Scuse me, but was that you in the front row of Chingo Bling this evening? Dang, I didn’t know you were down.

Rancholos of the World Unite

Dear Mr. Unite,

Rather than go on about how it’s like this and like that, the short version is yes, yes that was me in the front row. Bumpin’ it y todo.

Mr. Bling, aka el ghetto vaquero y mucho mas, was a featured performer at the CMAS and LLILAS conference this evening. The decision to include the original Rancholo in an academic conference may have had some people scratching their heads, but Mr. Bling’s self-reflexive, critical respuestas demonstrated that he is not only a Cantinflas de cancion but also so much more.

Rather than discuss his generosity [he stayed to take pictures with everyone present and I'm fairly certain his image was uploaded to about 100 FB pages this evening], his witty remarks about irony and juxtaposition ["everyone knows what bling is but what's chingo cause that sounds nasty, then put 'em together and whaaaaat?"] or his refusal to “perpetuate,” I am going to focus on a couple of key moments.

1.) When asked point blank, “Chingo, tell it to us straight. Do you think academics are doing enough to bring immigration issues to the forefront or do we need to do more?” Mr. Bling responded, “Listen, not everyone is going to pay attention to me or to ‘They Can’t Deport Us All.’ They should hear from the people who know. We got to hit it from every side. I mean, the issues, you know.” [Laughter.]

2.) I was also pleased to hear Mr. Bling call out the “elitists” for trying to put him in a box. [In fact, he had a clear sense about the difference between elitists and academics] Knowing this, sometimes he puts himself in a box only to blow it up from the inside. Who can argue that a black Stetson and old-school Chuck Taylors aren’t authentic?

What I found most interesting about Señor Bling and all his “tamale talk” is that he is incredibly thoughtful and knowledgeable about his art and business. He may be making masa, but he’s also spreading the word. Word.

No posting this week, what gives?

Thornin Yurside

Dear Mr. Yurside,

Wit and wisdom are currently in short supply as I am under the weather. Rather than completely throwing in the towel this week, I had a sudden inspiration. While channel surfing, I happened across Taken (2008), a hugely popular revenge fantasy co-written by my personal kryptonite Luc Besson. The sequel is currently in production and slated for a 2012 release. Haven’t seen the original, don’t remember it, or confusing it with Unknown? Not to worry, here’s the whole film in under three minutes.

After the film premiered, I posted a one-page review in the form of a recipe on Facebook. I offer it here today in an effort not to break my blogging streak. Cheating? Probably. Do I care? Not so much.

Hugs,

EA

Taken (2008)

Ahh . . . nothing like an ice-cold dish of revenge fantasy on a Friday night to kick off the weekend. Here’s a familiar recipe that is sure to please discerning palates.

Don’t Lie to Daddy Revenge Fantasy (Modified Traditional)

Hero*

1 part Martin Riggs (If using Riggs from LW1, be sure to de-mullet first, starting with the party in the back, see instructions below**)

2 parts Léon (If having difficulty locating a child-like Italian hit man played by a French, Italian, Spanish-speaking, Moroccan-born actor whose parents fled Spain to escape Franco, you can substitute a John McClain from either DH or LFoDH, but be sure to add a pinch of Jason Bourne to enhance the European flavor)

1 bushel of Nationalism

36 oz. of duty

Mix and set aside.

Marinade

1/3 c. nagging ex-wife

1 c. irresponsible mothering

splash of incompetent new husband (preferably one who is wealthy and makes hero feel inadequate)

2 c. lying, ungrateful daughter (must be pure or the hero will lack proper motivation)

Add hero to marinade and let stew 12 years over low heat.

While hero simmers combine:

3/4 c. virgin/whore dichotomy

Large bag of Eastern-block criminals divided evenly

Pinch of anti-French sentiment (eyeball this, no need to measure exactly)

Dash of quippy humor just prior to execution of criminals

100 lbs. of ultra-violence (various kinds, omit choreography or stylization a la John Woo: see Hard Boiled)

To the above add generous amounts of chases, lascivious Middle Eastern men, drugs, and human trafficking.

Fold in hero with marinade to the above mixture and bake 93 minutes or until desired outcome achieved. Serve cold.

