As an elementary schooler, Speed is afflicted with foot-tapping hyperactivity and ADD, and so is the movie. A lot of fluorescent, 7-Eleven-tinted images flash by, any of which could easily be removed or re-arranged without significantly disrupting the film’s continuity, because it has none. If you can determine the spatial relationship between Speed’s Mach 5 (or Mach 6) and any other race car for more than a few consecutive seconds, then good for you. As on the TV series, the pictures don’t seem to move so much as repeat — movement with no momentum.

I’d give it a “3,” and the only reason I’m going that high is because the ending wasn’t bad and my five youngest children really enjoyed it. Then again, my younger children like any movie. At what age does the chair of film discretion go into a child’s mental furniture? I’m guessing 14. My oldest son (15) realized that the film was clearly garbage, but my oldest daughter (13) didn’t quite see it that way (she liked it, but she also discerned an element of lameness in it).
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I’m assuming my Ave Maria mutual fund shares won’t feel the impact: Adult entertainment publisher Playboy Enterprises Inc posted a quarterly loss on Tuesday because of weaker publishing and domestic television revenue and forecast more trouble during the year, pushing its shares down 8 percent.
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For American Idol fans: TMZ has learned David Archuleta’s dad, Jeff, has been officially banned from “American Idol.” Here’s how it went down. “Idol” sources tell TMZ Jeff has been a complete pain in the ass, interfering with the entire production. He has badgered producers, the band, vocal coaches and even other contestants. . . . BTW, he was banned on the set when David did “Star Search” a few years back. Why do I care? Because (i) I said during week one of the finalist competition that Archuleta’s “Gee, I’m shocked I’m doing this well” was a phony act, but my family thought he was a sincere kid, and (ii) I have David Cook in the family American Idol pool. I stand to win $5, if the rest of the America understands that the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree.
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Sweet: Marvel has announced a slew of new productions, including Iron Man 2, Thor, Captain America and one featuring all three characters, The Avengers. I’ve liked all the superhero movies except Iron Man, and I’m willing to give him another shot.

Francis Fernandez, In Conversation with God

Older Than Dirt Quiz
Count all the ones that you remember, NOT the ones you were told about! Your ratings at the bottom.

1. Blackjack chewing gum
2. Wax Coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water
3. Candy cigarettes
4. Soda pop machines that dispensed glass bottles
5. Coffee shops or diners with tableside juke boxes
6 Home milk delivery in glass bottles with cardboard stoppers
7. Party lines
8. Newsreels before the movie
9. P.F. Flyers
10. Butch wax
11. Telephone numbers with a word prefix (OLive-6933)
12. Peashooters
13. Howdy Doody
14. 45 RPM records
15. S&H Green Stamps
16. Hi-fi’s
17. Metal ice trays with lever
18. Mimeograph paper
19 Blue flashbulb
20. Packards (Hudson, Willys, Kaiser, Nash)
21. Roller skate keys
22. Cork popguns
23. Drive-ins
24. Studebakers
25. Wash tub wringers

If you remembered 0-5 = You’re still young
If you remembered 6-10 = You are getting older
If you remembered 11-15 = Don’t tell your age,
If you remembered 16-25 = You’re older than dirt!

But I ain’t going in today. And my wife bought me three cases of good beer on a shopping trip yesterday. And my son doesn’t have a little league game. And I have nothing else on my calendar, except to return those calls from yesterday. I might just have to drink a few to help drown yesterday’s memory.

And in preparation, some beer news.
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I like a cold PBR as much as the next guy, but this is a bit much: Illinois man designs coffin to look like can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
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What, no Olde Frothingslosh? A critic lists his ten worst beers of all time:

Milwaukee’s Best I understand this is a sentimental favorite of many, as it takes them back to the old days. Well, human sacrifice harkens to a simpler time, too. If you want to kill your taste buds, try battery acid — it probably tastes better.

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Fairy tale beer: The Baron Brewing Company in Seattle is introducing a line of six very rare big beers which will be available in limited edition 22oz bottles. Every special beer will represent a folk tale from the Grimm Brothers collection.
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Those instances, less than a second long, are called micro-expressions, long believed to be incredibly brief expressions formed by muscles in the human face that are beyond control.

