Movie Review: The Hunger Games

Wandered off to see the Hunger Games last night.  I know, it's been out a while, but I avoided the crowds, had a deadline to deal with, and then Jack happened, so my plans were derailed for an early viewing.  But it was definitely worth seeing in the theater.

The Hunger Games is based on the young adult trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I read all three books over during spring break while waiting for various wives and mothers in law in the hospital waiting room.  I found them an engaging dystopian glimpse at an American future.  The story presumes an apocalyptic thermonuclear civil war in which thirteen regions of America come to be dominated by a region located in the Rocky Mountains.  As condition of the peace, each of the defeated regions participate in an annual "reaping."  They are forced to hold a drawing in which they send as "tribute" a boy and a girl between the ages of 12 and 18 to fight in a bloodsport to the death called the Hunger Games.  The first book in the trilogy follows the story of Katniss Everdeen from Region 12 as she struggles to survive the games.

Perhaps the most important thing the movie has going for it is its faith to the book's story.  It doesn't hurt that Suzanne Collins has a screenwriting credit for the film, or that the movie is well over two hours long. From the "reaping" to the presentation of the winning "tributes'" to the public, Hunger Games sticks to the story with considerable attention to detail.  From the crushing poverty of Region 12 to the opulent splendor of the capital city, and the various vistas of the games themselves, the elaborate settings from the book are seen in three dimensions.

Jennifer Lawrence is great as Katniss Everdeen.

There are also some fine performances.  Jennifer Lawrence is fine as Katniss.  She is strong and self reliant, which somehow manages to balance out her beauty and sexiness.  Lawrence has appeared in X-Men First Class and dominated Winter's Bone, but The Hunger Games is her biggest role.  Caught up in the danger of the contest, she shows us a smart, savvy survivor, quick to grasp the opportunities available to her, content not to do too much, and wily enough to understand how to play the game masters. Josh Hutcherson is good as Peta Mellark, Katniss' male counterpart from Region 12, who has a long-simmering thing for his teammate. Woody Harrelson is a much less soused version of Hunger Games champion and mentor Haymitch Abernathy.  Stanley Tucci is delightful as Hunger Games "color commentator" Caesar Flickerman.  Donald Sutherland is a menacing President Snow.  Each turns in a performance that adds color and texture to the story.

A few blog posters have criticized the decision to add actors of color to play some of the prominent supporting characters.  Rue, a twelve year old who reminds Katniss of her young sister Prim, is played by young Amandla Sternberg, and African American actress.  The story loses nothing in the telling by Sternberg's performance or her portrayal of our heroine's doomed friend. Musician Lenny Kravitz, also African American, does a fine turn as Cinna, Katniss' supportive stylist.  Kravitz portrays Cinna as supportive and surreptitiously rebellious.  Those who criticize diversifying the cast, surely cannot quibble with their contributions to the story, and must have other issues that require some self-examination.

Lenny Kravitz as stylist Cinna. 

The Hunger Games does an excellent job of setting the stage for its sequel, "Catching Fire."  The death of one of the District 11 tributes (name withheld to prevent spoilers) sets that region to insurrection.  President Snow (Sutherland) quick to grasp dangers to his autocracy, challenges the Hunger Games master Seneca Crane (Wes Bentley,) when he uses the two young Region 12 tributes as a love interest to retain fan interest.  "I mean, everybody loves an underdog" said Crane.  " I don't," said Snow.  Knowing the regions could unite behind a sympathetic winner, Snow sees the cracks in the capital's dominance.

The Hunger Games is a great movie.  It's one of those sci-fi spectaculars that doesn't require that you read the book, though it wouldn't hurt.  With great storytelling and solid performances, it sets the stage for two more great movies to come.

"Pure air and fire," a final tribute to Jack

Last week my wife and I put our Jack dog to sleep for the last time.  He'd fought colitis for the last three years and I don't think we had quite an appreciation for how dangerous a condition it was.  But that's behind us now.  We were there at the end, when I really didn't want to stay, but I was glad I could be there for him to say a very final goodbye.

Don't know quite how we caught him still enough to get this picture. 

