Criticult.Com

Dead Until Dark - Charlaine Harris (Cannonball Read #17)

2009-09-15T13:09:00.000-07:00

True Blood - Book 1.

The Suicide Collectors - by, David Oppegaard (Cannonball # 16)

2009-09-07T16:59:00.000-07:00

Excellent post-apocalyptic story that is more The Road than Road Warrior.

The Monster of Florence, by Doug Preston and Mario Spezi (Cannonball Read #15)

2009-09-02T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm not usually a fan of true crime, but this book was excellent. Recommended for Preston fans and true crime fans.

Something Awful by: Jasper Fforde (Cannonball #14)

2009-08-14T12:55:00.000-07:00

It is difficult to explain a Thursday Next novel without sounding like a goddamn lunatic so I’m going to let the Amazon description of Something Rotten do the heavy lifting. Seriously, I’ve sat here for 20 minutes and tried to write this 5 different ways and it always is as clear as mud in a dark closet. Admittedly, I’m cheating a bit. Deal with it.

(5 MINUTES LATER)

Well, that didn’t work at all. Their description is worse than what I was trying to do. Let’s see what else I can find.

(10 FRUITLESS MINUTES OF GOOGLING LATER)

Nothing. Great. Ok, fuck it.

Something Rotten finds Spec Ops Literary Detective Thursday Next and her 2 year old son Friday still living in the Bookworld. Thursday has been working as the Jurisfiction Bellman (a policing agency inside the realm of books) for the last couple of years, but decides to return to the real world and try to un-eradicate her husband, Landen. She finds things are less than ideal in her real world (an alternate universe 1985 England) as the evil multi-megacorporation Goliath (responsible for Landen’s eradication in the first place) is attempting to become a Church to loophole its way out of a prophecy predicting the corporation’s demise, and the megalomaniacal fiction escapee Yorrick Kaine may be inadvertently going to cause Armageddon because if Swindon fails to win the World Croquet Championship it will set in motion a series of events that will see Kaine become President of England.

Hamlet (yes, THAT Hamlet) accompanies Thursday into the real world to see how he is viewed by readers and his absence causes irrevocable damage to his play as in Hamlet's absence Ophelia decides to merge Hamlet with The Merry Wives of Windsor . The only way out of that mess is to re-write the play into its original version, but where is Thursday going to find William Shakespeare in 1985? How will she deal with the attempts on her life from the Windowmaker, a lethal assassin (and wife) of her friend Agent Stoker? And somehow she still has to find time to locate an on-the-run Minotaur and figure out just what the hell an Obvinator does.

Still with me?

Ok, enough of the plot synopsis. Let’s get this straight. If nothing above made any sense to you, stop reading and go get The Eyre Affair to see where it all began. I promise it makes sense in context but when reading a Thursday Next novel you are taking an E-train to Lunacy Town . Either you are with the madcap insanity or it just ain’t your thing. I loved the series and was rather shocked by Something Rotten’s outcome. I had no idea this was the end to the series. Yes, I am aware there is a fifth book called First Among Sequels but Something Rotten wraps up nearly all of the plot threads of the previous 3 books and does so with impeccable style.

The book is complex, but not overly confusing, and retains all of the charm of the earlier books and all major characters return at some point for the finale. There is one twist that is so good, so well done, so unexpected and so absolutely shattering that I had to read it twice. I’m not going to go into it, but I will say that if you have followed the series from the beginning you will meet this twist with confusion, dawning realization, and finally wonder as you try to piece together this final complete mindfuck. More than anything, you will want to re-read the books again to see the details you missed that possibly portended it.

I was very pleasantly surprised with Something Rotten. I have enjoyed every Thursday Next book but this is the first one since The Eyre Affair that was absolutely satisfying. I have not yet read First Among Sequels, but I know it takes place 16 years after Something Rotten. So I’m treating it as an epilogue. As a finale, Something Rotten excels and easily holds its own among the greats of the fantasy genre. As a series, the Thursday Next books should absolutely not be missed by any fans of Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams. If that describes you, you owe it to yourself to dive into this series.

Song of Kali - Dan Simmons (Cannonball #13)

2009-07-10T09:34:00.000-07:00

Some places are too evil to be allowed to exist. Some cities are too wicked to be suffered.

Thus begins Dan Simmons' Song of Kali. This is the third time I have read this book, and familiarity does nothing to blunt the impact of the narrative. What begins as an academic description of the squalor in the teeming city of Calcutta soon immerses the characters and readers fully into the fetid underbelly of the most notorious city on earth.

The year is 1977, and Americans Robert Luczak, his wife Amrita, and their baby daughter Victoria journey to Calcutta so that Robert can acquire the final manuscript of a long suspected to be dead poet named M. Das. Once there he becomes embroiled in a mystery surrounding where the poet has been and why it is so important for this final poem to be published. As the mystery deepens and the Luczaks' become unwittingly pawns by a secret society that worships the goddess Kali, Robert begins to see that there may be no escaping the city's madness.

Simmons describe Calcutta in such a way that there is no room for beauty. From the alleys teeming with garbage and human waste to the upper middle class homes of the Writer's Union there is always some bit of decay that taints even the sunniest of scenes. Like all great thrillers the book begins with a sense of foreboding that becomes suffocating by the final pages. There is no happy ending, not really. There is only chaos, a mystery with no answers, or at least no rational ones.

Song of Kali is a brutal reminder of the anarchy that exists just beneath the surface of humanity. The jacket touts the novel as one the reader will never forget, and for once the blurb whores are right. Any horror fan that has yet to read Song of Kali should do so immediately. This is not a novel of things that go bump in the night and can be easily vanquished, true evil can never be defeated, only delayed.

Cemetery Dance - Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child (Cannonball Read #12)

2009-06-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child have finally done what not even uber-villain Diogenes Pendergast could achieve: they have killed off a main character. No head-fake like the supposed murder but really just critically injured Margo Green in Dance of Death. No, this is the real thing. In the opening chapter of the slow burn new thriller Cemetery Dance, NY Times reporter and longtime Preston/Child character Bill Smithback is killed. As in dead. Forever. Sort of.

What begins as an intensely personal case for Preston/Child regulars NYPD Homicide Detective Vincent D'Agosta and FBI Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast soon drags them deeper into the most dangerous case of their careers. Given the amount of scary ass shit they have dealt with in the past this is saying something. Trouble starts when the primary suspect in Smithback's murder, seen on multiple security cameras, turns out to have been dead for a month. Soon zombii (the book helpfully points out the double i is the correct spelling) begin popping up in the city and all signs point to a cult of animal sacrificing nutbags that have held residence in a North Manhattan warren of buildings known as The Ville.

Along for the ride are other series regulars Nora Kelly, Smithback's wife, and Laura Hayward, NYPD Captain and on again/off again girlfriend to D'Agosta. Through the course of this adventure all the regulars are in serious trouble and after the initial murder of Smithback you are really kept guessing who is going to survive long enough to figure out just what the hell is going on.

Cemetery Dance is a much more intimate story then the last several Preston/Child novels. Although limited in scope, the murder of their friend clouds everything these characters do throughout the book. They make mistakes, they act rashly, and even the brilliant and seemingly unflappable Pendergast is thrown by the conflicting clues in the case. Preston/Child don't write mysteries, but this one was set up in such a way that you could deduce what was going on (faster than the characters to be honest) but not why it was going on. Rather then making the book tedious it heightened the suspense as you realize just how much danger the characters are in.

After the good but exhausting Diogenes Trilogy (Brimstone, Dance of Death, Book of the Dead) and the fun but nutty Wheel of Darkness, it was great to see a self-contained case that still brought all the thrills that fans of Preston/Child expect.

NOTE:: For new readers to Preston/Child I recommend starting where they did, The Relic. An incredibly good monster-thriller that was made into one of the worst movies of all time. Nora Kelly and Bill Smithback were first introduced in my personal favorite Preston/Child book, Thunderhead, about an archeological expedition searching for the lost city of gold.

MEG: Hell's Aquarium - Steve Alten (Cannonball Read #11)

2009-06-29T12:57:00.000-07:00

Ah, the continuing adventures of the 70 foot, 100 ton Megalodon shark, Angel, and the family that keep and fear her. Hell's Aquarium is book 4 in the MEG series and it starts with things not going well and ends with things considerably worse.

It has been near 30 years since Jonas Taylor first discovered that the once thought extinct Carcharadon Megalodon sharks have been living in the depths of the Marianas Trench. After 3 books worth of mayhem caused by the sharks they are now safely (HA!) ensconced in a custom built aquarium in San Diego. Trouble brews when Angel's (short for The Angel of Death) truly terrifying brood (Bella, Izzy, Mary Kate, and Ashley...no lie) start turning on each other.

To combat this Jonas decides to sell 2 of the pups (each one 15 foot long) to a Dubai prince for his upcoming Hell's Aquarium, the most advanced, largest sea enclosure, and future home of the scariest fishies in the history of the planet. Ever. As part of the deal his son David goes along to care for the sharks and train a team in the operation of a prototype submersible. Their mission is to go to the newly discovered Panthallasic Sea (hidden beneath the sea floor off the Philippines) to find the many, MANY prehistoric monsters that have made their home there for millenniums for display in the aquarium.

Meanwhile a go-gooder animal rights group, suffering from some sort of brain damage, seem to think that releasing the 30 foot Bella and Izzy into the wild is a good idea and begin sneakily trying to do just that. But Angel is growing restless in her enclosure and drastic measures are needed to control her, which results in Angel getting some unexpected drop ins for dinner.

This is all potboiler nonsense but makes for a hell of a fun read. Alten writes in the present tense which takes a bit to get used to but tends to make everything more suspenseful. It's an interesting trick that works for a thriller. The book gets bogged down in the over-long ending that introduces lots of creatures in a small time frame in a "that one was big, but THIS one is huge!" constant one-up manship that gets a little irritating. The primary issue I have with the book is the extremely sloppy epilogue that fails to wrap up anything but sets up book 5 (to be called Night Stalkers) and the supposed finale to the series.

I've been consistently surprised Alten has gotten as much mileage out of this silly series as he has so I'll happily go along for one last harrowing dive to the depths of the ocean when Night Stalkers comes out in a couple of years.

But I have about 100 unanswered questions I hope he bothers to address this time.

{Further books in the MEG series are: MEG, The Trench, and MEG: Primal Waters}

Star Wars is back with 100% LESS suck!

