—–

While billed merely as a home-invasion thriller, upon reading the plot description, my liberal propaganda radar was already on high alert. The story? Professional screenwriter David (“X-Men”’s James Marsden) and his wife Amy (“Blue Crush”’s Kate Bosworth) leave the confines of Los Angeles and head down south to Amy’s boondocks hometown so they can restore her deceased father’s house and David can focus on his writing.

Hmm, we already know where this is headed. Two enlightened, urban yuppies moving to a tiny Southern town? Forget the usual ‘fish out of water’ comedy hijinks; this is, of course, a liberal’s wet dream:  an opportunity to elevate blue-state dwellers while ridiculing the red. Moreover, you know you’re in for a dose of authenticity when Rod Lurie — its writer/producer/director — hails from the middle-America enclave known as… Greenwich, CT.

David and Amy slowly but surely clash with her high school ex-boyfriend, Charlie (“True Blood”’s Alexander Skarsgard) and his crew of “hillbilly miscreants,” culminating in a (yawn-inducing) home-invasion showdown.

Though the tiresome and wholly unoriginal exercise in liberal condescension towards middle America/the South is nothing new, I’ve yet to see it driven home as stubbornly and viciously as is done in this film. While “Deliverance” focused on a particular group of inbreds and thus doesn’t particularly skewer the South nor country-folk as a whole, “Straw Dogs”’ theme is much more sinister – that even the run-of-the-mill, ordinary citizens of middle America are narrow-minded simpletons at best and dangerously evil at worst.

Ready to run down how many stereotypes the film manages to work into 110 minutes?  Let’s go!

The town is called, wait for it… “Blackwater” (get it? a ‘backwater’ town? clever!).
Red pickup truck with the confederate flag? Check!
Shotguns galore? Check!
Ridiculous hillbilly names like ‘Bic’? Check!
Sexually depraved rapists? Let’s even throw that in! Check!
Our servicemen return from abroad emotionally destroyed and mentally impaired? Check!
They’re stuck on stupid? Check! Discussing the unbearable heat, one of Charlie’s hillbilly friends gnarls “it must be that global warming you educated guys keeping talkin’ ’bout.” And before you say: “But wait, Delgado:  the sarcastic slight on global warming (ahem! ‘climate change’) makes him smart, not dumb!”, remember that, in Hollyweird mentality, doubting global warming is prima-facie evidence of woeful ignorance — on par with flat-earth theorists.

Yet viewing this film through unbiased eyes, the left’s guffaws and eye-rolls towards this kind of town is what’s ridiculous. Let’s see:  in Blackwater there’s a sense of community, doors go unlocked, people dress up for church on Sunday and respect religion, still address employers and elders as “sir,” when you ask for a Bud Light the bartender insists on a Bud, they live and breathe football, they earn a living through the sweat of their brow, and the men know their cars and their guns? Sign me up! Did the studio intend to make an extended commercial for the “Southern Small Towns” tourism board?  ’Cause that’s what yours truly took from it. For Pete’s sake, the boys’ pickup truck sports a bumper sticker that reads: “Keep honkin’, I’m reloading.” What’s not to love?

But “Straw Dogs” is unique in that it does not merely slam the South; it attacks our notions of manliness. You see, most symbols associated with manliness (V8 engines, combat sports, hunting, guns, a healthy reverence for the Creator, a brave acceptance that sometimes confrontation/war is necessary) are kryptonite to the liberal agenda. At the very least, men who cling to these notions are, in liberals’ minds, Neanderthals who haven’t yet learned women don’t want doors opened for them. The left’s constant aim of gender-bending (boys should play with dolls! the sexes are no different!) is a new but quickly expanding method of theirs.

Folks, as a woman, allow me to demonstrate how David, the film’s modern, enlightened “hero,” is, sadly, a beta male:

David allows a mentally challenged man to be slapped around rather than risk a physical fight with the attacker… BETA!

David rolls into town in a ridiculous two-seater vintage Jag (need we even ruminate whether there was an Obama 08 bumper sticker on there?)… BETA!

When David veers off the road, causing a flat, he’s forced to take the car to a mechanic (oh, dear)… BETA!

David recoils in horror when Amy (who, apparently, has more cojones – and common sense — than her hubby) suggests they keep a gun in the house for protection… BETA!

Yet, as the audience, I’m supposed to be rooting for David? Hollywood’s glorification of the beta-male must have gone right over my head. What would happen in real life? “Au revoir, David! I’m jumping on the back of the pickup truck with Bic and the boys. It’s been real… see ya!”

Now, I’m certainly not saying every man has to be a UFC fighter, a hunter, or a hothead, but c’mon. This notion that the civilized, evolved male is essentially an anti-gun, anti-religion, peacenik, urban-dwelling beta? Try again, Hollywood.

Liberal-kowtowing bonus points? 1) A nod to the Commies:  David, who’s writing a screenplay on WW2’s turning-point battle, Stalingrad, informs Charlie, “Ninety percent of Stalingrad was occupied by the Nazis and the Russians still beat ’em. They beat ’em with innovation and they beat ’em with fortitude.” Oh, and you forgot to mention, they lucked out with the help of the blistering winter and German air supply failure. But sure, let’s credit the Soviets with winning Stalingrad through sheer “innovation and fortitude”!  2) A nod to the wonders of federal programs:  Amy and David relay that they received a tidy $8,200 from F.E.M.A. to fix up the hurricane-damaged-home’s roof.

Pathetic.

The sole shock-moment of this “thriller”? David works on a VAIO laptop. Sony must’ve paid for product placement here – after all, any self-respecting lib would own a Mac.

Skip it, unless you have a pending move to the South… in which case the film might actually reaffirm your decision.

Remember her? The knocked up Barbie doll from the late 1990s wearing a teeny tiny skirt and tube top?

The thing is I probably didn’t hate it for the same reason the mainstream conservative would hate it. No, I didn’t get on a high horse and tout the moral downfall of an iconic toy with her outside-of-wedlock pregnancy … I cared more about the fact that:

A. I grew up in a trailer – and it was a VERY nice one!
B. I happened to be a teen mother – and wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
C. And I’d never wear a mini that short – trailer girls aren’t automatically hussies.

