VANCOUVER OLYMPICS

I watched the figure skating finals and here's what I thought.

HOPPER, EDWARDS, & WOODS

Dennis Hopper is dying from prostate cancer that's metastasized, and he's divorcing his wife. He's played wonderful villains who are ugly, brutal. sadistic, and it's difficult to know if this is the real Dennis, or another character he's playing, in order to hold onto his money.

Metastasis means that the cancer has spread from one part of the body to another -- the cancer cells forming secondary tumors like those in the original, primary tumor. I wonder if the "Billy" character Hopper created in "Easy Rider" is spreading, taking over Hopper's mind and sensibilities?

Some people who know Hopper, think so. Others feel that Hopper is protecting his estate. Victoria, his fifth and current wife, who's objecting to some of the expensive experimental therapies Hopper is trying; she may want to break the prenuptial agreement they have, and make sure she inherits all his money.

I think of Dennis Hopper (we've met) as a cactus. He's always been a man in the dessert, needing very little from nature, surviving, growing more prickly as he's aged. Even so, battling with his wife right now, seems like an extremely parched, masochistic way, a Dennis Hopper movie character's way to live his final days.

Why not share, and enjoy moments with his wife and daughter and their mutual friends -- why gather the money he's earned around himself, and fuss over it -- why not spend it on things he and his wife and six-year-old daughter could do together?

There's something similar in the Elizabeth Edwards' story, she with her stage-four incurable cancer. After writing her book, getting things off her chest -- after the National Inquirer's latest exposé on her husband striking her, and denying, then admitting that he fathered a child with the other woman -- s-t-o-p.

Enough is enough! Why go for a legal separation, or divorce, or any legal, public, ritual to break off what connects them?

What purpose does it serve? Mr. and Mrs. John Edwards are connected by the work they've shared, things they've done for people over the years. What's wrong with going on gracefully, graciously, neatly and thoroughly, with projects they've set in motion?

I'm just feeling the unity the "loving Edwards couple" projected, before and during the campaign years. And have somehow continued projecting, despite the ups and downs and painful revelations about his infidelity.

Both of them seem to be struggling to maintain what they are. John and Elizabeth are very adult, educated, sophisticated, generous, "people" persons. I wish I could convey to them what they'd probably convey to another couple, who came to them for advice, with similar problems.

What about the Tiger Woods and Elin story? They're not a king and queen, and aren't geared up or prepared to live in the spotlight -- the spotlights of television and gossip columnists who thrive on what celebrities are doing, wearing, and playing at.

I'm not shocked, amazed, surprised, or even critical of the bad things Tiger has done -- I'm shocked, critical and amazed by the huge, ludicrous focus of the media on his private life, his morality, and now his apology.

We certainly don't need the media's analysis of his explanation to them -- but oh yes, of course, we're going to hear it. "He should have -- " "He shouldn't have --" "Why didn't he say --?" "He said "sorry" how many times ...?"

Okay, we're worried about ourselves, health, health care, money, the wars, race prejudice, gay marriage, Tea Partiers, terrorism, the national debt -- and because we can't solve those problems, they're festering, continually erupting, while we primly, with pinched-mouth tut-tuts, focus on a young, good-looking, interracial couple. And tell each other thoughtfully, what they should or shouldn't do.

Should the Hoppers divorce? Maybe the battle with her gives him energy to fight for his life. Should the Edwards go their separate ways? Maybe the public spectacle gives her energy to stay alive, and helps him pull himself together, stop standing in the corner like a "bad boy," and get some work done.

What famous people ought to do is always an interesting diversion from what I need to do.

What I need to figure out, is what to write about tomorrow, and which post to use for Airbroadcasting's next new video. And stop preaching "leave them alone."

I'll say it once more quietly -- we don't really know these people and the stories behind the story in the news. We need to back away and pay attention to other things.

WE ARE THE WORLD

The gathering of those familiar faces, those familiar voices -- the symphony of sound and glorious unity they created, to reach out and help people all over the world.

They did it. Oh my ... I wish this could be played today at Blair House, when they're talking about passing some kind of health care plan ...

"We are the world" -- we really are the world now, more than ever.

ICE DANCING

These two dancers D A N C E. Their movement isn't steps, or ice skating tricks. It is, to my eye, beautiful, excellent, lovely -- real dancing.

It's not always that the very best contenders win, but Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir did win the Gold for Ice Dancing in Vancouver Monday night. And they are the best -- the best dancers, the best performers, the best Ice Dancing team.

YOUR LOVEMAKING ACCOMPLISHMENTS!

There's a Website you can use to record who you did it with, when you did it, where you did it, and how good was it.

Mmm. Thinking this is porno, this isn't my cup of tea, I visited the Website.

