Just taking back control of this blog. Hopefully, more comments forthcoming.

---

WEATHER REPORT

More evidence of global warming.

---

THE SPACE RACE IS NOT OVER

Living in Prague with only FoxNews (yikes) and the occasional phone call home to give me context on what's going on Stateside, I had no idea that the rest of America is as inspired as I am by the Spirit rover landing on Mars. (If you'd also like to read my thoughts on this, you can scroll down here to Dec. 26.)

And, all politics aside, I am also inspired by what President Bush has planned for the space program in the next few years. If the Democratic presidential candidates would take off their stupid-caps for just a few minutes, they'd realize that nobody is going to buy into the criticism that Bush is pandering for votes with his proposal. Endorsing this kind of visionary program -- particularly after a time of economic uncertainty -- is an act of political courage, especially when he knows he's only going to be savaged by his opponents for it.

When Bush gave an "onward and upward" speech in the aftermath of the Columbia disaster, I thought he was just blowing empty rhetoric. After all, what else was he going to say? But I can see now that I misread his actual thinking on the matter. We are witnessing true leadership here, not some fallow electoral gamesmanship. And I have yet to see this kind of imagination, conviction and risk-taking on any issue of substance from any of the Democratic contenders thus far.

---

...SO LONG AS THEY SPELL YOUR NAME RIGHT

And with Democratic presidential junior-varsity contender Dennis Kucinich, that's not always a guarantee. But the Ohio congressman has been riding in the caboose of the campaign train for so long -- he's sittin' behind Al Sharpton, fer chrissakes -- that headline writers haven't exactly had to memorize its spelling, even though he was railing against the Iraq war from back when Howard Dean was just two first names in Vermont.

But this story is probably not the kind of publicity he was hoping to receive from the latest Democratic candidates debate...

---

The movie American Splendor took Best Picture honors from the U.S. National Society of Film Critics this week, so in recognition of that I thought I'd post a review that I wrote for a major online entertainment site last year, after it screened at the Karlovy Vary Film Festival.

So far as I can tell, it's not yet been scheduled to open in Prague, so hunt down the video at your local store when you get the chance.

---

AMERICAN SPLENDOR

Adapted & directed by Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini

The best film screened at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival was not actually in the official competition (though it did win the Main Jury Prize at Sundance). Despite being a huge comics fan, I admit that I've never checked out Harvey Pekar's much-launded title American Splendor; but after seeing the film this week, it's going to be the first thing I pick up when I visit a comics shop back in the States.

Or maybe I'll just catch a weekender flight to England and hunt for a comics shop in Newcastle.

Hell, does Amazon.com deliver to the Czech Republic?

AMERICAN SPLENDOR, the film, is actually an adaptation of two of Pekar's works -- the title book, and its related graphic novel, Our Cancer Year. But, in truth, it's much more: because the film is not simply a comic book adaptation; it's a documentary, a biopic, an autobiopic, a making-of-the-movie featurette edited into the movie, and even panels from the comic book animated directly onto the screen.

Sounds like it could be a glorified mess? Well, it could be... except that it isn't. Instead, it's an act of brilliance, one of the most daringly executed concepts in comic book filmmaking.

Comic book panels turn into filmed shots. Filmed shots turn into comic book panels. The actors walk off the set in the middle of a scene, only to be replaced by the real people they portray in the film. Interviews and archival footage (particularly those from Pekar's notorious appearances on the David Letterman show) are interspersed with re-enacted scenes, used both to comment on events and also as part of the narrative itself.

And sometimes directors Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini simply film static panels from the comics to bridge parts of the story -- a technique which sounds like it would stink, except for the fact that it works perfectly. There's even a third twist, in which the film re-enacts a Los Angeles-based theatrical adaptation of Pekar's comics, with yet another set of actors performing the main roles.

And this does not yet even mention the comedy genius of the story itself. Pekar, working on autobiographical underground comic books with his friend Robert Crumb (who, Pekar deadpans, "already had his own movie"), populated his stories with the quirky events and bizarre characters that made up his otherwise tedious real life as a file clerk in a Cleveland veteran's hospital. (Pekar continued to work this job until retirement, even after he had gained national fame and semi-fortune from his comic books.)

