I'm Grateful To Not Die In a Car Wreck Every Time It Rains In LA

It's Thanksgiving week, which means it's time to reflect and consider what we're grateful for. Well, every day is an opportunity for that and it's incredibly healthy to do so, but Thanksgiving, in particular, is a time for deeper than usual reflection. I've done my meditative pondering and soul searching, and come to realize what I am truly and deeply grateful for this Thanksgiving: that I don't die in a horrible car wreck every single time it rains in LA.

Anytime it rains in LA, the roads become a massive death trap. I'm not making this up, either. It rained this past weekend and the number of freeway accidents shot up 570% compared to the previous week. For some reason, even though it rains consistently every year in LA (if seldom), a lot of people still don't know how to drive in the rain. Instead, it exacerbates their normal, and often horrible, style of driving. 

Aggressive drivers get extra aggravated by the rain slowing other drivers down or causing wrecks that bring everything to halt, and consequently drive even more aggressively. They drive even faster, cut in and out at even closer and more dangerous distances, and wait even longer to break, seemingly unaware that hydroplaning exists and is a thing that most definitely always happens in the rain. They seem to believe the rain has no effects on driving and that it must be a liberal conspiracy, and because everyone else foolishly believes it, they must compensate by being even bigger threats.

On the other side of the rainbow, timid drivers get scared so much more than usual, to the point of sheer terror and panic attacks, and therefore drive doubly, triply, or sweet biscuity timidly. Normally, they'd drive 5 or 10 MPH under the speed limit, but now they'll literally go half the speed limit, as if going any faster means the water will hurl them at light speed into the nearest deadly object. To make matters worse, the ones that are both scared and have designated themselves the safety officers of the road, will not respectfully keep to the far right lane. Oh no, they'll take it upon themselves to control everyone else and stick to the fast lanes, communicating with each other over some secret network so that they can coordinate to spread themselves out evenly throughout the lanes, resulting in total slowpoke domination of the entire road. They just go full-tilt You-Shall-Not-Pass Gandalf on us all!

The real kicker is the road conditions also mean the effects of their driving on each other are amplified to the max. The fraidy cat drivers piss off the aggressive drivers even more than usual, so the aggressive drivers then drive progressively worse and worse. The increased aggression scares the fraidy cats even more, so they, in turn, drive even slower. It creates a vicious feedback loop that just keeps intensifying exponentially until it all comes to a head...or sideswipe, or rear end...you get the idea.

Meanwhile, us competent, calm, safe drivers smartly adjust to the conditions and compensate for hydroplaning. We know we need more time to break and give ourselves more room. We know we can't change lanes or turn too suddenly or we'll lose traction, so we slow down but only as much as necessary. We know the angry and the timid are both a huge danger, so we keep our distance and give them as much breathing room as possible.

However, we are also susceptible to their negative influence. We can become so frustrated, fatigued, or furious with their crappy driving that we can be pushed to either side of the horrible driver spectrum, lashing out in righteous anger or shrinking back in utter fear into our own turtle shell. The rain has the power to claim even the best of us. We have to maintain constant vigilance in the fight for our soul.

Rain in LA means only one thing on the road: total Mad Max style chaos. It's a dangerous, hostile, unpredictable hellhole. Anytime you have to go out and drive in the LA rain, it's a miracle to make it back alive and in one piece. I'm lucky to have experienced many miracles, every single time. That's what I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving. Now, let's all eat some turkey and way too many carbs!

2 Minor Plot Issues In Goblet Of Fire That Drove Me Majorly Crazy

It's no secret that I love the Harry Potter series. No amount of criticism or pointing out of plot holes, no matter how valid, could ever make me stop loving it. But, as great a story as it is and as great a writer as J.K. Rowling is, I still have fun poking holes in it.

I just finished Goblet of Fire in my latest re-read and this time, I noticed two tiny, minor, totally insignificant plot issues that nonetheless drove me majorly, utterly, completely, "I can't handle these cursed blast-ended skrewts anymore" bonkers. I'm calling them plot issues and not plot holes because they don't quite fit the traditional definition, and are so minor they don't derail the story.

