Old favorite movies

There are a few movies that I love, but that no one else seems to know about. On those rare rainy or snowy Sundays when I'm not working and don't have anything planned, I love to settle into the sofa and put on one of these old classics. There's something comforting about a great old movie. It's like visiting your grandma.

The Quiet Man (1952)

I love this movie. It stars John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, and while I don't always get into John Wayne movies (for a number of reasons), I do like this one. It's the story of a boxer who retires after accidentally killing an opponent, and moves to Ireland to the town where his family came from. He tries to lead a pacifist life there, but soon realizes that the only way to win the heart of the woman he's fallen in love with (O'Hara) is to stand up to her bully of a brother. Not a terribly insightful or poignant story, but it's a great flick. The little old man who serves as the town's matchmaker has lots of great lines from his seat at the local pub... "Oooooh I could tell ya blood-curdlin' stories... but me throat... it's gone dry... ". And O'Hara as the mid-century Shakespearean shrew is fabulous. "Come a runnin'? I'm not the kind of girl to be honked at and come a runnin'!" Fabulous.

The Women (1939)

If there's another movie out there from this era with this many one-liners, I don't know what it is. There are so many memorable lines that it would be a futile exercise even to try listing them. This film from 1939 stars Norma Shearer, Joan Crawford, and Rosalind Russell, and is a great addition to the "This Will Make You Gay" movie list. The plot centers around a New York socialite whose husband has an affair with Joan Crawford, and follows her as she takes the train to Reno for a divorce. It reminds me of how different things are now... 1939 wasn't all THAT long ago... imagine how different things would be these days if people still had to travel to Reno for a divorce decree. If we're gonna try to protect "opposite marriage" from being destroyed by the dirty homosexuals, then maybe putting these divorce restrictions back on the books would be a nice first step.






84 Charing Cross Road (1987)

This is the best rainy Sunday movie ever, and no one ever mentions it. Anne Bancroft is one of the finest actresses of the previous generation and totally overlooked in discussions of the topic. Anthony Hopkins is mesmerizing in anything he does, but is particularly riveting in these quiet, understated roles. The whole movie consists of Bancroft and Hopkins reading letters that their characters wrote to each other over the course of several decades. Bancroft's character is a voracious reader in New York whose pen-pal relationship with Hopkins' character (a London rare book merchant) becomes a truly heartfelt and sweet friendship. It's not a quotable movie... there are no one-liners... but because of the amazing performances and quietly beautiful story, I heartily recommend this film.

Good genes.

Enrique Iglesias is officially the hottest man in the world. Or maybe at least tied for hottest status.

And we're back.

I bet you thought I forgot about you, my tens of readers around the globe. Au contraire.

During my little hiatus, I wish I could say that I've come to some kind of paradigm-shattering realization, one that would alter our estimation of the world and the people in it. I wish I could come back here offering to share the secret to happiness and fulfillment.

I didn't, and I can't. I've got nothing. Nada.

Maybe Dan is right, in that life may have no purpose or meaning at all save for the volitional lessening of the suffering of others. Could that be all there is? And if that is all there is, isn't that a big enough job?

I don't always lessen the suffering of others. I'm a nice guy with a good heart, but I can go from zero to total cunt in about 6 seconds. I get that from my dad. He had tenure, though... so perhaps I should have gotten that Ph.D. if only for the warm blanket of job security that tenured professors enjoy. I would like to be able to maintain a more serene and loving countenance, though. I'd like to think that I helped make someone's life a little easier, and not just through my professional work.

My friend and former roommate, Robin, passed away years ago. He died in my arms after a relatively brief illness. It was a terrible time, the end of my second master's degree. I was preparing to move to Minnesota for my residency, and was torn about whether I should stay around longer to help Robin with his recovery. (Of course, that didn't end up being necessary.) But I spent many hours with him, hoping that I could do something to help him through it. And the fact that his brother and I were the ones to hold his hands when he died is something that I'm very glad I got to do for him. (His parents were in the waiting room, too freaked out by the diagnosis and the gay-ness of it all to be any help whatsoever.)

But should that kind of lovingkindness be limited only to extremity? Must someone be at death's door for us to put ourselves second and do the right thing? I think most people would be willing, even eager, to help someone they love. Then why do those same people treat waiters with disdain, say mean things to the receptionist, or show cold indifference to the not-so-hot among us?

The human genome is prepared to express all kinds of genetic markers, but requires certain influences from the environment to cause this expression to begin. Might there be a similar process at work for interpersonal behavior? Could there be an environmental or situational trigger that can snap us out of our baseline solipsism, causing us to think and act in a way that allows our best selves to take the driver's seat? What about people who claim that they're always in this "best self" state? Can that be true, or are they just self-aggrandizing douchebags creating unreasonable self-expectations?

In defense of silliness.

