May Day seems like an auspicious time to release director/co-writer/ co-producer/co-cinematographer Rachel Lears’ Sundance award-winning documentary Knock Down the House, which focuses on the primary challenges of four left-leaning women taking on establishment politicians in 2018’s Democratic primaries. Lears selected so-called “insurgents” who were backed by the liberal groups Justice Democrats and Brand New Congress, Political Action Committees that supported candidates who refused corporate and lobbyist funding.

Entertainment misinforms. Humans cannot possibly survive into a distant future that includes light-speed travel while simultaneously behaving like feral animals. Torture doesn’t work. Politicians don’t resemble Martin Sheen. The poor little United States is not threatened by irrational evil empires. Violence won’t save us from masked storm troopers, evil wizards, or whomever Boeing and Lockheed Martin armed last year.

But at least we used to pretend there was a dividing line, back before the United States made Ronald Reagan president, effectively declaring that the job was a role for an actor. Then tens of millions of morons voted for TV star Donald Trump, not because he seemed nice on TV, but because he seemed like a real jerk. Of course, I use the term “morons” in the most respectful sense and fully agree that Hillary Clinton would have been her own sort of walking catastrophe.

Friday, May 3, 7-10pm, ROY G BIV Gallery, 435 W. Rich St.

A new look. A new gallery. The same commitment to emerging artists. Join us at our new location in Franklinton as we open our doors and invite artists, art lovers, fresh faces, and old friends to enter in. We’re kicking off our next chapter with “The ROY Family Reunion Exhibition,” a celebration of ROY artists from 1989 until now, showcasing the diverse talent that has made ROY the home for thoughtful, innovative work that it is today.

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Anyone looking for insight into Ilhan Omar, the prominent freshman congresswoman from Minnesota, is apt to be both pleased and disappointed by Time for Ilhan.

Norah Shapiro’s documentary does a good job of explaining how a Muslim immigrant from Somalia came to play such a big role on the national stage. On the other hand, it offers little help in understanding the controversies that have arisen since Omar arrived in Washington.

One thing is certain: Omar is not the kind of woman who’s deterred by long odds. That becomes apparent minutes into the film.

Walking into her young daughter’s bedroom, she’s greeted with the question “Are you president now?” Though that particular job is out of reach for Omar, as it is for any immigrant, the girl obviously thinks there is little her ambitious mom can’t achieve. And Omar seems to have passed this “can do” attitude on to her daughter, whose wall displays a list of qualifications needed to become an astronaut.

Weddings, over the years, have been something of a pain in the ass. From time to time I’ve done everything from a Catholic Church to a cornfield, and it’s all sort of a frontal assault on those of us who suffer from ADD. While my Keynesian philosophy appreciates weddings as an important economic driver, my inner tightwad estimates the expense of and shivers at the sight of a horse drawn carriage.

I can’t even deal with the invitations -- being commanded by people I barely know to “save the date” feels like being ordered around by a cop, which is my least favorite kind of being ordered around. Although I don’t know if I’ll even be alive in July of 2020, I now know for damned certain I’ll be spending at least one day that month eating rubber chicken with people named Todd and Andy.

But this time was different. When I walked into my office on one fine Monday in early April, I spied an envelope with “Ed” written on it carefully placed on my keyboard. Opening it, I found an invitation to the Smith-Jones Wedding, to take place on 4/20/19 at precisely 4:20 PM. There was no address, just some vague directions to a road near Legend Valley and a dubious promise of signs.