Cowboys & Aliens

My wife and I spent two hours of last Friday night, watching fairly good acting, an interesting premise, combined with a lot of Hollywood money and knowhow, fly straight into the side of desert outcropping leaving no survivors. The movie was Cowboys and Aliens with Harrison Ford and Daniel Craig holding down the bleeding roles. It really wasn't bad until the screenwriter's LSD kicked in and the unbelievable began to happen. Like Daniel Craig's character, Jake, running down an injured yet still flying alien spacecraft, (amazing feat #2). Granted, Jake is on a horse, but he has a lot of craggy desert terrain to navigate and the spacecraft he's after only has air. So, I'm guessing that in order for a horse, picking through rocks and cliffs, to keep up with, let alone pass an alien craft going say, 60 miles per hour, the horse would have to travel about 180mph.  Ok, he catches up to the alien craft, passes it, and  jumps off his horse and lands on said spacecraft which is slightly below him in a canyon (amazing feat #3). At this point, intelligent life left the movie. But let's now go back to amazing feat #1. An alien craft had crashed because of Jakes ejaculating wrist gizmo. The cowboys walk up to the craft which has a low and narrow profile. The fuselage of the vessel is not higher than their knees and could barely fit Twiggy side to side. No biggie at this point because you're thinking, "ah, area 51-type aliens— little guys with big eyes." The wounded alien had left the craft unseen, but left a trail so the posse tracks him. The footprint of the unseen creature is longer than the nose section of the alien attack vessel. When they finally see the alien, he's a good 8' tall. So this alien image harkens you back to the street scene and causes one to ponder, "Oh yeah, how'd this enormous creature fit in that tiny alien plane deal?"

But wait, it gets worse. Jake begins to dig Olivia Wilde, who's name is Ella.That part is believable.  By the way you have to love the names. The cattle baron's (Harrison Ford) name is Dollarhyde. And the memory depleted, left for dead bad guy's (Daniel Craig) name sounds like Lone-me-a-gun. When I was a kid movies made Mad Magazine at least scratch their head for caricature names. But I digress, Ella dies, rendering Jake's carrying her 20 or 30 miles, on foot, through a desert sun (amazing feat #4) futile. The indians throw her wrapped, dead body into a nice crackling fire. Conversation among whites and indians continues and nobody notices the disgusting smell of a burning body and we can only assume the smell of processed beans was masking it. And then Ella walks out of the flames and discloses that she's actually an alien who has taken this human form. She says her mission in life is defeat the evil emporer Zurg. We are not told how living in the town, Absolution, and burying her tongue into Jakes chewing tobacco prepared her for this, so this is amazing feat #5.

The aliens have a large tower structure something akin to Mordor. And oddly enough the bling on Jake's wrist needs to be thrown into the fires of Mordor in order to defeat the bad guys— I had to applaud the writers on this unique idea. But the bling won't come off of Jake's wrist—he's tried with large rocks in scenes before. But the post fire Ella tells Jake to use the Force to remove it — I had to applaud the writers on this unique idea—and Jake, heretofore a murderer and robber, conjures up enough cosmic mojo to remove the bracelet with one whiff of his newly enlightened mind. Amazing feat #6

I'd like to say the good guys defeated the bad guys. But there were no good guys, save the sappy indian hired hand — sort of adopted slave of Col. Dollarhyde. But his dying speech was so sickeningly gooey I was glad when he breathed his last.

The apostle Paul commands me to approve things that are excellent and there was one scene I hope ends up on YouTube, and that is where Jake Lone-me-a-gun is rolling a cig. While he's rolling this cigarette, the camera is close up on Daniel Craig's impressive forearms.  Watching that much muscle perform such a delicate maneuver was cool. Another plus was the guitar work, I believe the title has Cabin in it -- great tune, albeit short.

Random Thoughts

I haven't posted anything since mid April. Feels like I've been away from this a lot longer than that.

