Things You Can Learn by Watching the Animated Film Hercules with a Seventh Grade Class

1) Seventh graders don't like musicals. Or rather, they don't like the songs in musicals, being quiet during musicals, or learning anything from musicals. The best you can get from them is that, they will, very grudgingly, accept that musicals exist, and possibly keep their eyes open and focused in the general direction of the screen, if only to keep themselves informed on when they should open their mouths to mock the characters pouring out their souls on screen. Every time a new song came on, I had to brace myself for the onslaught of the collective sigh that suddenly overtook the classroom.

2) American students have no background information on anything myth related. (If it wasn't in Clash of the Titans, they don't know it.) Not only do they not know what a demigod or Greek myth is (I'm relatively sure they thought Hercules' name was actually Kevin Sorbo and that he would later go onto captain a star ship called the Andromeda or something along those lines.)

3) All American students watch Family Guy:
No American students know who Hades is (beyond incorrectly labeling him the lord of Hell, and thinking he is Satan) but, ironically, all American students know who James Woods (the voice of Hades) is. "Oh, a piece of candy" was the joke of the week.

4) The fake watch salesman, a popular joke of my youth, is dead and buried. It has gone the way of the DoDo and been replaced by "the flasher." There is a scene, in the first half of Hercules where a man springs in front of Herc in the city of Thebes and throws his cloak open wide..."wanna' buy a sun dial?" I remember this joke, I remember seeing this movie. I distinctly remember not thinking "that guy is about to show his junk to Hercules!" Each class very audibly gasped in surprise or said "eeeeeew" when this scene played out. Humor has definitely shifted in the past ten years, and this joke didn't make the cut. In fact, now, it's mildly offensive (or terrifying.)

5) Disney does what it wants. If you watch a movie such as Hercules with your kids, or younger siblings, you don't really think about how entirely inaccurate the movie is in regards to Greek culture and mythology and you just enjoy the movie and the song and dance routines therein.

However, when you are in a class, and expected to answer questions on said movie, you realize that Disney got just about everything wrong when considering the myth as it was originally told.(Some examples are as follows:)

REAL MYTH:
Mother: Alcemene
Status: Demigod
Events: Murders his own children in a sorcery induced rage.
Muses: Nine goddesses of the arts.
Twelve Labors: Twelve hardest tasks known to man.
Titans: Zeus' parents.Former Lords of The Universe.
Timeline: Hercules proceeds the more common, and human, heroes such as Achilles and Jason.

Disney's version:
Mother: Hera
Status: god
Events: Turned into a super strong mortal by a potion Hades concocted.
Muses: Five black gospel singers.
Twelve Labors: Hades minions.
Titans: Hades minions.
Timeline: Hercules is trained by a goat and comes along well after a string of lesser heroes, and apparently, the Battle of Troy.


These are just a few of the incongruities that had to be addressed, in some manner, during the movie. I felt it was unwise to get into things like "no Greek god would ever be depicted to have pecs that big" (in regards to Zeus.) Or, "why was Hera mad? Well, you see, Zeus was a cheater. He cheated. Infidelity and all that...no, Fidelity is the name of a bank...look Zeus loved women and women loved Zeus. Moving on."

6) Seventh graders have no concept of historical time lines. I give you the case of: Heracles vs. Hercules. When explaining that the Roman's being the totally awesome, yet distinctly creativity lacking imperialists that they were, just jacked the Greek god's right out from under the Greek's (decidedly conquered) noses, I had to explain ideas like:

1) Greek language vs. Roman language
2) The Renaissance: A fascination with "the classics" led to Renaissance scholars discovering planets, and naming them after the Roman gods, not, as one of my seventh graders succinctly put it: "So, uhm, the Romans named their gods after the planets...right?"
3) "Troy was more than a movie with Brad Pitt in it, and the original story--the Illiad--no not the Alien, no not the Idiot, the Ill--the guys who...are you laughing at Trojan because a condom company? Really? Guuuuuys....the story had much great ramifica--again with the laughter, really?"

"Ha. Ha. you said ram."

The Decline of the Fortune Cookie

There was a time when Fortune Cookies had tiny little fortunes inside. These fortunes were an integral part of the Chinese food experience. They told you about life, happiness, love, deceit, betrayal and which lotto numbers to play (they still do that.)

