"Well F**k Me Tommy...What Have You Been Readin'?!"

Twas the Night Before Christmas (with optional translation for the Redneck impaired)

2010-12-14T15:58:00.001-06:00

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

It was Christmas Eve an’ we was all in the trailer – I got a sweet deal on a double-wide last year from my cousin Bobby Wayne.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Hey baby look…I finally caught that little bastard’s been eatin’ our furniture!

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

Couldn’a afford no fancy stockin’s this year, so I gave the youngins a couple of my old socks. The missus patched up the holes real nice.

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

Hey look kids…weatherman says Santa’s in Dallas, shouldn’t be long ‘for he’s here I reckon – git off to bed now, ye hear!!

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

Dang – finally got them little varmints to sleep!

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

Junior started havin’ the “special” dreams a couple weeks back, now we gotta clean his sheets every couple days or so. That boy’s gonna be trouble here n’ a couple of years, I tell you what man!

And ma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

So I says to her, “Hey baby doll, why don’t you put on that little number from the Victoria’s Secrets you got last week” and she says to me, “Not tonight dammit, I got the headache – I’m PMSin’ real bad!”

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

So I said fine, whatever…and went to the john with a Penthouse.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

What the hell’s that noise?! Baby you hear that?!

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Had to finish my business quick like, there was some sombuck out tearin’ up my lawn and I’d be damned if I was gonna let all that new sod I, erm…found…get all torn up!

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

I grabbed the Remington double-action with the 10X optical that Daddy got me for my birthday last year outta the closet. Nailed me an 8-pointer this summer. Did you know venison makes some mighty fine jerky?! Course…it weren’t exactly huntin’ season yet, so I had to keep things on the “down low” as the black fellers say.

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

I stormed out the door with nothin’ but my rifle and my boxers, raisin’ all kinds’a hell, whoopin’ and a hollerin’, hopin’ I’d just scare whoever it was off.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

Baby…you seein’ what I’m seein’?!

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

There’s a bunch’a deer out here, takin’ a dump on my new grass! GO ON…GIT!!! “What’s goin’ on out there”, she says, “I’m tryin’ to sleep dammit – Larry, knock it off, yer gonna wake up the kids!”

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

HO-LY SHIT!!! It’s Santi Claus!!!

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

Nope…’s just some drunk who thinks he can talk to animals. Call the po-lice, tell Uncle Walt we got a live one for ‘im!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

I knew we shouldn’a bought that reefer off your no-account brother! I’m seein’ things…

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

Hey, you drunk bastard…git off’n my roof dammit! I’s just spent $400 on new shingles this summer. You tear that up ‘n I’m takin’ it outta yer ass!

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

Honey-pie, he’s tryin’ to get in the house, grab the kids n’ lock yourselves in the bedroom, somebody’s ‘bout to get shot!

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

Now look here you crazy fool, this ain’t yer house! Now the missus spent all day cleanin’ up and now yer trackin’ shit all over our carpet! I’ve called the po-lice – they’ll be here soon I reckon.

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

Oh Christ-in-a-Cartoon, he’s some kinda homeless fella or something. Look, if I give you a sandwich and a couple’a bucks will you just leave? No…I don’t want to see what’s in your bag (pervert)!

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

This guy’s more stoned than I am!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

Mister, you one of them shopping mall Santa’s or something? I gotta tell you that’s a pretty good costume. I seen better, but that ain’t bad ’s all I’m sayin’!

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

Hey, put that out – look, the missus n’ I like to hit a little grass in the bedroom now n’ again, but we don’t allow regular smokin’ in this house. Sally Jo’s got the asthma, so put that thing out now, ye hear Least he wudn’t chewin’ Last thing I need is to try n’ get chew spit stains outta the carpet!

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

I thought all you bums was all rock-star skinny ‘r whatever. Mister, you need to go on a diet. Listen now, this ain’t funny. Yer gonna be arrested here in a minute so don’t go n’ make me shoot ya first.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

I don’t know if it was the weed talkin’, or what but the feller was really kinda funny!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

I says to him, “Tell you what, this bein’ Christmas n’ all, how ‘bout you just git, an I’ll tell the boys in blue you just ran out the back.”

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He started dumpin’ his shit all over the house! I said, “NOW QUIT THAT!!!” He didn’t pay no mind, just kept at it. Then finally he went n’ made another hole in my roof as he made his escape! Least the fat ol’ bastard coulda done was gone out the way he came in. Now how the hell am I s’posed to explain this to the insurance man. “Well, there was this fat ol’ bum you see! He broke into my place, started makin’ a mess, dumpin’ shit every which way, then left two big ol’ holes in the ceiling as he went!” Now I got a $500 deductible – where’m I s’posed to come up with that kinda cash around the holidays?!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

I ain’t never seen nuthin’ like it! He just…flew away! When I see Jim Bob, I’m gonna beat his ass! I told him don’t go puttin’ extra stuff in my grass before I buy it! The wife had to talk uncle Walt outta chargin’ me on D & D. I told him I wudn’t drunk this time! Cain’t say as I blame him though – would you believe someone if’n they told ya what I just saw?!

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!

Sure, he said Merry Christmas. I says to him, “OH YEAH…WELL FUCK YOU TOO!!!” Bust up my house; almost get me arrested; tearin’ up my lawn; scarin’ the bejesus outta me n’ mine…I tell you what, I ever see you again you fat sonofabitch and I’ll kill ya!

Oh, and Merry Christmas everybody…and God bless Mmerica!

Oh For Christ's Sake...Another Goddamned List?! Enough Already!!!

2010-10-12T10:20:00.002-05:00

So anyway, the missus and I had an interesting (well, to me anyway) conversation the other day. We were arguing about what to watch on TV. Well, not so much arguing as debating…vigorously. We have upwards of 700+ DVD’s in our collection and sometimes picking one is…difficult. Sam argued that we have way too many movies and we’ve probably only watched most of them once or twice. I countered that I had likely watched all of the movies in our collection that I actually like at least three or more times. That’s when it dawned on the both of us that A: we actually have a much more differing taste in movies than we ever thought, and B: after almost 14 years together, neither of us really has a good inkling of what the other’s absolute favorite movies even are.

I know what kinds of movies I like. And I know what kinds of movies she likes. I’ve commented before that my absolute favorite movie is The Empire Strikes Back while Schindler’s List is the best film I’ve ever seen. I already made my personal distinctions between movies and films in a previous post – I’m not going to get into it again here except to say that I do consider Empire a film as well (it also has that fun popcorn quality that let’s me justify calling it a mere “movie” too). I have no earthly idea what my wife’s favorite movie ever is. That might seem shocking if not for the fact that I doubt she has a fucking clue what it is either! Sam is a girl out of time. If she had her druthers (whatever the fuck a druther is?) I would imagine she would be most at home living either in the aristocracy of Victorian England, or as a one of the Ingalls’ children in that Little House out on that fucking prairie. I know she lives for Jane Austen and the sisters Bronte. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d wager that Sense and Sensibility is her favorite movie (the one with Keira Knightly). But who’s to say for sure when even she doesn’t fucking know!!!

So here I am…again. Back to plague you guys with another list (go ahead – start cursing my name and whatever else about me you want to insult…I’ll wait). Done? Good…let’s continue. This all made me curious as to just what were my favorite movies. I’ve always had an inkling of an idea – I’d just never put any kind of organization to it before. If I had to pare down my video store of a DVD collection to a select few, say 10 or a little more, what would they be? So, after some extended reflection, here it is…my favorite movies…ever. The ones I don’t think I’d ever like to be without. The “deserted island” list, if you will. These are the movies that, should I encounter them randomly on television, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and watch them, regardless of where they are in the film. I’m sure you’ve already uttered several insulting iterations of fuck towards me, and my family…and my entire lineage for that matter, because of this. But please, don’t feel obligated to come up with your own list this time (unless you just really want to), I’m just doing this for me really. I’ll include the film, the year it came out, the director and primary cast members – just in case you aren’t familiar or whatever. So…in no particular order:

The Empire Strikes Back – (1980; dir. Irvin Kershner; Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher; composer – John Williams)

I’d be remiss if I didn’t include the composers of said films in this list. After all what kind of film music nut/second-rate third-rate wannabe film composer do you take me for? So…yeah, Empire. What’s to be said about this that hasn’t been already? It’s arguably the finest sequel/second act ever produced – in any medium. It’s possible there’s just too much to love in this film.

Schindler’s List – (1993; dir. Steven Spielberg; Liam Neeson, Ralph Fiennes, Ben Kingsley; composer – John Williams)

I’m of the opinion that this is arguably the most well-crafted, haunting film ever made. That’s just my opinion, I could be wrong. I saw this in the theater twice. Both viewings left me shaken (and bawling like a wee girl). And I honestly felt like something had been stirred in my soul. If that’s melodramatic, well…sorry, it is what it is and that’s just how I feel about it. It still makes me cry to watch, especially the last 10 minutes or so. And the music (particularly the main theme) is one of the few pieces I’ve ever heard to illicit a tearful emotional response from me. Don’t know if that means anything to anyone else, but to me it’s a lot.

Moonstruck – (1987; dir. Norman Jewison; Cher, Nicolas Cage, Olympia Dukakis; composer/arranger – Dick Hyman…that has to be the most awesome unintentionally filthy name ever!)

Don’t know if you’ve ever seen this little gem of a film. If not – you owe it to yourself to watch it as soon as humanly possible. It’s not a drama, it’s not a romantic comedy, it’s…Moonstruck. It’s a singular entity that stands out from any other film ever made. It was nominated for six Oscars, winning three (Best Screenplay, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actress). I’ve never seen a movie with more charm or character – and some of the most memorable dialogue ever put to paper or film.

Sneakers – (1992; dir. Phil Alden Robinson; Robert Redford, Sydney Poitier, Ben Kingsley, Mary McDonnell, Dan Aykroyd, River Phoenix, David Strathairn; composer – James Horner)

You’ll note I put the entire main cast above. And with good reason – this is one of the best ensemble movies ever. It wouldn’t be even half as wonderful should any one of those actors not be in it. Everyone in it is (was) top notch, and the combination of talent plus direction, screenplay, story, etc. makes this one of the most memorable heist/caper/whatever flicks ever.

The Shawshank Redemption – (1994; dir. Frank Darabont; Tim Robbins, Morgan Freeman; composer – Thomas Newman)

Fucking Forrest Gump!!! Don’t get me wrong, that was also a fantastic picture. Hell, 1994 was a great year for movies period. Had it not been for Forrest Gump however, I think the acclaim for Shawshank would have been much greater. I love a good, long, methodically paced, well-acted, well-shot, well-written, character-driven drama – and Shawshank is the poster-child for all of that. Despite that it’s often bleak and dreary, it’s also just a beautiful film throughout.

Conan the Barbarian – (1982; dir. John Milius; Arnold Schwarzenegger; James Earl Jones, Mako, Sandhal Bergman, Gerry Lopez; composer – Basil Poledouris)

Conan shares a similar infamy as A New Hope in that it was the film that was responsible for an onslaught of cheap, half-assed imitators for several years after its initial release. By most people’s standards, I suppose Conan itself is a cheap, half-assed attempt at film-making, dismissed by many as substandard. For me it’s a total delight – a jewel, rough around the edges perhaps, but priceless just the same. Like with Sneakers, I included the supporting cast above as they all make the movie better - greater than what it could have (should have?) been.

Lawrence of Arabia – (1962; dir. David Lean; Peter O’Toole, Omar Sharif, Alec Guiness; composer – Maurice Jarre)

I haven’t really looked into it, but I wonder if David Lean ever made a picture that was less than 3-and-a-half hours! A director known for making epic films, this was arguably his masterpiece, and most epic of all. T.E. Lawrence was a pompous, arrogant, egotistical, self-serving, showboat of a man. But there’s still something very special about this film, showcasing the finest hours of his life.

Operation Petticoat – (1959; dir. Blake Edwards; Cary Grant, Tony Curtis; composer – Davie Rose [Henry Mancini – uncredited])

Yes – the pink submarine movie. Of all the fantastic war films ever made – I fall in love with the one that’s actually a screw-ball comedy. Honestly, I’ll watch just about anything with Cary Grant. I’d have to say that he’s likely my favorite actor and one of the greatest and most under-appreciated in all of Hollywood history. And I’m comfortable enough with my heterosexuality to admit that I may have a small man-crush on the guy – I’m cool with it. Yes…I know…he’s dead! But he’s just so cool, and suave, and sophisticated. Anyway…I actually didn’t even realize until a few years ago that this was a Blake Edwards film. I don’t know why, I just find that odd somehow. Again, if you’ve never watched it, you really should. It’s the very definition of fun little movie.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly – (1966; dir. Sergio Leone; Clint Eastwood, Eli Wallach, Lee Van Cleef; composer – Ennio Morricone)

I know Westerns aren’t exactly everybody’s cup of Joe. But this movie is more than just any Western. It’s the great Western – the masterwork. It transcends the genre really. It’s master storytelling at its finest, regardless of genre. And ol’ Clint is the emperor of bad-assery (sorry Sam Jackson, he’s even got you beat)!

The 13^th Warrior – (1999; dir. John McTiernan; Antonio Banderas, Omar Sharif, Dennis Storhøi; composer – Jerry Goldsmith)

Dennis Storhøi…where the fuck are you?!?! Seriously, this guy made this movie. If ever there was a European actor in desperate need of a big, Hollywood break-out, it’s him. I suppose we’ll just have to settle for his turn in the upcoming prequel to John Carpenter’s The Thing (another film, btw, that I probably should have on this list, but will have to settle for runner-up status). For all intents and purposes, this movie should have been an unrivaled disaster. I suppose if one were to take its initial reception combined with box office results into consideration, it still could be. Luckily, it has a rather highly-regarded cult following – and rightly so. It’s just all kinds of big, stupid fun. The production was a mess; Crichton had to step in as director and editor to reshoot and recut quite a bit. And why not – it was his own material; he should know it better than anyone. Add to it that it also has one of the most awesome scores of Goldsmith’s entire career behind it, and everything sorta just fell into place. Lucky us.

Kingdom of Heaven (director’s cut) – (2005; dir. Ridley Scott; Orlando Bloom, Liam Neeson, David Thewlis, Jeremy Irons, Brendan Gleeson, Eva Green; composer – Harry Gregson-Williams)

ATTENTION MOVIE STUDIO EXECUTIVE TYPE PEOPLE: When you’ve got a world-class director making a big-budget, period epic – let him do whatever the fuck he wants with it!!! Don’t try to whittle it down into something it’s not – like a 2-hour summer popcorn action flick. You’re just fucking up a good, or in the case of this film, AMAZING thing. Like most of you I would imagine, I watched the studio cut of Kingdom of Heaven and kinda went, “eh, ok…”. I know I’m not even remotely fucking alone when, after viewing it, I couldn’t help but feel like it was missing something – a whole fuckin’ bunch-o-something to the tune of nearly 50 minutes of footage to be precise. I really hope Tom Rothman, CEO of 20^th Century Fox, felt like a total ass-hat after his cut of KoH bombed fantastically when it was released in May of 2005. And even more so after Scott was given the greenlight to recut it to his specs, and release it in limited theatrical runs and then DVD to excess lauding and applause. What should’ve been a serious Best Picture Oscar contender from Fall 2005 ended up a hacked-up mess. Luckily, we’ve all got the real film to enjoy whenever we want. Sure, the historical accuracy may be a tad, erm…flibberty-gibbertied, but what the hell – this is one awesome, spectacle of a film!

HONORABLE MENTION/RUNNER’S UP

WALL-E – (2008; dir. Andrew Stanton; composer – Thomas Newman)

Okay, so – once again, Pixar proved it could do no wrong. Even on a bad day, their least liked film (ahem...Cars) was at least entertaining and very well made. If it hadn’t been for a clusterfucked wave of “Curry Fever” overcoming Hollywood in 2008 (thanks to a silly little Bollywood-wannabe), this little gem might have been the first animated film to win Best Picture. And deservedly so. As it is, Disney didn’t even bother to make a push to even get it in the category – which is a shame because that goofy little robot was something downright magical.

The Dark Knight – (2008; dir. Christopher Nolan; Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman; composers – Hans Zimmer, James Newton Howard)

The other victim of the Slumdog hype machine, TDK offered the most gritty, dark, realistic, intense takes on Batman ever. Not to mention it was brilliantly executed in just about every conceivable way – and hands down the true best non-animated film from that year. And naturally, it got snubbed all to hell during awards season – save Heath Ledger’s overwhelmingly deserved posthumous Best Supporting Oscar. My initial reaction to it had me placing it even with, if not above my love for The Empire Strikes Back. Time has allowed me to be a bit more subjective. And while I still acknowledge that it’s a masterpiece of filmmaking, I too acknowledge that, as evident from above, there are at least 11 other movies I hold in higher regard overall.

Unbreakable – (2000; dir. M. Night Shyamalan; Bruce Willis, Samuel L. Jackson; composer – James Newton Howard)

Say what you will about all of M. Night’s other films, I believe Unbreakable is his finest work. Signs may have the honor of having one of the best compositional achievements in film from the last 30 or so years, but everything else about Unbreakable is better. If he’s serious about making a sequel, he really needs to get on it right away before the last few grams of mojo he has are gone for good. The whole Unbreakable universe just screams “FRANCHISE!!!” I actually have enjoyed all of MNS’s films (even The Happening), but I can kind of understand why a lot of the viewing public has turned against him over the last few. I’m not one to go so far as some and say that he’s raped my eyeballs with his “shitty” filmmaking. But I do see how each film since Unbreakable has become less and less accessible to the movie-going public.

My Fair Lady – (1964; dir. George Cukor; Audrey Hepburn, Rex Harrison; composers – Frederick Lowe & Alan Jay Lerner and Andre Previn)

Yeah, that’s right fuckers…I’ve got a fucking musical on my list! A lot of people these days balk at the fact that MFL received the Best Picture Oscar. I’m of the opinion that it 110% deserved every accolade it received. And absolutely none of my opinion is based on the fact that I will forever be totally head-over-heels in love with Audrey Hepburn. I repeat…none of my opinion of this film is based on that. None. Nada. No. Zilch. Zip. Zero. Uh-Uh. No Way, Jose. Okay, maybe a little. Still, it is a great movie, with enough memorable songs and set-pieces for any other two musicals.

Fight Club – (1999; dir. David Fincher; Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, Helena Bonham-Carter; composers – The Dust Brothers)

I was really conflicted as to whether or not put this one in my main list. In the end though, I suppose a runner-up status is a fair shake. I can’t put my finger on what it is about this film, whether it’s the story, the cinematography, the editing, the performances – ah hell, it’s probably a combination of all of it, but I just love this movie. Too bad it didn’t get a better reception during its initial release because it’s an honest-to-goodness modern classic. And then there’s that twist that rivals the best of ‘em (I’m lookin’ at you Sixth Sense) – well, I didn’t see it coming anyway…at least not in the first viewing. All the clues are there in the opening minute if you’re a better problem solver than I am. This movie just speaks to me (as the bullshit artsy-fartsy sect of the human race would put it). I dunno, maybe it’s just a wonderful outlet for my inner non-conformist, anti-social anarchist that’s been dying to get out all these years.

Blazing Saddles – (1974; dir. Mel Brooks; Cleavon Little, Gene Wilder, Harvey Korman, Mel Brooks, Madeline Kahn; composer – John Morris)

It’s almost disheartening that in our modern, stuck up, over Politically Correct-ified world a film like this being made today would cause a complete and total riotous uproar. I don’t care if it was written by black people, directed by a black person, starring nothing but an all-black cast, filmed by an all-black pre-through-post production crew, and funded by the NAACP, the I Have A Dream Foundation, the Black Panthers, and the United Negro College Fund – making this film today would be nothing short of scandalous. And that’s a shame – no – a crime really. This is the comedy of comedies. It is the highest standard of funny by which all comedies should ever hope to obtain. And even after the umpteenth viewing, it’s still the funniest goddamned thing I have ever seen (with Airplane! a close fucking second).

So…there it is – a semi-detailed look into my movie happy place. Do your eyes hurt? My eyes hurt. And my fingers…and my head. I may have gone a tad overboard on this one. I guess what may be most revealing is what isn’t on the list. No Star Trek. No Lord of the Rings. No Godfather. No James Cameron, or Tim Burton, or Stanley Kubrick, or Dick Donner. I admit it – in some cases at least, I like some weird shit. Well, hope you suffered through reading that as much as I suffered through writing it. If you want to contribute your own list, well…good luck fuckers!

Trois

2010-08-24T12:42:00.001-05:00

So anyway, they say things come in three’s: deaths, events – both good and bad, etc. Well as luck would have it – we at the Shehan household are two for three. On Monday, we found out our home loan was going through – so the little lady and I it seems have our first house. Yay! Took fucking long enough! I've already made my spiel about the terrors of securing a home loan, so I won’t go into that again. Let’s just say a giant frakkin’ weight, the size of oh I dunno, say…ME…has been lifted off our chests. And good riddance too…can’t have anything damaging such a lovely thing as my chest (you thought I was going to say something to disgust you, you know, T.M.I about my wife’s T.I.T.’s, didn't you? Didn't YOU?! Admit it…CONFESS I SAY!!!“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, t’would be a pity to lose a pair such as yours!”).

My wife’s boss is a snotty bitch. No really, she’s temperamental, and crabby, and unsociable in the worst way. She’s always chastising my wife for this, that and the other, and for no damned good reason. She’s rude, hateful, condescending, and seems to go through life with something terribly uncomfortable permanently lodged up her ass. In short, she has no business being in charge of grass, let alone other people. My wife’s a fucking hard worker. She busts her petite little butt – she’s a perfectionist (at work, don’t get me started about home), and she won’t settle for anything less than the best. She has OCD, so that plays into it, but in the end it works out for her. And try as she may, she just can’t please this cunt. Yes…I used the C-word (“Did you just say the F-Word?” “What…Jew?!”). Today is Sam’s first day back at work from maternity leave (awww…), and wouldn't you know it – she just found out the bitch is quitting a week from Friday [cue elating music]. Seems poor miss thing just doesn't like city life and is resigning to the quiet charms of…Springfield?! Wait…what?!?! Lady, what the fuck are you thinking?! Oh, well considering the source, I’d say she isn't. I told you she was weird – okay so I didn't use the word weird, but whatever, you get the gist.

So, I’m thinking I've got one more bit of good luck coming my way. What do you fine folks think. I’m wondering if I should start a poll or something. You know…vote for what would be the ideal bit of good news. I’m voting for threesome (with another fucking woman of course – another dude is just 31 flavors of wrong, and besides, two dudes and a girl is a gang-bang, not a threesome – if you really want to know why, I’ll explain it in a comment). Hey, threesome…three, that’s poetic somehow! Yeah, I know…in my dreams, but what the fuck right…as long as I’m dreaming? I suppose for the moment I’ll just settle for a free CD or something. A guy can always use new, free shit!

Seriously, what do you think…pushing my luck?

BTW...this is my third post in less than a week. Coincidence? We may never know...

Best of the Best of the Best...Mam! See How I Changed That Just A Little And Called It Original?! See How I Did That?!

2010-08-20T10:34:00.002-05:00

So anyway, I've taken on the task of answering the James Horner portion of Reed’s question posed on Brad’s facebook page the other day. If you need a refresher (and after Brad’s ginormous fucking post on Jerry Goldsmith, you really shouldn't you no-short-term-memory-bastard), the question was:

“A question for those concerned: what, in your opinion, is Goldsmith’s best Fantasy score? What is his best sci-fi score? What is his best score not in those two genres? Same question for James Horner? Same question for one film composer of your choosing.”

Before I begin, I think some clear definitions are in order. A problem arises with how we all define the genres of Fantasy and Sci-Fi. This was touched on in Brad’s post, and I’d like to expand upon it here. I divide Fantasy into pure fantasy, and quasi-real fantasy. For me, a broad definition of pure fantasy is a story contained in its own world, during its own undefined time, where our understanding of both the laws of physics, nature, and general reality don’t necessarily apply. In film, this would include the likes of Krull, Willow, Dragonslayer, and most especially The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. A common element amongst all of these films is the use of magic. I exclude films like the Harry Potter films because, while they include magic, they exist in our world, specifically, in 21^st Century England. Harry Potter I feel falls into the quasi-real fantasy category. I realize that you may not share these ideas, but my blog, my rules [gives reader raspberries].

And then a new problem arises. Limiting the discussion to the realm of pure fantasy inhibits the discussion. Why? Because you can take every A-list composer since the beginning of cinema, and count on one hand the number of films they scored that fall into pure fantasy. I think to be fair you have to include both categories. But then…where do you draw the line. Because it takes place in the real world, but bends our conceptions of physics and nature, does a film like The Rocketeer fall into the category of quasi-real fantasy? Or is it Science Fiction? I’m not even going to try to define Sci-Fi. I’d have better luck getting Katy Perry and Megan Fox to take turns going Ass-to-Mouth with my cock then I would coming up with an all-encompassing definition of Sci-Fi. Let’s just say that I consider The Rocketeer Sci-Fi because of how its story centers on an improbable, but not impossible piece of technology. That, I think, will be my foundation for Sci-Fi in this context.

I should also note that a somewhat humorous discussion came up with Brad’s post. He originally included the film Capricorn One as a stand-out example of Goldsmith’s sci-fi composing until I pointed out that Capricorn One isn't a sci-fi film. Why not? Because it’s a conspiracy thriller. A conspiracy thriller with an ever so slight Sci-Fi bent, but a conspiracy thriller nonetheless. For those that don’t know, Capricorn One is about a faked Mars landing (building itself around all the fake moon landing conspiracies since the Apollo missions) and what happens when the government tries to cover up the project and eliminate everyone involved. So for future reference, films like Capricorn One…not Sci-Fi! That’s why it’s not in his post anymore!

…and with all that out of the way – on with the show…

Discussing the best of James Horner is considerably simpler than Jerry Goldsmith if for no other reason than because his career has been half as long. It’s not necessary to divide Horner’s career into time periods because he’s really only had two, the 80’s…and everything after. For the purposes of this post, I’ll do my best to avoid digging into a lot of the negativity surrounding his infamous proclivities in his writing style. Those are matters of personal taste and not really germane to this post. If you’re one to hold those things against him – you probably shouldn't be reading this anyway.

