twentyminutesaday

[twentyminutesaday]

'So Adam's Bringing the Cookies' - A 'Girls' Running Commentary

I'm about 27 hours late to the party for this week's episode of "Girls," but here goes...

Previously...Jessa and her dad...Hannah and the creepy dude...Jessa disappears...Ray is a loser...Marnie and Charlie are DONE (maybe?)...Hannah dumps Adam (maybe?).

Adam! What was he trying to drink? Spoiled milk? His own semen?

Hannah screens Adam's call, then goes all OCD on us. Seems her number of choice is 8.

Utz potato chips! Somewhere Jimmy Barrett is smiling (and maybe Don Draper is, too).

Are we going to find out what triggered this OCD outbreak with Hannah? Adam? The book? Both? And have we seen her have any OCD tendencies before or is this out of the blue? It sure feels out of the blue.

Shoshanna only has the most important questions about Jessa:

* Where is she?

* What is she wearing?

* Is it linen?

* What language is she speaking?

* Is she in a tropical climate or, like, somewhere up high?

* Omigod, is she warm enough?

"This is classic Jessa."

Washington Square Park looks lovely when the weather's warm. Wouldn't know anything about that lately.

I'm SHOCKED that Marnie can't take Charlie suddenly becoming successful (and, what, did we fast-forward several months in time or something? How did it happen so fast? And how did he have time/energy to start a company while he was getting over Marnie?).

Shoshanna's pontificating on the meaning of life can only be interrupted by...RADHIKA!!!!!!!!

Radhika is a vision in vintage rollerblades (though we don't actually see them).

Poor Ray. He's vintage, just like those rollerblades.

--...My worst nightmare is that someone knows or thinks that I've died when I haven't. And I'm living that. --First of all, you know I don't like it when you use air quotes. Pantomime to express your emotions is a crutch, we've talked about that.

How can two people who had that exchange possibly coexist?

So...let me get this straight. It's creepy for Ray to go to a college party, but it's not creepy for him to date a girl in college?

The guy running the AA meeting is...kind of awesome.

Carol Kane sighting!

Things that Hannah didn't know before she met Adam, according to Adam: what street Central Park started on; how to use soap.

 "So Adam's bringing the cookies."

Adam: "cuter than a dimple on a bug's ass."

If it were me, I would probably try to get out of it if an (apparently crazy) woman at an AA meeting wanted to set me up with her daughter. But Adam's gotta say yes since this is a TV show.

Yup. Adam thinks it's fabulous.

It's a tough battle, but Marnie may be the most rotten person on this show. Appearing at Charlie's office like that? Can she get more manipulative and creepy? (Also - I'm still having trouble accepting that Charlie suddenly has a business and an office and an assistant and apparently cute girls working for him. I guess Marnie is having the same problem.)

Of course Carol Kane's character is named Cloris. And of course, Adam calls her daughter. I guess it wouldn't be any fun if he didn't.

Adam's self-description: very tall and semi-dashing. Oh, and a creep.

Marnie: the inspiration for an app that essentially stops you from drunk-dialing your ex. How romantic!

Marnie doesn't want to be taught how to Dougie by Charlie's new co-workers/employees/hipster friends. I bet she'd feel differently if Kate Upton were there though.

Hannah is late.

Hannah's mother is a big fan of Ann Patchett. I've never heard of her, but I HAVE heard of Scott Padgett. Which, I guess isn't all that surprising.

Hannah is twitching.

Naturally, Cloris' daughter is...attractive. "Holy shit," Adam says.

Hannah's dad: big fan of Judy Collins.

Hannah is counting.

And there's Judy Collins in the flesh! Brings me back to my barefoot days.

"I'm here now because my mom said you were a very nice boy." - Oh, Natalia. You have no idea.

"You're very easy to talk to. I thought this was going to suck ass, but you're very easy to talk to." - Adam, such a way with words.

Radhika's a party girl! The doorman would certainly know.

Judy Collins talking directly to Hannah? Is this episode, like, a worst nightmare for the three (remaining) main characters? Hannah has an OCD attack; Marnie sees Charlie succeeding in life; Shoshanna fights with Ray. I don't know this all just seems crazy.

Shoshanna and the doorman. Whoa.

"Marnie learned another life lesson. How adorable." - BAM!

I guess Marnie is hostessing again, judging by her outfit.

"I'm gonna have you retrieve that when you're less upset."

--I wanna sing! <pause> --What's the second thing you want to do? Now THAT was funny.

"If you want to sing, then you should sing now. Right now!" - not at this exact moment though. It's nice when Ray gives life advice though.

Bob Balaban! Will the random guest stars in this episode never cease?

How does Hannah feel about having her symptoms called "classical"? I can answer that: not too good. Because Hannah is SPECIAL, that's why.

Hannah: not sure if Adam is the greatest person in the world or the worst. Either way, he's got a new girl, so...

Bob Balaban's book is about a bionic dog. And he sold 2.5 million copies. EAT IT, HANNAH. (Not to be confused with EAT IT, KAZIA.)

"I hate it when you look so concerned about me." - the entire interaction between Hannah and her parents made me very uncomfortable. 

Like I said, if it had turned out that this was a dream sequence episode, I would have believed it. Some kind of dream-meld between Hannah, Marnie and Shoshanna. It might actually be kind of a cool idea, no?

But no, Marnie really is pathetic enough to run away from Shoshanna and Ray and then show up at Charlie's new (unrealistic-seeming) office; Charlie really is suddenly (and surprisingly) successful; Hannah really is having a total OCD meltdown with her parents in town; Adam really is on a good blind date with a cute girl whose mother he met at AA; and Shoshanna really is fighting with Ray (which is actually totally plausible).

What's next, Hannah spends two sex-filled days with a hunky doctor/stranger in his beautiful brownstone where he grills steaks and plays topless ping pong? Oh, wait...