See, it was a stereotype, one stating those who grew up in trailers were trash, likely to get pregnant, and would never really amount to much. And never being one to believe I had to be a statistic, this really rubbed me raw. It actually made me want to prove everyone wrong – even the conservative family advocates spouting their sanctimonious messages about the doll’s inappropriate moral message.

Fast-forward 10 years, and conservatives are singing a similar message to pretty much the same ole’ tune.

This week the news was going on and on about the newest collector Barbie to make a splash on the girly-girl scene. Dubbed Tokidoki Barbie (already sold out on multiple websites), this little vixen dons tattoos and smart and a sassy pink bobbed haircut. Her painfully high heels and leopard print pants are for sure a fashion crime, but the rest of her is edgy, fun and harmless IMHO (although her pet’s name is kinda iffy).

Parent groups are in an uproar, saying this is Mattel’s latest attempt to teach our girls to be rebellious and buck the system. They’ve also stated it’s another way the toy giant is encouraging the demise of traditional values and the importance of wholesome play and home life. Basically, this new Barbie is the antithesis of a conservative woman.

Really? Well, maybe I am too, then … but wait. I am a conservative woman.

Tattooed, proud, and a woman of the non-traditional hair-color variety purchased at a Target near you, I find it necessary on a daily basis to help people understand stereotyping conservatives is exactly why we are in the predicament we are today when it comes to our ‘uncool’ quotient.

A woman, dressed in a conservative soft blue suit, perfect Clairol No. 36 black hair, and nice diamond studs in her ears sits at the news desk and condemns a Barbie Doll because of its tattoos and hair color. She, as a conservative spokeswoman, is the picture of what every single liberal or undecided in our country thinks of when they think ‘conservative.’ Therefore, we’ve reinforced our own boring image and can hear the impressionable, undecided minds turn more and more to the left with each criticism of a freaking plastic doll.

Furthermore, we’ve made an issue out of something that’s so trivial and unimportant. Can we talk about our debt? Health Care? The OWS protests? Something actually worth discussing and potentially damaging to this country and to our children?

No. We have to talk about Barbie …

It’s a Doll. It’s not Chucky from the ‘Child’s Play’ movies running around with a will, mind, and agenda, telling all little girls to get tats, ride Harleys and never, ever obey those in authority over you. It’s another variety of doll, of which there are already thousands of varieties, to help girls express themselves.

Think about it. That’s really all tattoos and hair color are. They’re ways for us to show our individualism. Granted, they can be done in excess – but so can everything in life.

If we can honestly say a doll has control over our children’s moral judgments by its appearance, then we, as parents, aren’t doing our jobs now, are we? A toy doesn’t have an agenda. It’s something to facilitate the expression of values, imagination and morals learned from home, school and outside influences. In short, the teaching is done in the home – not by a doll.

If you don’t like it, don’t buy it. It’s just that simple, isn’t it? Let’s spend our conservative energies educating and getting our message out there.

We need to let people know there are as many types of conservatives as there are Barbie Dolls … We’ve got Lawyer Barbie, Model Barbie, Bicycle Barbie, Veterinarian Barbie, Spy Barbie and Ball Gown Barbie and yes, Mrs. June Cleaver, 1950s perfect Barbie … And yeah, we have tattooed Barbie, too.

It takes all types to make a diverse group. And despite the common thought, conservatives are as diverse as can be. Whether we’re tattooed, pierced, bottle blonde or wearing skulls and crossbones, letting others know we’re determined to break the common conservative mold should be our goal and ambition … This is where our energy should be (read many of my writings? Then you know I say this often!)

And our first order of business? … Vote Tokidoki Barbie as the official doll of the conservative party …

OK … Maybe we’re not quite ready for that yet. But there’s still hope, right?

And seriously … I really do want one.

It’s time for the Week 3 review of Glee, the show we all (or at least some of us) love to hate. In case you missed it, I’ll be your guide to Glee this season, breaking down the inevitable liberal indoctrination that occurs with each new episode.

Monday’s episode of Glee included offensive stereotypes, soap opera-style betrayals, outfits worthy of the classiest strip clubs, and… prayer? Yup, that’s right. In a tender moment between teacher Will (Matthew Morrison) and his girlfriend Emma (Jayma Mays), she falls to her knees and prays in earnest, telling Will that she prays in her head all the time but sometimes kneels so that God can hear her better.

I really can’t find anything to criticize about that scene. Glee surprisingly didn’t portray people that pray as weirdos, hypocrites, or terrorists, and given its track record, I suppose we should be grateful. Will didn’t tell Emma she was stupid for praying; he just held her hand and joined her. It was a nice moment.

Now on to the rest of the show.

One of the funniest lines ever came when Mike Chang (Harry Shum, Jr.) got an A- on his chemistry test. His girlfriend exclaims, “You got an Asian F?” I’m giggling just typing that. It’s funny because it’s true; culturally speaking, the Asian community places a lot more pressure on their children to succeed than other groups. Tiger Mom, anyone?

Because poor Mike “failed” chemistry, his dad forces him to get a tutor and quit the glee club. He tells his son, “Michael, dancing is a hobby, not a career. There’s no future in it… you will not waste your life.” So Mike does what any typical teenager of any ethnicity would do; he lies to his parents and tries out for the school musical.

Eventually, Mike’s mom catches him dancing, and in a heartfelt mother/son moment, she confesses she abandoned her dreams of becoming a dancer at her parents’ behest. She vows that she will not let Mike’s father crush his dreams of becoming an artist.

Thank goodness for Obamacare, without which Mike might not be able to pursue his lofty ambitions of dance artistry.

The other Glee kids kept busy throughout the episode chasing their own dreams. Brittany (Heather Morris) is running for student body president with a slut dance “girl power” campaign, complete with pleather and pom poms. She croons the Beyoncé tune “Who run the world? Girls!” as she performs a “bend and snap” dance down the school hallway. Girls, if we’re going to run the world, can we please use proper grammar? Thanks.

