Buzz Lightyear vs Iron Man

Inevitably sequels fail to measure up to their predecessors (The Sting II, anybody? And for that matter, all odd-numbered Star Treks). But every once in a cineplex, you discover the exception. This year, that would be Toy Story 3--which gets my vote for Best Picture, to date.

Before divulging two spoilers, I'll say TS3 is likely the smartest film of the trilogy. It navigates a bittersweet subject--coming of age, leaving home and childhood behind--with extraordinary poignancy.

Before I contrast this with Iron Man 2, a pair of observations: First, the incinerator scene late in the third act stunned me. To watch the expressions of the toys' faces as they faced imminent death was to see animation that rivals any emotion a human face can produce. Woody, Buzz, Jessie, and the rest linked hands to confront their end with an acceptance made all the more touching because it was wordless. And you couldn't help but wonder, How will they escape?

Second, when Andy passes his toys on to Bonnie (who wears the big brown eyes and rounded face of an older Boo from Monsters, Inc.), you will hear adults reaching for kleenex. The filmmakers know their audience has followed the story from the first Toy Story to its conclusion. They know Andy has grown up, just as the audience. His rites of passage are ours, too. And no animated film in my life has provided a more heartbreaking/reassuring final scene.

Iron Man 2 would've benefited from a little more emotion--and better villains. The Armored Avenger has to face down his own mortality, and the best competition they could give him was a guy with glorified buggywhips and a weasly arms-maker. Come on.

When I think back to Iron Man's first encounter with Whiplash, I remind myself: Dude could fly around and strafe greasy-haired Mickey Rourke to death. But no, he stands there and makes it a ridiculous fight.

Plus, Sam Rockwell is badly miscast as Justin Hammer. Too young, too whiny, and insufficiently mean. If your character's last name is Hammer, that should be a big honkin' clue how to play it.

The film's best moments tend to be short and subtle--as when Tony Stark checks his rising blood toxicity. His face tells the tale; he's dead man walking. The lunch he cooks for the always radiant Gwyneth Paltrow, and his subsequent gift to her of his corporation, have the earmarks of a man who's living his bucket list.

As with all comic book movies, though, the quality of the rock 'em sock 'em fights count heavily. And Iron Man 2 is left wanting in this area. Which is the ultimate irony, of course. The best of Iron Man 2 takes place when Tony Stark is outside the suit.

The Ask

I don't believe most people are comfortable asking for money or closing a deal. Unless you're a born salesman, it's an acquired skill. Which is why Sonia Simone's article is both funny and true. It helps to have a small arsenal of devious psychological tactics at your disposal and the tenacity to use them when making a pitch.

Because it's not everyday that I feel the urge to buy an electric asparagus skateboard--but a clever marketer can inspire me to scratch an itch I never knew I had.

Nick Saban would not be pleased.

While at the gym recently, I noticed a well-designed, glossy flyer for Nick Saban’s upcoming football camps. The front page carried a large visual of the coach himself and a listing of all former Alabama players who are on current NFL rosters.

With one problem (noticeable to anyone who can read).

The word “Chiefs”—as in Kansas City Chiefs—was misspelled as “Cheifs.” To compound this, there are three Crimson Tide players on that team. There were also numerous errors with spacing between words and characters.

I know correct spelling may not win anyone a job in this life. But incorrect spelling may cost you a job. It’s the reason God created copyeditors.

Because when you fail to proof a flyer about his football camp, Nick Saban is not pleased.

srsly = Seriously

When it comes to shortened words used for e-communications, vanity plates, what have you, we lean strongly (strngly) toward consonants. I've noticed that often enough to wonder what some words would look like if we used vowels instead.

Take the title of this post. Seriously would become something like "eiouy". Hard to figure out, hard to pronounce. Thanks--commonly reduced to thx--would be simply "a". Our language leaves no choice but to use consonants.

srsly.

Gambling vs gaming -- or the importance of a mere 2 letters

One of the principal reasons I'm against gambling in Alabama is the usage of the word "gaming" as its substitute. It's an artful dodge at best and deliberately misleading (read: lying) at worst.

Check out http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/game for the exact definition of a game. Focus your attention on entries 2a and 3a. You'll notice words like "strategy" and "participants in direct opposition to each other."

In light of this, please tell me the last time you heard of someone using strategy while playing slots. For that matter, was the machine is direct opposition to the player?

Slots = gambling. Pure and simple. There's no strategy involved. Only blind, zip-a-dee-doo-dah, hope I chose the right slot machine, luck--if you're so fortunate as to win.

When you attempt to change the nature of the debate to find a word or label (like gaming) more palatable to the masses, something inside you surely must realize: Hey, what I'm advocating is questionable.

There are other reasons I'm against gambling in my beloved home state. Let it stay in Las Vegas, Mississippi, New Orleans, etc. Alabama has more pressing needs.

Carly Fiorina and remedial classes in political campaign advertising

As an aficionado of storytelling and advertising, I'm alternately fascinated by/repulsed by political advertising. And there's a Senate race that catches my attention right now.

I want to like Carly Fiorina--I really do. She's the former head of Hewlett-Packard, a cancer survivor, and now a Republican candidate for the U.S. Senate from California. This is a lady of real accomplishment.

And yet her new 3 1/2-minute campaign ad has become a viral hit for the wrong reasons. Where to begin... the animal motif, the decision to devote so much attention to her opponent, the freakish man/sheep at the 2:26 mark, the lack of information about Fiorina herself, and the underwhelming amount of time given to her ideas as a candidate.

She has so many weapons at her disposal, but her campaign chose to air a laughably-produced attack ad? Please. With a new candidate--even one with a distinguished career in the computer industry--there's an education process involved. The public has to get to know her.

And this is exactly where you use her life story as a weapon. She has the guts to outlast a deadly illness. She's an overachiever. And she's a breath of fresh air (read: change) for a state with a longtime Democratic senator.

Hmmm, I seem to remember a certain president riding the concept of change all the way to the White House. Now it's time for Ms. Fiorina to position herself as a change agent with a compelling life story.

Watch the crawl

It's often interesting to note the choice of words various networks use at the bottom of the screen. For example: in explaining Alabama's victory over Texas in the national championship, ESPN stated that Bama "survived a late surge by Texas."

This is true, yet only half true.

The other half is that Bama's powerful running game and stifling defense staked them to such a large lead at halftime, that Texas--without its star quarterback--was ill-equipped to mount a sufficient comeback. Had Alabama scored no points at all in the second half, it still would've won by three points.

And still, it's the late surge by Texas that gets ESPN's notice and also their postgame discussion. These choices of words have a way of framing how the game is viewed and remembered. He who controls the nature of the debate often determines its outcome--even if the facts may say otherwise.

So watch how the crawl and the words spoken by the anchors function as mirror images of one another.