A few (clean) words on George Carlin

Yesterday, the comedy world lost a titan. Well, the shadow of a titan, at the very least.

George Carlin passed away at 71 from heart failure, enrapturing his poor, pessimistic soul to the "heavenly CNN" he sought to view when he died. What saddens me about Carlin's death, however, is a matter of aesthetics.

Granted, I'm not surprised the guy died, just that it took this long. Forever a child of reckless endangerment, Carlin passed through drug addiction and debt like clothing, effortlessly moving from high-paid Vegas entertainer to $4 million in debt tax payer, and, my personal fave, from cocaine addiction (his daughter asked him on one of their vacations together to stop snorting) to sobriety. See? The guy had a 'truth and dare' session with death, and it's a mystery that guys like Carlin, Keith Richards, and Robert Plant can still get out of bed every morning, Father's ashes 'n all.

But what saddens me about the Carlin today is what a shadow he was of his previous self. The Carlin of today was just angry. Brilliant, but one-dimensional, angry in the old man, grumpy kind of way (for proof, consult his one of his last HBO specials, "Life is Worth Wasting").

Now, I understand the brilliance of old Carlin was all but impossible to sustain. Simultaneously intelligent and daring, Carlin could pull off skits musing on the appropriateness of the word "shit" (famously remarking that he was fired for saying "shit" in a place where the game of choice is "craps"), the many eccentricities and contradictions of the Catholic faith, and, of course, the seven dirt words that would "curve your spine and stop the allies from winning the war."*

The old Carlin observed the society around him and commented on his surroundings, talking with his audience in a perverse form of discussion. You laughed at your own faults that Carlin fearlessly pointed out, but you walked away from the act a sadder, wiser man. Contradict this with the many stand-up "comedians" of today, where shouting and obnoxious screaming creates an act, and you see how far down stand-up comedy has fallen on the pedestal (yes, I'm talking to you Dane Cook).

I guess what Carlin really represented was how hard stand-up comedy is. A famous actor--the name changes based on who you ask--remarked "Dying is easy. Comedy is hard." And from the number of eulogies that are springing up around the web, from Richard Belzer to Jerry Seinfeld, we can see that Carlin--old Carlin--had it down.

*My personal favorite is still his skit on Muhammad Ali, where Carlin remarked that Ali's profession, beating people up, was forbidden because he would not accept the government's new occupation for him: killing people. "(Ali) said, 'Nah, I'll beat them up but I don't wanna kill them. And they said, 'Well, if you won't kill them we won't let you beat them up! HA HA HA!'"

How do you spell "ratatouille?"

Just finished watching "Ratatouille" with the family, one in a long line of presumably excellent film that I have yet to see--and as the pattern goes, the film was wonderful.

What makes the case of "Rat." (you understand the necessity of abbreviations here) so confusing is my general love for Pixar films. Both "Toy Story" films are forever enshrined in my top 20 films, while "Monsters Inc." and "The Incredibles" are both in their own right fantastically produced animated films. And though "Rat." cannot quite capture my imagination by the throat like the original "Toy Story" did, I still must admit that I found myself mesmerized by what I like to call the "Pixar Touch"--a brilliant and seamless combination of laughs, cries, and suspense, all linked by some of the most gorgeous animations that the motion picture will ever produce. And all the while, this seemingly impossible hodgepodge of genres is pulled off with absolute lack of effort.

We all know the plot of "Rat." A rat who can cook, a human who can't, and the unlikely bond that develops between the two couple of misfits. The comedy of the film has an undeniable influence of Lubitsch and the famous "Lubitsch Touch," that light, effortless sophistication that coats every frame. The comedy of "Rat." never tries too hard for our laughs. Instead, the characters interact with each other and the environment, creating humor that is both physical and verbal. And, like Lubitsch, it is just plain sweet. Add to it

But anyway, this is a Pixar film, and the visuals are the key. The rat's fur, human's hair, facial expressions, the simmer of sauces in the kitchen--these are undoubtedly some of the more gorgeous snapshots that has ever been seen in FILM, not strictly the animated genre. And not just the typical beauty, but some very subtle attentions to detail that director Brad Bird is smart enough to exploit, such as the many brilliant uses of pictorial lighting in the film.