IJustMadeLove.com starts with a sign in page, a map of the world you click to show where you are, a button to click to confirm "I just made love." Then you zoom in on the street, the place -- hotel, apartment, car, beach, bed. There are options -- you can indicate homosexual, hetero, did you use a condom, what position. (There's a set of outlined shapes in the more common positions, or you can describe what you've invented.)

You can explore other people's "lays" on a global, or local scale. (I couldn't help being amused -- thinking of Ed , our neighbor who plays rock and roll infuriatingly loud when he's making love -- it used to drive us crazy -- now, thank the Lord, he's maybe, a once a month guy. Maybe Ed will enroll?)

Then there's a place for comments. You can comment on your performance or your partners, give yourself grades. And photos can be uploaded, when you're ;sharing an adventure. (There's a warning --"No porno!")

IJustMadeLove.com prevents you from writing up a second event for a "realistic 20 minutes." (They're discouraging braggarts, but maybe you can submit an affidavit.)

The founder, Cyprian Ciec'kiewcz, a 26-year-old, Polish computer programmer, with a master's from the Polish-Japanese Institute of Computer Technology, started the Website back in October 2009, with just a few friends who told their friends, and it didn't take long to get a few hundred, then a thousand, and soon there were businesses who were ready, willing and able to advertise.

So it's free. Nice Ciec'kiewcz is carefully expanding, keeping the verbiage "nice," so that IjustMadeLove is a pleasant place to record your sexual activities. Newspapers, magazines, and other advertisers, are paying for it (porn people are turned down). The "London Telegraph," "Playboy Magazine," and Stephen Colbert have expressed interest in investing in the site.

Ciec'kiewcz uses IJustMadeLove after each of his own bed-hopping adventures. "Beginners" are welcome to talk about their first time, as well those for whom sex is favorite sport.

According to the "London Telegraph," Americans are in the lead for "lays." 804 were from the United Kingdom, compared to 4,409 in the United States, and seven, just seven, from Saudi Arabia admitted to having sexual encounters.

Where is this Website heading? Will it become another My Space, Facebook, Twitter, or Blippy?

I'm thinking this thing of sharing yourself-- clothes on, clothes off -- is because of our cell phones -- they're carried everywhere -- they tell you where to go, what to buy, how to get there -- you text -- you get definitions -- numbers, calculations, information about history, geography, politics, and sinful celebrities -- so why not your love life?

Eek, I'm croaking inwardly -- this won't catch on! But, maybe it will ...

Those shiny, lightweight, pretty. jewel-like shapes that fit so sweetly in your hand -- who needs a psychiatrist -- it's better than a brother, sister, cousin, parent -- your phone's your most objective, most trustworthty, dear, best pal, friend.

But ... I don't want to sound too old-fashioned, but you could buy a diary ... or write a letter to yourself about what you like, or don't like about your sex life. Mail it -- you won't get it for a week or so -- then read it, and see how you feel about what you did or didn't do.

Or ... what the hell -- go to the address bar of your browser, be brave, and type Http://www.IIjustMadeLove. com.

WHAT'S WRONG IN REALITY TV

This picture, is of two of the stars of "Survivor, 2000 in Borneo" which was the beginning of the realty show trend.

James Poniwozik. journalist and television critic, writes Time Magazine's "Tuned In" column, and a blog with the same name.

His latest column -- What's RIGHT with Reality TV, tells us how the genre has "gone from guilty pleasure to quintessentially American entertainment."

I think American entertainment has gone to the dogs. It started with the first "Survivor" -- the competitions, tribal council meetings, voting off tribal members did not create suspense for me -- the cast (real folks, not actors) playing fear and exhaustion ... well, let me just say, I was always aware of the camera men, and TV crew hiding in the bushes.

The winner, (having spent a lot of time in and out of jail, fighting not to pay taxes, admitting that he cheated to win) is still a name -- Richard Hatch is a celebrity kook, lawbreaker, liar.

"Big Brother " -- the cast that the producers carefully picked after many interviews and consultations with psychiatrists, are unpleasantly egotistic, self aware -- peeping at them in bed and in the bathroom is silly, and boring.

"Amazing Race" isn't watchable. "America's Got Talent" and "Idol" -- the judges are more interesting than most of the talent. "Biggest Loser" stars are repulsively desperate. All the love shows -- bachelors hoping to get laid, girls acting slutty to win, make me cringe, and the 16-year-old pregnant girls, the autopsy lady figuring out why people died, are dreary, saddening.

It's sad, also, that amateurs are getting the jobs -- that more professional actors than ever, are ending up in the unemployment lines.

If reality shows are quintessentially American culture -- wow -- we've been reducing art to what's prosaic, and often, gross.

So, Mr. Poniwozik. though you're fatherly protective of the genre, your tuned in insights don't lift the subject out of the mud, the quicksand.

