Comrade Kim Il Sung recognized that his son Kim Jong-Il had become a pillar of the spirit of the Korean nation, and while he had excelled at each challenge presented to him, he should learn some of the physical labor practiced by the soldiers of the revolution.

He mastered cobbling, the arts of the tailor and cooking in a single day. The suit and shoes he made his father as a gift became a model for all future suits and altered the course of fashion as far away as Paris. In cooking, he created the most delicious kimchi with hardly any effort.

It was then that the great sun of the Korean People Kim Il Sung decided that Kim Jong-Il should learn the skills of a merchant seaman. He realized that this would be no challenge for his son, so he scheduled a short training session. A three-hour tour on a transport ship.

For the trip, Kim Jong-Il designed himself a uniform with a bright red shirt and white hat, and set about learning his trade. As they set off, the ship hit a terrible storm. It was the worst storm the world had ever seen and the only reason the ship survived at was the actions of the fearless Kim Jong-Il. If not for his excellence, the ship would have been lost.

After landing the boat safely on an island, our Dear Leader looked at the passengers on the boat and realized that they were a microcosm of Korea. While he waited to be rescued, he decided to experiment with his vision of Jiwon (Aim High) to create a tiny version of his great society.

The skipper of the ship was a simpering, obese man who represented the excesses of capitalism. An older couple on board the ship had money that they had never worked for and expected all to be done for them. They represented old Korea, before the socialist reformation. There was a professor on board the ship who was full of theories and abstractions. He represented the class of intellectuals.

Most importantly of all were the two marriage age women that were on the boat. They represented the best and worst of the world. One, was a glamorous actress used to only the finer things and an unearned exalted position. The other was a girl from a family farm who represented the hardworking nature of the Korean People.

After all agreed that Kim Jong-Il would be their leader and cheered him, he immediately set the captain to work as a kind of secret police to watch the others and report back on their behaviors. The professor was soon in jail, separated from the other for expressing ideas counter to revolutionary ideals. His cell mate was a chimpanzee who had dropped a coconut on Kim Jong-Il from a coconut tree.

They had many adventures in the month they were on the island, all of which helped to form the future of Korea. There were too many things that happened to innumerate here, they are truly worthy of their own book. Here are a few highlights. After a pie fight, Kim Jong-Il imprisoned them all for wasting food. The castaways were also guided in the production of a musical written by Dear Leader that has become a classic of the genre. After an American spy satellite crashed on the island, Kim Jong-Il learned the true nature of that great snake country.

It should be noted that this was not a rest for our Leader. It was here that he developed Korea’s nuclear program using a lump of radioactive rock, two coconuts and a complicated network of bamboo tubing that forms the centerpiece of the world dominant program that China and the United States seek to halt today.

After Kim Jong-Il decided to leave the island he turned it into a private island resort. He has returned to it several times. Most famously for a basketball game where a group of Americans played a superior team of Korean-produced robots.

- David Wahl

You can buy Dear Leader Tongue Scrapers and a Dear Leader Centaur Painting at Archie McPhee.

ILLUSTRATION BY SURIAN SOOSAY

Falk doesn’t escape inclusion on social critic Paul Fussell’s rap sheet of performers who “have a nice line in mugging” in his discussion of our nation’s beloved actors in 1991’s “BAD or, the Dumbing of America.” Shrug—I won’t argue the point. But there’s room for all kinds in our hearts, is there not? And for an artist, a role like Columbo is like a hit Christmas record or a winning lottery ticket. It’s the Harper Lee principle: You only need one.

I’ve tried him in the ponderous Cassavetes relationship drama. I’ve enjoyed his lighthearted turn as Alan Arkin’s foil in “The In-Laws” and his quirky-sexy May-December repartee with fellow American institution Cyndi Lauper in “Vibes,” 1988’s “Romancing the Stone” knockoff. But for me, Peter Falk comes wrapped in a rumpled raincoat, gnashing a cheap cigar and driving that beater gray Peugeot, his name splashed across the screen in bold yellow “NBC Mystery Movie” font. I still have to watch closely sometimes to remember which of his squinty eyes is the glass one.

Organizationally challenged folks like me, who operate in our own private clouds of mild chaos, love the contradiction of Columbo’s outward presentation and his unassailable expertise and instinct. Underestimated by perps and colleagues alike, the lieutenant is more than a match for his highly intelligent suspects. Without breaking a sweat, he takes down classic ’70s effetes like Roddy McDowall and Donald Pleasence and a parade of Banlon-clad man’s men with wide ties and black hearts (RIP, Robert Culp).

