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Google+ might be the thing that replaces LJ for me. (And Facebook. And Twitter.)
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I have no opinion on the Casey Anthony trial, but I do think more and more that a jury trial and justice overlapping are at the best outcome a lucky coincidence.
In New York City recently, a woman accused a police officer of raping her while another police officer kept a lookout. The details of the case are out there, it was a recent thing. Now, at the risk of being one of those peanut gallery types who thinks they know better than a jury, the evidence that was presented is public knowledge and clearly points to her being raped. The police picked her up because she was too drunk to make it home by herself, dropped her off at her apartment. They then made a fake call to dispatch give themselves a reason to go back, and then one officer entered her bedroom with her while the other kept a lookout for other police officers showing up.
So fast forward to later, she records a conversation with him where she accuses him of raping her. He denies it for awhile, and then eventually says, "Look, I wore a condom." She also was examined by a medical expert who found she had injuries consistent with being raped.
SO HOW DID THE JURY FIND? Not guilty. Jurors, please explain.
"There was no DNA evidence," said one juror. I've heard this a lot in the chatter surrounding the Casey Anthony trial too. Again, I have no opinion on her guilt or innocence, but the idea that DNA evidence is a requirement for a guilty verdict means that our understanding of reasonable doubt is in ruins.
"He said he didn't do it more than he admitted it on the recording," said another juror. So there you have it. If you ever commit a crime, make sure you leave no DNA evidence, and make sure you deny it more than you confess to it. Everyone knows that an admission of guilt doesn't count if you first deny it six times.
This case still makes me angry. Here's a link to a recent article on it.
In New York City recently, a woman accused a police officer of raping her while another police officer kept a lookout. The details of the case are out there, it was a recent thing. Now, at the risk of being one of those peanut gallery types who thinks they know better than a jury, the evidence that was presented is public knowledge and clearly points to her being raped. The police picked her up because she was too drunk to make it home by herself, dropped her off at her apartment. They then made a fake call to dispatch give themselves a reason to go back, and then one officer entered her bedroom with her while the other kept a lookout for other police officers showing up.
So fast forward to later, she records a conversation with him where she accuses him of raping her. He denies it for awhile, and then eventually says, "Look, I wore a condom." She also was examined by a medical expert who found she had injuries consistent with being raped.
SO HOW DID THE JURY FIND? Not guilty. Jurors, please explain.
"There was no DNA evidence," said one juror. I've heard this a lot in the chatter surrounding the Casey Anthony trial too. Again, I have no opinion on her guilt or innocence, but the idea that DNA evidence is a requirement for a guilty verdict means that our understanding of reasonable doubt is in ruins.
"He said he didn't do it more than he admitted it on the recording," said another juror. So there you have it. If you ever commit a crime, make sure you leave no DNA evidence, and make sure you deny it more than you confess to it. Everyone knows that an admission of guilt doesn't count if you first deny it six times.
This case still makes me angry. Here's a link to a recent article on it.
Movies that I didn't like very much
Anneliese: Exorcist - Someone got out their camcorder and drafted family and friends into trying to make a movie. Then they tried to do all the creepy things in Exorcist but without a budget.
Stan Helsing - When the main character is asked to go into the bathroom to kill a cockroach and encounters lesbians making out, a fat lady with diarrhea, and a man in a giant cockroach suit that sprayed him with goop, I realized someone needed to work on their comedic pacing.
Stan Helsing - When the main character is asked to go into the bathroom to kill a cockroach and encounters lesbians making out, a fat lady with diarrhea, and a man in a giant cockroach suit that sprayed him with goop, I realized someone needed to work on their comedic pacing.
Let Me In
I finally watched Let Me In, the American adaptation of the book Let the Right One In, which upon watching both I feel is unjustly compared to the Swedish adaptation. I think you can't help but compare them to each other, and I understand the outrage of fans of the 'original' movie (though it is at times overblown) but in the end I think they're two different movies about the same book, and Let Me In can't really be called a remake of the Swedish film. The core material is the same, but they have different feels, and have chosen to feature different aspects of the book. I do think Let the Right One In is the better movie, primarily because of some questionable decisions in scoring and special effects for Let Me In, but I think Let Me In might be the darker of the two. Also I'm happy to support any of Chloe Moretz's projects. Have you read any of her interviews? She's wonderful.
