Who Critiques The Critics?: Opposable Thumbs Review

Opposable Thumbs

Reviewing a book about two film critics is a rather daunting task. I didn't grow up watching Siskel and Ebert, not because I wasn't interested in film criticism from an early age. It was just that Gene Siskel died when I was about 2 and 1/2 years old, and I wasn't paying attention to the state of film criticism at that time in my life. And I vaguely knew who Roger Ebert was, I do have occasional fond memories of watching Ebert and Roeper as a kid, but I couldn't appreciate the effect that those two men had on both the film industry and the state of film criticism as a whole during their long and vaunted careers. Thankfully, Matt Singer came along to chronicle it all together and package it in a very informative and truly spell-binding book.

One of those fond memories, an segment I remember with perfect clarity, where Richard Roeper (joined by Mario Van Peebles, best known as “Kane” in Highlander III: The Sorcerer due to Roger Ebert’s illness) discuss the 2005 Aardman/Dreamworks feature “Flushed Away”. Roeper disliked it because he didn’t believe that rats and mice could be “cute”, a critique he would later lob at the Academy Award-winning Pixar hit, “Ratatouille”. [Image courtesy of That Old T.V. on YouTube]

How I discovered this book's existence is a fascinating story, at least I believe so. As I might have mentioned once or twice, I work in a bookstore and one day, one of my co-workers came up to me to ask where this book was because a customer was looking for it. At the time, it was a fairly recent release and I tend to work exclusively in the new release section of my store. Yet, it had slipped past me, and I knew that this book had somehow inadvertently been sent directly to the backlist “Film and Television Reference” section because if I had seen it come in, not only would I have given it a very prominent spot on the shelf, but I also would have likely purchased a copy for myself. Many of the internet reviewers who inspired me to flex my critiquing muscles were in turn inspired by Siskel and Ebert and I owed them the experience of being well-informed about the two men who changed our media and criticism landscape forever.

From their early days, Siskel at the Chicago Tribune and Ebert at the Chicago Sun-Times, all the way through the various iterations of their syndicated television show, be it Sneak Previews or At the Movies, to their personal lives and eventually their tragic and far too young deaths, Singer takes the reader through it all. The trials, tribulations, and production difficulties are all endlessly fascinating to read about. As are the discussions about who they were as people and how that informed their reviews and how they could make or break a film simply by featuring it in one of their episodes, the anecdote about their collective enjoyment of Hoop Dreams (James, 1994) bringing a documentary that likely would have been passed over by the general public to massive acclaim simply by introducing it to their audience who otherwise wouldn’t have known about it.

Love him or hate him (I choose the latter) Doug Walker is one of the internet critics who wore Siskel and Ebert’s influence on his sleeve and helped imbue me with the desire to criticize media I love, even if I have since outgrown him. [Titlecard by MaroBot]

For someone who unfortunately wasn't around to see all of it in action, I feel like I was there with the anecdotes, either from various interviews with Siskel and Ebert themselves, or interviews with those close to them and the show. I couldn’t stop thinking about this book during the entire week that I was reading it. In fact, although I have been doing fully produced video reviews for over a decade, (inspired by the aforementioned internet critics who Siskel and Ebert inspired) reading this book reminded me of why I love criticism and the power that a critic wields in their pen, or in the case of today's media landscape, the keyboard. That's partially why I'm writing this review that you’re currently reading, since as much as I enjoy making videos, reading about Siskel and Ebert and their newspaper columns also reminded me of the value of a text review. They revolutionized both criticism and the film industry and gave rise to the current media landscape of YouTube and internet reviewers who have risen up in their absence. Love them or hate them, you can’t deny that the effect that they had on the world of criticism was transformative.

Matt Singer, author, critic, audiobook narrator. [Image courtesy of Singer’s website: https://www.matt-singer.net/]

Matt Singer, a film critic as well as author, clearly understands his subjects and even states that he was one of the critics that they helped inspire. The book could have very well been a dry history of their partnership, but instead, it goes into great detail, exploring the context of the events, along with describing how the begrudging partnership, between two men who would have otherwise never spoken to each other, grew into something bigger, and even as they would argue over films, grew to respect one another. And it even extends past them, showing the impact that those two men had on the field of film criticism as a whole. As cliché as it might sound, I give Opposable Thumbs by Matt Singer a rating of two thumbs up!