Books:

Ken Follett's new book Fall of Giants, puts anything else I've read to a distant second or perhaps even another category altogether, perhaps, "Non Ken Follett Books". I do think I ran into a bit of depression when I finished the 1,000 pager. You can look up the synopsis online from a real writer person. Of course his older series Pillars of the Earth and the follow up World Without End, are as my daughter Sarah says, "They're Crack!" I read a little over 20 words a minute by the time you add up all the mindstorms that hit me and then the realization that I've "read" a whole page while I was wondering about algae in the mediterranean. I probably read a book three times by the time I'm finished with it. It is this same disciplinary feature that keeps me out of any elongated time of prayer. I just can't seem to control where my mind will warp to. I once fell asleep at a prayer time and while I was asleep had a dream about chairs at church. I woke myself to a mystified audience as I was praying outloud about the chairs! You know, nobody asked me about the chairs... Anyway, even though I read an amalgamated 20 words a minute, when I'm reading something cool I feel like a scholar. Follett's book made me feel like I was Evelyn Wood.

Malcom Gladwell has produced a series of books, Tipping Point, Blink, What the Dog Saw, that just get you to think. They are to me like suped-up Reader's Digest writings. Very entertaining style.

Way back I mentioned Neal Stephenson and his book, Cryptonomicon. Great book. I've slogged through a few of his others and found him to pessimistic, and as is common with that outlook, somewhat elitist, all knowing and void of an ethic outside of himself. I don't recommend anything else by that author. I'm willing to be very wrong about this. But this is my opinion as weak as that is.

Musicians and they DVDs. One of my latest statements is that we are in the musical age of Jeff Beck. Allow me to downplay that a smidge. I don't mean this to say that "he's the best, or that no other is his equal."  It's just that his style has matured to such a level that his stamp is on a wide swath of musical genres today.  Having said that, there is another guitarist without peer and he is Tommy Emmanuel. Acoustic music without bounds. All three of his DVD's are tremendous. And I do recommend the DVD because Tommy is a charismatic showman. There are few that will ever stand with Tommy. Consider that since he's been about 6 years old he's been a pro. He has a big brother to look up to (Phil) that is a fabulous guitarist himself. Add to that a mom and pop that totally encouraged the love that Tommy displayed since he was a tyke, even to the point of selling their home and touring as a family band in the outback of Australia for a long time just living out of a car! Tommy has emerged as one of those gifts of God to society. He's such a child at heart and the love he has for playing the guitar has brought more than one teary eye to those who watch him.

Blessing to you and yours,

bob

Drawing with Kids

This past weekend I had the privilege of giving a seminar at the APHEA homeschool convention. I also had a table where I could promote and sell my book, Simply Draw with Bob Parsons. Since I had no electricity where I was assigned, I went old school and covered my table with paper and put out some Sharpies. There was a constant que of children wanting to draw. I had thought the paper was for me to draw on. I gave impromptu lessons but mostly just let the kiddos have fun. We sold out of our stock and had to order more to fulfill the orders. I think most parents bought my book because of guilt. It was like free childcare to send them over to my table! 

Not to give out too much information, but as good a time as any to change dietary habits is after a bout of  nausea-inducing flu. Which brings up the subject of Lent (this doesn't sound right). I'm way late for Lent this year (March 9 to April 23 - Luv Ya Sarah!) but it's never too late to get on board with a God thing right? But about a week ago I was joking that I was going to "reverse Lent" this year by starting to drink water instead of giving up something. Now that my tummy is tender and dark roast coffee seems a tad strong, drinking water instead of coffee seems easier now than before. 

