The World's Game

Alrighty class, it's time for the easiest game in the book: Which one doesn't belong! Pele, Johan Cryuff, Cobi Jones, and Heidi Klum. All were on stage to take part in the World Cup draw on Friday, but one isn't like the others...

Easy, you might say. Three are world class footballers. One is a super fly super model. Sure, Pele has filled out nicely in old age, but there's still only one The Grillmaster would want to see in a bikini. Exit stage right, Heidi, and straight into our dreams.

But not so fast, mes amis! For to judge by international press reaction to the US Team's prospects after the draw, it's apparent that the world still doesn't take any footballers from these 50 States seriously. They'd rather see Heidi Klum win the Cup than any ragtag bunch of Yanks. At least she's German.

Now the US did get a tough draw. Italy plays the beautiful game as do few others. The Czechs are a formidable side with lots of European experience. It will take top-notch football for any team to advance out of Group E.

But that's precisely what the US has been playing for the past four years! We outplayed Germany in the quarterfinal loss in 2002. We have firmly supplanted Mexico as the power of North American soccer, Mexico's inexplicable top ranking be damned. We've climbed to the world top 10, and will field a team that is both relatively young and with serious World Cup experience. The US may have been slightly disheartened by its draw, but you can bet that Italy, the Czechs, and Ghana were none too happy to see us in their segment of the tournament.

Or perhaps they were happy. Perhaps they're every bit as arrogant and dismissive as the international press, which has already declared that Italy and the Czechs will advance with ease. That's our best hope. Underestimate and dismiss all you want. We'll comfort ourselves with the knowledge that this is the best chance ever for the US to make big noise in the one tournament that we're never supposed to win. That and knowing that Heidi Klum comes to America when it's time to pose for swimsuit issues.

Education with Application. Who knew?

The Grillmaster has recently received confirmation that he did in fact secure a Masters of Comparative Ethnic Conflict from Queen’s University Belfast. Comparative Ethnic Conflict is a mouthful, but today’s post just may show that it actually has something to teach us. ‘But Grillmaster, you’ve been back in the States for four months,’ you might say. ‘Surely you received your grades months ago.’ Naïve fools! Very few things happen with what one would call efficiency in the great administrative vortex that is the United Kingdom.

As it goes in postgraduate degrees, so it is with final status negotiations around implementing the Good Friday Agreements. The parties continue to sputter towards the basic conclusion that all can foresee: shared power, oversight from the UK and Ireland, and a final end of political violence. The province is unlikely to descend back into the painful violence of the Troubles, but with Paisley and Adams in control of electoral politics, what one would call normal representative government is likely still some time off.

The past weeks have seen a similar reminder from the former Yugoslavia. There, the accord hammered out at Dayton gave ten years of relative peace (with the teensy exception of that whole Kosovo thing). At the same time, that peace has been guaranteed only at the point of NATO guns, with populations clinging ever more doggedly to ethno-national identities. Western diplomats made the prudential judgment in the past month that the parties, a decade removed from the worst of the conflict, could begin to modify the Dayton Accords to build a more unified, effective government.

The fate of the Oslo Process is perhaps the classic case of good documents alone not adequate to resolve ethnic conflicts. The story of their ultimate collapse has been told by many more qualified than this writer. Suffice to say that with all the roadmaps, frameworks, and interim agreements one could put a nice coat of wallpaper on that lovely little wall that Ariel is building through the West Bank.

Ethnic resentment dies hard, and thus resolving (or transforming if you prefer) ethnic conflicts takes years of careful prodding and poking, managing rivals while promoting local responsibility. The governments of the UK and Ireland have done this admirably in Northern Ireland. The success of the former Yugoslavia will likely be judged over the coming years. Israel-Palestine is very much a work in progress. None of these situations, however, is more uncertain or more important than that we currently face in Iraq.