Many are the nights I’ve awoken at three in the grip of freelancer’s financial anxiety, from which only one thing can save me. Never mind warm bubble baths and sports radio call-in shows; there’s no sweeter Ambien than a DVD date with the man in tan. While it’s the show’s writing that hooks you—you see whodunit and how in the first ten minutes, so the story had better be good to make you stay—it’s the dependable formula that allows you to drift in and out without feeling like you’ve missed the big payoff. Like the best Bond movies, “Columbo” is largely about the ambiance.

Columbo worship extends to the highest echelons of the creative world. Look no further than Wim Wenders’ 1987 fantasy “Wings of Desire,” in which Peter Falk plays himself—and also happens to be a former angel who traded his immortality to experience life as a human. It’s a curious bit of casting at first blush; but really, it’s not hard to go along with the notion of Falk’s purpose on earth being to bring joy to generations of TV viewers everywhere, from Iran to Venezuela. “I’m a friend,” he assures an invisible otherworldly counterpart, extending a hand. “Compañero.” He could be speaking to all of us.

Just one more thing, Mr. Falk: Thanks.

- Sheri Quirt

PHOTO BY EMANUELE

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?

For those of you whose Scots is rusty, that’s “old” acquaintance; the phrase “auld lang syne” more or less translates to “for old time’s sake.” Singing the chorus in English results in “For old time’s sake, my dear, for old time’s sake, we’ll drink a cup of kindness yet, for old time’s sake.”

Not precisely the rump-shaking, cup o’ binging the party-minded are looking for at the stroke of midnight, especially in America. Here, we typically emphasize not just drink and debauch when it comes to the New Year, but the coming year itself: all those resolutions, all those plans, all that “2010, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.” Outside of a few year-end round-ups of news stories (usually depressing) and some Top Ten lists (usually half-wrong), the dying year, like the elderly personification of Old Man Time, is shunted off to the rest home of memory with the briefest of backward glances (much like the elderly themselves). Until the “death reel” pops up during the Academy Awards telecast, people barely remember all those who vanished along with the year itself.

But the meaning of “Auld Lang Syne,” which few who drunkenly bellow it pause to consider, is precisely that backward glance. Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind, is a rhetorical question: obviously not, and the passing of the year is the appropriate moment to bring them not just to mind but to acknowledge them, even as you toast with those around you, friends and family, strangers even, who have not vanished, who are present in that moment (an artificial moment, manufactured like all our calendar days precisely for such rituals) when the new supplants the old.

For many years, I hosted a New Year’s Eve party; at five minutes to midnight, I made a point to turn the music down, put Dick Clark on mute, and quiet the crowd for a toast. It was always the same toast, and I’ve continued to make it, even at parties not my own (sometimes to the bemusement and annoyance of others). I would thank the guests or host for, and then lift my glass with the phrase “To absent friends.” For a second or two, silence would briefly descend on everyone, before the roar of conviviality returned. But that second is crucial to meaning of New Year’s Eve. Forget about the “meaning of Christmas” (and its ludicrous proxy, “the war on Christmas”); set aside the resolutions that you’ll invariably fail to embrace (pegging your hopes on the Chinese New Year in February). The absent friend, whether dead, lost, or simply at a great distance (and social networking is still no substitute); the person who, for whatever reason, meant something to you and is no longer present, who only comes to you now in dreams or memories or cold pixels; who once perhaps shook their rump to Prince, their plastic cup of beer sloshing like laughter, but who is now on the other side of all those other New Year’s Eve’s, all those dead years: that person or persons is the real meaning of the holiday.

There was some speculation that Time Magazine’s annual irrelevancy, the Person of the Year, would be WikiLeaks founder and electronic bomb thrower Julian Assange. Instead, Mark Zuckerberg, founder of that strange nation of Zuckerberglandia, where many if not most of us find ourselves wasting a good deal of time, got the nod (if Assange had Aaron Sorkin around to put a few words in his mouth, perhaps he would have edged out that particular “Revenge of the Nerds” moment). We here at Monkey Goggles would like to take a different tack, and nominate as our Person of the Year someone who wears far more many faces than can ever be put in any book, digital or otherwise. This midnight, do us and them the honor of raising a cup of kindness (or whatever poison you’ve picked) to the true person of this year and every year:

To the Absent Friend.

Happy New Year.

- Gregory Crosby

PHOTO BY KRISTAPS B.

Instead, let’s think of changes brought about for the New Year as Preventive Maintenance. Every body, mind, and soul has things that it needs to keep it working smoothly. Getting back to basics and paying attention to those basics will help keep you runnin’ through next December. Like the old saying goes, it’s the smallest things that mean the most.

Everyone’s list will be different, but I’m writing mine down, mostly for my own benefit — because it’s not really real until it’s down on paper, but also to show y’all that the little things to indeed mean a lot.

Reading stuff. This will keep me from being stupid, and therefore is one of the most important things I’ll do in the coming year(s). I try to make a cursory sweep of news sites and current events blogs and recipe web sites and Tumblrs of pretty vintage pictures, but making time to read books — with thoughts and ideas deliberately thought out and written into paragraphs and chapters — is a necessary part of my day. Every day.

