...And So He Sent To Us His Only Son, Kal-El

I saw Superman Returns this evening. I don't have a review of the film "propper," and I'm going to try to avoid any "spoilers" for those who want to see it, but there are a few thoughts I'd like to share on the message I took from the narrative.

First of all, I must say I loved the original Superman the Movie, and Superman II kicked so much ass as well. These two films had more affect on me and my development than any others I have ever seen. For me, as films, they were right up there with Star Wars while I was growing up, but from a point of philosophy, the Superman mythos has always remained in my mind.


For the 1978 film, the tagline read, "You will believe a man can fly!" I remember that line better than most anything else I learned in school. When I saw the movie for the first time, it lived up to its promotion. The lesson I learned many years later is that a child will believe almost anything you tell them, Superman, Santa Claus, and Jesus Christ, to name a few popular iconic myths. That's not to say that any of these myths took away from my childhood. I think an imagination must be fed. The more positive the message, the better. "But a man grows up and starts to see things differently..." as Jonathan Kent said in the first movie, and I did as well.

The story of Superman, as told in the films, is very derivative of Christianity, and the words of Jor-el make that very clear. Kal-El was sent by his father to live with adoptive parents to save the people of the Earth. Watch the first movie with a critical eye for these details and one can pick them out every few minutes. The message of the importance of "Good" is very strong in the films, and this new adaptation is no different.

I saw the movie with my friend, Chris, who said he thought it was too long, there was not enough of Lex Luthor, and that "putting kids in a movie just spoils it." Lois Lane now has a young child. The boy figures in the film very prominently, because to Superman, it is proof that Lois has moved on by leaps (tall buildings) and bounds with her life away from her old schoolgirl crush on the Man of Steel. In the very beginning of the film we see that Kal-El had just returned from a search of the universe, around the remains of Krypton specifically, where he had been searching for others like him. The feeling of the lonely hero is very strong in the character.

The theme I walked out with was as follows:

Superman and Lex Luthor are each searching for what they believe is the most important thing in life. For Lex that thing is property. For Superman that thing is family. The desires of Luthor, of course, are shown to be the wrong way of thinking, and so in the end he must have his wish with dire consequences.

When Superman sees that Lois has had a child, not only does he see that someone whom he loves has changed during the time he was away, but he sees that she has something that he can never have. She posesses a greater personal meaning in her life. In flashbacks of Jor-el in an early part of the movie, we realize that the only biological family that Kal-El ever had is long since dead. Superman is out of place being an alien, so he obviously must find a way of making those connections differently, right?

I cannot say I am overly thrilled with the constant repetition of the mantra "you gotta have children" told over and over to me by both contemporaries in my life and the media. Sure, we are animals, and animals must reproduce to allow the species to continue. Scientifically, this is the "meaning of life." However, I am not pleased with it being so bloody important to everyone. Every culture seems to be rife with it.

I don't know if I will ever want to have children. It isn't that I have a problem with them (although I have a problem with most, and especially their parents), but I cannot see the good in creating a life which must deal with the condition humans have left Earth in so far, and I am still having a difficult enough time dealing with the ultimate end of my own life, let alone trying to explain to a kid why life is so important. I would have to create an illusion of greater meaning, despite what appears to be the inherant pointlessness of it all. But every tired-eyed parent who has no focus on themselves due to the constant care and feeding of their progeny will still tell me, "It's a wonderful experience that you can't know until you know it." Wonderful.

Now I am caught between my my cynicism and what could be the only real "meaning" of life. I wanted Superman to save me from this conflict with a couple of hours of flash and boom, but instead he dragged me deeper into it. Yeah, thanks a whole hell of a lot for saving me Superman. You're on my list now.

As far as a review of the film, I would like to say that there was not enough of the villian, and too much time spent without any real action. A Superman film is, after all, an action movie by definition. However, it is likely I will take away something from this movie that is as important to me as the original films. Where the original movies were made for me as a child, this new film was made for me as an adult. And now not only do I believe a man can fly, but I see a man can also find connections in his life that bring deeper meaning. Although that is not nearly as catchy a tagline.

Another Reason To Love Science

Recently my father was diagnosed with bladder cancer. The last few weeks have been very difficult. I've tried to put out of my mind that which I cannot control, but the threat of losing my dad would not leave my mind. He had surgery earlier this week to remove the tumor, and returned today to see the doctor for an information update on his condition. The news was very good.