*Prepare the hero in advance to allow enough time for wounded emotional state to become pronounced.

** Secure party in the back with rubber band as close to the head as possible before sheering.

The wait is over.  It’s here.  We’ve all seen the trailer.  In case not, here it is again:

Eight million views, people.  EIGHT million.

No use trying to hide behind those degrees and/or superior attitudes. I know you are going to see Breaking Dawn. Many of you have already seen it. So don’t try to hide it. OWN it and send me your comments.  My goal is to compile them into one ginormous elitistacademic blog post. Your observations/rants don’t have to be wordy or filmic-y; they just have to be elitist.

Let the guilty pleasure give way to snark and drop me a line.

elitistacademic@gmail.com

I am not going until tomorrow night, so you have time.

Until then, I leave you with this:

SuperFans rule!

Hugs,

EA

If I am not mistaken, I thought you mentioned elsewhere (e.g on Facebook) that you were on your way to hear Erin Morgenstern read from her new book The Night Circus. It’s not like you to keep your opinions to yourself.  What gives?

Signed,

Dopple G. Anger

Dear Ms./Mr./Mrs. Anger,

I’ve been busy.  That’s what gives, but you are right.  Thanks for the shove.

“I would dearly love to read the reactions, the observations of each and every person who walks through the gates of Le Cirques de Rêves, to know what they see and hear and feel. To see how their experience overlaps with my own and how it differs.”

The Night Circus

As discussed in “Post-Harry Potter and ‘The Magicians,” there are a number of books being proffered to fill the holes in our elitist hearts now that HP is off dealing with Hogwarts tuition for his own kids. The Night Circus is the latest contender, and while it ultimately serves as a short-term fix rather than any long-term reparative Spackle, we should keep our eye on Morgenstern. [Every time I type her name I think of the fictional author of The Princess Bride, S. Morgenstern.] Also of note, The Night Circus, despite having been released a little over a month ago, is already in development for a film adaptation. The project is being overseen by Summit “We-did-for-Twilight” Entertainment, and purported to have David Heyman, producer of Harry Potter, attached. So what’s got everyone so frothy?

Morgenstern knows how to tell pieces of a good story and for this reason, I can forgive many things in this fresher outing, including use of 2^nd person present narration, non-linear chronology of events for no purpose, and a cringe-worthy ham-fisted conclusion. Truth be told, the 2^nd person narrative address of the reader (“you see”; “you smell”; “you notice”) was a difficult obstacle to overcome because it’s the authors job to show me, not direct me to see. It was at times like chewing aluminum foil. When discussing this point with another EA, she thoughtfully offered, “Parts of The Night Circus were a bit like medicine.” Admittedly borrowing phraseology from a colleague at work, her assessment was, nevertheless, spot on.  Huge chunks of the novel had to be choked down to get to the interesting bits that were quite wonderful.

So besides a circus that appears at night, what is the story about? The premise is an interesting one. Two magicians (Hector Bowen, a.k.a. Prospero the Enchanter, and “Alexander”) pick one child each (Celia and Marco, respectively) to train for a magical battle to the death in a predetermined venue, which is, this time, a circus that seemingly appears out of nowhere. Yes, these battles have been going on some time. No, we don’t ever really learn why they happen. [And I am not counting that ridiculous explanation given to Widget at the end, which I will get to in a bit.] That’s it. Of course, Celia and Marco fall in love when they grow up, something, something, true love, the end. Honestly, though, there is not much to the plot, and that’s okay, but it lays bare another major problem with the book: aside from the 2^nd person thing, which totally bugs, the other major issue I had with this novel is that Morgenstern attends lovingly to the circus at the expense of other characters, ALL of the other characters. We know the intricacies of The Cloud Maze, Labyrinth, Ice Garden, and Wishing Tree, yet we don’t really learn anything of substance about anyone. Before you post nasty comments, think about it.  How much do you know about any of these characters? Truth is, not much. Snapshots. That’s all we get.