Finding Horner’s best Fantasy score is actually quite simple; you literally can count on one hand how many Fantasy films he’s composed for. There are five. Just five. Of those, two are pure fantasy, three qualify as quasi-real fantasy. And the obvious choice is, well…obvious. Krull. Talk about a classic case of blowing your creative load early! It could be argued that Basil Poledouris had the same problem with Conan the Barbarian. It’s a fair argument that Krull is not only Horner’s best Fantasy score, but perhaps one of the (if not the) greatest achievements of his career. If you’re wondering, the other pure fantasy score was Willow. The other three would be Field of Dreams, Jumanji, and Casper. These latter three, all good scores in their own right, I think certainly qualify as quasi-real fantasy – you've got: The ghosts of the Chicago eight showing up in an Iowa corn farmers field to play baseball, and find redemption; A board game that brings the wilds of its surreal jungle to life as you play; and a love story between a young girl and a ghost who lives in the house that her father has just inherited. All of them taking place in the modern world with fantastical elements. One could make an argument in favor of Willow’s superiority over Krull I suppose. You can certainly hear the maturity in writing that developed in the five short years between it and Krull. But you can also hear the obvious beginnings of Horner’s penchant for self-plagiary.

His contributions to Sci-Fi film music are a little bit harder to sift through – but not much. For those who are interested, here’s a list of Horner’s complete Sci-Fi output, in chronological order (beginning with his first “larger budget” feature):

Battle Beyond the Stars, Star Trek II, Brainstorm, Star Trek III, Cocoon, Aliens, *Batteries Not Included, Cocoon II, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, The Rocketeer, Deep Impact, and Avatar.

Not a bad resume of Sci-Fi really. I was really surprised how few there actually were. As I researched his filmography, it struck me how many dramas, action films, and epics (modern and historical) he’s done. Of the twelve scores on that list, I realized I have eleven. I never picked up Deep Impact, it was a little too Horner-y (read: lazy) for me. If I were to pick a favorite from that list, it would have to come down to either one of the Star Trek films or Aliens. Don’t ask me to pick just one; I don’t think I could do it. The score for Star Trek II has been argued as being the best of the entire film series – and for good reason. Aside from brilliant writing, it single-handedly changed the tone of the entire Star Trek musical universe going forward. I've always had a soft spot for III, why I don’t know – there’s just something about it that always stood out for me. Aliens is notable not only for its brilliant combination of atmospheric horror and kinetic action scoring, but also the speed in which such an inspired score was produced. There’s an interesting divergence that happens with The Rocketeer. The Rocketeer was 1991, after which, Horner (with the two listed exceptions) completely stayed away from Science Fiction. Brad also made a fascinating observation to me the other day that The Rocketeer was also the last time Horner wrote a truly large, orchestral, original, non-gimmicky, non-ethnic, non-epic score. Maybe that’s why it’s one of my favorites of his – regardless of genre.

If you want to know a lot about James Horner the composer, you’d do well to concentrate on his 1980’s output. Beginning with Battle Beyond the Stars going all the way to The Rocketeer, the 80’s represents a truly masterful period of Horner’s compositional and creative output. That’s not to say that anything he did post 1991 wasn't good, even damned good – hell, brilliant even. But there’s something so…new and fresh about 1980’s James Horner. The scores to Apollo 13, Braveheart, Titanic, Avatar, Legends of the Fall, the Zorro films – are all excellent, and highly entertaining. They’re true highlights of his output in the last 20 years and deserving of whatever accolades one sees fit to apply to them. But I think they lack that certain something, that spark that came with the best of what Horner gave us in the 80’s. Amongst the films I've already listed, we also have Glory, The Land Before Time, An American Tale, Red Heat, Commando, 48 hrs., Where the River Runs Black, The Journey of Natty Gann, Uncommon Valor, Something Wicked This Way Comes, and In the Name of the Rose. Of course in between those, you also have films like Streets of Fire, Gorky Park, Wolfen, and even a little “gem” called Barbarian Queen (good luck finding that one).

Maybe I’m just waxing nostalgically because I grew up with so many of these films – they’re important to me. Maybe I’m just struggling because I haven’t written “fuck” since the beginning of this post. I’m having “fuck” withdrawal – it starts with the shakes, followed by profuse sweating, and then paranoia. Eventually sufferers de-evolve into a primitive state, flinging their poo at people and masturbating uncontrollably. So...par for the course for me. Who knows?! At any rate, I hope this helps, sorry if it dragged on a paragraph or twelve too long!

Pikey-o, Pikey-o...Where Fuck You Been Pikey-o?!

2010-08-18T11:16:00.002-05:00

So anyway, did I mention I had another kid? I didn't? Really?! Wow…I must’ve really spaced out there. Damn, what was I thinking? I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten that, what with the crying, and screaming, and feeding, and sleepless nights, and hundreds upon hundreds of rotten, awful, filthy, shitty diapers. And that was just me – don’t even get me started on the baby (wocka, wocka). OK, well…here he is, EvilMonkey2.0:

Weird how much he looks like EvilMonkey1.0. And yet not. I realized the other day that he has a striking resemblance to my grandmother. I don’t think my mom liked that idea so much…eh, what’re you gonna do? The kid has one mood – hungry. If he’s awake, he’s hungry. And if he’s hungry, and we’re not feeding him – BABY SMASH!!! Brad had the brilliant idea that we nickname him Ike, so the brothers can be Mike and Ike. Didn't go over so well with Mommy or Grandma. I liked it. But what do I know?

So when were we here in Pikey-verse last? April. Huh…imagine that. Well, to my loyal readers (all three of you)…sorry. I offer my most humble and sincere apologies. I have no excuse except to say…I been fuckin’ busy, yo! Let’s see…covered the whole “baby” thing, right. Then what else, um…oh, I’m buying a house. Yeah…that’s, uhh…that’s been fun. I know Reed’s been down this road, but for those that haven’t – caveat fucking emptor my friends. If the urge ever strikes you to enter the realm of property ownership, my first piece of advice would be…don’t! Don’t do it. It’s so not worth it. But since “it is inevitabur”, my second bit of advice is this: have every…single…solitary…FUCKING piece of information about you, regardless of how trivial or insignificant it may seem, ready and at hand to give to your lender. Fuck it, get blood samples, saliva swabs, stool, urine, semen (or Pap Smears for the ladies?), hell…have your entire fucking genetic code charted out ahead of time. Just on the off chance that your lender comes back and says, “Hey…could we get this from you?!” And they will…oh yes, they will. They aren't loan officers, THEY. ARE. THE. DEVIL!!!

I've come to the conclusion that a significant portion of the American populace is stark fucking mad! You’d have to be to want to subject yourself to this! And there are a lot of fucking home owners out there. So, by that logic – lots and lots of crazy people. Hey, I should fit right in then!

The soundtrack labels really need to lay off the new fucking releases already. Seriously folks – I’m trying to buy a goddamned house here…I don’t need the extra debt. Seriously, I haven’t fucked my wife in about four months (give or take a few weeks) – now I know that technically that has nothing to do with film music. I only bring it up because if I ever have any hope of doing it ever again – you fucking soundtrack labels need to quit putting out shit I want to buy!!! Ahem…anyway, where were we? I hope any of you that missed Varese’s release of Predator a few years ago jumped on the Intrada re-release. If not, tough shit – that thing was apparently gone (all 3000 of ‘em) in less than 21 hours! Same thing just happened with SpaceCamp. I already had that actually. It was released as a limited 1000 edition pressing in Japan about 20 years ago. I picked one up on Ebay about six or seven years ago for oh, I don’t remember - around $175 I think. Don’t look at me like that…I needed it. It was important. Funny part is, I haven’t even opened it. It was still sealed up in its original plastic wrap. So now that I’ve got the Intrada release from Monday, I can finally listen to it!!! Only took a few years – I’m patient.

Don’t get me started on that Spartacus monstrosity of a thing from Varese. I want that one with a passion – but I’m not that crazy. I did pick up Batman, I’ll throw a comment onto Brad’s post about that here eventually. I’m really hoping to get Krull before they’re gone. I have the SuperCollector 2-Disc from the 90’s (and despite what SoundtrackCollector.com says, it’s not a bootleg) – the LaLaLand set is basically the same thing – only it sounds crazy better! Perseverance is currently doing a digital restoration on the extended LP of Ennio Morricone’s Red Sonja. When it does finally come out – I can’t recommend it enough – there are some truly great moments in there. It’s an excellent companion to Conan the Barbarian (much better than Conan the Destroyer, blasphemous as that sounds). If you don’t have Conan…shame on you.

Tadlow produced a complete re-recording of Maurice Jarre’s Lawrence of Arabia. If you’re at all serious about film music, regardless of your thoughts on Jarre (“I like the French, but they can be a little French”), you really need to get this set. It not only has the complete score re-recorded, but a second disc full of suites and cues from a shit load of scores of his that have never been released, like Firefox and Enemy Mine just to name a few. Good Stuff.

I know there’s a lot of shit going on in the world right now that could use some classic Pikey commentary. Frankly, I don’t have the time or energy right now. I've got a giant shitburger of my own to deal with at the moment to get too fired up about oil spills; and illegal immigrants; and repealing constitutional amendments about said immigrants; and the constitutionality of gay marriage in Kahlifohrnja; and where one should and shouldn’t build Mosques that aren’t actually going to be Mosques; and psychotic, right-wing, racist, über-bitches going nuts and revealing their true nature on the airwaves. OK – well I will say it’s about time that freaky bitch was pulled off the radio…it’s only 29 years too late. Now if someone would only do something about that Ann Coulter cunt. Ooh, did I just say that?

Yes…yes I think I did.

What's in a Name? Hey, What's in Those Brownies?!

2010-04-06T09:56:00.002-05:00

So anyway, I know I don’t get a lot of posting done these days. But every once in a while something comes my way that just…compels me to just cast it out and see what bites. In this case I direct you to this story. Go ahead, look it over…I’ll wait…

Done?! OK, let’s continue then. With the baby due in July, and having already picked out a relatively traditional, if not really fucking old name for him (Isaac Connor), I can’t help but look at a list like that and be completely and totally dumbfounded! If I were to draw an immediate conclusion, it’s that perhaps it’s not necessarily a good thing to be a wealthy celebrity. Why…?

…Because it makes you FUCKING CRAZY!!!!!

Seriously, are the drugs that much better when you’re rich and famous? Or does Hollywood really exist on a totally different plane of reality?! I don’t know about you, but generally speaking, the end of my intoxication rainbow usually involves an occasional carisoprodol or hydrocodone for a bad-back day. Seriously…that’s it! I’ve never done any hard narcotics (save a little Demerol when I had my knee operated on). I’ve well documented my complete lack of drinking skills much to the shame of my, erm, "esteemed" and "noble" heritage. Seriously, I’m an Irish, German, American Indian – for all intents and purposes, I should be a raging alcoholic! But even if I was a total lush or just constantly smacked off my gourd, I don’t think there are enough drugs or alcohol in the world to make me torture my children with names like that. A few highlights:

Apple Martin: Ok, so this one’s old news – when Gwen Paltrow announced she was naming her kid after fruit, the whole world more or less went “HUH?!”. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still love to plug my pecker into Pepper Potts’ pretty, pink, pixie pooper - but girlfriend seriously gots some wires crossed in her noggin. Anyone else notice that that poor kid’s name is one “I” away from being a faggy, foo-foo-drink cocktail?!

Jermajesty Jackson: Alright, so I really don’t want to get into a discussion about the parental naming habits of members of the black community. But on the other hand, I have to wonder if there is ANYONE in Michael Jackson’s family that isn’t some combination of completely psychotic and mentally retarded. What happened Jermaine – really?

Don’t even get me started on Frank Zappa’s kids – that’s a whole different level of stoned.

Kal-el Cage: Look, I like Star Wars, but I’m never naming any of my kids Yoda, or Chewie, or Han Solo, or Leia, or Darth (...ok, I might consider Darth down the road). Sure Nic, we get it…you likes you some Superman. But…well…DAMN!

Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette/Pilot Inspektor Lee: Sure, Penn and Teller have been one of the premiere Magic/Comedy acts for over 30 years – but at some point, they obviously made Penn’s brain disappear. Problem is, they didn’t make it re-appear. And Jason…I like your movies, generally, but, umm…what the fuck, man?!?! Ok guys, general rule-of-thumb…don’t give your kids names that are occupations…real…or fictional!!!

Tabooger Cortese: Right, so Dan Cortese barely qualifies as a celebrity, I mean let’s face it, he’s about as D-list as you get. But judging from his kid’s name, the only conclusions one can arrive at are that Dan hates children…he especially hates his kid…and he’s angry. Why so angry Dan? Didn’t get that Quick-E Mart opening gig in East Bumfuck Texas did ya?!

So what is it – is celebrity status like some kind of fucked-up fraternity or cult whose initiation ritual includes a big ol’ honkin’ hit off the worlds biggest crack pipe? Who’s to say? Do they get a card and a membership pin? When you become famous, do Angie and Brad show up at your door with a free African kid – which you then promptly proceed to name Maxturbation Steakfry Cosmonaut? Are there beny’s (aside from access to nearly endless supplies of tits, ass, and drugs)? You know, in the unlikely event I ever achieve some level of notoriety, I suppose, if nothing else, I can take some small measure of comfort in knowing that I named most or all of my kids long before it happened. And that if I’m ever accused of being totally bat-shit bonkers fuck crazy, I started out that way – money didn’t do it to me!

Ends and Odds

2010-03-16T08:50:00.001-05:00

So anyway, I haven’t posted a helluva lot lately. Owing mostly to the fact that Ze Banc (Sieg Heil!!!) web-blocked my fucking blog!!! Why?! What could possibly be objectionable here in Pikey-space?! Hehehe - Anyway, I’ve already covered that, so let’s move on to other things. I’ve had a couple of smaller things on my mind, so I just thought I’d condense and share them all in one, neat, expletive-laden package.

So…what’s first. Let’s see – oh, caught Green Zone the other night. A few thoughts, firstly, who is this particular movie not for:

If you’re favorite source of world news spawns from a place that rhymes with giant, throbbing COCKS, then this movie likely won’t be for you.
If you in any way idolize George W. Bush, Dick (Satan) Cheney, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, Glenn Beck, or anyone else of their particular ilk, then this movie likely won’t be for you.
If you think the Younited States of Mmerica was totally justified in goin’ over there and whoopin’ Saddamn Insane’s heathen fuck ass…then this movie…likely isn’t for you.

But, if you enjoyed the Bourne movies, and like a fantastic, modern warfare thriller that offers some interesting conjecture into the “what-if’s” of what actually happened when the “war” in Iraq started in 2003 (and you don’t mind a lot of shaky cinematography), then I can’t recommend it enough.

On a similar note – if I may offer a bit of advice to the esteemed Mr. Greengrass, please…for the love of DOG, buy a fucking steady-cam rig for your next movie! I appreciate the stylistic reasoning behind the whole “shaky-cam” thing, but really – this made Ultimatum’s action cinematography look like a trip through an automated car wash.

OK, so what else. Oh yeah…with all due respect to Team America, I think I really have seen everything. No…I still haven’t seen a man swallow his own head (but come on, when will anyone ever actually see that?), but I have seen a jive-talkin’, 70’s bad-ass, blaxploitation muthafucka have a nunchuk fight with Tricky Dick in the Oval Office! “What the…HUH?!?!”, I know you’re asking. Last night the missus and I rented and watched Black Dynamite, a blaxploitation comedy spoof from last year. Outta sight mutha fuckas, outta-fuckin’-sight!

What else?

We have a customer at the bank named Rex Martini.

That’s it. That’s the joke.

You want more…ok, fine. My initial thought upon learning that was something akin to, “Gee…anyone else think that sounds like the name of a forgotten, gay, 60’s playboy/superspy/pornstar?”

I’ve noticed my “readership” hasn’t’ posted their own responses to my last post yet. It’s okay, I don’t mind. Besides, like I already commented on that post, I’m giving everyone a little leeway on that one because, let’s face it, it’s going to take a fair amount of research to actually contribute to the post. I figure the three of you (that sounds a lot more pathetic when I “say it” out loud) are working on it and you’ll have your ideas out in cyberspace eventually.

A couple of CD gem’s as of late – both courtesy of the brilliant mind of the late Mr. Goldsmith. First we have Islands in the Stream from Film Score Monthly. What a gorgeous little score. I can’t presume to know why it was said to be Jerry’s favorite, but I can hazard a few guesses. Then there’s The Spiral Road from VareseSarabande’s “Soundtrack Club”. The score, from 1962, was sandwiched between Lonely Are the Brave, and Freud, and represents what is essentially his first foray into big, dark, sweeping drama. Stylistically, the three scores couldn’t be more different – a testament to what a master even young, 33-year-old Jerry Goldsmith was. Listening to the CD, if you didn’t know it was Jerry in 1962, you’d have a hard time guessing it. Great stuff. Ah crap, I just realized he wrote all three of these monumental scores at the same age as I am now. CRAP! I need to get busy, I really fuckin’ need to get busy!!!

I’m listening to Hans’ Hannibal score as I type this. It’s not having any kind of effect on my thoughts and whatnot, but I can’t help but notice that many of the cues sound like the Evil Stepmother of many of the ideas he would later have for The Ring and Batman Begins. Interesting…

I had to fill out our annual employee survey this morning. The usual bullshit, “Are you motivated to do your best for the bank?”, “Do you believe in the values the bank stands for?”, “Are you ‘customer focused’?”. Gaaaaah! Nonsense. And I know it’s largely ignored anyway – I talk to people from other shifts and other departments, they have the same complaints as I do. Yet, invariably, every year we get the same “Oh, we’re doing GREAT!!!” responses from HR. There was a comment section at the end. I pretty much let them have it in regards to our pay and benefits. I wasn’t rude, fowl, or disrespectful. But I was damned hostile! Eh…whatever, for what it’s worth I suppose. I guess maybe sometimes I let my overdeveloped sense of righteous indignation combined with my complete intolerance of and disgust towards the blissfully ignorant get the better of me.

I suppose I would’ve been less pissed and negative overall if it weren’t for the e-mail from the CEO a couple months ago. It basically told us that we should fight the Obama administration because the new banking laws they were trying to pass were out to destroy the banking industry.

What a crock of shit.

First of all – you guys didn’t take any of the TARP funds, you’re too fucking conservative to have needed them anyway. So these regulations weren’t really aimed at your little bank. Second, the proposed laws are aimed at the BIG banks (you know who you are), the ones that threw money around like it was sea-water. The ones giving billions in bonuses and salary to their executives, and lending thousands to every irresponsible jack-ass Tom, Dick, or Harry that could furnish a picture of themselves. The ones that have done everything in their power to fuck their customers out of every dime they have with their bullshit credit card policies. The ones that had a major fuck impact on the financial shitburger this country is in at the moment. Third, and this is the most important, KEEP YOUR FUCKING POLITICS TO YOUR GODDAMNED SELF! I don’t care what side of the fence you lean towards, an open letter to all of your fucking employees essentially telling them to tell the President of the United States to go fuck himself is unwanted, unnecessary, and completely uncalled for! It’s bad fucking form! Don’t go pushing your ideals on everyone (literally everyone) that works for you. As it so happens, I was doubly pissed because he was pushing his right-wing bullshit agenda on us. Fuck you, you lousy cocksucker…fuck you in your giant, overpaid, conservative ass.

Ok, I feel better now…the bad people in my head are gone.

That Special Something (or: Why Doth The Pikey Hate Us So?)

2010-03-05T09:55:00.005-06:00

So anyway, a long time ago in some blog posts far, far away, we set about listing our top 10 (or so) favorite scores and favorite score cues. It was horrible, it was obscene, it was blasphemous, it was downright indecent…and a rather smashing good time I must say. At the time I had an idea for a follow-up, and life...being life and all, just sort of got in the way, and the idea went on a rather extended hibernation. Well, it’s back, and I’ve got some time to kill so I’m going to throw it out for one and all to chime in on. This one’s gonna require some serious thought, and a fair amount of research kids, so buckle up ‘cuz here’s what I’ve got in mind.

List, if you’d be so kind, your top ten (or so…again) favorite moments from your vast knowledge of film-score-dom. That is to say, think of your favorite 5 to 30-ish seconds (maybe a minute) from various cues that just really do it for ya! These are little moments, perhaps contained within your favorite cues – perhaps not, that really get the old stick at attention. OK, so that’s not entirely accurate – these don’t have to all be ginormous boner-fied musical moments. But rather, they’re snippets that have had an extreme emotional resonance with you and stuck with you over all others. Any kind of excess emotional response will do, be it extreme joy, sadness or anything in between. This connection can stem from just simply extraordinary composition or a combination of that aural element and its perfect marriage to the scene from whence it came. It’s your call, although more than likely the music as it aids the film will be a deciding factor…so hop to it. And, since it’s my idea and I’ll likely be branded some kind of wretched, evil, Nazi, sadist fuck bastard for even thinking of it…I’ll go first.

In no particular order:

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King – Howard Shore – from “The Fellowship Reunited” (6:30 – 7:03 on The Complete Recordings): This scene is, for me, the high point of the entire trilogy, and it all culminates at one beautiful and spectacular moment. Sauron is no more, Aragorn has been crowned King of, well…everything, and as he walks out and greets his subjects, he comes upon his four Hobbit friends. You know the moment – the whole world knows the moment. He sees them, they start to bow, he stops them and says, “My friends…you bow to no one.” And at that moment, what is arguably the most stirring moment in the series (courtesy of the Shire theme as it comes sailing in) happens as the King and everyone within a half-kilometer radius bows down before these four little men. I’ve probably seen it 20 times and I still get misty.

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi – John Williams – from “Sail Barge Assault” (5:25 to End on ’97 Special Ed. Release): Jabba the Hutt is toast, Han’s been rescued, the droids have been sucked out of the sand, and everyone’s ready to get the hell outta this godforsaken sand pit. Cue what is, for me, one of the most awesomely balls-out moments in the entire saga. It climaxes with a triumphant shot of the Millennium Falcon and Luke’s X-Wing breaking orbit and sailing off into the cosmos accompanied by an absolutely boner-inducing brass fanfare. Goddammit I love this part!!!

The Iron Giant – Michael Kamen – from “The Last Giant Piece” (Final :30 on OST): OK, so…the whole cue’s just over a minute anyway. But the last half is just so stupendously glorious! The film has just cut to the Arctic where we start following all the various bits of the Giant as they make they’re way to the beacon on his head. The last chord swells triumphantly as he opens his eyes revealing he’s alive and all will soon be well and a final stinger hits in the orchestra…”THE END”. The whole score was to my ears a (if not the) high point of Kamen’s output, and that last thirty seconds or so is some of the best writing he, or anyone else, has ever put in front of an orchestra.

Signs – James Newton Howard – from “The Hand of Fate, Pt I” (Final :50 of Track, OST): I firmly believe that this score, overall, is about as close to perfect as one could ever hope to achieve. The film climaxes with this scene and it all comes together with this particular moment. Gibson gets the boy outside, and Phoenix has been laying the smack down on the alien guy. He finally gets it over on its back and, from a point-of-view shot, a glass of water topples over on its face, killing it. All to the tune of one of the greatest orchestral climaxes ever put to film.

Stargate – David Arnold – from “The Other Side” (appx. Final :30 of Track, Special Ed.): I still say Stargate is Arnold’s best work. Here, one of my favorite pieces ever comes after the team arrives on the alien world. Daniel Jackson and Col. O’Neil are out in the sand, they turn around and…BLAM! It’s an Egyptian pyramid…on an alien world…accompanied by some of the most glorious, nutsack-rattling orchestra and chorus ever.

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier – Jerry Goldsmith – from “A Busy Man” (3:32 – 3:52, OST): OK, so I’m sure you’re thinking, “Of all the damned Trek films…you pick this one?! REALLY?!?!” Yes, really! There’s this great little moment towards the end of the cue/scene, you have all this heavenly music swirling, Kirk and Co. are on the planet trying to find “God”, everyone on the Enterprise is awestruck (save the ever-vigilant Scotty, who’s trying his damnedest to get shit fixed). Then you cut to a monitoring screen, to which nobody notices that the scanners have picked up a Bird of Prey on an intercept course and cloaking. And behind it, perfectly matched to the rest of the underscore, Jerry’s “Klingon Theme” has the most subtle and wonderful entrance. It’s a rather inspired moment in what is otherwise a giant, coughed-up, hairball of sci-fi.

Braveheart – James Horner – from “Bannockburn” (6:05 – 6:21, OST) – Wallace is dead, the Scottish army is on the field at Bannockburn to accept an English truce…then, they basically just say, “Fuck this shit!” Hamish (Brendan Gleeson) throws down the proverbial gauntlet (by way of chucking Wallace’s sword into the battlefield), and then there’s this tremendous orchestral swell climaxing in one of the most well-placed cymbal crashes ever as Robert the Bruce draws his sword. And there’s that look! He has that awesome look on his face that just says, “I’m gonna stick this thing so far up your ass, your brain will feel the tip!!!” It’s spectacular!

Jurassic Park – John Williams – from “Journey to the Island” (5:05 – 6:15, OST): This is one of those great movie-going moments that I’ll likely remember for the rest of my life. And it’s because of one specific spot. Spielberg did at that moment what no other filmmaker had achieved and that was to make us, the audience, believe that that goddamned computerized dinosaur was real! It worked…that brachiosaur stepped onto screen, and we were all just as awestruck as the people in the film. And it was done, in no small part, thanks to the sweeping majesty of Williams’ Main Theme entering at that precise moment.

Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within – Elliot Goldenthal – from “Adagio and Transfiguration (2:33 – 3:33, OST): I love this score. How can anyone not love this score. The fact that Goldenthal doesn’t have an Oscar for this score is a crime worthy of the Nuremburg trials. You might have noticed a pattern that my favorite bits tend to be from sections that really grab you by the nuts and squeeze…and this is no exception. The final moments of the cue as Alec Baldwin’s “spirit” is carried off into the…wherever…and all is made right with the world are accompanied by this window rattling orchestral swell. And it’s marvelous. And then, we cut to the “spirit” thingy shooting off into the cosmos with this perfect, somber solo trumpet that hits every note perfectly (no pun intended).

Star Trek: First Contact – Jerry Goldsmith – from “First Contact” (3:01 – 3:37, OST): What kind of half-assed, no account Star Wars fan am I that I only have one SW cue on here but two from Star Trek. Eh…whatever. This one actually breaks down into two separate moments for me. The first being that grand statement of the Main Theme as Cochrane let’s go of Lily’s hand so he can go greet their new guests. It’s quite awe inspiring and wondermous. It’s followed shortly thereafter by that amazing climax up to the cymbal crash as the alien throws off his hood, then low and behold…VULCANS!!! FUCKING AWESOME BABY!!! Two teary-eyed, inspirational moments within a minute of each other on the same cue!

Honorable Mentions:

Raiders of the Lost Ark – John Williams – from “The Maproom”: That BIG crescendo as the sun comes up behind Indy and then the talisman fires off into the model…glorious…abso-fuckin-lutely breathtaking moment.

