Pontypool Changes the Way I Think About Horror

Being both a horror fan and a list maker, I get really sucked in when people begin talking about their favorite horror movies of all time. Inevitably, I suggest one that very few people have seen and when they do see it, they are much less enthusiastic about it than I am. I wanted to write about that movie to maybe explain my great enthusiasm for it.

The movie I am thinking about is Pontypool, based on Tony Burgess' novel, Pontypool Changes Everything, and directed by Bruce McDonald. It's from a few years back, but I know very few who have seen it. (There are lots of spoilers ahead.)

Pontypool is essentially a zombie movie. Some of the most used zombie tropes don't really apply in the movie (the "zombies" aren't actually dead and you don't have to be bitten to be turned, among others), but it follows the now-familiar story arch of a single victim infecting others until the central characters are left hiding from the zombie hoard. 

What makes Pontypool different is the central conceit of the movie, which centers around the way the infection spreads.

From the outset, it's obvious that the movie will be centered around language. We hear Grant Mazzy, a talk radio host and protagonist of the story, telling a curious story about the name "Pontypool," the town that is the setting of the film. He quotes Norman Mailer about the power of certain coincidences before major events and we know that "something big is about to happen."

I think it is safe to say that if you are not drawn in by that opening monologue, this movie is probably not for you. It's not artsy or intentionally snobby in any way, but it's smart, really smart, in the way that very few horror films are.

Any horror story worth it's salt addresses important themes, and zombie films are some of the most conspicuous examples. In my opinion at least, zombie films tackle the question of what it means to be a human being, and when are we least in touch with our humanity. Two of the most notable examples of this are from George Romero, the grandfather of zombie flicks. 

The original Night of the Living Dead was set in 1968 at the height of civil unrest in this country. The climax of the film comes when the hero, Ben, the sole African-American character, is gunned down by the police who have mistaken him for a zombie. The police officers are immediately transformed into the movie's villains, with almost as little to redeem them as monsters they were hunting.

Romero's sequel, Dawn of the Dead, dealt similarly with the mindless consumerism that was fast becoming the norm in the mid-70s. The film's zombies return to a shopping mall where they had spent senseless hours when they were living, only to continue their old habits. 

Pontypool likewise engages us through metaphor about the way we use words in our culture. AM radio — that bastion of shock jocks, right-wing fear mongers, and conspiracy theorists — serves as the backdrop of a world gone mad with language. Words have lost their meaning, they are tossed about carelessly, and used thoughtlessly. Language, which is at the core of our humanity and separates us from much of the other life on the planet, has become the vehicle of dehumanization. The virus isn't passed through biting, it's passed through words.

Like I said, it's smart stuff.

The film's climactic scene occurs when the station manager, Sydney Briar (Lisa Houle), becomes convinced Mazzy is about to kill her and becomes fixated on the word "kill," indicating she is becoming infected. Mazzy saves her by telling her, "Kill means kiss," (yeah, do your own armchair psychology on that one) and they do kiss. Once they've discovered the tool to save others — talking nonsense on purpose, turning the meaning of words upside down — they go to the airwaves to help save the town. They are halted by a voice from outside (presumably police or national guard) demanding they stop broadcasting. There is a countdown and the screen goes black, leading us to believe the pair have been killed as the town is razed.

The epilogue features news broadcasts from around Canada (Pontypool is a real Canadian town) indicating the infection has spread.

The movie is a slow burn, with most of it taking place in the radio station studios, located in a church basement. So much of it takes place there, in fact, that I think it could be adapted quite successfully for the stage. There are only eight actors in the film, including those who are heard on the radio but never seen. The strongest performance is by Stephen McHattie (Watchmen, A History of Violence) as Mazzy, as boozy and washed-up of an anti-hero as you could want.


Pontypool does not shy away from the blood, but it is used only at critical points in the movie. The gore is truly disturbing, as McDonald uses it to show the victims' gradual deterioration into sub-human existence. The scares are more centered around mood, although there are a few jump-out moments. The true horror, however, is existential.

So much of the film is on-the-nose in terms of social critique, especially as regards the manner in which large groups of people become infected by words — words that have become stripped of their actual meaning and now just serve infect our minds. Dozens of these words and phrases come to my mind — "national security," "job creators," "family values" — words that are used to obfuscate rather than illuminate, words used to convey the very opposite of what their plain meaning might suggest. The mobs infected with these words are a cannibalistic horde, seeking to either infect others or destroy those who offer resistance.

Pontypool will not appeal to those groups, because it requires the viewer to engage with complex ideas. I don't mean to suggest that you are an idiot if you don't enjoy the movie; it will be too slow for many horror fans. But I think it's appeal lies in the way it stays with you and rolls around in your brain, long after you've seen it. You can't ask for much more than that in a movie.

No One Laughs at the Ice Bucket Challenge

This morning as I lay in bed, avoiding rising for the day, I opened my Facebook to see news of the world. My feed was filled with friends and celebrities taking the "ice bucket challenge." For the unaware, the ice bucket challenge is a viral sensation designed to raise awareness (and money) for research into ALS, a.k.a., Lou Gehrig's disease. Friends challenge each other to donate to the cause or else dump a bucket of ice water over their heads and record it. Or maybe it's that they challenge them to donate to the cause and dump a bucket of ice water over their heads. I'm not entirely clear on this point.

I'll admit: I find the thing a little silly. Not the idea of raising money to fund research to prevent what is, undoubtedly, a horrible disease (although I'll get to that in a bit). It's more the bandwagon mentality that bugs me.

And so, I posted this as my Facebook status: "I can't find anyone with Lou Gehrig's disease to dump ice on."

