Right Minded Online

I finished reading Atlas Shrugged this morning. It is the longest book I have ever read. (My copy is 1168 pages.) I have read several James Michener thousand-page monoliths, but as far as word count, I believe Ayn Rand’s epic novel is the longest. It took me about two months. I’ve just started reading Summer of 1787 by David O. Stewart. At 349 pages, it’s only slightly longer than the prologue to Atlas Shrugged. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I’m exhausted after following the exploits of John Galt and his entrepeneur friends. I was afraid the book would have melancholy ending, but no, it ends in optimism. Long live free market capitalism and the great minds who drive our prosperous economy.

If you haven’t yet had the chance to read The Shack by William P. Young, I highly recommend it. The only thing I am willing to say about the book is that it will rip your heart out, then put it all back in for you.

Amazon.com: The Shack: William P. Young, Wayne Jacobsen & Brad Cummings: Books.

Did you know that you can go to yellowpagesgoesgreen.com and opt out of having all those phone books delivered to your house? I hate those things.

Last Friday, I had the opportunity to watch The Pianist — a 2002 film about a Polish Jew named W?adys?aw Szpilman, who spent several years hiding from the Nazis in Warsaw during World War II. Szpilman was a piano player whose memoir provides the basis of the film. I’ve never read the actual memoir, but from what I have read about Szpilman’s trials, the movie stays pretty close to the actual story. At any rate, The Pianist is one of the best Holocaust-related movies I have ever seen — right up there with Schindler’s List. The things European Jews did to stay alive during that time, and the risks non-Jews took in saving what Jews they could, never stop amazing me.

I have just finished reading Clarence Thomas’ memoir, and I must pass it along with my highest recommendation. It is a terrific read. The book is only 289 pages, but is of such weighty substance that I feel like I’ve read twice that much.

The book begins with Thomas’ early childhood in Savannah, Georgia, and takes the reader through his rearing by his grandfather and grandmother, his lengthy schooling, his tenure as an angry black man, and his transformation into a conservative, which had its roots in his upbringing of self-reliance.

His professional life comes next — both public and private sector work, his transformation of the EEOC, his first marriage, divorce, and second marriage, and finally we get to the difficult confirmation experience that ended up with his getting placed on the Supreme Court. We get to relive the Anita Hill accusations, in which Thomas was savaged and exploited by his political opponents and the media, and came out with his reputation tarnished. This is the saddest part, given that Clarence Thomas is a man of great integrity.

The most telling paragraph dealing with his “high-tech lynching” came on page 257. It is worth quoting:

The more I reflected on what was happening, the more it astonished me. As a child in the Deep South, I’d grown up fearing the lynch mobs of the Ku Klux Klan; as an adult, I was starting to wonder if I’d been afraid of the wrong white people all along. My worst fears had come to pass not in Georgia but in Washington, D.C., where I was being pursued not by bigots in white robes but by left-wing zealots draped in flowing sanctimony. For all the fear I’d known as a boy in Savannah, this was the first time I’d found myself at the mercy of people who would do whatever they could to hurt me — and institutions that had once prided themselves on bringing segregation and its abuses to an end were aiding and abetting in the assault. Hypersensitive civil-rights leaders who saw racism around every corner fell silent when my liberal enemies sneered that I was unqualified to sit on the Court; editors and reporters who claimed to be objective substituted a pretense of balance for true fairness, presenting outrageous, wholly unsupported allegations side by side with sputtering denials. The implausible was now being treated more favorably than the obvious.

I have listened to Rush Limbaugh for years — a man who prides himself on a “relentless pursuit of the truth.” I thought I knew what the Maha Rushie meant by those words, but never understood the full weight of the concept of relentlessly pursuing the truth until reading Justice Thomas describe his side of the confirmation battle in his own words. I now have a much deeper appreciation for “the truth.”

Yesterday, my wife and I had the opportunity to watch the movie Joseph — an epic three-hour film based on Genesis 34-46 that stays remarkably close to Scripture.

I love the story of Joseph, because it illustrates the extraordinary things God can do through those who remain faithful, and how the Lord is able to turn the sins of man into something wonderful. That’s a good summary of Joseph.

The movie begins with Joseph being sold as a slave by Ishmaelite traders to Potipher in Egypt, contains a long flashback period beginning with Joseph as a boy up to the moment when he is sold by his brothers to the Ishmaelites, and ends with Joseph being reunited with his father and other relatives in Egypt after spending twenty years apart.

