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| August 25, 2010 |
| In case you haven’t bought your ticket to Aces UP! yet (it’s happening this Friday), here are the top ten reasons to do so RIGHT NOW: |
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| Hope to see your poker face when you go all-in this Friday at Aces UP!
Thanks, |
Tim
Tim King
Founder & CEO
Urban Prep Academies
PS For more information about Aces UP!, please visit www.acesuptourney.com or call or email Ed Briscoe (312-276-0259, ext. 1106; ebriscoe@urbanprep.org).
We’ve got to do most of this dance all over again?
Raise your hand if you’re experiencing a severe case of Blago fatigue right now. Raise your hand if you’re torn between respecting the jury’s thoroughness and wanting to scream at them for failing to reach unanimous agreement on approximately 95 percent of the counts.
A day after the anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley, the only governor in U.S. history who fancied himself as some sort of spiritual kin to the King witnessed the semi-death of his own legacy.
Not that Rod Blagojevich thought so. After the stunning (un)verdict, there was Blustery Blago in front of the cameras once again, telling us how the government ripped him from his family and persecuted him. There were his attorneys, shamelessly filibustering, making it sound as if the jury said the government couldn’t prove its case–when the reality wasn’t acquittal, but no unanimous agreement.
In Rod Blagojevich’s fantasies, they were gonna play all those tapes in court, and then he’d get up on the stand and tell his side of the story, mesmerizing the jury and the courtroom spectators and the judge himself in the process, and he’d be fully vindicated–and on the day of his fast and just acquittal, he’d literally be carried off on the shoulders of the cheering and adoring throng as they chanted his name.
And after a media victory tour–Good to see you again, Dave!”, “Nice to be here on ‘The View’ once again!”–Blago would begin his journey to the White House as the ultimate Man of the People. The whole thing would be effin’ golden!
Hold that thought.
On Tuesday, whether he wants to admit it to himself or not, the fantasy came crashing down on Blago’s famousy coiffed head–but it was much more of a glancing blow than most expected. He was convicted on charges of lying to the FBI–which could mean as much as five years in prison for the former governor of Illinois.
Vindication? Victory? Not really.
But if this jury couldn’t reach a verdict on 23 out of 24 counts, the prosecution has its work cut out for them in Round 2. Will they simplify their case? Forget about brother Rob and concentrate on Rod?
And just think: right now there are 12 individuals in the Chicago area who have been enjoying their summer, perhaps keeping an eye on the Blagojevich proceedings and thinking, “Glad I’M not on that jury”–but perhaps sometime in 2011, they WILL be on a Blagojevich jury.
I shudder just thinking about it.
Of course the verdict wasn’t swift and decisive and unanimous. Of course the jury had to ask for transcripts of the entire trial (denied), transcripts of one witness’ testimony (granted), instructions about how to fill out the jury form and a copy of the juror’s oath. Of course we’d see things we normally don’t see in such trials.
As the Blagojevich trial unfolded, it became apparent that yes, the former governor was a spiteful, crass, venal, small-minded, narcissistic, foul-mouthed, selfish character who plotted and schemed and fantazied about selling a U.S. Senate seat and had delusions of grandeur–but what wasn’t so obvious was whether the man had committed actual crimes.
There was no “smoking gun.” No envelope stuffed with cash. No Swiss bank account bulging with an eye-popping number. None of that type of stuff you see in the movies or on TV.
It’s only fitting that one of the most colorful, confounding, infuriating and fascinating scandalized figures in Illinois political history would have his fate decided by one of the more…interesting juries around.
They were attentive and respectful–but they had no qualms about letting the judge know they’d like a half-day off, then Fridays off. And hey, how about some Beggars Pizza?
Overall, though, it appears as if this jury worked long and hard to reach agreement, that they took their responsibilities very seriously–but they finally had to admit they weren’t going to be able to reach a unanimous verdict on count after count, and it was time to go home.
There will be much more to come–but let’s not forget there was a serious verdict of guilty on one count, and that means this is the second straight Illinois governor to be tried and convicted of a crime–meaning that if your’e 16 years old and you grew up in this state, you can’t remember a time when the governor of your state didn’t wind up as a convicted felon.
