Film Quote Friday (Saturday edition, again)

Wow, barely half-a-dozen entries into this series and I've already missed Friday twice. I'm starting to question my competence as a blogger. Anyway....

I've been slagging on the writing of Aaron Sorkin a bit lately, so I thought it might be worthwhile to remind folks (and, more importantly, myself) why I'm so hard on the guy. It's simply because he's enormously gifted, he's produced some wonderful writing in the past, and in my view, he's done nothing but coast along on auto-pilot for years now. So here's a scene not from a movie but from a teevee show, The West Wing. The episode is from midway through the third season, called "Bartlet for America".

The set-up is this: In the first season, we had learned that President Bartlet suffers from multiple sclerosis, but he had not disclosed this to anyone during his campaign. So this fact was laid by Sorkin as kind of a ticking time bomb of plot, and it exploded in the second season, when events pretty much forced Bartlet to start to come clean about it. This story dominated the last six or so episodes of the second season and most of the first half of the third, as the show dramatized the anger amongst President Bartlet's staff at having been lied to, and their efforts to keep the country from boiling over with the same anger, dooming their work in the White House.

So, Congress does as Congress does and holds hearings, and in this episode, White House Chief of Staff Leo McGarry is the one called to testify. We know that McGarry is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, and throughout the episode (laced with flashbacks to the early days of the campaign), there are references to the White House staff trying to "get the guy out of the room". We quickly learn that this refers to their attempts to have a certain Congressman on the committee suddenly be required to attend to something else, so as to spare Leo some embarrassing questions. Unfortunately, their attempts to "get the guy out of the room" fail, and the moment Leo is dreading comes to pass in what is one of Aaron Sorkin's finest moments as a writer.

Here is what happens. The character 'Jordan' is Leo's counsel, and 'Cliff' is the Majority Counsel (Republican) on the committee. (I've taken this from this West Wing transcript site, but the actual teleplay from this episode, as written by Sorkin, can be found in the second book of West Wing shooting scripts that was released some years ago.)

CHAIRMAN: The Chair recognizes the gentleman from Michigan Mr. Gibson, for five minutes.

GIBSON: Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Two years ago, January the President collapsed in the Oval Office. Is that correct?

LEO: I'm not sure what the medical term would be.

GIBSON: He involuntarily fell to the ground.

LEO: Yes.

GIBSON: Will Minority Counsel stipulate that we can call that collapsing? Let the record reflect that Minority Counsel has nodded his head up and down so as to indicate an affirmative response.

CHAIRMAN: So ordered.

GIBSON: Is this the only time since the President took the Oath of Office that he's collapsed?

LEO: So far as I know.

GIBSON: Is this the only time since the beginning of the campaign that he's collapsed?

LEO: [long pause] No, it's not.

GIBSON: I'd like to take you back to 30 October in St. Louis, Missouri. Jed Bartlet is the Democratic nominee for President and is about to participate in the third and final debate-

JORDAN: Mr. Chairman, I would like to request a short recess.

CHAIRMAN: We just got back from a recess.

JORDAN: Sir, we have taken breaks at the request of nearly every member of this Committee while the witness has asked for a total of none. One time, Mr. Chairman.

CHAIRMAN: We'll take a five-minute break. Please, let's keep it to ten minutes.

JORDAN: Come with me.

Leo follows Jordan out of the room. Meanwhile CLIFF makes his way to GIBSON's seat.

GIBSON: Yeah, it will all come out.

CLIFF: Excuse me. What's going on?

CHAIRMAN: I was just asking the same thing.

CLIFF: I don't know anything about testimony from October 30.

GIBSON: It's okay, I got it.

CLIFF: No, you don't got it.

CHAIRMAN: We better go someplace and talk.

FADE OUT.
END ACT THREE
* * *

ACT FOUR

FADE IN: INT. JOSH'S OFFICE - DAY
The TV next to the desk shows people milling around and talking in the hearing room.
Josh picks up the phone. He sighs as he waits for Leo to answer his cell phone.

LEO: [VO] Yeah.

JOSH: Leo... I couldn't make it happen.

CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL HALLWAY OUTSIDE WAITING ROOM - DAY

Leo is walking down to hall toward the waiting room.

LEO: Don't worry about it.

He hangs up his cell phone. A guard opens the door for him. Jordan is waiting. She closes the door. She's pretty upset but he just stares are her blankly.

JORDAN: [angry] You have to tell me what's going on now or I'm walking out the door.

LEO: [quietly] Look-

JORDAN: [sharply] Tell me now.

Leo turns and walks slowly along one side of the table.

LEO: On the day of the final debate, I was meeting with two potential donors...

FADE TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK

Leo is meeting with three men, two of whom are CEOs. CEO #1 is balding slightly; CEO #2 has a moustache. They're all chuckling. Before they sit down, Leo shakes each of their hands, a big smile plastered on his face.

LEO: [VO] It was nine days 'til the election. We were too close to call and I didn't wanna be the guy who ran outta money first.

CEO 1: You look nervous, Leo. [glances at CEO #2] Don't worry about it. I brought my wallet.

CEO 2 chuckles.

LEO: Anybody wanna eat? I got steak sandwiches on the way.

CEO 2: Yeah and uh, let's have some drinks.

LEO: [pats CEO 2 on shoulder] Sure.

CUT TO INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

Leo sits in a chair at one end of the table.

LEO: The President was at the debate site, walking the stage. [pauses, smiles wistfully] A podium is a holy place for him...

CUT TO: INT. DEBATE SITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK

Bartlet marches into the theater, followed closely by C.J., Sam, Toby, and Josh. They're all dressed casually. Bartlet is all business, focused. He assesses the space with his eyes as he walks toward the stage. C.J. smiles and shakes hands with a woman - probably one of the debate organizers. They all follow Bartlet up to the stage, where there are two podiums and a table for the moderators. Opposite the stage, there are hundreds of seats for the audience. Lots of aides are bustling about, making preparations.

LEO: [VO] He makes it his own like it's an extension of his body. You ever see a pitcher work the mound so the dirt does exactly what his feet want it to do? That's the President. He sees it as a genuine opportunity to change minds - also his best way of contributing to the team. He likes teams...

CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

LEO: [smiles] ...I love him so much...

Jordan finally sits down at the table, facing Leo.

JORDAN: What was going on in your room?

LEO: [mumbling softly to himself] ...I like the little things...

JORDAN: I didn't hear you.

LEO: [jolted out of his inner thoughts, speaking louder] I said, "I like the little things." [smiles] The way a glass feels in your hand - a good glass, thick, with a heavy base. I love the sound an ice cube makes when you drop it from just the right height.

The sound of an ice cube being dropped into a glass....

FADE TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK

Leo is staring, transfixed, as the CEOs pour themselves drinks. They're all sitting around a coffee table.

LEO: [VO] Too high and it'll chip when you drop it. Chip the ice and it'll melt too fast in the scotch.

CEO #2: You ever try this, Leo? It's Johnny Walker Blue. Bartenders are selling it for thirty bucks a shot.

He uncorks the bottle and slowly pours the scotch into a glass on the table in front of him.

LEO: [VO] Good scotch sits in a charcoal barrel for 12 years. Very good scotch gets smoked for 29 years.

FADE TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

LEO: [nostalgic] Johnny Walker Blue...is 60-year-old scotch.

JORDAN: [impatiently] I don't care. What happened in the room, Leo?

LEO: I'm trying to tell you what happened.

FADE TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK

Cigar smoke fills the air. Leo and the donors are chuckling jovially, but Leo's face reveals the strain he's feeling as he watches the other men drink. His grin has taken on a dark quality. A lull in the laughter and conversation leaves Leo staring at the glass of scotch in CEO 1's hand. He looks around awkwardly for a moment, then tries to banish temptation by changing the subject.

LEO: Should we get to it?

The THIRD MAN is visible, sitting in the background off to one side, but his identity is hidden amidst the ample cigar smoke.

CEO 1: [holding up his glass] You don't wanna find out what a thirty dollar sip of scotch tastes like?

Leo stares at the glass. He's visibly struggling to control himself, so he responds with a smile and tries to sound relaxed and nonchalant.

LEO: [nods] Naw... I gotta... stay sharp for tonight.

CEO 1 sets his drink down and stands up.


CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

JORDAN: Why don't you just say, "I'm an alcoholic?"

LEO: They're two CEOs. I'm tryin' to get 'em to give me half-a-million dollars a piece right now. It's not really the best time to mention it. [pauses] The President's still at the debate site.

CUT TO: INT. DEBATE SITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK


Josh and Sam are huddled by one podium, talking. C.J. and Toby are conferring by the other podium. Dozens of aides are still bustling around in the background. Bartlet is standing by the moderators' table with the woman that C.J. greeted on the way into the theater.

WOMAN: How do you feel about the temperature, sir?

BARTLET: It's good.

WOMAN: It's not too cold?

BARTLET: [glancing around] It won't be later. This is a 550 seat theater and they'll be seated a half-hour before we start, so the temperature'll be up four to six degrees.

CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

JORDAN: [loudly, an edge to her voice] The hotel room, Leo.

CUT TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK


The four men are still seated around the coffee table - the two CEOs across from Leo, the third man still off to one side, sipping his drink. Dim light is filtering in through the windows and French doors. The bottle and glasses are on the table. Leo is hunched over in his seat, fidgeting.

CEO 2: We already gave to the RNC but we're worried we may have backed the wrong horse.

LEO: You wanna hedge your bet.

CEO 1: [nods] That's why we're here.

LEO: [nods, tense] Good... Now gimme a sip of that.

CEO 2 smiles and hands Leo his glass. The ice cubes rattle against the glass as Leo holds it and takes a quick sip. He tries to act like it's no big deal, but his expression indicates otherwise.

LEO: That's what I remember.

CEO 1 chuckles.


FADE TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

JORDAN: You had a drink.

LEO: I'm an alcoholic. I don't have one drink. [pauses] I don't understand people who have one drink. I don't understand people who leave half a glass of wine on the table. I don't understand people who say they've had enough. How can you have enough of feeling like this? How can you not want to feel like this longer? [pauses, sighs] My brain works differently.

JORDAN: Who was the third person in the room?

LEO: Well, now we've arrived at our problem.

FADE TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK


Leo is drinking scotch heartily and smoking as they talk.

LEO: [to CEOs] Count on it.

THIRD MAN: Whoa, you want to be careful there.

Leo glances over at him as he stands up.

THIRD MAN: You're not the big money party. We are.

Leo chuckles silently and takes another sip of scotch.

CEO 1: [to Leo] Did I mention that he's thinking about running for Congress?

The third man sits down on the sofa next to Leo. It's GIBSON. He smiles as Leo glances over at him again.

GIBSON: I'm thinking about it.

CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT

JORDAN: You were drunk in front of Gibson?

LEO: I don't get drunk in front of people. I get drunk alone.

CUT TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK


The CEOs and Gibson have left. Leo opens the wall cupboard containing the mini-bar. He pulls out several miniature bottles of booze and checks his watch. He's stonefaced, almost like he's on auto-pilot.

LEO: [VO] They were going over something at the debate site...

JORDAN: [VO] [impatiently] I don't want to hear about the debate site.

LEO: [VO] The debate site is what happened. The debate site is how he gets to bring this up here.

CUT TO: INT. DEBATE SITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK


On one side of the stage, Sam and Josh walk over to where C.J. and Toby have been talking. Bartlet is standing by himself on the other side of the stage. The theater is still buzzing with aides making preparations.

SAM: [to C.J.] Where's Leo?

JOSH: [to C.J. and Toby] I'd still like to go over the Social Security answer. We gotta get it down to 90 seconds.

C.J.: It's down to 90 seconds.

Bartlet wanders past a TV monitor on a cart. He's wearing a sweater over a dress shirt. He puts his glasses in his shirt pocket. He looks slightly distracted, perhaps a bit unsteady. He's looking down at the floor and holding onto his coat.

JOSH: It's not - and they're gonna cut him off.

The foursome slowly walk across the stage toward Bartlet, who's standing next to the TV monitor.

SAM: I put a stopwatch on him. When he just speeds up...

JOSH: When he speeds up, he speeds up. When he doesn't... It's 90 seconds. We need to cut some more.

Bartlet crosses his arms over his chest and hunches over slightly.

TOBY: [to Josh] Which words?

JOSH: Governor, what do you think? Governor?

Bartlet appears increasingly unsteady on his feet, a bit dazed, maybe short of breath. But it's subtle enough that his aides don't seem to notice.

JOSH: Sir, we were just saying on the Social Security answer...

BARTLET: [softly] No.

JOSH: ...it's a tight ninety seconds, and...

BARTLET: [looking at floor, swaying] No, no. Not now.

JOSH: [scoffs, looks around at the others] Well, we gotta do it now, sir.

Bartlet stares blankly, straight ahead, then suddenly reaches out his right arm to balance himself, leaning on the TV for support.

TOBY: Something's wrong.

C.J.: Governor?

BARTLET: [gasping softly, trying to keep his balance] Yeah.

JOSH: Governor? [pause] Sir?

BARTLET: G'abbey...

SAM: You wanna sit down?

C.J.: Let me get some water. [turns around to grab a bottle of water]

BARTLET: G'abbey...

TOBY: He's saying, "Get Abbey."

JOSH: [to an aide] Get Abbey!

Bartlet loses his balance and pitches sideways toward Sam, who catches him, with assistance from Toby and Josh.

JOSH: Whoa...

Sam and Toby hold Bartlet up. A security agent rushes over to help.

TOBY: [looks up at C.J.] C.J.

C.J. stares at Toby. She looks shocked, a bit unsure about what to do.

JORDAN [VO]: He had an attack?

LEO [VO]: I mean, the doctor said it was an inner ear infection.

Toby and Sam help Bartlet regain his balance. They help him walk backstage, along with the agent. Josh walks behind them, stops, and takes out his cell phone. He looks up at C.J., concern all over his face.

LEO [VO]: But all Josh knew when he called me was that he'd collapsed. I was supposed to be down there already. I was supposed to be down there an hour ago.

CUT TO: INT. LEO'S HOTEL SUITE - ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI - FLASHBACK


Leo is sitting on the sofa, pouring himself another drink. The coffee table is covered with empty bottles and glasses. The phone by the bed rings and rings. His breathing is labored and he's unsteady on his feet as he struggles to stand up and make his way over to the bed. He takes a gulp of scotch, presses the speakerphone button, and sits down on the bed. Then he leans back on the pillows and closes his eyes, the glass still in his hand.

LEO: [loud] Yeah.

JOSH: [on phone] Leo, the Governor's sick.

The buzzer to Leo's suite sounds. He sits up slowly, awkwardly, as he registers what Josh is saying and that the buzzer is sounding.

LEO: Okay.

JOSH: [on phone] He collapsed. You gotta get down here.

The buzzer sounds again. Leo doesn't respond quickly to Josh; he tries not to panic,
tries to get his bearing.

JOSH: [on phone] Leo.

LEO: Okay.

Leo sits up, lets go of his glass. Knocking on the door.

GIBSON: [at the door] It's Gibson.

LEO: [loud] Okay!

Suddenly, Leo processes the implications of Gibson being at his door. He rubs his forehead and sighs, exasperated and overwhelmed. He's breathing heavily again as he shakily stands up.

LEO: Okay... Okay...

He walks to the door, smoothes his hair, and tries to straighten his rumpled suit. Then he opens the door.

LEO: Hey.

Gibson walks right in. Leo stands by the open door, shifting uneasily.

GIBSON: I forgot my briefcase.

Gibson grabs his briefcase from the floor by the sofa. In the process, he notices all the bottles and glasses on the coffee table. He turns to look at Leo, questioning.

GIBSON: You havin' a party?

LEO: [barely able to meet Gibson's gaze] I uh... I-I gotta get to the uh debate site. The Governor collapsed.

Gibson nods slightly, then leaves and closes the door behind him. Before Gibson is even out the door, Leo looks confused, then pained, then horrified and filled with regret as he realizes what he's done. He sighs and tries to catch his breath.


FADE TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL WAITING ROOM - PRESENT


Leo and Jordan are still sitting at the table, facing each other.

JORDAN: [VO] I don't understand how you could have a drink. I don't understand how, after everything you worked for, how on that day of all days you could be so stupid.

LEO: That's because you think it has something to do with smart and stupid. Do you have any idea how many alcoholics are in Mensa? You think it's a lack of willpower? That's like thinking somebody with anorexia nervosa has an overdeveloped sense of vanity. My father was an alcoholic. [leans forward] His father was an alcoholic. So, in my case...

JORDAN: [nods] Ain't nothin' but a family thing.

LEO: That's right.

JORDAN: Who knows?

LEO: Josh Lyman and the President.

JORDAN: Why nobody else?

LEO: Because.

JORDAN: That's a little boy's answer.

LEO: [pauses] I went to rehab. My friends embraced me when I got out. You relapse, it's not like that. "Get away from me" - that's what it's like.

There's a knock on the door and it opens. A security guard appears. Jordan turns to look at him.

GUARD: We're back in a minute.

JORDAN: Thank you.

The guard closes the door. Jordan turns back toward Leo.

JORDAN: Just out of curiosity... Why have you been asking me to have a meal with you every five minutes?

LEO: I like you. I've been tryin' to get it in under the wire.

Jordan takes a moment to take this in. She seems a bit surprised.

JORDAN: You'll answer the questions - simply and directly. I don't want to hear about Mensa. That'll be my job.

LEO: Okay.

Leo stands up, walks toward the door. Jordan doesn't move, a hint of a smile on her face. Leo opens the door as Jordan stands up and walks toward him.

JORDAN: Yes, by the way.

LEO: Yes? What?

JORDAN
Yes, I'd like to have dinner with you tonight.

LEO: [surprised] Okay.

Jordan walks out ahead of him and he follows her.


