Over the Bridge and Down the Rabbit Hole

There are a few problems with the internet that I would like fixed post haste, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. The first is the pervasive unreliability. Once you’ve stepped outside the realm of traditional journalistic and research-based sites, you enter a world devoid of context, documentation, integrity, and any reliable basis in fact. E-mail forwards, link dumps, photo postings, (gasp) blogs, and a surprising number of apparently legitimate sites exist in a total accountability vacuum. This means that when you are wandering around the internet and stumble upon an unattributed but fascinating photograph such as this (click on photo for larger version),

you have to stop for a minute. Not only do you have no idea where this amazing bridge is located, what it’s called, how tall it is, what it’s crossing, or when it was built, you don’t even know if it actually exists. Adobe Photoshop being the evil, hallucinogenic tool of visual deception that it is, this could pretty easily be a carefully altered picture of a model built in somebody’s backyard with forks and kite string. Yes, it is not Photoshop’s fault that it becomes harder every year to trust photographic evidence of anything, but it is one hell of an enabler.

So we have this pretty amazing but possibly nonexistent Wonder Bridge. This brings me to my second problem with the internet, which is that if you are curious enough about anything, you will be able to find scads of information on it, and some of this information (roughly 63%) will come from the legitimate, sources-cited, clad-in-the-sharp-wool-suit-of-respectability side of the internet. Well, actually, that’s not the problem. That is good. What is not good is that those of us who are relentlessly curious about the trivial and the semi-trivial (see: career in theatre history) might choose to spend an amount of time tracking down reliable, documented information about this cool but unsubstantiated bridge. This amount of time is a very flexible quantity, ranging from “too much” to “way, way, way too much.” Fortunately for me, a portion of my current employment involves an operating system upgrade on about one hundred computers, and there is an awfully lot of file copying that has to take place while I sit and watch it take place. The result: just the right amount of too much time at my disposal.

“Say,” you’re wondering, “wouldn’t that be a great time to work on that dissertation you’ve been not writing for ninety-four years now?” Well, yes, shut up, it would, in theory, but in practice you can’t write a dissertation while waiting for software to upgrade. I’ve tried. The mental processes required are as contrary as Australian Rules Football and transcendental meditation. You simply can’t go from one to the other. You can, however, grade quizzes, play chess badly, read up on the NFL, or dive down the rabbit hole of elusive and dubious information that is the internet, searching half-blindly for a gigantic quasi-existent bridge.

Down the rabbit hole is, of course, a fantastic double-edged sword for the curious and attention-phobic mind. On one hand, you can, with the right search string and a few lucky hits on Google, find what you’re looking for, thus satisfying the need for cited sources and confirmed reality. In this case, I found it at Snopes.com, a very handy site with substantial research dedicated to proving or disproving a wide range of urban legends, e-mail forwards, historical myths, and widely circulated photographs, among other things. I don’t consider them a definitive source for knowledge, but they do cite their sources, which is good.. The friendly people at Snopes were able to confirm that happily, yes this is a real bridge. It is called the Millau Bridge, was completed in December 2004, and is, of course, in France. This makes complete sense given that it seems to raise a massively beautiful fuss about crossing gracefully over a valley that German or American engineers would have just paved their way down into or filled in with gravel. Instead, the French have made the world’s tallest auto bridge, and a thing of beauty it is. Here are three other excellent photos from different angles which demonstrate that the above photo was taken before all seven suspension towers were completed(again, click on the photos for larger versions):



This beast is 1.6 miles long and the roadway soars a ridiculous and record setting 885 feet above the floor of the Tarn valley. The highest support pillar is 1,122 feet high, which is about 300 feet shorter than the top of the Empire State Building’s lightning rod.

I shall cite my sources, although I don’t think that the MLA folks recognize hyperlinks as appropriate citation format. For a Guardian newspaper article and several small photos, go here. For the Snopes article on the bridge, go here. Si vous parlez français, cliquez ici pour le site officiel.

So on that hand (this would still be the one hand that we’re talking about), you have the following: Internet = Good. Fantastic photo of bridge stumbled across. Bridge’s existence confirmed with minimal effort. Facts and additional photos acquired. Ridiculously graceful French architectural feat shared with readers. Very nice.