2009-06-04T15:29:00.000-07:00

I don't know how the game is going to be, but this video for upcoming MMO Star Wars: The Old Republic is pretty much what I envisioned the prequels to be and instead got rastafarian rabbit creatures and emo-Anakin.

http://www.swtor.com/media/trailers/deceived-cinematic-trailer

When You Are Engulfed in Flames, By David Sedaris (Cannonball #10)

2009-05-25T10:46:00.001-07:00

There isn't a great deal to say about When You Are Engulfed in Flames. It's David Sedaris so you know what you are going to get and are either a fan or you are not. There are stories about living in France and other countries abroad, there are stories about his family, and stories about the everyday things that he notices. After 6 books the descriptions are all pretty much the same.

However, I would put When You Are Engulfed in Flames second only to Me Talk Pretty One Day. This is his tightest collection yet, and every story has at least 1 or 2 laugh out loud moments and most have several. The focus is off his family this time and really concentrates more on his life with his long time partner Hugh. This helps the stories to not feel like they are treading over the same ground, while still linking nicely to the earlier books.

A large chunk of the book is dedicated to David's attempts to quit smoking and offer a very funny history lesson in how cultural acceptance of smoking has changed dramatically from the 60's until today. After several failed attempts to quit, he and Hugh move to Tokyo for the winter for a change on scenery. Here, David enrolls in a class to learn to speak and write Japanese. The 50 page story expertly interweaves the trials of trying to quit, along with doing something very difficult (speaking Japanese) without the crutch of a cigarette, and also several observations of Japanese culture vs. US and European. It is easily the highlight of the book.

The book is a fast read but just as engaging as his previous works. There was just something here that made me like it more. Naked tread some very dark material and the lighter touch just
works better for the humor.

Last - NIN (live recording)

2009-05-14T12:46:00.001-07:00

Despite what is going on at my other site hereRUFKM reviews May 8 West Palm Beach NIN/JA Tour Kick Off Show, I have to admit this video is pretty damn great.

Go Go Girls of the Apocalypse, by Victor Gischler (Cannonball #9)

2009-05-06T14:45:00.000-07:00

Go Go Girls of the Apocalypse is one of the most enjoyable books I’ve read in some time. Is it great literature? No, it most certainly is not. But that really doesn’t matter because the book is just so damn fun. I decided a while ago that if I happen to luck into a vast fortune I would open my own movie studio and option the rights to the novels I love. This book would definitely be on that list. {Along with Song of Kali, Dies the Fire, The Eyes of the Dragon, Dead in the Water, and The Eyre Affair to name but a very few.}

The blurb on the cover calls Go Go Girls a cross between Quentin Tarantino and Christopher Moore. The book does take place partly in a strip club, but otherwise I don’t know why Tarantino’s name came up. I would say it is a cross between Terry Pratchet, Carl Hiaasen, and the Fallout games.

It has been 9 years since a financial meltdown and nuclear war (among other calamities) decimated the world. All that time, Mortimer Tate has been hiding in a cabin in the mountains in Tennessee with a very healthy stash of supplies and weapons. One day he sees some men coming up the mountain toward his house. He hasn’t seen another soul since the apocalypse years before. He goes out to try and greet them but ends up startling them with his sudden appearance - his cabin is hidden in a cave – and is forced to kill the 3 men. This encounter spurs Mortimer to try and rejoin what is left of society and sends him careening from one adventure to another with his friend Bill, a gunslinger, Sheila, a stripper. He quickly learns that the new economy hinges entirely on Armageddon Dollars, found exclusively at Joey Armageddon’s Sassy-A-Go-Go and its franchise locations. Joey’s is a strip club/brothel that is also a hotel, armory, and supply station and our heroes visit them often, but it is only in the final chapters that the importance of the club becomes apparent from a story telling perspective.

This book is all plot and comic details and unfolds much like a video game. There is little time for deep characterization as Mortimer and his friends get in one scrape after another while fighting (and running) from cannibals, asylum inmates, scavengers, and other denizens of the post apocalyptic world. Just when they seem to be safe some new danger erupts and they have to react quickly. This is repeated throughout the novel. The middle chapters get a little tedious as it jumps from action scene to action scene but the final 100 pages settles down as the plot comes fully into focus and sets the stage for an epic - yet very funny - war.

To say more would be to give away too much. The fun with this book lies in getting sucked into this weird post-apocalyptic world as the little in jokes and references begin to pile up. I laughed out loud several times and had a blast with it and was surprised by the ending, but completely satisfied. Even as I read the last page of the epilogue I could see it unfolding as a movie, down to the final line as the music gets louder and the credits begin to roll.

The next time you are complaining there are no good movies get yourself a copy of this book, a nice comfortable chair, and your drink of choice and read the best summer movie that has yet to be made.

Your Weekend Playlist

2009-04-24T15:24:00.000-07:00

Dies the Fire, by S.M. Stirling (Cannonball Read #8)

2009-04-15T11:56:00.000-07:00

In an instant, the world changes. The power goes out, planes fall from the sky, and most frightening of all, gunpowder and gasoline stop igniting. Humanity is sent back to the dark ages in an instant. Welcome to The Change.

Dies the Fire by S.M Stirling follow 2 groups of characters in Oregon that spend much of the narrative apart but their stories run parallel. First we meet ex-Marine and private pilot Mike Havel. He is ferrying the wealthy Larsen family to their mountain home outside of Salem when the Change occurs. All instruments on his plane cease to function and he crashes into a river. Mike rallies the Larsens and they make their way across the wilderness to try and reach civilization.

In Corvallis we meet Juniper McKenzie, folk singer and Wiccan, her daughter Eliir, and bar owner Dennis. She is playing a gig when the lights go out and before confusion really sets in, a boom sounds from downtown as a 747 smashes to the ground and sets fire to the town. People quickly learn it’s not just the lights that are out, but all electronic and electric devices have ceased to function, battery operated or not. As looters smash in a nearby electronic store a cop pulls his gun to dissuade them and fires a warning shot only to be met with a dull click. The thugs see this, pull their own guns and fire and theirs fail to go off as well.

Sensing that it’s time to get out of dodge, Juniper, Eliir, and Dennis head for Juniper’s cabin in the woods outside of town, picking up friends and stragglers along the way.

As the story progresses Mike and Juniper’s groups fight for survivival and attempt to adapt to a world where sword and chainmail have once again become cutting edge technology.

Dies the Fire is the first part in a 9 book (and counting) series called The Emberverse. The series is divided into 3 self contained trilogies. It is tied to Sterling ’s previous series “Island in the Sea of Time ” which dealt with the island of Nantucket being enveloped in a mysterious storm and being transported back to the Stone Age. The Emberverse series is about what happened to everyone left behind.

The strength of the novel comes from Stirling’s detailed descriptions and logical progression of events in the post Change world. Apocalyptic fiction is one of my favorite genres and Dies the Fire stands with the best just on premise alone. Whether or not it is ever explained in the series, it is a stroke of genius to eliminate gunpowder, electronics, and explosives from the equation. This alone is enough to set the novel apart from typical apocalyptic stories. Where it really shines is in the recounting of how Mike and Juniper’s groups grow from a handful of scared survivors to hundreds of battle hardened warriors fighting together in alliance.

The story is detailed without being particularly dense but there are times where the action slips out of control from the narrative. In a couple of instances I had to re-read a couple of pages to catch what happened to a secondary character. Also, the ending seems to arrive with little run up as the heroes join forces in a joint assault on a mutual enemy.

Speaking of the enemy, very little text is given to Professor Norman Arminger, the self proclaimed Protector of Portland and the Willamette Valley . When the change occurs he uses his knowledge of medieval warfare and gang society to convince the criminal element of Portland to join forces with him in order to rule this new world. His building of a fort to try and control the Valley where Mike and Juniper’s groups make their home is the impetus for the final battle. The second book in the series is called The Protector’s War so I am guessing it will go into more detail on Arminger and his plans.

As the first in a series Dies the Fire sets the stage for epic battles to come.

Blast from the Past: Battlestar Revisited

2009-03-23T14:34:00.000-07:00

In honor of the stellar (yes, stellar) ending to Battlestar Galactica this past Friday I have dug up and re-posted my original review of the mini series when it first aired back in 2003. Because really, why not?

"Life here, began out there..."

Lieutenant Starbuck. Captain Apollo. Commander Adama.
If you are in your early 30's then these names should
bring to mind two words: Battlestar Galactica. It
was a cult hit that lasted 2 seasons (actually a
season and a half) on ABC in 1978 and 1979. It told
the story of a "rag tag fugitive fleet", the last few
thousand humans left, desperately trying to outrun the
metallic menace of the Cylon race and reach a mythical
planet called Earth. In the original pilot movie, the
Cylons attack their home worlds called the Twelve
Colonies and force these remaining ships to go on the
run. Led by the warship Galactica and defended by
their fleet of fighters called Vipers, the survivors
tried to maintain order and to use all of their
resources just to survive. Each episode they would
encounter trouble and over come crisis in the form of
supply shortages or one of the many Cylon attacks but ultimately
they would keep on trucking. At least until ABC pulled
the plug midway through the second season.

The thing that always struck me abou t the show was the link to
Egyptian mythology. In the late 70's there was a
revival in all manner of Mysteries of the Earth shows.
Numerous "documentaries" were created about the likes
of the Bermuda Triangle, Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot,
and of course the possibility that Egyptians, Mayans,
and the like were aided by extraterrestrials in the
construction of their most magnificent temples and
monuments. The names of ships and characters on the
show were straight out of mythology: Apollo, Cassiopeia,
Pegasus, etc. The helmet that Vipers pilots wore bore a striking resemblance to the headpiece of
an Egyptian pharaoh, specifically the worldwide tour in the late 70's of the mummy of King
Tutankhamen.

I bring this up to show the differences between the
old version, and the new mini-series that just aired
on Sci-Fi. The Egyptian motif is gone. The hippy
sensibility of the fleet and its leaders is gone. The
humor is gone. This is 9/11 set in space on a grand
scale.

The movie begins with spare text overlapped on shots of
a ship docking at a lone space station. No music. The
starkness and quiet is reminiscent of "2001"

THE CYLONS WERE CREATED BY MAN.

THEY WERE CREATED TO MAKE LIFE EASIER ON THE TWELVE
COLONIES.

