Goin' Out To Cally – Part 33, Gasping For Air

We arrived at the house of Paul and Anne Osterhout in the evening on our sixth day and were immediately welcomed into their beautiful home. The house was a little smaller than the house I grew up in yet, as I later came to find out, was five times more expensive than my childhood home.

Everything was more expensive in California. We thought prices in the Arizona desert were outrageously high, but it turned out it was God’s way of preparing us for the financial burden of living in California. Gas. Food. Lodging. Hopes. Dreams. Aspirations. Respect. In Los Angeles, they all cost you more than you’d expect.

After unpacking, Tim and I took it upon ourselves to stretch our legs and go to a nearby park to throw the football. This has been a time honored tradition since high school when our church youth group would play tackle football for hours on end every Sunday during football season. I was often the quarterback and Tim was a speedy receiver. Years later in college we would toss the football back and forth and talk about school, life, etc. Even today we continue this relaxing tradition and go outside to toss the football and talk about life events.

As we entered the park near Paul and Anne’s house I was at first struck by the beautiful, high mountains hazily seen in the distance through the infamous L.A. Basin smog. Mountains were something I had never seen in a tropical location. The one thing you can say about Florida is that it is extremely flat. Overly ambitious speed bumps are sometimes called hills and dangerously aggressive bridges are considered by some Florida natives as mountains. But here I was standing in the cool, arid California weather in a wonderfully groomed park with my best friend tossing the football as the grandeur of the mountains watched over us. In some ways, it couldn’t get any better than that.

After a few warm up tosses Tim and I started our standard slants, ins and outs, button hooks and fly patterns. Within minutes our lungs began to burn. What was going on? We were healthy? I was riding my bike over thirty miles a day back in Florida, so my legs, lungs and heart were certainly up to the task.

After a couple more tosses our eyes began to tear in irritation. It was then that we finally realized the thick smog was enveloping us in a heavy blanket of increasing discomfort, leaving us gasping for clean air. Within minutes we found ourselves leaned over, our hands on our knees, struggling to breath, like after playing three hours of football at home outside of Holy Family Catholic Church.

Frustrated and disappointed we quickly decided to end our day’s exercise and returned to Paul and Anne’s house. We had a nice visit with Tim’s family as they gave us insight into what it was like to be one of the imagination engineers working for the mouse. There were a lot of exciting projects on the horizon that Tim’s brother was creatively directing. I was impressed with Paul and Anne’s creativity and passion for their work. I could only hope that I would end up in a career with which I would have the same passion and drive.

After a few hours we found ourselves exhausted from another long day of basically sitting in a car and doing nothing and a failed attempt at exercising without available oxygen, so we all decided to call it a night.

We setup our sleeping bags and pillows in the family room. I offered Sunday the couch and I agreed to sleep on the floor. Sleeping in a real home with the constant cool of air conditioning was a great respite from our days and nights in the canvas cave.

I had never felt more relaxed until I saw something that literally took my breath away... Sunday wearing very skimpy, very sexy lingerie.

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Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Warmongers

It seems that 20th and 21st Century mankind has a false assumption that we are capable of avoiding war.

I was watching a show on the National Geographic channel and it was about the discovery of a massive civilization that existed in South America from 2600 BC. The foundation of that society was War. The foundation of another society nearby that was from 1000 BC was War. The foundation of the Roman Empire was War.

In American history alone, there have been only rare instances when we were not at war. We had the American Revolution, the War of 1812, the Civil War, the Spanish/American War, World War 1, World War 2, Korean War, Vietnam War, Gulf War and the Iraq War.

It appears since the beginning of recorded time we have been a people of War.

Today we seem to think we're societally above our need for War, superior to the requirement of armed conflict, but are we really? Could War be as inevitable and/or necessary as food and sex?

Then I think about Jesus. If we are inherently warmongers, his example is even more radical, more taxing on us. "Those who live by the sword, die by the sword." He calls us to love our enemies... the enemies we have historically silenced through war.

It just goes to show me that Jesus' example is so much greater than our own, so much more lofty. He expects us to put all things second to God, including food (fasting), sex (adultery) and war (love your enemies).

Jesus says we are not of this world and, to prove it, we should abandon all things that are of this world, including our own apparent genetic predisposition, to achieve divine purity. That's a tough goal to reach, but, considering the reward (salvation), it's worth it.

All Stars For Everybody

My son Gabe tried out for the little league all stars this year. The all stars are normally divided into three groups, 12 year olds, 11 year olds and a team of 9-10 year olds. The tryouts for Gabe's level (9-10) was tough... the competition was very good. I wasn't sure he was going to make it.

After a few weeks of waiting we got a call to find out that Gabe had indeed made the all star team.

The make up of the 9-10 all star team is a disappointment, however. It appears that the 11 year old team didn't have enough players. What should have happened is that we didn't field an 11 year old team. Instead, they pulled all of the good 10 year olds up to the 11 year old team, making the 9-10 year old team average at best.