Another dream chaser this episode was Mercedes (Amber Riley), who decides that she’s better than superstar Rachel (Lea Michele) and deserves the spotlight to herself. Even though she’s always late, rude to everyone, and uncooperative, she accuses everyone of playing favorites to Rachel and storms off in a huff. Mercedes decides to join Shelby’s (Idina Menzel) new motley crew of singers (see last week’s review for the baby mama drama surrounding Shelby), where she can be the star without actually having to earn it.

I wonder if she’s been talking to those crazy kids occupying Wall Street. They’ve all got a bad case of the Way No Fairs.

All in all, this week’s episode was comparatively innocuous–people of faith were given respect and not ridicule, and the regular teenage drama didn’t turn explicitly partisan. Don’t get too comfortable, though; we’ll be here next week to report on whether the writers keep this up or go back to blindly bashing conservatives.

Here’s the deal. A friend of mine recommended ABC’s sit-com “Modern Family” to me. When he said Ed O’Neill was in the series I figured it was worth a try. The series premiered in September of ’09, so I figured I’d do a little catching up and watch a few episodes online to get to know the characters and story lines.  

On the positive side, the show looks terrific; a one-camera shoot that looks like HD video but could be film. The acting ranges from good to excellent and the dialogue on the episodes I watched was a notch above the standard sit-com repartee.   

On the negative side is just about everything else. The show is shot without a laugh track and with annoying “documentary” scenes. I know shooting without a laugh track is supposed to show us rubes that the producers are sophisticated and edgy but if I want sophisticated and edgy I’ll go to my local Equity waiver theater.

Back in the 1970’s a trend which has now taken over television,m “reality,” started with “An American Family.” We got to look in on the Loud Family as they tried to live their dysfunctional lives in Santa Barbara, California. Without getting into my usual “Kennison-ish” critique of all reality shows, how “real” can you be when there is a film crew following you around? The act of being watched must influence behavior. With “Modern Family” we have now come full circle. On “An American Family” the Loud’s tried to pretend they weren’t being watched. On “Modern Family” the extended family of Ed O’Neill’s “Jay” tries to pretend they’re the Louds.  

The show also has several “musts” for the modern Hollywood television show. All straight men must be seriously flawed and not all that smart. Jay and Phil are the perfect tin-types of the Hollywood view of middle class guys. There are the obligatory gay characters and bratty smart-mouthed kids. Of course, in keeping with liberal stereotypes, the white male kid is a bumbling ADD riddled goof while the Hispanic boy is a genius.

The writing tends to get a little predictable even for a sit-com. In one episode I watched called “Starry Night,” Mitchell, Jay’s son and one half of the show’s gay couple, ends up in a dress while star- gazing with his Dad and Manny. (Get it? He’s gay and wearing a dress! Hilarious!) Just in case that isn’t obvious enough for you, while Mitchell is doing the dress thing his partner Cameron takes Gloria, Jay’s much younger Columbia, wife to a Colombian restaurant in the barrio and guess what? The food is too spicy and someone steals the wheels off his car! How un-stereotypical!

As I said earlier I am an Ed O’Neill fan. I liked him as Al Bundy and think his work on “The West Wing” showed him to be an actor with some depth and range. I don’t know if it’s the writing or the acting but I don’t see a lot of separation between Al Bundy and Jay Pritchett. It’s like Al got a little older and somehow dumped Peg for a hot Colombian half his age.

Despite all my whining about its problems, “Modern Family” is watchable and even at times enjoyable.  The biggest problem is that it’s buried by another fake reality show on Fox called “American Idol.”

Admittedly, I have not seen every John Hughes movie. Before his passing, though, I had seen only a few of his most well-known pictures like “The Breakfast Club,” “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” and “Home Alone.”  Last weekend, after the death of Hughes, I watched two of his other well-known movies, “Pretty in Pink” and “Sixteen Candles,” for the first time in commemoration of his death and to see why these films had such an effect on the young people of the 1980’s.

Because I was not a teenager during the 80’s, I did not have the opportunity to watch Hughes’ movies during the decade that Hughes helped define for so many young moviegoers. I was a child of the “Home Alone” era, not a teenager of the “Breakfast Club.”

However, after watching “Pretty” and “Sixteen” last weekend, it is clear why Hughes was such a phenomenon as a writer for so many young people of that generation. Each Hughes film that I have seen has a simple and often an easily relatable premise. A group of complicated and unique teenagers spend detention together. A mischievous high school boy skips school with his friends. A high school girl deals with social and class distinctions in dating.

However, these overall plots do not tell the whole stories of these films because in these films, the characters are dealing with more than the premise suggests and many of those characters discover things about themselves and about others that they might have missed had they not looked “around every once in a while.” The group in detention learns about how complicated fellow students who are often defined by high school “stereotypes” (i.e. the athlete, the nerd, the rebel etc.) can be. The high school boy who skips class realizes, among other things, his best friend’s deep frustration with his father who seems to love his car more than his son. The girl who deals with class distinctions learns how people can defy their social classes and their peers if they choose to.

Renowned film critic Roger Ebert recently wrote, “Few directors have left a more distinctive or influential body of work than John Hughes. The creator of the modern American teenager film, who died Thursday in New York, made a group of films that are still watched and quoted today.”

Even though many would say that John Hughes reached his peak in the 1980’s, people are still watching and enjoying his films today for the first time (I can personally attest to that fact).  The number of tributes to Hughes over the past several days shows how important Hughes was as a writer and as a director. Taking Ferris Bueller’s advice, since John Hughes died last week, many people have stopped and looked around and they have realized how much they will miss John Hughes.

Eddie Murphy said something like that to Ron Howard on SNL back when Howard was making the transition from Opie Cunningham to big-time Hollywood auteur. And now I know how Mr. Murphy feels: Fox has green-lit a sitcom called “Rednecks.”