AND THEN THE DAY CAME WHEN THE CYLONS DECIDED TO KILL
THEIR MASTERS.

It continues in this vein and ends with:

NO ONE HAS SEEN OR HEARD FROM THE CYLONS IN 40 YEARS.

That is really all the background that is given through
the course of the next 4 hours. This is a human story
and very little is given to explaining how things
work. Some ships have warp drives that allow them to
"jump" to pre-calculated spots in space. Others do
not. The ships seem to fire some kind of bullet, as
opposed to a laser, but little explanation is given.
Radio transmissions suffer from time lag due to
distance, and there is no "future look" to any of the
proceedings. They dress like us, talk like us, have
morning news programs, cancer, nuclear weapons, and a
department of education. Then on the day that the last
remaining warship from the Cylon War is being
decommissioned and turned into a museum, their world
comes to an end.

The Galactica was designed to function with computer
components that were not networked together. The
Cylons had the ability, since they are machines, to
disrupt networks and control them. So the Battlestars
were created where many things are done manually and
non interlaced. Acute fear of technology is one theme
that is prevalent throughout the movie. It is a fear
that is validated early on when the Cylons, fresh from
unleashing hundreds of 50 megaton warheads on the
twelve planets, render powerless the Colonial fleet.

The "how" is explained, the why never really is. In
numerous scenes the Cylons make reference to "God",
and seem to believe they are on a crusade from Him to
wipe out humanity. The religious zeal of Al Qaida
seems to be the metaphor here. Since the Cylons have
twelve models that look and act human, the theme of
"the enemy is us" becomes clearer. When the main
characters, Captain Lee "Apollo" Adama, Commander
Adama, Lieutenant Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, and others
learn of what has happened to their worlds the
reactions are varied and powerful. Some react with
disbelief, others anger, some with panic. Over time,
when the number of humans left is around 50,000, those
emotions coalesce into dread and hopelessness.

This is powerful stuff and I was surprised by how well
it was done. The camera work is primarily handheld and
gives the drama an immediacy much like NYPD: Blue
and The Shield. Early on a space station is
destroyed by a Cylon attack and a large piece of
degree rushes toward the camera. At the point when you
think it will fill the screen and face to black (as we
have seen numerous times before) the camera's view is
wildly shifted, as if the debris smashed into the
camera. It could be dismissed as a gimmick if that
"reality" aspect was not carried through the entire
show.

I know I have mentioned little about the characters,
acting, dialogue, effects, or even the plot. The
acting ranges from understated and intense to over the
top. Some of the dialogue is hammy, but most of it
hits the mark. Edward James Olmos is incredible as
Adama. In his early scenes he portrays Adama as a well
respected and revered father figure to the crew
of the Galactica. As the crisis ensues he transforms
into a battle hardened veteran and is forced to make
decisions that will ultimately take the lives of his
crew and those that depend on him for the good of the
fleet. From the moment the Cylon attack begins he is
desperate to enter the war. His realization at the
end, that the war is already over and they are now in
a battle against extinction, is profound and handled
with nuance.

The special effects are understated and very good.
Ships move as you would assume spaceships should. The
only sound they make is a retro jet firing to turn and
rotate, and a muffle thump from their weapons. The
almost silent battles are eerie and underline the
desperation and futility of what they are doing. The
ship design is all well done, and the "new" Vipers are
sleek and powerful, while looking exactly as you
remember from the original show. The producers pulled
off a neat trick to feature new designs as well as the
ones that fans of the series will remember.

I could keep going on but I would rather leave it to
you to discover. I'm sure it will be on DVD in the
next few months. Do not pass up the chance to see it.
The movie is left with several loose ends and one
large twist in the final frame that leads one to think
that the intention is for the story to continue. Even
if it does not, these four hours are well worth any
science-fiction fan's time. Think of it as the
anti-Star Trek; Humans above technology.

For anyone that has yet to watch the best science fiction series of all time, here is how it all began:

A Lion Among Men - Gregory Maguire (Cannonball Read #7)

2009-02-16T14:22:00.000-08:00

I'm a big fan of Wicked, and I'm happy to say that A Lion Among Men gets the series back on track after the meandering and unsatisfying Son of a Witch. This time around Gregory Maguire is focusing on Brr, known to us as the Cowardly Lion.

As Oz prepares for war, Brr is sent on a mission from the Emerald City to gather information from an old nun named Yackle. In order to interview the nearly dead maunt Brr must travel to the Cloister of Saint Glinda, a convent that unfortunately lies directly between the approaching army of the Emerald City and the resistance fighters of Munchkinland. Also caught in the middle is the mysterious fortune-telling Clock of the Time Dragon and its' keepers.

Some background: When Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West) and her sister Nessarose (killed by Dorothy's house) were killed, their half brother Shell became Emperor of Oz. He has taken that mantle (after Glinda and the Scarecrow took a turn) and is now obsessed with bringing the sececed nation of Munchkinland directly under Emerald City control.

Brr is trying to gather information on the whereabouts of Liir, Elphaba's son and rightful heir to the throne, but the reasons why and how he came to be a civil servant to Emerald City is all part of the journey. Like every other Maguire book, it isn't so much about plot as it is about the characters.

This is book 3 in the Wicked series and newcomers will be lost if they have not read the earlier books. While much of the story functions as a stand alone tale about the Lion, the ending can only be appreciated fully by those that have been on the journey from the beginning. Questions are answered, but this in turn reveals other questions. The "action" in A Lion Among Men takes place in one night, making this the most urgent of the series so far. The middle chapter always suffers a bit in an epic, and this one definitely is The Empire Strikes Back of the Wicked books. It starts with things going poorly and ends with a declaration to join forces and find/rescue another character.

If you are already a fan of the Wicked series there is a lot to like here. Brr is a fascinating anti-hero, not so much cowardly as he is opportunistic. While I never grew to positively like the character, by the end I at least understood him. His interactions with Yackle supply the most entertaining sections as the Lion attempts to draw information from the old maunt while she in turn is searching for something from him. The final 30 pages or so pack a lot in and several revelations are unveiled one after the other.

I've liked all of Maguire's re-imaginings of old tales, but the Wicked series is my favorite. Something about taking the structure of The Wizard of Oz, turning the whole narrative on its' ear and keeping the tone deadly serious works for me. When A Lion Among Men ended I was already thinking ahead to the next chapter and who it might focus on next time. I have my suspicions but I'm even more intrigued by one of the final lines of dialogue:

"Don't you understand? She's coming back..."

Looking forward to Book 4 already.

Say You're One of Them, by Uwem Akpan (Cannonball Read #6)

2009-01-18T10:26:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I become interested in a book based on title alone. I think it was a blurb in EW that I first read of Say You're One Of Them and I became intrigued by the premise and found the title to be wonderfully evocative and frightening at the same time. So I tried to get the book from my local library but it was on order with no release date. After tiring of waiting, I finally ordered it from Amazon after Christmas. The book was both what I expected and nothing that I was ready for.

The book consists of five short stories told from the perspective of children in Africa and gives a human view of such horrifying topics as ethnic cleansing, child slavery, extreme poverty, and religious warfare. Often the title of a book bluntly describes the contents or a specific subject of the book. However the phrase "Say you're one of them." or a similar sentiment is invoked at some point in all of the stories and underlines the premise of an "us vs them" mentality and in many of the stories the children's only hope of survival is by blending with "them" and hiding their otherness.

The first story, "An Ex-Mas Feast" describes a family on the streets in the slums of Kenya on Christmas Eve, as told by Jigana, an 8 year old boy. It establishes quickly that these stories will not shy away from the horror it describes, nor will it glorify or present it as mere titillation. Like a reporter, Nigerian author and Jesuit priest Uwem Akpan recounts the details of this family's life as simple fact, with little commentary or expression on how the reader should feel. The family expresses gratitude when they are given a gift of glue from one of the other poor families. They take turns, including the children and babies, inhaling the fumes deeply because this holds off hunger. The oldest daughter is 12 and works as a prostitute, a profession that the parents encourage but ultimately tears the family apart.

The second story, "Fattening for Gabon" is really a novella. Told from the perspective of 8 year old Kotchikpa, it tells the story of 2 children and their uncle, Fofo Kpee, who sells them into slavery. The story plays out like a thriller, with the children first delighted by the attention the slave traders lavish on them. They are told these are NGO activists and are coming to take the children away to Gabon where they will live a life of luxury. It is only as their Uncle begins to have doubts that the plan goes awry and the truth becomes clear to the children. Calling the story harrowing is an understatement. The nonchalant nature of the deal, and the way that so many adults work to deceive the children is repellent. But again, Akpan takes no side in the matter which makes the story even more effective.

The longest story in the book is "Luxurious Hearses" and it is here that I was having a hard time shaking the spell of the book. It tells the story of Jubril, a teenage fundamentalist Muslim fleeing northern Nigeria for the southern villages during a religious riot. Because his father was Christian, he is forced to flee his home and ends up on a bus full of Christians also fleeing to the south. He is forced to try and blend in, a task made much more difficult because his right hand was lopped off when he was arrested for stealing a goat months before.

Jubril is a "good" Muslim in that he hates Christians and is a strong believer in Sharia law, the idea that a country should be governed by strict fundamentalist Islamic teachings. On the bus he is forced to confront women in western style clothing, television, and Christian views which challenges his world view. And through it all he has to keep his right arm in his pocket to hide his stump, because if the other passengers see it they will know he is Muslim and kill him.

This story throws the idea of religious way and ethnic cleansing into stark relief, forcing you to change your perspective on right and wrong. There are few things I hate more than religious fundamentalism in any form. Be it Christian, Muslim, or cultist, I simply do not believe that ancient doctrine has any place in modern society. Believe what you want to believe but leave the rest of us out of it. Unfortunately, the very foundation of religion fundamentalism is to spread the word so like a virus these radical views infect millions. "Luxurious Hearses" is about taking that crucial step away from radical intolerance and understanding that we are all at our core human beings. The shattering conclusion just underlines this revelation making what has come before all the more tragic.

The book wraps up with a story set during the ethnic cleansing in Rwanda and as harrowing and horrific as it is, I was numb after "Luxurious Hearses".

Through these fictional stories, Uwem Akpan shines a light on the dark continent forcing western readers to look at the horrors and not turn away. It is a read I won't soon forget.

