The Final Frontier...

Okay, I’m sure you’ve all heard the shocking news that is sure to be talked about for weeks and months, maybe even years to come… George Takei of Star Trek fame came out of the closet today. Yup, “Warp factor ten, Mr. Sulu” is gay.

Oh, you thought I was talking about Dick Cheney’s main man, I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby being indicted today? (And to digress, what the hell is up with that name? What does the ‘I’ stand for? Igor? Ichabod? And what about ‘Scooter’? I have a cat named Scooter and come to think of it, he’s a sneaky, secretive thing I wouldn’t trust for a second and is probably guilty of all kinds of things besides decapitating and munching on the neighborhood’s chipmunks.).

Well, okay, I was talking about the Libby indictment. I now look forward to the endless spin on this subject and the attacks on those at the center of this case. Not the man indicted, of course, I mean the people who handed down the indictments. Look to see the morals, ethics, and sanity of the prosecutor and the grand jury members questioned and pilloried ad nauseum. That’s how it works in DC, no matter who’s in power.

Me, I’m inclined to cut the jury some slack. I served on a grand jury a while back and every time I hear that old saw, “You can get a grand jury to indict a ham sandwich,” I see red. There were 22 people on that jury and we all took our jobs seriously. We looked at the evidence, heard the witnesses’ stories, discussed the crime in detail and made our decisions carefully. Even the chain-smoking housewife from Revere with the voice like rough pavement who declared every black defendant guilty and every black witness a liar took indictments seriously--frequently surprising me by voting based on the crime and not her somewhat muddled opinions.

The Libby story will of course bury Mr. Sulu’s shocking confession (well, shocking to some folks anyway; Star Trek nation is known for its tolerance and probably won’t give two Tribbles about the news). The story has also conveniently buried the Harriet Miers Supreme Court nomination withdrawal. Talk about good timing…

Janet – No power in the ’verse can stop me!

You've come a long way, baby...

Anyone watching TV this season knows it's the year of the woman. Let me amend that, the year of the young, thin, troubled woman. With the exception of those “Desperate Housewives,” who are the requisite bag-of-bones but not so young, and the positively ancient Madame President, Geena Davis (whose real name is Virginia; I know this because in one of the 37 jobs I’ve had was assigned to find this out). Quibbles aside, it’s heartening to see more female-centered drama on the tube. It’s as if the TV execs suddenly discovered what I’ve known all along—women watch more TV than men—and they’re finally giving us something to watch. As long as you don’t take it too seriously. TV is a fantasy land, populated by people who do not resemble real folks in any way. I’ve tuned in to a few of the female-friendly shows and this is what I’ve learned:

• All female district attorneys are crusading. They also wear Giorgio Armani power suits, size 2 of course, and pricey Manolo Blahniks—on an ADAs salary. They win every case, unless William Shatner is the defense attorney and he charms them into kicking off their Manolos for a quickie in the courthouse copier room.
• All Medical Examiners are female and have the (unrequited) hots for the gruff but hunky police detective/FBI investigator she constantly butts heads with. “Crossing Jordan,” and the new “Bones” are prime examples of this. Plus, all MEs become intimately involved in the investigation which includes going into the field, being shot at, pushed off a building, strangled, and flipped off and/or insulted by the perp. With little damage to their Giorgio Armani suit and Manolos, of course.
• All housewives are desperate. All suburban mothers are whippet-thin and have horrible secrets that could destroy their marriage, friendships, careers or all three if it got out. This is only partly true. We’re not all thin, except for that group that lives over there on Anorexia Lane, but we all have secrets. Mine is so awful it could destroy SOCIETY if it were revealed; well, okay, you beat it out of me—I can’t bake! I burn brownies and char cookies. My children are scarred for life! (My other secret is I can’t cook—my motto: when the smoke alarm goes off, it’s done!)
• All female FBI agents had or are having an affair with their boss, a co-worker, the brother of a co-worker, the sister of a co-worker… Well, that last one’s not true, yet; I’m sure there will come a time when the female agent will be gay (or more likely bi. That’ll ahook the male audience taking a break from sports for a quick look-see at “Without a Trace”). These FBI lesbians will of course be gorgeous size 2s who dress in designer duds and Manolos.
• All female FBI agents come from troubled backgrounds. Daddy didn’t love them, Daddy abused them, Momma was dirt po’ and on and on. It’s interesting these “troubled” babes look ab-fab and work in high-caliber jobs that require some smarts and a boatload of edumacation when in reality the abused, po’, unloved lady would most likely be battling an eating disorder and nicotine addiction while juggling her six kids from five different fathers and her three jobs at the Safeway, Lou’s Diner, and weekends at Dunkin’ Donuts. I’m just saying…
• And finally, all Ghost Whisperers or Buffy-clones never crack a smile (with the exception of P. Arquette’s “Medium” but more about the ten reasons I love “Medium” in another post). It all began with “X-Files” Agent Scully, who only smiled once in the 27 years she was on the show, being chased by slug-monsters and such. And that was when she had gas from the slug-monster she accidentally ingested. Those women have a mission to accomplish—to expose paranormal fraud, kill Vampires, or help the dead find their graves so they’ll get the hell out of my bathroom. This is no time to smile. But it is time to look fabulous, in their Giorgio Armani suits and Manolos.