When I saw the title, I winced, then thought, “I wish I could write for that show.” This illustrates the relationship I have with stereotypes and character-based clichés; I keep them at an arms length embrace. It thrilled me to see white trash characters north of the Mason-Dixon line in “Gone Baby Gone.” But you change the accents, swap Boston, MA for Austell, GA, and I’ll act offended while secretly admitting the portrayal is dead-on. “Rednecks” it turns out, is set in Buffalo, NY. Let the head-scratching ensue.

Stereotypes are to artists as idiots are to the Obama administration – i.e., they’re both useful. But both can bring down their respective masters. Here’s a bottom to top list of stereotypes and clichéd bullsh*t I’m ready to see retired.

5. The Angry Black Man: Once Ice Cube starred in a series of family movies, this cliché came to a screeching halt. Not that I think Ice Cube is a sell-out…on the contrary…

4. Selling Out: U2’s a sell-out, Sam Raimi’s a sell-out, Sean Penn’s a sell-out…good for them. I’d jump at the chance to sell-the-hell-out. All of these guys are doing what they’re doing so that wouldn’t have to work at a Dublin Brewery, or a Detroit assembly line, or…I dunno. A friend of mine said, “I used to like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but after ‘Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik’, they sold out.” Funny. I knew folks in 1991 who thought the Chili Peppers were sell-outs BECAUSE of that album, and now it’s their defining album. And for what it’s worth, there’s nothing wrong with working at a Dublin brewery, a Detroit assembly line, or…I dunno.

3. The Left-Wing Documentary: Really, I thought the trailer for “Food, Inc.” was fascinating, right up to the part when an interviewee said, “They’ve made it illegal to…” and a picture of George W. Bush flashed up on screen. After that, all I heard was “blah, blah, blah.”

2. Getting Offended: I laughed at most of the anti-Bush propaganda. The closest I came to getting offended by any of it was when I saw a kid at Ivanhoe Elementary School in trendy Silver Lake/Los Feliz wearing a shirt that read “I hated Bush Before It was Cool.” And now, the jOker poster. I thought we were supposed to be the stodgy prudes, but no, the left has their panties in a twist. Suck it up, you panty-waists! I’m gonna pour sugar on your feet to keep the ants from eating up your candy asses.

1. The Bitter Ex-Jock: This one’s close to my heart. Nerds/geeks/dorks/dweebs have this fantasy that they will one day be rich, that the jocks who torment them will be stuck in [insert Podunk town here] lamenting the glory days. The nerd will move to L.A. or New York, and will return to [insert Podunk town here] to rub it in the jock’s face. The whole premise of the Ryan Reynolds smarm-fest “Just Friends” was based on this cliche. I was a nerd/geek/dork/dweeb. I moved from Powder Springs, Georgia to Los Angeles. Well a funny thing happened for me on the way to L.A., and that’s that I realized (a) the Podunk town ain’t so bad, and (b) the jocks were probably right to pick on me. We nerds/geeks/dorks/dweebs are often a bunch of intolerable know-it-alls, especially in packs (see, Nerdis Gras, also known as Comic-Con).

I remember a moment when me and a jock in my high school really connected, because he liked the Beastie Boys as much as I did. “What do you like about them?” I asked feverishly, without giving him a chance to answer, “I like that they take the hip hop culture and infuse it with the suburban punk rock aesthetic.” He said, “I like listening to it in my car while I have sex,” high fiving his friends on the way out the door. Undaunted, I countered, “You didn’t really answer my question!” He returned, gave me a swirly, a wet willy, and a wedgie, at which point I considered the conversation closed.

Don’t get me wrong, nerds/geeks/dorks/dweebs… I am you, and you are me. Sometimes jocks dig Star Wars too; they just don’t feel the need to pontificate about it while dressed like a Tatooine farm boy.

Doing that will and should get you slapped on any number of systems.

Thank you for your patience.  Let’s begin.

Although facebook has been the gift that keeps on giving in terms of confirming whether or not a prospective date is or is not a liberal, for this installment I thought I’d put my instincts to the test by participating in the very underrated process of “stereotyping.”

I think, and rightfully so, that many Americans feel that Los Angeles is a place bankrupt of spirituality…not to mention just plain bankrupt. However, there is a spiritual movement among Angelinos that folks may not be aware of, largely because it is a faith so self indulgent it would be difficult for the average hard working American to fathom.  This movement is called “Spiritual Psychology.”

Let me just say this for fear of being labeled judgmental: I have nothing against spirituality or psychology; in fact, I actually saw a Medicine Man on an Indian reservation in the Jemez Valley to help me with a “problem” I’d prefer not to discuss here. It was an extremely spiritual, dare I say magical experience, after which my “problem” did not improve in the least.

In terms of psychology, I am a huge proponent, having spent countless hours and dollars on a therapist’s couch over the years. The results have been miraculous: I am aware of every problem I have ever had and the root cause behind each one of those problems, and yet somehow have not discovered the means to change a single pattern of behavior.

So what I’m saying is….I’m open.  So when a platonic girlfriend of mine mentioned she was attending a University for Spiritual Psychology, my interest was peaked. She was what I call a “Utopian Liberal” with an impossibly positive attitude–the kind of person who if her arms fell off, would know destiny was calling her to be an apple bobbing champion.  If God gave this girl lemons, she didn’t make lemonade, she made a lemon curd tart with a Raspberry drizzle.  I couldn’t fault her for this. However, due to my complete lack of ability to live my life that way, I did what anyone would do, and resented her greatly.

Here’s where the stereotyping comes in, and I think justifiably so.  It was very difficult for me to imagine a Conservative….Republican…..okay, anyone who would attend an institution of lower learning that had the audacity to label itself a “University” when the only requirements for admittance were thousands of dollars, a bevy of emotional problems, and a tremendous amount of spare time.  However, if I had to take that leap, I would imagine that the student body would be comprised solely of liberals, so I asked my friend if she could set me up with a classmate.

She was amenable to the idea if someone stepped forward. Then she closed her eyes.

I want all of you to stop reading and wait 15 seconds in silence….because that’s what I was forced to do. Apparently she couldn’t “actively” think of someone.  My potential date had to reveal herself in my friend’s mind. A few more seconds and her eyes opened along with her cranial curtains to reveal who had taken the stage: Jaquelib.  However, I had to promise two things before my friend would make the call.