Con Air – Mark Mancina/Trevor Rabin – from “Battle in the Boneyard” (3:34 – 3:56, OST): I love a good, over-zealous, heroic fanfare accompanied by a wailing electric guitar! And this one, as Poe jumps into the thick of the shit, is just fucking spectacular!

The Prince of Egypt – Hans Zimmer – from “Red Sea”: Such a powerful moment, both on film and musically, as the waters of the Red Sea go soaring into the air. You had to know that any composer scoring this scene would’ve pulled out all the stops for this moment, and ol’ Hans did it quite inspirationally.

Feel free to start sending the hate mail and death threats now.

YO!!! CHECK OUT MY JUNK!!!

2010-02-10T11:20:00.006-06:00

So, anyway - seems I made another one with a penis. That's right, Evil Monkey 2.0 is...a...BOY!!! I've circled the manly bits for one and all to view. So, everyone say hi to Isaac. Isaac, say hi to Herr Vogler, Timmay, Reed, and anyone else that just happens to occasionally find their way here. It's just the three of them you say, oh...well, ahem, in that case...

By the way, seems the fine folks at the bank have deemed Blogger inappropriate for us poor adult type folks and blocked it. So it seems my posting output will be going down the shitter. Not that I posted a lot anyway, but still...what a bunch of douchesticks. REALLY?!?! MY BLOG...BLOCKED?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

A Gentle Reminder

2010-01-11T06:07:00.004-06:00

So anyway, a little something (embedded below - wait for it, just keep reading) came my way, and I couldn't help but ponder the struggles of the Obama administration in its first year. Struggles to keep promises made during his election campaign. Struggles to renew, strengthen, or outright start diplomacy with a world that had lost most, if not all faith, in the United States as a world leader. Struggles to fix internal problems: finance, health care, the "war". Struggles just to save face. And let's be fair for a moment - the President of the United States...the proverbial leader of the free world, is still just a man (and ladies please relax, I mean that in an all-encompassing, species sort of way; not the "the Prezident cain't be havin' no durn vagina" sort of way). He can only come up with ideas, plans, agendas...he can't make them happen. He can only propose policy, he can't dictate it. He can't even be directly involved in the writing of the laws - he can only put his signature to the finished product.

A good portion of the American populace is doing its best to try and forget that the years 2001 to 2008 ever even happened (at least where Washington D.C. is concerned). And then there are those that actually miss the former administration. Those that think we could not and have not ever been worse off than we are right now - I suppose this post really isn't for those people...but I digress. So while I don't want to stir up any bad memories - provoke any hostilities as it were - I thought I'd take a moment to remind every one just how much better things are now, or at least how much better things can be. How much potential this current President and his administration truly has. I want to remind everyone of the good that can come from our leadership if only our legislative branch can stop all of their petty bickering and unite to make a better America for one and all. I just wanted to offer a gentle, subtle reminder that this...

...used to be the most powerful man in the world. This was the face of America. Once several years back on The Daily Show, Jon Stewart had someone from Congress on (can't recall who, I just remember it was a Republican) and tried to be diplomatic by saying Bush wasn't stupid. With it being 2010 and all, looking back I think it's safe to say that yes Jon...Bush was/is/forevermore shall be stupid. It's ok...you can say it now. In fact, I don't think that does it justice. The man was fucking retarded! So I say to you people (left or right) if nothing else - if you really don't like the way things are now, just remember...they can always be worse!

That was an awful lot of work just to share one, stupid picture with everyone...eh?!

Kicking a Dead Horse's Ass

2010-01-04T19:56:00.007-06:00

So anyway, Intrada just announced the complete score to the John Wayne drama Hellfighters, composed by Leonard Rosenman. And after listening to the sound samples, combined with recent listenings of Robocop 2 and Star Trek IV, I'm starting to get a clearer picture of why I really don't care for the man's music (or the man for that matter - I'll elaborate further as the post stumbles on). Seeing as how he died almost two years ago, a lambasting of the man and his craft might seem in poor taste, but well...I don't really give a shit. This is what's on my mind at the moment and I'm running with it.

Let's get this out of the way right off the bat - Leonard Rosenman...was a complete and total fucking douchebag. There, I said it. Seriously he was - I can't stand reading anything he ever said because invariably he always comes off as a complete and total pretentious, elitist, snobby, prick! Read any of the countless interviews* he gave in his lifetime and you quickly get a sense that Leonard Rosenman liked nothing more than to talk about the awesomeness and wonderment that was Leonard Rosenman, and how Leonard Rosenman was God's gift to all things music. Other things he enjoyed seemed to be discussing how directors were wrong in their film making choices, and making disparaging remarks about his peers.

This in particular gets on my nerves - for instance, he once made a remark (something to the effect of) that he didn't understand all the hubbub over John Williams, particularly where Star Wars was concerned because he (the great Leonard Rosenman) could out-compose any "tune" Williams could write at anytime. He was also particularly harsh to (what was to him, at the time) the younger, up-and-coming generation of film composers, particularly James Horner and Basil Poledouris saying that they lacked any personal compositional voice or style. Whilst working on Robocop 2, he offered that Poledouris' score for the original was essentially rubbish, and went on to say that it "had no sense of the orchestra, no sense of drama; It was a lousy, dopey score, and just didn't work". I dunno - maybe we were listening to two different scores?! I've noticed that even the harshest of critics of the film usually still found the music to be quite fitting, if not truly brilliant. I guess I'm just not sure what Rosenman was (or wasn't) hearing.

As for his music...well, I really just don't care for most of it. I've been struggling quite a bit to put into words exactly what I think about it. And even now, I think the perfect idea - that one, all-encompassing, cohesive thought that best describes my ire - escapes me. But, fuck it, I'll try anyway. I don't claim to be any sort of aficionado of the man's body of work, but one thing that strikes me, listening to the small sampling that I have heard, is that Rosenman never developed as a composer...stylistically speaking. You find that most composers, over the course of their lifetime, change their approach to writing. Or at the very least they learn to embrace new ideas, styles, and whatnot and incorporate them into their own personal style. Take any sampling of Rosenman, be it The Cobweb from the 50's, Hellfighters from the 60's, The Lord of the Rings or one of the Apes films from the 70's, Star Trek or Robocop 2 from the 80's, and you'll no doubt hear that essentially, they're all the same.

To me, Rosenman's music is...well...a "high-brow" version of the absolute worst Junior High or High School level concert band music you can think of. It's musical string cheese. Everything I've heard of his, regardless of what it was written for, inevitabry (hehe) ends up sounding like it was made for a Danielle Steele movie-of-the-week. As I understand it, Rosenman considered himself a neo-Classicist, and there are brief moments where I suppose I can hear it. But generally, to my ear, his music always comes across as bad melodrama. If his music were personified, I'd see it as one of the nimwits from Monty Python's "Upperclass Twit of the Year" sketch. I'll admit, there are moments of really interesting stuff, almost brilliant at times. But those moments are fleeting, usually to be found as developmental material in between his major motives and ideas.

Take for instance Robocop 2. If nothing else, that particular score will be infamous for one thing - those shrill, blaring sopranos shrieking out "Roooo-bo COOOOOOP; Roooo-bo COOOOOOP!!!" as one of the major motivic ideas of the score. I mean, come on...REALLY?!?! That was his brilliant idea for a futuristic movie about a cyborg police officer, and he had the nerve to call Poledouris' work crap?! The "overture" to the film, as is presented on the CD (ironically, it's actually the end credits suite) starts of quite interestingly. It begins with a short brass fanfare, which is then followed by an absolutely spectacular driving rhythm in the low brass and percussion. But then this wretched, hokey, goofball of a main theme enters and ruins the whole thing. It's the kind of stupid thematic line that would make James Swearingen come in his pants! It might have been more effective if a freshman concert band had been playing it - complete with intonation problems (HA - that's an understatement), missed entrances, maybe even one kid in the brass section playing everything at a triple-Fortissimo! Interestingly enough...it does sound like, at various points in the piece, that the percussionist playing the suspended cymbal got lost...a lot. There's a middle section to it that's essentially a reworking of some of the underscore to various dramatic scenes from the film. And it's fantastic - chocked full of great harmonic devices, orchestral colors, counterpoint, you name it! But then that stupid main theme comes back for a reprise and fucks it all up.

Someone on the FSM discussion board once remarked that, when in high school band, they attempted a band arrangement of the "Main Titles" from Star Trek IV. Apparently they read through it a couple of times, and the band director absolutely hated it. Then someone in the band spoke up and said that they had been playing it at half tempo. So they gave it another go at the correct tempo, and when it was over...he still hated it, and tossed it. I don't hate the score for ST:IV (sorry for the Dr. Seuss moment there), there are a few things to really like about it, but overall the only real reason I own the CD is for completionist sake. I suppose if bouncy and hokey, regardless of the film it was written for, is your kind of music then I don't know...maybe Rosenman is your guy. For me though, I just can't bring myself to really like him. His shitty demeanor certainly doesn't/didn't help. I want to hear more of his work, if for no other reason than to better clarify and justify my disdain for it. Problem is...I don't want to actually pay for any of it! That would seem almost hypocritical some how.

*there's a series of several posts on FSM from a couple of years ago that chronicle the life of Rosenman through various snippets of interviews he gave. Search for his name and read them if you don't believe me - The Life of Leonard Rosenman, pts. I - V, I believe.

I'd Like A Box of Chaos Please...And Can You Gift Wrap That?!

2009-12-14T17:49:00.003-06:00

So anyway, the Christmas shopping season is in full swing (only 10 shopping days left and I'd love to have that new BSX Records release of Basil's A Whale for the Killing - hint, hint). If anyone reading this is offended by my referring to the season as Christmas, rather than 'holiday' or whatever, well...you, and your horse (you can fill in the rest). I'm sorry, it's Christmas shopping season - the Jews aren't out in a frenzy buying Hanukkah gifts. And as for Kwanzaa...fuck Kwanzaa - don't even get me started on fucking Kwanzaa (apologies to those in the black community, but I just don't buy it - please don't bring a protest rally [or riot] to my front door). Anyway, sorry about the tangent there, that wasn't really my point here today.

No, today, being the time of year that it is, I'd like to talk about social experimentation. I had a thought (scary, I know) about how one could more or less mindfuck nearly everyone in the country. I've always felt the $.99 marketing ploy to be one of the most ridiculous and yet simultaneously brilliant ideas ever conceived. Think about it...it's fucking everywhere! You go to the store for a gallon of milk - it's $2.99. No...it's not, it's $3.00. You head to your favorite fast-food restaurant/cholesterol pusher and order something off the $.99 value menu - bullshit man...those nuggets are a fucking dollar! You pump your gas...the price is $2.41(9) a gallon - fuck you Gassy McCon-Man, that gas is $2.42 a gallon. You know it, I know it! I don't know where it started, I don't know when it started. At some point in U.S. history, some marketing wizard (aka Legionnaire of Satan) got the crazy idea that turning a $1.00 item into $.99 would entice Joe (Dumb Schmuck) Customer into buying said item more often. And the kicker - it fucking WORKED!!! Americans (well...most of them) are stupid enough to think that given the choice between a shitburger for $2.00, and the exact same shitburger for $1.99, they're getting the better deal with the latter! That new Pocket Pussy 9000 w/ Super Suck Action sounds way cheaper listed as $99 instead of $100. Well fuck you sales man - I know better!

So, just for fun, I would love to bear witness to the complete and utter chaos that ensues should, for a single day, every item for purchase in the entire country is rounded up to that whole-dollar amount. And just to be fair (and to fuck with people even more), adjust the sales tax on everything so that the consumer is getting that one cent/dollar back. So for example - that Double-headed Wonder Dong Dildo that Gramma's been wanting for Christmas, it now costs $80 instead of $79. But after adjusting sales tax, Bobby and Lucy Grandkid are still paying $79. Well - let's be realistic...mom and dad are paying $80, and they fucking HATE IT! NO ONE IS PAYING ANYTHING EXTRA - IT JUST LOOKS LIKE THEY ARE! I think the result would be brain-numbingly glorious! I honestly don't know how most American consumers would react, but I see it going one of two ways. One: People stop buying shit because, hey "That's just too fuckin' expensive"; or two: People buy it - begrudgingly, but they're sooooooo fucking pissed that they had to spend "all that money" on that butt plug/toaster oven that they just "had to have". There would be hate mail; there would be protests; people would go fucking postal over a goddamned penny...and it would be awesome!

American consumers take seeing a 9 in the price of anything for granted - I don't think they'd know how to react to a 0 except with complete and total disgust, anger, and frustration. There are 9's in everything we buy. Except maybe for Wal-Mart. Those guys basically said, "$5.99? Oh yeah, well fuck you, we're gonna make it $5.98! Let's see who saves the most now motherfucker!" Which is great, I suppose - because, you know, at that rate the average American shopper can save upwards of a hundred bucks or so over the course of 3000 YEARS!!! The American penny is the most worthless hunk of metal on Earth, and I'm a dedicated advocate for getting rid of the little bastard. And yet I don't think that we, as a society, are psychologically prepared to deal with the ramifications of not having that meaningless scruple in our lives. Taking the 9's away would likely have the same effect as the confusion that would result from, say for instance, the federal government announcing that the official American language is Swahili-Pig-Latin (it's Swahili, but spoken in a Pig-Latin manner - how screwed up would that be?)!

See, I think The Joker had the wrong idea. Generally speaking, I don't think a group of people necessarily would kill a boatload of other people to save their own asses (generally speaking - it could happen). I do think that the average American would absolutely go medieval on some poor Mexican kid's* ass over having to pay an extra penny for that cheeseburger from Mickey-fuckin'-D's! Seeing this kind of carnage, chaos, and mayhem would be the best Christmas present EVER!!!

*Honestly, when's the last time you didn't get your food at McDonald's from a Mexican kid?! I can't remember...

If I Were a Tiger

2009-12-02T19:19:00.005-06:00

So anyway, not a lot to say on the subject - but I just thought I'd throw my two cents out on it regardless. And besides, I needed something new on my blog...even if it is just fluff. I like fluff (or maybe I just like fluff-ers - guess that's something for a different post entirely). Anyway, I'm fascinated at the mentality of both the American media, and the surprisingly large percentage of our population who's lives seem to hinge on every little piece of bullshit dribble that comes out of it. So now we have Tigergate, or whatever the fuck the "news" outlets are calling it. So he wrecked his car...in his OWN FUCKING FRONT YARD!!! So he's supposedly fucked someone that wasn't his wife...welcome to the human fucking race! Last I heard, about 75% of all men...EVERYWHERE...are unfaithful to someone at some point in their lives! It's nature, guys can't, try as they may, fight 100,000 years of evolution. The natural question would seemingly be (for sensible, logical, intelligent people): what fucking business is it of ours anyway?!?! But alas, we don't live in a sensible, logical, or even remotely fucking intelligent society - so for those people the question seems to be "Why Tiger, WHY?!?!"

Seriously...what the FUCK is wrong with you people?!?!

It's none of your business. It will never be any of your business. It should never be any of your business. It wasn't anyone's business when Clinton got a hummer from Fatty McTrampstamp. Did we, as a people, make it our business? You bet your nosy ass we did!!! The American ideology seems to be that if you are a public figure, fuck the Bill of Rights - fuck life, liberty, and all that - you do not get a private life. And it's wrong...it's just plain wrong. The founding fathers of this country could never have had the foresight to account for the modern "celebrity" when they were drafting our nations laws. I can't help but think that if they had only known...there'd be a helluva lot more stipulations in those first ten amendments in regards to what "freedom of speech" and "freedom of the press" really mean. I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised by any of this. After all we are a nation where the press spends months dedicating front-page "news" to the ever-fluctuating size of [insert female entertainer's name here]'s ass, and how it's deteriorating the moral fabric of our society.

If I were Tiger, there would've been no statements to the police. No statements to the press. No statements to anybody. Were I Tiger, I'd stick to fixing my own shit, in the privacy of my own...well, erm...compound (let's face it, the guy doesn't have a "house", it's too fucking big to just be called a house). The only person he has to answer to right now is his wife. Not me, not you, not anyone else. OK, well I guess he might have a few questions to field from his auto insurance agent. Namely..."What the fuck, dude?!" I suppose that had I been Tiger, and the situation was forced upon me that I had to give a public statement, that I was "compelled" to do so - I would have called together the press conference, got up behind the mic, and told everybody...and I mean EVERYBODY...in the whole, wide world...

...TO GO FUCK THEMSELVES!!!

Then I would've said, "Thank you, and have a pleasant day." 'Cuz you know...that's just polite and all! And I'm a polite guy! He's a fucking BILLIONAIRE for Dogs sake, he can afford to tell people, any people, all people, to fuck off. Remind me to never become famous for anything. Christ, something as simple as the contents of my computer hard drive becoming public would be enough to get me burned at the stake. Or at the very least a public stoning.

OK, I suppose I'm sufficiently fluffed now - thanks Jimmy.

Don't Let the Door Hit You in the Ass on the Way Out

2009-11-10T04:20:00.005-06:00

So anyway, I don't normally write about sports. It's boring. Really boring. With the exception of SI's Peter King, I have yet to find anyone in sports writing that can keep my attention for more than a paragraph or so. Add to that that I'm really not much of a sports enthusiast, and one has a solid case against me that I should in no way be writing about any sport of any kind. I don't like basketball...at ALL. I average about one whole hockey game a decade. I don't care that soccer is the most popular sport in the world...it's gay...really gay - Liberace gay. Golf...fuck, don't even get me started on golfing. It's not a sport - it's a game. There's a fucking difference. A sport requires some form of athleticism...of which there is absolutely none in golf. Fuck the textbook definition of a sport, for me, it's defined as something that requires both athleticism and talent. With just one or the other, it ain't a fuckin' sport...it's a game. With golf, you hit a ball with a stick, you walk after it, and hit it again. I can hit a ball with a stick, and I can walk. No one is ever going to accuse me of being an athlete. I don't give a shit that Tiger is a fucking billionaire...he's still not an athlete. So golf...NOT A FUCKING SPORT! I follow baseball just enough to know what's going on, and know which team's I do and don't like and generally why. I know marquee players when I see them, and I like going to Kaufman once in a while to see a live game. That's my world of baseball. I don't buy into the whole "baseball is the 'thinking man's' sport" bullshit. I'll admit, there's a design to it; there's strategy and nuance. But at the end of the day, most sports can say the same thing - it's just that the rest of them have added a certain level of physicality to that idea. Fat guys can play baseball...and be amazing! Do you ever see fat, world-class tennis stars...I don't think so. Sorry, bit of a digression there - point: baseball - sport yes; king of sports...not so much.

Then...there's football - the one sport I follow, particularly our local "team" - and the real subject of my little thought here for today. For me, football is just as intricate as baseball, if not more so. Again I refer back to the physicality of it - I offer that football is just as, if not more "thoughtful" than baseball...they just added a certain, shall we say, gladiator element. Fat guys play football too...they're called linemen, they have to be big in order to keep the other team from getting shit done. I will admit, even after watching football regularly for the better part of 20 years, I still don't understand the play-calling. I still don't have the first-fuck of a clue what a 'play-action' or 'screen play' are. I don't have the faintest idea what the differences between nickel, dime, 3-4, and 4-3 defenses are. But I can follow the game. I know what I'm seeing when plays work, and when they don't - and generally can spot the reason (or player) behind that success or failure. I'm familiar with more than just the marquee players for most of the teams in the league. And even in these "darkest of days", I'm still a die-hard Chiefs fan. They're not making it easy, but they're still my guys. It's times like this that you have to maintain your loyalty to your team - "Harvest is when they need you the most." Anything else, and you're just a 'fair-weather' fan and the team doesn't need you anyway. I hate fair-weather fans...fuck you! Go watch figure skating you prick! Digressing again, I know; anyway... Teams have their "rebuilding" years. KC has been rebuilding for about a decade now. Although in all fairness, I think this year truly meets the criteria for a rebuilding team - what with a new GM, new Head Coach, new (supposed) Superstar QB, and a roster with about 65% new faces (75% of whom are rookies).

So, I went through all of that...to get to this - my point: finally, the moment happened that (I'm guessing) most of Chiefs fandom has been waiting for for almost three years - Larry Johnson was fired yesterday! Hoo-fuckin'-Rah! There comes a time when certain elements or individuals become nothing but poison for a team, and lately, that poison for the Kansas City Chiefs, was RB Larry Johnson. And so they cut him out, like the cancer that he was. For the uninitiated, here's a summarized timeline of "LJ", and please note that it's vague and generalized, at best - I have neither the time, nor interest in looking up the specifics:

2004 (ish) - Priest Holmes is injured, opening the door for RB Johnson (who's spent a season-and-a-half bitching about being second banana to superior back Holmes); it's surmised that had Johnson been given a full season as starter, he might have broken every single-season running record in the league; then-coach Dick Vermeil makes the mistake of analogizing Johnson's newfound starting position to a baby taking off its diapers. Let the whining commence...

2005 & 2006 - Johnson becomes one of the (if not the the) top runners in the league; you can see his head inflate from the International Space Station...

2007 - Johnson holds out of training camp for more money (which is publicly chronicled on HBO's Hard Knocks), opting instead to pimp-it-out in his Miami condo all summer, goofing off and playing Playstation versions of himself; he breaks his foot mid-season...glad we gave him all that extra money!

2008 - Johnson half-asses his way through a rough season...my grandmother could've been a more productive player that year. He publicly trashes both the team and the city; he's suspended 3 games by KC and one additional game by the league stemming from allegations of assaulting a woman in a nightclub; a second assault charge follows as a woman claims he spit in her face; fuck it, he's rich - he can do what he wants, right?!

2009 - Johnson makes nice for the new regime change in KC; still manages to average less than 3-yards-per-carry, running the ball like I would after a big Thanksgiving dinner; October, after getting CREAMED by the Chargers, he uses his Twitter account to publicly bash Head Coach Todd Haley; he then continues his Tweet tirade by responding to all his detractors resulting from said bashing by calling them all faggots...on TWITTER!!! He's suspended for two weeks, resulting in a pay loss of about $630,000; he files a grievance with the team, half the suspension is lifted, he only loses about $300,000.

Yesterday - FIRED!!! See ya, ta-ta, get lost, beat it, toss off, fuck off, get the fuck outta here!

You know, I can't imagine what I would do if I was docked $100 from my paycheck...so losing 300 grand is just unfathomable to me. In the long run, it'll be like a speed bump for Johnson. His contract reneg from 2 years ago guarantees him almost $20 million!!! He's gonna get that money from the Chiefs, and now all he has to do is sit at home with his thumb up his asshole, and watch Sports Center! The only way he really loses in all of this is if he doesn't get picked up by another team - he's 30 this year, and he's an asshole...anything's possible. But not likely. If there's a silver lining, you could even call it justice if you want, it's that he won't have the opportunity to break the Chiefs' all-time rush record (set by Priest Holmes), which he was only about 75 yards from doing. I think every football fan in KC let out a big ol' honkin' sigh of relief on that one.

Fuck Larry Johnson...fuck him in his big, stinky poop chute!

For those keeping score, with this post I've officially matched my blogging output from my first year. That's actually only half-true, seeing as I began here on blogger in June of 2005. So I did as much blogging in half the time. But still...it's kind of a milestone of sorts I guess! Right?!?! (and I'm four posts from 150...that's fairly insignifcant compared to, say, Warrior Bard postings, but, again, a big acheivement for me!)

Grita un Río Pendejo

2009-10-18T14:07:00.003-05:00

So anyway, umm...yeah, touchy subject - immigration (of the illegal variety). You may have noticed this little nugget from whatever your favorite news outlet happens to be. I chose CNN.com, whatever your preference for "news" happens to be, hey...whatever, it's cool, but regardless - I'm still fuming. Don't really know why. As a certain, curly-blonde, jolly Viking said in a favorite film of mine, "It's a small matter". But hey, fuck it, sometimes you do have to sweat the small things. So, for the record...lemme see if I have this straight - and I'll save my thoughts on the apparent fact that advocacy groups for illegal immigrants even exist for another time, anyway - you people (the aforementioned immigrants) are upset, that a Halloween costume, a lame one at that, might be offensive to millions of illegals (particularly of the, erm, south-o-the-border variety) and want it pulled off the store shelves. It's...a costume, of a "little green man", with a, ahem, green card...in a GITMO jumpsuit. It's...a...costume, an alien costume - and not some sort of Pancho Villa get-up, rolled up in a tortilla, and shoved up a giant rubber anus. That is what you're upset about? Really? Hrmm...

So naturally, my immediate thought is, well...FUCK YOU!!! It's...a fucking costume, mildly clever at best. And it's insensitive to your person because, let's see - it disrespects your status as an ILLEGAL FUCKING IMMIGRANT!!! Here's a bold thought - you don't like it, you could always, oh I dunno...GO THE FUCK HOME! If I'm not mistaken, you, el inmigrante ilegal del pendejo gigante (sorry if I offended anyone with my Babelfish Spanish there...oh wait, no I'm not!!!) aren't even supposed to be here. And please, spare me the whole "this country was built on the backs of immigrants" bullshit. You're right, it was...legal ones. They came through Ellis, or wherever, filled out their paperwork, became part of the system, paid their taxes, did every-fucking-thing they had to do to be an official, recognized citizen of this land. My dad was third generation off the boat from Ireland. His great-grandfather came through Ellis (I've seen the paperwork). What does any of that mean - hell, I don't know, I just know I'm sick of piss-ant, bullshit, crybaby illegals whining about ANY mistreatment while living here in the U.S.

Look, I'm all for cultural diversity; I'm totally for seeking a better life in the land of opportunity; but for fuck's sake - get a fucking green card! Is it really that hard?!?! If it is that hard, then, once again, I refer to my previous sentiment...fuck you. You are not a citizen of this country; you are living here illegally; you are working here illegally; you are not paying the taxes that support the benefits you are receiving. You do not get to complain. You get no say...in ANYTHING. So shut-the-fuck-up and get back to serving me my McBurger and picking my produce fucker! Now...where's the nearest costume shop?!

Horribly Morbid and Deranged Thought for the Day

2009-10-07T10:07:00.002-05:00

So anyway, sure - hardly anyone's watching Heroes anymore. Me, I'm giving it until the mid-season break before I decide whether or not I want to give up on it for good. Anyway, a promo for an upcoming episode shows The Cheerleader getting in on some hot, steamy, college-roommate, lesbian-experimentation smoochy smooch action...and it got me thinking...

...with her powers of regeneration, and the fact that (barring a total decapitation) she can't die - she could be the first girl to have a career in the snuff film "industry"!!! Think about it - first, she's unnaturally hot - that kind of fine defies some law of nature somewhere. Then, typical amateur porn film set up - hot cheerleader/co-ed/schoolgirl/delivery girl (whatever), banging away on some douche in a sleazy motel room. He blows his load, then blows her brains out (or slits her throat, puts one in her chest, stabs her to death...whatever). Someone yells cut...she sits up and all nonchalantly asks, "How was that?!" Sleazebag director says, "Great stuff Claire - pick up your pay in the next room...see you next week!"