Like this shot. While not exactly pictorial, as the lighting is not exaggerated enough to be unrealistic, look at the absolute attention to detail--how the light wraps around the body of Remy, with a heavier concentration on his belly and a lesser amount on his sides. Or how the lighter pigments of Remy's ears create a brighter light than the darker pigments of his fur. This is top notch artistry, people, recognize it for what it is!

And, a note on actors: "Rat." features, among other actors, Ian Holm, Peter O'Toole, Brad Garrett, and Janeane Garofalo. Suffice to say, these are not the first actors which immediately come to mind when thinking of casting for an animated feature. And that is a very, very good thing!

We prosper in an "Aladdin"-inspired universe. Robin Williams' rendition of the Genie was so off-the-wall, so unpredictable, and so ROBIN WILLIAMS that it has inspired an entire generation of films where the biggest stars with the biggest name recognition are chosen for a voice acting part. Not because they necessarily fit into the role in which they are cast, but merely because they are movie stars, and movie stars sell movie tickets.

Pixar seems to be the only animated studio today that sees the problem with this, casting actual ACTORS, not STARS in their animated roles, realizing that the right actor is out there for the right animated role, just like in real-life movies. Just as Francis Ford Coppola knew that Al Pacino was the perfect Michael Corleone, John Lasseter knew that Tim Allen was the perfect Buzz Lightyear. Again, not the first actors that come to mind, yet they were perfect for their roles and the films gained an enormous advantage because of it.

The importance of unity in the 2008 election

George W. Bush is, objectively, one of the worst presidents of all time, and possibly pound for pound the worst president in the history of our great democracy. In terms of sheer volume and magnitude, no president will ever eclipse the failure of James Buchanan to effectively end the threat of Southern recession and prevent the Civil War. But when each individual category is addressed, from the economy, to education, to foreign policy, to environmental issues, no president even approaches the catastrophic collapse of “Dubya.”

And the effect these failures are having on the citizens of the United States is equally calamitous. Ever since Bush’s unspeakable reelection, there has been a growing air of discontent among American voters, manifesting itself in the most perturbing of circumstances. Matt Taibbi, a brilliant journalist for Rolling Stone magazine, surveyed a couple of these disillusionments in his 2008 book 'The Great Derangement,' where he went undercover (among other things) to Pastor John Hagee’s Christian Zionist church in Texas and infiltrated the 9/11 Truth movement.

Hagee’s church preaches, among other things, that the U.S. government is involved in a conspiracy to promote abortions and systematically lower the U.S. population total, extreme exorcisms, and, most horrifying, the apocalyptic vision that upon invading Jerusalem, Russian and Arab forces will be destroyed by God, which will then lead to a battle between China and the West, with leadership of this conflict being the Antichrist as head of the European Union. Jesus will then return, and, of course, win (Hagee also preaches Catholicism as "the great whore" in modern religion, and firmly believes that the Catholic Church united with Nazism to destroy the Jews during WWII*).

Yet, Hagee preaches to a massive congregation of over 17,000, and Taibbi witnessed himself the fanatical following that many members of the church had for Hagee and his "preaching."

The 9/11 Truth movement believes, among other things, that the attacks on the Twin Towers were masterminded by Dick Cheney, Paul Wolfowitz, and others to start a war with Iraq, in which crude oil was the main goal. Planes were not flown into the Twin Towers, however. Controlled explosions destroyed the buildings, and holograms were used to convince the public that it was indeed planes that caused the destruction. Also, a plane did not hit the Pentagon. A missile, fired by Cheney & co., caused that explosion, and airplane parts were then scattered to give the impression that a plane caused that destruction. Also, the plane that was hijacked and caused that explosion? It was re-directed to a remote airstrip, where the passengers were killed and distressing phone calls to family members and spouses were faked.

Again, ridiculous, yet a 2006 poll conducted by Scripps Howard/Ohio University found that over a THIRD of American believe that federal agents participated in and/or lacked action with the atrocities of 9/11.

These seem to be fringe groups, yet the criminal actions of our current administration have driven these small minorities to dangerous levels of population. That is why it is so important to elect Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States and address these disillusionments.

