CALL ME SNAKE

I got a scone the other morning at a Harvard Square establishment after dropping my daughter off at her preschool. I’d been going to the place (it actually was called “C’est Bon”; I added the “Si” for poetic reasons) for years, about once a week and sometimes more, especially during the past five years my girls have been at the aforementioned preschool. So I was surprised to notice a small sign indicating they would close on March 29, 2006, which happened the day I was there.

You might expect the usual sob story about another historic Harvard Square establishment biting the dust, but I can’t claim this place was “historic” in any grand sense. Nor can I protest its closing too forcefully, as it’s making way for a bagel place that, in turn, is making way for a restaurant that a friend is opening. So I’m not lamenting the demise of my scone hut but am, instead, using its passing as a chance to reflect on all the scones I’ve consumed from this place in the past five years. Somewhere between 300 to 400, I’d estimate. That’s a lot of fat, a lot of calories, and probably at least $500 spent on scones–$500 I could have just as easily given to panhandlers, to folks selling “Spare Change” (the homeless newspaper), or to the guy collecting for “Wheelchair Basketball.” Instead, I elected to gorge myself on (conservatively estimated) 150 pounds of raisin or blueberry scones.

The question now is will I use this momentous occasion as an opportunity to break my scone addiction or will I simply find another means of fueling the habit? It’s too early to say. For now I’ll guess we’ll just have to take it one scone at a time.

Sharpen your pencils! Get your erasers into the ready position. It’s that time of year again. Yep, time for the First Annual April Fool’s Day Bumper Sticker Sweepstakes. The field will be crowded this time, no doubt, and the competition fierce. (Sweepstakes Rules: Entries do not have to relate to April Fool’s Day in any way, shape, or form. All employees of Call Me Snake and its subsidiaries will be barred from the competition. No profanity please. Let’s keep it clean. Speaking of which, performance-enhancing drugs are strictly allowed.)

OK, let’s dispense with the preliminaries and get the ball rolling. Here are the first few entries submitted by a person very near and dear to my heart. That’s right, ME. Well here they are:

THE BUSH PRESIDENCY–WHERE EVERY DAY IS APRIL FOOL’S DAY AND NOBODY IS LAUGHING.

The next entries are part of my bestselling, “A Black Hole Ate My ____” series:

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY HOMEWORK.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY TAX RETURN.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY TAX SHELTER.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY BRIBE MONEY.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY QUICHE. And liked it.

A BLACK HOLE ATE MY (well, you get the idea…)

Don’t delay. Send in your entries today. Who knows, you might fool everyone and come up a winner!

Call Me Snake is At the Movies tonight with reviews of two films recently out on DVD. The first is Good Night and Good Riddance. George Clooney was disappointed not to have won “Best Director.” I’m amazed he was nominated. And equally amazed this one got a a “Best Picture” nomination, because it was a real dud. The movie was supposed to be a drama about Edward R. Murrow but Murrow (played by David Straitharn in another unworthy Oscar nomination) wasn’t a character at all. He was mainly a face on a TV screen. Murrow’s showdown with Joe McCarthy was supposed to comprise the central “drama” of this picture, but it was totally undramatic as their confrontation, again, occurred on TV. The two weren’t even in the same time zone. How’s that for drama? I’ve got a better word: i-n-e-r-t.

“Capote” was a more intriguing film, but I have a similar complaint. There really wasn’t any drama here either because the “action,” such as it was, was almost all internalized–taking place behind the mask that Truman presented to the world. The most dramatic thing in the whole film was contained in a one-sentence epilogue that said Capote did not write another book after “In Cold Blood.” That sentence had a lot of impact, which is more than I can say for the hour-and-three-quarters that preceded it.

Philip Seymour Hoffman was fine in the role of Capote, but it wasn’t an Oscar-winning performance. He did a serviceable impersonation of Capote but didn’t do much in the way of acting, mainly because he didn’t have much of a script to work with. We never got to know the character he played, which made the performance ultimately unsatisfying. I would have much rather seen Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix win for Best Actor because they actually played real flesh-and-blood characters–people who actually did something onscreen. But maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

Well, that’s our show for this evening. Grab your popcorn and get the hell out. The balcony is closed.

