(Display Name not set)June 2006 Archives

John Holland is the perfect psychic for the History Channel. He eschews the usual gimmicks of media mediums, the schmaltziness of John Edward or the histrionics of "Most Haunted" and "Ghost Town"'s Derek Acorah, and even goes so far as to say, with a slight roll of the eyes, that although he's able to take on personality traits of people who've passed, he's "not being possessed."

Holland, a Boston born-and-bred psychic medium, is apparently well-known on the lecture and book circuits, but is looking to break into the lucrative world that is cable television with "Psychic History."

In the pilot episode John is taken to Waco, Texas, to the former site of the Branch Davidian compound, Mount Carmel. Currently, nothing occupies the site other than a small non-descript church. All signs and identifying markers were either removed or covered. Holland is not told where he's going and arrives blindfolded. He is able to relive the events and answer some of the mysteries surrounding the 1993 siege: Yes, the Branch Davidians shot first, and yes, some of the Davidians were being held against their will. What may be most remarkable is that Holland is able to get readings off of a house in L.A. that once housed weapons used in the siege. Apparently, this information was only known by police. (The pilot episode is being re-aired July 8 at 5 p.m.)

My only quibble with the show is an incredible credulity-stretching moment when John is taken to the garage where Lee Harvey Oswald was assassinated, as a sort of warm-up to Waco. In this very non-descript parking garage, accompanied by the law enforcement officer handcuffed to Oswald that day, Holland is able to determine that they are at the site of the shooting, but then seems to say that Oswald was a generous person. While the former officer completely disagrees with this assessment, the narrator chimes in with a line about how "John may have been right after all," as his assassin Jack Ruby was known to be a very giving man. If that isn't trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, then what is?

The show is typical History Channel treatment, featuring one-on-ones with experts and participants, for the most part properly couching language so as to not present Holland's readings as absolute fact and leaving room for differing viewpoints. Plus, an investigative reporter from the Dallas Morning News accompanies Holland in order to verify what he's saying.

Whether you believe in psychic abilities or not, "Psychic History" is an interesting, remarkably balanced show for the genre.

This week's US Weekly features a headline that one might expect to find on an issue of the magazine Guideposts rather than on one of the nation's top gossip magazines: "Kevin's Last Chance: A Christian life coach helps Britney forgive as she struggles to save her family."

It seems that the once-again-pregnant popster has completely cut Kabblah out of her life, and is returning to the religion of her roots to help resolve her rocky relationship with her husband of 21 months, Kevin Federline. According to the magazine, a source reveals that Spears and Federline "have agreed to continue to pray together and put their faith back into their marriage, recomitting."

The same source reports that, "the fresh start stems from a four-hour conversation encouraged by Spears' newly acquired Christian life coach"--a conversation which apparently took place before her head-scratching interview with Matt Lauer.

For all the headlines of "Christian life coachs gives Britney and hubby faith in marriage," the article offers remarkably little else, other than the aforementioned quotes, about that Christian life coach or the couple's faith life. In fact, it goes on to talk about Federline still showing some party-boy proclivities. And, we don't even know what to make of Britney's brunette and bare spread in Harper's Bazaar, except to paraphrase the late Senator Lloyd Benston and say, "I saw Demi Moore's 'Vanity Fair' spread... and you are no Demi Moore."

Perhaps US Weekly has learned what Newsweek discovered long ago: Religion on the cover sells.

It seems that Madonna’s Kabbalah connection with Lindsay Lohan may be reaching new heights of mystical ecstacy.

Perezhilton.com is featuring pictures of Lohan with a Jewish “chai” charm necklace. It is not clear whether wearing the Hebrew word for “life” around her neck actually puts the starlet firmly in the Kabbalah camp, but she isn’t a stranger to the most famous Kabbalah adornment, the red string bracelet. Perhaps, she’s just on the Hebrew hip train like Scientologist Kirstie Alley, who has been seen carrying around a satchel emblazoned with Yiddish phrases.

