The Great Pumpkin Monster

I have little doubt that about 95% of you have already seen this. But there is no reason why the remaining 5% should not have the opportunity to have their childhood memories brutalized and left for dead. Rough language and gore. And Peanuts characters.

Sigh.

Oh, Britney. Seducing a priest in the confessional? Madonna from 1989 called, she wants her schtick back. Actually, Madonna had a much better handle on sacrilege - girlfriend remembers her Catholic pieties:



Plus, while Madonna and Britney have both played the rosary-as-necklace card (and guess who did it first?), at least Madonna knew better than to drape the beads around the priest's neck. Sheesh. Who's styling that shoot?

Because "that pig-mask chick from Saw IV" was just a little too labor-intensive...

...Bizarro selects "couple ignoring the population crisis" as one of the scariest costumes of 2007.
See you in the funny papers!

"Well, Son...

...it's either what they call a Harvest Moon, or the result of all the smoke from the fires, or the first sign of the Apocalypse. What do you think?"

Saw Saw IV

Or rather, saw an eight-foot tall cardboard display for Saw IV in the lobby of a local multiplex when I went to see The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. The lobby - you know, the ones the kiddies pass through on their way to Daddy Day Camp (which I'm sure contains its own horrific elements). I don't know about anybody else's six-year-old daughter, but this would give mine nightmares for a week:



I know, I know - if I don't want my children to see such things, I shouldn't bring them through movie theater lobbies.

To his credit, the theater manager (The Wife was not about to let the moment pass) was very patient in hearing us out, and even nodded when I pointed out that an ad featuring images like this one would not be allowed to run on TV before 9 p.m. (at least, I hope that's true), while here, it was out on display 24/7. He said he'd pass the word.

Today in Porn, American Apparel Edition

The ladies of Jezebel inquire as to the motivation behind the graffiti on the above ad: misogyny or social commentary? As the man said in Spinal Tap, "What's wrong with being sexy?" "Sex-ist!"

Four!

Folsom Street Fair Blues

FOG Ernesto was kind enough to pass along this editorial from the SF Chronicle taking the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence to task for their little Communion prank a while back. A snippet:

"But where anti-Christian sentiment does arise in the local gay community, it tends to originate in the perception that Christianity, by adhering to its own orthodoxies, is promoting hatred. But, as I've noted previously, disapproval is not synonymous with hatred. The very nature of organized religion is to present human beings with a set of standards by which to live, and this includes taboos. Reform is a necessary part of this process and, indeed, various liberal Christian and Catholic parishes have sprung up around the country. But many gay activists are not content with this state of affairs. It seems that until the Catholic Church bends to their will and, essentially, dispenses with all its traditions, they will not be satisfied."

And it ends with a bang:

"If groups such as the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence spent half as much time criticizing Islam for its abuses against gay rights as they do Catholicism, then perhaps their attempts at activism might be seen as truly groundbreaking. As it is, their juvenile behavior is redolent of a son desperately rebelling against his father, a teenage girl telling her mother she hates her because she can't stay out as late as she'd like, and other similarly adolescent expressions of fury."

This seems to me to get at something. The Wife noted that the "gay activists" don't spend too much time mocking the hardcore Prots in this way, not even the ones who assure them that they're going to hell. Nor do they go after the Muslims. There may be various reasons for this, but I'm struck by the editorial's implication: they're going after the Catholics because Catholicism really does in some way stand as mother or father to them. The authority may be rejected, but the bond remains - and irritates. So the child keeps lashing out. You always hate the ones you really love...

The editorial also mentions the Folsom Street Fair - first, the ad, an S&M riff on The Last Supper, with Miller Beer listed as a charter sponsor (hey, football fans, you've got company!):

And then the fair itself.

A note on the link. It's really graphic, even though the author of the post was kind enough to blur the photos. Definitely NSFW. And not at all the sort of thing that everyone will benefit from seeing. But I'm linking to it because I admire the spirit of the author's prefatory essay:

"As the controversy grew, some Christian leaders described the Folsom Street Fair as an 'open-air gay orgy.' Wait a minute: is that really true? I thought the argument was about the appropriateness of the poster, not a condemnation of the entire event itself. ..So I went. And beforehand, I said to myself: I'll report exactly what I see. I'll try to be an impartial, fair observer...The truth is -- I shouldn't have been surprised -- there was open-air sexual activity. And plenty of erect penises, and flaccid penises, and more. And I photographed some of what I saw."

