The Contrarian

Give Ben Stein Money. . . By Jebson Interlandi

"Darwin said nothing about how life originated."

Who wants to have some fun today? The above quote is from Ben Stein during his appearance on the Glenn Beck show back in 2007. Stein, famous for his classroom-cameo monotones (and speeches for Nixon), released a film in February called Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed. The "documentary" argues for the inclusion of "Intelligent Design" discussions in the public realm, particularly in the classroom.

Although I've yet to see the film, Stein's primary objective seems to be questioning Darwin's Theory of Evolution. Stein suggests that since it hasn't yet explained the origins of existence, Intelligent Design should be entertained as an alternate hypothesis.

Nothing seems to illicit as much bitter back-and-forth as Creationism vs. Evolution, but no one ever talks about how fundamentally STUPID and INEFFECTIVE the entire dispute is. In fact, actual debate between these two worlds is simply impossible. Supposition and science are totally different things.

Now, I'm not an expert. But from my understanding, a theory is an argument that can be falsified through processes of experimentation. In some cases, a theory becomes law, such as the Law of Gravity. Intelligent Design is a claim stating supernatural power(s) deliberately created all Life. It is not a theory, since it can neither be proved or disproved. It's merely somebody's assertion.

Of course, some in the scientific community posit that Existence is the result of a Big Bang, Cosmic Egg, or Electrical Bolt to the Mud Puddle, but these are only guesses. Frankly, this is all anyone can do. Yet there are key differences between empiricism and assumption. Intelligent Design is a conjectural activity with a supernatural worship agenda. Evolution is a theory regarding an ongoing process of adaptation and survival. Evolution utilizes a different critical framework than Creationism, rendering debate between the two futile.

Stein is troubled that Darwin didn't answer how life began or how cells came to be, and his counter-proposal is Intelligent Design. On a recent Bill O'Reilly segment, Stein claimed that supporters of ID are failing to be heard. Hey Stein, guess what? Since at least the days of Thales, every fucking thinker has been discussing and speculating about the supernatural or natural origins of life. The mythological arguments have been made and are certainly well known. They continue to be claims and guesses; that's all they will ever be.

To be fair, Stein is mostly concerned with modern frames of discourse. Scientists and other professionals do run a risk of  harassment if they voice religious beliefs. Freedom of speech still stands, but pointing out the possibility of God or Tiamut is frowned upon in the scientific community, mostly because it's irrelevant to their work. The aim of experimentation and research is to achieve results, and simply saying the world may have been created is unnecessary.

I've said it before: if Intelligent Design wants a place in the classroom the teachers better be prepared to address every single Creation Story known on this planet, as they are all equally possible and impossible. You say Jehovah, I say Uranus.

O'Reilly asks: "Why can't you just mention in Biology class, or whatever class you want, that there are theologians who believe a higher power was responsible for first life?"

Most children do, in fact, know there are theologians who believe in higher powers. Hell, even Secular Progressives are aware of the concept. If you are wondering why public schools don't educate on supernatural primogenitors, it's because we have churches for that. So if you want spoon-fed answers to the unanswerable, you've got a place to go, and plenty of flavors to choose from.

I've heard it suggested that Stein is only in this racket for the money. By rallying for controversial Creationism, Stein is guaranteed attention, publicity and a fatter wallet. Now that's a decent theory.

Fitna. . . By "John Smith"

Here it is: the 15 minute film that can bring blood to a boil. I suggest you watch it—it is, after all, a hot topic in Europe and this film is amassing impassioned responses from all sides.

I suppose I should offer an impromptu disclaimer: The posting, and contents, of this video do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions held by anyone here at the Contrarian Media Group. Being devoted to all things media, our posting of this video is purely for the sake of sharing available information. How's that?

Picking Scabs. . . By Jebson Interlandi

There really hasn't been anything to write about, plus the last few weeks I've spent in isolation slowly becoming a non-credentialed Rabelaisian scholar. My descent into total Nerdness (even more so for using that word) is nearly complete.

I feel like it's 1989 and I'm tossing and turning all night in anticipation of Back to the Future II. These days my adrenal flux is capacitated by the 15 minute Islam-critical film, Fitna, produced by Dutch MP, Geert Wilders. It's too exciting. The release is set for March 29th and shit is going down. Protests, the burning of Dutch flags, name-calling, petitions, etc. I was set to attend the initial screening, but my physician has forbade my presence, saying there is a potential "health-risk."

Supposedly, the film will be available for viewing at www.fitnathemovie.com a day or two before April 1st. I'll plug it one more time when it's out. It'll probably be pure shit, but it's worth watching.

