DiCaprio or Not – What Makes a Performance Oscar Worthy?

How much does an actor or actress have to do to procure an Oscar nomination? It’s a topic of conversation that usually falls into the trap of appearances over substance. If an actor “suffers” for his art – as we have been told over and over again about Oscar nominee Leonardo DiCaprio in the making of The Revenant – does that add bonus points?

The problem goes far deeper than DiCaprio eating raw bison liver or floating in an icy river – it is about what we perceive as acting a part as opposed to what is a great performance. The devil is in the details and, alas, it makes all the difference.

A film like Concussion garnered great reviews, and anyone who has seen it knows Will Smith gives a dynamite performance as Dr. Bennet Omalu. While there has been a good deal of drama regarding the lack of diversity in this year’s Oscar nominations (Smith was not nominated for this film), putting that aside what about the performances?

Smith’s characterization is measured and subtle. He manages a foreign accent well, and he registers various extremes of emotion throughout. His character ages gracefully, and there is no dramatic weight gain or loss, no prosthetics, and nothing CGI about what he does in the film. In short, it’s just good, old fashioned, solid acting.

Comparing that to DiCaprio’s performance is kind of like apples and oranges, but DiCaprio lost the obligatory weight needed for him to portray a starving guy trapped in the wilderness. He gets beaten and partially devoured by a bear, buried in a shallow grave, thrown off a cliff, sleeps inside a horse carcass, and it goes on and on. Oh the slings and arrows of outrageous expectations of the part on this poor fellow!

While I enjoyed the film and the performance, it really falls in a different realm entirely. It’s sort of the Tom Hanks in Castaway or Robert De Niro in Raging Bull mode of acting, or we can even link it to Matthew McConaughey  in Dallas Buyers Club and Hanks again in Philadelphia. All of these are memorable performances in great films, but is the craft of acting shining through or is it all the physical effort by the actors to get into the part.

To give you some clue as to my background, earlier in life I trained to be an actor in New York City. While I took classes learning “the method” and had a teacher who studied with Stella Adler, I knew other actors who were getting more parts than I did with little or no training. One friend, who got a great part on a soap opera, said, “Vic, throw out that method crap and just be yourself.”

I think about this all these years later after I left the idea of acting behind, and I look at all these films and wonder about that. How much has DiCaprio put of himself in each part since What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? Surely there are vestiges of him in all his roles, but many of his parts seem unique. Compare Jack in Titanic to the troubled undercover cop in The Departed. DiCaprio established himself as a serious actor along the way, and I had no trouble believing he was those characters in those films and not himself.

Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, Jennifer Aniston, Tom Cruise, Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, and numerous other performers have made careers on playing various versions of themselves in films. While there is nothing wrong with that, there is no dispensing with the notion that they are saying the lines and hitting their marks in what could be interchangeable roles.

So what is good acting you may ask? It should be effortless, with a displacement of self and immersion into another identity. In the recent Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Harrison Ford pulls this off so ingeniously. You never for one second think this is Harrison Ford on screen – it is Han Solo! The fact that he did not get a nomination – even that the film didn’t get a Best Picture nod – still boggles the mind in its incongruity.

But back to DiCaprio, he is going to win unless everyone including me is wrong. The idea of him winning for this role is based on a collective body of work – he was really great in so many other movies, and now it’s his time. Sometimes that happens in Hollywood, but Hollywood (or more importantly the Academy) sometimes gets it wrong.

More powerful performances without the “suffering” factor are to be found – Bryan Cranston in Trumbo and Michael Fassbender in Steve Jobs, but these are not films caught up in the hype that has followed The Revenant from its premiere. As the saying goes, “This is DiCaprio’s year,” but we have to marvel at what Hollywood deems great acting as opposed to what acting can or should be.

Having watched The Revenant a second time, I started thinking is this DiCaprio playing the scene as Hugh Glass would have reacted or as Leonardo DiCaprio would have? That may seem unfair, but it’s worthy of consideration. Watch the scene again when he has to eat the bison liver (steak tartare it is not). Glass was a grizzled frontiersman, so my call is that he would have devoured that thing like we eat a Big Mac. DiCaprio in that scene gives away disdain and disgust, which seems perfectly normal for us but not for the character that he’s playing.

Perhaps I am grasping at straws here, but the point is that film captures moments and they coalesce into a story that we accept or reject. As difficult as the process to make The Revenant must have been for DiCaprio, that doesn’t make the acting good or great – only he can do that. While he seems to be genuinely suffering and struggling in this film, it’s hard not think that the actor is hurting and not the character.

