Film Review - The Informant!

The protagonist of Steven Soderbergh's latest film, The Informant!, is Mark Whitacre (Matt Damon) whose bizarre, manic stream of conscious ramblings provide much of the film's narration. The character , played with perfect pitch by Damon, seems incapable of slowing down his mind (and his mouth), often to his own peril. I can only guess that the hyper-prolific Soderbergh's mind is equally restless, but to much greater results. The director manages to harness his overactive, overproductive cinematic mind resulting in some of the most interesting films being made today. The Informant! could also be one of his angriest and most cynical, though you might not notice because of the jester's suit in which he dresses it.

"The media culture we all consume is just as artificial and toxic as the biochemicals we gobble down in our cereals every morning."

The Informant! derives from the true story of a corporate whistleblower, Whitacre, who spent years as an FBI informant regarding a price fixing scandal at agri-business giant Archer Daniels Midland (ADM.) ADM creates biochemicals found in most of the foods eaten today, such as additives to high fructose corn syrup. Sounds like perfect fodder for a screwball comedy, right? While The Informant! is good for a handful of belly laughs, most of its comedic elements come from a confluence of a quirky musical score (reminiscent of a cross between Laugh-In and Austin Powers), clever art and set design, and the casting of actors from inane television dramas (Quantum Leap's Scott Bakula as an FBI agent) and comedic "clip-shows" like E!'s The Soup (Joel McHale as an FBI Agent) or VH1's I Love the 80's (Paul F. Thompkins, also as an FBI agent.) In short, the comedy derives from a very deliberate, cerebrally satiric mood more than it does in jokey dialogue or humorous gags.

Such a tone must have been difficult to strike for the actors, but Damon, especially, manages to flesh out his suburban, Midwestern corporate manager without ever tipping too far over the top. The Mark Whitacre portrayed here at times fancies himself a suave, heroic character ripped from the pages of a Michael Crighton or John Grisham novel. As he becomes further involved in the FBI investigation, his delusions of grandeur and clueless naivete all conspire to make his situation more complicated, convoluted, and exhausting for all around him. The character is interesting not just because he attempts to shape-shift from James Bond to Ward Cleaver depending on the convenience of any given situation, but because he seems to truly believe he embodies these delusional identities. In fact, delusion and fantasy are at the very heart of this film.

The use of Soderbergh's campy, derivative soundtrack and roster of b-level television personalities take direct aim at America's vacuous media spectacles, implying that the culture we all consume is just as artificial and toxic as the biochemicals we gobble down in our cereals every morning. We have become so complacent in the face of corruption and mediocrity, the film implies, that we never demand anything more nourishing than the vapid coarseness of VH1 programming nor are we outraged when our food supply is poisoned by criminal conspirators. We're still ready to have a rollicking, mad-capped night at the multiplex scarfing down those overpriced corn syrup colas and chemical-drenched buckets of popcorn. In fact, we even revere the hazy, hollow hallucinations presented us to such a degree that we construct our identities around them, like Mark Whitacre pretending to be a character from The Firm. This is the movie we ask for, and Soderbergh gives it to us by the gallon.

The Informant! was adapted from a very serious non-fiction book of the same name (minus the exclamation point.) The exclamation point, it seems, is the point. No matter is too serious for debasement and spectacle in contemporary America. Perhaps it didn't have to be this way, Soderbergh seems to say with subtle cameos by each of the Smothers Brothers (yes, those Smothers Brothers.) Their inclusion, along with other references to the popular culture of the 60's and 70's, seems to hint that there was a short time in America when intelligent, challenging material like the deceptively clean cut Smothers tried to find a mainstream audience. Or maybe The Informant! is simply trying to pay homage to a type of humor that somehow manages to have its high fructose corn syrup while eating it, too.

I Miss George W. Bush's Balls

For eight long, disastrous years, we had a President whose dearth of intellectual curiosity and cerebral dexterity was rivaled only by his abundance of unearned confidence and self righteousness. In short, George W. Bush was all balls and no brains. It often seemed that the more wrong-headed and unwelcome his policies, the more steadfastly he defended and even expanded those policies (for examples see the war in Iraq, Guantanamo Bay detention, unlawful domestic wiretapping, the illegal politicization of the justice department, and "enhanced interrogation" aka torture to name only a few.) It will take decades to undo much of this damage, but the lives lost unnecessarily in a misbegotten war can never be replaced. Despite the national tragedy (make that international tragedy) that was the Bush Administration, I find myself missing certain aspects of his presidency. In short, I miss George W. Bush's enormous, hulking balls.