A couple of my Facebook friends took umbrage with this, and I thought I'd address that for a couple of reasons. One has to do with the whole idea of social media moral indignation. The other has to do with the issue at hand.

1. Let me begin by saying that I do not question the motives of any of my friends who have participated in the ice bucket challenge. I think most of you do it from a good place. Even Charlie Sheen, who is something of a role model for me, has joined in, and I would never question his motives. The ALS Association says that donations are up over a 1000%, so it's doing some good. It does raise the question about why no one was donating last year. Many undoubtedly are trying to help. Then again, if you do your good works to be seen by men, I say verily, you have your reward.

2. One friend commented that she hoped I was joking. Um . . . yes? I wasn't actually up at 7:00 in morning looking for ALS sufferers to douse with cold water.

3. The joke was actually about the ice bucket challenge, not ALS. That seems pretty clear to me, but I suppose it's worth noting. In fact, the joke (which I've found only gets funnier the more you have to explain it) is about someone who doesn't understand the point of it all but wants to jump on the trend.

4. I was told the joke was "in poor taste." Perhaps. But you are speaking to someone who told a dick joke at his own father's funeral, so appeals to taste will largely fall on deaf ears.

5. Likewise, should you be one of those social media lurkers who has never liked a photo of my child, never sent well wishes on a birthday, or never engaged me in discussion on the myriad topics about which I obsessively post, I'm probably not gonna give a shit that your moral sensibilities were offended by my mild jest.

6. I don't know anything about the ALS Association. They're probably great -- I haven't looked into it. But controversies surrounding the Komen Foundation and our own local Dirty Girl Mud Run should teach us to use caution before throwing our full support behind any charitable work. Too often the money raised goes disproportionately toward salaries and administrative costs with only a small fraction benefiting the intended recipients.

7. Does anyone besides me have a problem with the whole "celebrity disease" phenomenon? I was listening to a podcast of This American Life last year that featured a mother whose child was struck with a very rare and fatal disease. She noted that her best hope for a cure was that some celebrity might be diagnosed with it. It struck me as amazingly cynical and also spot-on. And let's be honest here: Lou Gehrig's Disease was the very first celebrity disease. I mean, it got full-on Hollywood treatment in Pride of the Yankees in 1942, which still runs regularly on Turner Classic Movies.

8. Which brings be to the issue of funding medical research. "How can you be against fundraising for medical research?" Because I don't think we should be having bake sales for something so essential. (This is identical to my feelings on fundraising in arts education, by the way.) In my opinion, there should be tax-funded medical research that is not determined by the popularity of a disease.

9. Lastly, I'm not sure how adding levity to the issue hurts the cause. Michael J. Fox frequently jokes about his tremors from Parkinson's, but no one imagines that Parkinson's isn't a serious issue. The Onion even had a go at the ice bucket challenge. And it would seem that the ice bucket challenge itself is done to have fun in the name of something that absolutely isn't. I suppose I don't buy into the idea that people are actually offended or hurt by that sort of mild jest. Closer to the point, I think others just enjoy being scolds.

I have no time for that sort of thing.

For that matter, please: don't let me stop you from dumping ice water over yourself on camera. It looks fun. If it helps someone else, all the better. But you don't need permission from me -- or from any celebrity for that matter. Life is too short and we should look for joy wherever we can find it.

Why Han Solo Is Cooler Than Luke Sywalker

1. Han wears a white shirt open to mid-chest, a black vest, tight black pants and black boots. Luke wears a bathrobe.
2. Leia: “I love you.” Han: “I know.”
3. Han hangs out with a wookie. Luke hangs out with droids.
4. The Millennium Falcon can do the Kessel Run in 12 Parsecs. Luke drives a “speeder.”
5. Han shot Greedo first. And then left a tip.
6. Han is good friends with Billy Dee Williams.
7. Han is frozen in carbonite for a year and thaws into an even bigger smart ass. Luke spends a few hours on the surface of Hoth and needs Han and the carcass of a dead taun-taun to last the night.
8. Han Solo’s next feature? Raiders of the Lost Ark. Skywalker’s? Corvette Summer.
9. Han kicks ass without the force.
10. Han probably tagged Leia. So did Luke.    

Pop Culture Confessions

I am always one to quickly defend the virtues of popular culture, to argue, in fact, that the distinctions between "high culture," "folk culture," and "pop culture," are relatively meaningless in practical terms and apart from academic interest.  I celebrate popular culture as a gauge of our public life — politically, socially, and intellectually.  I don't disparage 35-year-old men who spend all day reading comics or writing fan fiction.  I get it.

To be a true pop culture junkie, you have to go deep.  Record nerds, comic nerds, horror nerds, movie nerds — they are all carrying around massive catalogs of information in their heads.  This may make it difficult for them to relate to normal human-type people.

Sometimes I wonder if I really qualify.  When I chat with my cousin Zack, I quickly realize I know virtually nothing about horror movies.  He can thoughtfully discuss Bela Lugosi's latter work or compare and contrast the qualities of the various actors who portrayed Jason Voorhees.  I like to think I'm a music nerd, but sometimes I wonder even about that.

Well, pride be damned, I'm going to come clean.  There is some shit I know almost nothing about.  Pop culture is just too massive.  I cannot possibly keep up with it all and still pay my bills.  So for your edification, I present my list of Pop Culture Confessions.