Needless to say, I was not surprised to hear Morgenstern confess that earlier drafts of the book were “a lot of atmosphere [read: circus description] without any plot” because it is still true. She also revealed that Celia, a main character, “did not even exist in the first draft,” and I believe it. What Morgenstern will need to work on in future novels is her character development. The best character in this book is the circus, from its black and white stripes (“the circus dressed in evening wear” as the author put it) to its lingering smells of caramel and apple cider, not to mention the magic that electrifies the very air around it. (There are no plans for sequels, but let it be known that I stated today, if her future books don’t do well, we shall all be returning to further adventures at the circus or perhaps even earlier battles between Hector and “Alexander.”) This alone is not a problem, but when I care more about the circus than the people who attend to it, something is out of whack. FYI: I don’t want to hear that I am supposed to care more about the circus, and just “don’t get it.” Believe me, as an elitist, I “get it.” If the circus existed independent of people, then yes, I should. But it doesn’t, which means I need to care as much or more about the people who attend to it, and not simply the rêveurs, the devotees of the circus who don splashes of red to identify themselves, in the monochrome theater of the circus, and, to some extent, outside of it. I am talking about Celia and Marco or even Bailey. Too many character questions are left unanswered.

[Going back to my previous point about an autonomous and/or sentient circus, how AWESOME would that be?  A circus that controlled its performers, and I’m not talking about Something Wicked This Way Comes, which reminds me. Morgenstern’s book leans heavily, if not incorrectly, on The Tempest, so again with the Shakespeare. If conspiracies were true, Shakespeare, based on the omnipresence of his work referenced on this blog alone, would be a major player for the Illuminati. Note: Uh, wow. I just checked that on a goof, and apparently Shakespeare has been tagged as Illuminati. If you don’t know to what I am referring, don’t go down that rabbit hole. It’s just a little something I learned from spending too much time in the library as a kid.]

Anyhooooo, after completing what was at times an absolutely otherworldly adventure, I couldn’t help but recall my dissatisfaction with The Dark Tower series. Here again, I wanted a different ending from the one I was given, specifically pp. 377-384, otherwise known as “Stories,” which needs to be excised. The chapter smacks of doubt and uncertainty. Worse still is that it reads like a CheatNotes summary of the “themes” and conflicts of the book, where the reader is spoon-fed post facto exposition for the purposes of narrative resolution. Morgenstern and more importantly The Night Circus didn’t need it. I was almost ready to don my red scarf and become a rêveur. After that ending, not so much.

Still . . . there’s something about the book, an elusive quality that makes it difficult to forget, which is why I decided to head down to my local independent bookstore for The Night Circus event, which included a Morgenstern reading.

The event area had been decorated with black and white streamers, calling to mind the décor of the tents.

Guests were treated to apple cider, chocolate mice, and flavored popcorn.

Upon my arrival, I immediately spotted a red tie. A red scarf. A red shirt. A red tropical flower tucked thoughtfully behind one ear. Red boots. Red earrings. Rêveurs moved throughout the crowd.

“They seek each other out, these people of such specific like mind.  They tell of how they found the circus, how those first few steps were like magic. Like stepping into a fairy tale under a curtain of stars. [. . .] When they depart, they shake hands and embrace like old friends, even if they have only just met, and as they go their separate ways they feel less alone than they did before.” (143)

An interpretation of Herr Friedrick Thiessen’s clock, a central feature of the circus featured prominently on the book’s cover, was on display.

Rêveurs who came looking to tap into that magic most certainly left feeling a little disappointed. Although well-attended, the event seemed flat and Morgenstern’s “soul-of-wit” length reading did not help matters.

A tarot card reader, face painter, and a “contortionist” were on hand to add to the atmosphere. The latter was more yoga than skilled spinal flexibility.

The author announced early on that she would read very briefly then field questions from the audience. I was surprised that she only read a short chapter, and the one she chose was Bailey’s visit to Widget’s tent, which would make no sense, no pun intended, to those who had not yet read the book.

As a reader, Morgenstern lacked polish and was unconvincing in the delivery of her own work. Clearly, though, she’s been schooled in answering questions and has been given a script, which she sticks to closely and for good reason. For example, much of what she said, including the bit about writing a book she didn’t like for NaNoWriMo and sending its characters to the circus, has appeared repeatedly in articles and interviews.