In the end, everyone that tried out for all stars at the 9-10 year old level made the team. That's NOT what an all star team should be. What then should have happened is that they wouldn't field a 9-10 year old team. And we were perfectly content for Gabe not to have made the team if he was not good enough. But, now he's stuck on a team that is no better than his regular season team.

When we told Gabe what happened, his first response was, "Then I don't want to play. It's not a real all star team and we're going to get killed in the tournament." He's probably right. Plus, Gabe's mega-competitive, so it hurts him when his team loses, so facing the challenge of being on a team that will not be competitive will be a struggle for him.

After further discussion, Gabe decided to play because he would get a chance to practice with three other good players that he's played against, but never played with. So, he's enjoying the practice, but we're dreading the tournament.

We'll have to see what happens...

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 32, Drive-By Boredom

The drive from Arizona to California was another long, boring journey bordering on self-induced insanity. During one of my shifts behind the wheel I took a stab at Tim's 12 minute mark for our time-filling game called Coast. Unlike Tim, I was not lucky enough to have a straight road ahead of me. Instead, as we drove through the hills and mountains of the great southwest, I was faced with weaving roads with dips and valleys and traffic.

Sunday in the Acura

At the top of one of the high mountains I put the car into neutral and the clock started. The car quickly gathered speed down the sloped roads, topping 80 miles per hour rather quickly. Even though I knew it would impact my time, I was forced to hit the brakes to keep the car from swerving off of the road. Being Coast Champion would have been a great milestone, but not at the cost of requiring our own tombstones to achieve the feat. I continued to weave past cars and semi trucks down the mountain, balancing between braking enough to keep us on the road, but not enough to slow my overall time.

Beth enjoying the view from the front seat.

The car continued over the required 45 miles per hour as we hit the bottom of the mountain. We looked at the clock. Ten minutes, eighteen seconds. As the car followed the road up the next mountain the car began to slow. I leaned forward, as if my body angle inside the car would give me some sort of aerodynamic advantage. As the car dropped below 50 miles per hour I held the wheel tight and rocked back and forth, as if the rocking motion itself would some how lurch the car forward.

Eventually, the car dropped below 45 miles per hour. We all looked at the clock. Twelve minutes.

Twelve minutes? Are you kidding me? After all that effort, Tim and I tied?

What a shallow feeling. It was like expecting a creamy fish chowder on Friday nights and, instead, getting my mom's white water chowder.

Okay, I better explain that before I'm removed from the will. I'm the last of eight kids. One of the biggest struggles a parent can have is figuring out what to feed your children everyday. Multiply that by eight and that is what my mother faced week in and week out. Her solution? Assign a meal for each day of the week, then you know what to buy and the kids know what to expect. Mondays was spaghetti or some Italian dish. Tuesday was chicken. Wednesday was usually some sort of stew or soup starter. Thursday was hamburgers. Friday was fish... we're Catholic after all. Saturday was leftovers. Sunday was pot roast.

My mom liked to stretch our dollars and, for example, would augment regular milk with powdered milk and turn one gallon into three. And my memory of our Friday fish chowder always seemed to me like it was made with powdered milk instead of some creamy sauce and with scarcely any fish to be found swimming among the cloudy depths of my bowl. That’s how it got the name white water chowder.

However, despite my skewed and most likely, inaccurate memory, my Mom always did a tremendous job on Sunday's. Our pot roast meals were awesome. It was like having Thanksgiving every week. Homemade mashed potatoes, corn... amazing! I salivate just thinking about it.

And, if we were really lucky, we would find a spoon on our place setting because spoons meant dessert. We rarely got any desserts. That was for special occasions. So, if you approached the table and found spoons next to the forks and knives at each place setting, you knew the meal would be capped off with a great dessert. Usually ice cream… chocolate swirl ice cream with injected layers of glorious chocolate goodness.

The rule in our house was that if you served the dessert you chose last. That way you didn’t load up your bowl and leave little else for the rest. In the late 70’s my parents both started on a diet. Knowing this I loaded up the first bowl with a heaping size of overflowing ice cream. They looked at me and said “That’s too much!”

“I guess I’ll have to have it then,” I said as I put the cold, heavy bowl at my place setting and dished out far smaller portions to my unsuspecting parents.

Okay, I hope I have garnered my mother's forgiveness by now. If not, I’ll have to resort to bribery and self-induced public humiliation.

Tim during one of his shifts behind the wheel

After our time-tying game of Coast, the drive into California was uneventful, other than actually entering California and, eventually, Los Angeles. Our AAA Trip Ticket did not include directions to Tim’s brother’s house. As men, Tim and I just wanted to use our internal compasses and find our own way.

The women, however, insisted we pull over and call them from a payphone to get directions. Easier? Sure. Masculine? Not a chance.

Realizing that women control the universe, we followed their orders and pulled over to a payphone in a less-than upper class area of town. Tim and Beth called on the payphone while Sunday and I waited in the back seat of the car.

