Lessons from the Stormtroopers

Children still love to dress up as Star Wars characters for Halloween. This makes George Lucas a genius - because 33 years ago, I dressed up as a Star Wars character for Halloween. Yes, I was a Star Wars fan. Every Christmas brought new Star Wars action figures and merchandise. I had the whole movie on … a record. And of course, there was my homemade Luke Skywalker costume. Star Wars was my introduction to the silver screen and I’ve been in love with movies ever since.

But one question has plagued me since my early movie-going childhood: why couldn’t Darth Vader’s white-plastic-wearing foot soldiers hit the broad side of the Millennium Falcon with their blasters? I mean, they had to have had the worst aim in history, past and futuristic. And every time I watch a movie where the villains and bad guys can’t hit a thing, I call them graduates of the “Stormtrooper School of Shooting” … because to be that bad, they had to have been taught by the very worst.

Bad marksmanship probably didn’t start with the Stormtroopers. I bet the Germans and the Indians had horrible aim in every John Wayne war movie or western. However, as weaponry improves, bad guy shooting seems to be getting worse. I just watched, The Green Zone featuring Matt Damon. With automatic weapons that from 500 yards could cross the F on Lindsay Lohan’s fingernail, the Iraqis couldn’t bring down a limping Damon trudging across a Baghdad courtyard from a nearby rooftop. I know the protagonist can’t get taken out, but why do the directors have to make it so obviously silly when the bad guys spray a room with lead and hit nothing but the wallpaper?

Another action-movie staple that I can’t stand is the fight scene in which the hero takes on five bad guys at once. Except that the bad guys, never rush the hero at once. No, that would make too much sense. Instead, they each wait patiently in line as if they’re at Starbucks ordering a mocha. They charge into the hero’s punches, kicks, and head-butts before falling like dominos, one after the other. In the movie Taken, Liam Neeson is searching for his kidnapped daughter. He finagles his way into an upstairs apartment where a group of meanies are sitting around playing cards (bad guys love to kill time playing cards). Liam initiates a brawl, single-handedly whipping the villains as they come at him one at a time. You can almost see them playing “Rock-Paper-Scissors” in the background to determine who gets his butt kicked next. Of course, one bad guy survives the melee, and chases Liam out of the apartment and down the stairs, littering the whole area code with bullets, none of which connects with its target.

Of course action movie heroes always have impeccable aim. Our brave protagonist (insert over-paid actor name here) can be down to his last bullet, arrow, or pocketknife; and can be riding on a horse, a motorcycle, a boat, a helicopter, driving a car or hanging out of a airplane and WILL always put one right between the eyes of his pursuer. The good guys never attend the Stormtrooper School of Shooting.

In addition to fine shooting skills, the action movie’s star also has to have the superb ability to escape and defy impending doom. Once in every action movie, the hero will ultimately get caught by the bad guys. Normally, the head bad guy will show up and order the hero to be executed. However, the final bullet is never fired immediately. Again, that would make too much sense. Instead, our trusty hero is usually spared immediate death, and is relocated to a better killing room, usually involving overhead pipes from which he can be dangled. While the bungling henchmen sit around (playing cards) waiting for the perfect time to carry out the boss’ orders, (Funny, the boss said “kill him,” not “sit around and wait for him to free himself, then kill him”) our hero will escape, foil the execution, and expediently slay his captors who are this time drawing straws one at a time to decide the order of their one-by-one attack.

Just about every action movie nowadays thinks it’s a James Bond film. Bond should be only character permitted to fall out of planes, survive car explosions, and jump from an overpass onto a moving semi. Bond movies are really just Roadrunner cartoons. Like the Coyote, OO7 takes a pounding in his tuxedo, only to bounce back in the next scene to gracefully order a drink and cozy up to the nearest bombshell. We as viewers expect the Bond films to be this way. It wouldn’t be a Bond film if it were any different.

But action movie makers these days are always trying to top each other. They sacrifice storyline, acting, and writing by trying to create the biggest explosion, longest chase scene, or most dynamic computer-generated special effect moment that always leaves me shaking my head and saying, “No way!”

I’m really tempted to watch The Book of Eli. Denzel wouldn’t go James Bond-wanna be on us, would he? But the trailer gives it away. Too many explosions. Too many fight scenes. Too many poor-shooting bad guys. I even went to film’s website to get a better idea of what to expect. I wasn’t surprised. Because there on the Credits page was a photo of lead villain Gary Oldman and his cohorts displaying their diplomas from the Stormtrooper School of Shooting.

