From Paris With Love

There were so many incredible things that happened over the weekend, but none more devastating than the attack on our innocence. Terror took front stage on Friday and our innocence was the victim. But rest assured good prevails, as it always does because evil has no place amongst our existence. Yet we are changed as a world, and we now know that this cowardice act of terror will NOT, can NOT, become commonplace. The lives of the innocent that were lost will never be forgotten and this war we are fighting will somehow bring justice to a broken hearted world.

The words of the victims/survivors tell a story of courage, love and triumph for life; not at all what the hate that entered into the city of Paris on Friday night intended.
I came across this today when I was going to post something different entirely-and I am humbled by this young girl's resolve and by her courage.

This is the Facebook post of  Isobel Bowdery, a young college student who attended the rock and roll show at the Bataclan Theatre in Paris on Friday night:

"you never think it will happen to you. It was just a friday night at a rock show. the atmosphere was so happy and everyone was dancing and smiling. and then when the men came through the front entrance and began the shooting, we naiively believed it was all part of the show. It wasn’t just a terrorist attack, it was a massacre. Dozens of people were shot right infront of me. Pools of blood filled the floor. Cries of grown men who held their girlfriends dead bodies pierced the small music venue. Futures demolished, families heartbroken. in an instant. Shocked and alone, I pretended to be dead for over an hour, lying among people who could see their loved ones motionless.. Holding my breath, trying to not move, not cry – not giving those men the fear they longed to see. I was incredibly lucky to survive. But so many didn’t. The people who had been there for the exact same reasons as I – to have a fun friday night were innocent. This world is cruel. And acts like this are suppose to highlight the depravity of humans and the images of those men circuling us like vultures will haunt me for the rest of my life. The way they meticoulsy aimed at shot people around the standing area i was in the centre of without any consideration for human life. It didn’t feel real. i expected any moment for someone to say it was just a nightmare. But being a survivor of this horror lets me able to shed light on the heroes. To the man who reassured me and put his life on line to try and cover my brain whilst i whimpered, to the couple whose last words of love kept me believing the good in the world, to the police who succeded in rescuing hundreds of people, to the complete strangers who picked me up from the road and consoled me during the 45 minutes I truly believed the boy i loved was dead, to the injured man who i had mistaken for him and then on my recognition that he was not Amaury, held me and told me everything was going to be fine despite being all alone and scared himself, to the woman who opened her doors to the survivors, to the friend who offered me shelter and went out to buy new clothes so i wouldnt have to wear this blood stained top, to all of you who have sent caring messages of support – you make me believe this world has the potential to be better. to never let this happen again. but most of this is to the 80 people who were murdered inside that venue, who weren’t as lucky, who didnt get to wake up today and to all the pain that their friends and families are going through. I am so sorry. There’s nothing that will fix the pain. I feel priviledged to be there for their last breaths. And truly beliving that I would join them, I promise that their last thoughts were not on the animals who caused all this. It was thinking of the people they loved. As i lay down in the blood of strangers and waiting for my bullet to end my mere 22 years, I envisioned every face that I have ever loved and whispered I love you. over and over again. reflecting on the highlights of my life. Wishing that those i love knew just how much, wishing that they knew that no matter what happened to me, to keep belieivng in the good in people. to not let those men win. Last night, the lives of many were forever changed and it is up to us to be better people. to live lives that the innocent victims of this tragedy dreamt about but sadly will now never be able to fulfil. RIP angels. You will never be forgotten."

Black And Whitey

So I'm going to see "Black Mass" tonight. I can hardly wait.

I read the book. 

I read the papers when it was happening. 

I live in the city that was terrorized.

I remember the pain it caused the families of the victims; mine included. 

Whitey Bulger is urban legend around here.

I'm fascinated by this moment in history that was captured on film and looking forward to seeing-and almost being there-while the story unfolds. Evil like that has a way of mesmerizing the psyche, which is how Whitey intimidated his victims. Make no mistake, I'm not endorsing a Hollywood glorified Whitey Bulger character, but what I am doing is immersing myself in the story of this crime lord who was enabled by a corrupt FBI agent. I am extremely mindful of the damage that this story has caused, yet I am unable to look the other way. 

