We all know Hollywood is spinning around the bowl, waiting for the final flush. Attendance at theaters is not just flat-lining, it’s in free fall. There are a lot of reasons, some of which Hollywood really cannot do much about. Video games occupy young eyeballs. Technology now delivers a tsunami of entertainment options to our TVs, computers and iThings. But there are ways that Hollywood can respond. It can make movies that don’t suck, but that’s another subject for another time. And it can make the theaters into something new and different – that is, it can make them into places we want to be.

I (and folks like me) should be a target demographic for the green eyeshade guys who supposedly run Hollywood.  While, even if all the conditions were perfect, I wouldn’t go as much as I used to, I used to go a couple times a week before I was married, and even after I’d go weekly. I’ll spend my few free bucks (including the fortune for babysitters) if there’s something I want to see (doubtful, and again another issue for another time) and if going to the theater itself is something other than a nightmarish death march.

Which brings me to my trip to the El Segundo, California, ArcLight Cinemas on a recent Friday night to see “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”…

The ArcLight, and other “premium” theaters, represents the industry’s attempt to address some of the more common complaints about theaters from people like me – decrepit facilities, careless projection, and snack options that range from bland to hideous.  As a drunken college student, I didn’t mind going to some hellhole theater on dollar night to see awesome fare like “The Exterminator II” and “Pieces”– hey, aesthetics aren’t Consideration No. 1 when your flick’s tagline is “You don’t have to go to Texas for a chainsaw massacre!” But today, I want a little more than sticky floors and discreet ticket takers who overlook the beer cans I had obviously secreted in my pockets.

The ArcLight promises a premium movie-going experience; it’s a concept that is being tried around the country. In theory, it’s awesome. There’s assigned seating – no more battling for a seat with some nimrod who announces that he’s “saving” the entire row for his coterie of quarter-wit buddies who are out in the parking lot sparking a doob in the back of somebody’s mom’s Dodge Caravan.

There’s alcohol, both in the refreshment area and in one of the 14 theaters. The snacks are of higher quality and are carefully prepared. There’s even gourmet coffee. The seats are roomy and clean. A nice young attendant comes in and introduces the movie. There’s no coming in after the first five minutes, and they do not show ads during the previews.

It all sounds awesome in theory. In practice, however, the ArcLight is a pain. It seems that the proposed solutions to our complaints simply spawn a whole new set of different problems.

Start at the beginning – buying the ticket. The first thing you notice is the price – $14.50 a seat. To be clear, that’s dollars, not pesos.  I started off flipping burgers at Carl’s, Jr. for $3.10 an hour; $14.50 is a lot of dough. And double it if you’re not a creepy loner. Leaving aside parking and a sitter and dinner, you’re out $29.00 walking in the door. That’s like the per capita income of residents of Burkina Faso.

So, if I’m dropping $29.00 on a flick, I want it smooth and I want it comfortable and, most of all, I want it hassle-free. But the hassle starts when I try to pay that $29.00. There’s a line, and there’s a line because everyone has to go through the ritual of picking their seats. It takes forever. I took forever; I wanted one near the aisle but not up in the stratosphere because I enjoyed a light alcoholic beverage and didn’t want to shimmy past a dozen folks to go out and hit the head. Buying a ticket is just a pain in the tail.

Now, I could have avoided the hassle by buying the tickets online – I’d have even gotten a discount. But leaving aside the fact that many couples are still arguing about which movie to see right up until they plunk down the cash (as we were), when I’m paying people to provide services, I expect them to conform their behavior to my desires, not vice versa. I’m not here to make ArcLight’s job easier by buying tickets the way they want; they need to make whatever choice I make easy. I’m called a “customer.” Look it up.

Oh, and no, I don’t have the answer on how to make the process less annoying. It’s not my job to figure it out; it’s theirs.

So, after getting a ticket, I was ready for a drink. I looked over to the tiny bar and observed a long line of thirsty patrons snaking into the dining area, being frantically served by two overworked bartenders who not only mixed drinks but had to make gourmet coffees. Having only 20 minutes until the movie started, we headed to the theater. ArcLight lost a sale, probably $20 worth.