1. I own no hipster records.  It's a lot safer to say that than it was a few years ago.  Let me be quick to add: it's not that I hate hipster bands.  They just don't interest me.  This might seem less surprising if it weren't for the fact that I have a reasonably large music collection.  (iTunes tells me that I currently have 23,842 "songs."  I've got some vinyl, too.)  I have no Wilco.  No Arcade Fire.  No Postal Service.  No Daft Punk.  None of that.  I'm not really sure why.  This could change at any time.  (I remember telling someone in the mid-90s that I wasn't that big of a Dylan fan.  My record collection would beg to differ these days.)  I'm just not into whiny white boy music right now.
2. I've never seen an episode of Doctor Who.  I have no opinion on which Doctor is the best.  I only vaguely know what a "tardis" is.  We can still be friends, right?
3. I've also only watched one episode of Breaking Bad.  Oh, come on.  Sunday night is/was also the night for "Treme," "Mad Men," and "Boardwalk Empire."  How much television can one person watch in a night?
4. I gave up on True Blood.  And Dexter.  Speaking of Sunday nights.  These showed so much promise.  But no.  I quit on True Blood once they introduced fairies (faeries?).  And Dexter was just . . . overkill.
5. I hated Nirvana when they broke.  So, I am the exact right age to love, love, love Nirvana, but I don't.  When I was 18, I was listening to Miles Davis and John Coltrane.  I'm not saying that to be snooty, it's just the truth.  I sort of feel like I missed something big with my own generation.  I own Nevermind now, but it has no nostalgia for me.
6. I bought a bunch of Dave Matthews records and even saw DMB in concert.  In Charlottesville.  I realize this is a capital crime in hipsterdom and not without some reason.  Jam bands turned improvisation into a masturbatory exercise and the douche level of DMB is pretty high.  But I didn't buy any Phish records.
7. The only comic books I bought before I was an adult were Archie comics.  The medium just didn't reach me when I was a kid.  I didn't even know anyone who was into comic books.  I don't think my town had a comic shop and I doubt my parents would have taken me to one if it did.  I totally get how cool they are and understand the obsession.  I also enjoy them to a fair degree now.  But I lack any real street cred on this topic.

Whew.  That feels better.

Need to get anything off your chest?

The Last House on the Well-Manicured Cul-de-Sac

Let me begin by saying that The Purge, starring Ethan Hawke and Lena "House of Lannister" Hedley is not a movie for everyone.  My mother, for example, would hate this movie from the outset.  So my comments are really for those who might like this movie, if this is the type of movie one is inclined to like.  Who is that, exactly?  I'm not sure writer and director James DeMonaco knows exactly.

On the one hand, it's part home invasion thriller.  So, you know, all of the typical testosterone-filled 18-35-year-old males who go in for those movies might be the intended audience.  On the other hand, it's kind of an intelligent dystopian future political commentary, the kind that might be based on a book you had to read your junior year of high school if you had a progressive English teacher who also assigned Animal Farm and Brave New World.  Except this isn't based on a book.  So the intended audience might be the intellectual type who call movies "films" and think the NSA poses a serious threat to civil rights.

I guess the problem is that the type of film that appeals to both of these groups isn't likely to be the same film and The Purge probably falls a little short with both groups.  (See what I did there?  I called it a "film.")  In fact, I might be just the perfect intended audience member for this movie, because I like both home invasion thrillers and dystopian political commentary, but it kind of doesn't work for me either.

Briefly: the story is set in 2022 and there has been some sort of political upheaval leading to a "nation reborn."  Once a year for a twelve-hour period, all law is suspended, and many citizens go on a "hunt" - wreaking havoc and murdering others with impunity.  The net result is that crime at other times is exceptionally low and the economy is thriving.  Our supposed protagonist, James Sandin (Hawke), has benefitted considerably from the purge by selling very expensive home security systems to wealthy families.  The movie begins just an hour before the 7:00 P.M. start of the bloodletting, with Sandin arriving home to his wife (Hedley), a teenage daughter who has a boyfriend the parents don't approve of, and a misfit younger son who is luckily precocious with robots and hiding.  Two potential sources of story conflict begin when a. the boyfriend sneaks into the home just prior to the security system being armed and b. the junior Sandin, possessed of scruples of unknown origin, disarms the security system to let in a homeless man who is being hunted by a mob of entitled ivy-league collegians, dressed in school blazers, khakis, and creepy masks.  Learning that their prey has found refuge chez Sandlin, they come knocking.

As a premise, I think it's pretty brilliant.  Yet it comes apart in execution.

<Spoilers ahead>

I'm guessing it's in the interest of time, but DeMonaco gives short shrift to world building.  We're looking at a U.S. just nine years in the future and no real explanation is given about the events that led to the "nation reborn."  It strains credulity to watch the Sandins' neighbors proceed to deliver cookies, chant government mantras, and mutilate teenagers in Stepfordesque complicity.  DeMonaco seems to believe that the wealthy would happily populate the world he has created with nary a thought to the psychic repercussions of murder.  Strangely, the Sandins seem to be the only ones in the neighborhood who are troubled by the practice at all, in spite of the fact that their wealth is built on the purge.  I have no doubt that wealth may create the amoral zombies that we see in the movie, I just think it might take more than a decade.  Perhaps if the setting were 2042 instead of 2022 . . . I don't know.

What the film does best, in my opinion, is work Edwin Hodge's character, the target of the hunt.  Hodge plays the role close the reality that we see on a daily basis in this country.  We truly feel his fear as he is hunted, first in the street and later in the house.  Even as we watch him attack the family, our sympathies are with him: what else could someone backed into such a desperate corner, literally and figuratively, possibly do?

At those moments, the film's central thesis comes through clearest: poverty is violence.  In a world where even our personal security is dependent upon wealth, the poor are victims of the larger culture.  Poverty is an assault on one's personhood, an idea given an exclamation point by DeMonaco's refusal to give Hodge's character a name.  At the movie's denouement, Mrs. Sandin is left at her dining table saying goodbye to the neighbors who have terrorized her, calling them by their names.  She doesn't invite the homeless man to stay, or even inquire as to his name, even though he has saved her life and the lives of her children.  He is instead left to return to the streets where the purge is just a particularly nightmarish episode in a life of daily terrors.

