What's Dalton reading this week?

Well, last week I finished Manhunt for my book club. The name of our book club is B.I.B.L.E. Study, which stands for Brotherhood of Intense Book-Loving Enthusiasts. One neat thing about being in a book club is you get to read books that you wouldn’t have decided to read on your own initiative. Like Manhunt. I enjoyed this book, but it’s not the kind of thing I think I would have read otherwise. It’s too much information about too small a topic. It covers a period of just 12 days in a very small geographic location. I now have way more information than I could ever possibly need concerning the chase for John Wilkes Booth following Lincoln’s assassination.

Generally, I like to alternate fiction and non-fiction (I totally don’t get those people who say they don’t like reading fiction). And after 400 pages about the aftermath of Lincoln’s assassination, I wanted a quick, easy read. So I started up Le Mort de Napoleon by Simon Leys. It’s only about 120 pages and I finished it in about 24 hours. So it definitely qualified as a quick, easy read.

Then I switched back to non-fiction, and now I’m about halfway through Soccer In Sun & Shadow (originally El Futbol A Sol Y Sombra) by Eduardo Galeano. The author is a well-known Uruguayan intellectual. And for some reason, I love it when intellectuals write about sports. (Except perhaps when George Will writes about baseball; there’s far too much of that excessively nostalgic golden-days-of-summer-type crap.) It annoys me intensely when intellectuals denigrate sports and act as if it's beneath them. Interestingly, Galeano actually addresses this early on in the book. Conservative intellectuals, he argues, think of sport as something appropriate for the masses, but not worthy of those who have an ability (and the time, and the money) for the genteel pursuits of the mind. And left-wing intellectuals, he posits, feel that sport “saps revolutionary fervor,” or something like that. “Bread and circuses,” sans bread. It’s true that dictators frequently turn the patriotic spirit aroused by sporting events to their own devices. Antonio Salazar even had some term for this, like “patria e futebol” or something. Unlike most tyrants, he actually admitted he was using nationalism and sport to keep the masses distracted.

The Top Five Movies Starring Hulk Hogan

5 – No Holds Barred (1989)

In an extremely counterintuitive bit of casting, Hulk Hogan is cast as a popular wrestler in this genre picture. The plot is pretty much a rehash of those boxing pictures they used to make back in the thirties and forties: popular athlete is courted by an unsavory promoter (Kurt Fuller, who also played unsavory types in Wayne’s World & Ghostbusters 2), but the upright athlete insists on honoring his existing commitment, causing the unsavory promoter to go after the upright athlete’s family (in this case, his brother). The wrestling scenes are pretty good, but this film is most notable for launching the career of Tom “Tiny” Lister. An extremely large and intimidating-looking man, Lister played “Zeus,” the evil wrestler who is enlisted by the unsavory promoter to put the hurt on the upright athlete. In a case of art imitating life, Lister went on to briefly wrestle as Zeus in the WWF. Later he assayed such challenging roles as Deebo in Friday and Next Friday, and the President of the Solar System in The Fifth Element.


4 – Rocky III (1982)

Granted, The Hulkster barely appears in this movie at all. But his character is named Thunderlips! How cool is that? And how can you dislike a film that has Hulk Hogan, Sylvester Stallone, Carl Weathers AND Mr. T? (Rocky III contains the first recorded use of Mr. T’s iconic “I pity the fool” catchphrase.) The combination of Messrs. Hogan and T in this film eerily presages the transcendent moment in 1985 when they would step into the ring together at the first Wrestlemania.


3 – Mr. Nanny (1993)

Finally, noted character actor Austin Pendleton gets to step into a leading role! As a single father and tech company owner, he hires The Hulkster (playing a former wrestler) as a bodyguard for his children. Why would they need a bodyguard, you ask? Well the father has developed some sort of microchip that can control the world or something, and evil mastermind Buster Poindexter is intent on extracting it anyway he can. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but when you are presented with a script in which you are paired with little children, just say no. Arguably, this film set some sort of horrible precedent of the tough guy teaching the adorable kids some discipline while they teach him to love. For other examples, see Vin Diesel in The Pacifier or The Rock’s upcoming The Game Plan. One of the adorable kids here is played by Robert Hy Gorman, fresh off his success as one of the “three guys that move” in Leprechaun. The first installment of the madcap misadventures of everyone’s favorite bloodthirsty Irish gnome was also Jennifer Aniston’s film debut.



