Film pitch: “PRESIDENT CHRIST.”
In a parallel universe, Phil Hartman is still alive, playing Jesus, who comes back to Earth to run for president.
The movie would have a loving and warm treatment of Christ, though, and wouldn’t be snarky or mean-spirited.
That is all.
Also: Bill Murray as Ted Cruz in a Wes Anderson film:
An interesting read from the NYT on the importance of lying to the one you love.
Love is a greater good than the truth. No marriage, no parent’s love of a child should be scrutinized like a pathologist examining his cadaver. Save your ruthless pursuit of the truth for the laboratory; we lovers would rather be like Shakespeare: “Therefore I lie with her and she with me / And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.” Don’t worry so much about ferreting out the truth. Take care of each other instead.
Excellent post here from Chris Hernandez, who apparently is “a former Marine, currently serving National Guard soldier, longtime cop, OIF and OEF vet, author, and blogger,” regarding our culture’s over-use of the term “trauma.”
While I mean this in the nicest way possible, I don’t want victims of microaggressions or supporters of trigger warnings to doubt my sincerity.
Fuck your trauma.
Yes, fuck your trauma. My sympathy for your suffering, whether that suffering was real or imaginary, evaporated when you demanded I change my life to avoid bringing up your bad memories. You don’t seem to have figured this out, but there is no “I must never be reminded of a negative experience” expectation in any culture anywhere on earth.
If your psyche is so fragile you fall apart when someone inadvertently reminds you of “trauma,” especially if that trauma consisted of you overreacting to a self-interpreted racial slur, you need therapy. You belong on a psychiatrist’s couch, not in college dictating what the rest of society can’t do, say, or think. Get your own head right before you try to run other people’s lives. If you expect everyone around you to cater to your neurosis, you’re what I’d call a “failure at life,” doomed to perpetual disappointment.
Oh, I should add: fuck my trauma too. I must be old-fashioned, but I always thought coming to terms with pain was part of growing up. I’ve never expected anyone to not knock on my door because it reminds me of that terrifying morning decades ago. I’ve never blown up at anyone for startling me with a camera flash (I’ve never even mentioned it to anyone who did). I’ve never expected anyone to not talk about Iraq or Afghanistan around me, even though some memories still hurt. I don’t need trigger warnings because a book might remind me of a murder victim I’ve seen.
I’d like to apply the worldview of Avvakum the Archpriest to all components of my life, starting now.
Please join me, and begin with this quote:
“Are your eunuchs fanning you to keep the flies from biting the great sovereign? And when you shit, do you wipe your bottom with that hellfire? The Holy Spirit tells me … there’s no need to shit away what you’ve eaten since the worms are slowly eating the great sovereign himself … into the bowels of the earth with you, son of a bitch!”
h/t Daniel Kalder
“Nature, in her evolutionary and morphogenetic richness, has offered a compelling model for us to follow in the shamanic task of re-sacralization and self-transformation that lies ahead. The totemic animal image for the future human to model is the octopus. This is because the cephalopods, the squids and octopi, lowly creatures though they may seem, have perfected a form of communication that is both psychedelic and telepathic — an inspiring model for the human communications of the future.”