Manicures. I type a lot, and after a long day of sitting at the computer, I kind of feel like I’ve got a pair of shriveled-up T-Rex arms. A good manicure comes with a hand/forearm massage; a really good one comes with a massage that is out of this world! Having someone bend and flex and stretch the muscles and tendons in your hands is my notion of a heaven. Simply heaven. And it’s definitely worth $20 every couple of weeks. Plus, pretty nails!

The Gym. Nope, not for losing weight or toning up, even though those are some pretty fantastic side effects. My gym preventative maintenance routine is purely for cardiovascular health and strength. No goals, no scales, no nothing but just going there two, maybe three times a week and seeing what happens.

Converse lo-tops, the blue ones. These offer no traction, no arch support, and are the only shoes in the world that just become comfy about the time the sole starts falling off. Therefore, these are my favorite shoes of all. Converse lo-tops, the blue ones, keep me comfortable, and grounded. They are the favorite shoes of my youth and keep me mindful. I cannot aimlessly walk through puddles or over sharp objects, I must be alert and aware – it’s a good reminder.

The “No Jerks” rule. John Waters once said, “True success is figuring out your life and career so you never have to be around jerks.” And he is absolutely correct in that. So from here on out, everyone who’s jerkish presence is not necessary is hereby banned; I don’t have the time or mental space to deal with it. Sometimes there are necessary jerks — TSA gropers, busybody relatives, that one barista who seems to hate you for no particular reason — and while those can’t be avoided altogether, I can remind myself that I only have to deal with them for a few moments. They have to live with themselves.

So, there you have it. Small things, easy things, things I’m kinda-sorta doing already. Instead of setting up unrealistic goals and lofty expectations, I’m just going to be mindful of the everyday bits and pieces that keep me going in my best possible way. There are some things I could also add as secondary maintenance items — like small-batch handcrafted gin, frozen waffles, and unrepentant afternoon naptime. It’s all about accepting your needs and making sure that you are meeting them in a healthy way. Or, in the case of the gin, with tonic and a splash of bitters.

- Lorien Gruchalla

PHOTO BY JZEE

I cannot look at Christmas trees these days without reflecting upon my own childhood tree. Every year we’d take the monstrosity down from the attic; The moment we’d lift the it from the box, the room would be overwhelmed with the odor of stale, burnt plastic.

Yes, it was artificial, but this was before fake trees actually looked presentable. This tree was made of badly molded plastic. Granted it was tall and full bodied, but in this case perhaps less would have been more.

For decorating, mini lights hadn’t come into vogue yet so we had large colored bulbs that got quite hot when lit. Plastic greenery and hot Christmas bulbs were a bad (and likely toxic) combination; We had many boughs melded together as result. Also, the tree stood in the corner of the living room, right against the baseboard heater, sealing all the lower branches into one big solid mass.

For ornaments, we used two kind of Christmas balls. One set was made of powder blue velveteen. Our golden retriever was particularly fond of these and we were hard pressed to find any completely in tact or without teeth marks. The other set had royal blue sateen fiber wrapped around them. The cat claimed these as hers, unraveling strands of the static-y string with each bat of her paw. Whenever we’d rehang the cat’s play toy, long ropes of sateen would catch and stretch from branch to melted branch, creating a blue spider web across our tree.

Tinsel is not something you see much of these days, but back then it was our tree’s crowning glory. A single fat rope of silver garland swaddled the greenery. It looked like someone spun the pre-fab plastic giant while spooling a metal boa around its midsection. The effect was something like our tree wearing a sparkling silver tube top.

For years, I begged my parents for a real tree. Finally, one Christmas, my father brought home a small sapling to fit on the table top. We still had our plastic tree, but the real one was mine to decorate as I liked. I didn’t have much to hang for decorations that year, but soon people were giving me ornaments, individual as the people who presented them to me. I cherished them as much as I did the tree.

With each holiday season, our real tree got larger and larger finally replacing the plastic one altogether. I don’t even recall what happened to our artificial tree. It’s most likely still decomposing in some landfill, but I can still vividly recall the sights and smells of it all.

Now married with children of my own, I still choose a real pine or spruce to deck our halls. Together as a family we spend copious amounts of time selecting just the right one to bring home. Unfortunately, our eyes get bigger than our living room some years. Does anyone ever really use the front door anyway?

Our tree is a hodgepodge, with no theme or coordination. Instead, childhood ornaments hang on the branches allowing me to recall the family and friends who gave them to me so many years ago. I will admit, there are no blue velveteen or sateen ornaments though. And no tinsel either. I can remember that all on my own, almost as well as the smell of burnt plastic on Christmas morning.

