MARIE KAMARA MONK WAS AN ACTOR

So many people claim to be that which they are not — as if the mere act of saying it makes it so.

When Marie Kamara Monk called herself an actor — it was the truth.

She had the talent, she had the passion and she did the work. Those of us fortunate enough to have crossed her path are better for it.

In the theater, an old adage is that we can learn all we need to know about someone by his or her work on the stage. In the acting, the person will be revealed.

Time and again, Marie revealed herself to be compassionate, committed, insightful, fiercely intelligent and very funny.

And courageous.

I had no idea that Marie had lupus, a much-misunderstood disease that my wife Lisa lives with as well. Knowing the great challenges lupus can present, it only deepens my respect for Marie's commitment to acting and my admiration for her artistry.

I would urge you to take this opportunity to learn a little about lupus. Its quite possible someone you know has it.

I would also urge you — as I urge myself — to embrace Marie's example.

To run out of excuses.

I knew Marie only in the classroom and saw her on the stage.

Those who knew her better than I have eloquently and beautifully remembered her.

I will only add this:

Marie Kamara Monk was an actor.


She will be greatly missed.

Click here to see Marie's tribute in the Columbus Dispatch.

A TWO-FER ... BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT

I accept the charge of sour grapes right from the get-go. It is the birthright of all Philadelphia sports fans — unmitigated grousing and finger-pointing.

Now that we have that out of the way ...

The guy pictured above just turned in what may be the worst performance by a home-plate umpire in a World Series Game. And since he was perpetrating this travesty against my beloved Philadelphia Phillies, I wanted to stick my fingers deep into his eyes with each mind-blowing mistake he made.

His name is Kerwin Danley and I do not like him.

I would appreciate it greatly if you would make an effort to dislike him as well.

Boy, did he suck in Game Two of the World Series tonight — blown calls, weird indecision and a strike zone that was more unpredictable than Tom Sizemore with an eightball, a strap-on and a blowtorch.

But, in truth, we can't lay all the blame for tonight's Phillies loss at Kerwin Danley's feet.

The poor Fightin' Phils are taking an historic collar with guys on base. It is as if we are watching the same inning over and over. A couple of guys get on base, then anemia sets in and Phillies are waving at the ball like Ms. Montgomery County.

Now before you say,

"Hold on there, armchair. You have no idea how hard it is to hit a major league fastball or curveball. No idea at all!!"

I'd like to illustrate just how knowledgeable I am about trying to do the near-impossible — which is to hit good pitching.

In my freshman year of high school — I went out for the baseball team at Archbishop Carroll. I had occasion to secure one at-bat during a practice game against Penn Charter, a school renowned for producing Tony Resch and soon to be exalted for producing Thomas Noonan.

This at-bat pitted the scrawny, bespectacled and jittery me against the strapping local legend-in-the-making known as Mark Gubicza.

With a helmet too loose and a bat too heavy, I dug in against the man-child.

The first pitch, I believe, I never even saw. Fastball.

Strike One.

The second pitch I'm certain I never saw. Fasterball.

Strike Two.

With an ill-advised brief burst of courage, I inched closer to protect the plate.

The third pitch headed straight for my face. I buckled, cringed and otherwise Cirque de Soleiled. The ball broke across the heart of the plate as I ended the pose looking like a flamingo having a seizure. Curveball.

Strike Three.

The at-bat lasted roughly forty seconds.

The next day I went out for the golf team.

So I have some kernel of insight into how tough hitting is but ...

COULD THE FUCKING PHILLIES GET ONE CLUTCH HIT!?! ONE!?! ITS THEIR CHOSEN PROFESSION AFTER ALL!!

Okay.

Number Two:

Seriously, "I Am Joe the Plumber?"

Really?

Is that what people are buying now? Is that really the deciding factor for the incomprehensibly still undecided voters?

"I Am Joe the Plumber."

Are you?

You're a lying sack of shit who has never been a plumber and goes deadbeat on taxes and compares Barack Obama to Sammy Davis, Jr.?

Awesome.

It was recently suggested to me that it is easy to misinterpret the likes of Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and Bill O'Reilly.

So in my car today, I flipped to Rush Limbaugh's show. I took it as a challenge. I'll listen — in context — and see if I can keep from screaming "Asshole. Liar. Most dangerous man in America!"

I couldn't.

He talked about elitists and couched it in a soundbite from an interview Brian Williams did with John McCain and Sarah Palin.

Palin's part of the sound bite was another variation on her patented "My name is Elmer J. Fudd. I own a mansion and a yacht."