A few moments later, a woman stopped her car and rolled down her window. She yelled over to Tim and Beth.

“You guys need to get in your car and go! Now!” she yelled.

Tim walked over to her. “Why?” he asked.

“You’re in south Los Angeles during a gang war and you’re wearing gang colors! Trust me, get in your car and go right now!” she exclaimed.

Tim immediately pulled Beth from the payphone and entered the car. Being naïve and out of state, we were unaware we had entered into the middle of the gang war between two rival gangs, the Cryps and the Bloods. Both claimed areas of the neighborhood and wore distinctive colors to show their allegiance.

Apparently we were wearing one of their colors and were a target by default. In a part of town where drive-by shootings were a daily occurrence, we didn’t take time to figure out which color was offensive. We just put the car into drive and got the hell out of there.

Thank God for that kind woman who recognized our license plate and took a moment of her day to educate us on the urban landscape of the time. It may just have saved our lives.

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Part 32 (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Two Months To Go...

I started this blog 10 months ago with the promise to write a daily entry for at least a year. As the end of that year approaches (August 15, 2006) I struggle as to how and if I will continue this blog. On some levels, writing a blog seems somewhat self indulgent... I mean, it's just my ideas about my life or my opinions about people and or events. Why should anyone care what I think?

I do hope that my entries are at least entertaining to those who stop by. I try to keep things quick and to the point, sprinkled with sarcasm.

The process of having to write something everyday has been more challenging than I anticipated, but its original intent, to get me back into the groove of writing, has been a great success. I have enjoyed recounting my struggles with Crohns disease, different childhood memories and my trip to California has taken on a life of its own. Writing those has improved my ability to put my thoughts in words. Plus, I have since written a feature screenplay called Severed and have outlined two more (The Flu and The Adventures of Gabby Wells) which I hope to write by the end of the year.

So, as the year long challenge approaches its end, I wonder what will happen here in my little corner of the cyberspace universe. At this point, I really don't know...

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 31, Small Screen, Big Dreams

The year was 1974. My father worked for the American Heart Association and his office was usually on the cutting edge of technology. They had Xerox machines before Xerox machines could collate. They were one of the first to upgrade from typewriters to word processors. They had push button phones. And to record their quarterly and annual meetings they bought a new fangled electronic marvel called a video tape recorder. It was a reel-to-reel device with a cord that attached to a thing called a video camera and another cord that attached to a microphone. The end result was muted black and white images displayed on your television.

Those images would change my life.

Back in 1974 there were two ways to see moving images... on your television and at the movie theater. Cable television was in its infancy and only had a few channels. The internet did not exist. There weren't any VCRs or DVD players or Digital Video Recorders. Downloading videos to an IPOD or cell phone wasn't even a consideration. There were no Blockbusters or Netflixes. Syndication was just starting to catch hold and the three major networks ruled the day. Because of this, television had an almost magical place in our world. If you were on television, you were important. Being on television made you special.

So, imagine my amazement, as a nine-year old boy, as I watched my face and heard my voice on the same television that I watched Star Trek or professional football or the show F.B.I. with my mom. Somehow, I became just as special as William Shatner or Steve Grogan or Efram Zimbalist, Jr. It would change the direction of my life forever.

The only moving images of me before puberty

One weekend when my dad brought home the video camera and recorder, my brothers and I, along with some neighbor kids, decided to make what is arguably the worst Western movie ever made. The kitchen was a saloon. My brother, Paul, was the bartender. My brother Charles, a cowboy. And I was a Deputy. Some of our neighbors were outlaws and others were lawmen. As with every good Western, the end result was a bar fight, part of which included me getting slid across our kitchen counter and onto the family room floor. I wasn't even allowed to sit on the kitchen counter, let alone get to slide across it, but because it was a movie, we were able to bend the rules.

I videotaped Star Trek by pointing
the camera at the TV

Suddenly, the possibilities in my mind were endless. I knew at that moment that I wanted to experience that sense of freedom for the rest of my life. I knew I had to make movies in some way, either by acting or directing or writing... or all three.

I was officially hooked.

So, in August of 1988 as the four travelers from Florida packed up and left the friendly confines of Bedrock City behind them, my heart began to accelerate as we steered our way toward Los Angeles, California. Weeks ago one of my professors had secured for me a meeting with a University of Florida alum who was making a living as a producer in Hollywood. I was actually going to get to meet someone who worked in the magical wonderland that is show business.

I couldn't wait to get there.

Sunday and I, having awoken in each others arms... a result from the exceptionally cold weather the night before, were now in our standard location in the car for the drive... in the back seat of the Acura. Sunday's reaction to our cuddling the night before was the same as her reactions to all of the other times where I thought something might not have not almost not happened... she acted like it was all in my imagination. Or at least that was the way I interpreted it.