It is important to remember the lasting nature of outside engagement in the above examples at this time of national reevaluation of our policy in Iraq. I sense that among the well-intentioned and even analytically sound calls to bring our troops home is that ugly skeleton in the closet of American diplomacy: Isolationism. There is a growing part of the American public that wants to be rid of the worries of Iraq. This is a dangerous undertone of statements like, ‘We need to allow the Iraqis to run their own country.’

America should draw down her troop levels in the months ahead, but the squabbling, feuding, opportunistic politicians of Iraq make our continued deep involvement in the process an absolute necessity. What worries me is that weak-willed politicians may use the slogans of ‘allowing the Iraqis to secure their own destiny’ as an excuse for abrogating our responsibility and ability to contribute to the shape that future takes.

Of course Iraqis should control their own destiny. Except that we just removed their old world order with our bombs, in the process removing the main impediment to open ethnic conflict. It may be a good thing that Saddam is gone, but policy makers need to learn from Belfast, Sarajevo, and Hebron just how much outside management is necessary before deeply conflicted societies can run their own affairs.

This requires a delicate dance. American policy makers must remain engaged with Iraqi officials as crucial decisions are made regarding that country’s future. American military officials must continue to cooperate with Iraqi forces combating the insurgency. American corporations must responsibly engage in the task of rebuilding the shattered Iraqi infrastructure. And all of this must as much as possible avoid the semblance of an occupation. The Grillmaster harbors serious doubts as to whether this administration is up to the tall task that it has brought upon itself.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Last night, in what is becoming a bit of a tradition, the Grillmaster and friends got an early jump on the Christmas season by stuffing ourselves with ham and egg nog, watching 'Charlie Brown Christmas' and 'The Grinch,' and trying to convince ourselves that the wintry mix falling from the sky was actually proper snow. I hope everyone gets the chance to have such moments of joy, friendship, and fullness as the holiday season progresses.

There is yet another rite of the season kicking off as well: the radical right's shrill cries that the evil, baby Jesus-hating liberals are trying to take the Christ out of Christmas. Bill O'Reilly makes it a particular interest of his, which clearly indicates how seriously one ought to take it. Evangelicals target Target, Catholics watch Wal-Mart, and Speaker Hastert takes the firm stand that the blue spruce in the Capitol ain't no damn Holiday Tree. It's a Christmas tree, just like the one that Jesus was born under!

Now PC can obviously go too far. It's just plain silly to deny the fact that the tree in the Capitol is only there because of Christmas. Call a spade a spade, and let's go sing carols. Or even better, let's talk about how Christ might spend the government's money during the season of his birth, rather than what he would call the odd tree that for some reason has come to mark it. John Podesta hits this point out of the park in a very succinct way here.

The whole Christ in Christmas bruhaha is most interesting as a perfect type-case of what the radical right does best: drum up fear and cultivate unrealistic feelings of victimization. God is under attack! The gays will destroy marriage! The evolution will destroy our children's minds! And the taxes will destroy our ability to buy REALLY BIG inflatable Santa's! Funny how that last one always manages to find its way into the mix.

The message of the birth of Christ is a powerful one. Anybody who watches Linus, trusty blanket in hand, recite the Gospel passages from memory knows that. Wal-Mart's marketing strategy has absolutely no impact on the reality and power of that message! Hell, I might even feel a little better about myself if Christmas were entirely distinct from megastores and elected officials of any sort.

On Nirvana and the Vatican

'Come as you are
as you were
as I want you to be.'

--Nirvana, ‘Come As You Are’

There has been much hubbub over the Vatican's now officially released statement on homosexuals and their fitness for the priesthood. The New York Times has done its best to drum up the culture war for the better part of a week. Andrew Sullivan is being his usual provocative, intelligent and moderately melodramatic self. One piece notable for both its intelligence and its lack of Doomsday tone was published by a leading Dominican in the British The Tablet.