Porter, who has been studying deceptive behavior for 15 years, has a new study in the current issue of Psychological Science that indicates it is possible for persons involved in law enforcement and airport security, and the rest of us as well, presumably, to learn how to recognize those tell-tale expressions of deceit in someone else, even if we can’t control it in ourselves.

His research shows earlier studies that indicated those expressions lasted less than a fifth of a second were incorrect, because in many cases they last nearly a full second long. That should allow a trained eye enough time to detect them, he added.

I was hoping the article would discuss something I heard a few years ago: Our subconscious picks up on those imperceptible facial ticks and sets off alarms in us, even if we don’t know why the alarms are going off. You ever know any people who just don’t quite “click” when you talk with them, the type of person that makes you uncomfortable to be around but you can’t figure out why? A friend told me that the unease might result from facial ticks the person is throwing off: giving an indication that he’s lying or somehow being deceitful (like presenting a pleasant facade that is terribly inconsistent with his real personality). I found the concept fascinating, but I’ve never read anything about it.
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Alright, this is just gross. “Woman Aims For Breast Implant Record . . . with size 34 triple f.” And ignorant: “‘My doctor he says he don’t want to operate on me no more. Because in 5 years I’ve changed 8 times.’” And funny: “Sheyla feels better than ever about herself but others don’t see it her way. ‘I just don’t like people to look at me and laugh at me.’”

Pass the Doans.
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Public Service: How far can you go after your low-fuel light comes on? This site, using anecdotal evidence, tells you. My mini-van can apparently go about 32.5 miles.
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Kind of interesting, if you’ve ever been to Niagara Falls: The Decline and Fall of Niagara Falls. The book apparently addresses the ghetto-like New York side of the Falls. The Canadian side is still nice (often tacky, but nice).

I didn’t care for it, incidentally. It moved too slow. I’d give it a 5 out of 10. While watching it, I was really surprised that I didn’t like it more. Yahoo users give it an A- and the critics a B+. Those are normally good indicators (especially the Yahoo users average) that I’ll like a movie, especially a superhero one (I’ve liked ‘em all: Batman, Superman, The Incredible Hulk, even the Fantastic Four . . . I’m sitting tight for Aquaman, Green Lantern, and The Flash). For some reason, this one didn’t entertain me much.

It’s the third straight time that an acclaimed movie has fallen short for me: No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood, and now Iron Man. Maybe I’m losing my pop culture tastes.
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Russell Shaw takes on the problem of clericalism. I’ve been a victim of it. I also strongly suspect the secrecy that clericalism instills contributed to the administrative incompetence that accelerated the demise of our parochial school. Very timely for my fresh wounds. Excerpts:

A pastor lords it over his people, consulting no one and habitually making unilateral decisions. His people are a passive, dispirited lot, quick to complain and slow to cooperate. . . .

Clericalism, however, is not an affirmation of these sacred realities but a caricature. It fosters an ecclesiastical caste system in which clerics comprise the dominant elite, with lay people serving as a passive, inert mass of spear-carriers tasked with receiving clerical tutelage and doing what they’re told. This upstairs-downstairs way of understanding relationships and roles in the Church extends even to the spiritual life: priests are called to be saints, lay people are called to satisfy the legalistic minimum of Christian life and scrape by into purgatory. . .

Disregard for the welfare of outsiders and excessive concern for insiders go far to explain the cover-up of clergy sex abuse by Church authorities.

Shaw’s article does a lot to confirm a suspicion. I don’t like the suspicion, but the evidence tells me it’s right: Priests tend to be duplicitous. I fear the duplicity is endemic to the profession. Clerics have one set of truths they provide to lay people, they have another set of truths that reflect reality. I’m sure there are many good and honest clerics out there who stay quiet when asked to divulge information that should not be provided to lay people. Too many clerics, though, simply spout off a different set of facts or otherwise mislead. It’s one reason I won’t volunteer for any “intellectual” roles in my church. I can’t provide effective advice if I’m not provided all information or if I’m given information that is inaccurate or misleading. I’ve lost all confidence that I’ll ever receive accurate and complete information when dealing with an important issue at church. Even if my priest is forthcoming, I’m not convinced the diocesan officials are.

