Happiness Comes in Unexpected Packages (2013 Edition)

I had some down moments this year, all within the realm of "first world problems", of course, but all things are relative. Like so many with such ultimately trivial problems, I found solace in pop culture. For me, the year was bookended by two unexpected - but remarkably welcome - returns.

The first was on January 8th when David Bowie marked his 66th birthday by releasing his first new music in nearly ten years, while the other was the November return of Paul McGann to Doctor Who to help set the stage for the story marking the show's 50th birthday. What made me so damn happy about these things is not just that they happened but that they were both so good.

In Bowie's case, The Next Day turned out to be his best album since either Scary Monsters or Let's Dance (depending on which denomination of Bowie-ism one follows). The term "return to form" has to some degree been applied to most of Bowie's post-Tin Machine albums, but The Next Day is arguably the first to deserve that designation. That's not because the albums from 1993-2003 weren't good - some of them were excellent - but rather because this one is the first since the early-80s that finds Bowie remaking a genre of pop music in his own image. 

In this case, that genre is "Bowie". Having proven - especially with Heathen and Reality - that Bowie was a genre worthy of respect, the man himself seemed excited to push it into new ground. The end result was as strong a collection of songs as he's had in years, work that evokes his 70s heydays (i.e. the albums/phases that some practitioners of Bowie-ism assert are the only ones worthy of attention) without sounding like retreads. It almost seems unfair to the album as a whole to pick favorites, but it goes with the territory to note that "The Stars (Are Out Tonight)", "I'd Rather Be High" and "You Feel So Lonely You Could Die" would be strong candidates for any Bowie compilation I'd put together.

In its 50 year history, over a dozen actors have played the lead role in Doctor Who on TV. Paul McGann, who starred in a mid-90s attempt to revive to show, was the 8th. Because it didn't lead to an ongoing series and the show's 2005 revival cast a new lead, McGann's first TV appearance as the Doctor was also his only TV appearance, making him the George Lazenby of Doctor Who. Despite the lack of screen time, McGann's portrayal of the Doctor remained popular with many fans, especially because he continued to play the role in a series of audio dramas, many of which aired on BBC radio. 

Despite statements that no past Doctors aside from David Tennant and the ret-conned incarnation played by John Hurt would appear in the story to mark the show's 50th anniversary, rumors abounded that McGann would have some involvement, even though the man himself denied them (albeit with enough ambiguity to keep fan hopes alive). That hope came to fruition on November 14th when a short prequel episode entitled "Night of the Doctor" was released online. Though ostensibly designed to tie up a bit of the show's continuity - and turn some of that continuity on its head - "Night of the Doctor" is more significant as both a tightly-paced piece of drama about a man forced to make a difficult choice and a valedictory for the actor playing that man. In the course of six minutes or so, McGann showed that, while his screen time as the Doctor, was limited his portrayal certainly wasn't. Aided and abetted by a sharply written script by Steven Moffat, arguably his best in a couple years, McGann displayed the kind of balance between humor and verbal bite that characterizes most of my favorite Doctors. 

Considering how much I enjoyed "Night of the Doctor", perhaps the most surprising thing is that  neither the 50th anniversary story that followed nor last week's Christmas special, which depicted yet another change of Doctor, felt disappointing. When 2013 started, I wasn't sure it would be a great year to be a fan of Doctor Who or David Bowie, let alone both. Sometimes it's nice to be wrong.

The Turing Test

Though it will probably be overshadowed by some rock star being granted a knighthood, the announcement of the royal pardon for Doctor Alan Turing is as momentous as it is long overdue. Turing, whose work breaking the German Enigma codes during World War Two was somewhat overshadowed by his conviction for homosexual activities and the apparent suicide that this conviction brought about, was one of World War Two's most under-appreciated heroes. The debt that what we're fortunate enough to call the free world owes to Turing's work can not be overstated. Ironically, a lot of the people who would dismiss Turing as a degenerate have him to thank - at least in part - that they live in a world where they have the freedom to spout that kind of hateful nonsense free of consequence. Hmmm, maybe Turing's exit strategy was the sensible one after all.

You Have to Learn When to Duck

I can't lie and I can't hold it in any longer. I am hugely upset that "reality TV star" Phil Robertson has been suspended from his show by A&E. Don't get me wrong, it isn't because I agree with his ridiculously reprehensible comments. What bothers me is that I've been unable to come up with a pithy comment utilizing the phrase "dick dynasty". At times like this, all you can say is, "Suck it, Internet." Oh, wait, I'm not sure the Duck Dynasty folks would approve of that. Oh well, if they don't approve, then fu<k 'em in the ass! Oh, wait, the Duck Dynasty folks probably don't approve of that either. Crap!

Every Doctor Has Their Day

Based on his writing for television, one imagines that Steven Moffat's enjoys puzzles in whatever spare time his professional commitments allow. On the sitcom Coupling, Moffat showed a great affinity for making seemingly disparate pieces come together into a satisfying whole, often by playing around with time. Not surprisingly, this approach has been even more thoroughly explored in his writing for Doctor Who.

Following his relatively straightforward first story* with the "empty child", Moffat has taken the time travel aspect of the show and run with it like no other writer in Doctor Who's 50 year history. From his first script for David Tennant's Doctor to the overarching story-lines of his time as the show's lead writer, time has been a key element of the narrative puzzles he's assembled. This was true even of the 2007 mini-episode "Time Crash", produced for the BBC's Children in Need charity event, which presented a brief interlude with David Tennant's Doctor and his 1980s predecessor, Peter Davison.