[twentyminutesaday]

A Few Questions for the Outgoing Pope

I know there are all sorts of conspiracy stories about why Pope Benedict XVI is resigning, and there are plenty of questions to be asked about that.

But I have some more pressing questions:

Does he buy suits off the rack and have them tailored? If so, what size is he? Or is all of his clothing custom made?

Does he wear socks?

Does the Catholic Church have an HR department? When he joined the church, did he have to go through diversity training? Sexual harassment training? Did the church give him a "welcome gift"? (For example, when I took a new job recently, the company gave me a DVD copy of It's Complicated with Meryl Streep, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin.)

I know he doesn't get paid, but he must have bills. Are they paid with personal checks? Vatican City checks? Or are they paid electronically? 

What is the maximum speed of the Pope-Mobile? Has he ever driven it himself when nobody's around? 

Many people believe Pope Benedict XVI will disappear from public view after he resigns. Is he still going to tweet under a pseudonymous handle? @notpopebenny, perhaps?

What does he think of the Woody Allen line, that "the worst thing you can say about [God] is that basically he's an underachiever"?

Does he watch TV? Maybe Bundesliga or Serie A games?

What does he think of Lena Dunham? (Even if he hasn't seen "Girls," he MUST have an opinion on Lena Dunham.)

What about the one-and-done rule in college basketball?

Seth MacFarlane hosting the Oscars: thumbs up or thumbs down?

Does he agree with everyone that Jennifer Lawrence is, like, super-cool?

Why does he think it's so hard for me to get ready for bed before 1 a.m.? 

Does he think I should watch "The Walking Dead" even though I'm not into zombie shows/movies?

I need some new socks. Can he recommend a store where I should get them?

Am I going to live happily ever after?

Well, it seems I got a little sidetracked somewhere in the middle there. Hope the pope understands (and I’m sure you’ll agree) that I really just focused on the world's most important questions.

[twentyminutesaday]

This Story Combines 'Purim' and 'Blackface': Do I Have Your Attention?

Have you seen the story about the Democratic Brooklyn assemblyman (and Orthodox Jew) who hosted a Purim party on Sunday and went dressed as a 1970s basketball player - and wore blackface?

If not, check it out here: http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/brooklyn/brooklyn_pol_dov_hikind_wears_blackface_SA7xtS8mV5ejlCYLeWJv0K

I found this story noteworthy on several levels. Let us count the ways:

1. Any story with the words "blackface" and "Purim" in same headline is grounds for automatic induction into the pantheon of remarkable stories.

2. This guy - Assemblyman Dov Hikinds - is an elected official. Not to say that there's an "American Cultural Awareness Test" for people running for office in this country (if there were, we would probably have a much smaller government), but come on, man. Blackface? His ignorance is stunning.

3. He used the old "I'm sorry if anyone was offended" non-apology apology. Anyone that still uses that must really have balls.

4. Not only did he go "I'm sorry if I offended anyone" on us, but he also said, "In hindsight, I should have picked something else. It never crossed my mind for a split second that I was doing something wrong." I love the juxtaposition of those two sentences, because, despite what he says about "hindsight," he would have put on that costume 100 out of 100 times. He had no misgivings about it - he apparently didn't know any better! - so he didn't need hindsight, he needed someone to tell him that he was being a complete idiot. (Good job by his equally ignorant wife and son there.)

5. He maintained afterwards that nobody at the party was the least bit offended. "No one walked in today and said, 'Oh my God,'" he said. With all due respect, Assemblyman...people were offended when Roger Sterling (below) performed in blackface at his Kentucky Derby party, and that was 50 years ago! (They were also fictional characters on a TV show, but still...you're going to tell me no one at the Purim party raised an eyebrow? And keep in mind that the party reportedly lasted 14 hours!)

6. The main thing that Assemblyman Hikind seemed to emphasize afterwards was that everyone had a really, really good time at his party. "It was just a lot of fun," he said. "Everybody just had a very, very good time and every year I do something else...The fun for me is when people come in and don't recognize me." Blackface, whiteface...what's the difference? The important thing is that everyone had fun, no matter how racist his costume was, amirite?

7. Before he realized he had to apologize, he tried to stick to his guns. “This is political correctness to the absurd," he said. "There is not a prejudiced bone in my body.” I guess that's plausible enough since according to some people (mainly Dov Hikind himself), he has a mainly positive record on race relations (though he certainly has a negative record on race costumes). So, what, he has a lot of ignorant bones in his body? Exactly what kind of bones does he have?

8. Nobody would have known anything about any of this if not for his idiot son putting the photo on Facebook. Damn you, Zuckerberg! Why did you have to ruin Purim like that?

9. I love how the other politicians from the area who are running for mayor - and who depend on support from Orthodox Jews - would not call him a racist. Hooray for politics!

10. Again, this all took place at a Purim party. A Purim party! He thought he was being an Esther, and it turned out...he was a Haman. Oy!

What did we learn from this story? Not much. Nobody got hurt. They're not going to throw him out of the state assembly. He didn't commit any crimes (though the fashion police is still investigating). Yes, he exposed himself as ignorant about the social implications of wearing blackface. Yes, he reminded us that people can do racist things, apparently without thinking of themselves as racist. And thanks to his comments earlier this month about fashion designer John Galliano's Hasidic-inspired outfit, he also joined one of the world's longest and least distinguished lists - of hypocrite politicians.

But man, if you can only go to one Purim party next year (in 5774), you'd better make it to the Hikinds'. They really know how to do it up right.

[twentyminutesaday]

"We're Not Like Other People" - A "Girls" Running Commentary

Some of you out there may be aware of the TV show commentaries I've written in the past. I've done them for a variety of shows ("The Sopranos"; "The Wire"; and "Mad Men" to name three), and I basically write down whatever thoughts I have throughout an episode. It's not exactly a live blog or a live commentary nor is it a traditional recap. I don't really know what it is, but I'll call it a running commentary for lack of a better term.

