Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Getting Back on Track...Again

...aaaaannnnndd, we're back! Ok, so when I left off, things were getting a bit long, so I decided to relegate my take on The Curious Case of Benjamin Button to this post. As it happens, I've now also seen Frost/Nixon so we'll just see how much of a blowhard I can be about Ben Button before deciding what to do about Tricky Dick and the Brit. By the by, I should add that as I sit here at my desk at work listening to my iPod through the Bose dock, I just...I just have to say that...WOW...I love Bose products. If you have the means, or just the opportunity (I'm not condoning theft, I'm just saying some things may be worth it...) I'd highly suggest acquiring one (hah - I sound like Ferris Bueller and that damned Ferrari), it's like having your iPod pumped through a top-rate home stereo ("It's like wiping your ass with silk...I love it!")...ugh...I think I just made a mess. But anyway, onward and upward or whatever, and be ye warned: thar be spoilers ahead mateys...

Two things right off the bat. Firstly, a shit ton (which I think weighs somewhere between a bunch and a fuckload) of hyperbole has been tossed about in regards to this film. From my point of view most, if not all of it is deserved. This really is a gorgeous, mesmerizing, intriguing film and should (whether it wins best picture or not) hold up well along with most of the great films from years past and to come. I'll elaborate more in a moment but first I want to get to my second thought, which is that a lot of comparisons have been drawn (good and bad) between this and Forrest Gump. To which I say...DUH!!! Right away it should be noted by anyone with half a brain (and an internet connection and/or DVD player) that both films were written by Eric Roth.

The story of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (the production, not the tale itself) begins apparently just over a decade ago. It's March, 1994 and Forrest Gump has just taken home six Oscars - including best (adapted) screenplay. Peruse Roth's resume and you'll see (regardless of the quality of the finished film) he has a thing for character rich, sweeping drama's (adaptations mostly) with a touch of the occasional whimsy. Sometime after his Oscar win and before the mess that ended up being The Postman (though I actually find a lot to like about that film despite Kevin Costner), it seems he found an old short by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It told the tale of a man who was born old (though in Fitzgerald's story he had the mental faculties of an elderly man, not just the physique) and began aging backwards (both mentally and physically - in the film, Benjamin is born old in physique, but grows mentally like any normal child).

The screenplay ended up in the hands of some hack director who enjoyed making films about nice aliens and some adventurer type with a fedora, amongst other things. It was originally supposed to star one Thomas Mapother - he would later nearly commit career suicide by jumping up and down on talk show couches and ranting and raving about his alien cult. Thankfully, that film never got off the ground...and the screenplay sat on a shelf, and sat, and sat...and just for good sport sat some more. Finally, long time production associates of the aforementioned hack, Kathleen Kennedy and Frank Marshall, placed it in the hands of David Fincher. And God bless them for doing so. Aside from The Game, which I just couldn't get into, despite it's merits, I've found a considerable amount of enjoyment from all of Fincher's films (Fight Club in particular is a top-10 staple) - I would add however that, to date, he's only made seven feature films (if you exclude his Roger Corman days, the documentary, and Avatar which is still in production, that's one more that James Cameron - and look at his fucking resume - it's like my wife always tells me "size isn't everything"...ahem, anyway...).

Fincher should be oh-so-pleased with himself on this one. For that matter, everyone else should be pleased with him as well. This is a landmark film in a year already ripe with landmark films. As I said in my last post, the Best Picture race at the Oscars this year should be excruciatingly tight. If I were to guess - and keep in mind I'm no authority on this whatsoever - I surmise that the final five should (not necessarily would) be: WALL-E, The Dark Knight, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, and, oh hell, I don't know...we'll just go with Doubt or Slumdog Millionaire (based solely on all the critical raving they've also been getting - I haven't seen either, and I'm not getting my skirt blown up by the prospect of either one honestly). At any rate, Fincher's a director with style, and an eye for finding the most intriguing and unique ways to shoot his films. That said, this is his most "traditional" film to date. It's relatively devoid of tricky camera movements or shots that could only be attained through computer enhancement. But...having said that, it's all but a shoe-in for one of the three visual effects nominations and make-up nominations as well. Throughout the better part of the first third to first half of the film, it takes what Peter Jackson did with size differences for the Hobbits and dwarfs (obscured and odd camera angles, and green screen superimposing), and focuses all it's attention on a single character.

The film is told as pages from a journal, being read by the daughter (Julia Ormond) of an elderly woman in her New Orleans hospital death bed, hours before the arrival of Katrina. You ever notice Julia Ormond usually always plays a home wrecker? It was kind of refreshing to see her just be a normal - oh well. We learn that the elderly woman is named Daisy, she's dying (from what appears to be some form of cardio-pulmonary or respiratory failure - it's never explicitly said), and it's both comforting (and apparently her dying wish) that her daughter read this journal and take the journey with the writer. The story begins with Daisy recalling the tale of a clockmaker, a Monsieur Gateau ("Mr. Cake" as she puts it - played by Elias Koteas, one of my favorite character actors...you may remember him as Casey Jones in the Ninja Turtle films), who has been commissioned to build the clock for the new central train station. Mr. Cake is blind, but considered one of the finest clock makers in the world. As it begins, he's sending his only son off to fight the Germans (WWI not WWII), and shortly thereafter, welcomes him back home as he's laid to rest in the family cemetery. As a result, he finishes his clock with a lonely determination, and it's put in place at a ceremony (attended by none other than an aging Teddy Roosevelt no less) to celebrate the completion of the station. As it's starts, it begins to run backwards - we hear from Mr. Cake that he has done this intentionally, so that his boy, and all the boys lost in Europe, might someday come back to their mothers and fathers. It's a touching and poignant moment - and I'm not ashamed to say it left me a touch misty-eyed. It's also a foreshadowing of more or less everything that follows, if not overly-simplified.

Benjamin's tale begins on the last day of the war in 1918, his father, Thomas Button - owner of Button's Buttons, the largest button maker in the world - rushes home to his wife who is delivering their child. The devastation of both losing his beloved and the grotesque sight of the newborn stir a panic in him as he steals the child and seeks to drown it in the river. However, before her dying breath, Mrs. Button made him promise that it would always have a home - so, a nearby policeman and a change of heart convince him to leave the child on the steps of a nearby home. Coincidentally, this home is a home for seniors - a clever, if not a tiny bit convenient plot device that aids in Benjamin's ability to fit in later in the film. One of the caregivers, Miss Queen, and her would-be lover nearly kill themselves tripping over the bundle of wrinkled joy on the stairs, and she decides to take him in. Everyone expects him to die of natural causes soon enough anyway (which he obviously doesn't - wouldn't that be a short and pointless film if you ever saw one), so what harm does it do?

He lives, he grows, he adjusts. The first ten or twelve years of his life he spends in a wheelchair - confined there by the extreme calcium deficiency in his bones and arthritis in his joints. It's around the age of eleven or twelve (exact dates and their ages are rarely said out loud throughout the film, so a little light arithmetic is required often times through the film to deduce how old they are - Ben is 7 years older than Daisy) that he meets a fiery, adventurous red-head with impossibly blue eyes named Daisy (cut back to 2005 - daughter's starting to figure things out). She's the granddaughter of one of the ladies in the home, and so they strike a friendship - spending time together every few weeks when it's family visitation week. Eventually, thanks to the "healin' power of Jee-sussss" he learns to walk - well, hobble really, then after time honest walking. He meets Lieutenant Dan, er, sorry...wrong movie, Captain Mike - proud Irishman, and owner and operator of a tugboat. who introduces young Benjamin (now about 14 or so) to the pleasures of women and drink (an absolutely uproarious scene happens where Capt. Mike, thinking Ben must be about 90, is absolutely flabbergasted that he's "never been with a woman...NEVER?!"). That's actually a sort of running gag for a better part of the first half is that only a few people know and truly understand that Benjamin Button is a child - he looks older than God, but he's still just a child. Benjamin's faculties improve as time goes on, he eventually joins Capt. Mike as a merchant sailor, traveling the world, falling in love, doing what most young men with dreams but no direction do I suppose - and never forgetting, night after night, to say goodnight to Daisy (who often times finds herself wishing the same sentiment to him). The crew is in Russia on December 7th, 1941, and the boat is more or less drafted into the Navy. 

