Even those who don’t believe in the Bible as a source and guide from a higher power would be willing to concede that the stories of Christ’s social mission speak to a degree of efficiency and discipline that could be a model, especially in today’s world.
  

With all the movements to instill a local and/or regional focus on our consumer urges counter-balanced by the narrowing of our reach, thanks to technology, what is the difference between local and global? What would 19th century hipsters think of the accessibility present in today’s world?  

Cos was, and still remains, your crazy uncle at the family reunion who seemingly was always around whenever something happened and was able to recall the situation in order to put someone — maybe you — in their place. I’m nearing my mid-forties now, and I’m starting to recognize myself in that role.
  

This is not just my response to the first presidential debate, which truth be told wasn’t a debate at all since one of the guys behind the podium was decidedly not in the mood to debate or discuss much of anything that voters might have been concerned about.   

My drive back from the Toronto International Film Festival cracked open the protective cinema dome, and it did so with a vengeance. NPR rudely awakened me to the news of the attacks on the Libyan embassy that resulted in the death of U.S. Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens.  

 The Toronto International Film Festival is about the movies, the premieres and the galas, the red carpet photo opportunities and the first looks at the prestige films that will dominate the conversation for the next few months or more. But I want jump off the beaten path, to seek out other moments, the ones in between the squats in darkened theaters, the ones where I find other funhouse reflections.   

Trash Dance captures the development of contemporary dance choreographer Alison Orr’s experimental performance piece featuring a crew of sanitation workers.
  

For the last few months, my oldest daughter has been debating current events with her best friend. My wife and I have been witnesses to her burgeoning political and cultural awareness, and it has taken me back to my own awakening.  

I had hope that time would allow cooler heads to prevail in the discussion of the Aurora, Colo., tragedy. By now, more than a week has passed, but something feels different this time. Maybe it is more personal because the attack took place at a movie theater and, being a film critic, it struck too near to home for me.  

Games aren’t always won by the most talented, the high-flying slam-dunking, ankle-breaking, one-on-one sensations with all the speed, power and hops of the greatest phenoms with the multi-million dollar free agent deals. No, sometimes, more often than you might think, the difference maker is one of the old-heads coming off a perfectly timed screen heading along the baseline just as the pass arrives to meet him at the three-point line as he steps back and fires quickly, instinctively, because he just knows every beat in this measure.
  

It's a rare night, an even more rare weekend night when I’m without my wife and daughters, so I find myself hanging out at the Oak for a guys’ night out with couple of friends, eager to watch the Reds and talk some trash. The young night grows old and soon I’m one of the last two holdouts, not quite ready for the evening to end.
  

It’s been about 16 months since I met my father for the first (and what looks like only) time. It would be difficult to describe his presence in my life. For 40 years, he was an absence, a void, a ghost in the machine; one that I can’t say I missed.  

June 12 happens to be my stepdaughter’s birthday, but this year it takes on even greater significance to our family and thousands of other couples in the United States because it marks the 45th anniversary of the Supreme Court decision making it legal in all 50 states for couples of different races to marry and live their lives without fear of harassment from law enforcement.   

I read an article once that said you should never date (or eventually marry) someone you can’t travel with, and as far as advice goes, that’s in the same ballpark as shacking up before putting a ring on it — another warning I ignored on my trek down the altar.  

I’m going old school with the flow, biting a rhyme from Uncle L, when I say, “Don’t call it a comeback.” It being the rebirth, the remixing and reloading of The Alternative, and I could also add that like LL, “I’ve been here for years.” I’ve been underground, hiding out in darkened theaters, multiplexing my way above the fray.