George W. Bush's balls were like overgrown yams angrily swinging their way through foreign and domestic policy. They thuggishly assaulted anyone or anything that got in their way, be it common sense, common decency, or international law. They were very scary balls. Many poked fun at W.'s ridiculous swagger with his bowed legs, pumped out chest, hips thrust forward, and arms stiffly bent at right angles by his side. That was not swagger; Bush was simply trying to counterbalance and make room for those caustic, dense potatoes always reminding him of their presence. Obama, on the other hand.... Well, his smooth, effortless gait betrays the reality of his anatomy.

"George W. Bush's balls were like overgrown yams angrily swinging their way through foreign and domestic policy. They thuggishly assaulted anyone or anything that got in their way, be it common sense, common decency, or international law."

While Obama may not quite be a eunuch, I would say his marbles aspire unsuccessfully to that euphemism. Not even marbles, they are more like dried, shrinking pomegranate seeds. They quietly and politely stay out of the way, only nervously affirming the President's cowardice on the rare occasion that they are consulted.

"You're right, Mr. President," say Obama's seeds, "a public option is not necessary to real health care reform. Let's just mandate that everyone buy overpriced insurance from the already corrupt insurance companies. We can call that reform, right? And let's not push those Blue Dog Democrats. They need that health insurance money to get re-elected next term, so that they can continue to obstruct a progressive agenda. And, goodness, sir.... Those inbred hecklers at town hall meetings look pretty scary, too. Some of them carry guns, Mr. President! I mean, I don't always like Republicans, either, sir, but you are so wise not to provoke them. Besides, Chuck Grassley is a nice man. He gives me candy every time he's invited to the Oval Office."

Yes, Obama's seeds are tragically aware of their uselessness, and only strive to avoid conflict or real reform. Perhaps if they were ever nurtured or fertilized, they might grow into a pair of healthy, full-grown pomegranate fruits which rival potatoes in both weight and volume. Sadly, there is little evidence that this will happen, so I propose a testicular transplant. Imagine Bush's balls with Obama's brains. If only we could construct this Mr. Potato Crotch as president.

Look, if Obama had W.'s nads, would he really cower to an opposing party whose constituents won't even allow their children to listen to a speech that encourages them to study hard and stay in school? If Obama had Bush's oysters, that speech would be mandatory viewing and would encourage children to ask their parents why they think people with existing diseases deserve to die. If Obama had Bush's cajones, he would tell Blue Dog obstructionists that he would campaign against any legislators who seek to derail legitimate health care reform. If Obama had Bush's stones, he would have temporarily taken over the banks instead of handing them billions and appointing the very architects of the banking collapse to his cabinet. If Obama had Bush's clappers, he would have appointed Ralph Nader to the attorney general and watched him prosecute Bush and Cheney for war crimes instead of begging Eric Holder not to proceed with a namby pamby investigation of low level CIA agents who surpassed the already illegal "guidelines" which condoned waterboarding and other torture techniques. If Obama had Bush's love apples, I would be praising him instead of maligning him. As it is, he is exactly what his Republican detractors labeled him during the Presidential campaign - all rhetoric and no substance.

Progressives who continue to blindly support this president are setting the bar way too low. Is Obama a vast improvement over George W. Bush? Yes. Is it reassuring, exciting, and inspiring to have the country's first African-American president? Absolutely. What, however, can we point to in support of a progressive agenda? It's true, the man has only been in office for a little more than six months. No one expects him to accomplish everything in that time (especially considering the shit storm he inherited), but it would be reassuring to see him put up a fight. Instead, the man continues to "negotiate" with (or cower to) an opposition party that doesn't even concede his citizenship to the country! It's time to lose the aloof, above-it-all professor demeanor and learn to throw a punch, Mr. President. If your biological shortcomings don't allow it, at least learn to pull some hair and scratch a few faces. Please, Mr. President, grow a pair; or, better yet, borrow Bush's.

