The Other Side of Meshugas

It's not just my imagination, but things all around me have been going haywire. In all fairness, my personal life is fine, it's the Internet that's gone crazy on me.

Let me state unequivocally, for anyone who doesn't know, or might wonder, or has a small lapse of attention . . . the internet isn't private. Even the private places aren't private. Locked posts unlock. Password protected groups have disaffected members. And blog entries--once posted--go out on RSS feeds. Taking them down later doesn't remove the seven biznillion copies that have been archived on servers. Here's the best part--anything you say can be twisted and turned and made into something else and be shot around the planet faster than the speed of light. Therefore, if a person chooses to share their joys and pains, intellectual property, or family recipes, it might as well be on the front page of the Los Angeles Times.

You never know who'll be reading all about it.

I'm not saying all this because I'm paranoid. I'm saying this because I recently took a bullet that was intended for a friend. I wasn't the only one who was affected, either. Blood is still pouring from the shrapnel wounds of people I admire and respect. Collateral damage, they call it. It's an Internet side dish.

I've found that bad things like this usually bring a positive lesson with them and I've figured out mine: I spend way too much time online. Due to the recent meshugas, I've been spending even more. It has benefited me not one bit.

In a bit of serendipity, this morning I got an even stronger message from St. Clare of Assisi, the Patron Saint of Television, when the DH turned on the set and a one of my favorite movies was on. I choose to believe that this was a Gift from the Goddess (and not just because when a man is in a room with a remote control, he will use it 98% of the time).

The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming hit theaters in 1966, in the middle of the bitter cold-war: a deeply paranoid time between two superpowers where even sane minds wondered if we'd all be victims of nuclear annihilation. In the middle of all this angst and distrust came an unexpected comedy about how enemies can become friends, or--if not exactly friends--how they can unite to help each other out.

I needed this message this morning. It's one I know well, and believe in. But lately, I haven't seen much evidence of a true coming-together of two sides of anything. People polarize easily. I think that's because it's easier to follow than it is to lead. And, although I cannot understand it, people seem to feel safer hating than loving.

Should we trust just anyone? Heck no! I've worked in Hollywood for 32 years. If I had to trust everyone I worked with, I'd never have survived. And I have survived. I've even learned to like people who I can't trust. It's easy.

You, too, can turn your enemies into your friends. It's not worth taking a lot of time to do this, but it's a great hat trick if you can pull it off. To start with, you have to look past the obvious--like how they're out to get you. You have to find something you have in common--that gives you the opportunity to join together and do the right thing.

Watch this:

Although this scene is full of drama, it's funny too, and heartwarming to the extreme. I confess, at the end of the film I cried (in a good way). That may more be an artifact of the Difficult Times I've had lately than anything else.

If you haven't seen The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming you must put it in your Netflix cue NOW, or buy it from Amazon (NOW). It features a young (oh how I had the hots for him) Alan Arkin, and Carl Reiner (father of Rob and a very funny man), and Eva Marie Saint. (Remember her from On the Waterfront? NO? Then watch that too. It's also about doing the right thing). Russians was directed by the brilliant Norman Jewison who also directed Moonstruck.

PAX