2 - Thunder In Paradise (1993)

This straight-to-video nautical thriller was also the pilot for a short-lived syndicated television show. The Hulkster and Jack Lemmon’s son portray ex-Navy Seals with cool nicknames: Randall “Hurricane” Spencer and Martin “Bru” Brubaker, respectively. Based on Florida’s Gulf Coast, Hurricane and Bru travel around the world in their kick-ass speedboat (the “Thunder” of the title) getting into adventures and fighting bad guys. On their downtime, widower Hurricane works hard as a single parent to his precocious blonde daughter while Bru futilely attempts to mack on local bar-owner Carol Alt. Carol Alt is probably the most redeeming thing about this show. She is so fine. Definitely one of Sports Illustrated foxiest swimsuit models of the ‘80s, and that’s saying something. She’s well into her forties now, and I bet she still looks slammin’. Sadly, the eponymous series that followed this film only lasted one season on TNT, perhaps because it missed the “super-vehicle as a character in the show” trend by roughly a decade.


1 - Suburban Commando (1991)

I would love to meet the studio executive who said to himself, “You know, I bet Hulk Hogan and Christopher Lloyd would make a great on-screen pair.” I wonder if this was the same individual who decided that a romcom starring James Woods & Dolly Parton was a brilliant idea. In Suburban Commando, The Hulkster portrays some sort of interplanetary crime-fighter whose spaceship crash lands on Earth. (This premise is remarkably similar to the 1990 Dolph Lundgren classic I Come In Peace, which came out only a year earlier.) His first experience on the planet where he finds himself temporarily marooned takes place in an abandoned roller rink. Using his advanced technology to reactivate the long-dormant electrical appliances in the rink, he is greeted by the funky sounds of the KC & The Sunshine Band deep cut “Do You Wanna Go Party.” Anyway, our extrasolar protagonist soon makes the acquaintance of a nebbishy family man and middle manager portrayed by Christopher Lloyd (who is actually the straight man here). The earthling teaches the alien to relax, and the alien teaches the earthling to stand up to his tyrannical boss (played by Larry Miller, whose career is largely based on playing pricks). Together, this odd couple learns a few lessons about tolerance, courage and understanding.

Coloured lights can't hypnotize, sparkle someone else's eyes.

Several years ago, I was watching some sort of superfluous music awards show, and I chanced to see the Barenaked Ladies accepting the award for “Best Canadian Group.” As is obvious from their music, the Ladies have well-developed wry senses of humor. This was apparent when lead singer Ed Robertson (or perhaps it was Steven Page) acknowledged the silliness of the award’s title by commenting: “We’d like to thank our competitors in this category: Loverboy, Rush, and The Guess Who.” The audience chortled heartily. Clearly, Barenaked Ladies and Rush can both be considered under the rubric of what I like to call “Canadian Dork Rock,” and the less said about Loverboy the better. The Guess Who, however, is an entirely different kettle of clams.

The Guess Who was without question the biggest Canadian rock band of the sixties. They were well known in the States, and they had some hits here, but they were massive superstars in the Great White North. Representing Winnipeg (which sounds sort of like a game one-legged pirates might play), they started off as Chad Allen & The Expressions in the early sixties. In addition to Chad Allen, one of the initial members of the band was Randy Bachman, who went on to form Bachman-Turner Overdrive after leaving the Guess Who (shortly after becoming a Mormon) in 1970. (BTO would go on to inspire one of the best names for a band based on the name of another band ever: Kathleen Turner Overdrive. Bourbon Tabernacle Choir is also pretty rad.) While their first few albums were heavy on the ballads, they really hit the big time when they turned on the distortion and cranked the amps up to 11.

In 1970, they released American Woman, which is arguably their best album. Not only is the title track an all-time classic, but the album also contains “No Time,” and another personal favorite, the double rocker “No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature.” And here is where the irony enters: the only number one song the band ever had in the United States is an extremely sarcastic anti-American diatribe. Obviously, the song is a reaction to the Vietnam War. (Incidentally, do you know what the Vietnamese call the Vietnam War? They call it the American War. Go figure.) It was recorded between August and November of 1969, which would overlap slightly with the “Summer of Love.” Listen closely to the lyrics of this song and it should become apparent that a bunch of sanctimonious Canucks are basically accusing us of being a pack of warmongers: “I don’t need your war machines; I don’t need your ghetto scenes.” Leaving aside the question of the accuracy of that assertion, Cummings, Bachman et al. are conspicuously and brazenly turning their collective back on the longstanding ties of amity and cooperation that exist between the two northernmost nations of North America.

And yet. I absolutely love this song. It rocks. It totally rocks. There’s simply no other way to put it. It’s so masterfully arranged, too. It starts off with that little acoustic blues intro: “American Woman, gonna mess your mind…,” and then Randy Bachman comes in with that riff-tastic fuzztone and the song kicks into high gear. Awesome. My intense love of this song kind of bothers me in a way, because for some reason it especially bothers me to hear Canadians talking trash about my country. Granted, they are entitled to their opinion. And it’s not like I’m going to disparage Canada. Why would I criticize them? Because they’re too nice? Because putting gravy and cottage cheese on your fries is weird? Or perhaps I could criticize the federal government’s foot-dragging in according more autonomy to the Quebecois? It’s hard for me to get too worked up about any of that. Canadians generally are pretty innocuous.

