And the Countdown Begins

Until Whenever

Three by Three



Three things I liked about Forgetting Sarah Marshall

• The fact that there was no asshole character, even the Aldous character. Sarah wasn't some horrific bitch, but a mildly self-absorbed actress who in the end couldn't deal with the withdrawn nature of the Segel character.
• The portrayal of sex as more than just some movie-magicked wonderland, but as a real, often clumsy, physical act
  The supporting characters, from Bill Hader's endearing step-brother to Paul Rudd's sly take on the surfer.

Three things I did not like about Saving Sarah Marshall

• The puppet Dracula musical at the end, which wasn't as clever or funny as we were supposed to think
• That Segel's idea of a job to hate is as a successful composer for a TV show. Rough, man. Rough.
• The screenwriter's contrivances - especially Segel's character getting to stay at the fancy resort for free, just because the desk clerk felt bad for him seeing his ex-girlfriend. Really? That's the best he could do?

Until Whenever

Plot Hole?

Maybe I'm missing something and someone can help me out, but:

In Toy Story, it's established that the toys can move and speak in the presence of humans, they just don't. After all, Andy and the misfit toys scare Sid off by talking to him and moving in his presence. So when they flop down when Andy bursts into the room, that's a choice, not something out of their control.

But for two-thirds of the film, Buzz Lightyear doesn't think he is a toy. So why does he become immobile in Andy's presence.

?

Until Whenever

A Bookish Quiz

Jaq's back!! And giving me quizzes to steal!!

What was the last book you bought?
The Given Day, by Dennis Lehane, a historical police drama. I've been waiting for this book for a few years now, as it's taken Lehane longer-than-his-usual to write it. Alas, when it finally came out, I had just started Infinite Jest. And as I'm still plugging away there, I haven't cracked the Lehane yet. I've got about 300 pages of Jest left. So soon.

Name a book you have read MORE than once
I wrote a whole post on this actually. I reread a lot, but the book I've easily read the most is Stephen King's It. Five times. And I will read it again. It's my touchstone.

Has a book ever fundamentally changed the way you see life? If yes, what was it?
I don't think so. But I will say that reading in general has informed to a great deal some of the way I look at the world. A lot of my leftish views, especially on social questions, have been greatly informed by the views of the authors i read, I know that. But one book? no.

How do you choose a book? eg. by cover design and summary, recommendations or reviews?
Recommendations. I almost never read or buy a book because it caught my fancy in a bookstore or library. Almost always it's a book I'm searching for or am aware of; there are simply so many books I know I want to read that I don't make time for ones I've never heard of.

Do you prefer Fiction or Non-Fiction?
I prefer fiction, but only slightly. If I read too much fiction in a row I get antsy, and vice versa, so I typically switch back and forth. That being said, I do read a lot of non-fiction in magazine form, so I'll usually read more novels in a given year than non-fiction books.

What’s more important in a novel - beautiful writing or a gripping plot?
Plot. Great writing can make a book in absence of plot, but that's hard and rare. A great plot can survive even shitty writing.

Most loved/memorable character (character/book)
Paul Welscombe, in the Stephen King novel The Green Mile. The archetypal King good guy.

Which book or books can be found on your nightstand at the moment?
In recent months I've taken to using the nightstand for rereading comics. Right now I've got the Dark Age Astro City hardcover, by Kurt Busiek, and the entire Brubaker run on Captain America, which I've been meaning to reread for a while.

What was the last book you’ve read, and when was it?
Under the Banner of Heaven, Jon Krakauer.

Have you ever given up on a book half way in
Many times. I gave up on Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver twice, the second time after getting 95% of the way through.

Until Whenever

The Power of Story

For the last month or so, I've been reading The Wizard of Oz (the original Baum novel) to my four-year-old twin girls. Both girls have a history of being skittish about conflict in stories--they watched Cinderella for a while but then got too distressed at the meanness of the step-sisters as they tore the dress. They watched Finding Nemo but after a while couldn't take the dentist scene. And they were very nervous about Beauty and the Beast because of, well, the mean Beast.