In some ways that brief vignette was good practice for yesterday's special episode for the show's 50th anniversary, "Day of the Doctor". Having the current Doctor meet his former selves was done to mark both the 10th and 20th anniversaries of the show and, despite the show not being on TV at the time, the 30th and 40th as well^. This precedent of celebrating the past in a way virtually no other show can added a particularly tricky piece to the puzzle, because while these stories had their moments none could be classified as Doctor Who's finest hour. 

Following an uneven run of stories that culminated in "The Name of the Doctor", I had my doubts as to how well Moffat would succeed at crafting a puzzle whose pieces included...

-celebrating Doctor Who's past in a way longtime fans would appreciate but didn't require decades worth of background knowledge for everyone else to enjoy.

-displaying the fun parts of multi-Doctor stories without succumbing to the pitfalls that made previous ones less than great.

-fostering optimism about a 60th anniversary (and beyond).

My doubts gave way to anticipation a little over a week before "Day of the Doctor" aired, thanks to one of two prequels that had been announced for the story. What made "Night of the Doctor" so good was not that it gave longtime fans like myself what we wanted, particularly a return appearance as the Doctor by Paul McGann, but rather that it did so in unexpected ways. In a little under seven minutes, Moffat managed to subvert our assumptions about some key elements of the show's mythology while also telling a sharply written story about gut-wrenching choices. It also helped explain how John Hurt as the mysterious "War Doctor" fits into the larger story.

The idea of a missing incarnation seemed to annoy a lot of hardcore fans, especially when it was announced that none of the show's pre-2005 Doctors would be in the anniversary episode. Despite three of those actors being dead and none of the others except McGann looking like they did when they were the current Doctor, an awful lot of "fans" seem to have prejudged the story as a disappointment solely based on Tennant being the only established past Doctor in it. This is amusing in retrospect because it was having John Hurt as this newly revealed Doctor that made the multi-Doctor element work in a way that I can't envision any of Tennant's and Smith's predecessors doing. 

Because he represented a shadowy period in the Doctor's story before the one that started with Christopher Eccleston's Doctor in "Rose", Hurt was able to embody the Doctor's entire past. On the one hand, his jabs at Tennant and Smith harkened back to William Hartnell putting his successors in line in "The Three Doctors", but he also personified the tension between who the Doctor was and who he's become. More to the point, having an actor of Hurt's calibre seemed to push Tennant and especially Smith out of their comfort zones. The end result is that a story that could have been an overblown mess feels believable on a character level, which enabled me to enjoy the icing on the cake all the more.

Admittedly, not all of the icing was to my taste. The war scenes on Gallifrey felt a bit too "Star Wars" for my liking, presumably intended to give more 3-D bang for the buck (or rather quid), but the return of the Zygons and seeing UNIT led by Kate Lethbridge-Stewart was great fun, as were other nods to the past like a return to the scene of the very first episode. Needless to say, it was also fantastic to see that the line about no pre-2005 Doctors appearing wasn't quite true either, and seeing a glimpse of incoming Doctor Peter Capaldi was a terrific touch. And then there's an element that's simply beyond objective assessment for a fan of my generation, Tom Baker.

Baker declined to appear in the 20th anniversary story "The Five Doctors", in which he was only seen in footage from an unfinished story by Douglas Adams. Coming just two years after the end of his seven year run as the Doctor, that decision wasn't surprising, though, Baker later said he regretted it and in recent years seems to have re-embraced Doctor Who. Seeing him as the museum curator who may or may not be another version of the Doctor may not have made total sense but here again on the level of character it worked, providing that elusive piece of the puzzle whose final form looks even cooler than I imagined.

*Technically, Moffat's first script for Doctor Who was a 1999 charity sketch called "The Curse of the Fatal Death" starring Rowan Atkinson as the Doctor and Jonathan Pryce as the Master. Like all the best parodies, it also worked as a good example of the thing it was spoofing.

^There a lot I could write about both the 1993 Doctor Who/Eastenders crossover "Dimensions in Time" and the audio drama "Zagreus", but I'll leave it at saying that both were done in good spirit but neither is especially good.

The Law of Averages - Marvel Style

At some point, the law of averages dictates that one of the current run of interlinked Marvel Comics movies will be terrible. By this, I mean not just something disappointing but rather truly awful. For now, though, the people running these shows have displayed an amazing aptitude for translating 50+ years of comic book continuity into crowd-pleasing spectacles that blur the line between art and commerce as well as any movies since the original Star Wars trilogy.

Though the new Thor movie The Dark World is not that inevitable dud, I nonetheless have mixed feelings about it. Usually, sequels are clearly better or worse than their predecessors, but this one managed the neat trick of being a bit of both. Ultimately, I prefer the tone of Shakespearean grandeur that Kenneth Branagh brought to the first one, but The Dark World probably fits better into the post-Avengers scheme of things, even if it is a bit uneven.

