I watched Poltergeist and Amityville Horror (the original) this weekend and literally had the bejesus scared out of me. In honor of that, and in light of the more serious issues surrounding us, I offer another top ten list.

Top Ten Life Lessons Taught By Horror Movies

10. The Exorcist—when the back of your jewelry reads “made in a third world country
where heathen, pagan religions are still or were once worshiped” go ahead and let it soak in holy water over night.

I figure what can it hurt? At worst I clean things up a little. At best I avoid satanic possession and genital mutilation via crucifix. Everybody’s a winner.

9. Jurassic Park—don’t genetically engineer predators.

I don’t know that it’s technically a horror movie, but it fits for our purposes. And this is an important lesson with modern science being what it is. Why create the Velociraptor? Or the T-Rex? Are the herbivore dinosaurs just not a big enough draw? Really?

8. Jaws—never swim after dark.

I’ve broken this rule and I’m not exactly proud of it. Granted I was in a lake. But then you have prehistoric crocodiles to worry about. Really the abstinence argument holds up here. Abstaining from swimming after dark is the only foolproof way to avoid being eaten.

7. Dracula—be wary of pale, hot strangers appearing in your fiancée’s absence.

If he’s a sexual magnet, avoids the sun, and fixates on your neck you might want to question his motives. I’m not saying true love ain’t worth dying for; I’m just saying you want to make sure you’re going to be wife #1 before you give up your virtue, and your life, on a park bench to a vampire in werewolf form.

6. The Strangers—when someone threatens your life, !^@%(*$ run them over.

This isn’t a hard concept: You break into my house. I get in my truck. You stand in front of my truck. I run you over. Taa-daa!

5. Amityville Horror—don’t let your kids play with invisible friends.

It could be their imagination. Or it could be evil incarnate. The only way to really protect against this situation is to just lock your kid in their room with no toys. It’s for their own good.

4. Poltergeist—don’t buy your kids toys.

That stupid friggin’ clown. Who buys their kid a toy like that? It’s disturbing before it’s possessed, let alone once it comes to life. The moral of the story is that between the clown, the dolls, and the board games children should live a life without toys.

3. The Grudge—when a house is haunted don’t go inside, just burn it down.

You don’t need to burn a house down from the inside. Especially when said house has a habit of killing all those that enter. It can be burnt to the ground from the outside. Trust me, arsonists do it all the time.

2. The Ring—don’t watch random blank tapes left in video stores.

It could be a snuff film. It could be kiddie porn. It could be a crazy, evil, little girl with bad hair waiting to suck the life out of you. All of these possibilities exist in the ether and none are desirable. Who picks up the blank tape from the shelf anyway?

1. Stephen King—bad things happen in small town Maine.

Don’t spend an excessive amount of time in small town Maine. Ever.

On Monday October 28, 1929 the roaring twenties were still roaring along. On Tuesday October 29, 1929 the stock market crashed and the economy fell apart. As I read about the market bail out I think of several things at once: Atlas Shrugged, the Great Depression, the American people electing a C student to run the country, and the possibility that Obama won't win.

I find I don't want to read the headlines. I don't want to know about the $700 Billion bail out plan passed by Congress. I didn't want to watch the debates. I didn't want to sit through John McCain offering answers that infuriated me knowing that there were people listening to Obama and imaging that what he was saying was no use because he refuses to tell them what they want to hear. I want to bury my head in the sand and pretend that the country will fix itself. I want to go to school and teach ethics veiled in an english class. I want to write a book and make money.

But it doesn't matter what I want. My school is going through tremendous budget cuts because Nevada doesn't have an income tax and refuses to tax the casinos. I pay excessive amounts for gas because my government believes in trickle down economics and for the past eight years I've lived in a place were the general populace has voted on religion instead of intelligence (the two are not mutually exclusive by the way). I face the possibility of never being employed because the stock market is crashing (again) and my capitalist society (which I wasn't sure I agreed with before) is steadily being controlled by its government (which I'm sure I don't agree with). I don't know what the answers are, aren't, or might be. Perhaps that is what scares me the most.