Although there will still be regular checkups with the doctor for the rest of his life, my father appears to be a cancer survivor. With a little luck, and the wonders of modern medicine, this scare is past us.

A co-worker of mine recently told me she was praying for my father, and she will certainly believe that it was the power of that prayer which saved my father. I will not try to take that faith away from her, but my feeling is that current medicine, science, and skilled physicians are responsible for preserving my dad's life. Either way, I am a very happy person today.

Get To Know The People In Your Neighborhood

This past weekend, I noticed something a little odd in my neighborhood. As I sat on my downstairs neighbor's balcony with him, smoking cigars, I watched an old man in a big white Lincoln town car park across the street from us and just sit in his car for about twenty minutes.
At first I thought he was waiting for someone or listening to music, but then he exited his car, walked to the end of the block, stopped, returned to his car and drove away. About five minutes later he returned around the corner from where he was parked, and sat for another five minutes. At this point I thought he was stalking someone, but eventually he again got out of his car again, and went into the building on the corner of the two streets where he had parked that evening.

Yesterday I watched him do the almost the same thing again.

I can understand that sometimes people with a lot of time may take on the extra exertion of moving their cars closer to their homes in order to be lazy later on, but in the instance of this man, he was no more than twenty-five feet closer to his apartment door on his second park than on his first. On yesterday's car re-park he was no closer the second time than the first. In both cases he was not in danger of getting a parking ticket if he remained where he was.

So some of my neighbors are curiousities, but nothing compares to the strangeness of a man I heard about in Philadelphia.

Someone I talked to recently from the Inspector General's office told me about an old man in Philly who was caught impersonating a postal carrier. It is, of course, a crime to steal mail, but this case was very odd. Apparently this man had been stopping at various businesses for over a decade, in full USPS gear, picked up the mail and delivered it... to a blue mailbox on the street. He never actually stole the mail, he just pretended to be a mailman and helped the mail get delivered in his own strange way.

He was never prosecuted for his actions, he was very old and had not stolen the mail, he just took it to a mailbox. The I.G. guy told the businesses to stop giving their mail to this man. They never found out why he was doing this. I guess he just always wanted to be a letter carrier.

I don't necessarily think that either of these people are dangerous, but at the same time, I think I'll avoid my neighbor and make sure my mailman always has the most current stamps. It's the best test I can think of.

Early Bird Gets The Last Laugh

I loves me science!

Another nail in the coffin of Intelligent Design was pounded today with the announcement of a fossilized species of early bird.

"Most of the ancestors of birds from the age of dinosaurs are members of groups that died out and left no modern descendants. But [Gansus yumenensis] led to modern birds, so it's a link between primitive birds and those we see today."

Shown here (right) in an artist's depiction of what the creature may have looked like, we now have more proof that the reason for so much "missing evidence" which organizations such as the so-called Center for Science and Culture cite as proof of the problems of evolution, are in fact being found more often as time moves forward.

I get tired of hearing today's Neanderthals claim that evolution is "just a theory," and that Intelligent Design is the only reasonable reality. Ah, but science marches on, as creationism flushes itself down the toilet.

Again, it's not that I would want to take faith away from anyone who needs it, but forcing religion into science creates pseudoscience. It doesn't belong in the schools or any real scientific discussion any more than it belongs in politics or government.

Alpha Colony One

I really appreciate a good retro-dream. My favorite is the jet-pack wearing, dome-city living, shiny-silver-suit-wearing one we were fed in the post World War 2 years, where we were actually certain that there would one day be a moon colony. Ah! Such a simpler time. Such complicated expectations.

Now Stephen Hawking has brought the dream back for us, the Geeks of America Council. In an MSNBC article, Hawking states, "It is important for the human race to spread out into space for the survival of the species. Life on Earth is at the ever-increasing risk of being wiped out by a disaster, such as sudden global warming, nuclear war, a genetically engineered virus or other dangers we have not yet thought of." He claims, of course, that there is the very real possibility that we could have a moon base in 20 years, and a colony in 40. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!

It's time to bring back all of the cool Jazz Age art and cars with tail fins. We need space-age this and rocket-science that. I used to have dreams about moon colonies when I was young. Please people, listen to that wheelchair guy. Make me a moon colony!