(Aside: Bravo to DeMonaco for making the homeless man almost the only black face we see in the movie.  Although the film is tackling poverty, the subtext of racial inequality is given a human face through Hodge.)

On this level, the movie should work, addressing poverty, along with the country's obsession with guns, our desensitization to violence, and the sometimes sinister roles of media and government.  Yet it doesn't work, not really.

The main fault of the film is that it spends fairly substantial screen time engaging in just the sort of violent voyeurism that DeMonaco seemed to set in his sights.  We get sprays of automatic weapon fire into various torsos, axes buried into backs and skulls, and the leader of the hunting party glibly blowing off the head of a cohort.  The audience is left reacting precisely as they would in any other home invasion thriller, not only hoping the Sandins make it through the night but cheering wildly when the bad guys get their bloody comeuppance.  In the theater where I watched, the audience of mostly white twenty-somethings only really seemed to come alive when someone was being butchered.  This was made easier by the fact that the hunters themselves were dehumanized, not only through their inexplicably unconscionable acts, but also because most of them remained masked throughout the movie.  In short, DeMonaco seems to be offering a critique of the way the poor are dehumanized and then provides an alternative: dehumanize the rich instead.

Now, I'm rarely a critic of movie violence.  While I am given occasional pause considering its effects on the very young, I believe that Bowdlerized stories lead us to imagine that violence is not real.  The problem with The Purge is that its use of violence is to the detriment of the central point of the film.  Just as the audience is beginning to consider the brutal reality of poverty, they are given an out through escapist fantasy.

I really wanted to like this movie, but it was ultimately unsatisfying.  Maybe if there is a remake in a few years, they'll get it right.  In the meantime, I hope we see more art that wrestles with this uncomfortable issue in American life.

Superhero with a Thousand Faces

I am fresh from seeing Man of Steel, Christopher Nolan's Superman reboot.  A few stray observations (spoilers ahead):

1. Overall the movie is an excellent addition to the Superman canon.  For an origin story appearing in 2013, it seems to avoid most of the hipster meta-commentary on the meaning of the superhero. This seems particularly noteworthy, given director Zack Snyder's past with Watchmen and Nolan's vision for the Dark Knight trilogy.
2. Joseph Campbell needs a co-writing credit on this one.  I don't know if Nolan and Snyder immersed themselves in The Hero with a Thousand Faces or have just spent lots of weekends at Lucas Ranch, but this movie wears its mono myth on its sleeve and borrows heavily on Biblical imagery.  Clark/Kal has been made "a little lower than the angels" for awhile, the father sending his only begotten (not made, contra other children on Krypton) son, to save the world.  He is found in a basket-shapped ship, which is kept in the stable/barn, and he grows up as a normal human until he's ready to begin his ministry and ultimately his destiny . . . at age 33.  He even has his own garden moment in an inoffensive church of nondescript denomination, complete with a stained glass depiction of  Christ in Gethsemane over His his shoulder.  (According to adherents.com, Clark's family are Methodists.)
3. This is really the first Superman film fully imagined as an alien story.  Others certainly play around with the idea, but Krypton is completely developed and the alien craft would be right at home on Star Trek.
4. Speaking of which, Krypton is a pretty groovy planet that kept reminding me of Vulcan on the Star Trek reboot for some reason, maybe because we spend a good portion of our time there watching the place destruct.  They have really cool computer interfaces that frankly make me sorry I'm typing on a keyboard right now, and I really dig the art deco/Metropolis feel, especially when ghost Jor-El is telling Kal about the history of the place.
5. In case anyone forgot, Superman is a 'Merican.  He even says so, including once while American flags are waving over his shoulder.  His mom (Diane Lane) works at Sears, dammit!  (And was anyone else surprised by that product placement, including widow Kent's blue Sears polo and worker lanyard around her neck?)  He does manage to take out an unmanned drone that is spying on him.  He is currently still silent on the ones used to kill Afghans and Pakistanis, however.
6. Other unexpected product placement: IHOP.  And like, 27 times.
7. Henry Cavill is pretty great in the lead and manages to reimagine the character in a way that departs entirely from Christopher Reeves' portrayal, while keeping close to the source.  I was never personally a huge fan of Reeves' Superman, though it was certainly hard not to imagine it as commentary on his own life in later years.
8. Can someone just go ahead and acknowledge that Clark/Kal seems to have a pretty nonchalant attitude toward "collateral damage," including that which he seems to cause by, for example, chucking aliens into the gas pumps at 7-11 and watching the place blow up?
9. Amy Adams is a pretty forgettable Lois Lane.  I can't buy her as the "intrepid reporter" and really wanted Margot Kidder back.  She is given a few clever moments, however, like her inquiry about what the "S" stands for (interrupted just before she posits "Super") and her tongue-in-cheek greeting to Clark at the newspaper ("Welcome to the Planet.")
10. General Zod is one of the great villains and Michael Shannon is perfect.  He brings a lot of the self-righteous-but-ultimately-evil vibe with him from Boardwalk Empire.
11. Russell Crowe is a cool Jor-El, but I'm pretty sure they cast him for his dragon flying skills.  I didn't like his Ghost of Christmas Future bit on board the ship though.
12. The "dream sequence" (or whatever that was) between Zod and Kal seems lifted (in style at least) from Watchmen's dream sequence with Night Owl and Silk Spectre.  Except the part where Kal is sinking in human skulls, which reminded me of the climax of Drag Me to Hell.
13. Also, the Kryoptonian ship seems to employ the same technology as is used in The Matrix, where bits of metal can reform into some sort of sentience.  Scary shit.
14. Laurence Fishburne is a completely unintimidating Perry White, perhaps due to his earring.
15. Is it strange that we are now better at depicting what major American cities might look like if attacked by large destructive powers?  I mean, we know all about the clouds of ash and the papers floating around.  Did anyone think of those things pre-2001?
16. For my taste, they spend too much time just blowing shit up.  They could have easily trimmed the 143-minute run time by twenty minutes with no damage to the story.
17. Something in the Earth's gravitational pull ensures that anything entering the atmosphere (baby-ship, meteor, flying aliens, etc.) will only land in Metropolis or Smallville, KS.
18. This is my favorite suit, by far.  It's not just that the suit is stylish and indestructible, it actually looks indestructible.
19. Also indestructible: Kal's coif. 
20. Ghost Jor-El apparently insists (offscreen) that Clark/Kal shave before dawning the suit.  Which leads to the obvious question given the above observation, "How does Superman shave?"  I'm so glad you asked.
21. The cape does seem a particular disadvantage if you encounter fellow Kryptonians in battle, however.  They will use it to sling you into buildings.
22. Also cape-related: one of the flashbacks near the end shows a boy Clark Kent in his back yard pretending to be a superhero while wearing a quickly-fashioned red cape.  But, um . . . who is he imitating?
23. Kevin Costner reprises his role as Kevin Costner.
24. Was it just me, or was there some sort of under-current of faith versus science in the movie, with science wearing the black hat?  Clark/Kal discusses some nebulous "faith" at various points (and is clearly a Christ figure, as noted above), but the baddie-woman also says at one point, "If history has taught us anything, it's that evolution always wins," just before Superman and the 'Mericans kick her space ass.
25. Hans Zimmer's soundtrack is completely forgettable and although I understand they didn't want to do the whole John Williams thing, this barely rises above mood music.  Notable exceptions: some song with guitar when Clark is on a fishing boat (have to search this one out via the Google) and Allison Crowe doing "Ring of Fire."