Separation of Church and State

On the heels of our nation’s birthday, I have a history quiz for you. In which document do the words, “Separation of Church and State” (SOCAS) appear?
A. The Constitution
B. The Bill of Rights
C. The Declaration of Independence
D. Madalyn Murray O’Hare’s family cookbook (Oh wait, that’s the separation of “cheese and steak”)
The correct answer is E, “None of the above”. The first document believed to contain SOCAS is a letter from President Thomas Jefferson in 1802. Jefferson was responding to a letter from a group of Connecticut Baptists who were worried that because freedom of religion had been written into the laws and constitutions, the government might someday believe that it was okay to “regulate public religious activities.” The Baptists believed that freedom of religion was a God-given right, not a government-granted right. They didn’t want future governments to one day revoke freedom of religion. Jefferson agreed. He wrote back saying, “I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should ‘make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise of,’ thus building a wall of separation between church and state.”
Jefferson was not alone in his stance on church and state. Remember he was pretty active in the founding of the USA going back to 1776 when he put his quill to work. Contrary to Lost Symbol author Dan Brown’s “history” books, many of the Fathers were bible-believing Christians. Religion was pretty dang important to those white-wigged-wearing politicians. I mean they didn’t wait to the 10th amendment to bring up God. They led off with Him.
And when it comes to the First Amendment, records show that in the discussions about the Almighty, the word “religion” was often interchanged with the word “denomination”. The beginning drafts of the First Amendment were written as, “Congress shall make no law establishing any particular denomination.” In those records the discussions revolved around curtailing what has been their experience under Great Britain, “the legal establishment by the national government of a single religious denomination in exclusion of all others.”
So in essence, the bricks of Jefferson’s wall were laid not to limit religious expressions, but to prevent the government from interfering with public or private religious activities. Times have changed, huh?
But change was slow. For nearly one hundred and fifty years, courts (including the Supreme one) often cited Jefferson’s letter and interpreted it to mean that the government couldn’t interfere with traditional religious practices such as public prayer or the use of Scriptures. Over time the courts outlined how and when the government could poke its fingers into religion. For example, the government could prohibit religious expressions that were “in violation of social duties or subversive of good order.” Things such as human sacrifice, incest, polygamy, or skipping Sunday services to stay home and watch football.
Then in 1947, the Supreme Court did an about-face and interpreted SOCAS “as requiring the federal government to remove religious expressions from the public arena.” Instead of limiting governmental interference, the First Amendment was now a limitation on religious expressions. In doing so, the Court did not cite Jefferson’s whole 1802 letter, his many other statements on the topic, or mention that earlier Court rulings used Jefferson’s phrase to preserve religious principles in public society.
In 1962 the Court went another step further and began redefining individual words of the SOCAS phrase. “Church” was no longer “federal denomination” but instead became, “public religious activity.” So, SOCAS became to mean that “public religious expressions must be kept separate from the public square”. Basically, those worrisome Connecticut Baptists were just a mere 160 years ahead of the game.
After the 1962 decision, the Court began removing religion from the schools. Many conservative folks will say that this is when our country and our educational system went to hell in a rolling backpack. I think the moral decline of our country was very subtle, happening over decades. Something occurred over time that shifted the heartbeat of the United States from God Bless America to America Ignores God. I wonder if it was the prosperity of the Industrial Revolution or the roar of the happy 1920s? Was it the agony of the Great Depression, or the atrocities of World War II? Was it a combination of everything? Maybe it’s just simply switching from putting God first to putting America first.
The good news is that the Courts are doing a 180 on their initial about-face. Two dozen states now mandate “abstinence-only” teaching in schools. The Supreme Court has now made it okay to have evangelism, prayer, and Bible clubs on public school campuses. “It’s permissible to show films that present family values from a religious perspective, pay for some student religious publications with school funds, and teach the Bible for credit. Furthermore, there are new laws that prohibit the content-based censorship of American history due to religious references found in certain historical documents ranging from the Mayflower Compact to Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address.”
God said in II Chronicles 7:14, “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” Lord knows America needs some healing. I’m sure it’ll be tough to get a country of 300 million people to buy into II Chronicles 7:14. But maybe 300 million don’t have to. Maybe if more of the 600 or so non-wig-wearing big wigs in Washington D.C. gave a more concerted thought to the spiritual ideas of the Framers, America might just stand a chance.

(Quoted material above is from David Barton’s book, Separation of Church and State, What the Founders Meant.)

