An Open Letter to Donald Trump

Dear Donald -

I can call you Donald, can't I?

I've thought long and hard about your campaign for presidency, and I've come to a few conclusions.  I'd like to know if I'm right or wrong, just between you and me. See, I know what really happened. I know how this started. I just need to give this voice because I'm pretty sure I'm right here.

So, to begin with, this whole "I'm-running-for-president" thing was a publicity stunt, wasn't it?  I mean, let's face facts, you haven't been relevant in years, so you figured that a far-fetched presidential campaign would put your fifteen minutes of fame on life support for a little while, didn't you?  Don't deny it. You know that's how it started out, don't you? See, Donald, I don't blame you. Jump up in front of people, make a few outrageous statements, lose miserably, and you'll be back in the limelight in no time, right?

I'm right, aren't I?

Only you didn't count on racists, sexists, and idiots who would actually agree with those asinine statements, did you? So you tried to up your game with even more insane claims, statements designed to infuriate, hate speech and attack-formatted speeches. But it didn't work, did it? You resorted to name-calling, open mocking, and fear-mongering, and it still didn't work.  People still voted for you. No matter how hard you tried, you still couldn't get people to realize what a major shit-storm would occur for our nation (and the world) if you became president of our country.

And it scared you, didn't it Donald?  It did.  I know it did.  I'm right, aren't I?

So then you did the only thing a man like you could think to do:  You got worse. People couldn't possibly vote for you if you made yourself out to be a modern-day Hitler, could they? Of course not. No one would be that stupid, would they? But then, you underestimated them, didn't you? The anti-intellectuals. The fellow fear-mongers. The people who hate everything different than themselves. The self-righteous, the entitled... You underestimated them, didn't you? The louder you squawked and the more outrageous and terrible you became the more they ate it up.

And then another curious thing happened. You forgot. You forgot why you said those things to begin with. The potential power became intoxicating, didn't it Donald? You began to believe your own hype and forgot that everything you said was farce, didn't you? And now, with your own party members calling you out, you think it's too late, don't you?

It's not too late, Donald.  It's not. I mean, let's be honest, you've always been a walking parody.  From your augmented wives to your lies about being a self-made millionaire to your ridiculous branding schemes (Trump Steaks?  Really, Donald?), you've always been more of cartoon than a real person, Donald. But you can recover a shred of self-respect. It's really easy, and people will respect you for it. Here's how:

Admit it.

Get up in front of the world and just own up to your own bullshit. Get up there and tell the world that I'm right. It was a grab for a few more minutes of fame that got out of hand. You can totally paint yourself as a saint, Donald. Just raise your hands and tell us how you were trying to cast the harsh light of ridicule on the ignorant who chose to vote for you. Tell us how you really don't believe in being a racist chauvinistic douchebag, and how you want to bow out of the race, but couldn't figure out how to gracefully do so. Then exit the race before you do more damage. Exit the race before you damn this country to the horrors of your presidency. You're already the butt of thousands of jokes that span over twenty years.  Don't make the USA the butt of an even more tragic joke just because you're afraid to admit it was all a publicity stunt.

Unless I'm wrong.  Unless it wasn't a publicity stunt. Unless you actually are the ignorant racist, sexist elitist that you seem to be.

And if you are, I hope the educated and empathetic outnumber your legions of hate-mongers.

Sincerely,

Scott A. Johnson
Author, Father, American

Ghostbusters (2016): A Review

It's been a long time since I did a film review, and I can think of no place better than right here. And no better movie than this one. I went to see the new Ghostbusters this past Saturday, and, because of all the controversy surrounding it, I felt (of course) that I needed to put in my $.02. So here we go. Buckle up, strap on your proton pack, and prepare for my unvarnished opinion on this rebooting of the franchise.

First off, let's just get this out of the way. This isn't the same Ghostbusters that hit theaters in 1984.

It's theses people...

Not these people.

The premise of the movie isn't that different from its cold-war-era counterpart. Three "scientists" set out to prove the existence of ghosts and, along the way, pick up a normal person who helps out. In the meantime, they find time to run afoul someone who wants to bring about the end of the world, so they use their cobbled-together gizmos and not a small amount of chutzpa to take on the paranormal and kick all kinds of ass. Everyone good on that point? 

So, while the original movie starred Bill Murray, Dan Akroyd, Harold Ramis, and Ernie Hudson as the titular quartet, the new one stars Kristin Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon, and Leslie Jones. I can hear all the man-babies whine now... "BAWWWWWWW!!! THEY'RE SHITTING ON MY CHILDHOOD!"  If a reboot and recasting with women is all it takes to "shit on your childhood," your childhood must've sucked ass to begin with. Sit down, shut up, and try learning how to breathe with your mouth closed. 

You tell 'em, Mr. T!

The plot is about as thin as it was in the original, so that's nothing new. Don't get all pissy over it... The original was a classic, yes, but you have to admit that there were huge plot holes, so let's not cry over it and move on. The real stars of the show, and rightfully so, are the actors and the special effects.

Kristin Wiig, for example is very good as the bumbling Erin Gilbert, who is ashamed of her past as a believer of paranormal phenomena. When Melissa McCarthy drags her kicking and screaming back into the world of the unseen, it is with great reluctance.  But after being introduced to Jilian Holdzman (played perfectly by Kate McKinnon) and encountering an actual ghost, she falls back in love with the subject. In fact, it is McKinnon and Leslie Jones (playing Patty Tolan) who would completely steal the show, were it not for such competent performances by the rest of the cast. Sure, the characters are recognizable as the female versions of their male counterparts, but they are so very different.