I made sure to hit the restroom on the way in. See, the 14 theaters are strung out along a long hallway and there’s one bathroom in the whole place, which is back in the lobby. Yeah, it’s like a 150 yard walk each way, and you have to go through the ticket guy again. Are you kidding me? If you were watching “Gone with the Wind,” and you left to hit the restroom when Scarlet is watching her suitors ride off to battle, you’d get back about the time Atlanta catches fire.

“What did I miss, honey?”

“Just the Civil War.”

Here’s another suggestion for the restrooms. Managers, you might want to walk through them once in a while. Your people will keep spotless the things they see you inspect. I don’t like to have to strategically position myself before the urinal to avoid stepping in the puddle of used soda generated by those whose aim fell short. There’s really no excuse for it.

And heaven forbid you want a snack. See, they give you extra loving care when you buy your snacks – they even insist on putting the cream into your regular coffee themselves. That’s nice. And utterly inefficient. It takes forever to get a popcorn – no, I don’t want to hear about how your butter is locally-sourced. Get me my food, take my money (and they want a lot of money) and let me get the hell back to my $14.50 movie.

Oh, here’s another idea. You might want to have more than two of the cashier stations open. I mean, I understand that Friday is not usually a big “movie night” and all, but it might speed up the process from “agonizingly slow” to merely “ridiculously slow.” ArcLight lost yet another sale, probably another $10-$20 worth.

The theater itself is okay – the seats aren’t as comfortable as ArcLight thinks they are, but they aren’t awful. I felt cheated because we did not get the usual cheery pre-movie briefing by one of the ushers. Ironically, this is the one movie that really could have used it. “Tinker, Tailor” appeared to be shot on particularly grainy stock, probably to recreate the feeling of 1970s England and movies of that era. But it looked odd, and it would have been nice to hear that the movie was shot that way on purpose.

Note that all the employees I encountered were well-groomed, helpful and polite. There was just the right number of previews – not too few but not too many. And no one decided the theater was the perfect place for an extended cell phone chat, but that might have to do with the fact that “Tinker, Tailor’s” target demographic is not teen morons who were raised by wolves. We liked the movie too.

Experimentation is good, and I think ArcLight (and others) should be commended for trying. However, there are some serious bugs that need to be worked. They need to engineer their processes better – I find it hard to believe any ArcLight executive has dropped in unannounced like a regular customer.

If any had, they would have seen how many of the processes are not fully thought through; if you want to sell drinks to 14 theaters full of people, you need more than a pair or bartenders. You need to speed up the food service or you’ll lose sales – like they lost mine. You need a toilet within walking distance of all your theaters. And you need managers who get off their tails, walk through their operations, and actively lead their people (hint: hire some recently retired Army non-commissioned officers to run your theaters – problems solved, gentlemen).

I want to go back to the movies, and I appreciate that premium theaters like the ArcLight are trying to address the concerns of people like me. I really want to patronize you, so fix the flaws under your control and I’ll give you a chance. It’s just too bad you don’t have control over the quality of the movies.

In all these cases the left-leaning media exposed its obvious bias against James because of his contrarian point of view and because the targets of his investigations are protected institutions of the Democrat Media Complex.

However, in my dealings with Ms. Boudreau, she and her producer, Scott Zamost, conducted themselves professionally, and I believe James owes them a candid and public explanation.

From what I’ve read about this script, though not executed, it is patently gross and offensive. It’s not his detractors to whom he also owes this public airing. It’s to his legion of supporters.

To Our Readers:

After considerable thought and discussion, we here at the Big sites have decided to require that all commenters register in order to post comments. Therefore, going forward, we kindly ask that you register with a valid email address at Intense Debate, which serves our comments. You will be promoted to sign up the next time you leave a comment, or you can sign up at any time at IntenseDebate.com.  This change will bring us in line with our practice on the Breitbart.com site, which requires registration, as do nearly all other major websites.

There are several reasons for this change:

First, we wish to intensify the feeling of community that all three sites currently enjoy with our readers.  It’s often said that “Commenters are Our Most Important Contributors” and by registering – under your real name or any alias you choose – you will also be creating your own unique persona, the better to express your views and engage in dialogue with other commenters, authors, and editors.