These days Fortune Cookies are less fortune, and more everyday advice. "Today you will find happiness in the World" has changed to "If you work hard at it, you can find happiness." (Sometimes they use a farming metaphor, but as my grasp on agriculture extends as far as picking the weeds around my parents grapefruit tree, I rarely get what they're saying.) But, alas, this is assuming you get a fortune in the first place. Twice now I've opened my after meal cookie to find it quite fortuneless. Certainly a third such incident would spell my doom. (My father has had similar luck with the moist towelettes you can find at any wing joint, but this normally only results in him not smelling of lemon after dinner.)

I'm not asking for specific fortunes here. I don't want to read about how after this meal I will walk into the parking lot, stub my toe on the sidewalk, fall headfirst into a passing car, luckily survive, only to be subsequently sued by the driver who whacked his spine out of alignment in an effort to avoid hitting me. I don't want to know this because I have a fear of self fulfilling prophecy.

However, the mini-advice column that the modern day fortune cookie has become is quite depressing. Half of the fun of eating Chinese was reading about the possibilities of your future (and saying "in bed" after reading a fortune.) They've taken that away from us by giving us structured (and rather bland) sentences with metaphors that make little sense to anyone who doesn't speak Engrish.

Further more, tonight's meal (Chinese) was accompanied by a fortune that I could not read.I don't even live in Miami! Honestly, I'm not actually too grumpy with the fortune being in Spanish, the plaza I ate in happens to be one with quite a few Latino shops, and one of the facts of living in Florida is that the population is diverse. Rather, what really irks me, is that they still weren't fortunes. The two fortunes, if you didn't read them, translate into: "Do you feel lucky?" (A question, you'll notice.) And "Laziness is the key to their poverty." (Which just strikes me as a generalization and borderline racist...and again...not a fortune.)

At this point I'm questioning the entire concept. Who do you go to about these things? Where can I file my complaints? Is there a Fortune Cookie Committee somewhere that oversees Fortune Cookie affairs? Makes sure that all fortunes are up to date and steeped with some kind of mysticism? Or is this a worldwide conspiracy against the concept of fortunes? If I wanted really lame advice, I would just ask my...well I wouldn't go eat Chinese food for it.

I want to sue for false advertising.

WikiLeaks and Why I Don't Like Them

This is going to be a rather short, and unfunny posting.

Not only am I pressed for time, but I find this particular subject to be a little ridiculous and I can't find humor in it. Today WikiLeaks has begun (or finished by this time) the leak of over 380,000 classified documents regarding the war in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The question of journalistic integrity is brought to light here. I understand the World (and therefore it's People) do need, on occasion, to see the truth around them. It is difficult, near impossible, to correctly decide what is for the public eye and what should remain secret. The debate over Public Domain and classified missions/details to our History (as a nation) will always be in question. The Government has to decide what is relevant while the people have to decide what is just. Do we need to know which men informed on the Mafia? Probably not. Would the remains of the Mafia love to know which of their former members snitched? Most definitely. Us, the People, having said information puts those informants lives and the lives of their children in direct danger, and therefore we do not need to know.

Within the leaked documents (almost half a million all told) are things regarding torture in Iraq (done by Iraqi military but known about by the US, apparently a blind eye was turned) but also things regarding troop movements and Iraqi informants helping our soldiers identify threats and try to end hostilities with the least threat of death possible.

Should the American people, and the Citizens of the World, have the knowledge of what has gone on in this war? Of course. Basic Human Rights (a concept that some, a la Starship Troopers consider a myth) have been, or rather have possibly been ignored, and as such something should be done. There may not be even the possibility of placing blame on one man, group or organization, but knowledge of these crimes may help prevent them in the future.

However, this does not detract from the fact that what the people at WikiLeaks have done is wrong. It is, sadly, in-debatable. If something you release, as a journalist claiming the pursuit of the ever mythical "Truth," directly causes someones death (in a way that doesn't involve a Trial by his Peers...and a Judge) then you have done wrong. That is essentially what has happened here, or at least that's what many governments and even other news agencies fear has happened. Some of the documents released have the names, full names, of informants involved in certain operations, some of them ongoing. This information cannot have any positive effects for the people named, or any of the American or Coalition troops involved in the conflict.

All this has done is put the lives of thousands of soldiers, and hundreds of Iraqi civilians, in danger. And for what? Journalistic Integrity? Is this the Journalism that follows around the stars of Jersey Shore? The people who make Snooki...Snooki...famous? The same people that lashed out at Rev. Terry Jones for his planned book burning and all the danger it could have caused turn around and do this?

Life is full of hypocrites, it's our nature to hate what we do and do what we hate. But sometimes, it's so plainly visible that it's inexcusable.