An attack by a U-Boat sometime around 1944 or so kills off most of the crew, including Capt. Mike, and it's here where Benjamin really learns two of the more prominent lessons from the film. Overall the film has three main points (or at least so I noticed) - firstly, cherish what's really important, because nothing lasts forever, no matter which way you're aging. Secondly, it's never too late to start over, no matter how old you are - you're only as old as you feel (appearances mean nothing) - and you're never too old to find out who you really are. The third, which Ben learns the hard way later on - when life gives you opportunities, take them. I neglected to mention that Benjamin's father has been keeping tabs on him for most of his life, even befriending him (under somewhat false pretenses), and it's this point that causes a big change in Ben's life when he returns home to New Orleans. The truth of things is told, and eventually, a reconcilement - followed shortly by the death of Thomas Button. Leaving everything to Ben provides him a means to do whatever he wants, but he takes his time. Daisy eventually comes back into his life - having now become a ballet dancer in New York. Signal's get crossed and the two eventually end up on the out's with each other for a time. After a tragedy, they eventually end up together for at least a decade (it's not made entirely clear how long they were together). Miss Queen eventually passes, and again, Benjamin is reminded how short life is - even though, at this point he's just starting to look like that impossibly good-looking fucker that all the ladies swoon over - goddamned pretty boy. 

The big surprise (that's really no surprise to anyone in the audience at this point) comes when Daisy's daughter discovers that Ben was her father. He leaves when she's a year old. His reasoning that for one, she'll never understand why her father is so young, two, that she needs a father - not a playmate, and three that it's not fair to Daisy to have to raise two children. He wanders the globe again, getting younger year by year. It's around 1980 or 1981 when he comes back into Daisy's life - now looking (thanks to some rather impressive digital smearing on the face) about 22-ish (though obviously he's 63 or so). Basically, Daisy's moved on, found a father for her daughter, made a life for herself - but he needs to see her one last time while he still has his wits about him. They enjoy one last night together, and he leaves again.  It is sometime later, presumably in the early 90's, when child services contacts Daisy to assist with a "problem". They found a teenage boy with no ID, only a journal with her name pasted all over it. It's odd to just about everyone that this adolescent boy is showing early signs of dementia. He's allowed to stay at the retirement home with Daisy, who is now a guest there following the death of her husband. He eventually regresses into a young boy, then a toddler - senility and dementia taking over his mind. Benjamin Button passes away in 2003 in what has to be one of the more startling and tragic deaths I've ever seen put to film, Daisy says goodnight to him one last time (by this point my face was a total waterfall - all I'll say is, if you have children...it'll mean a lot more to you and be so much harder to watch). We return to old Daisy, moments before Katrina begins utterly ripping apart New Orleans, who in her last breath whispers a goodnight to him again - and in a final scene, we're shown that definitively, this story is over. 

The film is such an emotional roller coaster. At times so cute and charming and quirky, at other times, tragic and heartfelt and tender. There's a particular sequence involving one of the retirees in the home and a bolt of lightning that just had everyone in the audience in stitches. I won't ruin it - but it's a highlight of the film, and serves, in a subtle way, to drive the finer points home. I liked that about the film...it didn't try to beat you over the head with its morality tale - it just unfolded, gradually, easily...and it breathed, and as an audience member, you're allowed to take it all in. Alexander Desplat's score was a great help in achieving all that. Up until this film, I was absolutely not a fan of the man's work. I had yet to hear a score of his that resonated with me whatsoever. That's changed with The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. So much so that I'm considering re-evaluating his prior efforts to see if I just flat-out missed something. He wrote a motif, and I can't recall the exact instrumentation, but I know it was mostly percussion - it was a "theme", if you will, for the clock. Eventually, through various incarnations, it becomes the primary motif for the film. And it's absolutely brilliant because - like the rest of the film - it's subtle, never really beating you over the head, never forcing you to make a conscious association. 

My favorites in scores this year read like my favorite films: WALL-E, The Dark Knight, and Benjamin Button. But they're so close I'm really honestly struggling to make a decision on which is my true favorite. In the case of Benjamin Button, performance were fantastic across the board, as was the screenplay, the cinematography, the special effects, the production design...all of it A+ effort. So deciding which film is really your favorite - it's like moving into a new house, and you've got three masterpieces of art to hang on a focal wall - they all fit the room, and they're all equally impressive. So which one do you put up? They all have their merits, there are sweeping strokes that you love, and subtle touches that you adore. So which is it...which is the better? FUCK!!! It's going to drive you mad. Maybe in the end you just put the fuckers in constant, daily rotation just so you can think about other things, like what's for dinner?; what am I gonna do about lil' Joey's cleft pallet?; should I euthanize the cat?;should we invite MY mistress or my wife's mistress over for the hot threesome? You know...the little things!

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Year-End Odds and Ends and Getting Back on Track

So anyway, 2008 has been interesting to say the least. My son finally started talking (thanks to a small, but necessary, surgical procedure). I came within a pubes-length of scoring an actual feature film. Said film, by the way, just to add insult to injury, has been selected as an official entry at Sundance this year - so, yeah...big kick to the nuts on that one. Christmas and my birthday were relatively good to me - got that Bose iPod dock I'd been wanting, and a couple of tasty John Williams Signature Scores. And, surprisingly enough, I saw several of the better films I've ever seen in my short 32 years - I honestly can't decide which film I liked better: WALL-E, or The Dark Knight. The former appeals more to my general sense of happiness and inner-child while the latter (as I've previously stated in other postings) is arguably one of the better cinematic endeavors ever put to film and ranks a close second on my all-time favorites behind Empire. I should note at this point that I place a sizable distinction between my "favorite movies" and the "best films I've ever seen". All this leads me to my main point. It was Brad's idea that maybe I should, seeing as how I see a lot of them (although I'm struggling to find anything remotely resembling a compliment in that), try my hand at a little amateur film reviewing.

So...here we are. As it happens, this last weekend put a sizable dent in my "movies-you-need-to-get-the-fuck-out-and-see" list. I'm now half-way to my goal. There were four films I felt were absolute required viewing this holiday season...and as of today I can scratch two off: Valkyrie, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I took it upon myself to request an extended weekend from work this week, so with any luck, I'll get to Frost/Nixon on Monday. Gran Torino will (hopefully) shortly follow when it goes nation-wide on January 9th. So, on with my thoughts on things. Fair warning: while I'll try to abstain from delving into every little minutiae of a plot point, I will say that these will not be spoiler free - read at your own risk.

Friday I saw Valkyrie. I love a good thriller - the problem is...it's hard to get too wrapped up in one when you know the outcome (or for that matter when everyone has known the outcome for over 60 years). All that aside, Valkyrie is top-notch thriller - well executed, well acted, brilliantly shot and directed. But...I can't help but come back to my initial point. How much can one invest in a film like this when they know how it ends? A review I read on another website - though I don't recall which one - offered that it's a brilliant caper film that suffers mostly from the fact that there's no caper...or rather, that the "good-guys" don't pull it off. That says a lot really - I mean, how enjoyable would any of the Ocean's films been if the gang hadn't actually pulled off their big, elaborate heist at the end?!

Still there's a lot to admire and enjoy. If I had one gripe, it's that, much like the theatrical release of Kingdom of Heaven, it feels incomplete somehow. Remember this was originally supposed to release in June - I would have thought they would have spent that extra time in the editing room pulling out all the stops, making what might have been one of the greatest Oscar-baiting World War II films since Schindler's List. In its current form however, it feels more like a truncated, summer flick. That's not necessarily a bad thing - but considering the people involved (in front of and behind the camera) I would have thought a little more character development would be on the menu. In a nutshell (help, help I'm in a nutshell - sorry), the supporting cast of this film is essentially half to two-thirds of the supporting casts from Pirates of the Caribbean and Paul Verhoeven's Black Book (which, in the end is the superior WWII film because of its character).

Let go of your hate - don't let your feelings on the public Tom Cruise dissuade you from seeing this. Like many of his films, his performance transcends his personal life. Let's face it, regardless of how much of a douche he's become in the real world, how many truly bad movies has he really made? In Valkyrie, he portrays real-life Nazi Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg. This was a man who truly loved his country - and was truly hostile at the state that the leader of his country had brought it to. The film begins in North Africa where we get the briefest glimpse at just how much Hitler's ambition and megalomaniacal tendencies outreached his means. Colonel Stauffenberg has been consigned to head one of the last remaining Panzer divisions in the region - as we learn - for voicing his opinion of the state of Germany and his thoughts on Der Führer. In a brief and relatively thankless cameo, (the always awesome) Bernard Hill appears as Stauffenberg's superior, whom the Colonel convinces to allow them to unofficially "get the fuck out of Dodge" only to get blowed-up real good by an Allied air assault. It's this assault that cost Colonel Stauffenberg his right hand, two fingers from his left hand, some permanent nerve damage in various parts of the body, and his left eye. If I've never mentioned it before - I think eyes are icky...eyes, and open chest cavities (seeing a beating heart just makes me yecch). The very idea of someone popping a glass eye into an empty socket just gives me all kinds of heebie-jeebies - but anyway...