CUT TO: INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE CAPITOL HILL HEARING ROOM - DAY


People are milling around, waiting for the hearing to reconvene. There's a small room off the hallway. A guard is standing beside the glass door. Inside the room, Bruno, Cliff, and Gibson are standing face to face arguing.

CLIFF: That's where you're going with this?

GIBSON: Yeah.

CLIFF: Just to embarrass the guy?

GIBSON: Just?

CLIFF: Leo McGarry's sobriety isn't the subject of these hearings. These hearings are to investigate...

CUT TO: INT. A SMALL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

CLIFF: ...if any rules - ethical or otherwise - were broken by Jed Bartlet while he was running for President.

GIBSON: That's nice, but I live in the actual world where the object of these hearings is to win.

CLIFF: [shakes his head] No... it's not.

Bruno listens closely, stonefaced.

GIBSON: It's the object of the Majority.

CLIFF: Not while I'm the Majority Counsel, it's not. This is bush league. This is why good people hate us. This right here. This thing. [Bruno turns his back on them and leans on a table.] This isn't what these hearings are about. [Gibson glances over at Bruno, peeved.] He cannot possibly have been properly prepared by counsel for these questions, nor should he ever have to answer them publicly.

Bruno turns back around, rubbing his chin, looking concerned.

CLIFF: [jabbing his finger at Gibson] And if you proceed with this line of questioning, I will resign this committee and wait in the tall grass for you, Congressman, because you are killing the party.

Cliff glares at Gibson, who turns toward Bruno.

GIBSON: Who the hell is this?

Bruno meets his gaze.

CLIFF: [to Bruno] You don't have to make up your mind right now, Mr. Chairman...

GIBSON: Phil...

CLIFF: You don't have to make up your mind right now. Declare a recess 'til after the holidays. Buy yourself two weeks.

GIBSON: [to Cliff] And give him two weeks to circle the wagons?

Cliff maintains eye contact with Bruno, although he'd clearly love to respond to Gibson.

GIBSON: [to Bruno] How do you think the Speaker's gonna feel about this? To say nothing of the RNC?

BRUNO: [sighs] I need a minute.

Gibson quickly leaves, followed by Cliff, who practically slams the door on his way out. He walks through the crowd of people in the hallway, back toward the hearing room. Leo is in the hallway, shaking someone's hand, and notices Cliff walk by.


CUT TO: INT. JOSH'S BULLPEN AREA - DAY


A TV in the hallway is showing coverage of the hearing. Phones are ringing and staff members are bustling about. Sam walks through a swinging door and heads toward Josh's office.


CUT TO: INT. JOSH'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS


Josh is leaning against the back of a chair, watching the hearing on his TV, and rubbing his forehead. Sam appears in the doorway.

SAM: I tried everybody.

JOSH: [looks up] It's all right.

SAM: I tried everybody. It was just a tough fit. And since I couldn't tell 'em what it was about...

JOSH: [points at the TV] They're back.

Sam sighs heavily. They both focus their attention on the TV.


CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL HEARING ROOM - DAY


Bruno gavels the hearing back into session.

BRUNO: Let's come to order.

Jordan and Leo are back in their seats. Jordan looks a little worried.

BRUNO: Mr. Gibson, you can proceed with your questioning.

Cliff sighs with exasperation. Leo stares at Gibson.

GIBSON: Mr. McGarry, 30 October in St. Louis, Missouri, the date Jed Bartlet was...

BRUNO: [holds up a hand in Gibson's direction] No, I'm sorry. [pause] Mr. McGarry, it's been a long day and, unless Counsel has an objection, I'm gonna resume this after the holidays.

Jordan and Leo are stunned.

LEO: What?

Cliff breathes a sigh of relief. Some members of the committee look pleasantly surprised, others not so much. Gibson shoots a warning glare at Bruno.

GIBSON: Mr. Chairman...

BRUNO: Mr. Calley.

CLIFF: Mr. McGarry, that concludes our questioning for today...

CUT TO: INT. JOSH'S OFFICE - DAY

CLIFF: [on TV] We'll pick it up here when the Chairman gavels these hearings back to order.

Josh sighs with relief.


CUT TO: INT. CAPITOL HILL HEARING ROOM - DAY


Leo is still confused and not sure if this is real.

LEO: I'm sorry...?

BRUNO: You're done for the day, sir. The House Reform and Government Oversight Committee stands in recess until January the 5th, and the Chair wishes everyone a Merry Christmas.

The hum of conversation fills the room as people begin to stand up. Several people in the audience - journalists, presumably - leap out of their seats to go outside. Jordan is pleased, but very surprised. Leo still can't believe it. They steal short glances at each other. Jordan chuckles softly to herself.

LEO: What the hell...?

JORDAN: [shakes her head] I don't know. [They both stand up.] We have two weeks.

A woman who's been sitting behind Jordan hands her a coat. Leo leans against his chair.

LEO: I really had to tell you the damn story?

JORDAN: Shut up. I'm going to dinner with you.

She starts to leave, passing Margaret, who's standing behind Leo.

LEO: [softly] Yeah. [pauses, turns to look at her] Well, listen.

JORDAN: What?

LEO: You wanna do it tomorrow night instead?

JORDAN: What's tomorrow night?

LEO: It's Christmas Eve.

JORDAN: [pauses, smiles, nods] Okay.

LEO: [smiles] Okay.

Jordan walks off into the crowd. Leo gathers his things from the table and glances up at the committee dais. Cliff is standing behind his chair, also gathering his things. They meet each other's gaze for several long moments. Cliff looks away first, then quickly leaves. Leo seems to realize what - or who - may have stopped the hearing. Then he turns around toward Margaret, who's been chatting amiably with someone. Slowly, they walk out of the hearing room together.

What I like about this is how it's all character-driven; this is the type of development that can only happen to someone with a specific problem, and what happens when previous bad choices we barely remember come back to haunt us in odd ways that we never could have seen coming.

Something for Thursday

A brief but lovely selection today: a bit of diegetic film music from Princess Mononoke. "Diegetic" film music is music that is actually a part of the narrative, or part of the world which the characters inhabit...by way of example, the Cantina Band in Star Wars: A New Hope is diegetic music, because it's actually being heard by the characters as it's played. The John Williams score is non-diegetic.

Anyway, this is the work song sung by the women of Lady Eboshi's Iron Town as they work the bellows for the forges. It's short but beautiful, not unlike just about all of this wonderful film's score by Joe Hisaishi. Here is the "Tatara Women's Work Song".

A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

When you were a kid, there was a store that you hated going to, and yet, there you were, every week or two, getting dragged to that store by your parents. It was absolute torture and to this day you shudder when you think of that store and the awful, boring times you spent there. (And yet...maybe on some weird nostalgic level, you miss that store a little.)

What store are we talking about?

"We don't have time to do one thing at a time!"

The New Yorker's Emily Nussbaum reviews the new Aaron Sorkin show, The Newsroom. Surprise, surprise:

“I’m affable!” Will McAvoy yells in the pilot of “The Newsroom,” Aaron Sorkin’s new HBO series. McAvoy (played by Jeff Daniels) is an irascible anchor whose brand is likability, and it’s a good line, delivered well. It is also a rare moment of self-mockery—and one of the last sequences I was on board for in the series. In “The Newsroom,” clever people take turns admiring one another. They sing arias of facts. They aim to remake television news: “This is a new show, and there are new rules,” a maverick executive producer announces, several times, in several ways. Their outrage is so inflamed that it amounts to a form of moral eczema—only it makes the viewer itch.

This is not to say that “The Newsroom” doesn’t score points now and then, if you share its politics. It starts effectively enough, with an homage to “Network” ’s galvanizing “I’m mad as hell” rant, as McAvoy, a blandly uncontroversial cable big shot whom everyone tauntingly calls Leno, is trapped on a journalism-school panel. When the moderator needles him into answering a question about why America is the greatest country on earth, he goes volcanic, ticking off the ways in which America is no such thing, then closing with a statement of hope, about the way things used to be. This speech goes viral, and his boss (Sam Waterston) and his producer, MacKenzie McHale (Emily Mortimer), who’s also his ex-girlfriend, encourage him to create a purer news program, purged of any obsession with ratings and buzz.

Wow, did I call it or what. I hate to go on and on about how Sorkin annoys me, but dammit, I used to be a huge fan of his. But he hasn't had a single new idea in more than a decade, as far as I can tell. And worse, he hasn't found any new ways to write about the same old ideas. Reading the review pretty much confirms what I've been thinking about Sorkin for years. A Network-style live rant? Sorkin's never done that before! (Except in the first five minutes of Studio 60.) Someone saying that what they are doing is totally new and they're gonna rewrite the rulebook? Sorkin's never done that before! (Except in The American President and in The West Wing.)

I recently watched the first three or four episodes of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip again (they're on YouTube), and my God, that show is even worse now than I remember it being during the first airing. I really think that Aaron Sorkin is utterly convinced of his own genius, and that people will line up to hear the same lines and same tropes in the mouths of new actors playing out the same stories. Maybe they will...but yeesh, why?!