This tale gets even stranger, though. For the second Austin Powers movie, they got Lenny Kravitz to cover “American Woman” as a sort of theme song for Felicity Shagwell, the character played by supervixen Heather Graham. Lenny’s cover is pretty good, as he is one talented cat. I’m just not sure it works in that context. But then his version got used in a context where it really didn’t work. That would be a Nike commercial with Mia Hamm. This is totally inappropriate. Mia Hamm is probably the greatest all-around soccer player the United States has ever produced. She’s a team player, an incredibly hard worker and she doesn’t showboat or cause static. She is a model to millions of American girls (and boys, for that matter). Using “American Woman” in an ad with her is not only inappropriate, it’s kind of insulting.

Bizarrely, the album became such a hit that the band was asked to play at the White House for the Nixons and a visiting Prince Charles. “American Woman” was not included in the set list.

Politicians With Facial Hair

I am currently reading a book called Manhunt: The 12 Day Search For Lincoln’s Killer by James Swanson. You can probably divine from the subtitle that the book details the search, which took place over twelve days, for John Wilkes Booth, the assassin of President Abraham Lincoln.

While perusing this volume, I came across a photo of Edwin McMasters Stanton. Stanton was Lincoln’s secretary of war, and the man who largely directed the manhunt. This got me thinking about facial hair and politicians. I’ve noticed this before, but American politicians are invariably clean-shaven. African-American politicians can get away with some facial hair, but it has to be subtle and discreet. A well-groomed mustache or goatee, perhaps. However, few white politicians in 21st century America would actually go out on the campaign trail for a major office sporting any kind of beard or mustache, regardless of how mainstream or well-groomed it was.

Compare this to Latin America, where politicians almost always have facial hair. In fact, it seems that Latin men frequently grow a mustache when they get to a certain age, to declare their maturity and gravitas. Most of the presidents and high-ranking politicians in Latin America have a ‘stache, and if they are leftists, they frequently have beards (like Luis Inacio da Silva of Brazil). There are a few exceptions to this rule, including Alan Garcia of Peru, Nestor Kirchner of Argentina, and, obviously, Michelle Bachelet of Chile.

As far as I can determine, the last American president with facial hair was William Howard Taft, whose orotund face was graced by a handlebar mustache. From Woodrow Wilson on, they have all been clean-shaven. I wonder how this started. Perhaps presidential candidates wished to distance themselves from the mediocre and forgettable heads of state of the late 19th century, nearly all of whom had beards. Whatever the reason, it is remarkable indeed to compare the dearth of facial hair on politicians today with the hirsute funkiness protruding from the chin of Secretary Stanton in the attached picture. This was one of the most powerful and distinguished statesmen of his day; a man who was largely responsible for directing the martial efforts of the Union in defeating the Confederacy. Yet today, if you saw someone with that peculiar agglomeration of whiskers, you would probably assume he worked at a record store.

The Customer Service Hall of Shame

There's an semi-interesting article on MSN Money today about the companies that got the lowest customer service rating. The bottom five, in ascending order, are Sprint, Bank of America, Comcast, Time Warner Cable, and AT&T. What do these have in common? With one exception (a bank) they are all phone or cable providers.

I have had serious problems with my mobile phone provider as well as Comcast. But Comcast really takes the cake. If you have to wait for twenty minutes to talk to someone, eventually you might just stop calling in when something goes wrong. But the biggest problem I have with both cable and mobile phone companies is not touched upon in the MSN article. That would be the bait and switch in terms of pricing. If you raise someone's bill by $1.50 each month, they probably won't notice. But that shit adds up. They are constantly adding more charges, and most of the time you can't even tell what they are for, assuming you scrutinize your bill. And if you want to find out, plan on being on hold at least fifteen minutes, after which you'll be lucky if you get a straight answer. I don't feel that these companies are even maintaining the pretense that they give a shit about their customers. They are simply trying to extract as much money as they possibly can in any way they can.

What's particularly galling about Comcast is that, where I live at least, they have an effective monopoly. If you want cable television, you don't really have much of a choice. You put up with their bullshit or you do without. They can charge you anything they want, they can provide execrable customer service, and they will, because they know you can't do anything about it. As a fiscal conservative, I've always had problems with anti-trust laws and the like. But monopolies are not good for capitalism. Competition is one of the main reasons that capitalism works as well as it does. Conversely, lack of competition is one of the main reasons communism proved such an abject failure. Without a competitor, there's no reason for a company to keep their prices low or to innovate and improve the quality of their products.