In fact, one character seems so patently absurd that you almost have to know it's an exaggeration -- until at precisely the right moment, the actor walks out of the scene, and is replaced by the actual person, who you suddenly realize had been depicted note-perfectly all along. Pekar's angst-ridden observations are also sublime -- such as the excruciating decision of which line to get in at the supermarket, when you know you're invariably going to get stuck behind a kvetching old lady who can't figure out what the word "dozen" is supposed to mean.

Paul Giamatti, who seems to be making a career out of playing real people (Bob Zmuda in Man On The Moon, Pig Vomit in Howard Stern's Private Parts), delivers a dead-on portrayal of Pekar, capturing exactly his perpetually unfolding misery as well as his hilariously ironic sense of humor that nevertheless makes him all the more cranky. ("I'm a gloomy guy," the real Pekar says at one point, in a moment of utter understatement.) Giamatti also delivers an insanely accurate rendition of the frenetic mania that goes into record collecting (which any comic fan will be able to identify with) as well as the middle-age, blue-collar American rage that will be familiar to anyone whether they're a comics fan or not.

Among the supporting cast, Hope Davis is outstanding as Joyce, the fan who becomes Pekar's wife after an impulsive trip to Cleveland, and later conceives of the book "Our Cancer Year" as a way of helping Harvey through his battle with lymphoma. Comedian Judah Friedlander, meanwhile, does a fantastic rendition of Pekar's ultra-geeky friend Toby, who in one scene delivers a side-splitting analysis of the movie Revenge Of The Nerds and eventually becomes an MTV uber-dork celebrity in his own right, thanks to Harvey's comic books.

Since comic books are still regarded as a ghetto industry among creative types (let alone underground comics), and comic book flicks are usually relegated to the summer-popcorn superhero genre, I'm concerned that not enough people will give this film the chance that it deserves, especially at awards time. Perhaps Road To Perdition (another comic book movie) will have changed all that, but I'm merely hoping that critics and the public see this film as the cinematic achievement that it really is: just as splendid as its title would have you believe.

---

DONALD DUCK, RELOADED

I've gotten a number of requests to repost the link to the Best Disney Ride Ever.

Just don't ask me why Donald's smiling like that. I don't wanna know.

---

CHARLIE HUSTLER

For those who are interested in baseball and don't mind reading a long post, here's a column I've written on Pete Rose:

After nearly 15 years, Pete Rose -- who tagged more hits than anyone in the history of baseball -- has finally admitted what we all knew already: that in his gambling scandals of the late-1980s, he not only bet on baseball, but actually bet on his own team at the same time that he was managing it.

Rose's mea culpa comes only after it became overwhelmingly obvious that the commissioner's office had no plans to lift his lifetime exile from baseball, which prevents him from becoming an all-but-guaranteed entrant to the Hall of Fame. It also comes suspiciously close to the publication of Rose's new autobiography, in which he -- gasp! -- admits in print to his gambling offenses (his last autobio, in 1989, denied the charges), no doubt because his new publisher demanded a sexy "hook" on which to market a book by an otherwise disgraced sports hero.

There are those who say that Rose's on-field heroics should stand alone when considering whether he should be entitled to the Hall of Fame. But set aside for a moment the role-model question of whether sports heroes should live up to the word "hero" as much as the word "sport"; consider instead the fact that Rose betting on his own team already directly implicates the team's accomplishments on the field.

Did Rose ever use a pitcher that he should have rested for another game, because he had money riding on this one? Did he ever deliberately sabotage a game for a bookie he owed money to, as a way to escape a gambling debt? Rose's actions call into question the credibility of every game that his team won or lost during the entire time that he was betting on baseball.

Meanwhile, that doesn't even begin to address Rose's ongoing deceptions to the American public, which continued for nearly 15 years even after he was already caught. In fact, it was Rose himself who voluntarily agreed to his lifetime ban in 1989 (to end the investigation into his conduct), in exchange for not having to publicly admit his wrongdoing. Rose probably couldn't believe his gambler's luck when Baseball Commissioner Bart Giamatti died less than a month after they reached their agreement, giving him and his fans the ghost of a scapegoat who couldn't scape back whenever they wanted to bemoan his career's ignominious fate.