She could totally make a killing at it (not sure if that pun was intended or not)!

She Must Be Stopped

2009-10-06T02:01:00.008-05:00

So anyway, I don't know if you've seen her. I don't know who she is. I don't know where she comes from - I'm guessing the darkest circle in all of hell. I don't know what her plan is. Mind control? Death by sensory overload? WORLD DOMINATION?!?! You tell me. But she is everywhere...and nowhere. She is everyone...and she is no one. She is evil; she is a succubus; she is the Dark One; she is the worm, feasting its way into the core of our society. She will destroy us all...and she must be stopped. Join me...join me in my struggle. Rally to the cause. Only together, as a whole, can we hope to defeat this plague upon mankind. Individually, she will devour our souls - leave us as but empty, rotting shells to be cast into the soil. But together - we just may have a chance. JOIN ME!!! Let us stand together, united against this blight upon our world!!!

I'm of course talking about...

...the cute little Asian girl from those new Windows 7 commercials (who were you thinking of?)! You can see her here. I'm telling you, there's something not right with that little shit! Seriously, that kid is too cute, and WAAAAAAAAAAAY too-the-fuck-smart to not be the Antichrist! She's gotta be what...6...tops?!?! Just watch her - it's not natural for a child that age to put together a PowerPoint demo like that - it just has to be the work of Satan and his League of Evil (or Glenn Beck...take your pick)!!! Hell...I couldn't put something like that together - and I'm really good with that shit! AND - she's totally adorable, which immediately says to me... Hellspawn. It's just not natural - therefore it must be wrong...and it must be stopped. I used to think that that goddamned Penis-Pill Bob was the harbinger of our doom - seems we've managed to stave off that toothy-grinning, nemesis bastard. But alas, PPB was just that, a simple messenger - sent to warn us of the coming darkness that would befall mankind...

...in the form of a sweet, tiny, Asian-American, kindergarten girl. Nope...wouldn't have seen that one coming. Uh-uh...not it a million years. Eat your fuckin' heart out Shyamalan - that's a "paradigm shift" (his words, not mine) for all time!

She must be stopped...join the fight! ("Service guarantees Citizenship!")

"Owwww, My ASS!!!"

2009-09-28T05:51:00.003-05:00

So anyway, after this morning, I'm thinking there should be some sort of unwritten rule - call it a universally accepted natural law if you will - that there should be a limit on the number of ginormous shits you can have in a 24-hour period. Seriously! Late yesterday afternoon I had, what can only be described as the scat version of John Holmes, rip my poor, tender anus asunder. Then this morning, I was - and I don't use the term lightly - violated by Brown Ron Jeremy! I feel like I should buy stock in whoever makes A & D Ointment! There aren't enough bags of ice in the fucking world right now! It was as if two of the four horsemen entered our realm by drilling through my ass! Fecus Mortis - the death shit (where's that fucking spell in Harry Potter, I ask you?!)! I haven't been over-eating, and I'm regular. So what did I do to deserve such torture?! Is there some lesser-known God out there that I've offended - is Cornholus, God of the Atomic Shite (probably found on the same page as Bill, Lord of Postage Stamps), angry with me?!! I guess I should be glad I'm not Jewish, I'd be suffering from some twisted form of neurotic Poo-Envy (yeah, they were that big!). At this point I can't help but empathize with the many various young ladies in adult film who over the years have had to endure such probing repeatedly and for hours on end. It's almost enough for me to reconsider my stance on the whole "backdoor love"...thing!

BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! OK, yeah...even I didn't buy that one! There isn't a big enough turd in the world to make me stop loving some good ol' fashion rear-entry rendering ("sometimes, if you're in the heat of the moment...it's ok to go ass-to-mouth." tee-hee!!!)!!! Hey...don't look at me like that. No. NO!!! Stop it! You chose to come here. You've been following my posts for God only knows how long - you should know that a weird one is always lurking around the corner. I've been "normal" for waaaaaaaayyyyyy the fuck too long - this blog was due for some off-the-wall, freaky, mind-fucked, disgusting insanity. You should know by now...diving off the deep end doesn't cut it for this blog. No, no, no...I take the deep end, kill it, skin it, fuck it, then eat it - in that order! So, caveat lector, as it were - "Shana, they bought their tickets...they knew what they were getting in to! I say, 'LET 'EM CRASH'". Still, could've been worse - could've been the hot-pepper squirts! The proverbial "brown lava of doom" you know. I'll take poo-sodomy-rape any day over that!!! Sorry, it's late (or early, depending on your point of view), and these are the things that go through my mind when I'm tired and bored. Sue me!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming...

Fun with Revishunist Histuree

2009-09-02T03:13:00.012-05:00

So anyway, I got on something of a screenplay kick a month or so back. I must've read 20 of 'em in the space of a couple of weeks. A good sampling of everything from the best (American Beauty, The Sixth Sense) to the absolute worst (The Avengers, Batman and Robin). While I was at it, I found an early draft of Quentin Tarantino's latest, Inglourious Basterds. So I had an inkling of what I was getting into prior to seeing the film - and I'll get a little more into that (particularly the differences with the final cut) later. So let's get right down to it shall we...Inglourious Basterds. One could make the argument that this is Tarantino's The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Not because it's a Western, or because it's his finest achievement in film-making (though it's arguably close). There's just this methodical nature to the story, and a bit of gritty realism that link the two. Tarantino has oft maintained that GB&U is his favorite film ever - and he was thinking about it quite a bit over the last decade as he slowly hammered out the script for Basterds. GB&U wasn't a phenomenon in its time, and it wasn't Leone's biggest film endeavor. But time has been good to it and today it's generally regarded as Leone's masterwork. So perhaps time is what Basterds will need to really sell itself to the masses. As it is, I for one absolutely love it right here and now, and can't help but think that in 30 or 40 years (God willing I'm still dickin' around this rock) it will be on my own short list of favorite classics. Sticking to theme a bit, I'll break down my thoughts on the film with respect to that aforementioned legendary Western (which coincidentally happens to be one of my favorite films ever as well).

I suppose I'll just get it out of the way and start with "The Ugly" (of which, honestly, there's very little). So by now the lukewarm reception at Cannes has become fairly well known. The general consensus being that it was good, but not great - and way too damned long. Tarantino had to edit in one big damned hurry to get it ready for the festival and apparently (at the time) it showed. His original cut was supposedly in the neighborhood of 190+ minutes, to which he whittled it down to 148 for Cannes. After that reception, he had almost three months to tighten up the story and cut it down even further. Here's the kicker...ready? The final theatrical cut is 152 minutes! As it stands, I think it's too long. Going back to having read the screenplay - it screams epic war movie. So, he had two choices really. One: go balls out and make that epic, all 3+ hours of it, or two: trim, and trim, and trim some more - until it's something manageable, with a reasonable length, that won't seem like it's sitting confused somewhere in between epic and fantastic popcorn film. Unfortunately, that's sort of what we got - something in the middle. It needs a ten-minute shave - don't ask me where, but since he decided not to go the all-in route, another trim I think is in order. I put this in the ugly category because it's not in any way bad...it's just a tad unfocused. As for the only other "ugly" element - and I use the term only in jest - it would have to be the quick insert shot of Goebbels and his translator about midway through the film. It's the most ugly (and hilariously wonderful) bit of 5 second character development/exposition I've seen in recent memory.

Sitting on the fence (for me anyway) between "ugly" and "bad" is Tarantino's trademark use of 'dropped in' music. Originally, this was to have been his first film with an original score - provided by none other than Ennio Morricone himself. As a result from the combination of the film's rushed post to prepare for Cannes, and scheduling conflicts with Morricone's 193,468th score, he left the project - leaving Tarantino to resort to his fall-back musical sensibilities. But with a bit of a twist! The film is scored - but with cues from about a dozen other films, most of them from Morricone and Charles Bernstein. Sure a couple of "pop" songs sneak their way in, but it's not like this is the first WWII film to have a pop song in it (Kelley's Heroes comes to mind - which is a bit of a coincidence as Basterds uses a cue from Lalo Schifrin's score for that film). Using his temp track score as a basis for what he was going for makes me really fucking want to hear what Morricone would've come up with. My problem with what was used in the final print is that it's simultaneously very effective and horribly distracting. It captures the right mood effectively in each scene, but at the same time, it's very, very, very obvious it wasn't composed for this particular picture. It's a little of everything, from sound quality, to compositional styling, to familiarity of cues. It's just troublesome...I was really pushing for Tarantino to give this film a new score - and that bit's kind of a letdown for me. Is there anything else that I'd call bad in the film? Eh...not really no. I suppose one could argue that it meanders a bit - going back to the edit - and maybe there's not enough of the basterds in the movie with their namesake - but overall, there's a helluva lot to enjoy here. And like most of his movies - multiple viewings will only serve to increase the enjoyment of what's being seen.

So what's good...fucking everything (that isn't related to the edit or music, that is)!!! Forget what those stuffy European cocksuckers think - they wouldn't know a good time if it was probing their assholes with the worlds biggest French Tickler! No doubt you've heard at least some of the lavish praise and (seemingly) over-indulgent, near orgasmic hyperbole over Christoph Waltz's performance. In the immortal words of Lily von Schtupp, "It's twue...it's twue, it's twue, IT'S TWUE!!!" Christoph Waltz might as well start writing his Best Supporting Actor Oscar speech right now (and go ahead and keep it in German just to fuck with people). The man, as Col. Hans "the Jew Hunter" Landa of the SS, is un-be-fucking-lievable!!! Never in my life have I admired and been charmed by such a despicable, loathsome character. Point of fact, if the man doesn't win that damned Oscar next year, I may just swear off the friggin things forever. The movie is wallpapered with European actors and actresses performing mostly in their native tongue - and they're all fabulous really. That's not to say the Americans in the film aren't equally as good. Think what you will of Brad Pitt (lord knows some people despise him), the man can turn out quite a performance - even one as intentionally over-the-top as Lt. Aldo Raine. Tarantino's favorite ensemble of cameo's make their appearances (so to speak) - see how many you can spot. One in particular is a touch distracting, but in the end, welcome as always. Another thing I found quite fun was Tarantino's typical flashy dialogue - which can often come off as a tad self-indulgent (nooooo...really?!?!), but here is quite welcome...especially since about two-thirds of it is performed in a language other than English, which makes it kind of refreshing in a way.

Going back to that screenplay I read - there are missing scenes and bits that I miss quite a bit, and changes to the final film that are quite welcome. A couple of things in particular I miss - one, a scene with a pair of the basterds discussing their plan in a combination of pig-Latin and mock-Italian so as to fool all the Germans by whom they're surrounded. Secondly is the reaction of the lead female character, Shoshanna (played exquisitely by lovely French actress Melanie Laurent), after having just confronted a dreaded someone from her past. Not to spoil things, but it involved a wet floor beneath her feet when it was over - and it really sold her fear at the end of the scene. So uhh...yeah - overall I really loved this film! Despite some of the modern film-making anachronisms, it's really a very engrossing thing to watch. But then, I like all of Tarantino's movies - they all sit on the "very good" to "fan-fucking-tastic" side of the movie enjoyment scale for me. And Inglourious Basterds is no exception. I'm hard-pressed to say it's his best work. After all, spanking everyone's asses with Pulp Fiction so early in his career is quite the feat to overcome. But Basterds is certainly right up there next to it in my estimation. So I have to recommend everyone get out and enjoy some "Nah-zi killin'" goodness at their earliest convenience.

Incidentally - Tarantino, like many directors, and as you have no doubt noticed, has a bit of a penchant for giving himself parts in his movies (which can sometimes be unfortunate because like many who are directors then actors, he can be fucking terrible). Here he has one of the most memorable cameo appearances I can ever remember seeing. It's literally one of those 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it' moments early on in the second chapter, so keep a close eye out. It's a doozy!!!

Shuffle Mode

2009-08-28T03:21:00.007-05:00

So anyway, I thought just for fun I'd randomly just jot down things as they came to me over the course of my evening/morning here at work because well...because why the fuck not! So without further ado (a break/new paragraph will indicate a pause in thought - or pause to, you know, actually work!):

Goddamn it anyway - this Matrix Reloaded complete score that I, ahem, acquired is fucking awesome! It might just be as good or better than the first one - which you wouldn't know thanks to that crap album Warner Bros put out. I could listen to another 10 minutes of that alternate "Burly Brawl" - amazing stuff.

Awww...fuck man! See, that's what I get for being a dirty fucking pirate like Brad - I'm missing all the electronica/techno/fusion cues on my iPod. Why?!?! Because I forgot that they weren't composed by Don Davis!!! So naturally - I didn't pull them onto my iPod from iTunes (that's too many fucking 'i'S' in my life) - there are big fuck holes in the score now...shit, shit, shit, shit, shit...

Ok, so...yeah, I know my nights have gotten pretty fucking slow over the last couple of months - but this is ridiculous! I REALLY need to find a way to find something more interesting to do on my computer besides playing solitaire and (fucking) minesweeper all goddamned night! Hell, I'll take frakkin' checkers at this point - just give me something new to do!!!

Dude, my teacher for my 'computer' class at Longview is a total fucking Cougar!!! Went to class tonight - there she is: bleached blonde; athletic build; fake baked; (guessing) late 40's; tight, short dress; and for ze Piece de Resistance...patent red 5-inch 'fuck me' pumps! AAAAAANNNNND...she teaches HIGH SCHOOL during the day (freshman classes to boot!)!!! She probably had a mass exodus of boys leaving her classes today heading straight for the bathroom stalls to hammer out knuckle-children like it was going out of fucking style!!!

Can't say enough good things about District 9; GODDAMMIT what a great movie - I'm diggin' the score (it's available for $7.99 on iTunes btw). Sure, it's kinda derivative, and quite obviously a product of the temp track (Batman Begins anyone!), but it's all very well made - especially on that tiny little $30 million (HA!) budget.

Hrmm - wailing man...that's new...

One problem I do have with it actually has little to do with the film itself, and comes from a comment Clinton Shorter made to Film Score Monthly online for this month's interview segment. He said that during the production process, he tried creating a more melodic score, but [director] Blomkamp kept coming back and saying "It sounds like fucking E.T.!!!" Which to me is a somewhat frightening and kinda sad look into the mindset of young filmmakers today. Firstly, never use E.T. as an analogy for something "bad" about film music - it makes you look/sound ignorant and stupid. Anyway, younger directors seem to have lost (or maybe never had) a real feel and appreciation for the craft of making orchestral film music. Shorter tried and tried to create 'authentic' ethnic sounds for the score, but Blomkamp insisted on "darker" and "heavier" drums, and stock string ostinati - resulting in the (generic) Media Ventures-esque sound that accompanied the final film.

I'm a little off of listening to music lately. Been shuffling a lot of comedy on my iPod. Guess maybe it's a little disheartening to hear so much great music being performed...and NONE OF IT IS MINE!!! Anyway, really digging on Patton Oswalt, Lew Black (naturally), Mitch Hedberg (RIP man), and Maria Bamford lately (dat chick is like so crasy mang!).

And of course, the always awesome (as a hot dog) Mr. Edward Izzard. I really want to get my hands on his Sexie album. It's only available as an import - but, fuck it, it's Eddie Izzard, it has to be worth the price!

So...sleepy - must...have...Mountain...Dew...or maybe...an eightball...

I don't mean to offend, but I've just about come to the conclusion that black people don't sleep (hey, I said this would be random). I mean seriously...DUDE - who the hell are you talking to at this time of night?! I don't know anybody, and I mean ANYBODY, that would be anything short of fucking hostile if I called them just to shoot the shit at 4 in the fucking morning!

It's nice and all that I found a workaround to get on Facebook here at work, but unfortunately I still can't IM anyone - not that anyone on my friend's list would be up right now to chat anyway.

Uggghhh...one chalupa too many last night methinks.

So I'm assuming everyone's seen the Avatar teaser by now. It looks pretty cool, but I have to say, if I hadn't been following what it's about on the net over the last few months, the teaser would be fucking weird as get-all. I mean really - to the uninformed, it looks like the Aliens Marines Vs. Giant Smurf Alien People, whaaaaaaaa?!?!

GAAAHH! My mom's turning my son into a java junkie - why God, WHHHHHHYYYYY?!?! He's wired enough as it is goddammit!

"Marijuana users being condescending to alcoholics - that's a little hypocritical isn't it!? It's kinda like Idi Amin looking at Gandhi and going 'You're too intense!'" - Robin Williams (1984, at the Met)...that's funny shit!

Shouldn't it have been obvious to The Architect that there was something special about Neo, something different from all the past iterations of The Chosen One? Little clues sprinkled all over the place - like the fact that during his first fight with the "new" agents, he was able to recognize that they were 'upgrades'. If Neo was just like all the previous incarnations, shouldn't those upgraded agents have already been written into the Matrix? The Matrix shouldn't have needed improved code to attempt to deal with him. The sequels are a lot smarter than most people give them credit for. Ok, so I'm probably thinking too hard about this shit!

Ok, so before this gets long (HA - too late!), I'm gonna check out. I'll be back later...yeah, we'll just go with later...with my thoughts on Inglourious Basterds.

Define Irony (Part-o Numero Dos...o)

2009-08-27T07:58:00.002-05:00

So anyway, as I'm sure you've all heard...people are REALLY fucking stupid! Case in point - this little nugget. It seems that this woman left her dog in her car on a hot day and - whodafuckinthunkit - it died!!! I left a burrito in a hot car once...it exploded - I suppose that's similar. Eh...no?! OK, well whatever. The kicker in all this - she's the CEO of the Richmond, VA chapter of the FUCKING SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS (note, I originally had that last 'fucking' between 'to' and 'animals' - which is just silly because let's face it...all animals are fucking animals right?!)!!!!!

How...exactly...does one, erm...qualify to lead an organization such as the SPCA? Do you have to be friends with George W. Bush? Is there a test? Is it multiple choice? Is it graded on some kind of bell curve? Shouldn't said hypothetical test have a question like, oh I dunno, say:

You have a dog. The temperature outside feels like you're seven inches from the fucking sun. You need to buy a double-dong dildo and stamps. You should:

A: Leave Fuzzy McShitbag at home

B: Take Fuzzy McShitbag with you, but take him into Skeevy's Dildo and Stamp Emporium

C: Take Fuzzy McShitbag with you, but leave him in your car (in the Hell-weather) to die a horrible, stifling death

D: Take Fuzzy McShitbag out back and just shoot him now because you have no business owning an ant farm, let alone a dog

E: Answer D and then put one in your own worthless lump on your shoulders

JESUS BABY-PUNCHING CHRIST - WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH SOME PEOPLE?!?!?!

BEWARE

2009-08-26T01:19:00.000-05:00

BEEEEEEEWAAAAAAAAARRRRRREEEEEEE!!!

that is all...

"Let's all just calm the fuck down..."

2009-08-09T23:52:00.007-05:00

So anyway, I read this article on CNN.com and immediately thought of Lew Black:

"They've won!!! We don't have to worry about the terrorists immobilizing us...we've done it to ourselves!"

OK, so granted he was talking about the fact that The Weather Channel is the most watched television station in the country. But I think the point still applies. What the fuck is wrong with people - they're running around in a full blown panic because they can't "TWEET" what color the shit they just let was!!! "It's like my heart was gone...I felt so empty inside" - FUCK YOU, and your pathetic, pointless, bullshit nonsense! Go outside and make an actual friend you ignorant fuck!!!

And what's the deal with this goddamned Twitter thing anyway?! I'll admit - I signed up for it right after I heard about it. Yeah, I signed up...spent about 27 seconds there - and then gave it a hearty "fuck this" and moved on. I mean, what is it really? It's Facebook, sans EVERYTHING except the status update feature! No bells, no whistles - hell, the bells and whistles were basically pissed on, then set on fire! Someone please explain to me the point of a site that's sole purpose is to leave a message to anyone and everyone as to what it is you're doing at any given moment! Well let's see world - I just pooed; now I'm staring off into space; now I'm watching flies fuck; now I'm taking a bite of my mashed potatoes; now I'm about to walk headlong into a speeding freight train because I won't take the time to look up from my friggin' phone; now I'm one-handing this because the other one's tossing my willy 'round a bit...AHHH...brb - gotta clean that hand off!!!

Why?

The missus signed up too, just out of curiosity - she hasn't been back either. Oddly enough, she has something like 20 "followers" (I have three I think). Talk about the express line to fucking NOWHERE!!! There are at least 20 individuals somewhere in this world that are waiting to see what someone they've never seen, met or have any connections to whatsoever is up to - and talk about your exercises in futility! Neither of us are going back...ever! God help anyone who's universe centers on waiting to see what I'm up to. You know, there's another group of people who have "followers" - they're called CULT LEADERS!!! Just as an experiment, I should go out and collect as many as I can - then Tweet all the males to ritualistically shave their balls before they castrate themselves with a rusty butter knife...you know, just to see how many would actually do it. Wonder if I could get a harem going along that same principle?

What does it say about a culture who's members have a complete meltdown because they can't (what essentially amounts to) leave a public text message? Now we have a website that lets you leave a text for the whole damned world. And I thought the whole text message craze was bad enough. I really don't get the point of that either. It's...a fucking PHONE!!! You dial a number, and you can actually talk, to a real live person - no shit! Whodathunkit! Naaaah...fuck that! Why actually communicate when you can have a god damned spell-a-thon with them? While we're at it, I'll use it to play games and check my e-mail too! A phone - whatever! Seriously, what's next - using video communication to speak to each other with Morse code?!?! I can just see it - two fucking idiots staring at each other via computer screen; they don't say a word...they just tap at each others faces with a series of dots and dashes! Don't know Morse code - don't worry...there's probably a fucking iPhone App to teach you!!!

A global meltdown because people couldn't fuckin' Tweet...for two goddamned hours no less - Jesus H. Christ!!! At this rate, I predict that about 60 - 70% of the Earth's population will have forgotten how to wipe their own asses within 15 years. Now THAT'S a goddamned epidemic! Mass hysteria, riots, chaos of biblical proportions as people crowd the streets because they can't figure out how to get the shit off their asses! Can we collectively agree to, henceforth, refer to Twitter-ers as twats?! ...Or twits - I suppose you could go with both, make them gender specific...that might be fun!

Christ, where's a copy of the fuckin' Guide when you need one - someone needs to tell these people don't fucking panic!

"I...am...SO...PISSED...OFF...RIGHT...NOW!!!"

2009-07-27T19:28:00.005-05:00

So anyway, Star Trek II arrived today - normally cause for celebration indeed...

...HOWEVER...

I open it, and lo what should I find but - A BIG FUCKIN' SCRATCH OVER THE LAST 30 MINUTES!!!

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

must...kill...
must...kill...anyone...
...anyone...will...do...
blood...
must...have...blood...

BWAAAAAAHHHHH?!?!?!

2009-07-13T01:40:00.006-05:00

First, you were terrified by the horror of the infamous McDonald's Hot Coffee Lawsuit!

You couldn't bring yourself to gaze upon the terror that was the Chicken McNugget 911 Call!

But NOTHING could prepare you for...

THIS

Brain. Hurting.
Someone. Please. Explain.
Too. Much. Stupidity.
Common...Sense...

...failing...

__/\__________/\__/\______/\____________________________

..."He's dead, Jim."

"NO! NO! NO! ...This one goes there, that one goes there! Got it?!"

2009-07-07T03:15:00.010-05:00

So anyway, I've been thinking a bit about something Herr V asked me yesterday. Since I had seen Revenge of the Fallen twice, he asked me my opinion on the track sequencing for the score album. I suggested the following (a guess mind you, but a pretty damned good one if I do say so myself):

N.E.S.T.

The Shard

Heed Our Warning

Einstein's Wrong

The Fallen (I'm not certain this is an actual cue in the film)

Forest Battle

The Fallen Arrives

Tomb of the Primes

Precious Cargo

Infinite White

The Matrix of Leadership

I Claim Your Sun

I Rise, You Fall

I wasn't sure where to put "Prime". I'm of the opinion that it, like "The Fallen", isn't an actual cue - but a thematic suite. This all got me thinking about track sequencing in general and the sometimes odd decisions that are made by the composer/album producer as to where to put what. It used to be that nearly all albums were sequenced for "listenablility" rather than placed in film order. Lately however, with more and more of the music from the film (typically) going on the CD, the albums are more often being presented in chronological order.

I understand the idea of resequencing cues for shorter album presentations. With large chunks of material being left out altogether, it makes perfect sense to rearrange things so that the overall listening experience is heightened. This idea though makes albums like Revenge of the Fallen all the more puzzling and irritating. I commented at length on V's ROTF score post about my frustrations with the album as a whole, so I'll simply reiterate here that I found the album somewhat disappointing. Particularly for it's length - it's blaringly obvious that many of the cues of the album were truncated, giving us sometimes half or less of the music from the scene that the track title eludes to (N.E.S.T. especially pissed me off as it ends just prior *spoiler warning* to Optimus hopping out of the C31 in Shanghai to kick some Decepticon ass!). And it's even more obvious that a BIG chunk of the score was left off altogether. So...the album is obviously sequenced out of film order, but...why?! The placement of the cues on the CD is such that it stacks most of the more exciting material at the end, leaving a sort of void in the middle. I figure if you're gonna fuck with it, at least intersperse an action cue after every couple of non-action cues.

John Williams' Star Wars prequel albums were really bad about this sort of thing. Ok, so...obviously we weren't going to get complete score albums at the time of release. Add to that all the tracking-in from The Phantom Menace that occurred with AOTC and ROTS - and the potential for disappointment sails off the chart. I'd still like a definitive answer on how much new (and obviously unused) material Williams wrote for those lengthy sequences at the end of both of those films - as I write this, I'm listening to expanded additions of AOTC and ROTS that I've "acquired". All that tracking-in is really fuckin' odd, and just damned frustrating ...But I digress. The albums stacked any and all new thematic suites at the front of the album - ok, sure...I get that. And it's not that the album tracks were presented out of order, it's that the music within many of the tracks was cut and pasted together from all-the-fuck-over the movies! The "Main Titles" were really bad - sure it'd start out with the main title, then rather than presenting the music that accompanied the opening scene, it would jump to a cue from 20 frickin' minutes later in the movie! Zimmer splices cues together in a similar manner; been doing it for almost every album he's put out - but at least his music isn't all that thematically dense, so it's not so jarringly obvious when cues from multiple sequences have been merged.

