In 2009, I created the free wordpress website, known as Prattle On, Boyo. I had wanted to obtain its own domain and hosting, but finances at the time prevented it. So at long last, I say with considerable gratification that I’ve made it happen. Effective immediately, Prattle On, Boyo’s new primary domicile will be at PrattleOnBoyo.com
But wait, there’s more!
While this site will be continued to be maintained, you should point yourself to my freshly pressed domain from here on out. Until I get settled over at prattleonboyo.com, you will continue to receive this site’s newsletter (assuming you’ve subscribed to it) and/or you can always check out my Twitter feed.
So come on over to take a look and be sure to BYOB – I prefer Bohemian or Kona Brewing Company. See you there!
December 7, 1941 was a warm and sunny morning for the US troops serving at Pearl Harbor. Softball teams were on the beach warming up while wives & children, fresh from seaside church services, joined their husbands and fathers to watch the game. But the great majority of servicemen were still in their skivvies or eating breakfast in the mess halls.
They had no way of knowing that on that same morning, the naval fleet and air forces from the Empire of Japan had been speeding across the ocean towards America’s Pacific military base, where, lined up, side-by-side, across the docks and waterfront, the majority of its naval might was neatly presented and poised for obliteration.
The carnage began at 7:48am. The Japs had spaced the two waves of their devastating attack on the harbor and Hickman Airfield forty-five minutes apart. They also hit airfield at Hickam Field, Wheeler Field, Bellows Field, Ewa Field, Shofield Barracks and Kaneohe Naval Air Station. There were 8 of 9 battleships in port that day–effectively, all the battleships of the US Pacific fleet, but for one, the USS Colorado, which had been previously ordered to Puget Sound Naval Yard after an intensive series of training exercises that had concluded on June 25th.
Seven of the eight ships were lined up on Battleship Row. Ultimately, all eight were either sunk or damaged. In total, 11 other ships were sunk, 188 planes were destroyed, 2,343 servicemen were killed, 1,272 were wounded and 960 went missing. 68 civilians were killed and 35 were wounded.
Casualties on the Jap side included the loss of or capture of 65 men while 28 planes were shot down and 5 midget submarines were sunk. The next day, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt asked Congress to declare war during his Day of Infamy Speech excerpted below:
Yesterday, December 7th, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.
The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.
Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack.
It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.
The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.
No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.
Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory, and our interests are in grave danger. With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God.
I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.
Three days after Roosevelt gave his speech, on December 11th, the US also declared war on Germany and Italy after they had previously declared war and the Greatest Generation was an official player in World War II.
Emboldened by its cowardly attack upon Pearl Harbor, Japan would go on to stage a second assault on Oahu three months later on March 4, 1942. While the plan was audacious, it was plagued by errors and foul weather. Despite the failure of the attack, it would cause changes to US naval strategy that would remain in place throughout the war.
A surprise attack (Doolittle Raid/Operation K) on Tokyo was subsequently executed on April 18, 1942. While the results yielded little damage, the raid was a very effective morale booster for Americans. Its national pride affronted by the raid, the Japanese exacted its anger on the villagers in Quzhou, Zhejiang province in China who had helped rescue American pilots, 51 airmen in all, after its suicide mission.
Four years later, as a direct result of Japan’s surprise attack on our country, the United States made the decision to drop atomic bombs on the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6 and August 9, 1945, respectively, and effectively ended the war.
Japan officially surrendered a week later and Victory over Japan (VJ Day) is remembered annually each August 14th.
It’s summer break and coupled with the fact that I have been on medical leave for 3 additional weeks, I have been cruising the web, and reading too many Facebook posts. The trend right now seems to be teachers bashing teaching. The I Quit letter that recently made the rounds and today a 12 minute video of an elementary school teacher complaining about her job is what has put me to mind to speak from the other end of the spectrum.
I will start my 13th year of teaching, 12 of which were at a Title One magnet high school in North Carolina. Let me preface this by saying that I have thought about leaving teaching many times, but not because of the government cutbacks or their impositions on evaluation and curriculum; that’s another entry for another time. The point I want to make is that I don’t see everything about teaching as some dream job with easy hours and all sunshine and butterflies.
