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I never got the Lake Woebegon thing. Never did more than skim any of Keillor’s writings and wasn’t into the radio show. It was corny and I didn’t find the tongue in cheek fun poking at Midwesterners amusing. Still don’t. There is nothing magical about the coasts. CrazyBrother lives on the west one after all and if any of the bad actors in his life are to be taken for the average – well, culturally ignorant and tragically unhip people are everywhere. The Midwest isn’t cornering any markets.

But we were watching The World’s Fastest Indian (starts slow but improves) and as is our wont, scanned the previews for future viewing opportunities and stumbled on a few picks that our library had in stock (our library by the way is the most awesome source of flicks).

Garrison Keillor wrote and plays himself in a fictionalized version of his own show. Robert Altman directed it and I remember the tabloids at the time made much of the fact that Linsday Lohan was playing a character in an attempt to redeem herself as a serious actor (failed).

The story is shot in typical Altman fashion with random and overlapping dialogue/actions. If you’ve seen one of his other movies, you seen the template. Mostly it works but the characters and the setting have to be compelling and this story is so not. It’s dull. Duller, as one of Shakespeare’s characters once remarked, than a great thaw.

Rob fell asleep. This is an indictment of bad. My Virgo husband will stick with the worst movies until the bitterest of ends (Babel) because he hates to start something and not finish. 

I quit about an hour in with 46 mind-numbing minutes to go that Rob votes for skipping them.

The story – as nearly as I could follow – was about the radio shows last performance as the theater had been purchased by Texans (a memorable Kevin Kline line “Sure they talk funny and their eyes don’t focus and their flesh in rotting and falling off..”) who want to tear it down and put up a parking lot – Paradise Paved – I guess.

Lilly Tomlin and Meryl Streep are a Christian singing act with Lohan playing Streep’s suicide poet daughter. Streep’s character is a widow who is still in love with her husband’s friend played by Keillor. I really can’t tell you how cliche that is. Widow and best friend trysting and widow pining away in bitterness after he comes to his senses – or something like that. Anyway, totally couldn’t see why anyone would pine for Garrison Keillor. He is a bit bug-eyed and has no butt. Maybe it’s a sexy radio voice thing? If you close you eyes?

Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly do their best to save things as a cowboy singing duo but they are only good on their own. The minute another cast member begins sucking air in the scene, the whole aura deflates and everyone suffocates. Although there is one scene where the two old men are obviously vying for Lohan that isn’t too bad.

Virginia Madsen portrays an angel in a white trench coat that only Kevin Kline’s character can really see. At one point she guides the soul of an old man who sings on the show to the wherever. I cringed a bit when her character tells the old man’s paramour that “The death of an old man isn’t a tragedy” in her attempt to soothe the woman. While this is true. My early widow indoctrination programming reminds me to be a trifle indignant.

I believe the movie garnered the obligatory critical praise but it is truly an awful waste of talent as the number of Oscar winners and nominees totals half the main cast at least.

Here is my bottom line. Watch the trailer. All the good stuff is there. And then just listen to the actual radio show


The New York Times ran an article on the recent Blogher ’08 conference in San Francisco*. Although the article references female bloggers who do not write about home-making and lactating exclusively (try not at all), they seem stuck on the idea that women who blog blog about being moms.

Although I occasionally refer to what I do here as “mommy blogging”, I am not being serious when I do so. I really can’t tell you what kind of blogger I am because I tend to write about whatever is upper-most on my mind at the moment. This ranges from sex to writing to politics to feminism to body image to the ever popular – blog post about nothing.

I admire niche blogging. I wish I could pick a topic and stick to it like glue but I am far too random and frankly, I would have tired of blogging quickly had I done something like that. So if anyone is looking to me for the minutia of motherhood, you are in the wrong neck of the blogosphere.