I've never posted these commentaries on the Internet - I've just emailed them to friends and fellow watchers. But now, I'm putting my first commentary online AND I'm reacting to a "Girls" episode for the first time.

So...there you have it. If you don't watch "Girls," the following will mean absolutely nothing to you. And if you DO watch the show but haven't yet seen, S2E7 - "Video Games," you may want to wait to read this until later.

Okay, enough preamble. Let's get to it...

Previously...Hannah is writing an e-book and it's due, like, tomorrow...Marnie and Hannah are having communication issues...Jessa's marriage is kaput...Marnie is a dope.

Tonight: Hannah and Jessa take a wacky adventure on the Darjeeling Limited!

Nope, they're in Manitou, Putnam County, New York. They presumably took the Metro-North Hudson Line to get there, which is inferior to the New Haven Line, because we keep it real in New Haven.

I don't think Jessa was molested by a weird sub.

Well, we know Hannah's not going to step on the third rail since the show has been renewed for a third season. Although killing off Hannah now would definitely trump Ned Stark's departure from "Game of Thrones."

Hannah's UTI is gone? All hail cranberry juice!

I'm pretty sure Jessa went to med school, so that whole clove of garlic thing is almost certainly true.

Hannah couldn't find a more discreet place for herself? I mean, they're in the country, right?

Nice to meet you, Jessa's dad. Looks like you've got some useful computer gear in the way back of the station wagon. (Remember sitting in the way back of station wagons like that? It was always so disorienting to look directly at the cars behind you.)

"Camry drivers are cunts." - I've said that many times.

Hey, Jessa's father speaks with an accent, too! Huzzah! (Actor Ben Mendelsohn is Australian.)

Petula is played by Rosanna Arquette. For a second there, I thought it was Meg Ryan.

Petula loves Jefferson Starship.

"You're the cushion!" - because that's what you want to hear when you're a guest in someone's house.

Original catchphrase for Forrest Gump: "Life is like a video game. We all just need to grow a pair to get to the next level."

After that car ride and now the beer, I'm starting to worry about Jemima Kirk's pregnancy.

The official beer of the Johansson family: Schaefer.

"We're not like other people."

"I really like the way you fold down your turtleneck." - good one, Hannah.

Frank seems cool. He and Hannah are totally gonna do it.

"I guess I can never tell if guys are attractive in a loserly way or just losers."

"They're crazy, vaginas."

Hannah: not into eating animals she has previously seen or touched. But she IS into eating animals she hasn't seen or touched.

Wait, that one rabbit feeds the entire family? Or did they kill a whole bunch of rabbits?

Frank won't eat the rabbit either. Solidarity!

"Well, we eat rabbits at every meal." - okay, this is getting ridiculous.

Tyler seems like a really great guy. Oh, his poems were only published locally? Okay. Brings him down a notch or two.

Hannah just inked a book deal, everybody! In case you missed it, that happened.

Gee, and I thought Jessa and her dad were really starting to get along.

"I just don't like using products in a different way than they were intended." - words to live by.

Now with the huffing and another dangerous car ride...Jemima's baby is definitely not doing well.

Tyler is so desperate to huff that whipped cream can that he will take his eyes and hands off the wheel. I like his style, because it's totally worth it, I'm sure.

"It's not stealing when it's a corporation." - you sure showed them, Jessa!

Hannah has had enough of this whippets-fest.

Hannah running is the greatest.

Frank goes for it! Of course he does.

"Are you 18?" - too bad he is, because Hannah getting charged with statutory rape and the show turning into a legal procedural would have defied all expectations.

Hannah and Frank: I believe I had that in the office pool. Just didn't think it would happen in a cemetery.

"Did the guys on your team suck each other off?" - Jessa asks all the important questions

So...Hannah likes to talk about death during sex. Maybe it's understandable considering the location.

After Frank finished, I kept waiting for Hannah to say, "Oh, good for you."

And now with the smoking! Boy oh boy, Baby Kirke has no shot.

"I thought that this was fully a sexcapade!"

"That was fully just me trying to have continuity with you!" - only Hannah could utter such a line.

"I'm disgusted with myself!" - she hasn't been this disgusted with herself since the scene at the end of Tiny Furniture. Oh, wait. Different character. 

"And now I need to dry out my underwear behind the car." - how exactly is she going to do that?

"I don't think I was in the right frame of mind to see my father." - and I wasn't in the right frame of mind to see Hannah's father's penis in Season 1. So we're even.

"Don't talk about our parents as if they're the same kind of parents."

Jessa's dad likes to run for recreation? Didn't see that coming.

"Why can't you do one single thing you say you're gonna do?" - well he DID pick you up at the train station. He was a little late, but he made it.

"I'm the child! I'm the child!" - always and forever, Jessa.

Is he gonna make bangers and mash with rabbit? I mean, they have it at every meal...

Boy, she must really like bangers and mash, because her mood sure improved quickly.

That's where Frank sits and drinks lemonade and just...

Frank doesn't seem at all fucked up. Just a nice, well-adjusted young man.

Frank's aim is bad. Or maybe good, all things considered? Thigh crease?

I bet Frank totally nailed it when had sex with Rihanna. 

"Everyone thinks that I'm in love with Tyler." - nope, we all think your mom is in love with Tyler. We just think you're a weirdo.

Hannah's food of choice: yogurt, almonds, baby food.

Jessa's food of choice: whiskey

Seely's Grocery does not seem to exist, according to the interwebs.

"This is what he does." - yes, he's known throughout Putnam County for dropping people off at the grocery store and not coming back. That's CLASSIC Jessa's dad.

Jessa prefers Mountain Dew over other sodas.

