Watched Spider-Man last night, the new one. Peter is raised by President Bartlet and Mary Todd Lincoln. He doesn’t ride a champion horse in a previous life, but there’s still a lot to live up too, movie-wise. Dennis Leary is miscast, the logical conclusion of every joke from the 1980s. Aunt Mae is really Forrest Gump’s mother, after she faked her death in Greenbow. The timelines may match up.
There’s as much wrong with the movie as there is right. Peter Parker is too self-assured. Spider-Man has to be whiny and thoughtful. Imagine what he should be thinking in this scene:
That’s the best Stan Lee cameo so far, I think.
Finally, Emma Stone has always been too soulful to be a high school student, and she’s too old for the part, but cast her wherever you can. And, Gwen gets rid of Mary Jane for this movie, so that’s a victory. But she’s dating a spider, working for a lizard and the daughter of a man with a Cindy Crawford obsession. Poor Skeeter.
Also, Uncle President Ben Bartlet’s voicemail was a moving moment:
But when I watched that scene the second time I realized that the guy having a Rear Window poster in his room was easily the most interesting thing about the character. And that might not be the best endorsement ever.
Now for something kind-hearted: A local non-profit lost almost their entire line of product in the UPS crash in Birmingham yesterday. They employ women in India to keep them out of the sex slave trade. But now they have no product. Freeset is the organization’s name, and by virtue of some of our students’ work I know the excellent reputation they have.
So this nonprofit that just lost their entire inventory, that is worried about what that means for their on-the-precipice employees, is pledging to raise money for the pilots of that UPS flight. All of the proceeds of this Freeset shirt are going to the families.
Some people will amaze you. Some people will never stop doing it.
Ran a 5K tonight, if you count all of the walking. Something was hurting, so I shut it down. Aside from needing the conditioning and having a the benefit of a bit more conditioning and my general lousy form there was no need to press on while a bunch of things hurt.
So I walked a bit.
Saw this sign at the edge of someone’s yard:
A few years ago a local developer wanted to take all this beautiful wooded land that abuts a state park and the running/biking trail and a quiet little wooded neighborhood and put up Just Another Strip Mall. The neighbors fought it. The proposal was yanked. And they haven’t been heard from for several years.
But the sign is ready, and you have to appreciate that sort of vigilance.
You might not go in for poetry slams, but there’s something about this guy that is worth seeing.
There are two nice little moments in there in the second half, but right before the end there’s a big “Whoa” moment. You’re just not really prepared for that. Life surprises you like that sometimes. You have to be ready.
Had lunch at the vegetable place, which is easier than typing Crepe Myrtle Cafe, because I often misspell it.
I order the The Markets Roasted Veggie with Bulger Creek Farm Goat Cheese, because goat cheese makes everything better. You can’t even taste the balsamic, and you forget your eating grilled veggies out of a defective pancake.
And then I realized that I inherited my grandmother’s taste buds. This blueberry was bitterly sour. That blueberry was terribly sweet. As soon as I make this story more interesting I’ll have to call and tell her about it.
While we were eating we received a call. There was something we could do right then, if we could arrive at the place right now. Well. We’re just a bit away and can be there in 10 minutes. And so we were. Walked right in and took care of the appointment. It was that kind of day.
Visited the giant box store and picked up cards and box store things. The only problem was the woman who was about 55 and 4-foot-5 with six children with her. They blocked the aisle I really needed, but only for a moment. And then they disappeared in that way that means you won’t see them on the next aisle over — whatever that means. It was that kind of day, too.
Self check out, then, with no one in front of me, which meant I couldn’t make the joke about how people should be certified by the state to use those things. And the machine worked perfectly for a change. The disinterested self checkout herder could stay that way. Beep, beep, beep and we were done. Such a lovely day.
Forgot to buy a brake light for the car, but that was pretty much the extent of the day’s difficulties.
Back home and read and wrote and should have done more. We went out just before dark to run. I got in 5K and finished just at the point of darkness where I could see a silhouette without knowing who I was seeing. My run was not great, but none of them are. This one had its moments, though, where I stopped counting footfalls and exhausted breaths and just kept moving. My splits are still very poor.
Got home, cleaned up, had leftovers — a vegetarian pasta dish which makes six meals in a row with no meat. That can’t last forever.
Watched Men in Black 3, and became convinced that Josh Brolin can become anyone if you give him enough screen time. I was relieved when the kid, at the end, turned out not to be Jaden Smith. You just knew it would be. And IMDb says it almost was. The database says there is a MiB 4 in the works.
Here are all the problems with the third one. They were plentiful:
Kind of makes you not want to see a fourth one made, but then you can say that of most any series, now can’t you?