The most striking thing about the current run of Marvel movies, aside from how faithful they've managed to be to the comics, is the extent to which the actors are the key. Not surprisingly, the actors reflect the slightly uneven nature of the movie. In the plus column, we have Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston and especially Stellan Skarsgård, the last of whom magnificently depicted the continuing repercussions from the events of The Avengers. On the negative side, Christopher Eccleston wasn't used quite enough, Natalie Portman was used a bit too much and we didn't see nearly enough of Kat Dennings' cleavage. 

After re-reading the above, I realize that it might not be clear that I really did enjoy the movie. Thor was never a favorite of mine in the comics, but the first movie made me a believer, and the second has done nothing to dampen that faith. With a nice balance of action, humor and heart, it felt like a good storyline from the comics, one that I would have enjoyed reading month or sitting down to read in one go as a "graphic novel". As it stands, though, it'll be an 18 month wait to see what he's been up to since the (now inevitable with Marvel's movies) post-credits scene. I'm not looking forward to the wait, but I suspect it will be worth it.

The Lou or the John?

I once believed we lived in a world that if not fully fair was at least touched by the hand of justice. Then, I realized that this is the same world in which John Lennon and Lou Reed are both dead but John Mayer and Lou Bega are alive. As the veil lifted, I simultaneously wept and vomited. It wasn't pretty, but it was still more pleasant than listening to either "Your Body Is a Wonderland" or "Mambo #5". As of this writing, neither Mayer nor Bega has offered an apology, but they clearly owe us one.

Intelligence Failure

Perhaps I should be ashamed to admit this, because the situation involves a murder, but there is at least one funny thing about the Aaron Hernandez/Odin Lloyd case. Hernandez's former team, New England Patriots, is an organization whose 21st century success is at least partially due to their skill at intelligence gathering. Whatever one thinks of "Spy-gate", it's uncomfortably amusing that the team now looks profoundly foolish as a result of a failure of intelligence gathering about their former player. 

Legal Eagles Can Still Be Full of Bird Crap

I would like to congratulate both the prosecution and defense teams from the George Zimmerman trial for their great work in lowering public opinions of the legal profession. The you-win-some-you-lose-some attitude of the prosecutors was impressive enough, but the defense attorneys were truly masterful. I can't decide which one amazed me more, the one who spent most of the press conference joking and smiling or his reptilian cohort who decided to blame the media. 

Seriously, though, what the hell is wrong with these two? When someone is dead after your client pulled the trigger in a situation they could (and arguably should) have avoided and said client gets acquitted, you either take the high road or you're an asshole. I'm not going to say I hate these people, because they don't deserve my beautiful wonderful hate. Rather, I'll just say that they disgust me to the point where I hope they die in a flaming pile of excrement while being beaten over the head with a toilet tank.

237 And Counting

A friend quite rightly suggested online that we should all take a moment to remember what the July 4th holiday is about (beyond food cooked on a grill, that is). This brought to mind the musical 1776. Though it takes some liberties with historical facts, the show masterfully depicts the events leading up to the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

What makes it especially relevant for us today is the way it shows government and the men who formed it (with not inconsiderable contributions from women) for what they really are and always have been in our history. These founding fathers are neither the infallible icons nor the over-entitled patriarchal devils of political extremists' fantasies. Rather, 1776 shows them as flawed but nonetheless gifted men who were able to recognize and seize a moment in history. Likewise, the republic they founded - and the process if governing it - is messy and imperfect, especially when it comes to matters of great importance.

This trailer for the early-70s film version encapsulates that quite nicely amid the singing (sorry that the sound quality is iffy in spots).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Iiiy8GnBNI&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Wagging the Critical Dog

I don't often recommend movie reviews, but i sincerely recommend that people check out Ann Hornaday's review of This Is the End in yesterday's Washington Post. This is not so much about the quality of the review but rather its value in explaining why audiences don't value the opinions of movie critics. Yes, Hornaday is a better writer than some of her Post colleagues such as "Celebritologist" Jen Chaney, but so is my pet guppy. There's no excuse for sentences like Hornaday's following assault on sensible English.

"As both homage and sendup, it presents viewers with the ultra-meta image of a comedy genre eating its own tail."

A reference to something "eating its own tail" is dangerous ground for any film critic, as it's an area of writing whose practitioners frequently flirt with doing just that. There are exceptions to be sure. The writing of the late Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael, as well as the very much living Peter Travers, displays an understanding that the movie and the audience are the thing - not the critic. That bit of self awareness seems lost on Hornaday. Where a good critic's writing rewards the reader with insight as to whether a movie is worth their effort, Hornaday's is simply an effort without the reward.

Galactica In Name Only?

After watching the pilot episode of the original Battlestar Galactica for the first time in a few years, it struck me how confused someone who only knows the 21st century version - frequently called BSG - might be. As many have noted, though numerous characters have the same (or, at least, very similar) names, they're very different between the two programs. Most people making that observation do so to disparage the more recent version as "Galactica in name only", that's not my intention here. 

Personally, I enjoy both versions but that's a separate discussion. My mission here is simply to offer the following cheat sheet to help novices distinguish the original's key characters from those of BSG.

Adama with Better Skin
Apollo with Fewer Daddy Issues
Starbuck with Less Balls
Less attractive Boomer
Less Weasely Baltar
Sober Tigh

Honorable mention goes to Cassiopeia who, between the pilot and the regular series, was switched from being a prostitute to a medic. Had she been included in the 21st century edition, doubtless they would have kept her as a prostitute. If I had to name a true missed opportunity on the part of the makers of BSG, not incorporating her would definitely be it.