Michael Giacchino's Star Trek is another great example. The tracks are presented in film order. The music within those tracks isn't a product of cue splicing from various parts of the picture. Many of them however are very cropped. Then there's the issue of the fact that most of the middle act of the film is MIA. And it's short...too fucking short! I think most of us would argue in favor of a 70+minute album for this one...it's that good! But, given what we ended up getting, the result makes for quite a good listen. The middle act of Star Trek, like most middle acts, is full of exposition. The music for those scenes reflects this. So, I guess I'd argue in favor of keeping the album shorter in that regard, especially if they weren't planning on giving us the complete (or nearly so) score. And sensibly, what we did get constituted mostly action music, so the album never gets a bogged-down-in-the-middle sort of feeling. I suppose in my mind a good rule of thumb would be: If your score album is going to contain 60 or more minutes of music, you absolutely should sequence the tracks in film order. Logically, this makes perfect sense - the music (in theory...assuming the composer knows what he/she is doing) should match the ebb and flow of the drama/action on screen. So with a lengthy album, there should theoretically be a good sampling of music from all over the film - a good listening experience will just occur naturally. If your score album is going to be short - stack it with a good sampling of the more exciting material, then order it for listenablility. That's my two cents anyway...

More Than Meets the Giant, Glistening Boobies

2009-07-02T04:24:00.006-05:00

So anyway, did you hear there's a new Transformers movie out? You did...really?! Hmph - I had no idea, nary a peep on the TV, radio, internets, billboards...nothin'. Oh, I know why...that singer guy died the other day - that's why I haven't heard anything about it. OK, well now that that's resolved. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen - a 150 minute vfx-porn extravaganza. But that's what most of Mike Bay's movies are right...fx porn. That's not porn with special effects (although how cool would that be?!). I would define fx-porn as a movie who's sole intent is to elicit a full-fledged geek-gasm via a complete, visual skull-fuck onslaught. That's what Bay does...he fucks your brain with visuals. Great performances from the performers...a minor concern. Plot coherency and sensibility - fuck that! Does it have a shot following a bomb as it leaves a Japanese Zero all the way to the point of impact on the U.S. destroyer that makes you want to come in your pants?! Fuckin' A right!!! That's the Michael Bay film aesthetic.

As everyone on the planet has heard by now - and I'm even talking about little, lost tribes of pygmies in the Amazon and the lizard people at the Earth's core - Transformers: ROTF had made some considerable bank despite a tepid critical response and general disdain from the fanboy community. Fuck fanboys, we've already covered their biggest problem in prior posts - in this case, these particular giant fucking robots committing carnage aren't doing so in the specific, precise manner that the über-geeks have been masturbating about since they were 12. As for the critics, well...revenge (pun intended) is a dish best served loud and green. Does the movie have problems, issues, concerns, troubles, consternations, etc? Absolutely!!! I'd say one of it's biggest problems is Bay himself. T:ROTF, more than any previous Bayfilm, feels as though he was given free reign to go completely and totally balls-out - they gave him almost a quarter of a billion dollars to make it...and he went frakkin' nuts! And in the end, the film actually suffers for it - but just a smidge. The movie is absolutely a study in visual excess. Let's face it, we're all going for the insane, giant-fucking-robot carnage...but there's almost too much to take in. To that end, I offer that the majority of the critics did have one issue correct - the middle act...needs work!

Unfortunately, this movie is (glaringly) a product of a rushed production schedule, and the WGA strike. It was reported a year ago that Alex Kurtzman and Rob Orci had about two weeks prior to the strike to hammer out a treatment and give it to Bay to, ermm..."flesh out". Bay's not a WGA member - he can do what he wants to it while the real writers are out of the office. On top of that, when the writers did come back to work, Ehren Kruger was brought in as a script polisher. Now, IMHO, and as evidenced by a recent film with young men and women boldly going and whatnot, Kurtzman and Orci wouldn't seem to really need a script doctor. In this case, I'd say Freddie Kruger would be a more appropriate moniker for the man. He hacked it to little bits. He's also responsible for the awesomness that is Blood and Chocolate, The Ring and The Ring II, The Skeleton Key, and of course who could forget...Reindeer Games! Particular low-points in ROTF include the (as I counted) 7 references to testicles (four by that Leo douchebag), the Jar-Jar twins and their just-slightly-over-the-top racially offensive personae, and as previously mentioned...the entire middle act. In the end, the movie is really only 15 minutes longer than the first one. The major gripe from the critical community from the first was that it had no plot. This new entry seems to drown in 2nd-Act exposition. As is always the case, no one ever asks us (the educated, seemingly intelligent, laid-back movie fan) our opinion on things (I make the assumption that there are considerably more of us out there than my tiny little readership). If they had, say, asked someone like...me...I would have offered a simple solution. Trim the middle act by 20 minutes of what is there, and substitute about 5 to 10 more minutes of the meat and potatoes of this movie...i.e. MORE GIANT-FUCK-ROBOT-CARNAGE!!! A simple answer would have been for the Decepticons to make good on their threats of worldwide destruction for not handing Sam over. There...problem solved. I offer that a good rule of thumb for future installments would be to have GFR's beating the hell out of...something...every twenty minutes or so.

The human element of both of these movies was a bit too much really. There were too many humans in the first. The second smartly excised the superfluous characters from the first, but then just went and threw in a few new ones seemingly just for the hell of it. Even the ones that only appeared for a few moments...just weren't entirely necessary (I'm looking at you Egyptian Checkpoint Scene!!!). I'm not going to quibble over the return of Sam's parents...his mom in particular cracks me up. I like Major Lennox and Sgt. Epps (Josh Duhamel and Tyrese Gibson), I thought they were grossly underused here. Isabel Lucas, a.k.a. The Fembot - WOW! At one point I thought Bay was literally going to put the camera up her ass - not a bad thing mind you. I agree totally with something Brad told me: where the fuck are these colleges at?! How does one east coast school manage to wrangle up every insanely fuckable woman on the planet and put them in one place?! Then there's the title (of my post) character...Mikaela. I maintain that her sole purpose in both movies was to give all the male members of the audience, ages 10 to 203, a reason to pop a load in their pants. That has to be the purpose of her character - there is no other reason for her. To prove it, let me submit this question: ever notice that in both Transformers movies, Megan Fox...is moist...all the time?!?! There isn't a single moment in either movie where some part of her skin isn't shimmering from wet. It's usually her bust...but regardless, some portion of her body is wet. She could've been placed into a scene baking a cake at a convent, and she'd still look like she was lubed up for a day at the beach/strip club! I think we should at least be grateful that it's Michael Bay shooting her - let's face it, he (particularly in this new installment) basically fucks her with the camera in every shot she's in! And the world is a better place for it. I honestly do hope there is some real acting talent under all that unrelenting gorgeousness...I'd like to see her around in the future. If not...then I suppose there's always porn (please God...PLEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEEE!!!).

Jablonsky returned for music duties (as expected). And, well...he brought Hans and Linkin Park with him. Again...excess. I like Linkin Park, but they weren't needed here. Neither was Hans' influence on the overall sound of the score. I haven't heard the score away from the film, but what I did hear in the film (under all the calamity) I wasn't blown away by (figuratively) as I was with the score for the original. I like the consistency with the Optimus theme every time he appeared. I don't care how many times I see it, when Optimus Prime transforms...it kicks 31 flavors of fucking ass! And the Optimus theme is a great support system for said ass kicking. But it seems to me...and I don't know how this is possible, the elements from the first score were actually dumbed down. The Media Ventures/Remote Control compositional aesthetic was/is/forever-shall-be bold, ass-kicking music via the lowest common denominator. The scores for Transformers I & II are no exception. But the first was really a breath of fresh air from what most of us have come to expect from the MV guys. Unfortunately here, it lost itself somewhere. Brad had a point, maybe that was the point of Hans' presence - to make sure the music projected over the rest of the cacophony. Mission accomplished I supposed...but it definitely lost a little of the magic in the process.

So, in the end, what's my verdict? It needed a touch-up or two, but overall I really fucking liked it! I went apeshit over everything that I was supposed to go apeshit over, and I tagged along for the ride on the rest. That's not a bad thing...given the ingredients in the mix, it coulda/woulda/shoulda been a complete and total clusterfuck. But it wasn't, it really wasn't! I just hope they polish the ever-lovin' shit out of the next one. Because I'm already game for round three of insane-ginormous-transforming-fucking-robots-from-space carnage - but I'll wait...patiently...do us all a favor folks, and get this next one just right!

for those that are counting, this is the third day in a row with a new post...I'm thinking one more and the entire space-time continuum as we know it will collapse - thoughts?!

The Boredom Trough

2009-07-01T05:50:00.008-05:00

So anyway, the mundanity of my job, it would seem, has apexed. I can't get on Facebook at work...it's blocked. I can't get on MySpace at work, it too...is blocked. I can't install anything interesting on my work PC (e.g. iTunes, Quicktime, etc) - they're (you guessed it) blocked. Pogo, Boxerjam, IGN...hell even fucking Victoria's Secret* (?!) - blocked, blocked, blocked and blocked. I'm sure if I was so inclined I could actually get on Stinky McPoon's House O'Dirty Bitchez** (.com) and browse around - it wouldn't surprise me in the least if places like that were available to me. Of course going somewhere like that would be the fastest track to a pink slip EVER - they apparently do monitor those kinds of things. I could buy a dildo and a leather bondage mask on Ebay, but I can't check my Facebook page...priorities seem a little misplaced there somehow. Incidentally, I have read the Wiki bio's for just about every porn star since 1986 - that, apparently, they're ok with. And currently, there isn't enough going on during my shift to actually fill an entire work evening for the three of us that are still here (we really only need two people on any given night).

So what praytell do I fill my night with (when I'm not reading, and since I can't afford a MacBook to do any composing on). I'll tell you...Microsoft Solitaire. Oh wait, there's more! It's not just any old fucking Microsoft Solitaire, no, no, no that'd be too-the-fuck-easy! No...I've expanded upon it - cuz let's face it, how many games can anyone play of plain old Solitaire before they're bored stupid?! It essentially goes down like this:

I play single-card-draw, Vegas-scoring Microsoft Solitaire - which means once you've gone through the draw pile a single time, you're done...and I've added rules of my own. See I play it like it's a tournament...in my mind. Each new game starts you off $52 in the hole. My tournament rules require that in order to draw a second deal during any given game, the player must at least score high enough to put themselves in the black. If not, that player (me) is disqualified, the game is closed, and a new player (still me) can open a new game. If the player on his first deal gets into the black, but doesn't actually win the hand, he/she (me) is eligible to re-deal and try again. That player may then continue re-dealing for each losing game until they have passed -$100. At that point their turn is also over...UNLESS (and here's where it starts to get really interesting/insane)...

...the arbiters decide that said player is worthy of another deal. That's right...I said arbiters - plural. In my head, I have a panel of three adjudicators who are watching the progress of the current player (still just me), and can decide if they've (I've) been doing well enough to warrant one more chance (i.e. the play has resulted in a deficit of say...-$102). But wait...there's STILL more! This little tourny of mine has an audience and fucking broadcast announcers! Oh yeah baby...Bob Fucking Costas and some other pompous douchebag who once won a tournament some years back are fucking COMMENTATORS for my little psychotic break here!!! How awesomely insane is that?!?! The audience (in my mind) actually gets excited when things go well for me! I even have an imagined past champion (ala Bobby Fischer) who won big years ago and hasn't been seen in ages...and the commentators make comparative references to him as I'm playing!!! They even act as though there's some actual skill involved - like it's not all (or mostly) up to chance!

The fucking game even has it's own slang/jargon. The arbiters...have penalties! If a player (again...still just me!) pulls a card that he can't play and tries to lay it down - they call out "penalty". If the player does it and gets away with it...it's called a "Scot-Free" (as in I got away with it...you know...). The player gets three penalties per game, if he reaches the third, he's automatically disqualified regardless of how good or bad he's playing. The penalties are only used to either eject a player, or in consideration when it's time for the arbiters to decide the players fate (when they're just over the -$100 deficit). If the player pulls a scoring card back into play to place a card off the draw pile, it's called a "sacrifice". If two aces are dealt face up, it's a "double-whammy", three is a "triple-whammy", four is a "grand-slam". Each deal costs you $52, so if you win back enough to cover your deal, it's called "holding your own". Doing this repeatedly is called "holding on for your life". A round that results in little or no monetary gain is called a "shitty deal". Oh, and get this...a player has to resign his game with a score in the black in order to qualify for next season's tournament. There was even a bit of a conspiracy a couple weeks ago when the douchebag commentator accused a player who was doing a bang-up job of holding on for his life...of cheating!!! There's even more, but I'll save it lest someone be compelled to call Two Rivers and have me committed!

So...now what?! Well, the way I see it you have two choices really. One: just pretend like this whole post never happened and try to forget just how psychotic your old pal The Pikey has really become, or Two: try it for yourself and see just how much of a hoot it really is (and it is quite fun, hahahahahahahahaha)!

The decision...is yours...

*A while back before it was blocked, I would occasionally stop by and browse for birthday/anniversary/mother's day/Christmas gift ideas (for the Missus, for the MISSUS)...so, nothing weird really (but can't do that anymore)

**This isn't really a website, as far as I know anyway...I'll let someone else find out for certain.

Strange Days

2009-06-30T02:52:00.004-05:00

So anyway - seems to be quite the odd little world we live on here in the last couple weeks or so, eh? My celebrity obit column has more or less imploded on itself, kinda like the Freeling house at the end of Poltergeist - you know, leaving nothing but this glimmer of light just sort of emanating from nowhere. If things like this really come in three's, then I figure we should expect two more within the next few days. First good ol' Ed McMahon, then Farrah and MJ on the same day. Then, day before yesterday we get Bill Mays (aka - the Screaming Salesman/Guy-who-single-handedly-made-me-want-to-destroy-my-TV-every-time-he-came-on-it). So technically...that's four (you can debate the pros v cons of calling Mays a celebrity to yourselves - I count him because, unfortunately, he was on my TV...a lot). I was watching CNN when the ticker at the bottom said that Billy Mays was dead. I...smiled. Is that completely awful, or just mostly awful? I mean really, the first thing that popped into my mind was "Well...at least I won't have that asshole screaming at me anymore." What's worse, Mrs. Pikey kinda smiled too when I told her...and more or less said the same thing I did. So...did she start out evil or have I turned her to the dark side after all these years? If it's the latter, then sorry baby! But if it's the former...shit, what kind of gal did I hitch myself to anyway?!?!

So...Michael Jackson. Lew Black said once that Michael Jackson had basically become a punchline for any joke - Why did the chicken cross the road?...Michael Jackson! Yeah, ok...so it works. Still, regardless of your thoughts on the man, his music, his turmoil, his...erm, eccentricities, consider this for a second: Michael Jackson's death has garnered more worldwide attention than any other person or event (save 9/11) since Elvis died. In fact, his death has done to the world wide web what no other event (including 9/11) has done since it's inception - it nearly collapsed it. The headline on CNN.com read "Michael Jackson dies and nearly takes the Internet with him!" Now that is funny! Servers all around the world were locking-up and even crashing because of the influx of people craving more information on what happened to this one man. Good or bad, love him or loathe him, that says an awful lot about the effect he had on this world. I for one have never had a real problem with Michael Jackson. I've always been a fan of his early musical output - yes...I had a Thriller jacket when I was six - fuck you very much. And argue with me all you want, but I never really bought into the whole paedophilia thing...fuck you again, I'm sorry, but I don't believe it. I give you that yes - the man was weird. Eccentric doesn't cut the mustard here - he was downright weird. He was a black man who seemingly had a child's mentality...and also had a desire to become a strange, white woman (and the bank account to make it happen). Did he place himself into the questionable position of getting too close to several young boys? Absolutely! Did he ever actually do anything illegal with them...I don't think so. But what do I know? I always saw the man who loved children and spent untold fortunes for the benefit of needy children around the world - call it naivete, call it a little gleam of light trying to escape the black hole that is my soul, whatever. That's just how I feel about the subject. "But Pikey - the guy spent millions in payoff to shut that one kid up!" Yeah...he did. That's exactly what he did - he spent millions to make a problem go away, that's not an admission of guilt. Ask yourself this...who was he really paying off? The kid, or his money-grubbing parents who saw an opportunity to make a quick buck by exploiting an odd situation that they allowed their child to get into?! Did anyone ever consider that the mere accusation was devastating to the man and that throwing a shitload of money at it was simply a way to make it go away so he could move on? It's a stretch, but it's possible! Rest in Peace Mike...you really were the King. Anyway, a person could go on and on about this shit (too late?)...

Then there's Bernie Madoff. Yesterday, he got 150 years for bilking all those people out of billions of dollars. I'll say that again - yesterday, he got 150 years for bilking all those people out of billions of dollars. I'd say he got off easy. Sure, he's 71, he'll serve (I'd guess) about 10 years of that sentence before he either dies of old age or trauma from his weekly ass-pounding. The government has seized over $160 million of his assets for restitution to his victims. That's nice - sorry you lost everything, here's a coupon for a free cheeseburger and a prostate massage! His wife, Ruth, was allowed to keep something in the neighborhood of $2.5 million in assets so as not to be left with nothing...awwwwwww...poor, poor lady! This was also to avoid prosecution as an accomplice. Too bad she's gonna charter the first flight to Switzerland she can get and start siphoning off the billions from the offshore accounts the U.S. government couldn't touch. It's going to happen...you know it, I know it, she knows it! Which in my mind makes her as big a crook as him! If there was any real justice in the world, he would've been sentenced to having his nuts smashed repeatedly by all his victims, one by one, with one of those carnival "ring-the-bell" hammers. "WINNER, WINNER, CHICKEN DINNER!" Then they could all take turns showing Mrs. Madoff's asshole the business end of a cattle prod. I see a reality TV show somewhere in the near future...

So, forgive the righteous indignation for a moment, but when the fuck are we just going to go ahead and nuke the entire Middle East and get it over with?!?! We don't like them, they don't like us - they're never going to like us. The West is always going to be the scapegoat for everything that's wrong in their world. A world that, I might add, seems perpetually stuck in the dark ages. It's wonderful that the U.S. military is going to start pulling out of the major cities in Iraq, really it is! But the real tragedy of it all (aside from the 5000+ American lives pointlessly lost over there) is that as soon as we're gone for good, the place is going to erupt into an all-out civil war anyway! The Muslims can't even get along with each other...how the hell can anyone expect them to get along with us pathetic infidels?! Don't even get me started on Iran...that "election" was the most ginormous, stinkiest pile of camel shit in the long, sad history of camel shit analogous elections. They know it...the rest of the world knows it...they know the rest of the world knows it! The Ayatollah and Ahmenlkaasdflgksadflhse1241tdfgw45rtporjad want "the bomb"...and that wasn't going to happen with Moussavi in charge. Sorry if that all seemed kind of like a buttload of generalized angst, but if I think too hard or get into too many details - the bad people in my head start talking to me! While we're on the subject (the Middle East, not my psyche), my mom's neighbor's son Josh is getting shipped over to Afghanistan in 3 months...he's a good kid, played Horn in band, got decent grades, never gave his folks a lot of grief, so if you've got a free prayer or blessing handy, might want to shoot it his way for me.

Alright, suppose I'll cut this one off...wouldn't want Brad's eyes melting out of his head from reading too much or anything! Too late Brad? Fuck it...you'll live.

SQUIRREL!!!

2009-06-09T07:30:00.006-05:00

So anyway, this past Saturday we were supposed to make our long overdue (as usual) trip to St. Joe to visit the in-laws. Why the hell after all this time they can't band up in an SUV or something and come-the-fuck down here to see their grandson/nephew/etc is beyond me, but I digest (ahem...). Unfortunately, the Monkey broke his wrist on Thursday, and by Saturday morning, he didn't seem all that up for a road trip. See, there's a silver lining in there...my poor boy's misery worked to my advantage - cruel sounding I know, but hey, whatever avoids a day in hillbilly hell is good for me no matter how it came about. At any rate...we seized the opportunity to take the little bugger to his first movie...

...Up.

Mrs. Pikey and I had already seen it once, though regrettably not in 3D (we're gonna make one more round of it to cover that base soon). Michael's been kinda itching for it ever since he saw the teaser trailer on the Wall E DVD. For him, watching that 30-second trailer was almost as exciting as the 90 minutes of movie that followed. Inevitabry, every time we would put the disc in for him the first thing out of his mouth would be: BOONS!!! (that's balloons in 3-year-old!). So...between the boons, the talking dogs, and that giant, goofy bird, it was just about a shoe-in that lil' man would love his first experience at a cinema. And boy did he! And why not...Pixar's now 10 for 10. It's like they just do not know how to make a bad movie. I'll admit, Up didn't have that certain something that, as I was watching, made me think, "Wow, I'm witnessing something really special here!" the way Wall E did. Honestly, of all of Pixar's feature films, Wall E's the only one that had that effect on me. The Incredibles was close...a credit to Brad Bird I think, but don't take any of that as a slant against the company's other works. I wonder what it would take to wrestle the rights to The Iron Giant away from Warners and let Bird direct a Pixar produced sequel? Pipe dreams I'm sure...but wow what a movie that'd be! Anyway...

Pixar just has this magic touch...more than Fox, or Dreamworks, or even Disney's Cell Animation studio (past and present) - they just have the right combination of talent and vision to put out a fantastic product with every effort. I know Cars isn't everyone's cup of tea, and some folks have issues with Toy Story 2 and/or Ratatouille, but even if I initially wasn't sure about one of those films (or any of them), I've grown to love them (yeah...even Cars!). I'll take Pixar on a bad day over any two of the other animation studios combined. And Up is no exception. If anything, the film serves to further solidify how smart Pixar is...and how with every film they get better and better at making animation for everyone! Their movies aren't out of reach for even a 3-year-old...and yet have plenty of depth and humor without resorting to silliness for just about any adult. Twice now, Pixar has (arguably) made the best film of the year (with The Incredibles and Wall E), yet Oscar was just too afraid to admit that a cartoon was better than anything made with "real" people. That may very well hold true again this year - I don't know what's in store for the fall season, but it's gonna have to be damn good. Like I said, Up isn't Wall E, but it's still fan-fuckin'-tastic. And besides...how many Wall E's can any one studio have in a lifetime?!

I do have to say that Up is likely Pixar's most "adult" film to date...despite the obvious ideas aimed at children (I'll get to that in a second). Sure, The Incredibles had its share of violence and mayhem, marking the studio's first PG-rated effort - but I wouldn't say that's necessarily cause to call it an "adult" film. Up has it's share of violence, but that isn't what makes it a little more grown up. Without giving away much detail, what stands apart with this film is the way it deals with life and living, and death. It might sail over the heads of some of the film's core audience, but that's ok...there's plenty there for the wee folk too. Death, as most child development experts and psychiatric types will tell you, is a subject most people are physically unable to really grasp until after the age of 5 or 6, sometimes even later than that. The brain of a child that age just can't grasp the concept yet. Up deals with this in a touching, unique, and really damned intelligent way...and that's through implication. And while it's tragic (particularly in one instance), it's also very touching (I'll admit it...I cried...a couple of times).

Then...there's Dug! Pixar always has that one character...one that's simple, and cute, and just uproariously funny. Here - that's Dug. Dug...is a dog, a dog with a collar that let's him talk to people. We've all wondered what exactly our pets are thinking (assuming they could think in our language). Watch a dog on an average day...what could possibly be going through that brain while it: chases its own tail, sniffs and licks its butt, pinches a loaf, harasses the mailman, finds endless hours of pleasure in a rubber ball? I can only say you'd be hard pressed to ever find a better representation of that than what Pixar has done with Dug. Case in point:

"Hi there! My name is Dug! I don't know you...but I LOVE YOU! My master made me this collar so that I could talk to people! He is a good and loving master and he made me this collar so that I could talk to people...SQUIRREL!!!!!!...Hi there!"

You've likely already seen most of that moment in the trailer...so I'll assume I'm not spoiling much for anyone. If so sorry, but...what fuckin' rock have you been living under anyway?! Dug doesn't even have to say anything...like any good dog, he makes things a little brighter just by being there. Having said that...keep an ear open of his, umm..."joke"! It's one of the most awesomely stupid/morbid moments I can recall in recent memory! And Dug isn't alone in the canine absurdity...the introduction of Alpha is likely to leave you in stitches as well. They got Michael's seal of approval - which basically amounts to a festive shouting of "PUPPIES!!!" every time they came on the screen.

Michael Giacchino is a busy muthafucka! He's already blown (most of) us away with his Star Trek score. I have no doubt that regardless of whatever kind of movie it is, the Land of the Lost score is a lot of fun. And now here's Up. Who does a summer blockbuster hat trick anymore? Michael Fuckin' Giacchino, that's who! Pixar really seems to bring out the best in him. Which is kind of a shame because the next two Pixar movies are going to Randy Newman (Toy Story 3 and Cars 2 - 2010 and 2011 respectively). Because let's face it - those are John Lassiter's babies, and he ain't lettin' nobody but Newman score them - though, really...that's probably not going to be a bad thing either. Anyway, as for the Up score, who knew Giacchino had such awesome "throwback to the golden age of scoring" chops?! The overall feel of it is very...vintage. Think MGM from the 40's through the early 60's. The piano work, while simple, is very moving and eloquent. It really pulls at the heartstrings, in ways that would give Tom Newman a run for his money. The whole thing just has an amazing whimsy to it. There's a "jungle trek" cue that really stands out for me - you'll know what I'm talking about when you see/hear it. It's just a shame really that there's no current plans for a CD release. Luckily, it's available on iTunes and other online digital download sites. Or if you'd prefer, and your a dirty fucking PIRATE (I'm not naming names - *Brad...COUGH...COUGH*), I'm sure you'll find some way to get your hands on it...and you really should.

So, that's my take on things I reckon. After that last post I thought I'd keep it a little shorter for you folks (but just a little). Anyway...up and away, get out and see the gold standard in animation soon as you can - it's well worth it...even if you are the only adults without children in the audience (creeeeeeeeppppppyyyyyyyy!!!).

To Boldly Go...and All That Shit...

2009-06-02T00:53:00.004-05:00

So anyway, enough fiddle-fucking around I suppose. So...Star Trek. Has anyone not seen it yet? No? Good...then I can proceed without fear of pissing on anyone's Corn Flakes. So where to begin. I suppose HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT is as good a place as any! My initial reaction after my first viewing was nothing short of complete and total geek-gasm in my pants. Seriously...the last time I had a smile like that on my face, my wife had just finished...er, uh, ummmmmm...never mind. But I thought, "No...I'll wait. I'll save my thoughts and reactions until I've had a second viewing. You know Mike, be a little more objective once you've had a second run at absorbing everything."