They were OK with Dorothy landing on the Witch of the East. Probably because the actual conflict takes place off-stage. Dorothy realizes what happened after. And in the book, the Witch of the West doesn't show up in Munchkinland. They were a little nervous about there being another witch out there, but OK. And they digged the addition of the friends and their very clear goals - Scarecrow wants a brain, Tin Man wants a heart, and Lion wants some courage.

When we started the book, I explained the idea of a chapter book, describing how long it would take to read it. I told them how many chapters and pages there were. Weeks later, we were reading the chapter before they get to the Emerald City. And when I told them that the next chapter, chapter 12, was when they would get there, they were surprised. Because they knew that there a lot more chapters to come. And they thought Dorothy and friends getting to Oz would be the end of the story.

Before that point, they had been cooling off on the book. After all, they knew a witch was coming. But now, they are excited. Because there's been a twist. Because they've been surprised. The wizard didn't give Dorothy and the Scarecrow and the Tin Man and the lion what they wanted. To get what they want, the foursome will have to face the witch. And the girls are very excited to see what happens next.

Stories are remarkable things.

Until Whenever

Sing Out Louise! (II)

My first post here at Tosy and Cosh (after a quickly aborted earlier stab at blogging) was about my ten favorite rock singers. So it was with great anticipation that I saw on the newsstand today that Rolling Stone has put out an issue highlighting the 100 greatest singers of all time, as voted on by a blue-ribbon panel of rock artists, writers, producers, and others.

So - how'd my list stack up against Rolling Stone's? Not too well. But that's because my list was of rock singers only - no James Brown, no Aretha, no Nina Simone, etc. But if I correct for that, and omit singers who aren't really rock singers (an admittedly rampagingly subjective exercise), what do I get?

Tosy and Cosh
10. Corey Glover (Living Colour)
9. Roy Orbison
8. Janis Joplin
7. Elvis Costello
6. Roger Daltry
5. Bruce Springsteen
4. Freddie Mercury
3. Elvis
2. Bob Dylan
1. Bono

Rolling Stone
1. Elvis Presley
2. John Lennon
3. Bob Dylan
4. Paul McCartney
5. Little Richard
6. Roy Orbison
7. Robert Plant
8. Mick Jagger
9. Tina Turner
10. Freddie Mercury

Still not much overlap. To my mind Dylan blows Lennon out of the water and McCartney is ranked way too high. Little Richard is hard too argue with. Robert Plant is just too much of a screecher for me. Not enough weight and depth to his voice.

On the other hand, the only two on my list not to make the 100 are Corey Glover (not surprising) and Elvis Costello (very surprising). And the massive U2 fan in me was pleased to see Bono as high as he is - 33.

Until Whenever

Keepin' with Kelly

After last month's viewing of the first season of Picket Fences, I found myself craving that Kelly fix. But, alas, there is no second season of Picket Fences out, yet anyway, and no seasons of Chicago Hope (except on Hulu, which I would watch if I could get it on my TV and not just my laptop or desktop).

So it was on to the first season of The Practice. Wow. Much better than I remembered, and much, much better at portraying the messy, paper-work-stuffed, scrambling, pizza box-strewn, shaving-in-the-office chaos and grunge that is (I imagine) a typical defense attorney's life. The pilot does an outstanding job of getting us into that milieu in its opening minutes, with Bobby and Eleanore rushing to court, and with the lawyers in their office juggling piles of files and manila folders, or holding files with their teeth so they can pick up another.

But I particularly love the design on the courtrooms. Courtrooms on TV today seem stately and grand, like austere libraries, with lots of wood and beautiful architectural touches. The Boston courtrooms in The Practice are old, peeling and, most importantly, echoey. I love the sound design here, the attorney's speeches sound like they are being given in old VFW halls, flat and tinnily echoed.

And, as with any relatively older show, I love catching all the actors I didn't know back then but do now. John C. McGinley as an oily defense lawyer, sounding like a more-serious version of Dr. Cox. Hermann Edwards as a patrician big-firm lawyer. That Kelly regular who played the transvestite on Picket Fences appearing here as a judge.

I'm only three episodes in but I'm very surprised at how much I like this show. And a bit dismayed at the fact that Season Two is not out.

Until Whenever

Third Time's the Try?

First, the woman who made Tank Girl was going to make it as a film. (huh?) Never happened.

Then HBO was going to make it as a series (yay!) with the guy who made Daredevil (boo!). Never happened.

