So, last night, in a desperate attempt to fill the gaping hole in our lives where Lost used to be, Iain and I watched the premieres of The Event and Hawaii Five-0.
The Event has been promoted as a sort of Lostian sci-fi mystery thing, five seasons of which have already been written in their entirety, which every person associated with the show has been sure to mention, followed by some version of, "So there's none of that making-it-up-as-we're-going-along" business.
I'm not sure that throwing side-eyes at the creators of one of the most best-loved television shows ever, whose success made your show possible, and whose highly loyal audience you're hoping to steal, is the best marketing strategy, but okay. It wasn't enough to deter me from tuning in.
And it does share a lot in common with Lost: Mysteries! An airplane! Tropical locations! Disappearing things!
Things it does not share with Lost include: Josh Holloway and being as good.
Still! It was pretty good. And it's got Laura Innes in it, who I really like, and is playing a character who's the leader of some ragtag group of detainees and was originally written as a male character, so has the distinct chance of being three-dimensional. (Read more in my upcoming book, Dispatches from Cuntistan.) And hello, Blair Underwood. Say, it's kinda cool to see a black president and not think, "HA HA MAYBE SOMEDAY!"
Jason Ritter (who is genuinely charming and quite funny) and Sarah Roemer (who I really liked in Disturbia) were also very good. And the story was interesting enough, despite some potential Women in Refrigerators problems, that I'll tune in again next week.
As for Hawaii Five-0, well, it sure had Daniel Dae Kim in it!
I'm being a little harsh. Scott Caan was also enjoyable. Whoever is playing the main dude is aggressively annoying, though. I give it points for being essentially a popcorn cop show that nonetheless made human trafficking a centerpiece of its premiere episode, and allowed the female member of the team to kick some serious ass. And the long-delayed "Book 'em, Danno!" was very satisfying. Negative points for stuff previously discussed here.
Did you watch either of them? What did you think?
Fill My Lost Hole, TeeVee!
Texting! With Liss and Deeky!
[Last night...]
Liss: Why the hell are there so many shows about fucking cakes?
Deeky: LOL! You know what they actually need a show about? Fucking cakes.
Liss: LOL. Showtime presents: "Cakefuckers."
Deeky: Totes! "Frosters."
Liss: F/X presents: "XXXtreme Cupcakez." Airs in the same timeslot as Spike TV for Men presents: "Cake and Tits."
Deeky: LOL! And on Logo: "Pink Donuts."
Liss: The History Channel presents: "Nazi Cakes."
Deeky: LOL for real @ "Nazi Cakes." Although it's more like "Nostradamus Cakes" on the History Channel nowadays.
Liss: Or "Jesus Pie."
Deeky: "UFO Cookies."
Liss: "Ghost Tarts."
Deeky: "Atlantis: The Lost Bakery."
Liss: VH1 presents: "Hey, Remember Fruit Roll-Ups?!"
Deeky: LOL! By the way, we need to produce "Cake and Tits." We'd be rich.
Liss: Totes, lolsob.
Two-Minute Nostalgia Sublime
Looking Glass: "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)"
(And for the record, I, in all honestly, love this song.)
Huh.
If only someone could have predicted that building "healthcare reform" around the delicate sensibilities of the for-profit insurance industry would be a bad idea.
Ah, well. Hindsight is 20/20.
I mean, sure, there were people who predicted that, loudly and often, but it's not like we want our president listening to dirty hippies, amirite? HIGH FIVE.
[Previously: Compassionate Coveragism, No One Could Have Predicted the Insurance Companies Would Be Uncooperative, At Least It's Warm Under the Bus, Not Even Healthcare Reform!, Bad Faith.]
Wall Street Women
There's a lot of interesting and/or infuriating stuff in this article about the gender gap on Wall Street, but this particularly jumped out at me:
The figures suggest that women bore the brunt of the layoffs in the recent recession. But other forces are at play. Across the economy, computers have replaced junior, back-office workers, jobs that were largely filled by women.There are all kinds of studies that have been done finding how women who graduate from business school tend to start out in lower (administrative) positions than their male peers. As those admin functions have been being automated, it should have created parity for entry-level positions, but it isn't working out that way: Instead, it's simply cutting off the primary route into corporate work for many young women.
