Well, What Do You Know?

A couple of days ago I mentioned the topic of "Faith in Politics," more specifically the foolishness of asking any political figure at any time, "How does your faith guide you?"

Well today, yet again, we've been handed a frightening example of the dangerous way in which "faith" guides our idiot president.

Yesterday a declassified summary of the government's latest National Intelligence Estimate was released to the public; it states that -- and stop me if you've heard this one before -- we got it all wrong when it came to our alarmist theories about the imminent threat from an Iranian nuclear weapons program.

Never one to be deterred by the facts presented to him by his own people, President Bush immediately called a press conference to essentially plug his fingers in his ears and go "LA LA LA LA LA NOT LISTENING LA LA LA LA." For months now he and his delusional, lunatic Vice President have steadily increased the drumbeat heralding yet another potential war in the Middle-East, this time with Iran.

His predictably -- stupidly -- stubborn assertion now that he's been told that at the present time there's absolutely no evidence of a burgeoning Iranian nuclear threat?

It can be summed up in one mind-boggling sentence: Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there.

This is of course the kind of response you'd expect from a petulant six-year-old.

It's also the kind of willful proclamation of faith that's the accepted stock-and-trade of an entire Fundamentalist belief system. No wonder the Hardcore Jesus Folks love Bush so much.

What it highlights however is the danger inherent, even for a moment, in suspending the evidentiary burden of proof -- the one that all but the most irrational individual tends to apply in making 99% of his or her daily decisions. If you're willing to believe something as seemingly imperative as the demands of a supreme being without a shred of actual proof, then why shouldn't you also be willing to buy into something as insignificant -- in a relative sense -- as the idea that Iran has an invisible nuclear weapons program?

By that skewed standard, any leap of logic makes perfect sense.

Make no mistake, I have no doubt whatsoever that Iran can't be trusted. Unfortunately, so far our president has proven that he can't be.

And right now that proof will have to make the difference.

(I've chosen to gloss over the intricacies -- and there are so many -- of just how this all went down and what a major blow this report is to the sliver of worldwide credibility this administration has left. You can see a couple of takes on the infuriating details here and here. I also confess that I'm giving Bush the benefit of the doubt in suggesting that he truly believes that Iran is a threat; the more cynical and at this point even likely possibility is that he doesn't care one way or the other -- that he's simply seeking the same thing he and his Neo-Con pals always have: A war without end.)

And Now, an Open Letter to Al Sharpton

Dear Al,

It's been eating you alive, hasn't it?

You've been sitting there at home, fidgeting like a smack addict in need of a fix, desperate to satisfy the need that drives you 24/7 -- the one that calls out to you in the middle of the night and just won't go away until it's fed.

It's okay Al, I understand. It's not your fault; it's your disease.

You suffer from ADD. Attention Deficit Disorder.

Your body goes into withdrawals when you've been deprived of attention for too long.

It's a common condition these days, although you admittedly have a particularly acute case of it.

How long has it been for you Al? How long has it been since some negligibly curious racial controversy popped into the public consciousness and provided you the perfect gaping hole in which to insert yourself? When was the last time you got the chance to blow what might otherwise have been an innocuous and easily rectifiable situation completely out of proportion -- turning it into an international incident? When were you last afforded the perfect excuse to forego honest, constructive dialogue in favor of Draconian public demagoguery?

How long has it been since you've seen yourself on TV Al?

I know man, it hurts -- which is why Don Imus's return to the airwaves just couldn't have come at a better time.

I mean, despite it having been a legitimately contentious issue, the Jena Six thing worked out really well for you personally: it was just like the 60s what with that big march and all -- with you and Jesse getting to join together to create one big cacophonous wall of righteous indignation. But Imus, well that was your magnum opus -- a masterpiece of misdirection. During that whole sickening malignancy on the logic-and-reason center of the collective American brain you really made your presence known. You were the man of the hour, on every talk show and every panel of discussion, raising all kinds of hell and organizing all sorts of unnecessary marches and protests. You were almost single-handedly responsible for the downfall of a broadcasting icon -- an admittedly irrelevent icon, as easy a target as there ever was, but an icon nonetheless.

How it must've irritated you that Imus managed to somehow pull himself out of the hole you blithely dug for him.

Except that it didn't bother you at all, and you and I both know it.

The second coming of Imus presented you with the perfect Christmas gift: A brand new chance to dredge up all kinds of absurd acrimony over an old man's stupid, offhand comment -- a comment that was so laughably feeble from the outset that it still seems incomprehensible for it to have at one point occupied so much of America's attention.

So, last night, you once again got the fix of that precious spotlight -- the one you've been so desperately craving.

You turned up on Larry King Live, as well as a few other "news" shows. You were again welcomed with open arms and your opinions and supposed conventional wisdom were again treated with respect -- as if they held some sort of significance and weren't, in fact, little more than self-obsessed blather.

You were holding court, and it was good.

But here's the thing -- the big secret that someone with an ego as monumental as yours is probably unwilling or unable to admit to himself: The people who invited you on that show couldn't care less what you think. What you have to say doesn't matter half as much as how you say it. You're an instigator, and that's all that the brain-trusts behind Larry King and Hardball and O'Reilly and the rest of their ilk are looking for.

They want someone who makes for good TV.

They want a clown to entertain their audiences and keep them watching.

And you're it.

You never disappoint. You give them exactly what they're looking for, every single time.

While you sit in a studio howling and whining and haranguing and moralizing, trying as best you can to speak as loudly as you can into the microphone, a television producer turns giddy cartwheels in a control room, knowing that America probably won't be able to turn away.

But what's the harm really?