Now, per Newsarama and Variety, Sam Mendes and Columbia are going to make Preacher as a film. Hopefully.

While I definitely think, given the scale and scope of the series, that a TV series is the better vehicle here, I'm still curious to see this material as a film. Preacher may well be my favorite comic series ever, and the story is definitely cinematic, if maybe too close to NC-17 for comfort?

I will be following this one with high interest.

Until Whenever

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

The genius of Dylan, close-up. Live from the Rolling Thunder Tour, mid-1970s.

Artist Site

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You Know You're a Geek When . . .

So I caught the new Hulk movie on DVD. Much less ambitious than Ang Lee's take, but more fun, and with a better Banner. A plot that moved, a good blend of action and talk, and convincing CGI. But something still bothered me as I watched. At first I didn't know what it was. And then it hit me.

The Hulk was too skinny. The Hulk should be thick. Monstrous. Heavy. But here he seemed just tall and muscular. I was reminded of the Michael Turner cover on the stands now:

That's not the Hulk. That's a tall and muscular green Euro-model.

The film's Hulk wasn't as bad, but he was still too skinny:

See?

This is how the Hulk should look

Thicker, and squatter, and more monstrous.

. . . your enjoyment of a big dumb super-hero movie is hampered when the superhero doesn't precisely match the vision in your head of what he should look like.

Until Whenever

. . . on Teeee - Veee!


So, a good month-plus into the new season, what has caught the eyes of Tosy and Cosh?


Mondays
The Big Bang Theory is severely under-utilizing new regular Sarah Gilbert so far, and I hope they rectify that oversight soon. I also worry that they are starting to pull a Fonz with the admittedly very good Jim Parsons' Sheldon. He seems to be the focus of nearly every episode. Nonetheless, this is a well-constructed, funny, very old-fashioned sitcom and I'm glad it's on.


How I Met Your Mother seemed to have rushed the Stella story arc, and I suspect a lot of this is due to the scheduling problems of getting Sarah Chalke. I wonder if it would have played out differently had the original choice, Alicia Silverstone, not backed out in a Britney-fearing snit. Still, the show continues to charm, with the Barney-Robin pairing being handled particularly well so far.


Worst Week is well-acted and actually pretty funny, but good god how do these people think they can milk 200 episodes out of this thing?


Two and a Half Men is raunchy and funny and disposable. No harm in that. Still, how is Charlie Sheen getting Emmy nods for his one-note, just-plain-bad performance?


Heroes is done. I haven't watched a single episode. And Sepinwall tells me I needn't bother.


And I'm done with Terminator as well. I watched the premiere and realized that I was just impatient for it to be over so I could delete it from my TiFaux. Not worth the time.



Tuesdays
House really has too big a cast. Time to cut. 'Twere it up to me, I'd get rid of Chase, Cameron, and 13. Otherwise, it's doing as good a job as any show on TV of balancing self-contained mysteries each week with smaller muti-episode arcs.


Fringe is really just OK. I was excited for it, and tried to convince myself that it was better than it is, but at the end of the day it's just OK. And yet I keep watching, scared that if the larger mythology becomes compelling I will have missed out. What's wrong with me?


The Mentalist is better than I would have guessed. I've only seen the first two episodes, but I liked them, even though at heart it's just yet another generic CBS procedural. I do think that they need to do a better job of explaining how the mentalist is able to figure out the things he does. Right now it's all a little vague, and may as well just be psychic powers for all of the explication his insights get.

Wednesdays

Is there any show on TV as sweet, gleefully silly, and pretty to look at as Pushing Daisies? This show, which will likely be cancelled soon if reports are true, is just delightful, and a wonderful case of many elements (the acting, the music, the dialogue, the costumes) working perfectly together towards a very specific vision.

Thursdays

I am a bit behind on My Name Is Earl, but still enjoy it very much. The actors just give off such a palpable sense of the fun they are having that it makes the show fun to watch. And I also like to keep tallies of who is winning in the war of dirtiest jokers - it or Two and a Half Men. Earl's are certainly more clever.

The Office has become, as Sepinwall or the AV Club noted, can't remember which, one of TV's most affecting romantic comedies ever. Who would have thought. Taking the emphasis on the now-together Jim and Pam away somewhat by focusing on the potential for Michale to find happiness with a one-click more well-adjusted female version of himself was just genius.