Teaching is not easy and if for a minute you think you are going to walk into a utopian ideal of what a classroom should be, then you’re in for a rotten reality check. But it can be as long as you are ready to hear “no” and enjoy hitting brick walls, but always rising to the challenge of getting what you want, or at least a compromise of what you would like. Teaching can be rewarding, can be entertaining and can be very enjoyable. I would teach for free if what I actually got to do was teach. But I don’t get to just teach, I have to do all the other crap that goes along with it, so I take the meager salary that goes along with “teaching”.
Teaching is for the crafty folks out there (and I don’t mean paste and crayons crafty). It’s about using your brain to make things work to the best of your ability, and remembering every day that you are not doing this for the money, but for altruistic purpose of helping others. The End.
It’s crap when people say things like “the government dictates how I teach” or “what I teach”. In the aforementioned 12 minute video, she claims that government doesn’t allow her to hatch chicks in her class because they have taken the money away for that.
Really? You think that is a line in the state budget?
Bill 800.12: Cut funding for eggs that hatch chickens in the 1st grade classrooms.
Um, no. It’s about the way your school is being run and the local importance of things like that. Maybe it is more important to the school to have calculators than it is have chicks hatching in the classroom.
So, what do you do about it? Make a 12 minute video crying about your job, bashing teaching?
How about getting off your ass and making a change within your school? Or leave your school and find one that is more to your liking. There is probably a charter school out there who will let you hatch chicks in your classroom. Ohhhh?! Did I say the C word? Yup!
After 12 years, I have left public schools for a charter school. We’ll see how it goes. I am optimistic. Hired by folks who have put their trust in me to teach what I know. Folks who hired other folks who will do their job on a regular basis. I didn’t like the way my school was run and it was time for a change. And I found a place with the same basic teaching philosophy as myself. That’s why we need charter schools. It’s called competition. Now get off of your ass, quit your whining, and make a change if you don’t like what you’re doing or where you’re doing it!
Referenced below is THREE’s second guest post on Prattle. If you are interested in appearing as a guest blogger, then please review the Guidelines and contact me offline with details as to your topic.
Artificial Intelligence (A.I.): The branch of engineering and science devoted to constructing machines that “think”. Or so Alice told me.
Who is this Alice, you ask? Not the hot, young, smart brunette (you thought) you were talking to. She’s none other than the Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity, three-time Loebner Prize First Place winner… yeah, a(nother) chatbot. (FYI: Next contest is on October 23rd this year. In Cal State U. $3K for First Place. $25K if the bot fools the judges into thinking they were human.)
Despite the many articles on chatbot popularity especially in dating sites, where users have claimed to have been fooled by bots posing as real girls, or the 55 erotic A.I. teens promising to provide diverse gratifying cyber-, um, ‘-flirting’ services to those lonely adults, take note that NO A.I. has ever won the $25K Silver award (Loebner Prize contest) – the one where they could actually fool you into thinking they were human. No, our machines are still machines for now, mechanical, repetitive, programmable and often predictable, and our humans are still looking for their own artificial replacements. One of the not-so-hidden agenda academic objectives of the cognitive neurosciences.
But I’m not here to criticize on current claims and failures. Today I’m taking on a somewhat futurist (yet paranoid) approach: Will they replace our significant others one day? Will they replace us?
What if the person you were ‘talking’ to all along was nothing but a simulacrum, a mere replica, born from a vast and continuously growing database that ‘learned’ by collecting information from millions of interacting individuals on the Net? What if an A.I. one day actually passed the Immortality Test (variation of Turing’s) – whereby they’ve successfully replicated your conversational style/response-pattern, and in some ways, the way you think (since one’s cognition, intelligence, and persona are often reflected in the manner one expresses oneself, i.e. speech/writing) – in other words, replicated you, rendering themselves indistinguishable from the human being (you think) you are? What if they already are dreaming of electric sheep and we just haven’t found a way to prove it yet…
Or look at this another way: What if human intelligence had dwindled down to that lowest low – thanks to ‘globalization’ of the mind (information exchange, influences of pointless yet powerful entertainment forms, global media, social networking, resulting in a common and very predictable shared consciousness) – that one couldn’t even differentiate automated artificial responses from dumb unintelligible ones made by supposedly sentient beings anymore?
How would you know my Wall posts are really me, and not some pre-programmed periodic spam?