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"i really didnt like this movie i got it as a bday gift and to me it didnt excite me at all and all the people comparing it to twlight...YOU CANT!!!!! there is no comparsion that Twlight is a way better movie" - Netflix review of Let Me In
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Today I watched The Last Circus, which in Spain had the much more interesting title of The Song of the Sad Trumpet. It had the familiar plot of the love triangle of abusive asshole boyfriend, the hot woman who loves him, and the unassuming nice guy who loves her. Except this one has clowns killing people.
It was well done. Things end up on shaky ground about halfway through, but the ends justify the means. The ends being a clown dressed as the pope firing machine guns.
It was well done. Things end up on shaky ground about halfway through, but the ends justify the means. The ends being a clown dressed as the pope firing machine guns.
(no subject)
So, whenever a war-related holiday, of which the US has several, comes around, family members of mine begin making Facebook posts about honoring soldiers for fighting for our freedom. So, this is not an internet argument bait question - I probably won't be responding to comments at all - what was the last military action the United States took that you feel protected, ensured, or increased our freedom?
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I'm pretty heavy. There's a photo of me I'm using on a forum I hang out on occasionally that is now me minus 50 lbs. and looking 10 years younger. It's only half that old, but it's still me looking a lot healthier than I do right now. I was going to say, "better" and then self-edited to not seem vain. No I'm totally vain. I looked good then, and now I look like a fat version of my dad.
There's still no pill for self control or increased executive faculty (I think that's the right phrase). You know, that part of your programming that says, "Dude, you don't need two slices of pizza. Even one is probably overdoing it," and then you order something healthy. And then you make that same decision every day for six months and then you weigh 20 lbs. less. That's the big struggle. Telling your brain that even though you've eaten this way for 30 years, give or take, that you need to change now. Oh, and by you I mean me, but I'm saying you because it's less embarassing.
I know that decision is one that's cultivated though, and I keep putting it off. Tomorrow I'll eat healthy I say and then tomorrow I forget. In the meantime my arteries are sweating and considering tapping out while I eat bites of a cheese quesadilla between rounds of Mortal Kombat. Every time I make the decision to put it off, though, I make it easier to keep putting off. The only thing that will make it easier to be healthy is to decide, right now, to be healthy. Along with everything else I want to change about my life right this second. Start doing that. Stop doing this.
I've done it before. What's so hard about it know? What sign from the heavens am I waiting for? Do I need a giant Mufasa head to emerge from the clouds and go, "Jesus Christ, look at you"? There's no real impetus for me to change I guess. I haven't had a heart attack. I don't have diabetes. Carly doesn't tell me I'm gross and unattractive and overweight. I'm supposed to be smarter than that, though. I'm supposed to know that even though there's no immediate danger those things loom. But the lazy and/or self-destructive part of me says, "So what? Everyone dies."
I've been faced with what I thought was mortal danger before, when I thought I was having a heart attack (I wasn't). So it's funny that my brain plays tough guy on this. If my big fat ass could hold a knife to my throat maybe I'd get something done.
There's still no pill for self control or increased executive faculty (I think that's the right phrase). You know, that part of your programming that says, "Dude, you don't need two slices of pizza. Even one is probably overdoing it," and then you order something healthy. And then you make that same decision every day for six months and then you weigh 20 lbs. less. That's the big struggle. Telling your brain that even though you've eaten this way for 30 years, give or take, that you need to change now. Oh, and by you I mean me, but I'm saying you because it's less embarassing.
I know that decision is one that's cultivated though, and I keep putting it off. Tomorrow I'll eat healthy I say and then tomorrow I forget. In the meantime my arteries are sweating and considering tapping out while I eat bites of a cheese quesadilla between rounds of Mortal Kombat. Every time I make the decision to put it off, though, I make it easier to keep putting off. The only thing that will make it easier to be healthy is to decide, right now, to be healthy. Along with everything else I want to change about my life right this second. Start doing that. Stop doing this.
I've done it before. What's so hard about it know? What sign from the heavens am I waiting for? Do I need a giant Mufasa head to emerge from the clouds and go, "Jesus Christ, look at you"? There's no real impetus for me to change I guess. I haven't had a heart attack. I don't have diabetes. Carly doesn't tell me I'm gross and unattractive and overweight. I'm supposed to be smarter than that, though. I'm supposed to know that even though there's no immediate danger those things loom. But the lazy and/or self-destructive part of me says, "So what? Everyone dies."
I've been faced with what I thought was mortal danger before, when I thought I was having a heart attack (I wasn't). So it's funny that my brain plays tough guy on this. If my big fat ass could hold a knife to my throat maybe I'd get something done.