BTW, here are a couple of scenes from The West Wing, during the seasons after Sorkin left. The show was particularly uneven in the fifth season, although it did hit some real high points (the episode detailing the nomination of two Supreme Court justices was fantastic).

Here is Bartlet sitting down for some late-night ice cream with the Republican nominee for President, Senator Arnold Vinick, after rumors of Vinick's possible atheism have come to light:



Here's a beautiful scene between Toby Ziegler and CJ Cregg, from the second-to-last episode ever. Toby has been fired from the White House and is on his way to prison in a few days for leaking classified information to the press; CJ is finishing up her service in the Bartlet White House (as Chief of Staff after more than four years as press secretary), and she is wondering what to do next with her life: she has job offers from an extremely wealthy philanthropist and from Matthew Santos, the incoming President-elect.



And finally, here's a good scene between Matt Santos, the Democratic nominee, and his running mate, Leo McGarry. These two men don't know each other well, having been thrust together by Santos's surprise winning of the nomination at a brokered convention and subsequent hasty selection of Leo as his VP. Here they are still feeling each other out...and start to come together as a team.



Post-Sorkin West Wing took a bit of time to find its voice again, but when it did, it was often just as good as ever.

Sentential Links

Linkage, like The Dude, abides....

:: Both books felt like a love letter to Kabul, Afghanistan and to the Afghan people to me and they made the country feel like a place that deserves such a letter. (I've never read either one of these books. Maybe I should.)

:: You’re not entitled to absolve yourself of blame for the entitlement mentality you so despise.

:: Me: [long angry rant of frustration] (BAHHH HAHAHAHAHA! Go forth, Interweb, and Bastianich someone today! [The humor of this will be completely lost on people who don't watch Master Chef.)

:: Last week, I met Droner for coffee at a local Starbucks. (I love her dating stories.)

:: The Law is a blunt instrument. It's not a scalpel. It's a club. If there is something you consider indefensible, and there is something you consider defensible, and the same laws can take them both out, you are going to find yourself defending the indefensible.

:: As always, best of luck. Someone has to break through. Why not you?

:: Therefore, any writer who takes into account the potential reactions of his audience – which is to say any writer worth a damn – should strongly consider not just whether depicting a rape will create reaction but if that reaction merits the inclusion in the first place. If you don’t address that issue, then what’s the point of talking about rape in fiction in the first place? (Interesting discussion in response to a writer who opined that rape is 'a f***ing awesome plot element', which seems to me a pretty cavalier attitude toward the depiction of one of the most traumatic of all crimes.)

More next week!

Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: No matter how well-versed I am in Star Trek lore, there's always something new to learn...like a really creepy thing that almost happened in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. My God, I'm glad they didn't do this in the movie.

:: Here's a handy reading flowchart. I think. I don't use flowcharts to select my reading material, I just kind of wander amongst shelves.

:: "At the bottom of the biggest underwater cave in the world, diving deeper than almost anyone had ever gone, Dave Shaw found the body of a young man who had disappeared ten years earlier. What happened after Shaw promised to go back is nearly unbelievable—unless you believe in ghosts." This is a pretty harrowing and tragic (and rather graphic) story. It's also highly compelling reading.

More next week.

Film Quote Friday (Saturday edition)

Well, it didn't take long for me to miss a day on this feature, did it? Oops! Thursday was largely taken up by a reinstallation of Windows on the Main Library Computer here at Casa Jaquandor, and Friday was one of those up-at-oh-dark-thirty early-starts-at-work days, followed by a longer than usual nap and generally letting my brain just slosh around in my brain pan for the rest of the night. Not great for blogging. Anyway, this is one of my favorite movies:

I remember when this came out, the advertising was all about Jack Nicholson's Melvin Udall, who was billed as Archie Bunker with the offensiveness dialed up to eleven, and the film itself billed as a typical "grumpy mean guy learns to love" tale or something of that nature. And yes, it is that, but the movie is a lot more intelligent and insightful about it than that basic plot description makes it sound. It's not just about Melvin and his goofy infatuation with his server (Carol Connelly, played by Helen Hunt) at the restaurant on which he has chosen to inflict his aggressive OCD tendencies, and very early on the film affords us glimpses into Melvin that suggest that there's a lot more than just jerkiness going on under his skin -- such as the look on his face when he slips up and says something to Carol that's way over the line, and he realizes it's way over the line before she tells him point-blank how over the line it was.

Anyway, As Good As It Gets is chock-full of quotable dialog, some of which has become fairly well-known over the years. I'm sure the movie will show up again on this feature, but for now, here's a wonderful scene that gets overlooked. What's happening here is that Melvin has been strong-armed into taking his gay artist neighbor, Simon, to Baltimore so Simon can beg his estranged parents for money. Sensing an opportunity, Melvin then convinces Carol to go along, which she does, because she's desperate for a chance to see something other than the restaurant where she works, the apartment where she lives, and the hospital where she takes her sickly son. The problem, for Melvin, is that Carol and Simon quickly form a friendly connection that Melvin sees as some kind of threatening: not a romantic rivalry, per se, but a competition for time with Carol that he feels is rightly his. And Melvin can't help himself but inject some of his own insight, which the film treats brilliantly as both annoying and partly true.

I think that's a big reason why this movie is so good: Melvin can be annoying and offensive and downright full of shit, but there are times when it's clear that he's also right, at least in part. This is one of them.

EXT. ROAD - DAY

 A short time later. Carol is now driving.

      CAROL
      I'm sure, Simon, they did 
      something real off for you to feel 
      this way... But when it comes to 
      your partners -- or your kid -- 
      things will always be off for you 
      unless you set it straight. Maybe 
      this thing happened to you just to 
      give you that chance.

      MELVIN
      Nonsense!

      CAROL
      Anybody here who's interested in 
      what Melvin has to say raise their 
      hands.

 Simon does not raise his hand. Simon and Carol have thus 
 declared their majority.

      SIMON
      Do you want to know what happened 
      with my parents?

      CAROL
      Yes. I really would.

      SIMON
      Well... 

      CAROL
      No, let me pull over so I can pay 
      full attention.

 Car pulling over toward parking spot.

 EXT. HIGHWAY - CURBSIDE - CONVERTIBLE - DAY

 She takes the car curbside and parks.

      CAROL
      Now go ahead.

 Simon looks back at Melvin as does Carol. He looks 
 innocent. Several beats -- Melvin almost says something 
 -- a hidden hand gesture from Carol stops him. Finally.

      SIMON
      Well, I always painted. Always. 
      And my mother always encouraged 
      it. She was sort of fabulous 
      about it actually... and she used 
      to... I was too young to think 
      there was anything at all wrong 
      with it... and she was very 
      natural. She used to pose nude 
      for me... and I thought or assumed 
      my father was aware of it.

      MELVIN
      This stuff is pointless.

      CAROL
      Hey -- you let him... 

      MELVIN
      You like sad stories -- you want 
      mine.

      CARL
      Stop. Go ahead, Simon. Really. 
      Please. Don't let him stop you. Ignore him.

      SIMON
      Okay. Well, one day my father 
      came in on one of those painting 
      sessions when I was nine -- and he 
      just started screaming at her -- 
      at us -- at evil. And... 

      MELVIN
       (very quickly)
  ... my father didn't leave his 
  room for 11 years -- he hit my 
  hand with a yardstick if I made a 
  mistake on the piano.

      CAROL
      Go ahead, Simon. Your father 
      walked in on you and was yelling 
      and... really, come on.

      SIMON
      I was trying to defend my mother 
      and make peace, in the lamest way. 
      I said, "she's not naked -- it's 
      art." And then he started hitting 
      me. And he beat me unconscious. 
      After that he talked to me less 
      and less -- he knew before I left 
      for college, my dad came into my 
      room. He held out his hand. It 
      was filled with money. A big wad 
      of sweaty money.
       (gathers himself)
      And he said to me, "I don't want 
      you to ever come back." I grabbed 
      him and I hugged him... He turns 
      and walked out.

 Carol, whose life has been rugged but basic, feels as 
 strange as she does moved by Simon's trauma which is so 
 much more complicated than her meat and potatoes 
 troubles. She looks out her window -- then kisses her 
 fingers and touches them to Simon's cheek. A nice, 
 understated, gesture of friendship.

      CAROL
      Well, you know -- I still stay 
      what I said. You've got to get 
      past it all when it comes to your 
      parents. We all have these horror 
      stories to get over.

 Melvin shifts INTO the FRAME.

      MELVIN
      That's not true. Some of us have 
      great stories... pretty stories 
      that take place at lakes with 
      boats and friends and noodle 
      salad. Just not anybody in this 
      car. But lots of people -- that's 
      their story -- good times and 
      noodle salad... and that's what 
      makes it hard. Not that you had 
      it bad but being that pissed that 
      so many had it good.

      CAROL
      No.

      SIMON
      Not it at all, really.

      MELVIN
       (a veteran's irony)
      Not at all, huh?!... Let's go to 
      the hotel. And if you're lucky 
      tomorrow Dad will give you another 
      wad of sweaty money.