Moon - Film Review

In his feature film directorial debut, Duncan Jones has created the rare cinematic gem (at least in the film market of the last fifteen years.) Moon, starring Sam Rockwell as multiple characters (kind of), is a sci-fi indie flick for adults. As the director himself acknowledges, that is an almost extinct genre today. Jones, a former commercial director in the UK, has said he found himself perplexed and frustrated that today’s filmmakers seem to feel that science fiction “should be frivolous, for teenage boys” and full of superfluous special effects and CGI. Jones believes that today’s directors are “embarrassed by science fiction’s philosophical side.” As a result, Jones set out to make a sparse, tightly contained film that focused almost solely on the cerebral possibilities explored in what he calls the “golden age” of science fiction in the 70s and early 80s with films like Silent Running, Alien, and Blade Runner. In both its spirit and its retro sci-fi aesthetic, Moon succeeds as a successful homage to its influences while retaining plenty enough vitality to stand on its own two feet.

The film is set in a corporate-owned mining facility on the moon some (unknown) time in the future. A substance called Helium-3 is being mined and transported back to Earth for the purpose of supplying clean fusion energy (this substance actually exists as does its apparent ability to provide clean fusion energy.) The base is occupied only by one employee, Sam Bell (Rockwell), who is just finishing a solitary three-year stint in the facility. Bell’s only companion is the base’s intelligent computer, named Gerty (voiced by Kevin Spacey), who is a very obvious cinematic descendent to 2001’s HAL. Bell also has the ability to communicate via video conference with his colleagues and family on Earth, but because of an apparent malfunction these “interactions” can only take place in one-sided delayed recordings. The years of solitude seem to be taking their toll on Bell’s psyche, and when he suffers a head injury while working, questions arise as to Bell’s mental stability. More specifically, Bell is confronted with a crisis of identity, which sets the film (and Rockwell’s performance) in motion.



Moon seems to enjoy confronting questions of whether a “benevolent” green corporation might possibly commit very malicious acts or whether today’s supposedly social networking technologies are actually more successful in alienating and dehumanizing their users. The central focus of the film, however, is really an old-school psychological inquiry. As Bell is confronted with what might or might not be other images or manifestations of himself, he is nevertheless forced to deeply evaluate who he is and what forms his identity. Rockwell is simply stunning in portraying different versions of the Sam Bell identity, adding subtle nuance to differing versions of what is essentially the same character. At times, the “differing” Sam Bell characters are forced to interact with one another. I found myself awed at Rockwell’s ability as an actor to convincingly interact with no one else during filming. Such a challenge seems much more demanding than “interacting” with a non-existent green screen CGI creation whose eye-candy flash can mask bad or uninspired acting. Rockwell simply had nothing but himself to hide behind and pulled it off flawlessly, evoking a wealth of drama and emotion.

With little more than a single actor, a simple set, and very limited special effects, Moon succeeds in creating a film rich with subtle humor, well-earned tension, and engaging philosophical inquiry. One can only hope that this movie will usher in a resurgent golden era of thoughtful science fiction, free from the eclipse of bloated budgets and over-indulgent special effects. If nothing else, Moon is one small step in that direction.

MSNBC's "Morning Joe" Partners With Starbucks, Dropping Pretense of Actual Journalism

[Edit: In retrospect, I should have titled this post Morning Ho'.]

In a refreshing move of candor, MSNBC's weekday talk show, Morning Joe (hosted by conservative pundit and former Republican Congressman Joe Scarborough), has officially dropped the pretense that it is a news program. Instead, the show is explicitly marketing itself as exactly what it is - a vehicle to generate advertising dollars for General Electrics-owned MSNBC. Of course, all commercial news programs exist simply to provide filler content in between their lucrative advertisements, but Morning Joe is the first to announce it to the world by emblazoning the Starbucks coffee logo all over their program. The show is now Morning Joe Brewed by Starbucks. In addition to the coffee-makers logo being placed within the Morning Joe logo, Starbucks will be mentioned throughout the broadcast according to Broadcasting & Cable, an industry periodical.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Today was the official unveiling of the "partnership." I was unaware of this development and simply turned on the show this morning to watch a five to ten minute segment whereby the hosts were basically high-fiving and back slapping one another in praise of their "innovative" advertising plan. Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz was also "interviewed" about the new merger, among other things. The "other things," not surprisingly, were great big softballs lobbed to Mr. Schultz, providing him an opportunity to talk about the heath and potential growth of the multi-billion dollar company.

According to the New York Times, an anonymous source "with knowledge of the deal" says that Starbucks has paid over $10 million dollars to MSNBC for the sponsorship deal. I have a sneaking suspicion that MSNBC will not be covering issues like Starbucks' poor environmental practices, their potentially illegal union busting practices (see video below), or even the company's current poor economic performance (like a 77% decrease in profits last quarter.) However, those are stories typically covered by journalists and news outlets, standards by which we shouldn't judge Joe Scarborough or his employer. After all, MSNBC is simply one profit-seeking division of the world's twelfth largest corporation. General Electric, the parent company of MSNBC, posted revenues of $183 billion last year fueled in large part by their energy divisions and military contracts. I suppose we can look forward to the Coca-Cola Countdown with Keith Olbermann, Home Depot Hardball with Chris Matthews, and the Rachel Maddow Target News Hour.