Did that work out like I planned. Yeah, um...not so much no (Sorry, thanks for playing - here's a lovely parting gift for you. What do we have for our contestant today Bill? Why it's a toaster Bob...that you can FUCK!). In all seriousness though, you'd have to be one bitter, hostile and cold motherfucker not to find something awesome to love in this new iteration on the adventures of Captain James T. I-Should-Totally-Have-Lost-My-Cock-To-Space-Chlamydia-By-Now Kirk and Co. In Insurrection, Ad'har Ru'afu insultingly commented that the Federation was old. And so too it seemed was Star Trek after the complete and utter box-office failure that was Nemesis (still largely the fault of Paramount's advertising department if you ask me), and Enterprise getting cut off after four struggling seasons. Prior to this film, the longest gap between any two Star Trek films was four years (between Insurrection and Nemesis), and averaged 2-and-a-half years. So it would seem, seven really is a lucky number.

So, from the minds of wunder-producer/director/writer J.J. Abrahms, and hit-or-miss screenwriters Alex Kurtzman & Roberto Orci (I mean really...The Island?!) comes a...restart/reboot/re-imagining of one of the most (arguably, I suppose) beloved ideas (sci-fi or otherwise) of at least the last century. I must admit, I hate this whole Hollywood concept of reboots/re-imaginings - there's just something so fake about it. With a few exceptions (this film being one of them), it demonstrates an unnerving laziness and lack of originality worming its way through the film and television industry. Remakes are nothing new in La La Land. There are 3 film versions and one TV miniseries about Beau Geste, and about 15 or so variations on Jane Eyre. I suppose that's the more "high-brow" end of the spectrum. Then there's the polar opposite, the likes of say...Friday the 13th. A film who just last year saw a "remake/re-imagining" even though the original is not even 30 years old and spawned 9 sequels.

Wait a minute...30 years/9 sequels - ok...that's weird. I just used that little factoid to piss all over one franchise when the exact same rule (or nearly so) applies to the subject at hand. Or at least the Star Trek film universe anyway. I suppose the difference is that one is an intelligent, engaging, and optimistic view of the future of humanity, and the other is about a mutant, all-pro linebacker in a hockey mask that likes to hack n' slash co-ed's whilst their boobies be showin'. Anyway, to get back on track, Star Trek as a concept has been desperately in need of a new set of eyes for a while - fresh blood if you will. I say they got it in spades. Dicking around with the space-time continuum is a bit of an old hat in the Trek universe. So, initially, hearing that this story was another time travel plot met with many a groan throughout fandom. But I think the take Abrahms and Co. took with it is actually quite refreshing. It basically allowed them to tell an origins story, and do it essentially with a clean slate - not always having to adhere to the 'oh-so-precious' Trek canon that so many Trekkies (literally in some cases I think) live their lives by. One of the really cool things (something I think some of the more hostile fans haven't considered) is that some or perhaps even most of the adventures we know this crew has already had can still happen - it may happen a little differently, but they'll still happen. Some of them have to happen - V'Ger is still on it's way, so is the whale probe; and Khan is out there...somewhere. The possiblities are almost endless. This gamble of theirs also allowed them to completely take some things that most superfans (and even those casually acquainted with Trek) take for granted and completely turn them on their heads - even one or two actual "Holy Fuck" moments.

I think one of the first of those was before production even began. It was that little moment (I think during San Diego Comic Con) almost two years ago or so when Abrahms walked out on stage with Zach Quinto and Leonard Nimoy and announced that the former would be portraying the younger version of the latter and both were going to be in the new Star Trek film (opening Christmas 2008 - yeah...that happened - fucking Paramount!). Generally speaking, I'd guess most of us were somewhere in the neighborhood of "Holy Shit...that's fucking BRILLIANT!!!". Otherwise, the film lay in a sort of "what is it?/good?/bad?" limbo until it was released last month - especially after Paramount announced it was moving the release by six months. Normally a move from winter to summer would indicate that they thought they had something good on their hands. But no one really knew, did they? I'd argue that they had something more than just 'good'...this is downright special. Abrahms has gone somewhere with Trek that even good ol' Gene Roddenberry couldn't seem to muster - he's made a Trek film for everyone.

Star Trek 2009 is a film that opens up the whole Trek universe to a new legion of fans and simultaneously engages and entertains most of the long-established fanbase. It would seem the only one's left feeling as though they just witnessed the rape and murder of their grandma by the family dog are the über-est of the über-Trekkies. Well...they can go back to fucking their blow-up Orion slave-girl love dolls in their mom's basements anytime they want. This Trek essentially took the layout and characters from a long-standing franchise, and cranked up the adrenaline by applying all the dazzle and pizazz of a slam-bang summer action blockbuster. And it works...for what ever reason, it works - gloriously. And it's ballsy. Getting back to those 'holy fuck' moments, what have we got: Obviously the biggest one - they fucking destroyed Vulcan...three words: GIANT BRASS COJONES. Then, let's see...how'sabout: They killed Spock's mom - Jebuth! Then: Spock's bangin' Uhura - Holy Jebuth! And then there's all the little in-jokes and references wallpapering the whole film - off the top of my head, a few of my favorites: Chekov's inability to pronounce V's; Kirk's complete inability to think with anything but his dick; Bones' space paranoia; the obligatory red-shirt demise; the Kobayashi Maru test (lamented by some - but I abso-fuckin'-lutely loved it); that slight "Shatner-esque" moment at the end when Kirk steps onto the bridge for the first time as the 'official' captain of the Enterprise; Captain Pike's seemingly predestined fate to end up in a wheelchair; the disappearance of Captain, er sorry...Admiral Archer's beagle. Some of it's in your face, some of it oh-so-subtle - but I loved so very much of it.

I thought generally, the casting was quite brilliant as well. I'd just like to say that Bruce Greenwood should be in every movie made from now on...ever. I didn't care for the look they gave Anton Yelchin's Chekov (he was brilliant in Terminator:Salvation btw), but the character and mannerisms were dead on. You can add Zoe Saldana to the list of women whom I'd like to suffocate beneath their buttocks...oh and her Uhura wasn't bad either. I found it odd that they cast a Korean to play an iconic Japanese man...but wtf, 'Harold' did a good job with what they gave him. I agree with Brad that it was a little bit of a bummer that we had to sit through half of the film before Simon Pegg's Scotty showed up - but it was well worth the wait (even if they did give him a weird little sidekick). Karl Urban's Bones was awesomely grouchy. If there was a fault to be had, it was that he was the only one who seemed to be trying to emulate their predecessor's performance of the character (that and the fact that he had the wrong eye-color...I know, details...). It was really geek-tastic (at least for me anyway) to see Lenny Nimoy play Spock one more time (even if the part was sort-of shoehorned in). He's been Spock for 43 years, there's a nuance, a sort of I dunno...comfort to seeing him. Like an old blanket your grandmother gave you. He is Spock, and he's always a welcome sight.

I read a comment on a website somewhere (I don't recall where) where someone was griping that the Romulan's all had Australian accents. Well let's examine that for a minute - for one: only two Romulan's had speaking parts in the film; and two: of those - only one is actually Australian; and three: the one that is Australian never spoke with an Australian accent. Bana's Nero, if not for the fact that he was a genocidal bastard hell-bent on his quest for revenge, almost seemed charming. I love his "Hi Christopher...I'm Nero." response to Captain Pike - hilarious. Nero...while not quite on par in villainy as Khan (will there ever be?), was an adequate nemesis for this film, and Bana's performance of him was adequately menacing (maybe too strong of a word) in turn. Then there are the two leads: Kirk and (young) Spock - Chris Pine and Zach Quinto. Boy oh boy...you know, I can't remember the last time, or maybe anytime, that two actors took two pre-established roles, especially ones as iconic as Jim Kirk and Spock, and really made them their own; really without any hint of emulation, parroting, mocking, any of that. I honestly believe that this is the best (as characters) Kirk and Spock have been together since The Voyage Home, maybe (maybe) even Wrath of Khan. It was quite effortless really, I was sold on both of them the second they each (respectively) appeared on screen. Quinto perfectly embodied that long-established conflict between Spock's logic and human nature. And Pine absolutely nailed that smart-ass rebel with a wink-in-his-eye but still commanding presence of James Tiberius Kirk. I simply can not wait for summer of 2011, these folks (the whole ensemble that is) really need to get back on the screen again - they just fit together.

Brad said he took the slightest issue with the 'stopping a supernova/supernova that could destroy the galaxy' plot element. I only slightly agree with half of that. I agree that a little more exposition as to how/why a supernova of the Romulan star could have such an adverse effect on the galaxy could've/would've/should've been included. The other notion, finding fault that they were able to halt the star from going supernova, I dismiss completely. To me, taking issue with that would be to take issue with the entire Star Trek universe. There's a short series of 'prequel' comics released prior to the movie that offer a deal of background detail on the events leading up to the beginning of Star Trek. Amongst those details is that the time-period 'old' Spock came from was roughly 30 or more years after the events of Nemesis. Given where the people of the Federation were technologically in Nemesis, I don't think it's a leap, even a skip really, in logic to think that they would possess the ability to do what Spock was trying to do. Just my two cents on that. Another detail I would've liked to have seen (which would have explained both the Romulan shorn and tat'd heads, as well as Nemo's missing ear tip) would have been the deleted sequence involving Nemo's time in and subsequent escape from the Rura Penthe prison whilst waiting for Spock to arrive in the past (maybe an extended cut DVD in the future eh?).

Then there's Michael Giacchino's score. While it's not quite on par with the grandeur of Jerry's TMP, or even Horner's WOK, it's still quite good. Especially in the context of the film. This score I think had a job to fulfill unique from any of the prior 10. It's really the only one that had to first be an action score, then be a science fiction score. If you listen to the FSM podcast about the new Star Trek from a couple months ago, someone made a comment that Giacchino's main theme sounds more like a counter-line to a stronger 'main' theme. I don't believe I would've put that association together had it not been for that comment - unfortunately, it is a valid point. Still, this new main theme is one of the catchiest fucking things I've heard in a long time. And, I think it's his most solid work to date - perhaps the additional orchestrators (aside from Tim Simonec) had some influence on that. Is Giacchino a busy little fucker lately or what. He's got three big summer scores all within 5 fuckin' weeks of each other. Nobody does that anymore! Anyway, if you head out to jwfan.net and search around there's a discussion thread that lists where all the cues from the score CD fit into the movie, as well as what's missing (somebody's seen this thing waaaaaayyyy too many times already). Essentially, we got a little less than half the score on the CD. Several great bits are missing (about half the ending sequence - including that awesome choral variation of the theme as the Narada gets sucked into the singularity) and some of the cues we did get are incomplete. If you want that awesome main title bit, I think all you need to do is splice the first minute or so from "Enterprising Young Men" to the last 15 seconds from that same cue. Simple as most of it is, I'd still say that overall it's the highlight of my summer movie-going/score listening season so far (still waiting on a few things: Transformers II, Harry Potter, hell even Silvestri's G.I.Joe could be interesting - oh and let's not forget Maestro Goldenthal's return to mainstream film with Mike Mann's Public Enemies...yea!).

Ok, so...you wanted it, you got it ("mostly..."). That's most of my thoughts on Star Trek - to sum up...I need a throwrag. I say that's most of my thoughts because I'm certain I have enough for another paragraph (or five) but I don't want to drive you guys totally crazy (or is that crazier?). I'll be back in a bit with my thoughts on Up (which by the way will be Der Monkey's first trip to the movie theater, here in a couple of weeks...how cool is that!)...after I've had a chance to see it again - in 3D!

Yep...He's My Son!

2009-05-18T05:40:00.003-05:00

So anyway, over the weekend my son made a rather peculiar announcement to the Missus and I. He came into the living room and proclaimed:

"Michael want pussy." (btw - to him cat is kitty, so...)

Now...I know parents shouldn't react overly positive or negative to things like that...but this time, we just couldn't help it. We broke out into complete and total hysterics. Ok, so I know...I'm a horny little fucker - but I know I've never said that in front of him...at least not in that context! The laughter didn't last long though...eventually we stopped and asked him to clarify what he was asking for. But, he just continued repeating:

"Michael want pussy."

"MICHAEL WANT PUSSY!!!"

Surely that can't be what it sounds like. Daddy want pussy too, but I can't believe for a second that we're talking about the same thing here. Whatever the hell it is he really wants it. We continued to quiz him on what it was he was after. Frustrated, he ran into the kitchen, opened the refridgerator, and returned with...

...a 2-liter of PEPSI!!!

So now that makes pussy, cock, and fag (he can't pronounce the "l's" in flag and clock yet - we're working on it) ...he goes to a Lutheran day care - he's gonna make someone fucking faint...or cry...or maybe both!

Of Fanboys and Film Critics (or: Just Shut Up and Enjoy the Fucking Movie Already)

2009-05-04T02:17:00.005-05:00

So anyway, I caught a mid-day showing of Wolverine on Friday. I'll get to my thoughts on that in a minute - though that shouldn't imply any negative connotations, I actually enjoyed the hell out of it - but first I wanted to share my thoughts on a couple of things.

As my title would suggest, I've got a few words regarding a couple of very specific groups out there amongst the populous. But allow me to proceed to commence to start to begin by saying that I've always felt there was a distinguishable difference between the concepts of a 'film' and a 'movie'. I've never really tried to elaborate on those differences, mostly because I've never been certain that it was something I possessed the ability to explain thoroughly. But seeing Wolverine on Friday, combined with the lackluster reviewing it received has motivated me to at least try. I suppose as evidence, I submit to you the work of Steven Spielberg. Or more specifically - Steven Spielberg in 1993. That year we got both Jurassic Park, one of the top grossing films of all time, and also Schindler's List, considered by many to be the man's finest achievement behind the camera. Essentially yes, a film and a movie are the same thing - a series of images on celluloid film stock, run through a reel-to-reel projector at 24 frames per second, that present recorded action with sound. I believe both can be enjoyed as a source of entertainment equally, but in the end, one is more a representation of artistry and craft, where the other is based more on its aesthetic escapist entertainment value. In the prior example, I offer that Schindler's List is a 'film' at the concept's finest, whereas Jurassic Park is a 'movie' at its most enjoyable levels. For another example, I suggest that you consider the typical five Best Picture nominees from the Oscars each year. Going back as far as your memory will take you, how many "movies" can you recall receiving a nomination. Going back a mere decade, only two jump out in my mind: Chicago, and Gladiator (and even then, I think Gladiator treads the line a bit). Go back another decade and you average about one a year (many of those, again, treading the line between the two).

What does this have to do with my title? Well...you may or may not have noticed that Wolverine more or less got slaughtered by the critics (those lovely adamantium claws were no match for the wicked, printed tongue lashing - of death - provided by a majority of the critics out there). This got me thinking, or at least reaffirmed an already held belief that critics...don't like movies. That's it in a nutshell - film critics are precisely that - FILM critics. They don't like movies...they can't. Far too many "horrible" movies have made too much money at the box office, despite critical bashing, to suggest otherwise. This is why I hate critics. Yet, at the same time, I can't help but catch early reviews of flicks I've been really wanting to see to see what the "experts" think of them. It's an interesting dichotomy really: I hate critics and could care less what they think...but I have to know what they think prior to the film's/movie's release in theaters. What is a critic really? There's the old cliche that a critic is essentially a failed filmmaker. Someone who couldn't cut it making their own films, so they choose to tear apart everyone else's. Is that really so inaccurate? I don't know much about the biographies of any of the major critics out there, but I'd be willing to bet that at least 90% of them went to film school, and sucked ass at it!

Seems to me film critics, I dunno, lack the gene necessary to just sit down and lap up 120 minutes worth (or less) of mindless entertainment. They can't do it...they CAN'T FUCKING DO IT!!! They see a film like Wolverine, who's sole purpose is to pack in crowds of movie-goers, elicit 2-hours worth of 'ooh's' and 'ah's', rake in oodles and oodles of cash for the production studio, and just basically entertain the masses - and they don't fucking get it! Movies, generally speaking, aren't meant to elicit any deep or philosophical thought from audiences - so stop trying! The deepest thought anyone should get out of your typical summer blockbuster is, "Gee, I wonder how the FX guys got the giant lizard robot's cock to morph into the death ray that destroyed Düsseldorf so realistically?! That was fucking AWESOME!!!" THAT'S IT...that's all the deeper anyone needs to get!!! It's like trying to make Nietzche out of fucking Sesame Street!!! STOP IT! BAD MONKEY! No banana for you. So, my theory...film critics don't know how to like movies - that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Now I just have to figure out how to stop caring.

Then there's the other subject...fanboys. As geeked out as I and the rest of you (all three of you) are about music and movies and such, I would offer that none of us really qualifies as...a fanboy! Sure, we collectively know just about all there is to know about the worlds of Star Wars, Star Trek, general Sci Fi, comics, movies, music, and what not, but I feel safe in asserting that none of us is truly what one might call - Hardcore! Have any of us showed up at a midnight premiere of a Star Wars prequel in full Jedi get-up (with homemade lightsabers)? Have any of us gone to a Comic Con or Trek Con in full Klingon garb, fluent in the language? I doubt it. We like these things, we love these things, we live these things, but they don't own us. Then...there are the fanboys. The basement troll dweebs that can relate to anyone the entire history of every major X-men character since 19-dickety two. The WoW mongers who know the schematic details of every iteration of the Starship Enterprise better than any chief engineer who's ever served on one. You've seen them...you've mocked them...you've maybe even envied them ever so slightly...but, you are not one of them! I don't want to be a fanboy. They're, in a word...scary! Just check out a talkback board on a fansite like Ain't It Cool News. These are a group of people that essentially collectively comprise (I would guess) 1/1000 of the movie going/tv viewing population - yet, every little detail about Comic Movie X, or SciFi T.V. Show Beta: The Next Penetration that doesn't conform to their particular vision of how it should have been made meets with thrashing after thrashing of criticism and general disgust. It would be absolutely hilarious how insane some of the folks are...if it weren't so pathetic. Opinions...are like assholes. Everyone has them - and they're usually full of shit! Fanboys aren't that indifferent from film critics - they all think they know exactly how things should be. Trouble is, they wouldn't really know a good thing if it was sitting on their faces! And you would think after reading comments from your average talkbacker that they believe their particular opinion on any given subject ranks somewhere on par with God. So really, just shut up and enjoy the fucking movie already - or quit yer bitchin' and go find another fucking hobby!

Generally speaking, I hate the suits in Hollywood as much as the next guy. But I also know that for the most part they are good at putting the money where it belongs (just don't let them make any actual creative decisions; I'm looking at you Weinstein's - that's how clusterfucks like Battlefield Earth and Pearl Harbor get made). I love that we live in a society where anyone can publicly voice their opinion on anything. I just wish there were some way to make certain people understand when it's a good time to speak, and when they need to shut the fuck up! In the end it's simple - if you can make it better...go fucking do it!!! Learn to quit analyzing, or quit fucking watching it! If Anus M. Critic or fucky_mclumphead_talkbacker REALLY knew anything...they'd be the one's cashing in on my movie-going dollar. But they don't...which brings me back to Wolverine. I don't know enough about the history of X-men to call it out on all its flaws and problems. I like to think I know just enough about movies and film making to know that I, nor anyone else for that matter, has any business judging this on 'film' terms. It's a movie, and a really entertaining one. I can't help but be a little gay for Hugh Jackman in this role...he was really born for it. I'm so glad Dougray Scott walked from the first X-men, so that Jackman could step into the role. Really, I can't think of anyone that could pull it off so awesomely well. Firstly, let me say that, yes, it's obvious that the production values of the earlier films (particularly the first two) aren't as present in this newest installment. But...who gives a shit. I can't think of any moment in particular that pulled me out of the film and distracted from my enjoyment of it. I think the resolution of the movie could've been a touch tighter. But it's a prequel of sorts - and there was continuity to consider. A lesson that everyone in Hollywood should have burned into their long-term memory as a result of the Star Wars prequels.

But overall...a solid, and highly entertaining flick! The casting was spot-on, the effects were good to excellent throughout. From a character standpoint it may have been a little over-crowded, but again, it wasn't anything that hindered my entertainment. I was...well...underwhelmed I guess by Harry Gregson-Williams' score. I don't know, I guess I was just expecting something a little more bold, grandiose, and honestly, a little more thematic. I really enjoy HGW, so I'm hoping and praying that he didn't blow his compositional load on Kingdom of Heaven. But overall, the music was good, or at the very least, serviceable. I'd say it's a great start to the summer movie season...pulled in a respectable haul at the box office over the weekend. It's almost a shame really that it's going to get absolutely crushed by Star Trek this weekend. But it's a defeat I'll gladly (or is that giddily) contribute to - goddamn Friday can't get here fast enough!!! Still, putting what I've been ranting about into context - X-men, sort of walks that line between film and movie; I'd easily classify X-men 2 as a film - a highly entertaining film, but still a film. X-men 3 - a movie, and clearly a lesser endeavor than it's predecessors. But consider this - X-men 3, most critically and fanboy...um, -ly(?) despised (why do people hate on Brett Ratner so much? Say what you will of the guy, but generally he does know how to make an entertaining picture) of the trio...

...and also the highest grossing of them as well...

Hrmmm...

...And Don't Call Me 'Shirley'

2009-04-29T03:12:00.002-05:00

So anyway, if you follow the film music world much at all, particularly the licensing of said music for CD production, you'll know that Paramount Pictures (a Viacom company) is and has been the stingiest bunch of fuckers this side of a Hasidic fund raiser for the German arts. Or at least, that was the case...until yesterday.

Apparently, LaLa Land Records has broken through Paramount's steel chastity belt (of death - see, sounds scarier, eh?) and come to some sort of arrangement. The details of said arrangement are known only to the fine folks at LaLa Land and Paramount, but the long and short of it is that "the wall" is coming down - and it's beginning with a real doozy!

Beginning May 12th, at 2:00 p.m. local time, orders will be taken for one complete score to what is perhaps the greatest comedy of all time - Airplane!, composed by none other then the late, great Elmer Bernstein. This, near as I can figure, is the comedy score that defined how to really compose for comedy - that is to say that the music plays completely straight against the absurdity on the screen.

Even if you aren't particularly familiar with the score, or of Paramount's steadfast inability to budge on letting their music out, you should be rejoicing at this news...a literal vault of amazing film music is about to be loosed upon the world. Think about it, complete scores from the likes of say: All of the Star Trek films, Johnny's Black Sunday, a reissue of Chinatown, Basil's Hunt for Red October, the list goes on and on...

May is going to be so fucking AWESOME!!!

On the Subject of One Trick Ponies

2009-04-13T03:01:00.003-05:00

So anyway, VareseSarabande recently released their tri-annual crop of "club" CD's. If anyone isn't familiar with what this entails...allow me to explain. Three times a year, VareseSarabande, considered by most to be the premier soundtrack record label, release what they call 'Soundtrack Club" CD's. These usually consist of four, sometimes five soundtracks that come either from their vast archive of out-of-print LP's, or music that is new to soundtrack album altogether. In both cases, most if not the complete score is represented in some fashion - and they're available in limited quantities...so they sell out...

...fucking fast!!!

The usual pattern includes one album with 3,000 copies, one or two with either 1,500 or 2,000 copies, and one with a mere 1,000 copies. Any guesses as to which ones go first (regardless of quality of music)?! Thus far, they've released 99 club albums. Of those, 53 are sold out, never to be made available again (thanks to licensing and re-use fees). They include such gems as the "Jerry Goldsmith at 20th Century Fox" 6-disc box set, and Alan Silvestri's Predator (arguably one of the most sought after film scores ever) amongst others too numerous to list here - let's just say I've spent a tidy sum at Varese over the last few years...and that there are a few I missed that I'm royally fucking pissed about. At any rate Varese has a penchant for releasing rare items from the filmographies of Bill Conti, Elmer Bernstein, Jerry Goldsmith, Alex North, Franz Waxman, and even occasionally John Williams.

With this last batch, I picked up three of the four (opting to skip the vintage Waxman score). One was a funky little synth-score to the 1987 film Russkies from James Newton Howard, starring a young Joaquin Phoenix (when he was still going by 'Leaf'). The second was Henry Mancini's Nightwing (a pseudo-horror film from the early 80's about vampire bats and Native Americans - odd combination, but not a terrible film). The third brings us to the title of my post...John Barry's score for the 1979 WWII drama, Hanover Street, starring Harrison Ford. So I suppose my question is thus:

Why the hell are people so goddamned ape-shit crazy for John Fucking Barry?!!!

Don't get me wrong...I like John Barry, at least some of his music anyway. I always liked the music to Hanover Street, which is why I picked it up. But Barry is, well...he's limited, at least to my ears anyway. Lovely as Hanover Street is, you could easily remove the melodic content from the theme(s) and substitute Out of Africa or Dances With Wolves and not get off by more that a beat or two. I mentioned in my last post that Brad and I have a bit of a running joke that John Barry (much like Maurice Jarre) only has three, maybe four scores. There's James Bond - I'll admit, I'm not particularly intimate with the various Bond films he scored, but to my ears they're all kinda "1000 variations on a theme". Then there's big, epic drama Barry - with the likes of The Lion in Winter, Out of Africa, Dances With Wolves, etc. In the end, these all sound relatively identical as well. Different themes and motifs to be sure, but not much variation on harmonic progressions (in fact, Barry seems to be the king of common practice chord progressions - I can't recall the last time I even heard him write something in an inversion). I suppose calling the rest "everything else" seems a bit too all-encompassing (and maybe a little lazy) but I don't want to dig that deep into his repertoire to be more specific.

Much like our dear friend James Horner, Barry seems to have an established bag-o-tricks that he falls back on regularly. I suppose one might argue that what makes him a better composer though is that he hides them better. Like Horner, Barry has a "danger" motif. Well more of an orchestral stab than an actual motif. It usually consists of very shrill, triadic brass stabs, moving this way and that diatonically - I need to be sitting at a piano to analyze them better, as it is, I'm more or less doing this off the top of my head. Anyway, you can hear it plainly in sections of Hanover Street (when ze Germans are coming). There's a lot of it in his older Bond scores, particularly when the bad guy has just done something nefarious. And almost the entire score to Disney's The Black Hole is comprised of those moments (except when it's being all jaunty and British). Still, the man seems to have his admirers amongst the younger generation of Hollywood film composers - just compare the main theme from Hanover sometime to the love theme from Pearl Harbor, ahem...