For the self-described “a writer who never wrote anything,” Morgenstern is a bit overwhelmed by her sudden success. When asked about the film deal, she confessed: “I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that it’s a book.” I was pleased to hear her say that she is looking forward to the adaptation, “especially the costumes.” Morgenstern stated,  “I’d rather they capture the spirit of the book then try to do it word for word.” “I’ve done my part,” she added. “I wrote the book. They are the ones who have to figure out how to represent the details. I don’t envy that job.”

Neither do I.

Hugs,

EA

Dear EA,

I struggle with my own position as an elitist academic. I can theorize with the best of them (or at least the middle half), and I understand, I think, the important ways in which popular culture and lives coexist, influence each other, dialogue, and fight like hell. However, my problem is that I do not understand the greater cultural disgust of the television show Toddlers & Tiaras. I think the cultural work it does is brilliant—notice it does not, like other shows, provide any sort of narrative voice and it allows the parents, pageants, costumes, and girls to speak for themselves. In presenting the show this way, it allows viewers to come to a complicated conclusion: this act of pageantry showcases our culture’s obsession with fame, looks, winning, entitlement, delusion, and again, fame.  And it does so in an entertaining and oftentimes sweet way.

When I make this argument to other elitists, I’m immediately assaulted with the “terrible! young girls! sexual!” argument as though the only critical reading of beauty pageants is sex.  And while I do allow for the fact that the girls are sexualized, I do not think their sexualization is what drives this cultural moment.  I find that these criticisms are dominated by the “mommy-movement” of elitistacademics—those loud voices that say, as a MOTHER I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS THIS AND THIS IS DISGUSTING.  And while I sympathize, isn’t this argument easily countered by those who believe co-sleeping with your children is strange? Or any number of other counter arguments that unfairly link child-rearing and premature sexuality?

Why does it have to get all sexual, EA?  On the show, it’s clear a lot of the kids want to dress up. On the show, it’s clear a lot of families derive pleasure from these events. How is it any different from dance classes?  Cheerleading?  Halloween?  Why do my fellow EAs wanna knock me for some good thought-provoking tv?  Just let me win that ultimate grand supreme and look away, y’all.  Just look away.

Confused and yours,

Pageant Girl

Dear Pageant Girl,

I understand your confusion.  It’s the fumes from the hairspray and spray-on bronzer.  Before we begin, you might want to go get your Ni-Ni.

First of all, your point is excellent about T&T. I also want to clarify that while elitistacademics and everybody else often weigh in on issues about which they know nothing, I can assure you that this is not my first Glitz Pageant. So I’m going to bring it big. You know what they say in the glitz world: “Go big or go home.”

But before I bust out my Pro-Am routine, I’m going to have to challenge your observation about the show not providing any sort of narrative voice. Although there is no host or extradiegetic narration, we cannot say that the show “allows the parents, pageants, costumes, and girls to speak for themselves.” If this were true, we probably wouldn’t watch. The shows editors are the ones largely responsible for the show’s success, deftly balancing pathos with absolute horror in almost every episode. Take for example Jamie Sterling, mother of the Sterling twins, a.k.a. as “Mommy has a favorite and it’s not you.”

Clearly this woman is ghastly, but the cross cutting between Jamie, as she praised BreAnn, the pretty one, and AshLynn, the one with the “large nose,” made her such a villain that people actually called child protective services to report her as an abusive mother.  Note the “reply” posted by her “husband” who attempted to defend her on tvgasm:  “What you witnessed on this show was TLC and their production company editing 2 full days of taping for dramatic effect that painted Jamie in a bad light.” Obviously. Editors being mean, telling a horrible story about a mother whose insults about one of her twin daughters were sooooo taken out of context.  So how can we say they are speaking for themselves when their words get twisted?

I do agree, however, that Toddlers and Tiaras “showcases our culture’s obsession with fame, looks, winning, entitlement, delusion, and again, fame.” Here again, there’s more to this, wouldn’t you say?  I mean, after all, whose obsession?  Certainly not the kids, because they don’t come out of the womb begging to compete.  I don’t care what Mickie Wood says.  Perhaps, I am being presumptuous, and as an elitist it is highly likely, but I can’t imagine you would disagree that the mothers on the show are depicted as terrible in a variety of ways, Jamie Sterling case in point.  These women (notably a significant number of which are plain, overweight, and/or total control freaks) are clearly working out their own childhood and/or personal issues vicariously through their children, some who want to compete and others who clearly do not, and no doubt screwing them up in the process.

