With the advent of Twitter, I don’t see how “twitterpated” won’t make it back into the regular lexicon. Denise and I are fairly twitterpated this week. A certain director of The Simpsons movie twittered us after Denise said she was working on the Linguistics section of the book.

Since, he’s asked to see my syllabus! It’s the best thing that’s happened in a relatively lousy week. I won’t go into the lousy stuff.

Instead, I’ll go back to linguistics–why do we call a twitter response a “tweet” and not a “twit”? Then we could say, “This twit says she’s eating egg salad for lunch.” And, as a friend suggested this week, is the past tense of “tweet” “twat”?

http://www.matchflick.com/column/1893

Woohoo!

I went to the theatre this Friday. Nice little comedy done pretty well by the students here. More fun that the opera, except that the audience was worse (see last week’s blog about the opera audience). At least no one in the opera audience was playing with their phone the whole time (and my position in the theatre would have allowed me to see that).

A girl behind me at the play had her phone on vibrate. And it vibrated every time she got a text. And then she would take it out and answer right away, leading to a new vibration. I could see a bunch of other people texting and/or playing on their iphones during the production. One boy in particular, who attended with his four friends, did not look up at the stage at all. Even during the fight scene.

This was a small theatre. The actors and I could all see who was looking down and who was bathed in the blue glow of a phone screen.

In other news, have finally got around to reading Madame Bovary. I now understand Margaret Atwood’s line about how Bovary would have been saved by knowledge in double entry bookkeeping. The book exists in cultural imagination as being about adultery. Now, there is adultery. There’s commentary on faith and rural life and what we would now understand as crippling depression. But Madame Bovary is not ruined by her affairs. A loan shark takes advantage of her and her husband–he changes rates and threatens with third party intervention and pretends to be their friend. In the end, she’s dead because she’s bankrupt. If there had never been a money problem, the adultery wouldn’t have been a problem, either.

I have to say, it was much more readable than I anticipated, but I’m glad that I didn’t read it in high school. I hate that “classics” are always given to children, when it takes adults who’ve had money problems and more than one relationship, etc. to really empathize with characters. If I were speaking, I would raise a toast to reading the classics as an adult.

I’ve been watching Season Three of The Simpsons on DVD (I have to–it’s research!).  Early seasons aren’t often shown in syndication, so I don’t see them all that often (except for the episodes I teach).  I’ve been remembering my first time with all these episodes–how each one reinforced my love for the show.

The boy and I were watching “Homer Alone,” in which Marge gets stressed and needs a while away from the family at Rancho Relaxo.  The family misses her for various reasons and when she returns, they grab her, telling her how much they missed her and demanding she “never leave again.”  The boy asked me if I would like to be greeted that way if I were to leave for a day or two.  I said that the level of dependency was a bit much, but that everyone liked to be appreciated.  He said that I liked his independence and I said he liked mine, but we decided we appreciated each other a lot.  Ah, Simpsons family values.

Marge at Rancho Relaxo--Isn't she pretty with her hair down?

“The Otto Show” features one of my favorite moments in the show.  After driving badly, Otto admits he has no driver’s licence, but says that if anyone wants to confirm his identity, he writes his name in his underwear.  Except:  “Oh, wait, these aren’t mine.”  Kills me every time.

Last thought, in one episode, Bart plays a video game called Larry the Looter–his character breaks store windows and loots.  This small moment was supposed to be a commentary on violent video games through the power of exaggeration.  I remember seeing this for the first time around 1992 and thinking that games would never be that bad.

Naive Karma signing off to go write her name in her underwear.  Oh, wait, I’m not wearing any.

I know, I know, we’ve all been so happy.  But something occured to me this week–I didn’t have to hear much about Rush Limbaugh in the last eight years.  Now I can’t stop hearing about him and the inane, hypocritical things he says.  I’m not going to waste my time going over his talking points and what’s wrong with them.  I will just say–he’s about to rise again.

You see, there wasn’t much for him to do when the Republicans ruled everything.  He (like Ann Coulter) sat around hating anyone who disagreed with the President, but it seemed somehow beyond the point.  Now that he can sit around hating the sitting President (and presumably the majority of the country who voted for him), he’s going to get more followers.  His numbers may even come close to what we saw under Clinton.

The NRA is benefiting, too.  A book came out last year by an ex-NRA insider–the whole point was that having a Democrat in office is very good for their business.  (And anyone who’s watched politics at all knows that nothing much changes in policy, no matter who’s in power.)  Deep down, Rush has to love Obama, maybe not as a man, but as a target and a cash cow.

Want to see what Rush et al are saying lately?

http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=219517&title=intro-harold-varmus-is-here

It’s a great day for name calling.  It’s a great day for making fun of war veterans (if they’re John Kerry).  It’s a great day for hate.  It’s a bad day for debate and civility and, if you watched the footage from the Republican meeting this weekend, for bi-partizanship.

“Take My Life, Please,” featured two new aspects: Hi-Def and a new Opening. Bart tells us in the blackboard that hi-def is worth every penny, but the Simpsons’ hi-def tv falls off the wall when they try to watch it.