That metaphor cracks me up: "Good times, noodle salad". I just love the idea of a mind wired so that a primary image of someone living a life of relative happiness involves noodle salad.

Something for Thursday

It's Graduation Time all over America -- actually, it has been for a few weeks now, since colleges tend to graduate students in May and high schools send their charges out into the world with a piece of paper in June. And that means that the Graduation Tune is getting played a lot. Everybody knows it as "Pomp and Circumstance", but the whole thing is actually Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 in D, and there's a lot more going on in that march than just the famous "Bring on the graduates!" tune. Here's the entire thing, as played by the New York Philharmonic under the direction of Leonard Bernstein.



Incidentally, in his book Darwin's Dangerous Idea, Daniel C. Dennett suggests that the following would be, by its tune and character, an even more appropriate musical accompaniment for academic commencements, if not for the associations of its lyrics. It is, after all, titled "Behold the Lord High Executioner!"



I, of course, think that this ought to be used for all such occasions, but nobody ever asks me:



Congrats, grads! I hope the world's prospects improve for you, and soon.

A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

Name a chain restaurant you once loved but haven't been back in years, for whatever reason! (Doesn't have to be 'because they suck'...I used to go with my family to Burgerville USA all the time, but then we moved 2500 miles away from the nearest one, so that was that.)

Images from the Transit

The recent transit of Venus over the Sun yielded some amazing images. Here are some of them, from the Nasa Goddard Space Flight Center's Flickr stream (which is, incidentally, one of my favorite Flickr streams).













That last one is amazing...it's among the greatest space images I've ever seen.

After the transit, I tweeted to Neil DeGrasse Tyson that now I want to see images of an Earth transit, taken from Mars.

By the way, it's always helpful to keep in mind the sheer distances involved here. After putting in some values to this site, I find that to make things to scale, if we have a Venus that is 1 inch in diameter (well, 0.9909 inches), the Sun is a sphere nine and a half feet wide, and the two are .14 miles apart, or about 740 feet. Space is big, which is a large part of why these transits only come more than a century apart.

Twenty-two shades of Crap

I have zero intention of reading Fifty Shades of Grey, because...well, life's just too short, and I already read Twilight. But Kerry read it and reports. A sampler of her opinions on this book:

2) Her catch phrase, the thing she utters in all and any circumstance, is "Holy crap." For example, when she's at the climax, if you will, of an erotic moment with her dominating hero, she will scream "Holy crap." "Holy crap" is never a sexy thing to say.

3) The male character, in turn -- god-like, well-educated, nuanced sex fiend that he is -- often says things like, "You look mighty fine, Ms. Steele. Mighty fine." WHO SAYS THAT? It makes him sound like a cross between Pa Ingalls and the lumberjack on Brawny paper towels. Not sexy. Not one bit, even if you lived in the Pacific NW in the 1800s.

Of course, the whole point of reading these books seems to be to read about Teh Sex, and my recent experiences with George RR Martin convince me that my tolerance level for badly written sex is very, very low. So I don't think I'll be reading this book, or sequels, or whatever.

(Huh...maybe it's the title. Shades of Gray is the title to one of the most loathed episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, a crappy clip show that has them drilling holes in Riker's head.)

Ugh!)

Happy Birthday John Constable

One of my favorite painters, ever since high school, when I saw one of his paintings in my English Literature textbook, senior year.

Words o' wisdom

 (Swiped from Facebook)

Sentential Links

Links!

:: When all writing is 144 characters long, there won't be anymore books written in a generation or two - who would ever have the attention span left to read one?

:: Ray Bradbury made a transit as well. He moved from this world to the next -- the Undiscovered Country from whose bourn no traveller returns. Whatever there is in that country -- celestial figures with white robes and harps or a surfeit of nothingness -- I'm sure he will have no trouble speaking the language.

:: It’s telling that we read Bradbury for his short stories. They are stylish glimpses at possibilities, meant for contemplation. The most important thing about writers is how they exist in our memories. Having read Bradbury is like having seen a striking glimpse out of a car window and then being whisked away.

:: "Looking back over a lifetime, you see that love was the answer to everything," Ray said once, in an interview.

ASIDE: I haven't said anything about Ray Bradbury because, well, many others have said it better, and I give a small selection of them above. Bradbury is yet another of those writers whose work I have not read enough of but whose work I'm somewhat familiar with; in his case, it's mostly through his short fiction, which is invariably amazing, no matter what his subject matter at the time may be. Ray Bradbury lived long and he certainly prospered. If there are such things as souls, I hope his is among the stars!

Non-Bradbury links:

:: Here’s a simple rule: if you want to be a musical, you have to write original songs. (Well, let's be careful here. Many of the most beloved film musicals of all time don't have any original songs, as they are film adaptations of stage musicals. And two of the musicals most often cited among lists of greatest musicals ever, Singin' in the Rain and An American in Paris, almost exclusively feature recycled, existing songs. There are two original numbers in Singin', and none in American in Paris, which uses the songs of George Gershwin, who had been dead fourteen years when the film came out. The fact is, filmed musicals that recycle songs from earlier works have a very long pedigree.)

:: Batman has the Joker, G.I Joe has COBRA, Sheriff Roscue P. Coltran has the Duke boys and I have a guy that is the spitting image of Wilford Brimley at the county dump.

:: The truth is physical comedy is the most enduring. I LOVE LUCY will be funny 100 years from now. Last night's hilarious DAILY SHOW will not.

:: The next transit is due on December 10, 2117. I suppose there's always a chance that someone will develop a longevity serum in the next couple decades... (Nah. Cryogenics, man. That's the way to go.)

More next week!

Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: Ever wonder how the events of Pulp Fiction unfold in real time, as opposed to the film's nonlinear depiction of the story? Wonder no more...here's a timeline!

(via)

:: PopSpots is a site that figures out the exact locations that great events in popular culture took place, such as the location depicted in Edvard Munch's The Scream. The site is NYC-centric, but still fascinating.

:: PIXAR's rules of storytelling. A lot of good food for thought here, for those interested in the telling of tales. I will admit that i don't agree with item #7, which indicates that you need to figure out your ending first. I like the endings to arise as I go, and I rarely start a story with an ending in mind; when I do have an ending in mind, it's only the very basic idea of what happens at the end, as opposed to any detailed stuff. I prefer to let the characters end the story.

But then, I'm a guy with a bunch of unpublished manuscripts and rejection notes. They're a movie studio with a gazillion dollars and the good will of the entire planet. Hmmmmm...nah, I'm gonna be pigheaded and keep doing it my way! Take that, PIXAR!

More next week!

Film Quote Friday

Yup, it's baseball! Specifically, my favorite baseball movie of all time, Bull Durham. I won't wax totally poetic about the movie, having done that before, but...I've got baseball on the brain. Why?

Well, I have a friend at work whose favorite hobby is collecting sports autographs. And while he does buy signed items from memorabilia stores and online, he does most of the legwork himself: he goes to the ballpark and the arena and the stadium and various other places and gets stuff signed himself. He's got a ton of great stories about the hobby and the thrill of the autograph chase, such as a time he and some friends went into a hotel bar, one at a time, to get Jim Plunkett, the onetime Raiders quarterback (and two-time Super Bowl MVP), to sign. The punchline that night was the last guy, who went up to him with a photo of a Raiders quarterback wearing number 16...only to have Plunkett tell him, "That's not me." He'd approached Plunkett with a photo of George Blanda.

Anyway, this weekend my friend has a shot at getting the autograph of the oldest active athlete in his collection: baseball pitcher Jamie Moyer. Moyer is 49 years old, and after starting the season with the Rockies and getting cut, signed a minor-league deal with the Orioles this week. They sent him to AAA Norfolk, who play this weekend at Buffalo against our Bisons. Moyer is scheduled to pitch tomorrow.

Moyer was born with JFK was President, less than a year after my parents were married. He made his Major League debut on June 16, 1986, when Ronald Reagan was President. The top movie at the box office the week of Moyer's debut was Back to School, starring Rodney Dangerfield. And even though Moyer made his MLB debut in 1986, he would not win his first World Series ring until 2008, when he pitched with the Phillies.

What does this have to do with Bull Durham? Well, there's something Crash Davis-esque in Moyer's refusal to retire before he's damned good and ready. As Annie Savoy says in the film after Crash gets cut by the Durham Bulls and travels to the next town down the road to try to catch on with another team in a slightly smaller, slightly crappier ballpark, "You have to respect a ballplayer whose just trying to finish the season."

Of course, Jamie Moyer is something of the opposite of Crash Davis; if Crash is the guy who keeps playing and playing and playing and yet he can't quite crack the Majors, Moyer's the guy who keeps playing and playing and playing and the Majors can't get rid of him. Moyer's never been a great pitcher, but he's been solid enough for long enough, and a baseball rotation isn't worth anything if it doesn't have a solid guy going up there every fifth day so the staff ace's arm doesn't fall off.

Anyway, here's a great scene from Bull Durham. Tough to pick one, as the movie has nothing but great scenes.

