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And now on to my random thoughts:
I rewatched both Thor and Thor 2 last night, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the first one. The first Thor is a great superhero movie. It’s lighthearted and comical, with great bursts of dialog and real chemistry between the stars. The second Thor is pretty terrible, made redeemable only by Loki and Frigga. I love that scene with Frigga fighting Malekith. You go, Renee Russo!
Thor hit all the right notes, thanks to Joss Whedon and Kenneth Branagh. Thor 2? Outside of the scenes between Hiddleston and Russo, the chemistry was gone among the actors–the sparkle was gone. Remember when Chris Hemsworth strutted into frame in the big reveal of Thor in the first movie? He WAS Thor.
Hemsworth was charming and charismatic, and seemed really happy to be there. He and Natalie Portman were believably enamored of one another–which had everything to do with the dialog. She was mostly believably scientific and adorkable–again with the dialog. Anthony Hopkins didn’t seem embarrassed. Josh Dallas was gorgeous–what happened with him? And whose idea was it to replace him with Chuck? Y’all, do not put Chuck in a blond wig. All the wigs were better in Thor–in Thor 2? No. I’ve seen a better wig on The Blacklist.
Thor 2 ruined the Jane Foster character, who was fiery, driven, and wicked smaht in the first movie, and relegated to cowering and running around in the second. Bah.
Thor was a fantastic romp. Thor 2 had no heart–or only the small, black one that belongs to Loki. I’d still watch a 3rd.
I loved Dynasty. The hair. The drama. The shoulder pads. The slap fights. The hats. The turbans. Were there people on that show other than Joan Collins? There was definitely Steven Carrington, who was one of network television’s first openly gay main characters. He was cute. His Steve Coleman incarnation was cuter–I want Steve Coleman to be a SHIELD agent, btw.
I do not love Duck Dynasty. While my mother was recuperating at my house, I ended up squinting my way through a Duck Dynasty marathon. I did not understand the appeal. It did not compute. Then my mother said the magic words, “I like them because they are Christians.”
It didn’t matter that they were jaw-droppingly inane, and borderline inappropriate (this from the episode where tw0 grown men were grilling a 14 year old girl about how far she was going to let her first date get with her.) They were Christians! The magic bandaid that makes everything better. Slap a cross on your bumper and you’re good to go!
You know who else were Christians?
David Duke (“We [Whites] desire to live in our own neighborhoods, go to our own schools, work in our own cities and towns, and ultimately live as one extended family in our own nation. We shall end the racial genocide of integration.”)
George Wallace (“In the name of the greatest people that have ever trod this earth [white people], I draw the line in the dust and toss the gauntlet before the feet of tyranny, and I say segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever”. )
Cecil Price (“Well, boys, you’ve done a good job [murdering Civil Rights workers.] You’ve struck a blow for the white man. Mississippi can be proud of you. You’ve let those agitating outsiders know where this state stands. Go home now and forget it.”)
Good, southern boys out to protect what the good lord and the good book says is so. By whatever means necessary. Looking at color, or religion, or sexual orientation rather than seeing human beings because it is easier to lynch a man than try to understand him. Good old southern boys, two of whom were elected to public office–just in case you doubt their popularity.
I don’t give a rat’s tail what some hairy hillbilly thinks. (I care less what a reality TV star thinks–you don’t get to be on a reality TV show because you are well adjusted. No one is going to watch Bob go to work, work hard, and come home to help his wife do the dishes). What I care about is that there are human beings on the receiving end of this Heehaw’s flapping beard hole.
If you’re going to hide behind God’s skirts, then I highly suggest you use the language of Jesus when you get brave enough to poke your head out from behind the big guy’s backside.
I highly suggest you take your example from Jesus, not Paul, or Peter, or Moses, or any other imperfect man. Model your behavior after the Son of God, not the Sons of Thunder. If you aspire to be a godly man or woman, my recommendation is that you save your judgment for The Church, like Jesus did. And you offer your love, compassion, kindness, and MEEKNESS to the world. Like Jesus did.
Jesus wasn’t throwing over the tables and going postal on the temple prostitutes, or losing his temper with the tax collectors. He saved his ire for those who said they knew better, and still did just as bad, or worse.
If you want to love people, then keep your mouth shut about them and let your lifestyle be the example to follow. If you want to shun, shame, or hurt people, just keep jacking your jaws.