He sits on his porch dawn till dusk, drinking beer, petting his dog and cursing the day minorities began infiltrating his neighborhood. His arsenal of racial slurs more potent than the weapons he fired in Vietnam. The audience gasped as he pulled his beat up Ford to the side of the road and managed to ostracize three different races at once, one being his own.
Good thing he migrates to Florida in the winter, I don’t think anybody in the neighborhood can stand the guy. The real estate agent should have warned my parents about this guy before they bought a house next to him.
In “Gran Torino,” Clint Eastwood played a character very common to the Metro Detroit area. The film chronicles Walt Kowalski’s transformation from angry Bigot to angry Bigot who uses racial slurs playfully before becoming a martyr for the betterment of his neighborhood.
Whether or not Detroit’s emerging film industry can jump start the city’s economic engine, Hollywood has already provided a cinematic estimate on what can be done to get the Motor City on the road again through characters like Kowalski.
The leaders and citizens of Metro Detroit could learn something from studying the decade’s worth of Detroit based film since Martin Blank returned to his high school reunion, especially in regards Detroit’s tense and divided racial realities, as depicted in movies like “Gross Pointe Blank,” “8 Mile,” and “Gran Torino,” and its role in destroying a city once known as the “Paris of the Midwest.”
The deterioration of Detroit’s racial climate is habitually attributed to four days occurring over 30 years ago. The racially charged 1967 riots instigated a massive Caucasian migration to the suburbs, resulting in Metro Detroit’s great divide and three decades of excuses.
All it takes is a single viewing of the 1997 film “Gross Point Blank” to see the divide caused by the riots. If you can somehow keep your eyes off of Dan Aykroyd’s stunning performance and keep count of how many minority residents wander the quaint streets, your tally should match the number of Oscar’s on Aykroyd’s trophy shelf.
This lack of diversity, while distressing, is certainly not surprising as 97.1 percent of Gross Point citizens are Caucasian. Similarly, “8-Mile’s” lack of diversity is no shock considering Detroit is 88.1 percent African American. It is no wonder, then, that Metro Detroit is the least diverse Metropolitan area in nation.
A city does not become the least diverse city in the country by chance. Of the countless major cities that experienced racial riots in the 1960s, not one can match Detroit’s current racial landscape. If Southeastern Michigan wants to resuscitate communal ties and leave behind the haunting of events of 1967, someone should probably call the Ghost Busters because the regions inept leadership is not going to do anything.
Look no further than Detroit City Council. Led by Monica Conyers, renowned for calling the City’s interim Mayor Shrek during a meeting and verbally abusing an elementary school girl in a one week span, The City Council’s meetings make “8-Mile’s” gritty rap battles look like rock-paper-scissors.
In typical self-destructive fashion, the Detroit City Council has decided to follow the path made by the Walt Kowalski’s of the world rather than following in the footsteps of President Obama. In fact, the City Council has inexplicably attempted to restrict the use of President Obama’s name.
During a February 24th City Council discussion on the Cobo Center Expansion plan, a Caucasian teamster became subject to racially charged ridicule by Council President Conyers and several fellow city council members. In a last ditch effort to make his point, the teamster referenced President Barack Obama’s call for unity, resulting in Conyers response, “Don’t you say his name here.”
This is a pivotal era for the city of Detroit. It is facing its worse stretch in its history, yet the election of the first African American President has handed Detroit’s political leadership a chance to leave behind thirty years of racial tension that has been just as detrimental to the city as the failing auto industries. Unfortunately, the political leaders are wasting this valuable opportunity.
Instead Detroit’s leaders will beg the government for billions of dollars in bailout money to the auto makers, while letting the home of the North American International Auto Show decay purely because of racial motives.
Former Detroit Mayor, Coleman Young, a victim of racism himself growing up, once said.
“There are no symptoms of racism. The victim of racism is in a much better position to tell you whether or not you’re a racist than you are.”
Although not a victim, Hollywood has been trying to tell Detroit for a long time that it is a racist city, primarily to deaf ears.
Instead Detroit’s leaders are trying to figure out why it ascends to the summit of nearly every “America’s most (something you don’t want to be recognize for) City” on a yearly basis, when the answer is probably in their DVD cabinet.
