July 26th, 2003

elijah

saturday, subject line

A Group Is Its Own Worst Enemy is the smartest thing I've read in a long time, and it's written in amazingly simple language (there's a trick to that somewhere). Everyone should read it, like a good story, because it's all about how online groups work, and about how online democracy really doesn't. I have a feeling I'll be thinking about that one for a long time to come. And reading this makes me finally feel able to say: yes, there probably are secret fandom cabals, and maybe that's okay.

herself_nyc pointed that link out.

Elsewhere, someone posted the URL for bull-ball products, and in consequence I am somewhat traumatized. Especially by the image of the little boy with the sheriff's star and the dangling blue ball sac.

Meanwhile in real life, I forgot to be social and lay on my couch for a few hours watching TV. I was one second away from clicking on a tape of something or other, but then I realized "The Bodyguard" was on. I hadn't seen that in years and I wanted to know how it held up. Answer: greatness. I love that movie. It transcends its Kevin Costner meets Whitney Houston factor, and it's just the best thing ever. I love that they don't flinch from making Costner's character an obviously Republican, buttoned-up clam of a guy, more than a bit of a prick. And of course Whitney is the diva. In other story contexts you wouldn't care about them much at all. But the coolness of a story can be measured by how deeply it drops you in other people's lives for a while and how well it makes you like it. The shot of Costner at the end, standing on the stage, folded almost out of sight behind the important people, rendered invisible again--in summary, he's boring. Except for the preceding two hours, where he got to rub shoulders with stars and exercise sexy competence and play with swords, etc.

I'd forgotten that great kitchen scene where he unflappably beats down the security guy over and over again without saying a word, eating a peach the entire time, and then when the guy pulls a knife, Costner just turns and stares at him in disbelief and flicks his own knife across the kitchen to embed it by his head, and then says, "I don't want to talk about this again."

Earlier, I watched the second half of "Longtime Companion," which I'd somehow managed never to see before, and I cried so much that I couldn't really breathe. Kind of a dumb state to get into on a Saturday afternoon.

What to do with myself, I don't know.