Atlas Shrugged is a book about a U.S. that destroys itself because people refuse to think for themselves. The country collapses upon itself because those that are willing to fight stupidity give up and decide to let stupidity destroy itself. I look around and I wonder how far-fetched an idea that is. We have people that would rather debate abortion, would rather vote a president into office because he promises to outlaw abortion and gay marriage than to consider the economy or the hypocrisy of America, Land of the Free, outlawing choice.

I acknowledge as I write this that I will never vote for a Republican who refuses to recognize the necessity of medical and lifestyle freedom. But the difference, as always, is that I'm in the business of expanding choices not limiting them. But that's not the point of this. Merely, I wanted to acknowledge that I vote for reasons having nothing to do with the economy and I am aware of that. But I think, in the end, my choices do have to do with the economy because I'm looking for a President that is intelligent enough to recognize that freedom doesn't happen through control. I want a President who, when the more fanatical lobbyists (on both sides) make ludicrous demands will recognize the greater complications of a democratic society and say no. And that willingness, the willingness to deal with the complicated nature of running a country, comes through in an honest refusal to make governmental decision based on religion. Take that as you will.

Regardless my desire to ignore the problems at hand still stands. But I wonder if I have the luxury. I don't think I do. I don't know that any of us do. But realistically I don't believe we live in an age where protesting does much anymore. Perhaps there is still a way, if enough people did it. But I think the only way to really affect change would be through actions and money. A refusal, on a massive scale, to buy certain products. It seems that money is the driving moral and ethical force in our country today.

Thinking about these things depresses me. Not thinking about them might ruin me. Does anyone have suggestions as to what is to be done?

I've been wondering the past few days when I would find something I to discuss. Some weeks my life is so boring I feel it would be unethical to bother anyone else with tales from it. But, my weekly poker game being the font of philosophical and ethical stimulus that it is I have arrived at a situation to ponder.

One of the fellows asked, as a few of us were sitting on the porch enjoying the night air, if we felt that high school really molded or forged who we are today. At least created the seeds of who we are today. I, with no deeper meaning or thought behind my answer, scoffed "Oh no, definitely not!" College and grad school have done more to "make me who I am" if one can countenance that phrase and while the seeds of my personality have always been with me from childhood, I feel that high school was most certainly a thing of the past. For me, personally, it wasn't a proving ground of any sort.

I didn't think this a particularly unique answer. Of the people I know intimately, we run the gambit of possibilities from experiences in high school having significant effect on who we are or what we've become to those that simply survived high school and started life after. After giving my answer the fellow who had first put forth this idea became...not upset, but, perhaps, put out. He told me that it seemed like I was too constructed in my answers to these types of questions--that I appear to be trying to hard to be different. He didn't feel I was being genuine; he believed that I believed my answer, or wanted to believe my answer, but that I was deluding myself to some degree.

Well, naturally, this sparked a whole new conversation of it's own. The irony being that he is an extremely constructed individual--more than simply guarded it appears at times as if those things he likes have been picked and chosen for how they appear to others more than how they make him feel--and I was surprised with the passion my supposedly disingenuous answer produced. He told me he liked it when I talked about the comic book stuff because he felt like I was being honest then; I obviously really enjoyed it. But when talking about who we are or what we think I just didn't fit what he thought I ought to be. I had too much staked in not being simplistic. I believe the best analogy was when he said, "you know, you've got the balls and each goes in the hole--you know those games where you throw the balls in the hole? Well I've got most of the balls in the hole, but there're still a few that I can't figure out where they go."