But then there’s that other hand, the one that can’t leave well enough alone. The one that whispers, “Hey, while we’re here, let’s see what else Snopes has about bridges.” So, you perform a quick search, and lo and behold, you have fifteen other interesting bridge photos/urban legends/movie legends. For instance, did you know that the Germans built this, Europe’s largest water bridge?

Or did you know that, in a completely-bridge-unrelated matter, a storm-chaser named Mike Hollingshead took some absolutely jaw-dropping photos (assuming, ha ha, that they haven’t been digitally altered) of various storm cells over the Iowa and Kansas that are frequently misattributed as being photos of the leading elements of Hurricane Katrina?



Good lord, who dug this rabbit hole so deep? And how did I get so turned around in it that I can’t remember which way I came in? The birds ate the bread crumbs, the string broke, and I’m lost. This started off as one of my “Hey, look at this interesting photo I found” posts and then curiosity and Adult ADD kicked in, and here we are. To recap:

1. The internet is interesting and unreliable.
2. The French built one hell of a bridge.
3. The Germans too, but for boats.
4. Storm clouds are high art when well photographed.

And there we have a list that points out the primary drawback – or, depending on how you see it, the primary benefit – of the internet: it is a venue in which old fogeys Theme, Context, and Authority are getting their toes mashed pretty well by those upstart postmodern bastards Random Association, Community Perception, and Variable Information. I think that the point here (there is one, I swear I’m getting to it) is that there is one hell of a lot of information at your fingertips, but it refuses to be contained in any kind of logical form such as, say, a book. The result is a perfectly contradictory universe, at once informative and untrustworthy, fascinating and pointless, interconnected and unrelated. It’s a brave new world. Let’s be careful out there.

Punishment

Before we start, let me make it clear that this post is neither of the following:

1. A complaint, per se.
2. An "oh, woe is me" attempt at garnering sympathy.

Somebody broke into my car the other night. I was informed of this when the friendly Sheriff knocked on my door the next morning. The individual managed to get access without smashing the window (my car is very easy to break in to, I've done it myself before) and didn't steal a single thing from inside the car (this might be a commentary on the value of my car-bound possessions, but I'm not offended). They did, however, make a mighty effort to get the car stereo out. The mighty effort involved doing what my insurance company tells me is $2600 of damage to the dashboard and surrounding area. Yes, $2600. There was a lot of apparent sawing, breaking, prying, and general smashing involved, but they didn't get the stereo out. What's more, the stereo still works, both of which are very satisfying facts. Even more satisfying is the knowledge that the stereo can be removed in three minutes using a Phillips screwdriver (I've also done this myself before). Stupid bastard(s), I laugh at you as you run empty-handed into the night.

Here, unfortunately, is where the satisfaction ends, because I am now out the deductible on my insurance policy. This is not a large amount, but neither is it small. Again, this is not a complaint or a whine, let's be clear about that. This sort of thing happens all of the time to lots of perfectly undeserving people, and I just happen to be the next on a long list. I'm not special or pitiful or even terribly unlucky. It's just simply that these things happen.

What this is, then, is just a baldfaced rant. When they catch the person(s) who did this to my car (which, of course, they won't - these crimes are almost unpoliceable, which is why they always happen), I want some payback. That is what everyone who has ever broken in to a car, stolen an identity, batted a mailbox, keyed a car, slashed a tire, swiped a bicycle, or otherwise committed some sort of small time theft or vandalism deserves: payback. [Bad word] like this deserves much more than the simple police record and six months probation's worth of accountability that the justice system assigns it. First of all, I think the slaps on the wrist are failing to get the attention of the perpetrators. Second, none of that punishment goes to compensating the victim for damaged property, insurance deductibles, reconstruction of identity, or driving around a crappy Chevy Cobalt rental without cruise control while their car is being repaired. I propose the following two additions to the legal penalty:

1. The convicted felon shall be forced to work at a job of the state's choosing until the wages earned at that job are sufficient to repay the victim for all financial damages plus $100/hour for time spent putting their lives back together.

2. The convicted felon shall be tied up and blindfolded, and the victim shall be allowed one swing below the neck with an aluminum baseball bat. I, personally, would choose the knee, because I think that would hurt the most and would have the biggest chance of leaving a life-long impression (read: limp). This is completely barbaric, of course, but if I had been given this option right after having seen my destroyed dashboard for the first time, I don't think I would have passed it up. The [extremely bad word]s who do this to other people need to be damn well punished, and the victims deserve some [also bad word] satisfaction.