It's also this attack and the subsequent loss of various parts that seals the deal for the Colonel. What's left of him returns to the Fatherland, where he is quickly swept up by the German resistance, headed by Hamlet, General Zod, Slarty Bartfast, and Captain Jack's sidekick - Mr. Gibbs. As it happens, a touch of false advertising is afoot as Kenneth Branaugh's part is more a less a glorified cameo as well. This is one of the many things that makes me think there's a 3+ hour director's cut waiting for DVD and Blu-Ray. You just don't stick a guy like Branaugh in such a (seemingly) insignificant part like that. Again, the cast is absolutely superb with the likes of Tom Wilkinson, Thomas Kretschmann, Eddie Izzard (in an amazingly well-done dramatic turn) and Black Book's Carice van Houten as Stauffenberg's wife (again - relegated to an almost thankless cameo...I think she had all of 10 lines in the entire film). I wouldn't be true to my nature if I didn't point out how totally, awesomely hot she is. If you haven't seen Black Book, then my question to you is...WHY?!?!?! Besides being a fantastic film, the cost of the rental is worth watching her on screen for two hours.

At any rate, over the course of the next hour, plans are set in motion, mistakes are made, a seemingly serendipitous hand of bad luck is dealt out, and the whole thing just goes to shit. The location for the bombing gets moved from the bunker at Hitler's Wolf's Lair (which, had the bomb gone off there, everyone inside would have been killed from either the force of the blast or the heat blast that would/should/could have made its way through the corridors, cooking and suffocating anything in its path) to the cottage (it was July - shit gets hot). Only one of the two planned charges went off. It's conjectured (in the film at least) that the briefcase the bomb was in was moved farther away from Hitler, shielding him from some of the effects of the blast. All communication to the Wolf's Lair was cut off after the blast as was planned, but none of the conspirators stuck around to see if the bomb did the job. And lastly...and likely most importantly - General Friedrich Olbricht (Nighy's character), one of the leaders of the conspiracy, under a state of total fear and panic, waited over three hours to send the orders to initiate Operation: Valkyrie. For those that don't know - Operation: Valkyrie was Hitler's contingency plan to secure Germany (or rather the Reich as a whole) in the event of his death. It called for the activation of all reserve troops within Germany to, within six hours of his demise, secure order and continue the fight. In a rather clever play against Hitler's ever building sense of dementia and paranoia, Colonel Stauffenberg was placed in a position within the government to "amend" the plan (cutting the response time down to three hours and placing the lions share of the reserve in Berlin) and, with brass cojones the size of bowling balls, actually got the crazy fucker to sign it!

So, in the end, it failed...Hitler lived, as did (surprisingly) most of the people in the room, having only suffered a few cuts and bruises (and a big boost to his already paranoid state), and the conspirators were either captured and executed, or offed themselves to evade capture. History has revealed that Hitler went so far as to have several of the families of the group rounded up and executed as well - though this isn't shown or referenced in the film. As a testament to just how much I did manage to get wrapped up in the film, I was vocally relieved to read the title card at the end stating that Colonel Stauffenberg's family survived the war (his wife passed in 2006). A lot has been made in the media about the actors not performing with German accents - to which I say, "So-the-fuck-WHAT?!?!" Honestly, who gives a shit. This isn't the first American film in history to take place in a foreign country and have the cast speak with their natural accents. Yeah, the characters are German...but the dialogue is in English, what's the fucking point of having everyone speak with a German accent. All it would do is serve to ham up the film and make half the performers in it look ridiculous because, despite their talents, they can't pull it off convincingly. Why do you think Costner spoke naturally in Robin Hood? It was because his British accent sucked ass - note the scenes where he's disguised as the blind beggar for conformation! Connery barely tried to pull off a Russian in Red October because in the end he knew he'd never get around that thick Scottish brogue. Cruise's Irish accent from Far and Away sounded like the fucking Lucky Charms leprechaun - obviously foreign accents aren't his thing! In the end I agree with Singer, let the actors speak naturally - anything else would be an even bigger distraction, and a disservice to the film. So anyway, all in all, a real treat of a film with a good sense that it potentially could be even better in the future with an expanded edit.

I couldn't live down the shame and pummeling from my loyal following (hah!) if I didn't at least mention John Ottman's contribution to the film. As usual, he served as both composer and editor - and, I don't know if this is a first for him or not, co-exec producer. Generally speaking, I've never had any complaints about Ottman's editing. He's concise, and has a great sense of dramatic timing. I'm generally just not a fan of his music. I enjoyed quite a bit from Superman Returns (although what he did with some of Johnny's material, to me anyway, is nearly unforgivable), X-2 had it's moments, but basically I've never thought much of him as a composer. I've never had much inclination to run right out and pick up one of his score CD's after I saw the film. While I haven't "run right out" and got the CD for Valkyrie, I will say that it's on my list. I was really quite impressed with it overall - subdued overall, but tense when it was necessary, bold when called for, grand when required. The choral piece he composed for the end of the film is quite nice (but I'll reserve final judgement on it until I've heard it away from the film and through my headphones). The suspenseful cues did reek of some of Johnny's work for Munich, but again, overall it was actually pretty damned good - I'd have to give it my full recommendation.

This is getting a touch long, so I'll leave you with "To Be Continued..." for my take on The Curious Case of Benjamin Button saying only that the race for Best Picture this year is going to be excruciatingly tight...

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Reveling in Bad Karma

So anyway, I don't have a lot to say on the subject because frankly, following political punditry on either side of the fence gives me a headache...but, this is just too good to ignore. Apparently, based on an article I read on AOLNews, conservative-extremo-right-wing-überracist-hate-monger-extraordinaire Ann Coulter is, get this, having her jaw wired shut for about three weeks (or so) following a fall that injured it not long ago.

That's just too fucking awesome not to share. Man, Karmic retribution is a bitch ain't it?! I don't read or hear the woman any more than humanly possible - because honestly, she makes me want to hurt her - or just women in general - the theory being that if I beat enough of them senseless, the point will eventually, in some strange and terrible Pay It Forward sort of way, land on her doorstep...and misogyny just isn't cool man (please, for the love of all that is holy, do not think that I in anyway am advocating violence of any kind against the "fairer sex" - I'm just making a point...an awful, awful point)! I liken her to a bleached-out, talking cunt with a yeast infection. The bitch is just vile...plain and simple. So this is almost like a blessing. Like I said, I don't listen to it, but now, thankfully no one will for a short time. Then again, she can still type - too bad the fall didn't break all of her fingers too ("I know a guy...").

Like I said - don't have much to say on the subject - just wanted to share the revelry.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

No One Wants To Play With My Poll

That's it...

Just using the complete lack of interest (or nearly so) in the latest addition to my blog to spew out another shameless pun.

Another insight into my psyche - I saw a headline on CNN.com that read "Ex-SNL star loses 100 pounds". First thought in my mind - "Gee, that's all the further Chris Farley's corpse has rotted since he died?!?!"


Please disperse...nothing to see here...

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Don't Go Away Mad...Just Go Away

So anyway, as I sit and mull the completion of my other post (or whether or not it's even relevant now with the election being over), I can't help but ponder on something else that's bothering me. There's a phenomena that's been plaguing us for some time now, and frankly...I'm tired of it. I'm cut-my-own-sack-off-and-choke-on-it-just-to-make-it-go-away tired of it. I think I'd like to refer to this phenom, this epidemic - if you will - as the In Vitro Celebrity. There's a wave out there of people who, regardless of whether or not they actually do anything, have achieved celebrity status of near epic proportions. Some are "artists" - musicians, actors, etc. (those in question have, more often than not, achieved more celebrity through their actions rather than their...'talent'), some are merely rich and bitchy. And to be honest, I'd like to put most of them in an unpressurized box and send them into orbit.

So, I give, for anyone who cares, my list of people I'm absolutely fed up with seeing (whether it be on my TV or my computer) and why:

1. Amy Winehouse

OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! What in the name of Mary and sweet, sweet bebe Jesuth is with this bitch?! For months she out-and-out plagued my internet with her exploits, and I didn't even know what she DID!!! I finally broke down and read enough of a single article to realize she's a - and I use the term oh so loosely - musician of sorts. Further research by way of iTunes made me realize that really...she's not bad! She's got this catchy 21st Century bluesy vibe going with a semi-pleasant raspy voice that, with enough listens, could really grow on you. But what the FUCK is her problem. Millions of people self-destruct all around the world every year without so much as a blip on anyone's radar...so why the hell do you have to go out of your way to make sure everybody in the free fucking world sees your descent into oblivion. If you need to get away that fucking badly...strap some cheap explosives to yourself, find a cave somewhere, and push the fucking plunger. Seriously, I'm growing a tumor from seeing you...go away.