Today we’re starting a new feature here at Call Me Snake, and starting new features is one of the best things we do here at Call Me Snake. (It’s also one of the things we do best here at Call Me Snake.) The author of Anatopsis, the subject of a recent post, has written a comment so witty that I have decided to reprint it in full. I am also negotiating with said author to take over Call Me Snake, which is badly in need of an “upgrade.” Heretowith (sic?) is the aforementioned Celebrity Guest Comment:

Hi Snake: I just found this blog entry through Google, and I wanted to tell you that, no, I have not been able to handle my success. Immediately after the book launch, I took to drinking heavily and abusing prescription drugs. I also jumped on Oprah’s coffee table (the couch was SO 2005), had a brief fling with a woman named Angelina Jolie (no relation to the actress), and went hunting with Dick Cheney. (I shot myself in the foot before he could get me. Ha! Sucker!) Also, I have converted to the Church of Pseudo-Scientology, which is a lot like Scientology but more creative. Anyway, you can see that fame and fortune have ruined me. But my biggest concern is you: how are you handling my success? Have you ever considered converting to Pseudo-Scientology? We could use a brainy guy like you to give us credibility.(Plus we need one more for our beach volleyball team.)

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THE AUTHOR (ME, NOT HIM) REPLIES: As for how I’m handling his success, I’ll have to issue my standard reply — “One day at a time.” Meanwhile, we anxiously await your sequel. Or prequel, whichever comes first.

I spent all afternoon talking about string theory, inflation, and the universe with a leading theoretical physicist, and I have to say it was one of the most enjoyable “work” days I’ve had in awhile. I usually have plenty to gripe about, but today there’s not much to say in the way of negativity. This was one of those days where I consider myself lucky to have such a fun job. Not that it’s always fun. And not that I’m always lucky. But for a few hours, at least, all was well in the world of work. (Lest the title mislead, I don’t have a proper “office,” and I was not in the one that I have, which might have been part of the fun.)

There was one funny thing about the afternoon (and I’m not going to start complaining after holding back and being so good), but this physicist did say on a few occasions that he worries that blogging could prove to be very bad for science–all the negative press that some scientists (like him) get in the blogosphere could provide fodder for the religious right and wrongheaded politicians. I didn’t mention that I have occasionally indulged in the aforementioned four-letter word (“b-l-o-g”). I just kept quiet. Not that I’ve ever said anything bad about him–or about science, for that matter–in these pages.

That’s not the first time this habit has come close to getting me in trouble. A couple of generals, as I mentioned before, didn’t talk to me on account of some questionable things I’ve written about the commander in chief, and that could have spelled trouble for my article had not others in the military talked to me. But we’re getting off track here: I had a day with few complaints, which is nice for a change. Will it last? Probably not, but let’s enjoy that warm fuzzy glow while it’s still hanging on. (Update[one minute later]: It’s already starting to fade.)

Iraq may be undergoing an insurgent rebellion, George Bush says, but it’s not “civil war”–this from an administration that denied the U.S. has “tortured” Iraqi prisoners and terror suspects. In the latter case, the denials made sense because we were accused of morally indefensible acts. But why does Bush reject the term “civil war” to describe the sectarian violence and ethnic infighting in Iraq? The crux of his argument is that the behavior of the insurgents–based on definitions of civility provided by chief Republican fathead, William Bennett–is anything but “civil.” In fact, Bush would go so far as to say their conduct has been positively uncivil. Where is Miss Manners when we need her?

It sounds trite to say it (though it’s also trite not to say it, just to think it), but some people earn a lot of money. How much? Well, how about, in round figures, about 1,000 times more than me? Take Howard Stern, for example. He earns as much in a couple of hours as I do in a whole year. And what does he do during that couple of hours? He talks dirty. And not inspired dirty (erotic poetry or something), we’re talking real lame stuff like: “nice ass” or “ooh yeah, I’d like a piece of that.” Speaking of which, I’d like a piece of that action too, for all the bucks he’s pulling in. It beats the hell out of working, as they say. Ooh yeah.