For further details, and to read the first story in the collection, "An Ex-Mas Feast", please visit www.sayyoureoneofthem.com

Naked, by David Sedaris (Cannonball Read #5)

2009-01-06T13:31:00.000-08:00

I am new to the essayist/memoir field of writing so I'll admit to being (way) late to the Sedaris bandwagon. This is the third Sedaris book I've read, after Me Talk Pretty One Day and Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and I would say it is my favorite. While not as consistently funny as Me Talk Pretty, I found the stories were more interesting and offered something more than just a humorous anecdote.

The emphasis is off the immediate family this time around and focuses more on David Sedaris' personal experiences, especially cross-country hitch-hiking when he was in his 20's. The standard family tales are still present; crazy Ya Ya lives with the family, Lisa gets her first period during the US OPEN, etc., but they have been de-emphasised a bit and this helps to open up the narrative and give it more depth and incite into Sedaris himself.

Of particular note are the hitch-hiking episodes. While played for humor it still didn't make me ever want to get into a stranger's car, I don't care how desperate for a ride I may be. Some of Sedaris' adventures very easily could have killed him, but he blasts past the really scary/creepy parts to get back to the humor and this makes the story feel a bit rushed, especially since we don't actually get to find out how he escaped some of these situations.

50 pages of the book are devoted to one essay called "C.O.G.", a title which doesn't makes sense until the final 20 pages. This monster chapter details Sedaris taking a bus to Oregon to work as an apple picker for the season. After the season is over he is offered a job in the factory that processes the apples and he takes it. There he befriends a co-worker and things go swimmingly until one night he returns to the guy's trailer after being invited for a drink and things get really scary really fast. But as uncomfortable and cringe worthy as the events the stories are always funny.

It takes a lot of skill to make cancer funny, but in the story "Ashes" Sedaris does a brilliant job of bringing both the humor and pathos to a cliched subject. He perfectly captures the helplessness of finding out someone close to you has cancer and how your behavior changes toward that person.

The book wraps up with the title essay, "Naked", in which our neurotic hero decides on a lark to visit a nudist camp (they don't call them colonies anymore). This story is probably my favorite of all the ones he has done. Uproariously funny, insightful, and just a blast to read, I found myself re-reading passages because my eyes were blurring from laughing so hard. It is the perfect capper to a book that is all about mining bad situations for their inherent comedy but sacrificing none of the integrity of the stories themselves.

TylerDFC's Best Music of 2008

2008-12-31T08:38:00.001-08:00

So here is the list of the albums I listened to the most in 2008. Feel free to blast away in the comments, that's what makes it fun after all. One note, while I did buy Metallica's Death Magnetic and after giving it a good week of dedicated play I have never gone back to it. The production sucks, the songs meander all over the place, the lyrics suck, and I've come to the conclusion that I am simply over Metallica. I've come to terms with this and I encourage you to do the same. Oh well, we'll always have Kill 'em All and Master of Puppets.

In no particular order...

Panic at the Disco - Pretty. Odd.

The album really wasn't that odd. It is essentially one big homage to the Beatles and ELO. But the band make the songs sound fresh and it is probably the most cheerful album I've heard all year.

Best tracks: Nine in the Afternoon, Northern Downpour, Pas de Cheval

Nine in the Afternoon

Alanis Morissette - Flavors of Entanglement

I already wrote about this album here. This was Alanis best since her breakthrough Jagged Little Pill and proved that an unhappy Alanis is the best type there is.

Best Tracks: Straitjacket, Not as We, Tapes

Not As We

The Offspring - Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace

This is my pick for best comeback album of the year. It isn't flawless, and the latter couple of tracks could easily be outtakes from Green Day's American Idiot, but after shoveling a decade's worth of shit onto the airwaves, The Offspring finally came back with a rock album that had some teeth. Hopefully it won't be another 10 years before we get another one from them as good as this one.

Best Tracks: You're Gonna Go Far Kid, Nothingtown, Let's Hear it For Rock Bottom

You're Gonna Go Far Kid

Fall Out Boy - Folie a Deux

Fall Out Boy have always (unfairly) been slagged for the poseur-riffic antics of bassist Pete Wentz when the truth is the band has consistently put out solid albums. Folie a Deux is their most ambitious to date and it succeeds more often than it fails. The band has always excelled at clever wordplay (even if the songs rarely make sense) and at least half the tracks benefit from playing at a decibel level usually reserved for 747's on takeoff. Folie a Deux is no exception. True that the guest stars like Elvis Costello and Debbie Harry, among others, are all but unrecognizable under the sonic assault, it is still an album well worth hearing even if they don't always reach the heights the band is reaching for. But they have got to retire the nonsensical song titles.

Best Tracks: I Don't Care, Sliding Headfirst into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet, Tiffany Blews

Sliding Head First Into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet

O.A.R - All Sides

O.A.R. has been around for years on the jam band circuit but this is their most mainstream album yet. The songs are tight but there are serious musical skills under the hood. Only one song is over 6 minutes long but it's a foregone conclusion that these songs will be stretched to breaking point live. In some cases, like the stunning The Fallout, I would have been happy if they had continued for at least 10 minutes more. High praise indeed.

Best Tracks: Our Town, Shattered, The Fallout

This Town

Alkaline Trio - Agony & Irony

More laid back than previous releases, Agony & Irony takes a bit to grab you but once it does it's hard to stop listening to it. A perfect album for the winter months, the lyrics are somber, the songs are not happy but there is an honesty there that is missing from a lot of rock releases.

Best Tracks: Calling all Skeletons, Do You Wanna Know, Love Love, Kiss Kiss

Do You Wanna Know?

That's it. Have a happy new year everybody!

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, by Hunter S. Thompson (Cannonball Read # 4)

2008-12-29T09:00:00.001-08:00

Most of us at one time or another have used drugs. Whether it's alcohol, nicotine, pot, or even just aspirin we have sought out chemicals to change the way our body feels. Like most people my age I have dabbled in illegal drugs from time to time. Nothing too heavy, I don't need all of my fingers to count the number of times I have smoked pot, but I HAVE sought to alter my consciousness with drugs beyond the standard alcohol. I was never a big fan of pot so I didn't feel the need to go any deeper in the experimentation of drugs. But I've never really been OPPOSED to it either. Once you make a choice to try one I think it opens up the possibility that one day you could see yourself trying others.

Hell, I'm sipping on a particularly delicious bloody mary while I write this and fighting the strong impulse to get the cigarettes out of the freezer and fire one up. Having "quit" smoking a couple of years ago I do nevertheless slip from time to time. Now instead of throwing the smokes away after a night of hard partying I put them in the freezer where they stay mostly fresh and I don't waste another $5 the next time the urge strikes to flirt with lung cancer. My addiction to cigarettes is nothing to do with physical and everything to do with mental. I can go weeks without a cigarette but the moment I get in a particular frame of mind, or get more than 2 or 3 drinks in to a night of drinking, a near overwhelming clanging refrain begins ringing in my head :WE NEED SMOKES. Sometimes I can ignore it, sometimes I don't bother. It's irritating but I've mostly made my peace with it and just try not to fall into the REALLY bad old habits.

I spent a few weeks in the winter of 2002 when I was a functioning alcoholic. My girlfriend had just moved out of state, I was laid off from an extremely lucrative contract position, and I was having a serious case of "I need to make a fucking change." I was going through a bottle of vodka a day, not to mention the beer chasers, and it all culminated in one brutal night of misjudgement and a final burnout of an admittedly seriously dysfunctional relationship. And it was the wake up call that I needed to stop acting like a fucking idiot.

The point is, I know what it is like to rely on drugs to get through the pain of life.

Which brings me, in an admittedly long winded way, to Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. What starts as an incredibly funny (to me) escapade through the desert and Las Vegas with our main characters Raoul Duke (or Hunter S. Thompson) and his attorney stoned out of their skulls on all manner of drugs, ends up an indictment of the drug culture for being just as empty a response to the madness of the world as living clean and playing by the rules.

I have done no research on this book beyond simply reading it so I don't know how much of it is true and how much is made up. This is my first Hunter S. Thompson book and I really have little knowledge of the man beyond knowing what books he wrote and the Terry Gilliam film adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I intend to read up on him after completing this review but I wanted to get my thoughts down without being unnecessarily influenced one way or another by the "truth".

The book doesn't have a plot so much as a random series of events that are being filtered through a seriously burned out mind. Over several days Raoul Duke and his attorney attempt to cover a motorcycle race in the desert outside of Las Vegas called the Mint 400 and following that infiltrate the National District Attorney's Convention, all while ostensibly trying to find the "American Dream". The pair slash and burn their way through Vegas, trashing hotel rooms, terrifying the locals, destroying their rental cars, and ingesting enough drugs to put down a platoon of Marines. Through it all the pair are absolutely riled with conspiracy theories and paranoia that everyone is coming after them for their shenanigans.

By describing an extreme look at the consequences of drug use, Thompson forces you to look at your own foray into the world of drugs and altered consciousness. What starts as funny becomes depraved and shocking, but how many of us haven't had a night in our past where the wheels came off and we just rode a drunk or a high until its' devastating conclusion? There is plenty of time the next day for regret, but when you are in the moment and in the grip of a serious binge the consequences seem far away and impossible to recognize.

Reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was cathartic for me to revisit my own experiences with out of control behavior and be thankful that I have left that time in my life behind. Whether it was his intention or not, Thompson made me remember why one of my favorite platitudes is "There but for the grace of God go I."

Best Music of 2008 (According to my Itunes)

2008-12-27T07:32:00.001-08:00

I am a pretty big music freak and this is my Best of 2008 Music list. Before you all go running for the hills I'm happy to say it's not quite what you think.

No, we (meaning I) are going to do things a bit differently this year. I'm not just going to list my favorites (although I will in a later column). Nope, this is the list of the top 5 songs that according to Itunes I listened to the most from the 2008 crop. There is no hiding, no trying to bluff that I've been listening to some avant-garde navel gazer with a xylophone and a bag of marbles singing twee songs about daisies and whatever twee xylophone bands write about when they are not busy boring the ever loving shit out of me.

I tried linking to the music video for the tracks listed when it was available. Unfortunately, due to the draconian lengths the labels will go to in order to insure their artists are seen by as few people as possible I have had to resort to live tracks or music only tracks. So don't take the poorer quality of these You Tube clips as indicative of the studio version of the song. Besides, you are getting full length free previews and that's a damn sight more than the 30 second clips on Itunes so you really can't complain can ya?

