The Eiger Sucktion

So, I was two hours into the basic cable showing of The Eiger Sanction when I realized, they still haven't climbed that goddamned mountain!  Two hours of idiotic Cold War spy shit set up about climbing a fucking mountain in order to kill...somebody...because of something...and still they haven't climbed it yet.

Why am I watching this again?

Clint Eastwood's character, "Hemlock" (Yes. Really.), fancies himself an art connoisseur, all around ladies man, and expert on just what women want.  Or need.  Or should glean from his world-weary experience. The younger they are the more insufferable he behaves.

Clint also directed this piece of crap, which explains how he was so woefully miscast.  I actually think Clint Eastwood is a great director, but this classic little nugget of a slumber fest is an example of the adage "just because you can cast yourself in your own film, doesn't mean you should." Okay, so that's just something I say, not really an adage.  But it should be.

At two hours and ten minutes into the basic cable showing of The Eiger Sanction, it occurred to me that in terms of movies that wasted my time and stole precious minutes from my life that would have been better spent in--honestly--almost any other way, The Eiger Sanction is really only second to Mortal Combat.  Actually, maybe not even second, because Mortal Combat was shorter.  And it did have a good theme song.  If you like techno.

Jemima Brown.  Dear. God.

I just can't with this.

Maybe it's Clint 70s feathered hair.

Also, as it turns out, it's not all that interesting to watch people climb a mountain.  Even the Eiger.

Day One

So, this is my first post on my first blog...which I never thought I'd have.  But lately I find I need a better outlet for my thoughts and opinions than my journal, or my dog.  I have a lot of trouble relating to my friends and family these days.  Actually, I've always had a lot of problems relating to my friends and family in general.  My friends aren't that smart and my family is filled with Jesus-y people.  I am smart and not at all Jesus-y.

Somehow I thought that as I got older I'd eventually find "my people."  You know, the people who think like I do.  Not necessarily agree with everything I have to say, but who care to hear it and are willing to consider my opinions even if they end up rejecting them.  But I've never been good at making friends so I've tended to stick with the circle of people I've known for a while, even though we've had less and less in common over time.

More and more I realize it's just familiarity that keeps me attached to them, not genuine interest, or even genuine affection, in some cases.  I do love my family, but religiously, politically, and socially, I disagree with them in so many ways, it's hard to feel accepted by them if I express my real, true opinions.  It usually leads to the proverbial awkward silence.  So, I usually just don't express my differing opinions at all, which leads to some terrifically boring gatherings.  At least for me.  So, here I am.  Ready to share my views with anyone else who cares to read them.  I've used the name divadaisy on several fansites and messageboards over the years.  Plus, I do think of myself as a diva.  (With a little d, thank you...I may be a diva but I was raised to have a certain healthy humility.)

I have a strange kind of love for the world.  It's a love/hate/love kind of thing.  There is so much horror in this world, and humanity is the source of much of it.  Most of it.  But there is such beauty too.  And humanity is the source of much of that as well.  Sometimes it catches me off guard.  A moment in time, or out of time, really, that causes my breath to catch. To stop.  To hold because something so amazing has been done, or created, or written, or spoken.  People can be so awful, but so excruciatingly beautiful.