All in all, if you care about Superman or superheroes, you should go see it.  Of course, if you care about these things, you've already seen it.  Also recommended for Jungians, Christopher Meloni completists, and people who like seeing things blown up.

P.S. For my own take on the Superman mythology, go take a listen over at Soundcloud.

A Humble Proposition

The last few weeks have me thinking a lot about guns.  In the interest of full disclosure, I should reveal here that I have been a gun owner in my life and am historically very leery of efforts to disarm the citizenry.  Jefferson famously said that where the governments fears the people, there is liberty; but where the people fear the government, there is tyranny.  This is one of his primary arguments for the second amendment to the Constitution.  It was also, of course, why Jefferson argued against a standing army.  It is interesting to me note that the disbanding of our standing army plays so little in discussion of second amendment rights.  It may also be worth noting that Jefferson rarely armed his slaves, though I'm not entirely sure what motivated his decision there.

Yet, despite my desire for an armed citizenry and a disarmed military, I think that the time has perhaps come for me to rethink my position somewhat.  I will confess here that my judgment may have become somewhat clouded by the recent events in Newtown, Conn.  I have a certain sentimentality for images of frightened children sobbing uncontrollably after their classmates have been shot multiple times with a Bushmaster AR-15 rifle.  But I recognize the media's attempt to manipulate my emotions through shocking images such as these.

It is hardly fair, after all, to attack weapons such as the AR-15 (the rifle the U.S. military refers to as an M16).  The AR-15 is actually banned as a hunting weapon in some states because the ammunition is not strong enough.  Wiser state legislatures recognize that it would be extremely inhumane to allow a less-effective weapon to be used against a 250 lb. adult deer.  Fortunately for the children at Sandyhook Elementary, the weapon was sufficiently effective in its use against first graders, as the average 40 lb. six-year-old can be felled with significantly less ammunition than his cervine counterparts.

It seems to me that a rational compromise can be reached on this front.  If we allow the state to restrict which weapons may be used against game animals, it certainly seems reasonable that they could restrict which ones may be uses against other human beings.  I realize that the language would have to be crafted rather carefully, however, taking into account the age, size, and general health of the would-be target.  For example, the state could require that those targeting adult males in the prime of life use a 50-caliber weapon, making a clean kill more certain.  If your target were kindergarten students, however, a simple 22 might suffice (though the larger caliber weapons would obviously do the job, too).  In that particular instance, however, it might be essential to craft code to insist on at least semi-automatic weapons with large magazines, since young children are small and naturally quick and all the more so if startled by the unexpected arrival of a stranger with an assault weapon at school.

The National Rifle Association has been quick to point out that more guns may have prevented the recent tragedy.  When I learned that the shooter, Adam Lanza, had taken his mother's legally-purchased hand guns and semi-automatic rifle, leaving her with only two traditional hunting rifles to defend herself against her murderous son, it really got me wondering.  What if she had owned two legally-purchased Bushmaster AR-15 rifles?  She might just have had a fighting chance herself, and prevented the needless deaths of 20 elementary school children.  (I would add here that it is probably advisable to actually own a third rifle as a back-up, as the AR-15 is known for it's tendency to jam when not kept clean. And let's face it: who has time to clean all of those weapons on a daily basis?)