There is a fine line here – and I am certain I will have those who hate me for saying these things, but I would like to see the notion of “Oscar worthy” be more aligned with Marlon Brando’s performance in On the Waterfront than what we have been seeing of late.

We have to get to that place where Hollywood respects the actor for playing a part and not him or herself, where the reactions are genuine and the slings and arrows suffered are not the reasons for greatness but just an addendum to it. Yes, that process is difficult, but it is like separating the wheat from the chaff. In the end that may be the only way to judge if a performance is truly worthy of that gold statue.

Photo Credits: foxmovies, starwars.com, concussionmovie.net

Chris Rock Jokes About Oscar Night ‘Blackout’ – What Else Does He Have Up His Sleeve?

I want to make it clear that Chris Rock is the only reason why I am watching the Oscars this year. The buzz he created when he hinted at an Oscar ‘blackout’ – tweeting fifteen seconds of blank screen with static – is probably more exciting the entirety of last year’s broadcast. So I am watching because I am hoping Rock ups the ante, skewers the powers that be at the Oscars about the lack of diversity in this year’s nominees, and makes fun of as many people as he can in the audience.

Sometimes the host is the only reason to watch an awards show. Billy Crystal always delighted as the Oscars host, but guys like Chevy Chase and David Letterman bombed. Some viewers are there no matter what because they want to see who wins, but I truthfully don’t need to stay up until after midnight to see who gets Best Actor.

The Oscars are bloated like Violet Beauregard after chewing that weird gum in Willy Wonka. It’s like anything that gets too big for no other reason than gluttony, in this case for ratings – but that proves to be its undoing, sort of like Shakespeare’s green-eyed monster that doth mocks the meat it feeds upon.

The Oscars have always been my least favorite awards show because of the drawn out nature of things. There are too many presenters, too many tangents, and too much filler (they even have seat fillers who occupy seats while the A-listers go potty). The truth is that this becomes a classic example of where more is less – and in the case of this year, much less.

I know some stars like Will Smith, his wife Jada Pinkett Smith, and director Spike Lee are boycotting the broadcast (Smith’s terrific performance in Concussion was overlooked) because there are all white nominees in the major categories this year. It’s a bit peculiar that this also happened last year, but that notwithstanding, the Oscars have long been due for an overhaul.

If you add red carpet time and all the other assorted hype, this night turns into five plus hours of mostly snooze fest. I’d rather watch a documentary on the life of a tsetse fly than sit through most of it. It’s also up against a new episode of The Walking Dead, which I am going to record in order not to miss it.

I think if they were smart – and there have to be some bright bulbs among the dim ones behind the show – the Oscar broadcast could be trimmed down to three hours at the most. Get rid of all those things that are extraneous, present some lesser award categories off screen and quickly show the faces of the winners, and cut the chitter chatter between presenters – mostly read off the teleprompters and as boring as a Republican debate without Donald Trump.

Streamlining the ceremony and making sure there is a more inclusive attitude when voting for nominees are changes that need to have been made yesterday. We can only hope that by next year that the Academy will get it right and the broadcast will reflect these changes.

I am putting my money on Chris Rock to make this a show to remember. He’s in a great position to comment on the Oscar controversy, and if anyone can pull it off it is he. His tweet is very promising; now I hope that he is not fettered in any way that would prevent him from pulling out all the stops.

By the way, the Oscars need Chris Rock a hell of a lot more than Rock needs the Oscars. Here’s hoping that he takes the ball and runs with it all the way to the finish line; in this case that will be when all of us bleary-eyed viewers are hoping to stay up to hear which film wins the Best Picture award.

Photo Credit: ABC News

Book Review: Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys

You may ask how a woman born and raised in Michigan could write so intimately and thoroughly from the perspective of a 15 year old girl trapped in the maelstrom that was the Soviet Union during World War II, but after reading her first novel, Between Shades of Gray, you would think that the author lived and breathed every moment of this harrowing yet inspiring tale.

The daughter of a Lithuanian refugee, Ruta Sepetys follows the path taken by the legendary Stephen Crane, who wrote Red Badge of Courage without ever having stepped foot on a Civil War battlefield. In both cases these enormously talented writers did research (Sepetys also visited Lithuania several times) and then let their craft guide them to creating indelible portraits of people caught up in the incongruity of war.

