Twelfth son of the Lama

I know I had mentioned previously that I'm not a slave to celebrity - most of 'em, anyways - but the Dalai Lama's a tough guy to turn down. Let's be serious: A world leader, spiritual rockstar, and champion of non-violence - the guy's a triple-threat (actually, not all that threatening). When a ticket surfaced to go hear him speak at MIT, I couldn't resist.

As an exercise in breathless celebrity worship, however, it was an utter failure, owing entirely to the way in which he conducts himself. You look at this man, knowing full-well how revered, how great and honorable a soul he is... and you laugh. Because this is the man that's sitting in front of you:


He's patently ridiculous. And it's actually quite wonderful.

The talk he gave centered on the need for a return to ethics, especially a secular/universal system of ethics (pointing out that America's recent financial crisis was precipitated by a crisis in ethics). It was difficult to understand half of what was said, as his English isn't fantastic and his translator periodically had to help facilitate his communication. On top of that, he was prone to tangents in an endearingly grandfatherly way; the man talks about whatever it is he wants to talk about, ticket price be damned. What he had to say about ethics, non-violence, and compassion (always compassion) weren't terribly surprising, either. He himself states that, while powerful, these are extremely simple concepts.

What did surprise me was, despite his obvious idealism, is that he's also profoundly realist. An MIT student asked if one can reconcile working for the military-industrial complex with a belief in non-violence. The Dalai Lama's response was, basically, "A man's gotta eat." He echoed this sentiment several times during the talk, stating that, while he wouldn't exactly applaud one's choice to build bombs for a living, you can't effect change through pure idealism. Rather, it all starts with compassion (again with the compassion?).

The other moment he surprised me was when he told us all how much he respected and loved George W. Bush. That's right. Our George W. Bush. "You can have him!" would probably have been the sentiment of most of the audience. It's not to say the Dalai Lama approved of Bush's administration or policies, though; rather, the things he talked about were Bush's sense of humor, his humility and directness (traits that really have been ascribed to him by basically anyone who's written on the topic). It went to show, and I believe it was meant to, that he's operating mainly at the level of human interactions - that politics is top-down, while he intends to work from the ground up.

He loves to laugh. In fact, he's almost constantly chuckling when he's not contemplative or voicing profundities. He made jokes about living in exile and about why the Chinese government is so afraid of him (it's because of his devil horns, apparently). He even joked that when Chinese officials searched his person (and I kid you not) he warned them that his constipation might prevent them from searching his shit. Sans vulgarity of course - the Dalai Lama may deal in cheap laughs, but this was a family affair.

All in all, it was fascinating to hear him speak. He was an unexpected character. MIT undergrads, on the other hand... well, their behavior was expected. During the Q&A a girl asked this question:

"What do you think MIT's role should be with regard to big industry - specifically pharmaceutical companies?" (Fishing for the Dalai Lama to diss the school)

His replay was this: "I don't know. Hmmm. (Something like 'do what you feel is right'). Next question."

The audience laughed and applauded his non-answer, which was entirely appropriate. He had failed to remember where he was no less than three times over the course of the talk. He clearly had no real picture of MIT as an institution; how could he begin to advise them on their relationship with big-pharma?

The girl then attempted a follow-up question, ignoring the Q&A format and apparently irritated by the snub. The Dalai Lama shut her down.

"Next question."

The girl then made a face. At the Dalai Lama. Seriously. Her nose scrunched up and her mouth hung open in outrage, an unspoken "That bitch!" practically dangling from her lips. Well, you know what? Probably no total consciousness for you.

Buddhists one, snotty undergrads zero.

More like X-Men WHORE-IGINS!

amirite? LOL!

Hope you enjoyed that hilarious post title. I also hope you won't mind that it's a mask for a film review that takes its subject too seriously. (There should be a warning label on comic book fanboy writing: Abandon all levity/self-awareness, ye who enter here.) Seriously, though, I'll at least try and keep my discussion of Marvel canon to a minimum.

