Don’t forget to stop at the gift shop

I like to think of myself as a rather cultured individual. I have an annual pass to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA). I’m a member of the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures. I’m on a waitlist to see the infinity mirror room at The Broad. I’ve enjoyed my many visits to the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA). And I make it a point to visit the Whitney whenever I’m in New York to take in the brilliant isolation, loneliness and realism of urban life that only Edward Hopper can convey.

I don’t know why I relate to Hopper so much, but the feeling of hopelessness and futility in his characters hits home with me. I have issues. Another post.

Anyway, despite the fact I’m just lousy with class, I have to admit I’ve never visited what could arguably be called the most interesting museum of all: the Poozeum in Williams, Arizona.

Or as their webpage says, “The Gateway to the Grand Canyon!” Whatever.

The Poozeum collection is made up of thousands of fossilized dinosaur droppings, including, as the website says, “ the wateringly huge ‘Barnum’.”

Interesting adjective.

You can even snap a selfie with a replica of a 4-foot wide titanosaur poop.

Honestly if I wanted a picture with a giant piece of shit I’d just go to a Trump rally.

Look, people can spend their money any way they want. And if a room full of dino droppings is their idea of seeing the sights, then have at it.

So enjoy your visit to the Poozeum. And if you happen to stop by the gift shop to pick up a little something for me, I’m fine with a tee shirt or poster.

Just not a paperweight.

Life unsubscribed

If you're anything like me—smart, talented, funny and...what's the word...oh yeah, humble—you can remember there was a time when opening email was something to look forward to. Most of those emails in the past came from friends that, because they're my friends, were funny, insightful, enlightening, thought-provoking and worth the time they took to read them.

But like cheap gas, my 32-inch waist and Springsteen tickets under five-thousand dollars, it was a long time ago.

The good emails gradually got overtaken by offers from Nigerian princes, barristers in London with multi-million dollar inheritances waiting for me, hot Ukranian girls who wanted to meet me (can you blame them?) and an assortment of enhancement, diet, prostate, muscle-building and relaxation pill offers.

I never opened them. I'd see the subject line, block the sender and mark it as junk mail.

In the same way baseball, leaves changing and pumpkin spice latte are seasonal, so is email. And in case you haven't noticed, right now we're in the heart of election season.

I've always been the kind of person to put my money where my mouth is, especially when it comes to electing democratic progressives and making sure we defeat all the nazi-lovin', election-denyin', vaccine-fearin', propaganda-spreadin', fear-mongerin', insurrection-incitin', trump-followin', top secret document-sellin', fascist-lovin', cult-obsessin', crazy-lyin' candidates and their base that make up today's GQP.

And if you're not getting the picture, let me make it a little clearer by bringing it down to a personal, one-on-one level in a way you can understand: if you support, identify with, condone, contribute to, defend or in any other way align your political, spiritual or social views with those of Cadet Bone Spurs, Gym Jordan, Marjorie Traitor Greene, Moscow Mitch, Snake Oil Dr. Mehmet Oz, "Little" Marco Rubio, Lauren Bobert, Sean Hannity, Tucker Carlson, Kevin McCarthy, Lindsey Graham, Ted Cruz or any one of the other cowardly, traitorous, brainwashed Republicans trying to take down democracy, then fuck you.

Twice.

Anyway, because I've donated to people and causes I believe in, my email address has found it's way onto lists for virtually every democratic candidate running in any race anywhere in the country this season. As a result, my inbox is being flamed with political messages all with subject lines like:

"It's not looking good"

"We're short of our goal"

"Respectfully asking"

"I need your help to defeat..."

"Have you seen our TV ad"

"Your contribution will help to..."

You get the idea.

I understand money is the lifeblood of politics. And while I've gladly and enthusiastically contributed several times to Raphael Warnock in Georgia, Val Demmings in Florida, AOC in NYC, Beto in Texas, Mark Kelly in Arizona and John Fetterman in Pennsylvania among others—and will continue to whenever I'm able—I just can't keep getting 75-80 emails a day asking me to pony up. Sometimes up to ten or more from the same candidate.

"Care to make that a recurring monthly donation?" No I do not.

So I've hit my limit and hit the unsubscribe link. Hopefully this will reduce the amount of daily political hat-in-hand posts that clog my inbox and take up far too much time deleting. I know who I want to donate to and the candidates I want to win, and I'll give as much as I can and do everything I can to make sure they do.

In the meantime, they'll have to trust that I'm thinking of them even if they're not hearing back from me. Ten times a day.

Party major

As we get ready to send young Mr. Spielberg to his out-of-state film school, I find myself enrolled in a continuing education course about his university of choice.

For example, I just learned last year the Princeton Review rated his university number eleven on the list of party schools. However this year, it didn't even make the top twenty.

Not to sound like a parent, but I consider that an improvement. If I'd wanted him to go to a party school, I would've sent him to UCSB. Or any school in Arizona.

The timing was curious, because I learned this just as his school started emailing me information about alcohol abuse, and how to talk to my student about it.