Jack was a very special dog.  All dogs are special and wonderful, at least the ones I've known.  But Jack was the different from all the other wonderful dogs I've come in contact with.  Maybe it's because nothing ever escaped his senses, or that so many of his qualities seemed so human.  Perhaps it was because he was essentially in my care, and he made me love him so much.

Jack was a rescue dog, a quarter full sized Australian shepherd, three quarters miniature.  He'd been sold by his breeder to the Brown family, and his first owner was an itinerant minister on Camano Island, with a semi-invalid wife.  Those who know Australian shepherds at all know they are pretty active and Koba, as he was originally called by his breeder and new parents, was all of pretty active and more.  So active they kept him tranquilized and frequently crated.  It also allowed the little dog to retain a memory of being stuffed in his crate by a male, one that would haunt him almost all his life.

Lucy and Jack were buddies.  Just like peas and carrots.

The Browns lasted a year with Koba, and when we met him in May of 2003 he was living with a nice couple in Olympia.

I was at sixth grade camp in Purdy and made my daily call to Lorri just to check in.  We talked about a potential companion for Lucy, our two year-old black tri-color mini-Aussie.  We also had Rosie, a dog much older than Lucy, and we were interested in someday getting a playmate for her so she wouldn't be alone when Rosie was gone. Purebred Aussies are expensive and we were still absorbing the indulgence of flying little Lucy up from Fresno the year before.  So when Lorri anxiously announced over the phone that she'd learned of another mini-Aussie, a red tri-color, and it was FREE, I became interested. We drove down to Olympia to meet this little guy with Lucy in tow.  No point in taking him, unless his future step-sibling approved.

On the leash out at Owens Beach in 2010

Lucy was non-plussed, but his current care-takers were anxious to part with him. They owned a full sized blue merle and a ten year old Pomeranian that was driven to apoplexy by the little mahogany colored dog.  It seems that he always wanted to play, and was bad at taking no for an answer.  Coupled with the fact they had no backyard, it was clearly not the place for a little year-old pooch with all the energy of a fusion reactor. He was a cute, fuzz-faced little guy, short legged with prick ears.  Lorri, Casey, and I threw leashes on the two dogs and took them for a walk.  No magic, no chemistry, but when we got back to our car, Jack's crate was piled next to the Subaru.  It was clear he couldn't stay, so he came home with us.

Friends taking a walk in the Sound

He was not an immediate success.  Though completely housebroken, he got into things, a hallmark until the day he died.  He was a bully, harassed Rosie mercilessly, took her food, and could be mean to Lucy.  When he wanted Lucy to play, she had to play.  When she shrank away, Jack would simply grab one of her ears and run.  Lucy learned to play.  In later years, she also learned she was bigger than Jack, and would simply beat the crap out of him.

Through the summer of 2003, I was having a hard time liking him.  I didn't like the way he treated the other dogs.  But in September something changed all that. We took the two dogs with us to a pet-friendly B and B in Astoria.  Astoria is one of my favorites towns, a place I could actually see myself retiring.  I can stand the weather, and the town is old, close to Lewis and Clark sights and not so far from family.  One of the days we visited, we drove down to Cannon Beach and let the dogs play on the beach.  Jack showed Lucy how to swim and was genuinely kind and sweet to her.  It was even better the next day when we stopped at Cape Disappointment State Park on the way home and drove out to the ocean beach and let the dogs run.  They chased birds into the ocean, and had a great 'ol time together.  It was forever after Lucy and Jack, just like peas 'n carrots.

With his illness, Jack became a bit more serious.  It's hard to generate a lot of enthusiasm when you don't feel good.

One of my real pleasures was to watch the little red dog in motion.  Relatively short, with short legs, appearing a lot like a tailless fox, he could run like the wind.  Whether racing around the back yard, or on Sunday walks at Pierce college Jack could outrun any dog around.  Labs or golden retrievers three times his size were no match for him.  For a little guy, he could also really jump.  Short legs yes, but he had enormous feet and could hop from the floor to the kitchen counter in an easy leap--much to our chagrin.  It kept him regularly in baked goods and kitty food.