CRASH COMING OUT OF THE SHOWER -- Toweling off, watching the 
               innocent, vulgar fun. He sits down in front of his locker, 
               drying his hair, when the CLUBHOUSE BOY approaches:

                                     CLUBHOUSE BOY
                         Hey, Crash -- Skip wants to see ya.

               CRASH RISES AND HEADS FOR SKIP'S CUBICLE -- Wearing only a 
               towel and his shower shoes.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               INSIDE SKIP'S OFFICE -- Skip and Larry sit in postgame 
               routine, checking charts, smoking, half dressed.

               CRASH ENTERS as he's still drying off.

                                     CRASH
                         Yeah, Skip, you wanted to see me?

                                     SKIP
                         Crash, shut the door.

               And it hits him. Crash looks at Skip, who looks down at the 
               floor, unwilling to face Crash who then looks at Larry, who 
               also looks away nervously.

               CRASH SHUTS THE DOOR -- The party rages beyond.

                                     SKIP
                              (heartfelt)
                         This is the toughest job a manager 
                         has...

               CLOSE ON CRASH -- He's been in the game too long to be 
               surprised; nonetheless, he's surprised. And hurt. His stoicism 
               is professional.

                                     SKIP
                         The organization wants to make a 
                         change... now that Nuke's gone they 
                         wanta bring up some young catcher...

                                     LARRY
                         Some kid hittin' .300 in Lynchburg... 
                         probably a bust.

                                     SKIP
                         I put in a word for you with the 
                         organization -- told 'em I thought 
                         you'd make a fine minor league manager 
                         someday... Might be an opening at 
                         Salem next year --

               EXTREME CLOSE UP ON CRASH -- His eyes are moist.

                                     SKIP
                         Helluva year, Crash -- you know how 
                         it is.

               Silence.

               Crash stands there nearly nude. He just nods slightly. Without 
               rancor or bitterness, he turns and re-enters the raucous 
               locker room.

Something for Thursday

Before the series finale episode of House MD aired, FOX played promos for the show, using this song that I'd never heard before, by a group I'd never heard of before. This is one of those spiritually hypnotic songs that, when well done, I tend to find absolutely and utterly captivating. It's hymn-like in its musical approach, and since those ads started airing, I can't get enough of this song...so much so that I'm almost afraid to sample anything else by this band. I kind of want this song to exist all by itself, in some ethereal realm. Here's Drew Holcomb and The Neighbors, with "Live Forever".

From the Books: "Coming of Age in the Milky Way"

Last night saw a rare, and spectacular, astronomical event: the transit of Venus across the Sun. There were many amazing pictures from this event, and Phil Plait provided some terrific coverage. The event reminded me, specifically, of a passage from a favorite book of mine, and one which I've been planning to dig out for a re-read soon: Coming of Age in the Milky Way by Timothy Ferris.

This book constitutes a one-volume history of the human species's discovery of its own roots in, and relation to, the Universe. In that respect, the book covers quite a bit of the same ground as Carl Sagan's Cosmos, although Ferris's focus is more on a narrative approach than Sagan's more free-form exploration of the Cosmos. Still, Coming of Age in the Milky Way contains some of the finest science writing I've read, and I strongly recommend it.

In the following selection, Ferris relates the mobilization of the scientific world in the 1700s to use that era's coming transit of Venus as a means of measuring the distances between the planets, further establishing the size of what was then thought to be the entire Universe. The transits had been predicted by Edmund Halley nearly a century before, and he had admonished his scientific descendants to take advantage of the opportunity, because by recording the timing of the transits as they unfolded from different parts of the world, a triangulation could be employed to survey the size of our sky.

What's most amazing to me about this is the sheer hardship endured in the name of scientific discovery, hardship that we tend to overlook in the onward march of discovery today, when the transits can be observed and recorded by spacecraft orbiting our world and beaming their data back to us so that I, sitting at my desk, can look at the images on my laptop. I can see the transit of Venus without getting up from my desk, except to get a bottle of water. These guys? Read on to see what they had to put up with to see a Venusian transit....

As for Venus, its transit on December 6-7, 1631, was visible only from the New World and appears to have been viewed by not a single human being, and the transit of November 24, 1639, was observed by two people, the English astronomer and clergyman Jeremiah Horrocks and his friend William Crabtree. Alarmingly for Horrocks, who was a clergyman, the transit occurred on a Sunday, when he was obliged to preach two sermons. He rushed home from church, peered through his telescope at 3:15 pm, and saw Venus, "the object of my most sanguine wishes...just wholly centered on the Sun's disk." Venus, like Mercury, looked smaller than had been predicted – Kepler thought Venus would cover one quarter of the sun, an enormous overestimate – and so to behold its apparent tiny size helped improve human appreciation of interplanetary distances. But Horrocks had no way to measure the apparent diameter of the disk precisely, and, since he was but one observer, he could not have triangulated Venus even if he had possessed an accurate clock. Crabtree, for his part, was so overwhelmed by the sight of an entire world dwarfed by the Sun that he made no coherent notes at all, prompting Horrocks to protest that "we astronomers have a certain...disposition [to be] distractedly delighted with light and trifling circumstances."

But the world had changed by the time the transits of Venus of 1761 and 1769 came due. Astronomy had become an organized science, conducted by professionals, sponsored by scientific societies, and supported by government funds. Now at last, it was felt, science had the resources to sound the dimensions of the solar system. Halley's implorations were remembered, and the transits were scrutinized by scores of observers equipped with micrometers, accurate clocks, and brass telescopes mounted on hardwood tripods at sites as far away as Siberia, South Africa, Mexico, and the South Pacific.

And, to an extent, the transit observers succeeded, though not without suffering some sufficient tribulations to remind them that while the motions of the planets may be sublime the affairs of this world are marbled with chaos. The astronomer Charles Mason and the surveyor Jeremiah Dixon, later of the Mason-Dixon Line, were attacked by a French frigate while making their way to Africa (this was during the Seven Years' War) with a loss of eleven dead and thirty-seven wounded; they reached Cape Town under military escort and observed the 1761 transit, only to find that they differed by many seconds in their estimate of the time when Venus had entered and left the disk of the sun. William Wales timed the transit from Hudson Bay, Canada, after enduring mosquitoes, horseflies, and a winter sufficiently severe that, as he noted with empirical exactitude, a half-pint of brandy left unattended iced over in only five minutes. Jean-Baptiste Chappe d'Auteroche, dispatched by the French academy into the depths of Russia, raced across the frozen Volga and through Siberian forests in horse-drawn sleds, arrived at Tobolsk six days prior to the transit, posted guards to repel angry mobs who blamed him for causing spring floods by interfering with the sun, and managed to observe the transit. He died eight years later in Baja California after timing the 1769 transit, of an epidemic that spared but one member of his party, who dutifully returned his data to Paris. Alexandra-Gui Pingre was rained out for most of the transit in Madagascar, lost his ship to the British and was returned to Lisbon under British guns; a humanist as well as a scientist, he took comfort in the ship's rations of spirits: "Liquor," he wrote, "gives us the necessary strength for determining the distance of...the sun."

Least fortunate of all was Guillaume le Gentil, who sailed from France on March 26, 1760, planning to observe the transit the following year from the east coast of India. Monsoons blew his ship off course, and transit day found him becalmed in the middle of the Indian Ocean, unable to make any useful observations. Determined to redeem the expedition by observing the second transit, Le Gentil booked passage to India, built an observatory atop an obsolete powder magazine in Pondicherry, and waited. The sky remained marvelously clear throughout May, only to cloud over on June 4, the morning of the transit, then clear again as soon as the transit was over.

[excerpt of Le Gentil's journal excised]

Worse lay ahead. Stricken with dysentery, Le Gentil remained in India for another nine months, bedridden. He then booked passage home aboard a Spanish warship that was demasted in a hurricane off the Cape of Good Hope and blown off course north of the Azores before finally limping into port at Cadiz. Le Gentil crossed the Pyrenees and at last set foot on French soil, after eleven years, six months, and thirteen days of absence. Upon his return to Paris he learned that he had been declared dead, his estate looted, and its remains divided up among his heirs and creditors. He renounced astronomy, married, and retired to write his memoirs. Cassini, eulogizing Le Gentil, praised his character but allowed that "in his sea voyages he had contracted a little unsociability and brusqueness.

(top image via)

A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

Everybody has one household chore they genuinely don't mind doing. What's yours?

Delurk!

Just a reminder that I'm doing Delurking Week here on Byzantium's Shores, so go ahead and delurk, if you please, and leave a comment! Anonymous comments are open (but I'll be closing them again on Friday evening or Saturday morning, because holy crap, the comments spambots are agressively trying to establish a beachhead here now that I'm temporarily opening the anonymous stuff).

Delurk, folks! Do it for the children! Do it for America!

UPDATE: Sorry, folks, but relentless spambots (I've deleted at least twenty spambot attempts today) and one irritating troll compel me to close anonymous comments early. Deleting spam is not how I want to spend my day. Comments from registered users are still welcome, though!

True Geek Confessions

A while back, Jason Bennion and Michael May did a thing called "True Geek Confessions", which poses this query:

What is something you absolutely hate or love or just don't get, or maybe it's something you have never even seen or read. What is your deepest, darkest geek confession?

