Knock-off

This morning, I caught the last half of the film Sarkar, Bollywood’s version of Francis Ford Coppola’s 1972 hit The Godfather. All of the elements are present: an above-the-law boss to whom people appeal for justice; a good son, a bad son; a conspiracy of local criminals to whom the Godfather (or Sarkar) poses a financial threat. The Vito/Michael cognates are Subhash Nagre and Shankar Nagre, played by real life father-and-son actors Amitabh Bachchan and Abhishek Bachchan. That’s Amitabh to the right. I wonder if they were chosen for their resemblance to Michael Corleone’s actor, Al Pachino?

It’s a fun movie, what I saw of it, delightful for its similarities as well as its culture clash differences. For example: remember the scene in The Godfather where Michael has to scramble to protect his father in the hospital? The Don has survived one attempt on his life, and Michael realizes that killers are coming to finish the same job. Imagine that same scene with background music chanting, “JESUS, JESUS, JESUS,” and you’ll have some idea of the surprises in store for you from the Bollywood production. There’s a similar moment during the settling-scores ending montage; in The Godfather, this is accompanied by organ music (Michael is serving as godfather at his nephew’s christening), while in Sarkar, someone sings, “Such injustice, how could anyone tolerate it?” . . . just in case the audience begins to lose sympathy for Shankar, thanks to his new appreciation for violence.

Of course, the point of The Godfather was Michael’s tragic fall from grace. We may understand his crimes, but we’re not supposed to excuse them. In Sarkar, Shankar/Michael becomes an instrument of righteous vengeance rather than a good man gone bad.

Out of curiosity, I searched the tubes for other knock-offs of The Godfather. Surprisingly, Sarkar is it. There have been numerous nods to The Godfather, including The Freshman, Shark Tale, and even Rugrats in Paris, and Bollywood is preparing a comedic version, but other close cousins are lacking.

The other odd thing is that it took so long for another country to crib from Coppola. Thirty-two years passed between the releases of The Godfather and Sarkar. In contrast, it only took Turkey five years to produce the execrable Dünyayi Kurtaran Adam, their version of Star Wars. (IMDB, however, points out, “Two space cadets crash-land on a desert planet, where an evil wizard seeks the ultimate power to take over the world. Although the movie borrows some background footage from Star Wars, the plot is mostly unrelated.”)

Not particularly apropos of this discussion . . . but I found a video that gave me a lot of laughs this morning. Triumph the Insult Comic Dog visits the line of fans waiting to see Clone Wars. Almost good enough to make me watch Conan.

D.

That’s totally what I want to know.

The scary thing is, my son claims this makes sense in context.

Good lord, now I’m hungry for wolf kebab.

D.

Making the email rounds, apparently

but I found it here:

If they had Facebook in Star Wars.

Chortle . . .

D.

Various, meet sundry

Currently reading Dexter by Design on my wife’s eBook reader. At Kizer Kamp this week, lots of people noticed it and said, “Oooh, is that a KINDLE?” No fraid not and it ain’t a Nook, either. Wish it were, since black-on-gray kills my eyes in dim light. I’m not young anymore.

This Dexter is slickly written, or at least I thought so until Lindsay sent Dex traipsing off to Cuba. Lindsay’s Cuba pales besides memories of Martin Cruz Smith’s Havana Bay. Speaking of which, am I really going to have to wait until MARCH 2010 for Smith’s next Arkady Renko novel? (BTW, what a crappy blurb.) Dex in Havana? The book stumbles into a crawl just as it should be zooming along. Still, it’s been a fun novel up until now.

Something I learned the other day at Kizer Kamp: Disneyland has closed It’s A Small World. Why? People are too fat. They’ve been bottoming out the boats. But that’s okay — that ride sucked donkey balls. Even when I was five, I couldn’t see the point.

Women are fatter. I wish I could remember the stats, but I think it ran something like this: average American woman’s weight in the 1950s was under 140 lbs; now it’s 170. To me, even 140 sounds heavy, but then I’m married to a ninety-pounder.

Happy patients today, some deliriously so. Some of the happiest patients you’ll ever meet are the ones who have parted with their unholy tonsils. Bill Cosby had an old routine wherein the young Bill would question the doctor, Why do I need to have my tonsils taken out? The doctor replies, Son, tonsils are like soldiers fighting in a vicious, bitter war . . . and yours have joined the other side.

So true.

Sometimes I look at my blogroll, and it’s like looking at a reflection of an earlier me. A fossilized me. Where are some of these people nowadays? Some of them haven’t come around in years. Nor have I visited their blogs. Why do I hang onto them? Is it just inertia?

Karen’s watching Shadow of the Vampire. What a fun movie!

D.