Eventually Lorri got Jack into agility training.  They only lasted a year.  In the end it was more time than Lorri could give, but Jack was a prodigy.  Very talented and easy to train, he loved the activity.  Something he wasn't very good at was catching a ball. I'd go out to the back yard with the two Aussies and toss balls until my damaged shoulder gave out. Jack would inevitably misjudge them, while his ungainly step-sister grabbed them on the fly, on the bounce, you name it.  He'd watch Lucy and bark helplessly and insanely.

Jack was, shall we say, barky.  That was a good thing and a bad thing.  He became a fabulous watch dog.  Dogs on the street?  He let us know about it. Random walkers, Jack told us.  He reserved his special ire for the UPS man.  When those brown trucks were on the block, Jack barked incessantly.  And woe betide those who came to the door uninvited--by Jack.  Pizza delivery people, Jehovah's Witnesses, little girl scouts peddling cookies were all given the Jack treatment. Worse, he became a terrible role model for Lucy, adding her much louder bark to the cacophony.  The worst was during the summer, when I would try to nap, fall asleep, only to be suddenly awakened by an eruption of sound as both dogs, led by our little red protagonist rapidly moved the needle on the sound meter into the red zone.

Two weeks before his death, Jack had a successful surgery we hoped would cure him. Unfortunately it didn't work out.

Yesterday my father characterized Jack as "hyper."  He was.  This didn't exactly endear him to people.  Like my dad. He was always at the front door to bark his fool head off at anybody entering the house, including Lorri and myself.  He unquestionably bugged and in some cases scared the crap out of company.  He'd get right in people's space and bark until he was done greeting everyone.  Sometimes it seemed like the greetings in Jack culture went on a little longer than necessary. 

Despite these little flaws, Jack was a dear, affectionate little dog with lots of lovable attributes.  He often seemed so human.  His face lit up with a wonderful smile when he was happy.  He loved to roll on his back and made strange sounds like a little old man.  He was always happy to see me come home, barking his approval and giving me a little shove as if to say, "Good to see you again old boy.  Now how about some dinner."  He was quick to wash my face, and was not immune to a brief cuddle, but wouldn't curl up in laps. He loved Lucy and would go to great lengths to clean her ears, to the point we were afraid he was actually washing out her very small brain. He was very sensitive to unhappiness in the house.  He didn't like listening to disagreements or yelling and if he heard it he'd run for our bedroom and sometimes climb into his crate.

Yes, there were those times.  He was an expert at getting at food almost anywhere.  My least favorite Jack talent was when he'd empty the kitchen garbage all over the house.  We had baby locks on the cupboard doors, but swore he managed to find his way in to them anyway.  Food left on the counter was in Jack's hunting ground, and more likely than not, gone when we got home.  He loved cat food, bread, muffins and doughnuts, and could actually chew through the lid on a jar of peanut butter.  Any pb within the length of his tongue was a goner. Still, he was well behaved around people eating, and while he wasn't opposed to accepting a proffered nibble, he wouldn't demand contributions.

We had Jack for nearly nine years.  Though he was high maintenance, especially after he became ill, he was a wonderful dog.  In many respects he and Lucy encompass the happiest years of our marriage, some of the best years of our lives, and in all the important ways he was a wonderful pet, a loyal and attentive companion. I miss him more than I  can say.  Though I know he is gone, I look for him on walks and on bike rides.  It seems as though he should be there. Jack was drawn in bold relief, "pure air and fire" to borrow from Shakespeare's Henry V. Not likely to generate a lot of apathy, one loved him or disliked him.  He was my dog and I don't expect everybody to understand my affection for him.  It's not important everyone understand, it's only important that I do, and I will remember him the rest of my days.

Who are these guys?

The 2012 version of the Seattle Mariners is a mystery wrapped inside an enigma.   Are they the same guys that blew leads last week and were perfectoed by the immortal Philip Humber?  The same Philip Humber that was pounded by the cellar dwelling Red Sox Thursday to the tune of nine runs in five innings. Or are they the same team that swept the Detroit Tigers this week.  The team that pounded out twenty runs on 37 hits.?

Young guns: Michael Saunders and Jesus Montero celebrate the young Canadian's salami that sank the Jays last night.