In the interest of intellectual honesty, I should say up front that I disagree with not only this most-recent document, but with much of the Church’s teaching on homosexuality. That being said, I don’t find the release of this document a cause for total despair. Perhaps this is because I am straight. I can certainly understand why homosexual Catholics would be personally cut to the core by this in ways I can only begin to imagine. I hope that the moderate response to the document from the head of the US hierarchy indicates that local bishops will continue to exercise more pastoral wisdom than the Roman Curia has shown.

It is widely reported that Pope Benedict is a man of broad reading and learning, highly cultured, exposed to the intellectual currents of the world while rooted in the Roman Catholic tradition. Given the depth and nuance of much of his writing, the Grillmaster sees no reason to doubt this conclusion. I just never would have guessed he would have the grace to incorporate Kurt Cobain into Church instruction.

'Come as you are' is a downright Biblical directive. So far, so good. As fallen, broken humans, we all have to come as we are into God's presence. The promise of Christ's death and resurrection is that our disorder need not doom us to sowing only more pain in the world. Priests, those successors of Jesus' disciples on Earth today, have an even higher standard of honesty and humility to accept. They, and those considering joining their ranks, must offer up all their sin and human failures to God if they are to join in His service.

To its credit, the Vatican has always, and continues to, recognize the central importance of coming to the process of discernment as we are. This is why it closes the latest directive with a stern reminder that it would be a grave sin for candidates to the priesthood to lie to their spiritual directors or confessors about their sexual orientation. Come as you are is an open, liberating invitation, but it also comes with responsibility.

Unfortunately, the Vatican's decision to ban those with 'deep seated homosexual orientations' may weaken this essential principle of 'Come as you are.' The most honest seminarians, struggling with their sexual orientation and their call to celibacy, will indeed come as they are into the confessional. And they will be promptly sent packing for their honesty. Those more willing to sugar-coat their sexuality will stand the best chance for making it through this newly established gauntlet.

'Come as you were' also comes into play here in a somewhat perplexing way. The new policy allows seminarians to enter the priesthood who have experienced homosexual desires, provided that three years has elapsed since their time of sexual confusion. If, in the process of reaching ‘affective maturity’ the seminarian has overcome his homosexual episodes, then come on in! So long as you don’t support ‘the gay culture,’ whatever that is. The Grillmaster regularly watches The Simpsons and laughs at the homoerotic antics of the barely closeted Mr. Smithers and the officially-outed Patty. The Grillmistress will rest more easily knowing that this may disqualify me from ordination.

The goal of ordaining only those who have reached affective maturity is noble, but the awkward presence of a three year time period ignores the practical reality that all seminarians going through formation must struggle mightily with their sexuality. Straight and gay alike must grapple with sexual desire, and offer that desire up to God in His service.

What cuts to the core of my problems with this document is the last, disturbing line of Cobain’s famous refrain: ‘Come as I want you to be.’ It appears to me that some in the Vatican are revealing their deep desire for a homosexual-free Church. They may talk of the dignity of the homosexual person, but they clearly see such persons as so disordered as to render even their most noble attempts to serve God as a priest hopeless. Their very homosexual identity ‘gravely hinders them from relating correctly to men and women,’ to use the Vatican’s words. The more I ponder the complete lack of charity in that sentence and the disregard for the lives of thousands of celibate homosexual, the more upset I get.

There is nothing that men and women, gay and straight can relate to MORE than priests who can discuss their struggles with celibacy and sexuality in a mature manner. It is important that seminaries stand as distinct from the pervasive, sexually objectifying environment of modern Western society. This directive is the last way to go about that. Gay priests present eloquent testimony to the need to honestly confront our sexual natures, and offer them up to God. If the Vatican is serious about maintaining the celibate priesthood, it could use all such mature advocates it can get.