While I'm here, I should review Nick Cave's latest: Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! I think I'm beating Casey to the review here at The Contrarian. Sorry, buddy. [S'cool. I just turned in my review to Washington City Paper - ED.]

I like it. "Albert Goes West" and "More News From Nowhere" are my favorite songs, by far. Great lyrics on "We Call Upon the Author." 11 tracks. Less piano-oriented Cave writing. That's it, that's my review. I guess it will be released in April — in America. Here's a taste:

"We Call Upon the Author".mp3

A little while back, there was discussion over here about banning piggie-banks. This was meant to be a response to Wilders, the aforementioned ultra-conservative. By getting rid of pork-related icons, the Dutch Government was hoping to demonstrate tolerance and compassion for the Muslim population. I can't wait for the day when Jainism catches on in the U.S.A and we rally together to place a ban on fly-swatters. Respect.

What We Did.

Brooke and I really shot the moon this weekend. Well, compared to what we usually do, which is stay in, watch stuff On Demand, play with the cats, read magazines and dick around online.

This weekend we saw two movies in the theater back-to-back: Be Kind Rewind and Persepolis. We ate every meal at a restaurant. and. . . AND. . . We cruised around select neighborhoods to see where we might want to buy our first house. That's right, we're looking into becoming homeowners. It seems like the right time. The unceremonious bursting of the real estate bubble has created a buyers market. Add to that the fact that most mortgages in our price range are less than what we pay in monthly rent, and we've got all the reason we need.

Today was all about scouting 'hoods, but we'll probably make an appointment with a realtor soon.

Say, let's talk about those movies. Be Kind Rewind is the new Michel Gondry flick starring Mos Def and Jack Black. It's so much better than I could've anticipated. Who cares if the plot arc resembles the Brady Bunch Movie? Mos Def is a fantastic straight man. His laconic delivery is earnest and droll, and helps temper Jack Black's manic bluster. This movie requires a considerable suspension of disbelief, but if you can accept it's odd-cute-goofy gimmick, you'll be rewarded by an effortlessly charming film. I really liked the fact that it had poor people in it. And they had dignity. In fact, that's kind of what the whole thing is about. Oh, and I still think Mia Farrow is hot.

Persepolis, the animated story of a young girl living in brutal and socially backwards post-revolutionary Iran, is more important than it is exhilarating, but that's OK.  Based on a celebrated graphic novel by Marjane Satrapi, it's visually agreeable and tells its story well. But man, did it make me angry at repressive monotheistic religions. Required viewing. (Or at least pick up the comic.)

Watching the Oscars right now. I rarely make it through the first half-hour. Not expecting to beat this record tonight.

On Tuesday, I'll be bringing Low-Power FM advocates to the offices of Senators Hillary Clinton, Chuck Schumer and Rep. Kirsten Gillibrand. Hillary won't be there, of course, but we'll meet with her staffers. Schumer and Gillibrand might be kicking around, though. Wish me luck.

Bullseye on the Podium. . . By Jebson Interlandi

Not a cartoon depiction of the Prophet Mohammed.

It's heating up over here. The Netherlands, as I'm sure everyone knows by now, is dealing with a few sensitive conflicts regarding, what else? Religion. Big controversy over this anti-Islamic film produced by Geert Wilders, a right-wing MP. On top of that, there are the ongoing vehement protests against Danish and Dutch satirical cartoon depictions of Mohammed. I'm not sure I should go near this issue, to be honest. 

The Iranian government is pissed off.  Gholam Hossein Elham, the recently appointed Iranian Justice Minister, is pleading for an official ban of the film. Then there are several Dutch government reps wanting to prohibit burqas from being worn in public places. Turkish and Moroccan Muslims are adding significantly to the Dutch population and reactions to this are varied. How will things play out in the next ten years?  A famously liberal and tolerant country confronted with a belief-system (like most belief-systems) that is famously repressive and restrictive. My position is simple: I'm always on the side of satire, iconoclasm, and freedom of expression — and when I say freedom, I'm referring to more than the freedom to prostrate oneself in the wake of some "holy" mortal's worldview.

A cartoon, a movie?  The way I see it, if you're truly secure with your own faith and beliefs, it shouldn't matter what anybody says about them. Actions are another matter, of course. I hope Mr. Wilders takes necessary precautions — particularly in light of activist/director  Theo Van Gogh's 2004 tragic end, which was motivated in part by his films.

Spoken, written, or illustrated criticisms of morals and beliefs should have no damaging affect on a mind that is strong and secure in said opinions. That's the way I see it, anyway. But I suppose this outlook will inevitably hinder my own bid for longevity.