After twenty games into the season, I'm not sure I know this Mariners team any better than I did right out of spring training.  We know they can beat up on the A's.  We know they can knock the shit out of the Tigers at Comerica Park.  But they've sure had a hard time with Texas, Cleveland and Chicago. Difficulty scoring runs, difficulty holding leads, some dismal starting performances have decorated the daily blogs and sports pages.  Clutch hitting, sparkling starts, unexpected clutch at bats have appeared to balance the news to the tune of a 11 and 10 record.

It's way too early to get very excited or terribly depressed by this team.  It's long term success or lack thereof is difficult to discern.  There are some things I've seen, not necessarily SABRmetrically supported, and based on small sample sizes that I like over the past couple of years.  First, this team is better able to bunch hits to score runs.  Multiple hits in an inning make it more easy to score.  They don't have lots of multiple hit innings, and they don't score often enough, but it's an improvement.

They're also getting more extra base hits.  15 home runs in 20 games going into tonight's contest.  Not exactly going to set the world on fire, but there is the matter of those doubles.  Michael Saunders leads the team with six, Kyle Seager has five, and Dustin Ackley has five, and pro-rated over the season thats a lot of doubles if they continue with this production.  Just for the record the team leader for doubles last season was Justin Smoak with 23 (???!!!).  Likewise with home runs, there are three players with three homers.  Not likely to get anybody too excited.  But last year Miguel Olivo led this team with 19 home runs, and Russell Branyan led in 2010 with 15 homers.  Again, don't want to make too much with such a small sample size.

Finally, this team as a positive run differential (Runs scored -Runs allowed) of +4.  Not a big deal after 21 games.  But just for the record, the last time the Mariners finished the season with a positive run differential was 2003. 

Just to be balanced,  this team simply doesn't walk.  As a team the on-base percentage .292.  That is the same as last year's disaster, and actually .08 worse than the catastrophically horrendous 2010 team. Their current walk rate is 6.8 %  which puts them in the bottom of MLB. They also strike out too much. Their 18.9% strikeout percentage puts them in the middle of the pack, but is too high compared to their walk rate. In both 2010 and 2011, according to FanGraphs, their walk rates were somewhat higher, but so were their strikeout percentages. These numbers should improve as the young players gain more experience.  But  who knows?  They're kids and only time will tell.

I'd be remiss if I closed without commenting on last night's emotional victory over the Blue Jays.  Even as I preach patience, I am guilty of "not believing."  I watched the M's battle back from the 3-1 deficit, but at 6:45 I had to leave on an errand and turned the game off-just after the Jays scored their two runs in the eighth to take a lead. When I returned home the M's were tied on the MLB game tracker 5-5 in the tenth, and I quickly turned on the game in time to miss the Michael Saunders salami.  I don't remember the last M's team that could have come back from that late Jays score.  These guys fought back twice to win.

This isn't the same as last year's team.  They're not good-yet.  But they've got guts, and I haven't seen that in this town in a long time.

Sam Wo's closes

Every so often one comes across a little smidgeon from our past we thought we'd forgotten and today I found one.  Sam Wo's is closing.  Once, long, long ago I was a student at San Francisco State University.  Fall of 1975.  I don't have fond memories of school.  It was one semester in my life that I wasn't very proud of, though I met some wonderful people I wish I was still in touch with. 

I was a transfer student junior in what was mostly a urban commuter college.  A very good friend, Pat McConnell was a also a junior, had lived on campus two years and knew the City well.  I had a car and Pat and a few friends piled into my '74 Pinto and headed off to Chinatown.  Sam Wo's was an absolute dive.  A few tables stuck away in the second floor above the kitchen.  The food, however was awesome.  The link to the story about the restaurant closing talks about the rude waiter, and I don't remember him.  I do remember asking for a fork, while all my friends could use chopsticks.  I did get a dirty look.  I remember the four of us ate for slightly more than $6.00.  Visited Sam Wo's twice, and I'll never forget.

Wonder where Pat is now.

Felix pitches, Ackley homers, Ichiro hits

I wasn't planning to watch the M's open their season at 3:00 AM this morning.  However I am a bit of an insomniac, and even though I didn't make it to bed until almost 11:00 Tuesday because of deadline, I knew it was a possibility I'd be awake while the M's and A's flailed away at each other in the Tokyo Dome.  When our 16 year old crybaby cat Daphne came squalling into our bedroom, melatonin or no melatonin, I figured I'd go out and turn on the game. 