If it is about fame, though, what kind of fame are we talking about? Fifteen minutes?  I know Mickie honestly believes that Eden is going to become some huge megastar, but delusion will give way to the reality of puberty when Eden becomes a perfectly average-looking and utterly forgettable pre-teen.  Unquestionably, the mothers treat their children like golden tickets, and this is another reason why we watch. Mothers are supposed to be nurturing and protecting of their children, not shoving them on stage, yelling at them about hairpieces and make-up, dressing them like Hollywood hookers, or filling them up with “special juice” (Mountain Dew, Red Bull, or Coke and apple juice combos).  You don’t have to be a parent to find this mortifying, though it’s easy to judge, especially when the parents are miming off stage the routines the children are supposed to be enacting.  And here is another important point that gets to the heart of your larger question.

If the show and pageants are “sexualizing” children, and I am not saying they are, then who is responsible?  I think that this too is a part of the horror people feel when watching this show.  We tell ourselves that “society,” that all encompassing, faceless entity that devises terms like “prostitot,” is responsible.  Magazines, movies, television shows, fashion, these are the culprits sexualizing our children.  But on T&T, it’s parents, who are choreographing gyrating dance numbers for their toddlers, and for what? To hoard pageant trophies and crowns that’s what. You are correct in that sex is not what’s driving the cultural moment of this show.  It is, however, a byproduct of what some of these parents are willing to do for that all-important Grand Supreme title.

As much as I want to condemn T&T, I cannot completely dismiss or ignore what the show is doing.  Yes, I do believe, through clever editing, it is commenting on these parents and their bad behaviors.  Yes, I do believe it is a commentary on our fame-obsessed culture.  And yes, unfortunately, it is a sad reflection of the way in which children become casualties in these pursuits.  But then there’s Brock and his even more amazing mother. Oh, my goodness I love this little boy.  I love his mother even more. Talk about fierce?  She is proud and brave enough for the both of them, and they may need it, especially if he wants a career on Broadway.  Am I saying this little boy is gay?  Absolutely not.  How would I know? Besides it’s none of my business and making such an assumption is the worse kind of stereotyping.  Is he gender queer?  Absolutely.  As a self-professed diva, he knows it and he ain’t hidin’ his light under a bushel.  Why should he?

When he sets aside his “boy” crown in favor of his diva crown, we can all feel like winners.

Hugz,

EA

Have you ever seen that episode of Friends where Joey admits that he doesn’t understand when people use “air quotes”?  My professor uses these quite a bit in class, and when he does, I kind of feel like Joey.  I don’t get it.  I mean, sometimes I do, like the other day when this dude walked into class twenty minutes late, and the professor thanked the student for being “on time.”  Sarcasm, no problem.  I get it.  But then other times, I’m not so sure. Here are a few examples from my notes of what I’m talking about:

1.   Hemingway’s writing demonstrates tremendous “anxiety” about “gender” roles.

2.   Jake Barnes’ “feelings” of profound “alienation” are exacerbated by his “problem.”

3.   “Bullfighters” represented a kind of “masculine ideal” for Hemingway.

There are tons more, but you get the idea.  I am afraid to ask about some of this stuff in class because I seem to be the only one who is confused.  I even thought about going to his “office hours,” but they are at 7:00 in the morning on Sunday at some coffee shop across campus.  Any advice?

Sincerely,

Up in the Air

Dear “Up in the Air,”

I cannot say “for sure,” but it might be that in the climate of “heightened attacks” on “higher education” professors feel “vulnerable” and do not wish to be “perceived” as “editorializing” or worse “inviting” “controversy” into their “lectures” or “discussions.”

Or it might be a “tick.”  But I’m just guessing.

If you are genuinely uncertain and the lectures and/or discussions do not offer any clarification, by all means ask your professor, either in class or after, and skip the “office hours” at the coffee shop.

<3 EA