Author: wdfyfe

Before WD called himself a writer, he worked at a number of different jobs from stacking lumber to interior design. He studied English at UBC and creative writing at ASU where one of his teachers, Rita Dove, taught him the importance of the tale. He has written for radio, magazines and newspapers, but never television. He’s published both fiction and nonfiction in Great Britain and the US. He reads French passably and speaks enough Spanish to get from A to B and find the toilet. He has interviewed John Cleese, Peter Ustinov, Margaret Drabble, Kenneth Branagh and enough other famous people to make him a hopeless name dropper. His not-so-secret passions are history and trivia, and he has never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit — although he did come 4th one drunken Quiz Night at the Uxbridge in Notting Hill. He lives on the Pacific Ocean, although, not close enough to see, so he spends his days looking at a computer screen. It’s a wonderful life and he has only one regret: he can’t type faster.

Think About It!

thinkPeople don’t think anymore.  I’m not talking about stupid people, although the 21st century seems to have an extra ration of them.  Nor am I talking about daydreaming, the gentle art of thinking about everything and nothing, all at the same time.  I’m talking about the act of thinking.  The activity whose only purpose is to produce thoughts (random and otherwise.)  Basically, we’re so damn busy doing stuff that we never actually think.  Our multitasking universe just doesn’t allow for it.  It’s considered lazy.  So we fill our random time with “busy” that looks and feels like we’re doing something.  The problem is it’s mostly crap like playing with our phones or watching TV.  But we believe action (even something as passive as surfing YouTube) is better than just staring off into space, thinking about it.  Horse feathers!

Take a look at Newton.  The reason Sir Isaac figured out gravity was he was sitting under the apple tree in the first place — doing nothing.  (BTW, I know the story’s a myth but …)  My point is, instead of texting his BFF John Locke a picture of an apple, Newton took the time to contemplate why the apple fell to the ground instead of just floating in the air.  Voila!  Gravity!

I realize we’re not all scientific geniuses like Newton and for the most part ordinary thoughts are — well — ordinary, but so what?  The purpose of thinking is to give the mind something to do.

Look at the person running on a treadmill.  They’re not fleeing for their lives; they’re not chasing anything; they’re not even going anywhere.  Actually, it’s a useless activity except common wisdom dictates people who don’t exercise end up sloppy, fat bastards, lying on a sofa, eating Doritos and watching old Michael Bay movies for the storyline.  Eeeww!

The mind works the same way.  If we don’t exercise it, our decision making, problem-solving and critical analysis become flabby.  A meme is easier to read than an essay, a soundbyte easier to analyze than a debate, and simple problems become overwhelming.  It’s a dangerous road we’re travelling, and if we’re not careful, we could end up in a society wallowing in celebrity worship, entirely dominated by Kim Kardashian’s bum, Donald Trump’s hairstyle and … Hey! Wait a minute … I think I’m going to go find a tree and just sit there for awhile.

Is NOTHING Sacred?

sevenI didn’t bitch when you turned the Green Hornet into a lard-ass slacker.  I didn’t complain when you made the Lone Ranger and Tonto look like a couple of transcendental boobs.    Hell, I even bit my tongue over the Ben Affleck Batman affair.  There’ve been so many Batmans (Batmen?) anyway that nobody cares anymore.  (Actually, a lot of people think that Cate Blanchett should take a crack at the cowl.0  But there is a point when every person has to cowboy-up and finally say WTF?  I’m talkin’ to you, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  What, by all that’s holy, gave you the idea you could remake The Magnificent Seven?  THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN?  Arguably the best Western ever made (sorry, High Noon) and you think you can just casually redo it?  For shame!  Five shame!

Here’s the deal.  If — maybe — perhaps — you got Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Charlize Theron, Russell Crowe, Jason Statham, Idris Elba and if Steve McQueen came back from the dead to play Vin, then I might consider it.  Otherwise, you’re sucking pond water.  In fact, you’re just cashing in on a famous name, you insatiable whores!

And it’s not as if Hollywood has any kind of a track record for treating the classics with any class.  Look at these less than honourable money grabs:

Star Trek – In an alternative reality (shoot me in the head, right here!) Kirk is an overgrown juvenile delinquent, Old Spock wanders around looking miserable, young Spock has a temper tantrum (and, oddly enough, a girlfriend) Sulu looks as if he’s lost without Kumar, and the one requirement to command a Starship is you show up on a motorcycle and eat apples!

King Kong – What Peter Jackson did to that monkey oughta be illegal.  Where the hell is PETA when you need them?

The Ladykillers – Every once in a while, the Coen bros go nuts and think they’re cinematic gods.  This movie proves them wrong.  Tom Hanks should have run screaming from the studio when he read the script.  Unfortunately, he didn’t.  Now, he wakes up every morning and begs the ghost of Alec Guinness for forgiveness.

Around the World in Eighty Days – Turning a 50s epic into a Jackie Chan kungfu movie is bad enough.  However, trying to shoehorn homage to Michael Todd with cameos by Schwarzenegger, Cleese. Johnny Depp and the brothers Wilson is just insulting the guy’s memory.

Planet of the Apes – Mark Wahlberg spends most of the movie looking surprised that he’s even in this movie, Charlton Heston plays an ape, Paul Giamatti is an unusually short orangutan and Helena Bonham Carter plays a chimp (with mixed results.)  The plot is based on coincidence, the climax is like five seconds long, the ending is stupid and when Wahlberg and Bonham Carter get all inter-species, the whole thing just gets icky.

The Wicker Man – Nicholas Cage deserves the bees.

Alice in Wonderland – Every stoner east of Malibu Bay is saying “Whoa!  Alice gets a sword!  Cool!”  The Mad Hatter is a demented revolutionary.  They stole the White Queen from the Wizard of OZ and Helena Bonham Carter plays herself (with mixed results.)  And the frightening thing is Disney did it to themselves.

I’m not even going to get into Psycho, Swept Away, Godzilla or The Pink Panther.

Hollywood needs to just stop.  The Magnificent Seven?  My God! What next?  Gone with the Wind?  Casablanca?  Leonardo diCaprio as the Little Tramp?

I’ve had enough.  If there are no original ideas left south of the San Fernando Valley, so be it, but quit carving up other people’s masterpieces!

FICTION

afterwordsAFTER WORDS

This was the third night the lights had come flashing into the bedroom window.  Six of them — each with a separate rhythm.  It was like music shining through the night and the half-light city.

The first night, she’d woken her boyfriend to show him, but he’d hurmphed and wouldn’t get out of bed.  She told him about it in the morning, but he yeah, yeah, yeahed her and went to work.  On the second night, she didn’t even bother trying to wake him up and went outside instead.  The lights were over the garden, moving and twinkling like halogen fairies  She found herself tapping her bare foot in the grass and swaying her hips.  And then she was dancing with them.  She reached her hands up and they came down to her, just out of reach.  Were they singing?  Then they were gone.

Tonight, she was ready.  She waited like child-time Christmas, too excited to sleep.  And there they were.  She went outside and, laughing, pointed the flashlight into the sky, clicking it on and off to a nursery rhyme rhythm.  The lights stopped twinkling and shone directly at her.  There was a tiny hum.  Sara thought she was thirsty.  It was the last thought on Earth as the Athorians reversed the electrical charge on hydrogen and instantly dehydrated the entire planet into dust.  Moving through the drifting leftover cloud to avoid the Moon careening towards the Sun, they wondered why such a primitive species as humans would suddenly declare war on them — for no apparent reason.

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