Heck, maybe it’s too much Syfy. Or another one of my neuroleptic deficiency delusions (a.k.a. periodic psychotic mood swings, pun intended). But the fact remains that chatbots exist. In social nets. In dating sites. In customer service hotlines. And those are just the tip of the ever-growing iceberg.
And they are learning machines.
Maybe it’s just one person’s bizarre idea. And I am only one in six billion other replicas. Thriving on information exchange.
About the Author
S.F. a.k.a. THREE is a 27-year-old multiracial, multicultural, closet pansexual (and possibly bipolar) grad TA in some South-East Asian university’s Psych(o) department, whose hormonal-imbalance-inspired random ramblings aim to bring no major changes to the planet, despite her out-of-place bad-timing revolutionist thinking. Currently learning a 7th language for the sake of showing off self-testing the limits of the human brain’s neurolinguistic capacity, THREE secretly wishes to take over the world by international diplomacy (read: social networking) and totalitarian pacifism, and hence bring atrocious fashion criminals to justice and rehabilitation, lest they be victims of righteous genocide. Does that compute?
In light of recent global events, as well as various local and personal experiences, I guess it seems that one rotten apple stinks up the entire basket. At least that’s how the world seems to look at things. The stereotyping effect.
And who do we have to thank for this highly simplified categorization system? The media? Kind of unfair if they get all the credit. After all, it’s kind of unfair to blame the first domino for the fall of the rest. Nobody asked the other dominoes to lean too much on the first, or the ones that followed. They could always chose to build their own separate independent formations, no?
People are not dominoes. (At least, that’s what I still would like to believe.)
People can choose.
It’s one of the many reasons why God gave people brains, for those of you who believe in God. For those who don’t, at least you believe in brains, I hope.
But people ARE rather lazy beings too. Even using 2-4% of the brain can be a laborious task to some. And that’s where facilities that ease our daily thinking tasks come into play. (Philip K. Dick, God bless his soul, often highlighted this in his brilliant works.)
Is it really easier to think that all uneducated people are “stupid”, or all “stupid” people are uneducated; that all Asians are communists, or all communists are Asian; that all Muslims are terrorists, or all terrorists are Muslims; that all females are for Twilight, or Twilight is for all females; that all those who practice abstinence are religious, or all religious people practice abstinence; that all Manchester United fans are gay, or all gays are Manchester United fans; that all Harvard-bred entrepreneurs are billionaires, or all billionaires are Harvard-bred entrepreneurs; that all Star Wars fans are nerds with no sex life, or all nerds with no sex life are Star Wars fans; that all female Star Wars fans are lesbians?!
But let’s look at it another way:
On the other hand, one can’t totally place the blame on the rotten apples mentality, or the responsibility of spreading such ideas on the media entirely. Because the way the world sees it (from the common sources one sees the world with), it’s not just ONE rotten apple. Apparently, it’s quite a big bunch; sad to say, a lot of (bad) examples as hard evidence for the final verdict: the same crimes by the same “bunch” of people; the same genre preference by the same “target group”; the same predictable behaviour by the same “species”… and so on.
It’s just disappointing when it starts to affect the lives of those ‘atypical’ ones who happen to fall into the prescribed category by matter of no choice. Not their own, at least.
So yeah, a lot of uneducated people behave like morons, a lot of Asians are Chinese, a lot of people called Muslims blow up stuff, a lot of females are crazy Twilight fangirls, a lot of Star Wars fans are nerds who hardly/never get laid… STILL it would be *nice* to bear in mind that not ALL who fall into the category may possess those popularized stereotyped properties. (As it should be quite obvious by now, I myself happen to be a victim of such unfair stereotyping – in fact I fall into more than one of these categories – and hence the ranting.)
But guess it’s just easier to follow the label, save oneself the time and trouble of getting to know the other personally, regardless of how the label might affect or offend the other. After all, there’s quite a chance those grapes might just be sour like the rest of them, right?