It’s an awesome story to read, but seeing that story actually come to life through actors and ancient settings helped me appreciate those events even more. The most dramatic event of a narrative that is filled with drama has to be that moment right before the end of the movie when Jacob is pictured leading his family those last few steps of the dusty journey from Canaan to Joseph in Egypt. By then, Jacob’s family was quite large, but it was also remarkably small when one considers that at that time Jacob’s family represented the entire nation of Israel.

Saturday night, Mrs. Right Minded and I watched the movie The Pursuit of Happyness on DVD, a movie that is based on the story of Chris Gardner. The movie character of the same name was played by Will Smith. I don’t follow movie awards, but if Will Smith didn’t pull down any awards for this portrayal, then movie awards don’t mean much.

For those who haven’t seen TPOH, I don’t want to give too much away. I’ll just say that Gardner’s pursuit of his dream as a stock broker is inspiring, made all the more so since his marriage falls apart, he is left to care for his young son, gets evicted twice, ends up homeless, and has to accept an internship without pay that also provides a poor prospect of full-time employment.

Just as you think Gardner can’t get knocked any lower, he keeps getting knocked lower. Yet he gets up every time, presses on, and ends up rewarded for his effort. I ended up with great admiration for the character for his unbreakable determination in pursuing his dream and for maintaining a close relationship with his son during his hard times.

The story of Chris Gardner illustrates the conservative belief that every individual is of equal and inestimable value and possesses unlimited potential (which most of us do not tap into fully). Gardner never looks to the government for public assistance, and even turns down an offer for social services to look after his son when he has to spend a night in jail (over parking tickets, mind you).

When he becomes homeless, Gardner still doesn’t turn to the government, but to a local church that provides these services. He even becomes furious at the IRS when that august and esteemed agency nearly cleans out his bank account over past due taxes (which, in the film, more or less drives him to his temporary homelessness).

Now that I’ve given away more information than I intended, I must recommend The Pursuit of Happyness to my readers who might be looking for a good DVD to rent.

When I was a senior at Humboldt High School almost 20 years ago, I had the privilege of studying American history under a man named Terry Gray, a crass, pot-bellied chain-smoker of Lucky Strikes who knew history better than anyone I have ever known, including the college professors I would study under later. That year, Professor Gray decided to do something he had never before done. He taught history backward, beginning with the Vietnam War and ending with the Pilgrims. This means we got to World War II very early in the school year, and it was during this time that Professor Gray opened my eyes to the horrors of the Holocaust. While we were studying this period, Professor Gray took us to an all-day seminar on the Holocaust at Lambuth College in nearby Jackson, Tennessee. We watched a film or two, then got to listen to a panel of Holocaust survivors answer questions from the audience. I was most amazed at the determined, methodical, and systematic manner in which the Nazis were able to eliminate some six million Jews during a period of about four years (1941-1945).

During ensuing years, I would read various books and see numerous films on the Holocaust. To this day, I remain as amazed as that 17-year-old high school student at two things: the incredible will to live exhibited by the survivors and the culture of evil that was able to manifest itself in Nazi Germany as a result of the humanistic, relativistic philosophies which had infested that culture.

Yesterday, my wife and I watched The Couple — a film about the Holocaust and a large Jewish family (and their servant couple) that was able to escape Nazi Germany. It is supposedly based on a true story. Watching the film provided a quick reminder of the evils of which man is capable when left to his own devices absent of the God of the Bible. Indeed, Nazi Germany was largely a godless society when man, in effect, became his own god.

With that in mind, I was dismayed to learn recently that schools in Great Britain are going to stop teaching about the Holocaust in order to avoid offending Muslims who might not have a problem with the systematic elimination of Jews. Students will be denied the same discovery I was afforded under Professor Gray, and all in order to avoid offending members of the Religion of Peace.

I’m telling you, liberalism and political correctness are going to be the death of public education if we allow it.

I finally got around to watching Rocky Balboa on DVD yesterday. As you know, I don’t recommend a whole lot of movies on this blog, but I must recommend this movie to anyone who hasn’t seen it. The best sports movies, such as Miracle, Invincible, and Facing the Giants, aren’t just about sports. There are some important life lessons contained in each of these films, and Rocky Balboa is no different.

I don’t want to play the spoiler, so I won’t discuss the plot. But the cinematography is excellent. There are no special effects or computer graphics. It’s unpolished and realistic. You actually feel like you’re in South Philly. The foul language is minimal, and the only violence is related to boxing. Stallone looks great for sixty. Heck, he looks great for forty.

Four stars. Nah, make it four-and-a-half.