I Am Not A Tech Reviewer: My Review of Google Pixel Buds Pro

I am not a tech reviewer. And no, this isn't one of my cheeky attempts to force-engineer a series title out of my articles. It's just a statement of fact. I have only two big requirements for any tech or appliance I purchase. Does it work? And does it do what my previous version of the same item did? For example, if I purchase a new laptop, it has to have equal or better capabilities than my current one. Same for a camera or an e-reader, and especially for cell phones and earbuds.

Up until early 2020, I was avoiding the wireless earbuds game entirely, mainly because, up until that point, the only ones I saw were still connected via wires, either that weird neckpiece or just a wire connecting them that draped around the back of your head. To me, that was not what I wanted out of wireless earbuds, I wanted them to be two tiny buds that popped into my ears and connected to my phone. And I got my wish with the Raycon Everyday earbuds. That was exactly what I expected out of wireless earbuds, two distinct buds, connected to my phone, the case was small and convenient to carry, and they had buttons with which to operate them using tap combos instead of a switch or button on that aforementioned weird neckpiece.

And I really liked them, for many reasons, I got a good deal on them, because every YouTuber under the sun has Raycon as a sponsor (except me for some reason, Raycon please sponsor me! Although I suppose this article is shooting any chances of that in the foot... ) they worked, and were easy to connect to my phone. Sure, they had their downsides, recently I had been having issues with the buds remaining connected when they were inside the case, and even turning them off before placing them inside wasn't curtailing the issue, but I was happy with them and not intending on replacing them any time soon.

But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked... I mean, when I accidentally dropped the open case onto the sidewalk while popping the buds into my ears, causing the case to split in half. It still worked, and the Gorilla Tape I used to secure it was working fine, but it was time for a change.

The aforementioned broken case held together by two strips of Gorilla Tape and hope.

And given that in the time since getting the Raycons, I had upgraded from an iPhone to a Google Pixel Pro, I figured it was time to give the Google Pixel Buds Pro a try.

Author John Scalzi had published a review of them a while back that I remember reading, and despite his gripes with them, I figured they were my best choice, given that they were designed to work best with my phone, so I ordered a pair. At $199.99, they were pricey, but I had a gift card that shaved about a quarter of the price, and while they weren't as cheap as the Raycons, they're still cheaper than the comparable Apple AirPods and I'm supporting a slightly less evil corporation by purchasing them!

And they’re shaped like a tiny robot friend!

Anyway, as I said earlier, I don't care much about the specs, I care about whether or not it does the job I need it to do, which is to let me listen to music or audiobooks during my commutes to work and while walking my dog. Does it do that? Admirably! And the fit is pretty good, I didn't even bother swapping into the other ear tips, because the default ones work fine for my ears.

Forgive my messy hair and unkempt beard. Also, jeez, I gotta clean my ears more often!

My only gripe would be that, much like most technology these days, we're foregoing typical buttons for gesture-based operation. The Raycons worked with button clicks, for example, a single click paused, a double click on either bud rewound or skipped ahead a song, and a triple click on either bud raised or lowered the volume. The Google Pixel Buds Pro do not do that, they utilize taps and swipes, with no physical button present, which is taking me a while to get used to. For one thing, my hair occasionally blocks the gesture from working properly. For another, I accidentally pause the music or audiobook when I'm trying to adjust the buds in my ears. And swiping the volume is a crapshoot either way. The only reliable click so far is the Active Noise Cancellation, which I'll get to a bit later. Speaking of, what about the extra features that are of note to techie people but not really relevant to me? Let's take a look. The site lists several bullet points of the features, including:

Charge wirelessly.
Pixel Buds Pro can charge wirelessly with Pixel Stand and other Qi-certified chargers.

This is a pretty big benefit for me, as I love the touch charger (although it's not a dealbreaker). Yes, I know it's not as fast or efficient as a USB-C charger (which it can also charge using) but it makes me feel like I'm in the future, okay? And in the event I don't have a working wire or open port, since some places are still using the USB-A connector, I like to always have a way to charge it.

Lost and found.
If you misplace your earbuds, Find My Device lets you hear them ring if they're nearby, or see their last known location on a map.