First: I would have to approach this with an open heart and look for her loving essence.

My response…yeah, yeah, that’s fine…heart’s open….and looking for a woman’s loving essence is always part of the plan anyway.  What else?

Second: I would have to attend an orientation night at the University so that I could understand and lovingly embrace Jaquelib’s emotional journey without judgment.

My response: a round off double back handspring into an Arabian dive roll. The promise of material was extremely exciting.

***

The Orientation

I got out of my car in front of the building, scaled the stairs to the information desk where I signed in and took a seat in the banquet hall. This process took me all of 90 seconds and within that brief period I was greeted no less than 457 times.  There were hosts and hostesses everywhere…all dressed in identical black suits…smiles plastered on.  There was no wavering in expressions or vocal tones. They held their arms down in front of them with hands folded. All the men were curiously bald and shiny. I figured at any moment the protective plates which housed their facial features would slide off revealing tiny alien beings driving their respective bodies.

I would have made a break for it but they were positioned at every exit and with my imagination already running wild; I didn’t want to consider the consequences of a failed escape attempt.

As I enjoyed the melding of scented candles and Carpet Fresh, I turned my attention to the potential student body, eavesdropping where I could to get some sense of my fellow spiritual psychologists in the making.  This group was the “Who’s Who” of those who had no idea who they were. In a strange way, I was beginning to feel lost myself…I found this noteworthy as if there were some sub-auditory subliminal message being broadcast throughout the room:  “Doubt yourself. Doubt yourself. We can help. We can help.”

One of the black suited extraterrestrials took the stage and enthusiastically introduced the founders of the university. I don’t quite know how to explain this, but for me, there is nothing more unnerving than a husband/wife team teaching anything to anyone.  I know I am not alone in this theory or the world would never have been introduced to Marty and Bobbi Mohan-Culp, the musical directors at Alta Dena Middle School portrayed so accurately by Will Ferrell and Ana Gasteyer.

Out of respect for the anonymity of the institution and for my ease of association, I will henceforth refer to the founders of the University as The Culps.

Now the Culps had their pitch down. They knew that every potential buyer in that room (save for one) was lost, desperate, searching, dissatisfied with his or her life, and therefore open–and by “open” I mean subject to influence.

They cleverly used the word “Stuck.” A word so general anyone could find meaning in it, not unlike a fortune cookie.  We were all united by our inability to improve our lives….and guess who had the ability to pull us out of the mud?  The Culps. They would lead us out. Don’t get me wrong, we would all have to do our part. We would all pitch in like a not so shovel ready emotional public works program which would require extensive sharing….so much sharing, in fact, that it would make an Alanon group seem like a bunch of introverts.

In addition, we would have to “let go of our painful ego structure by removing identity.” Let me repeat that “let go of our painful ego structure by removing identity.” The math was basic…and alarming.

Once we removed our identities, we could “manifest” what we wanted in our lives: the great job, the big break, the perfect woman, less back hair…

This is far from an original concept and it’s generally explained by the Kool-Aid drinkers as a technique to attract the things that you want in life. My theory is, at the root of “manifesting” is a sense of entitlement along with the inherent belief that you deserve to have whatever you want regardless of the work you put in or your qualifications….and that is not how this world works…unless your goal is to be the President of the United States of America.

The Culps however, didn’t use the President as an example. Rather, they rolled a video testimonial from a graduate of the program, who once she realized her ego was irrelevant, she was able to realize the dream of running her own business: Alpaca rugs weaved by imprisoned Bolivian mothers. That woman was Meg Whitman , Carly Fiorina, nobody you’ve ever heard of.

If you took a step back and put the pieces together, it was easy to see the Culps’ agenda. Excessive sharing under the guise of transparency, the removal of the self, the devaluation of initiative through “manifestation,” and cult-like homogeny. This wasn’t spiritual psychology. It was “emotional and spiritual redistribution.”

And then it occurred to me… something horrifying:  The journey from this….

….to this…

…..was far shorter than one might expect.

I left the orientation, hopped on the Hale-Bopp comet, and headed home to secure my date with a liberal. Call me a stereotyper.

***

The Date

Jacquelib’s idea for a date was to meet in any open space where we wouldn’t be limited by any physical barriers such as walls. This was consistent with my post-orientation expectation. She picked the bluffs over looking the Pacific Ocean. I agreed. No walls.

She was late, but had a valid excuse: Being a liberal, her time was far more valuable than mine and I knew that going in, so I waited…feeling surprisingly at one with the…cliff.

I was just about to discover an internal truth that been evading me for 23 years….when she showed up.  I don’t think looks are generally that important to my ongoing research, but I think it’s important in the instance to tell you all that Jacquelib was beyond beautiful.  The kind of beautiful that makes you ignore things like compatibility.

For some bizarre reason when we hugged “hello” I stood on my toes as if to momentarily fool her or myself into believing I was taller than I am. The odd thing was I am already taller than her, than she, whatever.

She had a very soothing vibe about her. She even handed me a cold tea drink called The Dragon which was an oddly colored green and came with an industrial-sized wide-mouth straw with which to inhale the numerous boba tapioca pearls which were stacked high at the bottom of the cup.

We chose a nice spot to sit down. The lotus position was implied so I bent myself uncomfortably into it. Before there was sharing of any kind, Jaquelib wanted to begin with a guided meditation. She would be my guide. Eyes closed. Breathe. Breathe. I was instructed to mentally travel to the whitest of sand beaches where I would discover a box that was left just for me. I was to open the box and see the note inside. On the note something was written, something I wanted.  My note said “Newt in 2012.”  I was to put the note back in the box and bury it in the sand for another loving soul to find. I hoped 65 million loving souls would find that box. Breathe. Breathe. I was definitely breathing, yet she kept saying it. Eyes closed…but then I heard a stirring in the brush from below the ridge so I opened one eye. Breathe. Breathe. The noise louder….closer and then up from God knows where, Breitbart appeared on horseback, riding sidesaddle, as he is wont to do. She must have still been on her beach because she didn’t see him, but I saw him, and he saw me….. in the lotus position, breathing…with one eye open. I was embarrassed. He shook his head, gathered up a mouthful of tobacco juice, coiled, and released, sending a tightly bound liquid bomb 20 feet in distance just over my head blinding a rattlesnake which was descending from a tree just inches behind me. I turned back to Breitbart who gave me a nod, but it was really a warning: be careful. Eyes open she said. Breitbart was gone.