He goes on to say that he's not anti-gay, nor is he religious. "Yet by doing this report, I know full well that I'll be handing ideological ammunition to the anti-homosexual forces, and a propaganda coup to the Christians who were laughed at for claiming the event featured open-air sex." Still, "after much pondering, I felt it would dishonest to self-censor, to hide the truth, just because I may not like the ramifications. I need to hold myself to a higher ethical standard than the standard maintained by many in the mainstream media, who downplay or suppress stories which don't support their ideological viewpoint. Basically, it comes down to this: I decided ahead of time to do a report about the Miller Beer/Last Supper ad controversy, and I just wouldn't feel that I was being honest if I 'killed the story' because it didn't turn out the way I expected. I have striven to merely report what I saw, in as unbiased a fashion as possible."

My chief impression after viewing the pictures: It's hard to make a lifestyle out of transgression. Transgression gets old, stops being transgressive. It becomes, frankly, joyless. The thrill is gone, baby.

Oh, and the religiously-themed sex toys? See above, re: "adolescent expressions of fury."

Yesterday's news today; Dumbledore is gay; what more is there to say?

"I know of these romantic friendships of the English and the Germans. They are not Latin. I think they are very good if they do not go on too long...It is a kind of love that comes to children before they know its meaning. In England it comes when you are almost men; I think I like that. It is better to have that kind of love for another boy than for a girl."
- Cara, in Brideshead Revisited

From the sound of it, our friend the wizard had one of those romantic friendships, and it went very, very sour:

Said Rowling: "Dumbledore fell in love with Grindelwald, and that that added to his horror when Grindelwald showed himself to be what he was. To an extent, do we say it excused Dumbledore a little more because falling in love can blind us to an extent? But, he met someone as brilliant as he was, and rather like Bellatrix he was very drawn to this brilliant person, and horribly, terribly let down by him."

Wrote Rowling: "Neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald ever seems to have referred to this brief boyhood friendship in later life. However, there can be no doubt that Dumbledore delayed, for some five years of turmoil, fatalities, and disappearances, his attack upon Gellert Grindelwald. Was it lingering affection for the man or fear of exposure as his once best friend that caused Dumbledore to hesitate?"

The Godsbody Pledge?

After eleven years, The Wife has learned just where and how to stick the knife to achieve maximum trauma with minimal culpability. I had just received yet. another. rejection. on yet another project, and The Wife, in an effort to console me (don't you know), began making a list of my attempts in this artistic realm or that one, marveling at both the number and kind of my efforts. It sounded almost like sympathy, even admiration, but as the list went on (and on and on and on), I began to see it for the brilliant attack it was. The work of a master - eviscerating me even as she doled out something that sounded like praise.

Because I am a glutton for punishment, I naturally press on. Now, to entertain her, I am toying with taking the Godsbody Pledge - refusing to cut my hair until one of my creative endeavors comes to fruition. She is delighted by the prospect, and has begun readying a list of names by which to address me as my curly mop waxes into its glory. "Eraserhead." "Lyle Lovett." The list goes on.

Here, then, for your amusement, is the first in what may one day be a legendary gallery:

Evac List

No, we haven't been told to move out yet, and hopefully, we wont' have to. But just in case, I checked the "What to bring" list. Medicine, important papers, family photos, eyeglasses, yes, yes, yes...

But what about more immediate concerns? Like, what about stuff to help life at the evac center? Here's what I'm thinking:

1. A baseball bat, to protect your turf near the power outlet.
2. A spike bar, to provide multiple outlets for....
3. Multiple electronic gadgets to help pass the time - GameBoys, DVD players, music players, and...
4. Laptop computers. How will the bloggers blog otherwise? How will we download our favorite shows from iTunes? How will we send emails?
5. Booze. I can't believe I'm even having to write this.
6. Cigarettes. The smokers are going to need 'em. It's like prison currency, right?
7. Anything and everything to keep baby from crying. No need to make enemies.
8. Baptism certificates. You haven't seen Church beauracracy until you've tried to get married without one.
9. Soundtracks to Broadway musicals. Because there's nothing that helps people take their minds off personal devastation like putting on a show!
10. Last, but not least, and most obvious: cash.

Right, then. In all seriousness, prayers for the victims.

The Turn of the Phrase

Second Daughter on the fires raging to our north and east: "Our day is haunted by smoke." She's got a talent, does that one.

In other news, I really am grateful that our local daily hasn't gone and appropriated "Things We Lost In The Fire" for its coverage of personal stories of loss. Though "Touched By the Flames" isn't much better.

In all seriousness - please pray for those who have lost so much. Casa Godsbody, thankfully, is not yet threatened.