McCain expounded on where elitists could be found.

Washington D.C. and New York — in case you were curious.

McCain said elitists were anyone who thinks they know better than you do and want to control you.

Limbaugh then blustered that McCain was right — that it was all about condescension.

And that was enough.

These aren't serious people. They're name-calling, misleading and playing games while the country is in genuine turmoil. And, worse yet, if they are attempting profundity and clarity — then they are lacking in even the most basic self-awareness or insight.

Condescension runs through every vein of John McCain. Of the four people in this race, he has been — by far — the most privileged.

Sarah Palin's audacious disregard for us is clear — she will not deign to actually answer questions or speak in any way, shape or form that leads you to believe what she's saying. Either she thinks we're all too stupid to know the difference — or she is.

And ultimately — if the elusive no-name elitists you hear about every day really are those who think they know better than you do and want to control you — look no further than your neighbor's church. Any rival congregation will do.

There are no terrorists, communists, socialists or elitists running for president.

We desperately need serious, competent and steady people to lead us.

Put your country first and let serious people run it.

McCain Comes Full Circle — It's Over

That's my prediction. My wildly presumptuous, hair-trigger prediction. And deep down, you know I'm right.

There is — barring any calamitous screw-up by Barack Obama — no way John McCain can rally to win the election.

Mint it. Print it. Sprint it (what!?).

He can't do it. He won't do it.

And it's not because he lost the debate Tuesday night — which he did. It's not because he lacks intelligence — which he doesn't. It's not even because his attempts at humor are tarnishing the legacy of Celtic wit and timing — which they are.

(McCain's roots go back to Antrim in Northern Ireland — and Scotland before that — just like the McClatchy roots — and the McClatchy clan is, by all accounts, an absolute laugh riot! We kill! We are flat-out hilarious — as any self-respecting, mildly lubricated Irish-Scots family must be. Come on, Senator McCain — if you're going to engage in witticisms and sly asides, you have a sacred Celtic obligation to, ya know, be funny.)

But McCain is done because he is physically, emotionally and psychologically unfit to lead.

Now Kevin ... don't you go Swift-boating this war hero, you socialist, tree-hugging son of a bitch.

I wouldn't dream of Swift-boating John McCain. Because John McCain has been Swift-boated already and he understands the impotent rage and bottomless disgust that being Swift-boated produces.

"They know no depths, do they? They know no depths."

That's what John McCain said about Karl Rove and George Bush's smear campaign against him in South Carolina's 2000 presidential primary.

(Of course, it wasn't called Swift-boating back then. It would be four more years before the Son of Perdition cooked that gem up. In 2000 it was just called Rove being Rove.)

And McCain was right. He was dead-on.

Yet now — with his presidential prospects dimming — he has come full circle and sold his soul at the altar of Mr. Pure Walking Evil himself:


















McCain's transparent and wildly irresponsible VP pick was bad enough. But then — under the watchful eye of campaign strategist and Rove clone Steve Schmidt — McCain went off the reservation. He sent his circus act of a running mate Sarah Palin on an unholy mission to brand Barack Obama a terrorist.

Gov. Palin — folksy as all-get-out and that much creepier for it — said Obama was "pallin' around with terrorists." We all know she was referring to William Ayres, the former leader of the Weathermen, a radical anti-war group from the 60s and early 70s.

His militant opposition to the Vietnam War and his subsequent actions occurred when he was in his 20s and Obama was 8.

Somehow — in repeating this rap over and over — Governor Palin neglects to mention that Ayres, now 63, is a leader in education reform and a Distinguished Professor at the College of Education at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

With the "terrorist" number and her standard misrepresentation about Obama's remarks on Afghanistan, she is whipping crowds into a dangerous, misguided frenzy. Shouts of "treason!" and "terrorist!" accompany mention of Obama at McCain/Palin rallies.

It doesn't seem to occur to her that she is playing a perilous game that can lead to tragedy.

Which is not surprising — she's a dim bulb with a bizarre moral compass.

Thank God she'll never be vice-president.

What is genuinely surprising — and sounds the death knell for McCain's campaign — is this:

With a massive financial crisis that he stood by and watched develop (you can't vote with George Bush 92% of the time and call yourself Maverick — or Goose or Iceman for that matter ...)

With a $10-billion-a-month wrong-headed war that he consistently championed ...

With a health-care situation that just may be the thing that brings violent protests back to the streets ...

With all that and much more ...