I watched two-thirds of the first Kath and Kim and deleted it. Wretched.

I have yet to watch an ER. Casualty of too many late nights at work. I still hope to catch up though.

I've seen just two episodes of Life on Mars so far, and am actually quite digging it. The actors are good, the sense of time and place is excellent and (so far) they are balancing the mystery of how (or if) he time-traveled with the 70s cop stories nicely. I'm intrigued to see where it goes.

Sunday

The Simpsons is both a shell of its former self and good for a laugh. I'll take it.

Until Whenever

Nascent Form

I just finished watching the complete first season of Picket Fences on DVD (and was dismayed to realize that there is, as of now, no Season Two!). I watched the show when first aired, but only sporadically, and later in its run - I have dim memories of starting to watch with the "freezer murders" arc.

What is so fun about watching Picket Fences now is seeing all, or nearly all, of David E. Kelly's quirks and tropes forming before our eyes. What starts out as a portrait of a small, homey, yet quirky town very quickly becomes a platform to dive into the issues of the day - transgenderism, homosexuality, abortion, euthanasia, and many others. And for every one of these issues, the town's sole judge (played beautifully by Ray Walston) gets to, sans jury, opine and rule. Contrived? Of course. But it isn't as if Kelly was suggesting it as anything but a construct that, once accepted, allowed him to tell these stories through the single microcosm of the town of Rome.

Other Kelly tropes quickly became evident as well. The singing. (Through Fyvush Finkel, much better than I recalled as the outsized Douglas Lambau). The twisty murder mysteries. (We see the Practice trick of having someone using the court to get away with murder a few times). The nerdy, romantically longing nebbish. The deft mix of melodrama, comedy, and pathos. The favorite actors. (Richard Kiley. Jamey Sheridan.)

What also struck me was how old-fashioned the series already feels. Long credits, with a prominent theme that gets trotted out every episode. Very few serial traits (all story arcs are tied up in a single episode). Characters making soapboxy speeches, of the kind that you rarely see anymore. Slow-moving edits and camera-work. It, quite frankly, made me feel very old.

Until Whenever

Things I Wonder

Like most of the world, I watched the Palin appearance on SNL Saturday. But what got me thinking wasn't the politics, or any perceived or real animosity between Baldwin and Palin, or whether or not the show used the real Palin effectively.

What got me thinking was the short cameo by Baldwin. When an actor does that kind of walk-on, especially for someone like Baldwin, who knows Lorne Michaels, and has a connection to Tina Fey, and to the show, does he or she get paid? And if so, how much? I worked for Actors' Equity for a while, in the membership department, and know how strict the unions' can be about these kinds of things. So I'm guessing that SAG (or AFTRA, I don't know who gets SNL), would require that an actor be paid even for a jokey walk on like this. But what does he get? Minimum? His regular fee? How does that work?

These are the things I wonder about.

Until Whenever

My New Favorite Thing



I got into Bob Dylan, not through the old stuff, as so many have, but through the recent stuff - specifically, through Time Out of Mind, the first Dylan album I fell in love with.

Now, I had owned Highway 61 for a while, and had listened to it once or twice, and been pretty non-plussed by it. (I know.) I can't remember what spurred me to buy Time Out of Mind, but I did and was presently blown away. What probably surprised me most, given that the only real Dylan songs I really knew knowledge at that point were "The Times They Are A-Changing," "Blowin' in the Wind," "Like a Rolling Stone," and "Rainy Day Woman #12 and 35," was how beautiful this music was. How gentle and sweet and pure.

Because of this, my favorite Dylan period is the one he's in right now - the one started by Time Out of Mind. So the release last week of his latest "Bootleg Series" album, which comprised outtakes, live versions, and cut songs from Oh Mercy, Time Out of Mind, Love & Theft, and Modern Times had me giddy with anticipation.