Baseball Wedding Bells

I have a secret. As I sit here watching the Angels and Dodgers play I thought I’d fill you in. I’m working on my second marriage.
My first marriage lasted 30 years. It started in 1975 when I was seven years old. It was an arranged marriage, as I was introduced by my father. I remember our first date and I still have the ticket stub. It was a storybook wedding. The bride was dressed in white, with dark blue trimmings and an Olde English D on her hat.
While growing up in Michigan in the 70s and 80s I lived and died with the Detroit Tigers. The deaths were an annual ritual until Sparky, Alan, Lou, and Gibby brought home the championship in ’84. But in those days, I was young, and if the Tigers lost a game that I attended it ruined my ballpark experience.
In the 90s the Tigers were horrible. And unless you’re a Cubs fan, mediocrity does not make the heart grow fonder. Either does distance. I had moved to Los Angeles where I was blessed to have two teams to watch, the Dodgers and the Angels. And slowly, my relationship with the Tigers started to fade. Without a vested interest I could follow both LA teams dispassionately, laughing quietly at the Dodger fans who hated the Angels, and vice versa. I also learned to better appreciate the game. Not worrying about how “my team” was performing, I could go to Dodger Stadium or the Big A and watch the game, not the teams, soak in the subtleties and keep score without caring about the score. I could cheer when Cal Ripken or Tony Gywnn did something amazing because they weren’t doing it against my team.
My baseball heart in Los Angeles wasn’t all unattached. I grew very of fond both teams. Oh those poor people in Des Moines, or Albuquerque, or Wichita who were without their own major league team. How lucky I was to have two teams. I used to switch the TV and radio stations back and forth, following both teams. It was especially sweet when one team was on the east coast because then they both weren’t playing at the same time. Maybe I was just playing the field because at least once a summer I would get to see the Tigers play in Anaheim. I could wear my Tigers hat and slap high-fives with the seemingly endless crowd of transplanted Detroiters.
Then five years ago, I feel in love with the Angels. It wasn’t the Dodgers’ woes under Fox and McCourt that had me bleeding red. Nor was it Anaheim’s 2002 World Series title that rotated the axis of my heart toward Orange County.
It was the Angels 2005 playoff loss to the White Sox. You remember. AJ Piersynski whiffing at a third strike in the dirt, Angel catcher Josh Paul forgetting to tag him, that horrible no-call by the umpire! Something in my heart of hearts changed. A lever was thrown. A switch was flipped . Sparks flew like a light tower struck by a Roy Hobbs homer.
I … was … an … Angel … fan.
We had a connection. Through injustice and sorrow our hearts were melded together. I no longer had a blue shoe and a red shoe. I wish the Dodgers no ill will. I hope they succeed. But, when the Angels have an off day, I don’t watch the team in blue. My car’s radio no longer has a preset for Vinnie’s unending stories. Until this year, I went four seasons without going to Dodger Stadium. But I have been to Arizona to see the Angels practice. I have four Angels hats, two sweatshirts, and a now very dusty K-Rod jersey. I catch nearly every game on TV, the radio, or on my phone.
In 2006, the Tigers were good again. They made it to the World Series, but lost. I didn’t grieve. I was happy that they did well, but was also more thankful that they didn’t meet the Angels in the playoffs. I was Helen Hunt’s character Kelly Frears to Tom Hanks’ Chuck Noland in “Castaway.” Happy that he’d returned home from all those years on the island, but having moved on.
In 2007, I attended a Tigers – Angels game in Anaheim. For the first time I didn’t wear the hat with the Olde English D. Wearing red, I was surrounded by Detroit fans. These were my people. And I couldn’t cheer with them. I was the enemy. I couldn’t knock fists, bump chests, or smack high-fives. I was alone in a sea of former allies. The Tigers crushed the Angels that night. I left early (it was a work night). I went home distraught, sad, having learned the hard way that I couldn’t root for the Tigers when they played the Angels.
My best friend from high school still lives in Michigan and we regularly communicate about the teams from the Great Lakes State. We still lament the drafting of Darko and wonder if Rich Rodriguez will last another year as the football coach at the University of Michigan. He emails me about the Tigers. I don’t reply. This year both the Angels and the Tigers are near the top of their divisions. I hope both teams make the playoffs, I just pray that they don’t have to face each other.
We don’t know what happened to Chuck Noland as he drives off to deliver the beat-up Fed-Ex package, but I can guarantee that he didn’t invite Kelly to his wedding.