I’m sure this is something my children will dislike me for (this and the fact that Cara and I detest processed foods)

But I can’t fathom letting a child have a cell phone, at least before they get their braces taken off…

I remember when I got my first cellular phone.  I had just turned 17 and got a Nokia that was the size of a soda can.  No bells and whistles, no Internet and really, no one to text. At that point in time no one really had cell phones, most of my friends included and the idea of texting was as foreign as signing up for twitter.  It was only supposed to be for calling home/parents and that rule was observed about 95% of the time, in the beginning.  Did I say that none of my friends had cell phones yet?  This idea number inevitably fell and continued to fall throughout high school until ultimately I ended up having the account in my name, with the checks to AT&T having my name on the signature line.

It seems to be a growing trend and I can’t say I’m against it in theory.  If my child is in a situation where I need to be notified then I absolutely think they need access to a phone or line of communication directly to me but who’s to say when a situation requires my attention; my child, their teacher, their babysitter?

Is may seem harsh but there were times in my own life that I might have wanted to contact my parents but couldn’t and I suppose it had quite an impact on how I matured.  Could a phone just become a crutch?

What prompted me to even think about this was the release of a new application that allows parents to control what their children are surfing on their iPhones or iPods.  Without imagining the costs of giving my child an iPhone, I can barely stomach the fact that they would have the entire web at their fingertips wherever they are… Good and bad

So far this is still an intellectual pursuit in my life, since of course I have no children yet.  So I would love some thoughts from those of you who have children or will soon (Congrats again guys!)

Kids and phones?  In your house?

So, in another post celebrating things with distinct origins in Great Britain:

Happy St. Patrick’s day!

Wait, what does that even mean?

Sadly, pretty much all that I knew about this day were the copious amounts of corned beef and cabbage that were served in restaurants and the various shades of green that appeared out of nowhere.  Though I will say that the green is better than the red that occurs during valentines day by a long shot.  But what does this mean?  I remember having threats levying “pinches” if I was not wearing any green item on March 17th, but I’m not even Irish!  In fact, if you wanted to be technical about it, I’m Scottish, that’s not very St. Patty’s now is it?

What’s most interesting about St. Patrick’s day is the fact that St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish, he was an Englishman with Roman citizenship; nor was he a Saint, at least by Roman Catholic cannon.

So why do we celebrate?  St. Patrick was the first Christian missionary to dedicate his life to the county of Ireland.  At the time of Patrick Ireland was a mess of warring clans deemed “unchangeable.”  There was no government, no system of law, not much of anything.  Patrick sold all of his possessions, even land which his father had bequeathed him, and travelled to Ireland to share his faith. In doing so he transformed the country of Ireland.

Here’s to you transforming your own world, I’d drink to that any day.

Let me start by saying I never liked this comic, not ever.

It’s unlike many of the comics I tend to pick up and is one of the most acutely anti-hero books I’ve ever read.

I had an even  harder time deciding if I should see the movie.

Watchmen definitely earned it’s R rating.  Between morbidly disturbing scenes (taken straight out of the comic) and full frontal nudity, I feel quite justified in saying this movie is not for everyone.  In fact I’m still deciding if it was for me.  That aside, it’s also extremely consistent with the source material, which is dense and was distributed over a year in 12 different issues.  I can’t imagine going to the theater to see this without that back story.  It’s not X-Men or Spider-man and it’s many steps down the dark alley of depravity from even The Dark Knight. There’s simply too much there to get in the (lengthy) 2 hour and 43 minute running time.  The story’s writer, Alan Moore, argues that there should never have been a film version.  That the original was intended to be studied and read with time and care, he even went as far to describe the setting “before a fireplace, in your favorite chair, with a hot cup of coffee.”

That’s not describing AMC.

It is a story of hopelessness and entropy played out to completion, with a conscious so tainted with it’s own sin that even the superhero is unable to save it.  In fact, not only are the heroes unable to save the world, they are so stricken by their own humanity that they ultimately lend to it’s fate.

The action is centered on a defunct band of superheros living in a alter-world 1985, turned upside down by both their actions and their very existence.  Masked heroism is illegal and members have either given up their alter-egos, gone to work for the government or are on the lamb, living as wanted men.  More than half of the of the work is dedicated to the back-story of the individual members, showing them all as broken figures, their decisions each connected to shortfalls sprinkled with a myriad of ethical and moral dilemmas. They have each arrived at their station in life due to a tragedy, a lost sense of self or simply a very fringe view of human nature.  Each hero is driven by their own agenda and code of conduct, there is no right or wrong, simply a string of choices to be made…

This concept, much like the comic, makes the characters almost devoid of any empathy on the part of the audience.  You recognize their struggles and plight but you can neither cheer them on nor celebrate their “victories” as it seems they simply have a part to play in a bigger story.  Much like an opera the characters are severely unhinged from the beginning and must follow their decided trajectory to it’s end.

You’re simply watching the end scene, the finale of the human race.

There was one shinning aspect of the film that I think gave me a bit more perspective on the original source material. Though the sense of dread and despair is at a crescendo for the three hours you’re in the theater, it’s only a movie.  Just as Moore’s work was only a comic.  This is a snapshot of a world that has lost it’s purpose, lost it’s light; As a spiritual person that shouts to me.  Without hope what are we?  When we give into ourselves fully and completely and take to wearing masks and carrying personal agendas what do we become?

This movie is a glimpse of that choice.

I think Rorschach sums up the story best when he tells his somber joke following the death of a central character:

“Heard a joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he’s depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says ‘Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up.’ Man bursts into tears. Says ‘But, doctor…I am Pagliacci.’ Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains.”

I’m glad that curtain hasn’t fallen, not yet.

Check Jarrett’s blog as well for his take on the movie, I think it’s quite insightful.