Ernst Udet was a decorated Ace in WWI, and an early member of the Nazi party (he made a deal with the devil: Hermann Goering said he would buy two Curtis Hawk's from the US if he joined). Udet loved to party hard, and would fly after a few shots of courage, so he had a cabinet maker construct a portable bar making certain the contents would be unbreakable. Udet became disillusioned with WWII and what he predicted was the destruction of the Luftwaffe. He also was taking large quantities of methamphetamine washing it down with Cognac. He became despondent and died in 1941. Here he is between the wars flying in an airshow in Chicago, showing his dead stick loop and landing.
So the movie Arrival, has received mixed reviews. Audience members hate it, or love it. The movie is not so much about aliens, as it is about humans. How we think. We think linearly, time is a line. I have taught statistics, so I have drawn the "line" many a time in class: the line has a slope, an intersect, and an equation. But in this movies we learn that time is not linear, and that is the key to understanding this movie. The Aliens understand this, and they patiently teach us this (through Amy Adams, who is amazing in her role.) If we only thought non linearly, how would that change our lives? Our world? A beautiful movie of philosophy. This should be shown in every Freshman philosophy class. Philosophy is about thinking, and exercising our minds not to think linearly would be a good beginning for any budding philosopher.
Yes the classic film, Christmas Evil, will be playing on December 25th, at the Hollywood Theater in Portland. This theater serves wine, beer and pizza, so plan an entire evening of Christmas celebration!
Mister Rogers' Neighborhood won four Emmy awards, and Rogers himself was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award at the 1997 Daytime Emmys, as described by Esquire's Tom Junod:
Mister Rogers went onstage to accept the award—and there, in front of all the soap opera stars and talk show sinceratrons, in front of all the jutting man-tanned jaws and jutting saltwater bosoms, he made his small bow and said into the microphone, "All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are. Ten seconds of silence."
And then he lifted his wrist, looked at the audience, looked at his watch, and said, "I'll watch the time." There was, at first, a small whoop from the crowd, a giddy, strangled hiccup of laughter, as people realized that he wasn't kidding, that Mister Rogers was not some convenient eunuch, but rather a man, an authority figure who actually expected them to do what he asked. And so they did. One second, two seconds, three seconds—and now the jaws clenched, and the bosoms heaved, and the mascara ran, and the tears fell upon the beglittered gathering like rain leaking down a crystal chandelier. And Mister Rogers finally looked up from his watch and said softly "May God be with you," to all his vanquished children.