2. Sienna Miller

If I may, can I ask a question? Who the fuck are you?!?! Supposedly you're an actress. Ok...fine, so I look up your resume on IMDB. Heh...I've seen TWO FUCKING FILMS (Stardust and Layer Cake) you've been in, and frankly...I don't remember you in them. To me, you seem like a poor man's Naomi Watts. I personally don't find you terribly interesting in any manner...which might explain why your presence in the aforementioned films went unnoticed. Unfortunately, thanks to the media, I do know that you used to be sucking Jude Law's cock. Then you stopped sucking his cock and started sucking...Rhys Fucking Ifans cock?!?! Ok sure, why not...bit of a step down appearance-wise, but personality and chemistry can go a long way (which explains my marriage, among other things). Then, poor, poor Rhys...he found out you weren't sucking his cock anymore when the ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD found out you were naked in the Med, sucking Balthazar Getty's cock!!! Balthazar WHO?!?! Ok, so...apparently he's an actor too. He's actually had a fairly decent career - but most of the things I've seen him in I saw when I was in HIGH SCHOOL. Oh...and he's married - your little naked adventure is how his wife found out too! And now, apparently, you don't want to suck his cock anymore because he still wants his wife to do it! Please proceed to the cave on the left - in it you'll find a strung-out, anorexic, English crackhead - please assist her in a certain button that needs pushing.

3. Sarah Palin

Ok, so...with any luck, as of today we may never have to see this crazy bitch again. Don't get me wrong - I actually find her quite physically attractive in a MILF-y sort of way. But the bitch crazy, she wicked crazy! She's actually dangerously crazy. Which actually in some small manner makes me pity the people of Alaska...because now they have to deal with her again. On the other hand, the fucking idiots voted her in in the first place - so maybe they're getting what they deserve! To be honest, I think she should serve out her term then try for something on a federal level...just to see how she fares. Who knows, after a few years in Washington, she may actually get her shit together enough to be a welcome sight again. What she really needs is a few years there to get a little dirty and rub some of the Jesus off of her. Until then...please feel free to fuck off at your leisure. The cave is, again, to the left. You don't have to go in just yet...but feel free to enjoy this complementary front row seat to the show.

4. Kim Kardashian

Ok, so...at this point this list is looking at the very least sexist, if not wholly misogynistic. That couldn't be further from the truth. The fact is however that most of the people in the media that I most want to go on a permanent vacation happen to be of the feminine gender. The fact is that as it stands at this moment, I can't think of any men that I want to be rid of - except maybe the entire cast of Entourage, what's the deal with that show anyway (does anyone think it's funny?!)? In the case of this young lady...well...I don't know really. I actually quite enjoy her "ass"ets as it were. Let's face it, of all the rich bitches in the news, she's arguably the most attractive - one might even go so far as to say she's the only one who's genuinely beautiful. She make my pee-pee tingle. But, in the immortal words of one Wendy Testeburger, "WHAT DOES SHE DO?!?!" And as the gentlemen in that episode appropriately answered, "She's a WHORE!!!" (note that that was supposed to be a positive response). She doesn't do ANYTHING! She's known for being rich, social, gorgeous, and having an awesomely ginormous ass!!! Yet, nary a day goes by where she doesn't pop up in my news headlines or on TV for something. And...thanks to Dancing With the Stars, we got to see her on a weekly basis...for a time. Honestly, she's truly the least troublesome of this lot, her most annoying traits being that she seems relatively ignorant, won't go away, is too rich for her own good, and made the mistake of letting her boyfriend fuck her in the ass and make a tape of it (ok, so only slightly envious). Not exactly a Nuremberg list of crimes...but still enough to wish her out of the public spotlight indefinitely - or at least until she gets an honest-to-goodness hardcore porn career going, in which case...the more the merrier!

5. The Unholy Blonde Trinity (Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and Lindsay Lohan)

Let's all be honest, of the three of these women - to this day most men would say they'd still fuck the shit out of two of the three (guesses as to which one doesn't make the cut - come on...we all know who it is!). Poor Lindsay...such potential, only to completely and utterly fuck it up because you couldn't lay off the sauce, keep the magic powder out of your nose, or cover that panooch with a tasteful (but still sexy) pair of panties. And now you've sworn off the penis altogether (you know, a couple of years ago it was little dogs that fit into obscenely over-priced handbags - now it's finding the manliest carpet to munch on that you can get and denying it for months at a time...ah, trends). It's actually kind of nice to see that the ex-Mrs. K-Fed is making baby-step sized attempts to get her shit together. Too bad the old axiom still applies: you can take the whore out of the trailer but you can't take the trailer out of the whore. Lil' sis Jaime Lynn is doing oh so good of a job of proving that. As for that rich, obnoxious, over-indulged, blonde bag of antlers, well...what's left to say at this point that hasn't already been said umpteen-thousand times. Just die already - maybe you're little pocket-pooch will go all zombie dog on you and have you for dinner - sooner rather than later would be preferable. I like Patton Oswald's take on Paris - he said something to the effect of , "...if she could get cancer of the AIDS of the leukemia of the eyes, that would be awesome - you know if a big, fat biker could just fuck that into her skull...that would be great!" And for the fates of the other two - the only thing that would make me actually want to keep them around is if they were paying me absolutely ridiculous sums of cash for the privilege of raping my noodle with their assholes on a daily basis.

Ok kids, these five have pretty much tapped me out for today...maybe I'll update the post tomorrow with more as it comes to me, until then, hope you enjoyed it, remember the 9:30 show is completely different from the 7:30 show, don't forget to tip your waitress, enjoy the veal...THANK YOU SEATTLE...GOODNIGHT!!!

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Sandwich

So anyway, say you like ham sandwiches. So, you fix yourself a ham sandwich - thick sliced wheat bread (crust optional); add a bit of mayo...maybe a touch of mustard; about a half-dozen or so slices of brown sugar glazed ham; I'm not a tomato eater - but to each their own; some crisp, leafy lettuce...

...and some fresh-sliced provolone cheese...mmm, yummy.

Anyway, say your significant other also likes ham sandwiches. They gaze upon your sandwich almost lustfully, mouth nearly watering. So...you fix them a sandwich...exactly like yours. But wait...no, no, no, they don't want provolone! No...none of that mister, they want Swiss. But wait, your sandwich doesn't have Swiss...it has provolone - and provolone is so much better than Swiss (I mean come on really - Swiss, when you can have provolone?). You try to explain this - you even offer a small sample of provolone for comparison.

NO!!!
NO PROVOLONE - I ONLY WANT SWISS, they demand. But...you liked the provolone, you counter - it's so much better, and are they really that different anyway? Keep it up and I won't have any cheese at all, they retort. So you cave, and give them the Swiss...knowing full well the provolone is better and that they'd like it too if they'd try it.

And so, you eat your ham sandwiches. Yours is better...you know it, they know it - but there's just no convincing some people. You both finish, maybe top it off with a nice glass of milk. But, to add insult to injury - and perhaps just out of spite - your significant other begins to argue that it wasn't even ham at all...

...it was turkey.

Wait...wha...HUH?!?!?! TURKEY?!?!?!

Where the hell did that come from? Clearly it was ham - and the provolone would have been much better!!!

NO! It was turkey they offer, and with Swiss to boot - and why Swiss? Cheddar or American would have been better!


GAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Coitus Interruptus

So anyway, I like to think I can tolerate somewhere between a good to a significant amount of bullshit. I work for a bank...the environment it absolutely teeming with it. But after a while, a decent, hard-working fellow (such as myself) really begins to question what manner of cosmic force he seems to have unbalanced that warrants the magnitude of bovine excrement that seems to keep piling up on his head.

Generally speaking, I'm okay with most of the shortcomings in my life thus far, but some things...well, some things are just unfair. Case in point I offer you: the post-coital migraine. In layman's terms, it basically means that, for what are still essentially unknown reasons, the euphoric rush of adrenaline to the brain combined with the strenuous motion required to bring about ejaculation (hehe - I said ejaculation) result in a BAD FUCKING HEADACHE FROM HELL. Anyone with a passing familiarity with my little blog here knows that I am, in a word...horny. My wife, gentle and fair soul that she is, accepts this and generally attempts to accommodate. When she can't, she accepts that I have "hobbies". So...what does one do when the universe seeks to rid him of his favorite thing(s) in life?

As fun as it sounds, I really don't see Homicidal Rampage as a viable solution. Our society, with all it's eccentricities and contradictions, still seems to frown on individuals taking it upon themselves to rid the world of a few random, albeit unnecessary people. I'm not God for certain, I'm not even particularly divine - but I like to think that I could potentially be a good judge of whom the world does and doesn't need anymore! If this month-long regimen of anti-inflammatory medication doesn't solve my little problem - some mother fucker is going to find out just how judicious I can be. And that's the current state of my status (redundancy intended) - a month of drugs. At the very least, even if it doesn't help my head, my knees should feel pretty damn good (yea - my knees don't hurt, now if I could only pop a load without feeling like I just sat through three hours with my head against Lemmy Kilmister's amp).