With the country hungering for real leadership ...

McCain went and Swift-boated Obama.

He Karl-Roved the poor bastard.

John McCain has become what he despises.

I didn't think he would.

He knows no depths, does he?

Thank God he's lost the election.

John McCain Hates Me ... and You ... and Especially You

If you pay attention long enough, people eventually reveal their true selves. Senator John McCain did just that — beyond any shadow of a doubt — yesterday.





McCain derisively asks Sarah Palin if her exchange outside Tony Luke's in Philadelphia with Temple Phd candidate Michael Rovito happened at a "pizza place." As if that were utterly beneath her ... and himself.

No matter how hard McCain tries to tell us that he is a man of the people, that he is a maverick, that he is different ... he just isn't. He is a privileged, cynical, mean-spirited rich guy who clearly has no respect for:

a) the intelligence of those who may frequent or work at a beloved family-owned institution that offers great food at affordable prices and goes out of its way to support the troops McCain pays lip service to at every opportunity.

b) Michael Rovito — a tax-paying serious-minded voter who would like to know what the hell is going on in Sarah Palin's head.

(Oh yeah — Rovito is involved in researching ethnic studies, minority health disparities, immigration, and implementing Geographic Information Systems to the field of epidemiology and public health — what a selfish, grandstanding prick he is.)

There was no "gotcha journalism" as McCain alleged. Nor was anything taken out of context. Sarah Palin was asked questions at a close range and in a reasonable tone of voice and she gave her answers.

I feel sorry for Sarah Palin now. She is so completely overwhelmed that you can actually see her aging over the course of an interview. She has quickly become a punchline and there appears to be no way out for her.

She is in for the most humiliating month of her life.

But back to Senator McCain — who evidently is a borderline compulsive gambler and classic backroom casino wheeler-dealer as well as a dick.

I mean — do we really need another condescending, vindictive president who has lost all touch with the day-to-day reality of the people he wants to lead? McCain is an angry old man with no real regard for you and me. He seems to be losing the ability to tell the truth with each passing day. And in the process — he must have gone to the Senate Appropriations committee and secured first dibs on George Bush's smirk.

I used to like John McCain. When you get snippets here and there of him, you can be fooled. He can come across like a tough, honest customer.

But — in the end — who is he?

A man who has ridden the war hero horse a long, long way, who ditched his first wife after she was disfigured in a car accident, who is as slick a dealmaker as any other Washington insider and now arrives on history's doorstep a damaged, arrogant, angry jackass.

Don't we deserve better?

Also — a word about debates. I believe that the candidates should not debate each other. I think the truth will be revealed only if John McCain debates a regular old registered Democrat and Barack Obama debates an everyday registered Republican.

Rather than sparring, pouting and making grand empty pronouncements, they would have to give real answers and talk to someone who lives in the real world.

I volunteer to debate McCain. I think it should take place at Tony Luke's.

Now all I have to do is open a casino and maybe he'll return my call.

CREATIVITY DISTILLED

There are always people in your life who — somehow — make you want to be better.

On a daily basis, my wife and daughter inspire me to want to be more than I am.

In all aspects of my life.

And then there are artists — creative tsunamis — who humble and inspire ... who make you want to ... to ... just do. And do whatever it is you have to do better than you did it before.

Jeff Parise is one such force of nature.

And if you don't know who the hell he is ... well, that is about to change.

And not a minute too soon.

In the seven and half years I've known him, Jeff has revealed, refined and expanded his talents as an actor, a painter, a writer, a director, a musician.

Jeff Parise is creativity distilled.

And he does it all in a way that does not make you want to kick his ass for being so gifted.

Jeff and I met doing a film together — and despite the fact that he is from Indiana and couldn't give a shit about basketball — we became friends.

Along the way, I (and my wife Lisa) turned him on to Egon Schiele. He turned me onto
Wim Wenders. He's asked me for advice. I've seeked out his counsel.

In theory, actors and artists must support one another — because that support only makes all of us stronger, better, more alive. Because, the theory goes, there is not a finite amount of talent in the world. Your talent makes my talent more vital.

In practice, it's often a world of jealousy, duplicity and warped competition.

Jeff Parise proves the theory in his practice of it. He's an artist who genuinely supports artists.

If you are in Los Angeles between now and next Friday go see Callback: The Unmaking of 'Bloodstain

Support real independent film ... and a guy who truly deserves it.

Congrats, JVP.

P.S. Jeff — as you travel along your path to world entertainment domination, I feel compelled to remind you that I am currently available for acting work — especially since my daughter wants to go to private school ... and Yale.