Something tells me that's not going to get the same level of attention as when factory automation started putting men out of work.
B-b-but CALORIES IN CALORIES OUT!!!
A new (but small) study has uncovered a possible correlation between childhood obesity the presence of a virus: "Children who showed signs of infection with adenovirus 36 (AD36), a common cause of some colds and eye infections, were an average of 50 pounds heavier than those who had no antibodies to the virus."
This doesn't axiomatically indicate causation. Other "obesity experts" (particularly those with a vested interest in the fat-makes-you-sick framing) point out that being fat could conceivably make one more vulnerable to contract the virus. However:
Earlier research with cells in petri dishes suggests that the virus may cause changes in the body that lead to weight gain. Some studies have shown that the virus can enter fat cell precursors, rewiring them to spew out more fat cells, while others have shown that the virus can modify fat cells themselves so that they store more fat."This shows that body weight regulation and the development of obesity are very complicated issues," says
Other experiments have shown that animals have significant weight gain after researchers infect them with AD36.
...The virus appeared to have a particularly pronounced effect among the heavy children: those who were positive for AD36 weighed an average of 35 pounds more than other obese kids who didn't have the antibodies.
Huh!
At the moment, though, there is no test for AD36 available to the general public, and no vaccine for AD36, anyway. So Dr. Goutham Rao, clinical director of the Weight Management and Wellness Center at the Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh recommends: "Instead of coming to the doctor and requesting a test for the virus, parents would do better to discuss key behaviors to combat obesity." LOL.
[H/T to Shaker roro80.]
The Overton Window: Chapter Seven
Okay, yesterday I mentioned this cab ride Noah took, and I admit, it was kind of bothering me.
The cab mounted the curb and surged forward at a twenty-degree tilt, half on and half off the street, threading the needle between a hot-dog cart and a candied-nut wagon on the sidewalk and the line of incredulous fellow drivers to the left.
That twenty-degree tilt really stuck in my craw. And because I'm weird about things like that, I sat down and figured out, like I'm one goatee away from being a fucking Mythbuster, what it would take to get a typical NYC taxi to tilt at twenty degrees.
I chose the Ford Crown Victoria, which, with no real evidence, I assume is the most common of taxi vehicles in the U.S. I did a little googling and found out the Crown Vic has a track width of about 65". Applying that figure, and the twenty degree angle to the Pythagorean Theorem, I discovered, that to get a five-and-a-half foot wide car to tilt at twenty degrees, you'd need some pretty steep curbs.
Twenty-two and half inches, more or less.
Now, it's been a long time since I've been to New York, but I certainly do not recall the city having curbs that were two feet high. I am also fairly certain that if they were that high, no taxi cab outside of a Hummer would be able to get up them.
All of which is to say this book really has some sloppy ass writing. But we already knew that. And one other thing: All this talk of Lenny's pastrami sandwiches, and crazed cabbies, and candied-nut wagons, it makes me wonder. Has the author ever been to New York? Or is he just using a Rough Guide as his sole source of information on the marvels (and perils!) of big city life?
Nevermind. That was all last chapter. What about this one? Well, Beck is back to his old self. Some might call it filler. Others might call it padding. I call it another chapter where nothing happens. Something happens, sure: Noah walks in the rain, but it isn't very interesting.
Unable to hail another cab, and being, I guess, completely unaware that New York City has one of the finest public transportation infrastructures in the world, Noah decided to "suck it up and hoof it rather than risk another ill-fated ride." Which, again, gives our author an excuse to serves us another tired cliché. An opportunity he never passes up:
Noah had drifted close to the curb on the sidewalk, an error no seasoned pedestrian should ever commit when it's been raining. Right on cue a city bus roared by, shooshed through a sinkhole puddle the size of Lake Placid, and a rooster tail of oily gutter water splashed up and soaked him to the waist.
