Un piccolo miracolo

Place-based partisanship is annoying. When people extol endlessly the vast virtue of their own little corner of the world, and smugly denigrate everyone else’s, they reveal nothing but their own parochialism. Thomas Pynchon, in Vineland, had a great line about this, which of course I can’t remember, but it had to do with a couple of Manhattan girls whose sole perception of California was through “the many ways that it failed to be New York.” I’ve known similar people. I can’t claim that I’ve never been guilty of this myself, but as I’ve matured I’ve come to realize that different places are just that--not superior or inferior, just different. Every place has something unique to offer, and in failing to seek it out, we only diminish ourselves.

Unless you’re talking about Buffalo, ‘cause that place is just a dump. But seriously, folks….

Of course, it’s natural to feel a certain affinity with the place where you grew up, and its peculiar language, customs, and traditions. Not to mention its food--we’re all familiar with the phrase “comfort food”, and indeed, when we’re out in the far-flung reaches of the globe, and feeling upset or unsure, the foods particular to our home places can be a great source of comfort. When I was growing up in New Jersey, my favorite food was pizza. And as I’m fond of saying, in Jersey you can’t spit without hitting a pizza joint.

True, you can get pizza just about anywhere. But as I’ve discovered in my travels throughout this land, it’s just not the same. When I first moved to California and walked into a pizza place asking for a slice, they looked at me like I had five heads. It seems that the slice as a concept does not exist in California--nor does “real” pizza. California has its own take on pizza, and its quite enjoyable, but in terms of the pizza of my youth it just can’t compare.

It’s hard to say just what makes New York-New Jersey pizza what it is. It’s gotta be made by Italians, that much I know. If you don’t see a guido (or guidette) behind the counter, and at least one small white-haired old man with an Italian accent in the general vicinity, clear out immediately. I think it also has to do with the simplicity of the recipe--just bread, sauce, and mozzarella cheese (toppings allowed within reason, of course, but there’s a lot to be said for the classic cheese pie), and the fact that it’s cooked in a regular oven, not a deep dish or some schmancy wood-burning brick deal. It’s just simple Southern Italian peasant food, and when it’s done right, it’s really, really good.

Unfortunately no one seems to be able to do it at all west of the Mississippi, and no one seems to be able to do it right west of the Delaware. People here in the West will say, oh, you have to try such-and-such a place, they have real East Coast-style pizza. And then you go there, and...no. Just...no. I’ve tried many places, and none come close. So when someone told me that the Pizza Castle here in Albuquerque had the real thing, I was more than a bit skeptical. But the other night, as I was freaking out (just a little) over my recent birthday, I felt like I needed some Jersey comfort food, so I decided to check it out.

It’s in a crummy strip mall, which was a good sign (the best pizza joints always are). I must decry the fact that there was nothing castle-like about it, however. I mean, New Jersey had, once upon a time, the famous Tower of Pizza, which you entered through a miniature replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa (incredibly exciting when I was a kid), so I expect truth in naming. But it did have threadbare carpeting, rickety booths from whose faded cushions yellow foam protruded, a menu board with slots that you stick those little plastic letters into, and--oh yes--a pinball machine. Now you’re talking genuine pizza place ambiance, my friend. It could’ve used a jukebox, though. When I was little, our family pizza place was Luisa Pizza in South Plainfield, which was owned by a friend of my dad’s ( = free pizza). Every time we went there, I would play “Run To Me” by the Bee Gees on the jukebox. I loved that song sooooooo much. Eventually I bought a 45 of it and played it over and over, but somehow it was never quite the same as hearing it on the jukebox at Luisa while eating pizza.

Anyway, as soon as I walked into the Pizza Castle, I knew that what I’d heard was true. Smell that? Real pizza. I ordered a couple of slices to go (small disappointment: the box did not feature a mustachioed man in a chef’s hat making the Italian gesture for “Yummy!” and saying, “You’ve tried all the rest--now try the best!” But you can’t have everything) and took them home. The crust was the perfect thickness and not at all soggy, the sauce was tasty, the cheese was fresh and there was just the right amount. And the slices were so generous that I could only eat one--the other one is wrapped in foil in my freezer, waiting for the next time I need a little homestyle comfort.