There are people out there (lots of 'em apparently) that are far more intimately familiar with Barry's musical library than I ever could be with John Williams, or Brad with Jerry Goldsmith. Maybe that's where my lack of understanding comes from - I just haven't heard enough. But then again, if he's been using the same ideas and language for his entire career, then what is it about that language that kept his fandom coming back time and again. Again, I don't know a great deal of Barry's music, but I'd be willing to wager I'd be able to pick him out 9 times out of 10, regardless of what you put on for me to hear. So what is it?! What is it that causes such unwavering adoration? I frankly just don't hear it...some of it's interesting, some quite lovely - but some is just downright boring, and more repetitive than Jim Horner could ever dream of being! If I were to post any of this on a message board, say over a FilmScoreMonthly or Intrada, I'd be strung up faster than an 1890's cattle rustler (I figured that was more PC than some allusion to a black man in the south)!

But for the love of God, don't tell a John Barry nut that he's boring...they'll find you...

...and cut your balls off! (John Barry is GOD, after all!)

Au Revoir, Monsieur - or - ...And Then There Were Three

2009-03-30T01:51:00.004-05:00

So anyway, I know it's been a while since I posted a celebrity obit...but since this one falls into a category most of my esteemed readership - all three of you - can relate to, it seemed prudent to write it up. Monsieur Maurice Jarre (again...pronounce zhar-AY) passed away yesterday at the age of 84. As the alternate title of my post suggests, that leaves three of the "old school" of Hollywood film composers remaining - John Williams, John Barry, and Ennio Morricone. Barry has been in retirement for upwards of a decade. Big John is retired for pretty much all but Spielberg's films (though I've still got my fingers, toes, legs, arms and nuts crossed that he'll finish off Harry Potter). As for Signor Morricone, he's as busy as ever...not bad for an 81 year old guy (though after over 500 scores, one has to wonder how much new music the man has left in him). Still, his last American film score was 2000's Mission to Mars (still one of the oddest scores in recent memory) - and he's supposedly scoring (if you can believe it) Quentin Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds...it should be notable if for no other reason than it's Tarantino's first scored film!

Anyway, back to Jarre - I don't imagine that amongst our little group there's a great deal of heartbreak over this news - but still, it is kind of sad. For one, it's one step closer to the end of an era in Hollywood. And also, despite some possibly perceived short-comings as a composer, he did leave a substantial mark in film music - granted, most of it a decade before I was born. Brad and I often joke that Jarre, like Barry, only has three (maybe four) scores. There's the electronic fluff Jarre, then there's the electronic Euro-Jazz-fluff Jarre; there's also the giant David Lean epic Jarre (my favorite), then as for the rest - I suppose it could arguably be lumped into one all-encompassing mish-mash category (though what anyone would begin to call it I'm really not sure...maybe just call it...French!).

I for one have always loved Lawrence of Arabia - if ever there was a score in desperate need of a complete re-recording... Dr. Zhivago also has a beautiful main theme and generally a good score overall. I've always enjoyed Enemy Mine for some unfathomable reason - an oft forgotten Wolfgang Petersen sci-fi film from back in the day when he was a serious filmmaker . It's typical Jarre, but for some reason...it always struck a chord with me (no pun intended). One of his truly great scores, which I posted about a couple years ago, was for Top Secret!. It was perfect scoring for one of the great screwball comedies of all time - and like any great self-respecting film composer, Jarre composed the music complete straight against the absurdity that was happening on screen.

Other recent notables include Ghost, with which one could practically define the concept of tragically romantic; and another personal favorite is A Walk in the Clouds (an interesting little movie from the mid-90's which coincidentally, proves that Keanu Reeves can act). Jarre did romance well - maybe it's all the wine (did I mention he was French). Looking at his filmography, I'd forgotten that he'd scored some pretty serious films over the last couple decades, including Dead Poets Society and Jacob's Ladder (the latter of which I wouldn't mind revisiting just to hear what he did with it). Also of note, Film Score Monthly released a CD of some of his concert work recently which, when I get the opportunity, I'm definitely going to pick up.

At any rate, adieu Msr. Jarre...au revoir and all that! Say hello to Jerry, Basil, Elmer, Michael, and everyone else when you see them.

So, umm...yeah, the Pope is...well...he's retarded.

2009-03-18T04:16:00.012-05:00

So anyway, I'm still typing this, so the lightning hasn't smote me yet. I'm sorry, I can't help it...I read this article on CNN.com and I stand fully behind my post title. So the Pope is in Cameroon...or to put it into perspective, he's on the single most AIDS-riddled continent in the world...and he's standing firm that people shouldn't, or rather can't use condoms (them's just big 'ol brass balls there man).

Riiiiiiiggggghhhhhttt!

I can't help but wonder what his stance would be if a gang of natives took turns ass-raping him for a solid 36 hours. Yes, I just made a statement containing references to both the Pontiff, and the butt sex (of the forced variety) - oh yeah, I went there. I'm still waiting for the smiting to begin...wait for it... At any rate, the article does go on to say that his Holiness is considering the holy ramifications of allowing married couples to use condoms should one of them have HIV. So, let me get this straight - it's ok, or at least might be if married couples (and let's be honest for a minute - he's referring to those in the civilized western world) to use a Jimmy hat to not give HIV to each other, but ze darkies (remember, the man is one of ze Germans) - who believe the myth throughout most of the continent that raping virgins will get rid of their AIDS - need to find an alternative to contraception and safe sex because God doesn't want all those precious spermy-men going to waste! Oh for Christ's sake!

See...this is why I don't have a religion. I have faith - I believe there's a bigger picture, I believe there's a higher existence and a higher power. But I can't stand religions. I especially don't like the leaders of religions imposing their ridiculous, ill-informed, and totally archaic beliefs on my life and the way I live it. So...fuck religion!!! I wish I knew where my old man would stand on my beliefs and opinions. He was raised Catholic, but lived life as a twice-a-year Catholic - you know, only went to mass on Christmas and Easter. I have to believe that he'd feel generally the same way I do about things like this. My problem is that there are quite literally over a billion people on the planet that live by this man's word as law!!! WHY?!?! He's just a man - and a man of questionable morality and judgement on top of that (Nazi ties anyone?!). Why, as the world moves ever onward into the 21st century, do the major religions of the world insist on keeping their faithful locked in the beliefs of the dark ages.

I usually like to smack my righteous indignation in the face of Islam at times like these, thinking that maaaaayyyyybe Christianity is getting it's collective shit together. Let's face it, you can almost time to the second when a news piece will come along relaying the tale of some 102-year-old Muslim woman who's being given 1,001 lashes, 60 days in a gulag, and having her tits sawed off because she was in the vicinity of a neighbor's male goat - my total disgust with modern interpretation and practice of Islam is another post altogether. Then a story like this thing with El Sombrero Gigante comes along and (*cue slide whistle playing down*) like a bad case of karmic, guilt-laden erectile dysfunction, the Catholics once again swap our Viagra for a Tylenol with a healthy dose of morality, circa 1452 A.D. on the side.

It's probably a safe assumption that most of us guys have, as the Catholic church would have you believe, committed a holocaust of galactic proportions with all the spermy-men we've wasted in our lifetimes. But remember, the priest with his pecker up the alter boy's ass is fine...so long as he doesn't slap on a Ramses, or pull out! Would it be in bad taste to send the Vatican a Trojan Condom Christmas Tree as a gift this year? I can't help but find it both tragic and simultaneously hilarious that the Church can justify being one of the world's leaders in HIV care and treatment, but won't have fucking anything to do with HIV prevention. Get sick and die in agony - that's cool, but don't you dare do anything to avoid getting sick in the first place - YOU'LL GO STRAIGHT TO HELL MISTER!!! It's interesting the mentality that the Vatican, and American Insurance companies share:

Big Blue Boner Pill - GOOD!!!

Itsy Bitsy No-Make-A-Baby Pill - BAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDD!!!

One-Fingered Rubber Glove - FUGGEDABOUDIT!!!

I dunno - maybe they share board members or something...I better stop before I get really mad - and really get the Big Guy's attention.

"I am a man...in search of a vision!"

2009-02-27T05:57:00.004-06:00

So anyway, I'm not really doing any soul searching or anything like that, but I do have a question/problem that I'd like a bit of input on. Allow me a moment to bring everyone that's not Brad (because he already knows most of it) up to speed. My thesis piece was a tone poem for orchestra with optional chorus and electronics called Solar Flare. It was a musical interpretation of a hypothetical stellar event...duh. In addition to wanting to revisit the piece and tighten a few things up, I've decided to make a trilogy of it. I know, I know...why do things always have to be in three's? What can I say, even I'm not immune to Hollywood corporate influences.

At any rate, Solar Flare will comprise the second of the three movements. As a movement it will focus on musical motion, action, and drama. As I said, I want to revisit it - among other things I want to remove the electronic element from it and find a way to suit my needs with the percussion section. I also want to give the violas more to do as I've learned quite a bit about orchestration in the years following my graduate study (shame I didn't learn much during my graduate study!). I also want to put the clarinets back into the piece (for one, it will simplify and justify their inclusion in the other two movements, and also, in retrospect, I think I made an error in judgement leaving them out to begin with). The first movement will be more about sound and texture, and will revolve around the creation of the universe (I was listening to a lot of Close Encounters when the ideas started flowing in). The third movement will be a conceptual combination of the first two and will be called Supernova. I actually had ideas for this immediately after I finished Solar Flare, I just never got very far with it. In a way, the three will represent the beginning, middle, and end of...well...everything!

...and now for my problem...

It's not much of a problem, but it is a problem. I don't know what in the hell to call the first movement. I absolutely refuse to call the first movement The Big Bang. I'm sorry, there's just waaaaaaaayyyyyyyy too many allusions to porno music with that - not to mention that generally speaking, it just sounds kinda gay and tacky! I thought about Genesis, but that might have too much of a religious context for my tastes. It might also bring with it this expectation of liturgical text for the chorus, which is something I really don't want. The chorus in all three movements is optional; their parts will be doubled somewhere in the orchestra (at least to some degree), and they're really only there to add to the aural palette - so, you know...basically just lots of "ah's" and "ooh's". All in all, I'm hoping for somewhere around a combined 30 minutes of music from the whole thing. So, I put it to you (Brad included)...what should I call my first movement? Silly as it sounds, I'm having a hard time moving on with it until I know what to call the fucker! So any and all help will be appreciated.

Oh...and I know my audience/readership/whatever. So I fully expect a deluge of dipshit, bogus, goofball ideas in the comments. Just try, okay, at least try to throw out a legitimate idea or two amongst all the ridicule. Sorry...no prizes for the winner, just a fair amount of genuine gratitude.

Ready...

...GO!!!

p.s. listening to Sneakers whilst typing all this up...I forgot how much Arvo Pärt was in there - and I mean a LOT!!! Sounds like he lifted it directly - not sure he even bothered to change keys (?). I mean seriously, it's like listening to Brad score a slasher film... ;)

Edge of a Knife, Treading Water, On Thin Ice...Pick Your Favorite Euphemism

2009-02-24T07:38:00.005-06:00

So anyway, you might have heard about a certain political cartoon in the New York Post that's causing quite the uproar as of late. If not, this, this, and this should catch you up. God almighty, where does a guy even start without pushing at least one frakkin' hot button?! This is such a touchy subject I'm almost afraid to post my thoughts on it. As it is, I'm going to keep this as short and simple as I can as to avoid any and all potential hate mail, protests, and/or rallies that may or may not result from me, Joe M. Whiteman, voicing my opinion on the subject.

To the leaders of the African American community...please give it a rest! Have the expressions "A room full of monkeys could have done a better job" or "Put a group of monkeys in front of a typewriter and eventually they'll type out Shakespeare" never passed your ears...ever? Never?! REALLY?!?!

...wow...

...who knew?

The only thing the cartoonist was guilty of was not having enough sense to show an entire room full of bullet-riddled sapiens rather than the single victim. No one, everybody get that, NO ONE was making any similarities between chimpanzees and our new President (or anyone else in the black community at large). All in all, it was actually a very clever political pun (feel free to call me a lousy, no good, inbred, backwoods, redneck, white-supremacist cracker anytime - I can take it). No one has been oppressed by the cartoon. No one in the cartoon suggested any form of hate against a black individual. It's a pun, plain and simple, so please everyone just step back for a minute...breathe...good. Now, put away your righteous indignation for a moment and realize that it's 2009, a black man is in the Oval Office, workplace of the most powerful man on the planet. Rap stars and basketball players are making more money every year than Solomon ever dreamed of. And there's nary an African American even alive today that even had a grandparent that was a slave. I don't know if I'm feeling so bold as to say, "You've WON!". Oh, I guess I just did...hrmm. Having said all that I fully expect Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson to show up on my front lawn in a few days demanding I apologize to the entire black community.

Chris Rock was right once when he said that, "...there ain't a single white person in America that would change places with me...and I'm RICH!!!". Black people still are treated differently in nearly every business and social situation in this country. More often than not though, I think one would find that that is a result of fear on the part of the white party - fear how the black party (or minority in general) will react to what is being said and/or done. Here comes the part I'm certain many people, both black and white (but particularly black) don't want to hear: If you want to be equal, if you want to end segregation...stop segregating yourselves! That's it! It's that simple...blacks in this country don't want to actually be part of white society as much as they perceive that whites don't want them. Everybody just needs to get along...gay as that sounds. Each generation seems to become more tolerant than the last...which is a great thing! Extremists will never go away - but as the population blossoms, their herds will thin. Look, I understand completely from the historical standpoint where Reverend Al and the NAACP are coming from. It just seems to me they're trying too hard to find hate and malice where there really isn't any. I guess I just find it...distasteful...that I'm not really allowed to voice my opinion openly because of the color of my skin. Holy fuck!!! When did that happen?!

I don't know...I'm just hoping I'll live to see a day when everyone will get the joke and not see it as an excuse to spew hate and nonsense at each other. But I'm fat...so probably not...

Potty Elation (or Sometimes It's Really Awesome To Be Right)

2009-02-23T02:06:00.002-06:00

So anyway, here we are - another post. It's kind of like Taco Tuesday - except that it's Monday...weird. Anyway, something glorious happened on Saturday. The Monkey figured out how to use the toilet! He's been more or less fighting us with it for months now. He'd pee, but it was like pulling teeth to get him into the bathroom to do it. Pooping was another story all together. For weeks (maybe months) we've been grinding the mantra "Poopy goes in the potty...not in your pants!!!" into his noggin. Like a good little soldier he would repeat - but the concept wasn't really sinking in. So, day after day, a glorious lump-o-funk would show up in his drawers. A few months back, we had the notion that we should start putting him in his "big boy" underpants everyday to show him how awful it was to have that crap in there - to little avail. One thing I'm thankful to my mom for is that she has this uncanny nose for sniffing out shit. It's scary really - she knows when he's done it...all the way from the other side of the house. All in all I'd say she drew the short straw the day they were handing out the super powers, but what the hell...it's served a purpose.

All the experts say that negative reinforcement is an absolute no-no when it comes to toilet training a child. Saturday morning, after having already changed his clothes three times in the span of about 90 minutes, the monkey stood in the kitchen doorway and proceeded to piss all over himself and the floor. I may have overreacted, but I paddled his ass for it. I felt terrible really - it was like I was scolding the family dog. We then proceeded to make him sit in his little monkey chair with his mess for the better part of a half hour. When we couldn't stand to see him miserable anymore, we changed his clothes...again...and let him go about his monkey business (pun intended).

Not ten minutes later, he was charging into the bathroom to take a piss. Another half-hour later, he did it again. I had no idea how much of a pee machine he was until he repeatedly started using the toilet. He goes 15 or 20 times a day!!! Then again, I'm also convinced he drinks three times his body weight in fluids daily as well. His mommy was the lucky one. She went in to help him once as he stood there pushing and pushing and pushing some more. She tried to explain that if there wasn't any pee in there he didn't have to come in and try. It was at that moment that a big turd plopped onto the floor behind him. Sunday, I became victim to my very first self-fulfilling prophecy. We bought him a new potty chair a week ago thinking he just didn't like getting up on the big seat. Sunday morning, I caught him sitting on the old porcelain throne...pinching one off.

I...was...exstatic!

I said months ago that one day, out of the blue, and for no particular reason, he'd just...get it! Goddamn if I wasn't right! My one regret is that I had to hurt his feelings to get the point across. But that's beside the point now, isn't it?! I was thrilled, flabbergasted - completely overjoyed. I couldn't help myself, I looked into that pot, and I...well, I cried! I can't remember the last time I was so totally happy at something. You just don't know - unless you have a child, you can't!. I'm not trying to take anything away from anyone, but I don't care how many cousins, nieces, nephews, or little brothers and sisters you have...it IS NOT the same. Obviously Der Herr und his Frau are working on it, but you really can't appreciate what I was feeling at that moment until it's your child. You just can not know the relief and elation of seeing months of struggling, months of disappointment, just disappear in a flash. I spent months racking my brain for a solution. Weeks, maybe months in a panic that maybe something was wrong - that we did something horribly wrong with him - that he wasn't right and was going to need special help. And all of that...it just...went away, all with one, adorable little...plop!!!

The plop heard 'round the world.

It was glorious. This may have been the single best weekend of my life - thus far anyway! So, to all the experts who would say I was a horrible parent for doing what I did...fuck you! That's right...fuck you - suck all the dicks. Not just a dick...all of 'em! To Brad...I've got a new potty seat for you if you'd like it (I know it's early, but what the fuck...it's free, right?!). And to anyone without a child, I hope that when you do someday have one, you don't have to go through the potty-hell that I have. And if you ever do...then I wish you all the happyness in the world when you finally get over that giant fuck hill.

Now...teaching him to wipe his little monkey butt...

...awwwwww fuck!

I Give Up...Until Next February Anyway.

2009-02-23T01:28:00.003-06:00

So anyway, every year about this time I spend one quiet Sunday evening in February going completely insane for a few hours. I'm, of course, talking about Oscar night. Tonight was no different - for one, since I've taken up Vampirism & Commerce for the last few years I don't actually get to see the ceremony. Secondly, and as a direct result of the the first point, I end up screaming at my computer monitor at work. I'll just say it's usually more than twice, but less than would cause concern for my mental well being. And again I say, tonight was no exception.

Every year after the event, I swear it off. There's always at least one winner that gets the blood boiling. Who knows...maybe I'll mean it this year. To begin with, I've been pretty miffed ever since the nominees were announced. I'm not going to be so bold as to suggest that my opinion on the matter should be the end all/be all definitive say on who should have been nominated. But I do think it's safe to say that I, as well as most of you, along with a virtual army of thousands of film fans around the country can agree that they fucked several of the categories this year. Regardless of our thoughts on the matter, in the end I think it's safe to say that had Wall-E and The Dark Knight received their respective Best Picture nominations (as they should have), they still couldn't have overcome the wave of Curry Fever that has swept Hollywood in the last few weeks.

I should be fair in noting that I haven't actually seen Slumdog yet. I thought about it - then I went to Blockbuster one day and saw I only had to wait for a couple more weeks for the DVD, so I said fuck it - I can wait. I still can't help but think though that no matter the accolades it's received, I'm still not going to be blown away by it the way I was with the little robot and The Joker, and Some Guy in a Batsuit. Still, it was nice to see Heath get the award - honestly, could anyone on the entire fucking planet not see that happening - if any of the other nominees had actually won, about the only thing they could have done to avoid a riot would have been to go onstage and hand it over to Ledger's family in concession. In retrospect, I think it was really a Best Leading Actor role (let's be honest, he was in the movie almost as much as Bale). I'll have to YouTube his family's acceptance speech later at home.

Then there's the music categories. All I can say is, "My give up, MY GIVE UP!!!". Well...at least it wasn't fucking Gustavo Santa-wa-wa. I can't figure out why Academy voters just don't seem to think American composers can fucking write good music anymore - but that seems to be the case more often than not lately. If I'd been Tom Newman, as soon as I lost the second one I would have stood up from my seat, given the whole theater a double-finger with a big fat raspberry, and walk the fuck out! I have nothing against Rahman - actually I've never heard anything he's composed. But nothing, and I mean abso-fuckin'-lutely nothing will ever convince me that anything he did for Slumdog was even remotely as good as Newman's Wall-E.

I can't help but think that Dave Fincher's feeling about the same as Tom Newman right about now - or at least how I'd like to imagine Tom Newman should be feeling (see above). His best chance ever at acceptance (or should that be fortune & glory) in Hollywood just got pissed all over by the little non-Bollywood indie-darling that could. And he really fucking deserved it for Ben Button - especially since the Academy members didn't have enough sense (or were just too damned chickenshit) to nominate the cartoon and the superhero movie for the big show. The same thing happened a few years ago - when the best picture of the year really was a cartoon/superhero movie - you might remember it, it was called The Incredibles.

Anyway, fuck the Oscars, at least for another year. All this year's awards did was serve to further solidify just how out of touch the Academy members are with their audience. But that's okay I guess - after all, do they really give a shit?! Most of them can afford not to. It's just that yearly excuse to parade themselves out looking extra-smashing and pat each other on the asses for their collective awesomeness. At any rate...see you next year!

Pathos

2009-02-13T06:07:00.003-06:00

So anyway, I got the following in an email today, and I just wanted to share with anyone who might stumble by my little blogsphere here. It probably won't be particularly interesting to anyone except me...just know that I've been working in the same place for going on seven years - and this would be uproariously funny if it weren't so pathetically dead-on:

You Know You Work for a Bank When…

You sit at the same desk for 4 years but work for 3 different departments.
You work for the same department for 4 years but sit at more than 10 desks.
You’ve been the same job for 4 years but have had 10 different supervisors.
You order your business cards in “half orders” instead of whole boxes.
When someone asks about what you do for a living, you cannot explain it in one sentence.
You get really excited about a 2% pay raise.
You use acronyms in your everyday speech.
Your biggest loss from a system crash is that you lose your best jokes.
You sit in a cubicle smaller than your bedroom closet.
It’s dark when you drive to and from work.
The words “challenge” and “opportunity” make you shiver in fear.
You see a well-dressed, good-looking person and know it’s just a visitor.
Free food left over from meetings is your main staple.
Being sick is defined as “can’t walk” or “in the hospital”.
Workplace art involves a white, dry-erase board.
You’re already late on the assignment you just got.
You’re bosses most common expression is “when you get a few minutes…”.

Just so you know, I hide my stapler so no one will take it...because if someone were to take my stapler, I'd probably kill every mother fucker in the building!

Because You Demanded It...

2009-02-11T05:53:00.001-06:00

So...you wanted a shorter post, well...here you go:

Katy Perry

...is fucking HOT!!!

...and I would gladly eat her ass.

Disgust or discuss...

...GO!!!

Someone Please Make Me Understand...

2009-02-10T07:58:00.005-06:00

So anyway, I read this article on AOL news and it was all I could do to not punch my computer monitor in. It's like it's 2005, and we're all dealing with Terri Schiavo all over again. Luckily it's not in this country - so this will probably be the last anyone here in the U.S. will hear about this particular case.

...At least I fucking hope so...

I just don't get it. I don't think I'll ever get it. I don't know if there's an adequate explanation out there for the mentality that the Italian government demonstrated here - at least not one that will make me say, "Oh...well I guess you've got a point there!". Look...I know it all boils down to that archaic Catholic dogma that every life is sacred right down to the most worthless little broken spermy man (Spermyman - how's that for a fucked-up superhero?!). I come from a frakkin' HUGE Catholic family - I get that that's where this is coming from. I just cannot wrap my noodle around that thought process though. For fuck's sake - the girl was basically dead anyway - stone fucking dead...her goddamned BRAIN wasn't goddamned DOING anything. Machines were feeding her, relieving her bowels, and allowing her lungs to breathe...that's fucking dead folks! Oh, ok, ok...sorry - her brain was still sending signals to her heart to continue pumping blood through her body - but only because of the MACHINE THAT WAS MAKING HER LUNGS FUCKING BREATHE!!!

Three quotes from this just abso-fuckin'-lutely floor me. Firstly we have Cardinal Barragan from the Vatican saying, "May the Lord welcome her and pardon those who brought her to this point". Hey Barragan - FUCK YOU! Two things brought this poor girl to this point - 1: The CAR that hit her 17 fuck years ago, you imbecile; and 2: YOU!!! You and people like you - the Church, and the holier-that-thou, 17th century, backwoods right-wing fuckhead lawmakers in the Italian government. Which brings me to my second quote, this one courtesy of Rome's mayor who said that the lights in the Colosseum would be on all night in mourning for "a life that could have and should have been saved".

WHAT?!?!?!

Are you completely out of you fucking head?! Do you at least pause for a breath to think about the nonsense that's about to come out of your mouth before you say it?! Read my lips by proxy of my fingers: THERE WAS NO LIFE TO SAVE...capisce? NO LIFE!!! The girl has been brain dead for SEVENTEEN-FUCKING-YEARS! Short of the arrival of the MOTHERSHIP with a library of previously unknown medical knowledge, she was never coming back from this. I refer to my statements above...something about machines and what not. You know...I went through this with the Schiavo thing four years ago...all it succeeded in doing was elevating my blood pressure and giving me an urge to round-up some pro-lifers and some Republican politicians (which I suppose are pro-lifers by default anyway...but, still - you know what I mean), lock them in a Catholic church, and burn it to the ground.

Lastly there's the Italian Health Minister who said, "I hope the Senate can proceed on the established calendar so that this sacrifice wasn't completely in vain". This was in reference of course to the emergency session the Italian Senate held to get a law passed to prevent the girl's doctors from unplugging her. Excuse me Signor Italiano Stupido, um...what sacrifice?! The only thing that was sacrificed was the life the girl could've had had she not been hit by the aforementioned car! She didn't even know anything had happened! I like to believe that if there is a human soul...it would have left the body sometime around, oh I dunno...YEAR ONE!!! Not year seventeen. I'm sorry, nothing in this universe short of The Almighty him/herself coming down and showing me otherwise is going to make me believe that Eluana Englaro was still in that body, or that she had the faintest fuck of a clue what was going on around her. Same goes for Terry Schiavo, and the hundreds, if not thousands of people all around the world sharing similar fates.

I visit my father's grave every year around Memorial Day. I haven't missed a year since he died. For all but about three or four of those years (accounting for age limitations) I've stood at his grave and talked to him for a while...you know, fill him in on what's going on in my life and the world. I would imagine that, including this year, I will have made and broken 30 promises to come back later in the year and visit again. It's not that I don't care; it's not that I don't have the time; it's not that I don't want to. It's just hard...it's a really hard goddamned thing to do. Now...do I believe that my father is there when I go?...Absolutely not! It's a plot of land with a corpse buried underneath. But I do believe it's a place to start - a door to whatever other place he's residing in. I believe a body is just a body - it's an organism, just like the billions of others on this world. We're singularly blessed to be able to learn, create, express and feel the way we do. But a body is just a body. I have to believe that what makes us who we are, call it a soul, call it spaghetti, call it whatever you want - I just have to believe that that thing knows when the body is done - and it checks out accordingly. The selfish need of loved ones to hold on to us for as long as possible is understandable...and just. But who is anyone on this planet to say otherwise when even the people that cared most for someone - needed that someone more than any other - say it's time to let go?