The solution to Detroit’s problem is not found in the 11 figure checks sent to Ford and GM, or in explosive car chases down a Telegraph Road lined with cameras and director chairs. Industries can go out of business, companies can relocate elsewhere, but a city can rely on the strength of community through rough times. However, when a city’s sense of community vanishes in a crowd of racism, people leave, and a city cannot survive without people.
Detroit is not the next Hollywood and “The Automotive Capitol of the World” has become merely a title of seniority. For Detroit to survive these seemingly hopeless times, the sense of community that disappeared in favor of racial boundaries in 1967 must once again emerge. The Walt Kawalskis of Metro Detroit, from the politicians to the unemployed factory workers, must amend themselves before a once proud city becomes a martyr for racial unity.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
WhatAGratuitousNameForAConcertThankGodTheShowItselfWasMoreTolerable.
A steady stream of students began to permeate an empty Dalton Theater as early as forty minutes prior to show time. Fifteen minutes later the theater was virtually full. Ten minutes before show time and people were being turned away from a sold-out Dalton Theater, the tiered rows of seats surrounding the stage already as congested as the concert’s title.
“HallelujahIt’sRainingStrawberryWineinIowaOnMyWaywardSoWhoIsCarryingOnInChicagoAndItMakesMeWonderIfTimeIsRunningOutForMeToGetAKissFromADesperadeWhoNeedsHelpAndAnLAC?”
The eager students that arrived early enough for the anticipated event, or perhaps the much
needed LAC credit, enjoyed a performance that was exceptional for college-level standards.
The winter 2009 installment of the student organized a cappella concert saw the all-female Acabellas once again join forces with the co-ed Premium Orange in the creation of charming music using only their vocal chords.
The Acabellas opened the proceedings with a near forty five minute set. While the melodic hums of the instrument-less women were crisp and the continuously rotating soloists generally pleased the inner ears, the finest moments of the performance were found in fresh and comical renditions of the ever tedious cliché cover song.
The classy turned sassy rendition of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” was textbook for the Friday night college crowd, yet imaginative and mischievous enough to captivate an audience who had collectively heard the song well over a million times.
Premium Orange followed the Acabellas with a considerably less comedic act. From this more serious disposition emerged an outburst of musical energy, emanating from the vocalists into the captivated throng of spectators.
These spectators quickly became willing passengers as Premium Orange chauffeured them to the concert’s peak; a superb duet of the Motown classic “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” The male vocalist’s soulful voice was so similar to Marvin Gaye’s that he, in fact, was like the real thing.
Aside from performance aspects, “HallelujahIt’sRaining…” featured several positive and negative characteristics commonly found in smaller, student run concerts.
The smaller size of the venue allowed for an intimate setting, reinforced by a lenient hierarchy between the audience and the performers. Both a capella groups were easily accessible prior to and following the show, even working as theater ushers as crowds funneled in.
Dalton Theater's cozy environment also allowed for effortless interaction between the crowd and the stage, culminating in the entire theater singing happy birthday to one of the vocalists.
Although sufficient for the greater part of the concert, there were several lapses in acoustic quality. At times the melody from the background singers would drown out the soloist, notably during Seal’s “Kissed from a Rose” in which the lead vocalist was barely audible for extended periods of time.
After the stellar performances of both the Acabellas and Premium Orange throughout “HallelujahIt’sRaining,” Dalton Theater will assuredly overflow with students when the two groups reassemble this spring, LAC or not. Just be sure to get there 45 minutes early.
“HallelujahIt’sRainingStrawberryWineinIowaOnMyWaywardSoWhoIsCarryingOnInChicagoAndItMakesMeWonderIfTimeIsRunningOutForMeToGetAKissFromADesperadeWhoNeedsHelpAndAnLAC?”
The eager students that arrived early enough for the anticipated event, or perhaps the much
needed LAC credit, enjoyed a performance that was exceptional for college-level standards.
The winter 2009 installment of the student organized a cappella concert saw the all-female Acabellas once again join forces with the co-ed Premium Orange in the creation of charming music using only their vocal chords.
The Acabellas opened the proceedings with a near forty five minute set. While the melodic hums of the instrument-less women were crisp and the continuously rotating soloists generally pleased the inner ears, the finest moments of the performance were found in fresh and comical renditions of the ever tedious cliché cover song.