A few days ago, I went to a book signing at a local bookstore to celebrate the release of a friend’s novel. (It’s one of those things we do in Cambridge, in addition to eating quiche.) The book, called Anatopsis, is a science-fiction fantasy tale written for young adults. The author is a great guy, and I wish him all the luck in the world. But there’s one thing (or maybe two things) I wonder about: If his book–and the sequels likely to follow–become as popular as the Harry Potter series, will he be able to handle his success? And, more importantly, will I be able to handle his success?

I’ve been hearing, and reading, about Bush’s new policy of preemption but had never taken the time to think it through and see what it really meant. But then my friend Dr. Max (he’s not really a doctor; he just plays one on the internet) came through, as he invariably does, with a particularly trenchant comment. Responding to my previous post about President Bush ordering the bombing of the Canary Islands to stave off the avian flu–an example of “preemption,” I might point out–the good doctor had this to say, perfectly encapsulating the new Bush policy: “We must bomb them over there, so they don’t poop on our windshields over here.” There’s preemption in a nutshell. Or perhaps I should say there’s preemption in a bird turd (in an homage to Robert Altman’s neglected bird-turd classic, “Brewster McCloud”).

I read this on the web and, therefore, it must be true. Please tell everyone you know. The truth will (and must) out.

Without further ado, here’s the breaking news, exactly as it was reported on the number one source for news, the worldwide web (www.com???): “In an attempt to thwart the spread of the bird flu, George W. Bush has bombed the Canary Islands!”

 

I saw Once Around once when it came out 15 years ago and then again last night. The Lasse Hallstrom film is a giddy love story and a fresh, original family drama (why don’t they make movies like that anymore?). The writing’s great, the performances are superb, and it’s set in Boston. (What more can you ask for?) Both Holly Hunter and Richard Dreyfuss are outstanding in the lead roles. But Gena Rowlands and Danny Aiello are also first-rate, especially Aiello, who turns in one of the great supporting roles of all time. Give it a whirl. It’s definitely worth a second viewing–Twice Around, so to speak–or a first viewing if you haven’t seen it before, in which case let’s just call it what it is: “Once around. For the big guy!” as Aiello put it.

A friend called yesterday to tell me that he read an obit. in the Boston Globe the other day about “Brother Mike,” who died last week. I hadn’t seen Mike for several years but saw a lot of him during the seven-year stretch when my friend and I ran a tutoring program for children in one of Boston’s poorest neighborhoods. The program was reasonably successful (though it’s hard to measure “success” under such circumstances), but there would have been no program without Mike, who devoted his life to serving the city’s youth. He drove the children to and from the program in a van, often stopping to buy them food. He wasn’t paid for any of this–or for hundreds of other things he did–but was happy to serve as a mentor for children who lacked so much.

Earlier this week I read an item (also in the Boston Globe) about college students who decided to do a “good deed” tour during their spring break, working at a homeless shelter here in Boston and an orphanage in some other city, etc. They called it a “Pay it Forward” tour–borrowing an idea, popularized in an unpopular Kevin Space movie of a few years back, that one good deed begets another. I won’t knock these students who decided to do this for a week rather than go to Fort Lauderdale. But you could say that Brother Mike spent his whole life, rather than a single week, “paying it forward,” so to speak.

Well so long, Brother Mike. You done good. And the world will surely miss you.

I dozed off at my computer while writing about parallel universes–a project I’ve referred to (obliquely) on many occasions. I woke up at 12:30 p.m. and, unfortunately, found myself in the particular universe where I was supposed to pick up my daughter at 12:30. I jumped on my bicycle and raced through Harvard Square, keeping a watchful eye out for the local constabulary, lest I obtain yet another blemish on what had been, until my recent brush with the law, a spotless record. I pedalled so fast, at relativistic speeds, that time slowed down, just as Einstein predicted. I arrived at the preschool (a mile or so away) exactly at 12:30 p.m. and stood in line with the other parents and “caregivers” (“give good care”), patiently waiting for the classroom doors to open. I returned via a wormhole to a separate universe, the one in which I go by the name of Snake. And this is the sorry result.

PARADE MAGAZINE (the one I’d most like to read on a deserted island when I’m not dodging wild boars, mechanical bears, assorted monsters, and “others”) has done it again, listing “What People Earn” in their “Annual Report on the Economy and You” (which seems to come out several times a year, at least to me). I love reading this issue more than any of them, not that I don’t love every issue (each of which has its own special charm), as I’m often contemplating a career shift and use this as my “touchstone to reality,” as I often call it when singing the praises of my favorite magazine.