But how’s the new opening, you ask? Fabulous. For those who miss the old one, you probably don’t even remember the old one. If you look at the original, it’s very different from what you’ve been seeing for over a decade. It’s longer. (And you may be surprised to know that not every episode even had an opening–for time’s sake, etc.)

The new opening gives us a new gag–the billboard in front of Bart’s school changes, as does Bart’s writing and the couch routine.

It’s great to see some of our current favorite characters (like the cat lady) in the opening. And Marge’s purchases at the store are updated to include tomacco and Mr. Sparkle detergent. (Maggie’s price has also been updated to reflect the amount it takes to raise an infant for a month in today’s economy.)

As far as the episode goes, “Take My Life, Please” features Homer going through an interesting mid-life (he’ll die young, we know it) crisis. Homer learns that he was supposed to be class president and believes that his life would have been superior to what he has. It’s classic Homer angst–rather than blaming his current life on his choices, he can pinpoint one decision (made by someone else).

“How the Test Was Won” had a fabulous couch gag, featuring the Simpsons as characters in classic sitcoms, showing a fine lineage (including the family sitcom’s move to the workplace/friend sitcom a la Cheers).

The episode itself was a critique of No Child Left Behind and standardized testing (the best moment is when Mrs. Krabapple teaches the students the most common test answer arrays (abbadaca, etc)).

The Simpsons has been renewed for two more seasons, which will make it the longest-running prime time series. At least once a week, I come across some blog or article that asks if The Simpsons still has it. Denise came across an idea the other day that it was the audience who has lost it, not The Simpsons. I agree–if anything’s tired, it’s us.

In other words, Simpsons, it’s us, not you. Which is why we’ll do everything we can to make this work.

When walking across campus on Friday, I saw an ad for a frat, one that encouraged people to join.  The frat proclaimed itself the “ruling elite” of Davis, with “ruling elite” in script.

I’m uncertain that the frat knows what elite really means.  To be elite means you don’t advertise.  To be elite means that you rule quietly, yet powerfully.  To be elite means that your numbers are small, intentionally.

I know of a small group in Davis where membership is by invitation only.  It gives sizable donations to independent film producers.  It doesn’t charge for membership, but relies on donations of fine wine, cheese, and chocolate.  Its weekly meetings are quiet, unknown to the general public, and held in a building without a sign (you have to know where to go).  This group is so elite that some people have fled–they want to be members, but find the members themselves intimidating.

I won’t name the group for privacy’s sake.

Real quick: This week’s episode of Big Love has the family taking a road trip (and reminding me why I refuse to take road trips). One scene is supposed to take place on the Mississippi, but it was apparently shot in Sacramento. See our familiar Old Sac (with weird faux-southern flags) and golden bridge in the background.

Last night I went to the opera.  Figaro was my first.  When I was in theatre, we would make fun of opera–too much singing, too little acting, but I had to go, especially when the chance presented itself.

I enjoyed it, but I have to say that sometimes the art of the singing did get in the way of the plot/acting.  I was taken out of the moment each time a character told another to whisper (because they were hiding) AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS. 

I was also taken out of the moment by the incessant tapping of shoes.  The man seated behind me kept tapping both of his squeaky shoes (not in time to the music).

There were a surprising number of kids at the show (and the show went past 11:30).  One was seated to my right and in the fourth act, she got tired enough to need to whisper a lot.  She wasn’t rude, though–her mother was.  She decided that her tired little girl needed to leave the theatre before everyone else, so she waited until the last line to leave.  So I didn’t see the last line, I was too busy standing up to let her pass.  I sat down just in time for the curtain to fall.

The last rude thing of the show–the director came out and bowed with the cast.  WTF?  Who does that?  Is that an opera thing?  No wonder we theatre people made fun of them.  Our directors are pretentious off-stage, not on.

But the winner of the rudest person of the week contest:  Richard Williamson.  Yes, our favorite Holocaust-denying Bishop is back.  (Did you know that he hates The Sound of Music, not because its pap, but because it portrays Nazis in a bad light?  Seriously.)  He issued an apology and the Vatican has said it’s not good enough.

He said:  “Observing these consequences I can truthfully say that I regret having made such remarks, and that if I had known beforehand the full harm and hurt to which they would give rise, especially to the Church, but also to survivors and relatives of victims of injustice under the Third Reich, I would not have made them.”

Karma’s quick translation:  If I’d known everybody was going to get upset, I wouldn’t have said it.  (Note that he doesn’t say he was wrong.)

He also said:  “On Swedish television I gave only the opinion… of a non-historian, an opinion formed 20 years ago on the basis of evidence then available and rarely expressed in public since.

“However, the events of recent weeks and the advice of senior members of the Society of St Pius X have persuaded me of my responsibility for much distress caused. To all souls that took honest scandal from what I said before God I apologise.”

Karma’s quick translation:  Twenty years ago, I think we were all agreed that the Jews were overexaggerating things and I haven’t learned anything since then.  The Church has ordered me to say I’m sorry, so I am.  Saying it.

1988?  I think we all knew about the gas chambers in 1988 (I did, and I was 13) and it’s the gas chambers that he’s really not convinced about.

Note: no one from the Church is asking him to recant any of the sexist bullshit he believes or even make him agree to Vatican II.