Thu, January 31

La biblioteca total—3:31 PM

I'm reading this absolutely mind-bending and delightful collection of short writings by Jorge Luis Borges. For its sheer ability to have me laughing with glee on one page and contemplating the vast processes of the cosmos on the next, it rivals Bill Bryson's dazzling A Short History of Nearly Everything. It's slow, challenging reading at times, but so far it's been entirely worth it.

In one piece, "The Total Library," Borges considers the possibility of an infinite library, generated in much the same way as the texts those infinite monkeys create with their infinite typewriters. "Everything would be in its blind volumes," he writes.

Everything: the detailed history of the future, Aeschylus's Egyptians, the exact number of times the waters of the Ganges have reflected the light of a falcon, [...] the Gnostic preachings of Balisades, the song the sirens sang, the accurate catalog of the library, the proof that the catalog is fallacious.

And that's the paradox: you would know, with an infinite combination of letters and words in infinite volumes, that all the intelligence of the universe (known, unknown, or yet to come) would be there. But you would also know, as an artifact of its creation, that plenty of near-knowledge would be there. ("It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times," e.g.) You would never know if the part you were reading was the untapped secret to the meaning of life, or just gibberish that came real close.

The only way to tease apart the fact from the quasi-fact would be to figure out the reality for yourself and then compare it to a given passage from the Total Library. Which, if you think about it, is basically what scientists do.

In closing, Borges refers to the concept as that of a "vast, contradictory library, whose vertical deserts of books run the incessant risk of metamorphosis, which affirm everything, deny everything, and confuse everything – like a raving god." Reminds me of Wikipedia.

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Wed, January 30

Ratings Shuffle—11:53 PM

Not a big deal, but I bumped up the score on No Country for Old Men a tad on the second viewing. (I actually bumped it up a few points after seeing There Will Be Blood because it's frankly a more satisfying film, and if There Will Be Blood is the supposed cream of this year's crop – not counting Atonement, which, again, I don't – then No Country for Old Men deserves even more recognition for besting it.)

If this adjustment causes any panic, I apologize. It does happen from time to time; as much as I prefer that the ratings reflect my opinion directly after seeing a movie, sometimes that opinion is unjustly skewed. In the case of Smokin' Aces it was way too high because I'd had a fun time – upon further consideration, it wasn't a top-echelon movie. No Country for Old Men was underrated because of a) Coen-based expectations and b) seeing it with Joe who wasn't bowled over by it. I'm immune to the reactions of most moviegoing companions, but his can still be a little contagious. (Not his fault.)

On the bright side, the result of this adjustment is that the ranking of last year's films is possibly the most accurate list I've ever created (if, for instance, someone asked me to rank my top 30 movies of 2007). So, I must finally be growing into my own ratings system. (It probably helps that last year I programmed a new automated comparison tool which assists me in refining my 0-100 point scores for new reviews.)

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Tue, January 29

I'm a Snobble

This was originally a comment on Andy's post about The Diving Bell and the Butterfly but I got carried away and it became too unwieldy to fit in that space. (Read more.)

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Thu, January 17

Designing the Pool

Next time I'm whining about how my life goals have gone unmet, remind me I spend a hundred or so man-hours on the damn Oscar pool each year. (Read more.)

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There's Something About Seagrave—3:29 PM

Short of delaying my TiVo viewings of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert (and wishing really really hard), the only thing I'm doing for the striking writers is reading their blog obsessively.

Yesterday, WGA member Ed Decter posted a savvy little recap of the bizarre bedfellows that make up the AMPTP. My favorite part:

[Fox CEO] Peter Chernin must be a lot smarter than the chairmen of the other conglomerates. He must have about a hundred IQ points on each of them. How did he convince Les Moonves to “hold the line” and do without new CSI episodes while handing Fox the biggest ratings win in history? How did Chernin spin Iger on shutting down the Grey’s Anatomy juggernaut so that WGA-less Idol could run free of any competition? What did he say to Jeff Zucker? Did he assure Zucker that Howie Mandel is every bit the ratings equal of Simon Cowell?