They both break this down as follows: Something you hate that everyone else loves; Something you love that everyone else hates; Something you don't get that everyone else adores; and Something that everybody has seen or heard or read that you haven't. So, here are my replies for each category:

Something I hate that everybody else loves. There's a lot of such stuff, I suppose. LOST, for one. I tried, and I just couldn't get there. I didn't like any of the characters, and after watching five or six episodes, I wasn't sufficiently hooked to stick around for what I deemed to be a likely-unsatisfying wrap-up. I could also cite Twilight, but that's got more than enough detractors that I don't think it properly falls into "everybody else loves it" territory.

For years, I would have listed The Beatles here. Thankfully, I got better.

Something I love that everybody else hates. Well, that's easy: the Star Wars prequel trilogy. Yes, it's imperfect, at times, deeply so. But I've never understood the vicious loathing of those films, and I really hate that they have become geek shorthand for "something which well and truly blows".

Also? The Pirates of the Caribbean movies that came after the first one. Maybe they're not quite in "everybody hates them" territory, but I like them all a whole lot, even if numbers two and three could have used one more trip through the script editing stage and, frankly, a more charismatic actor cast as the main villain (not Bill Nighy – he's awesome! -- the other guy).

I don't love Spider-man 3 -- it's really a mess – but I don't hate it as much as everybody else does, either. Ditto Green Lantern.

Something I don't get that everyone else seems to: Wow, I can list a whole ton of stuff here! A few examples:

Batman. I like Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, but in general, the character doesn't do a whole lot for me. I refuse to believe that he would last more than a few minutes in a fight with Superman, for example.

Quite a few music acts: The Beastie Boys, Nirvana, virtually the entire grunge or alt-rock era. I remember how popular this stuff was, and none of it made so much as a dent on me.

Teevee shows: The Sopranos, Mad Men, The Wire. I read descriptions of these and have zero desire to explore them, no matter how lauded they are.

Vince Vaughn. I don't really get him. I liked him in Anchorman, but that's a small role. I don't buy his ability to carry a movie (and I just plain didn't think Wedding Crashers was any good).

And, frankly, I'm wondering if I shouldn't go ahead and list George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire here. I don't think I have a failure to 'get' it, but I sure don't think it's anywhere near as good as everybody else.

Something that you would think I'm familiar with and yet am not: There's a lot of such stuff I could list here, mainly because I tend to be really scattershot with my approach to pop culture, rarely troubling to explore what's popular at the time it's popular. But there is some stuff that's been highly regarded for sufficiently long that you'd think I would have explored it by now. Examples:

The Paul Simon album Graceland (which Roger just blogged about). I have heard nothing but praise for this album and citations of its enormous influence on music since its release...and yet I have never heard it.

Every Steven Spielberg movie since Saving Private Ryan. This, frankly, shocks me to consider it. I need to get off my arse on these.

Any Kevin Smith film after Clerks. What the heck is wrong with me?!

Teevee shows: Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Farscape; Doctor Who; and so on. I'm working on it, folks. I'm already watching the Battlestar Galactica reboot show (and loving it, but that's another blog post).

I've only read one book in the Wheel of Time series and didn't think it was awful, but not good enough to keep reading that series. I've never read anything by China Mieville, and Neil Gaiman's Sandman is pretty much a staple on my "Wow, I gotta read that someday" list.

So, what are your True Geek Confessions?

Unlurkify, you lurking lurkifiers!

I haven't done this in a while, so I'm declaring this to be Delurking Week here at Byzantium's Shores. So, if you're a lurker, drop a comment! From now until Friday, I will enable anonymous comments. (Or, at least, I'll try to do so, if I can navigate the new Blogger's comments settings correctly. That's an adventure in itself...just ditching Blogger's new, and awful, CAPTCHAs was a job and a half.)

So, reveal yourselves, lurkers! Say something, even if it's just to tell me what a pea-brain I am. I can take it. I think.

Charting the Progress

Well, May wasn't a spectacular month for writing, in terms of actually generating word count. After finishing the first draft of Princesses In SPACE! (not the actual title) in April, I moved on to a historical fantasy notion that's been knocking about my head for a while. The book -- The Adventures of Lighthouse Boy (not the actual title) -- is intended to be something of a rollicking swashbuckler. I'm looking for a Dumas-type tale, with secret identities and allegiances, old enmities, and swords and pistols. And a lighthouse. That's the plan, anyway.

However, in May, I actually produced word count on less than ten days. That's bad. No way to sugar-coat that; just downright bad. The rule, "Never a day without lines"? Yeah. I bit it hard on that one.

Not that it was an entire waste. I spent much of the first half of the month doing stuff like this:



That's the (unfinished) map of my fantasy world in which all this rollicking swashbucklery is supposed to take place. I went through, I think, four drafts of this map before I got it somewhat 'right'; I had to move towns around and redraw coastlines and add geographic features and whatnot. This is part of the job that I don't much care for; my approach tends to be to make up details when I need a detail to be made up, and then add it to the canon afterwards. But this approach wasn't entirely working; I had to at least get some kind of detail going from which to work. So I got that done.

So, what now? Continue writing Lighthouse Boy (not the actual title), and then, in mid-July, start working my way through a second draft of Princesses In SPACE! (not the actual title). And who knows? Maybe by the end of the year I'll have an actual title for both these stories!

Sentential Links

Links! But first, apparently Kristen Stewart blinks!



Hokey-dokey then....

:: It's not that I hate the others; not even the prequels. They're fine for what they are. It's just that as the Star Wars universe expands, the impact of that first film diminishes. I don't love them like I love that first movie. In fact, I've grown to think of them as non-canonical. I wish I'd known I had that option when I was 13 and rebelling against the idea that Darth Vader is Luke's dad. I still think that's a bogus story development. (Interesting take! Personally, Vader being Luke's father is my favorite story development in the entire saga.)

:: This was the first time a private company did what has previously been the sole province of national governments: they designed, built, and successfully demonstrated both a booster rocket and a functioning, useful spacecraft. Yes, NASA provided some seed money and the parameters to follow, but SpaceX, and in particular the company's founder Elon Musk, essentially did this on their own. And while there are several other private companies aiming for the same goal, SpaceX got there first. A plucky little company comprising fewer than 2,000 employees, mostly enthusiastic young people from what I can see, has brought us into the age of commercial space travel. It's a great story. (It is a great story, and one I'm glad to see unfolding. I do hope for some caution against reading this development as another Grand Triumph of the Market Where Government Failed, because without a government to do the blunt-force to get there first, the market never would have gone there at all. Still, it's time for governments to get out of Low-Earth Orbit and start moving out farther, and let the Market follow as it will.)

:: There are what? 7 billion people in the world now? Statistically speaking, there has to be at least one person in the world who hates puppies, Harry Potter, chocolate, AND bacon. *shudders* (This person must be found. And eliminated. The existence of such a person threatens everything that is good about the human species! New blog to me, btw...by Beth Revis, author of a SF book for teens called Across the Universe, which I just started reading. The first 40 pages are pretty good...but I'm keenly interested in the market for which this book is written, because it just might be the target market for Princesses In SPACE!!! (not the actual title).)

:: Ever wondered how big the fictional continents of Westeros and Essos are compared to the real-life USA and UK? (I was actually planning to figure this out for myself, given that in A Dance with Dragons, GRRM provides a specific 300-mile distance between two points on the Westeros map, but now I see I don't have to. Huzzah! Basically, while Westeros is significantly skinnier than the continental USA, a journey from the Wall to the southern coast of Dorne would be roughly equivalent to going from San Francisco to Boston.)

:: There’s no magic curtain you get to hide behind on the Internet, people. Think twice about just how public you are if you don’t want to embarrass yourself. And when you do, hey, you have to do what we all did in high school and we embarrassed ourselves: live with it.

:: Instead, as we’ve seen so often before, we recognize that there seem to be no boundaries as to what people seem to have been given permission online. (These last two cover similar ground. I'll be interested to see what Presidential campaigns are like in, say, fifteen or twenty years, so that candidates have to answer for their blogs and whatnot. It'll be interesting to see some person who ran a rabid war-blog in 2003 running for office.)

:: So I’m giving us credit for helping out Santana by not having been there. (Heh. Finally getting that first no-hitter...maybe I just don't get it because I'm a Pirates fan and they've got a few no-hitters, but it strikes me as odd that such an event could be as big a monkey on the back of a franchise as the commentary has indicated since Johan Santana threw the first no-hitter in Mets history the other night. I mean, a no-hitter is awesome and all, but...well, would you trade a World Series win for a no-hitter in some regular season? I sure wouldn't. The Mets have two World Series wins to their credit. Was a no-hitter that big a thing? Or was it just that it became a big thing once the game reached, say, the seventh inning and Mets fans all over realized what might be happening?)

More next week!

"Ah, speaking of crusty New England relics!"

