as deserving of their fate - thus making it easier to rationalize killing them. Pretty soon the civilians start to take on that same amount of dehumanization. However, to simply blame this trend on military training would be to lose sight of the larger picture: Rape has occurred in every war in recorded history.

Thom Shanker says that rape is "found throughout history, as far back as the oral recounting of Mediterranean warrior-kings attributed to Homer" and that it has been considered a crime of war for centuries. Yet it persists. In part, Shanker says, because of "public acceptance of rape as a natural, if unfortunate, by-product" of war and an "unavoidable" part of battle.

But the question is why? In many conflicts, rape is used as a systematic tactic of warfare by both sides. Remember stories about Serbian troops raping Bosnian Muslims? The lesser reported stories were of Bosnian soldiers doing the same to Serbian women. The fact that this is finally getting media attention does not make it a new phenomenon. Think of the "Comfort Women" in Korea who were forced into sexual slavery to keep the Japanese troops 'happy'. Soviet troops committed rapes across Europe during World War II, as did the Nazis. I'm sure if you dig deep enough you will find records of American troops committing rape in WWII as well. And don't get me started on Korea and Vietnam. We (Americans) seem especially apt at ignoring the wrongdoings of our own troops, and that goes double when the victims aren't white.

Rhonda Copelon argues that, at least historically, the issue of rape during times of war is often ignored unless there are issues of genocide or ethnic cleansing involved (as was the case in Bosnia). Terrible as that was, I have to ask, why is ethnicity automatically linked to the father of a child? Serbians knew that the Muslims in Bosnia considered the father the one to pass down identity to children. Who cares what the ethnicity of the mother is, the father is what matters. I am in no way trying to downplay the horrors that occured there, but merely drawing attention to the fact that the construction of identity around the father was what made that situation genocidal rape (as opposed to "normal" rape).

Copelon also shows that according to international law, rape is treated as an "outrage upon personal dignity" or a crime "against honor" and is separated from other violent crime such as murder and torture. Why?

Does this trend have something to do with the way national identity is intertwined with women? Think about the way we refer to nations with female pronouns (i.e. motherland). Symbols of nations are often mythic female figures (Lady Liberty, Justice). So is the conquering of a nation's women synonymous with the conquer of a nation? Is it because in most societies the primary responsibility of men is the protection and care of women, and therefore the rape of women serves to humiliate men and strip them of part of their manhood? Or is it like the Cheyenne proverb says; that a nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground?

What do you think? What can we do about it? Like I said, I have more questions than answers on this one.

Copelon, Rhonda. "Surfacing Gender: Reconceptualizing Crimes Against Women in Time of War." In:The Women and War Reader. Lorentzen, L. A. and Jennifer Turpin (eds.). New York: New York University Press, 1998.

Shanker, Thom. "Surfacing Gender: Reconceptualizing Crimes Against Women in Time of War." In:Crimes of War: What the Public Should Know. Gutman, R. and David Rieff (eds.). New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1999.

What does freedom of religion mean...

When a memorial plaque honoring a fallen soldier is denied to his widow because of the religious symbol of his faith? This has been taken up nationally as an issue and a group called Circle Sanctuary is helping fight for acceptance of the symbol (Thanks to ~V for that info).

I found this via United We Lay:

"In a small town in Nevada there is a wall reserved for brass plaques memorializing the war dead. Unfortunately, one soldiers space is blank because the U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs will not recognize his chosen religion and allow its symbol to be placed upon his plaque. This soldier, a man who thought he died fighting to preserve the freedom and independence we all think we have today, is denied his honor because he was Wiccan.

From the Washington Post:

At the Veterans Memorial Cemetery in the small town of Fernley, Nev., there is a wall of brass plaques for local heroes. But one space is blank. There is no memorial for Sgt. Patrick D. Stewart.

That's because Stewart was a Wiccan, and the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs has refused to allow a symbol of the Wicca religion -- a five-pointed star within a circle, called a pentacle -- to be inscribed on U.S. military memorials or grave markers.

The department has approved the symbols of 38 other faiths; about half of are versions of the Christian cross. It also allows the Jewish Star of David, the Muslim crescent, the Buddhist wheel, the Mormon angel, the nine-pointed star of Bahai and something that looks like an atomic symbol for atheists.

Wicca is one of the fastest-growing faiths in the country. Its adherents have increased almost 17-fold from 8,000 in 1990 to 134,000 in 2001, according to the American Religious Identification Survey. The Pentagon says that more than 1,800 Wiccans are on active duty in the armed forces.