Film Review - The Girlfriend Experience

Whatever you think of Steven Soderbergh, you have to respect the director’s pathological experimentation. One could arrange his films in three broad camps: 1) the big budget Hollywood vehicle ala the Oceans 11 franchise, 2) medium budget indie-type films like Traffic or The Good German, and 3) low budget experiments like Full Frontal or Bubble. Soderbergh’s most recent release, The Girlfriend Experience, is decidedly in the latter category, having been shot on video in only a few weeks using mostly non-professional actors. The movie was filmed in New York towards the end of the 2008 presidential election at the height of the financial collapse. These real-life events are woven into the storyline as the film explores the transactions of a high-dollar escort prowling through the posh lofts, restaurants, and boutiques of Manhattan.

In a move of clever casting, the escort, Chelsea, is played by adult film actress, Sasha Grey (it's hard to say if that makes her a professional or non-professional actor.) Miss Gray is apparently famous in equal measures for her honest, unflinching eloquence regarding her porn career and her enthusiastic willingness to perform almost any act in that profession. That she is a slightly baby-faced 21 year-old makes both of those traits somewhat unnerving, and I'm sure Soderbergh hoped this tension would find its way onto the screen. It should be said, however, that there is not a great deal of sex in this film and only a few fleeting moments of partial nudity. The film focuses not on the sexual aspect of prostitution, but instead the commerce. In fact, The Girlfriend Experience is primarily obsessed with transactions, negotiations, and exchanges.

As Chelsea moves from one wealthy client to the next, many offer advice about how she should invest her money amidst the financial crisis. "Traditional" commerce only serves as the film's underpainting, however. What this film really enjoys exploring is the commodification of the very humanity of the characters. The title of the film refers to an acronym, "gfe," used in the parlance of escort services. A "girlfriend experience" is a term that advertises a more personal, intimate experience beyond simply sex. In a sense, Chelsea tries to act as a modern day Geisha, seeking to project herself as a cultured, well-bred woman who is as emotionally engaging as she is sexually desirable. However, she is very much a western, capitalist Geisha paying great attention to the brands of her lingerie and hiring multiple trade consultants to help her grow her business. Despite her occupation, Chelsea is in a committed relationship with her personal trainer boyfriend, Chris (Chris Santos), and the film takes great pains to draw parallels between the two professions. Of course, each job focuses on the physical body, but they also blur the lines between friendship and client resulting in awkward negotiations between the characters' personal and professional lives.

"Ruthlessness is so pervasive within these characters' lives that it is never experienced as abnormal much less painful."

It is these fissures between that client/friend dynamic that The Girlfriend Experience explores in scene after scene. The film exists mostly of one-on-one conversations between characters, often shot from a distant wide or medium angle. Of course, this distance is very intentional as the film suggests that emotion itself has become just another commodity in a market-obsessed culture. Most of the characters, both clients and servicers, seem to see themselves as products hoping for better marketing plans, re-branding schemes, and retail positioning. The election that occurs in the film's background illustrates just how much we have accepted political campaigns as marketing strategies, with one character mentioning how tired he is of hearing the word "maverick" to describe John McCain (it is interesting to note that the screenwriters chose not to pick on Obama's supercharged advertising techniques as well.) In fact, true and genuine emotion is nothing more than a liability to these characters when emotional manipulation is their very trade. It is only when Chelsea is conned by a character that we see her break down for a split second, and we wonder if she is upset by the betrayal itself or the realization that she actually has emotions to be disturbed. After all, ruthlessness is so pervasive within these characters' lives that it is never experienced as abnormal much less painful. Whether this exploration of cold detachment makes for great filmmaking is debatable.

At only a 77 minute run time, Soderbergh seems to recognize that most audiences probably don't want to spend a great deal of time with these characters. If you're looking for an evening of elaborate storytelling, this is probably not your film. However, if you're looking for a cerebral film whose intentional lack of emotional warmth is transplanted with an exciting cultural immediacy, you should arrange a discreet date with The Girlfriend Experience.