When Blago returned home Tuesday, he basked in the applause of neighbors, posed with a boy who had a Blago-esque haircut, and stood on his porch and reached down to greet well-wishers, much like a winning candidate on Election Night.
Before coming home, he said to the people of Illinois: “I didn’t let you down.”
OK. You keep telling yourself that, sir.
“Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”
Roeper’s rating: B+
On the heels of “Juno” and “Superbad,” Michael Cera rolls out of bed and he’s ready to play a certain type — the slight, bright, tremulous and ultimately good-hearted young fella.
In “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” Cera’s that guy once again, all right — but he also has an inexplicable ability to attract an amazing array of young females, and oh yeah, he’s got mad superpower skills that would give Peter Parker a run for his money.
And when he goes to the bathroom, a visual “Pee Bar” gauges the progress from Tank Full to Tank Empty. I’m pretty sure that’s a cinematic first.
For the first few scenes, “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” plays like a well-crafted but far-too-familiar entry in the Sundance Film Festival Playbook: an indie-looking film with hipster music and clever little graphics and camera moves, starring an attractive young cast of slacker-wisecrackers who battle ennui as they sink into overstuffed furniture, commenting on each other’s lives.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Director Edgar Wright (“Shaun of the Dead,” “Hot Fuzz”) throws a whole lot of movie at us, adapting Bryan Lee O’Malley’s graphic novels with a furious zeal that’s exhilarating, albeit occasionally exhausting. This is an attention deficit disorder production, aimed squarely at the hearts and minds of the under-25 crowd that regards “Mortal Kombat” with nostalgic warmth.
Cera’s Scott Pilgrim is a 22-year-old Torontonian who plays bass, lives with a sardonic gay roommate (Kieran Culkin, hilarious) and is catching major grief from his circle of friends and his sister (“Up in the Air’s” Anna Kendrick) because he’s dating preternaturally enthusiastic high school girl Knives Chau (Ellen Wong). I mean, this girl literally BOUNCES with adoration for Scott, who’s more than a little embarrassed by the whole thing but kinda digs hanging out with her and holding hands. Scott’s exes include Kim, who drums for his band while shooting daggers at Scott, and Envy Adams, who “kicked his heart’s ass” and has gone on to some level of stardom as a chick rocker.
But the girl of his dreams is literally the girl of his dreams.
She’s the deadpan, magenta-haired beauty Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), and she’s been rollerblading through Scott’s nocturnal fantasies — but now she’s right there in the flesh in Toronto, and she just might be interested in a relationship with Scott, but there’s one big hitch.
Actually, seven hitches. In order to win Ramona’s heart, Scott has to defeat her seven evil exes in a series of video game-style death matches that grow increasingly louder and more ludicrous.
It’s “Ghost World” meets “Kill Bill,” with Scott literally flying through the air and engaging in hand-to-hand combat with enemies ranging from a skateboarder turned movie action hero (Chris Evans) to a muscled-up, white-haired bass player (Brandon Routh of “Superman Returns”) who gets his amazing superpowers from his veganism. We get split-screen visuals straight out of a comic book, guitars that shoot lightning bolts — and villains that literally turn into showers of coins when they’re defeated, with the handy graphic showing us how many points Scott has accumulated now that it’s “GAME OVER.”
One of the joys of “Scott Pilgrim” is that there’s no backstory explaining how Scott accrued his powers — no spider bite, no tragic accident in the lab. It’s just the way it is, and neither Scott nor his adversaries nor his friends spend much time analyzing it. By the fourth or fifth fight, I was growing a bit restless, but Wright never takes his foot off the accelerator, adding comic touches that include perfect uses of the “Seinfeld” scene-transition bass riff and the famous Universal Pictures theme song. And for a movie with so many action scenes, there’s an unusually deep bench of supporting players, including the aforementioned Kendrick as Scott’s sister, whose sole function seems to be commenting on Scott’s life; Mark Webber as the lead singer in Scott’s band; and Jason Schwartzman as the most evil of the seven evil exes.
Most superheroes, reluctant or otherwise, eventually have to use their powers to save the world. In “Scott Pilgrim,” it’s all about getting the girl.
And that’s pretty epic in and of itself.