Everyone's getting what they want, right? You're playing them -- getting all that priceless face-time and maintaining your wholly undeserved place as an authority figure; they're playing you -- using your surefire buffoonery to create the kinds of contrived controversies that translate into one giant ratings bonanza again and again.

In the end, who loses?

We do of course.

That Man Begins

When it comes to movies, Christian Bale is to relaunches what Kevin Costner is to crap.

Over the weekend it was all-but-confirmed that Bale will take on the role of reluctant robot-killer John Connor in the next installment of the seemingly inexhaustible Terminator series -- Terminator Salvation: The Future Begins. Besides being saddled with a title that calls to mind memories of Remo Williams (whose "Adventure" began and ended almost simultaneously back in 1985), the new film will supposedly be a sort of Wonder Years of the Terminator canon, focusing solely on the good old days of Connor's early fight against Skynet and those evil self-aware machines bent on the destruction of mankind.

Producers plan to make T4 the first in a new Terminator trilogy.

It should be noted that despite his exceptional talents and willingness to immerse himself neck deep in a role -- eg: losing so much weight for The Machinist that he probably looked the way Stanislavski himself does these days -- Bale's last flirtation with full-on "post-apocalyptic" was 2002's Reign of Fire, a movie which had the distinction of unforgivably squandering what may have been the coolest idea ever to come out of a Hollywood pitch meeting.

Whether the new Terminator film is good or not, this move firmly cements Bale, who's already effectively resurrected Batman, as the king of the series relaunch.

So with that in mind, I offer a few suggestions as to some other floundering film franchises that Christian Bale might help revive.

American Pie Preheated

Christian Bale takes on the difficult and coveted role of Jim's Dad -- made famous by Catskills legend Eugene Levy -- in this prequel to the highly-successful American Pie series. Set in the early-60s, the film follows the exploits of "J.D." as he wantonly violates his mother's jars of Borscht at every opportunity, leading to the kind of hilarious misadventures and misunderstandings one would expect to find in any episode of Three's Company, only with more homoeroticism. Bale spent two years in Hebrew school and performed a self-circumcision to prepare for the part.

Robocop: Police Academy

Christian Bale is Alex Murphy, a cyborg police officer who goes back to the academy to whip a group of new recruits into shape before the city can be overrun by an army of Robo-Bobcat Goldthwaits. Steve Guttenberg makes a triumphant return to the big screen after spending the past few decades playing "Sir Douchebag of Hackensack" at the Medieval Times in Myrtle Beach. Also starring Kim Catrall as "The Whore," and Samuel L. Jackson as that asshole who makes all the noises.

The Naked Gun .45: Reloaded

Frank Drebin, Detective Lieutenant Police Squad is back. But this time, as played by Christian Bale, he has to hunt down one of his own, when Nordberg (O.J. Simpson) is accused of killing his wife and another man, then staging a violent sting operation in Las Vegas to -- as he puts it -- "get the motherfuckers who think they can steal my shit."

Bacon Begins

In this shockingly reimagined prequel to the 80s teen-sex comedy classic Porky's, Christian Bale is the titular character of the series, turning in a gritty portrayal of a young man's blood-soaked rise from Everglades trailer park manager to powerful and respected purveyor of redneck ass. Also starring Leonardo DiCaprio as "Pee-Wee," Harvey Keitel as "Meat" and Kim Catrall as "The Whore." Directed by Martin Scorcese.

Jumping Jaws

Christian Bale plays The Fonz, a nebbishy Jewish guy who has everyone convinced that he's actually America's coolest television character. He finds himself forced to do whatever it takes to perpetuate this ruse, even if it means jumping a killer shark just as the credits roll at the end of the first Jaws film, since it was pretty much all downhill from there.

Cobra Kai: The Other Karate Kid

Christian Bale turns in a searing performance as one of cinema's great misunderstood anti-heroes: John Kreese. Long after he was sensei of the feared Kobra Kai Dojo -- the most powerful martial arts school in the Eastern San Fernando Valley -- he was a struggling, alcoholic writer who moved into a motel room in Las Vegas with no way out, and no plan but to drink himself to death. Elisabeth Shue reprises her role as Ali Mills, now a hooker with a heart of gold and a weak spot for $3.99 prime rib. Also starring Hilary Swank as some guy.

Star Wars, Episode VII: Fuck You, It's Jar Jar

Christian Bale is the only organic, non-CGI entity in this sprawling epic brought to you by the man who spent six years building childhood memories for you that would've lasted a lifetime had he not then turned around and spent another six years smashing them into the ground like Joan Crawford on a meth binge.

Alien Re-resurrection

Christian Bale fights off an Alien attack on Earth, while simultaneously fighting off the advances of Winona Ryder, who mistakes him for a purposely disheveled Brit-pop musician. Hilarity ensues.

The Matrix Whatever

Screw it -- it's basically the same thing as The Terminator anyway.

Make My Holiday

You've gotta love San Francisco.

Over the weekend, the city that managed to give you both legal gay marriage and Dirty Harry held its second annual "Gifts for Guns" drive, which offered a gift card of up to $200 in exchange for each gun turned in.

The problem of course: since the gift cards can be applied to almost anything, some turning in their old weapons were heard joking that they plan to use their cards to rush right out and buy -- wait for it -- new guns.

Honestly, why bother with the exchange in the first place?

Technically, isn't a gun already the ultimate gift card?

Listening Post

Happy dreary, wintry Monday.

Here's a band that always deserved to be bigger in the states than they were.

From their 1997 album Attack of the Grey Lantern, this is Mansun's Wide Open Spaces.

And Now, for No Good Reason Whatsoever, My All-Time Favorite Commercial, Featuring the Coolest Motherfucker in the History of the Universe

Sunday Sacrilege