poor barbri students

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For those incoming:  If you did not attend the BarBri mini-review with Lakin, you will likely fail the NY Bar.  Put in other words, it is bad to miss the barbri new york mini review.  I’m sorry, someone had to tell you that.  So, go ahead and sign up for the 2011 February exam.

love,
Crab

The heavy-weights (sans Ebert who appears to actually enjoy movies) are pushing back against the early critical and popular acclaim:

A.O. Scott, NY Times:  “The accomplishments of “Inception” are mainly technical, which is faint praise only if you insist on expecting something more from commercial entertainment. That audiences do — and should — expect more is partly, I suspect,  what has inspired some of the feverish early notices hailing “Inception” as a masterpiece, just as the desire for a certifiably great superhero movie led to the wild overrating of “The Dark Knight.” In both cases Mr. Nolan’s virtuosity as a conjurer of brilliant scenes and stunning set pieces, along with his ability to invest grandeur and novelty into conventional themes, have fostered the illusion that he is some kind of visionary.”

David Edelstein, NY Mag: “Inception is full of brontosaurean effects, like the city that folds over on top of itself, but the tone is so solemn I felt out of line even cracking a smile. It lacks the nimbleness of Spielberg’s Minority Report or the Jungian-carnival bravado of Joseph Ruben’s Dreamscape or the eerily clean lines and stylized black-suited baddies of The Matrix—or, for that matter, the off-kilter intensity of Nolan’s own Insomnia. The attackers in Inception are anonymous, the tone flat and impersonal. Nolan is too literal-minded, too caught up in ticktock logistics, to make a great, untethered dream movie.  … For the record, I wanted to surrender to this dream; I didn’t want to be out in the cold, alone. But I truly have no idea what so many people are raving about”

So Nolan has made another Dark Knight: a movie that everyone enjoyed, had great acting and cast, made truckloads of money, carries equal dollops of emotion and action, but apparently is still not considered a great movie.

Green Horn mindcuss

The new Green Hornet movie coming out has bewildered me.   Stop me when your mind is properly fucked:

  1. The adventure hero lead is a paunch-less Seth Rogen.
  2. Kato is played by Taiwanese singer Jay Chou .  JAY CHOU.  My last memory of Jay Chou is listening to his albums smolder quietly in the background while performing in a collegiate asian american club circle jerk.  Not an exact memory, but approximate.  ALSO, the tragedy of not having Bruce Lee ever play this role breaks my heart and makes me wish Hollywood would just forever retire the character like a sports jersey. ADDITIONALLY, equally mind blowing is that this role was going to be played by Stephen Chow (see, Shaolin Soccer). That would have been ammaaazzzzing.  I can imagine Rogen uttering buffoonlike comments while Stephen-Chow-as-Kato deadpans a dirty line in street Cantonese.  Oh, why don’t they make movies specifically for me?
  3. LASTLY.  This movie is directed by Michel Gondry.  GONDRY.  Watch that trailer.  Where is the paper-mâché stop animation?   I don’t understand. Is everyone going to hallucinate and/or dream of paper horses or what?

See also, production history, indicating even more ridiculous names attached to past failed launches.

Human lessons: Doorways

OKAY, I avoid people as much as the next smiley misanthrope, but if there’s one area of human interaction I have been forced to learn, it is doorways. Or rather, the rules of the doorway. Those fucking bottlenecks of space, where you are forced to face other members of the human race, those putrid oily faced dandies. However, it appears this one facet of human civilization puzzles many people, such that every occasion where two people meet at a door at the same time, particularly from opposite sides, every such encounter becomes a stutter step, a hem-haw’ed excuse-me ridden clusterfuck. YOU people, it seems, are inefficient IDIOTS when it comes to crowd fluid dynamics, so goddamn PAY ATTENTION.

RULE ONE: People in the “pull” direction of the door yield to people in the “push” direction. BECAUSE it is far easier for someone to hold up in the pull-way; otherwise the door comes swinging back, like an awkward rake slapping you in the head, you fart face.

RULE TWO. People in areas of low density yield to people in areas of high density. BECAUSE my exit from here gives you space to walk in, you fuckwad. Where the fuck are you going to go? Let me out first.

MTA COROLLARY: Shithead, let me out of the subway car before you come in.