Obama represents “change” in the truest sense of the word, beyond the cliché mantras heard from Mitt Romney or Hillary Clinton. Multi-racial and raised in Indonesia and Hawaii, Obama’s past of rags to Harvard riches is the kind of story that keeps the American Dream alive. His face, dark and handsome as it is, gives a new presentation to the United States, as a country finally able to rid itself of the horrible legacy of slavery. His policies, while moderate-liberal on paper, offer a clear divergence from the horrid movement conservative policies of George W. Bush. And his very own sense of unity, his ability to bridge gaps across races, genders, and party lines, make him the real candidate of our 21st century and a once in generation leader. So elect Barack Obama!

*Ok, he may have a point there.

My first foray into the Mac Universe

I type this entry as a new man. A changed man. A MAC man.

Yes, with all the hype, word-of-mouth praise, and Warren Cheswick commercials, I finally gave-in to the latest minority fad and purchased a Macbook. And a Macbook PRO at that.

My journey to the center of the Mac Universe has been long and storied, from many friends and reliable tech-experts ranting and raving on the evils of PC and the glories of going Mac. With such overwhelming positivity (or negativity...depending on which side of the fence you're on), I fully expected to be underwhelmed, even with the newest revelation fresh on my mind, a glowing endorsement of the pro model from Dr. Bob Stewart, the Associate Director of the journalism program I'll be attending in fall.

Yet, I can't help but be impressed by the stunning power and aesthetics of the unit. First off, it looks great. The 15.4 inch screen is brilliant, as photos, video, and even this basic, droll-white blog shine with glossy brilliance. The silver aluminum casing is wicked cool, and the keyboard--the no. 1 issue I've always had with laptops--is full sized and fluid. Even the touchpad--the no. 2 issue I've always had with laptops--is large and responsive, though I've already ordered a bluetooth mouse.

The performance of this powerhouse, though, is the true jewel of going mac. Sure, other laptops, such as the HP Pavilion, have their own power merits, but as a lifelong PC owner, I already know that the Macbook Pro has awarded me a greater level of multi-tasking than I previously thought possible.

This was patently apparent from the first night I had with it. See, I'm a music junkie, a fact that many people are aware of. At this point in my musical voyage, I have roughly 14,200 songs on my iPod. Naturally, I wanted to transfer every single one of those songs to my new Mac, which would prove NO problem whatsoever. And I'm not even exaggerating. As I transferred a good 14,400 music files from one computer to another (a long, convoluted process that is not worth repeating), the Mac did not slow down one bit. I was free to surf the web, download various programs, and watch as much internet porn as my juices craved.

In short, this silver beaut is a technological powerhouse, and as I type this message with the Al Green masterpiece "I'm Glad Your Mine" droning in the background, my Mac seems to be communicating with me: "I know I'll never let you down!"

The primary season is over...so now what?

There is a strange, inherit disappointment when a long primary battle finally ends. I'll admit, during this most recent case of political jousting and rhetorical gymnastics, I frequently tossed and turned in bed and pulled my hair out, wondering what other fatuous articles of Obama's "dark past" Sean Hannity's interns would uncover, how Hillary would exploit it, and how the Mainstream Media would run around in circles over the story while the more important issues of the campaign were left in the rain.

Now, the fact that Jeremiah Wright and Bill Ayers gained more media attention than global warming and education was maddening, to say the least, but I'd be fooling myself to deny that it was great entertainment. As Eugene Robinson of The Washington Post had mused, the Primary battle of Hillary v Obama was political American Idol, complete with judges, audience voting, underdogs, and knockout performances, and also, we as political junkies consumed the shit like it was crack cocaine...and I may start suffering withdrawals in short time.

When the Primary season really got rolling in mid-January (I refuse to pay the slightest bit of attention prior to the Iowa Caucus), I had a strict regiment: I would arrive home from school and, on Mondays and Wednesdays, listen to NPR's Talk of the Nation for the latest political updates (Tues/Thur saw an immediate jump to the next step of...), then, I'd scour the various internet sources for reliable tidbits and breakout stories, from Andrew Sullivan's Daily Dish to The New Republic website to my personal favorite, The Huffington Post, which offers up-to-the-second news AND some of the most insightful blogging on the World Wide Web. Then, I'd review the entire day's stories at 7 pm watching Countdown with Keith Olbermann, and THEN re-rinsing and drying the entire process with more Internet scrounging.

