is live on FilmFisher. Check it out.
Alex Garland, the screenwriter of Sunshine:
“Aside from being a love letter to its antecedents, I wrote Sunshine as a film about atheism. A crew is en route to a God-like entity: the Sun. The Sun is larger and more powerful than we can imagine. The Sun gave us life, and can take it away. It is nurturing, in that it provides the means of our survival, but also terrifying and hostile […] Ultimately, even the most rational crew member is overwhelmed by his sense of wonder and, as he falls into the star, he believes he is touching the face of God. But he isn’t. The Sun is God-like, but not God. Not a conscious being. Not a divine architect. And the crew member is only doing what man has always done: making an awestruck category error when confronted with our small place within the vast and neutral scheme of things. The director, Danny Boyle, who is not atheistic in the way that I am, felt differently. He believed that the crew actually were meeting God. I didn’t see this as a major problem, because the difference in our approach wasn’t in conflict with the way in which the story would be told.”
After former major leaguer Andy Van Slyke said that 45-year-old Brave Julio Franco must be on steroids, Franco said the only thing he’s on is the power of devout faith.
“Julio Franco is 46 years old [sic] — I’ve got to believe he’s on it,” Van Slyke told host Rick Barry on KNBR, the San Francisco Giants’ flagship radio station, on Wednesday.
Told of those comments Thursday, Franco smiled and said, “Tell Andy Van Slyke he’s right — I’m on the best juice there is. I’m juiced up every day, and the name of my juice is Jesus.
“I’m on His power, His wisdom, His understanding. Andy Van Slyke is right. But the thing he didn’t mention was what kind of steroids I’m on. Next time you talk to him, tell him the steroid I’m on is Jesus of Nazareth.”
I’m going to start doing twitter jokes again, I think. I burned myself out last time, but I’m feeling reenergized. Here are a few of my favs from last year:
Is it hipster to change all the lyrics to Ray Lamontagne's Trouble to "bourbon" like I think? Or is it "sad" like my wife thinks?
— Remy Nobody (@13thieves) September 27, 2013
My wife was not impressed that I quoted the exact measurements to Noah's Ark when I described a certain pair of her underwear.
— Remy Nobody (@13thieves) September 27, 2013
This pie chart of how often I think about pie is really skewing the results.
— Remy Nobody (@13thieves) September 10, 2013
The wife asked me to fix her a drink. Later she sloppily kissed me and said she'd happily kiss an uglier man so that's a compliment, I think
— Remy Nobody (@13thieves) August 26, 2013
How do you guys have the time to figure out your favorite economic policy? I'm still trying to rank my favorite episodes of Duck Tales.
— Remy Nobody (@13thieves) August 22, 2013
“My parent took advantage of my absence to clean up my room and install revolting ruffled curtains. I can’t put the dust back but I have ultimated that the curtains have go to go, lest they ruin my prose. She looks forward to any departure of mine as an opportunity to ravage my room and it always looks shaken when I return to it.”
In 1986 the Jim Henson Company put out a little made for television movie named The Christmas Toy. The movie is summarized thusly:
When no people are around, the toys still play in the playroom. But since a toy will be frozen forever if a person catches it out of position, they have to be very careful. It’s Christmas Eve, and Rugby the Tiger remembers how he was the favorite Christmas toy last year and wants to be the favorite again this year, so as not to be replaced by another toy. However, he doesn’t stop to think that if Jamie unwrapped him again this year, she’d see him out of his normal place that she usually puts him and he’d be frozen forever. It’s up to Apple the Doll, whom Rugby supplanted as favorite toy, to tell him what’s in store. But Rugby won’t believe her, and tries to get into the Christmas package and lets Meteora, Queen of the Asteroids loose. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know she’s a toy, and thinks she’s landed among aliens. And it’s up to Apple, Mew (the Cat’s toy mouse), and the other toys to get Rugby out of the box and Meteora back in it before they’re found and frozen forever.
Seems a little bit familiar:
“You never know what’s going to come on, and so your kid can be in the audience, and then boom! By the time they get hit with it, the harm is done and your kid is blind.”
-Michael Powell, former FCC Chairman
The Chimney Sweeper
A little black thing among the snow:
Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe!
Where are thy father & mother? say?
They are both gone up to the church to pray.
Because I was happy upon the heath.
And smil’d among the winters snow:
They clothed me in the clothes of death.
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
And because I am happy & dance & sing.
They think they have done me no injury:
And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King,
Who made up a heaven of our misery.
-William Blake, from The Songs of Experience
In this short tale of abuse Blake gives us a terse bit of social and ecclesiastic criticism. The reader, drawn into the poem by the unattributed first three lines, is encountered by a “little black thing”, a child reduced to an object. The cry of “weep, weep” recounts the words of Jesus in Luke 23:28 (“Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children,”), an allusion further strengthened by the use of “woe”. His parents worship some warped Trinity, not God the Father, Son, and Spirit, but God, the Church, and the Government. But there’s defiance in this messianic child. The song they told him to sing was “sweep, sweep” to sell his services, but he cries out to the people to repent. Though he was stricken and afflicted yet he is happy and dances and sings. (Chimney Sweeper from the Songs of Innocence can be found here.)
Staying at Grandma’s
Sometimes they left me for the day
while they went — what does it matter
where — away. I sat and watched her work
the dough, then turn the white shape
yellow in a buttered bowl.
A coleus, wrong to my eye because its leaves
were red, was rooting on the sill
in a glass filled with water and azure
marbles. I loved to see the sun
pass through the blue.
“You know,” she’d say, turning
her straight and handsome back to me,
“that the body is the temple
of the Holy Ghost.”
The Holy Ghost, the oh, oh . . . the uh
oh, I thought, studying the toe of my new shoe,
and glad she wasn’t looking at me.
Soon I’d be back in school. No more mornings
at Grandma’s side while she swept the walk
or shook the dust mop by the neck.
If she loved me why did she say that
two women would be grinding at the mill,
that God would come out of the clouds
when they were least expecting him,
choose one to be with him in heaven
and leave the other there alone?
In a similar vein is Jane Kenyon’s poem about a girl abandoned for the summer at her overbearing grandmother’s. There’s menace in the lines describing the grandmother, it isn’t hard to see the frightened girl as the white dough turned yellow. The grandmother seems threatening, turning her “handsome” back on the girl, shaking the “neck” of the mop. It’s clear that the way the Holy Spirit has been presented to the girl that being his temple is a scary thing, “the oh, oh, the uh-oh”. The sense of exclusion culminates in the final stanza, when God himself arrives taking one woman, leaving the other behind.
These two poems taken together present real world religion warts and all, from over-zealous believers to hypocritical leeches, but both children are remarkably insightful in their understanding of the kingdom. The chimney sweeper is joyous despite being the suffering servant and the little girl knows better about love than the adults around her. These two poems taken together serve as a reminder that unless we become as little children we shall by no means enter the kingdom of God.