And I was not disappointed. Each of the two discs starts off with a version of "Mississippi," a song off of Love & Theft. And I find it frankly astonishing how different they are from each other and the release version, and of how good each version is on its own. This album is just an embarrassment of riches. We've got wildly different takes on songs I know well, like the almost martial rendition of "Someday Baby," which on Modern Times was a finger-popping 50s-style bluesy rocker. We've got cut songs that could have easily made the album, like the slowly building and sweetly tragic-sounding "Red River Shore." We've got live versions of songs I didn't love so much originally that completely reclaim the song for me, like "High Water (for Charlie Patton)." We've got an authentic and pristine take on a Robert Johnson blues classic, "32-20 Blues." And we've got wonderful soundtrack tunes I've never heard, like "Huck's Tune."

But most of all, we've got a cohesive, album that sounds nothing like the hodge-podge of stuff it in reality is. Others have noted it, but I must as well - this strong a double-album would be a high-water mark or almost any other artist. For Dylan, it's a collection of stuff lying around.

When I am 90 years old, I am going to tell my great-grandkids that I was around when Dylan was still making music, that I saw him sing and play live, and they are going to react exactly as I would if I met someone who saw a Shakespeare play when Shakespeare premiered it. He's that good.

Until Whenever

Coinkydinks

I have seen Spaceballs at least ten times, although not in years. Almost all of those ten (or so) viewings came as a teen.

In the last two months, I finally got around to seeing two supremely excellent films - Lawrence of Arabia and The Bridge over the River Kwai.

And, wouldn't you know it, there are gags in Spaceballs that depend on knowledge of those films.

When Lone Star and party are traveling through the desert, the score is from Lawrence.

And when the Jawa stand-ins march, they hum the tune that the British soldiers whistled in Kwai.

Until Whenever

Teetotaling

In a comment to this post, Jaquandor asked why I don't drink. I put this in the comments there, but thought it bore posting on its own.

If you gave me a big bowl of M&Ms, I would eat the whole thing. Now, about a third of the way through, I wouldn't WANT anymore M&Ms. But they would still be there, and so I would still eat them.

Based on this little bit of self-knowledge (and a little bit of family history), I have always suspected alcohol and I should not mix. And we never have. In 34 years, my total alcohol consumption comprises:

• A sip or two of beer as a kid (thought it was gross)
• A sip or two of wine as a teen (thought it was OK)
• A shot of cherry brandy foisted on me after shoveling the driveway of my wife's kindly Greek landlords before we were married.

And that's it. I feined sipping the champagne toast at my wedding, my sister's wedding, and my father's wedding. Such hardcore abstinence may well be overkill. But I'm fine with never finding out.

Until Whenever

When Hollywood Reads My Mind

AMC, which two years ago I don't think anyone expected to be the new go-to sight for compelling, adult TV series, is so far two-for-two. Mad Men and Breaking Bad are two of my favorite series airing right now.

And now they have made a very promising move for number three. According to this, their next series will be based on the first book in what is probably my favorite science fiction series ever - Kim Stanley Robinson's Red Mars. The Mars trilogy is an epic, complicated saga of the colonization of Mars that is stunning in the level of scientific detail it packs into its story. Robinson convincingly describes the science behind such ideas as terraforming and space elevators, making the trilogy much more than yet another adventures in space tale.

Which does, though, beg a question. How will all of that science (and in the book there is a lot of it - he can go on for pages describing the geography of the planet in minute detail) get dealt with in a series? In a novel, Robinson can lay the omniscient narrator card and just describe stuff for us. In a series, that's a lot harder.

Still, I'm very excited by the news, and anxious to see how this develops over the coming months.

Until Whenever

Get Busy Turnin' Right, Or Get Busy Dying

I was saying the other day to my wife and brother-in-law that, if I had a GPS system (which I don't), that I'd pay extra to get Morgan Freeman doing the voiceover, instead of the generic "pleasant female" voice these things usually come with.

And lo and behold, what do I see on David Pogue's site just now?

You gotta love, though, the latest from Tom Tom: you can buy, for $13, any of 25 replacement voices. So instead of hearing the usual monotone GPS Lady telling you to turn right in 500 feet, you hear John Cleese, Burt Reynolds, Dennis Hopper, Mr. T, Curt Shilling, Gary Busey, or, now, Kim Cattrall.

I haven't looked up the full list, but have to assume that Freeman isn't on it or Pogue would have named him rather than, say, Curt Shilling. Still, only a matter of time, right?

John

Why Does It Seem So Inviting?