1. Saints of Los Angeles - Motley Crue (29 times) - Saints of Los Angeles

This is not surprising. The song was the best the Crue has done in years and my kids requested it constantly. Believe me, the only thing missing from this song are the sprightly voices of an 8 and 12 year old singing "We are, we are the saints we signed our life away!" Luckily I can provide that myself in the comfort of my own home. Fun fact, not only is Saints of Los Angeles number 1 on this list, it is the number 5 most listened to song out of my entire 4,500 track library! Not bad for a bunch of ex-drug addict deviants and a lead singer that can't sing more than 2 words in a row on stage without hyperventilating.

If you think it's crazy
You ain't seen a thing
Just want until we're going down in flames

2. Straitjacket - Alanis Morissette (16 times) - Flavors of Entanglement

The best song on a hell of a good album. Alanis finally found her anger again and this song perfectly encapsulated the frustration of being in a relationship that is imploding through mixed signals.

Conclusions you come to of me
routinely incorrect
I don't know who you're talking to
With such fucking disrespect

Alanis' music had gotten a bit cuddlier of late with more of a "love everyone" vibe. This new album brought back the woman scorned she-bitch that we all met way back on You Oughta Know and it's her best in years.

3. Calling all Skeletons - Alkaline Trio (12 times) - Agony & Irony

I'm a big Alkaline Trio fan, and while a lot of the long timers have dissed them for writing poppier music of late, I really don't see that big a change from their earlier stuff. The lyrics are still some of the best out there and the chugging guitars never cease to lend the right melancholy to the somber sentiment. Sure, it's ready made for the Hot Topic set but these guys are more on the ball then the typical mallrat pop-punk.

It's only just begun
It's been fun
We were blind, deaf and dumb
There's a party in my closet
Calling all skeletons

4. Hell Yeah - Rev Theory (11 times) - Light It Up

Not the most original band by any stretch of the imagination but what Rev Theory lacks in inventiveness they make up for with an earnest approach to the material. Hell Yeah is a big slab of dumb rock that gets better the louder it gets and a chorus that is built to shake arenas. Sometimes that is all you want in a song. Witness these riveting lyrics:

Gimme a "hell" (Hell!)
Gimme a "yeah" (Hell Yeah!)

5. Into the Nightlife - Cyndi Lauper (10 times) - Bring Ya to the Brink

Every now and then a good pop dance song grabs me and this was the one this year. While the critics and sheep have been falling all over themselves praising Katy Perry for this year's pre-fab-every-song-sounds-the-same cookie-cutter-dance-schlock, veteran Lauper released a solid collection of dance tracks that were all but ignored by everyone. Into the Nightlife is the best on the album.

I'll take ya till you're all spun up
And in love
Into the nightlife

So that's it. The numbers don't lie. I'll be back later (probably) with part 2 of the Best Music of 2008 According to TylerDFC. I know y'all are on pins and needles.

{CROSS POSTED AT RUFKM.NET}

Gentleman of the Road - Michael Chabon (Cannonball Read #3)

2008-12-10T13:21:00.000-08:00

"Jews with swords". That is what Michael Chabon wanted to name this book according to his afterword. And the title would not be far off. "Gentlemen of the Road" tells the tale of Zelikman, a German Jew, and Amram, an African Jew, and their various adventures in 1000AD Europe. We first meet the 2 in a tavern, staging a fight to con the oblivious drunk patrons out of some coins. No sooner are they about to abscond with their money then they are found out and have to high tail it out of town. But not before being asked to escort a boy to his uncle's fortress by an elderly fellow who unfortunately gets dead when the townspeople discover they've been conned and catch him with an arrow meant for our heroes.

With that the tale is off and running and doesn't slow down until the final page. There is action, drama, romance, intrigue, and all those other things the publishers would like me to relay to you readers.

What sets "Gentlemen of the Road" apart from similar adventure potboilers is that I needed a dictionary (preferably from 1000 AD) to figure out what the hell half of the descriptions were describing. Chabon writes the novel as if he were living in that time as well. This can take a bit of getting used to and the jarring mix of a familar tale told with archaic wordplay can be slow going.

However once you get past the first couple of chapters you figure out to stop dwelling on not understanding every third word and just going along with the flow. It's not a complicated plot so it isn't too difficult to just blow past the jargon but you still can't help but think you are missing something. The writing style brings to mind classics like "Count of Monte Christo" and "Treasure Island" and to be honest would make an incredibly entertaining movie. Each chapter ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger and keeps you reading even when you should be turning out the light and going to sleep.

It doesn't compete with "The Adventures of Kavalier & Clay" or "Wonder Boys" but "Gentlemen of the Road" is a fun (and short) book that Chabon fans should seek out.

Silent Bob Speaks - Kevin Smith (Cannonball Read #2)

2008-11-28T13:54:00.001-08:00

I'm a Kevin Smith fan. I know the guy has his detractors but I've liked everything he's done, even Jersey Girl. I've seen his DVDs An Evening With Kevin Smith and the follow-up Evening Harder and the guy knows how to tell an anecdote that's for damn sure.

Those anecdotes are where Silent Bob Speaks really shines. The book is a collection of columns Keven Smith wrote for Arena Magazine, Details, New Jersey Monthly, and Film Comments. They range from amusing to hilarious. Unsurprisingly, the really funny stuff is when Kevin is dishing on his experiences with various actors and actresses. Of particular note is his animosity toward "Greasy Reese Witherspoon" and his plan for revenge is so moronic and juvenile it is near brilliant.

As a writer, Kevin is no-holds-barred with his opinions. He writes how he speaks which makes for an incredibly easy read. At times he loses his unique voice, especially the chapters in which he interviews Ben Affleck and Tom Cruise. It's pretty funny when he writes about his unabashed love for Affleck and how Cruise completely brings him under his spell.

What it does not go into is the apparent curse that Kevin brings to his interviewees. It wasn't long after these pieces were published that Affleck had a run of failed movies and, well, we all know what happened to Cruise's stature.

Aside from the behind the scenes dirt he also offers a few personal pieces about such diverse subjects as his experiences with fat-buster drug Xenical, and his wife posing nude for a painting. He ends the book with an unpublished essay on the San Diego Comic-Con. It's hilarious and brings new meaning to the phrase "tongue in cheek".

Silent Bob Speaks is a fun book for the fans, a fast read, and includes some hilarious bits, mostly at Kevin's expense. His self-deprecation is own full display and it would almost get grating if it also didn't come off as completely honest. If anything I have a bit more respect for the man now then I already did. He knows the kind of filmmaker he is, and he is happy to keep making the movies he wants to make. They cost little and he has enormous freedom to keep doing what he wants to do. Not a bad gig.

The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman (Cannonball Read #1)

2008-11-23T13:22:00.001-08:00

I rarely buy hardback books on day of release. The only exception to the rule is Neil Gaiman. When I was younger I was a Stephen King Constant Reader until I started to become Constantly Disappointed. I bought all of sai King's books the day they came out and then went home and devoured them. A quick glance to my book shelf reveals 3 King books unread (Lisey's Story, Duma Key and Blaze)and I really have no idea when I'm going to get to them. It' s not a question of not having time, I make time to read. But there is just no motivation to tackle them. Now that The Dark Tower is over everything he is releasing since his "retirement" just feels like epilogue. I will defend the man to the day I die for The Eyes of the Dragon, IT, The Shining, and The Stand but he just doesn't do it for me anymore.

Which brings me to Neil Gaiman. I first came upon him like a lot of people it seems, through Good Omens, his collaboration with Terry Pratchett. From that point forward I began reading all the Gaiman works I could get my hands on. There is nothing quite like the sheer joy of finding a new writer and in short succession I went through Neverwhere, Stardust, and Sandman. I still remember to this day where I was when I finished American Gods (I played hooky from work to finish it and spent the afternoon in the garage getting more and more drunk on Captain and Coke and nicotine) and his short story collection Smoke & Mirrors contains some of my favorite short stories by any writer. This is long and rambling way of saying I'm a fan and I bought The Graveyard Book when it came out. I would have finished it sooner but I was half way through Terry Pratchett's Making Money and had to finish it first.

In the afterword to The Graveyard Book Gaiman says the novel owes a debt to Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book. I can see that. But there is another more recent work that I think was at least subconsciously influencing Gaiman: Harry Potter.

There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.

This opening line of the book sets the tone and hooks you immediately. On the night his entire family is murdered by the man Jack, a toddler unknowingly escapes to a nearby graveyard. The ghosts of the graveyard protect the child and raise him as their own until he grows to adulthood. The child, given the name Nobody Owens, is granted the Freedom of the Graveyard and gains most of the powers of the ghostly inhabitants. But outside of the graveyard, the killer Jack still seeks for the child that got away and won't give up until he finished the job.

The novel is broken into separate chapters, each one a short story that reveals part of a larger story arc. As in Harry Potter, it starts when Nobody (shorted to Bod) is 4 years old and each chapter finds him a few years older. As his age increases, so does the danger until he is forced to use all of his knowledge and powers of the graveyard to defeat the man Jack and stop an ancient prophecy from claiming Bod's life.

Like all of Neil Gaiman's works, there is a poetry and ease of language to a lot of his descriptions and dialogue. I was consistently surprised by the story as things never go quite how you expect them to. Unlike JK Rowling's style, Gaiman allows his story to breathe with details that end up not having anything to do with the overall plot. I am a fan of Rowling and enjoyed all of the Harry Potter books, however characterization is her weakness and every event in those books has some connection to the overall story. There is a chapter in The Graveyard Book in which the ghosts leave the graveyard to dance with the living people of the village and it is a beautifully rendered scene that has no purpose to the overall story. It's a "throwaway" scene that helps to round out the characters even more and is haunting, beautiful and heartbreaking all at the same time.

There are many touches like that and some action scenes barely described that it really makes you wonder why Gaiman didn't write a longer work than this slim 300 page novel. I'm not a fan of this new mandate that any story worth telling is certainly worth telling in a trilogy but in this case I wanted more. The Graveyard Book is beautifully written and deserves a place on your shelf next to Gaiman's best.

Cannonball!!!