I share this, mostly, because it's so darned entertaining. I mean, of all the times in my life I consciously try to pick the unique answer (usually revolving around email surveys) this time I was only saying what I believed and thought, not even expecting that it would be that different of an answer from others. I still don't believe my answer was that different, and honestly, I can't figure out what he expected. But all of this got me thinking about how often we assume we know more about someone than that person knows about herself. I explained to him that so long as he felt he knew me better than myself, no explanation I gave for why I thought as I did would sound genuine.

How often have I discounted what a friend or acquaintance as told me because I was so sure I knew better than they? How often have I listened to their assessment of themself and silently judged? Certainly with some people in some situations as an outside listener you absolutely know more than the person involved--that's why we talk to friends (or I talk to friends) because they can look at us and say don't be crazy, here's how it is. But those situations have given me license, I think, to believe in my godliness of understanding at times I didn't deserve it. And how wrong is it of me, how arrogant, to think I know a friend better than that friend knows herself?

Perhaps there isn't anything wrong with it, but in that way I suppose that is a characteristic of mine that has carried over from high school. For all the multiplicity of bad decisions I made in my teen years I constantly thought I knew more than those around me. I also thought I knew why they were so wrong in what they perceived. In my attempts to not engage in that behavior anymore I have learned to listen better to what people say and to trust in the validity of their perspective. This has, in turn, allowed me to learn significantly more from those around me than I was ever able to before. Being able to "know" people based on what they say has also made me more arrogant so that I sometimes assume I know and understand them better than they know or understand themselves. It's a horrible paradox, but I suppose if any part of me was "forged" in high school I would say that is it. The duality of what I learned and what I am in constant motion with itself.

So tell me, and be honest, am I trying to hard to be different?

I would like to share with you some thoughts I had after reading Huck Finn. It's a response paper for class, but I think it translates pretty well here.

I've never read Huck Finn before and despite knowing what everyone said the controversy surrounding it was about, I found myself completely unprepared for the experience of actually reading a book. It is a singular experience to finally read a book as an adult that you've listened to people debate since adolescence. After finishing it I put the book down and thought to myself, "I don't know that I would let an adolescent read this book." I was not prepared to have that reaction.
I would, of course, support anyone reading any book, but the idea of someone reading this book at thirteen or fourteen being completely unprepared for the themes or issues examined and having no one to discuss said issues with bothers me. All that being said, though, racism isn't what I want to write my response paper on. At least not entirely. I feel that everyone already agrees racism is a bad thing and that this book deals with it (and fails to deal with it) in any number of ways. What consistently troubled me as I listened to Jim talk about himself and other characters talk about Jim, was how similar all the rhetoric was to how we still talk about women.
Jim says at the end of chapter 8, "I owns mysef, en I's wuth eight hund'd dollars. I wisht I had de money, I wouldn' want no mo'." As a reader I balked at those lines because they are painful--a body isn't a commodity and one of the horrors of slavery (or any -ism) is that it objectifies the group being marginalized and dehumanizes them. They are worth an amount of money because they are a pet, an animal, an item. Now compare this to a girl who is auctioning off her virginity for college tuition:

Natalie said she’s been forced to sell her cherry, because her stepfather took out a student loan in her name, so she’s unable to finance her education. She said, “I don’t have a moral dilemma with it. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to capitalize on my virginity? I understand some people may condemn me. But I think this is empowering. I’m using what I have to better myself (http://www.dlisted.com/node/28167).

