As we approach this holiest of America’s fireworks-oriented days off from work, I’d like to talk a bit about how much I love my country.
My parents used to take me to the 4th of July parade in our New Jersey town. I thought I loved my country then.
At the fireworks later that night, everyone would talk about the “grand finale” — when was the “grand finale?” I thought I loved my country then.
But when I was 15 years old, again on the 4th of July, I truly learned to love my country.
Because on that day, at the Warner Quad in Ridgewood, NJ, in the company of a friend with the patriotic and appropriate last name of Hancock, I first saw Independence Day.
Here are the top 10 things I learned that day that I would never forget.
There will be spoilers. However, if you wanted to watch this season of 24, you probably already have. If you haven’t seen it, have no fear — read on.
In a world of excellent television, it may be neither as shiny nor as mysterious as today’s cutting-edge, DVR-demanding serialized hits (Lost, Battlestar Galactica, Gossip Girl, Man Versus Food). Its season wrap-up wasn’t in the running for “best TV I’ve ever seen” (The Shield, The Wire, Ninja Warrior), but Jack Bauer and 24 still stand astride TV like a colossus — a hoarse, belligerent colossus that clasps men by the lapels and thrusts them floorward, but a colossus nonetheless.
If you missed this season, you missed Jack and what remains of the CTU crew confronting their most daunting enemy yet. No, not a ruthless African dictator with crack commando squats sloshing through the DC sewers — no, not John Voight or Methos from Highlander: The Series. In season seven of 24, Jack Bauer confronted the biggest threat to his existence yet:
President Barack Obama.
Have you seen the May 5 cover of Time Magazine? Christopher Lambert has seen it, and it’s difficult to tell whether he’s amused or not.
Hey, he’s Christopher Lambert — the man doesn’t have a ton of range. But he does know how to chop someone’s head off.
And now, apparently, so do the season’s Democratically ordained Princes of the Universe, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton.
Oh, I know the temptation is to dismiss the citizenry of the overthinkingit phantasmagoria — guys like Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod (who has a lifetime membership) — but if current trends continue, you’re likely to hear a lot more of this guy in the darnedest places.
The cover, and the future, after the jump –
AGENT JONES: Spill it, Spitzer.
SPITZER: You’ve got nothing on me. Quit wasting your time.
AGENT JONES: We know you did it. All of it.
SPITZER: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
AGENT JONES: We have the documents, Eliot. The phone calls. The paper trail. We found the Russian one. The Asian one. The Spanish one. We followed the money Eliot, and we found what you did.
SPITZER: You found the Spanish one?
[This post begins a five-part weekly series by Matthew Belinkie. Come back every Friday for a new installment. —Ed.]
The Movie: Street Fighter
Why It Strains Credulity:
Van Damme was 34, and a former kickboxing champion. Julia was 54, and visibly gaunt from terminal stomach cancer.
The authors of Freakonomics
posted on their NY Times Blog an invitation for readers to submit a six word motto for the US. Being industrious, the crew of Overthinking It individually submitted some suggestions, which were denied (!) by whoever moderates the comments over there. Here’s the list:
I know that I missed the time when it was socially relevant to talk about Crank Dat by about three months, but whatever. It’s the internet. And I think that the song deserves some digging-into. First, a little refresher course: Crank That (Soulja Boy) is a song by the Mississippi based rapper Soulja Boy Tell’em. Mind you, both the rapper (usually) and the song (occasionally) are reffered to simply as “Soulja Boy,” which kind of gets into the main thrust of my argument. Anyway, if you haven’t heard the song or seen the video, watch it, and prepare to be amazed.
If you look up Soulja Boy on wikipedia or whatever, you’ll find him listed as a rapper. And this is technically true. But I think the old-school term “MC” is far more appropriate. He’s catchy as all get-out, but you sort of want there to be a different word for what he does as opposed to what, say, Twista does. And lyrically, when you compare Soulja Boy to noted story-rapper Ghostface Killah…
No sooner did I finish my weeklong series on Rambo than I came across this little corner of the blogosphere, and I think it, as much as anything else, helps me clarify why I bothered to do a weeklong series on Rambo.
This week, I’ve delved into the True Meaning of Rambo in preparation for his (brief) return from irrelevance. Today, I’ll close the series out with a quick look at two great characters Mr. Stallone originated — one has his own statue, and the other languished in condemnation for 20 years. We celebrate the one who feeds us dreams, and we condemn the one who shows us ourselves.