Even now, as Rose finally acknowledges his conduct, he does so not out of an attack of conscience, or an altruistic desire to clear a blemish from the books of baseball, but out of a naked grasp at personal gain: to make bucks off of his book (initial print run: 500,000), and to see himself inducted into the Hall of Fame. (Since Rose retired in 1986, he's only got two more years in which his name is eligible for regular admission.) It's no mistake that Rose's admission and book release come just before and after the league announces its 2004 inductees: he knows that when people talk about the new Hall of Famers, they'll also be talking about him.

But in admitting his conduct, Rose even now remains his own worst enemy: former Baseball Commissioner Fay Vincent said that Rose "confronts his past with very little remorse," and Rose's own comments do little to acquit himself, reflecting an almost utter denial about who exactly is responsible for his predicament.

He virtually inadvertently acknowledges that the only reason he's talking straight about his past now is for his own personal benefit, telling ABC news, "I just never had the opportunity to tell anybody that was going to help me." And then, like a former Buffalo Bills running back suffering through life on the public links, he even portrays himself as the victim, comparing his life of comfort, laurels and $100 autographs to a corpse hanging from a tree limb: "It's like I died and, and they knew I died, and they didn't want to bring me back. They were just going to let me rot."

But even after all of this, there are those who still think that the sheer magnitude of Rose's accomplishments -- 17-time All-Star, former National League MVP, 4,256 career hits over 24 years, and a Big Red Machine work ethic that earned him the nickname "Charlie Hustle" -- should entitle him to the Hall of Fame, regardless of his other actions. But this type of thinking seriously misjudges the dynamic that led to the American public to overlook Bill Clinton's transgressions: the public accepted Clinton's apology as punishment, however insincere, because they liked the job he was doing as president and they didn't want to lose him. They knew that simply getting caught isn't much of a consequence for breaking the rules, but that principle was, for whatever bad reason, less important to the American people than the fact that it might actually cost them something.

Pete Rose, on the other hand, is already lost. He won't ever take the field professionally again, and can't be trusted to even manage from the dugout. He broke some of the most essential rules that safeguard the integrity of baseball, then got caught, lied to everyone like a temperamental child for 15 years, and now expects that the only penalty for his conduct should be that he admits to it.

If Rose had been merely an average player, the question of his reinstatement would never even come up. So why should the fact that he was a clutch hitter let him off the hook? A kid who hits the ball through the neighbor's window gets punished for it, whether he's a straight-A student or not. Michael Jordan should get called for traveling whether nor not he's Michael Jordan. Bill Clinton shouldn't be allowed to commit perjury, no matter how well the economy is doing. And Pete Rose should be held accountable for his actions, even if he's the best hitter in the history of baseball.

The fact is, without the threat of consequence, there's nothing to stop other players from succumbing to the temptation of breaking the rules -- especially the better ones, who have sometimes long been raised to believe, from high school teachers who padded their grades to colleges who let them attend for free, that they are entitled to different treatment than everyone else. It's why a player like Shoeless Joe Jackson -- probably the most innocent member of the Chicago Black Sox -- has never been admitted to the Hall Of Fame, even with his extraordinary athletic accomplishments, and despite the fact that the 1919 World Series fixing scandal is today little more than a sepia-stained memory.

I recognize Rose's accomplishments. I understand why so many baseball fans want to see him honored. And the truth is, to that limited extent, I actually agree with them.

Should Shoeless Joe Jackson be allowed in the Hall Of Fame? Sure.

Should Charlie Hustle? Absolutely.

But not Pete Rose.

---

THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES

I hope everybody had a Happy New Year. Me, I've come down with another bad cold, probably to pay for my sins of Silvestr, which involved flaming Absinthe, a giant satellite dish in the middle of the Czech countryside and a kung-fu fighting tree stump (you had to be there) .

So it was tremendously uplifting for my spirits to see the Spirit probe from NASA land safely on Mars and send back some great pictures.

Does anyone else not share my uninhibited enthusiasm for this accomplishment? We are actually seeing images broadcast from the surface of another planet. To me, that just blows my socks off.

I'm still holding out hope that the Europeans will be able to get a signal from their Beagle 2 probe, but if that fails, we still have the expected landing of the NASA Opportunity probe on Jan. 24 to look forward to.

Add to that the successful Stardust probe, which caught a comet by the tail this past week, and I'm happy to say that -- pardon the pun -- it's been a stellar start of the New Year for space exploration.

---

NOT QUITE THE NOBEL, BUT...