It's enough to drive you to drink.

There are two things I know about my son: he has never liked alcohol, the smell of it, the thought of it, the effects of it. And he likes to keep his wits about him. There's nothing attractive to him about hugging the porcelain throne after a night of keggers, chasers and beer pong.

Of course, he did say he'd like to moderate a film festival screening Days Of Wine & Roses, Barfly, The World's End, The Hangover, Leaving Las Vegas, Sideways and The Lost Weekend.

But he's going to be a director, so I know he understands things like motivation.

Like if he screws up, his tab is closed.

Let Titanic rest in peace

Yesterday my family and I went to see Titanic 3D. The wife and I, along with our great friends Dave and Maureen (yes, that Dave and Maureen) originally saw the movie on the second day of its release at the Village Theater in Westwood when it first came out. Because the Village screen is so big, it felt like we were actually on the ship - even at the end.

They've got to get that air conditioning fixed.

You may know, I'm not a fan of 3D. And in this particular case I'm not sure it added much. But at least it didn't distract from the movie.

As I write this, a 100 years ago the Titanic was already underway on its fateful voyage. It's still one of the great "what-if's" of history, like the Kennedy assassination, Pearl Harbor, the Challenger shuttle or 9/11.

The movie was better than I remembered. Love story aside (still a stroke of movie marketing genius on Cameron's part), it gives an unflinching glimpse of the sheer terror that must've gone on in the two hours it took the ship to sink.

When Kathy Bates as the unsinkable Molly Brown looks back at the sinking ship from her lifeboat and says, "God almighty," she's speaking for everyone in the theater.

There's currently a diving expedition company that, for $60,000, will take you on a ten-day cruise out to the site where Titanic rests, and bring you down to the ship in a submersible for an up close and personal look. There've already been couples who have been married down there.

How far behind can the floating gift shop be?

The unrestricted scavenging of artifacts and ship parts by unauthorized divers and treasure hunters has already taken its toll. I think it's wrong. For all the fascination, Titanic, like the Arizona that rests under Pearl Harbor, is a gravesite that deserves the proper respect and decorum.

Even though it only sailed once, it's not too late to give Titanic a second chance.

Sarah Palin needs to stop talking

I usually don't get so political on this blog, but eventually everyone hits their threshold. And as far as Sarah Palin goes, I've hit mine. Enough is enough.

Enough with the media giving this carpetbagger airtime. Seriously, Kim Kardashian has more lucid opinions on the state of geo-global politics. Sarah Palin's opinions (and of course she's entitled to them) and take on the state of the world, nation, economy, health care, Obama, Cairo or whatever mean absolutely nothing.

I recently saw again the clip of her giving yet another incoherent speech (it was at the Tea Party Convention, so I suppose the word incoherent is redundant) where she asks Obama "How's that hopey, changey stuff workin' out for ya?"

Well, I have a question for Sarah: How'd that roguey, mavericky thing work out for you?

There are good, intelligent and honorable people in both parties. But people like Sarah Palin are the reason they steer clear of public service. The fact that this quitter can actually be taken seriously is just too disheartening (bonus points if you can explain what she's talking about in her resignation speech).

In every poll, I mean every poll, she trails any other candidate. She can't beat Obama (although seriously, I'd buy a ticket to that debate, wouldn't you?), she can't win the nomination from Romney (who as governor actually accomplished things, like instituting one of the nation's most progressive state-run health care plans), and she can't string five words together that make sense to save her life.

The real blame here has to go to John McCain, a once great public servant who traded his dignity, soul and reputation on a last chance run at the presidency. He tossed her into the national spotlight. He met her once - ONCE - before inviting her to be his running mate. He said she seemed "nice." Perfect qualifications for the next in line.

You know who else is nice? Betty White. At least she makes sense when she speaks.

Now, I do agree with Sarah that she's gotten some unfair press. For example the shootings in Arizona had nothing to do with her gunsight chart or her "reload" rhetoric. But it is hard to take her complaints about her bad treatment from the press seriously when she starts whining about how Katie Couric ambushed her by asking what newspapers she reads.

She's "written" two books. She gets huge public speaking fees. She had a reality show on Discovery. And she's a commentator on FOX. She's cashed in on her 15 minutes more than Kato Kaelin. It's time to shuffle on off to become another footnote to political history, like Thomas Eagleton or Ross Perot.

Why doesn't she go home to Alaska, hunt some moose (which is fine with me because they're wicked nasty abominations anyway), and give Bristol some tips on her next abstinence talk with teenagers (cheap shot - I don't care).

I fully expect some of my more conservative friends will come after me for this post, and that's fine. They'll point out people in the Democratic party who are just as objectionable to them. And they'll probably be right about some of them. There's no shortage on either side.

I do think that Sarah Palin's done a lot to change the attitudes of world leaders.

I believe because of her, as Putin rears his head and enters the airspace of the United States, he thanks his lucky stars the first place he passes over is Alaska.