Seriously? That shit doesn't even happen in the movies anymore.
Okay, so Noah heads to his teabagging party, and thinks, guiltily, about the cabbie being dragged away by Blackwater goons. But he pushes the scene from his mind, rationalizing away his complicity:
First of all, buddy, I'm not your friend. Second, it wasn't my responsibility. And third, there is no third required. You can't take them all under your wing. Once you start trying to rescue everybody, where would it ever stop?
Yeah, once you start trying to rescue everybody, where would it ever stop? Which is sort of the Libertarian ideal, isn't it? Fuck everyone else, right? Not that Noah is supposed to be admired, not yet. He's still in need of a Great Transformation, in which he goes from spoiled, selfish turd, to teabagging patriot fighting for freedom. Or whatever the teabagging types want. I'm still not sure, and they've been around for a good six or seven months now.
Noah thinks about his father, and his billions, and his thirst for power. (And really, did I just write "thirst for power"? Speaking of clichés.) It's also hinted that Noah doesn't really think Darthur is going to overthrow the government. It's all just a PR exercise, "empty carnival-barking." Now, it seems to me, that Noah may be as dumb as a fucked cake, so I am not sure how he's supposed to help save America from the New World Order. One moment he's in awe of his father's quest for power, and in the same breath he's shrugging off the whole NWO thing.
Maybe it's not Noah who's a dumbass. Maybe it's the author.
But, at long last, Noah reaches his destination, "the Stars 'n Stripes Saloon, a charming, rustic little dive down here in Tribeca." (Tribeca, for authenticity.)
The Stars 'n Stripes was known as something of a guilty pleasure, a little patch of down-home heartland kitsch complete with friendly, gorgeous waitresses, loud Southern rock on the jukebox, and cheap domestic beer on tap.
Because New Yorkers hate the heartland. At best, they find it kitschy, what with its love of domestic beer and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Ha ha! Rubes! Those east coast elites, always looking down their noses at real Americans.
Noah had been holding out hope that the rally, or whatever it turned out to be, would be sparsely attended and quiet enough to allow him to corner this Ross woman for a quality conversation. The odds of a low turnout seemed pretty good. After all, how many right-wing nutcases could possibly live in this enlightened city, and how many among them would knuckle-drag themselves out of their subbasement bunkers for a club meeting on a chilly, rainy Friday night?
The depressing answer to that question, he saw as he rounded the final turn, was absolutely all of them.
I hope this transformation of Noah comes soon. I don't know if we can stick by him if he's gonna bad-mouth knuckle-draggers (Beck's audience, teabaggers) through this entire book. That being said, I am soooooooooo looking forward to stepping inside the Stars 'n Stripes with him.
...Starring Deeky!
In which Liss re-imagines masterpieces of modern cinema, making them muscletacularly better by adding me (Deeky, naughty nurse) to their classic posters. Today, the comedic hijinx of inappropriate gender roles!
Mr. Nanny
(See also.)
WHUT.
You have GOT to be kidding me:
Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid had an unusual form of praise for New York's junior senator, Kirsten Gillibrand, this morning at the fundraiser Mayor Bloomberg hosted for him at his townhouse - referring to her as "the hottest member" as she sat just a few feet away, according to three sources.Oh, well, as long as he praised her for her work, then it's totally fine that he SEXUALLY OBJECTIFIED A SITTING US SENATOR.
...[Reid said] something about how "many senators are known for many things," according to a source. He added, "We in the Senate refer to Sen. Gillibrand as the hottest member."
The comment prompted Gillibrand to turn red, according to the sources, and created a bit of stir among the small crowd there.
"It was pretty shocking when he said it," said one source familiar with the remark and the reaction.
A Reid spokesman confirmed it happened, but also noted that the Democratic Majority Leader also praised Gillibrand for her work.