So we've got this movie, X-Men Origins: Wolverine. And you know, deep inside your heart, even as you're making plans to see it, that it is terrible. You accept this. You accept it because it's a summer blockbuster, and because you can forgive Hugh Jackman just about anything so long as he's disemboweling people (while keepin' it PG-13). Lowered expectations are key, and to their credit they got me through the film relatively unscathed. The credits rolled. I stood up.
"Wow, that wasn't nearly as painful as I imagined it was going to be!" I thought, as though I were leaving the dentist's office. That relief lasted for about fifteen minutes before giving way to the dual outrages of a comic fan and moviegoer (the former being the more sensitive of those two sensibilities).
"Wait a minute," I said, stopping just outside of Park St station. "Didn't I read a comic called Wolverine: Origin? And wasn't it not... that?"

This was dangerous thinking. Not because the departure is in itself offensive. No, the problem is that the comic was really pretty decent and told a surprising story about Wolverine's (wait for it) origins. So it's baffling that the filmmakers decided to completely avoid depicting any of the events of that series (well, not completely... those first two cursory minutes of film were adapted from the comic, but became the first of many cliches in their hands). Instead they told a largely non-sensical story that did little to illuminate any of what made Wolverine the character he is, while shoe-horning in every Tom, Dick, and Cyclops they could, regardless of whether the character added anything to the film's plot. The pacing of the film suffers as a result, hobbled by a series of scenes that fail to advance the narrative, which is deadly for a movie as stupid as Origins. The dialogue's unexpectedly wooden, even for a comic book movie (see: "I thought you were the moon...") and the plot devices are cliched to the point of exasperation.

The real killer, though - I mean the thing that keeps me talking about this movie long after it no longer deserves to be spoken of - is that it could have been a good and decent romp, but they focused on the wrong story (or arguably on no story at all). I don't think people care so much where Wolverine's metal skeleton came from as from where the character of Wolverine emerged, an issue that's central to the comics but totally sidestepped in this film. The most entertaining period is at the beginning of the movie, both because the story's flaws haven't yet become glaringly obvious and because it's at this point that there's still potential to see some character development - to see a well-established hero in a new light and understand the extraordinary circumstances that made him. Ideally, I would've liked to see more of the "historical Wolverine," who survived a traumatic childhood and matured in a dog-eat-dog border town. Barring that, we should have at least seen more of his time bumping around the world with the Weapon X team. These early fight scenes were exciting and, with the exception of Will-I-Am, the team's casting was quite good. Plus we could've seen a bit more of the build-up that leads to Wolverine going AWOL; rather than using that as an excuse for the remainder of the film, it could've been a plot point in itself.

I could go on, but I think that's the main point. Potential was there; they had a body of work ready to draw upon. Yet the end result was an incoherent mess, full of plot holes and superfluous "familiar face" characters; a story that dragged itself in circles and then collapsed on the floor, beyond caring. My verdict: Skip it. Watch the trailers for Terminator: Salvation, District 9, and Funny People and you'll have seen the best parts of Wolverine.



...Plus, how do you block lasers with claws?

The State of Our Trailers

This is going to be a short post, but know that there are things I yet mean to discuss with you - movie reviews, inside info on the dispositions of religious leaders, and other miscellany. Such things have to wait, though. Why? Because I don't feel like it right now. Ask me again later.

I only have the energy currently to make one point: Movie trailers of late have made some excellent use of popular music. You may recall my past obsession with the trailer for 9, which used Coheed and Cambria to great effect; my favorite Watchmen trailer was set to Muse's "Take a Bow;" and now my new favorite trailer, for Terminator: Savlation, finds itself indebted to the vocals of Trent Reznor. What so delights me about these pairings is how much they make sense. Coheed and Cambria are D&D rock nerds; Muse make what can only be termed "superhero music;" and NIN has always been a soundtrack for the end of the world ("In This Twilight" being my favorite fade-to-black apocalypse track). All of which leads me to question: Whose job is it to play musical matchmaker? Because I want it.

One last thing I will get in is that I am well prepared to be blown away by a new Terminator movie. While it won't be a "reboot" per se, the franchise was desperately in need of this change in setting. In addition, the new trailer shows some Battlestar Galactica themes peeking through, the prospect of which sends my salivary glands into Pavlovian overdrive.

Weekend Wrap-Up

So I guess I never posted this "weekend wrap-up." Pretty lame to add it more than half-way through the week, right? Well, not as lame as you. Read on for answers to all the pressing questions that have plagued you these past three days:

One thing I forgot to mention in my last post is that I unknowingly walked by Ben Affleck on the Common last Wednesday. I was mildly curious as to why so many people were gathered around to watch a pickup game of football ("Don't these people have anything better to do?"), but didn't stop to gawk and, therefore, never got the chance to exchange phone numbers with Ben. I suspect that this won't be the greatest regret I have in life.