2008-11-21T14:58:00.000-08:00

When not editing LC's drivel over at www.rufkm.net to insure readability(and contributing my own) I tend to hang out at Pajiba.com. There is a contest going on right now between various members of the site to read 100 books in a year starting Sept 1, 2008. Am I a bit late? Yes. Will I hit 100 books by Sept 1, 2009? Not a damn chance. However, I read a hell of a lot so this isn't too much of a stretch. Maybe this way I'll stop surfing the internet pointlessly when bored. Probably not but it's nice to have goals.

First up: The Graveyard Book- Neil Gaiman

What Would Sarah Palin Do? (to the tune of "What Would Brian Boitano Do?"

2008-10-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

I wish I could take credit for this. I don't know who wrote it. But it is hilarious and worth sharing so here you go. Click the video, then sing along with the alternate lyrics below.

What would Sarah Palin do
If she were here right now,
She'd run for VEEP
And wink at you
That's what Sarah Palin would do.

When Sarah Palin was in the pageant,
Vying for the crown,
Her Alaskan beauty told all in sight
Wasilla was best town.

When Sarah Palin became the gov,
Stopping wasteful pork,
She fired the chef and sold the plane
With Trig en route by stork.

So what would Sarah Palin do
If she were here today,
I'm sure she'd hunt a moose or two,
That's what Sarah Palin would do.

I want a voice to speak for me
One to replace my brilliant Hillary

And I just want Congress
To end partisan gridlock

For Chuck Heston I'll join the NRA too
'Cause that's what Sarah Palin would do.

And what would Sarah Palin do,
She'd leap o'er the Bering Strait
Shoot Putin dead while aiming true,
That's what Sarah Palin would do.

When Sarah Palin travelled through time
To the year 3010,
She debated godless aliens
Saving Christian truth again.

And when Sarah Palin rebuilt the White House,
She captured John Wilkes Booth
'Cause Sarah Palin unblinkingly reps A-mer-i-ca

So let's vote Republican,
And trounce celeb Obama
And we'll elect that old guy too,
'Cause that's what Sarah Palin'd do.

And we'll elect that old guy too,
'Cause that's what Sarah Palin'd do,
That's what Sarah Palin'd do.

Bad Religion - "Sorrow" for Rock Band 2 TODAY

2008-09-23T13:43:00.000-07:00

Bad Religion is one of the best bands of all time. And they have finally released a track on Rock Band 2. What are you waiting for? Go download, now!

Weekend Movie Reviews Sept 21, 2008

2008-09-22T12:45:00.000-07:00

Speed Racer - 2008 (Blu Ray)

The biggest bomb of the summer has come home and I’m surprised to say I loved it. Be warned that this IS a kid’s movie so if you are incapable of enjoying movies aimed at that demographic don’t bother. For anyone else, Speed Racer is an amazing ride. This is the Wachowski Brothers first film (not counting V For Vendetta which I still suspect they ghost directed) since The Matrix Revolutions and I’m happy to report that beneath the stunning visuals there is a solid movie.

Speed Racer follows titular adolescent race car driver Speed Racer (Emile Hirsch) and his family as they are courted by a nefarious race promoter. During the race sequences multiple cars careen around the track spinning all over the road, jumping over each other, and trying to survive race tracks that are right out of a video game. These sequences are fully computer animated and they look like it. The cars don’t have as much weight as they should, which is about the only bad thing I can say about the race scenes. These races are absolutely spectacular and in high definition the visuals will cause your jaw to drop multiple times.

In fact the entire movie is worth owning simply for the visuals alone. I’ve never seen a better picture on my television than Speed Racer on Blu Ray. If you have a player I cannot recommend renting this one enough. The movie is over 2 hours long but I was never bored. Some of the humor is juvenile but the drama is played well, the plot is interesting, and the way the whole thing is cut together kind of has to be seen to be believed.

This one definitely deserves a second chance at home.

Kingdom of Heaven – 2005 (Blu Ray)

The poster child for Fox meddling now has a Ridley Scott approved director’s cut and the movie is well worth seeing. 20th Century Fox had notoriously cut out over an hour of Scott’s epic film about the defense of Jerusalem by Christian knights in the 1300’s from Muslims attempting to reclaim the city. It came out right after Return of the King and Fox marketed it heavily as a action heavy fantasy story. In actually, it is much closer to Braveheart.

The movie follows Balian (Orlando Bloom) a simple blacksmith who learns he is the descendant of a renowned knight (Liam Neeson) and travels to Jerusalem to defend it from Muslim invaders.

The movie is long but very well acted and beautifully shot. Jeremy Irons, David Thewlis, Eva Green, and a nearly unrecognizable Brendan Gleeson are just a few of the well known actors here. For most of the 3 hour running time there is not a great deal of action and we see both sides, Christian and Muslim, as the machinations of war begin to unfold. To Scott’s credit the muslim “invaders” are presented very even handedly, not as villains. After all, they were attempting to reclaim a city that the Christians had stolen from them 100 years before, which they in turn had taken from the Romans. The final battle as the knights attempt to hold Jerusalem is breathtaking and easily on par with anything in the Lord of the Rings movies.

Highly recommended for fans of historical epics like Braveheart and Gladiator.

Baby Mama – 2008

Baby Mama a pretty generic romantic comedy that is buoyed by Tina Fey and Amy Poehler and the enormous chemistry the two long time SNL veterans share on screen. Kate (Fey) is a 37 year old career woman and her biological clock has gone off big time. Learning that she is unlikely to be able to conceive naturally she turns to a surrogate service run by Chaffee Bicknet (Sigourney Weaver). There she is hooked up with Angie (Poehler), a white trash surrogate-to-be that agrees to carry Kate’s baby for the $20,000 fee. All manner of hijinks ensue.

There is very little in this movie that comes as a surprise. When Greg Kinnear is introduced as the love interest you can see exactly how it is going to play out. That said, Baby Mama is enjoyable and there are several solid laughs to be had. Well worth watching for fans of Poehler and Fey and an inspired extended cameo from Steve Martin.

Gamer Tats from Hell

2008-09-09T12:57:00.001-07:00

There are tattoos, and then there are TATTOOS. These are the former.

CLICK HERE

Weekend Movie Review - Labor Day Edition

2008-09-02T12:35:00.000-07:00

The Reaping (2007)

Hilary Swank stars as Katherine, a college professor and former minister who has since lost her faith. Now she spends her time travelling the world debunking miracles. Kind of like Indiana Jones without the artifacts. On her newest case, she is called to the town of Haven , LA., a hot bed of religious fervor caused by the town river turning to blood overnight. Seems the biblical plagues of Egypt are hitting the quiet town and the townspeople want Katherine to find out what is going on. Here she meets the superstitious locals that are blaming the plagues on Loren, a young girl that lives in the swamp, saying she is the devil’s emissary.

The Reaping is a largely entertaining thriller that unfortunately suffers from a right turn at the end that derails the entire production. I can only compare it to riding a good, yet unremarkable roller coaster. Everything is going fine, you are enjoying the ride ok, when suddenly the car flies off the track and you run into a brick wall. Then before you can get out of the wrecakage a rescue worker hits you in the head with a hammer. The twist in The Reaping is fine on its’ own, actually it’s pretty clever. The problem is that once you are looking back on the movie as a whole it the plot holes add up rapidly. Not to mention the larger theological implications that are impossible to go into without spoiling the movie entirely.

NOTE: The last 10 seconds are just stupid. If you do see this one I recommend turning it off when the car ride starts after the finale.
2/5

The Orphanage (2007)

It’s not often we get a good and scary ghost story that doesn’t involve horrific violence and scenes of dismemberment and torture. Hell, it’s not often we get a horror movie lately that doesn’t turn one’s stomach with the violence. That is why the Guillermo Del Toro produced The Orphanage is so refreshing. This Spanish made movie takes its' scares seriously and will have you on edge the entire time you are watching while keeping the gore to an absolute minimum. This is a haunted house story where the haunters are largely unseen and extremely spooky sound effects take center stage.

Laura and Carlos buy the seaside orphanage where Laura spent part of her youth with plans to turn it into a home for developmentally disabled children. One day she is visited by a creepy social worker named Benigna and not long after her son, Simon, goes missing. Laura becomes convinced that her son is still alive and as increasingly strange events continue to unfold, Laura and her husband, Carlos, slowly unravel the mystery of the orphanage.

This is one of the drop dead scariest movies in quite a while. Sharing much in common with Del Torro’s own highly recommended The Devil’s Backbone, the movie never lets up the tension and even the most mundane of activities are sinister and frightening. There is one quiet scene half way though when Laura is speaking to her husband in the middle of the night after he climbs into bed. As the scene wears on something begins to not feel right. There is no music, no sudden cuts, just a foreboding that settles in. Then Laura hears something in the bathroom, sees the shadow of someone beyond the door, the door knob slowly turns and I spill my popcorn all over my couch.

If The Orphanage stumbles, it is only with the questions that are left when it is over. There may be some lost in translation moments here because the movie is Spanish with English subtitles. There is no dub, so be warned if reading is not your thing. Personally, I can’t stand English dubs and much prefer watching a film in its’ intended language but I know many people do not. That said, minor plot issues aside The Orphanage is well worth your time if you love old school ghost stories like The Changeling and The Shining.

4/5

Dark Blue (2002)

My copy of this movie crapped out around chapter 22 and didn’t start up again until chapter 28. Luckily this is one of those movies that features a big scene at the end where one character recaps what has happened so even though major characters were killed I still could follow along.

Kurt Russell stars as Edwin, a corrupt cop in LA on the eve of the Rodney King verdict in 1991. Edwin and his partner Chase (Scott Speedman) are assigned an investigation into a convenience store robbery that begins to uncover far more than initially suspected. There is little here that fans of cop melodramas haven’t seen before. The cast is solid, with Ving Rhames and Brendon Gleeson along of the ride as well. I’ll be honest, I got this one because Kurt Russell is in it and I just hadn’t seen it yet. Russell is a hell of an underappreciated actor and has starred in some of my favorite movies (The Thing, Escape from New York , Big Trouble in Little China). This is not his best work, but it is entertaining and a different character from the ones he usually plays. Recommended for Kurt Russell fans and gritty police drama completionists.