I believe that we, the People, had the right to know about what is going on in this war that we have been dragged into, without our permission or request. (The argument for the 2001 Terror Attacks being the cause of the conlfict can obviously be stated at this point, but as Osama bin-Laden, the man widely regarded as the perpetrator of said attacks is not the focus of the current conflict, the debate loses some of it's gumption.) However, I feel that, as citizens, we can wait. Our desire to know about the nature of this war should never override our desire to see it ended peaceably, with as little violence and killing as possible.

No, I don't want to see American soldiers coming home in body bags because of some website that has decided it can, quite literally, make it's bones by leaking classified files. No, I don't want to see concerned Iraqi citizens with a desire to see Freedom in their land denied their right to live with said rights and benefits.

I don't even want the Insurgents, fighting for their declining way of life to die. These are real men and women here. And though, at the moment they might be holding AK-47's or M4's, next year they could be pushing grocery carts and holding babies.

Life may not be sacred, but it's worth a chance, it's worth more than the quick thrill of hidden knowledge.

In closing, I want everyone to understand that I in no way condone any of the negative acts that these documents most certainly allege, if not prove, have happened in the Middle East (and whatever else they manage to have gotten a hold of.) My argument is simply that the their is a time and place for it, and in the case of a life in death issue such as war... well the time is well after the victor has been named and around the time the official History books are going into print.

Sleep is Overrated, at least, Sleep Technology is.

I've long held issue with the term "sleep like a baby." I haven't had my own yet, but I've been around enough in my time to bust this particular myth.

Babies don't sleep like babies.

Babies are fickle creatures. They sleep on a schedule that only works as a case to prove entropy. Go on a four hour drive and your child will cry, mumble, talk, whine, scream and poop for three hours and fifty nine minutes. The minute, the second, you pull into your driveway they're asleep. And not a deep sleep. They're not catching serious "z's." No. If you try to pick them up and move them, it's over. They're back to crying, mumbling, talking, whining, screaming and pooping. Only now they're tired and hungry too.

And this is just the experience I have had imparted in my memory. (That is to say, my mother tells me this was how I was.) My sister rarely slept through the night, and absolutely detested her childhood room. She didn't like the distance between her and the rest of the family. Bedtime was a silly joke played by my hopeful parents (on themselves.)

This didn't stop her from sleeping. Not at all. The moment I sat down on the couch, in would wander a grumpy toddler, empty bottle in hand and pouty eyes looking straight ahead. Without any provocation or even an "is it cool if I..." lead in sentence, up she would climb and plop right down on my chest. Asleep before her drool filled cheeks touched my shirt. This style of napping kept up for a year or so (or about 40 ruined t-shirts later.)

I bring this all up because my sleep schedule has been unnatural bordering on unholy of late. Despite a one or two o'clock bedtime, I consistently find myself not being able to sleep until four and five am. (Sometime after Family Guy is over, but before the NUMB3RS reruns are done.) You know, that time when all the late night commercials hit the air.

This week's commercial of choice has been "the Sleep Number" bed. The revolutionary technology that we've been hearing about for the past decade. I'm not sure how this concept works. They use words like "new" and "modern" but the first Sleep Number mattress commercial I saw came on right after a "Clap-On" ad back in the nineties.

The problem with this whole system for me is that I've rarely met someone with whom bed comfort is the issue. Beds are comfortable, by nature. We are a race of beings who at one point slept on rocks (in some cases still do), we sleep under the stars and on shaking boats, comfort isn't the problem (often.) Now you find a bed that will read to me, sooth my worries and pay my taxes, and you might just have yourself a new customer.

We could call it the "Therapists Couch...bed!" Throw in some of that astronaut foam, and charge triple. After all, memory foam is the brand new, revolutionary sleep technology of the space age.

You know, the one that started in the fifties.

300-pound Chimp escapes, but don't worry, I'm OK.

Headline reads: 300-POUND CHIMP RUNS AMOK IN KANSAS CITY.

My mother, presumably reading from work while she enjoys a decaf coffee, probably of the pumpkin spice variety, spits her fall specialty brew out all over her computer screen, maybe hitting her boss whose standing behind it, watching her every move.

"Dang it, Sandy!" he says, using a report to wipe off his newly re-stained tie, "this tie already had its stains right where I liked them! What was that for?"

My mother, recovering responds, "My son is loose in Kansas City! I have to get there right away!"