What's In a Name, Doctor?

After watching last night's season finale of Doctor Who, coyly titled The Name of the Doctor, there can be no doubt that Steven Moffat is the most amazing writer working in television. In case that sounds like hyperbole, it seems appropriate to point out that I used to think he was the best writer in television, but the past couple of seasons on Doctor Who have forced me to adjust my view somewhat. 

What makes Steven Moffat so amazing, at least as far as his recent work for Doctor Who, is that he has so many great ideas. Unfortunately, he also has a great many awful ideas. Moreover, because he has no apparent ability or desire to discern between the great and terrible, both end up on screen.

Last night offered the same mix of really great moments and things that made me groan. Thankfully, the episode started off with one of the former, a love letter to the show's 50 year history, before veering into silliness involving a spatio-temporal psychic conference call. Perhaps no other element of Steven Moffat's tenure as the show's head writer embodies his Jekyll and Hyde nature as the character of River Song, and her return displayed both sides of the coin. Having a character whose meetings with the Doctor are out of order was a perfect idea for Doctor Who, and her appearance in The Name of the Doctor fits very well conceptually. However, the romantic angle with her and the Doctor has been so overplayed that most of their scenes come across like a demented take on the manic-pixie-dream-girl scenario and undercut what should be key dramatic moments.

Likewise, Moffat's other supporting characters have quickly worn out their welcome. When Madame Vastra and her partner Jennie were introduced, the characters felt novel, but their subsequent appearances have just been bland. On the plus side, though, they're not as annoying as Strax. A Sontaran medic who owes an immense debt to the Doctor was a great idea - for a single appearance. I was tired of him after last year's Christmas episode, and neither of the two subsequent experiences has endeared him to me any further. There was a time when recurring characters were something to look forward to, but we're a long way from Jack Harkness, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart or even Sabalom Glitz. 

Underlying all this, though, are a pair of abiding truths that I believe are applicable to all fans of Doctor Who - at least those of my generation. We're as hopeful as we are masochistic. As often as we're disappointed by the show, we keep watching in the hope that things will get better. The advantage of a program built on constant change is that that's never a false hope. For all my frustrations about last night's episode, it would be churlish of me to deny that I'm looking forward to the next one. Somehow, even after all the years where it seemed like Doctor Who would never return to television, the six months between now and the special episode to mark the show's 50th birthday seem exceptionally long.

The Wit & Widsom of Johnny Dollar

One of the great things about radio drama among all the forms of mass-media entertainment is the emphasis it gives to the human voice as the driver of the story. Though imaginative sound design often helps set the scene, it's rarely used to paper over narrative shortcomings the way visual effects are in TV and movies. This is especially true for detective dramas, which like their literary counterparts are often told in the first person. For many fans of radio drama, the long-running series Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar was a pinnacle of the genre.

With each case presented in flashback as the title character adds up the expenses incurred in the course of investigating that week's insurance matter, even the most minute items could be a big part of the story with the telling key to "seeing" how they all fit together. Very often the finest moment of any story would come at the end when Johnny finishes his report and offers his remarks on the case. In many ways, particularly during Bob Bailey's tenure in the lead role, it was a microcosm of what made the show so great.

Even in a genre whose success often hinged on the quality of the main character's narration, Bailey's delivery of the various writers' sardonic dialogue under Jack Johnstone's direction typically added up to something special. Two particular examples have stuck with me as I've been revisiting these programs as research for my documentary about the program (whateverbecameofjohnnydollar.blogspot.com), each by one of old-time radio's best writers. One is from The Cui Bono Matter (by Les Crutchfield) and the other from The Markham Matter (by E. Jack Neuman writing as John Dawson). Both are noteworthy not just for how they speak to the plot but also the way they display Johnny's character.

The Markham Matter: "In the end it was his attempt to run away, and it didn't work. It never works. Even if you get away, you find something new to run from."

The Cui Bono Matter: "When you gave me this assignment, Don, you asked a question, a phrase in Latin: cui bono? Who benefits? So, here is your answer: nobody."

If you've never heard these stories before, and even if you have, they're both well worth a listen.

To Err Is Human - Compassion Should Be Too

I can't say I'm surprised by the negative reactions from those who live near the site where Boston Marathon bomber Tamerlan Tsarnaev after the news broke that he'd been buried somewhat covertly at a small Islamic cemetery not too far from Richmond, Virginia. Nor could I say I'm not disappointed by the lack of understanding and compassion it displays. I'm thinking specifically of Imam Ammar Amonette of the Islamic Center of Virginia who's responsible for this comment.

“Now everybody who’s buried in that cemetery, their loved ones are going to have to go to that place.” 

And his point would be...well, what exactly? Is there some sort of morals clause to be satisfied for a proper burial? Does Amonette think it's his place to judge? 

Last I checked, Tsarnaev is dead, which makes any remaining judgment the province of (insert name of deity here). Here on Earth, we give our enemies a decent burial not because we're weak but because we're strong enough to show compassion. Failing that, we can tell ourselves we do it so we can gloat over their worm-ridden bodies. Either way, what's so damn hard to understand here?