Thanks, Pizza Castle. You’re a small miracle in the desert.

Perhaps Jefferson should have specified the height and thickness of the wall

My feelings about the separation of church and state can be summed up thusly: I want my government to keep its nose out of my church, and my church to keep its nose out of my government. Simple as that. I'm getting sick to death of right-wing "Christians" prattling on about the United States of America being "a Christian nation", claiming that our legal system is based on the Ten Commandments, misrepresenting what the founders of this country thought and said, and so on and so on and so on.

The following quotes are excerpted from a letter to the editor of a local weekly paper called Crosswinds. The letter was written by Robert-Francis Johnson of Santa Fe. I was not familiar with any of these quotes, and I haven't checked their authenticity, but since they were published I'm going to assume that the editor of the paper has (maybe not the wisest assumption, but I'm going with it).

"The United States is in no sense founded upon the Christian doctrine."--George Washington

"As the government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion..."--from the Treaty of Tripoli, signed by John Adams, June 10, 1797

"Who does not see that the same authority which can establish Christianity, in exclusion of all other Religions, may establish with the same ease any particular sect of Christians, in exclusion of all other Sects?"--James Madison, in "Memorial and Remonstrance," 1785

"Neither a state nor the Federal Government can, openly or secretly, participate in the affairs of any religious organizations or groups and vice versa. In the words of Jefferson, the clause against establishment of religion by law was intended to erect 'a wall of separation between Church and State.'"--The U.S. Supreme Court, 1947

And, lest we forget:
"They have kept us in submission because they have talked about separation of church and state. There is no such thing in the Constitution. It’s a lie of the left, and we’re not going to take it anymore."--Pat Robertson, addressing the ACLJ (American Center for Law and Justice), 1993

And on the other hand:
"The national government will maintain and defend the foundations on which the power of our nation rests. It will offer strong protection to Christianity as the very basis of our collective morality. Today Christians stand at the head of our country. We want to fill our culture again with the Christian spirit. We want to burn out all the recent immoral developments in literature, in the theater, and in the press--in short, we want to burn out the poison of immorality which has entered into our whole life and culture as a result of liberal excess during the past years."--Adolph Hitler

No further comment needed, I believe.

Another little piece of my soul just died. Thanks a lot, Vin Diesel.

As I'm sure everyone knows, the early part of the year is when movie studios, having shot their Oscar wad back in December, release all of their really crappy movies. I never see any of them--I try very hard not to watch really crappy movies--but I'm still subjected to watching commercials for them, and a little piece of my soul dies every time I see one.

There's one I've started seeing a lot, for what looks to be some sort of family comedy starring Vin Diesel. Yes, that's right, Vin Diesel in a family comedy. Obviously he's following the patented Arnold Schwarzenegger Method for Being a Big Movie Star. I guess if you're going to ape someone's career moves, Arnold would be a good one to pick.

Anyway, the first time I saw the commercial I was sort of chuckling to myself and shaking my head in a Not if you were the last movie on earth kind of way, when I realized that Lauren Graham is also in the film. Well, that stopped my chuckling. Because I know that, like an insect helplessly drawn to its fiery death in one of those bug zappers, I am eventually going to cause myself grievous spiritual harm by watching this movie. Mind you, I don't think I'll actually spend any money on it, but sooner or later it's going to show up on TBS or FX, and that fateful day will find my ass on a couch. Such is the power of my crush on Lauren Graham.

Herewith a Top Five list of the worst movies I've ever sat through because I was all crushed out on somebody who was in it:

Top Five Worst Movies I've Ever Sat Through Because I Was All Crushed Out On Somebody Who Was In It

The rankings in this list are based less on the quality of the movie (since they all suck) and more on the depth of my ardor.

5) Daredevil (Jennifer Garner) I suspect that Elektra might be worse, but I haven't seen it. Prolly rent the DVD though. Sigh.

4) Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (Helena Bonham Carter) What a mess. Branagh should stick to Shakespeare.

3) Taboo (Amber Benson) The less said about this, the better.

2) Paradise (Phoebe Cates) Co-stars Willie Aames and a chimpanzee.

And the number one worst movie I've ever sat through because I was all crushed out on somebody who was in it...

1) I Love You, I Love You Not (Claire Danes) Did you know that Nazis are bad? Because they are. Man, I could've done an entire Top Five just with Claire Danes movies: The Mod Squad, Brokedown Palace...the list goes on, and I've seen them all. Yeah, my thing with Claire got a little too close to obsession, but in fairness to me, it was an extraordinarily difficult time in my life (the mid- to late '90s, that is) and I should have been medicated and I wasn't.

And now, in fairness to the actors above, here's a Top Five list of good movies that they were in:

Top Five Good Movies Starring the Actors From the Previous Top Five List

5) Jennifer Garner: Washington Square. Okay, "starring" might be a stretch, but she was in it.

4) Helena Bonham Carter: A Room with a View. Gorgeous film; still one of my faves.

3) Amber Benson: King of the Hill. Not a great movie, but a good one, and my favorite film role for Amber (small as it is).

2) Phoebe Cates: Fast Times at Ridgemont High. But of course.

1) Claire Danes: Little Women. Classic adaptation of a classic book.

More on the celebrity crush tip: the other night on Lost, Matthew Fox's character revealed some lovely ink on his left shoulder. Aitch-oh-double-tee HOTT. I do believe I dropped back a notch on the Kinsey scale just from seeing that.

The post-Super Bowl outcry you'll never hear

So, yesterday was the Super Bowl. Normally I stay as far away as possible from overhyped sporting events, but I was shopping in Target and they had every TV in their electronics department tuned to The Big Game (and turned up excruciatingly loud), so I couldn’t completely avoid it. Although I wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on, I did hear one of the announcers say that Paul McCartney would be playing during the halftime show. As a Beatles fan from way back (albeit one who, were she to make a Top Five list of her favorite Beatles, would place Paul at number five, right behind Stu Sutcliffe) I thought I’d check it out, if only for nostalgia’s sake.

I got home and turned on the TV just in time to see Sir Paul begin his set. It was kinda weird…everything was so note-perfect that I felt like I was watching a performance of Beatlemania, except it was so perfunctory that it wasn’t even as good as Beatlemania.

What it was, of course, was safe. The hoi polloi love Paul for the same reasons that I dislike him: he’s inoffensive and bland. And we all know that he was chosen for just those qualities, because we all know what happened at last year’s halftime show: blah blah Janet blah blah wardrobe malfunction blah blah the world is going to end because little Billy saw a boob and because female sexuality is EVIL EVIL EVIL.

That’s already a more thorough analysis of Hootergate than I ever wanted to engage in, so let me get to my point. Just after the halftime show, and before I could get away from the dinner I was making to change the channel, there was some sort of football montage that was set to U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday”. Okay, I get it: they play football on Sunday and it’s a violent contact sport. Cute. And completely, utterly appalling. For anyone who’s unaware, “Sunday Bloody Sunday” commemorates the murder of 14 unarmed Irish protesters by British soldiers in 1972. More than that, it’s a clarion call for an end to sectarian bloodshed in Ireland, and by extension anywhere that enmity breeds violence. In so many ways it was so very inappropriate to use that song that way, especially given the continued US military presence in Iraq and the fact that we’ll probably never know the number of innocent Iraqi civilians killed by US soldiers. I was, as I said, appalled, appalled and offended, as an Irish-American, as an American, as just a person with any kind of awareness and sensitivity.

If the people who were in an uproar over seeing a female breast on TV for half a second had any true sense of righteousness, as well as even a modicum of political and historical awareness, the phrase “wardrobe malfunction” would never have entered the lexicon, and the hue and cry over this would be deafening.

You’ll note that it’s not.