One thing I'm not, is patient...generally speaking. I'm patient with my son (he did give me poop as a present after all) - it's as though after he was born, my life became that of a character from a Final Fantasy game, I gained a level - thus giving me access to a new attribute. Too bad it's only good for being able to not kill him! Anyway, the point is frustration can be an ugly thing. It stews like, well...a stew. How does one find release when he can't...release? I'm open to suggestions. I've considered intoxicating my wife and convincing her that it'd be more fun if she did all the work. But I suppose that's a combination of mean, cruel, tasteless, offensive, and probably illegal somehow too! Not to mention, given our fragile state of domestic affairs, I'm not sure introducing addictive substances would be the smartest move on my chess board at the moment. As things currently stand, I'm at a loss - it's like some strange (and somewhat cruel) combination of my dog dying, my favorite TV show getting cancelled, and a heroin addiction.



Besides...who wants to just look at porn?!?! I mean, WHAT THE FUCK, right?! Where's the fun in that?!?! Oooh, look...titties! That's nice, well golly gee whiz...say, I wonder if Macy's is having a sale?

Kill me...




Kill me now, I beg you!!!




"God...come in God. This is Bad Karma...do you read?"

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

"Why oh why didn't I take the blue pill?!"

Please disperse, nothing to see here...
Move along, nothing to see here...
Nothing to see here, please disperse...
Nothing to see here...
Absolutely nothing to see here...



There's absolutely nothing to see here


Consider yourself warned - (NOT WORK FRIENDLY)






hey, you think I could find this shit at work?

Monday, September 15, 2008

HOLY SHIT THERE IS A SPOON...THERE'S A BIG FUCKING SPOON!!!

must go to VareseSarabande now...
must go to VareseSarabande now...
MUST GO TO VARESESARABANDE NOW...

MUST BUY 78:00+ MINUTE EXPANDED THE MATRIX SCORE...


"...NOW!!! NOW GODDAMMIT NOW"!!!


btw...it's in the soundtrack club!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Like a Retarded Kid on the Monkey Bars...

So anyway, yeah, I feel like I'm stuck and dangling. I haven't pissed my pants yet, but give things a little bit...I'm still confident it'll happen. I refuse to turn my blog into a forum for listing all my complaints and grievances - or to just bitch and moan. But, having said that, I suppose I find some minuscule measure of relief in letting it be known that things are, oh I don't know, what's the word I'm searching for...

shitty.

Yeah that's it in a nutshell. Things are shitty, with continued shitty throughout the day, followed by widely scattered shitty by evening. Our 10-day outlook shows no signs of relief from the shitty, with slight chances of "oh hell no" and "this is all just fucked" later in the week.

There, I feel better already. I know that's vague, about as vague as a game of Scrabble with nothing but C's and X's. It's your play - but you just sit there, looking at the tiles thinking, "Okay...what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?!" I suppose you could be playing Klingon Scrabble, in which case, awesome assortment! But alas, that's not the case. But that's okay, I like vague, I'm okay with it. In fact, I excel quite gloriously at vague most of the time. Okay fine you want a little more, okay let's see.

I'm not Hindi, not by any stretch of the imagination. But in some small measure I believe in karma. Imagine that karma was a real, tangible thing. Something you could touch and smell and taste. In this case imagine feeling like some higher cosmic force in the universe is tossing giant balls of karmic shit on you from up above (or wherever) and no matter what you do, no matter where you hide...they find you, smother you in their putrid mess, and leave you to walk the earth, reeking of filth. Of course, these are karmic shit-balls, so obviously you've done something to deserve them. Damned if you know what, but look out, here comes another one. You can see your name scribbled in it just before it smacks you in the noggin. You say to yourself, "yep...that one's mine alright!" Unfortunately, you left your mouth open a little too long, so you got a warm, juicy taste of it.

Mmm...taste the sticky, gooey poopiness! You wash your mouth out, but you're still walking around, looking like Pigpen - disheveled and dirty, with little squiggly lines swarming around you. You swat at them to try and make them go away, but it doesn't work. Now you're covered in shit, and you're flailing your arms about in public like a crazy person. Notice all the people hastily making it a point to go the other way?! You know, no one really throws an actual ball of shit anymore. Why not? When is the last time you saw a really good one...Airplane!? Is there a point; am I going anywhere with any of this? I suppose that's for me to trudge through and you to only passingly give two-seconds-worth of a shit about. Guess I just needed to vent a little - again, vague, I know! Now let's see, where was I...Cxxcxcxcc...ooh, and a triple word score too - yesssss!!!

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Sorry, but I have to say it...

So anyway, I know this will probably drive away pretty much anyone outside my little inner circle from ever coming back here but here goes:

I just finished watching the season premier of Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles, and well...

...Summer Glau is fucking hot. OMFG she's so goddamned hot. She's so hot I'd fuck her in her tiny little ass until she passed out from exhaustion, then, whilst she was unconscious, I'd fuck her in the ass some more until she couldn't hold in a shit for six weeks. Then I'd bend her in half (she's a ballerina - they're flexible) and let the Pikey splooge drain into a champaign glass, wake her up with a smelling salt, make her drink the glass, and then kiss her full on the mouth...with tongue!!! She's so fucking hot I'd let her do things to my ass! I don't care...just so long as it involves this equation:
(me + her)² ± (Mrs.Pikey) × naked + 69ⁿ ÷ horny³ = heaven.


"Ohh Jesuth Chritht", I think I may have just given myself the heebie-jeebies. Feel free to go wash if you suddenly feel dirty.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

100th Post Spectacular (or...A Hundred [or so] Things I Learned From Reading My Blog)



1. My son has a rockin’ P.

2. I shouldn’t be so excited about that.

3. Most people are stupid, but where I work they are exceptionally so.

4. Apparently my ass hurts..a lot.

5. The only time porn stars should open their mouths is to take in someone else’s junk – or secretion from said junk.

6. I like porn.

7. I really like porn.

8. I’m a sadist and I have unresolved anger issues - bad combination.

9. As much as I’d like to, I probably won’t ever actually kill anyone…too bad!

10. I must get some great parking!

11. I caught OCD from my wife. Is that even fucking possible?!

12. I’m prone to bouts of depression, mostly because of stupid people.

13. Did I mention there are an abundance of stupid people where I work?

14. I hate politics. The more I learn, the angrier I get.

15. Fuck censorship, censorship fucking sucks.

16. I say fuck…

17. …a lot!

18. I may drive like an old fart. The jury's still out...

19. European film music fanatics don’t actually know shit about film music (sorry, but there…I said it)!

20. I occasionally like to announce the passing of famous folk.

21. "Penis Pill Bob" still creeps-me-the-fuck out. And what’s with that wife of his? I suspect domestic abuse!

22. Apparently, I would fuck Helena Bonham Carter – not sure why, she’s not exactly at the top of my most fuck-able celebrities…but the thought seems to have crossed my mind.

23. I totally agree with Goldstein (see: Harold and Kumar for reference).

24. Hope for the best; expect the worst.

25. Keep your expectations low; that way you’re never disappointed.

26. I’ve had three different cell phones in the last three years – all because I get bored easily.

27. Did I mention my son has a rockin’ P?!

28. Somewhere in this country (Arkansas) a man named Jim-Bob really does have 17 (now) children – someone cut off his dick…NOW!

29. I broke the dam.

30. One can occasionally find some truly funny shit on free-radio.

31. I’m at a loss as to what rare film score CD tops my list as I’ve found the ones I was really looking for.

32. I still say “fuckedtacular” would make a fantastic contribution to the English language.

33. The evil monkey is truly a gorgeous creature.

34. Baby secretions are the work of Satan.

35. On occasion, you need a note from the doctor to get laid.

36. Maurice Jarre is still a lazy French bastard!

37. I sometimes pad my blog with banalities. Not so bad as say, “This is a sentence.”, but banal just the same.

38. I’ve really got to lay off the celebrity obits…it’s kinda creepy!

39. Turning 30 doesn’t suck as bad as it sounds.

40. 2006 was a relatively prolific blogging year for me.

41. Saying fuck a lot tends to alienate people – so does opening a blog posting with a diatribe about euthanizing babies.

42. Pat Robertson is still a tool.

43. Drawing a beard on your infants face with Microsoft Paint so they’ll resemble you succeeds only in making the child look as though you smeared their own fecal matter on them.

44. I still like Munich – it definitely got snubbed at Oscar time, though in retrospect, Spielberg does seem to have a hard time ending his films as of late.

