Holy S**t!

Not being too hip in the ways of the modern Irish state, I have to say that this is a truly weird development.

And here I was thinking that all branches of the major religions had their foundation in schisms that could be fairly interpreted as being blasphemous. It certainly would be unfortunate to be arrested and fined for claiming, as Jews do, that Jesus isn't really the son of god. You won't hear me saying that Scientologists are kooks over a pint of Guinness at the corner pub in Limerick either, I just don't have that kind of pocket change to spare.

Something tells me our religious right is casting envious glances over the pond. Pass the potatoes and we'll also take some ample helpings of state sanctioned religious dogma please.

Conspiracy Theory

The persistence of the "Birther" movement illuminates a phenomenon that is neither new nor particularly unique to this country. When it comes to the underpinnings of their belief systems, people will show a flagrant disregard for reality. Instead we view any empirical evidence that contradicts our interpretation of the stated version of events as just more evidence of the deviousness and brilliance of the conspiracy.

AIDS was created in a government laboratory.

The CIA invented crack cocaine to decimate black communities.

The Moon Landings were faked.

The Holocaust never happened.

Hannibal didn't really cross the Alps with elephants. Nobody actually SAW him do it.

etc., etc., etc.

The difference today, of course is that modern communications and the net enable people of like mind (or out-of-their-minds as the case may be) to reinforce their theories by congregating around self proclaimed authorities on the subject. In a world where anyone with web access, time on their hands and a willingness to disregard inconvenient facts can develop and promulgate their interpretation of a documented occurrence, everyone is suddenly an expert. This is, of course, not necessarily a bad thing. Distrust of power and questioning the official line regardless of who it comes from keeps us all on our toes and is a buttress against those who would manipulate us towards achieving nefarious ends.

Skepticism is healthy, rampant disregard for the truth is another matter.

Our disdain for the findings of career journalists and other professionals, along with the rise of technologically enabled demagoguery, renders meaningless the important distinction between fact and opinion. The current media and academic landscape is littered with those who have fostered lucrative careers playing to the innate desire to know the real story surrounding anything that has piqued our interest. The email that was forwarded to me says that Obama is a Muslim. It comes from truthaboutobama.com. It must be true. Pass it on and watch that magical adsense counter rise.

In a world where everyone can generate an audience by proclaiming to know the details of some secret plot hatched by the tri-lateral commission, the signal-to-noise ratio seriously impacts our actions. How do we become well informed when the purveyors of knowledge learned everything they know from a google search? In a perverse inversion of the old saying, is everyone now entitled to their own facts? The echo chamber of self-reinforcing pronouncements is deafening.

Have to go line the hat with tinfoil now. The radio signals are beginning to give me a headache.

We're Not Stupid

Once upon a time, before he was elevated to pop icon status, David Beckham was just a soccer player

The recent revelations in the much discussed Grant Wahl book about the world's most famous metrosexual aren't exactly news to people who follow the game here and abroad. Poor captain, indifferent teammate, entourage heavy off the field and performance light on it.

Maybe the particulars are amusing, but the overall result of this import could have been predicted. Beckham was always about selling replica shirts and raising the profile of the MLS off the field. On the pitch, he's clearly past his best and he's been a disaster.

Now he wants to tell us that his recent public courting of a permanent spot at Milan should all be swept under the rug since he's committed to the LA Galaxy and MLS. Should we be shocked that an international star wants to ply his trade in a an environment where soccer is actually taken seriously? When are we going to learn that the US is just the last stop on the careers of the elite of the world's game? Maybe someday we'll get to see a Ronaldo play here regularly in his prime but something tells me that day may sadly never come.

Back to Europe with you Becks, and don't the the door hit your arse on the way out.

The Unbearable Weirdness of Werner

One thing that always struck me about legendary German director Werner Herzog is his open mindedness. With a curiosity of the world around him that has been the driving force behind his work, he seems to be forever searching for the truth, whatever it might be. His work is infused with pronouncements of a world view that is simultaneously gloomy and uplifting.

But as much as I've followed his dramatic films, documentaries, appearances, interviews and other musings over the years, I feel like I hardly know the man. With the recent release of the book Conquest of the Useless, perhaps that is about to change.

The infamous jungle adventure that brought us Fitzcarraldo was just as remarkably chronicled in the amazing documentary Burden of Dreams. The nightmare of a shoot saw Herzog battle the elements, indigenous tribes, a gargantuan steamboat and the certifiable Klaus Kinski. Watching Burden of Dreams is a riveting experience for anyone who loves the movies and the pursuit of a singular vision that is the hallmark of our most gifted filmmakers. Towards the end of the doc, he delivers a sardonic, bleak monologue about the travails of making movies the way he does that leads one to believe that he will never set foot on a set again. Thankfully for all of us, he does continue what has been a remarkable career.

Herzog's contemporaneous account of the experience of making Fitzcarraldo may give me some more insight into this complex character or I may end up feeling that I've only managed to embellish the conclusions I have already drawn. His work has taught me more about myself than it has about him.

Grey Gardens

Haven't seen the HBO production or the musical but the documentary is a personal favorite of mine.

Hopefully the emmy noms for the HBO movie will rekindle interest in what is one of the more moving, emotionally wrenching docs I've ever experienced.

Separated at Birth?

Fernando Torres might be one of the world's premier strikers but he's GOT to do something about the hair.

I do personally prefer Bruno's spiky do from the early days, but that's just me.

Were are the Tigers?

Sad

We've got such a long way to go.

The Apache

I've always been a fan of Carlos Tevez. Tough, instinctive, and with the swagger born, not bred. Now he's gone and fans of Man U are left wondering what went wrong.

Sir Alex Ferguson's doghouse is not a nice place to be, yet Tevez for all his industry and endeavor seems to have had his backside firmly planted there for the better part of two seasons. Hard to read the sometimes inscrutable Scott but I'm speculating that maybe this is a case where they know something we don't. Or maybe the combination of the weirdness of Kia Joorbachian's financial innovations (credit default swaps, anyone?) and the nouveau riche City doomed any prospects of keeping Carlos at a realistic price. Whatever the case, this one stings.

Now if only they can get someone to take the brooding Berbatov off their hands. What's Bulgarian for "sulky striker" anyway?

Do I Have Anything To Say?

I've held out for long enough. Perennially late to the party, I've arrived carrying a fondue pot and wearing my hippest grunge get up.

I suppose I'm blogging for the same reason that millions of others are. To get something off my chest. To share the minutiae of my daily life. To find answers in need of questions.

Enough of this self absorbed, navel grazing crap. Just get on with it already.