I was hoping to doze a bit through the rough and tumble, but no such luck.  I turned the game on as the game headed to bottom of the fourth, the M's up by a run.  Unfortunately that didn't last long, as my eyes focused just in time to see Kurt Suzuki rocket a double off Felix and drive in Cliff Pennington.  Score tied 1-1.  Fortunately the M's came back to win it, but it took 11 innings and a lot of very good pitching by Hernandez, Tom Wilhelmson and Brandon League to keep the A's away from further damage.  M's win 3-1. 

This had an eerily familiar feeling.  The M's had nine hits.  Of those four were by Ichiro, who looked like 2011 whas simply a blip on the radar.  Two tradmark Ichiro infield hits, but two nice line drives up the middle too.  Ackley had a couple of hits, including a fourth inning homer (maybe earlier, but it was before my moments of wakefulness.)  Not a lot of encouraging news on the hitting front as the middle third of the lineup-Smoak, Montero, and Carp-were a collective 0-17. 

On a more positive note, the M's are currently the winningest team in baseball.  Dustin Ackley is on a pace to hit 162 home runs.  Ichiro is firmly thrusting out his middle finger to all the Ichiro haters and is on a pace for 628 hits. Take that.

Why I can be patient

Mariners spring training hasn't gone too far down the road yet.  It's hard to tell how the team will shape up out of the gate.  But with the season opening in Japan on the 28th, we won't have long to wait and find out.

There's a lot of talk in the blogosphere about how this team will play this year.  What will the strengths of the M's be, what are its weaknesses?  And then there are those who only care about wins and championships; they will be disappointed.  There are those who feel the team should have been more active on the free agent market this year.  I don't disagree, but the Mariners did not need to make a big move on Pujols or Fielder, trapping this team in contracts they'll only regret later.  I know the word on the street is the big TV deals coming down the road in the next few years would solve all that.  But I believe the most important thing the M's can do is to find out what they have, rather than block their talented youngsters with expensive free agents. 

The Mariners have so many question marks, it's difficult to say how well they'll do.  I predict they'll win more than the 67 games they won last year.  I don't think they'll do a lot better than that, maybe 75 wins, but if things come together for some of the younger players and Ichiro and Figgins have better seasons they might be a .500 team.  I don't think that will happen, but I'd take it.

Jack Zdurencik with Rick Rizzs at FanFest.  This is a critical year for Jack Z:  will his team begin to show signs of maturity and development?

This is an important year for the M's.  Not because I expect them to win, but because we'll have a better picture of the team Jack Zdurencik is building and whether what his ability as a talent evaluator is justified or just hype.  In my view, Jack has a solid record of gathering talent to the team, on paper, but so far just a mixed record of getting talent between the lines at Safeco Field.  This is a pivotal year for the team, in that the talent that began arriving last year must begin to show it can win.

Here's my take on the team:

Ichiro's done nothing but hit the ball this spring.  Will it be good enough to be an effective number three hitter?

What do you do about Ichiro?-Ichiro is one of several veterans on this team that will very much shape the season.  Eric Wedge handed third place in the batting order to Ichiro, and coming off his worst major league season, and at age 38, one has to wonder whether Wedge is just whistling past the graveyard.  Ichiro's offensive production was down in every category with a .272/.310/.345 slash line and OPS at .645, 150 points below his career average.  His fielding also suffered.  It's hard to imagine at Ichiro's age that  he's going to reach his career averages of .326/.370/.421.  It's also difficult to imagine that the same ol' Ichiro would be an effective 3rd place hitter.  Dink 'em here, slap 'em there and run like the dickens might work leading off, but a third place hitter has to drive runners in.  If Ichiro hit .280 with forty doubles and 12-15 home runs, and walked a bit more it might be considered a success.  He's never done that.  34 doubles is his career high and he's hit homers in double figures twice.  Third is the most important place in the batting order.  Wedge is hitting Ichiro here because there's really nobody else. Ichiro is the biggest question mark on this team for this year.  His success or lack of it will determine his future with M's in this his walk year.