This has to be the second-most-confusing part of this whole situation. I'm wondering if it will finally be the reason the conglomerates break down and start negotiating one-on-one with the WGA. The Golden Globes didn't seem to do the trick, but American Idol might.

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Mon, January 14

Mrs. Onebee

Another of my introspective, confessional posts. Probably more fun for me than for you – though we can all wager whether I'll end up redacting the whole thing in a year or two. (Read more.)

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Fri, January 11

Darnedest Things Dept.—10:45 AM

As kids, we all went through a period – maybe only a day, maybe less – when we found it funny to say "bad-bye" instead of "good-bye." It can't have been just me; it's one of those silly kid things to do, feeling all grown up and powerful because you've mastered the antonym. "Screw social norms, I'll say 'bad-bye' if I want!" It was even mentioned on the Seinfeld "Bizarro Jerry" episode.

But "goodbye" is actually a contracted form of "God be with you." (Sorry, kids – just when you think you've got the English language down pinned down, it'll surprise you!) The proper opposite would be more like "Satan-bye" or, my preference, "Beelzebye." Hope this is helpful, kiddies – keep those letters coming!

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Tue, January 8

Suck it, Jericho!

For years, the Annual TiVo Gauntlet of New Fall Programming was the only time anyone else cared what I watch on TV. All that's about to change. (Read more.)

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Fri, January 4

The The Hair?—10:24 AM

I love Pete Carroll these days. I love him almost as much as I love his hair, which should tell you something. I realized the other day that he's actually made me care about USC football, to the point where I watched more than one game this season, which is a record for me. Admittedly, it's easy to like a team as colossally successful as they've been lately, but sue me, I do.

I bring this up because Los Angeles magazine has published a lengthy, unctuous, and fascinating profile of him. The announcers brought it up during the Rose Bowl (I still haven't learned how not to hear them) and, in rare form, they were right about something: it's a fun read.

Granted, the author often gets caught in eddies of self-reflexive meta-commentary, but if I were writing about hanging out with Pete Carroll I'd probably try to mention the fact that I got to hang out with Pete Carroll a lot, too. The article waxes poetic about his awesome hair, compares him to Thor, and offers Carroll quotes that sound like Charlie Crews. What's not to like?

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Thu, January 3

Late Night Returns

The late night hosts are back, and so am I. Apparently, when I'm not watching TV I'm unable to formulate opinions about anything. Please give Jon Stewart a deal, WGA! (Read more.)

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Snow What the Fuck?—11:30 AM

Over the holidays, Hallmark was offering a little robotic plush trinket called "Snow What Fun" for $25 (or $15 if you bought three cards). It represents a snowman, a penguin, and a puppy, preposterously out of proportion, riding a sled along a snow bank. If you clap or squeeze or activate it in some fashion, it plays a little tune and the three characters dance.

Every time the commercial came on TV, I flew into an apoplectic rage. (Seriously; ask my sister.) Aside from my general bewilderment at the concept of inserting pointy robots into cuddly toys (Breakdancing Elmo, etc.), I just don't see what possible purpose this thing serves. Kids can't play with it because it's unwieldy, fixed in position, and full of hard metal pieces. Adults who can derive any pleasure from watching it squirm and beep should be institutionalized; that's just inexpressibly sad. So what's the point? What can it say that can't be expressed with a Christmas cookie or a hug? What on Earth allows Hallmark to think it deserves to turn a profit on this thing? Because, the way I see it, every single one of these things is destined for a landfill. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but every goddamned one of them will be in a landfill, adding to a huge pile of unwanted muck that can't be recycled and will never go away. Some will be given as gifts; some will be purchased as decorations; most will go unsold. The latter will hit the landfills first, of course, but the others will follow soon enough. At most, it may take a generation or two: Granny keels over and her kids and grandkids chuck the thing or donate it to the thrift store, where the cycle renews.

Whatever depraved individual is sitting at Hallmark dreaming these things up (and don't think this is the only one) should face the impact of piling the stupid things on top of our already mountainous trash piles. Each one he cranks off the assembly line is destined to occupy a calculable mass on this planet – essentially forever – and if I had my way, that same mass would be extracted from his kidneys. Snow what that, motherfucker!

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