It was a constant, never ending process, one of information-overload, victorious fact-checking, the glory of understanding a mere portion of the American political system. So don't get me wrong, it was exhausting--at numerous times, I questioned the costs of being a well-informed member of democracy--but now that it is over, I have a strange, undeniable sensation over all the free time I seem to have, which is certainly a good thing. I still have plenty of episodes of Oz and The Wire to watch, and a DAMN good number of books to read.

The irony behind all this, of course, is that when the official Conventions occur in late August/early September, this entire process will start over again and I will be more entrenched then ever in the wonderful world of politics. Check please!

'Once'

I just finished watching Once with my parents and brother and, in short, I absolutely loved it.

As I was being delighted by the film's 85 minutes, however, I asked myself a question--why in the hell did it take me so long to watch this?!?

The film is concerned with a guy, played by Irish musician Glen Hansard, and his week-long friendship with a Czech immigrant (girl), played by fellow musician and current Hansard girlfriend Markéta Inglová. The two meet on the street (Hansard plays a busker), and what follows is a journey into the character's pasts, passions, and futures--all culminating in one of the more happy, satisfying endings I've seen in sometime.

With Once, it's all about the simplicity. The camera-movements, the long-takes, the lovely, natural lighting, this is a film where all the pieces fell into place. As non-actors, the casual gestures and mannerisms of Hansard and Inglová are perfect for the sweet, authentic tone of the film. Had the film's original star--actor Cillian Murphy--stayed in this project, it would not have had half the heart and soul it does, which is do in no small part to the AMAZING music.

Entering this film, I had no idea who Hansard or his band "The Frames" were, and in watching Once, I was completely mesmerized by the emotionally wrenching, incredibly personal songs Hansard plays, alternating between a folk blues shout in his solo numbers and more contained duets with Inglová.

I kid you not, I felt a lump in my throat during their performance of "Falling Slowly," the film that won the 2008 Academy Award for Best Original Song. It is moments like that performance that separate this film from any of the multi-zillion dollar, emotionless musicals of the current day, from Chicago to Dreamgirls. It doesn't matter that Once was shot with a $135,000 budget in 17 days (try seeing Hollywood pull that off)--what matters is its authenticity, its heart, its genuine concern for its characters and its respect for their feelings. Once makes any American film seem hollow by comparison.

I've gotten to the main core of the film, but along with the emotional resonance, see the film simply for the music, as it celebrates the universal communication music gives us all. In one beautiful sequence, Hansard is riding in a bus with Inglová, and the topic develops of Hansard's ex-girlfriend, a source of inspiration for many of Hansard's songs. Though originally skeptical of Inglová's questioning, Hansard does indeed tell her what happened...through song. Notice, now, what a beautiful observation this is by Director John Carney! We all have emotions, we all have interpretations, but sometimes, just certain times, the only way we can express those emotions is through our art, whether it be film, or painting, or, in this case, music.

So...see the fucking film!

Oh Dinah!

Last month, a strange thing happened--I finally became sick of instrumental Jazz. Don't get me wrong, the brilliance and eloquence of a Miles Davis or Kenny Burrell or a Cannonball Adderley still shines as bright as the Sunday mornin' sun, but I couldn't help but feel bogged down by the total lack of VOICE in the music. See, I started consciously listening to and critiquing Jazz my junior year in high school. From the start, instrumental was my sole ax. From Miles to Coltrane to Monk, it was the heavy hitters of INSTRUMENTS that I focused on, and while I still read and respected Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, and Sarah Vaughn, I just didn't invest in Jazz Vocal recordings. I was inspired to do so, however, and from the most unlikely source.

I was watching my favorite television program, Countdown with Keith Olbermann, when this commercial came on.

The infectious voice of that commercial? Dinah Washington, a woman among women. Married eight times, Washington was every bit as forceful in person as her music would suggest, and it did not take long for me to become transfixed with her charismatic personality as a Jazz performer.

And what a voice! While the Double Tree commercial uses the selection "Relax Max" from her "Swinging with Miss 'D,'" an album of catchy swing tunes arranged by Quincy Jones, Washington was at home with the blues, an area where her Gospel roots were allowed to shine. Washington is smooth, but her music never straddles past the jazz/blues genres. Her authenticity and phrasing forever keeps her material listen-able (though she would turn to the dark side with her '63 release What a Diff'rence a Day Makes!), and for examples of both her impeccable Jazz phrasing and smoldering blues, I highly recommend two released: Dinah, an album that finds her supported by a large Jazz ensemble and singing both standards and obscure blues, and After Hours with Miss D, a true Jazz/Blues masterpiece that finds Washington stretching out with such experts as Clark Terry and Junior Mance.

