Ding Dong Ghadafi's Dead

In honor of this auspicious day of tyranny toppling, I've decided to list, in no particular order and with great alliteration, the top five fictional depositions of despots.

The Wicked Witch of the East (THE WIZARD OF OZ)

Now, I know you're probably thinking "What about the Wicked Witch of the West? I mean, she was a pretty horrible lady." You'll get no argument from me. That emerald empress of evil was scary, but she was only in power for what, like a day and a half? When Dorothy dropped that house on the WWE, those Munchkins lost their minds. The entire village sang in unison about how happy they were to be out from under the iron broomstick of the previous owner of the ruby slippers. The Lullaby League AND the Lollipop Guild? You save that shit for The Wizard, not for some hillbilly with a terrier in a picnic basket. But if that hillbilly thwarts the scourge of your every waking hour? Yeah, you give her a bust in the hall of fame.

Emperor Palpatine (RETURN OF THE JEDI)

Any self-respecting STAR WARS geek would probably rate this as the all-timer in this category, and it's easy to see why. When first we meet him, he's a cackling, über-wrinkly, yellow-eyed man in a dress that sits in a chair for 90 percent of RETURN OF THE JEDI. Then, Vader goes soft and throws him into a reactor core. Over the course of those three preposterously painful prequels, you see more clearly what a total bastard Palpatine was. The most apt analogy would be that he was the Catholic priest to Anakin Skywalker's altar boy, and then after years of emotional (and likely sexual) abuse, the altar boy has a moment of clarity and throws the priest into a reactor core. And along the same lines as the Wicked Witch mentioned above, the entire galaxy goes batshit insane once news of his demise spreads. Galaxy wide death party = pretty huge bastard.

Sauron (THE LORD OF THE RINGS)

Over the course of three epic novels, and three epic movies, it's pretty much laid out how horrible life under Sauron can be. Volcanoes, orcs, massive deforestation, weird snake-dragons. It is said that one does not simply walk into Mordor. That is, unless you're a pair of three foot half-breeds in stolen armor. When Frodo finally gets rid of that ring, the giant tower adorned with the Eye of Sauron falls and the ground quite literally falls away beneath it and his hordes of followers. Pretty epic. As the forger of the One Ring, Sauron is the undisputed champion of literary assholes, with the possible exception of that logging company in THE LORAX.

King Koopa (SUPER MARIO BROS.)

I have defeated this turtle-dinosaur monster time and time again, and it never gets old. The minute I hop past him and grab that axe, sending him plunging into fiery lava, I feel like I just shot Hitler in the dick. Then, later on, you get to destroy all of his bastard children (there has never been any mention of a Queen or Mrs Koopa) in succession before destroying him again. Man, is it ever satisfying.

Scar (THE LION KING)

Scar is probably the most horrific villain in all of Disney cartoondom. He orchestrates the murder of his brother, then convinces his nephew it was his fault and urges him to run away from home. Dick move. To add insult to injury, he becomes King and sets to getting it on with the entire pride of his sisters-in-law (I'm assuming, based on my limited, but likely accurate knowledge of lion culture). All of a sudden, Ursula from THE LITTLE MERMAID looks like she's just having her weird, inky period. When Simba comes back and regulates, however, we get the triumphant reprisal of the "Circle of Life" opening, which is probably the best opening sequence to any movie ever. Seriously, just try to not get goosebumps when the giraffes kneel. You can't do it.

So there it is.

Ghadafi's dead. He was a real-life horror, and in the end, deserved everything he got.

Somebody call the Lollipop Guild...or whatever the Libyan equivalent is.

Remember, Remember...

Anyone who closely follows British History, comic books, or Natalie Portman's career should be familiar with the phrase "Remember, remember, the fifth of November..."

The phrase comes from a British nursery rhyme (popularized in the graphic novel V FOR VENDETTA, and its subsequent film adaptation) about a man infamous in British history and annually remembered on a national holiday: Guy Fawkes.

Guy Fawkes was a central figure in The Gunpowder Plot, in which several pro-Catholic British subjects, unhappy with the direction the country was headed under the Protestant rule of King James, decided they were going to stockpile barrels of gunpowder underneath Parliament, blow up the King, and replace him with his Catholic daughter, Princess Elizabeth (not one of the two Elizabeths of any note).

To make a long, traitorous story short, on November 5, 1605, Fawkes was discovered underneath Parliament, amidst what I would imagine was a "crapload" of gunpowder. He was arrested and tortured. He confessed, gave up his accomplices, and was found guilty of high treason. On his way up the scaffolding to be hanged, he jumped off the platform and broke his neck, thus avoiding his execution. Noble to the last.

Every year since, on the fifth of November, British subjects have celebrated the King's escape from The Gunpowder Plot by setting bonfires. Later, it became customary to burn effigies, usually of the Pope, but more recently of political figures the public disagrees with.