Cheney's Pet Donkeys

What a difference an election makes! Thank goodness we have rid ourselves of the disastrous Bush foreign policy based on fear mongering and our basest human tendencies. Before January 22nd, we had a government that hid evidence of its illegal torture of detainees, continued to escalate it's wars in the Middle East, had no plan in sight for closing Guantanamo Bay (a public symbol of all that has gone awry in America morality), and planned to use odious military tribunals to give the false impression of legitimate court proceedings for Guantanamo detainees (some of whom are undoubtedly dangerous terrorists and some of whom were swept up in incompetent dragnets.) Well, thank goodness that change swept into the White House offering a new hope for the nation's dysfunctional and immoral foreign policy. The Democrats have taken over the presidency and both houses of Congress, bringing new life and new ideas with them. A new day has dawn! Er, uh... Sorry. Someone is whispering in my ear. Excuse me, representatives from Amnesty International would like a word with me. I'll be right back...

(Five minutes later.) Oh, um, well... this is awkward. Apparently, I might have misspoken before. It seems that maybe a few things haven't changed from that list above. Or, um... I mean nothing on that list has changed. President Obama and his comfortable Democratic majorities in both houses of Congress aren't adjusting too well to their new found power. You see, Democrats don't really like or understand power. Even less do they like principles. Sure, they talk a good game (especially when they are out of power - which is often), but when it's their turn to run the show, they seem to mimic their right-wing predecessors unfailingly. Frankly, it is more than a little sad. They are like abused children who grow up only to become abusers themselves.

Let's revisit the list of Bush-era transgressions from above. We still have a President who chooses to hide evidence of torture; we still have a President that escalates wars in the Middle East; we still have a Congress (including 90 members of the Democratically controlled Senate!) that want to keep Guantanamo Bay up and running (and, perhaps even still torturing to this day); and we still have a President that wants to avoid real court proceedings for Guantanamo Bay detainees in favor of the improvised sham military tribunals created by the Bush Administration. The Democratic party's herculean fecklessness is matched only by its monumental cowardice. It would be comical were it not so devastating to our country.

I can almost understand the Democrats' continued deference to corporate America (witness, for instance, Clinton's massive banking deregulation leading to our current financial crisis and Obama's sweetheart bailout to the same banks that caused it). It is disgusting, but at least these politicians are being well compensated with campaign contributions as they ruin the country. These spineless cavings on the transparency and legality of foreign policy, however, offer no real financial incentives. It is cowardice, plain and simple. For decades now, Democrats have been scared shitless to be tagged as "soft on... [insert disastrous policy issue here]." Soft on crime. Soft on drugs. Soft on terrorism. Soft on national security. "Soft on..." is like kryptonite to supposed Democratic principles. The irony, of course, is that as Democrats shamelessly scramble to avoid looking weak on these issues, they prove precisely how soft and spineless they truly are. Even as D.C. insiders discuss the misguided and confused state of the Republican party, the Democrats can't help but roll on their backs and whimper when they see someone who really knows how to use (and abuse) power. It's enough to force a crooked smile, isn't that right, Mr. Cheney?

Hops, Malt, Barley, and Hemp - The Politics of Pleasure

This is certainly an opportune time to celebrate American Craft Beer Week, as we sit in the middle of an economic collapse. Many of us are feeling the pains of a sluggish economy in the form of lost jobs, reduced income, and continued uncertainty. While it may not be the best way to cope with anxiety, one can hardly blame us for imbibing a well-crafted beer to help us through tough times. The hoppy pleasure of a well-balanced ale or the rich, malty sweetness of a dark porter offer our minds something pleasant to ponder while we wait for the alcohol to lift our spirits. Of course, most of us would prefer to pour a beer celebrating our economic prosperity rather than one distracting us from our financial woes. That is why it is maddening to realize that America's other vice of choice, marijuana, remains the untaxed black sheep of U.S. drug use when we desperately needs its revenues the most. Perhaps a look at the history and prohibition of beer in America can help inform us about the demonized weed.

American Craft Beer Week is recognized by the United States Congress in House Resolution 753. The resolution states that the Congress:

(1) Supports the establishment of American Craft Beer Week as a celebration of the contributions that American craft brewers have made to the Nation's communities, economy, and history and
(2) commends American craft brewers for providing jobs, improving the balance of trade, supporting American agriculture, and educating Americans about the history and culture of beer while promoting the responsible consumption of beer as a beverage of moderation.

