I have to say, though, that I was pretty let down by the movie.  I’d give a soft “B.”  There were scenes where it was glaringly obvious that computers added images to the screen.  And not just in the “oh, my god!  That technology is way more advanced than we have!” sense of obvious.  It felt like watching an old 1950s flick where the star is “driving” a car and yet the background motion and the steering wheel don’t quite match up.  Sometimes, the integration of the two was awesome and at other times, it felt like watching a Mr. Bill video.  It was just jarring.

But probably the most eye-gougingly annoying part of the movie was Michael Bay’s overuse of the 360 degree shot.  Or should I say 2880 degree shot.  STOP SPINNING AROUND THE ACTORS!!!!  It’s bad enough that he spun around one close up shot for about five minutes, but there was a setting sun in the back of one shot so once every rotation you were blessed with an extremely shot of the sun.  I suppose he realized he could combine both the panoramic shot and that classic “lost in the sun” shot of kissing lovers.  Either way it was a nauseating experience in more than one way.

Overall the movie was enjoyable enough.  Some funny dialog.  The language was coarser than I remember the first one being but I didn’t mind.  I thought it was pretty funny actually.  The story line was a little contrived but, let’s be honest.  We were there for robots and Megan Fox.  So it was ok.  I might see it again someday.  But unless you just really want to see it on the big screen, I’d wait for it to hit the rental market.

When getting everyone ready for school Friday, I heard a strange noise in/near the air conditioning unit in our bedroom.  I pulled up the shade and peeked out to find a squirrel next to the A/C unit.  Out on the rail of the fire escape, I saw another.  Curious, and mildly nervous, I opened the kitchen window to get a better look.  There were four squirrels all told.  One of them was responsible for the noise.  I couldn’t tell if it was pregnant or injured.  What was clear was that the other three were standing guard.

Armed with a dowel rod (fierce, I know) I banged on the fire escape trying to scare off the squirrels.  Normally, I couldn’t care less if the squirrels hung out on our fire escape.  Truth be told, I enoy it when they do.  But I was concerned that they were planning on whelping in the back end of the A/C unit.  And it was kind of a hot, humid day during which I was considering running the A/C to knock some of the humidity out of the air.  If I did, I’d rather not have the A/C unit fling squirrel stew meat in my face when I turned it on.

Eventually, they all jumped to the fire escape two buildings over.  But not before I relived Veruca Salt’s ignominious ejection from the tour of the chocolate factory.

I’m a youngish kid.  Say 10 for argument’s sake.  I’m walking through the house into the kitchen.  My mom is doing something in the kitchen.  Dad’s occupied elsewhere.  Suddenly I hear this noise outside.  Curious I open the back door and see a fat Mexican man bouncing back and forth. Like my friend, there to the right. Imagine him with a yellow suit and matching hat. So this guy is bouncing back and forth and singing/chanting something just below perceptibility.

Naturally, I’m really freaked out.  In the tradition of dreams and cartoons since time began, I jump straight up and latch on to a blade of the ceiling fan.  Of course, it can’t hold me so I crash to the kitchen table below causing it to collapse.  Not to be foiled in my attempt to flee, I run to the front door and fling it open.  What I see outside is a ring of the afforementioned fat Mexican guys holding hands, bouncing back and forth.  Still chanting.  Still can’t understand a word.  I seek refuge in the one remaining place in the house:  the attic.  I run to my sister’s bedroom, tear open the closet door, and push up the hatch to the attic.  I poke my head up through hole and peer inside the attic.  I’m greeted by thousands of these fat Mexican men (now miniaturized so they can all fit).  Yep.  Still bouncing.  Still chanting.  Still unintelligble.  It’s at this point that I mercifully wake up.

I’ve had this dream on several occasions.  I’m not sure why this one repeats.  Why couldn’t my subconcious latch on to something a bit more … attractive.  Anyway.  That’s the strangest dream I’ve ever had.  So, that’s me.  How about you?

I tried to ignore it.  I tried to keep working.  But there was that voice again!  Finally, I stand up and look as directly down as I can.  And there, right in front of my building, two flights down on the sidewalk is Peter Sarsgaard.  He’s talking to someone about somethingorother.  As I look down he crosses to the other side of the street.

So I guess what I’m trying to say with all this is just this:  Peter Sarsgaard lives in my area.  How cool is that? 

P.S.  Hey, Peter!  Stop by sometime! 

Seriously.  This is football not the Miss America contest.  I don’t really care about how many orphans he’s raised from the dead or how much water he’s turned into wine.  I’m not a leper so I don’t care about the healing properties of his sweat or how soothing it is to sit in his shadow.  I want to hear about football dammit!  stfu about how he personally nursed a litter of kittens back to health after he willed himself to lactate after saving them from a burning building.

But there is one good thing about all this.  Should something happen to Obama (heaven forfend!) at least we have a back up Messiah.

Now if you’ll pardon me, Tim just walked by outside and I need to touch the seam of his … athletic support.

But here’s my hope for the GOP tonight:  I hope they tank.  Hard.  I hope it such a blowout that they fall from grace so to speak.  I’d love to see a vacuum open up where third party voices start finding audiences.  Personally, I think the two party system is what leads to the vitriol in the elections.  People tend to vote solely within the confines of their own party’s candidates so there’s very little moderation needed to bring those guys in.  Instead, the candidates can then focus on destroying their opponents in an effort to win over the undecideds.  With just the one other viewpoint to “debate,” candidates aren’t really forced to appeal to anyone’s higher nature and instead resort to fear tactics, smear campaigns, and demogoguery.

So here’s to a total faceplant by the GOP.  (Even an Obama loss should sufficiently disrupt the Dems in a year when they should be able to walk away with the race).  And here’s to more voices around the table.  Here’s to actual debates and discussions in the political arena.  And here’s to rainbows and unicorns.  I’ll probably see those before I see the Dem/GOP duopoly broken up.  But a girl can dream, no?

Speaking of which…

After the aching finally fades, sometimes life is cruel enough to remind us of what we’ve lost.  It can be a familar sounding laugh, seeing an old movie you both enjoyed, the lost half of a pair of gloves owned by a former lover.  These poignant reminders bring back all the loss and heartache you’d thought you’d finally gotten over.  I had such a moment today.  The weather has turned cool enough here in NYC lately that a light jacket is a welcome addition to one’s wardrobe.  I put on a jacket and was walking to my daughter’s school to pick her up after school.  Slipping one hand into a pocket, I found the cover sleeve for an old umbrella and suddenly the loss came rushing back unexpectedly.  I thought I’d finally moved on.  But I haven’t.  I really miss that umbrella.

These candidates don’t steal votes.  They make their case and each voter who votes for them decides that (s)he agrees with, say, Ralph Nader more than the others and votes accordingly.  These votes were not the rightful property of anyone except the person who cast it.  To say these third party candidates are stealing votes from the Republican and Democrat candidates is to canonize the two party system and grant it formal stature that it neither has nor deserves.

Before the Civil War, it was common to hear of many different parties and even for politicians to change parties.  Even Abraham Lincoln started as Whig, switched to the Republican party, and end as a member of the National Union party.  But these days, any one not a member of the two dominant parties is often written off as a kook or fringe candidate.  Looking at how difficult it can be to determine Republican from Democrat these days, I think you’d have an awfully hard time proving this set up has been good for us.