3/5

Spellbound (2002)

This 2002 documentary slipped us by and the kids were asking to see it so we obliged. Spellbound follows the lives of 8 kids as the prepare and then arrive at the National Spelling Bee in 1999. This one was nominated for an Oscar for Best Documentary and it is entertaining. I enjoyed it and so did the kids, but I don’t see a reason to see it again. Despite trying to shed some light into the home life of the competitors the movie came across as a bit trite and clichéd. Still, it’s good family viewing and ultimately has a nice message so it is worth checking out if you have missed it.
3/5

Welcome to the bungle - The Unofficial Review of Chinese Democracy

2008-08-23T09:36:00.001-07:00

I hold Appetite for Destruction in the highest regard, and put the Use Your Illusion albums in my list of the top 20 all time greats. No such list currently exists, but if it DID, Appetite would be #1 and the Illusion double album would be in there somewhere. My point is I loved those drunken rude-ass sons o' bitches.

And it pains me to say that Guns N’ Roses is dead. The monstrosity that exists in name only as a monument to the massive ego of Axl Rose is but a hollow shell of the past glory the baddest mother fuckers on Earth once bestowed upon all of us eager metal heads.

It is doubtful another debut album will ever hit as hard as Appetite for Destruction. The entertainment world has simply changed far too much for that to happen. What I can promise you is Guns N’ Roses will NEVER release an album that comes close to achieving what Appetite for Destruction achieved. And on some level I have to think that Axl Rose knows this which would explain the endless tinkering with his magnum opus, Chinese Democracy. This monstrosity is rumored to have cost Geffen Records upwards of $13 million dollars. An absolutely mind blowing amount in an age when anyone with a smattering of talent can crank out a full album in a home studio for under $15k in start up cost.

Rumors are running rampant again that the album is finished and heading to stores this fall. The story last week was that Axl’s management were trying to distribute the album exclusively through either Best Buy or Walmart. I don’t know about you, but when I think of a don’t-give-a-fuck-band that plays raw and raunchy hard rock I can’t think of a better entity to push their albums then pro-censorship Walmart.

It was announced earlier this year that a new Guns N' Roses track called "Shackler’s Revenge" will be featured prominently on the upcoming videogame Rock Band 2. This is the only solid evidence pointing to a release but at this point who can honestly tell. More importantly, DOES ANYONE CARE? If the below tracks are any indication those that are looking forward to Chinese Democracy with breath held are about to become an even smaller minority. And dead. Seriously, it's just a damn rock album, you're turning blue for Christ's sake.

I have no idea what version of the songs I have. They sound finished and polished to me. From what I understand there are about 80 songs that could make up Chinese Democracy, and those 80 have been remade about 200 times each. Axl’s vocals fluctuate between passable and screechy godawful and every track I’ve heard features a drum machine in one capacity or another. None of these songs are great, some are better than others, but NONE top a single song the band has done before. That is with the notable exception of Axl’s horrific experiment into industrial music, "My World", featured as the closer on Use Your Illusion II. That song sucks in so many ways just listening to it can get you arrested for soliciting prostitution.

I should note that I have listened to these tracks at least twenty times each. I'm not trying to bag on the songs, more than anything I would love for Democracy to set the world on fire. If you can get your hands on these tracks, and honestly it's not all that hard, I recommend listening to them on head phones. Axl's choice to go with a wall-of-sound style production drastically reduces the fidelity of the tracks on anything other than headphones.

Chinese Democracy

This track opens with Axl hooting like a monkey. Honestly, I have no other way to describe it. This is followed by a cluster of unintelligible voices all talking on top of itself. An electronically fuzzed out guitar riff comes in over wind noise followed by Axl’s trademark caterwaul.

The song is not bad, but I have no idea what he’s singing about. I believe one of the lines is:

sitting in a Chinese stew, to view my disinfatuation

Incidentally, spellchecker assures me "disinfatuation" is not a real word.

This is easily his best song and at best it’s a Nine Inch Nails B-side. It's a song that seems to be going somewhere but never quite arrives. The whole thing is build up and makes for a frustrating experience.

Better

This one leaked to the Internet for the first time last year so "Better" could nearly be called a single. At least it’s familiar. This version is different from the one that released last year and is still just as musically schizophrenic. This song changes beats and music style so often it’s like a mini-album all by itself.

If the War

Spanish flamenco guitars give way to 70’s funk that would feel right at home in a Barry White Burger King commercial. Axl’s voice is stretched to the breaking point and actually crosses over into headache inducing toward the end. My dog cries when I play this song.

IRS

"IRS" perfectly captures the major problem with all of these tracks. There are some good ideas, and some good music, but the presentation is a complete mess. There is just way too much going on. I’m sure Axl prefers to call the production “layered” but I’m going to just call it "chaotic". That said, this track does rock pretty hard. I dig it despite the flaws.

Madagascar

Another song we’ve heard for years now. Probably the best song to date that is unfortunately brought down completely by the never ending and overwrought sound clips. Then there is the ponderous horn and string section and backing vocals courtesy of Axl. Maybe it's just me, but nothing irritates me more than a singer that provides their own backing vocals on tracks. It's just diva antics, pure and simple.

Worst of all is the recycling of the famous Cool Hand Luke quote used effectively at the beginning of the band's own "Civil War". Here it is a painful and embarrassing reminder of past glories of a band that burned out too soon and now limps along as a solo project with a grandiose name.

Riyadh & the Bedouins

I actually like this one. It sounds like Led Zeppelin but is fairly catchy. This is one of the few songs that comes closest to capturing the old Gun N' Roses sound. It would fit just fine as a throw away track on Use Your Illusion II.

Silkworms

An electronica/industrial rip off that makes Axl’s aforementioned travesty "My World" sound like "Head Like a Hole" by comparison.

That's it. Obviously a full release would include material none of us has heard. As it stands, if the above are the tracks released (and I would bet "Silkworms" is a demo that never sees the light of day) the completed album could be a respectable hit. Will it recoup the reported $13M it costs to make it over the last 18 years? Hell, no. But at this stage, I would just settle for the damn thing to be GOOD.

But I know what Axl Rose would have to say about my doubts.

Mind Control Only Works on the Mindless.

2008-08-19T19:53:00.000-07:00

God help me, it's that time again.

Every four years everyone and their dog pretends to be intensely interested in track and field, swimming and gymnastics for a few weeks when the Summer Olympics come around again. Every morning I go to work to find that everyone around me has suddenly become an expert on the balance bar, diving, throwing the javelin and anything else Bob Costas said last night that they can remember well enough to repeat.

And every morning - without fail - someone comes up to me, breathless, wide eyed and gushing:

"Did you see the Olympics last night?"

Never mind that my answer to that question every morning is "no". People like to make small talk at the office and as such they rarely think about what they're saying before they say it. Every Monday people ask me how my weekend was, even though we both know they don't really care, and if I were to say "It was terrible, my car was repossessed" they're not going to sit there and listen to my whole story and offer me a ride to work every day.

I have nothing against the Olympics. If there's one thing the world needs more of it is sanctioned events where all the nations of the world and their citizens can enjoy fellowship regardless of race, color, politics or nationality. It brings people together. I get it and I am all in favor of it, even if it means enjoying the proceedings with a hint of Fascism in the air.

It's just that I am endlessly fascinated by the Human Condition, as in what makes us do what we do. I take pride in the accomplishments of our athletes and certainly wish them all the best, but I have absolutely no interest in any of the sports played at the Olympics, and chances are neither do you. The difference is I have no intention of pretending I'm interested in any of it just because its on every night.

I guess that if you let it be, the following is a morbid contrast: The way athletes of all stripes put a thousand times more dedication into what they do than 99 percent of the rest of us will ever put into anything, while we just sprawl on the couch gawking, and then show up to work Monday talking like we're the superstar just because we got to see it.

Sure, I am being cynical but this isn't really about the Olympics, it's about people. I just find it interesting how most of us will do absolutely anything to bring something meaningful into our lives - except when it means doing it ourselves. I'm not saying anybody can run out and become an Olympian or anything else in particular, I'm just saying that I observe every day people who spend their whole lives doing pretty much nothing with their free time but you can tell they really want something great to happen to them.

Everyone has dreams and hopes and things they've always wanted to do with their lives and they aren't always things we deserve or are likely to achieve. But of course the purpose of having goals and dreams has more to do with the steps you take to get there than anything else. Dedicating yourself to a challenge is all about building yourself as an individual; hard work builds character and makes you a more interesting person.

Which explains why most of the people I know are so boring. Not bad people by any means, just boring. Did I watch the Olympics last night? No, and here's a question for you. If you woke up tomorrow and there were no television, what the hell would you do with the rest of your life?

Hey, I go through this every time the Olympics come around. I have to repeatedly explain to the same boring people that no, I am not nor have I ever been interested in men's gymnastics and I am not going to fake it now just so we'll have something to talk about around the water cooler.

Let's face it - that's the true distillation of my diatribe.

If there were suddenly no television, most people would assume they did not have anything to do or anything to discuss - except maybe the irony of being forced to talk about something other than television because there is no television. There's nothing wrong with entertainment, God knows we all need it. But it is depressing how many of us forfeit out own lives to sit around in a dreary fishbowl, watching someone else live theirs. For far too many people, life is like being inside an ant farm, smug in the assumption that everything outside is the entertainment.

Well my friend, the joke's on you.

And in my mind with this Olympics the joke is on all of us. The Chinese fooled us all. They used a lot of forced labor to ready the city for the games, and god knows where the buried all the homeless people. They used machines and environmental trickery to fake two weeks of sunny days in one of the most pollutes cities on earth. They rendered the Opening Ceremonies partially in CGI. The same night had a pretty girl lip synch the high point of the evening while the ugly chick sang behind the curtain.

And they replaced their women's gymnastics team with cyborgs all designed to look like ten year old girls. (So where was Sarah Connor in all this?) Maybe this is all why the Olympic Mascot is some sort of friendly...devil..thingy...in hell.

But don't listen to me. Seriously. I am just getting this off my chest same as I will for the Winter Games in two years. I just like to bitch about things. It is both my gift, and my curse.

Maybe your hobby is rotting on the couch in front of the television and mine is rotting in front of my computer excoriating people who spend their time on the couch rotting in front of the television.

Fair enough. Just call this column How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Box.

Just remember though - two weeks from now when the only fucking thing you can remember about the whole Olympiad is something about the Kindergarten Gymnastics Squad and that dude what's-his-name the swimmer who won, like, 800 medals or something...don't say I didn't already call you out.

If You're Not Morgan Freeman You're Full Of Shit.

