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| by Duncan Mercredi, Inninew/Cree
famine begets hunger distended bellies beget tears
children dance the devil’s tune
blood spills and another butterfly dies
silenced rivers criss-cross by humming wires
fish float belly up
and I feel the poison in my blood
burning forests clear cuts scar the land
blue waters turn red then black
suicidal whales hit the beaches
awash in oil a bird dies
broken treaties broken bodies
money pays for guns not food
people shoat at people who could be brothers
pieces of cloth stitched together
another star’s light fades from the sky
a sister lives in fear of the night
children selling bodies
for a bit of pain killer
other men decide our futures
as we stand outside the gate
watching brothers pocket their seven pieces of silver
riots death dreams rising into the sky on smoke
jesus came down to listen to the wolf sing
and found him dying
smeared on his body a message
thou shalt not kill
jesus raised his arms to the sky
and cried why hast thou forsaken me
the priest smiled his smile
as god shrugged and turned his back | | |
| I had to keep telling myself last night that it was just a game, but I couldn’t help but be crushed. Playing the part of the jilted lover, I am still taking sports far too seriously. For those of you who do not follow the NBA, the Golden State Warriors just opened up a 3-1 series lead in the first round of the playoffs against my beloved Dallas Mavericks. But I mean, come on, it’s just a game, right?
And that's where I’d be wrong. For us fans, it's not just a game! A little history for you: The Mavs had an incredible regular season. They were 67-15, tying for the sixth best record in the NBA of all time. They weren't just good, they were historically good. They started the season 0-4, which in itself is in no way promising. But since that horrid start, they have gone 67-11. Now, in the first round, they are one game away from elimination.
Ironically, this is just the kind of story with which I resonate. I am drawn to tragedy and darkness. In my opinion, tragedy bares brutal honesty to the human spirit, something comedy rarely intimates. But I cannot so envision the Mavs’ struggles for I have become wrapped up in the essence of watching sports: their story has become my story. We as fans take on the identity of the team and internalize their successes and failures. When the Indianapolis Colts won the championship, the fans said, “We won the Super Bowl!” In reality, most just sat on their couches drinking beer and paying the cable bill. Or, look at the response of St. Louis Cardinals fans to the death of pitcher Josh Hancock.
Still, the Mavericks are my team. I want a happy ending here. I want to be able to say that the team that I root for and will always root for—barring cataclysmic nuclear apocalypse—made it to the pinnacle. I don't want to be the one to live with the consequences of human darkness and depravity. I want to see everything that is good and virtuous in humanity rise up to the challenge and honorably take the prize, even if it is only a perishable wreath.
I don't want to see my world fall apart again. I want to be able to carefully and critically reconstruct a reality that I know won't be torn down with a few fell observations and a realization that I've never stopped building on sand. I don't want to pull back the curtain to find out that the One that I've tried so hard to have faith in is just as bitter old man pulling knobs and strings to get what he wants by bully others into doing his bidding. No, no, no. I want to believe.
So maybe this is where I fleece God and offer an ultimatum. Either grant the Mavericks the title this year, or I'm out for good. I could do that, but it probably would be a little petty. So I’ll resign myself to another tragedy, and life can go on as before. I mean, come on, it's just a game, right? | | |
| Today is a wonderful day in Jersey. It's raining, and there are few sounds I find more enjoyable than the light fall of rain. But today is also a wonderful day in that it was my last day of class in my first year here at Princeton Seminary. Never mind that I still have just over a week and a half to finish four papers, it is still a good day. Nevertheless, this has not been the best day of my week so far. That was Tuesday.
You see, on Tuesday, I was given a gift by a dear friend of mine. It is a gift that I cannot repay nor will I ever be; he introduced me to Stephen Colbert. That's right, he and I and a couple of others took the train to NYC down to 54th street to be a part of a live taping of The Colbert Report on Tuesday afternoon. Some thoughts from the show:- Every single person working in that studio was far too gracious. The Audience Manager Mark Malkoff, or Little Stephen as we called him, was incredibly kind. At one point, Erin pulled out her cell phone to take a picture of the set, and he came over to tell her to please put that away. Feeling guilty, he was back a minute later to apologize for having to get on to her and being mean. Even the security guard spoke with kindness and good manners, though he was big enough to hurt any one of us in the studio audience. He even smiled.