Janet - No power in 'verse can stop me...

So, you wanna be on the Supreme Court?

...That was what I imagined W saying to Harriet after knocking back a bourbon & Coke one evening last week. Well, bourbon & Coke for Harriet, Coke only for our on-the-wagon Prez; which gets me wondering—after everything that’s happened while he’s been in office, don’t you think he’s been tempted? Just a little sip, you know, to calm the nerves? I know I would’ve.

But I digress… Of all the legal-eagles in all the courthouses in all the world, W had to go with the dame across the hall for the highest court in the land. As Captain Mal on Serenity says, “What in the sphincter of hell is goin' on here?” Were all the other judicial candidates too busy consulting on Law & Order and its myriad spin-offs to take the job? Or is W just plumb lazy?

The thing that concerns me about Harriet Miers is not her politics, or lack thereof, nor her complete unknownability (okay, I just made that up, but it’s kind of a fun word, ain’t it?). The thing that’s got me going uh-oh about her is the fact that she's a workaholic. I heard a report that said she typically arrives at work at 5 in the morning and often leaves as late as 10 at night. (I think Monica Lewinsky was similarly dedicated to her “job” but she had the opposite schedule, arriving well after dark and skulking out in the wee hours. But I digress again…)

I think a workaholic is a bad choice for a judge and that’s because they WORK ALL THE TIME. They don’t live, they don’t play, they don’t interact with other humans on a non-get-me-that-report-by-five kind of way. How can they judge if they don’t know anything about the real world? I can’t see Harriet leaving the office early to play on the Supremes softball team (Scalia to Ginsberg to Thomas—triple play!). I can see her putting in supremely long hours on the bench, ruling that businesses can institute an 80-hour work week with no extra pay and no pee breaks because, “Hey, I did it. Lunch and pee breaks are for wimps!”

Of course, I could be wrong (I have been occasionally and am not shy about admitting it). She could turn out to be the fairest judge in the land. She might even knock off early sometimes to knock back a few bourbons & Coke with the big guy. Coke only for W, of course.

Janet – No power in the ‘verse can stop me (except maybe a Supreme workaholic!)

Serenity Now...and Again!

GO SEE SERENITY.

That's my rant for this week. Not really a rant since Serenity was great and I have nothing to complain about. It's funny, sad, exciting, scary, everything you could want in a movie, plus Captain Tightpants. "Mal" does wear some very tight pants and they look fabulous up on the big screen. In one scene though, he wears loose pants. Shirtless and in loose pants that slip down from his waistband, accentuating but not quite revealing Nathan Fillion's awesome booty. I saw the movie twice to make sure I fully absorbed how important Nathan Fillion's bottom was to the plot.

Oh, and I saw it twice for the story, too. Joss Whedon did not fail to deliver something both fans of his TV show Firefly and newbies would enjoy. I was riveted both times I saw Serenity and plan to see it a couple more times too. I don't do that much--only film I've seen twice so far this year was Batman Begins and that was because it was good, had lots of depth and great characters (with the exception of Katie Holmes as a cliche crusading ADA)--just like Serenity!

My sons' friends who saw the movie with hubby and me all loved it, too. We had a dozen boys with us in total over the two viewings and not one of them left their seat, not one of them checked their cell phones to see what time it was, not one of them yapped or kicked my seat. But most of them missed the credits--during the closing, there was a mad dash for the bathroom. That's a good movie!

Janet - No power in the 'verse can stop me!