Second, we will more easily be able to block and eliminate obscene, violent, and racist imagery, posted by people from outside our community. Freewheeling discussion and debate is not only allowed but encouraged, yet experience has taught us that just a few trolls can spoil a thread for everybody.

Third, spam will be greatly reduced, comments can be moderated much more quickly, and filters can be recalibrated to allow legitimate comments through much more easily and quickly.

Fourth, registering is easy, free, and it only has to be done once.

We feel this change will be good for all of us, and especially for you, our readers and commenters. Well-regarded commenters, as measured by their ratings points, have achieved their own devoted followings and may well turn out to be the next generation of Big contributors.

Thank you for your cooperation, and we look forward to seeing you on the Big sites.

Sincerely,

The Breitbart.com Editors

Rebecca Mead on Breitbart’s “Empire of Bluster.” Read the whole thing and make up your own mind. An excerpt:

Conflict also has the useful function of driving traffic to his sites. Breitbart.com is currently looked at by an average of 2.4 million people a month, according to Quantcast.com.

Breitbart considers himself an accidental cultural warrior. “I am not as partisan as people think I am,” he told me, calling himself eighty-five per cent conservative and fifteen per cent libertarian. His conservatism fails him on issues such as the legalization of prostitution, and he sometimes tilts toward favoring gay marriage. “But, when the entire media is structured to attack conservatives and Republicans, there is a huge business model to come in and counterbalance that,” he said.

He does not pretend to be an expert in policy, or to be particularly interested in it. “Just because I am paying attention to politics and culture doesn’t mean that I should be talking about the health-care bill, talking about the minutiae,” he told me. Instead, Breitbart is obsessed with wresting control of the political narrative from the established media organizations. If the wire services that Breitbart aggregates, and the bloggers he recruits, serve as his content providers, then Breitbart might be called a malcontent provider—giving seething, sneering voice to what he characterizes as a silenced majority.

The conservative Internet entrepreneur on bringing down Acorn, Hollywood liberals, and embarrassing the mainstream media.

By JAMES TARANTO

Hollywood

Dressing up as a pimp and prostitute in order to seek Acorn’s help in starting a child sex-slavery ring wasn’t Andrew Breitbart’s idea. But without the Internet entrepreneur’s flair for publicity, the hidden-camera sting might not have produced such impressive results. Within days of his publishing the video exposé, government agencies were cutting ties with the left-wing advocacy and community-organizing group, Congress was voting to end its federal funding, and news organizations were rushing to catch up with a sensational story they had initially resisted or ignored.

James O’Keefe, the 25-year-old aspiring filmmaker who played the pimp in the Acorn meetings, came to Mr. Breitbart in early August with his videos. They showed Mr. O’Keefe and his putative partner in crime, 20-year-old Hannah Giles, asking Acorn counselors for advice on how to evade the authorities while setting up a business offering the sexual services of underage girls smuggled into the U.S. from El Salvador. It was a shocking and outlandish tale, but employees in at least five Acorn offices fell for it and offered to help. (more…)

In September of 2008, calling it “StealDVD,” the big Hollywood (no pun intended) studios filed suit against RealDVD.

And this past Tuesday — as PC World wrote – RealDVD was dealt a “devastating blow” when U.S. District Court Judge Marilyn Hall Patel “granted a preliminary injunction against sale of RealDVD, pending a trial over copyright infringement.”

It’s too soon to know what will happen, but it appears the movie industry has the upper hand. But is it a victory they cannot afford to win?

As I noted months ago, the irony is that by opposing RealDVD, the movie industry seems to be operating against its own long-term self-interest. As consumers desire more freedoms and options, the most successful companies are embracing the societal changes. Meanwhile, the movie industry has adopted a very un-progressive posture and is hunkering down and simply suing the innovators.

