I came across this entertaining video (kind of a slide show of all 7 seasons of the show), and I always liked the song, so I thought I’d post it.

It works for me anyway.

Brief and reasonably funny Nathan was… wait a sec — did I just turn into Yoda?

A bit old at this point, but still interesting, and I hadn’t seen it, so maybe you haven’t either?

And yes, I’m still swamped. But some of the truth is also that once I started to blog about Buffy’s love life I realized I needed to think about it some as I had not given it much thought before… extremely lame, I know.

Well, I’ll get something together or I won’t, and it will be about one thing or another, and it will be soon or not — on those three things you can definitely depend!!!

But seriously, I’ve gone through the first three seasons in record time, I guess for about the ninth time, or so… you would think I would have more to say about Buffy’s love life!

(Hmm, maybe it’s the subject, a little writer’s block due to my love life being so very sad and pathetic… woe is me.)

Okay. Later. I hope.

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Although, prior to the attacks I would never have thought I would ever say such a thing, it was in some respects, a far more innocent time. In those more halcyon days, most of us I suspect thought that an American — with only the rarest exception — was simply an American, a US citizen simply a citizen, some of course better, far more responsible citizens than others, some to the political left and some to the political right, but nevertheless, a more or less given that, left or right, we were held together in as many ways as not by a common thread of understanding.

It is the sort of denial that seems almost a requirement to live in this post-post-postmodern age (or whatever), and it was naive, and perhaps in some ways it really was innocent, yet most of us I suspect know and have nearly always known that the edges of our society have always been raw with the rampant and the rabid, but that understanding nevertheless did not require very many of us to acknowledge the extent to which the half-cocked and half-crazed were waiting for their opportunity to pounce.

And suddenly, with the attacks, came that opportunity at last.

Suddenly, a man who was inarguably one of the most deeply flawed and unqualified to ever inhabit the house at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, toward whom most Americans, judging by the polls, had already lost much of their initial good will and faith, became, overnight — primarily it seems because he could use a bullhorn and make a few terse comments — our Great Leader.

So we were told.

For many months — and to a slightly lesser extent, even years — after, to offer criticism of that particular president became tantamount to being unpatriotic, of offering solace to the enemy, of being un-American, of being treasonous.

So we were told.

As nasty as American politics had been in recent decades, it had rarely seen this sort of opportunism, this sort of vitriol, obsession, or sheer, mindless indecency. Suddenly, anyone who did not agree with the deeply flawed policies of our deeply flawed president had the choice of being silent or of being attacked by a propaganda machine with the sole intent of threatening, bullying, silencing, and blacklisting all comers.

Fortunately, enough fought back, and passions gradually cooled enough, so that that machine did not achieve the total political and media dominance to which its operators aspired. (At least some of us think it was fortunate.)

And yet.

Here we are today, still caught in the aftermath of a political tsunami in which it has become acceptable, even heroic to many, for an elected leader in our Congress to heckle the president of the United States in the middle of his speech, in which it has become acceptable, even heroic to many, to openly carry and display firearms into venues in which the president is scheduled to speak, in which it has become acceptable, even patriotic to many, to simply make up your own "facts" on any subject whatsoever, to attribute a statement to your opponent that is exactly the opposite of what your opponent actually said, to lie about everything, to give one’s loyalty only to one’s political party, or team, to concern yourself with winning only, and for your side only, and to treat any concerns about the actual future of this society as inconsiderable and beneath contempt.

It has been said, by many on the right, and on many occasions — in utter denial of all the damage that has been done — that we should all just shut up and be appreciative that the Bush administration protected us from further terrorist attacks. And I am willing to admit, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, it may well be that Bush, Cheney, et al, did protect us, that some of their policies were far more effective than we know, or are, apparently, allowed to know.

But even if all of that is true, if we should ever be attacked similarly again (or worse) there is still one question that has to nag incessantly at anyone in this country who still has a mind, who can still think a semi-coherent thought, who still cares: who or what will protect us from the fully-cocked and the fully-crazed, the rampant and the rabid, who are now orgasmically frothing at the lips at the thought of when their opportunity may come?

In short, who will protect us from ourselves?

I don’t know what this says about me, but I enjoyed the music, I enjoyed the imagery, I just enjoyed it! But it’s kinda hot, so be sure to keep your toddlers away from this, as well as your monks, your priests, your puritans, your uptight relatives, your sexually repressed neighbors… well, you get the pic.

Yeah, it’s hokey. Wanna make something of it? What can I say? I have no shame.

(By the way, keep an eye peeled for part 2 of my conclusion of Buffy Summers & Beyond Good and Evil — coming soon! — no, really.)

Here’s a short video of Eliza Dushku strutting her stuff. Now that’s entertainment, right guys?, right?, er, not that this sort of thing is appropriate on a site dedicated to Buffy and semi-dedicated to female empowerment, but, er, (did I say semi-dedicated?), er, y’know, a little variety here and there can’t hurt. Right?

A few interesting comments from Joss Whedon about Dollhouse — something about what he’s trying to accomplish, a little bit about how he feels about the characters’ mixed motivations, and so forth. I guess, what occurred to me was, What are our more private dreams really made of?, and Who and what are we willing to compromise to fulfill them?

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