Back on the Home Court

Even Brent Musburger can't ruin this. I'm sitting on the couch, wearing my pajamas, and watching real, live college basketball. I'm giving way to hoops sensory overload, with three games on simultaneously, and two more to follow. Meaningless pre-season tournaments? Of course. But the approach of winter is a lot easier to accept with the knowledge that Dicky V will be there to keep me company.

It's fitting that I'm presently watching Kentucky kick off its season. It was only because of one particularly rabid Kentucky fan (and his particularly hospitable wife) that I got to watch any college hoops at all last year in Belfast. Those evenings of improvised barbeques, midnight tipoffs, and indoor Nerf-ball H-O-R-S-E were the little tastes of home that made the year that much more enjoyable.

Those memories will always remind me of the rooting power of sports. The experience of a fan is so rich, so sensory, so vivid, and for so many of us tied to the families and friends that it can literally transport you across oceans, at least for a while. Kentucky basketball is just supposed to be played in late March. The Saints need to come back to New Orleans. Loyola and Calvert Hall have to play on Thanksgiving morning. All these things need to happen not because of the result of any silly game. No, they're important because they bring friends and families together, and for a little while can put the carefree smile of a 7 year old on the face of any grown adult.

On Thursday, I'll again make the Thanksgiving pilgrimage with 8000 of my closest friends to watch us beat the Hall in Ravens' Stadium. After having missed it last year, the chance to join that celebration is one of the many things for which I'll give thanks. That, and for the chances I had to stay up watching college hoops with Derek and Sherrill until Belfast sunrise.

On Strange Bedfellows and Their Limitations in the Sack

It’s beyond trite to say that there is a divide between the secular left and the religious right in this country. Hackneyed societal observation, surely unworthy of this august corner of cyberspace. Perhaps you could find something about it in the New York Times. What’s worse, it’s not even accurate.

It is becoming better understood that these supposedly polar opposite constituencies have partnered with significant success over the past decade to achieve mutually desired results, particularly in the international sphere. The US Commission on International Religious Freedom came into being in 1998 because of this seemingly strange alliance between evangelicals and human rights advocates. The International Trafficking of Women and Children Victim Protection Act of 2000 came into being because of cooperation between the Grillmaster’s old boss, Sen. Paul Wellstone and Christian Coalition favorite son, Sen. Sam Brownback, who on paper would seem to give Felix and Oscar a run for their money as ultimate Odd Couple. As the crisis in southern Sudan deepened at the turn of the millennium, involvement from evangelical leaders and secular human rights advocates played a crucial role in brokering a peace deal that has endured reasonably well in that part of the country.

Why bring this up? Well, it’s interesting in its own right, but additionally it may have an interesting domestic analogue in the not-so-distant future. While it is impossible to imagine the secular left and religious right partnering on abortion or gay marriage, one issue may soon provide some common ground domestically: the death penalty.

The left has long resisted the death penalty. While many mainstream politicians lack the courage to oppose it publicly, particularly in the wake of the beating Candidate Dukakis took on the issue in 1988, the activist base against the death penalty has been decidedly lefty (although not at all secular) in its groundings. As Pope John Paul II became clearer in his statements opposing the death penalty in the context of a modern, Western nation-state, Catholic activists in particular found strength and moral power in his words.

In contrast, the Christian Right has generally been the bulwark of death penalty support. Evangelicals have generally either mustered Old Testament arguments in favor of the death penalty, or New Testament arguments drawn from Paul that one should defer to the laws of the state. Conservative Catholics have been more divided, and tended in practical terms to focus their efforts on culture of life efforts that inspired more clear unity, namely around abortion and end of life issues.

It is this conservative Catholic voice that has been changing tone recently. First Things, the undeniably smart journal of conservative Christianity, put an anti-death penalty argument by editor Jodi Bottum as its lead article in August/September. The US Conference of Catholic Bishops launched a campaign to End the Use of the Death Penalty in the last year. And just yesterday, at their 2005 Annual Meeting, the bishops approved the most clear-cut statement yet opposing the death penalty in all cases in this country, and calling openly on American Catholics to work to end this barbaric practice. It is titled A Culture of Life and the Penalty of Death, and well worth reading. Groups like William Donohue’s ultra-conservative Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights have yet to respond, but I’d expect them to in the coming days.