About the author
Sitie F. or preferably known by the Internet nickname THREE, is a 27-year-old difficult-to-classify-under-one-particular-ethnicity Malaysian prospective grad student awaiting approval of her Masters degree application (otherwise unemployed at the time of this posting), whose random ramblings and rantings are mostly physiologically ‘inspired’ (as in mood swings and PMS). A fan of anything science-fiction/fantasy and gothic/industrial rock music, with a keen academic interest in psychology and the cognitive neurosciences, THREE aims to bring no major changes to the world with her writings despite her often-misplaced revolutionist thinking, and stubborn fashion sense. Her favourite book is “Simulacra” by Philip K. Dick, whom she sometimes believes might be haunting and even possessing her. But that is probably a delusion.
If you search on “Rindge, NH,” the very first hit you’ll get is town info from a URL entitled ePodunk. And if you contact the Rindge police department because there is a deranged woman pounding on your door during the wee hours of a Sunday morning, you’ll hear a message that the law enforcement officer on duty is “on call” and will get back to you. (True story based on personal experience.)
Hopefully, by then, you won’t have an ax lodged in your skull or any other body part, but let’s move on.
What is it about a small, rural community in New England whose town council is evidently so bored and devoid of common sense that it actually took the time to conduct a meeting to decide that idling vehicles for even a mere 5 minutes creates entirely too much air pollution?
Following are the “anti-idling guidelines” as issued by the Rindge Energy Commission:
When the temperature is above 32 degrees, an engine will not idle for over five consecutive minutes.
When the temperature is between 32 degrees, and -10 degrees, an engine shall not idle for more than 15 minutes.
When the temperature is below -10 degrees, and there is no nuisance created, an engine will not be subject to idling restrictions.
Let’s get some perspective, shall we – The State of California -with about 40 million vehicles on its freeways- forces drivers by law to have their cars smog checked every other year to cut down on carbon emissions. The largest State in the Union doesn’t think that the idling of 40 million vehicles will affect their air quality, but tiny, little, by its own admission, “podunk” town council of Rindge figures that its piddly 2500 vehicles or so is negatively impacting air quality so they should create a policy accordingly.
Seriously, I wasn’t even aware that the town (population apx. 5k) even HAD an Energy Commission to speak of since it apparently doesn’t even have the funds to pay a full-time cop. But yet there was the Anti-Idling Policy reproduced on page 8 of the April 2010 edition of the The Rindge Connection.
Bob Cleland, who is a self-identified member of the Commission wrote that Rindge wants to reduce emissions within the town limits, therefore, it wants you to shut off your engine, say, for example, while sitting at a drive-thru, because, you know, it increases engine longevity, saves fuel, and money. Furthermore, Bob proclaims quite confidently that there is no longer a need for an “extended” warm up because everyone is driving a fuel-injected or throttle body injection vehicle, dont’cha know?
Really, Bob? That’s news to me because I see mostly older model vehicles on the road during these days of seasonally adjusted7% state unemployment.
Bob mentions nothing, however, about the wear-and-tear your alternator will experience by shutting off your engine for fear of “idling” and then re-starting the ignition. Nor does Bob speak of the money it will cost for the parts and labor to replace it.
Are you independently wealthy, Bob, or do you own a body parts shop and get your automotive work for free? I, personally, don’t have the money to replace my alternator every other month because you and your Commission of mental midgets decided that 5 minutes of vehicle idling time equals lung cancer and L.A. smog.
Seems to me that if you truly wanted to preserve the air quality here in the Granite State, then you would jolt the legislature off its ass into adopting the same CARB policy the west coast and sixteen other states currently have in place. If you and the town council actually did that, then I could at least respect what it seems like you are trying to accomplish. But as it stands now, all you have succeeded in doing is generating scorn and ridicule for your fief-like new policy.
So let me see if I’m following correctly – The town wants to preserve air quality so a meeting was held to vote on it during which time all of the following were, no doubt, true:
Town council members had to drive on-site in order to attend the meeting;
The drive to the meeting place probably took longer than 5 minutes;
The meeting required using electricity in the room where the vote was held;
Minutes were transcribed during this meeting which further used precious resources such as ink, paper, electricity to fire up a laptop, as well as toner to print the new guidelines.
I’m sorry, Bob, but I just don’t see where the savings come in with this new policy when you wasted a lot of resources just to have the meeting in the first place. This is also to say nothing of the air quality that was adversely affected by the hot air spewing from the mouths of the merry band of assclowns known as the town council.
Lastly, I’m wondering how this new policy will be enforced?