And no, I'm not re-editing this post later when I calm down about it. Sometimes it is good to rant.

A Lot More Small Things

For those of you who missed the first episode of this feature, go here if you’re wondering what to expect. Or you could just take the word of a commenter on that installment who described it as “random town beep boop.” And, as I mentioned earlier, I now own a camera phone, so there will be random town beep boop photography in this episode.

ESPN: People said that you are really motivated this year because you really want to stick it to the Lakers. How true is that?
Shaquille O’Neal: I don't let earthlings motivate me.

More Headlines of Questionable Merit:
“Paris Hilton To Retire In Two Years”
“Text Aims to Teach Bible In School, Avoid Legal Woes.”
“Streisand Puts Anti-War Feelings on Album.”

Am I the only one who always thought it was “Nobody does it like Sara Lee” and then found out that it’s actually “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee”? I’m a bit upset by this. I would be willing to forgive the double negative if it weren’t such a crappy slogan.

I took the following photo at the bus stop the other day. The gentleman pictured is headless because I have not yet honed my skills at surreptitious photography:

Apparently he had bowling class (ball in lap) and photography class (tripod on left) on the same day. These are things that you must take into account when scheduling your semester.

“Now, the Eagles right now are probably the best team in the NFC, but if they lose three or four games in a row, it’s going to be a problem.” - John Madden, on Monday Night Football, speaking before the beginning of the Philadelphia Eagles’ first regular season game on Monday Night Football.

My channel-flipping habits sometimes provide solid amusement and other times provide brief views of hell. Some examples of the latter:
1. Paris Hilton and Bow Wow (formerly Lil’ Bow Wow) on MTV’s Video Music Awards pretending to argue about whose diamond-encrusted chains cost more.
2. Any five seconds of “Laguna Beach” on MTV.
3. Come to think of it, any five seconds of anything on MTV (motto: Dumbing America’s Youth Daily!).
4. Gerald McRaney (of “Simon and Simon” and “Major Dad” fame) lying in a snow-covered cornfield with a 12-gauge waiting for some unlucky geese to fly by. Which law of the universe necessitates D-list celebrities hunting on TV?
5. Reruns of “Rosanne.”

The other night I found, hanging out (no pun intended) at a nearby strip mall, the following bat:




He or she seemed completely uninterested in the people eating dinner just a few feet below his or her hanging spot, and also completely unperturbed by the weirdo with the camera phone who came in for some close-ups.

By the way, the camera phone thing might be getting a little out of control. Today, while driving around campus, I saw a tough looking guy with a big moustache smoking one of the larger cigars I’ve ever seen...and riding a moped. I was so obsessed with photographing him that I followed him around campus for fully ten minutes trying to get a good angle for a shot and giggling like an insane person. I made U-turns, drove around the same block four times, and considered going the wrong way down a one-way street. Unfortunately, he kept going places where cars can’t go (sidewalks, mainly), and finally eluded me altogether. In the end, the effort of chasing him around was substantially more entertaining than any picture I would have ended up with. What is wrong with me?

I flipped past Don Cheadle on a rerun of an 80’s TV show the other day. Which show? “Golden Girls,” naturally. I’m sure Bea Arthur taught Don everything he knows about acting.

NFL Fact: Kurt Warner has played on opening day at Giants Stadium for three consecutive years -- each time suiting up for different teams.

I saw the following pointed out in a column the other day: “La brea” means “the tar” in Spanish. Thus if you go to the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles, you are visiting “The the tar tar pits.”

The following quiz question appeared on the mandatory State Ethics Exam, required of employees of a state not to be mentioned here:




Translation:
A. Sweep it under the rug.
B. Don’t rock the boat.
C. Cover your ass.
D. Boy Scout.

Attention: Despite containing exactly the same items (chicken, black beans, cilantro rice, corn salsa, tomato salsa, cheese), the chicken burritos from Chipotle and Qdoba are not even remotely comparable. I have no idea why, but Qdoba is merely decent while Chipotle is so good that it makes me look forward to being hungry again.