Whereas the music industry seems to have learned that swimming against the modern-day consumer’s demand is a fool’s errand, the movie industry is doubling down. As PC World noted, “It’s perfectly legal to rip music from a CD and upload it onto an iPod for personal use; why can’t a person do the same with their own copies of movies?”

iPod owners own the right to make a certain number of personal copies of their music. Systems are in place to prevent mass piracy. RealDVD would essentially do the same thing. Again, PC World hit the nail on the head, writing that RealDVD allowed “only a single digital copy to be placed on your hard drive. After paying extra licensing fees, you could transfer the digital copy onto as many as five other hard drives. Disc-based burning was never an option.”

It will be interesting to see how this plays out. Hollywood has long presented itself as “cool” and “cutting edge,” yet when it comes to guiding their own industry, they seem mired in a 20th century mindset. The irony here is that instead of allowing a legitimate and innovative company flourish, the movie industry will likely find that more and more piracy sites will emerge and that fewer and fewer people will be buying what they are selling.

We had our first date 20 years ago and if anyone at the time had told me that the silly girl with the wild red hair would be the mother of my children and my life’s partner I would have laughed out loud. Bachelorhood was too much fun. Besides I had a very definite mental picture of what my wife would look like – what her personality would be – and frankly she just didn’t match it. The workings of the heart continue to amaze me. The brain plans and strategizes and works overtime attempting to get the loins and heart on the same page. The loins are always eager to cooperate; the heart, however, is not a team player. The heart is constantly going off on its own mucking up the works. Such was the case for me. In time I found myself longing for the silly redhead. All my intellectualizing failed to win my hearts cooperation. I realized I couldn’t live without her.

She of course tells a different story. According to her she knew after our first date that I was her one and only; that no other man would do. Honestly, who can blame her?

At any rate, 20 years after our first date I still find myself gazing at her, my brain still trying to figure out how it all went down.

I am even more at a loss for how we have remained together so long. To paraphrase the words of the poet Langton Hughes, our marriage ain’t been no crystal stair. Far from it. The 15 years we have spent together in marriage have not been the glamorous work of the sculptor, but the modest work of the carpenter.

Reuters news service recently reported on a study by researchers from the Australian National University that claimed to identify the factors that led to a successful marriage.

The study, entitled “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” tracked nearly 2,500 couples — married or living together — from 2001 to 2007 to identify factors associated with those who remained together compared with those who divorced or separated. The results might surprise you.

For instance according to the study, couples where one partner smokes and the other does not were more likely to have a relationship end in failure. Partners in their second or third marriage were more than 90% more likely to separate or divorce than couples in their first marriage. The age of the partners was also a factor. Couples where the husband is nine years or more older than his wife are twice as likely to divorce as are husbands who get married before they turn 25.

Not mentioned among the chief indicators of marital success was love. And if what is meant by “love” is feelings that mirror the lyrics of some pop song; then I would have to agree that it falls rather low on the list of priorities. The heart it seems is not only a poor team player, but in the long run makes a lousy team captain. Don’t get me wrong; I wrote my share of mushy love letters and was killed softly with songs on the radio all the time. I am also not too proud to admit that after so many years my wife still raises my temperature. But that isn’t love – not love that makes for a lasting marriage. That kind of love is defined in behavior-as in respect, honor and protecting.

In the time my wife and I have been together we have ridden the highs of birth, upward mobility, large amounts of disposable income and good health and traveled the lows of unemployment, sickness and death. We have built a home together, traveled and spent time talking, laughing and making love late into the night. We have also learned to bite our tongues, to disagree with respect and to find words that build the other up. We have covered each other when clouds were overhead – holding each other up when the other couldn’t stand — and tried to give the other room to grow in the sunshine. That is to say; we have built a marriage together one 2 by 4 at a time.

Next week I will celebrate a union with a woman I met two decades ago and have been in lust with for 20 years. Finally, after 15 years of marriage I know what it means to love her.

Let me be the first to say it. My name is Steven Crowder and I happen to find blatant gayness funny. I mean really funny. I can remember my first “gay encounter” as a child. I was watching the Macy’s parade on Thanksgiving morning. Al Roker was interviewing Richard Simmons. As nothing more than a wide-eyed four-year-old, I was completely vexed. Here was a man on my television set, complete with chest-hair and quadriceps fuzz. He was just…“off” to me for some reason. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until the light bulb in my underdeveloped noggin turned on. “Hey Dad,” I asked. “Why does that man act like a woman?”

