Clint Eastwood’s new cinematic work, American Sniper, is a work of glorified patriotism. In last week’s edition of The Bagpipe, Mr. Jantomaso even described it as “awe-inspiring.” From my perspective, Mr. Eastwood seems to have picked up the torch from Kathryn Bigelow, director of the 2013 Academy Awards flop Zero Dark Thirty. Just like Bigelow, Eastwood has found a way to shimmy into several Oscar nominations by feeding Americans the narcissistic justification they need in order to feel cozy about our government’s actions abroad.
In my room hangs a poster advertising an end of the world party. It was strewn with Mayan puns, a ping pong tournament, and there was a band no one knew about. I found it in a restaurant and pub on the uneventful 21st of December, 2012. It hangs (and usually falls) with pride in my room. It represents a very fun night of great food, lots of laughing, and my horrifying attempt at learning how to ice skate. On this night, I also happened to be a third wheel. Read More
Dear Sufjan Stevens,
I hope you don’t remember me because that would mean one of several things. Either a) that I didn’t actually bother you by sweatily interrupting your conversation with that tall man in the camel jacket, or b) that I did bother you by deciding we should meet, but that you’re also a terribly forgiving person who is sympathetic to all the twenty-something Anglo-Saxon, Protestant dudes who think you’re a big effing deal, or c) that you’re forgetful, which works because then, hey—no harm no foul. Read More