And, now, cuddling with the cat, who doesn’t even seem to mind so much that she went to the vet today. She doesn’t know she has to go back next week, though. And everyone is impressed by how young she behaves. We’re just fortunate all the way around, then. It was that kind of day.
adventures / Monday / video — Comments Off on A video of a sunset at altitude 12 Aug 13
We did conferences this morning, where there were sessions and many tweets and meeting people and plenty of good research and teaching ideas. The conference is a good one.
In the late afternoon we ventured over to see the nice people who work in our Congressman’s office. We know them because we are High Powered People. You should see The Yankee’s pictures which prove it.
Anyway, one of them gave us a lovely, personal and individualized tour of this place:
Maybe you’ve heard of it.
Each stand has two statues installed at the capitol. One of Alabama’s, the newest addition which was installed in 2009 by sculptor Edward Hlavka is Helen Keller:
She replaced Jabez Curry, whom hardly anyone remembers — our guide was surprised I knew who he was. But let’s be honest about this: I’m me. And Curry was important. Also, that statue is now two floors below my office on campus.
Here’s the other statue, of Fightin’ Joe Wheeler, a man so awesome he was a Confederate general and then, decades later, an American general. If they come any tougher than Fighting Joe you don’t want to know about it. He was born in Georgia, was raised in Connecticut and died in New York. But he considered himself a Southerner and represented Alabama in the House of Representatives for several terms. I guess that qualifies for statuary.
He went from lieutenant to colonel to general in about nine months and made major general by 27, which you could do in the calvary if you lived long enough. He fought at Shiloh, Corinth, Chickamauga and Chattanooga. He was just about the only thing that slowed down Sherman, fought in Knoxville, Atlanta and Savannah, but the Georgians nevertheless didn’t care much for Wheeler. In the scheme of things it was largely ineffectual. He also fought in the Carolinas and try to cover the cowardly retreat of Jefferson Davis. He was captured late in the war, but only after he’d been wounded three times and had 16 horses shot out from under him. Sixteen!
He commanded calvary in the Spanish-American War, and was over a young Theodore Roosevelt there. Edmund Morris, in his near-hagiography The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt has Wheeler anecdote I shared today (from pages 668 and 675, respectively):
According to invasion orders, Major General Joseph (“Fighting Joe”) Wheeler, commander of the Calvary Division, was supposed to follow Brigadier General H.W. Lawton of the 2nd Infantry Division to Siboney and remain there to supervise the rest of the landing operation while Lawton established himself farther inland on the Camino Real, or Santiago road. But not for nothing had Fighting Joe earned his nickname, and his reputation of “never staying still in one place long enough for the Almighty to put a finger on him.” The fact that Lawton was tall, and fought for the Union in the Civil War, while Wheeler was five foot two, and had been the leader of the Confederate cavalry, only intensified the latter’s ambition to be first to encounter “the Yankees — dammit, I mean the Spaniards.” Needless to say, this attitude endeared him to the Rough Riders. “A regular game-cock,” was Roosevelts opinon of the bristling little general.
[…]
The way was now open for a final grand charge by all the American forces, with Roosevelt commanding the extreme left, Wood commanding the center, and the regulars on the right advancing under orders from General Wheeler himself. About nine hundred men broke out into the open and ran up the valley (Roosevelt stopping to pick up three Mauser cartridges as souvenirs for his children), their rifle-cracks drowned in the booming of four Hotchkiss mountain-guns. Like ants shaken from a biscuit, some fifteen hundred Spaniards leaped from their rock-forts along the ridge and scattered in the direction of Santiago. “We’ve got the damn Yankees on the run!” roard Fighting Joe.
He also commanded a brigade during the Philippine-American War until January 1900. He wrote five books, co-authored several more and appeared in an early film, Surrender of General Toral. He’s one of the few former Confederates buried at Arlington. This statue has been on display at the Capitol for 88 years. And he’s always been in front of Sam Houston:
That statue, with Wheeler in Confederate uniform, was made by Berthold NebelBut that means that northwest Alabama is over-represented at the Capitol. I wonder if anyone has figured that out yet.
This clock was on display in the House of Representatives chamber for almost 75 years, from around the Civil War until just before the stock market crashed. (The clock had nothing to do with either, we’re sure.) The gilded oak case was designed by Joseph A. Bailly and built by the A. Bembe and Kimbel Company. The bronze eagle was modeled by Guido Butti, who did a lot of Capitol work, and cast by Archer, Warner, Miskey and Company. William H. Rinehart designed the Indian and Hunter figures. They were cast by Cornelius and Baker.