Rethinking a Golden Age

Like many fans of old-time radio, I always tended to think of the golden age of radio as a single era. As I've been researching a film project about the end of that period, an intriguing book by radio historian Jim Cox entitled Say Goodnight Gracie: The Last Years of Network Radio has made me realize how important seeing radio's heyday as a series of eras within the larger era is to understanding the development of old-time radio. More specifically, it helped me appreciate how various external factors impacted the development of some of its best loved programs, especially in the 1950s.

Though radio was still the dominant medium at the start of the decade,  television was starting to erode the mass audience for whom radio had been the primary form of entertainment. As the 1950s went on, many long-running radio shows ended, including icons like The Shadow. Some programs found second lives on television. Some programs, like the soap opera The Guiding Light, co-existed in both TV and radio for a time. The majority of shows simply vanished. Much of this was driven by the sponsors, who once supported the lion's share of radio programming, deciding that television was where they wanted to put their resources. And though many classic shows suffered as a result, there was also a curious, and in some ways beneficial, flip-side to that shift.

Though both audience sizes and sponsor support for radio programming were declining, there was still a substantial audience for the networks to serve. More to the point, there was airtime that these networks needed to fill and, as much as possible, fill cheaply. Those factors turned out to be a genuine boon for radio drama. Unlike the star-driven music and variety programs which required large (i.e. expensive) casts and orchestras, dramas could be made for a fraction of the cost. Cox cites the average weekly production cost of a variety program as $40,000, whereas a detective series might only cost $4000-$7000. In contrast to the reality/competition driven network line-ups of today, the economics of broadcasting in the 1950s actually favored scripted drama.

It wasn't just economics, though, that benefited radio drama. By the middle of the decade, the audience that was still loyal to radio drama was also a more discerning audience that desired more substantive story-telling of the kind offered by writer-driven programs like Gunsmoke and X Minus One. This was the environment into which actor Bob Bailey and writer/director/producer Jack Johnstone stepped in 1955 when the mystery series Yours Truly Johnny Dollar began its year-long run of character-driven long-form narratives that ultimately led to it becoming the very last continuing drama of radio's golden age. That the same factors that ultimately doomed radio-drama in America were also a factor in some of its greatest shows is the sort of irony that would have been very much appreciated by Matt Dillon, Johnny Dollar and the other well-drawn characters that made old-time radio's final decade in many ways its finest decade.

Anger As a Renewable Resource

Last night, I commented online that the capture of the Boston bombing suspect was a good thing, because it meant we could forget about the actual victims. This prompted a friend to take me to task for what they felt was an ugly display of pessimism. Rather than offending me, this made me consider why I write what I do. While I don't generally set out to offend friends (or any sensible person), the truth is that there are times when saying things that border on indecency feels like the only humanly decent reaction. I once wrote that the reason I'm always trying to be funny is because the alternative is to be angry all the time. Recent events have led me to concede that I'm not as funny as I'd like to think I am and I'm usually angrier than I should be. Now, if only that energy could be harnessed, dependency on crude oil and coal would plummet.

Linguistic Boners

Like many who've had an embarrassing moment in junior high-school when asked to do a math problem at the front of the classroom, I understand why the word "boner" is often used to refer to a mistake. Many other pejorative terms, though, leave me scratching my head (hello nurse). For instance, why do people insist on using the expression "jerk off" as an insult? We're talking about something that gives a great many people a great deal of pleasure. For that matter, the same question should be asked of the word "cocksucker". Let's face it, anyone who doesn't equate that word with pleasure has never had direct experience with anyone who fits that description (a description I mean as anything but a negative). Surely, that's their loss, but it needn't be anyone else's.

It Was a Little Hot to Have Cheese with My Whine

Let me preface this by acknowledging that what I'm about to write falls squarely under the heading of first-world problems. With that said, I am a big believer that, if one holds a job that has a very clear-cut description but can't fulfill key elements of that description, you might be in the wrong line of work.

My understanding of the term "professional driver" is that it refers to an individual who is paid not only to get me from point A to point B but also to know how to get to said point B or at least its general vicinity given the address. While I appreciate that they may need some guidance within my neighborhood, said "professional driver" should not need me to tell them which exits/roads to take to get to my neighborhood, especially when I just got off the plane from a transatlantic flight.

This sentiment - bordering on resentment - was very deeply felt the other day due to the combination of starting that day at the equivalent of 10 pm, spending virtually all of the subsequent 16 hours in either an airport or an airplane. Going from that to Washington DC traffic in a car whose air-conditioning was blowing hot air while the outside temperature was around 80 degrees was sufficient to curdle any vestiges of the milk of human kindness within me.

I'm confident the air-conditioning will be fixed. As far as the driver's more fundamental issue, that's anyone's guess.

Occam's Bowie

I felt compelled to wait before writing about the latest David Bowie album not because I didn't think it was good but rather because I think it may be among his great ones and that's a claim you don't make without taking some time to ponder it. Depending on what denomination of Bowie-ism you practice, The Next Day is his best since either Let's Dance or Scary Monsters. What's most intriguing, though, is the reason why.

Part of it is the songs, which are some of the most consistently good of Bowie's whole career. However, what ultimately makes The Next Day so good is that it's a true return to Bowie's approach of remaking pop music genres in his own image. In this case he's embraced the fact that "Bowie" has become a genre in its right.