This is another big benefit that I wouldn't normally care about, but given that I occasionally lose the case for my Raycons in my pockets or leave it at home while wearing the buds, it's nice to know that I'll be able to keep track of it, even if the worst happens. And it would have been a boon to my brother a few years back if his Raycons could do the ringing, since he lost his Raycons for close to (maybe more) than a month when they fell out of his pocket into the couch, and it was only through happenstance that we happened to stumble upon them while repairing the couch's broken reclining seat.

A battery that keeps up with your life.
Get up to 11 hours of listening time – up to 31 hours with the charging case. And a 5-minute charge in the case gives you up to 1 hour of listening time.

Battery life is important, the Raycon charging case only seemed to get a few days without plugging it in to charge, and when the buds started to die, they needed a few hours in the charger to get back to full power. I took a few trips to Boston between 2020 and now, and in all of those trips, in which I would have to take a roughly 40-some odd minute trip to Penn Station, wait for my train and then take a four hour train ride up to South Station, Compare that, let's be generous and say six hour battery life to the purported specs of eleven whole hours on a single charge. That's enough to get me to Boston and them some! (Say, I should visit again sometime soon)

Not afraid of water.
Pixel Buds Pro are water resistant, so you can wear them during sweaty workouts or on rainy days.

Another one that's not important to me, I never had much issue with rainy days getting my earbuds wet, and I don't work out, but water-resistant technology is always good nowadays since you don't always have a bag of rice on hand.

Premium Active Noise Cancellation adapts to you.
Active Noise Cancellation uses Silent Seal™ to adapt to your ear and block outside sounds.

The noise cancellation feature is the craziest part, I turned it on accidentally while walking the dog and it is wild as all get out. I live in Brooklyn, so silence is not something I've ever been accustomed to. Visiting friends/relatives in non-urban areas, I always have trouble falling asleep because I'm so used to cars whizzing past in the night. But with noise cancellation on, it really does block nearly everything. I saw a bus pass by and it sounded like it was gliding as if it was the Disney World monorail. I've been playing with it a lot, using it on the train when it's crowded and loud so I don't miss a single minute of my book, or just sometimes to see what it'll sound like all quiet. It doesn't block out everything, which is good, because I like being aware of my surroundings, but it's an absolute trip to use, and well worth the price of admission in my book because of the novelty. Plus it means I don't need to pause the audiobook or music when a subway car pulls into the station!

I've yet to use the buds for a phone call, which I seldom used the Raycons for, but I imagine that they'll be decent enough quality. I also haven't used the Google Assistant features, since I also rarely use that while wearing the buds, I'm more apt to use it while holding my phone and activating it that way. It also seems to have a feature where it transmits sounds from outside of the earbuds into my ears, so while I'm wearing them, I can hear outside noise through the earbuds, which is admittedly, kind of cool.

So, to recap:

My threshold for good tech is whether or not it performs its core function well. The Google Pixel Buds Pro do that and then some, and the extra features make it well worth the hefty price tag (which of course the store I purchased them from is now having a sale for, but it's a little late for me) and thus far, I've been very satisfied with their performance, though should I find more gripes, I'll add a postscript to this article. Other than that, I give the Google Pixel Buds Pro five out of five stars and two thumbs up!

Early Cinema: The Sky’s the Limit

Note: This essay was originally written as a script for a video, which will be linked at the end of the article.

The definition of cinema has changed throughout the history of the medium. What was considered cinema in the early days is a far cry from the summer blockbusters released today. But in some ways, early cinema had an advantage over modern cinema. Nowadays, people have very strict expectations of what a movie is or what it should be and don't like it to be challenged. When Star Wars: The Last Jedi was released in theaters, featuring a scene where all audio is suspended for a short sequence, some theaters had to put up signs reassuring the audience that the film wasn't malfunctioning and that the silence was part of the film. Because if an action movie isn't barraging the viewer with rapid-fire sound for two hours, then obviously it must be a technical issue. For whatever advances have been brought to cinema by the march of progress, early cinema is fascinating and has always been fascinating to me, precisely because the filmmakers of that time had free reign to create, as they were not yet beholden to any rules or conventions of what constitutes a film. At that time, a film could be anything and everything!

Tom Gunning wrote in Cinema of Attractions, “Early filmmakers...have been studied primarily from the viewpoint of their contribution to film as a storytelling medium, particularly the evolution of narrative editing. Although such approaches are not totally misguided, they are one-sided and potentially distort both the work of these filmmakers and the actual forces shaping cinema before 1906.”