While some readers will classify this as a young adult book, it seems clear that someone from any age group would be moved and astounded by this tale of Lina Vilkas, a girl whose first person account chronicles the events of the unwarranted arrest of her family in Lithuania and subsequent deportation – a journey of horror to the far reaches of Siberia.

This was a time of war – a moment when Joseph Stalin chose to deport millions of people and basically wanted to eliminate the Baltic States (Lithuania and Latvia and Estonia) for military purposes. Thus Lina, her brother Jonas, and her mother Elena are thrown into a train car with a group of about 30 shocked and frightened people. Some of them suspect the worst, but Lina and her mother try to do whatever they can to bolster the spirits of the others and help them get through this ordeal.

One terrifying scene involves a young woman named Ona, who has just given birth to a baby girl. The child is literally ripped from Ona’s womb for the sake of expediency. With blood pouring out of her body, Ona is thrown in with the group and her child is shoved into her arms as they are evacuated. Lina describes the moment: “The child let out a soft cry and its tiny fists pummeled the air. Its fight for life had begun.”

That is what this story is mostly about – individuals fighting to live, a battle to survive under grueling and inhumane circumstances. To the NKVD (the secret police who arrest them) and later the soldiers who supervise their journey, each person in that train car is considered nothing more than Stalin’s chattel. Those males who are able bodied are taken from the group and sent off to work someplace, the soldiers getting a kickback. The women, children, and old men are kept on the train, bound for the austere and unforgiving landscape of Siberia where the fight for life will be a daily struggle.

Lina’s mother keeps hoping to get a letter to her husband Kostas, a university professor who had been taken separately. Eventually they learn he is in a prison, and through flashbacks we get to understand the ideal life Lina had once lived and how much she loved her father. In that normal world she worried about school work, boys, and longed to go out for an ice cream; now she just hopes for a bucket of gruel and a chance to survive.

Sepetys is a strong but patient writer, and what she does extremely well here is to avoid the sensational or overly dramatic. The greatest impact of events depicted is that the brutality becomes so commonplace, such a subtle but pernicious part of daily life, and as she weaves each atrocity into the story, she is purposely not preparing us and thus there is no way to expect the trauma of each given moment, and every character – even the main ones whom the reader grows to love – is in danger of dying from a disease or getting shot in the head.

Despite the generally dismal nature of the story, there are moments of human spirit and glimmers of hope that thread their way throughout. The people of the group form such a cohesive unit and look out for one another, especially those loved ones who are left behind when one of them is suddenly eliminated. During quiet interludes, they try to find some joy where they can – a beautiful sunset, a day without work, or the sharing of personal stories to remind everyone of good times.

Mostly they are under duress and constantly threatened by their overseers. Everyone in that train car is forced to work long hours performing grueling tasks, and we find Lina and her family members being worked to the point of beyond being tired – almost like a living death.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t speak. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Papa’s face, battered, and peering down from the bathroom hole on the train. Courage, Lina, he said to me. Exhaustion and grief inched heavily into every fiber of my body, yet I was wide awake. My mind flickered as if on short circuit, spitting never-ending images of anxiety, anguish, and sorrow at me.

As the train continues on the route, the passengers make stops along the way. These places are labor camps where they are forced to work in difficult and dangerous conditions and live no better than animals in a barn. While they fend for themselves to scavenge for scraps of food, wood, and clothing, there are times when they come together, such as on Christmas Eve, and celebrate despite the dire circumstances they face.

In the end this book is testimony not only to the horrors imposed by Stalin’s Soviet Union on innocent civilians, but also reveals the dignity of the human spirit that survives and even flourishes no matter how much sinister forces attempt to extinguish it.

I came to read this book because my daughter had it assigned to her in school, and over the years we have a created our own little book club. I enjoy reading and discussing books with her that she gets as an assignment or ones that she reads for pleasure – which is how I got to read all the Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket books.

As I read Between Shades of Gray I sometimes felt shaken by the events; other moments brought me to tears, and the realization hit me that Lina, a girl not much older than my daughter, should have never lost her teenage years in such a horrific way. Still, her strength and courage and willingness to fight against overwhelming odds are inspiring and unforgettable.

Though categorized as a young adult book, I highly recommend Between Shades of Gray to readers of all ages who have an interest in war stories and tales of the resilience of human beings during the most arduous of circumstances. If you like a book that compels you to keep reading and then feel a lasting impact upon finishing it, then this is the book for you.

Photo Credits: betweenshadesofgray.com

Harper Lee Dies – To Kill a Mockingbird Author Impacted Many Lives

First appeared on Blogcritics.