- Kobi Shaw

PHOTO BY GEOFF CARTER

I know that Chanukah ended before Christmas this year. Is it acceptable to keep our Chanukah bush out until the end of the year to keep the season festive?

Bernie Loves the Bush
Akron, OH

Bernie:

Yes, in fact you should keep your bush out all year long and you should get a nasty cut from the thorns. Why in the world would you try to make Chanukah part of the “festive season?” Indeed, it seems to me like you’re trying to make Chanukah into some sort of Jewish Christmas. What? Are you mental? Do you even remember the story of Chanukah? It was about a fight against assimilation from the non-believers. It celebrates an effort by a small band of religious men (the Maccabees) who refused to give up one aspect of Judaism or accept any of the Hellenic trends of day. Yes, keep your bush out and place it under some Holocaust stockings hung by the chimney with care, you nudnik.

Dear Rebbe:

I’m Jewish, but my wife is Christian. What’s the best holiday meal to embrace both cultures?

Mixed but in Love
Sante Fe, NM

Mixed:

You should have a joyous meal with your loved ones, but it may be difficult because you’ve already married out of the faith and therefore each swallow should burn with regret. Really, why do you even ask? According to Jewish Law, your children are Christian so feed their little goyisha mouths full of hamhocks for all I care. But since you asked, let me ask you a question. Your wife believes in Christ. Fine. Does she know that if he existed and was the “Messiah” (Oy Gevalt) that he would have been an adherent Jew. That means he would have never touched any pork or shellfish, let alone marry a NON-JEWISH girl. His mother would have been Jewish, in fact his whole mishpucha would have been Jewish. Why do Christians eat ham on Christmas but to announce to the world that they are hypocrites! But you want to talk about food. I assume you will have latkes. That’s rich! Why in the world do you think latkes are Jewish food? You want to know what Jewish food is? It’s whatever bitter, bland and hard food to swallow is available. Do you think we like Gefilte Fish and Matzoh because they taste good? We eat these things because they remind us of suffering. I hope you should never know the suffering of your ancestors from your decisions, you shlemiel.

Dear Rebbe:

My son’s Musical Holiday Pageant doesn’t include one Jewish song. Should I insist on “Dreidel Dreidel” being placed on the program?

Concerned Mom
Phoenix, AZ

Concerned:

Yes, you should absolutely insist on “Dreidel, Driedel” being sung. And while you’re at it, why not “White Christmas?” That was written by a Jew, too, and has about as much importance and relevance to your son as a song about a lump of clay used for gambling. What does it matter, really, you send your child to public school. Is that any place to teach him to be a mensch? You might as well being sending your little man to the Goyim Academy for Assimilation! Do none of you brain-dead people understand what Chanukah means? What you should do is go to this Pageant and explain before the program that if the Macabees didn’t fight the Helenists then monotheism would not have been viable. But for their act of resistance there would be no Christmas, there would be no Ramadan… nothing. Kaput. The whole holiday thing, ironically, is because of Chanukah! So fey on all these “Holy Nights” and “Drummer Boys” and all that dreck. You should insist that they sing “Let My People Go,” you yente.

Dear Rebbe:

Why don’t we dress up as Maccabees for Chanukah? Wouldn’t that make Chanukah more fun for our kids having to deal with Christmas?

Filled with the Chanukah Spirit
Philadephia, PA

Filled:

Yes, you should absolutely dress up as a Maccabee and then like the Maccabees you should be holed up in a building for eight days and then, like the Maccabees, be slaughtered. But instead of our brother Maccabees who died as martyrs for Ha’shem himself, you will be dispatched for your ignorance. What do you think this is, Purim? You should grow like an onion with your head in the ground and your feet in the air. Actually, you know what, forget that… you should make Christmas easier for your kids by just converting already, you shmendrik. Gornisht Helfn!

Dear Rebbe:

I tried to download the classic SNL sketch “Hanukah Harry” on You Tube, but it said the clip is no longer available. Why is this?

Web Surfer
Boca Raton, FL

Dear Web:

Contrary to public belief, it is only Lorne Michaels who runs the media. Now when he was Lorne Lipowitz… don’t get me started. But now? Is there anything worse than a man who runs from his own name? Which reminds me, did I ever tell you about the time I davened with Tony Curtis?

- Dayvid Figler

PHOTO BY HOBVIAS SUDONEIGHM

I know it’s odd and certainly not the norm, but I like staying in touch with my exes. In fact, I’ve done this for years. Some of the guys I never lost touch with and some I only recently reconnected. I don’t know if they think it’s strange, but they’re willing to write, call and visit so I’ll assume it works for them, too.

Now, it’s not like I stay in contact with these guys because I’m hoping to rekindle some old flame. Nor am I curious to see if they’ve grown bald or fat. I may be interested in their relationships, but not to compare myself to anyone. I genuinely want them to be happy.

