"Everybody's Happy Now"

It's not often that someone makes a post out of a book report, but this one that I wrote for Brave New World seemed pretty good to me; when I wrote it, the words just sort of poured out. Not often that a luxury like that comes along.

"'Everybody’s happy now'

Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

In London, at some undefined time in the future, the world is a very different
place. Human beings are mass-produced in laboratories and mass-raised in huge
nurseries. Each human is specifically created and conditioned to be in a
specific caste, from the beautiful, intelligent Alphas all the way down to the
Semi-Morons, who are barely smart enough to run an elevator. Even the lowest
castes are happy, though, since all people are specifically modeled for and
therefore perfectly at home in their caste. No one complains, and if there is
any pain or problem in your life, you can take a few half-grams of soma, the
perfect drug, and sleep your problems away while enjoying dream vacations in the
tropics. And, of course, there’s sex, provided you follow the Malthusian Drill
and use your contraceptives correctly, for Ford (that quaint old idea of God has
now been replaced with someone far more worthy of admiration) knows we wouldn’t
want our females doing something as barbaric and uncivilized as giving birth.
Motherhood, fatherhood, and the family are several old horrors we no longer have
to deal with.
This is where Brave New World takes place, in a perfect, controlled society, where
everyone is happy and all the “best” pleasures are readily available without any
consequences. There are, however, a few who are a little dissatisfied. Take, for
example, Bernard Marx, who is something of an outcast because he was created an
Alpha but for some reason came out more stunted and short than the other members
of his caste. He gets irritated with the general I’m-fat-and-I’m-happy
mentality, and wonders sometimes if ignorant bliss really is what humanity is
meant for. His friend, Helmholtz Watson, is properly perfect but also shares
some of Bernard’s frustration. Then there’s the beautiful and oblivious Lenina
Crowe, who has a liking for Bernard and takes a trip with him down to a Savage
Reservation (which is a sort of Indian reservation) in New Mexico.
It is at the Savage Reservation where they meet John. Through a serious mistake, John
wound up being born on the reservation to a woman named Linda, who had been one
of the reservation’s civilized visitors but was accidentally impregnated and
left on the reservation. John has spent his entire life on the reservation, but
is obviously quite a misfit, and suffers a lot for it. He is pretty much left to
fend for himself, for his mother spends much of her time in bed. Almost entirely
alone, he develops his own sense of truth, beauty, and religion. He and Bernard
instantly click when they meet, and eventually, Bernard offers to take John with
him to the “civilized world.” John accepts, and he, Lenina, and Bernard take off
back to London.
John, known in London as “The Savage,” is a howling success, and his fame
catapults Bernard into fame as well. Unfortunately, it is not long before
success goes to Bernard’s head, and it goes to John’s head as well, but in an
entirely different way. Throw Helmholtz and Lenina into the whole mess, and soon
these four people find themselves dazed, angry, weary and confused in a world
that is quickly pleasuring them to death.
Using an omniscient third person point of view, Aldous Huxley shows us a classic example
of the Man vs. Society conflict type, and how perfect happiness just might be
enough to make us miserable. Running through the book is the theme that
happiness is hollow, unfulfilling and even carnal if it comes to us at the
expense of things such as truth, beauty, and individuality. In our pursuit to
rid ourselves of pain and trouble, we may very possibly cause more pain and
trouble for ourselves, as John, Bernard, Lenina and Helmholtz find out. Like
most books of this genre, Brave New World has a dark, cynical mood, but there
are times when there’s hope. Through the pessimism of the story, Huxley teaches
us an important lesson: Given the choice between happiness and the “important
things” of life, it is often best and most fulfilling to suck it up and choose
the important things, such as truth, beauty, virtue, God, family, and
individuality. "

Anyhoo, thar be that.
Also, Lent starts Wednesday, and I think I'll do the same thing I did last year and leave this blog dormant for those 40 days. So, until Easter, this is James Powers, signing off. And all that jazz.
P.S. My apologies for the ridiculously scattered text above. I don't know why, but for some reason the old compy sees fit to paste large bodies of text in a totally demented fashion.
P.P.S. It's entirely likely that the scattered text only appears scattered on Explorer (being less than an expert on the weird behavior of browsers, I wouldn't know). If that's the case, then users of other browsers: please disregard. Users of Explorer: my most heartfelt condolences.
Now James Powers is signing off and all that jazz. For real this time.

3 o'clock tick tock

You know what's really sad? False advertising. Specifically, deceptive packaging. If you were standing in Blockbuster and happened to pick up The Exorcism of Emily Rose and look at it, it would appear to be little more than another cheesy horror flick. In fact, if you were to pop in the DVD and look at the start menu, it would still look very cheesy. Not until you actually start the movie can you have any inkling that it is not, in fact, just an assembly-line rip off of The Exorcist.
The only indication any of our family (at least, those of us who were watching the movie) had that Emily Rose was any good was an obscure reference to it somewhere in the flotsam of the Catholic.com forums. It was with some trepidation that we popped the disc in and pressed play.
However, despite our first impressions, it turned out to be a very good movie. Why? Several reasons:
1): It's scary. Duh. Of course, it's not that hard to make a movie scary; just make all the lighting dim, use a lot of squealy violins, and use the standard tricks to build up suspense (i.e. have your protagonist approach a door at the end of a hallway veeery slooowly while the door rattles for no apparent reason and the violins, of course, screech ominously). Emily Rose had all these features in it, but there were numerous other things that just jumped at you without any build up, things that you didn't see coming at all but still scared the daylights out of you.
2): It does not totally botch its portrayal of Catholicism. In fact, its portrayal of demonic possession, exorcisms and general Catholic teaching on those subjects is very true to reality. It does not make the idea of possession seem like a silly superstition, in fact, it presents a fairly powerful case for it, however...
3): ...It does not give you definite answers. The movie never clearly shows whether Emily's condition was indeed caused by possession or if it was an extremely severe psychological problem. It leaves you to decide for yourself what seems most likely, but at the same time it forces you to ask very important questions, such as "Are there demons?" "Are there angels?" and "What is evil?".
4): It's well acted, especially in the case of whoever played Emily herself. The character of Emily undergoes incredible bodily contortions and holds them for a long time, undergoes extreme physical and spiritual pain, and does some...extreme things with her voice, all of which the actress playing Emily portrayed admirably. What you see in the movie is what the actress did; there was very little, if any, digital tinkering done with her image or voice.
If you aren't opposed to a good scare and to some thought-provoking material, I really recommend you see this movie--regardless of the cheesy looking cover.

Desolation

You know what the best part of having the Seahawks at the Super Bowl today is? THERE ARE NO PEOPLE. The streets, parking lots, and everything else are near empty. Which is why I took about an hour to walk around town (in bee-autiful 50 degree weather, by the way), with music playing in my ears and a pen/notebook in a backpack in case I ever got the urge to ruminate (or just scribble), and to just revel in the silence.
In the meantime, about two-thirds of the rest of the city remained indoors, watching the Seahawks claw their way back to (or near---can't really tell as the game isn't over yet) the top. Well, to each his own.