Dan Rostenkowski, one of the most powerful congressman of the 20th century, has passed away.
In 1994, when Rostenkowski was under indictment on 17 counts and was avoiding the media at all costs, I was at Gibson’s Restaurant in Chicago with Neil Steinberg of the Chicago Sun-Times and WLS talk show host Roe Conn–yes, the same Roe Conn with whom I now co-host on WLS-AM.
We sent a bottle of wine over to Rostenkowski.
Here’s the column I wrote about what happened next…
April 5, 1994, TUESDAY, Late Sports Final Edition
Wine Uncorks a Rosty Attack on the Media
BYLINE: Richard Roeper
SECTION: NEWS; Pg. 11
LENGTH: 697 words
We had to do it. We had to send over a bottle of wine to Dan Rostenkowski.
It was last Wednesday night and I was having dinner with a newspaper colleague and a radio talk show host in a popular downtown restaurant, the kind of place where the men wear silk suits and the women have serious jewelry. The powerful, media-unfriendly chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee had led an entourage through the crowded restaurant a few minutes earlier and was now ensconced in a booth somewhere around the corner and out of sight.
We instructed our waiter to bring Rostenkowski a bottle of Louis Jadot Beaujolais Villages 1991 (a fine but inexpensive red burgundy from France), along with a note I had written on the back of a business card: “To the victor go the spoils. Congratulations on your re-election.”
The waiter reported back that Rostenkowski appreciated the gesture.
An hour later, as we were enjoying a nightcap in the bar, Rosty himself approached, glass of beer in hand.
(I should note here that no notes were taken during the following encounter, but my associates and I scribbled down our recollections immediately afterward. Although this was not a formal interview, Rostenkowski knew who we were and seemed eager to talk about his relationship with the media. At no point did he say the conversation was off the record.)
Who picked out the wine, he wanted to know. I pointed to my reporter friend. Rostenkowski shook his hand and congratulated him on his taste, then gave him a hard time about the cigar he was smoking.
He pulled up a chair, sat down, took out his reading glasses and peered at the three signatures on the card we had sent over.
“I really hate you guys in the media,” said Rostenkowski.
I started to offer a rejoinder, but he pointed a meaty finger at me and told me to shut up and listen. (By this time the bar area of the restaurant was like one of those old E.F. Hutton commercials, where everyone leans in to hear what the big guy has to say.)
He laughed about the Sun-Times’ endorsement of John Cullerton and said the endorsement wasn’t good for anything except wrapping fish when all was said and done. How come we didn’t write that?
We talked for a while about cigars and wine, but then Rosty went back to the subject of our respective professions. He noted that he was old enough to be my father and said maybe one day I’ll get out of journalism and do something worthwhile. The fourth estate should be working with the government, he said, but that never happened. He claimed we simply were not fair.
My reporter friend told of doing a story about a neighbor of Rostenkowski’s who claimed Rosty kicked his dog. Rostenkowski growled that my friend was an (expletive deleted) for writing the story. He never kicked anybody’s dog, he said. But that’s what the media love – the negative side of things.
All his life, Rostenkowski told us, he’s been trying to do good things – and he delivers. He said he particularly enjoyed bringing business to Chicago and Illinois when it means other regions won’t get it, because he hates Texans, he hates Californians and he really hates New Yorkers.
And no matter what has been written or alleged about him, Rostenkowski told us, he sleeps well at night.
“I have a clean conscience,” he said.
It should be noted here that even as Rostenkowski was giving it to us with both barrels, there was little rancor in his words. He apparently was just looking to blow off a little steam, and we were glad to be there to play some verbal Ping-Pong with him.
Regarding his recent re-election, Rostenkowski boasted of doing it his way while largely ignoring the advice of the professional handlers. He several times said he was “through” but when I asked if I could write that this was his last term, he said that if or when he does make an official announcement, he’ll give it to a Tribune reporter just to stick it to the Sun-Times.
We all shook hands and traded a few more semi-friendly barbs, and he left our table – only to return a moment later for one parting shot.
“I might run again,” said Rostenkowski with a chuckle. “I might do it just to tick off the Sun-Times.”