Here are some jobs I won’t be taking anytime soon: Belly dancing ($10,000), P/T Yoga instructor ($7,000), and greeting card writer ($16,000–too bad, sounds like it could have been a good fit). Of course, singling out these jobs is unfair. Because if I’d known 25 years ago what I’d be earning today, I’d never have picked “marginal science writer” as a profession, either.

People often say, “It’s such interesting work,” in an attempt to make me feel better or just to make me quit my whining. But I’m not done whining yet. To them I offer the following rejoinder: “Try living on ‘interesting.’” After awhile, all that scrimping&saving and saving&scrimping becomes, well, pretty darn uninteresting.

Earlier tonight (last night if you want to be that way) I saw Brokeback Mountain. I read somewhere (the Boston Globe perchance?) just before the Academy Awards ceremony, or perhaps I heard it on NPR, that the movie, which had been the odds-on favorite for Best Picture, would not win because it had become the butt of too many jokes. After seeing the movie, I’m dismayed it did not win (though Ang Lee captured a well-deserved Best Director), and I hope it wasn’t because of all those lame jokes using the term “Brokeback,” because this picture is no joke. It’s the real deal–the rare movie that stays with you after you walk out of the theater and actually makes you think.

Heath Ledger was excellent and I’m disappointed he didn’t get Best Actor. I didn’t see Capote but my bet is that Heath Ledger’s role was much less mannered and much less showy and, therefore, more difficult to play than Philip Seymour Hoffman’s flamboyant Truman turn.

Well that’s my report for now. Good luck and good night.

Poor Johnny Damon, the erstwhile Red Sox center fielder who claims “the Red Sox flat-out disrespected me” when the team only offered him a four-year, $40 million contract. The Yankees offered him four years, $52 million. Which deal do you think he took?

All my life (or at least most of it, or at least part of it, or at least on one occasion, I’m pretty sure) I’ve been respected. I could stand for some of the disrespect that Damon was served up.

Today we’re introducing a new feature here at Call Me Snake, and introducing new features is one of the favorite things we do here at Call Me Snake. The new feature is called “Quote of the Day”–an idea that I believe has never been done before–and today’s quote is from Steven Weinberg, a Nobel prize-winning physicist at the University of Texas (though he used to be at Harvard, and I used to see him around Harvard Square–in the Sage’s supermarket, for instance–during my frequent bike jaunts).

Now for a bit of background to prepare you for the quote, so you don’t come into it completely cold: As I said before, I’m working on a project that relates to the universe, and given the breadth of the subject, I’ve had to read through a lot of material–you might say “volumes” or, better yet, “reams” of material. In the course of this reading, while sifting through the reams and volumes, I happened upon the Weinberg quote, which I’ll share with you now: “With or without religion, good people can behave well and bad people can do evil. But for good people to do evil–that takes religion.”

Yesterday afternoon, while bicycling through Harvard Square, I was hauled over by a police officer on a motorbike (siren and all) and summarily fined for failing to come to a complete stop at a stop sign. The charge on the ticket read: “operating to endanger.” So, in the course of a day, I’ve gone from law-abiding citizen, who never bothered anybody, to a certified outlaw, third on the “most wanted” list after Osama bin Laden and Whitey Bulger.

For awhile, I was annoyed by the citation. “Don’t they have more important criminals to go after?” I thought. But I’ve since adopted a better attitude and am instead reveling in the exhilaration of it all. This could be the first step in an incipient life of crime. Next you might see me copying the DVDs I get from the video store, in flagrant violation of the warnings conspicuously placed at the start of every feature. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll take up jaywalking next. From there it’ll be just a short jump to the ultimate crime, as articulated by Emilio Estevez in Repo Man: “Let’s eat sushi and not pay.”

Fasten your seatbelts! I’ve got some big news today from the halls of academe. A new report from the University of Michigan (released yesterday–sorry for the delay; I got sidetracked) arrived at this shocking conclusion, which made the headline of the university’s Health System press release: “Local TV News Covers Health a Lot, but Not Always Well.” The finding has done something that no other news story in recent memory has done: It has rendered me speechless.