The Democrats want my support, my money, and my votes. They constantly assert to be the party that values women and women's issues. And yet their Senate Majority Leader publicly humiliates a fellow Democrat by commenting on her "hotness" at a fundraising event, and then sends out his spokesperson to argue with a straight fucking face that it's not inappropriate.
I just...wow.
Well, Gee, I Hope He's Okay!
[Trigger warning for stalking, violence, arson, misogyny, apologia.]
Shaker Kira emailed me an amazing example of how violence against women is minimized in news reporting.
The headline is: "Man badly burned when girlfriend's house set on fire."
The opening paragraph is: "Clark County sheriff's deputies say a Vancouver man was badly burned when a house with his girlfriend and three others inside was set on fire."
OMG this poor guy, right?!
The sheriff's office says deputies responding to a domestic disturbance Friday night were told the boyfriend had doused the 23-year-old woman with gasoline, poured gas around the house and fled.Oh.
A fire broke out, but the woman, her 5-year-old son, her sister and mother were able to escape.
The girlfriend's father said she had just broken up with Miller.So...not so much a "girlfriend," then, as much as an ex-girlfriend. And Miller is not the "boyfriend" as which he is identified as in the headline as much as he is a vengeful stalker.
The father said Miller texted the family Friday afternoon, saying he was going to burn the house down.They are not burned. Calling them "OK" nonetheless frankly feels a little presumptuous.
The father said his daughter did not get burned but did get gasoline in her eyes. The 5-year-old son also got gasoline on him but he is OK, too.
And minimizing: The violent stalker is badly burned. His intended victims, who merely were doused with gasoline and terrorized, are OK.
Question of the Day
Suggested by Shaker The_Great_Indoors: What's the geekiest thing you've done lately?
TGI explains:
Here, "geek" is defined as: "One who posses great enthusiasm for and deep, technical knowledge of a particular subject or activity for primarily recreational purposes. The level of enthusiasm and depth of knowledge, in addition to time, money, and effort spent on the subject, is often baffling to the geek's associates."
So while we have the more archetypical gaming and computer geeks, it's also possible to be a band geek, a feng shui geek, a needlepoint geek, a copyediting geek, a Marcel Proust geek etc. ad nauseum.
This is so the worst thing you're going to read all day.
Actual Title: Two Kinds of Women.
Actual Subhead: "Are women becoming less slaves of approval? Might be."
Actual opening paragraph: "In my experience, there are two kinds of women (not those two, potty mind)."
This is basically an article written by a man who just noticed that feminism exists. Accompanied by a picture of a naked lady either having an orgasm or receiving a transmission from outer space. Possibly both.
Quote of the Day
"[The Tea Partiers] will leave us if we go wobbly. I am worried about that, but that's why I think it's got to be a blood oath."—Congressman Steve King (R-Adicalconservative), "demanding a 'blood oath' from House Minority Leader John Boehner to include a repeal of health care reform in every appropriations bill next year, even if a government shutdown results."
If the Republicans do manage to reclaim the House and/or the Senate in November, things are going to get ugly. Real ugly.
A Day with HIV in America
[Video Description: A series of photos of people of different races, sexes, and ages, accompanied by instrumental music, is interspersed with the text: "A Day With HIV In America—Sept. 21st / Positive or Negative / We're All Affected / By HIV / Take Your Best Shot / Get In The Picture / A Day With HIV In America / Sept 21st / www.ADaywithHIVinAmerica.com."]
Tomorrow, Positively Aware magazine is inviting all residents of the US to participate in their national photo essay, A Day with HIV in America. Participants are asked to send in a photo of themselves, showing a scene of their everyday lives. You don't have to be HIV+ to participate: "Our objective is to create a sense of community among everyone who is concerned about HIV. Positive or negative, we are ALL affected by the virus."
All of us have been directly or indirectly affected by HIV. Participating in the project acknowledges the breadth of the lives that HIV touches. Think of it as a living AIDS quilt—the faces of people who are surviving with HIV, and/or people who have survived losing partners, friends, family members, colleagues, teachers, heroes, or icons.
Go here to find out more and submit your photo.