The single most common argument from the religious right is that no one has the right to play God with a life. To say that, and then take the stance they do on issues like these is the most hypocritical thing I have ever had the unfortunate displeasure of witnessing. That is what I'll never understand...THAT is what no one will ever be able to satisfactorily explain to me: How can someone believe that? How can they not see the flaw in their own logic? How can they continue to spew their vitriol without seeing that in so doing, they've already defeated their argument? Someone please make me understand...

On the Subject of Dailies, Highlights, and Alternate Takes

2009-02-04T07:04:00.000-06:00

So anyway, I suppose my title is a tad misleading (Excuse me miss, how much is a tad? Well, in space terms it's about half a million miles.). On the whole, I'm not writing this one to talk about film production (maybe a little, but generally not overall). The title's more figurative really. Life's just been a little mundane as of late. Aside from a nasty bronchial virus the Monkey caught, nothing's really been happening - it's all been eerily stagnant, like I'm just waiting for the floor to drop out from under me. I've decided it's time for a new career path - ok, that's not true, I still want to be a composer, so I guess you could say it's time for a new "job" path. It floors me how many people (particularly in mid to upper management) can't seem to differentiate between job and career - but I suppose that's a peeve for another posting.

I've basically had about all the banking I care to. I've given up on the idea of moving myself up within the company (something I was doing purely out of financial necessity rather than personal fulfillment). The bureaucratic mentality is the one constant in the universe. And frankly I've had enough of it here. I've seen enough of the management at this bank to know that I want no part of it - and since that's the only place left to go here...fuck 'em. My job isn't going anywhere (literally and figuratively), I don't have a need to find another one, I just want another one. At this point, my job is about as intellectually stimulating as a fucking pop-up book. And the highlight of any given day is ogling a hotty that works on my floor (you know, the standard stuff - undressing her with my mind; wondering just how big those things are under that top; is she going to wear that awesomely short miniskirt again today; is my piercing stare about to burn a hole in that amazing ass; is she an innie or an outie - not the navel; landing strip, furball, or Brazilian bald eagle - the usual stuff, right?!). That shouldn't be the only thing I have to look forward to every evening - that shouldn't be the sole motivation for anyone in any position for that matter. So, I'm looking around. I started by registering with the government's website...I could live with a cushy government job for a while - especially if it got me off the vampire hours.

Hell, at this point any job that gets me off the fucking vampire hours has potential. Fun little factoid (and I apologize for the lack of references): I read an article on CNN.com last year that a university study somewhere found a link between graveyard hours and increased risks of certain cancers. YEA!!! Well, that alone is incentive enough to get the fuck out of Dodge. I don't want to end up with ass cancer just because I held a job in the middle of the fucking night for several years. The catch at this point is finding something that I'm even remotely qualified for and still pays me about what I'm earning now. And since I'm a musician/banker, the field is narrow to say the least. The reason I'm so interested in the government route is that they're a little more forgiving if you don't have any qualifications - for them, a degree in anything (hell it could be 15th-Century English basket weaving) is a plus.

I did have an idea for a piece that might actually have motivated me enough to get my ass down into my basement and use my shit for once. First I just have to put everything back together. I had to take everything apart a while back to get it out of the way for a plumber. And the Arctic tundra that is my basement is enough to dissuade anyone from wanting to go down and do anything productive...but, since I've got a nifty idea, I suppose I'll have to brave it - that's why the Lord saw fit to give us coats, gloves, scarves, ear muffs, hats, thermal undies and electric socks...right?! My basement where my "studio" resides is a concrete tomb. It was never finished (which I'm partially thankful for because had it been I'd have less room for my shit), and though it's ventilated to the furnace, it only stays just warm enough to keep ice from forming on everything. So...yeah, winter - not a good time of year to try and be productive as a composer in my house! With a little convincing from Brad, I've decided on how to arrange the meter - so now I just need to start entering notes (we'll see what happens - I'm nothing if not a world class procrastinator).

I've also noticed an influx of good, slightly older comedies on the telly lately. I suppose good is a relative term as comedy is such a subjective genre of film. More than any other, comedy seems to divide people on what is and isn't good or funny. One person's comedic gem is another's pointless trash. I'm that way with Woody Allen comedies - well, actually all his films, but particularly his comedies. I just don't get them! Really, I don't! I have yet to find anything of interest in a single film of his. I glean nothing from them...and I certainly have never understood why they're considered so amazing - or why he's even had a career for that matter. Anyway, I caught a few minutes of Loaded Weapon 1 the other day. Despite some awful direction and a few lackluster performances (I'm looking at you Kathy Ireland - stick with the 3 B's*), it really is a pretty funny movie - the gags hit a lot more often than they miss. If you've never seen it, it's basically a spoof of all the Lethal Weapon movies - made at a time to cash in on the spoof craze that was hitting hard for a couple of years, and starring Emilio Estevez because...well...because they figured Charlie Sheen had a hit with Hot Shots! so why not see if his brother can bring in some green doing the same spiel (it even has a gag referencing this fact). It also has the virtue of containing two of my top-5 personal favorite exchanges ever - first, Tim Curry, the hench-villain has just caught the hero, Emilio Estevez, off guard and put him in a human shield choke-hold when the following takes place:

Em: Who are you?!
Tim: (in a hysterically awful German accent) I...am you vurst nightmare.

Em: No...waking up without my penis is my worst nightmare!

Second, in a spoof of the toilet bomb scene in Lethal Weapon 2:

Emilio: Luger...where are you?

Sam (the Man) Jackson: Up here.

Emilio: (kicks open the bathroom door) What is it? What's wrong?!

Sam: (matter of factly) Nothin'...takin' a shit.

Emilio: Oh...sorry...(backs out slowly, closing the door)

Those crack me up as much today as they did 15 years ago. Then there's Soapdish - a great little flick from 1991. If you've never seen it, I can't recommend it enough. The cast alone is a really big check in the plus category: Kevin Kline, Robert Downey Jr., Sally Field, Elizabeth Shue, Whoopi Goldberg, Teri Hatcher (when she was still hot and kinda slutty), and Cathy Moriarty (whom if you don't recognize, then you've probably never seen Raging Bull - in which case...SHAME ON YOU!!!). There's even a couple of great bit parts by Carrie Fisher, Gerry Marshall, and Ben (Captain Monotone) Stein. The film basically follows the in's and out's of a highly-popular, highly-illogical, highly-stupid daytime soap. It's been getting a lot of play on the various HBO's the last few weeks...seems like every time I go by it I can't help but stop and watch for a few minutes. I brought up alternate takes in my title because a scene in this movie (completely inadvertently) demonstrates how radically different one take can be to the next. You know, for a guy who's never seen a set during production, I'm oddly fascinated by it and even more oddly aware of what goes on. Anyway, in a scene about midway through the film, Sally Field's character is watching herself from earlier in the day having a complete conniption fit on Entertainment Tonight (is that show even still on?). At any rate, the fit she's having on the television is completely different from the one we (the audience) saw about five minutes earlier in the film. If one were to look up the film on IMDB, you'd see this event listed as a continuity error on the 'goofs' link. Anyway, I just wrote one insanely long friggin' paragraph about something that is only of interest to all of maybe two people in the entire fucking world (me and my other personality) ...but there you go. Incidentally, should one find themselves interested, apparently in the earliest promo material - specifically the main one-sheet - Terri Hatcher's nipples were popping out of her dress. I don't know about your thoughts on the woman now, but Terri Hatcher c.1991 was definitely worth a look!

So here we are. An overly long (and relatively pointless) update into what's going on in the Pikey's world at the moment. If you're thinking you're being treated (read: spoiled by) to two days in a row of updates, keep in mind that I started this post a week ago...so don't blow your wad just yet - I can still frustratingly space updates out with the best of 'em.

*the 3 B's refers to a song called "Be Pretty, Be Naked...and Be Quiet". It's a comedy song I heard on a radio morning show once.

I Was Taken By It (arr, arr, arr...ooookay)

2009-02-03T07:49:00.002-06:00

So anyway, Luc Besson is nothing if not formulaic. With the exception of Léon (which to my eyes is a masterpiece of filmmaking - not that The Professional Americanized pussy-whipped bullshit), pretty much every other film he's either written, directed, or both can be dissected into its parts and ideas that came from earlier films. Presentation on the other hand can change even the most routine idea into something quite special - and Besson excels at presentation (You're entrance was good, his was better. The difference?...SHOWMANSHIP!!!). The Fifth Element had style to burn - despite essentially being the red-headed stepchild of Star Wars, Blade Runner, and The Beatles "All You Need Is Love"; Kiss of the Dragon, while really not much more than an excuse to put Jet Li in a wire-fu action film set in Paris, still had a good deal of warmth and character that a lot of similar films would have just glossed over; we'll try to just forget about The Messenger (aka: A Lame-ass Excuse to Put My Then-Girlfriend in Another Movie...Did I Mention I Used To Fuck Milla Jovovich - Oh Yeah, I Tapped That Shit Baby?!) - everybody gets one mistake. Now we have Taken - the lastest take on the whole "you just fucked with the wrong guy" film.

We've all seen it a dozen times - ex-CIA/Special Forces/über-assassin type has left that world behind; he's struggling with it, but he has his reasons; punk bitches come along and mess with his shit somehow; he fucks them up. Such is the case with Taken, which would be a second-rate first-rate action film if not for the benefit of a tightly-plotted script, and a fantastic performance by Liam Neeson (who you'd never in a million years guess, based on this film, is pushing 60). Such as it is, it's almost a first-rate first-rate action film if not for one nitpick (which I'll get to later). Neeson plays Bryan Mills (coincidentally, I went to high school with a guy with the exact same name...weird - anyway...), recently retired non-descript spook trying to reclaim some of the life he lost saving the world from...whatever. In this case that involves trying to be involved in the life of his 17-year-old daughter (Maggie Grace - most recently of Lost notoriety). I find it funny that such a fuss has been made over Grace appearing too old to be 17. Everyone keeps saying she looks at least 10 years too old for the part - when at the time of filming she was only 24. I suppose people's memories these days are short...considering not that long ago it was common place for 30-somethings to be playing teenagers quite regularly (anyone remember a certain popular TV show with a swanky zip code?). Anyway, when asked by said daughter what is was dad did all those years that kept him away, he says that he was a "preventer"; he prevented bad things from happening - loosely translated: I could kill a guy by stabbing him in the nuts with a toothpick. When Tasty Ex (the always yummy Famke Janssen) and daughter try to get him to sign off on a fun-filled getaway to Paris for the summer, he initially refuses (he knows things...he's seen the world - it's ugly). But he caves, and off daughter goes with bad-influence friend in tow.

A few hours after arriving in gay-Pari, they're swept away (unfortunately literally in this case) by some nefarious types, all while Neeson listens in on the ordeal by way of phone call. Everybody's seen the trailer - you all know the truly kick-ass monologue/ultimatum he delivers to the bad guy on the other end of the phone. Neeson's never struck me as the "don't fuck with me" type, but after that call...I sure as shit wouldn't want to piss him off. He gathers some intel, taps tasty ex's new, rich hubby for a charter flight to France...and away we go. Here's my nitpick. It's quite obvious for several reasons (1: the film is European made/American financed, 2: the trailer tells the careful observer so, 3: the editing feels just feels that way, 4: American distributors of foreign films are usually quite stupid and unaware of their real audience) that this film was trimmed down to a more "family friendly" PG-13 edit. It could be argued that to some degree it worked - the film was #1 at the box-office last weekend. The flip side to that is that they could've just left it alone, taken a chance with an R rating, and people still would have wanted to see it - which I'm inclined to believe. Also, as the film was released in Europe last February, and it's seen its American release date pushed back a couple of times, it would seem that producers wanted/needed time to make it more "accessible" - or in short, they wanted to pussy-fy it. As it is, Neeson's wrath is quite brutal - but being the vicarious, voyeuristic sleaze that I am (and let's face it...most Americans are - whether they'll admit it or not), I wanted a touch more. Necks and other bones crack when they break, bullets cause blood-spatter, people hit by buses and trucks tend to go splat a bit - and there's this underlying feeling all throughout the picture that we're continually denied the money shots.

Still...for what it is, Taken is damned entertaining and engrossing. Besson's (and writing partner Robert Mark Kamen's) script, as directed by DP turned action director Pierre Morel, is teeming with shades of Bourne (can you say shaky-cam boys and girls - and an interesting French variation on a standard Media Ventures score), but that's ok. The end result is still just as satisfying, regardless of the fact that even my 3-year-old son could generally predict where things were going. Even though it's harsh and brutal (and a touch xenophobic), people want to root for Neeson in this, and the (morally questionable) good guys in films like these. We want to watch them as they lay their hammer of justice - their fist of fury - on any mother fucker that's dumb enough to stand in their way. We take solace in knowing that the bad guy's going to get 31 flavors of smack layed down upon him. And Taken delivers in abundance...now, I can't wait for the unrated DVD - THAT...is going to be some brutal shit!

I Miss My Mustang

2009-01-10T19:09:00.009-06:00

So anyway, back in the day (sometime around Nineteen Dickety-Two - never mind) I had a sweet-ass 1967 Mustang Coupe. Given my druthers (don't ask, it's a hillbilly-ism), I'd really want a '67 Shelby Cobra Fastback (Eleanor in Gone in 60 Seconds) - it may be the most perfect car ever made (you fuckin' Camaro enthusiasts can suck my fat, hairy ass). Anyway, my Mustang had a beefed-up 302 (I know Jack and shit about car engines and Jack just left) with all kinds of nifty bells and whistles for drag racing (I got it from a neighbor who bought it for his son when he was a teenager). It had flashy chrome wheels, leather interior (bucket seats), and the touchiest fucking power steering known to man (hand-to-God, you nudge it and the damned car would pull a 90-degree turn). My mom got me a new paint job as a high school graduation present (she wouldn't let me get red - thought I'd be a cop magnet; so I settled for this sharp midnight blue metallic). It died on me not long after I started my second year at Western - luckily, it wasn't long until I met a girl with a car - I shoulda married that one; oh wait...I did! I sold my Mustang to a guy at work for $650 about two years ago - not bad for a car that didn't run. But still, I'd give just about anything to have it back and to have the means to get it fixed up proper.

Which leads me to Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino. Brad commented the other day that it's hard enough for anyone to put a single film together in a year, and Eastwood (at 78) did two!!! I didn't see Changeling - I'm sure it's terrific and judging by the two I'll bet it was his intended Oscar-bait film. But it just sort of seemed like rental material to me. Torino I was dying to see from the very first time I caught a trailer. It just had vintage I-ain't-gonna-take-no-shit-off-nobody Eastwood smeared all over it like gang graffiti on an inner-city bridge. Last time ol' squinty-eyes tried to make two in a year (a whopping two years ago with the Iwo Jima films - aren't people supposed to slow down as they get older?), the second one came out on top as the clear victor - ironic that, like this year (I'm guessing) that's not what he intended. I don't see Gran Torino running away with Oscar nom's and wins this year - but it's certainly one of the most entertaining and well crafted films of the year.

Eastwood stars (and directs of course - out of his last 21 films that he's appeared in, he's directed 15 himself, and has an additional six that he merely directed in that time) as Walt Kowalski - veteran of the war in Korea, recent widower, and one of the last Caucasian hold-outs (in an inner-city Detroit neighborhood) that hasn't run for the hills with the influx of minorities. The character of Walt is this interesting amalgam of Dirty Harry Callahan, Gunny Sgt. Tom Highway (I just lost some of you didn't I - if so, you're required to go rent Heartbreak Ridge now...NOW GODDAMN IT NOW!!!), and Archie Bunker. It's funny actually that the screenplay apparently wasn't written with Eastwood in mind...but frankly, having seen it I can't begin to imagine who else could play it. Kowalski is (at least vicariously through us - the audience) abso-friggin'-lutely hilarious. He's brash, he's hateful, he's bigoted and rude and has the restraint of a pissed-off bull. He's that mean old guy that everyone has met at some point or another - you know, always pissed, hates just about everybody. And he doesn't take any shit off of anyone - mess with him and he will fuck you up...verbally for certain, and physically if the situation calls for it. He's just lost a wife that he worshipped, has two sons that he's never connected with, hates at least one of the daughters-in-law, is disgusted by his grandchildren, and the world's getting too damned fast for him and to hell with trying to keep up. Much of the humor comes from Walt's ranting and grumbling - much of it racially motivated. Fortunately, you find yourself laughing not at all the racial slurs and prejudice, but at Walt's unabashed delivery of it - and more often then not...it's absolutely uproarious.

His life at this point is mowing his 5-square-foot patch of grass (with none other than one of those old rotary blade, non-electric mowers from the 50's), talking to his dog, chasing off or just ignoring the priest from the local church, drinking his beer on his front porch, scowling at the "chinks/gooks/slants" next door...and looking after his baby - a mint condition 1972 Ford Gran Torino - which it seems he purchased right off the factory where he himself "installed that steering column". His neighbors are Hmong (pronounced Mohng), Asian "hill-folk" (for lack of a better term) from various areas in China, Laos, and Vietnam. It's his baby that gets him more involved with his neighbors and serves as the focal point of the story. He slowly befriends the Hmong, first with the older daughter, Sue, then later younger son Thao (whom he "affectionately" refers to as Toad) after he, feeling pressure from a local gang, is coerced into trying to steal the Gran Torino. I love that Walt never gets any of the Asian names right - not that he can't, he just doesn't care. One girl (named Yua) he continually refers to as YumYum (and boy does she earn that moniker). Anyway, as penance for his indiscretion, Thao is forced to spend time with Walt - where the predictable bit of bonding occurs. This bonding however is played out so expertly and delicately that it never feels cliched or forced.

I really miss this Clint Eastwood. The man truly is the original Hollywood bad ass. It's a shame really that he's indicated that this is more or less his final appearance in front of the camera. This was such a gloriously entertaining - and yet simultaneously - touching and intimate film. My only gripe is that I wish he'd let an experienced film composer have a crack at his films - at least this time he didn't try it himself...he let his son do it *joy* (with old faithful Lennie Niehaus orchestrating (?) and conducting). Still...if Clint had two or three more films like this in him I doubt anyone would mind in the slightest. I highly doubt anyone is clamoring for a string of Grumpy Old Men - Kickin' Ass films, but seeing it done smartly, effectively, in the hands of a master - films like Gran Torino would always be worth my $5 or $10 of admission price - fuck it, my mom wants to see it too...I'll be glad to take the trip with Walt again. Damn I love movies like these - and GOD DAMN I MISS MY CAR!!!

I'm going to go find a corner and cry like a little girl now...

Getting Back On Track...Again...Again...

2009-01-06T12:08:00.005-06:00

So anyway, I'm not entirely satisfied with my first two attempts, they're...flawed. Honestly, I have no idea how to write about a film. But, everyone has to start somewhere. At the very least I could benefit from a good editor. Hell, the "top" critics in the country have an editor for crying out loud. So...where do I go from here? Well, I think I'll just jump right into Frost/Nixon. While I don't share Brad's feeling that my previous endeavors completely spoiled the films (for Pete's sake, Valkyrie is a dramatization of historical fact - how much is there to spoil?), I'll concede that they were a bit long in detail. So I'll try to keep things a touch more concise this go around. Keep in mind that there might be an occasional spoiler strewn about...but this was a real event, I'm not going to tell anyone anything more than the wikipedia article on the subject would have. So without further ado...

Watergate is a pop culture buzz word. Strike that, Watergate may arguably be the pop culture buzz word - for at least the last century or so. At the very least, since 1974 any political scandal to reach even the fainest of notoriety has had the suffix "-gate" attached to it. I find it humorous, but not terribly surprising, that many people under the age of 40 (or so) know the term, but don't actually know what it was that Nixon did (just search a message board about the film and you'll see exactly what I mean)! Of my loyal following, I'm the only one that was actually alive when some of the events of the film Frost/Nixon took place - granted, I was still shitting my pants 6 or 7 times a day and could barely roll over under my own will power (wait...how's that different from now...?), but I was alive and breathing. I'll confess, until this film came along, I was completely unaware of David Frost and his series of interviews with President Nixon in 1977. Honestly, I don't even know what he actually looks like now...I haven't bothered to look him up online yet (suppose I'll get to it eventually). The point is, it doesn't matter. The film doesn't offer any insight or new perspective on the events of the Watergate break-in and Nixon's subsequent resignation. What it does do (and damned effectively) is portray, with a great deal of fictionalized drama for plot and effect, a stirring perspective on two men at a singular and important point in American history.

I would absolutely have loved to see this in its stage form. The film was written by Peter Morgan (based on his play of the same name). I can only imagine that a great deal of the first hour of the screenplay has been drawn out considerably - the logistics of staging the final act alone are a bit mind boggling, let alone all the set-up and character development of the first couple acts of the film. Here, the film stars its two original stage leads - Michael Sheen (of The Queen and Underworld fame) as British entertainer and talk show host David Frost (note I refer to him not as a journalist because by this point in his career, Frost was anything but), and Frank Langella as former President Richard Nixon. I've always liked Sheen - his turn as Tony Blair in The Queen was fantastic. Even when he's portraying a villain or just an evil bastard there's still a charm and accessibility to the man. Until these interviews, Frost was a virtual failure here in the U.S., and while popular abroad, still somewhat looked down upon as something of a second-rate entertainer and playboy. Sheen owns it in this character - you love to loathe him and hate to like him, but you do.

Then there's the matter of Langella's portrayal of Nixon. Dozens of actors and comedians have had there stabs at the man in the last 30 years or so. Everybody has a Nixon impression - hell, I have a fucking Nixon impression...you can't help it. Male or female, young or old, you can't help but try to be Nixon when talking about him. Langella is on an entirely different fucking plane of existence with his Nixon. Sure he's got the height and size about right (Nixon was about 6'1" or so, Langella is 6'3"), and has - with the aid of make-up and a few prosthetics - a passable resemblance to him. But the mannerism, the personality - it is Richard Nixon. You might as well have dug the bastard up and brought him back from the dead. It's haunting...it really is. You watch any archival footage of the real Nixon and compare it to Langella's performance - you'd swear he was a freakin' clone or something. A spot-on portrayal of a real-life historical figure seems to be like candy to the Oscar crowd - so, having said that...Langella should be a shoe-in for Best Actor...hell, he's already got the Tony for it. Phillip Seymour Hoffman's Truman Capote was good, Forrest Whittaker's Idi Amin was terrific...but Frank Langella's Richard Nixon - that's fucking art man...abso-fuckin'-lutely poetry in motion!!! The final act - particularly the last interview - is one of the best nail-biting of a film-going experiences as I've ever seen. I need to see the real interviews to see which is the more entertaining - if the film's even close, then goddamn that must have been something to watch.

Given his directorial resume, Ron Howard isn't necessarily the first director I would have associated with this film - and it's one helluva resume. I honestly believe that - and you have to remember what a fantastic group of films the man has directed - this is arguably his finest work to date. It's certainly his most intimate and personal. Howard has said in many an interview that he was inspired to shoot this after seeing the Broadway performance - and it shows. Obviously, by virtue of having originated the roles, Sheen and Langella wouldn't have needed much coaxing or prodding. But I can't help but think that Ron Howard helped them bring the epitome of their "A-game" into the film. It also benefits from some very tight cinematography and the assistance of being allowed multiple angles and takes to get everything just perfect. I also can't help but think that Howard probably really wanted James Horner to score the film...but also knew precisely what kind of score he'd be getting in the end. To which I would venture a guess is exactly what he didn't want. Defaulting to his second favorite composer, Hans "go-team-go" Zimmer didn't exactly seem like a natural choice either, but that's what we ended up with. And honestly, I can say without a second thought that this is the most restrained I have ever heard the man. There's no bombast - no Charge of the Synth-Brigade to be found. It's primarily a piano-based score, with flourishes of string orchestra thrown in when deemed necessary. The final cue of the film (leading into the end credits) is the most intense piece in it and that's not saying much as it's just upbeat and rhythmic. Overall though it stays out of the way mostly, and accentuates the drama when called for.

History (at least for the last 35 years) has done a bang-up job of dragging Nixon's name through the mud, putting the man in a vice and tightening for all it's worth. So much so that any proponents of the man (few that there still are - I certainly don't count myself as one of them) have never had a fair shake at lightening the burden of his disgrace. Nearly every biography, every film, every miniseries and play and documentary about the man and those events can't help but have a left-leaning slant...and certainly Frost/Nixon is no exception. What it does do, despite its own agenda, is still manage to bring a faint glint of pity and dignity to the President (not necessarily Nixon the civilian ,but Nixon the President). Frost's agenda was to get what the American people were foaming at the mouth for - a confession - and (perhaps even more ambitiously) an apology. Everyone wanted to give Nixon the trial he never had...the film doesn't detract from that. Frost (more or less) got what he wanted, and so following did the American people - the film let's us relive that moment. But what it also does is succeed (rather inadvertently or not) in allowing us, the viewers (most of whom likely despise the man) to feel a glimmer of empathy with a disgraced man - who, whether you believe it or not, seems to have only been doing what he thought was the right thing to do at the time.

Call it bullshit, call it whatever you want - hate the bastard as much as ever, I do...and I wasn't even fucking there (hell, many of us weren't even sperm yet)! I still say that by the end of the film you just can't help but feel ever-so-slightly sorry for what (at least by the portrayal in this film) was a broken man with a debt that could never be repaid and a crime that could never be forgiven. I'm of the opinion after watching Frost/Nixon that in about five years from now (give or take a month) a Frost/Bush series of interviews would be just as well received and serve to relieve some of the anger and bitterness that has engulfed this nation for the last eight years. The parallels between the events then and those now are uncanny, and it almost seems ironic, maybe even precognitive that this film was made and released when it was.

Getting Back on Track...Again

2008-12-30T05:38:00.007-06:00

...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!

Year-End Odds and Ends and Getting Back on Track

2008-12-27T16:44:00.008-06:00

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...

Reveling in Bad Karma

2008-11-26T07:18:00.003-06:00

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.

No One Wants To Play With My Poll

2008-11-25T07:10:00.002-06:00

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...

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

2008-11-05T06:34:00.008-06:00

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!!!

Sandwich

2008-10-29T05:56:00.005-05:00

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!!!!!!!

Coitus Interruptus

2008-10-20T03:38:00.008-05:00

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?"

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

2008-10-14T04:03:00.005-05:00

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?

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

2008-09-15T03:05:00.003-05:00

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!

Like a Retarded Kid on the Monkey Bars...

2008-09-10T08:12:00.006-05:00

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!!!

Sorry, but I have to say it...

2008-09-09T12:14:00.005-05:00

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.