I am little incensed for those who are writing about parenting – that’s what it is by the way – PARENTING, and the last I heard both genders engage in the act of parenting and blogging about it. The reason I am angry is that “mommy blogger” almost seems like a pejorative. A dismissal. As though a parent couldn’t have opinions on the state of the nation or world or environment. Like only a non-parent can accurately assess the economy or give tech advice.

I would claim the label with pride, if that is what I was, were it not for the snide way in which it is used so often. Like the phrase “just a housewife”, it’s meant to point out a person of little significance. Someone who isn’t a real writer and doesn’t have anything to do but gaze at the baby’s navel and then tell us all about it.

Perhaps I am over-reacting, but most of the women whose work I read via blogs are far more varied in interest than the NYT’s seems to think. We are not the sum total of our uterine output. In fact, parenthood isn’t exclusively about the female half anyway.

*I discovered this via Pundit Mom.


Rob, my husband, does a weekly thing he calls Song Lyric Thursday, an idea he “borrowed” from Uncle Keith. Essentially he picks a song, that may or may not have deep meaning, posts the lyrics and if he is lucky and can scrounge up a YouTube video, his readers get to hear the song as well.

This week I am following suit because I got a song stuck in my head that goes along really well with a news item I stumbled across about a 2005 Extreme Home Makeover family in Georgia who are now in foreclosure. It seems that despite the ABC show building them a mansion worth close to a half million dollars AND raising a fund of another quarter million to not only pay the taxes on it for 25 years plus put their three children through college – they’ve lost it all. Apparently they sat on the house and cash for roughly a year before deciding to go into the construction business (and before you wonder – no neither husband nor wife had any experience in that area) which they financed against the entire balance of equity in their PAID FOR freebie home. Within 15 months, they were broke and the bank is foreclosing.

The American Dream in a nutshell. Win the lottery or its equivalent and blow it.

To make matters a tad more interesting, this family was not your typical Extreme Makeover bunch. They had healthy children. No heart wrenching disabilities or illnesses. Something that always made my stomach lurch about this show was the way it sought out people in their misery and in exchange for a house and some cool tech – exploited them for an hour or two for profit.

Anyway, in dedication to all the Extreme Makeovers (wouldn’t that be compelling television revisiting some of them a few years later?) here is a Thursday Song Lyric:

If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
I’d buy you a house
(I would buy you a house)
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
I’d buy you furniture for your house
(Maybe a nice chesterfield or an ottoman)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you a K-Car
(A nice Reliant automobile)
If I had a million dollars I’d buy your love

If I had a million dollars
I’d build a tree fort in our yard
If I had million dollars
You could help, it wouldn’t be that hard
If I had million dollars
Maybe we could put like a little tiny fridge in there somewhere
You know, we could just go up there and hang out
Like open the fridge and stuff
There would already be laid out foods for us
Like little pre-wrapped sausages and things

They have pre-wrapped sausages but they don’t have pre-wrapped bacon
Well, can you blame ’em
Uh, yeah

If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you a fur coat
(But not a real fur coat that’s cruel)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you an exotic pet
(Yep, like a llama or an emu)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you John Merrick’s remains
(Ooh, all them crazy elephant bones)
And If I had a million dollars I’d buy your love

If I had a million dollars
We wouldn’t have to walk to the store
If I had a million dollars
Now, we’d take a limousine ’cause it costs more
If I had a million dollars
We wouldn’t have to eat Kraft Dinner
But we would eat Kraft Dinner
Of course we would, we’d just eat more
And buy really expensive ketchups with it
That’s right, all the fanciest ke… dijon ketchups!
Mmmmmm, Mmmm-Hmmm

If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you a green dress
(But not a real green dress, that’s cruel)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you some art
(A Picasso or a Garfunkel)
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I’d buy you a monkey
(Haven’t you always wanted a monkey)

If I had a million dollars
I’d buy your love

If I had a million dollars, If I had a million dollars
If I had a million dollars, If I had a million dollars
If I had a million dollars
I’d be rich