We can't all be lucky enough to rely on the flu as emphasis for change, and giving up something usually implies sacrifice. When you are in the sacrifice mode, normally you're in for repercussions that may leave you worse off than before. The best way I've found to change is to love first, then change. Here's the best example that I personally have. I have terrible will power. I used to bite my nails and my mother all her life told me that that was a terrible habit. No change. Then I started playing guitar and found that those fingernails that I had been nastily chewing off came in quite handy. I quit chewing nails because the love of playing made that habit inconsistent with the action. So, I've developed an M.O.— if you want to take away, first add something you love. And for those of you who are losing weight or trying to, my hat's off to you. It's the hardest thing to do because you have to love yourself and have a vision of yourself that pulls you through. Loving is an action that can grow and grow. Sacrifice can only be maintained for a season. So the sacrifice has to be part of the loving. Check this pattern out:

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. -- Hebrews 12

Jeff Beck

We're in the musical age of this guy

Way back when about the time "Clapton is God" was painted on a wall in England, the white English boys, Peter Green, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page, were involved in phrase "wars" where they were milking every chorus for the ultimate, dripping tone and note selection, and throwing their lines back out at the others to challenge and up the ante so to speak. Then along came Jimi.  I honestly believe Jimi Hendrix, a true bluesman himself, yet so charismatic, inadvertently ended this subtle search for blues phrasing, not just for the four mentioned, but for many others as well. But one guy's sound, even back then was different, and seemed on a different course altogether. That guy is Jeff Beck. Where some played blues, he played sound. This search for sound over idiom or technique, I believe caused Beck to lay aside the guitar pick and the speed that it can produce, for his finger only approach and the tones they can produce. And after 30 years he's opening the keg as it were, to a totally and unique mature sound. Here's what, Jon Newey, editor, Jazzwise magazine, a master wordsmith has to say on the liner notes of the DVD "Jeff Beck – Performing This Week".

Up close (at Ronnie Scott's club in London), every nuance of his unique picking technique and spellbinding signature sound seemed to be magnified. Each note shaped, contoured and emotionally charged by the passionate persuasion of fingertips, whammy bar, volume control and a whole heart full of soul. The sheer inventiveness, tonal color and power of his improvisation, harnessed to a daredevil sense of dynamics that will punch you hard in the face one minute while tugging at your heartstrings the next, was simply breathtaking.

I do witness to the breathtaking Jeff Beck. He has created a sound that is simply powerful. I recommend the DVD ( Live at Ronnie Scotts) over the cd. Seeing him play in a small venue is so cool. Check out his website: http://www.jeffbeck.com/

Charlie Sheen

My wife asked me last night, "Why draw attention to a guy like that?" It's a good question. I actually know very little about Charlie Sheen. I don't watch his show nor do I follow much of the news surrounding him of late. What I do know is that the guy has a breach of contract lawsuit with the producers of the show Two and a Half Men. I do know that Mr. Sheen has made some outlandish remarks, and some of those I agree with and some I laugh at. And I don't know how much of what he said was meant to be comedy. I do know that the networks will cut and paste words to suit their point of view — I witnessed this first hand. So the kernel of this whole story which I totally applaud, is that Sheen is taking his story on the road. And I think that the popularity of his tour is largely due to a growing, and healthy conceptualization in America, that we are not told the truth by our network journalists. I don't think it is necessarly in support of Mr. Sheen's lifestyle.  Anyone who stands up to the media like Mr. Sheen is doing, deserves a certain amount of respect, even if he may be someone you wouldn't want your daughter going out with. 

Dennis Jones

I subscribe to one blogsite – the blog of Dennis Jones, illustrator. On the top left is Dennis Jones' beautiful illustration and on the bottom right is my study – one learns a lot from copying. And I actually learned something about crosshatching after all these years. But... the "heads up" on this blog is for you to check out DJ's art. Signing up for his blog and receiving his periodic work, whether it be a sketch or a movie on his step-by-step approach is like Christmas to me. You and your kids will love it. Completely clean and always first class craftsmanship. Here's his blog address:

http://thedennisjones.wordpress.com/author/thedennisjones/

Raisin Paper & Teething

 20 some years ago I was sitting in an easy chair with maybe our third or fourth child, unsuccessfully trying to console a teething baby. Nothing they liked to chew on would keep their attention. So I thought about the key ingredients of the ultimate "Teether Reliever". 

