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Further Evidence That Human Beings Suck

So, I get on my train this morning at my usual station, the end-of-the-line terminus at the south end of the valley. The train sits at this stop for 15 minutes or so in between runs, to give people time to actually walk across the immense park ‘n’ ride lot and get on board, which means that on mornings when I’m one of the first people on — as I was today — I get to sit in a mostly empty train car and observe what human beings do when they think no one’s around. And today I saw a corker:

There was this corpulent, sour-faced old man in cheap velcro-fastened shoes who apparently doesn’t know or doesn’t care that you’re not supposed to eat on the train. I watched as he pulled a leftover KFC drumstick out of a plastic grocery bag and commenced to chowing down, dropping bits of Extra Crispy coating all over himself and the bench seat on which he’d parked his immense rear. This was mildly annoying, but I see people eating or drinking coffee fairly often in the mornings, so I could let it slide. No, the thing that really got me was that when he finished his breakfast, he carefully placed the bone under the seat in front of him, then got up and moved to another seat.

I debated for some time over whether to go tap him on the shoulder and ask him if he really thought no one had seen him commit his tiny act of ignorant, inconsiderate crappiness, but he looked like the sort who would escalate the situation into something truly ugly. In the end, I wussed out and chose to avoid confrontation. And it’s been bothering me ever since… I really should have just faced the argument and let the stupid old son of a bitch have it with both barrels.

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The Stupidity of Local TV News

Kristy Kruger is an award-winning singer-songwriter from Texas whose older brother, Lt. Col. Eric Kruger, was killed in Iraq a few months ago, on only his second day in the country. Kristy has since written a sad, sweet, deeply moving little song of farewell to her brother, and she’s now on a 50-state tour of the U.S. to pay tribute to Eric’s memory (she says she’d like to see what he died for, i.e., the whole of America). The tour has brought her here to Salt Lake, where she’ll be performing tonight at a venue called Kilby Court.

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Quote of the Day

Andrew Sullivan on the whole Don Imus thing:

I wish I’d taped the conversation I had today with the editor of the Sunday Times in London when I had to explain exactly what “nappy-headed hos” were. He had images of garden tools covered in diapers.

And they say Americans and Brits speak the same language…

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Kurt Vonnegut

Renowned author Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., died yesterday at the age of 84, and I find myself rather puzzled by the depth of my reaction to the news. I feel truly, deeply bummed about this, which would make sense if Vonnegut had been one of my heroes. But the truth is, the only work of his I’ve ever read is a single short story back in high school, the same short story that everyone else reads in high school, “Harrison Bergeron.” I’ve always meant to read some Vonnegut, or at least his best-known novel Slaughterhouse-Five, but I just haven’t gotten around to it.

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Snake Plissken? I Heard You Were Dead…

Remakes have been a significant part of Hollywood’s output since at least the 1930s, when many silent movies were filmed again as talkies. But it seems to me that the philosophy behind remakes has changed in recent years. It used to be that you remade less-than-memorable movies in hopes of coming up with something better. The Maltese Falcon is the perfect example; few people today realize that the Bogart classic was actually the third time Dashiell Hammett’s novel had been adapted for the screen. The two earlier versions have been largely forgotten, presumably for good reason.
Today, however, remakes mostly seem to be movies that audiences do remember, and even revere; cult classics seem to be particularly vulnerable. (My theory is that modern remakes are largely exercises in branding; Hollywood is updating familiar movies because audiences are already aware of the titles and basic premises, so there’s less of a challenge for the marketing department.)

Take, for example, the latest exercise in “why is this necessary”-ism: a remake of the John Carpenter-Kurt Russell favorite Escape from New York. Wow, what a brilliant idea, a real natural. After all, the last remake of a Carpenter film, The Fog, did so spectacularly well at the box office, didn’t it? (Yes, kids, that’s sarcasm you’re reading.) While we’re at it, why doesn’t somebody remake Carpenter’s best-known film, his big breakthrough and masterpiece, Halloween? Oh… never mind

You know, I saw Kurt Russell on The Late, Late Show the other night. He was there to plug Grindhouse, naturally, but the host, Craig Ferguson, was far more interested in discussing the Escape remake. Kurt, classy guy that he is, said he had no issues with it and wished the new production well. I tend to agree with Craig, though; he said (in his amusing Scottish accent) that it was bullshite, that Kurt was Snake Plissken, that Snake was an icon, and that no one else could take over the role. And then for good measure, he repeated himself: it’s bullshite.

I would just add that somebody already did a remake of Escape from New York. It was called Escape from L.A. What’s that, you say? You don’t remember that one? Yeah, well, that pretty much says it all, doesn’t it?

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Steensma on Stegner

One of the regrets I’ve carried forward from my college years was my failure to form personal relationships with any of my instructors. While friends of mine can talk of networking opportunities or outright friendships with their professors, I doubt my former teachers would even recognize my face these days. And things aren’t much better on my side of the equation, as a conversation with a co-worker and fellow U. of U. alum earlier today forcefully demonstrated: we were talking about the horrors of writing workshops, and she asked me who my teacher had been during a particular workshop experience. To my surprise and sincere discomfort, I couldn’t remember the man’s name. I could summon up his face reasonably well, but the name was a complete blank. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I have the same problem with most of my professors.

The shame of this realization sent me scrambling across the Internet, compulsively searching for any mention I could find of the four or five names I can still recall. And lo and behold, I stumbled across this upcoming release from the University of Utah Press: Wallace Stegner’s Salt Lake City by Robert C. Steensma.

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WKRP: Looks Like I Won’t Be Buying This One

Well, this is entirely unsurprising and also extremely disappointing: reports are surfacing that that the upcoming DVD release of WKRP in Cincinnati — one of my all-time favorite television comedies — has been heavily edited because of music clearance issues. Jaime J. Weinman has the details, but the short version is that pretty much all of the original music from the show is gone. And so are many scenes in which characters explicitly reference the original music, or which only make sense in the context of viewers hearing the music (like the infamous scene in which Mr. Carlson asks burn-out DJ Johnny Fever if he hears dogs barking while a Pink Floyd album plays).

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Just for Comparison…

Just to show you how reliable these Internet quizzes are, I just took another Firefly/Serenity-related one, and it tagged me as an entirely different character than the previous one:

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