That's not to say there aren't actual, major plot holes in the book or series. Let's face it, Barty Crouch Jr. becoming a master Oscar/Tony-worthy character actor with no formal training and able to fool people that knew Moody incredibly well, including Dumbledore, as well as becoming a world-class Auror-level wizard after not having been able to use magic since age 19, and accomplishing both in just a month, is definitely a Grawp-sized plot hole and an Umbridge-esque stretch of reason. But that's not what we're here for today. We're here to make a big deal over the small stuff, to make a Hogwarts out of a Hagrid hut:

!!!SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE BOOK SERIES BELOW!!!

1) Harry Is A Selfish Jerk And Doesn't Lend Hedwig To Fred and George

Throughout the entire book, Harry has to keep using different owls to communicate with Sirius, in order to avoid suspicion or detection. Cause, ya know, wouldn't be super awesome if he was caught talking to the Number One Most Wanted, accused serial murderer and Death Eater (even if we all know and Dumbledore knows that's totes not the truth). Harry wouldn't be dancin' like a hippogriff if that happened.

Naturally, Hedwig is not only bored and driven stir crazy by this, but more importantly, she feels pretty hurt and offended and is constantly letting Harry know by altering between aggressive biting and the passive aggressive cold shoulder (literally, it's freezing up in the owlery in winter!). Harry, being mostly a decent person, feels guilty about this and warmly compassionate for her. And unlike Malfoy, Harry takes his magical creature attacks like a man, not complaining or falling to the ground wailing in gross exaggeration like an Italian soccer player who just felt the slightest contact.

So, it's absolutely astounding that when presented with an opportunity to give Hedwig a job to do, he doesn't take it. Fred and George ask Ron if they can borrow Pigwidgeon for some secret business (gettin' their payout from Bagman, who does live up to his name by being a toolbag), but Pig is already out to Sirius. This exchange happens right in front of Harry, who has a golden chance to help three people he cares about. He could lend them Hedwig and not only would they be happy, Hedwig would be over the Lupin moon.

But he doesn't, because he's a selfish jerk...or just distracted by severe anxiety over the Triwizard Tournament, desperate to just not die or embarrass himself. Still, this was a super easy fix that was handed to him on a silver platter (that wouldn't later strangle him, even!). All he had to do was say, "Oy mates, borrow Hedwig." We've all experienced extreme stress or anxiety, and we all most likely would still have enough sense to lend out Hedwig. 

So why the heck didn't you, Harry? I've never been more disappointed in you. And even if you did make up for it with Fred and George by giving them your giant sack of Triwizard gold, you never made it up to Hedwig. And after building up #HedwigHysteria for half a book, why didn't you see this obvious solution, J.K. Rowling?

2) No Way The Ministry Hosts World Cup and Triwizard Tournament In The Same Year

In a series that contains invisibility cloaks, magical teleportation, dragons, giants, unicorns that aren't lame, potions that let you turn into another person, spells that let you completely control another person, and objects that grant immortality, the thing I found most unbelievable is an inefficient bureaucratic government hosting two major tournaments in the same year, just months apart.

The Quidditch World Cup is the equivalent of our real-life World Cup. It's a huge logistical nightmare on an unbelievably grand scale that requires decades of organizing. Countries earn hosting rights over a decade in advance and spend all that time preparing for it. Thousands of people work on it and countless man-hours are spent building and planning. Even in the Muggle world, where resources and manpower are in much greater supply than the Wizarding world, no government in their right mind would even consider hosting another major sporting or entertainment event in the same year, much less within a few years.

And yet, somehow, the Ministry of Magic decides to do just that. Despite having 500 people working an entire year just to set up the site for the Quidditch World Cup, despite the top brass being up to their eyeballs in organizing and hosting responsibilities, despite the stress over not just putting on the World cup but also keeping it hidden from Muggles, and despite the fact that the Triwizard Tournament hasn't happened in over a hundred years and there's absolutely no rush to do it, they say, "Why the heck not host the Triwizard Tournament just a few months later?"