Every author dreams of it, but few will ever get to live it – writing a seminal book that not only receives accolades but in some way or other changes the world. Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird is such a book, and she goes down in literary and American history as someone who made a real difference in many lives.

When I heard Harper Lee had died at age 89, I felt genuine sadness for the loss of one of my literary heroes. While I have enjoyed the works of many authors over the years, no book has ever affected me the way Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird has. It changed my perceptions and understandings of the world and how people are mistreated and how childhood is a precious thing never to be forsaken by adults.

Many people who have read this book have said similar things. For a majority of readers the character that had the most impact on them was Atticus Finch, who later would be played by Gregory Peck in a towering performance in the movie that earned him an Oscar. It’s hard to disagree with those people because Atticus sets an example for all to follow; however, the character that changed my way of thinking was the first person narrator, Atticus’s daughter Scout.

Reading the book for the first time because I had to do so for a high school English class, I was not all that into it since it was an assignment; however, after the first page I was hooked. There was something so sincere, so innocent, yet so precise and honest about Scout’s narration that I was impelled to read on.

While some other kids in my class were complaining about the story being too long or “boring” because it was about the South they didn’t know or understand, this New York City boy savored reading about the old town of Maycomb with its tea drinking ladies covered in sweaty talcum powder. Of course, at the heart of the story there was much more – the burning truth of justice for all no matter what color, race, or creed.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” I remember when we started talking about the book in class that my teacher wrote this quotation from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the blackboard. He asked us what we thought that meant, and we were all quiet – you could hear the proverbial pin drop. Looking back on it now I think we all understood what it meant and knew the man who wrote it, but we were afraid to respond and to accept the implications of what that meant in our lives. We all lived in a bubble – even if it was a NYC bubble – and this quotation and the book we were about to read would burst it.

There is injustice all the time, and as I read the book I saw it in my school, in my neighborhood, and in my city. In the book Tom Robinson, a black man falsely accused of raping a white woman, is treated poorly and the white men in town want to lynch him without a trial. Scout’s father stands up for him and, as a lawyer, defends him in a memorable court case even though the prospect of a white jury acquitting the man is slim to none. I understood that the world is not a fair place after reading this book, but I also came to realize it was up to me to try to work to change that.

Many years later I became a teacher and I would have to assign this book that I loved to my classes. Needless to say that I saw kids just like I had been getting their bubbles popped. Some would not accept the message of the book, but most were won over by the amazing prose that Harper Lee had given us – a gift that has truly kept on giving over the 56 years since the book was published.

I’ve read stories about Harper Lee and how she never wrote again. An earlier book, Go Set a Watchman, was published last year to mixed reviews. It contained some of the same characters as Mockingbird, but told a different story and disappointed people. I honestly couldn’t bring myself to read it because the original book is mine forever, and I wanted nothing ruining that for me.

I think I understand what happened to Lee and why she either couldn’t or wouldn’t write another book. When something as earthshaking as To Kill a Mockingbird is written (it took her two years to write it and a number of revisions before it was published), there is a personal toll taken, an exhaustion, and there should be no illusions that writing is easy. As Hemingway once said, it’s the hardest work after heavy lifting.

If her first book hadn’t been an immediate critical and financial success, things could have been different. Lee may have put the shoulder to the wheel and started another book, but with all the excitement and scrutiny there also came a terrible price – how do you ever follow up and match the precedent you have already set?

Some writers peak with a great book and then can never duplicate that success. They write subsequent books that are never as powerful or memorable, and we are tempted to say they should have stopped while they were ahead. No one can ever say that about Harper Lee – she wrote that one great novel and let it stand. I think there is tremendous courage in that, an integrity worthy of her great character Atticus Finch himself.

When my daughter had to read the book for school, we talked about it and then I read it again as she read it. The test of a truly good book is that you can read it many times and enjoy it again and again, but also that each time you come away with something new. I had read it as a student and as a teacher but never as a father.

This time Atticus became my favorite character, and his strength and tenacity are almost as impressive as his love and care for his children. When he explains to Scout why he took on Robinson’s case, I wept because his deeply loving and passionate words are unforgettable:

I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see through it no matter what.

Atticus knew during the entire trial that Tom would be found guilty, but he fought the good fight because it was the right thing to do, and he wanted his children to know that. My daughter and I had many discussions about the book, and in the end she cried because she truly understood why you don’t kill a mockingbird, and that is a gift that will keep on giving in her life.