When I bought my current camera more than two years ago, it came with a puny 16MB SD card that I soon discovered didn’t hold very much. So I bought a 128MB SD card that I’ve used ever since. It holds an adequate amount of images, but I vowed when they started making 1GB SD cards, I’d get one. Well, several months have passed since I first saw a 1GB SD card, and I finally upgraded — not to a 1GB SD card, but a 2GB SD card that I found on Amazon.com the other day for $29.99 (free shipping, too). I received it in the mail yesterday, and popped it in the camera this morning. The camera has a readout that shows how much capacity is left on the card. At the highest resolution (2,048 x 1,536, or 3.2 megapixels), there is enough space for 1,012 pictures. At the highest resolution of recording (640 x 480), I’ve got enough for an hour and twenty minutes. In other words, you’d have to do some pretty major photography to fill up 2 GB. And to think, SD cards are literally only slightly larger than a postage stamp.

I read the latest John Grisham book a couple of weeks ago. I’ve read all of Grisham’s books. My favorite of them happens to be “A Painted House,” which is, ironically, Grisham’s only full-length book that’s outside the legal field.

His latest publication is called “The Innocent Man.” It’s Grisham’s first work of non-fiction, so it’s not really fair to compare it to all his other books. I will say this, though. I found it nearly impossible to put the book down. Not even droopy eyelids and bloodshot eyes could overcome my desire to read this book. I finished its 360 pages over the course of two days. It’s an astounding story of bad legal work that sent two men to prison for the rape and murder of a young Oklahoma woman they did not commit. It would have been intriguing as a fiction novel. But that the events presented actually occurred make them unspeakable.

Thank goodness technology has brought us DNA testing.

I finally finished reading A Patriot’s History of the United States: From Columbus’s Great Discovery to the War on Terror last night — an 825-page monolith that required several weeks. I recommend this book to anyone who wants to re-acquaint himself with America’s storied past.

Note: If you are a liberal who prefers American history re-written to cast our founders as nothing more than a bunch of rich white slave-holders, then do not buy this book. Otherwise, it comes with my hearty recommendation.

I rarely recommend movies to my readers, but I Am David is a rare movie. Rent it, buy it, whatever. It will stir your soul.

You can read Focus on the Family’s review here.

Ronald Reagan in Private by Jim Kuhn is a fascinating look at the fortieth president, his successes, his convictions, even his shortcomings. Kuhn chronicles Reagan from his failed effort to win the 1976 Republican nomination for president all the way through his eight years in office. I was too young to really understand a lot of what went on politically during the 1980’s, and Kuhn’s journey through those years certainly cleared a lot of things up for me. I highly recommend this book.

I’m about 30 pages into Bella Tuscany: The Sweet Life in Italy by Frances Mayes, her follow-up to Under the Tuscan Sun, and already I’m wanting to open up the Italian cookbooks and spend the afternoon in the kitchen. I’m remembering with watering mouth my own Italian experiences, especially those that took place in restaurants.

I have also discovered caprese, a dish typically served as an antipasto. It consists of slices of fresh mozzarella made from buffalo milk (mozzarella di bufalo) and tomato (pomodoro) garnished with olive oil (olio di ulivo) and basil (basilico). Caprese is a true gastronomic treat.

…

A large, extremely courteous man was sitting at one of the few tables. I didn’t ask whether he was Don Antonio. He greeted me profusely and brought me a menu. He and I were the only ones in the dining room. I ordered spaghetti alle vongole (spaghetti with sautéed clams, plus a lot of olive oil), white house wine, and, of course, a basket of bread. It was a good meal. While there, a couple entered and went upstairs to dine. I remained essentially alone. The bill totaled only Lit. 7,000 ($6), which surprised me. I had expected a bill much larger. I paid, then walked around town some before returning to the train station.

…

This evening, I went to O’Calamaro, but, alas, it is closed Sundays. So I decided to take the subway three stops to Mergellina. Near the train station there (itself a remarkable structure) is Piazza Sannazzaro. Facing the piazza is Ristorante Sannazzaro. This is a restaurant I had longed to try for some months.

I sat at a table underneath the canopy in front of the restaurant. (I enjoy eating outside, whenever possible.) The evening was pleasurable, and I even enjoyed a glimpse of the port of Mergellina only a couple of blocks away. The meal was fantastic, a worthy diversion from my favorite restaurant. I stayed until dark.

…

Around a quarter before seven George and I decided to enter L’Etrusco to see if it was open. To our amazement, it was. It had opened early because of the midnight mass. We sat at a table near the door.