MTA COROLLARY 2: Also, do not crowd the door. A subway car door permits two TWO one TWO people shoulder to shoulder to enter or exit. Do not be an anxious gnatfuck and hover around the door, choking the flow like a human sphincter. There is no rule of conservation of flow wherein halving the outlet area doubles the flow rate, like a finger in a faucet.

RULE THREE: Yield to the elderly, the infirm, and the pregnant. If this rule is not batshit obvious to you already, I might question whether you even possess the civilized nature to even read, or use a computer. Is it difficult to navigate the World Wide Wide, you slouch foreheaded cro magnon, what with your only mode of user input being slamming your fists into the keyboard and grunting at the screen? Does the magic box with lights and noises scare you? Why am I even talking to you. You disgust me.

CRAB OVER AND OUT.

World cup thought

THOUGHT: I wonder if the difference between the nonchalance at which the soccer world confronted the stream of shit officiating and the outrage American fans feel has something to do with our culture’s strong rule of law. Do other countries accept unjustifiable rulings on the pitch because they’re used to corruption in their home countries? And we, on our high horses, crave accountability with near-bloodthirst?

Weddings 2010

I attended my second wedding of the season (well, two and a half, if you half heartedly half count the one I skipped for a funeral). Am I growing callow and dark or are these events becoming more rote? Part of me wants to say: Look, few aspects of modern life adhere to structured protocol like weddings do. Like an old jazz standard, the customary provides framework for the unexpected. As the wedding party, the fun is in your choice of variations. Do you reject the hollow ribaldry of the garter toss? Skip the anxiety of the bouquet catch (which favors the tall and the fast– the exact population that needs no assist here)? Do you fashion your wedding cake into a 2 foot tall Optimus Prime figure wearing a Steelers jersey? Perhaps a surprise hip hop dance. No expects you to switch from Louis Armstrong to Young Jeezy! These are the nuances one must appreciate to cope with the wedding-sodden summers of a late twentysomething.

But on the other hand, WTF. Parts of the affair have grown downright irksome. After the first bride and groom’s dance, the MC usually requests couples to join them on the dance floor, right right? Normally, I consider this an opportunity to take stock of the single people conveniently stranded at their tables. Last night felt different. My entire table embarked for the dance floor (My other single friend conveniently went to the bathroom.) the other tables, likewise. Suddenly I felt like I was playing a game of musical chairs except there are 10 empty chairs and just me. No one else even wants to play. They’re off performing more adult activities, like slow dancing, or ordering cutlery, or discussing adult matters with their brokers. Not even my usual trick of staring intently at my mobile phone as if there was something very important coming down the wire that required my brow, furrowed and my manner, stern, worked. No, not this time. Nope.

Weddings used to be this buffet of well-dressed young people, and now it’s a font of what-if’s. I am very concerned this topic consumes me the way it has this year.

Things I Have Learned 2010-06

  • Whole Foods, that bastion of good green food, was founded in TEXAS!  (Austin, though) [source: Gita]
  • Adventures in Comprehensiveness, Wikipedia: A List of Ethnic Slurs.
  • Google generated $1.4 Billion of economic activity in NJ in 2009.  [source]
  • mien – n.  air or bearing especially as expressive of attitude or personality [source]
  • There is no such thing as a BRONTOSAURUS.  It was a hoax.  WTF. [source, also]

Review: Toy Story 3

Spoilers ahead:

- The opening short, Day & Night, was a very inventive use of 3D. Very innovative in concept, but i thought it was shallow on narrative. Still, a delight.

- Best new character: English hedgehog in liederhosen. stole every scene he was in.

- Worst schtick: Spanish Buzz Lightyear. Got huge laughs at the theater I was in, but I thought a romantic, suave, dancing spanish-speaking was a touch obvious. (Conando anyone?)

- Worst new character: Ken. Wow, did we really need more scenes with Barbie? Fop jokes are almost as bad as Spanish-lover schticks, but the character redeemed himself in the scene with the Bookworm, who noticed her high heels, but shook his head anyway.

- High points for the My Neighbor Totoro reference.

- Themes: was there a sneaky underlying adult theme here? I didn’t see one. This is what made Toy Story 2 and Up so fantastic. Minus points.

- Plot summary:
Act 1. Shrill Woody screeches that everyone belongs to Andy and that they should all go home. This goes on for too long.
Act 2. Great Escape, but with toys.
Act 3. Temple of Doom but with toys, including a scene where the toys actually prepare for death! WTF childhood innocence lost.

