Genesis

This is the first post in what will presumably be a drearily large number by The Reluctant Texan, and it is in a way preliminary, in that I am not yet a Reluctant Texan, but am instead an Unhappy Central Illinoisan, formerly an Enthusiastic Chicagoan. Given a few months, however, I assure you that I will in fact be a Reluctant Texan in actuality.
I awoke this morning after a restless, sweaty and reasonably torturous night, fuzzy headed both internally and externally, only to launch into the surreal experience of watching The Passion of the Christ first thing.

Oy.

I should say, I was quite prepared to be moved, to flinch at the brutality, to even cry. I am, it must be admitted, a whimpy man-girl of the first order. Emotionally investing in a film is something I do happily, if tearfully. But the Passion, ironically, left me cold. I found the cinematography at times compelling, at times confusing. I found the acting to be quite excellent, in general. It was a fine film, but it simply didn't compel me. I was about to launch into an analysis of the film, but really, that would be out of place. I will provide a link to both the origins of some of what might seem apochryphal in the film, and to an analysis of the effects of The Passion on it's audiences. Good readin' both times.

Terrible thing I wish I had never learned: There's such a thing as Clown Porn. No explanation necessary. Ah, look for it yourself, if you like. I'm not linking to it.

Quote of the Day: Misery Loves Company

Glad you came.