Harper Lee is gone but she left behind a book that will keep on changing lives. Her indelible story is more than enough of a legacy – she knew it and we all do too. Rest in peace, Harper Lee.

Photo Credits: CNN, Fox News

TV Review: The Walking Dead – “No Way Out”

First appeared on Blogcritics.

*This review contains spoilers.

Having watched every episode from the very beginning, I would have to agree with Chris Hardwick (host of Talking Dead) when he said that “No Way Out,” the mid-season premiere of season 6 of AMC’s The Walking Dead, is one of the best installments of the series ever. It is also easily one of the most gruesome, bloody, and unsettling episodes as well.

Having last left Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) and the gang covered in zombie guts in hopes to escape through a horde of zombies that had invaded the formerly safe enclave of Alexandria, we pick up right where we left off – the  four minute preview featuring Daryl (Norman Reedus), Abraham (Michael Cudlitz), and Sasha (Sonequa Martin-Green) facing off against a biker gang.

The tension during this scene is excruciating as the leader of the Negan’s gang (we have yet to meet Negan but some of you may know of him from the comics) takes their guns and explains that everything they have now belongs to Negan. The standoff appears to be heading toward a bad to worse scenario until Daryl, who inexplicably was asked to show one of the gang whatever they had on the back of the truck, blows the entire group into the next world with the rocket launcher found in the season finale.

It’s a jarring scene, but as Daryl surveys the detritus of the now blown to smithereens tough guys he mutters, “What a bunch of assholes.” Perhaps this moment proves once and for all that you just don’t mess with Mr. Daryl Dixon.

Back at the ranch Rick is still trying to get the crew through the zombie herd. As in the previous scene, this is played out slowly and the imminent threat of death is so palpable that Rick allows baby Judith to leave with (up to now rather spineless) Reverend Gabriel Stokes (Seth Gilliam). Jessie Anderson (Alexandra Breckinridge) tries to get her son Sam (Major Dodon) to go with Stokes, but Sam insists on staying with mom (major foreshadowing here).

What follows is one of the best-worst scenes in the series – Jessie watches Sam become the appetizer for the famished zombies, and then Rick stands by helplessly while Jessie turns into the main course. Despite Jessie being his love interest and this being Valentine’s Day, the chances for romance end here. Rick is forced to chop off the dying woman’s hand because she was holding on to his son Carl (Chandler Riggs). Jessie’s other son Ron (Austin Abrams) now uses the gun Rick gave him and taught him to shoot (irony noted and then some) and tries to kill Carl. Michonne (Danai Gurira) then filets Ron with her katanna, but not before the disgruntled teen gets off a shot and hits Carl in the eye.

So much is happening here in a matter of a few minutes, and credit must be given to this episode’s director Greg Nicotero for capturing the essence of a the Anderson family’s destruction and the salvation of the Grimes family – albeit very bloody and missing one eye.

This is a landmark episode for many reasons, but chief among them is the bringing closer together of The Walking Dead comic world with the TV one. The specter of Negan hangs over this episode (those who read the comics know what I mean), for we know when he discovers his barbecued biker bunch that he is going to want revenge. There is also the matter of Carl’s eye, which finally came to pass (although I never thought that it would to be honest).

After getting his wounded son to the infirmary to the capable hands of Denise (Merritt Weaver) who has morphed into this super surgeon by the demands of the times, Rick takes an axe and goes out to give the zombies 40 whacks (and then some).

Rick going ape is indicative of the level to which they all have sunk due to the zombie apocalypse. Morgan (Lennie James) has tried to remain civil amidst all the incivility, but Rick has always recognized that there is no longer time to be that way. As Rick takes on overwhelming odds, the rest of the survivors from the town join him, turning what could have been Rick’s last stand into a battle royale.

The next morning the streets are littered with the dead – zombies and former townsfolk. The distinction at this moment means nothing because in this world the dead are the enemy no matter who they were in life.

Rick leans over the recovering Carl who lies in bed with his wounded eye bandaged. This gives Lincoln a great acting opportunity, and he doesn’t squander it. He grabs Carl’s hand and spits out what is like a confession, but in the end he tells Carl that he has hope for the future. He says, “Let me show you the new world, Carl; let me show you.” Finally Carl’s still hand moves and he grasps his father’s.

So the episode ends with hope and yet so much portent looms now.  We know Negan is out there, that internally that Rick and Morgan need to come together but it won't be easy; everyone will have to cope with substantial losses, and Carl will need to recover and literally face a new world living with one eye.