The dining area was characteristically small, perhaps a dozen or so tables. We were given menus, and soon ordered caprese for antipasto. For a first course, I enjoyed fettucini. We both ordered the white house wine.

As our food was being prepared, the restaurant began to fill. A half-hour after our arrival as the first guests, the dining room was full. We were joined by a mixture of Germans, Italians, Brits, and Americans.

George and I enjoyed a slow meal, even ordering a second liter of wine to help us pass the time. We also ordered third courses, then desserts. As the evening progressed, the osteria grew increasingly boisterous. Finally, a young man carrying a guitar entered from the street to exchange entertainment for coins. He must have played some popular Italian songs, for around half the patrons began singing along. We shook our heads in disbelief.

…

Other places lurk within the side streets, but my appetite today demanded a full meal at Ristorante Zi’Ntonio. It was somewhat dark inside. Tables lined with antipasto welcomed me. A kind gentleman directed me to a corner table. An unlit candle sat in the center. The dining room was nearly empty.

I ordered my usual and waited patiently. Dried and cured legs of lamb hung from wooden posts supporting a second floor. I would be content with focaccio as an appetizer, caprese as a second appetizer, spaghetti alla bolognese, as well as a fourth course. The house wine was typically good, and my head was spinning before the focaccio arrived. The bill was a whopping Lit. 40,000 ($32)

…

The food at O’Calamaro I will always remember as being the best in all of Italy. I can count more than a hundred different restaurants throughout the country I have frequented, many more than once. While they were almost all excellent, O’Calamaro has no equal. I introduced many friends to this restaurant. Most returned.

When one enters the restaurant, the first feature he notices is the pizza oven, separate from the kitchen. Here labors an artist. The pizza conchiglia (shell pizza) is made with a cover shaped like a clam shell made from the same dough as pizza crust. It is propped with toothpicks. The pizza oca (goose pizza) resembles just that. The antipasto bar was perhaps the most elaborate I have ever seen, with such a variety of appetizers that sampling them all would prove impossible. Ordering the antipasto misto (mixed appetizers) could often make a meal in itself.

The best dishes? They are too numerous to mention here, but I must include penne all’arriabiata (a spicy tomato sauce served over penne pasta), penne boscaiola (a cheesy sauce with peas and ham served over penne pasta), scallopini al’limone (veal scallops served with lemon sauce), calamari (fried or grilled squid), insalata polipo (octopus salad), and, of course, caprese. Even the white house wine bears a label with the name “O’Calamaro.” Not bad for a neighborhood trattoria.

I could go on and on and on, but this is really killing me. Where’s my olive oil?

…for baseball fans, anyway, is the book Juiced by Jose Canseco, which I have just finished reading. Admittedly, some of the book reads like a tabloid. Canseco likes his women and fast cars, and takes up considerable chunks of the book explaining in detail. Aside from this, he makes several points:

– Canseco has no regrets about using steroids. He established himself early in his career as the “Godfather of Steroids,” and even earned the nickname “The Chemist” for his extensive knowledge of steroids and growth hormones.

– Steroids can be a good thing for the human body IF used properly. He points to Jason Giambi as an example of how NOT to do steroids.

– Steroids in baseball are here to stay. It’s a matter of economics as much as anything. Owners are quietly complicit because steroids add home runs to the game, which pads the excitement level, which draws more fans, which brings in more revenue, which increases salaries. There’s no going back.

– Canseco notes that Roger Clemens is one of the few players he knew during his playing days who never cheated on his wife.

Some may consider Canseco a sellout for mentioning several of his fellow players who used steroids, such as Mark McGwire and Jason Giambi, but you have to understand that Canseco doesn’t see anything wrong with using steroids — that it’s just part of the evolution of baseball.

Now, I actually gained some respect for Jose Canseco while reading Juiced. He’s a decent guy who never got a fair deal from the media, or from Major League Baseball. I believe he is telling the truth. Why would a guy set himself up for potential libel and slander lawsuits by making up stories about baseball players? He’s a straight-shooter, and I, as a hardcore baseball fan, appreciate his candor.

…Batman Begins, then I recommend it. Although it just came out this year, Batman Begins is actually a prequel to the first movie in the series that came out in 1989 (the one that stars Jack Nicholson as the Joker). This is definitely the best movie of the lot. It’s also a clean movie. Foul language is minimal and, although there’s lots of action violence, there’s very little blood and gore. It’s a classic good vs. evil story where, of course, the good guys come out ahead. Now that my interest is reignited, I’m going to start over with the 1989 film and get re-acquainted with the whole series.