1. It had to taste or at least feel good

2. It had to be bio indestructible, in that a piece couldn't come off and slide down the child's throat.

3. You had to be able to hold it easily.

My mind went around the house, into the cupboards, and there was a bag of raisins! I quickly cut up the bag into about 1" bands, putting the raisins in a container. When I put the raisin "paper" (it's really plastic) with the gooey residue of sweet raisins to the lips of our child, peace began to reign. Focused contentment. Volumes of slobber. Enthusiastic sucking. Quiet. 

Above is our granddaughter, 'Rory Shane. She has the raisin paper AND is finding how good it feels to bite my thumb at the same time! And look at her face. A second before she was crying her eyes out.

You may send your contributions to my Paypal account: rparsons@gci.net  :)

Fringe

Fringe, the increasingly popular TV series, I believe on Fox, has some fine actors, one of them is John Noble, who plays the eccentric Dr. Walter Bishop. Our family, the older 19 year old and Robin and I watch the show on Hulu, or some other online place of residence. Dr. Bishop has a myriad of problems—most of them guilt related, as he was somewhat of a Nazi-type experimenter on certain strangely gifted children. Although Dr. Bishop's motivation could be perceived as having a benevolent side to it, nevertheless he inflicted some psycho damage along the way. Add to that, Dr. Bishop's meddling science was responsible for the kidnapping of a child (in order to save his life) from a parallel universe. This crossing over between universes is destroying the other universe and bodes ill for ours as well. And you think you have guilt! Oh yeah, the kid he saved from the other universe, Peter, was the counterpart to his dead son in this universe. This brings up every permutation of the Star Wars, "You're not my father!", from the current living Peter. Peter, in these later episodes, now knows he was snatched from Universe B, and actually is growing to love his stand-in dad. 

We can sure forgive a lot of crappola. And John Noble's character, who is responsible for wrecked psyches, countless deaths, kidnapping etc. worms his way into our hearts, as he suffers for his wrongs and hides his pain with the use of medical marijuana. The character is honest and childlike. He actually needs a supervisor because he is slightly mentally incapacitated. But that incapacitation allows the writers to have Dr. Bishop blurt out what most of us think but never dare to say ourselves–this aspect of the character is why, along with John Noble's skill as an actor, has made him the center piece of the show.  I still play the guitar while watching the series, but find it a worthy distraction while I practice my scales.

Eric Johnson, Austin Texas guitarist extraordinaire, has recently released his album Up Close, which contains one track in particular that deserves the attention of this blog. The track is named  Texas and is a straight forward electric blues. To firmly grasp the significance of this masterwork, it is not absolutely necessarily to delve as far back as Northern Israel's captivity by the neo Assyrian monarchs. However, the notes distilled from Mr. Johnson's most capable hands bring with them residue from historic sufferings chronicled by song that yields a dense  richness. This tune is the capstone of what the blues guitar can accomplish. It reaches back and will continue until time is no more Yes it is that good. I would gladly trade in all works in my collection if I had to to secure this one track.  

Even though the Mayan calendar has our current astrological estate named as "The Time of Jeff Beck", Eric Johnson's effort here could be seen as a Stonehenge within that era.

By the way, I drew this with brush and ink and couldn't find my water colors so I used a San Francisco Bay French Roast right out of my coffee cup for a wash!

Downton Abbey

Advertised as a 4 part Masterpiece Series on PBS, "Downton Abbey" set its hooks quickly into the flesh of our family and we gladly accepted being reeled ashore, knowing that resolve would come in the 4th and final episode. The highly anticipated 4th episode aired last night. When the final scene was coming to an end, my  wife and I began to realized that every relationship and event was in a disastrous web of loose ends and there wasn't enough time to pull it all together. Then the camera froze upon the lead character who just announced to the lawn party that England was at war with Germany. Stunned silence. Shock. Rage. Ungracious words. And this not from the elite English guests, but from Robin and I !!!

