That Kind of Night

An accounting of the spirit of this evening, and somewhere in here a review of The 300.

The season has changed. The spirit of Galagon has compelled us to change. The Empyrean Throne is done with pensiveness and penance. He has thoroughly imbued us with the eternal wisdom and spirit of the Heavens, and now He compels us to action on Earth. Derryute presses lightly at our backs with a sweet wind that speaks all too early of the chaos of the monsoon. She tells us we are to go forward. The feast of magnanimous opulence in celebration of the inception of the living-time took place to-night.

Technically, it was my Dad's birthday. Generally, this is a very humble occasion that might involve going for a nice little journey somwheres or sitting down for a spring training game (We're doing that to-morrow.) But to-day, ahhh to-day... To-day we were simply imperial; bountiful and giddy beyond reason and custom. My Dad enjoyed himself more than he usually does and the rest of us didn't mind joining him. While we were waiting in the listless heavy-sweet air outside the Harkins at Arrowhead for the car to come pick my brother, my dad, and me up and take us back home for carrot cake and an easy night's sleep, we were come upon by a tandem of common female street urchins.

They were waiting on the other side of the road while we were discussing the movie, and suddenly ran across the street excitedly. They're my age, with big, stupid smiles, clumsy gaits and shiny cellphones radiating an electric blue light on their smooth, young faces. I notice them for an instant, fire off a few neurons to the effect of "stupid whores'll probably get run over" and rejoin the conversation. But then they get really close to us. We stop talking and move out of their way. They join our circle. A little jolt goes through my spine. They've got the tiniest little mini-skirts. They look around at us. The one on the left is kinda hot.

"Hello.", the one on the right, who's darker and taller, starts us off.

"Hey.", we all respond.

Silence for about the space of half a minute. Stupid smiles, too. The one on the left really is hot.

"How's it goin?", giggles the orange girl.

We get to talking about the movie we've just seen, The 300. We're desperately trying to be polite to the impetuous little ladies while they talk about how hot all the rippling man-parts on all the Spartan warriors were. Hey... The one on the left keeps looking at me. Suddenly she says I'm "beautiful."

Stupid little girl. Don't you know if our positions were reversed, you'd probably be calling the police?

I manage a nerdy "thank-you" that's about five steps below simply demure and dart my eyes around, trying to avoid looking disgusted or staring at her. I realize immediately I've made a mistake. I could've at least been witty. Something like "I know" or "So are you"... but I don't really care. These people are pests I'm trying to get rid of. And yet, the one on the left is kinda hot.

I tell you all of this mostly because it's just the sort of thing to happen in the heady early springtime, and because it colours my memory of the rest of the night. The conversation basically went on like that, swaying from their interest in Spartan abs to their interest in my "tummy" to the kids they didn't like at school to how ugly that one girl was, until suddenly the car arrived, and we had time for just one more episode of insanity. My dad announced it to us all with some unrestrained glee and had to apologise to the girls. Again, the one on the left burst out and decided I needed a hug.

"You must spank her well..."

Then her friend decided likewise, and amidst some conversation, everyone decided I needed two hugs.

"...after you are done with her, you may deal with her as you like... and then... spank me."

Then they decided, in order to make it really count, they had to do it each individually.

"Yes, Yes, you must give us all a good spanking.
And after the spanking, the oral sex!"

Dear God.
I ran to the car as it pulled up and leapt in. To my discredit, I didn't get the chance to say goodbye to them amidst all the talking and hugging. And the hugs, ah... they were that kind of rubby-rubby hug that said awful things about the girls ability to restrain themselves. Shame I didn't get to know them better.

After we all stopped laughing, we got back to talking about the movie, which was the intended entertainment for the evening and the serious purpose of this post. It's a fine action movie, done up in a very fantastical Lord of the Rings style that makes liberal but effective use of powerful special effects during the fight scenes and gives the movie an epic, supernatural scale. (Not at all like the old 300, which was done up as a slightly embellished, adventurous history lesson.) It's not art like the old version either, but if you come to the theatre hoping to be entertained rather than enlightened, it'll be consummately delightful.

There is one thing, though, I had to bring myself to overlook, that wasn't in the original: the persistent, pounding, annoyingly Neoconservative subtext. Every time anyone opens their mouth for anything other than roaring at the Persian hordes, asserting manly dominance, or uttering a line from history, they're talking about how "Freedom isn't free" (Really! That's in the movie! Verbatim!) and how the "liberty" of the Greeks must be protected and spread by the sword. The narrator of the story goes on in a superfluous speech at the end of the movie about how Persian (that is to say Iranian ;) "barbarism", "mysticism", and "superstition" will be destroyed and supplanted by an age of "reason" and "justice" like "we have never seen." So, not only are the Spartans outlandishly manly, strong, courageous, clever, and otherwise bad ass, they're down with the President, and evidently, they've got the same speech writers, too.
Come on, kids! War is sexy! War is fun! Empire is noble! Zeus is on our side!

Grrrrrr....

But seriously, as long as you cut out the entire message and the significant creative liberties taken with history, it's a delightful picture. Go see it.

The kickoff for the evening was dinner at this Texas Roadhouse place up in Arrowhead (again, uncharacteristically decadent and Republican of us), a 9-ounce sirloin steak, a cup of chili, and a glass of smooth, cold, refreshing Coca Cola. A brilliant start to Spring. A happy birthday. Galagon's hand on our shoulders and Derryute's wind at our backs. That kind of night.

Holy Couple make the rain, Chronik and Corvus preserve our sacred knowledge, Derryute and Venusti, grant us the grace and the spirit to live, Scelere make your trickeries benign.

I'll see you all around. Goodnight.