Wiccans still suffer, however, from the misconception that they are devil worshipers. Some Wiccans call themselves witches, pagans or neopagans. Most of their rituals revolve around the cycles of nature, such as equinoxes and phases of the moon. Wiccans often pick and choose among religious traditions, blending belief in reincarnation and feminine gods with ritual dancing, chanting and herbal medicine.

Federal courts have recognized Wicca as a religion since 1986. Prisons across the country treat it as a legitimate faith, as do the Internal Revenue Service and the U.S. military, which allows Wiccan ceremonies on its bases.

"My husband's dog tags said 'Wiccan' on them," Stewart noted.

But applications from Wiccan groups and individuals to VA for use of the pentacle on grave markers have been pending for nine years, during which time the symbols of 11 other faiths have been approved.

The article goes on to say that the probable reason for the delay is the fear of alienating the religious right, who obviously would frown on such a symbol being displayed along side their own symbols, particularly because they are the ones who continue to spread the lies that pagans are devil worshipers.

It's not difficult to explain the difference between a pentacle and an upside-down pentacle. Minor difference some might say. To them, I ask - what does an upside-down cross signify? Is it the symbol of Christianity? Minor difference?

Then, of course, there's the logic that someone who doesn't believe in the Judeo-Christian mythology also doesn't believe in the Devil. How can one worship that in which one does not believe?

Freedom of Religion doesn't exist merely on paper. If these rights don't exist in practice, then we may as well wipe our collective asses with the Bill of Rights. We can't purport to defend democracy and freedom throughout the world when someone who gave his life for that cause is refused memorial for obvious political reasons.

Click here to see the approved 38 symbols, including one for Athiests.

Ministry

Saturday was the Ministry show at, of all places, the House of Blues. I know it sounds silly, but it's actually not a bad venue. I like it better than places like the Vic for sure for one simple reason: There are several bars located inside the concert space. John and I held tight at the corner of one of them with a great view for the whole time. We didn't have to move. Ever.

Some band called Pitbull Daycare opened for the Revolting Cocks. They were mediocre. Your run of the mill metal. Revolting Cocks were a hell of a lot of fun. The lead singer ran around in a tux and James Bond-esque hairdo with a megaphone. Their finale was a cover of "If you think I'm sexy" and all the metal chicks who were dressed to the nines were round up and put on stage to dance with a guy in a giant penis costume.

The people watching was the best part. It was an interesting mix of people. I mean, given that Ministry has been around for a good 20 years now (I know, hard to believe right?) there was a mix of middle aged, 30-somethings, 20-somethings, and some teens. It always amazes me too, how nice and polite everyone is at these kinds of shows. I mean, I know that the stereotype of the cocky hooligan meathead metal fan is generally false and doesn't really bleed into the Industrial crowd as much as it does, maybe the Tesla crowd. But I'm just always pleasantly surprised. One guy thought he stepped on my foot passing by and practically knelt before me in contrition. He actually only stepped on the rim of the sole of my boot.

At one point during the Revolting Cocks, I looked out into the crowd and I grabbed John and said "That's Jello Biafra". He didn't believe me. I swear to God it was him, but I'm not the type of person to go running up to someone and paw at them. Sure enough, I look at the Chicago Reader and he's in town for a spoken word event this weekend and the picture of him was the guy I saw.

I felt sorry for the bartender too. There were two bartenders per bar and one bar backer. Some chick came up and was waiting and he didn't see her and he took some other guy's order. She said "you know I was here first, blah blah, blah". The bartender politely explained that he's very busy and is doing the best he can and she kept on complaining. He cut her off and just said "you know, if you'd just give me your order and stop complaining we'll both be happy". Then she turned to me and kept bitching. I wanted to tell her that if you just sit there waiting, he's not going to see you - you have to LOOK like you want a drink.

Ministry came on and the place went nuts. They didn't hit the stage until about 9pm. We'd been standing at that bar for 3 hours now. They had a steady stream of politically-charged video clips projected on the screen behind them, and on the TVs throughout the venue. Having never seen them live, I wasn't sure what to expect, but I wasn't disappointed. I've always liked Ministry since a high school friend introduced me to them. It's great for catharsis or as motivation to get work done.

After a while, John informed me he was feeling ill. What to do, what to do. I debated whether or not I should stay without him, but in the end, we left early, probably through half the set. I'm kicking myself for leaving, but I'll just catch them next time around. I mean, what's really important here, right? There's worse things in life than missing a concert. I did get to hear Thieves though, which is one of my favorite Ministry songs.