In the wake of the shooting, NRA Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre called for an armed officer in every school in America.  While the closet libertarian in me may question the wisdom of putting an armed police officer in every school and vaguely wonder if this may be the precursor to the sort of police state our aforementioned third president may have been warning us against, I think LaPierre has a point.  He correctly pointed out that we have armed guards at courthouses and airports and this effectively prevents tragedies in those venues.  And please spare me the liberal diatribe about the New Jersey gunman who seized an officer's weapon in a police station filled with armed officers, just two weeks after the Newtown incident.  The fact of the matter is that in that particular case, the gunman was killed while only wounding three officers.  Were it a school and an unarmed criminal had seized an officer's weapon, it is unlikely that he could take out more than five or six children before being shot himself.

This does bring me to another salient point, however.  Many in the public sphere, such as Texas Governor Rick Perry, rightly recognize that this does not go far enough.  These critics have called for arming teachers.  I could not agree more.  Like many on the far right, I do not trust the education of our nation's youth to such a lazy and incompetent group as public school teachers, but let me be the first to say that I do trust them with the safe handling and discharge of large-caliber rifles and handguns in America's classrooms.

Yet I cannot help but wonder, "Is this enough?"  Clearly, the answer is "no."  In the average American classroom there is only one teacher.  A savvy gunman would obviously target the teacher first, preventing her from quickly accessing her safely stowed weapon and defending the children in her charge.  No, the answer is much more radical, yet ridiculously obvious: we need to arm every single student in American schools.

I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking that arming every school-age child creates myriad problems, including the likelihood that some outcast loser (like an Adam Lanza or Dylan Klebold) would use the state-provided weapon to attack other students because he was picked last in kickball.  But consider it for a moment: if you knew that the class weirdo had a 44 magnum in his backpack, would you even think of giving him a wedgie?

Is it an expensive proposition?  Certainly, but isn't the safety of America's children worth it?

So how are we going to pay for it?  Well, I wondered that, too, until I read Mr. LaPierre's comments more carefully.

What is the root cause of this violence we see in America?  Clearly, it is neither legal gun ownership nor the availability of weapons with 30+ round magazines.  No, it something much more sinister.  Hear the words of the NRA spokesman:

There exists in this country a callous, corrupt, and corrupting shadow industry that sells, and sows, violence against its own people.  Through vicious, violent video games . . . blood-soaked slasher films . . . and a thousand music videos that portray life as a joke and murder as a way of life.  And they have the nerve to call it "entertainment."

Digital media creators, actors, writers, directors, singers, and musicians.  These are the true culprits in American society.

Guns don't kill people, art kills people.

To pay for the presence of a school police force, the arming of both teachers and students in every school, and the design of a comprehensive marksmanship curriculum, I suggest the complete elimination of school arts programs.  These programs are costly and encourage students to "express themselves."  It is, no doubt, this sort of self-reflection that leads many of these monsters to unleash their inner demons on society at large.  Further, the content espoused by these so-called "academic subjects" include violent music, such as murderous British folk ballads and drug-induced homicidal fantasies, like Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique; the sexualized violence of the dance stage, as evident in Le Sacre du printemps; and canvas grotesqueries, for instance, those by Hieronymus Bosch.  Theatre, of course, seems almost designed to inculcate violence in our young people, with the Bard's Scottish play practically a requirement of the high school literary curriculum.

With the complete elimination of school arts programs, those industries will soon dry up and leave our shores for more barbaric countries like Finland or the U.K.  We will have no more music, film, or literature poisoning young minds.  Our children will grow up knowing only fresh air and the joy of mastering assault weaponry.

I realize there may be resistance to this plan at first, but I can honestly think of no reasonable alternative.  I urge the president, Congress, and the U.S. Department of Education to implement this plan quickly, before it is too late.

By the Time I Post This, You May Not Be Able To Read It in Your Classroom

Sir Ken Robinson has quoted the philosopher Jeremy Bentham as saying, "There are two types of people in this world: those who divide the world into two types and those who do not."  While I try not to be one who makes those divisions, I think it must be human nature.  I've often thought that there are two types of educators.

The first is the one who sees the world as remarkable place, full of wonder and opportunity.  She believes the role of the teacher is akin to a tour guide or even an artist - someone who helps others see things with new eyes.  She values openness, creativity, and liberty.  She thinks that all of her students have enormous capacities and she is heartbroken when students fail to realize their potential.

The second is the one who sees the world as a menacing place, full of hazards and danger.  He believes the role of the teacher is akin to a parent, a policeman, or a doctor - someone who protects others and repairs damage that may have been done.  He values simplicity, reason, and order.  He thinks that all of his students face incredible challenges and is heartbroken when they are hurt.

The truth, I realize, is that most of us in education are a blend of these dispositions.  There are few of us who do not try to protect students whenever we can.  Likewise, most of us earnestly wish that our students could realize their full potential.  Yet certain issues tend to highlight which camp we might choose, were we faced with that choice.

I became a teacher at the dawn of the World Wide Web.  It was immediately apparent when discussing things "out there" that some teachers were frightened by what they saw.  Sensationalist news stories highlighted the worst of the worst: online predators, pornography, neo-Nazi message boards, and all the other things that go bump in the night.  These were real threats and real children who were damaged.  In those hazy first years before filtering software, lots of teachers were frightened.  They were frightened of the thing that always frightens us: the unknown.

There were other teachers who daydreamed through staff development meetings.  If we can talk to anyone in the world at anytime, what could students do?  If information is democratized, what opportunities would it provide for our "have-not" students?

Then everything exploded.  Amazon.  Ebay.  Instant Messenger.  Napster.  Blogger.  PayPal.  Wikipedia.  MySpace.  YouTube.  Facebook.  WebEx.  Twitter.  Pandora.  Netflix.  You know the players.

With each chapter came new concerns.  There were all the concerns about plagiarism.  Then it was copyright violations.  I remember a vehement argument about Wikipedia reliability with West Virginia Department of Education staff when I was a teacher.  In each instance valid concerns were raised, but recent history has shown favor to early adopters.