What are the differences here? The obvious one is, of course, that this young girl is not a slave--she is making a conscious (theoretically) educated decision to do with her body as she pleases, and she will keep the money. But Jim, thinking he is a freed man does the same. He "owns" himself and wishes he had the money to do with as he pleased. No longer a slave he yearns to have the capitol his body is worth to carve a life for himself.
This isn't an anti-prostitution paper, but a look at the way the same rhetoric is recycled and goes unexamined in society. When this news story was brought to my attention I was horrified that any girl would think to make use of her virginity as a commodity because doing so dehumanizes and objectifies a person. The other women with me were uncomfortable, but couldn't think of a response to argue against such an action. It wasn't until I read Huck Finn that I saw the words for such a relationship with one's body on paper and realized the incredible irony of how we sexualize ourselves (men and women) in modern society. Specifically, how we think of our bodies as something to be sold to another human being.
Much like Shakespeare's Taming of the Screw the power dynamic becomes very obvious if it's racial. Everyone sees that Jim, free or not, is surprisingly lacking in power. It's only good luck that gets him through to the end of the story and Tom Sawyer's need for adventure, cute though it may be, nearly gets everyone killed. But when it happens between a man and a woman, Katharina and Petruchio, or a woman with a bachelor's in women's studies and the man who pays for her virginity, no one can figure out exactly why it's so wrong. Or what it is, precisely, that makes us uncomfortable. And isn't that reaction, that inability to reconcile what we know with what we feel, incredibly similar to Huck deciding to go to hell and save Jim?

I just finished Star Trek III. This is not the first time I've watched this movie--I've seen it so many times I could probably storyboard it. But I was struck by something I've never noticed before. Perhaps it was the papers I was grading while I watched it, perhaps it was recent conversations, but I noticed a really interesting theme on logic and emotion this time.

When Jim Kirk asks for permission to head back to Genesis for Spock's body the Commander tells him no and explains that as a rational, logical human being Kirk should understand why he can't be allowed to break rules. Kirk is then reprimanded for acting so emotionally and warned not to let his emotions ruin his career.

I found this interesting for a number of reasons. The first is that the Star Trek series is seriously loved by my family. We don't do conventions, but don't let that fool you into thinking we're normal where Star Trek is concerned. More importantly, however, is the fact that showing emotion is a capital crime in my family. There's no crying in our household. Some even pride themselves on their logic and ability to control their emotions. Now here's the great irony in all of this--first no one, not even Vulcans, can remove emotions wholly and completely from their being and second my family that doesn't successfully remove emotion (even though we try) idolizes Captain James T. Kirk who is an exceptionally emotional character. He's brilliant, he's strategic, and a great captain, and he usually makes well-informed choices, but he is emotional.

Finally, my point in all of this, is that this movie captures beautifully, in a way I've never noticed before, the illogicality of morality. It is illogical for the Kirk and his crew to go get Spock--this is summed up at the end when Kirk says to Spock "the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many." It's emotional and dangerous for the crew to steal the Enterprise, but it's the right thing to do. Spock's body must be retrieved and as his friends they do so at whatever cost to themselves. They do so because Spock's religion demands it and there is no one else to do the job.

My earlier comment now, about the illogicality of morality could certainly be challenged. Perhaps morals are always logical--there was no one else to retrieve Spock's body, or no one else willing, and so it is only logical that Kirk et. al. do so. But here the morality of friendship buts up against the logic of utilitarianism. Does friendship matter more than the mathematics of lives? Can people's worth be judged based on numbers? What causes the logic to leave the realm of utilitarianism and enter the realm of personal relationship?

I'm leaning towards believing the answer lies in emotion. Why shouldn't we kill one child to make the world a perfect place? Because that's wrong? Because it isn't okay to gain perfection through the murder or torture of another? How do we know that? Because we aren't operating on a wholly mathematical system. We're operating on emotions. I find it interesting and worthwhile to think about this, because too often I think we forget the role of emotions in our major decision making. For too long we've lived under the shadow of Aristotelian beliefs: intelligence/logic=good, emotions/passion=bad. This idea has been absorbed whole into our society and infiltrates our thinking to such a way that no one questions it. Things that make us feel are automatically placed below things that make us think--even if the things we feel about make us think as well. Chick flicks are a fantastic example of this as they are usually written off based on the genre, regardless of the quality of writing or maturity of theme explored.

All of this from Star Trek III. Is it possible to imagine a morality not based on utilitarianism that doesn't rely on emotion at some level? Are there absolute truths and if so are we able to access them in any way not dependent, to some degree, on emotion? Why is it wrong to murder if not because of empathy? Why is it wrong to torture? Rape? Why allow for equality or freedom if not because some part of us feels that it is what all people are entitled to?