Another absence, another meme to return on. I'm very predictable.

Stolen from the Frog.

Have you ever been apple picking?
Many times. Taking the kids has become a tradition, although this year the place (Masker's Orchards in NY) was out of cider donuts when we went. Not cool, Maskers, not cool.

Is there a dish you make/eat only during this time of the year?
Pumpkin ice cream. Only because evil Big Ice Cream only makes the stuff at this time of year. Jerks. This year, I've managed to get the kids hooked on the stuff. Passing on your addictions to your children can be fun!

Will you attend a tail gate party this season?
No. Went to a few in college and largely missed the allure.

When do you turn on the heat?
Usually at least intermittently by mid-October.

How many sweaters do you own?
Maybe 7?

Are you fond of Nouveau Beaujolais wine?
As its a wine, no. Tosy and Cosh are teetotalers.

Do you get excited about Halloween?
Yes. Much more so now that there are kids to act as beards for my enthusiasm. This year, one will be Cinderella and the other a witch.

How about Thanksgiving?
Yes. I just really like Turkey, plus the idea of a holiday with no real agenda.

Is there an activity you do only in the autumn?
Pumpkin picking, apple picking, pumpkin carving. Raking leaves.

Have you ever burned leaves?
No. Sounds fun though.

Do you own any ‘scarecrow’ decorations?
Two five-footers in the front lawn and two little one-foot decorations inside.

Do you plant bulbs?
We mean to plant bulbs.

Your fondest autumn memory?

When does fall begin for you?
The first time I have to out a jacket on in the morning.

What is your favorite aspect of fall?
The smell of the air. Just wondrous.

What do you like to drink in the fall?
Pumpkin spice coffee.

What is fall weather like where you live?
Northeast New Jersey is very nice in Fall - cool but not too cold with lots of sun.

What color is fall?
Burnt yellowy red.

Do you have a favorite fall chore?
No. I like the idea of raking, but the actuality of raking, not so much.

What is your least favorite thing about fall?
Rainy fall days. Very depressing.

What is your favorite fall holiday?
Halloween, in a pretty easy walk.

What’s your favorite kind of pie?
Pumpkin.

Do you have a favorite fall book?
Not really.

Until Whenever

From my Pen

Because I'm not feeling it today, after a week during which technical difficulties prevented me from posting much, I'm going to post the first two scenes fo a play I wrote a few years back. Any and all feedback is, of course, welcome.



We open on a spare stage, with unfinished, earthy, sticky even pine the dominant feature. A raised dais, hexagonal in shape, sits center stage, constructed entirely of this naked pine. The dais is about two feet high in the center, with a square platform of about 6 feet on a side on top. Two steps lead up to the dais on all sides. A large cross, also naked pine, dominates the rear wall of the stage. The Christ upon it should ideally be carved directly from the wood, that is the crucifix and Christ would all be one contiguous piece of wood. The Christ should be somewhat abstract, but still clearly Christ. The scent of incense should be faint on the air. The lights should be of muted purples and reds, as if all the stage lighting had been strained through stained glass. The wood that dominates the set should have a well-oiled look to it, strong and sturdy pine; the dais and the Christ should be constructed from thick and solid pieces of wood with a weight to them. As the curtain rises or as the lights dim we hear music in the background. The music should straddle the romantic and modern eras, retaining clear tonality but with definite experimental aspects to it – perhaps some Schoenberg or Barber. The music will continue throughout the entirety of this opening scene, always faint and never dominant. Perhaps there is a slight haze in the air. The feeling should be of an unadorned and stolid holiness, a strong sacred and holy feeling – the set and atmosphere should, as much as possible, evoke not just a church, but a church of ancient and unmoving strength and sacredness. At the front of the dais are two wooden chairs set side by side and facing the audience. A simple wire frame, much like a rolling hanger rack, sits between the chairs, perpendicular to the audience. Hung on this rack is a thick, black cloth.