Johnny Depp's performance as the cold blooded killer is being hailed as "scary good" which lends itself to the legend of this evil man. Boston Herald scribe Peter Gelzinis explained the truth of Whitey's core evil quite eloquently this morning. He was relaying a story about the murder of a bookmaker 30 years ago who had pissed Whitey off. Gelzinis and his colleague Paul Corsetti were working the story.

"In the course of asking questions, Corsetti got a call to meet a tipster in a bar near Quincy Market. Paul waited until almost one in the morning and was about to leave when a rather ordinary-looking guy approached and asked, "You're Paul Corsetti, aren't you?"

When Corsetti nodded, the stranger asked, "Do you know who I am?"

Paul shook his head, and the stranger told him: "I'm Whitey Bulger, mother (expletive)." Though Whitey announced that he killed people, what he told Corsetti was far more terrifying. He described the make, model, color and license plate of the car Paul's wife used and the name of the daycare center where she dropped their daughter off." 

That's Whitey and who he is. History can be rewritten, but evil is evil, regardless of who is telling the story. 

Sneaky Pest

I HATE sneaky people. And nosy people too.

I just want you to know that I'm on to you, dude. You're not fooling anyone. Fu*k off and mind your own business. Why are you so worried about mine?  You can't be doing well if you are stalking me, so my suggestion to you is to worry more about what you are doing and less about what I am doing.

And don't think for one second that your little spy/flunkies are fooling me either. Back OFF! or I will take action and you don't want to get on my bad side.It's not pretty over there.

I guess I should be flattered that you think I am such a threat, but now you're beginning to annoy me.

Take this as your warning and don't push me.

Pin Up Terror

Really Rolling Stone?

There is a distinct difference between these two covers.
Discuss.....

Trouble With The Curve

So I watched good old Clint last night and I gotta tell you it was troubling.

Dirty Harry is dead and gone and Eastwood has left us with a curmudgeonly old character who is a constant reminder that getting old sucks. Even A-lister Amy Adams, John Goodman and Justin Timberlake couldn't make this a sinker a go. I might have been seriously depressed after watching this one had it not been for the Hollywood hook; the happy ending.

The story line is predictable. Eastwood is Gus, an aging and angry baseball scout who is facing the end of a very long career. Amy Adams plays Mickey (named after Mickey Mantle), Gus's estranged daughter. Gus is loosing his sight and quite possibly his mind until long time friend and colleague, Pete (Goodman) asks Mickey to accompany her father on his possible last scouting trip to scout the number one prospect and make sure things go well.

Adams is convincing as Mickey, a career driven lawyer who has no time for anything, except climbing the corporate ladder at her prestigious firm. Enter Justin Timberlake, who I can't take seriously as an actor because I still see BOY BAND when I look at him, as a love interest for Mickey. Timberlake plays Johnny, a former standout who ruined his arm and is trying to reinvent himself in the game as a scout and broadcaster. The romance between them never really grows a set of legs and walks in this script despite the solid performances.

But it's Easwood who is the story here. Dang, he's old. And he keeps reminding us that Cowboys never really die, they just get put out to pasture. He's angry and he's loosing his sight and he's not happy. Its painful at times to watch Eastwood convincingly teach us about the aging process. Of course this is Hollywood and these scripts make sure that there is a brass ring to grab at the end of this ride. Gus proves that he's still got it and that his age and experience make him still a valuable member of the baseball organization he is employed by. Mickey proves that she's got her father's talent and finds a new career path in sports management. Father and daughter reconcile and even bond over a shared love, the game of baseball, and Mickey finally finds her place in her father's world.

Cute, but too freakin late for my liking. I needed to be cheered up by then.

Can't say that I would recommend it, even for the most ardent baseball fans. Unless you love seeing a chick spew forth baseball trivia question answers like an encyclopedia. I'd wait until it's the movie of the week on ABC and that there's nothing better on TV.