That's not to say that film isn't a storytelling medium, but back in the early days, not every film followed the now basic formulas, for better or for worse. Nowadays, movies are expected to have narratives and characters. Even ones portraying real-life events insert characters and situations that didn't exist for the sake of crafting a better story, Patch Adams springs to mind, having created a love interest for the main character who never really existed or other so-called "historical dramas" compositing characters together like in The Great Escape, compositing several real people into the characters depicted in the film, or how in Rudy, with the permission of the actual Dan Devine, (who was unaware of how antagonistic the screenwriter planned on making him) turned the football coach into a villain when he was actually the one who insisted on dressing Rudy in the final game. And that isn't even getting into how even documentaries have "narratives" and "characters", despite purportedly portraying actual events and people. Honestly, one of the things about studying film is that you learn to never fully trust anything you see put on a screen because you realize how easily the truth can be twisted and altered to suit a purportedly necessary narrative, and the idea of films becoming almost beholden to narrative elements would make an interesting study on its own, so I'll cut to the chase. This was summed up most succinctly by Jim Carrey as Andy Kaufman in Milos Forman's Man on the Moon: "All the most important things in my life are changed around and mixed up for dramatic purposes."

Early cinema was unburdened by that necessity and had “actualities” that were just events filmed by a camera with no narrative to speak of like Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory.

Several years ago, before the COVID-19 Pandemic, I made two trips to The Museum of the Moving Image, down in Queens, mainly for their Jim Henson Exhibit, but I also took a good look at their Behind the Screen exhibit, which details the history of filmmaking, which was, in general, a great experience, and if you live in NYC or are visiting Queens for any reason and have time to kill, I highly suggest visiting it. From that visit, I would postulate that early filmmakers were attempting to use their newfound medium to the fullest. The tools on display at the museum show that while they were working with, by today's standards, primitive tools, such as the early animation tools and kinetoscopes, they were still crafting unique films and did a lot with the little they had. And they utilized every tool they had at their disposal to create unique and interesting films.

Gunning writes of the “cinema of attraction”, which in his words is, “a cinema that bases itself on the quality that Leger celebrated: its ability to show something.” And he takes note of how conventions have changed, especially through the formerly widespread act of simply acknowledging the camera’s existence. “This action, which is later perceived as spoiling the realistic illusion of the cinema, is here undertaken with brio, establishing contact with the audience.” In today's cinema, such an act, unless it is meant to be part of the narrative, like in fourth-wall-breaking films, like Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Deadpool, or any Mel Brooks film, would be unthinkable. While a live performance inherently acknowledges the spectators (such as in pausing for applause or a reaction), films take place in a bubble where spectators are not allowed inside. And that change could be resultant of the shift of what type of art, films are trying to be.

Panofsky mentions the distinction between “folk art” and “art”, as such, "as a rule, folk art derives from what is known as 'higher art'". This on its own does not preclude experimentation, but it does create limits. "It was soon realized that the imitation of a theater performance with a set stage, fixed entries and exits, and distinctly literary ambitions is the one thing the film must avoid." While this is far from definitive proof, it seems to be the start of constricting film into a box of what is and what isn't acceptable to be considered "art". Films must avoid the elements of theater, they must take place in that bubble.

The Museum of the Moving Image contains a lot of history on the development of film, and the development of how not only the people making the films interacted with each other, the creation of various departments and sections of filmmaking (Makeup, Costuming, Set Design, etc.) but also the development of how film interacted with its audience.

Even the experience of seeing a film has become a sort of ritual, divorced from the early days when one would see a film by standing and staring into a large box through eye holes or by spinning a zoescope. And the farther the audience got, the more everything became samey. I mean, it feels like every single movie trailer follows identical beats, even when one film is a high-octane action film and the other is a biopic! Experimentation still exists in film today, I'm not disputing that, but on the whole, the major studios tend to gravitate to safer waters, whereas the pioneers of early cinema, including Louis Lumiere, were intrepid explorers heading for the rough waters ahead to see what they could truly do with their new medium, much like Lumiere depicted in his Boat Leaving the Port.