Seated on the SR chair is FATHER CASTANELLA, an elderly priest. FATHER CASTENELLA is gray-haired and well-fed, if a bit gaunt in the face nonetheless. He wears wire-rimmed glasses and is a short man, perhaps 5 foot 4 or 5. His hair is wispy and thinning but still ample for a man of his age. Seated on the SL chair is FATHER OSTRAUSKAS. FATHER OSTRAUSKAS is a younger priest, in his later twenties. He has dark hair and the hint of stubble on his cheek. Taller, perhaps 5 foot 10 or 11, and wiry. FATHER OSTRAUSKAS looks nervous, agitated, and he fidgets in his chair. He is dressed in black dress pants and a black t-shirt, but wears no priestly collar. While it should be clear to the audience that FATHER CASTANELLA is a priest, it should not be clear at the outset that FATHER OSTRAUSKAS is one.

Scene One

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

FATHER CASTANELLA
How long has it been since your last confession?

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
Six days, Father.

FATHER CASTANELLA
And what is your confession?

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
Pause. Then, more to us than to FATHER CASTANELLA. I walked through the park yesterday. It’s been my custom to walk through the park ever since I came to this city, every Sunday, whenever I’m able. This was a nice one. Sunny and bright, a beautiful spring day. There were children playing, squealing and shouting like excited convicts afforded their first glimpse of freedom in years, and each step I took felt right, felt pre-ordained and perfect. The air was as sweet as I’ve ever smelled it here, not a hint of smog or smoke or garbage, just clean, fresh spring air. I could feel the grass, feel each blade bend and give, even underneath the rubber soles of my sneakers, and it had a spring to it, an almost palpable sense of life as it bent underneath my weight. I looked up at the sky so many times I could not count, there was one single, solitary cloud hovering in the corner of the sky, like a bad child made to sit in a corner. The rest of the sky was a pure and sinless blue, clean and fresh. The sun was warm at my neck, and I could feel the pleasant sensation of moisture as the sweat seeped up through my pores at its touch. At one point I was walking past a group of children playing soccer and the ball came out of bounds to my side. Immediately, all the children started yelling for me to “Kick it! Kick it!,” and I smiled at them. I used to play soccer, back home, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that. Grinning, I kicked the ball towards the children over their outstretched arms and into the opposite goal. They cheered, erupted almost, and I raised my arms in victory before walking on. It was that kind of a day, Father, do you know the kind of day I speak of?

FATHER CASTANELLA
I do, Kostas. Indeed, I do.

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
It was a perfect day, and after a bit I took a rest by the lake, sitting near the bank and watching the small boats crisscross in sharp geometric patterns underneath that frightfully blue sky. And, as is always my custom on these walks, I turned my thoughts to Jesus and prayed to him, to thank him for the gift of such a day, the gift of such a beautiful place to call home. Pause I was scared, Father, as I began to do this, to engage in this small and meaningless prayer – not even a prayer, just a quick word of thanks to our savior - fear filled my heart, Father. I hesitate to call it terror for fear of making you laugh, and yet it was perhaps that just the same. Do you know why I felt this fear, this almost-terror, Father?

FATHER CASTANELLA
No, my son. Why?

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
Throughout the following, FATHER OSTRAUSKAS becomes more emotional, but never hysterically so. Because I knew not what I might find. I was scared that there would be no one there to answer my prayer, I was scared that Jesus would not be there to answer, that I would be greeted by nothing but silence, that the connection I’ve always felt with God, that I’ve always been able to call upon in prayer and reflection, would be gone. This scared me, no, terrified me, Father, because, for the first time in my life, I am not sure that he IS there. Do you understand, Father? I am not sure I even believe in him anymore, I am not sure if I believe in the resurrection, the passion, I am not even sure if I believe in God at all!

FATHER CASTANELLA
Was he there to answer your prayer?

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
Pause, then, almost terrified
No.

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS stands up and, slowly, reaches into his back pocket , pulls out his collar and puts it on. These motions should have a very ritualistic sense about them, and coincide with the music either increasing in volume or climaxing, whichever makes the most sense. Blackout.

Scene Two

Lights up on FATHER OSTRAUSKAS standing at the center dais, in front of a podium with a microphone atop it. He is now dressed in full priestly robes. Seated to his right is FATHER CASTANELLA, also dressed in full gear. Opened on the podium is a Bible. As the lights come up, FATHER OSTRAUSKAS reads from the Bible:

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS
Steadily, but not with great passion, either. “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, because that which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.” The Word of God

A chorus of voices responds, “The Word of God.” FATHER OSTRAUSKAS closes the Bible, takes the microphone from the stand and walks in front of the podium. Addressing the audience.

