Frosting - the Final Defense of the Dying

What's with The Hunger Games movie?

I find it interesting that the title of today's blog (or something very like it) made it from the book into the movie when so much was left out. Yes, I realize that any time you try to cram a novel into a two and a half hour movie, you must leave a lot out. But they left out crucial data; if you haven't read the book, you won't completely get it.

The Good

• They stuck to the plot! They really didn't change much.
• The cast was generally excellent.
• If you understand the basic premises, it's a powerful commentary on society, and on some tendencies in our government and media, almost as much so as the book (and even better in a few cases).
• The districts looked just as I imagined them. The capital was perfect.

The Bad

• They changed how Katniss got the pin and why she wore it. (Apparently this matters for the later books/movies.)
• They failed to emphasize a big part of the motivation to win (besides the obvious issue of personal survival, and for some, the glory), which was that the winner's district got a lot of extra food and other assistance the following year, whereas they normally just eked out an existence (Katniss and her family were on the edge of starvation when Peeta threw her those crusts, having burnt them on purpose to get to do so.
• They didn't really develop Katniss. The book is told in the first person, so you know her every thought. The movie is more third person, and they fail to explain why she does much of what she does. She's a very complex young lady, and the situation was as tough for her mentally and emotionally as physically.
• They just kind of glossed over the danger at the end for the champions, and how hard they had to work to turn things around, having infuriated the authorities with their defiance.

The Ugly

• What is with the constant "fat head" close up shots? Yuck.

Hope is Stronger Than Plugophobia

A plug should only go one way, and it should be obvious what that way is, even if you are nearly blind, trapped in a cave with no light, and the earwigs took a wrong turn and ate your eyeballs.

And yes, by this definition, most plugs fail. Headphone plugs don't. You can plug those in anywhere, under any conditions save those requiring gloves so thick you can't really feel anything or use your fingers' fine motor control. But lots of others fail, including AC power plugs. If you try to plug those in under adverse conditions, you could easily become a short circuit across the exposed prongs. Or worse, from the hot prong through your body to the rock you sat on.

But apart from safety considerations, some of the worst around are, in the words of Randy Kirchhof, "USB plugs. Specifically engineered to make sure that you try to put them in the wrong way, on the first time, every time." I had to disagree, because I'm pretty sure I get it right at first at least 1% of the time. Then again, they may do that just to get my hopes up so they can mock me more.

Traffic Stop

A very buff, not quite middle aged man sauntered along, peering intently at the merchandise. Something about the way he carried himself kept most sellers at bay, but the boldest sang praises about their women and tossed out prices.

Johnny shook his head, glared at the most persistent, and kept moving. Finally he stopped, staring at a dirty blonde partially hidden in shadow.

The seller flashed an enormous, knowing smile."You want her, mister? Prime stuff, best one in the whole market. Ten grand. She's worth every penny!"

Johnny stared back. "That's much too much."

The seller's smile faltered. "I've got expenses." He shrugged and started to turn away. "Either buy or get moving..."

The gun against his head got the slaver's undivided attention.

Johnny smiled. "But I'll take my wife back, thank you. And ten grand. I've got expenses, too."

I wrote this for a Valentine's Day related contest whose entries had to be exactly one hundred forty words. The story developed from another contest based on a 100 word limit. I like this version better.

My Valentines Day Protest

Valentine's day is supposed to be about love. Love isn't just a mushy feeling, nor is it only something that happens between what we think of as lovers (at whatever level of involvement). Do I love my wife? Absolutely! But I also love my kids, my siblings, my parents, my extended family (bio and otherwise), my friends, etc.

So, rather than rail against Valentines Day, rather than be jealous or angry or allow yourself to feel victimized if you are single, just find ways to love on people. If nothing else you'll have made the world a better place and feel good about yourself. But there's a real chance you'll feel some love back.

If you want to protest against the crass commercialization of yet another holiday, and in fact of love, or against the insane over-romanticization of the day, which leaves women (and men) feeling left out, lonely, rejected, abandoned and/or inadequate, which sets people up to feel like failures or to have absurd expectations, by all means do so. But part of your response should be to simply love on people. Don't just try to feel something, DO something. Tell someone they matter. Hug them. Buy them dinner, or a coat if they need it, or hand out friend valentines like we did in grade school. Sweep a floor. There are a gazillion things you can do.