For me, it boils down to the fact that at one time I really liked something about this person, something enough to date them. I’m sure the fact that my relationships always began as friendships certainly helps. Also, we always had something in common that bonded us. But despite the painful moments and breakups, we’ve all seemed to rise above. Some relationships took longer than others to recover from and it was years before we could interact. But it’s always come around and it hardly ever feels awkward.

There is one ex whom I consider my closest and oldest friend. We have been there for each other through the death of a parent, through career highs and lows, through moving across the country and so much more. He served as my Best Man at my wedding, offering up a toast at our reception, and I served as a reader at his wedding his well. Fortunately I didn’t have to lose his friendship just because we parted ways romantically.

Brian and I dated for three years, after which we had a terrible falling out. Even my mother sent him hate mail when things ended. Eventually, however, we came back to being friends. When he moved to New York City and needed a roommate, his mother actually suggested me. She despised me while we were dating, but once we were merely platonic, she thought we’d make good roommates. Go figure.

The two of us shared a teeny apartment for years and it worked out just fine. When people found out were were exes who were co-habitating they would tease, C’mon, late at night you start looking pretty good to each other, right? But we would just laugh, knowing we were definitely not going down that pot holed road again.

Interestingly enough, neither of us seemed bothered by the others’ dating situation. Actually we were able to maintain perspective on things, keeping each other in check. Heck at that point, we knew each other better than any new partners. Keep her. Dump him. Watch out for that one. What were you thinking? No opinion was withheld.

For some reason, Brian’s girlfriends didn’t seem bothered by our past, either. They saw it as an opportunity to probe me with questions about him. I was a direct link to what made this mystery man tick. One night I was cornered in the bathroom for 45 minutes trying to offer plausible insights and answers as to why Brian behaved the way he did.

Sometimes Brian’s girlfriends would simply choose to share way more information about their relationship than I would care to know. But more often I’d be a sympathetic shoulder, listening to them sob that they saw me more than they saw him. These women weren’t telling me anything new. As great as guy he was, I knew how hard it was to date him. It was just a lesson they needed to learn themselves.

I’m aware, especially in the dawn of Facebook, that many people consider it a slippery slope to reconnect with exes. Many people discourage or even forbid spouses from such interaction. But I am very fortunate to have a husband who has absolutely no problem with my being in touch with men from my past. Someone once challenged him (after HE attempted to contact an ex), how would you feel if one of your wife’s exes called the house? He replied, ““It happens ALL THE TIME”.” He truly does not see the big deal, and I’m eternally grateful for his understanding.

I realize this is not the best option for everyone. Somehow I just happen to date a string of nice guys, and (for the most part) missed out on the real schmucks. There are some exes that can still hurt me, although I know it’s not an intentional or malicious thing. It’s more the their ability to be clueless and oblivious that led to our downfall in the first place. But that is why they are exes and why I am married to my husband.

Okay, time to Skype. My ex is calling me from Korea. I hope he’s finally found the one He really is a catch, for the right girl.

- Kobi Shaw

PHOTO BY ÁLVARO CANIVELL

I dropped Fincher’s name with good reason. Looking back, it’s tough to remember that the acclaimed director of “The Social Network,” “Fight Club” and “Zodiac” made his feature debut with the reviled “Alien3.” Later, after Fincher had made “Seven” and “The Game,” critics and viewers returned to “Alien3” and discovered that their opinion of it had significantly raised now that they better knew the man who made it. I suspect the same will prove true of “Tron: Legacy” – and that everyone who’s now taking a massive digital dump on this worthy sci-fi/action movie will revise their take on it in the years to come.

By my unscientific estimate, nearly half the people who have seen “Tron: Legacy” have hated it with an “Alien3”-like fervor. Some viewers told me they even walked into the film knowing they were going to hate it, which baffles me, but whatever. I’ve been reading criticisms of “Tron” since the film opened, and I have to say that some of them seem unfair, hanging the film on points for which “Avatar” and the dreadful “Star Wars” prequels seemingly received free passes.

I can’t defend “Tron: Legacy” as a classic piece of cinema, because it ain’t. But I want to try to speak to some of the criticisms of this very good popcorn movie because, in a few years time, some of us may change our minds. (Including me.) Here’s a short list of “Tron” complaints and my thoughts on them.

Warning: Many, many spoilers follow.

“The face of the ‘young’ Jeff Bridges looks like CGI.”