Hannah's UTI is back! 

"See you around, my love. X" - Not as good a disappearance note as Neil Young's to Stephen Stills in 1976: "Dear Stephen, Funny how things that start spontaneously end that way. Eat a peach. Neil." BAM!

So, what...Jessa just disappeared into the woods? Left with her father and Petula to form a family band and sell Teamocil in malls across the country? Ran off to marry Frank? Seriously, where'd she go?

Poor Hannah. Now she's just a discarded cushion. 

Hannah's parents! Have we seen them since the Michigan episode?

Her mother is not falling for this CRAP, so Hannah doesn't get the Hallmark moment she was hoping for. Will anything ever work out for her? Sigh.

It's funny that Hannah now thinks that spot by the train tracks is her own personal toilet.

Well, there you have it. We learned why Jessa is such a helpless, angry mess, we saw Hannah gain some appreciation for her parents...and now Jemima Kirke can go off and have her baby (which she did in November). GIRLS!

[twentyminutesaday]

Why Zero Dark Thirty Should Win Best Picture

Zero Dark Thirty deserves to win Best Picture tonight because, in addition to being entertaining, suspenseful and a physically challenging film to pull off, it pissed off Washington lawmakers on both sides of the aisle.

When I worked at NBC's TODAY, I knew we had done a good and fair political interview with, for example, Hillary Clinton, when we would get angry emails from viewers saying we were too hard on her (from the left) and too easy on her (from the right).

To me, this kind of balanced outrage was the best endorsement we could get.

And so, when Sen. Dianne Feinstein, a Democrat, and Sen. John McCain, a Republican, joined forces in condemning the depiction of torture in Kathryn Bigelow's film - and stating that it implies that torture directly led to the killing of Osama bin Laden - then I say, "Well done."

In addition, I'm not sure the senators were watching the same film I was - the scenes of torture (sorry, "enhanced interrogations") were horrifying and all too realistic, not only for moviegoers but also for the characters in the film. And we know that during that period, our government sanctioned that kind of behavior toward prisoners in the "War on Terror."

The fact is, it happened. The film depicts that. And anyone who sees those scenes and thinks that the film morally endorses the use of torture wasn't paying attention. 

Whether one can draw a straight line from those tactics to the killing of bin Laden...well, I'm not sure about that, and I don't think the film explicitly makes that case.

But this is all beside the point anyway. The film is about, among other things, the triumph of detective work (McNulty, Bunk and Cool Lester Smooth would be proud); the triumph of a woman in a man's world; and, in cinematic terms, how our government and military worked to eliminate our greatest bogeyman.

Zero Dark Thirty is not about "Does torture work?"

It's a great film. And all the better that it riled up Washington along the way.

Full disclosure: I've only seen five of the nine nominees for Best Picture. I loved Argo and Django Unchained; I found Lincoln to be very moving; and although I had misgivings about its sometimes glib treatment of mental illness, I came out on the positive side of Silver Linings Playbook.

But my experience in the theater and how I thought about each film afterwards did not match how I felt - and still feel - about Zero Dark Thirty.

I won't be putting any money on it to win Best Picture though. I felt the same way about The Social Network two years ago when it went up against The King's Speech, and we know how that worked out.

And perhaps, in the cases of The Social Network and Zero Dark Thirty, I give extra credit for the deft handling of contemporary subjects and debates. So be it. They're hard to pull off. And they're unique.

[twentyminutesaday]

Me and the Mets

I have referred in the past to being a Mets fan as an illness, one that I have lived with since childhood and one that I will die with. There's nothing I can do about it.

I love the Mets. I hate the Mets. I hate myself for loving the Mets. 

After an epic collapse in 2007, another collapse in 2008 and a brutal season in 2009, I moved from New York to Los Angeles. I told people that I left to get away from the Mets, and I was only half-kidding. I needed some distance from the team to which I had given so much of my time, money and mental energy with very little in return.

The team that, when it moved into a new stadium in 2009, had tripled the price of my season tickets if I wanted to stay in comparable seats (I declined that generous offer). The team that had taken fans like me for granted. The team that had decided it was a good idea to pay Bobby Bonilla $25.9 million over 25 years rather than $5.9 million in one year (thanks, Bernie Madoff!).

The Mets did nothing to make me regret the move - they finished fourth in 2010 and again in 2011.

And yet, in L.A., I found myself continuing to watch the Mets on TV and my iPhone, to follow them online, to keep reading about them in the New York papers.

But in the first half of 2012, as I pondered and then actually made the move back to New York, the Mets were - against all odds - actually playing well. Sure enough, though, in the second half, they reverted to what we expected: they finished fourth.

This year, they'll probably finish fourth or maybe even last (something, surprisingly, they haven't done since 2003).

And yet here I am, back in New York, sitting on my couch, watching the Mets spring training opener on TV. Yes, the spring training opener.

The team's hopes today (for a couple innings, anyway) are riding on the shoulders of a 31-year-old right-hander with a salt-and-pepper beard named Shaun Marcum, who looks like he wandered over from Mets fantasy camp.

I have no way to explain why I keep coming back to them. I can't help myself, no matter how angry they make me, how much I'd like to move on and stop caring since they don't seem to care about me. I even had a dream about them last night (they were wearing the home pinstripes).

But then Marcum completes a scoreless top of the first...and in the bottom half, Ruben Tejada hits a 2-run homer off, of all people, Stephen Strasburg...and maybe, just maybe...

Someone get the thermometer - my temperature's going up again.

[twentyminutesaday]

Drop Everything

Drop Everything

That was the subject line of an email I got tonight from my friend Aaron. More on that in a bit.

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I started writing this blog almost two years ago. I was living in Venice, California, dealing with the bitter end of a long-term and long-distance relationship, and in the midst of a few months off from work.