This is a triumph for craft brewers for a couple of reasons. First of all, there was another House of Represenatives bill passed in 1919, HB 6810, that prohibited the production or consumption of alcohol in the United States. Of course, the prohibition of alcohol fueled untold criminal activity and helped fund and organize the American mafia. Thankfully, by 1933, American politicians realized the harm inflicted by prohibition. It became obvious that prohibition was a boon to organized crime and basically turned over would-be tax dollars and employment opportunities to criminal enterprises. The puritanical streak in American culture was beaten back by the competing libertarian and capitalist tendencies of the country. Fortunately, American evolved (at least in part) past its fundamentalist roots so that as I write this I can enjoy an Arrogant Bastard Oaked Ale.

"Those 'might is right' market realities almost destroyed the practice of craft brewing which would have left us with nothing but mass-produced, watered-down, tasteless lagers."

While the hyper capitalist tendencies of America helped (in part) to save her from an extended alcohol prohibition, they did little to help craft brewing. In fact, those "might is right" market realities almost destroyed the practice of craft brewing which would have left us with nothing but mass-produced, watered-down, tasteless lagers. According to beerinfo.com, the United States had 4,131 breweries in 1873, less than 1,568 in 1910, 498 in 1940 (only seven years after prohibition), 229 in 1960, and only 82 breweries by 1980, the year of Ronald Reagan's election. By 1983, six brewing companies controlled 92% of U.S. beer production. American beer manufacturers devoted their funds to cheap production and distribution models coupled with enormous marketing campaigns full of clydesdale horses, bikini clad women, talking frogs, and professional athlete endorsements.

Today, thanks to the ingenuity, creativity, and determination of craft brewers, there are over 1,400 breweries in the U.S., comparable to the years just prior to prohibition. The renaissance began in the 1980's, took hold in the 90's, and continues to expand today with craft brewers growing at a rate of almost six times their macrobrew cousins according to beertown.org.

"Apparently, spending our dwindling tax dollars imprisoning pot smokers takes precedent over the moral decay of allowing them to giggle and eat Twinkies in the comfort of their own homes."

One can only hope that we might one day see Congress enact an American Marijuana Horticulturalists Week, praising them "for providing jobs, improving the balance of trade, supporting American agriculture, and educating Americans about the history and culture of pot." The history does not look good, however, considering that pot has been illegal in all of the U.S. since 1937 (72 years) while alcohol was prohibited for only fourteen years. Sometimes inertia is a bitch, especially realizing that the very powerful alcohol and tobacco lobbies continue to fund anti-marijuana campaigns for fear of competition (why they wouldn't want to use their resources to legalize and sell weed for enormous profits is beyond me.)

Of course, the prohibition of marijuana, just like alcohol before it, only leads to a rise in crime and huge piles of money for criminals. The country spends a great deal of money on failed law enforcement efforts and unconscionable incarceration for (very) non-violent pot smokers, when we could legalize, regulate, and tax a drug that is very safe, if not sometimes annoying (given its tendency to promote drum circles and caucasian dreadlocks.) A 2005 study conducted by Harvard professor Jeffrey Miron that was endorsed by no less than Milton Friedman and over five-hundred other economists estimates a $10-14 billion annual net gain from marijuana legalization. At a time of economic turmoil, you would think that politicians would embrace any plan to generate revenues and cut costs. This is especially true considering that Americans as a whole are beginning to soften their positions on marijuana reform, and even mainstream media sources like CNN are featuring repeated segments on the issue. However, even though a huge number of Americans proposed marijuana legalization in response to the economic crisis on President Obama's own website, his response was simply to chuckle and dismiss these serious concerns (see video below.) Were one of his daughters or friends languishing in a jail cell for smoking a harmless plant, perhaps he would not so cavalierly dismiss these legitimate questions. Were he a governor wondering how to balance a budget deeply in the red, perhaps he would give his online audience more credit.



For the time being, however, we are doing our best Saudi Arabia impression, with our fundamentalist, puritanical roots firmly planted in hemp-free soil. Apparently, spending our dwindling tax dollars imprisoning pot smokers takes precedence over the moral decay of allowing them to giggle and eat Twinkies in the comfort of their own homes. While I am glad that our country's moralizers have made room for the sometimes raucous beer drinkers of America, I can't help but wish the bean counting capitalists would take a harder look at the peaceful potheads of the nation. Until then, let's toast a Dogfish Head 90-Minute IPA in honor of American Craft Beer Week and hope that one day our biggest complaint in the world of weed will be the corporate macro-growers of highly taxed, inferior, legalized marijuana.