Today in Porn, Way Too Late Edition

For reasons it's probably better not to explain, we saw Matrix Revolutions again last night, and realized what a huge opportunity Godsbody missed back in '05. It would have been an invaluable public service to sit down with an S&M aficionado and have them explain the meaning/purpose of each and every getup in the film's S&M club scene. That one chick with the catcher's mask? That other one with the spiky headpiece? The dudes in gasmasks suspended from the ceiling? The giant neckbrace? Freshly-initiated minds all over mainstream America want to know!

Happy Feast Day to Him

St. Isaac Jogues, Second Son's namesake and a model to me of Christian manhood. Captured, tortured, mutilated, and then released, he plunged back into the fray for the sake of saving souls. Courage born of charity.

RIP

Yesterday's News Today: Deborah Kerr has died.. Much is made of her role in From Here To Eternity, but as the obit notes, "film buffs still return with fascination to her intriguing performance in 'Black Narcissus'" Ernie and I chatted about the movie, back before we had comments, and back when we had a 200-word limit. So don't let our brevity fool you: it's an amazing film about faith, well worth seeking out. Even the folks at Pajiba, never the most pious of critics, tip their hats:

"It really isn’t an exaggeration to say that movies aren’t made like this very often (if ever) — movies that combine psychological complexity with subtlety and rich, ridiculously impeccable presentation...Depending on your point of view, the nuns’ lives are tragically wasted exercises of denial, asceticism that seems as equally destructive as self-indulgence. Or, equally compelling, their lives of worship are noble sacrifices. Either scenario seems acceptable in this wonderfully ambivalent debate. The Archers treat such issues with the gravitas they deserve, but never without romantic wit and accessibility. Whether you choose to indulge the questions Black Narcissus poses or not, the film is easily one of the most beautiful studies in form ever made."

Today in Porn, Workplace Edition

The USA Today did a pretty fine piece on porn in the workplace, and this was the accompanying graphic. Gotta love the way they tried to play down the ick factor in the caption: "Michael Leahy, here in a posed portrait, says employers didn't know he spent a lot of time looking at pornography on his laptop during work hours." "Here in a posed portrait." In case, you know, you thought he might actually be looking at pornography on his laptop while the photographer was snapping the picture. Ewww.

Basically, the piece is taking note of the fact that mobile devices with Internet access make viewing porn in the workplace easy and relatively risk-free. If it's your device, the company can't install filters, or even check your browser history. At any rate, they did some solid reporting and got this great quote from a CEO: "It's serious. I'll see somebody doing it, and I'll peek over their shoulder, and they'll say, 'I don't know how that happened.' It's like 10-year-olds. And it's always on company time." I also got a kick out of the survey results, in which 16% of men admitted visiting a porn site while at work, while only 6% admitted doing it intentionally. "Gosh, I thought celebrityskin.com was a site where I would be able to discover beauty secrets of the stars! How does J. Lo get that glow?"

In a related story, I once met a man who left his job with the fire department because he feared for his immortal soul. Pornographic videos were standard fare on the TV at the station while the team waited for calls, and it was destroying him.

(Thanks to Manhattan Lawyer for the link.)

Elsewhere, Fiction Edition

Over at Korrektiv, Quin Finnegan has begun publishing his novel, Birds' Nest In Your Hair. Go thou and read.

Because the whole point of having a blog is that you can write bad poetry about your fear of death and then publish it.

Every night, the stars remind me that I am nothing
And the moon, that I am going to die.
And my gaze falls and the world shrinks
Until there is room for only me and death.

(Yeah, only one stanza so far. Bad poetry takes time.)

Cottage Industry...

...because Godsbody is not too proud to take the obvious shot...

FilmDrunk has word that Lionsgate is making a concerted effort to expand its leadership in the faith-based category. This effort includes "a feature adaptation of the Thomas Kinkade painting called "The Christmas Cottage." I mean, Girl With A Pearl Earring was a movie based on a painting, right? Up next: Michaelangelo's "Last Judgment." Oooh, that one's gonna be fun. And faith-based!

(Link contains profanity, and also a bonus Today in Porn, Christian Edition.)

Unbaked

Introduced the kids to the Beatles' Yellow Submarine last night. (Pace, Ernesto - they listened to a CD on the life and music of Brahms as they went to bed.) For those who may for some reason be unfamiliar, here's the trailer:



And as I watched, for perhaps the hundredth time in my life, the scene in which the boys perform It's All Too Much, I wondered if I was somehow breaking with the authorial intent of the film, given that I was watching it, for perhaps the hundredth time, in the state alluded to by the title of this post.