It was time to share….let me be more specific. It was time for her to share and this was when I became painfully aware of an experiment she had been conducting as part of her emotional growth….it was her journey.

Jaquelib had decided that in an attempt to become less self-involved she had removed the use of the word “I” from her vocabulary.  She could use other words to refer to herself, just not “I.” This would serve as some sort of self-prescribed Pavlovian bell to curb her inherent narcissism.  The first time I heard it I nearly choked on a tapioca boba from my Dragon tea.

Jaquelib:  Me had a conversation yesterday with my fear.

Now forget about the content for a second. I couldn’t figure out why using the object form of the 1st person was less self indulgent than using the subject form of the 1st person. It seemed to me she was equally self involved but with the grammar and syntax of primitive man. I pulled myself together.

Jon David: What did your fear say?

It said me is your friend and me is necessary for spiritual growth. So embrace me like you would a friend.

Apparently Fear was conducting the same grammatical experiment. What followed was the biggest series of 1^st date “over-shares” ever recorded in modern dating history. Here’s a small sampling.

Me knows that me is not very smart. This emerald encrusted gem of self-esteem was followed shortly thereafter by….me’d like to have children as soon as possible. Now my heart was open but I must confess I am in no hurry to have stupid children.

With each new share her external beauty dissipated, or at the very least lost its relevance..

My parents were both alcoholics so me have that gene in my family.

Me doesn’t know what my passion is.  Me used to be promiscuous.

She also told me that she had been writing a series of letters to her father from her six-year-old self. She would write them left handed. This would transport her back to a place of rudimentary thinking and expression so that she could truly gain access to how she felt about her father when she was a child.

I was beginning to have a conversation with my Fear, except my Fear was morphing into Sadness and then slowly into Regret.  And Regret was telling me to be careful when writing this article. Jaquelib was sad, and it was real. She was wounded and she was lost. I know what that feels like. Everybody does. And if anyone says they don’t, they are liars..

This didn’t have anything to do with politics. It didn’t have anything to do with being a liberal or a conservative. It had to do with being a human being, and frankly, I felt badly for her and hoped that whatever path she chose, she’d eventually find her box in the sand.

So I listened. Maybe I even looked for her loving essence, but I didn’t feel the need to bring up my political affiliation. It would not have served any purpose.  I knew I would never buy what she had already purchased so blindly and enthusiastically from the Culps.

But there is a lesson here. Redistribution, whether it be emotional or financial, doesn’t work. We should not be forced to share. Americans are kind-hearted people. Hard working and generous people. We do the right thing. We give to charity. We help elderly ladies across the street. We don’t need to be forced to share nor should we be stripped of our individuality.  We need to hold on to our identities because the collection of the unique is what makes this country so amazing.

Kool-Aid tastes good. It goes down smoothly and needs no chaser. It’s easy to understand why someone would reach for the glass. It’s more difficult to understand how and why somebody would serve it.

A few days later, I was reflecting on the date…my fingers hovering over the keyboard indecisively…the phone rang. What I thought was an automated recording was actually a real-life staff member from the University following up with me to see if I’d be interesting in pursuing a degree in spiritual psychology.

Respectfully, me declined.

“My Weekly Date with a Liberal” is sponsored by

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That was the best year for movies that I can recall. That summer alone we had “Forrest Gump,” “True Lies,” “Speed,” and everyone was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Cannes winner “Pulp Fiction.” And we also had “The Lion King.” I remember the critic for my campus newspaper, The Red & Black (Go Dawgs!), panned the film, noting that the “Circle of Life” song, sung by a gay man, was really about keeping groups of people, particularly minorities, in their place. I thought this was bizarre and brought it up with some of my classmates.

I was a drama major. Hellooooo! What was I thinking!

Turns out the movie was homophobic and racist. Scar, the villain, was clearly gay, I was told. I missed that. By missing it, i.e. not having an opinion on the sexual preference of a cartoon lion, I was also a homophobe. Huh? As for the charge of racism, the hyenas, famously voiced by Cheech Marin and Whoopi Goldberg, were stereotypes of blacks and Mexicans. But, as I pointed out, James Earl Jones, a black man, voiced the role of Mufasa. The response still floors me: Yes, but he wasn’t portrayed as a black person.

Did you catch that?

Because Mufasa’s not shucking and jiving, he’s not a black person. I can’t pretend to have called my friends on this; frankly, I was stunned. The PC mindset had led my friends to charge the film with racism, and in doing so they revealed themselves to be slaves to stereotypes. Racists? Probably not. But certainly not deserving of their pious attitude toward Uncle Walt and Company.

Which brings me back to “Borat.” I happen to agree with Christopher Hitchens, who notes that the film makes Americans look more tolerant than the left seems to believe. The sequence in a “black” Atlanta neighborhood doesn’t work as humor if the viewer doesn’t have some pre-conceived notions about black street culture. The elitists were falling all over themselves to point out the rodeo audience cheering Borat’s pro-Bush, pro-War on Terror speech–guess they didn’t notice the woman rolling her eyes. I bet there were more reactions like this…on the cutting room floor, of course.

The elitists’ favorite scene, though, was the one that made fun of them intolerant southerners. The one where Borat insulted the host, crapped in a bag, and, in a move that busted up the party, invited over a prostitute. To the elites, the fact that she was OBVIOUSLY a prostitute had NOTHING to do with her presence breaking up the party. You remember, she was black. And this crowd was clearly offended to be in the presence of a black woman.