Next week’s episode is “A New World,” and Rick has promised to show it to his son. Judging by the bloodshed and losses suffered this week, I predict more of the same out in that new world in the weeks to come, including at least the loss of one member of the core group of survivors. Buckle yourselves in, folks; this TWD coaster has only begun to roll.

Photo Credits: AMC

Sanders and Trump Go Into a Bar: A Short Story by Victor Lana

First appeared on Blogcritics.

Hoping to get Bernie Sanders away from a crowd of aggressive supporters, his security team rushes him down an alley and through a doorway. One agent goes inside with him and the others block the people from following the candidate.

Sanders realizes he is in a dimly lit tavern. Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” is playing on the jukebox, and only a few people are sitting in booths along the wall. He sees no one sitting at the bar and sits on a stool. The bartender glances at the fellow standing behind Bernie in the dark suit with a wire coming out of his ear. “Can I get you something, sir?”

Bernie says, “I’ll have a Chivas neat, some water on the side.” He glances back at the agent who raises an eyebrow slightly. “Can’t a guy wet his whistle?”

There is a good deal of commotion at the front door and a fellow with wind-blown orange hair is hustled in by a man in a dark suit with a wire coming out of his ear. Sanders recognizes Donald Trump immediately and grins as Trump tries to press down his comb-over.

“We’ll just stay in here until the crowd dies down,” the agent says.

“Fine, fine,” Trump says. He looks around and notices Sanders and he puts out both arms and says, “Bernie, how the hell are you?”

Sanders takes his drink from the bartender and lifts the glass toward Trump. “L'Chayim!”

“Gesundheit,” Trump says as he undoes his scarf revealing the signature bold red tie. He puts both hands on the bar and says, “I see you are a drinker.”

Sanders sips his drink and places it on the coaster. “Once in a while; I am a social drinker.”

“I don’t touch the stuff myself,” Trump says.

“Well, you know what they say, “In vino veritas.”

“Ahh, I don’t speak Polish,” Trump says.

“Oh, I’m not sure that you speak English,” Sanders says with a chuckle.

“You are a funny man, Bernie,” Trump says.

“Drinking is good for the ticker,” Sanders says after taking another sip.

Trump looks back at his security man and leans toward Sanders and whispers, “I can’t control what I say now; imagine what would come out of my mouth if I drank.”

“The prospect is both intriguing and repulsive,” Sanders says.

“Amen to that,” Trump says as he stands straight and stares at the mirror behind the bar. “I am looking my best even despite that harsh wind out there.”

The bartender wipes down the bar where Trump is standing and he asks, “Can I get you something, Mr. Trump.”

“I am thinking of a drink I had back in Queens when I went to a bar with my father to hand a guy an eviction notice,” Trump says. “It was named for someone.”

“Rob Roy?” asks the bartender. Trump shakes his head. “Tom Collins?”

“No, named for that curly-haired little girl, an entertainer. She used to tap dance with that black fellow – James Earl Jones I think.

”

“I think you mean Bill Bojangles Robisnon,” Sanders says.

“No, that’s not the drink either.”

“Do you mean Shirley Temple?” Sanders asks.

“That’s it!” Trump slams his hand on the bar. “One Shirley Temple, my good man.”

The bartender rolls his eyes and goes to make the drink. Sanders looks back at his security guard and whispers, “At least he didn’t order sasparilla.”

Trump takes a deep breath and looks around the room. “Oddly, none of the patrons of this establishment seems to recognize me.”

Sanders sips his drink. “Did you ever think that some people don’t know who you are?”

“The thought never entered my mind,” Trump groans.

“Not surprising at all,” Sanders says.

Trump takes his Shirley Temple from the bartender and sips it. “Ah, just as I remember it from the Mohawk on Jamaica Avenue. Well done!” He slaps a $50 bill on the bar saying, “Keep the change, my good man.”

“So, Donald, don’t you find it odd that we both got hustled in here tonight?” Sanders asks.

Trump sits down on the stool next to Sanders and shakes his head. “This meeting was inevitable – didn’t you read my book?”

Sanders turns to him. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Read it before November,” Trump says with a wink.

“Are you dismissing Mrs. Clinton?”

Trump sips his drink and winces as if he were in pain. “I can’t listen to that shrew’s voice. No wonder Bill fooled around.”

“I thought she was your friend at one time.”

“I get along with everybody – I would have even gotten along with Hitler.”

Sanders nods solemnly. “I don’t doubt it.”