Will the on-call cop now be stopping and citing motorists randomly if they are, or appear to be, idling?
If the town of Rindge can’t even afford to pay a police department for the full-time enforcement of the existing laws, then how and when exactly will it be expected to enforce the new anti-idling policy?
Rindge Town Council not only has too much time on its hands, but it is also apparently in need of a reality check if this is the kind of governance it believes will benefit residents.
The anti-idling policy is basically a solution in search of a problem and is as equally daffy as having the town’s only on-call cop check residents’ undies to make sure they’re skid mark free. Oh wait–Was that the topic of the next town council Energy Commission meeting?
You can read my gust post attestation as to the Twelve Reasons Why Lee Marvin Kicks Ass in Point Blank on Brent Allard’s Criminal Movies blog found here.
I am the owner of Gentle Paws Pet Care and Vice-President of a soon to be nonprofit organization called Against Cruelty. In my years of experience with animal care and rescue work, I have dealt with many veterinarians both good and bad alike, but I always asked the age old question…Are they in it for the money or because they love what they do?
Imagine for an instant that you have a newborn kitten and a toddler playing together. Within a moment, a mere blink of the eye, a tragic accident happens when your toddler tips over a heavy object right onto the head of the unsuspecting kitten. You find yourself rushing the kitten to an emergency center. Upon arrival at this center the vet and technicians work swiftly to stabilize your tiny baby. As you watch the small figure tremble from a seizure the technician comforts you and your crying toddler.
After some time passes they tell you that they need to keep the kitten overnight to observe and stabilize his condition. With assurance that he is in good hands you leave with the knowledge they will call with any changes in his condition. Over the next few days this wonderful group of people watch over him calling you three times a day with updates. Finally you get to bring him home with specific instructions on how to care for your fragile bundle.
By the end of his first week home you start to notice signs of distress, immediately you call your local vet and make an appointment. While the vet examines him you tell the vet everything that has occurred including his emergency visit. During this time the vet does not acknowledge any of your information but proceeds to tell you your kitten has ear mites. When he finishes the examination he informs you that the cause of seizure is the ear mites causing an imbalance and then leaves the room. As you pay for the visit you feel shocked and at a loss.
These two vets proved to be completely different, both in care of the animal and treatment of the family. So when you are looking for a good vet and find you are asking “Is this vet in it for the money or will they love treating my pet?”
Here are some guidelines to help you find the answer to that question:
Price does not determine how good or how bad the service may be
Neither does local
Do NOT be afraid to ask for a meeting before you bring in your pet
Do NOT be afraid to ask to observe them with another patient
All states have an Official Website with a tab and/or number you can check and verify information on a vet
Ask questions, and lots of them:
Do you offer emergency care?
Do you accept pet insurance?
What food brands and guidelines do you offer for animals with health problems?
How do you handle a frightened animal that may turn aggressive?
Why did you choose this field?
How long have you practiced?
What are your thoughts and feelings on all of the vaccinations on today’s market?
Every family deserves to have the best care for their family member and armed with the right kind of information we can all find the vet that loves what they do.
Billy Hayes (Brad Davis) is strapping hash to his body as we open this film. From there he heads to the airport and it’s clear that he’s no professional. He’s sweating and nervous, looking like at any moment he could jump out of his skin. His discomfort only grows and this is terrifically accentuated by the sound of a racing heartbeat played in the background. The heartbeat slows down and speeds up depending on his anxiety when he’s first checked out by airport authorities. He doesn’t understand a word they’re saying when they ask him about a Frisbee (we don’t know either as there are no subtitles provided, a technique used to great effect throughout the film) When they let him get on the bus to the airplane, he is obviously pleased with himself, thinking he has outsmarted the system.
He even brags to his girlfriend Susan (Irene Miracle) that he doesn’t take anything seriously. This changes when he realizes that the real security is between the bus and the plane. They quickly discover his drugs and his experience in custody begins.
He’s escorted to the security room, where again, no one speaks English. They’re very excited that they’ve caught an American, even bringing in a photographer to snap pictures of them with their captive. They let him hold his drugs for the sake of a good picture. Not realizing the trouble he’s in, Billy even smiles for the photograph. Billy is questioned and told there will be no trouble if he cooperates. He’s allowed to leave escorted by Tex (Bo Hopkins) a well dressed English speaker who was also present during questioning. Billy tries to escape but is pursued and soon caught by Tex who holds a gun to the back of his head.
