Google Video pick of the week #016

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I´m starting J School in a couple weeks (cue, Nasir),  so it´s fitting I get into the news media state of mind, for a minute.

You never set out to find great movies on GV, but every now and again, as if the Internet content gods want to prove their might, they drop a gem on you (cue, Havoc).

This week´s pick is among the greatest movies put on celluloid. It won mad Oscars. And yes, it´s better than Scarface (1983) and Star Wars (1977).  It stars a member of the Wild Bunch (1969), William Holden, and even  Mommy Dearest (1981 ).

Playwright/screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky laid it all out like a genius. Here are the words from the iconic moment. (via)

HOWARD

I don’t want you to riot. I

don’t want you to protest. I

don’t want you to write your

congressmen. Because I wouldn’t

know what to tell you to write.

I don’t know what to do about the

depression and the inflation and

the defense budget and the Russians

and crime in the street. All

I know is first you got to get

mad. You’ve got to say: “I’m

mad as hell and I’m not going

to take this any more. I’m a

human being, goddammit. My life

has value.”  So I want you to

get up now. I want you to get

out of your chairs and go to

the window. Right now. I want

you to go to the window, open

it, and stick your head out

and yell. I want you to yell:

“I’m mad as hell and I’m not

going to take this any more!”

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This 1976 movie continues to ring true, in many ways, today. There´s no Howard Beale, but you can flip on some local networks and catch Help Me Howard. Not the same thing exactly, I know. But Chayefsky´s work saw the dawn of the decline, with its satyrical look at the ¨corporatization of the news media¨. Check out this 2004 slideshow, which breaks down who owns the platter your news i s served on. It´s by ex-NYT editor, Doreen Weisenhaus of the Univ. of Hong Kong´s Journalism and Media Studies Centre.

This one is a keeper. Cop one.

Google Video pick of the week #012

I´ve never been an extreme dog lover, but last night I gave Beba (feminine form of ¨baby¨) a bath. Beba is one of Mexico  City´s street dogs. She lives in Colonia Roma, on a busy calle dotted with hotels, taco stands and upscale restaurants. She´s not a comedienne, but she can be wildly entertaining, especially when she´s hungry. She´s finicky, though: ham, cheese, sausages or chicken for this perra.

If you´ve traveled around South America, maybe you´ve seen roving packs of dogs. I know I did on trips to Chile and Colombia in the past. Dog populations seem out of control in some places, and I´m always curious about things local governments do to control them.

In Mexico City, I don´t see that problem, maybe in the ¨Establo¨.  There are groups here that look out for these animals. The only reason Beba, whose only consistent home is the patch of sidewalk in front of the garage where she ¨works¨, hasn´t been scooped up by canine enforcement is because she has an i.d. tag on her collar. It reads ¨RAMBO  Beba¨. Either ¨Rambo¨ was her former name, or someone wanted to save a few pesos on a dog tag and reused RAMBO´s.

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