The classy turned sassy rendition of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back” was textbook for the Friday night college crowd, yet imaginative and mischievous enough to captivate an audience who had collectively heard the song well over a million times.
Premium Orange followed the Acabellas with a considerably less comedic act. From this more serious disposition emerged an outburst of musical energy, emanating from the vocalists into the captivated throng of spectators.
These spectators quickly became willing passengers as Premium Orange chauffeured them to the concert’s peak; a superb duet of the Motown classic “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” The male vocalist’s soulful voice was so similar to Marvin Gaye’s that he, in fact, was like the real thing.
Aside from performance aspects, “HallelujahIt’sRaining…” featured several positive and negative characteristics commonly found in smaller, student run concerts.
The smaller size of the venue allowed for an intimate setting, reinforced by a lenient hierarchy between the audience and the performers. Both a capella groups were easily accessible prior to and following the show, even working as theater ushers as crowds funneled in.
Dalton Theater's cozy environment also allowed for effortless interaction between the crowd and the stage, culminating in the entire theater singing happy birthday to one of the vocalists.
Although sufficient for the greater part of the concert, there were several lapses in acoustic quality. At times the melody from the background singers would drown out the soloist, notably during Seal’s “Kissed from a Rose” in which the lead vocalist was barely audible for extended periods of time.
After the stellar performances of both the Acabellas and Premium Orange throughout “HallelujahIt’sRaining,” Dalton Theater will assuredly overflow with students when the two groups reassemble this spring, LAC or not. Just be sure to get there 45 minutes early.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Critical Essay Response
http://espn.go.com/page2/s/list/eastcoastyes.html
Although this is a sports article, it really helped me realize the regional inferiority complexes that exist in our country and how different writers from different regions respond to it.
Schoenfield clearly believes that there is an East Coast Bias in the world of sports and pulls no stops in his attempt to prove it. For his evidence he decides to show ten different cases of this bias.
The main reason why this article helped me so much, even though it was not about the arts, is the way that Schoenfield blames the East Coast bias as a reason the Royals are never the lead on Sportscenter instead of looking at the real reason, the fact that they have been one of the worst teams in professional sports for decades. I found that using this East Coast bias as a scapegoat, as well as over romanticizing certain aspects of a region, were a very convenient excuse to conceal the real reasons why a certain region gets a “raw deal.”
I also took note of how Schoenfield spent more time disparaging the East Coast, whether it be individual athletes, teams or even sports literature, instead of focusing on the good of the other regions that are being “overlooked”. The propensity to disparage the region with a perceived bias rather than talk about the good stuff of the “inferior” region seems to be a very common form of argument against regional bias, and in my opinion one that lessens its merit.
With the help of this article as well as outside research on inferiority complexes I formulated my article, which turned into more of a mockery on regional inferiority complexes than anything else. In addition utilizing the aspects of inferiority complexes that this article revealed, I attempted to replicate one of the main characteristics of an inferiority complex, the tendency to try way too hard. In using overly complicated language and ridiculous similes and metaphors, I attempted to illustrate the propensity for the “overlooked” to try anything and everything to become superior to the “overvalued.”
Although this is a sports article, it really helped me realize the regional inferiority complexes that exist in our country and how different writers from different regions respond to it.
Schoenfield clearly believes that there is an East Coast Bias in the world of sports and pulls no stops in his attempt to prove it. For his evidence he decides to show ten different cases of this bias.
The main reason why this article helped me so much, even though it was not about the arts, is the way that Schoenfield blames the East Coast bias as a reason the Royals are never the lead on Sportscenter instead of looking at the real reason, the fact that they have been one of the worst teams in professional sports for decades. I found that using this East Coast bias as a scapegoat, as well as over romanticizing certain aspects of a region, were a very convenient excuse to conceal the real reasons why a certain region gets a “raw deal.”
I also took note of how Schoenfield spent more time disparaging the East Coast, whether it be individual athletes, teams or even sports literature, instead of focusing on the good of the other regions that are being “overlooked”. The propensity to disparage the region with a perceived bias rather than talk about the good stuff of the “inferior” region seems to be a very common form of argument against regional bias, and in my opinion one that lessens its merit.