Granted, the Ministry does have a penchant for stupidity, but no government is stupid enough to voluntarily burden themselves with a massive undertaking when it's already severely overburdened and underpaid. Granted, the three schools participating help out a lot in the planning and hosting duties, but it's still a huge planning and legal nightmare for the Ministry involving dragon transportation and care, Merpeople negotiations, underwater endangerment of non-participants, and of course, a giant maze full of dangerous magical creatures. 

The Ministry of Magic does a lot of stupid stuff, but even with people as dumb as Bertha Jorkins working for them, there's no Cornelius Fudgeing way they would have put on the Triwizard Tournament just months after the Quidditch World Cup. Realistically, they would have put up an "Out To Lunch" sign immediately after the final and not returned to work for months, in full on Barty Crouch and American Congress style.

Disarm With Love, Compassion, and Understanding

Emotions are intense for all Americans right now. Whatever side you stand on, whether you're happy or upset, we're all having some pretty strong feelings. Whatever you're feeling, you have a right to feel that way. It's okay, and don't let anyone tell you that shouldn't feel like that. 

That being said, I beg us all to take a deep breath, remain calm, take a step back and get some perspective. Whatever side you're on, things are about to get messy. Vitriol between sides and within ranks is inevitable at this point, because we're human, and being human means being messy. We're fallible and eager to blame others for all our problems. And sadly, there's going to be a lot of blaming going on.

A lot of poor, negative behavior is about to happen on both sides as we all give into our negative emotions: anger, fear, and sadness. As a result, both sides will subject each other to hate, bigotry, prejudice, assumption, stereotyping, and blame. Because it's the easy thing to do. It's the human thing to do.

But if want a better world, we have to fight back real hard against own terrible desires. Meeting hate with hate, anger with anger, blame with blame, or assumption with assumption only begets more hate, anger, blame, and assumption. If we want to make things better, we have to meet negative emotions and behavior with positive emotions and behavior: love, compassion, and understanding. That is the only way to disarm negativity, heal our wounds, and bridge the divide.

And this isn't just some hippie-dippie, kumbaya, unrealistic and naive nonsense; it's a valid strategy and principle of psychological science. It's called non-complimentary behavior. Complimentary behavior is what usually happens. If someone is kind to us, we're kind in return. If someone is hostile to us, we're hostile in return. We typically mirror the behavior and actions of others when we react, not necessarily exactly but in the general categories of positivity and negativity. We do it because it's easy. That's why violence usually leads to more violence, and hate leads to more hate. It's just how we're wired. It's the path of least resistance within ourselves.

However, there is a way out, though it's not easy: non-complimentary behavior. This is what Martin Luther King Jr. advocated for. When met with negativity, respond with positivity instead. Meet hate with love, anger with compassion, and assumption, prejudice, or stereotyping with a genuine quest for understanding. Responding with non-complimentary behavior has the power to disarm and break the cycle of negativity. It's not guaranteed to always work, but more often than not, it surprisingly does work. At the very least, it stops people in their tracks and gives them food for thought. After that, it's up to them. We can't control others or force them to change. But we can respond in the way that encourages positivity and sets up the stage with the best circumstances for that to happen.

It's not going to immediately bring everyone to a love-fest of peace and unity, but it'll help pave the way. If we can resist the urge to respond to negativity with more negativity, we stand a chance of opening up a dialogue. And if we enter that dialogue genuinely giving out love, compassion, and understanding, we just might get it back in return. 

It's not going to be easy. Far from it, and I'm going to struggle with it as much as anybody else. But it is possible, and it has been done before. Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, Nelson Mandella, and many others have proven that wonderful things can and will happen if we resist our natural urges to respond back in unkind, and instead respond with kindness. Love, compassion, and understanding are critical. Please, let's all give it our best shot. We will falter along the way. Nobody's perfect, after all. But we can pick ourselves back up and try again. And again. And again. For as long as it takes.