And for all I know, nothing could have happened. Or something could have, but didn’t. Or something should have, but wouldn’t.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I was confused... a state of which I was growing accustomed when it came to understanding women. To me, comprehending a woman seems as impossible as putting together a 10,000 piece monochromatic puzzle blindfolded while riding a unicycle.

Earlier that morning, as Tim and I broke down our canvas home, I mulled the option of discussing my confusion with him, but I knew he didn't have a copy of the directions to the puzzle either... he was just lucky enough to complete it before Beth found out it was all by accident. As we packed the tent into the base of the hatchback, it would turn out to be the last time we would call that canvas cave home.

Our next temporary home on our trip would be on the floor of Paul and Anne Osterhout's Los Angeles home. And, unbeknownst to us at the time, getting to their house would put our lives in jeopardy.

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Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Cars (2006)

Pixar Animation is an amazing film company. Let's take a quick look at their successful films:

• Toy Story
• A Bug's Life
• Toy Story 2
• Monsters, Inc.
• Finding Nemo
• The Incredibles

All of those movies have one critical component... excellent writing. I have always been amazed at how wonderfully inventive and three-dimensional (no pun intended) Pixar's screenplays are written. I think part of the reason for such writing success is that an animation project is in process for a longer time than live action films, so as good ideas come along they have the time to implement them and/or try things out. The end result is that the characters are always unique, especially the peripheral characters, and the story arcs are always touching and completely satisfying at the same time.

Pixar's streak continues with their latest film, Cars. In the Cars universe, there are no people, only cars. The story revolves around a race car called Ligtning McQueen (voiced by Owen Wilson) who gets side tracked on his way to California for a big race. He ends up in Radiator City where, through a series of events, is forced to stay there where he befriends the town residents and discovers a deeper meaning to his life.

The voice talent on this film is amazing. Other than Wilson, best known for his latest work in The Wedding Crashers, the film includes Paul Newman, Bonnie Hunt, Larry The Cable Guy, Cheech Marin, Tony Shalhoub, George Carlin, John Ratzenberger, Michael Keaton, Richard Petty, Jeremy Piven, Bob Costas, Darrell Waltrip, Dale Earnhardt, Jr., Jay Leno and Mario Andretti, among others.

This is a fun family film that, along with every other Pixar creation, is entertaining for both children and adults.

I strongly suggest you sit through the end credits, where Pixar gets to make fun of themselves. Another bonus is a short Pixar animation shown before Cars called One Man Band. It's hilarious.

Pixar currently has two more projects in the works, a film called Ratatouille (ra-tat-too-ee) about a French mouse with discerning tastes and Toy Story 3. With the current track record, I'm certain these two new films will be as satisfying as all of their previous films.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 30, Sound Effects

Ready for a break, we returned to Bone 19 at Bedrock City after a long trek up and down the Grand Canyon trails. Tim and Beth decided to venture into the unknown that lie behind the great wall of Bedrock City while Sunday and I, utilizing a far more limited budget, decided to implement the “wait and see” approach… as in we’ll wait and see the video tape Tim was going to take of the mystery that is Bedrock City.

Tim and Beth were not gone very long, which was not a good sign. Tim and I had a long history of complete day-long adventures to Disney World and Busch Gardens. We liked to arrive when the park opened and leave when the park closed. As Tim and Beth exited Bedrock City after just over an hour I knew that the interior of Bedrock City was far less eventful than what my imagination had conjured.

Upon reviewing the video tape and listening to Tim and Beth’s descriptions, the magic behind the wall, at the cost of an additional $7.50, was nothing more than a big Flintstone themed playground with such items as a brontosaurus dinosaur that was just an excuse for a large playground slide, a pet “Dino” that barked when you stood on mat in front of it, a fake Flintstones car, a fake Flintstones house, etc.

It was completely underwhelming. It was like discovering King Kong was actually a cardboard cutout of Curious George.

Disappointed and thoroughly exhausted from our day of hiking, we all got ready for bed. The campground of Bedrock City had thinned out a bit and, being in a higher elevation, this night the temperature began to drop immediately after sunset… much colder than the night before. We all got dressed into our sleeping clothes, which mostly consisted of sweat pants, shirts, socks, etc. Tim and Beth snuggled together in their warm sleeping bags, oblivious to the increasingly chilly weather.

Sunset at Bedrock City

Sunday and I, however, struggled to keep warm while lying on my sleeping bag, each of us with only our thin Florida weather only blankets atop us. Almost in unison did Sunday and my bodies begin to shiver. Our blankets fluttered as if it were holding a thousand moths trying to break free. After a few more moments of isolated freezing and occasional teeth chattering I whispered to Sunday, “Damn! I’m cold!”

“I’m freezing too!” she whispered back through her vibrating jaw.

Immediately, and out of necessity, Sunday and I quickly moved up next to each other. I wrapped my arms around her, spooning her as she combined our light blankets into one. We desperately hoped that two bodies and two blankets would generate enough heat to warm ourselves enough so we could go to sleep.