To some extent this was true of his other post-millennium albums, Heathen and Reality, both of which had some great moments. With a decade's hindsight - and The Next Day as a point of comparison - they seem to have been so focused on proving that the "Bowie" genre was worth embracing that they couldn't transcend it. The difference with The Next Day is that, having proven the Bowie genre's worth, the 21st century model of David Bowie has opted to run with it as far and as fast as he can. Your mileage may vary but I think this is one for the long run.

Who Goes There

Yesterday turned out to be a doubly interesting day for Doctor Who. Not only did the latest run of episodes start on the BBC (including BBC America), a publishing glitch led to the hasty announcement that the show's 50th anniversary story in November would feature at least one past Doctor in the form of David Tennant. The March 30th timing of that news was amusing because it marked eight years since another hasty BBC announcement involving the show's casting - that Christopher Eccleston would be leaving the role which was followed immediately by talk that David Tennant was the favorite to succeed him.

That 2005 announcement turns out to have been a turning point in the show's history, in many ways directly responsible for both of yesterday's main events. The casting of Tennant coupled with the BBC committing to two full series all but guaranteed Doctor Who would be on TV for new stories when its 50th anniversary came around, making it highly appropriate that Tennant should be a part of the upcoming celebratory story. At the same time, the BBC's decision - after years of ambivalence - to embrace Doctor Who not just as a regular part of its lineup but also a key commercial brand largely marked the end of 21st century Doctor Who as an attempt at melding serious drama with crowd-pleasing spectacle.

Instead the balance shifted - gradually at first then accelerating as Tennant gave way to Matt Smith - almost entirely to the spectacle with the dramatic underpinnings becoming simultaneously flimsier and more overdone, however enjoyable the results turned out to be, which leads to last night's episode. The Bells of St. John was certainly fun and clever in many ways and included some well-executed nods to the show's history. In those respects it was far better than each of the two stories - both written by Steven Moffat - that preceded it.

Being neither fun nor clever, Angels in Manhattan came across mainly as a live-action marketing brochure for Doctor Who's renewed fandom in America. The only truly distinctive element was its attempt to manipulate viewers' emotions without any real dramatic foundation, expecting us to accept that the man who's coped with the deaths of numerous friends over hundreds of years is suddenly devastated by his separation from a couple of relatively recent additions to his life that he knows pretty much lived happily ever after.

The Snowmen was a better story, but it was dragged down by the pointlessly dour portrayal of The Doctor and the return of the Sontaran Strax. Though Strax was intended, as comic relief, it still brought to mind the mid-80s approach to continuity where a lot of potentially good Doctor Who stories were undercut by having established monsters and villains grafted on to them for no good reason.

In contrast, the references to past stories in The Bells of St. John fit perfectly. It's tempting to suggest that it harkens back to the Christopher Eccleston season, but I'm reluctant to go that far. There are good signs that Steven Moffat is approaching the mystery of new companion Clara in a way will be worth watching for the payoff, but his tenure to date as head-writer makes it seem equally likely that he'll fall back on his normal bag-of-tricks, which are already providing diminishing results.

However, for all my reservations, the fact remains that Steven Moffat is probably the best writer in the show's long history, better even than old-school fan-favorite Robert Holmes, another Doctor Who writer who also deployed an established bag of tricks with varying results. Like Moffat, Holmes was a writer who could take many of the same plot elements and in two different stories create both one of the show's dramatic triumphs (The Caves of Androzani) and its most ridiculous (The Power of Kroll). In a similar fashion, it will be interesting to see which Steven Moffat shows up over the rest of the year.

Hindsight May Be 20/20 But Delusion Is 100%

I had trouble deciding which quote from this past weekend's Conservative Political Action Conference beat exemplifies what ails the 21st century incarnation of the "party of Lincoln". There were simply too many good choices. Ted Cruz and Sarah Palin made stronger cases to get my vote here than would have been the case in an actual election, but simply picking their entire speech as the quote seemed like a cheat. Ultimately, I settled on NRA President David Keene. His comment that CPAC attendees "know deep down, as Ronald Reagan did, that we don't have to change" was a beautifully concise display of obliviousness. Apparently, Keene needs to read up on Reagan's positions, including those on firearms, a number of which would have made him unwelcome at CPAC. I'm sure there's a good joke to be made about this being a "time for choosing", but I need a - pardon the term - shot of espresso to wake me up first.

Race-ing to the Middle

With the two-party system ambling toward obsolescence, it's becoming clear that race - and racism - is not just a good way to redefine political affiliation, it's just about the only sensible way to do so.

It's not about us and them anymore - at least not an "us" and "them" defined as relatively equal segments of society. Rather, it's about a large "us" and several smaller groups of "them". The clearest way to see this  - and the developing obsolescence of left versus right - is through race and how people process the racial identity of others.

People on the left are busy outdoing each other in an effort to demonstrate how non-racist they are, while the right is split between those who are trying to prove how racist they are and the people who say they're "not racist, but...." Meanwhile, those of us in the middle, whether we tilt left or right, are too busy coming to grips with the fact that we have at least a generation's worth of prejudices to rise above that we can't be bothered to worry about outdoing anyone.

Surrender in the War of Ideas

After reading about the recently launched social network site Tea Party Community, designed as a haven for conservatives victims of "liberal bullying" on Facebook, I have just one question. I'll try to make it as polite as possible but can't promise success. Here goes...

Would these cry-babies like some cheese with their whine?