But enough of that. I just came up with a fun activity to get our collective blood pressures back to normal.

Check this out: I've hung around my fair share of universities and colleges, attending Middlebury College's prestigious "Essay Camp" and Dartmouth College's 2003 summer "Talent Seminar." I love to look at course catalogs. Education is the cat's ass, no doubt, but academia is yet another self-contained, self-validating structure with plenty to mock.  If I ever become Dean of my own university here are a few courses you'll see in my personally devised curriculum:

Vegetarian Ethics

Blue Collar Sympathies: Understanding Hidrosis

Feeling Roth: Van Halen and Postmodern Discourse Theory

Secondary Narcotic Knowledge

Modern Methodology in Blues and Suffering

Foucalt's Perineum: Tickling Suppressed Fancies in the Communication Age

Klezmer Bass Lines in a Global Economy

Eh? This could become a regular feature here at The Contrarian.  The Contrarian Curriculum?  Good lord, this is severely corny.  But it puts a smile on my face, at least. [Maybe it can put money in our pockets, too! -ED]

So, I just discovered this television show called "The Sopranos." It used to be on HBO and I guess it's about the Mafia or something rad like that. It's even got Steve Buscemi. Remember in Fargo when Buscemi gets put into that machine and it cuts him up? That was awesome.

No Country For James P. Caldwell. . . by James P. Caldwell

   

Javier Bardem turns in one of the best performances ever AND he's balling Penelope Cruz? Shit....I should've been a Spaniard.

Sunday Action.

I'd like to introduce you all to a nifty new blog called Liquid Sunshine, which is the online journal of Future of Music Coalition Events Organizer, Chhaya Kapadia. She quite plainly rules. Her writing is smart and funny, with a dose of old-fashioned sweetness. Much like Chhaya herself! Anyway, there are only a couple of posts up right now, but I'm sure we can expect more, considering she leads a pretty action-packed life. Well, compared to me, anyway.

In other exciting news, I've finished with my new record, which is called Northern Lights. It took me forever, mostly due to laziness. Perfectionism, however unrealized, also conspired against me. It's a little woofy on the low end in spots, but I don't feel like remastering it right now. If it turns out I can't live with it — which could easily happen — I might give it another go.

Next up, I send it to Jebson for comment, then to Jay, so he can get a sense of what the artwork should be like. After that, I plan to give away the whole record, in MP3 form, right here. It will also be up for sale at iTunes and eMusic, and you should eventually even be able to stream it at Rhapsody. Probably won't bother with a CD. Feel free to e-mail me (button at top left) for more info.

As I previously mentioned, Northern Lights is (loosely) inspired by Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials novels. Stylistically, it's a grab bag, but it has an overall rockin' feel. The last stuff I released was of the hushed, saddoe variety, with a few artsy/electronic flourishes. This thing owes more to classic rock, which, I must confess, is kind of embarrassing. I've basically outed myself big time. There's no way I can pretend to be an envoy of the avant-garde after this. Oh well. At least there's a few bitchin' solos.

What else is goin' on? We finally saw The Orphanage (El Orfanto) yesterday, which I can't recommend enough, especially if you're a Guillermo del Toro fan. (He produced it; Juan Antonio Bayona directed.) It's something of a companion piece to del Toro's The Devil's Backbone (El Espinazo del Diablo) — both have a thing for dead kids and eerie architecture.  I'm rarely affected by so-called  scary movies, but The Orphanage made me jump several times. Take that as a warning, if you're a fraidy-pants. 

I think we're gonna try to catch Persepolis today. 'Cause tomorrow it's back to the grind.

Giant Monster Saturday.

Just saw the monster-takes-Manhattan flick Cloverfield, which is an over-hyped, JJ Abrams-produced bit of fluff. Better than I anticipated, but still fairly silly. The shaky handheld cinematography made Brooke literally nauseous, but I got through it OK.

The rich-kid characters were annoying, but more realistic than a Sci-Fi Channel movie. Not that you really get to know them, or anything. It's all panicky reactions to *911 To The X-treme*-style devastation. I was surprised that the filmmakers actually went as far as to show crumbing skyscrapers and billowing debris tearing through city streets. It looked pretty familiar, if you know what I'm sayin.' And how could you not?

The creature design was quite good, actually. I'm glad they gave it a more humanoid shape, as opposed to the slug-lizard-insect monsters we so often see in these kind of films. I sensed a definite Lovecraftian inspiration, with a nod to Harryhausen and The Host. Of course, the Statue of Liberty head-in-the-street stuff was totally ripped off from John Carpenter's Escape From New York.