Trump puts a hand on Sanders’s arm. “Don’t get me wrong; Hitler was a terrible person. But I would get along with him to get the job done. It’s all in my book.”

“Kind of like Mein Kampf no doubt.”

“Very funny, Bernie.”

“Well, I’m ready for you if you make it to November.”

“If?” Trump sips his drink. “There’s no if. I like the idea of two New Yorkers going at it – Brooklyn against Queens.”

“Born and raised in Brooklyn, but I live in the good state of Vermont now,” Sanders reminds him with a raised index finger.

“You can take the boy out of the borough but you can’t take the borough out of the boy,” Trump says with a smirk.

“That’s rather incisive coming from you, Donald,” Sanders says.

“Hey, I have my moments,” Trump says. “I do like the Jew verses the Gentile angle too.”

Sanders turns and puts his elbows on the bar. “I bet.”

Trump’s guard taps his shoulder. “We can leave now, sir.”

“Gotta go!” Trump gets up and shakes Bernie’s hand. As he walks away Trump gushes, “I’m feeling the Bern.”

An older gentleman yells “For you, Bernie,” and points to the jukebox.

Sanders raises his glass and says, “Thank you, sir.” He turns and waits for John Fogerty to sing “Who’ll stop the rain?” and he whispers, “I will.”

Photo credits: CNN, NBC

NY Mets Pitcher Mejia Tests Positive for Steroids Again – Three Strikes and He’s Banned from MLB For Life!

First appeared on Blogcritics.

“Stupid is as stupid does,” Forrest Gump says in the famous film, and one cannot help but connect that to now former New York Mets relief pitcher Jennry Mejia who, after two suspensions for testing positive for performance enhancing drugs, tested positive for the third time and thus received a lifetime ban from Major League Baseball.

In the midst of serving a 162-day suspension because of his second positive test, Mejia tested positive for Boldenone, designed to give users slow but steady gains and which also goes by the brand name Equipoise, a veterinary steroid commonly used on horses.

Now Mejia, a once very promising young pitcher who served as the Mets’ closer in 2014, is out of baseball forever. With its third strike and you’re out policy, MLB is making it clear that it is serious about enforcing its drug policy. Obviously, Mejia didn’t think he would become the first MLB player to receive a lifetime ban under the steroid policy, but now he becomes a cautionary tale for all current professional baseball players and those hoping to become one someday.

As a Mets fan I fully appreciate the implications of the situation for my team and, while you hate see the 26-year-old Mejia’s career ruined, he has no one to blame but himself. Mejia well knew the risk he was taking after two previous suspensions, and now he must face the reality of what he has done and the gravity of the consequences.

The NY Mets released the following statement regarding Mejia:

We were deeply disappointed to hear that Jenrry has again violated Major League Baseball’s Joint Drug Prevention and Treatment Program. We fully support MLB’s policy toward eliminating performance enhancing substances from the sport. As per the Joint Drug Program, we will have no further comment on this suspension.

The problem is that the competition is so intense to get to the big leagues and then remain there, and players are always looking for that edge. We only have to look at players like Manny Ramirez, Melky Cabrera, Ryan Braun, and Alex Rodriguez (and many others who have been caught and lost substantial playing time) to realize that the bigger they are the harder they seem to fall. Guys who were not suspended during their playing time, like Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, and Sammy Sosa, but who have been tainted by the specter of steroids, face the possibility of never being fairly considered for the Hall of Fame, losing the respect of their peers and fans, and spending their retirement years wondering what might have been.

So for now Jennry Mejia becomes the first one suspended for life and goes down in MLB history in a way that no player would ever hope to have happen. He joins guys like Pete Rose and the eight 1919 Chicago White Sox players on the banned for life list – not the kind of company anyone would set out to keep.

It is incongruous to fathom why Mejia would keep on taking the substance after two suspensions and knowing that subsequent testing was inevitable. We cannot get into the way of thinking that says something like “The gains I make will be worth the risk of getting caught.” There is no rationale to that kind of thinking.

It is a sad day for baseball, for Mets fans, and for Mejia himself. Now that his promising career is over, Mejia can do some good if he would try to turn his life around and talk about his situation. If he would go to high schools and warn young athletes about the dangers of doing what he was caught doing, perhaps Mejia could salvage his reputation in a tangible and meaningful way.

For now Mejia is the first to be banned for life under MLB’s steroid policy, but judging from what we know of human nature and the history of the game of baseball, he probably won’t be the last. There will always be those who take the chance and think that they won’t get caught. Sadly, even Forrest Gump would have been smarter than that.