With the help of this article as well as outside research on inferiority complexes I formulated my article, which turned into more of a mockery on regional inferiority complexes than anything else. In addition utilizing the aspects of inferiority complexes that this article revealed, I attempted to replicate one of the main characteristics of an inferiority complex, the tendency to try way too hard. In using overly complicated language and ridiculous similes and metaphors, I attempted to illustrate the propensity for the “overlooked” to try anything and everything to become superior to the “overvalued.”
Monday, March 2, 2009
Diary of a Delusional Michigander
The Michigan inferiority complex has afflicted the inhabitants of the Wolverine state since the commencement of the first westward expeditions that transformed what was once the westernmost colony in America into an overworked, underappreciated middle child.
This envious scorn, build up over hundreds of years of absent admiration, is exposed alongside the faintest suspicion of east coast bias. Why is ESPN showing the Red Sox and Yankees again instead of Tigers and White Sox? Why is does everyone love Tupac so much when Eminem is obviously better? Why are their only sharks in the ocean? Is it just that those snobby Californians get to fish for sharks and I’m stuck here fishing for Catfish in Lake Michigan?
While the eldest, easternmost offspring of the American dream and the tempestuous, golden haired western bombshell conceived through promiscuous manifest destiny monopolize the cultural consciousness of America, the palm of American and its Northeasternish companions were left with “the Paris of the Midwest” and the Renaissance Center.
The real question is not whether the Michigan Inferiority Complex exists, but what fuels it? Oh and why doesn’t anyone pay attention to us?
These sensitive inferior sentiments can be triggered by merely a cordial introduction to one of those foreign car driving egomaniacs. Nonetheless, with the imminent arrival of Mr. Big Shot Studio Executive to scrub away the filmy layer of filth left by the coming soon to a history text book near you auto companies, we shine the spotlight on Hollywood’s role in the muted perceptions of the Five Lake State.
Hollywood must maintain accountability for the gratuitous, melodramatic embellishments of our great state’s cultural defects and in turn broaden their funneled focus away from certain disconcerting aspects. The current approach is utilized only by amateurs who aspire to dedicate minimal amounts of effort and creative thought process to their non-masterpieces.
Take young David Zucker as exhibit A. Perhaps a proletarian, perhaps an overzealous intern. In his half-hearted stab at film making, “Scary Movie 4,” he illustrated the city of Detroit as flaming caricature of its true self. A woman speaks of an alien assault as we survey an already harassed Renaissance City in fiery red ruins, realizing its scorching mortality only to rise again like the Phoenix! Tears surged out of their ducts, a current of passion that raged on fiercer than the Detroit River, which is, incidentally, far superior to even a Siamese combination of the Missouri and Mississippi, strutted past my nostrils.
To hell with you David Zucker for what your filthy mind transmitted to the silver screen! The City of the Phoenix was not to ascend to its former splendor amidst blistering sparks of passion. The joke, my fellow Michigander associates, was on us. The Detroit we observed breathing its final, handsome but agonizing breath was before the extraterrestrial ambush. An allusion to the unbearable death of the most prominent city in my beloved state? To hell with you David Zucker.
This boorish vulgarity was not an isolated incident, my friends. For “The Man with No Name” has become the man with no core. Clint Eastwood’s profane “Gran Torino” depicted our great state in the most irreverent of ways. Ogling the audience from the big screen, adorned on an adolescent nonetheless, was a Detroit Lions jersey. There was also a lot of gang violence and a big shootout at the end that certainly added to the inferiority complex.
These burning spears of deceit that pierce through the retina and manifest in your mind as misconceptions of the great state of Michigan are patriotic hazards that mature into underlying turmoil between the city folk and suburbanites. This overstated trepidation being planted in our Paul Bunyan hearts by external Americans for the purpose of profit has molded Michigan’s only mountain out of class division and racial tension.
Soon our Paul Bunyan hearts will no longer beat the drums of Lake Superior with the irreplaceable compassion that fueled the first Model T. A city once known as the “Paris of the Midwest” is being seized from right under the tip of our thumb by cash mongering , non-American driving east and west coasters. And because statistics never lie, according a Wayne State University Study, of the 19 million people who attended marquee events in downtown Detroit in 2003, only 19 serious crimes occurred per 100,000 people. Chomp on that David Zucker.