Regardless of Ms. Lohan’s religious leanings, it seems that the mentoring Material Girl may have made a prodigious choice in this former child star. But maybe she should hold off on giving her new friend the 900-year-old Zohar she'd given Britney Spears--and reportedly requested back when Spears rejected Kabbalah.

While most recently associated with a certain couch-jumping movie star, Scientology has had a long history of recruiting celebrities. But now the L.A.-based religion is turning its sights to the massive demographics of NASCAR, which has, as of a 2004 estimate, 75 million religiously fervent followers. The Associated Press reports that “Kenton Gray, a 35-year-old Californian, will attempt to make the field for a late model race Saturday night at Irwindale (Calif.) Speedway” in a Ford Taurus sponsored by Bridge Publications, publishers of “Dianetics.”

But Gray’s car is not just a blank billboard--he’s a believer and success story and hopes to spread the word to those at the motorway. “Dianetics is a book that helped me in many ways since I first read it many years ago,” Gray said in a statement released to the AP. “It helped me get better control over the obstacles I had to get through to reach goals I was passionate about. It’s a great honor to have a sponsor relationship that’s so directly related to my making it this far.”

Having religious imagery on a NASCAR vehicle isn't something new. Driver Bobby Labonte plastered an advert for "The Passion of the Christ" on his car, but Lord only knows how many bad jokes will be made if a Viagra-sponsored auto and the "Dianetics" car--with it's exploding volcano--ever take the same track.

In other Scientology-related news, it seems that outspoken liberal comedienne and Air America radio host Janeane Garofalo has alienated her co-host of "Majority Report," Sam Seder. Often cynical and subversive in her stand-up routine, the star of "The Truth about Cats and Dogs" and "Mystery Men" has in the past few months been seemingly endorsing, on her show, a controversial Scientology detox program for NYC firefighters who were involved in 9/11 cleanup. According to MSNBC.com’s “The Scoop,” Garofalo and Seder recently “had a heated argument over her continued promotion of [the program], that ended with Seder storming off the set.”

Perhaps, Janeane should take the motto of her political-action group to heart and just Move On before she losses her comic cred.

The "Dixie Chicks" moniker has always been fitting, perfectly personifying the sassy, dynamic, youthful tunes of Natalie Maines, Emily Robison, and Martie Maguire. But their latest album, "Taking The Long Way," shows that these girls ain't chicks anymore--they're wearier, wiser women.

The specter of Maines's Bush-bashing controversy looms large here, with the single "Not Ready to Make Nice." But it's life's more pedestrian struggles that set the tone for the album: A relative's struggle with Alzheimer's ("Silent House"); the hardships of infertility ("It's So Hard When It Doesn't Come Easy"), which both Robison and Maguire struggled with; and hope for a peaceful future for the world's children ("I Hope").

Although still a country album, the Chicks were already moving into the adult contemporary/pop category with 2002's "Home" and the smash hit remake of "Landslide." But having incurred the wrath of the country music community, the biggest-selling female band in history is now consciously turning from its country roots and teaming with uberproducer Rick
Rubin--who recently reinvigorated Johnny Cash's and Neil Diamond's careers--to produce an eclectic mix of rock, bluegrass, blues and, yes, a little bit country.

At first listen, I missed the "punk country" of "Goodbye Earl," or the upbeat optimism of "Wide Open Spaces," and was distracted by some of the lush string and brass arrangements. But there are no wasted words on this disc, the catharsis is palpable, and Maines's voice has never sounded better. Crowded House's Neil Finn, VH1 demi-god Jon Mayer, Keb-Mo, and members of the Heartbreakers are just a few of the big names that contributed to the album, and the results range from inspired gospel--a la Al Green--to Neil Young-like guitar riffs and a lovely, lovely lullaby ("Lullaby"). The gals don't completely abandon their country roots, throwing in a few high-energy, defiant tracks like "Lubbock or Leave It."

In last week's Time magazine cover story, fiddler Maguire said, ''I'd rather have a smaller following of really cool people who get it, who will grow with us as we grow and are fans for life....'' The Chicks certainly have grown with this CD.