- If the show's staff are gracious, it's only because Stephen himself is even more so. Watching The Report I realize that this is satire at it's finest, mostly because a significant portion of the viewers do not realize that it is indeed satire. But even so, I was sure that Stephen himself had to bear some resemblance to the character of Stephen Colbert that he plays. I was wrong, dead wrong. He could not be more humble, likeable, and generally kind than his alter ego is arrogant, vexatious, and generally a prick. Before the show started taping, he came out to let us ask him some questions, anything we wanted. He wanted, in his words, "to humanize myself before I start to play this horrendous person."
- Yes, I did just call him "Stephen" because he is a real human being to me now, not unlike how Bill O'Reilly is the precise opposite of a human being.
- Speaking of Bill O'Reilly, I was able to personally see the microwave stolen from The O'Reilly Factor's green room proudly displayed on the shelf. Apparently Stephen and his assistant just walked out of the Fox News building with it, though that is not the "official" story being disseminated by FoxNews. However, they forgot to check to see if anything was left in it when they walked out, and when they opened it up back at Colbert HQ, they found O'Reilly's after-show snack, a dead baby. That's right, Bill O'Reilly eats babies.
- I gave Stephen Colbert a high five!
- The entire show, with the exception of the last minute-long segment was done in one take, no repeats. That my friends is showmanship.
- At one point between tapings, Stephen flipped a quarter up, kicked it with the heel of his shoe, and caught it without missing a beat. His response? "I couldn't do that again if you put a gun to my head." He was just as surprised as we were.
- Stephen clearly likes D.C. Representative Eleanor Holmes Norton. While watching clips from their combative interviews on the monitor between his monologues, he couldn't help but laugh at their relationship.
- Between show segments, Stephen picks the music that everyone listens to, and not only does he have good taste but he also sings the words along when he isn't reading his notes or talking with the director and stage manager. I only wish that I could remember just what it was that they played.
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| Apparently there's this silly game you play with iTunes where you put your player on shuffle and see what comes up. Then you take down the songs in order (no skipping, except for instrumental tracks or repeats from another album) no matter how embarassing, and see where they fall according to the schema. I played in an effort to delay another paper, but the results were ironic enough to post, and thus continue delaying the inevitable.
Oh, and I stole this from someone who previously absconded with it from another site. I'd tell you that you were free to do likewise, but that would take all the fun out of theft.
1. Opening Credits
“Mansion on the Hill" — Bruce Springsteen, Live in New York City
...Oddly prophetic.
2. Waking Up
“No One Loves Me Like You Do" — Jars of Clay, If I Left the Zoo
...I didn't even know that I still had Jars of Clay buried in my library anymore.
3. First Day of School
“Granny" — Dave Matthews, The Gorge
...I was actually a bit of a player in elementary school. I broke a lot of fourth-graders' hearts.
4. Falling in Love
“Speak to Me" — Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon
...Ah, the communication issue again.
5. Fight Song
“Down to the River" — Damien Rice, RTE Radio 1, January 2004
...Apparently, I'm not much of a fighter.
6. Breaking Up
“Learning to Breathe" — Switchfoot, Learning to Breathe
...Well she was suffocating me.
7. Prom
“Ashes of American Flags" — Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
..."All my lies are always wishes, I know I would die if I could come back new," indeed.
8. Life
“I Can't Get Next to You" — The Temptations, The Ultimate Collection
...Sounds about right.
9. Mental Breakdown
“It's All Over Now Baby Blue" — Bob Dylan, Bringing It All Back Home
...There is one Lord, Jesus Christ, and Bob Dylan is his prophet.
10. Driving
“Dolores" — Frank Sinatra, The Popular Frank Sinatra, Volume 1
...Nothing clever here.
11. Flashback
“Twisted Logic" — Coldplay, X&Y
...One cateory too early.
12. Getting Back Together:
“JTR" — Dave Matthews Band, Live at Folsom Field, Boulder, Colorado
..."Who is the one to break up, break up," okay, that's just wierd.
13. Wedding
“The Setting Sun" — Switchfoot, Nothing is Sound
...Insert cliché here.
14. Birth of Child
“What is the Light?" — The Flaming Lips, The Soft Bulletin
...That one is kind of funny.
15. Final Battle
“Something's Missing" — John Mayer Trio, Try!
...More than just something, a hell of a lot.
16. Death Scene
“Down the Highway" — Bob Dylan, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan
...Enough said.
17. Funeral Song
“I've Had Enough" — The Who, Quadrophenia
..."I've had enough of living
I've had enough of dying
I've had enough of smiling
I've had enough of crying
I've taken all the high roads
I've squandered and I've saved
I've had enough of childhood
I've had enough of graves...," just brilliant.
18. End Credits
“You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go" — Bob Dylan, Blood on the Tracks | | |
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