Regardless of your take on this, know that you are deeply loved by the one who made you, and by me. We both think you're awesome. And if you want a hug, you know where to get one if you can get to me!

Janis Made Me Do It

Recently I was watching Janis Joplin's interviews with Dick Cavett on Youtube. The one where she plans to go back to Port Arthur really hit me (as it always has). The conversation more or less went like this:

Janis: "You want to go? Come on with me!"

Dick: "I didn't... have many friends at your high school." (he hadn't gone there, of course.)

Janis: "I didn't either, man... that's why I'm goin back."

Dick: What will you say to them?"

Janis: "I'm gonna laugh."

Dick: "..."

Janis: "They laughed me out of school, they laughed me out of town, they laughed me out of the state."

You can hear that pain in her singing. You can find it in her lifestyle, her struggles, her return more than once to hard drugs after cleaning up for a while.

Janis is one of the reasons I went into youth work. More than once hearing her music or reading something about her motivated me through a slump. I really hope Janis found love and peace on the other side. I want to help all the Janises and Jimis-- and you-- find it on this side.

I Love Short Shorts

I wrote these for a contest whose (themed) entries had to be exactly 100 words. I wrote them late at night along with two other entries. The next morning I woke up and realized these two did not fit the themes, so I withdrew them from the contest.

But, I like them, so here they are, gifts for you on a central Texas, storm on the way, February evening.

Which (if either) do you like better, and why?

---

Pick the first door, you're filthy rich. Pick the second, the woman of your dreams. Which do you want?"

"And door number three?"

Monty's eyebrows went up. "I don't know! Been so long since anyone..." He searched, found a paper, and read.

"Could be anything at all. Boredom. Adventure. Prince. Pauper. Marilyn Monroe! An ugly shrew. President! Prisoner! Same thing the rest of your life. Something new every day. Family. Cannibals. Anything! No guarantees."

Gorgeous women and piles of money danced through Corwyn's head. It was no contest. His face shining with joy, Corwyn practically ran through door number three.

---

The Pauper family was dirt poor. The twelve of them barely had two complete sets of clothes. Since Papa held a (pathetic) job, he wore one set of clothes. The others wore the second set as needed.

A parish church, hearing of the Pauper's predicament, collected clothing. Mountains of clothes soon arrived at the Paupers' property.

Crying tears of joy, the Paupers tried on outfit after outfit, profusely thanking their neighbors for what they'd provided.

The Paupers were found dead the next morning, naked and covered in ugly, red welts. The perplexed coroner demanded, "Who ever heard of polyester poisoning?"

There is an "I" in "Team".

As a rule, I abhor slogans. One of the reasons for this is that (at least in the USA) they tend to become trite, extreme, rigid, absurd, or some combination of these.

A perfect example is the well known phrase

   There is no "I" in "team".

From a spelling standpoint, it's difficult to dispute and still have a listener's respect. ('The "i" is both invisible and silent.' "Ha ha!' 'No, really.' '...')

The basic concept, of course, is that if you are putting yourself first, focusing on you ("me" or "I" from your standpoint) then you aren't really being a part of the team. But taken to the extreme (Go, Team Extreme! USA! USA!) we end up with an army of clones such as we saw in Star Wars III.

A team is composed of individuals. While there are times each team member has to put self-focus aside, to ignore the individual is both foolish and dangerous. While it's a lot easier to manage clones, in the end it destroys people and requires a lot more work on the leader's part because team members have lost the ability to think for themselves.

A team should be more than the sum of its members, but this is only true if each of the members knows who they are and is free to find their role, express themselves, and bring their gifts and passions into play. Otherwise it's just a bunch of people trying to muddle through. Those sorts of "teams" are usually far less then the sum of their members.

This is true of any sort of team-- a team at work, a sports team, a military unit, church, family, government, you name it.

A great team isn't all about the "I", but it is all about the "I"s.