Here we see some fun-loving bears enjoying a bit of mirth. (The clip to which they're lip-synching is from the fabulous TV show Glee.)

And of course some folks on the interwebs have clogged up the series of tubes by vomiting up some hateful-ass twaddle... in a nutshell, they think that our tribe shouldn't be acting silly and singing along to bouncy songs. Apparently we should all be sitting across cold tables in brightly-lit coffee houses and processing things.

To paraphrase the words of a Dallas drag queen walking through a crosswalk circa 1992... Kittens, this world is a harsh place. You could get your britches bunched all up in your tookie if you wanted to... there are plenty of injustices out there that would justifiably result in dyspepsia. The real winners in our struggle are those who can laugh heartily in the face of injustice.

Remember, my delicate little petals... anything that provides a little joy and laughter in our lives adds to the measure of good in this world.

Texas + Ohio + Crazy = Hotness.

So there has been a somewhat pervasive theme on MWG when it comes to the hotness. Most of the guys featured here have been of a certain aesthetic... namely, the dudes who would smack you around a little bit before starting your engine, know what I'm saying? Today, though, I've strayed. Yes, it's true. I'm ready to admit it, after lo these many many years. It feels like a weight is being lifted from my weary shoulders to state... publicly... at long last...

I've always had the hots for Woody Harrelson.

Okay, I admit it. He was cute and stupid in Cheers. And I usually kind of like cute stupid guys. Being surrounded by Ph.D. folks every freaking day of my life has its charms, but sometimes it's refreshing to hang out with someone who's almost but not quite two standard deviations below the mean. It keeps you intellectually and socially grounded, sort of the social form of calculating a lowest common denominator. But Cheers was a hundred years ago, and his acting career has taken a turn. No one plays the crazy violent lovable psychopath like Woody. And if there's anything I love more than a cute stupid guy, it's a hot crazy guy.

And I know I'm not alone.

There are many things I admire about Woody. First, there's the bod. Now I can hear all y'all bitches hatin'... "oh, he's so old", "oh, he's balding", "oh, he's got a butterface". No. Y'all are so very wrong. He's got one of those naturally muscular, not-too-worked-out, sexy frames that I think really only come from the midwest. Anyone who, like me, went to Ohio State can attest to the fact that Ohio sports a vigorous representation of this cohort... so much so that I strongly suspect that the volleyball nets on the South Oval require a modeling portfolio and an audition process.

But Woody's sexy/crazy vibe is also influenced by his being born in Texas before moving to Lebanon, Ohio. Again, I can state from personal experience that there's a very special kind of masculinity in Texas that isn't found anywhere else. Couple that with Ohio's farm-boy thing, and you've got a pile of yummy.

As if this isn't enough, there's also the fact that Woody's late father, with whom he shares a birthday, was a contract killer who was convicted of carrying out a contract hit on a San Antonio federal judge in 1979. Now, gentle reader(s), I'm not saying that Woody's gonna go out and climb up in a tower and start mowing people down, but I can't help but add a few hotness points to Woody's scorecard after adding this kind of insanity.

He's also got an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. So there's that. (I included a lovely image of it, above. You're welcome.)

However, as with any hot dude, you have to balance out the physical and psychotic aspects with the daily living characteristics. Woody pretty much wins here too. Environmentally conscious... check. Advocates legalization of pot... check. Can provide opportunities to party with a shirtless Matthew McConaughey... check. The only thing that pisses me off his is vegan status... but it's important for a man to have at least one flaw. Keeps him humble.

Yes, it's true. Woody Harrelson is a secret crush. If you can find a sweet looking Texas/Ohio midwestern boy who has a deep sea of roiling psychosis just under the surface, I'll bet you'll feel the same way.

And go see his movie, Zombieland. It's freaking awesome.

These things will make you gay.

Sandra Bernhard. Without You, I'm Nothing. 1989.





Betty Butterfield visits the Vietvenese doctor. 2007.





Dangerous Liaisons, 1988.





Funny Girl, 1968.





Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, 1953.





All About Eve, 1950.





Tarzan the Ape Man, 1981.





Designing Women, Episode #89 ("Foreign Affairs"), Season 4, April 30, 1990.





The New Original Adventures of Wonder Woman, "Judgement from Outer Space", January 15 (and 17), 1977.





The Man from Atlantis, starring Patrick Duffy. 1977.





Big Business. 1988. (Skip to the 9:10 mark on this long clip.)





Steel Magnolias. 1989.





Pretty Woman. 1990.





Greater Tuna. 1981.

You cannot reorganize village life to suit the village idiot.

I've always loved Mark Morford's columns in the San Francisco Gate (even during rare disagreements with his positions), but today he really hit the nail on the head. He discussed the three options when confronted with the neo-know-nothing "idiotosphere" that I have so frequently highlighted on MWG. The final and most effective strategy has a very definite appeal for me.

Read it.