Category Archives: hypocrisy

Wagon of Sorrow: Theater of War at SILVERDOCS

John Walter’s brilliant documentary, reviewed for DCist.

UPDATE 6/26/08: I got a nice e-mail about the review from Theatre of War director/editor John Walter, who reports that he is shopping the film around for a distributor. Best of luck to you, John! It’s a great documentary, and it deserves as wide a release as it can get.

John also sent this cool one-sheet image:

Media Mix VIII: It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

A lot of people like to say that objective morality is a fallacy; that we live in a world without good or evil, but only innumerable moral gradations complicated endlessly by circumstance and intention.

Sounds rational. Plausible, even. But all that goes out the window when you end up listening to new albums by Elvis Costello and Clay Aiken in the same week.

Economies of Scales Falling from Mine Eyes

I was shut out when Springsteen tix went on sale this morning. Someone, somewhere, must have been having a little fun with us: Among the verification words that popped up when I was trying the TicketMaster site were arouse and unplaid, as in, “Hey, wouldn’t it be arousing if Bruce were to change up the setlist the second night to include some songs he left unplaid the night before?” Or, if you prefer, “Those flannel pajamas would be much more arousing if they were unplaid.”


Mac, my friend-for-life before he did me this kindness, called to say he’d secured four rear-of-stage lower-level tix for Night One. (The second show wasn’t put on sale until 15 minutes after the first, and though it wasn’t announced in advance, its existence was an open secret.) Off I went to the optometrist, where I spent about 400 pre-tax ducats for new glasses and contact lenses. Upon my return home, I promptly spent nearly as much — $345, on the (ahem) secondary market, sadly — for a pair of General Admission floor tix for Night Two. Call me a sucker, call me an enabler. They still cost less than the pairs for the Friday-night show in Philadelphia on Oct. 5 that I’d been eyeing, and I’ll probably hear a greater variety of tunes on back-to-back nights in the same city than I would attending the first night in Philly and then the first in DC five weeks later. Verily, my powers of rationalizaton are mighty! I’d wanted to believe I was too mature, too fiscally responsible, too smart to do this sort of thing anymore. The truth hurts. But the truth rocks, too.

Besides, I published something pretty much every day this week. So it’s not like I haven’t been earning my indulgences. See Ah, Wilderness! at ACT; KT Tunstall’s new album, Drastic Fantastic; Nick Lowe at the Birchmere; Suzanne Vega, too. Plus a little — very little — something about the exhibit of Sophia Tolstoy’s photos at the American University Museum.

Next week: PJ Harvey and — I hope — Rilo Kiley.

Fat Albert’s Giant Index Finger of Recrimination

theunmentionables-k-owusu.jpgKofi Owusu and Tim Getman raise their voices to one another in The Unmentionables.

My DCist review of Woolly‘s terrific season-opener, The Unmentionables, is up today.

What do the Cranberries and Dick Cheney’s judgment have in common?

They were both a lot better back in 1994 than they have been since 2003.

Gosh guys, I though you said John Kerry was the big flip-flopper!