Why?

This appeared today about a guy making a documentary about Big Lebowski festivals. Somehow this 1998 Coen brothers film, that barely recouped its budget, became a huge cult hit.

I didn't like it the first time around. After Fargo the movie seemed disjointed and gratuitously odd. (Which I'm not against in general, but my expectations were high and "Lebowski" left me puzzled.) A few years ago, they ran the movie a lot on cable. Every time I surfed, there would be "Lebowski." I'd watch a little and move on. Next time I'd watch a bit more. Finally, I'd drop anchor and see it through. Then I read an article that "Lebowski" was the Coen's homage to 40s noirish detective films. Sure enough, behind the bowling pins lurked a lot of Chandleresque characters and conventions from the Sheriff of Malibu, to the crippled soldier, to deceptive females. Instead of a hard-bitten protagonist seeking justice in an unjust world, there was Dude, a lazy bum with a passion for bowling and White Russians who finally figures it all out.

Now I'm a fan, but content to be alone in my fandom, not seeking out my kind, but, like the Dude, I simply abide.

h/t: FaffandNatter

Thanks for Your Heart

I just had a meeting like this, only no coffee.

Plus Mr. DeNiro gets testy.

h/t: decay1966

The Emperor's New Phone

I'm getting one.

h/t: Mary McCann

Troy Benjamin's Graphic Novel

Congratulations to Troy Benjamin - Freakazoid DVD director extraordinaire. His graphic novel series Only in Dreams has been optioned by Fineprint Productions. Troy was also featured on a podcast, opines on the late Michael Jackson, and is scoring a new opera to be sung by members of the Department of Fish and Game. More here on Troy's busy creative doings.

Hip News

My physical therapist is a young guy who digs sprint triathlons - 800 yard swim, 12 mile bike ride, 3.1 mile run. Examining my knee, he said we must locate the weakness that led to excessive stress. A few more exams and the culprit was unmasked: weak glutes and hips. In addition, my calves are stiff as an oak table. So I received six exercises to perform daily. I'll go back next week and, if the indicated parts have strengthened, obtain even more exercises. I like this guy. He understand the whole exercise/goal-setting paradigm. Hopefully, he's not a vision.

Friday at the Con

Behold, many costumed characters! And this was taken at San Diego City Hall. The convention was much stranger, filled with wonder and the power of imagination plus large, billowy men who hadn't seen the sun since the last days of dial-up modems. I ran into Stan, an old Batman and Batman Beyond writer as well as catching a glimpse of Bruce Timm. MDW bumped into a sci-fi and fantasy author friend. At my agency's posh annual party, I saw an executive I know from Cartoon Network, an agent, the owner of our agency, and the guy serving Thai egg rolls. Overall, a brief, but festive, adventure.

Pre-Post on Comic Con

One of my favorite comics from childhood. I hadn't read a copy of "Cameras are Filming" in many years so you can imagine the nostalgia that washed over me like a big storm surge. My wife wanted to buy a large pretzel and rest, but I couldn't be torn from this relic of my past. In the end, MDW snapped a photo so that I might stare at it, recalling all the thrills and excitement that were mine every month as I raced to the drug store to purchase the latest "Cameras are Filming." They say there's a movie deal in the works, but I hope not. They'll soil what is pure.

Pre-Comic Con

Started my latest story for Esquire's fiction contest. Sadly, I will not have marinating time like I did on "Bane Fish," but I think I know where the story leads.

Knee is swollen from aqua running and the gym. Too much, too soon. I start physical therapy next week. Let's see what these learned folks think.

Off to Comic Con on Friday. I'll look up a few people, stop by my agency's annual party, and return via exotic desert by-ways, passing factory outlets and Indian casinos broiling in the July sun.

Now to barbecue!

Delightful News from Prose, TV Animation Front

Writers bask in the following words from a story editor: "Notes were light. I'll do 'em. Go ahead and invoice." Such basking was my lot today.

An old joke goes like this: an actor comes home to find his house on fire and his family murdered. A neighbor tells him that the actor's agent drove up, went nuts, torched the place and shot the family. The actor stared in disbelief: "My agent...actually came to my house?" 

Well, my agent called from New York to say she really enjoyed the short story "Bane Fish," but didn't have a place for it. I'd already sent it off to an anthology, but thanked her none the less for complimentary news. When she's not dealing, my agent is reading stuff to deal, or stuff that has been dealt, so it's hard to get ahead of her. But "Bane Fish" did. Thanks once again to Takineko, Keeper, Katie, and Ernesto, among others, for helping out. I'm working on another short story for a contest at Esquire, and a third for an anthology with a September 1 deadline. Never enough hours in the day when you're under employed. 

1969 Thoughts

A pair of generations ago... on July 18, 1969 Ted Kennedy left a party with a young woman, crashed his car into a river, went home with woman and car still submerged, and didn't call the cops until the next day. The woman drowned. Ted, though ill, is still a U.S. Senator and never saw the inside of a jail except on Lockup. It pays to be rich.

There was no room in yesterday's Cronkite post, but to give you some idea of Vietnam's savagery: starting at the Tet Offensive in January 1968 and continuing until October 1969, the United States lost at least 500 men killed a week. The South Vietnamese, who were often rightly disparaged as weak, corrupt and ineffective, always lost more. The North Vietnamese and Viet Cong topped even that.

Last year's moon post summoned it up well.

Cronkite, Vietnam and South Park

At the last Cable Ace award ceremony ever held, Paul Rugg and I encountered Walter Cronkite in the Men's Room. We passed within a yard of the famed newsman as he told a joke about a nun. We were on the move and missed the punch line, but, hey, that was Walter Cronkite!

In any case, Walter was really wrong about the whole Tet Offensive business.

On the Vietnamese Lunar Holiday (Tet) in January 1968 - after months of good news war stories, buffed to a mirror-like shine by the Johnson administration - the Viet Cong launched country-wide attacks throughout South Vietnam. (My cousin Danny landed in bullet-riddled Saigon the second day of the assaults. As ranking naval officer on his flight, he had to deliver orders to a headquarters across the city from the airport, negotiating his way past street fighting and wondering how the rest of his 365 days would shape up.) In any case, there was a sense by the American media that the U.S. was involved in a stalemate. After a trip to South Vietnam, Walter gave a famous speech in which he said our only way out was to negotiate.

As it turns out, the enemy was guilty of pumping sunshine up their army's ass. Viet Cong troops were told they'd be welcomed by a grateful population, the South Vietnamese army would crack like a fortune cookie, and the Americans would be chased to their big coastal bases where they'd drink beer and grumble. Instead, elite Viet Cong cadre attacked and were chewed up by U.S. firepower. The population played it cagey and the South Vietnamese army fought. The Viet Cong were demoralized and, except locally, never a nation-wide factor again. North Vietnam shouldered the brunt of the war. (After they finally won in 1975, the North Vietnamese refused to allow any Viet Cong units to march in the victory parade. A cynic might think the VC were set up to be decimated.)

In any case, Walter Cronkite got a little jumpy and traded on his good name to make policy pronouncements. Maybe he should've waited to see how the fighting shook out, instead of punching his own team in the neck during a tough go.

As to the 1997 Cable Ace awards, that night, Freakazoid lost out to some trendy, limited animation thing called South Park. Paul and I laughed. How long would that show last?