Slowly, our body heat began to stem the tide of involuntary shivering to which we were both suffering. It was at that moment that we both realized we were, for a lack of a better word, cuddling. Granted, it was inspired out of true necessity, but now we found ourselves warm, in each others arms, in the dark.

I could feel a growing sense of awkwardness developing between us. Just then there was a strange, quiet sound.

“What’s that noise?” Sunday asked.

“I don’t know.” I whispered back into her ear.

We both moved our heads forward slightly, trying to identify the odd, subtle sounds near us. It was then that I realized what it was… but didn’t want to say.

Referring to our travel partners on the floor on the other side of the tent, I leaned close to Sunday’s ear and said “They’re making out.”

“They’re what?” she said almost loud enough for them to hear.

“I’m pretty sure they’re making out!” I whispered again.

I can state emphatically that sounds in real life are not the same as portrayed in the movies. Lips smacking, saliva swapping, heavy breathing… not really pleasant things to listen to in real life… especially when you’re not the one smacking, swapping or breathing. But what were Sunday and I to do? Leave? Are you kidding? We had just gotten warm! Plus, if we stayed in the tent we knew things would only progress so far between our travel companions.

So, we remained silent in our uncomfortable embrace and waited as quietly as we could. After a few more painfully awkward moments our bodies again began to shiver, but this time due to intense, concealed laughter.

“Sounds gross!” she chuckled.

“Shhh!” I pleaded with her, about to burst into loud laughter, “Try to ignore it!”

But we couldn’t. The tent was only eight feet wide! It was like trying to ignore the new and unknown squeaking noise coming from your car or the clicking sound of your ceiling fan in your bedroom as you try to go to sleep. The harder we tried not to listen, the more invasive the sounds became.

For what seemed like an eternity, Sunday and I lay there, trying to keep silent so as not to embarrass our friends while, at the same time, trying to avoid the obvious embarrassment we felt between each other.

Eventually the sounds of intimacy from the other side of the tent subsided and Sunday and I were finally able to fall asleep, ending our fifth day on our trip to Cally.

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Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

The latest and greatest Harry Potter entry is by far the best all around. The story of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is well rounded and full of wonderful imagery and subtlety as Harry faces the challenge of competing in the Triwizard Tournament, attempts to survive the growing nemesis of Voldemort while juggling the complexity of puberty. This Potter film is by far the most complete and the scariest of the series so far.

The relationships between Potter, Ron and Hermione evolve and grow into natural rivalries as Ron struggles with the financial differences between himself and everyone else, especially Potter. Hermione and Ron's relationship develops and becomes less well defined as the students of Hogwart attend a dance with fellow Triwizard competitors. Insecurities, jealousies and young emotions confront each other as each of the young cast work to fine tune their emotional maturity as much as they attempt to master their magical powers.

The Triwizard tournament is exciting and offers both mental and physical challenges for both the contestants and the audience. And, this time, real lives are on the line and not every attempt to save someone comes out as one would expect.

The film, though over two hours long, moves at a very quick pace and keeps you continually intrigued. And the special effects are truly amazing because they look so realistic. My wife and marveled at how far special effects had come. As the camera moves over the campus castle and mountains and lakes, you would swear you were looking at the real world. Amazing stuff.

Goblet of Fire is a very enjoyable film and shows that this series, so far, has been getting better with age.

Downfall (2004)

Downfall is a truly amazing film about the last days of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich.

The film, based on the life of Hitler's last secretary, Traudl Junge, shows us the inner workings and true insanity that occured in Hitler's underground bunker in Berlin as the Russians and Americans took over their city. Alexandra Maria Lara plays the role of Junge and illustrates the innocence and loyalty that allowed her to be alive during this monumental time. Bruno Ganz as Adolf Hitler is nothing short of brilliant. His performance as the iconic, evil leader will stay with me for years to come.

The film, in German with English subtitles, begins with Junge and a group of other young ladies being called, in the middle of the nigth, to Hitler's bunker to interview to become his secretary. Junge's youth and the fact that she, as with Hitler, came from Munich, wins her the job. Hitler treats her with kindness and patience and respect, as a father would treat a daughter. On later occasions, however, when faced with the insurmountable task of defending his city and losing grip on his dreams, Hitler's rage is in full force. Every failure is treated as a personal betrayal to Hitler and he openly brags that he lacks any compassion, as it is a sign of weakness. When his decisions put the civilian population of Berlin in danger, Hitler blames them for the loss, believing that their weakness is at the root of the Third Reich's demise and that he shares no concern for their well being.

Downfall is one of those rare pieces of filmmaking that can actually be called a masterpiece. All of the actors are amazing and the writing is tremendous. To see such historic people at the end of the war is a stunning thing to observe. These leaders had tied their very existence to this dream of the Third Reich and as it crumbles around them, so does their own identity, their reason for living.

I cannot say enough good things about this film. Downfall is a must see film... period.