Today in Porn, Funny or Die Edition

Chronicler of Modern Sexuality (40 Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up,, etc.) Judd Apatow joins the Funny or Die crew and immediately starts pushing porn and profit. It's all parody, of course - everybody knows that nobody in porn is really a humorless narcissist bent on moneymaking.

(Link is decidedly NSFW.)

The Week That Was, Part III

On Monday, October 8, Casa Godsbody was honored to receive a visit from Cubeland Mystic, who was apparently on some sort of pilgrimmage to the sea or some such. Most of the visit was, of course, spent in unutterable sublimity, but I can tell you that we were fortunate enough to receive from the hands of Mystic and Mrs. Mystic several packets of seeds, harvested from their own desert garden. So we spent last weekend prepping soil and planting for the winter:



Golden beets, Romaine lettuce, fava beans, carrots, spinach, broccoli, green beans. And just for kicks, one Brandywine tomato. We expect to start harvesting by December.

The Week That Was, Part II

On Sunday, October 7, I traveled to Pasadena to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving with a grand bunch of people. If a party may be judged by the number of people there more interesting than myself, then this one was a great success. For instance, I met the man who built Jack's head:



I also spent a fine hour talking with Luke Halpin, who plays the fiddle (though sadly, there do not seem to be any examples of this on his MySpace page). If ever there is a Godsbody band, he's in:



Oh, and the food was splendid. Yay Canada!

The Week That Was, Part I

Posting was a tad light last week, and not just because I was exhausted after the magnificent but harrowing experience of casting the African-American Lord of the Rings. Things were hopping. Let's start with Saturday, October 6: Alumni Day at Ye Olde Alma Mater, the date of the annual Cardboard Boat Race that gives meaning to my two older sons' lives. First Son had a pretty glorious run on his first try, winning his heat, and finishing first in the race-off, only to be disqualified because, instead of actually being in his boat when he finished, he was pulling along its sodden remains with his toes as he swam.

Second Son, alas, finished last. Not because he was slower than everybody else, but because he couldn't see around the cardboard dragon on his ship's prow, and veered wildly off course. The next year, he finished last again, because the bottom of his boat was too wide. He could paddle on only one side at a time, and ended up going in circles. This year's goal: don't finish last. Here he is at the start (in red):



And here he is a few seconds later - way out in front, nobody even close.



A great moment in Godsbody family history. And because his boat got further than anybody else's in the race-off before sinking, he was declared the overall winner. Happy days.

Sucker

I once had a music theory teacher who delightedly proclaimed, "I've figured out why you people like pop music! It's because it makes you nostalgic!" So you can imagine what a nostalgia-inducing pop song about nostalgia would do to a sloppy Irishman* like myself. Behold a big fat soft spot in the Godsbody psyche: "Verdi Cries" by 10,000 Maniacs.



Add your own "I'm a sucker for that song, even though I should know better" entries in the comments. Manhattan Lawyer, I'll be waiting on your entry from Primus. Or maybe Fugazi.

*But not entirely Irish. Hence the slogan: Godsbody: French Palate, Irish Thirst

Happy Feast Day to Her.

"I want to possess all, my God. May I not fail to enjoy peacefully so much beauty."

It's a regular mystic parade around here.

Kids Say the Darnedest Things

The Wife was going over the Ten Commandments with Second Son.

"'Thou shalt not commit adultery.' Do you know what that means?"

"It's when you're trying to be the parent, acting like an adult and telling the other kids what to do."

Poop Jokes

Permit me a moment of vulgarity; I mention it only because it points to something else - the development of Third Daughter's sense of humor. (As opposed to all my other moments of vulgarity, which no doubt point to the decay of my own.) I was changing her diaper, and I wrinkled my nose and sniffed to indicate the stink. She has always found this hilarious. "Stinky," I said. "You pooped!" This is common diaper-changing talk.

But this time, she pointed at me and said, "YOU pooped!" And then went into a fit of hysterics. She thought this was the funniest thing in the world, and to prove it, she did it again and again, laughing every time. Something about the joke struck me as pretty sophisticated for 22 months, despite the somewhat juvenile subject matter.

[Nota Bene: do not do a Google Image search for "diaper" immediately after eating.]

Moviechat

Ernie and I rather liked 3:10 to Yuma. Others less so. (Slight spoilers.) I even may have preferred it to The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, much as it pains me to say it. They provided rather opposite experiences: Yuma had a rather ridiculous, dragged-out final action sequence (much like Batman Begins), while James really got fascinating in the last half-hour or so. But then, I'm a barbar.