45. …and I’d still fuck Jessica Lange in the ass – who cares if she’s old enough to be me mum.

46. Chuck Norris will own your ass!

47. My son is too cute for words.

48. Gustavo Santa-wawa can eat my ass. And I still say “So Long and Thanks for all the Fish” is the best movie song in at least the last decade.

49. People who rape and murder kids deserve to die horribly, and I’ll be happy to help!

50. I still need a new hobby – I’m starting to chafe.

51. Between Brad, Tim, the Captain and myself – I think we know the complete dialogue to every movie ever made…ever.

52. My wife still has great legs – and as it just so happens, I got to see them last week.

53. The Simpson’s Movie score was much better than it should have been.

54. Be careful what you wish for…

55. …internet spam with underage girls drinking horse semen while getting ass-fucked
by every male member of their family, alive or dead, is just waiting for you.

56. Nobody still seems to get (or maybe just care) about my “dirty bomb” joke.

57. I love my guy Rich, but after almost seven years, we have yet to find a single lucrative music gig.

58. Gas prices suck…but paying an average $36.00 a gallon for coffee – that’s just stupid.

59. Ha! Retards fucking…still cracks me up!

60. I’ve got six examples of my music available for listening on MySpace and even my friends don’t give much of a shit.

61. The gal that used to be my boss still has an ginormous ass – and may be the most wretched creature to ever walk the face of the Earth. Something should just kill her already and do us all a favor.

62. “You know…nasty little people such as yourself (Fred Phelps) always get their comeuppance.”

63. George W. Bush is still a retarded lunatic – and I’m so glad we’re nearly rid of him.

64. I’m probably going to get a call from the F.B.I for that last one.

65. Did I mention he’s fucking retarded – if you’re one of the unfortunate souls who saw fit to vote for the man four years ago…I cordially invite you to kick yourself in the nuts right…now.

66. If the above remark seemed insensitive to you because you don’t have nuts of your own to kick…fine, then just go fuck yourself instead.

67. Disposable cigarette lighters and direct sunlight do not good bedfellows make.

68. My mom and her stupid habit still owe me a new windshield.

69. I like 69…don’t you?!

70. Can’t we all just get along…oh…apparently we can! For a while.

71. I need to learn the difference between The Hand of Fate, Pt. I, and The Hand of Fate, Pt. II.

72. I still stand by my 19 minutes.

73. I never did get around to the final part of my “Top Ten” Trifecta. Hmm…

74. I’ve got a strange sense of humor.

75. Every good hero should have theme music.

76. I never actually smoked pot. I know! Hard to believe isn’t it?!

77. I’m still alive…must mean I never got around to ordering that little item for the baby.

78. The space is still for rent. Any takers?

79. Politicians will fuck anything for a dollar.

80. I still miss Basil.

81. I REALLY need to lay off the celebrity obits.

82. It doesn’t matter how old boys get, they still like toys for Christmas.

83. Never underestimate the ability of the Kansas City Chiefs to pull a miracle out of their ass and then turn right back around and shove it back in.

84. 2007 was not a prolific blogging year…I didn’t even average one a month.

85. James Horner – great composer or greatest composer?

86. Contrary Man Lives!!! No he doesn't. Yes...he does! No really...he doesn't...this could go on for a while, you may want to skip ahead.

87. Still seems strange that my wife and the great one share a birthday.

88. Whence one should find a corncob lodged within thy buttocks, one should seek to remove said cob post haste, so as to get the fuck on with life.

89. A five month hiatus sucks...and usually doesn't achieve shit!!!

90. My son likes to give poo as gifts.

91. It’s not that I’m going to hell…it’s which level my seat is on.

92. Top Ten’s suck.

93. I am the KING of procrastination.

94. There’s nothing like a good bandwagon – especially when it involves tearing into friends and acquaintances.

95. To that end, sand in your vagina is quite uncomfortable.

96. Fuck with my CD buying and I will fuck you up (if I ever find you).

97. I’d like to have scored a Western, hell I’d like to score anything right now…but it just doesn’t seem to be in the cards.

98. The guys making the Western are retarded…don’t get me wrong, nice fellows, but at the very least…mildly retarded.

99. If you’re working for a state, and you’ve lived in said state most of your life, and you still don’t know what the capital of that state is…kill yourself. Please, you’re wasting our precious natural resources. Move on…the mothership is calling you home.

100. Megan Fox gots some wicked fine-ass titties. I know it, you know it, and even if you won’t admit it, you saw them...and you liked them - a lot (admit it, you hammered out a couple of knuckle children to that one). You’re still welcome. Just be thankful I didn’t post the link to the Emma Watson 18th Birthday Upskirt Bonanza.

101. I don’t care what’s in her mouth, if a chick wants to polish my knob, I’ll supply the Armor-all.

102. Carlin will always be the king.

103. God Damn! I’ve GOT to lay off the fucking celebrity obits.

104. The Dark Knight ruled – at least as much as The Empire Strikes Back...which, up until The Dark Knight came out, ruled more than any other movie has ever ruled (ever) – if you don’t think so…then you're an asshole - fuck you. (I understand that statement may have encompassed a considerable number of people - I'm ok with it)

105. With friends like you…who needs enemas?

106. Typo's are my friend - you know, that dorky friend that you don't like to be seen in public with. But hey, at least I have Brad to zero in on all of them and point them out.

107. If you’re still alive when this blog gets to 200…congratulations, and again…kill yourself; you’re too fucking old. You’re older than dirt. Dirt looks at you and says, “Goddamn man, you’re fucking OLD! I’m out!!!” What the fuck are you thinking; why are you still even here? Hell, I probably died 20 years ago. If this thing made it to 200, my great-grandchildren have been posting for me – carrying on the legacy of mediocrity. Fuck off already…it’s over, go home!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

"Hey, shuduppa you face!"

So anyway, a rare moment it is when I use my blog for anything other than an obscure celebrity obit or a forum for venting my thoughts on sex, drugs, and all that, but...here you go. I, The Pikey, have an actual thought about...

...dare I say...
(dare, dare)

...music. Specifically, film music. Ok, first of all someone call Brad and make sure his heart didn't just stop. Everyone ok? Good, let's continue. I had an interesting (to me anyway) observation yesterday that I wanted to share. I was listening to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, specifically, the track titled "The Soldier's Story" (I don't feel like looking up the Italian right now so bugger off). If you don't have the CD, firstly, why NOT?!?! It's brilliant and should be in any film music fan's collection. Anyway, for those that don't have the CD, the track accompanies the scene in the film where Angel Eyes has his goon hand Tuco his own ass at the Union P.O.W. camp. Wait, what...you...you haven't seen the movie either? Really?! JESUS CHRIST MAN, what does a guy have to do, lend you his copy of the DVD so you can keep it for TWO FUCKING YEARS and still not watch it?!?!?!

Ahem...

Ok, so if you still haven't seen the film, try to follow along anyway. No, no...on second thought, go watch it. Now. Right now. We'll wait. What? You don't have the DVD, and it's not on AMC right now...no way?!!! Fine, I'll continue...just watch the fucking thing when we're done for christsakes, OK?!!! Jesus it's a fucking classic! How could you not have seen it, you call yourself a film buff - this is practically required fucking reading (so to speak)!!!

Fine, so there's a Union Army camp full of Confederate P.O.W.'s. Angel Eyes (the Bad) has a goon beat some info out of Tuco (the Ugly) all accompanied by a Confederate prisoner chorus and band. So essentially, the track is a source cue, albeit one that is way too orchestrationally thick for the members on hand in the scene. Details...anyway, I always thought the male chorus was particularly sullen, but it wasn't until I heard it through the headphones yesterday that I made my little discovery ("I've just had an apostrophe...lightnin' just struck me brain!"). Sure the men in the camp are tired, defeated, broken, beaten...pick your own adjective. But that's not why they're singing the way they are...at least not on this day. Today they sing as they do because they're recording in some studio somewhere in Italy, and they're all trying to hide their accents because more than likely, being that this is 1968, they probably don't speak more that 10 words of English between them.

If you're able, and you'd like a good chuckle, listen closely. Those "r's" are a little too rolled, and the vowels a touch stronger that your average Southern gent would belt them out. So what's the point; why all the fuss? Well, my question is this:

Would it have been so difficult to hire a dozen men who speak (and sing) English as their primary language for this scene?