So a few questions emerge. First, can growing conservative Catholic discomfort with the death penalty pressure conservative evangelicals to rethink their defense of it? It was the evangelical movement that was particularly mobilized in each of the three instances of international cooperation I detailed at the start. Second, will conservative Catholics like Donohue actually put their weight into this push, or will they pay it lip service while focusing almost all their energy on that unholy trinity of abortion, gay marriage, and assisted suicide? And third, if the conservative base actually becomes mobilized around the issue, will conservatives and liberals be able to cooperate as they have on international issues?

Unfortunately, I think it unlikely that conservative evangelical leaders will be engaged by this project, no matter how hard Catholics may push. Why this pessimism? One word: Darfur. While evangelical leaders showed admirable engagement when brokering agreement around the conflict in Southern Sudan, they have done disappointingly little as the crisis has moved into the Western, and less Christian, part of the country. In my opinion this indicates that these evangelical leaders, like most political actors, are willing to cooperate when interests align directly, but are uninterested in having those interests challenged or altered by outside forces. For the sake of that always sought after culture of life, I hope I’m wrong.

L'Etat, C'est Quoi?

Comeuppance (n): 1. Getting what’s coming to you. 2. Cosmic karma balancing itself. 3. What Homer Simpson eventually got as Springfield's food critic. See ‘Riots in France.’

Mon Dieu, what’s been going on in France? It’s almost too easy for Americans (and I’m sure my British friends as well) to scoff at the riots that have gripped that country’s slums. After five years of Froggies carping at our wrong-headed war in Iraq, at the poverty and injustice revealed by Hurricane Katrina, and at British food, the other shoe seems to have finally dropped. It’s not that the French tend to be wrong about all these things; they can just be obnoxious and self-righteous about, well, everything.

They should have watched their Simpsons. Homer the food critic was just too smug, too self-righteous, too French, for his own good. He got his comeuppance, and got it good. This week it's been Old Jack Chirac's turn. I find it morally reptilian to feel good about riots in someone else’s country, but even as I lament the destruction, I can’t deny a sense of satisfaction that a major myth of the French state has been laid bare.

Over the last fifty years, the French national model has undergone a fundamental shift. The republican ideal, that all citizens share a civic national identity regardless of color, class, or creed, has morphed into a more traditional ethnic national model in which blood becomes thicker than la république. ‘Real French people’ [Read: Whites] simply do not regard the Arab and African populations of modern France as truly French. The rioters are overwhelmingly native born to French soil, but this matters little. Confined to slums away from the intellectual, commercial, historical, artistic, and even culinary centers of France, these populations have not been encouraged or even permitted to assimilate into mainstream French society.

This is a crucial difference between these riots and race riots in America. When African Americans riot, there are very real and very troubling reasons for their decisions. However, no one would doubt that it is Americans fighting and dying. From what I can tell, the same does not apply in France.

It is disappointing that the one leader in France who seems to understand this is also the one who has stuck his foot farthest into his mouth this past week. Nicolas Sarkozy, the highly ambitious Interior Minister, made a career of reaching out to French Muslim communities, attempting to draw religious leaders into the highly secular French mainstream, and promoting economic growth plans for the suburban slum areas.

So what did this apparently astute leader do in response to the riots? Well, the ambitious politician caved to public pressure, and referred to the rioters as ‘scum’ among other flattering terms of endearment. He may not be the one to reach out to the Muslim community in France, but his ideas are on the right track. For France to survive the massive influxes of immigrants from Arab and black Africa, it has to more actively engage those immigrants in mainstream society, and at least start to confront the elitism and sheer snobbery that seems to be in the water in Paris.