From O’Dell’s Annals of the New York Stage, some highlights from the 1881-82 season at Harry Hill’s Variety Theatre:
–Herman (“the Modern Atlas”)
– Professor H. Monroe’s Cat Circus
–Jennie Ward (“seven distinct changes of dress, in presence of the audience”)
–O’Brieno (“wonder stick-twister”)
–Eddie Murphy (“clogs on an 11-inch marble slab”)
–Carrie Edwards (“champion female boxer of the world”) in a boxing match with Harry Wilson
– The Nondescript Grotesques (George Leslie and John Lovely)
Obviously, the Cat Circus is the winner here: cat clowns, cats on trapeze, a cat tamer with a whip and a chair (Tamer, cracking whip: Down, wild cats! Back! Cats: Hey, buddy, we’re napping here.) – where does the fun end?

Whether you are a theatre person or not, you will enjoy “Who’s Who in the Cast” by Marshall Brickman (8:04), and whether you are a Canadian or not you will enjoy “In the New Canada, Living is a Way of Life” by Bruce McCall (11:37), both found in Fierce Pajamas, the New Yorker’s excellent collection of humor essays. (Right click links to download).

A brief collection of items from this year’s Indiana State Fair: (I was going to write a whole post about the fair, but it is now way too far past fair time to do so. I’ll wait until next year.)

From a display of antique eyeglasses, a curious approach to marketing:




It must be disappointing to do all that work and come up just short because some other hog has better fat genetics. Do you think the poor guy can even stand up?







We checked out the rabbits, but I couldn’t bring myself to go gawk at the Senior Citizens:




What do the judges look for in a prize-winning senior citizen? Muscle tone? Ability to stay awake through “Matlock?” Will to live?

Movie Review - Lord of War (B-)

I’ve said before that previews are very tricky, since in only two or so minutes they must communicate not only the plot but also the mood and feel of a movie. The “Lord of War” preview promised – to me, anyway – a lot on which it did not deliver, and in doing so pointed out how the movie’s potential far outpaced its actual execution. Go here for the preview.

We all know that gun running is bad, so we don’t need to be preached at about it. This is more of a dark comedy subject, with the energy and insanity of something like “Catch 22” or “Fight Club,” and Yuri Orlov (Nicholas Cage) opens the movie (and the preview) with exactly that sort of attitude, addressing the camera directly: “There are over 550 million firearms in worldwide circulation. That’s one firearm for every twelve people in the world. The only question is, how do we arm the other eleven?” There are a handful of other moments in “Lord of War” that hit this same extremely effective note, such as when Orlov gives away an entire planeload of arms to passing natives in under fifteen minutes, but they are few and far between.

Instead, the movie focuses on the broader human tragedy that results from gunrunning. Yuri’s brother, who also serves as his sometime-partner, is a washed-up coke head who takes multiple trips to rehab. At one point we see a firing squad taking aim at a lineup of young teenage boys. Yuri lies to his wife and kid about his job and his whereabouts (yes, that’s right, he has a wife and child – not exactly conducive to running guns). His major competitor, played by Ian Holm, is a dour, uninteresting man who believes steadfastly in the morality of his business since he takes sides when selling. “Lord of War” simply preaches too much, choosing emotional impact, clumsy foreshadowing, and predictable pathos where detachment, stylization, and dark comedy – and I mean pitch black – would have been much more effective. Bertolt Brecht would have a fit.

Beyond the miscalculation in tone, the production values are great, and the acting is decent as well. I’m not a huge Nicholas Cage fan (possibly he peaked with “Raising Arizona”), but he takes Yuri through a variety of situations with a mostly believable mix of amoral detachment and self-loathing. Jared Leto does a nice job as Yuri’s drug-addled younger brother, and Eamonn Walker is brilliant as the barely-reigned-in psychotic Liberian dictator Andre Baptiste.

Long story short, “Lord of War” should have been a movie about the high-pressure, over-extended, madness of the world of gunrunning, chock full of frenetic moments of insanity that make you laugh and leave you empty at the same time. Instead, it has a handful of promising and original moments, but slides slowly into a preachy tale of how gunrunning will get a lot of people killed and destroy your family life at the same time. It is a moderately entertaining movie, but the lost potential is a bit frustrating.


Yuri (Nicholas Cage) and younger brother Vitaly (Jared Leto) emote in front of a less-than-subtle backdrop.