I had a lot of time on my hands. Or more to the point, I had a lot of time inside my own head. In many ways, at that time, I couldn't recognize my own life anymore.

So I wrote. I couldn't even tell you now what I wrote about, and that was sort of the point. I needed to give myself an assignment every day,  needed to just get stuff out of my head, regardless of what it was. The content didn't really matter - it was all about just doing it.

And I did it...until I stopped.

I don't remember it being a conscious decision to stop - if I had to guess, I'd say it was just because my time off from work ended, and once most of my time was filled again, I didn't need to continue the exercise.

Fast-forward to today: I moved back to New York City eight months ago, and in some important ways, the life that had become confusing and unrecognizable to me in Los Angeles makes sense again.

But over the past few days, I've felt myself retreating into my own head again - not in the same way as two years ago, but in a way that still compelled me to think about visiting this place again.

So today I was thinking about subjects I could write about, but nothing was really inspiring me. I had gone to see the documentary The Gatekeepers, which is nominated for an Academy Award, but writing about Israeli counter-terrorism since 1967 didn't seem like the way to get things back in gear.

And that brings be back to Aaron's email.

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Drop Everything

Aaron had just watched another Oscar-nominated documentary, Searching for Sugar Man, about an American musician who had been a flop in the U.S. in the early-1970s but - unbeknownst to anyone in the U.S. - his music had later made him a superstar in absentia in South Africa.

I had been intrigued by the trailer for it months ago, and seeing the film had been on my to-do list for weeks. But for a variety of reasons, I hadn't done it yet. I had even discussed it two days ago at lunch with my friend Sean.

This was Aaron's message:

"If you haven't seen 'Searching for Sugar Man' yet, cue that shit up on demand and watch it.

Now.

It is one of my favorite things I have ever seen. And I think you'll like it even more."

I did what I was told, dropped everything, and watched it.

I won't give away anything here that's not already in reviews for the film. But it's a mind-blowing story. The best way I can think to explain it is in two ways:

1. A singer-songwriter from Detroit named Rodriguez records two albums that flop. And then it's as if someone enters his music in a contest on the other side of the planet without him knowing it, and he wins and becomes a superstar - but no one in the U.S. has any idea that this has happened.

2. In South Africa, two albums by a mysterious singer-songwriter named Rodriguez appear from nowhere, almost from another planet. The music strikes a chord with liberal white audiences during an era of growing anti-Apartheid unrest, and his music becomes more popular there than that of the Rolling Stones or Elvis Presley. But nobody knows who Rodriguez is or where he comes from, and most people believe he is dead.

That's all I will say about the particulars of the story. But how those two storylines intersect - and what happens afterwards - is nothing short of a miracle. 

My immediate thought after watching the film was: This is why we're alive.

I apologize in advance for what I'm sure is a crude comparison, but I couldn't help comparing the experience of watching this film to watching The Gatekeepers. 

I'd like to believe that we're not alive to hate each other, occupy each other, terrorize each other, kill each other. I know that's the unfortunate reality in many places around the world, including Israel and Gaza, and we all have to deal with that aspect of humanity on some level.

But it's nice that from time to time, we can be reminded how incredible, surprising and inspiring humans can be, too. You simply could not make up the story of Searching for Sugar Man. 

I'm glad I dropped everything.

[twentyminutesaday]

Overshadowed By Bolt

It's rare these days that a track and field story penetrates the consciousness of U.S. sports fans, but Usain Bolt's disqualification in the 100m final at the World Championships last weekend did just that. It clearly wasn't the way the track world wanted to make headlines, but it was their stupid rule and Bolt's undisciplined performance that made it happen, so as Tony Soprano would say, "Whatareyougonnado?" Chances are, the IAAF will change the false start rule in time for next year's Olympics and this whole episode will be largely forgotten. The overlooked story in all this was the bronze medal-performance of Kim Collins, a 35-year-old from St. Kitts and Nevis. Why was this interesting? For one thing, his age - 35 is pretty advanced for a sprinter. For another, he comes from St. Kitts and Nevis. Try finding that on a map. Also, Collins retired two years ago, only to return to competition seven months ago - and picked up a world bronze medal. But my favorite thing about Collins is that, for the past 10 years, he has pretty much run the same times. Just about every time he crosses the finish line, the scoreboard reads 10.07, give or take a tenth of a second. In a sport where athletes mysteriously chop relative eons off their times, then equally mysteriously disappear, Collins has remained astonishingly consistent for more than a decade (when he won the 2003 world title, he finished in 10.07; last weekend he won bronze in 10.08; and he's never gone faster than 9.98). It doesn't matter if it's a huge race, if his competitors are juiced out of their gourds or if he has a rock in his shoe - Kim Collins is going to run around 10.07. Sometimes that gets him a gold medal, sometimes it gets him seventh place. The stakes and the competition doesn't matter - Kim Collins just does his thing. And that's pretty damn cool.

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My Digital Media Divide

For more than a decade, I have largely consumed media via electronic means. Since graduating from college in 2001, I have never subscribed to the paper edition of a newspaper. I get my news from the Internet and television, I download and listen to podcasts, and I'm finding myself increasingly watching TV shows and live sports online as well.

The last bastion of print journalism consumption for me is magazines. I subscribe to four of them, all of which, it seems, come two or more days later than they did when I lived in New York.

This morning, as I downloaded the latest Sports Illustrated onto my iPad (while the print version, which arrived on Friday, sat untouched on my kitchen table), it occurred to me that as long as magazines make their full editions available to subscribers in electronic form, I have no need for print editions. Paper magazines cost more money, they waste resources and they clutter my apartment. I don't know if any of the magazines I subscribe to offer the choice to opt out of receiving print editions, but I'm sure that day is coming soon.

This is no groundbreaking revelation or anything. But it did get me to think about how the print vs. electronic media divide has impacted my life on a more fundamental level.