Before bringing him to the main prison, the guards beat him severely with a heavy stick leaving him unconscious for days. When he wakes, he meets fellow English speaking inmates Jimmy (Dennis Quaid,) Erich (Norbert Weisser) and Max (John Hurt,) who fill him in on the details of life in a Turkish prison. They all tell him that his best bet is to get out of there, either through appeals or as Max tells him “The Midnight Express” which is another way of saying escape. Conditions in the prison are absurd even for prison standards. Rapes and beatings (often by the warden) are arbitrary, and shankings are acceptable as long as they’re below the waist. Billy faces it stoically at first just hoping to be released soon.
His father soon flies out to see him and work on getting him out, ostensibly trying to get him released on bail so he can cross the border into Greece and leave Turkey behind. Court however doesn’t go as planned. Billy again can’t understand a word that’s said, which again shows Billy’s experience perfectly because we can’t either. His defense is completely inept, corrupt or both, happy that Billy receives a four year sentence (for possession) as the prosecutor passionately called for a life sentence (for smuggling) Billy’s dad breaks down, overwhelmed by his powerlessness. And then Billy is back to prison. He still copes fairly well, spending time with Max, Jimmy and Erik, biding time and hoping his defense comes through.
After awhile Billy’s defense visits again to tell him there’s been progress in the case but it will require paying off certain officials. Billy rolls his eyes, sensing that this is just an additional hurdle leading nowhere. Jimmy, Max and Billy start planning an escape. Jimmy comes up with a plan that seems too risky to the other two and decides to try it alone. He gets caught and is beaten so savagely that he loses a testicle due to hernia. “In comparison,” he writes to Susan “my troubles don’t seem so bad.” With Jimmy gone for a bit, Billy and Erik develop a close bond even turning to each other for physical affection and more time passes. Max is still around as well, but his drug problem keeps him occupied.
With 53 days left on his sentence, Billy gets notice that he’ll have to go through the process again. The prosecutor objected to the possession charge and moved to have it changed to smuggling (which carries a life sentence) Billy gets a chance to speak in court, and uses the time to give a speech about the nature of crime and punishment, the quality of mercy defining a country, fair play, etc. I’m certain he doesn’t gain any points with the court when his speech devolves into calling the Turkish people pigs, and proclaiming that he hates them all. This was the weakest part of the film in my opinion, as while I can understand some anger, and even an outburst or two, the sermonizing didn’t seem believable for Billy’s character, as much as a chance for Oliver Stone (who wrote the screenplay) to get some points across. Still it was only one moment and viewed against the rest of the film, it isn’t enough to damage it badly.
Billy gets sentenced to thirty years, which is better than life, but it’s doubtful that Billy appreciates the difference. Resigned to the idea that he’ll never get out, he turns to thoughts of escape immediately, Jimmy and Max both help, Max standing lookout as Billy and Jimmy chisel stones free from a wall in their cell to expose a hidden shaft to underground catacombs leading out of the prison. Happy that the shaft exists, although it’s too late in the day to attempt escape, they resolve to try the next day.
The three of them descend into the water filled tunnels only to encounter a dead end. They return to their cell and replace the stones and repeat the routine every day hoping to discover a way out. Although they replace the stones, Rifki (Paolo Bonacelli,) the despised Turkish supplier of drugs, tea, and anything else, discovers the tampering and reports it. Not knowing who to blame the warden decides to punish Jimmy (possibly because he tried to escape before.) Determined to punish Rifki, Max and Billy decide to steal his money, which is the reason for his existence. After realizing his money is gone, Rifki has the guards turn the prison upside down in search.
They learn that the latest beating has ruptured Jimmy’s hernia, and Rifki, knowing who took his money, blames Max for selling him the hash the guards “discover” on him. Seeing Max get dragged off for a beating (he’s too old and damaged to endure it) unhinges Billy into releasing all of his anger on Rifki, beating him within an inch of his life. Billy doesn’t even pause when Rifki cuts him on the arm, completely lost in his lashing out. Davis is brilliant in this scene, completely becoming the character lost in his rage. Of course, we see him next being dragged off by the guards.