Early cinema was unique because there were no limits as to what it could be. While the state of cinema today is far from terrible, despite the advances in technology, mainstream cinema isn't quite as experimental, as spontaneous, as it was in the early days when filmmakers were throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck. Indie film continues this trend to be sure, but it's very rarely seen in major releases. Early filmmakers were visionaries, and through the history of film, some of that vision has been lost because of the shift in what is and isn't considered "cinema" or "art" and the introduction of rules and conventions for films. But I hope that one day soon, in the art of filmmaking, the sky will once again be the limit.

Paisan (1946) and the Subversion of Tradition aka There Are No Happy Endings in War

Note: This essay was originally written as the script for a video, which will be linked at the bottom of this post.

Tale as old as time, right? Boy meets girl, Girl doesn't like Boy initially, Boy persists, and at the end, the couple escapes the bad situation they're in to enjoy their love. Right? Wrong. Paisan is not your average film. It's rough, dirty, and most of all, sad. Just like the events that it depicts. Paisan is an Italian Neo-Realist film directed by Roberto Rossellini, released in 1946, as the middle of an unofficial trilogy, bookended by Rome: Open City, released the previous year, and Germany, Year Zero, later released in 1948. This one is set during the Italian campaign from World War II, while Italy is occupied by the Nazis, but the Allied forces are starting to gain footholds to liberate the country. Hawkeye Pierce once said, "War isn't hell. War is war and hell is hell, and of the two, war is a whole lot worse.”

Paisan takes a similar stance. Because there are small victories, but not the ones you expect. Italian Neo-Realism is all about the subversion of tradition, both by design and by limitations. 1946 in America gave us a lot of classics, but classics that followed the formula we've come to expect. The Big Sleep and It's a Wonderful Life, are two films that ultimately have the expected happy ending. The detective solves the case and George Bailey is the most loved man in all of Bedford Falls. You can see that coming from a mile away. Paisan is different.

Paisan is a film in six parts, featuring six episodes as the liberation moves from the bottom of the boot all the way to the top, featuring all facets of the forces, from the American soldiers to the Italian partisans, to the Nazis, the OSS and even the men of the cloth get in on the action. And as I said earlier, they all feature victories... just not the ones you'd expect.

The first episode finds us in Sicily where an American recon team makes their way through an Italian village, coming across the townspeople. Only one of their group can speak Italian, and the Italians are very mistrustful of the soldiers. One of the locals, Carmela, is willing to guide the Americans through a minefield since her family recently went through the area and she wants to find them. They end up taking refuge in a castle, and as the recon team goes on ahead to scout, they leave one of their men, Joe, a soldier from New Jersey, behind to stay with Carmela until they get back. Joe can't speak Italian, so he tries to teach Carmela to speak English, and as they seem to get closer and start to understand each other despite the language barrier, a German sniper sees the flame from a cigarette and shoots Joe. The rest soon follow and the Germans set up camp, with Carmela hiding Joe's body and attempting to placate the Germans, at least until she can get back to Joe's gun to try to take down the Nazis singlehandedly. They make quick work of her and dump her body off a cliff before they depart, and when Joe's unit returns to find his dead body, they assume that Carmela betrayed them and killed Joe. See what I mean? There was a small victory, Carmela fights back and takes revenge, ostensibly in Joe's name, but Joe's unit will never know her sacrifice and forever believe she turned on them.

The rest of the film continues along the same structure. The second episode moves slightly north, up to Naples, as a drunk MP named Joe (Common name, eh? Wonder if he's also from Jersey) and an Italian street urchin named Pasquale go on an adventure, where Joe reveals how embittered he is, cause of the whole fact that he was fighting in the war, but the major Civil Rights milestones hadn't yet been hit stateside, which ends with Pasquale stealing his boots when he passes out. The following day, Joe catches Pasquale stealing from a military supply vehicle and confronts him, demanding his boots be returned. Pasquale relents and leads Joe back to his house, but upon seeing the squalor that Pasquale lives in, Joe silently leaves without his boots. Joe finds the kid who stole his boots and is about to get them back, but he realizes that Pasquale needs them more than he does.