Sure, this is all conjecture. I don't know the story behind the recording of this score, but I know what I'm hearing. And I'm hearing Italians. They're not quiet because they're sad, they're quiet because if they sing any louder, you'll be able to tell where they're from...and it doesn't do much good (to the film anyway) to have a group of guys who are supposed to be slave trading, good-ol' boys that sound like they'd be more likely to bake you a dish of Ziti than pick on your banjo. In the event that I do still get an occasional random passer-by to my personal web-hell, let me point out that I'm not trying to push some bullshit anti-immigration, "pro-America/anti-everything else" hot button. I just found the situation funny, and thought I'd share with two or three others. I mean really, couldn't you just imagine some off-the-wall Family Guy-esque manatee moment? Where they all just stop singing, and get into some kind of insane machismo-fueled, pizza-throwing, obscenity spewing argument over something stupid like, "the violino, he's-a playina flat!" "Hey fucka you, maybe-a youza singin-a sharp!" "You-a momma is-a leetle-a sharp!" "Shuduppa you face!" "You shuddupa you face!" "No you shuduppa you face!" etc, etc, etc...


...and, scene!

Friday, August 01, 2008

Padding My Blog (Pt. II)

Two posts in one day...I must be on something.

BTW...I'm two posts from the big 100. Everybody's going to have to help me come up with an idea what to do with it!

Submit your ideas in triplicate/ideas will be considered in a first serve, first come basis /please expect 4 to 6 weeks for a response/4 to 6 seconds if you're hot...and naked/rules subject to change/no purchase necessary to enter/donations will be accepted - please no blood or semen/must be at least 17 to play (hehe)/void where prohibited - we're looking at you Mississippi/all submitted material becomes the property of...me/revealing photo submissions will be given special attention - for at least 30 seconds/bra size will be considered/enter at your own risk - I know I will/not liable for injuries (physical or mental) resulting from submission/play as often as you like/multimple entries per customer/multiple gratifacations not guranteed/winners will be notified by carrier pigeon/in the event of a sausage fest, the contest may be subject to cancellation/in the event of an exceptionally stupid idea, you may be subject to cancellation/in the event of a tie...two men enter, one man leaves/an equal opportunity contest - but no Jews, Koreans, Pygmies, Belgians, Yeti, or current or former members of the NBA/if you don't like it...fuck you/vidi vini vici/quid pro quo/ex post facto/in de nomi de patri, et fili, et spirit du sancti/hail Mary full of grace, blessed art thou among women, blessed is thy fruit of the loom Jesus/for those about to rock...we salute you/there is no spoon/they took our jobs!!!/may the force be with you.

Shameless Thought for the Day

So anyway, as I was undressing this unbelievably hot girl at work (in my mind - of course) - (on a side note, I'm really thinking I should introduce her and a bottle of liquor to the Mrs. and see what happens...anyway...), I couldn't help but think about something I read in a medical journal a few years ago.

Essentially it said that, at any given time, there are more harmful germs and bacteria in the average human mouth than on the genitals. The ratio was something like a staggering 100:1. Anyway, I couldn't help but think that the next time one might request a little mouth-to-head resucitation, and said partner complains...remind them that you are really taking one for the team - because they might be doing you more harm than good.

So...shut up and suck it up already (not sure if that pun was intended or not).


- "A blowjob a day keeps the Mikee at bay." - (Mrs. The Pikey)

Friday, July 18, 2008

My New Best Friend (or Oh My F'ing God That Was Awesome!!!)

So anyway, I'll keep this short and sweet...

If you know me well enough, you know how enamored I am with Star Wars, particularly The Empire Strikes Back. So, you know I don't say this easily when I say that it's now my second favorite movie ever.

I shall say no more.


"why so SERIOUS?!"

Monday, June 23, 2008

The King is Dead. All Hail the King!

SHIT, PISS, FUCK, CUNT, COCKSUCKER, MOTHERFUCKER...
...and tits.

In case you haven't heard yet, the mighty George Carlin passed away on Sunday. I think I actually almost started crying when I heard. This just ruins my whole fucking day...not that it was anything to get excited over anyway!

If you've never heard his Class Clown or Classic Gold albums, I command you to make haste to find them and absorb them immediately - they're pretty much the gold standard against which all stand-up comedy should be judged.

And now...a personal favorite snippet...

"I got fired last year from doing a show in Vegas, for sayin' the word SHIT. In a town where the big game is called CRAP! That's some kind of double standard, you know?!!!! You know they got big ol' Texan's out on the game floor yelling, 'Ahh shit! I CRAPPED!!!'. Hell, they fly those guys in for free. The fired me...shit! ...Shit's such a figurative word. You never hear shit used literally, you know like, 'Look at that shit Martha, WOWWWWW!!!' ".

I think I'm going to go outside and tell a random stranger to go fuck themselves.


Peace out, G

Thursday, May 29, 2008

They Always Come in 3's

So anyway, am I the only one that didn't know that Alexader Courage fucking died on May 15th? I mean fuck all, it was two weeks ago and I just heard this morning! That's really kind of a bummer, the list of the old guys in the industry is really starting to shrink. Who does that leave? - Johnny, Ennio Morricone, John Barry...who am I forgetting, I'm sure there's someone. Oh well, someone will remind me in a comment I'm sure. I was going to say that first there was Dick Martin, then Sydney Pollack...but that doesn't work; Sandy beat em' both and I didn't even frackin' know about it! (that sounds a lot more heartless than I intended).

I really hope my blog doesn't turn into an obscure obit column again for a few weeks like it did last year - that's just depressing...

Anyway, that's all I've got for this round.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

"JESUS CHRIST THOSE THINGS ARE REAL?!?!"

So anyway, my penchant for all things hot, neked and gyrating is relatively well documented by now. So having said that, that should be all you need as setup for what's to follow. As a public service, I present this:

Seems a certain lovely lass from a certain kick-ass flick about giant-fucking-alien-robot-carnage from summer last is filming a new one...and above, should one feel so inclined, can be found the first "spy-photos" from the shoot. Fair warning, this is not what you'd call, oh I dunno, work or public friendly...so look with caution. Nice to see she's been laying-off the bronzer though!

So, if everyone will excuse me, I'm gonna go hammer out a couple of knuckle children now. Anybody got a towel...and a cigarette?!


you're welcome...

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Shamelessly Sentimental Thought for the Day

Oh and today was also Mike Kamen's birthday; he would have been 60. I know he wasn't everybody's cup of tea (as far as film composers go anyway), but I still miss his work.

Now...back to Emma Watson (kidding! kidding!).

Shamelessly Perverted Thought for the Day

So anyway... just wanted to throw this out there for any other fellow perverts that may be interested. Today is Emma Watson's birthday, or to put it another way...Emma Watson is legal today. I feel a little less dirty now (but just a little).


Thank you, Lord...


that is all.


I am so going to hell...

Monday, March 31, 2008

Define Irony

So anyway, a little setup if you'll indulge me...

The family and I went to the Isle of Capri for lunch this afternoon, not knowing that they have a down time between 3:00 and 4:00. So whilst I'm reading a sign explaining their hours, a woman at a table behind me instigates the following conversation (this is verbatim, at least I'm relatively certain - and I'll try to avoid any racial undertones as much as humanly possible):


Woman: "Young man, come here a second"

Me: (with a finger signaling I need a moment - I'm reading after all) "Just a minute"

Me: (A few seconds later) "Yes, what can I do for you?"

Woman: "What's Jefferson City?"

Me: A city!!!

Woman: "It is?!?!"

Me: "Yes..."

Woman: "Where?"

Me: "In...Missouri - It's the state capital."

Woman: "Where?"

Me: "In Missouri!"

Woman: "But where in Missouri?"

Me: "Just about right smack in the middle."

Woman: "And it's a city?"

Me: "Oh yeah..."

Woman: "It is?!?!"

Me: "Yes mam."

Woman: "So what's Cole?"

Me: "I'm sorry?"

Woman: "What's Cole? Is it a county?"

Me: "I believe so...do you have a map (she has a county map on the back of the piece of paper she's holding)?"

I flip the paper over - then show her Cole county in central Missouri

Me: "Here it is."

Woman: "Where?"

Me: "Right here!"

Woman: "So what's Jefferson City?"

Me: "A city!!! In Cole County Missouri?"

Woman: "So it's a real city?"

Me: "Yes...it's the state capital!"

Woman: "It is?!?!"

Me: "yep!" - at this point you can probably imagine the look of complete and total disbelief on my face - and if not, just imagine how you'd look if someone has just completely flabbergasted you!

Woman: "And it's in Cole?"

Me: (slightly annoyed at this point) "yes."

Woman: "Oh, ok...! - Are you a registered voter in Missouri?"

Me: "Yes."

Woman: "Well sign over there - what county are you in?"

Me: "Jackson"

Woman: "Which Jackson?"

Me: "The one in Missouri."

Woman: "But which one...Kansas City or the other?"

Me: "I live in Raytown - in Jackson County, Missouri."

Woman: "Oh...well sign over there on Jackson."


She's sitting at a table, taking signatures for a petition for a bill proposal for...wait for it...