While gluttonous stock market of the early 1900s dealers bartered our country into a great depression on the east coast and the embryo of artificial breasts, childhood actors turned drug addicts and Paris Hiltons were being viewed on ultra sounds in the west coast, Michigan was diligently creating industry. The State of Five Lakes was producing the assembly line and assembling factories that were essential in coming years. The Automotive State was manufacturing automotive products.
Michigan may be known as the Automotive State, but contrary to what the prehistoric Tinsel Town executives imply in their “films,” the soul of Michigan encompasses far more than Big Three auto companies that we never received due appreciation for. The Big Three auto companies that our fellow American colleagues repudiated while plunging a manually serrated foreign gear shift into the back of our hand.
Michiganders DO NOT consummate our relationship with a significant other in the sanctity of the factory like that ruffian B-Rabbit in “8 Mile.”
We do not crack quirky quips towards the affluent that drive luxurious foreign cars like the coward Martin Blank in “Gross Point Blank.” We chastise them and cease if and only if they resolve to drive American.
What Michiganders do is sail on the lakes, the warm wind blowing against our boat hats as we nip an elegant local Red Wine. We rap the puck about the frozen pond in the winter, and we fire rifles at animals for population regulation purposes in the fall. We barbeque meat in the summer and perhaps listen to the smooth stylings of fellow Great Lakesmen Bob Seger and Ted Nugent while perhaps sipping on a beer at night.
So Mr. Big Shot Studio Executive with your Crisco greasy hair and your designer suit with a price tag higher than Michigan’s average annual income. If you intend to erect your elaborate studios and continue to exploit our great home for capital. If you intend to continue to disregard the entirety of our beloved glove then you and your Hollywood frivolities can remain on the west coast. Us Michiganders will scrub away the filmy layer of filth left by auto companies by ourselves, as we have been for over a century.
This envious scorn, build up over hundreds of years of absent admiration, is exposed alongside the faintest suspicion of east coast bias. Why is ESPN showing the Red Sox and Yankees again instead of Tigers and White Sox? Why is does everyone love Tupac so much when Eminem is obviously better? Why are their only sharks in the ocean? Is it just that those snobby Californians get to fish for sharks and I’m stuck here fishing for Catfish in Lake Michigan?
While the eldest, easternmost offspring of the American dream and the tempestuous, golden haired western bombshell conceived through promiscuous manifest destiny monopolize the cultural consciousness of America, the palm of American and its Northeasternish companions were left with “the Paris of the Midwest” and the Renaissance Center.
The real question is not whether the Michigan Inferiority Complex exists, but what fuels it? Oh and why doesn’t anyone pay attention to us?
These sensitive inferior sentiments can be triggered by merely a cordial introduction to one of those foreign car driving egomaniacs. Nonetheless, with the imminent arrival of Mr. Big Shot Studio Executive to scrub away the filmy layer of filth left by the coming soon to a history text book near you auto companies, we shine the spotlight on Hollywood’s role in the muted perceptions of the Five Lake State.
Hollywood must maintain accountability for the gratuitous, melodramatic embellishments of our great state’s cultural defects and in turn broaden their funneled focus away from certain disconcerting aspects. The current approach is utilized only by amateurs who aspire to dedicate minimal amounts of effort and creative thought process to their non-masterpieces.
Take young David Zucker as exhibit A. Perhaps a proletarian, perhaps an overzealous intern. In his half-hearted stab at film making, “Scary Movie 4,” he illustrated the city of Detroit as flaming caricature of its true self. A woman speaks of an alien assault as we survey an already harassed Renaissance City in fiery red ruins, realizing its scorching mortality only to rise again like the Phoenix! Tears surged out of their ducts, a current of passion that raged on fiercer than the Detroit River, which is, incidentally, far superior to even a Siamese combination of the Missouri and Mississippi, strutted past my nostrils.
To hell with you David Zucker for what your filthy mind transmitted to the silver screen! The City of the Phoenix was not to ascend to its former splendor amidst blistering sparks of passion. The joke, my fellow Michigander associates, was on us. The Detroit we observed breathing its final, handsome but agonizing breath was before the extraterrestrial ambush. An allusion to the unbearable death of the most prominent city in my beloved state? To hell with you David Zucker.
This boorish vulgarity was not an isolated incident, my friends. For “The Man with No Name” has become the man with no core. Clint Eastwood’s profane “Gran Torino” depicted our great state in the most irreverent of ways. Ogling the audience from the big screen, adorned on an adolescent nonetheless, was a Detroit Lions jersey. There was also a lot of gang violence and a big shootout at the end that certainly added to the inferiority complex.