I kept to my promise and did not watch a minute of the Oscars, confident in the knowledge that the Academy would get it wrong, as usual. I did not see many of the films nominated for “Best Picture,” but I did see “Crash” and it was a mediocre contrivance, unworthy of its nomination, let alone the Best Picture award. Last year’s pick, Million Dollar Baby, was another middling movie in my opinion.

Personally, I’m partial to The Squid and the Whale & Junebug. Jeff Daniels’ performance in the former picture was overlooked, as was Russell Crowe’s performance in Cinderella Man. What does the Academy have against Crowe anyway, who was stiffed in “A Brilliant Mind” as well? So what if he allegedly beat up a guy with a telephone? He was playing a pugilist and was just getting “in character.” Haven’t they (the illustrious members of the Academy, a group that includes two of my cousins) ever heard of method acting?

I’m not from Hollywood but I am “of Hollywood.” Well, maybe that’s stretching things. Let’s just say a number of my friends and relatives are in pictures. I don’t watch the Academy Awards and won’t be doing so this time around either. Yet I have learned a few things about the ceremony, thanks to some helpful hints I’ve picked up from aforementioned acquaintances in the know. Don’t walk up that big red carpet hoping to get into the event unless you have your tickets in hand. Otherwise you may be forced to promenade back down that same red carpet in full media glare, making the so-called “walk of shame”–just one step up from “dead man walking.”

My second bit of advice is that if you are nominated for an Oscar, it’s best to win it. Your life depends on it–at least according to a new study from the University of Toronto which determined that multiple Oscar winners like Kate Hepburn lived longer, on average, than multiple Oscar losers like Richard Burton. The way things look now, I stand little chance of becoming an Oscar loser, which is all to the good.

Four days after the Hurricane Katrina leveled Louisiana and much of the Gulf Coast, Bush told the nation: “I don’t think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees” that turned New Orleans into a deadly flood zone. But videotapes now show that Bush was briefed about this very possibility the day before Katrina struck New Orleans. He took time off from his vacation to assure state officials that the federal government was “fully prepared” to bring all the necessary resources to bear, despite being told by FEMA that they were not, in fact, prepared to deal with a storm of the magnitude predicted.

In other words, Bush lied–probably in an attempt to make his administration’s wanting efforts seem less disgraceful than they were. Clinton was impeached for saying he “did not have sex with that woman”–in that case relying on vagaries about the definition of sex. But where are the vagaries in Bush saying no one anticipated the breach of the levels when that prospect was discussed in meetings he participated in? There’s no doubt he lied here, just as he and his cronies lied repeatedly to justify the invasion of Iraq.

The question now is where’s the outrage? When will this president be held accountable for his misdeeds? Clinton was impeached for consensual sex (if you call it that), while the lies of this administration have resulted in untold deaths and suffering. Although Bush’s prestorm briefings made page one of the Boston Globe, the arrival of Manny Ramirez at the Red Sox spring training camp in Florida received even more prominent mention on the front page–if that’s any indication about the importance attached to the latest Bush scandal.

Yesterday night, while shopping at the 7-11 (where else?), I impulsively purchased a “Mass Millions” lottery ticket upon seeing a sign saying the jackpot was on order of $250 million. In the hour before the numbers were drawn, I became incredibly generous, experiencing my own rare “windfall moment,” to borrow a phrase from Windfall Woman (see link at right). During that interval, I decided my wife could jettison her membership at our downtrodden YMCA (practically right next door to our downtrodden 7-11) and get a membership at the fancy Harvard Square health club we cannot afford–a place so extravagant, so decadent, that they give you two towels upon entering, even if you don’t want them. (Personally, I don’t feel comfortable in a place like that.) My older daughter was going to get a new Junie B. Jones “novel” and my younger daughter was going to get a new Kipper DVD (that’s Kipper the dog–her current fave who has recently overtaken her previous fave, Little Bear the bear).

Yes, I was going to do all these things and more–maybe even treat myself to a show–until reality came crashing down at 11:15 p.m. Not one of my numbers was right. (What are the odds of that?) And, all too quickly, I went back to being my usual penny-pinching self. I only hope my wife enjoyed that hour of fantasizing about the fancy gym that gives out two towels and has body lotion in the locker room. And hair dryers. It’s nice to dream.