Here...Happy now?

But see, there is so much more to the performances. The modern Ghostbusters hold their own against the originals, with Holtzmann becoming easily an audience favorite for her manic and demented performance of a scientist gone mad. And while her character chews her way through the whole movie, it was Leslie Jones' Patty Tolan that had me laughing so hard I almost needed oxygen in the theater. No spoilers, but this is easily one of the funniest movies I've seen since Deadpool, and for totally different reasons.

Chris Hemsworth also deserves a mention here because his portrayal of the brain-damaged Kevin is funny as hell, and don't give me any crap about how vapid he is. How often have women played characters whose only real purpose was eye candy? How many times have women been played as stupid  when compared to their male costars?  Plenty. And Chris Hemsworth does an amazing job of playing the absolute idiot, and he commits to the role with gusto. It amazes me how willing he is to be the biggest fool in the film, and even goes into a brilliant dance number during the credits. 

Funny funny man...

The special effects are also impressive, though I do tend to favor the more practical effects to computer-generated creatures. 

One thing that no one has mentioned in the previews, which made it a nice surprise in the movie was...

... the cameo appearances in the movie. Every one was a love-letter to the original fandom and a squee-worthy moment in the film. Who did cameos?  EVERYONE from the original. Seriously. Bill Murray shows up, as does Dan Akroyd.  Harold Ramis died before filming, but he shows up as a bust in a college hallway.  The old Hook and Ladder Company makes an appearance.  Ernie Hudson shows up. Even Sigorney Weaver and Annie Potts makes an appearance.  The only person who doesn't appear is Rick Moranis. Even Slimer appears.

So how do I feel about the movie?  I loved it. I enjoyed every popcorn-crunching moment of it, and I'll see it again.  And again.  And when the inevitable sequel comes out, I'll see it too.  If you're not seeing this movie because there are women in place of the originals, you're robbing yourself of a great flick. If you're not seeing it because it's a needless remake, fair point, but it's still really good. I applaud McCarthy, Wiig, Jones, and McKinnon on their performances, and for making the roles their own.

Now go see the movie and fall in love with the paranormal all over again.

Until next time...

SAJ

In a Good Place

I know that, from the last blog, it seems like I'm about a pug's whisker away from ending it all. But I'm not. Really, and from the bottom of my heart, I'm in a good place. For the first time since 2011, I'm in a good place. So that's the reason for this entry. A long time ago, I had to remind myself of how fortunate I was, and I've been doing it every day to make it through the working hours. And it isn't always easy. I mean, really, sometimes I have to take a step back and remind myself why I don't just wrap my car around a telephone pole. But a long time ago, I had an epiphany, and my life was forever changed.

Five years ago, I wasn't in a good place. I'll spare you the horrible details of what was going on at the time. Chances are, if you're reading this, you already know. Suffice to say, I'm still dealing with all the bullshit. But here's a list of all the things that have already gone right for me this year, and things that continue to go right for me. We'll start from the general to the more specific (and important), and I'll attempt to explain why each one is a good thing, in case it isn't obvious.

• I'm alive. That's (arguably) better than the alternative.
• I still have a job. I see so many people out there who don't, who can't make ends meet, who can't even get a foot in the door. I've got twenty years with the same university.  I realize that's around half of my life working for the same entity, but that same entity has allowed me to put a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food on my table.  I have health insurance because of that university, and I can provide for my family because of it. 
• Actually, I have multiple jobs. I work for two universities (one as staff, the other as faculty).  I also am a martial arts instructor (5th dan black belt), and I'm a writer. 
• My daughters love me. Self explanatory.
• I have thirteen books published. Thirteen. How many people out there never get one published?  Lots. Let alone thirteen. 
• My fur-babies. Yeah, I know, but still.  I have a pug and three cats. I can't even express to you how much better they make me feel. 
• My friends. I used to only need the fingers of one hand to count the number of real friends I had, and I was fine with that. Now I need a few more hands, and I consider myself really fortunate that so many people out there love me. 
• My family. Not just my little nuclear family, but my extended family. There are people that I consider to be more than friends, people who became part of my family through marriage, etc. I count myself lucky to have all of them. 

There's one other thing that I have to list, but I didn't want to relegate it to a bullet point. I am the luckiest man alive on many points, but none so much as this: Katie. Two years ago, I walked into karate class and there was this girl there.  She wore a pink uniform (a thing unheard of for anyone but Judo Gene LaBell), had pink hair, pink sneakers, a pink gym bag, and a pink water bottle. I started calling her Pinkie Pie because I do irritating things like that. Then a curious thing happened. I fell for her.  Hard. I thought there was no way a girl her age (she's 18 years younger than me) would be interested in a guy my age, but she was such a wonderful person that I knew I still wanted her in my life. So I was content to be friends with her. 

Then another curious thing happened.

She told me she didn't want to be just friends. A year after our first date, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. 

At our fairy-tale wedding.

So you see, my life isn't so bad. My life has gotten better, in fact. Depression be damned.  I fight it every day, and sometimes, all I have to do is look over and see her standing next to me to know that my life can and will get better.  Yeah, I know, I'm a sap, but I don't care. 

The bottom line is this:  For everything that's happened, for all the pain and misery, for all the sad times, I'm in a good place.  Family, friends, pets, motorcycles, and writing have helped me to climb out of the hole I've been in for years, and I'm starting to feel happy again. 

To anyone out there suffering from depression:  It can get better. It really can. Get help if you can, but hold on because you must. It gets better. Life gets better. The world gets better. And mine is a little less dim now. 

Until next time...

SAJ