A few text messages and gentle reassurances later, I manage to convince her that they were serious, it was a real 300-pound chimpanzee running around, not I. I have an alibi, I was getting the flu shot, or as I like to call it, my annual reminder that I am not cut out for tattoos (it still kind of stings, but I'm ignoring it, I want to appear manly, and I chose to wear a Ghost Buster's shirt today, I can't do that and whine about a shot.)

Earlier in my posting days, you might remember that I wrote a very long, and very jumpy article that at one point hinted at alligators being owned as house hold pets. We Floridians understand the inherent danger in owning a dinosaur as a pet, and so generally, we refrain (excepting for those guys who make the utterly terrible Gatorland commercials, they probably own a few.)

However, what self-respecting child has ever not wanted to own a monkey? That's right. This chimp was "owned" and the neighborhood dwellers who were privy to it's "rampage" were, if not acquainted with, then at least familiar with the animal. I think the problem was the owners misunderstanding of the term "monkey."

Yes. Owning a monkey would be cool. Aside from the odd problem with voice control and bathroom habits, there is a high percentage chance that owning a monkey could be the coolest thing ever. But a chimpanzee is a primate, they are little men. They use tools, argue with each other, and people, they dislike attitude, can out weightlift Arnold and play a mean game of Thumb War. You do not own something like this. If anything you share living space.

When a pet gets past 300-pounds and doesn't live in a barn, the general reaction is fear. As the police officers who had to handle the scene probably would agree with. Police Chief Jim Corwin described it as a "bizarre lunch hour."

After being shot with a tranquilizer dart, officers claimed that Sue (the chimp) climbed into a tree and evaded further shots while hassling them with taunts about their manhood ("you hairless apes can't do better than that?") and throwing their darts back at them, goading them on with their own ineffectiveness.

A pet monkey would never do that. A pet monkey would come out of the tree with nothing but an offer of a banana or a cute pirate hat, to go with it's already awesome monkey sized sword.

Those just goes to show that owning primates is wrong.

Because they get big, and if you try to dress them up like a pirate, they run away and beat up other people's cars.

I Want to Not Burn Things Too!

I am going to make an important announcement.

Are you ready?

Are you overwhelmed with excitement?

Well here it is: tonight, I will use my grill. And I won't be burning Qurans.

Now where is my free car? (A 2011 Hyundai Accent, to be precise.)

This might seem like an awkward line of thinking, one colluded with an overbearing amount of Capitalism and misplaced charity, but it's an actual story. If you read the news, ever, or even just stop in to peek at my blog, you're probably aware of the story of the Rev. Terry Jones, Gainseville's friendly neighborhood Grill Master (sacred texts a specialty.) He had threatened to practice his culinary art on the Quran about a month back, and has since (famously) backed off.

A lot of people stood up and complained (before sitting back down and flicking over to NFL preseason) about the planned burnings, but only one man (company) decided to stand up and give him things to back off. Brad Benson Hyundai of New Brunswick, New Jersey reportedly offered the Reverend a brand-spanking-new Hyundai Accent if the Reverend would simply not burn the Qurans.

This whole concept is a bit hazy for me. I'm trying to follow it. Here's what I have so far: Terrorist attack in 2001. Nine years later a massive protest breaks out against some Americans of Islamic faith who want to build (expand an already existing) cultural center that happens to be close to Ground Zero (although similar protests arose against a center being built in Tennessee so apparently being close to Ground Zero can be accurately defined as "being on the same continent as.")In response to this onslaught of Islamic (in the words of Newt Gingrich) "stealth jihadism" a Reverend in Gainseville decides the best defense against this new threat is a good offense, or the burning a bunch of books. At this point I'm not really agreeing with anything, but I can almost follow the logic, twisted and dark as it is. Here's where I lose my train of thought: despite repeated pleas from the White House, Congress, local college students, three legged alligators and General Petraeus, Rev. Jones was strongly considering moving on with his debilitating attack on ancient literature. Then, in comes my personal hero Hyundai and solves the whole thing with the oldest trick known to man. Bartering. (And free things.)

I don't want anyone (even me) to place undue criticism on the Rev. Jones, he (or his secretary) has said that he will be giving the car to a Muslim charity. The man not only possesses and excess of moral fiber, but a mustache that would make Wyatt Earp blush and bandits fear.

In closing, I would just like to extend this offer to Brad Benson Hyundai, or any other dealer of things, I will not burn whatever it is you want me to not burn in a very public manner, for a measly compensation of at least $13,600 (the going price of a Hyundai Accent.)