It’s time to get serious about ending global terrorism.
Let’s quit pretending we’ve got the tiger by the tail, because we don’t. Drastic times call for drastic measures, and I’ve got the perfect solution.
Open up a shitload of bars and nightclubs inside every Muslim country. Carpet bomb them with liquor. Just do it. Forget about dropping humanitarian leaflets and care packages. Ship in bar stools, announce it’s happy hour, and let the free-pouring begin. Then, turn up the music. Loud. Political extremism and acts of terror would dry up faster than the Cincinnati Bengals’ Super Bowl hopes.
Imagine what it must be like living inside a hard-core Muslim society. They’re basically giant prison camps. You’d go mad. Every sphere of daily life is suffocated by religion. Since drinking alcohol is strictly forbidden by the Koran, most of these countries don’t have a single bar or nightclub where people can go and hang out.
And that’s the problem.
Juanita Moore died a few days ago.
If you don’t know that name, you’re not alone. I didn’t know it either.
But I do remember her most memorable film role, in what was (and remains) one of the most groundbreaking movies ever made. The name of that film is Imitation of Life.
This movie has special meaning to me, because it was one of my mother’s favorite films. We watched it together when I was young, and it made quite an impression. This isn’t to say it’s a movie for children. It’s not. In fact, it’s a very sad and troubling movie, which was way ahead of its time.
What makes us perceive similar things so differently?
For instance, two things can be almost identical. They can be the same size and shape. They can provide the same benefits, or pose the same dangers. So why would one thing be cherished, while the other is feared?
Let’s take the DNA of two mammals (see below). They’re about the same size and shape. They’re closely related as species. They both live in cities. However, we perceive one as a sweet and fuzzy creature, while the other is vermin.
“PLAYOFFS! YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT PLAYOFFS?”
The NFL playoffs begin today.
Like all but one of each of the last 18 years, the Dallas Cowboys will not be among this weekend’s winners. That’s 17 of the last 18 Januarys spent at home.
This may seem unremarkable unless you consider the perpetual disappointment of this wasted franchise. You think the Detroit Lions or Buffalo Bills would be ranked near the top of NFL team memorabilia sales if they posted just one playoff victory in 18 years? Somebody is fooling somebody here. There are a lot of fools drinking Cowboy Kool-aid.
And therein lies the wicked wizardry of the man responsible for the brewing the punch, behind the curtain, at the controls, pulling the levers.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Jerry Jones.
We’ve seen this story before. But never quite like this.
The Wolf of Wall Street is Martin Scorsese’s latest over-the-top orgy of excess. There’s so much sex and drug use in the film, other scenes of actors incessantly screaming f-bombs at each other seem downright pedestrian, by comparison. Eventually, you become desensitized to just about everything you see and hear.
Scorsese’s directoral trademark isn’t one of just gratuitous excess. Here, it’s an obvious attempt to extend beyond the customary cimematic boundaries that have been shattered repeatedly to the point where nothing comes as a shock anymore. Clearly, Scorsese’ intent isn’t to offend us. He just doesn’t seem to know how much is too much, or when and where to stop. Much like his coked obsessed out-of-control characters, he’s stuck permanently in overdrive with the pedal to the metal.
This is Casino meets Goodfellas meets Wall Street meets Blow meets Glengarry Glen Ross meets Caligula. Whatever your opinion of those movies is, likely will determine how you judge this film. At its best it’s Richard III heavily under the influence. At it worst, it’s Jersey Shore.