There is all sorts of language to answer these questions. Many brilliant people have offered many brilliant treatises and essays on the subjects and I could certainly do some research and write a paper that neglected to mention emotion even once, but I ask you: does our defining these answers in academic terms devoid of emotion negate the fact that emotion is what drives us to look for an answer and justification for what we feel?

It's hard when considering Sarah Palin to move past her views on abortion. Abortion has always been, and will always be, a sticking point with me. Her conviction that abortion should be illegal except when the doctor decides a continued pregnancy will kill the mother is one that I cannot vote for. I have never and never will believe that such a decision should be legislated.

But I'm not talking about abortion right now, I'm talking about Sarah Palin.

Forgetting the abortion debate for a second I consider Sarah Palin as a legislator and a possible vice president. With John McCain's health it is increasingly possible that Palin would become president before the four years were up and so I must consider her as a serious law-maker as well. In all of those considerations Sarah Palin scares the ever-living crap out of me.

She's a woman who claims to be fighting the "old-boys network" in Washington. She's lauds her experience as mayor and governor as proof of her ability to run the country. She's a government official who claims she has worked to put the government by the wayside and put the power back into the hands of the people. I'm not misquoting out of context here, by the way, I'm taking all of these things off a speech I just watched.

First of all, everything she campaigns on is from the old-boys network. Anti-abortion, her ability to be a mother and a politician, her religion. She may have a vagina, but Sarah Palin sounds, and acts, like every other Republican candidate I've ever seen. She wants to lower taxes, but she offers no ideas as to help the ailing economy. So you cut taxes--where are the new jobs? She controlled the budget in Alaska; that sounds fantastic. Unfortunately, that's all she talks about. She doesn't mention what she did, or how she would apply her techniques to the much bigger task of running the country--instead she makes quips about ebay and her ability to slash the budget because of her innate "mommy skills." She could take a pay cut because her husband didn't care. She could fire the personal chef because her kids didn't care. What this says is, yes--she's a strong, Republican, female who still cooks for and mothers her children appropriately and relies mainly on her husband's income.

And that is possibly the most frustrating thing about Sarah Palin. She's not a bitch. She's not scary. She's Sarah Barracuda, but that name seems to carry more fondness than any name for Hillary ever did. People assume Hillary voters will vote for her because she's a woman. But the reason she is not a bitch and not scary, is the same reason Hillary voters (if they have any sense at all, which, admittedly, many of them don't) will not vote for her. Sarah Barracuda doesn't challenge gender roles at all. She doesn't shake things up. She isn't paving the way for women. She isn't changing jack shit.

I know, how can I say that you ask. Do we not have a woman nominee for vice president, on a Republican ticket no less? But here's the thing about power--power doesn't ever shift hands if the status quo remains the same. Imagine the goth kid buying his clothes at the mall; by purchasing his clothes at the mall he is doing the exact opposite of what it would appear he's attempting to do. Instead of rebelling against consumerism and capitalism he's supporting it. Sarah Palin is doing a very similar thing with the feminist movement. It appears she's paving the way. It appears she is change--this word that has become central to presidential elections this year. But instead of changing things she is simply solidifying them. By allowing claims of "sexism" when she's criticized over anything to float around she hides behind her gender--a wilting violet if you will that doesn't seem apt to someone nicknamed Barracuda. By campaigning on her ability to govern and mother she doesn't break free of the idea that women must find a way to do both, that she isn't a real woman if she isn't a good mother, that her existence as a politician is separate from her life as a mother, but holds up her life as a woman operating under a patriarchal definition of femininity who has succeeded by working with the patriarchy instead of working to break it as if that is earth shattering.