Are American Voters Stoopid?

The American voting bloc has always left me astounded. Along with the embarrassing number of voters--a mere 50% of the population, compared to over 85% in France--American voters show an uncanny ability to vote against their common interests. As long as a candidate is deeply Christian, smooth on television, and appeals to certain emotional issues such as abortion and gay marriage, we'll vote for that candidate in droves. This is the only logical explanation, as far as I can tell, on how an idiot like George W. Bush was elected TWICE.

Growing up, we are encouraged to make mistakes. "Mistakes are good," one of my grade school teachers would always insist. "Because you learn from your mistakes!" Yet, when it comes to voting, Americans seem incapable of learning from their mistaken votes, no matter what kind of destruction ensues.

I'm blabbering about our idiotic electorate because an interesting evolution is occurring in the Hillary Clinton fan base, now that she has definitively dropped out of contention. See, throughout the primary season, I was as perplexed as anyone on why white/blue-collar workers, whose real incomes decreased as an effect of NAFTA, would openly and fanatically support a candidate who considered NAFTA one of her administrations "great achievements." This was continued "stoopid voterdom," but following the Potomac Primaries, everyone and their dog knew that Obama had the nomination sealed. It was only a matter of time until he was the party's nominee and the Democratic coalition mobilized behind his efforts.

Yet, this stoopid behavior has been built upon now that Obama is our nominee. As a CBS poll from yesterday demonstrated, 22% of Clinton's fan base will support John McCain in November. On NPR's Talk of the Nation today, caller after caller praised McCain for his "experience," and his "maverick" tendencies, and proudly proclaimed that they will support McCain OVER Obama, now that Clinton has bowed out.

See, this confuses me for a number of reasons, but first and foremost it is the topic of issues. These voters are, allegedly, people who supported Hillary Clinton during the primary season. Among the issues on Hillary's platform were a reconstruction of NAFTA, universal health care, withdrawal from Iraq, and a revision of No Child Left Behind, among other liberal, left-leaning stances.* These are Democratic issues, and people who support them are, well, DEMOCRATS. Each issue is something Barack Obama also supports. So if voters felt strongly on these issues, and voted for Hill because they thought she could accomplish the goals of each issue, why would they jump ship to a candidate who openly opposes each and every one of them?

And that's the biggest issue of confusion for me, is how contradictory John McCain is to each of these 22%. John McCain now supports Bush's horrible, idiotic tax cuts, something he boldly opposed in 2001. Not only that, but his tax plan seeks to cut Corporate tax rates by 10%, offering a reduction in government spending to compensate for the cuts--of course, he intends on cuttings funds to Medicare, Medicaid, and education, not defense spending. He supports Iraq and the surge, proclaiming that American forces could be in Iraq for 100 years. He openly lobbied for endorsements from Pastor John Hagee and Rod Parsley, men who have called Catholicism "the great whore" and who claim that Christianity has had an everlasting duty to destroy Islam, respectively (remember when McCain called men like this "agents of intolerance" in 2000? yeah, neither do I). His health care legislation does nothing to stop insurance company fraudulence and refuses coverage to cancer victims LIKE HIMSELF.

John McCain is neither a maverick nor a candidate who represents any Democratic ideals. He WAS a maverick, but now he is nothing more than a slut to the most extreme faction of the GOP that just happened to have won Congress and the White House amid a decade and a half of Washington dominance. So why would allegedly Democratic voters support such a guy? I couldn't tell ya. I guess they're stoopid.

*Bear in mind that all of these issues were nothing more than pandering--the bitch would have been more conservative had the electorate demanded it, but bear with me here.

What last night meant...and why I. HATE. HILLARY.

First, what tonight meant, the first time in American history that the Democratic Party has nominated an African American as its candidate for President. While this is a monumental time for America, African-Americans, and the American political system, I like to think that it has an even greater importance beyond American soil and abroad.