Yet the truth remains that most of our classrooms remain rooted firmly in the 20th century.  Many, perhaps most, of our teachers do not use 21st century tools.  There are various reasons for this.  They may lack the necessary training.  They may not see how they are relevant.  But I think it comes back to their fundamental world view.

For another group of teachers, the situation is a little trickier.  They have gotten the Macedonian text message and are prepared to share the digital gospel.  They are eager.  They attend hours - days even - of professional development to prepare themselves for the new educational paradigm.  Then they try to use those tools in their classroom.

YouTube: blocked.  Facebook: blocked.  Playlist.com: blocked.  Netflix: blocked.  Pandora: blocked.  Twitter: blocked.  The list grows each day.

The concerns of those who block those sites are legitimate.  First, there are the millions of federal dollars provided through E-Rate (the Universal Service Fund), administered by the FCC.  In order to have access to those millions of dollars, states must comply with E-Rate directives, including those related to protecting children.  The easiest way to do that is to start blocking Internet content.

The second issue is related to bandwidth.  At least in West Virginia, bandwidth is at a premium, and many of our rural locations simply do not have the access necessary for streaming media.  Again, the simple solution is to block streaming sites.

While I believe the arguments made for blocking content are legitimate, let me hasten to add that I do not find them persuasive.  

There have been those who have sought to protect children from other content historically, mostly in the form of an older technology: the book.  The Great Gatsby.  The Catcher in the Rye.  To Kill a Mockingbird.  Huckleberry Finn. The Lord of the Flies.  Slaughterhouse Five.  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Then there were those who rallied against the ill effects of the popular music of the day.  Louis Armstrong.  Bessie Smith.  Elvis Presley.  The Beatles.  Led Zeppelin.

What were those youth being protected from?  Vulgarity.  Drug use.  Violence.  Deviant sexuality.  Satanism.  Using the "N" word.  Sound familiar?

In every case, the would-be protectors of youth have looked foolish and, more importantly, have been proven irrelevant.  In every instance history (and technology) marched forward and our educational system came dragging up the rear.  The issue has never been, "Will students have access to this content?"  It has been, and will continue to be, "When will our education system acknowledge the culture in which its students live?"

We live in a republic with democratically-elected representatives.  Teachers and parents have a right to hold federal and state agencies accountable - including the FCC, the Universal Service Administrative Company, and yes, the West Virginia Department of Education.

And when it comes to bandwidth issues in schools in West Virginia, teachers and parents need to be asking what happened to the promises made by the legislature and the former governor four years ago when they entered into an agreement with Verizon to expand broadband access throughout the state.

The problems are complex, but those who believe they can't be solved simply do not understand the enormous creative capacities of human beings.  While the core issues surrounding these problems are the same as they have been for years, the circumstances are radically different.  We must accelerate the rate in which we solve these problems in the 21st century, simply because of the explosion in information and information technology.  Failure to do so will only result in our own irrelevance.

P.S.  I have written about some of these issues previously, including Twitter and the changing education paradigm.  You can read those posts here and here.

Credo

This was originally written in September of 2010.  I have revised it several times.

1. All of us are on a continuum, a “journey,” and our understanding should evolve as we go.  Although it is a cliché, I realize at this point in my life that I know a lot less than I thought I did, so everything on this list is subject to change.  As Notorious B.I.G. may have said, “A motherfucker’s a work in progress.” 

2. An idea is the most powerful thing in the world.  Consider Plato, Paul, Copernicus, Martin Luther, or Ornette Coleman.

3. New ideas are threatening to those in power.  Consider Socrates, Jesus, Galileo, Martin Luther King, or Shostakovich.

4. Almost all American music has its roots in the South.  Even Motown.

5. Colleges are great places because there are big libraries and free concerts, plays, exhibits and lectures.  The problem is that no one goes to any of those things.  As Frank Zappa wrote, “If you want to get laid, go to college.  If you want an education, go to the library.”

6. New Orleans is the most interesting city in the United States, probably the world. 

7. Politics are important. Art is more important.

8. Demand more art.  Demand it from our political, social, and cultural institutions, but demand it most of all from yourself.

9. Music is better than just about anything else.  Art, the theatre, dance and books are tied for second.

10. It is much easier to love someone when you hear their story, and it is nearly impossible to hate someone when you eat with them.  

11. Travel makes people better.  

12. If you’re not trying to make life better, more comfortable, or hipper, you’re wasting your time.  In the words of Hugh MacLeod, “Change the world or go home.”

13. Eat and drink whatever you please, whenever it pleases you. The only people who are impressed by what you eat or drink are the types of people who are impressed by what others eat and drink.

14. The idea that wisdom comes with age is bullshit.  Death comes with age.  There are lots of old fools walking around.

15. If no one thinks you’re hip, you probably aren’t.  If everyone thinks you’re hip, you definitely aren’t.

16. Small talk is for people who have nothing worth saying.  Most conversations should broach religion, politics, education, or art.

17. If no one has ever threatened to hurt you for something you’ve said, you probably haven’t said much worth hearing.

18. Human beings are inherently artistic and the urge to create cannot be suppressed by your despotic religion, political party, school or family.  Some people think this is the image of the Divine in us, while some believe it is an evolutionary impulse – but either way, it is there.

19. There is real evil in this world.  Anyone who says otherwise is either deluded or lying.  There is a reason we have nightmares from the time we are babies.  Most of us carry it around with us all day long.

20. Anyone who mocks American culture is an idiot.  In music alone America has given the world blues, country, bluegrass, jazz, rock and roll, soul, funk, disco, hip hop, punk, grunge and more.  None of those things could have happened anywhere else.