INCREASED FUNDING FROM THE CASINOS FOR STATE EDUCATION!!!!!

GAHHH!!!!!

Somewhere in this country, Lewis Black's head just exploded.

some people should not be allowed to breed...that's all I'm saying!

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Vindication (sort of...)

So anyway, I got an awesome phone call this afternoon whilst purchasing my tickets for 10,000B.C. (don't knock it - it's actually quite entertaining...if you leave your brain on a shelf). Anyway, my guy Rich calls and says the "indie-gothic-indian-thriller-western" producers liked my demo CD and are going to give me a clip to score.

"And?...What's that mean Mike?", you're asking. Well, it means if I can come up with something they like for whatever the hell it is they're sending me, then I'll get to...(wait for it)......SCORE MY FIRST FEATURE-LENGTH FILM (for the full effect, imagine two blonde, SO-CAL Valley Girls getting excited over a new pair of shoes)!!!

yea!

Keep in mind, this is a period movie...with indians...that they've temp-tracked with The Others and Phil Glass' Dracula. Frankly, I'm dumbfounded. Anyway, just thought I'd share. By the way, Brad...when I do get whatever it is I'm getting, you wanna come over and help me spot it? Seriously, I want an extra set of eyes on this thing to make goddamned sure I get it just right...fucking this up might just push me over that narrow edge my sanity's teetering on.

I'm just praying to God and dear, sweet Bebe Jezuth that they left the temp score off the clip!

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Meet N' Greet

So anyway, I met with the movie producer guy yesterday over a plate of honey shrimp and fried rice. It really was more of a meet and greet than anything. But, having said that, I think I made a fair enough impression that they will probably shoot me over a 5 or 10 minute Quicktime clip to try my hand at scoring - at some point.

Seems, that even though prinicple photography on this little indie darling wrapped early September last, they're just now getting the finishing touches on their...wait for it...rough cut. Wait, what the fuck? Five months for a rough cut? Oh, yeah...I said it! Five...months...

Five, Cinco, Cinq, Fünf, more than four, but less than six. Got to hand it to Midwestern film production values. Oh well, I shouldn't gripe, I'm not the one shelling out the cash to get this thing done. In fact, if it gets me the chance to score a feature length film...even if it is crap (I'm reserving judgement until I've seen some footage...really!), then I'll pucker up just ever so slightly. I can go to confession afterwards if I really feel like my soul needs cleansed.

So, the rough cut is clocking in at about two hours. Guesstimating by the manner that he delivered this tidbit of information, I'd say that that's about twenty minutes longer than they really want. At they're current rate, they should have a locked edit sometime around December...2010. These guys cut film like I blog post! But what the hell, they seemed like nice, decent enough fellas. Oh, yeah, did I mention the editor was there too?

So the flick is set sometime around 1900. I'll spare the history lesson, but needless to say the white man's "civilizing" of Native Americans is well documented. Boarding schools were set up so that whites could "help" young Indians learn to be good, Christian, God-fearing, useful members of society. More often then not, the young savages would escape their cells, er, dormatories and try to return to their own culture. This story revolves around one particular young man who escapes, only to be hunted down by an Indian tracker (Wes Studi). Whilst trying to return to the "school", a crime is committed (I'm guessing the murder of a white man - they never really said), and the pair end up on the run, being tracked by a more efficient, and ruthless Indian bounty hunter. That's pretty much all I got. They've temp-tracked their rough cut with bits from The Others, and Philip Glass' Dracula. Apparently, there's a voice-over narration throughout the picture of readings from the actual Dracula novel - how this fits into a period Indian/Western drama I haven't the fuckinest clue!

Funny part is, my guy Rich's recollections from the shoot don't lend themselves even in the slightest to the direction the filmmakers are currently taking with this. His comparison was that your average episode of Law & Order was darker in tone than what these folks were shooting. He shared a little anecdote about how one day he asked the DP to have a look through the camera at the shot he was setting up and remarked to him that with the angle, lighting, and zoom level currently being employed, they might as well be shooting a monkey fucking a football. Later towards the end of the shoot, he went to a Target, bought a Curious George doll and a football, mounted the two together, and left it in the production office for the DP as a...gift. But, what the hell, if they'll let me do this, I'll give them exactly what they want - no matter how ludicrous it sounds. So...that's where things stand at the moment. I'll keep all three of you (hehe) up to date as things do or don't happen.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Cross...

...as in your fingers, your toes, your legs, your eyes, your nuts...basically whatever the fuck is humanly possible to cross over for luck.

So anyway, at some point last year, I believe I alluded to having an opportunity to score an "independent" western of sorts. Don't ask me which post it was...I'm so sporadic at posting even I don't remember which one it was (and I'm too lazy to go back and check). Well, today at noon-ish, I'm meeting with the exec-producer of said western to try and convince him that I'm his man - there's something quasi-ironic about meeting a producer of a western at high-noon, hehe! I really don't know anything about the flick - aside that's it's on par with made-for-TV quality and it apparently has Wes Studi in it (Magua from Last of the Mohicans). Beggars can't be choosers - and at this point I'll take anything...I don't care if it was made for Skinemax!

Given the sound quality of what little of my work has been recorded, I'm almost afraid to hand out demo CD's. But what the hell, it's all I've got - it's not like I'm not proud of most of what I've composed, it's just that most of my recordings (be they live or MIDI) sound like ass. Hopefully he'll ignore the low production values and realize that, a: I've got the compositional chops to give him what he wants, and, b: he can't get a better composer for his money - what very, very, very little of it I would ask for (a strong selling point, in my opinion).

Who knows, maybe he'll really like me and be willing to fork out the dough for a 15-30 piece ensemble. And while I'm on this crazy train of optimism maybe I'll wake-up tomorrow with a 12-inch cock and finally get to start that career in hardcore porn I've always been dreaming of (Ron Jeremy can't be the fat guy with a giant schlong forever right?). At this point, I'll just settle for him liking me enough to give me a shot. My guy Rich who's been pulling me along through all of this did mention that the guy might show up with a short Quicktime clip just to test me out with...so that's got potential I figure.

At any rate, that's it for the moment. I figured I'd go ahead and share this what with the blatant hostility of the last post burning a hole in what's left of my soul...I could use a little positive thinking at this point. So, to my faithful following - all 3 or 4 of your or whatever I'm down to at this point - wish me well. Or at the very least hope that I don't come across as some blithering idiot - miracles can happen.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Douche-Baggery

Douche Bag - n. A bag for holding the water or fluid used in douching (the cleansing of a woman's genitals)

Douchebag - n. (Slang) A jerk; a mean or rude person. An idiot; a dim-witted person. An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears. (wikipedia)


An asshole...


So anyway, it appears that sometime around the end of August last I fell victim to a mild bit of identity theft. Some chum-slurping, cockswipe douchebag hacked my Ebay and Paypal accounts and changed the shipping address I had on file. I discovered this on Tuesday of this week as I began inquiring as to the whereabouts of five CD's purchased on Ebay around New Year's. At first I wasn't sure what I was more shocked by - that some dick-fuck hacked my shit, or that it had been almost five months since I had purchased anything on Ebay. Needless to say, I won't be receiving my CD's anytime in the near future - they were shipped to Florida. On a positive note, once Paypal concludes their investigation into the matter, should they find in my favor, I'll be reimbursed for all charges...so...yea! (grrrr....)

So, to one Marcus Griggs of 2731 Willow Run, Orlando, Florida...consider yourself warned. If I ever find you, I will (quite literally) nail your ass to a wooden chair, sew your eyelids open, and force you to watch as I slowly murder your entire family - I am Billy Fucking Bedlam motherfucker - that means your parents, your grandparents, your brothers, your sisters, your kids, even your dog! I think I'll just shoot your wife, girlfriend (boyfriend?) or whatever in the head - decorate your shirt in brain-matter grey. I haven't decided if I should sexually violate any of them yet, but if I do, my next big decision will be whether to do it before or after they're dead (my moral compass is completely fucking busted - it just spins counter-clockwise)! I'll then puree their remains and force-feed them to you through a funnel lodged firmly in your mouth. And for my coup de grace (if the distended stomach didn't already kill you), I intend to saw your testicles off with a rusty butter-knife and leave you to bleed to death.


I am...in short...a sadistic, vindictive motherfucker!


Ok, so...yeah, obviously he'll likely never read this. But hey, what the fuck right?! I still get some small measure of satisfaction thinking about it! Can you imagine the rage I'd be in if he'd done something really serious, you know, like bid on shit - or worse, take actual money from me! I'd straight-up be huntin' me down a muthafucka, yo! Florida's nice this time of year isn't it? And you know what really pisses me off? I've gotta win the fucking CD's all over again!!!

(*mumbles under breath) douchebag...