OK, that wasn't polite, let alone nice, but frankly there's no reason to be on this. Not only is it a wrongheaded approach, it's also a very un-American one. America's greatness is about the clash of ideas, not shutting out the ones you don't like or pretending inconvenient facts don't exist.

In case these misguided fellow Americans haven't realized it, the issue is not that people are discussing things about which they disagree. The issue is that we the people seem to have lost the ability to consider that other people might have highly valid reasons for holding opposing ideas. That's not surprising since partisans on all sides have trouble remembering that holding different ideas than you does not make that person less than human. I don't claim to know the answer to that problem, but I do know that people further isolating themselves in an ideological echo chamber is not going to help anything.

Plurality Rules

Lately, the observation that Republicans have failed to win a majority of the popular vote in five of the last six Presidential elections has been getting a lot of attention. Like many political factoids, it's true enough but isn't necessarily reason for Democrats to get overly excited, because Democratic candidates have only gotten popular vote majorities in three of those six elections. The 1992 and 1996 elections were both won with pluralities of the vote, with Bill Clinton never getting more than about 49%, and I think we all remember the 2000 election. As a country, we're still pretty evenly divided, giving us all the more reason to engage the people with whom we disagree rather than dismissing them as enemies.

Free Speech Fever

However much they may flirt with policy discussion, Presidential State of the Union addresses are ultimately an exercise in political theater. The President is ultimately the star of the show, but it's hardly surprising that other players want to get a share of the spotlight.

South Carolina congressman Joe "You Lie" Wilson set a pretty high bar, but Texas Representative Steve Stockman seems up the challenge, in part because he's bringing reinforcements. Stockman, whose issues with President Obama are well-documented has invited a guest who may have even more grievances with the President - yes, Ted Nugent. The invitation of the Motor City Madman points to a problem for the GOP, though perhaps not for the obvious reasons.

The problem isn't that Nugent is a somewhat overrated guitarist with chicken-hawk leanings who crapped in his pants repeatedly to get himself declared unfit for service in Vietnam but heaps inflammatory and sometimes foul rhetoric on anyone who doesn't fit his narrow view of American values, though, all those things are true. The problem lies with Republican elected officials and, in Mitt Romney's case, credible candidates who refuse to repudiate Nugent no matter how much crap he scrapes out of his old pants to flings at people who love their country just as much as he claims to do.

Patriotism has historically been the last refuge of the scoundrel, but many American politicians seem to have concluded that invoking "freedom of speech" is their best protection from actual principle. When a de facto political figure like Nugent or Trump makes a comment that pole-vaults over the line between discourse and disgusting, too many politicians are happy to wrap themselves in the Bill of Rights and invoke the First Amendment to insulate themselves without having to take an actual stand that risks alienating supporters. This is, of course, hypocritical and cowardly and as such misunderstands the point this fundamental right.

Freedom of speech, that is to say freedom from government regulation of speech, was incorporated into the Constitution so that the citizens of a country that fought a war for freedom could speak truth to power without fear of government reprisal. What that right does not convey, however, is freedom from consequences. Just because the government is precluded from restricting speech, except for narrow exceptions in the area of public safety, doesn't mean that an elected official doesn't have an obligation to call out inflammatory language for what it is. That's something Senator (and candidate) Obama came to understand about the speeches of Reverend Jeremiah Wright and something that self-identified patriots like Stockman (and Nugent) will never appreciate.

Stop, Bastard Time!

Though he never led his team to a Super Bowl victory, NFL Hall of Fame Quarterback Dan Marino continues to set the standards of greatness. Most recently, Marino has set an unparalleled standard for when you should make it known that you fathered a bastard love child. Round numbers are so cliche, but picking one's 28th wedding anniversary is simply genius - sleazy, tawdry, makes Brett Favre look like a model husband genius. I'd call Marino a magnificent bastard, but I wouldn't want to cause confusion with the undisputed bastard in his family. Way to go, Dan!

Our Sarah Jane

Actress Elisabeth Sladen who played perhaps the most iconic of all the Doctor's traveling companions, Sarah Jane Smith, would have been 67 today. Back in 2008 I remember watching the episode Turn Left, which depicted an alternate timeline where Sarah-Jane died saving the lives that the Doctor wasn't around to save. Even though I knew she'd be back at some point, when the Doctor Who universe returned to its normal state of fiction, it still made me sad. When Sladen died a couple years ago, it was of course sadder because it meant that Sarah Jane would never be back. For fans of my generation, I think that's even worse than Patrick Troughton or Jon Pertwee who we never knew as anything but past Doctors. Sladen was always Sarah-Jane, and one of the nicest things about the resurrection of Doctor Who several years back is that she remained a key part of the show's history. As the show's 50th year rolls along, it's unfortunate that Sladen and Sarah Jane are now only part of its past.

The Body Polite-ic

Today I discovered a key downside to being home sick - in addition to the sickness itself, of course. The Today Show gets really dubious after 9:00 am. This morning's main offender was several minutes of air-time - sponsored no less - spent talking with a woman who was upset that her son's preschool used "ladies first" and the attendant concept of "being a gentleman" to determine which kids in the class would use the bathroom first ahead of nap-time. I can only surmise that this woman's son is her only child, because otherwise she'd appreciate that getting multiple preschoolers to do anything in an orderly fashion is like herding barracudas - just with a slightly lower chance of getting bitten. Rather than jumping down the school's throat for using an admittedly old-fashioned approach to teaching good manners, perhaps she could have used it as a teaching moment for her own child to convey that there are multiple sets of customs that are used to display politeness.