Lately, our politics has become a wild joke to the rest of the world. With our bumbling crusader of a President at the forefront, American politics has acquired the reputation of being mean, pity, and devoid of any true substance and accomplishment. And can we really, honestly resist this title? The worst war in American history. Two economic recession in eight years, including one that neared Great Depression levels. Hurricane Katrina and a demolished city. Illegal wiretaps. Treasonous outing of a CIA agent. Religious fundamentalism and an assault on science and reason.

See? The failures of the Bush administration literally go on forever, and we've taken our first step to rectifying these mistakes by nominating Senator Barack Obama for President of the United States. Just imagine the impact of having Obama's face representing our country, and the world seeing an African-American representing the land of slavery? This is historic, and I feel so honored to have lived to see such a moment.


But now onto more spiteful territory--the Grand Old Bitch of the Democratic Party, or, Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton. Last night was her last chance for class. The last chance in a campaign of cheap shots and dirty tricks to emerge, phoenix-like, from the ashes of Karl Rove and embrace the nominee the Democratic PARTY has chosen; in other words, the last chance to act like an adult.

Yet we saw none of it, nothing more than self-indulgence and self-denial, all wrapped in a present of delusion and pretty pink bows of IMAGINATION. Number one Clinton hater Andrew Sullivan summed it up best: "Her narcissism requires that she deprive her opponent of a night, or a second, of gratification or attention." And that is what really, REALLY pisses me off about the bitch's speech. She can parade around with her unremarkable platforms, conspicuous claim of 18 million votes, and still support the idea that she won Michigan and Florida, but at least give Obama some credit--something she's never done, as least not with sincerity. Obama beat her, pure and simple. He out-organized, out-raised, and out-campaigned the most potent political machine of the late 20th century, and, like Sullivan notes, her narcissism was beyond an congratulatory effort. She lost, and her dreadful speech reveals what a baby she truly is.

Scott Free?

It's been a full week now since the Scott McClellan bombshell hit with his part payback/part confessional book What Happened, and I've noticed a few interesting developments that poor Scotty's ploy have exposed:

With us or Against us
The publishing of Scotty's book is yet another entry in the Bush Administration's hopelessly simple "with us or against us," "good vs evil" philosophy that has dominated some of the more disastrous policies in our nation's history. Amidst all the "puzzlement" that seems to be rampant among Bush loyalists who are, well, "puzzled" at McClellan's betrayal is the black and white simplicity behind our, well, simple government (and when I say simple, I mean the simple oaf from Alabama who spends his days stroking a piece of velvet).

Finally!
While Scotty's book could have come a few years earlier--imagine the Valerie Plame revelation before Joe Wilson was obliterated--What Happened still gives reinforcement to many of the claims that those of us on the left have been making for some time now. The White House misled the nation into an endless and unnecessary conflict in Iraq. Bush is a simple-minded, ignorant fool who lacks inquisitiveness and refuses to accept contradictory views. Bush himself authorized the CIA intelligence leak that led to the public disclosure of Valerie Plame's identity. Hurricane Katrina was an act of incompetence, not misjudgment. While these were all facts that any well-read American should have known about already, Scotty gives the best validation a former Bush loyalist possibly could.

Humanity?
I briefly mentioned the "betrayal" that McClellan is being branded with earlier in this post, but the true irony in this whole affair is the lack of humanity in our political scene--the inability of the public, press, and politicians to put a human face on the proceedings.

For example, the number one charge that is being leveled at McClellan is timeliness. If he was so perturbed by what he observed as Press Secretary, why did he not step out and speak his mind at a more appropriate time?

Well, there was a little thing called "midlife crisis" involved.

Again, we refuse to admit humanity in this discussion. McClellan is a Bush loyalist to the extreme--a dear friend of Dubya from the good ol' Texas days, Scotty rode this loyalty all the way to the White House, and he was given the positions of Assistant and then true Press Secretary.

In other words, Scotty owes his entire fucking career to Bush. Beyond the material, however, McClellan was a true believer. While it can be argued that he was sucking on the Washington tit, I solemnly think that McClellan came to the capital believing in Bush and his message of bipartisan, compassionate conservatism. Yeah, like such a thing even exists, but back to the point, Scotty's entire ideology for following Dubya to the White House was turned on it's head by deception, illegal wiretaps, and other treasonous activities.

So can we be surprised, really, that he would feel hesitation at scorching such a friend in such a manner?