Oh, and we're supposed to find joy in the 6pt type, sheepishly sneaking across the screen announcing that PBS was working on the continuing episodes? Are you kidding me?

I think that the series should have been advertised as an incomplete 4 part series — that way none of us would have wasted our time and emotions and even allowed ourselves to be sucked into a 4 week, 6 hour ordeal with no resolve.

To try and quantify the emotional level I've devised a simple 1-10 scale most can identify with:

Sorrow for New Orleans after Katrina:  7 (personally I would never build below sea level)
Sorrow for HaitI:  8
The concern for Cairo:  4
Outrage over Downton Abbey:  9.5

I know this paints me as shallow and that my affections are imbalanced. I may normalize when the miff wears off...

Deion Sanders / Michael Irvin

Deion Sanders and Michael Irvin are part of the NFL Channel's team of analysts. However, they are the best of the best. Would that more pastors had matter-of-fact, in-your-face pronouncements like these guys. They provide a very passionate analysis of the game, both what is bad and who they love and why. Actually these two ARE men of the cloth — the expensive kind that is. Man can they dress!

Colin Farrell / Ondine

I recently watched Ondine starring Colin Farrell, portraying the underdog, recovering alcoholic, Irish fisherman named Syracuse, who pulls up his nets and finds a beautiful woman in his net. The story is well done. A spot on review is here. Some thoughts on the film which have no literary groundings:  Does Colin Farrell insure his eyebrows? How do they keep his hair so greasy looking? Are there any unattractive selkies?

Sandals

Super Glue wasn't holding the techtonic plates of my sandal's souls together anymore. I'm sitting here praying that this isn't some metaphor...Anyway, I went to throw these guys out — tossed one in the trash, went to toss the other (for two points of course) and had just about the same heart-squeezing, cautionary feeling like the time I was told by some higher power strangling me by my conscience, to stop shooting birds with my bb gun. Just couldn't throw 'em away. I retrieved the first, which made a dramatic roll along the rim of the galvanized trash can, before falling to its sure demise. I took them down to Colin Leary, my ol' friend, who owns Boot Country, and he told me, "Bob, I can throw those away for you." You see, I took them to see if they could survive off of life support. No way. Not even a 2-month prognosis. A few years from now, if a cobbler sees shoes with this much abuse, he'll be obliged to report me to a government agency. Anyway, I told Colin, "No, Thanks Colin. I'm going to screw them to my shop wall." Colin knew where I was coming from. He didn't think it weird at all to save this type of historical time capsule of events. He advised me to use a square-bit screw – a bit out of the normal pattern fer you ladies out there, so that unbelievers wouldn't grab any old Phillips screw driver and take them down. Back home we started looking at the marks on the Birks and Adrien and I got some laughs from the dark red paint streaked across them. It's kind of funny, I'll tell you... I was out in the shop with a brand new Wagner airless painter. The airless was needed to blend a beautiful fade from warm brown to red across a four foot by 12 foot area. I had just finished blending the final color, turned around holding the gun, which has a plastic quart paint holder screwed into the bottom of it, and said to Adrien, "That was the hardest thing I've done in my life, hope I don't have to do that again." And the paint holder fell off the gun. It was almost full of paint. When it hit the floor, it splashed across every surface heading due east at roughly 100 feet per second. It was really beautiful if you didn't have to clean it up -- a gorgeous red wave slapping and staining indiscriminately across the shop until it met a dead end in the garage door. Splat. It missed my sign. Unbelievable since it landed inches away...

A friend of mine uses her husband's old shop boots for planters in the summer. Now that is pure poetry if you ask me – to see beautiful colored flowers coming up out of an dead old boot.