I don’t think this is the case and the reaction reveals more about the elites than the scene itself reveals about the great unwashed southern masses. In the end, the Liberal elites had to interpret the movie in this way, if only to excuse themselves for embracing a movie with wall-to-wall juvenile poop and penis jokes. With “Brüno,” they’re taking the “Lion King” approach, embracing it less than they did “Borat” and pointing out the stereotypes. I can’t wait to see what it reveals about them.

I ask this because in “Two Lovers,” which hit nationwide release this week, Joaquin Phoenix plays a Jewish guy whose parents want him to date (and marry) the beautiful Jewish daughter (Vinessa Shaw), of the couple who are buying their business.  But, instead, he prefers the hot blonde gentile woman (played by the half-Jewish Gwyneth Paltrow) who doesn’t want him.  The Jewish woman as the safe, not-as-sexy-or-hot choice is nothing new in Hollywood.  We’ve seen it in sooo many TV shows and flicks, like the 1972 incarnation of “The Heartbreak Kid” in which Elliott Gould Charles Grodin dumps the homely Jewish stereotype-ette for the hot (at that time) Cybill Shepherd.

Read my review of “Two Lovers” and note that this stereotype can also work if you reverse the roles of each sex.  For example, in the far superior and much warmer “Crossing Delancey” (1988), Amy Irving (who was not Jewish, but reportedly converted to marry Steven Spielberg) plays a Jewish woman who was in love with the male version of the Gwyneth Paltrow character, an author who didn’t really love her back.  At the urging of her grandmother, she dates (and falls in love with) the more nebbishe/geeky Peter Riegert.

“Delancey” was 21 years ago and I thought we’d advanced.  But apparently, the same Jewish liberals who are embarrassed about the first of those two adjectives are still running the show.  They just don’t like themselves any more.  Plus, they’re still trying to get away from their mothers, apparently.

There are plenty of beautiful Jewish women (some even blonde) in Hollywood, including my cousin, actress Amelia Kingston (real name: Shannon Schlussel).  Sad that Hollywood still wants you to think they’re the ugly, annoying caricatures in the Protocols of the Elders of Zion.

More sad that the ones doing the caricaturing are neither Muslims nor Nazis, but my own fellow co-religionists.

Note: This post has been updated. Both Vinessa Shaw and Joaquin Phoenix were incorrectly identified as not being Jewish. We regret the error and thank the readers who pointed this out.

1. The Crazed Vet/Soldier: According to Hollywood, if you’re a veteran who fought in a war or a soldier returning from one, you are insane, dangerous and probably a murderous sociopath. Either that or you’re a pathetic loser with mental problems. An emotional basket case. And of course, only poor people join the military, only uneducated stooges easily fooled by government propaganda. No one joins the military because they believe in something. If they do they will find out how foolish they were and become disgusted with America.

Note to Hollywood: Obviously, reality and research are a problem for you. Here’s a newsflash: People from all walks of life join the military and most who serve during wartime never experience serious combat, or any combat at all. During the Iraq war, it was actually statistically more dangerous to work on a farm or drive a taxi cab than to be a soldier in Iraq. And most vets are stable people. They’re trained to be responsible and orderly. They’re trained to deal with stressful situations rationally. Those who can deal with live fire are more likely to be able to handle stress back home, not the other way around. You’ve created ugly myths that betray the very people who make it possible for you to lead your silly lives. They defend the free speech that you use to defame their good name. They work for little money, often in horrible conditions, away from the people they love, for years in some cases. They risk their lives so other people can be free. People like you. And this is the thanks they get? You should be ashamed of yourselves! This is an insane form of prejudice. Bigotry against people who protect you.

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2. The Professional Bitch: For some reason, professional women have to hate men in Hollywood films and TV. They have to be cold, and smarter than men in every way. Their aloofness and snobbery is supposedly a way of showing they are above the lowly male. But of course, the right guy may melt their heart toward the end of the story. But he will almost always be dumb in some way and act more like a puppy than a man.

Note to Hollywood: The 70s are over. Man hating Feminism is so passe it might as well be wearing bell bottoms. I get it; you’re trying to create some friction between the characters so the romance will be hotter, except you make these women unlikable. Who cares if they get the guy? Unpleasant people are tedious. And few of you know how to make entertaining bitches. They’re always the same, tired kind. Smart people know how to be appealing to others. They know the importance of being charming. If your professional woman is really smart, then having some kind of witty verbal play would show that. But it seems many of you can’t write witty banter anymore. Maybe the problem is you don’t know how to write appealing characters because you’re writing about yourself?

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3. The Evil Christian: Hollywood seems to say that anyone who believes in Christianity is a sexual deviant, crook or a murderer. Christians are always shown to be hypocrites and phonies. They’re never good people. They’re exposed as pious frauds when their “true colors” are revealed.

Note to Hollywood:  Do any of you realize that Judeo-Christian values are the foundations of modern liberalism? That liberalism was a movement that came from Christianity? The very things you claim to believe were derived from that. Every group of people has their bad apples. To constantly paint Christians in this way because of a few is pathetic. You want to be seen as tolerant and yet to resort to these abysmally vicious clichés? By your logic everyone in Hollywood is a scumbag. Christians do a lot of good work all over the world. More charity work than all the liberals in Hollywood combined. Christians do more public service, feed more of the poor, work in more developing countries and provide rehab and other outreach services than Hollywood ever will. So why do you hate them? Don’t like the competition? Maybe you pick on them because they don’t fight back. Maybe you hate them because they set a better example than you. Show some respect for their good works.  If you don’t agree with their religion, find a better target. One that deserves it.

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4. The Stupid Dad/Male: In Hollywood movies men are either stupid or gay. If they are straight, they’re almost always either buffoons, geeks or dumb jocks. Women are always smarter. Men can’t do anything without a woman telling them what to do. And fathers can’t take care of the kids. They can’t cook dinner or even be good parents. They’re always too busy to spend time with their kids, or they do idiotic things that get the family into constant trouble.