In the spring of 1994, I did a week-long "externship" at The New Haven Register, which led to a summer internship there later that summer. I was 15 years old.

I worked in the sports department, following staff reporters to various games and events, learning how to be the only thing I had ever wanted be since I was seven years old: a newspaper man.

My time spent at the Register was fun, it was exciting and it has helped guide me through my career to this point - but not in the way you'd think.

Instead of my time there being a celebration of the written word, a glorious glimpse into the ink-stained history of the newspaper business, the strongest piece of advice came from Sports Editor Richard Lord, who told me in no uncertain terms:

"Don't go into print journalism, Dan. It's a dying industry. Go into electronic media. Save yourself before it's too late!"

Okay, he didn't say the last line. But the first part is true. And again, this was 1994, well before the Internet came along to hasten the destruction of print journalism's business model.

As I moved on to high school and later college, I remembered Richard's words but did not heed them - though I expanded my horizons to include radio in college, I still thought of myself primarily as a writer. I expected to get a job out of college as a newspaper writer, with the hope of eventually graduating to a magazine.

But in the spring of 2001, as my university days were coming to a close, I came face-to-face with the print vs. electronic media quandary. My attempts to catch on at any of the big newspapers in the Northeast had gone for naught ("Call us in five years when you have more experience," wrote the sports editor from The Newark Star-Ledger), and I found myself with two post-graduate employment options:

Become an Olympic researcher for NBC in New York or write sports for The New Haven Register. Because of my childhood desire to be a writer, I gave the Register more consideration than perhaps most would, but Richard Lord's advice definitely reverberated in my brain. And in June 2001, I started my first real job at 30 Rockefeller Plaza for NBC in New York City.

I've remained in television production for the past 10 years, and it seems like every year writing -- or at least the kind of writing I thought I would be doing -- becomes less integral in my daily work life. And that's a shame.

Recently, I was out with my friend Noah, who transitioned about a year ago from television production into feature film writing. A man at the bar asked Noah what he did for a living, and Noah responded, "I'm a writer." The man then asked me if I was a writer, and I said, "No."

It was the first time I had ever responded to that question in the negative.

Don't get me wrong - I don't question or doubt my decision to go into television over working for a mid-level newspaper, particularly since Richard Lord has proved prescient about the business of print journalism. (In fact, one of my mentors that summer of '94 was young sports reporter Seth Davis, who, despite writing for Sports Illustrated since 1995, now spends the vast majority of his time working in the digital and electronic worlds for si.com and CBS Sports.)

But there is a part of me that misses the challenge and fun of working on a long-form written piece. Maybe that's what I'd be doing with my life had I taken the Register job, maybe not.

But I know this: if I were writing for a living, I'd rather download my articles and read them on my iPad than read them in print. You know, the clutter and all.

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Clarence Clemons

"And last but not least. Do I have to say his name? Do I have to SPEAK his name? In this corner...king of the world...master of the universe...weighing in at 260 pounds...THE BIG MAN...CLARENCE CLEMONS!"

What to say about the Big Man that Bruce himself hasn't already said? How can we mythologize someone who, in life, was already more myth than man? "Bigger than life" doesn't do justice to Clarence's size, his life story, and most importantly, the sound that came out of his horn. I mean, the guy's autobiography was semi-fictional - but could anyone have really doubted that it all seemed not just possible but likely to have happened?

When I think back on my memories of Clarence, three stand out.

September 3, 1999 My second ever Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band concert. It was in Washington D.C., and I attended with my college roommate John Hyman (I had first become aware of John when we were freshmen and he was playing "Backstreets" on a piano outside our dining hall - it was an immediate bond).

After a quiet duet by Bruce and Patti on "Mansion on the Hill," the stage lights went down at the MCI Center. Soon we heard the most mournful and haunting notes that one could imagine coming from Clarence's tenor sax. It was the opening to a new arrangement of "The River" that I had never heard before, and it added a heartbreaking layer of mystery and dread to the song. It gave me chills. It still does.

October 4, 2003 The last show of "The Rising" tour at Shea Stadium. Aaron Cohen and I stood on the outfield of our beloved home stadium for an emotional night that ended Bruce and the band's 14-month tour.

Clarence's health had seemed to be deteriorating all year to the point that he was virtually immobile on stage - and he spent much of the shows seated on his Big Man stool. And when the band concluded the show and the tour with "Blood Brothers" - Bruce's tribute to his bandmates - the giant video screen showed us the indelible image of Clarence's face with tears streaming down his mighty cheeks.

I couldn't help but feel that it was a moment of finality, and I remember turning to Aaron with a lump in my throat, saying, "I think this is the last time we'll see Clarence on stage."

Thankfully, I was completely wrong. The Big Man made it through more studio albums and two more massive tours - including a performance at the Super Bowl that will allow my friend Brian Hyland to die a happy man.

April 1, 2011 My most unexpected Big Man sighting. My dad and I went to Opening Day of the baseball season at Sun Life Stadium in Miami to see the Mets play the Marlins. I had no advance warning that Clarence would be playing the national anthem, so I was thrilled when they announced his name over the PA system.

With the Marlins lined up to his left and the Mets lined up to his right, Clarence blew a beautiful rendition of the national anthem (though unfortunately for me, it inspired his hometown Marlins to victory).

But the elation I felt while Clarence played was soon tinged with sadness as I watched him leave the field - he could barely walk. The body that had been slowly betraying him for years seemed to be in worse shape than ever.

He wouldn't make it another three months. Six days ago he suffered a stroke. Today he died.

Clarence's passing is a huge loss to all of us who love Bruce's music. But mainly I just feel badly for Bruce right now. It's hard to imagine what it will be like for him the first time he takes the stage without his brother.