- Ending: still, there was something about watching Andy wistfully say goodbye to each of his toys that made me emotional, and I know I’m not the only one. Sniffles all around the theater. Damn you, movies.

Bottom line: doesn’t crack the top 5 pixar movie list.

Texas

Seen: highway bill board. Says “Want Funeral Or Cremation? Then Call 1-800-DIGNITY”

Things I Learned: 2010-05

  • Marvin Gaye was shot to death by his own father in 1984. [more, source]
  • The proper name for “wife beaters” are A-shirts [source]
  • The World Metrological Society retires hurricane names after particular destructive or well-known occurrences (i.e. Katrina will never be used again) [source]
  • The latest children’s fad is “SillyBandz”, an animal-shaped rubber band.  And yes, it’s already been banned in schools.  (confirmed by office secretaries) [source]
  • Adventures in Wikipedia prose: “One distinction between Taishanese and Standard Cantonese is the use of the voiceless alveolar lateral fricative (IPA ɬ)”.  Naturally.  [source]
  • cynosure - a person or thing that is the center of attention or admiration [source]

    Townie Tales: Episode 1

    I saw my optimologist at the gym today, in the locker room. He was pants-less and looked glum in his black socks. I declined to initiate conversation.

    Dinner with the parents. I referee another “discussion”, this time about what color the new drapes should be. The maddening part about spending so much time with one’s parents is the realization that one’s own limitations is rooted in them. It feels like a cold wash of inevitability brought on by genetic and psycological forces. Every quirk and bad habit has a direct genesis in themselves. The interuption of one’s own sentences with new sentences, the inability to perform any task with background noise ongoing, it is all there, sitting across from me at dinner.

    Over the weekend, I wore my shirt tucked in. It went nicely with my boat shoes. I have turned some sort of corner. No soy lattes yet, but a Volvo? Check.

    Photos: Matterhorn

    Matterhorn

    Zermatt day trips. This is actually the last of the Haute Route photos. 9 months later. would you like to know more? …

    Human Notes: May 13, 2010

    Situations arise where the boundaries for physical, inter-personal interaction remain nebulous. Perhaps one meets a person with which one would like to have relations. Perhaps the sun is setting on this first encounter. Perhaps one was charming enough to warrant a second one.

    The question arises: what is the proper vehicle for your farewell? A hug? Perhaps, if it is Friend Remembrance Week, and only if you exchange friendship bracelets afterwards. A handshake? Why not just bellow your sexlessness from the rooftops, you platonic automaton. A kiss on the cheek? Oh you optimistic fool. Do so, and do so meaningfully. Try to signal your mastery of French cuisine, tango dancing, and carpentry. A peck and out.

    However, whatever method you choose, never ever ever– put it this way: Few farewells are as awkward as the gently squeezed hand. It combines with celibacy of a handshake with the indecision of a poorly performed parallel parking job. It has a squishy rhythm to it: pause, pause, hands clasp, pause, uh um, affectionate squeeze, um, the odd glance, er um pause, release. You can try to bring in the second hand, for a full court embrace, but no matter. You have telegraphed your poor candidacy, and
    no degree of compensatory swagger will intercept that one in the post.

    Zermatt – day hike

    endless photos of sheep - 1

    If you like sheep, have I got a post for you. would you like to know more? …

    zermatt

    zermatt

    Last day. would you like to know more? …

    Things I Learned: 2010-04

    I know it has been a while since one of these. I have not learned much.

    1. The clothing line Nautica was started by a Taiwanese-American. [source]
    2. “Ventile” is a British-made cotton textile that is so densely woven it is waterproof.  Invented during WWII during because flax was rationed.  [source]
    3. President Reagan had a huge affinity for jelly beans, kept a jar of them on his desk in the Oval Office.  He was turned onto them after quitting smoking. [source]
    4. contretemps – n. an awkward or difficult situation or mishap [source]
    5. pulchritudinous – adj. Characterized by or having great physical beauty and appeal [source]
    6. sobersides – n. slang.  a humorless or habitually serious person [source]

    Letter to Mallory

    Mallory,

    You are right. These late nights benefit no one. They stretch the day and tax our morrows. I promise to lay my head down and quiet the hum of my mad mad mind. Just come over and sing me a lullaby, song bird.

    Yours,
    S.C.

    That’s Nine

    Blog turned 9 years old over the weekend. If it was my illegitimate child, I would be halfway done with the support payments. Hope everyone else had an unremarkable weekend.