Well, yeah. Jeff Bridges is in his early sixties; it’s a miracle that “Tron: Legacy” is able to generate a version of him that appears half of that. And the effect is decent if you don’t think too much about it, but if you’ve seen “The Big Lebowski,” you will think about it because you know well the face of The Dude. Still, there’s an argument to be made for CLU’s perfect face, one that easily links to the plot if you allow it to. As Harry Knowles said, it’s a wholly justifiable case of the Uncanny Valley. Kevin Flynn’s ageless doppelganger has to look evil and unnatural, because he isn’t real and aspires to be. The only program on the Grid who looks passably human is Quorra, who has a good excuse for looking like a natural-born entity.

“The acting is terrible.”

Portraying an action hero is difficult work for an actor, and not only because he or she has to generate credible emotional responses to a blank green wall and have meaningful dialogue with tennis balls on sticks. That actor, no matter how good he is, has a job no artist can be expected to fill to our complete satisfaction: He has to play us. The action heroes of the screen are wish fulfillment – nothing more, nothing less. They are the physical embodiment of our desires to fly, to have an endless supply razor-wire bon mots at the ready, and to punch someone’s ignorant lights out. Actors, screenwriters and directors can fulfill these wishes to a degree, but at some point, they have to fall short of our expectations because they don’t know what they are. They can guess at what we contain, but they can’t know for sure – and inevitably, we’re going to walk out of the movie saying “It was pretty cool, but I woulda punched that guy” or “Why didn’t she just melt him with her laser eyeballs?”

Such is the burden “Tron: Legacy’s” stars must carry. Since get to know them in what is essentially a video game, we immediately disregard their human characteristics and view them solely as action figures – riding motorcycles, hurling pimped-out Frisbees and kickin’ ass. But the characters of “Tron: Legacy” are called upon to do more than that: They are asked to make basic human connections and to puzzle out the mysteries of the world they live in, processes that may seem tedious to some viewers because it’s what we did on the way to the theater and it’s what we’re probably doing even now. We don’t need to watch out our action heroes doing that; we want them to put on the big blue Smurf outfit and blow stuff up real good. They can talk about what it all meant later, after we’ve gone home.

The odds are stacked against Garrett Hedlund, Olivia Wilde and Jeff Bridges before “put on your 3-D glasses now” notice leaves the screen. But you know something? They pull it off. I could easily see Hedlund as the son of reckless Kevin Flynn, raised from age 8 by the stoic Alan “Tron” Bradley. Wilde’s Quorra has the searching mind and wide-eyed engagement of someone who’s read about the real world but never really seen it.

And Bridges’ Flynn is … aw, hell. If I have to defend Jeff Bridges’ acting to you, then maybe we should part company now. He’s gifted enough to pull a huge laugh in “Tron: Legacy” simply by saying the word “dog.” Bridges has ever been the best part of bad movies, and a large part of the success of classic movies.

“It drags in the middle.”

Now, you see, that’s what I liked. I was happy that the grand ideas behind “Tron” were allowed to stretch their legs and elucidate a bit. Science fiction movies are all about ideas, and ideas don’t blow up all the time – there’s one quick burst of light when we get one, and then a long period of setting up reflectors around the burst to study it. Ideas are powerful, but they’re also lingering, and one of them can yield thousands of different conclusions depending on which mirror we look at.

So there’s a big gap between “Tron: Legacy’s” action scenes. Big deal. You want action? Jason Statham is making some fairly wonderful action movies, some real sexed-up oiled-down bare-knuckle freakfests. There’s never a reflective moment, because only the weak look backward, mate. As for me, I’ll happily take “Tron’s” lengthy considerations of simulacra and thinly-veiled analogy of genetics research over another Frisbee fight. I think “Tron’s” ideas and action are well-balanced, just as they should be in your basic good sci-fi movie. For more on the dichotomy between action/sci-fi and sci-fi/action, watch Plinkett’s thoughtful (also NSFW and borderline psychotic) review of J.J. Abrams’ “Star Trek.”

“The Daft Punk music was too obtrusive.”

Seriously? Huh. I’ve got nothing for this one. I think the score is terrific.

“The female characters are lacking.”

I have to agree with this one: The women of “Tron: Legacy” do get short shrift. I noted exactly six women in the whole of the film: Wilde’s Quorra, the four Sirens, and Sam Flynn’s grandmother, who has one line. (There are other women in anonymous, background roles, though I can’t remember exactly where.) And while Quorra can drive a hellish Lightcar and swing a mean Identity Disc, she doesn’t seem to have any veto power over her story; even Leeloo Dallas Multipass was able to bring her foot down on “The Fifth Element” as if to say, we’re going to do this now, alright? And the Sirens demonstrate exactly two skills: assembling a wardrobe, and walking backwards in high heels. Underwhelming.

This was my only real disappointment with “Tron: Legacy,” and I hope it’s remedied in a sequel. Last week I was at Walt Disney World, where “Tron” crap was on the shelves of every single souvenir shop. Right away, I noticed that Quorra was the only major character without an action figure, and hers was the only one I was interested in. The “Tron: Legacy” billboard that features Quorra in a gladiatorial pose was one of the things that had me most excited to see the film, but its promise was only three-quarters realized. Should “Tron: Legacy” be fortunate enough to generate a sequel, Quorra needs to play a more involved role in it.