Diminished ...

(ORIGINALLY POSTED ON SEPTEMBER 8, 2008 ON www.brothersmcc.blogspot.com)




























Is it possible to run for the highest office in the land and be a statesman/stateswoman? To do it with dignity?

It seems the answer is a resounding "No."

The bruising primary season quickly turned candidates into (or magnified their propensity toward) triple-talking, back-stabbing, soul-selling hucksters before the campaign buses even cleared the New Hampshire state line.

And when the smoke cleared and the wreckage had been shoved to the shoulder — the ultimate prize nearly in sight — the two survivors released their hounds ... er ... vice-presidential picks.

And now the VP hopefuls have stepped into the ring like Chris Jericho and Beth Phoenix, ready to rip each other and their respective bosses apart all over again.

(ed. — googling the above names of the current WWE champions constitutes an all-time high in BrothersMcC research)

I used to not give a shit.

You may currently not give a shit.

But this election has the feel of "pivotal" all over it.

You may say "All presidential elections are pivotal, halfwit."

And you'd be right ... especially the halfwit part.

But, for some reason, this one has the air of tragedy about it. And the tragedy is that — in the face of such staggering history being made with Barack Obama and Sarah Palin involved — we insist on making those who would become the leaders of the free world diminish themselves as human beings.

We force them to lie, exaggerate, attack, slander, hurl petty insults over and over again, air fifth-grade-level commercials and generally behave like total assholes.

Then we ask them to lead us.

"Well there, Kevin, that's the name of the game in high-stakes politics. It's dog-eat-dog. If you don't like it — move to Iceland, you big pussy."

Yeah but as we demand that these people humiliate themselves on a global stage (and then expect them to inspire us and unite us?) — we diminish ourselves.

It was sad to see Joe Biden follow his son's moving introduction with an overwrought, frothing barkfest at the Democratic National Convention. It should have been the crowning moment for a guy who has overcome more adversity than those poor bastards on Prison Break. Instead, he was borderline nutty. His speech had a hint of violence to it. And he was talking about John McCain, a long-time friend.

And as historic and genuinely exciting as Sarah Palin's appearance was at the Republican National Convention — and it was, you can't deny it — her speech was condescending and nasty. She was poised, she was tough, she was spoiling for a fight.

She was really fucking annoying.

Just like every other politician.

And the saddest --- and most diminishing --- part of it all is that it means nothing.

What these four people say and promise in the next 60 days will bear little, if any, resemblance to their actions.

Mavericks?

Change?

Really, who are we kidding?

Couldn't we have used the money for these dorkfests ... um I mean ... conventions for something like, say, people in New Orleans still waiting for a bed to sleep in or the 750 homeless veterans wandering lost in the wilds of Columbus, Ohio.

Of course not.

Because this is the way things are done.

And with politicians, we expect them — deep down — to be scumbags. As long as they're our scumbags.


We will put up with — and even cheer — all the bullshit campaign promises and flip-floppery that all politicians shovel at us. We know its part of the deal. Politicians must lie, cheat and betray to get shit done.

And we're cool with that.

As long as they keep up their end of the unspoken bargain:

Keep us safe, housed and fed.

Keep our sons and daughters in the military from eating any unnecessary bullets and shrapnel. And when they go and do our fighting for us, take care of them when they come back.

Keep everyone — and goddammit, we mean everyone! — equal.

That's the government's job.

That's the president's job.

Everything else is gravy — or pork.

Consider Iraq, Afghanistan, Katrina, gas prices, food prices, the current housing situation, corruption, cronyism, scrap-heaped veterans, rising unemployment, appalling public schools and the prospect (from both sides of the aisle) of religious ideology splashing over the sides of the reflecting pool, across the lawn and into the halls of Congress.

Then ask yourself ...

Who's the best lying, exaggerating, scheming, borderline criminal gladhander for the job?

See ya at the polls!


Oh yeah! Almost forgot — BrothersMcC has its first scoop!! Below is a sneak preview of the Vice-Presidential debate, courtesy of a somewhat lesser-known Palin.

The Spiritual Arms Race

(ORIGINALLY POSTED ON AUGUST 9, 2008 ON www.brothersmcc.blogspot.com)
















There is a spiritual arms race afoot.

A knock-down-drag-out steel cage match for the title of Most Religious.

Whoever wins ... becomes president.

Seriously.