Lifestyle changes

I had my third and final “University” meeting in Pasadena today — the Kize’s attempt to indoctrinate us inculcate the corporate values in its new employees. As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m thoroughly indoctrinated inculcated. But I think they need some work getting their message straight. All well and good to lecture us for 30 minutes on the merits of exercise, how important it is to “live the Thrive message” and set a good example for our patients . . . but then they serve us cookies and quiche cups and coconut shrimp and egg rolls?

Don’t get me wrong — the food rawked. I ate my fill. And now I’m way too bloated to participate in the Kize’s triathlon.

D.

Unsettling and odd and not a little sad

My mother said to me, apropos of nothing (which is how she said most things, I’m afraid), “Your father really cares about me.” I heard a note of genuine surprise when she described how my dad had visited her in the hospital every day and had stayed with her for hours.

They’ve been married over sixty years, and she’s surprised he cares about her.

Was my father surprised at his own anxiety (which I suspect he’d now deny) when my mother was in the hospital? But it was there in his voice. Are they just now coming to appreciate one another?

Or perhaps this is all ignorance or presumptuousness on my part. Perhaps I’ve had blinders on because all I’ve ever seen of them is the bickering (which in my family involves screaming invectives at the top of one’s lungs). If I had to pick words to describe their interactions over the years, respect and sympathy and concern wouldn’t be near the top of my list. But have I been missing something all this time?

And then there’s my mother’s lack of bile, to put it mildly. This trip, she was pleasant. Really pleasant. Which isn’t like her. Is this part and parcel of her recent problems?

Does it take a certain level of mental faculty to harbor spite, resentment, animosity?

Needless to say, we find this all very concerning.

D.

PS: We’re trying to figure out what our turtles were doing in Chinatown. Supposedly, they were rescued from Chinatown. Were they being sold as pets, or proto-appetizers?

Traffic

We left Vegas at 10:10 AM, pulled into Bako at 5:40 PM. ‘Nuff said, but . . . re: driving to Vegas on holiday weekends? Never again. Next time, we fly. Better yet, we figure out how to visit the folks on non-holiday weekends.

How did you spend your holiday weekend? Hollywood icon Kirk Douglas, now 92 years young, spent it with his wife serving dinner to the homeless of Los Angeles. Story and picture here. All the best to the both of them.

More to come, but not tonight. I’m wiped.

D.

Turkey Day

We made it out of Bako by 9:15 and got to Barstow by 11:30. Seemed like we were making good time, but then we hit parking lot traffic on I-15 North just out of Barstow. About 45 minutes later, we passed the accident site. The tow truck was just then pulling around, towing away the wreck, and the cops were heading back to LA.

After that, we made good time, but it still took about 5.5 hours to get to my parents’ house. For Thanksgiving Day Dinner, they did the smart thing and bought precooked turkey breast and ham. Still way too much food, but isn’t that a Thanksgiving tradition? I mean, did we really need two turkey breasts, a ham, two pumpkin pies, and an apple pie? And my mother was pissed that my dad opted not to make the stuffing.

She seems fully recovered from what I can tell. She’s using her walker more, which is a good thing, and she’s talking to herself as much as ever. She has this way of starting one sentence and finishing another, but that’s nothing new.

Tomorrow we’re going to a mall, I expect. And then we have to convince my parents not to have dinner at a buffet.

How about y’all? Good turkey?

D.

Polypy goodness

One of my favorite things to do in the OR is remove nasal polyps. Got to do it twice today — so this was a very good day indeed.

This is how polyps look when they’re inside the nasal cavity:

nasal-polyp41

Imagine trying to breathe around that.

Here’s how polyps look after we’ve yanked ’em out:

nosep1

I like removing polyps because it’s a relatively safe and easy (albeit potentially bloody) thing to do, yet it creates a singularly happy patient. These are folks who have had to put up with facial pressure, sinus infections, and often severe nasal obstruction for months or years. The relief they get can be overwhelming.

Chronic tonsillitis patients are similarly pleased, but the operation is so painful it often takes a month or two before they thank you. Nasal polyposis patients are often delighted as soon as they recover from the general anesthesia.

No one knows what causes polyps to grow, but they seem to be associated with chronic inflammation from sinusitis and/or allergy. Some folks with these conditions form polyps, some do not. Once they form, they’re like weeds. We can weed the garden, but we know they’ll be back. Provided we keep the patient as sinusitis- and allergy-free as possible, we can sometimes keep the polyps at bay for years.

D.

Best. Title. Ever.

Best. Concert. Ever. by Jonathan Coulton.

Here’s his version of Baby Got Back . . .

And here’s another great song from Best. Concert. Ever.: Kenesaw Mountain Landis, first baseball commissioner and mean mother — well, you’ll find out.

D.