Photo Credits: nbc

The Culture of Fear – The Media and Drug Companies: Marriage Made in Hell

First appeared on Blogcritics.

My father used to say that TV reporters never met a disaster they didn’t like. I used to think that he was just making a joke, but as I have grown older I see how true his observation has become. Everything is doom and gloom, and this holds true for all media.

Sign on to the Internet and you are inundated with headlines playing on your worst fears about your health – "Four Signs of a Heart Attack," "Serious Causes of Your Back Pain," "Seven Foods to Never Eat," "Why Doctors Want You to Take Meds," and so on. People are so susceptible to this kind of manipulation, and if you click on one of these links, disappointingly you will be usually led to a long video presentation hawking some kind of alternative product. Sadly, it's all about making money and has little to do with what is best for you.

As for the so called "news," a pernicious attack on our senses is thrust upon us by the media every day and is overwhelming in our lives. We are bombarded with negativity; whether the stories are about politics, North Korea, Iran, ISIS, fracking, global warming, or the Zika virus, they are all manufactured to cause anxiety and fear among we who keep watching because we have been conditioned to believe those promoting the problem also have an answer to it.

There is an old saying that is true more than ever for the media – “If it bleeds it leads.” So you get all sorts of stories about murder and mayhem and the usual warning not to watch the graphic images that are coming on screen. Of course, then many viewers continue watching and see how ugly the world can be.

I have long complained that the media will focus its attention on perpetrators after an incident. I refuse to watch these reports, but many do under the guise of understanding the mind of a killer. I know I for one don’t want to know anything about the killer or the reasons why he/she became one. Giving exposure to mass murderers or child abusers is like a recruiting tool for the next psycho longing for fifteen minutes of infamy.

One just has to look at the current political campaign for the presidency to see how the media has used it to pump fear into the electorate. We are bombarded with negative stories about the candidates. Whether it’s Mrs. Clinton’s emails, Mr. Sanders being a socialist, or Mr. Trump’s outlandish comments, the observations we can take away are all derogatory. The candidates do not help matters by throwing as much mud as possible at one another.

The Zika virus story is another example of the media using a story to foment fear. Today I heard several headlines on the radio or television that were something like “Zika Virus Passed By Sexual Activity,” “The Zika Virus Causing People to Cancel Vacations,” and “Zika Virus Threatens All 50 States.” Then the latest thing I heard was that President Obama was requesting $1.8 billion to battle Zika, but wanted Americans to know there was no need to panic. If you are listening to all this what are you supposed to believe? The sole purpose involved here is to scare the audience and make certain it reads, watches, or listens to the story.

More doom and gloom comes to you each day from the pharmaceutical companies. They advertise everything from anti-depressants to sexual performance drugs, and their ads are as slick as they come. Usually we are shown someone who is at first suffering in some way – these people are in hopeless states before learning about the drug in the ad. Suddenly the screen becomes bright, people are smiling, and all is right with the world because of that magic pill. If you hang on long enough to listen to the side effects, which many times will include something like “and can cause death,” you might think twice about taking that pill no matter what your symptoms are.

According to the so-called experts in the media, there is something wrong with everything we like or enjoy doing. Sodium and sugar are agents of evil; soda and juice are like arsenic and old lace, and beer, cold cuts, and desserts are enemies of the state. Literally anything we like to eat or drink comes under some kind of warning with a skull and crossbones over it. Again, this is the operation of causing fear and making us feel that only the source broadcasting these admonitions has the answer to solve the problem.

Perhaps the most extensive media coverage goes to disasters. Give news people an earthquake, blizzard, tsunami, hurricane, or tornado to cover, and they are as giddy as children on the last day of school before summer vacation. Each time something like this happens we are subject to overwhelming coverage of the event as if there is no other news anywhere in the world.

At this point the media no longer does its job of reporting the news. Now the media has become our watchdog, our overseer, and our conscience. The days of relying on the media to convey what’s happening in the world are gone; now its purpose is to incite, to condemn, and most of all frighten viewers and readers. The incongruous theory used must be this – 

The more we frighten people the more they will tune in, and in the end the media’s concern is nothing so benevolent as our health and well-being but ratings. Ratings equal money, and that is what drives all this fear mongering.

So if you have had it with the culture of fear created by the media and its kindred spirit the pharmaceutical companies, change the channel or turn off the TV. The ultimate power still lies in your hands – the remote control.

Photo Credits: cnn, foxnews