“You don’t understand what’s happening if you haven’t seen the first movie.”

Simply untrue. In fact, “Tron: Legacy” nearly belabors its premise.

“It doesn’t seem related to the first movie.”

I disagree. There are references aplenty; screenwriters Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz apparently went over the code of the original “Tron” line by line and found hundreds of ways to link the two films. Even the basic elements of Kevin and Sam Flynn’s journeys are similar, and they happen in the same order (again, SPOILERS): The transport to the Grid, the Disc battle, the escape from the Light Cycle arena, and the trek to the I/O tower are all where they should be. The title character even manages to make an appearance at close to the same time as he did in the original film.

“It’s a stinker, plain and simple.”

We said that about another movie that came out 28 years ago. It was called “Tron,” and it just generated a worthy sequel. In 2038, when “Tron 3” is released, we’ll probably have this discussion again … so if you would, kindly hold on to these talking points.

- Geoff Carter

PHOTO: WALT DISNEY PICTURES

Everyone’s making holiday albums these days, but that’s always been the case. Just in the last couple years, such unlikely artists as Twisted Sister, Bob Dylan, Bootsy Collins, Billy Idol, and the Dan Band have done it. Historically, this is something pop artists do. “Christmas With The Rat Pack” features holiday tunes from Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. (I like Deano’s version of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”). Judy Garland’s televised Xmas special was released as an album (I enjoy her closing number, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas / Meet Me In St. Louis”). Stars of yesteryear like Rosemary Clooney and Lena Horne have cranked out plenty of Xmas schlock.

Just as some artists release children’s’ music, many (most?) put out some holiday music. Sometimes, it’s an aging artist trying to shamelessly move a few units among its core audience (REO Speedwagon). Other times, a curious release ends up being an earnest collection of thoughtful classics best heard fireside with some hot cider (Billy Idol). We often find a holiday album to be exactly the kind of mercenary cornball cheese we’d expect from the artist (Neil Diamond). Then, there are those holiday albums which are simply awesome, stuff that stands on its own legs a great album whose lyrics just happen to be seasonal (James Brown). As such, much of it sucks, but some is awesome. If you’re a real music fan, you wholly accept having to kiss a few toads for every prince.

This is the tenth year in which I’ve assembled, in lieu of Xmas cards for family and friends, a packaged set of music which comprises one disc of tunes released during the current year and another of holiday stuff. As the implied pressure of delivering a compilation that’s good with a certain balance of the familiar and the obscure snowballs each year, the annual process has me scouring a bit for some musical holiday gems. As this is a personal experience, very rarely do I download anything for this project. I buy some of it online (not mp3 or iTunes, but music on CD and vinyl) but mostly enjoy the far richer experience of finding things in record stores.

In terms of independently owned and operated record stores, Seattle is among the world’s finest cities. Sonic Boom, Easy Street, Everyday Music, Bop Street… to see a list of Washington stores participating in Record Store Day, click here. And for the true Holy Grail of ‘em all, especially if you’re a vinyl appreciator – I can’t believe I’m sharing this because it’s hands-down the Mecca of rare, obscure, and out of print Xmas music… oh my… Golden Oldies, in Wallingford. Prepare yourself for a bacchanalia of old school music browsing and shopping. Then ask to be shown the back room, the very residence of the most magnificent vinyl holiday booty this side of anywhere.

The key to enjoying Xmas music is to stick with the stuff that doesn’t necessarily sound like holiday cheese, stuff that actually holds up as music. It’s out there. You can find it. Go get some.

Five Obscure Holiday Tunes Worth Seeking Out
Grandaddy – “Alan Parsons in a Winter Wonderland”
Elton John – “Ho Ho Ho (Who’d Be a Turkey at Christmas)”
Ben Hinds – “All I Want For Christmas Is A Go-Go- Girl”
Francis Smith – “Solar System Simon, Santa’s Supersonic Son”
The Sisterhood – “The Rocking Disco Santa Claus”