John McCain is so desperate that he's claimed to be a Baptist while stumping in Baptist country. For the record, the dude's an Episcopalian.

For now.

Barack Obama trumpets his Christianity at every turn. And consistently touts the necessity of spirituality and religious insight for successful governance and the healing of our country.

Both are simply trying to get elected. And sound like teenagers trying to convince Dad to give them the keys to the Buick for the weekend.

The Republican Party has been trading on fire and brimstone for ages, so, ya know, whatever.

But now, the Democratic Party — tired of God-Squad dominance and presidential election defeats at the hands of dolts like our current Prayer-in-Chief — has decided to drink the Jesus juice and roll the ideological dice.

And the newest face of this effort — Leah Daughtry — is a case study in everything that is wrong with over-heated religiosity.

Early on in the recent New York Times Magazine profile of her, Leah Daughtry reveals herself as another in a long line of prominent political frauds, using her ideology to convince us that she -- and those who share her point of view — are Holier Than Thou.

Well ... Holier Than Me at least.

Daughtry is Howard Dean's Chief of Staff and she is in charge of the Democratic National Convention — and she's a Pentecostal minister.

In the article, she is preaching at her father's House of the Lord Church in Brooklyn and celebrating a congregant's triumph over breast cancer.

Daughtry gives credit for this medical victory to the exceptional quality of prayer supplied by the women members of the church, saying:

"The eggheads will say her chemotherapy worked, but everyone who uses chemotherapy isn’t cured.”

First, I'm not sure who the "eggheads" are. I can only assume she's referring to sane people.

Second — my mother died of cancer. She underwent chemotherapy. She prayed for a cure. Her family prayed for a cure. All her friends prayed for a cure.

Does this mean the Catholic prayers in Southeastern Pennsylvania weren't as potent as those in Brooklyn? Did God give the faithful from St. Denis in suburban Philadelphia a big holy raspberry — and decide that my mother was not spiritually committed enough to live?

Leah Daughtry's remark exposes religious ideology for what it is — "Our God is better than your god."

A less sophisticated writer than myself might — at this point — say something inflammatory like "Leah Daughtry can go fuck herself" but I'm cut from a finer cloth.

Instead, I submit that it is time to form a new political party — the "Fuck Ideologies."

Who's with me?

Is it necessary for me to pick on Leah Daughtry?

I think so.

Why?

Because she will soon have the ear of Barack Obama. Because everyone is racing to claim the Most Religious crown for their party, their candidate, their government. Because religious ideology is hypocritical at best and murderous at worst.

And because Leah Daughtry says that, for her, "the Bible is history."

Please ...

Let's clear one thing up right now — the Bible is not literal history for anyone. There are no people following the dictates of the Bible word for word. And anyone who says they are is lying. And any political figure who says they are is not only lying but dangerous.

Everyone — and by "everyone" I tend to mean, well, all people currently living — everyone who consults the Bible picks and chooses from the Good Book. They select what serves their needs. A spiritual 7-11 if you will.

Ideology is the proud father of hypocrisy. And when ideology and hypocrisy hook up with ambition — the worst kind of family reunion takes place ... one that ends with guns going off, tanks rolling in, RPGs whizzing by, rights disappearing, tolerance evaporating and young men and women being memoralized in the local newspaper.

President Bush said that he consulted with God about the war in Iraq — and that has sustained him and kept him steadfast.

Talk about covering your ass.

But of course Bush didn't talk with God — he talked with Cheney, who we all know fell from Heaven and now battles God for the souls of mankind.

Okay, yes, spirituality is the centerpiece of many people's lives.

And, yes, that spirituality helps shape one's point of view of the world.

But when you get in a spiritual arms race and you openly compete to prove you are God's favorite — the canary in the coal mine starts to experience shortness of breath.

Leah Daughtry says a bunch of other nutty things in the article — like her experiences speaking in tongues (brilliant actually — its unassailable because its supposed to be gibberish) and that she was a reluctant participant in the public arena (hence the splashy New York Times Magazine article).

I'm sure its not all Leah Daughtry's fault.

I'm sure she's a good friend and a loving daughter.

But do we really need religious ideology to know that we should be decent to one another? Or keep our country's citizens safe? Or have our trash picked up?

Leah Daughtry thinks God prefers the Pentecostal way. A born-again former co-worker of mine believes that Jews and Muslims have no shot at heaven. Many devout Catholic are closet racists.

What does that even mean?

It means that — ultimately — organized, ambitious religious ideology will divide us.

Our common humanity is what will unite us.

Swear to God.