I made a spirited rebound from this week's stomach bug, just in time for Doug's birthday on Saturday. To test my limits I decided to get talked into drinking all day, which could have gone horrifically awry but ended up being fantastic. In order of occurrence: We grilled some food, played crazy French bocce (it's bocce with metal balls), said goodbye to ex-coworker Maxine (who now heads to Thailand to buy cheap tailored suits before moving to the West Coast), talked to Maxine's mom about ballroom dancing, shot some pool, got maybe-too-amped talking about politics with Doug's roomies (including Popular Sarah and Affable Luke), and then rounded out the night with a solid drunken-kitchen-conversation. Doesn't that sound like everything I could have hoped for?

In other news, there's a sense of restlessness slowly building in my professional life. As always, though, I'm wrestling with how to address the issue, i.e. which direction I should be headed. (If you're reading this and know what I should do with my life, feel free to pipe up, as that'd really be a great help.) The plan is to get off my ass and take some classes this summer and fall. Of course I'll probably be wracked with guilt for having spent the money when it's so tight, but who knows. Maybe at some future date I'll look back on this and realize that it wasn't just floundering. That's the hope, in any case; to arrive in a glorious future and know that your past decisions brought you there, though you might not have realized it then. Nothing to do but have some faith, I s'pose - and then hope that faith is rewarded.

This Is a Call

Afflicted by yet another bout of illness most intermittently heinous, I find in my possession a great deal of free time and precious little energy to do anything with it. As evidence to the fact, I submit that over the past 48 hours I have accomplished nothing and learned the following three facts:

• The best daytime television program, hands down, is Martha Speaks
  
• The second best is Phineas and Ferb (A great show, but does it boast lexiconal canines? It cannot, and we must judge it accordingly.)
  
• Vomiting beats the hell out of diet and exercise for rapid and reliable weight loss

A fourth fact, unrelated to my bedridden condition, is that Matt and Eli found a place and are moving on May 15th. That means we need to step up our "Moving-Out/Breaking-of-the-Fellowship Party." Unfortunately, I do not have the energy for party planning (see above). I am wizened, almost on the eve of my 25th birthday, and as feeble of mind as I am of stomach. So the call goes out to one of you (a roommate, perhaps?); will you, disdaining glory, not take up the mantle of Party Planner? Or will you instead become an architect of merriment, the valorous flame that kindles joy in the hearts of men? I beseech you, noble soul, create the Facebook event that I am too lazy to make myself.

A Hail of Bullets

I've got some things I wanted to talk to you about. No, wait, it's nothing like that! Sorry, I didn't mean to make this sound like a break-up conversation. We're not breaking up. Things have been great with you, they really have! I just wanted to bring some stuff to your attention is all. I don't have too too much time to do it, though, so I've resorted to using drive-by bullet points. Hit the dirt!

• John Madden is hanging up the mike. I'm not sure how this affects the business at large, given his perhaps waning relevance. But sports fans will certainly miss him (quote Johnsen, who just found out looking over my shoulder: "Awww, now I hate football"). The guy's a legend. Heck, even I, living on the frozen Isle of Sportlessness, will regret his absence.
• Big Sam is back in town. Boston just got a little drunker.
• In what could be the only argument ever to be made against spam blockers, I was very nearly denied one of the most magical subject lines ever written: "Paris Hilton Pees Like Men"
  
• The pundits are all abuzz concerning ASU's shafting Obama on an honorary degree. I assume my readers are like-minded souls, and agree with me that this is at least somewhat disgraceful. The best reaction I've read so far comes from Marc Lamont Hill:"Barack Obama holds earned degrees from Columbia and Harvard, published two best-selling books, was the first black editor of Harvard Law Review, became the third black man elected to the Senate since Reconstruction, and, last I checked, was president of the United States. Barring an unexpected attempt to play point guard for the Washington Wizards, I think Obama has pretty much blown his load on the achievement side of things."
• Allow me one serious link (and a work-related plug) before I move onto yet greater depths of geekitude. Helen Benedict, the author of the linked NYT article, is a voice that I feel needs to be heard. She's an observer and critic of the war in Iraq who has written a book for Beacon Press concerning, specifically, the military's systemic misogyny and the horrific treatment of its female soldiers. She follows the stories of five women and their experiences, from enlistment through Iraq and back again. Her work is intelligent and heartbreaking, and, in my eyes, belongs with the likes of Chris Hedges.
  
