I'm so glad I was never a fan of Mel Gibson's. To be honest, I don't think I've ever actually seen him in anything.
There was a long time when I thought he was Harrison Ford. People would say that Mel Gibson was sexy and I would agree. But I was really thinking about Harrison Ford. Even though I think I thought I was thinking about Mel Gibson. I just didn't realize the two guys were actually two different guys.
Now that I think of it, I guess it was Mel Gibson in Tequila Sunrise. I'm still not sure why that's the movie's name. They mostly drank red wine and some harder liquor. Never Tequila that I can recall.
But I must say that I struggled with the choice of who I'd sleep with: Mel Gibson or Kurt Russell. Hot good con or hot bad cop: such a conflict.
I think I'd always have to go with Kurt Russell. In addition to a a beautiful smile, Kurt has the quality I love the most. His mouth is shut.
For a billion years, the guy's been married to Goldie Hawn - or maybe they're just shacking up married - and still he doesn't talk about his personal life. He seems to be pretty successful and still he doesn't talk about his professional life. Apparently, the guy just kind of shows up in life and does his thing and then goes home to hang out.
That's cool.
Mel, on the other hand, is now all about letting us know what he's really believed in all this time. Sure you thought he was a cute, fun-loving guy with an easy-going sense of humor. Did you know he's kind of bent on making you over? And apparently, he's also pretty confident that I'm going to hell.
Now, it's not that I have a problem with somebody thinking I'm going to hell. Really. I'm pretty sure I'll end up there at some point anyway. But if I'm going to hell, I'd prefer to be going for the right reasons.
Damn me to hell because I suck. Or because I cause others' pain. Pack my hell bags for my contrary nature and the fact that I do the opposite sometimes just to be difficult.
Damn me to hell for all the times I don't remember to get a gift or send a card.
But hell based on my failure to accept one version of history?
I think not.
I read a quote today regarding those last twelve hours. Or, shall we say, twelve hours in two hours of celluloid.
The quoted party observed that the "accuracy" of the film was impressive.
I would like to know just how old this observer is. And, if he's as old as it seems he would have to be, is he on Atkins? Now that would be a good advertisement for Atkins! Load up on fats and meat and live to be at least 2000 years old!
So after I read this geezer's convictions of accuracy, I was really curious. Curious to know how many more really really old people there are out there. I know that the Holocaust is quickly losing its witnesses due to death by old age. But apparently Jesus' witnesses are alive and kicking. And still talking about the good old days.
So anyway, facing a relatively early death and eternity in hell, I googled "passion" and "accuracy." Without quotes. Without Boolean logic. Without even the benefit of a proximity connector.
Nuttin' but passion and accuracy.
Actually, I didn't google; I yahoo-ed. Unfortunately, when Jerry Yang founded Yahoo!, he didn't stop to consider the un-verb-ability of the name. I'm sure, though, that if I refer to yahoo-ing as googling often enough, he'll get the point and change the name.
Maybe yahoogling.
Okay, so I'm yahoogling "passion" and "accuracy" - and guess what! There are shitloads of folks out there - including credentialed folks - who are either debating or confirming the film's accuracy.
Helloooooooooo?
Once again, I gotta ask: is it just me?
Am I the only one who believes that nobody really knows what really truly happened forty million gazillion years ago?
Or is just that I don't follow the news closely enough?
Either way, I'm not sure who peeves me more: the accuracy confirmers or the accuracy challengers.
Confirming accuracy of something nobody currently alive saw? Relying on texts written by god knows who from god knows when and god knows where?
Pulleeeez.
Even if...I say EVEN IF.. the texts upon which one relies are written by a credible source, and EVEN IF the time and place the texts are written are both confirmed, aren't we still somewhat clueless?
Last week, my cellmates Tim and Matt taught me some street talk.
Matt taught me word and Tim taught me strange.
Word means "I emphatically agree with that!" Word is a conveyance of the personal affirmative. Word is "right on."
As Matt says, Word is like AMEN!
Strange is sex with a girl you don't know.
I clarified that the girl doesn't have to be strange.
Whew.
And I clarified that strange isn't the desire to have sex with a girl you don't know.
No, strange is a noun.
Man, that was some good strange.
I realized that although I say WORD! to strange, I am completely incapable of understanding Tim and Matt when they talk to their peers. And we all live in the same %$#@!* era!!
So I'm supposed to believe that all of these twenty and twenty-first century geniuses can actually know and understandthe tales of folks from 2004 years ago?
Let's see, Jesus lived in the year zero - give or take 3-4 years - AD, of course.
Hey, are we sure it wasn't ADHD?
Anyway, 2004 years ago is only 731,460 days. That's only 17,555,040 hours. Only 1,053,302,400 minutes.
So yeah, maybe it's only a short time ago. But look, we can't even define what a "neighbor" is for purposes of loving our neighbors.
And we definitely can't define "respect" for purposes of respecting our parents.
And just what did God (or whoever) mean when he (or she) (or it) encouraged us to pluck our eyes out? Are eyebrows included? Can we wax instead? If you wear contacts, should those be removed before plucking your eyes out?
You know what? I don't really want to know the truth - or even the lies - about Jesus' last twelve hours.
I hope the guy enjoyed a good meal or two. He was apparently a pretty hard worker.
But anything beyond that is just too close to guessing for me to consider seriously.
Besides, even if it's all true...and EVEN IF the depictions are accurate...I'll still be fine.
I'll be going to hell where I'll see all the folks I like.
'cuz I'm going to hell where all the folks I know are.
And Timothy McVeigh won't be there in hell to bug me.
Luckily, Tim-Bob had lots of time, post-dirty-deed, to accept the lord as his savior. Whew for me.
Personally, I feel a lot better knowing that our little Timmy Boy will be in heaven. When I'm in hell, I sure don't feel like running into him and having to pretend I don't mind what he did. God (or whoever) knows whatcha gotta do in hell just to get along.
My luck, Tim would want to have coffee and reminisce about Brave Heart, Mad Max, Lethal Weapon and Road Warrior. And you know, I just never got around to those.