I Write Letters
Dear Dems:
This is why spending two years coasting on the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, while pretending it doesn't matter that you broke faith with women to pass insurance reform legislation and vanished the most important women's issue for the last 50 years from your fancy new website, is a bad fucking idea.
And, for reasons that the archives of this blog elucidate in excruciating detail every day, marginalized populations, women chief among them, keenly understand that social justice and economic justice are inextricably linked, so bank bailouts and bickering over whether to extend massive tax cuts for the wealthiest 1% aren't exactly endearing you to the 77-cents-on-the-dollar contingent.
Just because women know that the GOP is worse, doesn't mean they're going to show up to vote for you when you've given them precious little for which to affirmatively vote. It's increasingly difficult for lots of women to justify casting their votes to support a party whose legislative votes don't support women.
Love,
Liss
Female Voter
For the Losties
J.J. Abrams Is Now Pitching the New Locke–Ben Linus Show:
Vulture hears that last week, J.J. Abrams and frequent collaborators Josh Appelbaum and Andre Nemec (Alias, Mission: Impossible 4) began pitching a comedic drama to the networks that would have Michael Emerson and Terry O'Quinn — a.k.a. Benjamin Linus and John Locke/Smokey — playing former black-ops agents.And I jizzed! in! my pants!
The idea of Emerson and O'Quinn reuniting isn't completely new: In February, the duo told TV Guide that they were looking to put together a post-Lost TV project for themselves; the rumors were revived again last month when Emerson repeated his hopes for a new show while doing publicity for the Lost full-series DVD collection. Still, all the talk seemed to be in the realm of "maybe one day." Turns out plans for a show are very real and very active — and the involvement of Abrams and other Bad Robot types means there's a really good chance the project will soon find a home.
As always with all things Abrams, details are sketchy, but insiders said the potential show — which we've heard carries the working title Odd Jobs — would have a dose of humor.
THIS LOOKS GREAT!!!
(That was sarcasm.)
Here's the trailer for a fun new movie—coming in January to a theater near you!—from Ron Howard, starring (big voice) Vince Vaughn, Kevin James, and (little voice) Queen Latifah, Jennifer Connelly, and Winona Ryder, about the conundrum predicament dilemma (!) in which Vaughn finds himself after discovering that his best friend's wife is cheating on his best friend.
Even though he calls them, as a couple, his "hero" for their awesome relationship, before uncovering the quandary crisis dilemma-producing infidelity, she is only known as his "best friend's wife," not, you know, his friend, Geneva. She's just his best friend's appendage, not her own autonomous entity with an independent relationship with him, despite the fact they apparently hang out in a big group all the time.
Anyway, the lack of female personhood is probably the least of this movie's problems, given that the trailer opens with a homophobic joke:
[Transcript below.]
I can't even imagine what the hilarious reversal is going to be. Is Ryder posing as a beard for James'? Is it an immigration scam? What is the kooky story behind the Very Hot Lady who is cheating on her Stupid Fat Husband?! Boy, I bet it's a hoot!
With a nod to how awesome our new post-feminist world is, I'd also like to note that Jennifer Connelly has won an Oscar. Winona Ryder has twice been nominated for Oscars. Queen Latifah has been nominated for an Oscar.
Vince Vaughn and Kevin James have both been nominated for Teen Choice Awards.
[Via Andy. As always, I am not discussing the film per se; I'm discussing the trailer, and what I perceive the film to be based on how it is being represented by its own marketing.]
[Vince Vaughn, wearing a business suit, stands in a corporate conference room, in front of a table of other people wearing business suits, giving a presentation.]
Vaughn: Ladies and gentlemen, electric cars [long pause for comedic effect] are gay. I mean, not homosexual gay, but, you know, my-parents-are-chaperoning-the-dance gay. [His business partner, Kevin James, nods in agreement.] B&B engine design can combine the benefits of electric transportation with the rock-and-rollness of Dodge's current muscle car models.
James: That we all know and love!