Note to Hollywood: The only thing more idiotic than this cliché is the fact that you keep using it after it was worn out 20 years ago. Maybe you write dumb characters because you write from experience. Or maybe it’s because ripping off Homer Simpson is easier than thinking. Perhaps your way of telling people you’re a sexist creep. Misandry is not better than misogyny. Bad is bad. What you’re doing is morally, ethically and intellectually bankrupt. In other words, it’s stupid.

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5. The Magical Minority (aka “Magic Negro”): I’m sure you’ve seen a movie or three where some wise old Black/Asian/Native-American man/woman, who’s usually a janitor/maid/babysitter/garbage man, is a fountain of wisdom and always seems to know things. And they dispense good luck with some sparkly effects and a wink. They seem to either have supernatural powers, or they enter the clueless white person’s life and change it for the better by getting them to loosen up and put on some James Brown records. Dancing to black music or putting on some other ethic affectation always makes the dumb white character cool somehow. Because, let’s face it, white people are lame. Their culture is stupid and they are clueless. Right?

Note to Hollywood: Guess what? Aside from being racist to whites, it’s patronizing and a soft form of bigotry. Viewing “people of color” as being “special” because of their race is the point of view of a white person who doesn’t get to know others too well. Probably because they’re self centered. Race doesn’t put any one group on some exalted level, you know. There is a term for doing that. It starts with an R and I already used it for those of you who are slow. People are people. They don’t get magic powers with their skin color. Black people can’t automatically sing well (see American Idol). Native American people don’t commune with the spirit world and animals just because they took some money from you the last time you visited a Sedona gift shop. And yeah, old Asian men don’t all know kung fu and feng shui. Sorry. This kind of stuff annoys a lot of minorities. Though some find it useful when they want to trick dumb lefties.

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6. The Pedophile Priest: Similar to the Evil Christian except this is a huge fictional cliché . According to Hollywood, unless there’s a demon that needs exorcising, priests are all sanctimonious, corrupt child molesters. And often alcoholic ones at that.

Note to Hollywood: The Catholic Church made a huge mistake sweeping the pedophile priest problem under the rug for so long. They didn’t want to give the Church a bad name, so they moved the priests around rather than kicking them out.  The problem grew until it became a serious a national scandal but not every priest did this. Once again, you show you have no imagination by whipping out this drivel every time you have a priest in a story (unless it involves demons or Vatican corruption). Sweeping generalizations against a group of people is something you like to accuse conservatives of doing. Hypocrisy alert! Why don’t you take a break from this one? It’s played out and tired. Try something current for a change. Like the UN child sex scandals.

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7. The Traditionalist Hypocrite: Anyone who stands for traditional values, or works in a traditionally male role, like a cop, fireman, cowboy is revealed to be a drunk, wife beater, or criminal. Because we all know that tradition is wrong. At least, that’s what Hollywood seems to think. (Similar to the Crazed Vet/Soldier).

Note to Hollywood: Just because you live in a messed-up social circle where being a drugged-out, back-stabbing phony is common, doesn’t mean that everyone else is like that. And just because you can’t be imaginative enough to make complex characters rather than clichés, doesn’t excuse you from your lameness. We know what you’re trying to do. You want to tear down the male in our culture. The creeps passing as lit professors at your college called it “deconstruction.” Remember that old joke that those who can’t do, teach? Our culture isn’t your urinal. We’re not interested in your daddy issues or your loyalty oath to the brainwashed counterculture. Like I said, the 70s are over. So is the 20th century. Get over it and start writing real people or find something else to do.

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8. Evil Republicans: What a surprise. All Republicans in movies or TV are evil. They’re all trying to cheat the public, start unnecessary wars, take away civil rights and turn the country into a fascist dictatorship. And, of course, it’s saintly Democrats who save the day.

Note to Hollywood: Do you even bother to educate yourself about the corruption going on out there? A lot of Democrats in the news lately aren’t exactly saintly themselves. And those who aren’t under investigation are busy trying to pass laws taking away more freedoms in the name of “saving us”. Gee, isn’t that what you claimed Bush was doing? If you think your party is the good guys and the Republicans the bad guys, no wonder so many of you are crazy. You’re bound for some massive disappointments in the next 4 years. While this will amuse those of us not blinded by your hubris, the fact is politicians of any party are our servants. Some of them forget that and they deserve our scorn. But your blind acceptance of one party, your blind hatred of the other, makes you one-dimensional hacks. We seek truth in our fiction, not propaganda. If you can’t deliver, McDonalds is always looking for burger flippers.

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9: Wise Trashy People: According to Hollywood: hookers, homeless and bizarre lifestyle people are the normal ones. They know what’s “really going on, man.” They’re just being honest. Everyone else is a freak. People who act normal are all depraved and sick. The suburbs are a place of spiritual death. The only truth lies in Bohemia.

Note to Hollywood: So, people who lead self destructive lives (as many of those listed above do, but not all) are wiser than those who try to lead responsible lives? Really? Based on what evidence? Have you ever flipped through the mugshots on sites like the Smoking Gun? Not a lot of “ordinary people” there. And not too many people I would accuse of being wise. Nope. Are you perhaps trying to tell us something about yourselves? Are you trying to rationalize your own freaky code? Or is it just another attempt to dump on traditional society and normalcy. We know that you seem to hate it. You certainly seem to have contempt for Middle America. Well, you’re asking for the same from us. Watch it.

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10. Flyover Losers: Hollywood says: Everyone in the middle or South of America are worthless, toothless, dumb-as-dirt, inbred hicks who may or may not be incestuous psycho killers who keep their deformed children chained in the basement and let them out to feed on any foolish coast dwellers who run out of gas near their house. Either that or they’re insane Bible-thumping Jesus Freaks who want to scream about the Lord and torture you in bizarre reenactments of Passion of the Christ.

Note to Hollywood: If you’ve read this far and haven’t learned anything you really are as stupid as the tropes described above. And probably as inbred and as crazy, so I don’t know what good it is lecturing you. Maybe I’ll just join the public and stop supporting anything with these abysmally lame, sub-literate, morally bankrupt caricatures.  You’re starting to look like a bad stereotype yourselves. And smell twice as rank. Clean up your act!