And by supporting anti-abortion legislature and being on record concerning the war in Iraq as a "task that is from God" she, like every other Republican, is mixing religion and politics. An unethical and unAmerican behavior. In a country that lauds freedom of belief and separation of church and state as two staples of its government we must govern free from religious agendas even though that religion may play a central role in personal morality. You can live your life according to the strictures of your church but you cannot pass laws, or go to war based on those strictures.

What bothers me most about Sarah Palin isn't her beliefs, though granted, her beliefs bother me plenty. Her politics are the same as everyone else in her party, better than some, worse than others. What bothers me is that because she happens to be a woman people are claiming she's radical. Because she happens to be a woman and a mother who works outside the home people are claiming she's a feminist.

Being a feminist has nothing to do with whether you work outside the home or stay at home. Is has nothing to do with whether you choose to have your baby or abort it. Being a feminist absolutely has nothing to do with your gender. Being a feminist has to do with giving every woman the option to make choices herself. And Sarah Palin isn't about giving people options. Sarah Palin isn't about changing the way we view women as objects and archetypes; she's about succeeding by being an object and an archetype. Her gender doesn't, by default, make her a feminist. But her goal to limit the choices of women absolutely marks her as not one.

I just saw Babylon A.D. I had heard tell that this was a bad movie, and was, in fact, prepared for it to be a bad movie. But then there was Vin Diesel; there was good music. There were several excellent fight scenes--and it all came wrapped in a little sci-fi bow, which is always close to my heart. As I sat in the theatre I thought to myself everyone said this was such a bad movie. Could they be wrong? This really isn't that bad. I trust their opinions, but as long as the ending isn't completely screwed up this is really kind of okay.

But the ending was screwed up. The ending was so screwed up, in fact, that I sat through the last ten minutes of the movie, mouth agape, asking myself over and over again, "seriously?"

Desperately I looked around the theatre at the other three people watching this movie with me. No one else seemed particularly perplexed. I didn't understand. The ending was obviously bad--we're talking Loom of Fate quality bad--but no one seemed to care. Perhaps they fell under the lure of Vin Diesel (something I absolutely understand) but even Vin Diesel acting the part of the lone wolf mercenary--it's quite the stretch for his acting chops it's true--couldn't save the ending of this movie.

Here's the problem: chickadee turns out to be an engineered woman whose basically a living computer, so far so good. Now Computra (as she will hence forth be known) is a virgin and miraculously conceives twins...except it isn't miraculous because it was all engineered through science and the high priestess of this crazy religion that seems to be trying to take over the war-torn world, but no one ever explains what the religion is, why this high priestess is so crazy (is she evil cause she's power hungry and we working on an extended Christianity metaphor or is she evil cause she's a woman in religion?) and how the heck Computra ends up pregnant with super powered twins.

Even with all of that I was willing to go along, assuming it would be made clear by the end. But crazy high priestess makes one last ditch to retrieve Computra, her manufactured miracle, and after Mr. Diesel does what he does and blows crap up crazy high priestess mysteriously gives up. She's not so much the leader of a crazy fanatic religion then as she is ADD. Finally we cut to Computra, ready to give birth, making Mr. Diesel promise to take care of her super powered babies and then dying. Why does she die? Nobody knows. Perhaps when carrying the wonder twins her body couldn't take it. But I would like to point out that female bodies don't just roll over and die pre-labor and then magically open up so you can lift said babies out and move on about your business.

And why the heck are these kids super powered? Is it because they're engineered? Because it's a virgin birth? Does being born of a virgin make one a superhero? I'm pretty sure the only other time it's happened the superpowers came from the dad. Perhaps because she's Computra, engineered woman extraordinaire, her twins (somehow created to activate in her womb on her 20th birthday?) are mysteriously powerful. I'm thinking they must also have time travel--they'll go back in time when they're all grown up, create the Fraternity, and teach some weavers how to read the Loom of Fate. Now there's an ending for ya.

All hail Computra and her Virgitron Wonder Babies.

I hate it when movies blow the ending.