Inspiration

A good friend of mine has done what I have been dragging my feet on for the past 5 years, she's moving to NYC. She had been having a difficult time getting a worthwhile job in the Harrisburg area, and for the past 4 months was toiling away at one that gave her experience but no pay. In a bold move that makes me feel like a coward, she began applying for positions in New York, interviewed, and is going to start her new position on Monday. In a matter of three weeks, she has done what I have been wringing my hand over for half a decade.

Granted, she does have one important advantage that I don't. She has a boyfriend in Hoboken. She will be staying with him for a couple of months until she can rent her own apartment. However, I do have a few friends whose couches I can sleep on for about a week at a time each, so all I really need to do is get focused, get a resume out there, get a few interviews, and get some balls, then make a bold move as well.

To my friend I say this: I may need to spend just a couple of months building up a small cash cushion before I follow your lead, but I promise to buy you a drink in a Manhattan bar to toast that we are both New Yorkers before the weather turns cold. So I either have to get myself ready and move by the end of the Summer, or I better hope that global warming keeps the heat up through the Fall and Winter this year!

Congratulations Julie! You've got bigger cajones than me. And good luck with the job!

The Importance Of Grammar

MSNBC reported today in an article about what was found at the bombed site of al-Zarqawi's end that, "Alongside the fractured concrete and twisted metal was a nightgown, other women’s clothes and a white man’s shirt."

I wonder what the significance of the shirt of a white man has to do with the items found. Maybe they think there was a person from the United States who was giving secret intelligence to the terrorists. Perhaps they feel that someone from the west was brokering a peace agreement, and was killed during an important positive step. Or there is always the case that the writer of this piece published before an editor could review it. Whatever the case, it is certainly fascinating.

For the record, a white man's shirt is usually a t-shirt with a cigarette, liquor or beer company logo.

Choices

The scene at nearly every restaurant I've patronized 1 year before I became an alcoholic:

Waiter: And what will you have to drink?
Me: Coke.
Waiter: We don't have Coke. Is Pepsi okay?
Me: Yeah, sure, same thing.

Then 6 months before I became an alcoholic:

Waiter: And what will you have to drink?
Me: A cola.
Waiter: What?
Me: Cola.
Waiter: A Cooler?
My Date: He'll have a Coke.
Waiter: We don't have Coke. Is Pepsi okay?
Me: Yeah, sure, whatever!

Now everytime I go out to eat, I drink beer.
I blame the territorial controls of the softdrink industry for my little problem.

Curse Sir Walter Raleigh

Over the Memorial Day weekend, during my visit to NYC, my friend Jon & I stopped by the JR Cigar Store at 44th and 5th Ave, to see (what we believe is) the world's largest humidor. It was amazing. We each enjoyed an inexpensive, but very relaxing JR brand cigar outside the storefront, as we waited for Jon's lovely girlfriend to join us after her shopping trip. It was a sunny day and we both felt like it was a fantastic time and place to be alive. I don't smoke cigars often, and I never smoke cigarettes, but I appreciate the the experience of tobacco in this form once or twice a season. The experience is best when standing on a busy NY street with a friend.

After just having been relieved by the simple reassurance of a small life by finding my cat, today my family and I recieved the frightening diagnosis that my father has bladder cancer. The obvious cause is nearly a lifetime of cigarette smoking. He was not a chain smoker, but I'm certain he had a few each day. I wasn't going to write about this because it is ultimately a very personal issue that my family must face together, but there is also nothing more important to me in the world than this issue right now.

Although I never understood how many of my friends could pick up the habit of regular smoking when all of the clear warnings have been around my entire life, I don't feel that preaching about the horrors of smoking is what I want to do. I will probably still have the seasonal cigar. I will likely take another trip to the JR Cigar Store with my friend in the Fall. And because it is widely known that smoking causes cancer, I will allow smokers to make their own decisions. But I do want to share a feeling with anyone who would like to know what it is like to have a family member diagnosed with cancer caused by smoking. It is the second worst feeling in the world, and I will spend much of my future time hoping I will not have to experience the worst feeling in the world if my father cannot be cured.

Was It A Dream, Or Something Sinister?