Okay, so it's not the Nobel Prize, but Czech ex-President Vaclav Havel will receive the Ghandi Peace Prize at a ceremony in India today. This is particularly interesting, in the context of Havel's support of the Bush administration's position on Iraq in the lead-up to the war.

On the other hand, I suppose, it demonstrates that peace can indeed be gained through strength, as well as appeasement.

---

JFK, HOWARD DEAN AND 'HATING BUSH'

For those who want a bit of perspective on the evolving dynamic of U.S. presidential elections, this week marked the 44th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's announcement that he would be running for president of the United States. For modern-day comparison, speculation began by the end of last year that former Vermont Gov. Howard Dean had already sewn up the nomination of his party, weeks before even the first caucuses in Iowa.

This is partly the fault of Democratic National Committee Chair Terry McCauliffe, a handpicked Clintonista who front-loaded the primaries so that the party would have a clear nominee by March, only to have the plan backfire when an anti-Clinton liberal seized control of the party's passions.

But it's much more a consequence of the central role that political consultants and campaign fundraising now play in the electoral process: if you want to win, you've got to get out there and raise money early, as well as hire the best spinmasters, before the other guy does. The whole setup has horribly corrupted the process, and if ever there was an issue that I agreed with John McCain about, this would be it.

But despite the campaign reforms of the past few years, political operatives have responded by circumventing them with the smug enthusiasm of a frustrated Napster user downloading Kazaa. The "Hate Bush" event organized by the wife of Hollywood comedy writer Larry David is the perfect example of this: When campaign finance laws began to limit "hard money" contributions to candidates, the focus shifted to political party donations; but now that laws are finally regulating this "soft money," private-interest groups like the one behind the Hate Bush event have begun soliciting unregulated money, for their own independent politicking.

The problem is that, like the record labels in their unfolding failure to sue Kazaa, campaign finance reform has reached the limit of what it can legally regulate. The federal government might be able to justify regulating the conduct of political parties, but it could not even begin to regulate the discourse of private citizens over the choice of their political leaders -- and nor should it. (In fact, can you imagine what the U.S. government would say about another country doing this?)

Which means that, like so much else in American society, it falls to the citizens to regulate themselves. After all of the public outcry for campaign finance reform, and complaints about the corrupting influence of money in the political process, you'd think that Americans would withhold their donations from these groups, would put public pressure on organizers to curtail their activities, and would support candidates who actively discourage these people.

But Americans are sometimes nothing if not their own worst enemy. Liberals like those at the Hate Bush rallies are the ones who pressed hardest for campaign finance reform; but now that they have it, they're the first ones to regret what they wished for. It's time for other Americans to reassert its virtue again.

---

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Hi, everyone! I'm leaving today for a friend's cottage in the Czech countryside to celebrate Silvestr, so I'll see you all in the new year. Have a happy and safe holiday all.

---

OK, HIS BED MUST BE REALLY CROWDED NOW

Lost in the hoopla over the Michael Jackson interview with 60 Minutes on CBS was the fact that the network peddled the broadcast of his postponed album-promoting music special in exchange for his agreement to appear on the news program.

Think what you want about Jackson -- guilty, innocent, unknown, etc. -- but this egregious violation of the separation between the entertainment and news divisions at CBS should simply shock the conscience of any reputable journalist. At best, it's checkbook journalism; and at worst, it's first cousin to bibery -- as in: "Give us an interview, and we'll finally air that special of yours we've been holding back."

There's been so much ravenous attention paid to the lurid details of Jackson's bedroom habits that this ethical digression simply slipped past most journalists undetected. In fact, the Associated Press even praised it as a "coup," noting that the program has been "enjoying a ratings renaissance the past few months."

The producers at 60 Minutes would never openly acknowledge this kind of uniformly-derided practice... but, thankfully, the entertainment executives at CBS have no such discretion. From the Reuters News Service:

In addition to the "60 Minutes" interview, CBS said that an hourlong Jackson music special that was canceled the day after authorities raided his Neverland Ranch has been rescheduled for Friday, Jan. 2.

CBS spokesman Chris Ender said Jackson's "60 Minutes" interview cleared the way for the network to resurrect the music special. "The timing is better," Ender told Reuters. "We wouldn't have rescheduled the entertainment special if he hadn't."

Ed Bradley, j'accuse.

---

RAPPER'S DELIGHT

Thanks to my friend Justin, I think we may have found the next Star Wars Kid.