These burning spears of deceit that pierce through the retina and manifest in your mind as misconceptions of the great state of Michigan are patriotic hazards that mature into underlying turmoil between the city folk and suburbanites. This overstated trepidation being planted in our Paul Bunyan hearts by external Americans for the purpose of profit has molded Michigan’s only mountain out of class division and racial tension.
Soon our Paul Bunyan hearts will no longer beat the drums of Lake Superior with the irreplaceable compassion that fueled the first Model T. A city once known as the “Paris of the Midwest” is being seized from right under the tip of our thumb by cash mongering , non-American driving east and west coasters. And because statistics never lie, according a Wayne State University Study, of the 19 million people who attended marquee events in downtown Detroit in 2003, only 19 serious crimes occurred per 100,000 people. Chomp on that David Zucker.
While gluttonous stock market of the early 1900s dealers bartered our country into a great depression on the east coast and the embryo of artificial breasts, childhood actors turned drug addicts and Paris Hiltons were being viewed on ultra sounds in the west coast, Michigan was diligently creating industry. The State of Five Lakes was producing the assembly line and assembling factories that were essential in coming years. The Automotive State was manufacturing automotive products.
Michigan may be known as the Automotive State, but contrary to what the prehistoric Tinsel Town executives imply in their “films,” the soul of Michigan encompasses far more than Big Three auto companies that we never received due appreciation for. The Big Three auto companies that our fellow American colleagues repudiated while plunging a manually serrated foreign gear shift into the back of our hand.
Michiganders DO NOT consummate our relationship with a significant other in the sanctity of the factory like that ruffian B-Rabbit in “8 Mile.”
We do not crack quirky quips towards the affluent that drive luxurious foreign cars like the coward Martin Blank in “Gross Point Blank.” We chastise them and cease if and only if they resolve to drive American.
What Michiganders do is sail on the lakes, the warm wind blowing against our boat hats as we nip an elegant local Red Wine. We rap the puck about the frozen pond in the winter, and we fire rifles at animals for population regulation purposes in the fall. We barbeque meat in the summer and perhaps listen to the smooth stylings of fellow Great Lakesmen Bob Seger and Ted Nugent while perhaps sipping on a beer at night.
So Mr. Big Shot Studio Executive with your Crisco greasy hair and your designer suit with a price tag higher than Michigan’s average annual income. If you intend to erect your elaborate studios and continue to exploit our great home for capital. If you intend to continue to disregard the entirety of our beloved glove then you and your Hollywood frivolities can remain on the west coast. Us Michiganders will scrub away the filmy layer of filth left by auto companies by ourselves, as we have been for over a century.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Revised Final Assignment Proposal
My final assignment will be a social/cultural critical essay revolving around the film “8 mile.” The social/cultural element will concern economics, specifically Michigan’s focus on creating a movie industry, in part to clean up the mess the Big Three auto companies left behind. In this assignment I will argue against building this industry and the methods they are using to build it, for example giving movie producers tax breaks while proposing budget cuts in both arts and education. They are essentially going to be paying people from Hollywood to come in and make movies while drastically reducing the opportunity for homegrown talent. To argue this point I will be using the movie “8 mile” as a metaphor because the movie was made in Michigan and the main character’s life resembles the state’s dilemma. He starts off poor and barely makes ends meet in a decaying auto factory before finding success in show business. However, I will argue that this is not the common scenario because none of the other rappers in the movie achieve success. I will utilize this to argue my opinion that a movie industry in Michigan will only hurt the state. Further, because “8 Mile” was closely based off of a true story, I examine outside research on the fates of the real individuals that the movie depicted.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A CLUE Movie?
I'm not really sure how they are going to make a movie after a board game. What next? Will Ferrel as the Monopoly guy?
http://www.comingsoon.net/news/movienews.php?id=53222
http://www.comingsoon.net/news/movienews.php?id=53222
2010 Oscar Candidates Already?
Apparently this guy is already looking forward to the 2010 Academy Awards...
http://www.ropeofsilicon.com/article/2010-oscar-candidates-already
http://www.ropeofsilicon.com/article/2010-oscar-candidates-already
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