All in all, a bit of ridiculous fun. You know what else falls into that category? Eddie Murphy's ass-rap classic "Boogie in Your Butt." Step aside!

Weekender.

Cartoon *borrowed* from Toothpaste for Dinner.

Sometimes you just gotta listen to "South Side of the Sky" by Yes, and dig on Bill Bruford's slippery snare action and Steve Howe's staccato ascending guitar runs.

'Cause it's fun.

Finished my Magnetic Fields review. Now I've only got Black Mountain, King Crimson's Great Deceiver reissues, a Kaada/Patton DVD, Jesu, Dead Meadow and Richard Swift left to go!

There's no good movies out this weekend. And I'm in the mood for a picture. JJ Abrams' hush-hush, giant monster flick Cloverfield hits theaters next week, but it's hard for me to get that excited. The previews look like the '90s Godzilla remake with Matthew Broderick, but shot with shaky handheld cameras for added "realism." And the cast of unknowns remind me of annoying NYC hipsters, or at least the Central Casting equivalent. But  hey, JJ Abrams? Right? Right?

It's a foggy, rainy evening here in the District. I think it might be a nice night to kick back and read. There's an article about "The Wire" mastermind David Simon in the new Atlantic Monthly that I'm psyched to finish. Of course, I've always got my massive CIA book to try and plow through.

I have one last song to finish on my new record, but unfortunately it's just the vocals that are left. For some reason, I just can't seem to get up the steam, even though I've already written the core melodies. Maybe I can get to it tomorrow.

Sunday, I'm off to Mark's house to rehearse for our appearance at the 2008 National Conference of the Society for Electroacoustic Music in the United States, which takes place in Salt Lake City, Utah in March. Whee!

What are you guys up to?

 

Horror, Humanity and Meat Pies.

Sweeney Todd — The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is, hands down, the finest picture of the year.

Now, I'm not a Tim Burton freak or anything; it seems mostly coincidence that Ed Wood is among my top ten favorite pieces of cinema. But after you've sat through overblown atrocities like Sleepy Hollow, Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, Big Fish and Planet of the Apes, I don't believe the case for unmitigated genius can convincingly be made. Still, Burton's cinematic vision is unique, and, when the stars properly align (and I don't just mean Johnny Depp), he can deliver a hell of a movie.

Put Sweeney at the top of the shortlist of Tim Burton masterpieces.

Everything about it is note-perfect, from the harmonic complexity and dizzying counterpoint of the Stephen Sondheim score to the — ahem — go-for-the-throat performances. The set pieces are finely-detailed and thankfully lacking in computer-generated gratuitousness. Burton's Victorian London is realistically gritty, and the stark and desperate people that fill its alleys and thoroughfares are well depicted. There's a great deal of singing, but Oliver! this ain't.

Pretty-boy Depp is finally showing something of his age, and it suits him. Despite what the previews suggest, this film is probably about 90 percent sung, and Depp rises to the occasion admirably. His voice (which holds a hint of David Bowie) is actually quite nice. But the best part about his performance is the barely-suppressed rage he brings to this morbid little tale of vengeance. This isn't Depp on autopilot, as we've seen far too often recently. He commits to the part of Sweeney with a pitched severity that climaxes in an orgy of carnage that out-spurts any Saw sequel.

I have a soft spot for Helena Bonham Carter, and it's refreshing to see her transcend the gothcentricity she's typically employed to flaunt. It is there, make no mistake about it — raccoon eyes, Bride of Frankenstein hair. . . But the elegant pathos she brings to Mrs. Lovett's homicidal opportunism adds sincerity to what might have otherwise been a baroque cartoon. Plus she's got some of the *funniest* lines in the whole show.

Sascha Baron Cohen is pretty entertaining, too.

I suppose if you're a Sondheim purist, you might find some fault with the film, mainly in the condensing necessary to go from stage to screen. But believe me when I tell you, not a drop of blood (and there is a lot) is wasted.

I wasn't sure Burton had the stomach to go as far as this film does, but I was happily mistaken. Macabre and disturbing, Sweeney Todd cuts as sharp and quick as the barber's bloody blade. It's been a long time since I've wanted to see a film more than once while it's still in theaters, but I definitely plan on another viewing before it joins my DVD collection.

PS: Brooke and I strolled right past George Tenet on the way to the cinema. We were walking down the wrong side of the street, past fenced-off construction with cars whizzing by. George shuffled past in the opposite direction, against traffic. He looked slightly troubled and sad, which is why neither of us had the heart to yell "slam dunk!"