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Empathy

We all deal with losses, setbacks, all sorts of impediments to us achieving happiness at any one moment. The death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the unexpected loss of a job - these are potentially devastating occurrences that can send any of us into tailspins of depression (and they happen all too frequently). 

But then there are the everyday trials and tribulations of life that so easily get us down, when, in reality, they're basically meaningless. An annoying co-worker. Car problems. DVR malfunctioning. Yet in our culture of self-worship, too often we raise these problems to undeserving levels of angst.

So when something happens like these deadly tornados striking, and we see the images of devastation in Joplin, Missouri, not only does it remind us that our mundane problems are insignificant, but it also makes me wonder how the people affected pick up and go on with their lives. When members of your family and friends have been killed, when your neighborhood has been destroyed, when everything you owned is gone, how do you go on?

Tornado destruction in Joplin, Missouri. (Larry W. Smith/European Pressphoto Agency)

I know I'm going to lose a lot of people here, but that's the central question in David Simon's HBO series "Treme": after Hurricane Katrina, how did people go on?

I don't know anyone else who's watching it, but I am. A lot of my friends who loved Simon's "The Wire" gave it a chance in the show's first season but gave up because it was too slow and didn't have the same narrative punch as "The Wire." But you know what? That the show doesn't have a typical dramatic structure is to its credit, because the people trying to recover from the storm did so at different paces, in different places and in different ways - ways that don't lend themselves to the kind of drama we ordinarily demand from our popular entertainment.

The series is more like a tapestry of stories. And I suspect that in Joplin, as the days turn to months and years, a similar tapestry will emerge - of loss, grief, devastation, and hopefully recovery, renewal and hope. There is no template for how to go on when you've lost everything, and I'm sure every single person touched by the tornado will deal with it differently.

All the rest of us can do is offer support to those in need in whatever ways we can and realize that our problems, whatever they may be, aren't so bad.

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Fame

We are a nation of celebrity-obsessed people. We keep People and TMZ and US Weekly and all the similar outfits in business because of our obsession. And I'm not here to judge whether we should or shouldn't care about famous people.

But what I am here to discuss is why so many people want so badly to be famous. Yes, there can be money. And yes, there can be attention. But to what end? It seems like many people - especially young people - who achieve a high level of fame don't know how to handle it, how to behave, or how to stay sane. (Reading this on Deadspin got me thinking about this tonight - and incidentally, I'm pretty sure I saw Jay Mariotti crossing Ocean Ave in Santa Monica one day last week.)

Yet now the race to be famous is hotter than ever, thanks to reality TV, youtube, and every other technological advance that has helped break down the monopoly that the entertainment industry had over stardom.

Would Justin Bieber have been a star 20 years ago, before youtube? I doubt it. Is he, on the whole, happy that he can't appear in public without people mobbing him? I have no idea. My guess is that enjoys parts of his life but despises other parts. And I'm not sure what his alternative would have been had he not become a pop star, so he's probably come out ahead.

(But let's stop thinking about what the world would be like without Bieber. It's too painful a hypothetical to even consider.)

I'm always curious about how celebrities handle fame when their children are young. I've spoken to some of my famous friends about this, specifically about the phenomenon of strangers coming up to them on the street to say hello while their kids are there with them.

I can't imagine what that must be like, for a kid to say, "Daddy, who was that person?" And then to answer, "I don't know them, but they know me." How is a kid supposed to process that?

Good thing Justin Bieber doesn't have any kids. That would probably just make my head explode.

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Novak Djokovic

Well, I have to give Novak Djokovic credit. I've never been a huge fan of his, and I've only watched from afar as he's amassed his winning streak this season. But today I was excited to watch him take on Andy Murray in the Rome semis - I wanted to see if Djokovic could get a win on clay against one of the tour's best grinders and run his record to 36-0 this season.

Not only did Djokovic grind out the win - a three-set thriller that ended in a tiebreak - but he also did so in a way that surprised me. He did it with guts.

The third set turned into a back-and-forth affair with neither man either to hold serve particularly well. As the set wore on, the hallmarks of a Djokovic collapse seemed to be appearing - he started playing loose points, his body language sagged, his leg muscles started acting up, and he seemed on the verge of losing for the first time in 2011.

Murray served for the match at 5-4 and was two points from winning - but Djokovic fought back to win the game, remarkably keeping his cool and overcoming whatever physical difficulties he was enduring to advance to tomorrow's final against Rafael Nadal.

Murray didn't do himself any favors - he couldn't get in a first serve to save his life in the match's latter stages - but it was Djokovic who kept his nerve and made the shots.

I wasn't necessarily a believer in Djokovic before this - I doubted his ability to close out tough matches. And after such a trying match, I wouldn't be surprised if Nadal wipes him out tomorrow. But I won't doubt his heart anymore after watching him play today.

The big question remains whether his body can hold up through an entire season - and future seasons. That's the most underrated aspect of Federer's amazing run of 23 consecutive Grand Slam semifinal appearances - that he not only won all those matches but also that he stayed healthy for a remarkable period of time.

Djokovic has proven that he has the game and the heart to be a great champion. But does he have the legs?

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News Haikus

Tonight I decided to write haikus for a few of the stories covered on NBC Nightly News. I had never written haikus before. I might never do it again. But in the meantime, here they are:

Mighty Mississipp' Rising, threatening, flooding Lives underwater

Osama's notebook Filled with murderous intent Were there any jokes?

Romney's health care woes For it before against it Just give it up, man

Oil lords tell Senate Don't tax us for our success More pain at the pump

Camera rolls on sky Lightning crashes into plane Electrifying

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Woody's Back?

Woody Allen's films have been important to me for as long as I can remember. Well, that's not exactly true. My parents went to see Hannah and Her Sisters and took me along when I was six years old - and I hated it (which probably isn't all that surprising). It wasn't until I saw the film again as a young adult that it became one of my favorites of all time.