The riots also brush on various questions regarding religion and contemporary French society. While there is no doubt that the riots are not solely religious in nature, it is also undeniable that the vast majority of the rioters are Muslims. They riot because of poverty and discrimination, but they are discriminated against because of their identity, of which religion is a crucial marker. I can’t help but think that France, with its virulently secular public life, is uniquely unprepared to engage with these unsophisticated barbarians who still do things like believe in God. That’s so pre-revolutionary!

On a Mission from God

'It's 106 miles to Chicago. We've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.' Dear Mr. Belushi may have left our company for the time being, but on Saturday night, the Grillmaster and his official New Orleanian roommate did our best to channel Brother Jake along with Brother Elwood. Cheap black sunglasses, cheaper black hats, and the damned cheapest cigarettes we could find [Basic's, for the curious] made us at least passable copies of that legendary rhythm and blues duo, the Blues Brothers. Three cheers to Kate for scoring us the invite. There's nothing quite like a dark party, sunglasses, and knowing absolutely no one to ensure that you stay in character and have one hell of a time in the process.

Speaking of missions from God, there has been rejoicing from the Christian Right today with the nomination of Scalia Jr. to the Supreme Court. It appears that after the debacle of Harriet Miers, the President has felt the whip of Robertson, Dobson, et al., and gotten back in line. The sacred mission of overturning Roe v. Wade may finally be nearing its completion...

Not so fast my friends! Or so says Pat Robertson. What! No, that's not a typo. It seems that Mr. Robertson does not know that Scalito would overturn Roe, but still extols the nominee's virtues. Memo to liberal friends: be afraid! This means that Robertson is SO convinced of Scalinni's conservatism that he is more worried about rejection from the mainstream than about doubts from his right wing disciples. Do you honestly think Robertson would be on the air supporting this guy if he thought the nominee would let Roe stand!? I think not.

An interesting, and as yet only mildly discussed feature of this nomination that makes him of particular interest to this Papist: that's right, it's another Catholic. Son of Italian immigrants from Jersey, he had about as much choice as the Grillmaster did (proud son of Boston Irish and Chicago Polish) in selecting his faith. And, for those keeping score, that's a Supreme Court grand total of:

5 Slaves of Rome
4 Other

Santa Maria de la Powdered Wigs, are you serious! It's interesting that Catholics have made such attractive nominees in recent years. Sure, we're smarter, better looking, and more graced by God than the rest of you heathens, but I doubt those are the only reasons. To the right, conservative Catholics are an attractive combination: disposed to restrained judicial power, but not as scary to mainstream Americans as some in the evangelical crowd. Accustomed to a country in which their spiritual compatriots faced (and face) truly ugly persecution and suspicion, these Catholic jurists learned long ago to take their faith seriously, but remain somewhat reticent about it in public. Americans like that in our judges, those great bastions of supposed neutrality who sit objectively over our nation. Interesting that the Kerry campaign may indicate that while we like such detachment from faith in judges, we mistrust it in elected politicians.

Wait a minute. We like men in black for our judges. Who are cold, calculating, and tireless in their work. And who are willing to stand up to Illinois Nazis, rednecks, and even oppressive law enforcement to complete their Divinely sanctioned mission. President Bush, I've got two sharp dressed guys from Chicago who are always looking for work. They sing one hell of a song too.

A Cheery Night at the Movies

'The past isn't dead. It isn't even past.' Too bad Tom Stall missed that little memo from Faulkner. As his perfect Rockwellian life (complete with hot wife in cheerleader outfit; Grillmistress take notes!) unfolds in the opening minutes of 'A History of Violence,' the Grillmaster and his viewing mates just knew that something was amiss. Amiss indeed! 90 minutes later, as the three of us stumbled across the Key Bridge attempting to make sense of this intensely powerful, violent presentation of the endurance of the past, we arrived only at the preliminary conclusion that filmmaker David Cronenberg had something important to say. We were too awash in blood and inexplicable William Hurt cameos to figure out quite what that might be.