[Queen Latifah, part of the group to whom they're presenting, nods and smiles appreciatively. Vaughn wow-wows the opening riff of Heart's "Barracuda" while playing air guitar. Cut to Queen Latifah talking to Vaughn and James in the hall after the meeting.]
QL: I'm inspired by what you're throwing down, and I got some serious lady-wood here. [She gestures to her crotch.] I want to have sex with your words. [James throws a side-eye at Vaughn.] Gotta go! Mommy and me! I'll call you! [She waves and runs off.]
Text Onscreen: TWO BEST FRIENDS.
[Cut to Vaughn and James at a smoky bar. Vaughn's girlfriend is Jennifer Connelly. James' wife is Winona Ryder.]
Vaughn: Nick, buddy, we got the deal.
James [to Connelly]: I'm not gonna lie—I love your boyfriend. Come in here. [They hug and the girls cheer.] This is great.
Vaughn: Don't ever let me go.
Text Onscreen: TWO PERFECT COUPLES.
[Cut to a restaurant, where the two couples are sitting around a table. Vaughn and Connelly kiss each other.]
James: I think you can know someone within the first ten seconds of seeing them; I fell in love with Geneva the moment I saw her.
Ryder: Awwww. [She reaches out and strokes James' cheek.]
[Cut to James and Ryder on the dance floor; James, because he is fat and intrinsically hilarious, is dancing like a complete arse; Vaughn and Connelly watch from a booth.]
Vaughn: When it comes to couples, they're my hero.
James: Honey, you hear that? Ronnie told Beth I'm his hero! [Ryder gives an "awwww" look. James turns back to Vaughn.] I'm Mean Joe Green; you're the little boy with the Coke bottle; come on, I'll throw ya a jersey! Let's do it! [More ridiculous dancing.]
Text Onscreen: BUT THIS JANUARY.
[Vaughn, now in some tropical location, sees Ryder with young hot stud, Channing Tatum. He spies on them through the foliage, as "Barracuda" swells.]
Text Onscreen: ONE LITTLE DISCOVERY…
[Vaughn ventures deeper into the foliage for a closer look, ignoring a sign reading: "CAUTION Passiflora incarnata DO NOT ENTER. He sees Ryder and Tatum kissing.]
Text Onscreen: WILL CAUSE A BIG DILEMMA.
[Vaughn trips and falls face-first into a bunch of plants. Cut to Vaughn sitting indoors with two other white dudes, his face all fucked up.]
Vaughn: I just saw my best friend's wife with another man.
Dude #1 (played by Clint Howard, in his obligatory role in every film of his brother's): You fell in a whole bed of poisonous passiflora incarnatas!
Dude #2: You can expect diarrhea, fever, dry heaving, painful swelling in your gums, and challenging urination, with a possible bloody discharge. [HA! HIS FRIEND'S WIFE'S CHEATING EVEN RUINED HIS DICK!]
Text Onscreen: From Academy Award winning director Ron Howard.
Vaughn [to some other random white dude in another setting]: Let me ask you a question, and this is completely hypothetical, something way out of left field [continuing as voiceover, over images of Vaughn stalking his best friend's wife and discovering her with Tatum again]: Let's say that one friend found out that another friend's wife was cheating on him…
Dude #3: How good a friend?
[Cut to footage of Vaughn and James at a Blackhawks' game, doing a choreographed move together.]
Vaughn [back with Dude #3]: Let's just say his best friend. Very best friend.
Dude #3: I wouldn't tell him.
[Clips of random people responding to, one assumes, the same question. A black woman says: "It all depends." A young white dudebro says, "He's gotta tell him. It's guy code, man. If you don't tell your friend, then you're basically doing her, too." Cut to Vaughn walking with James at a bar or something.]
Vaughn: Nick, I need to talk to you about something.
James: What's going on with you?
[Random scenes that make no sense, inserted presumably to show that Things Happen in the movie.]
Text Onscreen: THE DILEMMA.
[Scene of Vaughn peeing and screaming.]
Connelly: Are you all right?