My point is, we've come a long way as a society, as far as civil disobedience is concerned.

Whatever you think about Occupy Wall Street and its message, you have to respect the fact that they're merely flooding the streets with clever signs, and not strapping C4 to the walls of the New York Stock Exchange.

They've been referred to as "anti-capitalist" by Herman Cain, Republican Candidate for President, head of a pizza chain I've never heard of and the GOP's current "black friend." Mitt Romney, perpetual Republican Candidate for President and member of a certain Utah-based church that funneled $22 Million to support an out-of-state gay marriage ban, has called the protests "dangerous" and "class warfare." Meanwhile, both unconditionally support the Tea Party.

We live in a country where the political discourse about our problems has become Black and White, when what are needed are solutions bathed in Grey. We talk, but don't listen. Each side has static talking points and static viewpoints, which gets us nowhere in an ever-changing world.

Whenever a significant portion of the American citizenry has something reasonable and non-hateful to say (whether they be Tea Partiers or Occupiers), and they're merely asking for someone to listen, we owe it to them and to our country to sit down and have a discussion with them.

If you put Tea Partiers and Occupiers in the same room for long enough, I bet there'd be quite a bit that they agree on (poster board and glitter decorating tips aside). But our political leaders tell us to listen to only one viewpoint, the viewpoint that benefits them politically, and, more often than not, financially.

There's so much more that unites us than divides us.

Guy Fawkes and a bunch of other limey traitors forgot that on November 5, 1605.

We'd all do well to remember.

Terminally Unemployed

Today, I went to see 50/50, the much acclaimed cancer comedy starring Seth Rogen and Joseph Gordon Leavitt. Other than being really good and really funny, it connected with me in a way I hadn't expected.

First off, short of a full-on movie review, let me just say that this was one extremely well-made movie. Like my friend and fellow cinephile Al said, nobody plays Seth Rogen like Seth Rogen. He's the same guy in every movie, and that's totally fine because he's hilarious and earnest and keeps you completely on his side the entire movie. The screenplay was written by Will Reiser, one of Rogen's best friends, as a semi-autobiographical account of his battle with cancer. Joseph Gordon Leavitt plays Adam, a stand-in for Reiser himself, and he plays it beautifully. The film's very personal, and very real. It's equal parts hilarious and poignant, and feels more like Garden State than 40-Year-Old-Virgin. The laughs are contextual and never played as anything but genuine. The tears may come, too, 'cause they sure did for me. I wasn't blubbering or anything, but there are some impactful moments in the third act that you don't need to have cancer to have affect you. If you've ever felt scared, alone, confused, or helpless, the main character's struggle to survive will resonate with you.

As I watched, I tried to figure out why it struck such a chord. To be sure, I've lost family and friends to cancer, and watched others struggle with the disease, but I've never experienced it as personally as the people in the story. All of a sudden a stark thought flashed through my head: I don't have health insurance, what would I do if this happened to me? The thought of piles of medical bills, or possibly lack of good treatment options, tightened my stomach. There are a lot of moments like that when you're unemployed. Some mundane detail of everyday life you used to take for granted sets your mind racing and your gut wrenching with anxiety.

That stray thought then dovetailed to an observation: being unemployed is a bit like having a terminal illness. Let's be clear. I'm not directly comparing the two, and I by no means wish to trivialize others' struggle with cancer and other diseases. I'm just noting a similarity to the experience.

You're in a kind of limbo, not knowing when or if you're going to pull through it. There's not much you can do other than go through the step by step and day to day. For illnesses, you go to your treatments, you go to support groups, you go to checkups, and you take your meds, all with the hope of getting better. When you're unemployed, you update your resume, apply to jobs, go to interviews (if you're lucky enough to get one), and go to networking events and job fairs all with the hope that you'll actually get a job.

When you're sick, the people around you sometimes don't know how to act, or maybe the fact that you're sick becomes the foremost thing on their mind and all they want to talk about. It's similar if you're unemployed. Family will constantly ask how the job hunt is going, making suggestions and telling you things they've heard about other people in your situation.

Both situations encounter the same empty, unknowing assurances and well-wishes. "You'll pull through." "Just stay positive, and stay focused." "It can only get better." How could "they" know anything? They have their health (or a job). They don't know that you're going to get better (or get a job). You feel scared. You feel alone. At times, you feel like there's no hope.

The title denotes the chances Adam has for survival. A 50% chance, as pointed out by Rogen's character, is still a really good chance. In today's economy, the same odds can't be laid on one's ability to land a job. I'm well educated, and well-spoken (or so I've been told). In almost three years, I've applied or otherwise inquired to a great number of jobs, and have yet to land steady, full-time employment.

Do I really have a better chance at beating cancer than landing a job? Seriously?

How depressing is that?

Oh well, at least I still get to go to matinee movies. One of the very few perks of being unemployed.

Go see 50/50, it was great. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll draw strange analogies to your life.