In search of guidance, the Grillmaster foolishly turned to the pros: movie reviewers. Upon perusal, I can confidently report that 90% of critics in the country missed a HUGE part of this film. One gets the distinct impression that they too were overwhelmed by its power, but unfortunately had deadlines to meet and didn't have time to give this the reflection it deserved. They tended to get the most obvious point right: The movie is a challenging look at the viral nature of violence in families and communities, and our own complicity in that uniquely American epidemic. Tom's violence, even when wholely justified to kill some deliciously evil men, infects his wife, son, and daughter in ways he can't possibly anticipate.

And violent Tom is. As bad guys ask throughout the film, 'How come he's so good at killin' people?' What makes the violence of 'History' not only acceptable but PRODUCTIVE is that it makes the audience gasp, occassionally laugh, and squirm. As the camera lingers for uncomfortable seconds on the shattered human face of a dispatched serial killer, cheers of victory catch in your throat. Surely Tom was in the right? Of course. But the point Cronenberg makes brutally throughout the movie is that violence and killing aren't cheap, aren't clean, and should make us squirm. In an age in which directors seem to be in competition to make killing beautiful and more stylized, Cronenberg deserves credit for his brutal honesty.

So kudos to the critics for getting the obvious. Bravo. There's only one problem: the ending! 'History' isn't just a movie about violence; it's a movie about violence AND the one word that is totally absent from nearly every review I've read: redemption. The Village Voice didn't get it. Neither did the Washington Post. Nor Entertainment Weekly. The New York Times at least mentions the word, but only to pass judgment on the acts of violence, not the man carrying them out. The one mainstream guy I could find who did get it was none other than Roger 'My Thumb's Always Up' Ebert. Can you ever get beyond a history of violence? That's the really troubling part of the movie, brilliantly presented by Cronenberg and entirely unappreciated by most critics.

The movie's answers are worth considering. The obvious answer is that one can't simply run from the past. 'Tom' takes a mythical journey through the desert to construct his new life, does everything right once finding his Beatrice in Maria Bello's character Edie, and yet STILL has violence in his bones when the mob comes calling. It's straight out of Faulker among others, and a lesson that's worth remembering.

The movie's ending is more ambiguous and powerful. If it is futile to run from your past, might it be possible to confront the past and overcome it? Tom has certainly confronted his past by movie's end, violently defended himself and his family, and attempted to wash himself clean of his brother's blood in a powerful scene of renewed baptism. He comes home to a family forever changed. His history of violence has become their own. In Edie's tears and his children's silence there is anger, fear, but also apparently a determination to endure together. Like 'Crime and Punishment,' you have a feeling the story ends at the most important part. That is probably for the best. I'm not sure Cronenberg would do as well with that part of the story, and besides, 98 minutes gave more than enough material for the walk home.

It Feels Like The First Time

Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?

Never one to miss out entirely on a trend, The Grillmaster has decided to take the great leap into the blogosphere. To ward off boredom, insanity, and a general dulling of the wits, you'll find me shouting into the empty abyss of cyberspace on a quasi-regular basis in this space. I can promise neither coherance nor relevance, but this I do vow: I'll keep gabbing away as if somebody's listening.

'But what's on the menu, oh Grillmaster?'. Well, any pit jockey will tell you that the beauty of fire is that it roasts indiscriminately. Steak or chicken, appetizers or dessert, Supreme Court Nominees or World Series Champions. Sometimes with a big ball of lighter fluid-fed flames, others with a slow sweet hickory smoke. Yes, that's an overly stylized, poorly metaphored excuse for writing whatever the hell I want. Only-children don't deal well with constraints.

C'est ca for now. I'll be checking in again from time to time as events of note come to my attention. Friends don't let friends grill with gas...

The Grillmaster contemplates the mysteries of life and the follies of cooking over gas.