Planned Parenthood Turns Record Profit Hacking Up Babies

Exploitation of the weak for profit is a time honored tradition in human history. It worked for the Nazi's with the Jews. And the Confederates with the Slaves. Now with Planned Parenthood and Unborn Human Life. What trendsetters! Brilliant.

Per Lifesite News, Planned Parenthood reports a record $882 million income, $63 million of which is pure profit.

Who would have thought that a Nazi-esque medical experiment of chopping up babies in the womb so peoples lives wouldn't be inconvenienced by responsibility and accountability could be so lucrative.

It just goes to show you how great America truly is! All you need to do is take ANY idea, no matter how repulsive, convince people it will make their lives better, market it, sell it, get the government and the courts behind it and wallah! Pure profit. You can take it to the bank.

I can't wait to see this business model studied and lauded in such journalistic giants as the Wall Street Journal or Forbes. It's sure-fire winner.

Maybe they'll expand and open up Planned Grandparenthood, where they'll offer out patient euthanasia clinics. Or Planned Psychiatry, where they offer assisted suicide to anyone too depressed to know it's not a bad idea.

If only they would open up Planned Planned Parenthood, where they'd abort, euthanize or just kill themselves. That could be their ultimate gift to the world.

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 29, Fissure Formation

Our trip up and down the Canyon made me aware of one thing… Sunday was higher maintenance than I expected. Let me be clear, I’m not saying she was high maintenance, only that she was higher maintenance than I expected.

What did I expect? Me, of course.

At that age I expected everyone to look at the world, react to the world, approach the world with the same, casual “let’s have fun and see what happens next” viewpoint.

That’s what makes youth so stupid… ignorant expectations like that.

Tim had a similar approach to life to mine so we were completely compatible. Beth, not as much, but more so than not. In reality, Beth was more responsible and adult in her method, which annoyingly got in the way of Tim and me acting like immature and selfish buffoons. At the time, it seemed inconvenient. In reality, she was the most responsible of the group.

Sunday’s approach, on the other hand, was completely different. She wasn’t being difficult, she was just being her. And we hadn’t known her long enough to anticipate it nor would we have the patience, in the pressure cooker of this trip, to grow to love it.

She was put into this unique and stressful situation by yours truly and was responding to it the only way she could. I’m sure she was equally as frustrated by the fact that our approach to the world didn’t mesh with her own.

The critical areas of which Sunday and the rest of us differed was that Sunday never seemed to have a sense of urgency. Everything seemed to move about five miles slower for her than for us. Quite often we found ourselves waiting for her to catch up. I’m not sure if it was a play for attention or she just moved to a slower drummer than I did.

Plus, she liked to vocally comment on areas or concerns that were not of her liking, no matter if we could have changed the outcome or not. Men like to solve things. That’s what we do. Complaining about something to which we cannot control is equivalent to washing our face with molten lava. It’s extremely painful and requires more patience than is humanly possible.

My problem was that this situation was entirely and completely my fault. One-hundred percent.

What was I thinking asking Sunday to come on the trip when I didn’t really know her very well? I certainly didn’t think through the reality of the effects of taking such a close-quarters, long journey with varying personalities would have on each of us.

I couldn’t and never would blame Sunday.

Our personalities just weren’t mixing as well as I had hoped. Three parts water, one part gasoline… and a match just waiting to be lit.

In the end, the trip up and down the Canyon wall was memorable, but it left us all a little frustrated. More importantly, it started a small crack that, like the Grand Canyon itself, would grow to inconceivable proportions with me trying desperately to straddle it while struggling to keep a firm footing on either side.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 29, (Text, Audio) Fissure Formation
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 28, (Text, Audio) Upward Immobility
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 27, (Text, Audio) The Long And Winding Road
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 26, (Text, Audio) Waste Not, Arrest Not
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 25, (Text, Audio) Nightlife At The BC
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 24, (Text, Audio) Bedless In Bedrock
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 23, (Text, Audio) Desert Rain
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 22, (Text, Audio) Bedrock City
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 21, (Text, Audio) The Outhouse
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 20, (Text, Audio) Riding The Hump
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 19, (Text, Audio) Bob Hope, Lil’ Debbie And Restless Gods
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 18, (Text, Audio) Unlevel Headed
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 17, (Text, Audio) Starry Night, Confusing Night
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Jesus Is Offensive

One of the best Christian films I've seen is a movie called Flywheel. Those filmmakers have recently completed a new Christian film called Facing The Giants. They were surprised to find that the MPAA, which officially rates movies before release, gave Giants a PG rating instead of a G because... get this... there's so much Christianity that it may offend some parents. Therefore, they determined, parental guidance is suggested.

You can read more about this story from Scripps Howard News Service.

I think this is a first where parental guidance is required because people will be offended because the film blatantly states that Jesus is the answer to many of our problems in our lives.

Just another sign that the Apocalypse is inevitable. And another sign how God is becoming the exception to our society, no longer the rule.