21. About 80% of the world’s great cultural achievements were a result of human misery and oppression (see #4, #6 and #20 above).  The other 20% happened in Florence.

22. If all of your friends think like you do, it probably means you’re dull, a bigot, or both.

23. Everyone should own a recording of Beethoven’s 9th.  I mean, there are “great” recordings and all, but even the bad recordings are usually really good.  And cheap.

24. Racism is still one of America's biggest problems.  This falls under: “Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind.”

25. You shouldn't wait until you are 37 to get a tattoo.  But if you do, you should try and make up for lost time very quickly.

26. You should ignore most life advice from friends and family, unless it resonates with you.  They are often motivated by their desire to keep you safe, which paradoxically may keep you from being happy. Ignore about 99.9% of advice given by teachers, pastors, school principals, and politicians.  Most of them aren't thinking about your future happiness at all.

27. A lot of people say they believe the Bible and even quote it to support their opinions.  Almost no one has actually read it.

28. Don't selectively quote others to support your opinions. Anyone who has said anything worth hearing has left a body of work and anything they said should be understood within that conext.

29. If you can’t stand what you are doing, do something else.  No one can make that decision for you.  Stop being a cliché.

30. Singing is central to the human experience.  If you don’t sing regularly, you are preventing yourself from being fully human.

31. About 90% of the things people do are motivated by their insecurities.  This is just an average.  It’s actually 93% for me.

32. Life is absurdly angular, irregular, messy, complicated, and mysterious.  I've stopped listening to anyone who offers linear narratives to the universe: all the evidence points to something contrary.  There is birth and death and love and hate and joy and pain and fear and boldness and just plain weirdness in myriad combinations, and we try to use the tools we have to make sense of it.  Sometimes we can. Other times just leave us puzzled and hoping for the best.

33. “Plan B” is usually better than “Plan A.”  We’re typically forced into “Plan B” because something in our life or experience or personality doesn’t resonate with our current path.  This doesn’t necessarily mean we made the wrong decision to begin with, it’s just that circumstances – and people – can change.  It also doesn’t mean that it is not exceptionally painful.

34. Plans C, D, E, F, G, and H can be pretty good, too.

35. Everything that happens to us makes us who we are.  To wish away our pain is to wish that we were someone else.

36. Love comes in lots of ways.  We should be open to it every time we encounter it.

37. Each of us has different faces we show – to friends, family, colleagues, children, authority, and lovers – and they are all true. It is at times most difficult to show your true self to family, for fear of disappointing them, causing them pain, or invoking their anger.  Paradoxically, they are the ones most likely to accept us when they see our true selves.  

38. Most cultural institutions – schools, governments, churches, etc. – are committed to the express purpose of suppressing in us what comes most naturally.  Sometimes these “natural” urges are destructive and merit suppression.  Sometimes they just violate social mores and are a threat to those in power.  

39. Those who hold power over others rarely, if ever, relinquish it willingly.

40. America is a police state.  The police in this country are overwhelmingly corrupt and committed to the violation of the rights of her citizens. This, coupled with the increasing militarization of our police force has led to an untenable situation.

41. Our government is, by and large, completely corrupt. For some it is "hard corruption," the sort of thing you imagine when you hear the word: vote buying, extortion, perhaps even murder. For most it is "soft corruption," however: serving at the behest of PACs or party bosses, corporate interests, or others, rather than citizens.

42. Socialism is the most underrated and the most reasonable form of government there is.

43. Our ancestors committed the self-same sins we have, though the accepted narrative may lead us to believe otherwise.  

44. There are lots of ways for things to be true.  Scientific truth is not the same as artistic truth, mathematical truth is not the same as metaphysical truth, and so on.

45. Stories help us understand the world.  This is why books are so important.  No one will end their life thinking they’ve read too much.

46. Most people believe that they are not creative.  This is not true.  Our educational systems lead people to this conclusion through the systematic suppression of the creative urge and the express teaching that creativity is the realm of the exceptional or the super-gifted.  Many of the problems we face as a culture could be solved if we cultivated a creative disposition in students.

47. Our educational system has also done an exceptionally poor job of helping us learn to weigh evidence and make decisions.  We give lip service to “critical thinking,” but if we are not prepared to challenge our own presuppositions and biases, there is nothing “critical” about it.

48. Most people believe the things they do without any evidence that they are true.  Maybe it's just that our beliefs reinforce our own prejudices, or maybe it's just laziness.  Much lip service is given to questioning received wisdom, but not many of us ever will.

49. The smartest people in the world read constantly, experience life fully, travel frequently, and talk to everyone they can.  A few of them have college degrees. 

50. Everyone should dance more.

51. If you ask someone what the best of day of his life was, he usually will say something like, "The day my son was born."  It makes me wonder what sort of terrible children they raised.

52. Human beings have enormous capacities, though we suffer on the one hand from romantic notions about those and on the other from crass cynicism masquerading as wisdom.  We expect too little from ourselves and others, and we are worse as a race for it.

53. Everyone is the central character in his or her own life story.  We like to imagine that others play supporting roles and that there are occasional cameos, but this is just arrogance.  If we could just stop and listen more . . . life can be really wondrous at times.

54. There is a great deal of wisdom to be had from the world's books of religion and mythology, if read correctly. If read literally and in an ethical vacuum, they may be the source of bigotry. Read with imagination, they may be liberating. It may be that Satan is the chief hero of the Bible.

55. Jesus is dead. It seems incredibly irrational to believe otherwise.

56. Ain't nothin' better in this whole wide world than rock-and-roll music and a fat-bottomed girl.