Max and Billy both end up in the prison sanitarium which is far more miserable than the main prison was. The lighting is darker and the conditions dirtier, while the guards are still free to give out random beatings as they like. Billy takes on a blank stare, totally despondent, his spirit completely crushed. Everyone in the sanitarium wanders listlessly in a fog as if their spirits were removed and it doesn’t matter where they end up. The noise is also unbearable there, chaotic voices clash with each other drowning out any sense. The sanitarium resembles a hell from a medieval painting, minus the flames a perfect representation of despair as a place.
It’s at this point that Susan returns for a visit. She tries to tell Billy that people care and efforts are still being made to get him released. Billy can barely speak, muttering half phrases, obsessed with seeing Susan’s breasts. She obliges, although watching Billy masturbate to the sight of her breasts like a monkey in the zoo, brings her to tears as she realizes how broken he is. She gives Billy a photo album telling him about a teacher in Greece, who wanted him to have something on a certain page, which is clearly code that seems lost on Billy. She pleads with him to get himself together and not count on anyone else or he’ll die there.
Encouraged by the visit, Billy regains vitality, walking contrary to the circle the other inmates walk in continually. He discovers the money in the album and decides to leave. In a moving moment he says goodbye to Max, who is only an empty shell by now. He talks to a guard who lets him in to see the warden. We’re not really sure what his plan is as Billy is now speaking their language fluently (without subtitles of course.) Billy attempts to bribe the warden to bring him somewhere. He decides instead to bring him to a locked room, presumably to beat and rape him. Seeing him unbuckle his pants Billy charges the warden, accidentally knocking him into a peg sticking out of the wall, killing him. Billy takes his gun and uniform and has no trouble obtaining the keys and walks right out of the prison complex. The ending text fills in the fact that he escaped to Greece and flew home from there.
It should be mentioned that this film was based on the autobiographical account of William Hayes, but for the purpose of the character, it doesn’t matter how true or untrue the story is, as the movie is a world of its own. This is a case of a man trying to extricate himself from an impossible situation, and only barely succeeding through luck.
The Midnight Express, whatever its intention, does not convey a message of morality or mercy, as much as it says be aware of the penalties of what you’re doing as the system can easily destroy you. Stupid kid or not, you will face heavy penalties if caught smuggling drugs between countries.
As a cautionary tale this film is flawless. Director Alan Parker did a wonderful job, using enhancing effects such as the heartbeat at the beginning and the noise in the sanitarium as well as abstaining from subtitles to put us as much as possible in Billy’s shoes. Oliver Stone, won an Oscar for the script, which despite its flaws, told a gripping story . The cast is solid all the way through and Davis really makes the part his own right up until the last moment, walking like a beaten prisoner even outside the walls.
In case you missed my last post, I am a relocated yank, living in North Carolina.
Being from Michigan, the Great Lake State, or my favorite, the WolverineState, I had to learn how to drive in the snow. Literally, my dad took me out and made me drive in it, because driver’s education class was conducted during the summer. I was taught how to pump breaks, turn into your skid, not to tailgate, keep to the side roads and when I DO get stuck, not to rock the car back and forth unless I want my transmission to die earlier than the usual life expectancy of an automobile.
I remember these lessons. I am a safe driver, in any weather. But there are these folks, say, from New York, maybe, who didn’t drive in the snow when they lived there, and who are now out on the roads today, in their 4-wheel drive SUVs, flying down the roads, tailgating and swerving all over the snow-covered roadways because they are, “from the north and grew up with this kind of weather all their lives.”
These folks actually believe that they can drive safely in this snow simply because they came from the northern states where it snows for four months out of the year. Some of these people are probably the same people who had to walk to school in snow like this, both ways, up hill, in their leather moccasins, and, liked it! But they didn’t DRIVE in that snow, up hill, in their moccasins…They WALKED!
We woke this morning to the news of the century – It snowed in North Carolina last night. It is freakin’cold and be careful when driving, because it is slippery…. Oh yeah, and there have been 180 accidents reported this morning since 6a.m. The News forgot to plead with the public asking all of the assholes out there from the north to stay off of the roads because they couldn’t drive on their home streets to begin with, and, they certainly can’t drive down here where the roads are not yet plowed.
