I would never have guessed.

(This is blogworthy, but I don’t think it is CNN worthy. Seriously, isn’t there a war going on somewhere?)

In the last weeks of December, during the last major German offensive of World War II, a group of American soldiers was overwhelmed by Germany’s shocktroops near Malmedy, Belgium, and surrendered. Instead of being treated as prisoners of war, the captured Americans were gathered into a group and mowed down by machine gun fire.

One of my recent Netflix selections was the 2004 WWII film “Saints & Soldiers”, which follows a group of Americans who manage to escape the massacre, but aren’t out of trouble — they’ve only got one rifle and they’re behind enemy lines during the Battle of the Bulge. (Technically, it’s the Second Battle of the Bulge, the first was during WWI where the Germans punched through British and French defenders and were routed by just-arrived US Marines in the Battle of Belleau Wood).

Technically and visually, the film is beautiful. It looks very much like Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers — herky-jerky camera moves, fountains of dirt raining down helter-skelterish, puffs to indicate bullet hits.

My problems with the film come to two points — the first is the importance of documents carried by a downed RAF pilot who links up with the Americans. I wasn’t sure if the highly-important information he carried was that “this is a major German offensive!” or if it was something else. If it was something else, it was never revealed, and if it was the fact that the Allies were facing a major offensive, they already knew it (by the end of the day December 16th, the first day of the offensive, Eisenhower had already ordered major redeployments of troops). So that was one aspect of the film that bothered me. Of course, the characters didn’t know that their commanders knew about the offensive, but it wasn’t like the film was very clear if that was what the British pilot’s secret information was.

My biggest problem with the film was something that I haven’t even been able to convince myself I’ve just been making mountains out of molehills about. It’s the not-trying-to-be-overt religious theme running through the piece, which by trying not-to-be-overt, made me feel like I was being clubbed over the noggin’ with a shovel. This possibly-imagined-maybe-not-Christian-propaganda feeling wasn’t eased by checking out the film’s official website, listing awards by film festivals I’ve never heard of — Heartland Festival? Big Bear Lake?

Even without these two problems I had in watching it, the movie isn’t very exciting from a story point of view. The audience — in this case, me — never feels emotionally involved with the characters, and the only character with an actual story “arc” — the medic — feels forced.

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I also Netflixed the HBO film “Warm Springs”, which stars Kenneth Branaugh as Franklin D. Roosevelt and Cynthia Nixon as Eleanor, who following the sudden onset of polio and infantile paralysis in his late thirties, faces the end of his political career. Retreating to a George spa — the same one he would late die at — the film documents his battle both against the disease which has left him a cripple, and his battle to return to national signifigance. I think I was expecting a “The Gathering Storm” for FDR, and this film isn’t that at all, it’s well done as most HBO productions are, but it isn’t particular gripping or exciting. Actually, I think “okay” sums it up best. Deserves the notation, “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there”, substituting “movie” for “place”, “watch” for “visit” and “ever see it again” for “live there.”

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Since I’m clearly in the need for good entertainment after suffering through those, I watched Episode #18 , “Hard Rock“, of The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. Brisco tags along while Bowler rushes to the aid of his former paramour, now a cafe owner who refuses to pay protection to the notorious Roy Hondo. The episode also introduced Gary Hudson as Sheriff Aaron Viva, who can best be described as an Elvis Impersonator (in 1893? Clearly, Viva is ahead of his time!); and the character Whip Morgan as a paint-splattered gunfighter. I also learned that Randy Edelman’s theme for the series has been reincarnated and is used by NBC Sport Productions during the Olympics and World Series. Neat!

This is the story of the first time I ever kissed a girl.

Well, rather, it’s the story of the first time a girl kissed me. Apparently, back then, I wasn’t too into the whole “kissing” thing, possibly because I was at the tender young age where the word “cooties” was not only unknown to me, but also completely unpronouncable by me.

I was one.

She was older. Much older. She was three. This, no doubt, where my fascination with older women comes from.

I saw Kristin for the first time in probably ten years at my dad’s birthday celebration last week. I knew she’d be there, and I was nervous about that — I always have this fear that I won’t measure up to the expectations people I knew waaay back when would have had of me. I overcame that neurosis pretty quickly as the seventh inning drew to a close and we had a chance to sit next to each other and catch up.

My mom was sitting down in the row in front of us. Her mom was seated next to her. As moms are wont to do, they inquired if either of remembered our first kiss, then proceeded to tell us the story. Important to note, here, that they were both friends long before either of us children were but glimmers in their eyes, and also important for it to be known that Kristin and I shared, I’m certain, the same horrified expression as our mothers related this story to us.

One day, years and years ago (I was one-ish, so we’re talking 1979 here) we went down to the Smithsonian. Kristin decided she wanted to kiss me. As I mentioned above, I wasn’t having anything to do with it. Again, I couldn’t really vocalize any words, and I doubt I was having many coherent thoughts, but were I only a few more years older, I probably would’ve complained, “Girls are yucky!” Kristin, not willing to give up, grabbed my head with her hands, and twisted my head around until she was able to plant a kiss on me.

Although our mothers refused to give this detail, I’m reasonably certain no tongue was involved.

(PS - I wrote this post while trying to get through the WWII movie Saints & Soldiers. That’s a boring ass WWII movie. I’d rather die painfully than ever watch it again).

The Western Australian Government says an incident in which young workers at a fast food store were forced to work for free is an example of what workers will see more of under new federal industrial relations legislation.

Dominos in Myaree placed a poster in its store informing employees they would have to work an extra five minutes unpaid for every minute they were late to work.

The same would apply if any part of an employee’s uniform was missing.

Although (comments to the contrary in this post aside) I don’t actually believe Greg is a fascist — well, sometimes — I can’t help but feel that were he allowed to do what’s described in this article, he’d jump on it in a heartbeat! Particularly the uniform thing. He’s constantly asking me, “Snay, where’s your nametag?” Answers range from: in my pocket, under the car-seat, up your butt, up your butt and around the corner, et al.

(Thanks for the heads-up, Jain!)