Vaughn: Oh, to be honest with ya, honey, I'm feeling a little challenged. [Hilarious callback to being told he will have challenging urination.]
Text Onscreen: COMING SOON.
The Overton Window: Chapter Six
Finally! Something happens! It's silly, but that's par for the course, so far. "So far"? Like suddenly this book is going to turn the proverbial corner and transform into a tale less frivolous? Forget I made that qualification.
But... Back to the story: Finally, some story! And what happens? Noah gets detained by Blackwater. In Manhattan! Oh my! Yes, I just ruined the surprise and suspense and thrills of the thrilling chapter of this thriller. But whatever, you're not expecting me to keep you entertained are you? If Beck et al. are going to ruin my evenings, be sure I'm going to pass that on to you.
When we left Noah last chapter he was on his way to "finish his conversation with an attractive but naïve young woman who might need to be straightened out on a thing or two." But before he could get to "that meeting of flag-waving wackos," he had a very sloppy metaphor to endure.
Over the years Noah had confirmed many times that there truly is such a thing as a bad night. When these doomed evenings arrive you can't avoid them. The jinx comes at you like a freight train, and by the time you're caught in the glare of those oncoming lights it's far too late to avoid the disaster. The best you can do is make your peace with doom and ride out the curse until sunrise.
There's some mention of a BlackBerry, GPS and Plexiglass along the way, all for authenticity's sake. Or maybe Beck has worked out some product placement deals for mentioning all these wonderful products. Hmmm... Probably not, since no one even advertises on his TV show now except Forex traders and gold hoarders.
And as if bad metaphors aren't enough for Noah to deal with, he's got his cabbie's "atonal Middle Eastern music blaring from the radio" to rattle him too. Noah had opted for a taxi ride instead of grabbing a company limo and it was all downhill from there. Not that showing up at the patriot rally in a limo wouldn't have made Noah look like a douche or anything. According to the text, taking a cab was both Noah's first and second mistake. (Don't ask.) His third was offering the driver an extra twenty bucks to get them out of traffic.
Whoops!:
The cab mounted the curb and surged forward at a twenty-degree tilt, half on and half off the street, threading the needle between a hot-dog cart and a candied-nut wagon on the sidewalk and the line of incredulous fellow drivers to the left. The right-side mirror clipped a corner bus shelter as the driver pulled a full-throttle, fishtailing turn onto East Twenty-third.
Oh those crazy foreign cabbies! What won't they do for a few bucks? Well, I guess they won't get blown away by uniformed soldiers, not if they can help it.
The cabbie slams on the brakes, face to face with a soldier, standing on the corner, "cradling an assault rifle, which, while not exactly aimed at the cab and its innocent passenger, wasn't exactly pointed elsewhere, either." (No, I'm not sure what that means.)
It immediately became obvious that this cabdriver had seen a military checkpoint or two in his former homeland. With no hesitation the ignition was killed and both his hands were raised where the armed men outside could see them. Noah had no such prior experience to guide him. All he felt was the Lenny's hot pastrami sandwich he'd enjoyed at lunch suddenly threatening to disembark from the nearest available exit.
Uh oh, this can't be good. Soldiers in Manhattan, Noah on the verge of puking (or maybe shitting his pants, now that I think about it.) The soldier, who "looked to be all of nineteen years old, [with] a command in his eyes that made his rifle and sidearm seem completely redundant," orders Noah out of the cab and demands Noah's ID. Then something weird happens:
Another man in uniform had come near and held open a clear plastic pouch, and gave an impatient nod. Noah dropped the entire wallet into the bag, and after another wordless prompt from the man with the rifle, emptied his remaining pockets as well. The bag was zipped closed and passed to a nearby runner, who trotted off toward an unmarked truck parked up the block.
Is that standard operating procedure at military checkpoints in Manhattan? At military checkpoints anywhere? Anyway, the cabbie is roughed up for aggressive non-whiteness. Or maybe it was the driving on the sidewalk. I'm going with being a foreigner though. Because, if anything, this book is really biting social commentary disguised as crap writing.