Does anyone remember the TV show, Dallas? Okay, do you remember how Bobby Ewing died and they had a whole season with him gone, then they decided to bring him back by making it all into a dream that his wife, Pam had? Do you remember how we all thought, "Oh yeah, I'm not buying THAT load of crap!"

Well do you remember movie based on a Stephen King book, Pet Sematary? The grey cat was all creepy and scary. "That's your cat now," Herman Munster told Louis Creed, as the little reanimated monster terrorized the lead character.

Well, a really strange and amazing thing happened to me today. I went to my parents' house to wish my mother a happy birthday, and to make one last attempt at a brief search for my lost cat, Ramona. I decided on Friday that today I would expire my last bit of hope of finding her, then I would just get on with my life and not look back in agony any longer. I dropped off a couple of flyers with the picture of Mona I posted on Sunday at two local vet clinics, walked through the field behind my parents' house on more time, and vowed to stop as my search revealed nothing new.

While talking with my friend, "Joost Elffers", on the phone about how jealous I am of her that she's moving to New York City at the end of this month, I happened to be in my parents' basement, doing a load of laundry. I heard this faint meowing coming from an adjacent room. The sound continued, and I followed it thinking, "that sounds nothing like my mom's cats, but I know that voice." On the far side of the basement, on a high shelf behind piles of disused furniture and other old junk, I saw a familiar furry face calling to me. With "Joost" still on the phone, who was amazed at what I told her I had in my arms again, I ran up to the living room to show my mother that I found Ramona in the basement.

We were in shock. My mother began crying as she grabbed bowls of food and and of water for Mona, then sat back in disbelief that after a week of searching all over the neighborhood, stopping by vets and rescue shelters with flyers of my missing pet, that I was reunited with my cat.

I'm alergic to her now because she smells like a musty basement. She feels noticeably thinner, and has been returning to the food dish every half hour. Her voice is a little hoarse, probably from calling for rescue for so long, but she's back with me again, and I'm very pleased.

Now I wonder though, was it all just a dream? Did my father bury her in a pet cemetery? Did I make a deal with God that I would start believing in Him again if she were returned? I don't think I actually did that last one, but for the record, I've decided to move back a notch from Atheist to Agnostic. Despite the impending trouble that I know Mona likes to cause which I'll face again, I'm happy enough with finding my cat that I could start believing in miracles again, or at the very least magic tricks.

Side note: Ramona was named after the Ramones, who played the title track to the movie Pet Sematary, and Tuesday's Date is 6/6/6, so there might be something scary, rather than miraculous going on...

This Is Me

I never had a propper picture of myself on this site, and I still won't. What you see here is an unshaven me, after a week (or much more) of self-pity and remorse for a lost pet. Still, I felt it was an appropriate time to let my few, but wonderful readers see whom they are dealing with. As you may notice, my eyes look a little puffy. I didn't sleep much last night and I still shed the occasional tear for Mona. I think I was feeling a little of this just before my friend took the picture. Anyway, this is me.

The Search Is Over, But Not As I Hoped.

As of Monday night, I will reach the end of major combat operations. By this I mean I shall have released the fate of finding my cat, Mona, to the hope of her willing return, rather than by my own search.

For the past week I have spent almost every evening after work in my parents' neighborhood, the field behind their house, and the nearby woods searching with 75,000 candlepower flashlight and rattling her favorite toy (a plastic ball with interior bell) for some sign of her with no luck. Today I went to the Lancaster Humane League with some hope of finding her, and Sunday I will try the Harrisburg Humane Society. I expect no great reunion, but I am still in "try anything" mode, so I'll go there with a sliver of hope. Either Sunday or Monday I will make one last attempt at flyer dispertion among the homes within a 2 mile radius of my parents' house. But the exhaustion of the search of this past week has allowed me to ignore such things as bills, completion of moving into my new apartment, and this blog, among other duties. There is only so long I can put off life over the loss of a beloved pet. It is becoming time to move on.

For anyone who understands the attachment of a furry critter, I'd like to show a picture of my lost love. Her name is Ramona. Her temperment was rough playful. Her spirit could not be contained in a small apartment. So tonight my exgirlfriend/dear friend (who introduced Mona into my life) raised a toast with me to the memory of a lost companion: May she be safe. May she be happy. May she live a long and healthy life. Goodbye Mona. You will be missed.