I fear for the world in which my children will grow up.

Hangman's Curse (2003)

Hangman's Curse is an adaptation of Frank Peretti's novel about a potential curse on bullies placed on them by a boy who committed suicide by hanging himself. This family-friendly film is rated PG-13 for some intense sequences, but is overall tame in comparison to Hollywood's standards... perhaps too tame.

The story revolves around a family of "spies," for the lack of a better word, that infiltrate the high school to find out the source of mysterious events and illnesses surrounding a growing number of bullies on the football team. There are hints of witch craft and other supernatural events, but the local authorities have been unable to uncover the true cause and must rely on the Veritas group (Veritas meaning truth) to help them find the culprit.

The Veritas group consists of the Springfield family: The father, Nate, played by David Keith, takes on the role as school janitor. The mother, Sarah, played by Mel Harris, plays a school counselor. Their two children Elisha and Elijah, played by Leighton Meester and Douglas Smith, respectively, enroll in the school as students. Elisha joins the hip crowd while Elijah puts on the spectacles and instantly joins the nerd crowd.

The film deals with a lot of subjects... maybe too many. It succeeds at illuminating the effect of bullying on defenseless students and the price that costs them. It shows school cliques accurately and the struggles associated with trying to cross those imaginary social lines. It also deals with witch craft, curses, serpents, spiders and more. Overall, the film lacks an effectively scary punch, but is mostly entertaining from beginning to end.

If you're looking for a light weight film for your middle or senior high school student that deals with the subjects mentioned above, then Hangman's Curse is a safe choice.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 28, Upward Immobility

The four travelers stood on the trail midway down the Grand Canyon wall, looking straight up.

“Boy, I didn’t realize we had come down so far,” I said to the others.

We stood there, silent for a moment. “Looks like quite a long way to get back up,” Tim added.

“Yeah,” we all chimed in without moving.

Another few moments passed. “The people on the top look so small,” Sunday offered.

“Yeah,” we all replied, again, not moving, our eyes focused upward.

With a surrendering sigh, Beth relented, “I guess we have to walk back up there.”

“Yeah,” we all said, reluctantly giving in to the long task that lie ahead of us.

As we started back up the trail we were passed by a young couple continuing downward with camping gear, back packs and plenty of water. After a quick inspection by the Ranger, they were allowed to pass and head toward the Oasis.

My legs, already overused from balancing on the decline down the trail, were starting to spasm as I slowly trudged my way back up the intimidating path. As I avoided a green, leafy mule dropping I was, for the first time, envious of those who had rented a beast of burden for the hike.

It was obvious that my unbridled youth had not yet conquered the concept of long term thinking. In my eagerness to experience the canyon, I didn’t contemplate the ramifications of those impulses. Now, only after my thigh muscles began to burn did I realize that a little less excitement and a little more thought would have come in real handy right about now.

"Ants" on the repeating Z

My introspection was interrupted, however, by two small Asian children running past me. “Ah, youth!” I said to myself. The children ran up to the end of a stretch of the repeating Z and collapsed onto the ground, panting. I looked behind me and spotted their Asian Father, his face beat red and not carrying any water, struggling up the path.

I waved to the children still sitting on the path as I turned and headed up the next stretch. The Father, with a deliberate and steady pace, continued passed them as well, his face relaying the feeling that if he stopped, he’d never be able to get his legs moving again. About half way up this stretch the children zoomed passed and again collapsed, exhausted at the end of the stretch, awaiting for their father to catch up to them.

I slowed slightly so the Father could catch up. His pained expression was so intense that it contorted his face. The only time I would ever see such constant pain and determination would be decades later, on my wife’s face, while she gave birth to our first child. I looked with great empathy on this poor gentleman and held out my half-emptied bottled water.

“Do you want some water?” I asked with such compassion that it came across as if I was pleading for him to take it.

The Asian Father simply smiled and nodded “No thank you,” without actually speaking, as if verbalizing any words would zap him of what little energy reserves he had within him.

The same routine would repeat itself up the canyon trail. I’d pass the exhausted kids, who would eventually race by me, collapsing at the top of the next level, totally spent, their father pacing himself behind me. Stretch after stretch after stretch.

At the end of each repeating Z I would, again, take a moment and look out at the breath taking landscape the Canyon offered, but I’ll admit that the pain of hiking back up greatly diminished the soothing effect of the view. The intricate colors of red and brown and orange intermixed over millions of years did little to sooth my throbbing legs. At this point I, like Tim, Beth and Sunday, all just wanted to be up on the top of the hill.

After more than over an hour of methodically walking, step by step, up the massive canyon wall path, we eventually made it to the parking lot at the top. We sat their, exhausted and silent, too tired to speak. As we sucked down the rest of our water the Asian Father nodded as he passed, his kids in tow, barely able to walk. In some odd way, we had bonded through the shared experience of suffering the journey. It was a short lived bond, but we exchanged a “we made it!” expression and went our separate ways.

