And if you didn't notice, poo on you, anyway!
When My Heart, Brain & Spleen Broke
Mrs. Nator & I watched the first half of When The Levees Broke last night, and day-um. I've long had a certain kind of disdain for Spike Lee's style of direction (not to mention his atrocious acting and huge ego that dictates he insert himself in his own films whenever possible), but so far this documentary is very well done. Of course, the material is incredibly profuse and powerful, but his interviews and editing have been excellent.
Naturally, watching the tragedy all over again in a clearly laid-out way was heart-rending. I will never, never be able to comprehend how Bush hasn't been impeached for the mishandling of "aid" before, during and after Katrina, alone (to say nothing of his myriad other impeachable offenses), much less Chertoff at least being drummed out of Washington. I find myself so very angry that I don't know what to do, and that anger curdles into a nausea-inducing morass of impotence, mourning and shame as I consider the continuing political ineptitude and heartless, willfully stupid "leadership" of this country, along with so many citizens' apathy about or endorsement of it. I mean, RAGE.
And while we were watching last night, another sickening thought occured to me. What if the reason so little has been done to rebuild the region damaged by Katrina so far not is not mere incompetence and political bullshit, but because the government was waiting for the next hurricane season - this hurricane season - to come around and wreak havoc again, allowing them to point out that clearly there was nothing more they could have done in the first place, and now they might as well not rebuild at all (especially the poor, black sections)? I mean, after all, all those resontruction and aid funds should be going towards some new, overpriced and preposterous defense program for the War on Terra, right?
Oliver Stone, I am waiting for you to make this movie.
Yul Send Me
After all that, I had to cleanse my mind before I went to bed, so I watched the first half of the classic western The Magnificent Seven. First of all, when watched in a modern context, are those old movies not the gayest things ever? And secondly, was Yul Brynner the hottest man alive, or what?
Now I can go to my happy place, by reading up on just how awesome mother nature is, when we humans aren't fucking her or ourselves over via her with our stupid-ass schemes. In other words, the manatee roolz, yo!Hope y'all are well. If all goes according to plan, when the week is over I will be getting an aromatherapy massage in a quaint seaside village, pre-manta-ray-snorkel. How about you?