Four days after Christopher Nolan’s “Inception” hit theaters, Drew Magary of the popular Deadspin site wrote a piece titled, ” ‘Inception’ Was Great, Now Please Stop Talking About It, Ass – - – - -.”
Four days! Has the cycle of consumption, discussion, backlash and backlash against the backlash become so rapid that a filmmaker will spend a decade creating a masterpiece — and less than a week after it’s unveiled, some are saying, “Enough with the talk about this movie!”
Nonsense. The debate about this amazing film is just starting.
“Inception” is one of the most exhilarating, breathtaking, challenging, complex and thought-provoking films I’ve ever seen. Although it’s influenced by everything from “The Matrix” to “Blade Runner” to Fellini’s “8½,” this is a wholly original work about the world of dreams, the power of love, the haunting nature of certain memories and the perseverance of the human soul. (My on-camera review of “Inception” is atsuntimes.com.)
Not everyone agrees. In a review titled, “Can Someone Please Explain Inception to Me?” Rex Reed writes, “At the movies, incomprehensible gibberish has become a way of life, but it usually takes time before it’s clear that a movie really stinks. ‘Inception,’ Christopher Nolan’s latest assault on rational coherence, wastes no time . . . [It's a] deadly exercise in smart-aleck filmmaking . . . from Mr. Nolan’s scrambled eggs for brains . . . ”
I’ll admit I didn’t understand every plot twist and the meaning behind every line of dialogue — but that’s OK. You don’t have to “get” every inch of “Inception” to appreciate it. If Mr. Reed wants a filmgoing experience that is easily understood, might I suggest he watch “Grown Ups” again.
Some friends and colleagues share my enthusiasm for the film; others immediately want to debate me or press me for my interpretation. Either way, isn’t it great to have such a spirited discussion about a summer movie? Nobody’s having passionate arguments about the meaning of “Shrek 4.”
SPOILER ALERT. Don’t read on if you’re planning on seeing “Inception.”
I’m not going to rehash the plot. Let’s get right into some of the more popular theories about the meaning of “Inception” — and what really happens in the final scene.
Here are some possible plot explanations and ending interpretations, along with evidence to support and/or undermine each theory.
1. The most straightforward interpretation: Saito hires Cobb and his team to plant an idea in Fischer’s mind. They succeed, and Cobb is rewarded with a trip home, where he is finally reunited with his children. He will never see his wife in his dreams again. The last scene is reality.
2. At the end of the movie, Cobb is still inside a dream. That’s why the children are the same age as they’ve been throughout the film, playing in the same position and wearing the same clothes. (Ah, but the credits list actors who play Phillipa and James at 3 years and 20 months, respectively — and other actors that play them at ages 5 and 3.)
3. The whole movie is a dream, most likely Cobb’s dream. Nothing that happens in the movie is reality. It’s dream upon dream upon dream. (In one sequence, Mal says to her husband, “How real is your world, with faceless corporate goons chasing you all over the planet?”)
4. Some of the real-world scenes are actually dream scenes, and some of the dream scenes are actually real-world scenes. In this scenario, Cobb’s friend Arthur has actually engineered the entire plan, in an effort to finally free Cobb from his wife. And if that’s the case, my head is about to explode.
5. To go back to the moviemaking metaphor, “Inception” is first and foremost Christopher Nolan’s symphony about the art of making movies. As Devin Faraci of chud.com outlines it, each character in the film represents a key player in the moviemaking process. Cobb is the director. Arthur, who does the research, is the producer. Ariadne, the architect, is the screenwriter. Eames is the actor. Yusuf is the technical expert. Saito is the studio chief. Fischer is the audience.
It doesn’t matter if the ending is a dream or not; Nolan’s primary goal is to take us on a journey about the process of filmmaking.
6. By cutting away as the totem is still spinning, Nolan is creating an inception of his own — planting the seed of an idea in our minds that perhaps Cobb was still dreaming, perhaps he KNEW he was still dreaming and he has embraced that — or he truly has returned to his real life.
7. Jack, Kate and Sawyer were in purgatory, and –
Oh wait, wrong controversial/ambiguous/brilliant/maddening ending.
Click on the blue link below to hear the audio of the Mel Gibson/Blago “phone call,” as heard on the Roe and Roeper Show on WLS-AM…