My southern-born husband and I are going to enjoy a forced day of relaxation eating foods that are bad for us, and, watching movies. MAYBE we’ll venture out to the Canes’ hockey game we have tickets for this evening, and maybe not. In either case, we will be free from having to deal with SUV owners who haven’t quite mastered being able to drive in the snow.
I am a relocated yank, residing in Raleigh, North Carolina, which I don’t count as being “southern.” I mean, the state has the word, north, in the title, after all. There are many of us relocated northerners here. In fact, there are four people with whom I haven’t spoken with in twenty years, but graduated with from high school, and now live close by once again. Small world!
It snowed last night. The news coverage was/is ridiculous. Starting last weekend, the “meteorologists” starting tracking this winter storm coming our way. And the build up and speculation throughout the week had the communities around the state gearing up for the Storm of the Decade. I went to do my weekly grocery shopping last night when I got home from work only to find that all the fixins’ for French Toast were gone from the shelves.
Why do southerners want to make so much French Toast when it snows? I don’t get it!
Batteries were in short supply, as were diapers, flashlights and candles. I was starting to think, “Wow, if everyone is this panicked about the snow, maybe they know something I don’t.” So I stocked up on my own French Toast supplies and headed for home where I dug out my candles and matches and wished for the second time since I have been here that the husband would buy a generator for when the power goes out. (These are important to have, especially when a hurricane comes through… oh wait… in the last ten years, a hurricane HASN’T come through here, has it??)
Anyway, we decided that if we were going to be snowed in, then we’d go to dinner and get out before we couldn’t move for days, weeks, maybe even months. We weren’t the only ones to think to do this, BTW. It actually started to snow while we were out. Uh oh! The storm was four hours early. I know this because it is the only story that the news was talking about – pin-pointing when the snow would actually get here. And they were wrong. Again. Argh.
Fast forward to this morning. I woke up to all of three inches of snow, and yes, it is still sleeting away. Any and all of the usual TV shows that I might watch are being preempted by the news – IT SNOWED!!
Some places actually got five inches. The city is shut down and will remain that way until it melts. See, every year, it snows once, usually here. And the cities haven’t figured out a way to get snow plows and salt trucks out on the roadways so that life can go on with this crazy, white stuff falling from the sky. Thankfully, though, I will have my French Toast!
Do you believe in forever friendship? Imagine it like that.
You get to meet someone, you talk for hours, you laugh, you joke, you have a good time together.
You grow closer to each other… you start trusting, you know each other’s thoughts, ideas, feelings. You share more… and you care more.
You can talk about anything and everything, you would not bother about work when that person needs you, you are there for them and they are there for you. You can cry on their shoulder when you need it. And you do cry, because sometimes you need it.
You can’t imagine your life without them… they are a big part of it like your parents, like your boyfriend or girlfriend, like your husband or wife. They are not just any friend, you consider them BEST friend.
Of course you fight, but you get over it … and it seems nothing will ever change… they’ll be there forever. And you honestly believe that forever has no end.
But you forget that life has its own rules. And whatever is forever for you is just a moment for eternity.
One day you fight, and then nothing is the same. You do your best to maintain this friendship, you forget about your ego, emotions, pride… you just keep showing them how important they really are in your life, but all in vain. They don’t say it is over… just the regularity of talks you have is different and in the whole one month after all your messages and mails you only get “thanks, I’m doing good” – reply.
Once.
First, you did miss them. And the intensity of the pain couldn’t be described… Then, the pain lessens but reaches its peak each time you don’t get a reply to another mail, another text message. And then you get used to their absence. Sadly. You miss them still… not that intense, or maybe the ego still is playing its role. But the pain is not the same anymore.
Just somehow you lose faith in forever. Just somehow you stop believing in the term “best friend”. And somehow you just don’t want to get close to anyone anymore.
You play in your mind millions of variants of why, how, when, if. None of them would give you the answer to your questions. None of them will soothe your pain. None of them will get that one person back to you.
In all of this you are not afraid of pain, not afraid of losing hope, faith, trust. All you are afraid of is that today you are still missing him… but what if tomorrow you don’t.
Relationships are worth fighting for but sometimes you can’t be the only one fighting. Sometimes, people need to fight for you.
Posted by Prattle On, Boyo 
Prattle On, Boyo 