Nostalgia

Ten years ago, I wrote what may be my favorite piece ever for the day job, an account of a day in the life of a custom butcher. Today, the Reader ran a snippet of that piece in its Back When section. We began with the execusion of Pistol Pete, a 4H steer:

"He stands with a solid, bovine mixture of contentment and resignation until -- BANG! -- the bullet disappears into his skull and then his legs fold and he drops straight down and rolls on his side and kicks and gasps as the eight-inch butcher knife saws an opening in his neck. A few more great kicks at the air and his motion stops, but the blood will keep pouring from that hole for a long while yet. The blood is blood-red; other reds do not describe it, it describes other reds. A girl washes the concrete with a hose while he bleeds out, and the blood feathers out in the water as they stream together toward a sewer grating, leaving long black clots that must be helped along by the direct spray of the hose. Randi, a reticent 13-year-old girl, was 'very fond of him. I couldn't watch him get shot.' But she can watch him be skinned and gutted."

The Mouths of Babes...

...well, almost. First Daughter is six, and wrote and performed the following song this evening:

"Flowers will die but new ones will grow
Oh-oh-oh-oh
It's better to love God
Than yourself."

Job 14:1-2: "Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He comes forth like a flower, and withers;
he flees like a shadow, and continues not. And dost thou open thy eyes upon such a one and bring him into judgment with thee?"

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part XI

And so an end. Thandie Newton as Eowyn:



P. Diddy as Grima Wormtongue:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part X

Almost done here. Cubeland Mystic suggested LeVar Burton as Bilbo:



Delroy Lindo as Eomer:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part IX

Shaquille O'Neal



as The Balrog:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part VIII

Tyra Banks as Galadriel:



Will Smith as Sam:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part VII

Dave Chappelle as Merry:



Dijmon Hounsou as Faramir:



Keep the suggestions coming, people. And we can always make changes...

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part VI

Don Cheadle as Frodo:



Chris Rock as Pippin:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part V

Friend of Godsbody Ernesto has reminded me:

Laurence Fishburne as Elrond:



Samuel L. Jackon as Denethor:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part IV

Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (Mr. Eko from Lost) as Boromir:



And on Anonymous's recommendation, Flavor Flav as Gollum:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part III

James Earl Jones as Saruman:



Halle Berry as Arwen:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings, Part II

Ice Cube as Gimli:



Eddie Griffin as Legolas:

Casting the African-American Lord of the Rings

I have no idea why this seems like such a good idea...a little exercise carried out with FOG Ernesto.

Morgan Freeman as Gandalf:



Denzel Washington as Aragorn:

Happy Feast Day to Him

As with television, Fall is the big season for mystics...Francis would, as my Jesuit confessor mentioned back in college, "spend entire nights meditating on the phrase, 'My God and my all!' How many of you could last even five minutes?"

Catholic Dopplegangers

Down near the bottom of this post, Korrektiv's Quin Finnegan grants my claim that Patrick Madrid looks more like Ned Flanders than Scott Hahn does. But today, I got an email announcing an evening hosted by St. Joseph's Communications and featuring Dr. Scott Hahn:



and Dr. Brant Pitre. (Or, as he is better known, Dr. Scott Hahn fifteen years ago):

Dappled Things

New issue is out, and looky here, they got Eve Tushnet to contribute a story. Those crazy kids might just make it after all...

Padres

Today in Porn, TV edition

Via Defamer, a story about sex on TV that leaves me almost too weary to comment, except to say that Rome really could have done without all the skin. For an excellent lesson in depicting fleshy depravity wihtout making it a breastival, see I Claudius. But this blog being what it is, I suppose I should make note of something...

"Cynthia Mort, the creator of 'Tell Me,' said the point was not to make the depiction indistinguishable from real sex. 'The goal is to make it moving and emotional and intimate and, yes, uncomfortable at times, because not everyone is comfortable with sex,' she said. 'You’re trying to capture that.'”

Um, okay. I wonder how many peole Mort knows who are actually uncomfortable with sex. As opposed to people who are uncomfortable watching other people have sex. The one is not the other. Sigh. I mean, I imagine lots of folks are comfortable with fellatio, and yet, that one scene from The Brown Bunny follows Chloe Sevigny around like a bad penny. You rarely hear folks praising her for her bold choice as an actress. What you hear is, "I can't believe she blew Vincent Gallo onscreen!"

Happy Feast Day to Her.

This is a corner shelf in the Godsbody kitchen. She went well with the color scheme. Kidding. The statue hails from 1916, nine years before she was canonized.