The third episode takes place in liberated Rome and is personally my favorite segment of the film. A drunk soldier named Fred stumbles around the streets while a woman named Francesca escapes from the cops after a raid on the bar she was drinking in, finds him, and takes him up to a room since drunk soldiers are always looking for a good time. Fred isn't, he's lovesick over a girl he met when the Americans arrived and liberated Rome six months earlier, that he hasn't seen since, and he ships out tomorrow. I like this one because it's not immediately apparent that Fred is talking about Francesca because it's framed as if she listens to his story and she imagines the scenario in her head, placing herself in the place of the girl, it's not until the story finishes and SHE realizes it that it's obvious. (At least that's how I interpreted it) She still has feelings for him, and so leaves an address with the woman who owns the room to give to Fred when he wakes up, so that they can be reunited, but the next morning, Fred ignores the address, assuming it was for a whorehouse, and leaves Rome, and Francesca, waiting outside her apartment. Fred DID find Francesca after all, but he leaves without knowing that he did.

The fourth segment is in Florence, which was half liberated and half-contested, with most of the bridges connecting the two halves destroyed, so the Allied advance is slow-going. An American nurse named Harriet is desperate to see a man she knows, a painter turned revolutionary Partisan leader, named Lupo. A man, Massimo, another partisan, desperately wants to return to his family and find out if they're still alive, so they agree to help each other cross into the contested part of Florence through a supposedly secret passage, to find their loved ones. They go through thick and thin, sneaking across rooftops, evading Nazi gunfire, and finally arrive, and Massimo rushes off to his family as Harriet tries to help a Partisan soldier who was fatally shot in a doorway. As she helps, he reveals to her that Lupo had been killed earlier that day, and her journey was all for not. They made it through against all odds, and Massimo presumably found his family (at least I hope he did) but Lupo was dead the whole time.

The fifth episode takes place at a Catholic monastery where three American chaplains arrive and ask to stay the night. Naturally, the monks are happy to oblige their American comrades in cloth, especially when one of them offers up a whole bunch of rations and food to share with the entire monastery. Similar to the earlier segments, communication is a problem and only one of the chaplains can speak Italian, so he translates for the other two. The monks are none too pleased to discover an important fact about their guests. Only Captain Martin, the one who can speak Italian, is a Catholic. The others are a Protestant and a Jew respectively. Martin doesn't understand their position because, in his eyes, they all believe that they're right, and it's not his place to try to convert his colleagues. They're invited to dinner, but when they arrive, Martin notes that the monks have no food on their plates, they're fasting to gain God's favor to convert the two non-Catholics. The chaplains find a place to stay and are welcomed, but Martin finds out they were only so hospitable because they thought all three of them were Catholic.

The final episode is in the delta of the Po River, where members of the OSS are working with the Italian partisans to rescue some British airmen and fight against the Nazis, but are eventually overwhelmed and captured. The American and British officers are treated as prisoners of war, given proper quarters, and are to be taken care of until a prisoner transfer, because of the Geneva Conventions. The Partisans, on the other hand, are not protected under those, and so are due to be executed the following day. Two of the POWs try to stop the unnecessary bloodshed but are shot for their troubles along with the Partisans. The OSS officers were treated nicely, but the Partisans are shot and dumped into the river.

World War II left Italy with no studios, limited professional actors, (in fact, a good chunk of the actors in this movie weren't professionals), just a ruined country, and filmmakers like Rosselini with stories to tell about the difficulty of living in Post-World War II Italy. The use of traditional archetypes with subversive endings truly displays Rosselini's talent and skill, and the talent and skill of the six writers that he employed to write the film. And I'm gonna say all their names because no one ever takes the time to talk about screenwriters, (and at the time of this writing, it's particularly important to speak about the importance of writers) and I'll be damned if I'm gonna follow suit, especially because I want to be a screenwriter and I'd like to give them the proper credit. Klaus Mann, Marcello Pagliero, Sergio Amidei, Federico Fellini, Alfred Hayes, and Vasco Pratolini, each wrote an episode and they were all brilliant. They were so in sync that I don't think I'd have been able to tell that six different writers wrote the film. It feels like a fluid story to me.

Paisan is a brilliant film. It subverts your expectations to give you realism. Happy endings don't always happen in real life and they sure as hell don't happen in a warzone or a country still reeling from a war. But you get small victories, maybe not the ones you wanted, but victories nonetheless. And I think that's an idea that we need right now. We're not going to get a big victory, or the expected victory all the time. But we've got small victories to keep us going, and if that's what we have, it sucks, but they're still victories. And if you work hard, getting all those small victories, eventually, things will get better. And I think that's a sentiment that we can all agree on right now.