As your article unfolds, you conclude: "It's the burgeoning career field ... It's the content mill for the cable-tabloid-blog machine ... It's a valid career choice for some like Kelly Clarkson, Jennifer Hudson Elizbeth Hasselbeck ... for others, it has enabled a life of lucrative famousness ... TV appeals to the worst in us is ... Anything you do to win can be justified as playing the game ... It makes people famous for nothing rather than rewarding hard work ..."

I think the Reality Shows are awful -- boring, dull tiresome bad stuff that is inspiring and encouraging would-be artists, day-dreaming kids to try hard, try with all their might and main, to become famous, big name nothingers.

CIRQUE DU SOLEIL

Anytime I see or hear Elvis, I'm captured.

When I read about "Viva Viva Elvis," the new show Cirque du Soleil's presenting, I had to stop what I needed to do, and read, and read some more.

Twyla Tharpe's choreography for "Moving Out" and "Come Fly with Me," the Broadway shows she's created, and for the movie version of "Hair," is uniquely inventive, exciting -- capturing the crackling energy of dance that's dancing, more than steps. It's not the flow, or the incredible lifts, splits, leaps, acrobatics that you haven't seen before. There's something about Twyla Tharpe's eye, and what her body sees, feels and communicates to the dancers' bodies (not their souls, their bodies) that becomes real dancing.

Why am I mentioning Twyla? (I shared a program with her in Spoleto, and we did not hit it off -- I was too involved with drama and she was, at that time, into abstract dance.) But now she's grown into a top level choreographer, like Jerry Robbins, and Martha Graham, who have done full evening works in dance, that are considered masterpieces.

Well, I went searching for the names of the choreographers who've created for Cirque du Soleil, the huge ... what to call them? -- dance plays? no -- dance opuses? no -- dance paintings with bodies and costumes, and objects -- ropes, umbrellas, tops, balloons, batons, yards of cloth, springs, sleds ... I've run out of words because the invention of the huge concoction of a show that is Cirque du Soleil, never stops -- it goes beyond my imagination. (And I have a big imagination.)

In black light, in smoke, in shimmering strobe lights, in water, in the air -- where ever, what ever the locale -- someone in the Cirque family does something that no one else can do.

Twyla Tharpe is an exceptionally inventive choreographer. Cirque Du Soleil takes movement beyond Twyla Tharpe, Jerome Robbins, Martha Graham, and George Balanchine. (I threw in Balanchine's name, but he wasn't a creator of new ways for the body to express itself. He transformed ballet steps into music, and fused them.)

I looked for the name, the names of who started Cirque du Soleil, in dance books, encyclopedias, and online references, and gathered some. I thought, after I saw the first show, that it was Franco Dragone, but he left, and others replaced him. And the unreal (what I have to call miraculous creations), have kept happening -- full-length evenings, innovative concepts, and fulfillment of the concepts.

I think the main creators are: Guy Laliberté, Daniel Gautier, Guy Caron, Franco Dragone, Daniel Lamarre, Gilles Ste-Croix, Vincent Paterson, Armand Thomas,. Daniele Finzi Pasca, David Shiner and Deborah Brown, a gymnast/dancer/choreographer. (Skim the names, no point in holding onto them. Deborah Brown's name appears often, and Laliberte even more often. I mention them out of respect, but the individual names detract from my message.)

There is nothing in theater that I know of that is better, larger, more amazing, fantastique, mesmerizing, "mind blowing," more sheerly inventive, evocative, stunning, as Cirque du Soleil. It sets your thoughts, your eyes, your ears, your skin, your heart, your muscles on fire.

If I listed all of Martha Graham's works, Merce Cunningham's, Paul Taylor's, Alvin Ailey's, or Twyla Tharpe's, .it would be impressive, but not as grand -- not full-length, fully mounted, large shows, each as different in scope, idea, and style, as these Cirque masterpieces:

Mystère, O, La Nouba, Zumanity, Kà, Love, Zaia, Zed, Criss Angel Believe, Viva Elvis, Saltimbanco, Alegría, Wintuk, Les chemins Invisibles, Les Échassiers, Dralion, Nouvelle Experience, Delerium, Quidam, Varekai, Corteo, Koozå. Ovo.

That's it. Describing each of these works involves too much name-dropping, and boring detail.

"Viva Viva Elvis," the man, the talent, echos. Cirque's "Love" show (based on the Beatles), echos, because Elvis and the Beatles were so much a part of my life. Just reading the reviews on "Viva Viva Elvis" is exciting -- it certainly sounds as if the show is thrilling and touching. I love to watch Elvis, love to hear him sing, love his music, and l sooner or later I'll get to see it.

I've said all I can say. I just want to salute the builders who built Cirque du Soleil.