• Super geekitude! (Note: Mute before watching, or be subjected to god-awful synth music)
  

  This video might not look like much, until you realize how it was rendered: it's procedurally generated video, meaning your computer's CPU and GPU create what you're seeing on-the-fly. In layman's terms, it is your computer creating art through math, all by itself. The benefits to this mode of production are two-fold: It obviates the armies of artists that are usually required to create the textures that go into digital world-building and it takes virtually no disk space. Do you know how large the file is that rendered that video? 4k. That's about the size of the text document I've just written. Pretty impressive.
  

• Because Mauro seemed to like the Braid artwork, here's another game that will knock you on your artist's cheeks: Scary Girl. I didn't find it overly entertaining, sadly, but it's incredibly slick and imaginative, full of characters I'd expect to see on Emily's handbag or some such hip thing.
  

Quirky Games + Easter = This Post

Easter came and went, with all the familiar hallmarks of the holiday: candy, beer, family, zombies, ham, and a 911 call. Not in that order, though, now that I think about it.

Whitney and Karen organized a pysanky party that drew roughly 400 women to our apartment. Kevin and I knew that this strong feminine presence, combined with a powerfully unmanly activity, posed a very real threat to our bachelor's pad. Luckily, we had a plan: by 12:30 pm we were drunk and ensconced in the TV room for an all-day Resident Evil 5 session. Our course seemed to shield us from any female attention we might otherwise have risked. (Unluckily, I spent most of that time expiring within the iron grip of murderous insects. Again and again my character died! Stabbed to death by giant, bipedal cockroaches.) Our protracted bout of zombie-murder served another purpose as well: Since Easter Sunday coincided with Somerville's zombie parade this year, it was imperative that we vent our anti-undead (pro-dead?) sentiment on Saturday, or risk a Bloody Sunday of shambling proportions. We can't help it; when we see a lurching gait and milky eyes, instinct just takes over.

Later that night Kevin and I went to get more beer. On our way to the beer store we saw a man careening this way and that.
"Ha, ha!" I said to Kevin, elbowing him in a most jovial fashion. "Here comes a man drunker than we!"
We continued on and bought overpriced beer at O'Brian's (which isn't as close to home as Somerville Wine and Spirits, but which is conveniently still-in-business). On our way home we noticed our inebriated friend, whom we had passed earlier, now reclining face-down in some bushes. This is when we called 911. We waited for the Fire Dept to arrive and confirm that he was A-OK before wordlessly disappearing into the night, like heroic Ninja Turtles (or, alternatively, Batmen).

The next morning I retreated to the suburbs of Danvers. Seeing my folks was great, especially since Elliot was able to make it out. (Coincidentally, I just yesterday listened to his radio show at UVM for the first time, "the graveyard shift with MC Beeftray." There's a streaming archive if you're interested in expanding his listenership, but he informs me that today may be his last show for the year, so listen now or forever hold your peace... er,well, hold your peace for the summer.) And... well, that's all I really have to tell you about family stuff. Minus the parenthetical comments, it doesn't amount to a whole heap of beans. Did you know that my parents are nice people? They are!
....Moving on.

I downloaded the demo for Braid the other day and was impressed. It's a much-buzzed-about, award-winning, indie title, so there were high hopes there. Picture a "Super Mario Bros." game that plays like a brain-teaser, where all laws of physics are malleable, time is fluid, and the artwork is inspired by A Lesson Is Learned (...and wow, holy fuck, I just found out that apparently the artwork was done by the artist of A Lesson Is Learned, David Hellman. Have I got an eye for art or what?).
As discovered on the brilliantly titled blog "Rock, Paper, Shotgun," Soulja Boy is apparently a fan of the game, as well. Is he high while playing? Certainly. Could that also be considered a point in the game's favor? I should say so!



In addition to Braid, I also played the abrupt, stupid, and totally hilarious Robot Dinosaurs That Shoot Beams When They Roar (also courtesy of RPS). Good for a lol, especially the intro, and especially if you're at work (note that sound effects are a prereq to maximize enjoyment).

Anyways, that's all for now. Hopefully post here again tomorrow.