It turns out, both presidential candidates are in town (what year is this?) as is "some emergency faction of the G-20, meeting downtown in response to the various calamities boiling over in the financial district" And "along with all those high-rollers comes high security; all the cops and evidently some division of the armed forces must be out combing the streets looking for trouble."
(By the way, "looking for trouble" doesn't mean what the author thinks it does.) Then Beck starts, ever so subtly, to lay out the concept in the title. The Overton window, is, if I may oversimplify here a bit, that range of things, typically in politics, though not exclusively, that are considered acceptable. The interesting thing is, that window can be moved. What is unacceptable at one point, can be pushed into the mainstream. E.g.:
Times had certainly changed, seemingly overnight, though Noah hadn't yet seen anything quite as intense as this. Fourth Amendment or not, with all the fears of terrorism in recent years, the definition of probable cause could become pretty blurred around the edges. People were getting used to it by now.
And this is, essentially, what the story is about: Using fear to change what people view as acceptable. Over the course of following chapters we will see Darthur and his cronies attempt to move the window, to impose that fascist new order on America, while the tea-bagging patriots valiantly fight back. (I hope I didn't spoil the surprise for you.)
Of course, this railing against fear-mongering is a bit hard to swallow when it comes from a professional fear-monger like Beck. That's the great irony, isn't it? This book, at its core, is fear-mongering, under the guise of anti-fear-mongering. Whut? No, don't think about it too much. It'll just make your brain hurt. It's a muddled mess of ideas. I have a hard time believing anyone takes this seriously. I am sure Beck doesn't. He certainly can't have put too much thought into it, because it just doesn't hold up under even the most basic scrutiny.
Back to the story: Noah is escorted to the "unmarked truck parked up the block." He notes the "gilded crest" on the logo on the side of the van (by the way, "unmarked truck" doesn't mean what the author thinks it does) and recognizes it as belonging to "Talion, the most well-connected private military consulting firm in the foreign and domestic arsenal of the U.S. government."
Noah is shoved inside and interrogated by a "severe" looking woman with "prematurely gray hair trimmed like a motel lampshade." Do I sense that all women in this book will be identified by their hairstyle? Nothing says characterization like a descriptive haircut. Noah sees his face on the woman's computer screen and she tries to get him to cop to more info so she can enter it into her NWO database.
I know someone who needs to get on a Do Not Track List, pronto. As a complete derail, why does no one use the word "pronto" anymore? I think we should bring that back into the American lexicon. I bet it would be perfect as a catchphrase for Charlie Sheen on "Two and a Half Men."
There is a silly conversation that follows wherein Noah asks if he needs a lawyer, and his interviewer seems incredulous. "I'm not sure I understand your reluctance to speak with us." As Noah storms out, she asks him about the teabagger flyer. Busted! Noah whips out his sassy on the woman, telling her she's got it all wrong.
"They have ties to the Aryan Brotherhood," she said, having begun to thumb through a file folder on her desk, "and the Lone Star Militia, the National Labor Committee, the Common Law Coalition, the Earth Liberation Front—"
"Hold it, wait up," Noah said. "The National Labor Committee? The National Labor Committee is a little shoestring nonprofit that busts sweatshops and child-labor operations. You want my advice, lady? You people had better update your watch list if you don't want to get laughed out of this nice truck. And, like I told you, I don't know anything about this group or what they do or who you think you've linked them to. I'm meeting someone there and then we're going somewhere else. Believe me, I wouldn't have many friends in the Aryan Brotherhood." He pointed to her computer screen. "But you've probably checked out my record by now, and you know that already."
"We know who you are, Mr. Gardner."
"By that, I think you mean you know who my father is."
"All right."
"Good. So unless there's anything else, I'm going to leave now."
I told ya! Sassy!
Noah walks off into the night and catches a glimpse of his cabbie being dragged away, pleading for his fare to help him. Noah ignores him, because he's kind of an asshole, and besides, he's got a date.