My apologies to the good (and thoroughly honest) priests who read this blog. I don’t intend to paint with a broad brush. I know there are exceptions. Heck, the exceptions might be the majority. I do, however, think I’m caught in a bad regional situation, which I don’t fully understand (I’ve asked, but received inconsistent feedback), that sends waves of duplicity throughout the parishes.
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You’d think you’d be able to notice the difference before it got to your lips: A New Zealand café could be slapped with fines after two women were hospitalized when they were mistakenly served dish soap instead of mulled wine.

I thought maybe “mulled wine” was different than ordinary wine, but doesn’t seem much different: “Mulled wine, variations of which are popular around the world, is wine, usually red, combined with spices and typically served warm.”

For these occasions, I keep a “bank” of material. The bank consists of humorous emails, witticisms, interesting passages from my reading. This morning, an interesting passage:

Historical marker on U.S. 11 in Mississippi:

John L. Sullivan defeated Jack Kilrain for heavyweight championship in a 75 round fight on July 8, 1889, at Richburg, 3 miles southwest of this spot. This was the last official bare-knuckle bout.

Jim Ruland in the March 2008 issue of The Oxford American writes: “Historical markers are notorious for being inaccurate, but this one is ridiculously vague. Three miles? . . . And since Sullivan mauled Kilrain with his bare hands, which made the fight illegal, how could the fight have also been ‘official.’”?

[Following the censorship, b]etween 1954 and 1956, the number of comic-book titles plunged from about 650 to 250. One unemployed artist went looking for a job—any kind of job. “If you said you drew comic-books,” he recalled, “it was like saying you were a child molester.” . . .

Every honest consumer of 1940s and 1950s comic books can recall protagonists like Tarzan and Sheena, Queen of the Jungle, who guided ignorant and obedient “natives.” Even Will Eisner’s brilliantly illustrated Spirit featured a dim-witted black henchman named Ebony White, who spoke like a walk-on in an Amos ’n’ Andy show. As for misogyny, helpless (and invariably large-busted) young women were the favorite target of innumerable criminals and extraterrestrials. Artists spared no pictorial detail in rendering their humiliation and terror. . . .

Yet in a coarsening culture, high values could not endure. Decades after the Code was imposed, underground films pushed vulgarity and celebrated violence. Standards gave way to the anything-goes atmosphere of the late sixties. All too soon, expensive underground comic books, with X-rated scenes undreamed of half a century ago, replaced the banished ten-cent periodicals.

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Big selection of bizarre “facts.” The citations give them an air of credibility, but heck if I know whether they’re accurate. Sample:

Zach Dunlap, a 21 year old Oklahoma City man, was declared brain dead. Doctors were preparing to remove his organs for transplant when he began to move his foot and hand. He slowly regained consciousness and was sent home to continue his recovery. - CNN.com, 3/24/08

A Sicilian court has ruled that an accused Mafioso can go home because he was too big (462 lbs.) to fit through prison doors and in an prison bed. - MSNBC, 3/12/08
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Put Barbie in a house that your kids should be playing with: Transforming that ugly plastic pink thing into a faerie tale house.

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That’s it for today. Blogging might be light for awhile. Lots of stuff going on.

Francis Fernandez, In Conversation with God

One quick thing, though:

A Romanian man has lodged an official complaint with the local trading standards agency after he got drunk on a single can of beer.

Iancu Boroi, 35, said he had bought the beer at a local supermarket in Arges in southern Romania but was so drunk after drinking just one can that he nearly passed out.

Sounds like liquid gold. Half a can is all it takes. Something tells me this brewery is about to hit the jackpot. Its beer could become a fad with the youth, who’ll mix it with Red Bull or some such confounded thing. And/or it could become big with the winos: a bottle of ripple in one hand, a can of this stuff in the other.

Enjoy your weekend.