Actress Kathryn Joosten has died, which is a sad thing. She was one of those people who can show up in a teevee show or movie and make me smile immediately, with the thought, "Hey, something nifty is about to be said!" And that's because she was, in turn, one of those actors/actresses who just seemed to wind up with the best lines. She might only appear in one scene and get two or three lines, but damned if they weren't often the best lines.

Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: OK, this thing is already viral, so you've almost certainly seen it. But if you haven't, witness one of the finer acts of marriage proposing in a long time.




It's thirty-one years since I last saw Portland, OR, but wow, do I still miss it.

(My favorite thing about this? The punning of 'dancing juice' and 'dancing Jews'.)

:: This photo (stolen from Tumblr) confirms, on several levels, that the Golden Age of Science Fiction is, in fact, 12.

::  Well, I have a new contender for Worst Thing I Have Ever Seen. There was a disturbing black-comedy book some years ago called 101 Uses For a Dead Cat, which was a set of cartoons depicting...exactly that. I have no idea if this (video not in English, but it doesn't matter) was one of the 101 uses. Nor do I wish to know. I just...you know what, on this one, my descriptive powers are utterly defied. The gob, she is smacked!

More next week. Maybe. That last one has me rethinking this whole enterprise.

Film Quote Friday

In honor of Morgan Freeman, who turns 75 today, here's a bit from my favorite thing he's done. (Which is probably everybody's favorite thing he's done, but...)

Here's the first scene where Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) starts to bend prison life to his will, manipulating prison guard Vernon Hadley (Clancy Brown), with Red Redding (Freeman) narrating. (Via.)

                  HADLEY 
  ...so this shithead lawyer calls 
  long distance from Texas, and he 
  says, Byron Hadley? I say, yeah. He 
  says, sorry to inform you, but your 
  brother just died. 

    YOUNGBLOOD 
  Damn, Byron. Sorry to hear that. 

    HADLEY 
  I ain't. He was an asshole. Run off 
  years ago, family ain't heard of him 
  since. Figured him for dead anyway. 
  So this lawyer prick says, your 
  brother died a rich man. Oil wells 
  and shit, close to a million bucks. 
  Jesus, it's frigging incredible how 
  lucky some assholes can get. 

    TROUT 
  A million bucks? Jeez-Louise! You 
  get any of that? 

    HADLEY 
  Thirty five thousand. That's what 
  he left me. 

    TROUT 
  Dollars? Holy shit, that's great! 
  Like winnin' a lottery... 
   (off Hadley's shitty look) 
  ...ain't it? 

    HADLEY 
  Dumbshit. What do you figger the 
  government's gonna do to me? Take a 
  big wet bite out of my ass, is what. 

    TROUT 
  Oh. Hadn't thought of that. 

    HADLEY 
  Maybe leave me enough to buy a new 
  car with. Then what happens? You 
  pay tax on the car. Repairs and 
  maintenance. Goddamn kids pesterin' 
  you to take 'em for a ride... 

    MERT 
  And drive it, if they're old enough. 

    HADLEY 
  That's right, wanting to drive it, 
  wanting to learn on it, f'Chrissake! 
  Then at the end of the year, if you 
  figured the tax wrong, they make 
  you pay out of your own pocket. 
  Uncle Sam puts his hand in your 
  shirt and squeezes your tit till 
  it's purple. Always get the short 
  end. That's a fact. 
   (spits over the side) 
  Some brother. Shit. 

 The prisoners keep spreading tar, eyes on their work. 

    HEYWOOD 
  Poor Byron. What terrible fuckin' 
  luck. Imagine inheriting thirty 
  five thousand dollars. 

    RED 
  Crying shame. Some folks got it 
  awful bad. 

 Red glances over -- and is shocked to see Andy standing up,
 listening to the guards talk. 

    RED 
  Hey, you nuts? Keep your eyes on 
  your pail! 

 Andy tosses his Padd in the bucket and strolls toward Hadley.

    RED 
  Andy! Come back! Shit! 

    SNOOZE 
  What's he doing? 

    FLOYD 
  Gettin' himself killed. 

    RED 
  God damn it... 

    HEYWOOD 
  Just keep spreadin' tar... 

 The guards stiffen at Andy's approach. Youngblood's hand goes
 to his holster. The tower guards CLICK-CLACK their rifle 
 bolts. Hadley turns, stupefied to find Andy there. 

    ANDY 
  Mr. Hadley. Do you trust your wife? 

    HADLEY 
  That's funny. You're gonna look 
  funnier suckin' my dick with no 
  fuckin' teeth. 

    ANDY 
  What I mean is, do you think she'd 
  go behind your back? Try to 
  hamstring you? 

    HADLEY 
  That's it! Step aside, Mert. This 
  fucker's havin' hisself an accident. 

 Hadley grabs Andy's collar and propels him violently toward
 the edge of the roof. The cons furiously keep spreading tar.

    HEYWOOD 
  Oh God, he's gonna do it, he's 
  gonna throw him off the roof... 

    SNOOZE 
  Oh shit, oh fuck, oh Jesus... 

    ANDY 
  Because if you do trust her, there's 
  no reason in the world you can't 
  keep every cent of that money. 

 Hadley abruptly jerks Andy to a stop right at the edge. In 
 fact, Andy's past the edge, beyond his balance, shoetips 
 scraping the roof. The only thing between him and an ugly drop
 to the concrete is Hadley's grip on the front of his shirt.

    HADLEY 
  You better start making sense. 

    ANDY 
  If you want to keep that money, all 
  of it, just give it to your wife. 
  See, the IRS allows you a one-time- 
  only gift to your spouse. It's good 
  up to sixty thousand dollars. 

    HADLEY 
  Naw, that ain't right! Tax free? 

    ANDY 
  Tax free. IRS can't touch one cent. 

 The cons are pausing work, stunned by this business discussion.

    HADLEY 
  You're the smart banker what shot 
  his wife. Why should I believe a 
  smart banker like you? So's I can 
  wind up in here with you? 

    ANDY 
  It's perfectly legal. Go ask the 
  IRS, they'll say the same thing. 
  Actually, I feel silly telling you 
  all this. I'm sure you would have 
  investigated the matter yourself. 

    HADLEY 
  Fuckin'-A. I don't need no smart 
  wife-killin' banker to show me where 
  the bear shit in the buckwheat. 

    ANDY 
  Of course not. But you will need 
  somebody to set up the tax-free 
  gift, and that'll cost you. A 
  lawyer, for example... 

    HADLEY 
  Ambulance-chaaing, highway-robbing 
  cocksuckers! 

    ANDY 
  ...or come to think of it, I 
  suppose I could set it up for you. 
  That would save you some money. 
  I'll write down the forms you need, 
  you can pick them up, and I'll 
  prepare them for your signature... 
  nearly free of charge. 
   (off Hadley's look) 
  I'd only ask three beers apiece for 
  my co-workers, if that seems fair. 

    TROUT 
   (guffawing) 
  Co-workers! Get him! That's rich, 
  ain't it? Co-workers... 

 Hadley freezes him with a look. Andy presses on: 

    ANDY 
  I think a nan working outdoors 
  feels more like a man if he can 
  have a bottle of suds. That's only 
  my opinion. 

 The convicts stand gaping, all pretense of work gone. They
 look like they've been pole-axed. Hadley shoots them a look.

    HADLEY 
  What are you jimmies starin' at? 
  Back to work, goddamn it! 

59 EXT -- LICENSE PLATE FACTORY -- DAY (1949) 59

 As before, an object is hauled up the side of the building by
 rope -- only this time, it's a cooler of beer and ice. 

    RED (V.O.) 
  And that's how it came to pass, 
  that on the second-to-last day of 
  the job, the convict crew that 
  tarred the plate factory roof in 
  the spring of '49... 

60 EXT -- ROOF -- SHORTLY LATER (1949) 60

 The cons are taking the sun and drinking beer. 

    RED (V.O.) 
  ...wound up sitting in a row at ten 
  o'clock in the morning, drinking icy 
  cold Black Label beer courtesy of 
  the hardest screw that ever walked 
  a turn at Shawshank State Prison. 

    HADLEY 
  Drink up, boys. While it's cold. 

    RED (V.O.) 
  The colossal prick even managed to 
  sound magnanimous. 

 Red knocks back another sip, enjoying the bitter cold on his
 tongue and the warm sun on face. 

    RED (V.O.) 
  We sat and drank with the sun on 
  our shoulders, and felt like free 
  men. We could'a been tarring the
 roof of one of our own houses. We 
 were the Lords of all Creation. 

 He glances over to Andy squatting apart from the others.

    RED (V.O.) 
  As for Andy, he spent that break 
  hunkered in the shade, a strange 
  little smile on his face, watching 
  us drink his beer. 

    HEYWOOD 
   (approaches with a beer) 
  Here's a cold one, Andy. 

    ANDY 
  No thanks. I gave up drinking. 

 Heywood drifts back to others, giving them a look. 

    RED (V.O.) 
  You could argue he'd done it to 
  curry favor with the guards. Or 
  maybe make a few friends among us 
  cons. Me, I think he did it just to 
  feel normal again...if only for a 
  short while.