Music / Mark Twain

Before Leaving the House

Fortunately for me, before leaving for an appointment, I had to make a quick trip to the privy. Upon glancing at my visage in the mirror I was horror-struck with the thought of what I was about to share with the world! I had twin eyebrow hairs, thick, white ones, arching out over my glasses frames and curving back down toward my lenses. A conservative guess put these hairs easily within reach of Boone and Crocket records. And I had just kissed my wife goodbye! I came back to her and asked her if she really minded me leaving the house like this. "Like wha... Oh my!" As she stepped back with her hand covering her mouth. This type of thing has happened before, manifesting itself in creative and compromising situations. It prompted me to design this little "Remember" sign. If you want a copy of it to paste on your door just holler. I got your back, you just be sure and get your nose.

Mark Twain / Joan of Arc

After reading Mr. God, This is Anna, and writing a blurb about it associating it with Joan of Arc, I decided to reread Mark Twain's  Joan of Arc and I have been richly rewarded. Twain is dead serious in bringing all his skill as a writer into this narrative. He spent 12 years in research and two years in writing it. Reading descriptive accounts of the ever-cursing, war-torn general La Hire reveals poetry on par with Shakespeare:

"...Why, she has sent for Satan himself — that is to say, La Hire—that military hurricane, that godless swashbuckler, that lurid conflagration of blasphemy, that Vesuvius of profanity, forever in eruption." 

Later,  when that saint, Joan of Arc met La Hire and demanded that the prostitutes be ejected from his camp and that the men attend mass twice a day, La Hire — "...went on, pouring out a most pathetic stream of arguments and blaspemy, which broke Joan all up, and made her laugh as she had not laughed since she played in the Domremy pastures." 

The love of  base creatures and how they were transformed by Joan's graciousness, reminds me of the verse in scripture when Jesus says, "If I be lifted up, I will draw all manner of men to me." allow me to paraphrase, "If I be properly portrayed— my character adequately witnessed to, people will come to me naturally."  And this is the crux of the book! Twain himself is La Hire. Twain is the man used to living on his own dogma. Twain the Protestant skeptic meets the Catholic Joan of Arc, and falls in love with the woman and the God she represents. A God who's purpose was to bring and end to a 100 years of demonic war, with the fewest amounts of casualties and with a woman child of 17 years of age — not unlike the fragile Christmas story of salvation by a mere baby.

France was a total mess at the time. Their uncrowned King had just enough money to skirt out of the country and was surrounded by cowardly advisors. This passage of Joan's confrontation with the King's prime minister, La Tremouille, sums up a lot:

La Tremouille:  My judgement is to wait (and not strike the English before they are reinforced)

Joan:  Wait for what?

La Tremouille: (after waiting...) Matters of state are not proper matters for public discussion.

Joan:  I have to beg your pardon. My trespass came of ignorance. I did not know that matters connected with your department of the government were matters of state.

La Tremouille: I am the  King's chief minister, and yet you had the impression that matters connected with my department are not matters of state: Pray how is that?

Joan:  Because there is no state.

La Tremouille:  No state!

Joan:  No, sir, there is no state, and no use for a minister. France is shrunk to a couple of acres of ground: a sheriff's constable could take care of it; its affairs are not matters of state. The term is too large.

The long and short of it is this: There is hope for this world not because some great person will be lifted up to deliver us, but because there is an omipotent and omniscient God taking personal interest in the mess we make of things. And if tears don't stream down your face when you read of her courage and what was instilled in others, then I really feel sorry for you. I really do. I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

Toothpaste Ideas

Sorry if the dental hygene theme is a bit worn out here, but I had a great idea. You know how brushing your teeth can just ruin the flavor of any food or drink that comes after the deed? Well, how about brushing your teeth with a compatible flavor of what you expect to indulge in? Here's a few flavors that I might keep on hand. How about you?