Seeing “The Blind Side” and “Precious” one day apart was a major juxaposition — a clash of what the world can be in two completely different ways.
“Precious” is a deeply dark and depressing world; a huge, young, black, underaged girl who finds herself pregnant for the second time (!) by her own father, living in a two-story, run-down Section 8 (government) housing project with an incredibly abusive “mother” (played beyond belief by actress Mo’nique who had better win an Academy Award for this indelible performance). Precious’ mother is supported by (government) welfare programs; she is enrolled in an undisciplined (government) school in which it would be nothing short of a miracle if any child ended up escaping poverty; her Mongoloid child, a product of an incestuous rape by her father, provides additional (government) support to her mother; her (government) case worker (Mariah Carey) tries to help her as does her alternative (government) school teacher. In the end, the most “uplifting” scene of the film is HIV-infected Precious walking away with her Mongoloid daughter and new-born son, again both products of incestuous rapes. (Does anyone have Dr. Kervorkian’s cell number?)
“Blind Side,” on the other hand, is the story of a huge, young, black, underage boy taken in by a Southern white family (led by matriach Sandra Bullock), who offer him a home outside of his run-down Section 8 (government) housing in an upper-middle class/wealthy home when they find him homeless after he’s enrolled on a scholarship in a private (non-government) Christian (!) school where the teachers actually have control of the classes and the students actually learn things! All the advantages given to him are a result of common-sense (non-government) environment where it is expected that individuals are responsible for improving not only themselves but also those of others without being directed to do so by an illustrious leader.
I anticipate a sequel to both, funded with the Stimulus Bill, called, the “Precious Blind Side.” We will learn that Precious’ children grow up in Section 8 housing that has been granted more money by the federal government, her run-down school has been granted more money by the federal government for more school assistants, and social services has been granted more money to hire more assistants who are at least equally inept at finding out that Precious’ children are being brutualized by preverted school teachers who can’t be fired because they belong to the teachers’ union.
Meanwhile, “Big Mike” in “The Blind Side” grows up to be a wealthy professional football player who has his taxes increased so much to pay for the above increases in government spending to support Precious’ world that it prevents him from adopting another unfortunate child from the projects.
4 stars to “Precious” for acting alone; 4 stars to “Blind Side” for a dose of alternative reality and common-sense entertainment; and ZERO stars for the upcoming sequel — the “Precious Blind Side.”
“Could it be a Faded Rose from Days Gone By?”
Lyrics (Polluted) by Justin Washington and Tribute to Tanya Tucker
As the plaintiff song wafts in the air, so goes California’s golden dream — because of a small, silver fish resembling a minow with small, beady eyes (somewhat similiar in appearance to US Senate Leader Harry Reid).
The US Fish & Wildlife Service, as the teeth behind the Endangered Species Act, has turned off the water spigot to the agricultural Central Valley of California which has been likened to the “bread basket of the US.” The Endangered Species Act was the brain(drain) child of the former, disgraced and oft-reviled Republican President Richard “Tricky Dick” Nixon from California. It’s no doubt ironic that the Left’s poster-child of “right-wing” intolerance Richard Nixon signed into law the act that gave the Fish & Wildlife Service — in the name of environmentalism — the power to turn even the innocuous Delta Smelt into a menacing creature with the ability to crush the livlihood of thousands. Environmentalists have been using such power of the federal government as a weapon against humanoids ever since: if it’s alive and brainless, it must either go into politics or become a protected species. Environmentalists’ mantra has become: “the world would be a perfect place if only we could just get rid of those pesky humans.” (Just envision those pimply-faced adolescent Green Peace zombie volunteers hanging outside the local grocery store asking for signatures to outlaw almost all human activity in favor of some local lizard’s ability to poop freely in the environment.)
The formerly lush Central Valley along Interstate 5 which runs up the spine of California now lies in ruin — acre after acre and endless fields of lifeless plants and orchards. (By the way, is the Sierra Club aware that the US Fish & Wildlife Service is responsible for killing trees?) Because of beady-eyed politicians and their throngs of Delta Smelt warriors, the water has been literally turned off with no end in sight, leaving entire towns and communities destitute and jobless — 40% in some Central Valley towns such as Mendota. Now, the generations of Joads and their Okie ancestors and friends who fled to California in the 1930’s from the Dustbowl in Oklahoma to work agricultural jobs in the once-lush California Central Valley can go pack up their pick-ups and make the return trip to Oklahoma (which is now no doubt greener than California) — sort of a reverse “Grapes of Wrath” reworked and renamed “Smelts of Wrath.”
“California’s Man-Made Drought: The Green War Against San Joaquin Valley Farmers,” WSJ, 09/02/2009.
On January 20th, 2009, I hoped for change — now 9 months later, I am just hoping for a little spare change. I feel like I have been reliving my own version of Balloon Boy; as the country has been spellbound with rapt attention to a Jiffy-Pop hot-air balloon carrying off our hope-and-change President, we come to realize that while we have been anxiously watching shiny objects in the sky, our very own “Urkel Goes to Washington” is holed up in a smoke-filled back room playing three-card monty with Rahm and Axelrod while Geithner greases up the government printing presses. (By the way, Rahm and Axelrod sound like appropriate names for two of Capone’s sidekicks — picture extras from “The Untouchables” with cigarettes dangling from upturned lips while holding tommy guns standing at the entrance to the senate chambers, “monitoring” democracy in action much like ACORN “community organizers” monitor voting booths during elections.)
Speaking of three-card monty, “San Fran Nan” aka Nancy Bela Lugosi has been swooping around Congress on her broomstick, cackling incessantly about health care while unemployment tops 10% and all the while threatening to use the broomstick to take the temperature of any politician who doesn’t willingly become one of her flying monkeys.
Gagged and bound, the country is forced to watch the spinning healthcare roulette wheel on which the numbers have been replaced by 2,000 pages of drivel. The sheer arbitrary insanity of it is enough to make a person physically sick! (Which begs the question: will sickness due to politicians’ bad decisions be covered in the healthcare bill? Probably not, as it is nothing that a little visit to a re-education camp couldn’t cure, coming by the way to a neighborhood near you compliments of the Stimulus Bill; no doubt such an experience would make Club Gitmo look like a walk in the park sans the endless looping of Britney Spears’ greatest hits…)
Where the healthcare roulette wheel stops is anyone’s guess, but when it does, only Balloon Boy wins — and the rest of us taxpaying pack mules lose. Crowned emperor of a country he apparently loves so much, Obama can barely restrain himself from completely dismantling the US and rebuilding it into his very own version of “The World’s Biggest Loser.” Oddly enough, Obama is starting to feel like a Cheeto tastes — a little zesty with a lot of crunch but full of air and empty calories.
Obama has spent so much time traveling the world and dropping the soap in front of every tinpot, third-world dictator, I expect to see perky Katie Couric in a series of “special interviews” with every despot from pillar to post, discussing how much better each one likes the USA while each greasy dictator, blowing smoke rings from a Cuban cigar, spoons our Cheeto-in-Chief in the afterglow of mutual admiration and self-satisfaction.
In a world of cheesy, cheaply-made reality tv shows, it’s little wonder that we ended up with this unscripted mess filled with narcissitic, self-centered and self-promoting Munchkins eagerly grasping for their 15-minutes of fame without regard to the mess they will no doubt leave behind.