This is the original Supreme Court. Just outside the door are the hooks where they hanged their robes. The nameplates are a new addition. But this is where the Justices heard arguments and that railing there, just on the other side of the padded seat, is thought to have given us the phrase “passed the bar.”
This Magna Carta replica was given to us by the UK. The presentation case is stainless steel, clad in gold and white. The panel in the front is inscribed with a replica of the Magna Carta and has replicas of King John’s seal. The vertical glass panel is the English translation.
There are symbolic decorations of Adam and Eve, 50 diamonds representing the states, above a dove and a tree of life, a snake representing evil, the fruit of original sin and mistletoe. There’s the Tudor Rose of England, the Shamrock of Ireland, thistles of Scotland and daffodils of Wales. Thirty-one craftsmen worked on this case, designed by the man who made Prince Charles’ investiture crown.
It was presented to celebrate the bicentennial of American independence, in 1976. The oldest original copy of the Magna Carta rested here for a year.
This is the old Senate chamber. It was used from 1810 until 1859. Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, all of the names you read about in history class sat here. Many of the desks (now reproductions as the surviving originals have been moved to the modern Senate) have books placed on them marking historic figures or events.
That is an original George Washington painting, by Rembrandt Peale. The desk where the vice president sat is also original. Our guide mistakenly, or not so mistakenly, called it a throne.
This room was never humble. The Congress has always thought of themselves as better than the rest of us:
This is the famous, and famously incorrect John Trumbull painting.
John Adams explains it himself:
Here’s a more … clever … interpretation of Trumbull’s vision. Nevertheless, this is the first completed painting of four Revolutionary-era scenes that the U.S. Congress commissioned from John Trumbull.
Speaking of paintings. Did you know that Samuel Morse dabbled with the colors? Morse of the Morse code Morses, that is. This is a study for the old House of Representatives chamber. He did this around 1821, to prepare for a nine-by-11 foot painting of the space.
There is apparently only one section of floor in the Capitol that is mosaic. This is one corner of it:
This Ronald Reagan, sculpted by Chas Fagan statue is in the Capitol rotunda as one of California’s two statues. The Tennessee Rose marble pedestal includes a narrow band of concrete pieces from the Berlin Wall. You can just see it at the bottom of the photo.
One of my favorite things about Washington is the symbolism and how so many small details of history and meaning are intertwined in everything, just like that statue. Also, if you want to see more about all of the state’s statues, here’s the official site.
I’d almost completely forgotten about this, but our guide suggested we go see the Toomer’s Oak on Capitol Hill before the rains came. If I’d been on top of my game I would have visited a restroom in the Capitol, grabbed some toilet paper and did this up proper. But we rolled it anyway, with TP from the Cannon Building, one of the Congressional offices.
We carefully removed the paper after taking a few pictures.
The Library of Congress, which is situated across from the Capitol:
We took the Metro over to Arlington National Cemetery. We walked around for a long time, seeing the Kennedy’s and several Alabama men, a Medal of Honor winner Harry Parks and more generals than you can shake an admiral at.
We made it up to the tomb just in time to see the changing of the guard.
We also walked over to Dean Hallmark’s grave. I wrote about him. His cousin is my friend. The two men buried on either side of him are also Doolittle Raiders. Elite company on that quiet little hill.
We had a lot of walking today — and my feet would tell you all about it — and more tomorrow.
Up and at ’em today. We finished packing bags and took to the interstate and across the state line into Georgia and then on to the airport in Atlanta.
I neglected to remove my wallet from my pocket at security — which is pretty standard for me. This alarmed the helpful blue shirt, so he ran it through the X-ray after pronouncing it a big wallet. It was fine, because there’s nothing in my wallet that frightens anyone except the absence of money.
He brought back my wallet and I shared my relief that he’d pronounced it safe for a representative democracy. He asked if he I was a writer, because I was sarcastic and had a beard and “writers don’t care about their facial hair.”
That’s profiling, sir.
So I shaved tonight.
Here are some of the clouds from our flight:
We are officially health nuts. The first thing we did when we got to D.C. was go for a jog. Ran by this place:
I was offering people a dollar if they’d just go up to the police and say “Hey, that sure is nice. Who lives there?”
We ran 3.6 miles and it all felt good, which means it felt weird because there is no way that should feel good. But it did.
Jogging wasn’t supposed to be the first thing we did. We had scheduled a Segway tour of the capitol, but our plane was delayed. All three cities involved — where our plan was coming from, where we were departing from and where we were arriving, were all simultaneously socked in. That pushed us back several hours.
And so we did our bit of exercise, got cleaned up and hit Bangkok Thai, close to our hotel. Got a cookie from the CVS surrounded by loud, profane, angry beggars — ahh, D.C. — and then back to the room to iron clothes for tomorrow.