Surely enough, my dad erupted with laughter. He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the childish innocence that did it, or maybe it was a nervous laugh stemming from the fact that he was going to have to provide a long, awkward explanation.

As a four year old, I harbored no hate for Richard Simmons. As a matter of fact I still find him to be quite endearing, but to deny the hilarity of the caricature that he is would be dishonest. To a straight man, the notion of walking around as a coiffed, waxed, nail-polish wearing, lispy dude is uproariously absurd. As people, we find absurdities funny. That’s our first step in making sense of them.

For example: If right now a duck were to walk into your room wearing pajamas, you’d most likely laugh… Because in your mind, there is no place in the natural world where ducks are seen wearing pajamas. The same applies to blatantly gay men in rhinestone tank-tops and hot-pants. Nowhere in the straight man’s natural realm does that occur, and so the absurdity of it is funny.

Now I’m completely aware that not all gay people are “flamers,” but there are some who are.  Just as Ned Flanders is a funny stereotype not representative of all Christians, the same can be said for “Bruno.”

Do you folks honestly believe that a “gay joke” automatically registers the joke-teller under the “homophobic” category? I say that instead of dealing with our differences through fear (i.e. tip toeing around the issue and handling it with care-knit gloves), we should allow ourselves to find the humor in everybody’s individuality.  “Humor not hatred,” is what I always say.

Now before you go and get on your high horse and start acting all offended, please take into consideration… even Sean Penn has probably told a few “no-homo” jokes in his day. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

This mug had survived a year of dormitory life, nine years of Brooklyn apartment living, a move to New Jersey, a cross-country move to California, and three moves around the city of Los Angeles. Alas, the mug couldn’t survive children.

Unfortunately for me, my favorite glass also struck the fancy of my number one son. When reaching for a mug to drink from, this was the one he often chose. I explained the significance of the mug to him and he promised to be careful. Of course little boys always promise to be careful just like they always promise to be good. Given enough time they always end up breaking both promises. One day while not paying attention he went to set the mug on the edge of the counter and missed. The glass fell to the floor shattering into 20 pieces. My wife was sure that all hell was about to break loose, but I have really been working hard on understanding what is important in life. It would be a lie to say that I didn’t remind my son of the mugs history through slightly clenched teeth. However, to my credit (I think) and my wife’s surprise, I didn’t yell. I took a breath, reminded myself that this was only a glass, grabbed the broom and dustpan and swept the pieces into the garbage. Se la vie.

A wise man once told me that nothing real can ever be taken away. The mug is gone, but the love, respect and admiration I feel for my sister remains. That’s the good stuff. The same is true of being a parent.

A few weeks ago I watched this same son perform a karate form for his school talent show. It was one of those moments that parents are all too familiar with: your heart swells, your throat tightens and the water comes to your eyes. It is a feeling of transcendent euphoria that is difficult to describe to those that have not felt it.

My sons often ask me what heaven will be like. I playfully respond it will be like taking a bite of the most perfect pepperoni pizza you have ever tasted or lifting your head into the most perfect breeze. I think I will add that heaven must certainly be something near to the good stuff of parenting: kissing the softest, fattest, most milk smellingest cheeks of your new born, the sweet comfort in the hug made with little arms, bathing in the most radiant smile of your son when he hits his first homerun or scores his first touchdown, or watching from the audience as your child performs.

I have often wondered about parents – fathers in particular that choose NOT to experience the good stuff. These are the fathers that choose not to take an active role in their children’s lives. We know the statistics all too well: 85% of children from “this” group do not have regular contact with their fathers, 55% of children from “that” group do not see theirs.

The studies are clear on the negative impact absentee fathers have on their children. What we don’t know is what affect absence has on fathers. I can only imagine that a man that fathers children yet chooses not to raise them suffers some deep damage to the soul. If being immersed in the good stuff is heaven then being removed from it must certainly be hell.

I treasure fatherhood especially because it’s replete with broken mugs, broken beds, sunflower seeds in the dryer, socks on the ceiling fan. All of it is the good stuff. I wouldn’t miss any of it for the world.