Do we care if Chone Figgins has a bunch of gloves to use in various spots if he still only hits .190?  That's been his spring so far.

Should Cone Figgins have any role on the Mariners?-First let me stand up and raise my hand and say forthrightly that I believed the signing of Chone Figgins was inspired when it was announced.  Two years later, I have hope, but very little, that Figgins will somehow help this team. It's difficult to understand how a guy that was so valuable to the Angels, could so utterly fall off a cliff.  From a player who received MVP votes in four seasons, became arguably the worst player in baseball last year.  Wedge has him penciled in batting first and playing a lot of third, and all over the field.  He hasn't exactly been a standout at the plate down in Arizona, but maybe Chone's fairy godmother will step into the batter's box with him and make him productive.  I can't even bother to cross my fingers for this one. No, if Figgins can't show he can be a useful hitter for the M's in spring or even by the end of April, it will be time to cut their ties and give on of the youngsters a shot.

We all know Saunders make the plays in the outfield.  To paraphrase the Natural: "There seems to be something wrong with Saunders; he's hitting the ball."

Michael Saunders savior? I'll say it right here-I like Michael Saunders.  He's the kind of player the M's should be searching for.  According to reports, the lefty outfielder has been driving the ball to right, but more importantly he's gone to the opposite field with power.  It's only spring training, but with Franklin Gutierrez out for at least the first month, Saunders will have the opportunity to show what he's got during the regular season.  Yes, you may be tired of hearing about the trials and tribulations of the Condor, but the M's will be a lot better if Saunders shows he is a productive hitter.

Bullpen blues--I'm really hoping the starting pitchers can go late into games, because so far I'm pretty unimpressed with the bullpen. The Mariners stockpiled bullpen arms during the off-season: Shawn Camp, Hong Chi-Kuo, George Sherill and a host of others.  Unfortunately most have not had strong springs.  While Brandon League, Shawn Kelley, and Tom Wilhelmson might be guys who can be counted on, the rest of the spots look kind of thin.  Help.

Catricala is greeted by import Munenori Kawasaki after clubbing a home run.  Catricala and Kawasaki have both opened eyes with their hitting.

Vinnie who?  Vinnie Catricala is one example of things that are right in the Mariners' farm system.  From being a virtual wasteland a year ago, third base is brimming with competition.  Figgins, Kyle Seager, Alex Liddi, Francisco Martinez, and Catricala are all guys who may assert their hold on this important position.  Catricala has shown he can hit at high A and AA ball, and he's had a great spring.  Great doubles power and right handed pop, if Catricala can show he has the defensive chops, he may show Chone Figgins the door.

Five things more funny than Rush Limbaugh's satire

I caught Anderson Cooper on CNN last night and the debate over Rush Limbaugh's disgusting comments about Georgetown Law student Sandra Fluke who was denied the ability to speak at Darryl Issa's all male House committee on Obama's expansion of the requirement to provide contraception coverage in health insurance.

While panelist  and former Bush spokesman Ari Fleischer quickly changed the subject to terrible deeds done by liberal writers, he did acknowledge that Limbaugh's portrayal of  Fluke was insulting, and he shouldn't have done it. Conservative advisor Mary Matalin, however had a different take as she pimped the satiric nature of Rush's radio show:

 Nothing is more effective than political humor and political satire and nobody does it better than Rush."

Perhaps I'm simply comedy impaired, but I rarely find referring to a young, articulate law student, passionate about a serious issue as a slut, or a prostitute, or demanding to view her in a sex act as satirical.  Satire proceeds from humor and I'm not seeing it here or whenever Limbaugh engages in hate speech against women (or the President or any other group he has political disagreements with.)

I'm convinced Mary and Rush just don't understand what humor is, though you think she'd get it because she's been married to Carville long enough and he's always laughing at something.  So I'm going to help by offering five things more funny than Rush's satire in the hope they'll stumble across this entry and perhaps figure it out.

Colbert and Stewart at 2010's Rally for Sanity/Fear on the National Mall

1.  Let's start with the obvious.  John Stewart and Stephen Colbert are satirists and way more funny than Rush Limbaugh.  Yes, their politics tend to show up as way more to the left than Rush, but that doesn't stop them from skewering those whose political persuasion they share.  In the end, both men want an end to the unseemly marriage between money and power in American politics and they are just as happy to pillory Nancy Pelosi as John Boehner.  