After a few minutes we decided to head over to some picnic tables to eat a snack and rest up further. On our way toward the tables I passed by a Middle Eastern man with his son nipping behind him. The son was looking at his father with a great sense of curiosity, while his father, just having surfaced from hiking up the trail, was apparently at the end of his mental rope.

He stopped, exasperated and motioned out toward the canyon with great urgency, then turned to his son, angered and said, “What do you think, they cut it out with a knife???”

I couldn’t imagine how the conversation ended up with that one sentence, but it seemed to capture his moment in time perfectly.

I chuckled to myself and collapsed, along with my travel companions, at the picnic tables overlooking the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, resting my weary and aching legs.

********

Goin' Out To Cally - Part 28, (Text, Audio) Upward Immobility
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 27, (Text, Audio) The Long And Winding Road
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 26, (Text, Audio) Waste Not, Arrest Not
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 25, (Text, Audio) Nightlife At The BC
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 24, (Text, Audio) Bedless In Bedrock
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 23, (Text, Audio) Desert Rain
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 22, (Text, Audio) Bedrock City
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 21, (Text, Audio) The Outhouse
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 20, (Text, Audio) Riding The Hump
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 19, (Text, Audio) Bob Hope, Lil’ Debbie And Restless Gods
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 18, (Text, Audio) Unlevel Headed
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 17, (Text, Audio) Starry Night, Confusing Night
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 16, (Text, Audio) Three Beds + Four People = Oh Crap
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 15, (Text, Audio) Masculinity At Stake
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 14, (Text, Audio) Texas: Latin For Shoot Me Now
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 13, (Text, Audio) Cars, Crossroads and Cosmic Convergence
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 12, (Text, Audio) Tumbleweed Dreams
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 11, (Text, Audio) Wet, Rinse, Repeat
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 10, (Text, Audio) Divine Misdirection
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 09, (Text, Audio) Getting Nowhere Fast
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 08, (Text, Audio) The Cock Crows Nine
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 07, (Text, Audio) Is Jackass A Sign?
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 06, (Text, Audio) Leftovers
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 05, (Text, Audio) The Kiss Of Friendship
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 04, (Text, Audio) Scholastic Intimacy
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 03, (Text, Audio) Space Invaders
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 02, (Text, Audio) The Fourth Wheel
Goin' Out To Cally - Part 01, (Text, Audio) The Seed Planted

Take A Business Trip

The first production of our little company called Local Talent Productions was a film called Raw Footage about a public access television show that accidentally taped a murder and is then hunted down one-by-one. The film is shown as the raw footage from the camera itself.

The end product is not very good, but it was shot and edited in one day and got our feet wet. Raw Footage was intended to be one of a trilogy of shorts dealing with hitmen. The second was called The Business Trip about a lonely business traveler show takes on the identify of his corporate apartment's previous tenant in order to go on a blind date, only to find himself the target of a hitman.

The third yet-to-be-shot short is called 10 Reasons about a worn out hitman who gives his target the opportunity to give 10 reasons why he shouldn't be killed.

The Business Trip was shot last year and was intended to be shot over three days with elaborate direction. Due to last minute scheduling conflicts we had to shoot the 23 minute short in 14 straight hours. We had to compromise on lighting and shot selection, but we were able to pull it off. It's not as polished as I had intended, but it turned out very good considering out time limitations.

You can see Behind-The-Scenes Pics and other info about the film by clicking on the highlighted links.

I converted the film into a smaller Quicktime Movie. It's still pretty big, so you'll need a fast connection to watch it. Just click on the picture below and it'll bring you to the movie.

Or you can RIGHT CLICK HERE and save the short to your computer.

Hope you enjoy it.

Happy Birthday Dea!

Today we're celebrating my wife's birthday. Let's just say she's 29... again, for a few years now. We had a lot of plans this weekend, but they've all fallen apart. Our son got a stomach flu and work has impeded. Pretty much everything I planned as evaporated.

I promised her to make it up to her this week.

In any event... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY LOVE!

Night at the Ballpark

While Paul, Jean and Jonathan were in town, I wanted to bring my Godchild Jonathan and my son, Gabriel, to a Tampa Bay Devil Rays game. The problem? The Devil Rays were on the road until the day after Paul's family headed back to Houston.

Pete, Jonathan and Gabe at the ballpark.

Okay... well, then how about the local minor league team, the Clearwater Threshers. They play in a beautiful new ballpark with a lot of amenities. The problem? The Threshers were playing away all week and only had two games nearby, at the other minor league team that is within close proximity, the Dunedin Blue Jays.

Gabe's streak of getting balls at ballgames
continues, this time one from the Florida State League.

So, Paul, Jonathan, Gabe and I all went to watch the Threshers vs. Blue Jays in Dunedin. Not as exciting as I had originally planned nor as impressive as Island of Adventure, however, the important thing was that we got to sepnd a lot of time together, joking and having fun.