Thanks for listening. I love you all.

The Protagonists of The Mummy Are Sociopaths

In celebration of Halloween, I didn't watch scary movies on the day, because I'm a coward and had already scared myself real good for the next few months by watching The Witch the night before. Instead, I went for the fun angle and watched The Mummy and The Mummy Returns. Whilst enjoying the campy, silly, non-terrifying antics of Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz, I nonetheless endured Halloween horror as I realized their characters are actually cold, callous sociopaths.

In the first film, shit hits the fan when Rachel Weisz's character, Evy, against all better judgment and multiple warnings, opens and reads from the Book of the Dead, thereby resurrecting an immortal and powerful Imhotep, who brings with him the apocalypse thanks to an ancient curse. As a result, hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people are killed by the various horrors of the ten plagues as well as Imhotep's undead legions.

U FUCKING WUT M8???

Brendan Fraser's character and Evy's soon-to-be-beau, Rick O'Connell, had wisely warned Evy not to fuck with the Book of the Dead. But when she does it anyway and unleashes the apocalypse, all he does is lightly admonish her as if she'd dropped and cracked her new iPhone. 

"OMG, dude, I told you not to! Ugh, now we have to like track this crazy guy down and fight him, and get into all sorts of wacky hijinks while we crack jokes. Such a pain. I just wanted to spend the rest of the film drinking." - Me, paraphrasing Rick O'Connell.

Not once is there a scene of guilt or remorse about being responsible for thousands of innocent deaths, not to mention the destruction of an ancient, iconic city. Evy does acknowledge her royal fuck-up, but she does not express any deep emotion, not even the slightest empathy for the death and destruction she caused. Nope, her apology basically boils down to just:

"Whoopsie. I unleashed an immortal, magical mummy. I'm so quirky!"

No, dude, you really shouldn't be.

That is not a license for douchebaggery.

It's not that they both lack a conscience; they do know right from wrong. They know unleashing Imhotep was wrong and awful. Moreover, they both express great concern over the danger of other speaking characters when it's right in front of their faces, and do their best to help or rescue. They just don't give a flying fuck about any of the offscreen, background, and nonspeaking characters Evy killed with her idiocy.

All's well that ends well...for us.

At the end of the film, after Imhotep has been defeated, they don't reflect on the harm they were responsible for. Nope, they just kiss and ride off into the sunset, blissfully rich in ancient treasure. All is well because they'll just pretend that thousands of people didn't die that they're responsible for. Hell, even Ardeth, the guy in charge of the secret warrior army whose duty was to stop anyone from unleashing Imhotep, essentially gives them a high-five and a smiling, casual "smell ya later." 

I kinda hate you guys, and I should kill you,
but you're just so gosh darn cute and charming!

No consequences, no emotional ramifications, no reckoning. To make their case even worse, they actually fucking joke about it early in the second film. In The Mummy Returns, Evy once again finds a dangerous ancient Egyptian artifact and wants to open it up with no regard for the consequences. Rick playfully reminds her of the last time that happened and lightly warns her not to fuck shit up again.

Notice I used the adverbs "playfully" and "lightly." He should have been urgently, desperately, and harrowingly yelling at her, and if that didn't work, physically preventing her. But nope, just another callous, casual joke:

"Oh honey, don't do that. Last time, you unleashed the apocalypse and it was like, such a major bummer. I mean, it was hella fun and we got flilthy stinking rich, but duuuuuuuuuuuude, kind of a pain in the ass. Let's just enjoy being outrageously rich and get naked together."

Naturally, they spend the rest of the second film once again cracking jokes, making light of death and destruction, and only expressing care and concern for their son's life, because who cares about anybody else, right? Rick and Evy are nothing short of sociopaths. They both have a conscience. They both know better. They just don't give a damn. Man, fuck those guys!

What? Us? No way, Jose!
Also, we're super rich Jose, so you're our servant now.