My Personal Holiday Top 25 (in no particular order)…
Darlene Love – “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”
Run DMC – “Christmas in Hollis”
Elvis Presley – “Santa Claus Back In Town”
Eartha Kitt – “Santa Baby”
Chuck Berry – “Merry Christmas Baby”
Material Issue – “Merry Christmas Will Do”
Billy Squier – “Christmas is the Time to Say I Love You”
The Pogues – “Fairytale of New York”
Harvey Danger – “Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas”
The Ronettes – “Frosty the Snowman”
James Brown – “Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto”
John Prine – “Christmas in Prison”
John Denver – “Please Daddy (Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas)”
The Staple Singers – “Who Took the Merry Out of Christmas”
The Kinks – “Father Christmas”
The Waitresses – “Christmas Wrapping”
Tom Waits – “Silent Night / Postcard from a Hooker in Minneapolis”
eels – “Everything’s Gonna Be Cool This Christmas”
Fishbone – “Slick Nick, You Devil You”
Wesley Willis – “Kris Kringle Was a Car Thief”
Beach Boys – “Little Saint Nick”
The Chieftains w/ Elvis Costello – “St. Stephen’s Day Murders”
El Vez – “Mamacita Donde Esta Santa Claus”
Bob Dylan – “Must Be Santa”
Joey Ramone – “What a Wonderful World”

Some Album Recommendations:

Roots & Americana
The Christmas Jug Band, “Uncorked”
Asylum Street Spankers, “Christmas Spanking”
Squirrel Nut Zippers, “Christmas Caravan”

1980s compilations
“New Wave Christmas”
“The Big ’80s Christmas”

Novelty
“Ho: A Dan Band Christmas”
“The Dina Martina Holiday Album”
“A John Waters Christmas”

Rock
“Punk Rock Christmas”
“Monster Ballads Xmas”
Los Straitjackets, “‘Tis the Season” (all instrumental)

Traditional
Vince Guaraldi Trio, “A Charlie Brown Christmas”
Elvis Presley, “If Every Day Was Like Christmas”
Christmas Remixed, “Holiday Classics Re-Grooved”

R&B / Soul
Charles Brown & Friends, “Merry Christmas Baby”
James Brown, “The Christmas Collection”
“A Christmas Gift for You from Phil Spector”

Jazz
“Holiday Sing Along With Mitch Miller”
“Hipster’s Holiday: Vocal Jazz R&B Classics”
“Songs for a Big Band Christmas”

XMAS BONUS!
Rather than shaft you with the Jelly of the Month Club, Mr. Griswold, let’s hook you up nice. As if the Golden Oldies tip wasn’t enough, in the season of giving I also give you my recipe for a delightful Xmas dessert bread.

Eric’s Christmas Bread

Topping:
2 tbsp white sugar
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 cup finely chopped walnuts

Dry Mix:
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ tsp salt
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp ground cinnamon
¼ tsp ground nutmeg

Wet Mix:
½ cup margarine, softened (remove from fridge)
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 tbsp buttermilk

Add-ins:
1 cup chopped apples
½ cup walnuts
¼ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Set oven to 350

Topping: combine sugar, cinnamon, and chopped walnuts into a bowl and set aside.

Dry mix: combine flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and nutmeg into a bowl and set aside.

Wet mix: cream margarine and sugar (mash and mix together with spoon). Add eggs and vanilla extract and mix well (best done in Kitchen Aid mixer). Gradually beat in Dry Mix alternately with buttermilk. Stir in apples, walnuts, and semi-sweet chocolate chips. Pour mixture into a greased 9x5x3 inch loaf pan. Sprinkle with Topping.

Bake 50-60 minutes.

Cool for 15 minutes. Remove from pan. Cool on wire rack for at least 30 minutes.

- Eric Maloney

RECORD PHOTO BY BUNKY’S PICKLE; PHOTO OF ERIC MALONEY COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR

From December 16, 2009: “If humanity could reclaim the lost hours stolen away by the inventions of Gunpei Yokoi, we could cure swine flu, end global warming and balance the budget. In three decades, this Japanese Thomas Edison transformed the bankrupt Nintendo playing card company into a multi-billion dollar titan and the bane of teachers everywhere. He was the man with golden thumbs, attributing his successes to the phrase, ‘Lateral thinking of withered technology.’ What the inventor meant was that he harnessed old, inexpensive materials in innovative ways. ” Read the rest here!

Scarecrow Video’s Pick of the Week: “The Abominable Dr. Phibes” (1971), directed by Robert Fuest

If there’s one film out there that doesn’t get enough credit for its influence on modern stories and movies, it’s “The Abominable Dr. Phibes!” Dr. Phibes’ wife didn’t survive an operation, so it’s up to Dr. Phibes to murder all of the doctors who failed. And because Dr. Phibes is an eccentric man (to say the least), he has a creative way of killing each of the doctors based on the nine Biblical plagues, which include hail, bats, bees, and frogs.

If you like “Seven,” “V for Vendetta” or the “Saw” movies, you should see this. It’s not as dark as any of those, but one can see where the ideas that seem very original had to originate from. One should just watch this for its aesthetics. There’s a beautiful costume ball with some of the bests animal masks ever, and Dr. Phibes lives in an elaborately colorful lair with his own animatronic band. – Marc “Swellzombie” Palm

PHOTO BY BENJAMIN CHUN

PHOTO BY MICHEL NGILEN