I have a computer. Perhaps many of you do as well, own a computer. I’ve had it for some years now; I wrote the first draft of tonight’s homily, in fact, on this very same computer. Yes! Priests use computers. It’s true. One of our deep, dark secrets – promise you won’t tell. I’ll let you in on another. I even have a (exaggerated stage whisper) TV! (Loud) Yes! And I’ve WATCHED it! But – back to my computer, or, computers in general, actually. I’d like you, those of you who own a computer, anyway, to think back to when you first got that computer, when you first opened that box, when you first plugged it in and turned it on. I remember that day. My brother Phil was over, he helped me to set it up. Actually, it didn’t take much to set up. He plugged it in, connected the mouse and the keyboard and the monitor, flipped it on. There was some activity to be done with a password, I remember that, and then . . . we were in. It was on. Working. I asked my brother-in-law, and this I remember very specifically, I asked him, “Where are the programs?” I had really gotten the computer primarily for word processing, it was the main reason I had gotten it, and I asked him, “How de we load the word processing program? Where’s the disc?” He laughed and, with a few clicks, up came a word processing program. It’s already in there, he said, it’s been hardwired. (Pause) HARDWIRED. Now – THIS was a concept I understood, my brothers and sisters, and I think you all understand it as well. HARDWIRED. We didn’t need to teach the computer word processing by feeding it a program, no!, it had been HARDWIRED. Word processing was one of the many things it had been given at birth, been created with. I ask you, my brothers and sisters, as I asked myself that day, are we HARDWIRED with anything? We’re HARDWIRED to eat, are we not? To drink? To sleep, to suckle, to cry? These are things we have been HARDWIRED with, no one teaches us to do any of these, we just . . . KNOW them. They’ve been - say it with me, congregation - HARDWIRED! And today’s readings tell us that something else has been HARDWIRED into us, don’t they? “ . . .Because that which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them.” God in his infinite wisdom has seen fit to HARDWIRE into us knowledge of him. Now – I hear your thoughts already my brothers and sisters, “then WHY AM I HERE!!!???” Why do we come to church together, why do we put our young through the endless Sundays and drills and sermons, if knowledge of God is already HARDWIRED? Well, brothers and sisters, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, the teachings of Christ are NOT HARDWIRED, the details of His story are not HARDWIRED, but the knowledge of God, the knowledge of his existence, of his goodness, of his love for us – THAT is HARDWIRED. And that is a glorious thing. We have knowledge of God at birth, from the moment we spark into existence like fireflies spontaneously generating into a cool summer night, we KNOW God. We may not yet know his name, or his story, or even precisely what he asks of us, but we know him and we hear him and we feel him. We are full of him.

FATHER OSTRAUSKAS pauses here. Almost as if hesitant about plunging forward. Soon enough, however, he does, almost nervously.

This is a glorious thing, is it not? A glorious thing. For imagine a world, imagine, my brothers and sisters, a world in which we were not HARDWIRED. Can you? What would that world be like? A world in which the identity of God was ours to discover, a world in which His presence was not ingrained into us, a world in which it was . . . open to question. Would we believe in a God in such a world?

As he progresses through the following, FATHER OSTRAUSKAS becomes more agitated and theatrical in tone and gesture, until at the end, he is fairly screaming, or, more precisely, over emoting

Looking at the world around us, at the evidence in front of us, hearing on the news of the child who’s killed by his Mother, of the war and violence man commits against man, hell, of great tragedies caused by the earth itself, earthquakes trembling and spitting us out like rotten teeth, hurricanes and tornadoes and ice storms and lightning and lava and locusts and plagues and disease and cancer, AIDS, heart attacks, epidemics, freak occurrences of nature that take life on a whim the fragility and capriciousness of human existence the very wispiness of our lives with no control or discernible order rhyme reason logic fairness system structure – NOTHING!!! (Bitter) In all of this NOTHINGNESS would we still believe in an almighty God if he had not seen fit to burn it into our brains with no more thought given to the branding of cattle? Would we? HARDWIRED, my brothers and sisters. HARDWIRED.

He drops the microphone to the ground and walks off.

Until Whenever