2.  I confess, I'm old, and I haven't stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live in years and years.  SNL has been famous for political humor  from Dan Ackroyd's portrayal of Jimmy Carter to Fred Armisen's efforts to be Barack Obama.  They took on advertisers and politicians of all stripes and even the media as they spoofed the 70's Sixty Minutes segment called point counterpoint.  Here are Jane Curtain and Dan Ackroyd talking nuclear power in the Shana Wallace and James J. Kilpatrick roles.  This is satire and this is funny.  Mary and Rush are you taking notes?

As bad as it looks, or just too unintentionally funny to ignore. 

3.  Plan Nine from Outer Space is one of my least favorite movies of all time.  An Ed Wood movie, it's a bizarre mix of alien invasion, zombie resurrection and murder mystery.  Plan Nine was Bela Lugosi's last film, and he died in the middle of making it.  No matter, Bela's in the first half of the film while the guy who replaced him, but looks nothing like him, takes over in the second half.  Most people find Plan Nine unintentionally hilarious, despite being rated as the worst movie of all time, but I find the script ridiculously wordy and convoluted, and it gives me headache.  However, nobody calls a young student a slut or a prostitute, so I'm willing to revisit this unintentional masterpiece and laugh the night away. 

No not taken in my own bathroom, but an all too familiar situation

4.  Yes, this is an empty toilet paper roll.  If you've been married as long as I have, you too will have experienced those moments when you've sat down to take care of your business and upon completing your task realized there is no toilet paper.  Why?  Because somebody, a beloved spouse or family member has thoughtlessly not replaced it.  What's wrong with them?  The humor is in the visions going through our minds as we plan their demise, or perhaps the image of ourselves running down the hall holding up our unbelted, unbuttoned pants searching out a fresh roll.  Why is it we never check the roll status before we are unalterably engaged in our um, more vulnerable activities?  32 years, you'd think I'd learned.  While tragic, definitely more funny than Rush Limbaugh.

Kim Jong Il-A legend in his own mind.

5.  Last but not least are two men that would be unintentionally hilarious, if they weren't so damned scary: Kim Jong Il and Newt Gingrich.  Yes, it's not fair to make fun of dead North Korean dictators but Kim was such a wack job it's hard not to recount some of his views and actions and laugh.  While Kim was busy starving his people he was the world's largest importer of Hennessy brandy, he portrayed himself as the inventor of the hamburger, and claimed he was the best natural golfer in the world.  Check out his familiar  khaki tunic which he claimed made him an international trendsetter.  Bombast?  Arrogance?  Hyperbole?  Who knows.  He's dead.  But the good news is somebody with sense now seems to be in charge with announcement that North Korea is interested in dismantling their nuclear program.

Newt waxing expansively about moonbases, the president's treason, or about what Callista made for dinner. 

You'd think that Kim and Newt would have little in common, but take a closer look here.  Hyperbole, thy name is Gingrich.  Whether excoriating Mitt Romney or President Obama, or tooting his own accomplishments, nobody can tell a whopper like Newt.  My favorites are famous-President Obama's alleged "Kenyan anti-colonial behavior," or that he is "the most dangerous president in American history."  Oh, tell us how you really feel Newt.  Always willing to tout his own accomplishments as speaker, Newt always leaves out the part about how he is also responsible for the current permanent partisan warfare we find ourselves in, and that in 1998 his failure to oust Bill Clinton from office led to a loss of seats in the House and the subsequent revolt in his party led to his exit as Speaker.    Newt always reminds me of a combination of former House speaker Sam Rayburn, boxer Muhammed Ali, and science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke: someone with vision and a big mouth, but with a lot fewer accomplishments.  Newt's hilarious.  A hypocrite and a failure, but hilarious.

So Mary and Rush, these are five things that are much funnier than calling Sandra Fluke a slut and a prostitute.  There are many other items I left off the list-cholera outbreaks, some Adam Sandler movies, and the rapid exit of your sponsors.  But this was just a brainstorming session.