Cipherdom (deprecated)

The Minstrel Boy

It was one year ago that Joe Strummer died. Of the many people who may deserve to drop dead, he wasn't one of them. Reverse snob that I am, I'd always wondered just a little about Joe's public school background, which to some indicated his persona was a pose. (In England, "public" school is where the upper class sends its kids.) But evidently his father was just a hardscrabble guy who'd risen in the British diplomatic service and got his family some perks that are normally denied the lower classes. Any lingering doubts on my part were dispelled by this affectionate reminiscence by a Washington Post reporter who went to school with Joe.

I don't yet have his new disk because it was on my Xmas wish list, but I'm dying to hear "Redemption Song," one of Bob Marley's best. Word is that the album is pretty great. It can hardly be a better epitaph than Joe's version of "Minstrel Boy," an old Irish folk song whose lyrics seem hauntingly autobiographical in this context.

I recall an early 80's interview in which he said Sandinista's kooky sleeve cartoons were an homage to R. Crumb. He said, "R. Crumb, where are you when we need you?" If we "needed" R. Crumb in 1982, the word doesn't suffice regarding Joe Strummer and 2003. Here's to him and all the minstrel boys.

Another Really Bad Santa

One Good Day

Found out I'd lost a friend last night -- a good guy gone suddenly, way too soon. Here's how I felt this morning.

The Mud Hutter

Yesterday U.S. troops saved Saddam from an existence that was probably more unpleasant than the brief one he's about to endure in an Iraqi prison, where he'll be shown the type of humane treatment he denied to his people. Evidently, he spent the past seven months on the receiving end of an especially bad Trading Spaces makeover. Or maybe it's Green Acres -- "Darling, I love you, but give me a mud hut on the Tigris." One day, he's got palaces farther than the eye can see, the next he's curled up underground with a few books, some hot dogs, and a bare fluorescent light. Sic Semper Tyrannis. In that indelible video of his medical exam, he looked like an early-stage Alzheimers patient, so forlorn that you could almost forget he's a bloodthirsty butcher who deserves much worse than the execution he'll get next September, according to my estimate.

Tonight on Fox News, liberal strawman Alan Colmes lobbed his usual softballs to the exultant Sen. Orrin Hatch. Among other inanities, they agreed that the debate over whether the war was justified is now over. Nice try. Just watch the Howard Dean bashing begin in earnest now. In the GOP echo chamber, a story is being stirred to portray the presumptive Democratic nominee and Moveon.org as pawns of foreign interests. This will seem quaint before the election is over. Dean's greatest challenge is to convince middle America that it is not unpatriotic to express dissent during wartime. Don't bet against him, since he's already convinced a lot of liberals to overlook his "A" rating from the NRA, among other, um, quirks.

Really Bad Santa

Don't believe what you hear about "Bad Santa." You know, the people who formed an opinion without evidently bothering to see it first. All those critics' knee-jerk reactions -- what an outrage!

You might think I'm referring to the puritans who criticized it sight-unseen for polluting the minds of impressionable youngsters. Oh, those critics are asses, alright. But I'm speaking instead of guys like the usually reliable Roger Ebert and the seldom reliable Elvis Mitchell, both of whom gushed over the crappiest movie I've paid to see in roughly ten years. Ebert even hints at ulterior motives, claiming not to be swayed by the movie's hipster quotient. I'm a fan of Terry Zwigoff's last two movies, Billy Bob Thornton doesn't bug me the way he does some people, and I like Bernie Mac a lot. But they were working from a shockingly bad script, which the Coen Brothers themselves (who co-produced the film) polished up. I shudder to think how bad it was before they got hold of it. The half-baked social commentary -- which boils down to "Christmas is hypocritical" -- doesn't make up for a nearly total absence of laughs. The critical praise of this movie is wishful thinking, or else simple shilling on behalf of a promising underground director. Almost makes me wish I'd seen "Elf" instead.