Flash (aah-aah)

I've always enjoyed the 1980 film of Flash Gordon. Because I missed it in the theater, I've never seen it in its full outlandish glory until buying the Blu-ray the other day. Aside from the obvious praise about how good it looks in high-definition, my overall impressions have remained unchanged over the years.

1) As far as creating a comic-book atmosphere, it's about the truest adaptation of a classic character from that era of comics.

2) The American leads are pretty bad, but the supporting actors (mostly Brits) are wonderful, especially Brian Blessed as the borderline insane king of the Hawkmen.

3) The soundtrack by Queen remains awesome.

4) Between the blond beefcake being marched around in a speedo, the well-groomed man in the green suit speaking BBC English and - I suppose - the actress playing Ming the Merciless' daughter, I wonder how many young men came to appreciate their sexuality watching this movie.

5) The most implausible thing about the movie remains the idea that the New York Jets would actually have a quarterback good enough to fight off so many of Ming's soldiers singlehandedly.

Sex Bomb

With record stores seemingly an endangered species, along with bookstores, I've resolved to enjoy them while they last. It's not hard with the store just down the street from my office, because they have several racks of CDs priced $1.00 or less. Obviously, only the most uncritical music fan won't think at least some of their inventory is crap, but it's a rare visit that I don't find something worth picking up.

Today was no exception. I left with nine discs and that abundance left me with a dilemma. I can't decide which CD bargain I'm most excited about. I was able to narrow it down to two, but that's as far as I've gotten.

One was Roxy Music's album For Your Pleasure for a quarter, and the other was the CD-single of Toby Keith performing "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue" live (with a spoken intro) for a dime. Bryan Ferry is passionate about screwing those after whom he lusts, while Toby Keith is passionate about bombing those he hates. Who's to say which is better? I respect them both.

Down on Downton

The general consensus is that the first series of Downtown Abbey is a marvelous British period drama but the second run dipped in quality and turned into a soap opera. While there is some truth in that view, it overlooks one key thing not just about Downtown Abbey but also British period dramas in general. Most of the beloved costume dramas from the UK have a strong streak of soap opera in them.

This is as true of programs based on books like Brideshead Revisted and Poldark as it is of the show that Downtown Abbey most resembles - the original Upstairs Downstairs. It's also just as true of the first series of Downtown Abbey meaning that, while there was a distinct dip in quality between the first and second series, it would be a mistake to attribute it to the show suddenly becoming a soap opera. The real culprit seemed to be a lack of focus on the part of the writer, weaving in so many plot threads that not only was it was sometimes unclear which ones we should care about some of those we clearly are meant to focus on felt rushed such as the problems encountered by Mr. Bates late in the series.

Despite that, you have to give credit to the actors for continuing to approach even the more preposterous plot lines with conviction. This is most apparent with Brendan Coyle as Mr. Bates whose dignified performance is a stark contrast with the sensationalistic storyline he's been given. Coyle also starkly contrasts with Maggie Smith as the Countess, whose role has largely degenerated into throwing out pretentiously pithy comments every so often whether the story calls for it or not.

With the third series of Downtown Abbey premiering on PBS tonight, too long after its UK run for most American fans, the biggest question is not what will happen to Bates but rather whether it will be more like the first or the second. Whichever turns out to be the case, the new series is sure to have one thing in common with the previous ones, it will be the classiest soap opera on TV, and that's not a bad thing.

Overdue Sparks

Record companies have been so shameless about reissues since the 1990s that I'm pretty skeptical about buying new editions of albums I already own. This was the case of the reissue of Squeezing Out Sparks. I knew this reissue was out there and what was on it, but for whatever reason(s) I didn't feel the need to buy it. It's only now that I know firsthand what's on it that I appreciate the mistake I made and what I've been missing.

Simply put, the live recording of the entire album included here is a revelation. I've heard plenty of Parker's live performances, and while all of them are strong this batch is special. That's not to say that all the live versions are better than the studio recordings, but many are and even when they're not better Parker and the Rumour's energy - and the sheer strength of the songs themselves - carries the day. More than anything, they sound like they're trying to outrace the end of the world when the end of the world is only a step behind - and gaining. 

Even when the tempo slows down for the haunting "You Can't Be Too Strong", it's only a modest respite because that song still has plenty of edge and a bracing (and even angrier) rendition of "Passion is No Ordinary Word" is up next. This approach doubtless has a lot to do with the circumstances of the album's making. Without going too deep into its history (the liner notes summarize it well), it's fair to say that Squeezing Out Sparks was made at a time when Parker's musical life was join the line. Some bands wilt in that situation, but Parker and the Rumour embraced it and that same drive can be heard in these live performances. 

Between appearing in the movie This Is 40 and the new album with The Rumour, Three Chords Good, Parker is more high-profile than normal lately. I haven't seen This is 40, and despite some good songs I like the news album better in concept (and intention) than in execution. All that aside, there's no denying the quality of this album. You can make a case that some of Parker's other albums were better, but Squeezing Out Sparks was his defining moment. We have the tapes to prove it.