But for the sake of argument, let's just say that for much of my life, Woody's films have meant a lot to me. They have affected my sense of humor and writing style, they've certainly given me a lot of laughs, and they've made me think a lot about human relationships. Annie Hall, Love and Death, Deconstructing Harry, Take the Money and Run, Manhattan...I could go on and on.

Even in recent years, through a decade's worth of critical mostly-misses, I've bought my annual ticket as if my life depended on it. And I've even managed to enjoy myself, telling others, "If you really love Woody's movies you'll get some enjoyment out of it - otherwise, skip it." (Though I must admit, even I walked out of Cassandra's Dream.)

This past year, however, I finally missed a Woody Allen picture: You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger. Why did I miss it? I'm not exactly sure. I remember it being out and having some interest in going to see it, but I never made it. Perhaps it was because I was tired of seeing mediocre films, perhaps I was feeling guilty for having left Woody's beloved New York to live in his much-despised Los Angeles or perhaps I was just too busy when it was out. I don't know. (But I guess my life didn't depend on seeing it - I'm still alive, as far as I can tell.)

I say all of this to get to the point: I'm excited for Midnight in Paris, Woody's new film, which opened the Cannes Film Festival today. The early reviews trickling in have been positive, and although the trailer (which you can watch, along with clips of some Woody classics, HERE) raises more questions than it answers, I'm not going to miss this one.

I've long since stopped hoping that each new release match the "early, funny ones," to steal a phrase from Stardust Memories, or the mid-career classics - but here's hoping the early indications are correct: that Woody has given us another film to treasure.

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College Sticker Shock

There's a headline on the cover of this week's issue of New York that asks, "Is College a Scam?" As it turns out, that's not exactly what the article by Daniel B. Smith addresses. The more accurate (though less sexy) question is, "Is College Worth the Price?"

The two protagonists in the story are James Altucher and Peter Thiel, two venture capitalists (and graduates of elite universities) who have railed against college as being a waste of time and money. In the story, Altucher asks, "When [my daughters are] 18 years old, just hand them $200,000 to go off and have a fun time for four years? Why would I want to do that?"

It's a fair question to ask, especially since the cost of college keeps skyrocketing - and that's really the point of this story. Like the dot com and housing bubbles, some experts believe that the college tuition bubble will soon burst as well. With student loan debt approaching $1 trillion, at some point, the experts argue, the system will become unsustainable.

The "scam" part of this is that to succeed in today's world, it's presumed that one must have a college degree - and the colleges know that, so they charge basically whatever they want. Parents are willing to financially cripple themselves - or have their children take out student loans - to send their kids to the best colleges so they can to keep up in this system.

But to me, this isn't exactly a scam - there is, without question, value in a college education. Whether that value equals the tuition cost is up to the school and, to some degree, the student's desire to make use of the school's resources (assuming the school's resources are in line with the tuition cost).

The tuition bubble, in my opinion, will only burst when parents in mass numbers stop paying the exorbitant fees that colleges demand. And one aspect of parents' desire to keep paying - or having their kids take out student loans - is not addressed in the article: status.

Parents don't just want their kids to go to college, they want their kids to go to the best college humanly possible. Parents compete with other parents over where their kids will go to college. And kids therefore compete with each other over where they will go to college.

This cult of college has brought us such hallmarks of suburban culture as the oversized backpack for overstressed, over-scheduled elementary school students; college consultants who charge large fees to polish a kid's candidacy for top schools; and a hyper-competitive scholastic environment that often does more damage than good.

High schools are complicit, because they enjoy the status that comes from sending as many kids to college (especially top-tier colleges), but for the most part, this is largely due to parents' behavior.

It comes from a good place, of course - parents just want their kids to have the best chance at success in life, and the cult of college tells us that, on average, the better the university one attends, the more successful one will be. This can be a dubious claim. (Happiness is another question altogether, though it's assumed that success equals happiness - which, of course, is not always a correct assumption either.)

And certainly a lot has been written about the psychological trauma this hyper-competitive scholastic environment has on kids, but that's not the point of this discussion.

The point is this: at what point will the cost of a college education dwarf its value, and at what point will parents decide that college is no longer worth the sticker price? Despite the national student-loan debt ominously nearing the $1 trillion mark, that day doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

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Claude Stanley Choules, Dead at 110

We all have varying levels of ambition and desire for achievement. But I think most of us have the sense that something might happen today or tomorrow that will change the course of our lives or be a defining experience.

But what if that defining experience, in fact, happened when we were 14? That was the case for Claude Stanley Choules, who passed away last week at age 110. That's right, age 110. His accomplishment: he was the last known combat veteran of World War I.

We usually think of athletes' public lives peaking early, but this guy joined the British Royal Navy when he was 14 years old. And because he outlived every other combat veteran, the headline of his obituary was about something he did 96 years ago - and not dying for almost a century.

Can you imagine? Ninety-six years ago? And his bookended accomplishments were joining the navy as a teenager and then not dying for 96 years?

Of course, that's not to say that he didn't live an interesting or noble life during those years. Among the noteworthy things he did between 1915 and 2011:

* Moved to Australia * Became a pacifist and refused to march in veterans' parades * Was married to the same woman for 76 years (the former Ethel Wildgoose - love that name - who died at 98) * Started every day by eating a bowl of porridge * Took a creative writing class in his 80s * Published his autobiography at age 109  * Celebrated his 110th birthday * Killed Osama bin Laden

(Okay, I made up that last one. If he had done that, such an accomplishment probably would have made the obituary headline.)

Woody Allen is known to have said, "Eighty percent of success is showing up." Claude Stanley Choules showed up for World War I and then kept showing up for life for 96 more years, each day a new opportunity to add to his legacy - and that got him an obituary in newspapers around the world.

And there's a lesson here for all of us: if you want to live for a really long time, eat porridge for breakfast.