Molar Snippets

The Burrowers (09) has antecedents in the earlier American sneak-hit, Tremors. The difference lies in the send up. Tremors has its fun poking at the creature genre, and offered the audience nicely plotted irony. Burrowers, however, caught me by surprise, half tempting me to send This a fan mail for running a very well done movie that took itself seriously and aimed a devastating impact at reactionaries like me. Along with District 9, Burrowers falls into my knapsack, scantily loaded, of rave favorites; it is the type of film I hoped online users would recommend for this thrashing thesis. As to the specifics, and a hats off to JT Petty (too young for me to hit on alas, but I'd send out a fucking wedding proposal in an eye blink)-- I'm a bit tongue tied, inured to being idiotic, but it brought me back to the one multi-cultural issue I've equivocated over, been ambivalent about, perhaps, and not quite parallel to Cape Town as a Dutch company carved out of a continent not quite tamed, and that is the systemic pacification of the American Indians.

I've taken heat, at least online, for pushing back against white guilt over atrocities, without necessarily snickering at indigenous romanticism over its tribalism, though it is also true I run out of patience with it. I've held my fire, saving it for the I'm ready to fight gay radical equality. A few of you may have noted by now that I have little love for egalitarianism. Canada scores on this one. I know when I have to cede the field.