2008-08-18T20:28:00.000-07:00

Am I the only one who hears Morgan Freeman's voice everywhere now? I don't mean in the form of a paranoid delusion - although that's entirely possible since like most people I am inherently dissatisfied with my life but have no plan whatsoever to resolve this.

No, I mean that every time I turn on the television, I hear Morgan Freeman's soothing, avuncular voice assuring me that everything is going to be just fine, provided I just buy something because he is telling me to. I can't say I ever have bought anything because Morgan Freeman told me to, but I can tell you that if I were going to buy something based entirely on the effect of someone's hypnotic vocalizations it would probably be Morgan Freeman.

Think about it for a moment. The world of commercial voice overs was once the domain of struggling actors who just needed a paycheck in between gigs because studios only wanted big names headlining movies. The problem is, why would I want to buy something from an anonymous voice that is unfamiliar to me? How many times have you thought:

"I would love to lease a Lexus for $600 a month, go to the Home Depot and spend five thousand dollars on my house or drink a gallon of orange juice in the middle of the night but I just don't trust the strange person who is telling me to do this."

There was a time many years ago when you could trust your television. The Magic Box would never lie to you - anything it told you to do or think or buy was a lock and you could bet that you'd never regret your decision. But these are complex times and I don't know about you but I can no longer trust the anonymity of the average television voice over person to point me to the right brand of weed killer.

Sure, I know it will be deadly to weeds. But will it be deadly enough? I just...don't...know. No one can.

Thankfully, high powered Hollywood A, B and C list talent has begun to squeeze the no-talent hacks of the acting world out of the voice over business. Soon the day will come when Oscar winning actors are waiting tables in Los Angeles, and I will never have to see or hear another scumbag out of work actor again!

But I digress.

But is this really better? With big names crowding the Celebrity Voice Over market these days, who among them can you trust? Between Tom Selleck, Kiefer Sutherland, Sam Waterston and Christian Slater, how can I be sure I am getting the best possible paid endorsement of a random product by a famous person I have never met that is available?

In other words, now that the celebrities have replaced the amateurs, who is going to replace the amateur celebrities? Who is the One Celebrity Voice Over Voice I can trust above all others? Which one of these disembodied stars whom do not know can I trust the most?

James Earl Jones? Ah, you'd think you could believe the booming baritone that comes out of that roly-poly bear of a man and you could - if he weren't responsible for millions of people crying out in terror and suddenly being silenced.

Excuse me for not wanting to buy anything from a war criminal.

Gene Hackman? No, I saw Crimson Tide. Nobody who tried to kill Denzel Washington and blow up the world is getting my money.

And then there's Morgan Freeman. He was on the Electric Company! He's the Compassionate Black Man in every movie who shows the lead character the value of believing in yourself, not giving up, seeing the goodness in others or builds you a high tech armor plated urban assault vehicle!

Even when he's the villain he's not all that bad. Remember Hard Rain? Oh, you don't. Well, trust me, he starts out bad but deep down inside he's still lovable old Morgan Freeman. He'd never do anything wrong. He'd never hurt anybody.

I trust him, and so do you. And this is why he's the king of Celebrity Voice Overs. But I reCently realized something as I listened to his work on those Visa Olympic ads - you know the ones, with the heartwarming narratives, magical background scores and sepia toned CGI super slo-mo? Yes, you've seen them. And maybe you realized the same thing I did when I saw them.

If Morgan Freeman Didn't Say it I Don't Believe it.

That's right. Morgan Freeman is some sort of lovable cross between Walter Cronkite and Sidney Poitier without the massive chip on his shoulder. He should anchor all three major newscasts. When the President has bad news he should send Morgan Freeman out in his place to tell us the Dow has dropped 8,000 points, gasoline is $6 a gallon and a comet the size of Texas is about to strike the earth, destroying all life as we know it.

People would just shrug and say: "Aw, shucks. He's such a nice guy. I don't mind."

Maybe Bin Laden could have him tape some spots. God knows Osama could use the PR boost and while I'm as patriotic as the next guy, if Morgan Freeman said 'Death To America', I just might have to walk outside and kill someone.

And I bet they wouldn't object when I told him why he must die.

"Aw, shucks. He's such a nice guy. I don't mind. Just...not in the face."

Tell me the sky is blue, roses are red or water is wet. If you're not Morgan Freeman then I am sorry but you're just plain full of shit. I don't believe you. You're a liar; in fact you're worse than a liar:

You're a damn dirty liar.

So here's what I want you to do. I want you to run to the window right now. Go on, go to the window but wait till you've finished reading this so you know what to do. I want you to fling open the window, lean out and scream as loud as you can:

"IF YOU'RE NOT MORGAN FREEMAN YOU'RE FULL OF SHIT. AND ADDITIONALLY, I'M MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANY MORE."

Go on, I'll wait.

See? Didn't that feel better? And when your neighbor, or the cops, or your neighbor the cop comes to your door ready to kick your ass just show them this. In no time, you'll be sitting around drinking mouthwash together, having a grand old time. And why?

Because Morgan Freeman said so.

Oprah Is Evil And Must Be Stopped

2008-08-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinking.

There was a time in Germany when uttering such a thing aloud about certain people would ensure that you were dead before morning. There was a time in Russia - as recently as last night I understand - when the same was true.

So needless to say, by the time you read this I will in all likelihood be dead. Don't let it be in vain; tell the world my story for the world must know.

It all started three years ago when I went hiking with a girlfriend in a slightly remote area. We were having a relatively decent time chatting and enjoying the scenery. I was actually pretty optimistic about things, as to this day this is one of the most unpleasant people I've ever met yet we were having a terrific time. Well, one way or another we got on the subject of who our personal heroes were.

This is one of those questions that sooner or later in a relationship a woman will ask you and to your ears it sounds like she's kidding - because nobody but your girlfriend ever asks you stupid shit like that - but she's completely serious. And foolishly, you answer facetiously.

You're not alone. I said William Shatner.

Not sure whether I was being honest, she asked me why, and of course I said 'because he was Captain Kirk, T.J. Hooker and Denny Crane.' (The 'duh' implied in my inflection which was also unwise). Before anything unpleasant could happen, I asked her in return and she said...

"Oprah Winfrey."

She didn't just say Oprah, she conspicuously thought about it for a moment, waited until she had reached the top of the small hill she was climbing just ahead of me and she stopped at the apex. There she stood, right between two trees, sun over her shoulder, one foot perched upon a small stone. The benign purr of a nearby brook danced in my ears, and the wind kissed the trees like the gentle touch of a distant lover.

My memory may be slightly fuzzy but I could swear a small bird landed on her other shoulder - opposite from the sunbeam - as she placed her hands on her hips and gazed skyward. Her back arched slightly and her mouth became a slit. Like leaves from a dying tree, the words flowed from between her slightly parted lips and seemed to float in the air for a moment as though pulled forth by eternity, transformed into milk and honey and dispersed to the ages like an ancient spirit released from aeons of torment.

"Oprah Winfrey."

Oh ha ha, it sounds intolerably cheesy now but trust me, that's exactly what happened and I'll fight anyone who says it isn't. Frightened by this but not knowing what else to say, I uttered the first thing that came to mind:

"Oprah is Evil and Must Be Stopped."

It was at that very moment I thought - for just a flash - that I was going to die. They'd never find my body, it was too far out, too far up. The animals would take care of things long before the police could find a shred of evidence. Trust me, if you lie there long enough without breathing there'll soon be nothing left of you but your social security number. I kid you not - if lasers could have come from her eyes I'd have been a cloud of water vapor. She leaned forward slightly and hissed:

"Very funny. Men like you are the reason we need Oprah. She's intelligent, beautiful and empowering. She brought herself up from nothing to become the most powerful woman in the world."

Yes, as I recall, many cult leaders hail from meager beginnings and this they use to ensnare the humble to their cause. Just because you're on television doesn't mean you can be trusted. Just ask that crazy guy with the ponytail who sells the exercise equipment.

You wouldn't believe the number of women I know who have turned out to be secret members of the Cult of Oprah. You'd think that women had never had anyone to look up to before now. Susan B. Anthony, Eleanor Roosevelt, Marie Curie, Harriet Tubman...Princess Leia Organa...apparently these women weren't wealthy or ubiquitous enough to merit admiration.

No, only Oprah can tell you what to think and how to feel, and if the men in your life tell you you're paying too much attention to Oprah they must be discarded...disposed of...or worse.

I was sitting at work with a friend of mine - a woman who is notorious for having a poor self image and I noticed her purse was lying open and inside was a self help book that had made Oprah's book list the previous weekend. I don't remember the name - Finding Yourself, Helping Yourself, Helping Finding Yourself, Finding Happiness Through Letting Go Of Yourself, Letting Go By Finding Happiness In Yourself, some shit like that.

This is one of those gals who only date men who treat her like shit, are fifty pounds overweight and can't stand to look in the mirror and punish themselves by eating...you know the story. I'm not making light of it, I am just pointing out that she's typical. This was clearly yet another quick fix for her:

"I'll read this 200 page self help book with the extra large type and $39.95 price tag because Oprah told me to, and six months later when I finally finish it I'll magically feel better."

Naturally it didn't work but at the time I pointed out to her that self esteem comes from with in and isn't something that can be given to you - and that role models are people you have to physically spend time with, not just put on your Windows Wallpaper so they can grin at you when you come to work every morning because they're $39.95 richer and you're a bigger failure than you were even yesterday.

Again, I thought I was going to die. I was standing on the 90th floor of the World Trade Center and that plane was about to hit me right between the eyes. She didn't kill me but it wasn't for lack of desire for having slighted Frau Oprah. And for the record, she's worse than ever today. Not Oprah, the Girl at Work.

Well...both, really.

Then there's Oprah's Bitch, Doctor Phil - that corn fed hack who feeds people shovel after shovel full of hug-yourself feel good pabulum designed - like crack - to make you feel great for a while but keep you just damaged enough to continue coming back to him for help, thinking all the while it is your fault you're not feeling any better. Back in the day this is what they used to call a 'snake oil salesman'.

Yeah, go ahead and give him a nickel. It'll change your life. Just let me know if you want to be buried face up or face down.

And then there's the James Fey incident. Remember that? Oprah descended from Mount Harpo with yet another Holy Book Club Selection in Her hand, clothing torn, hair windswept, a single gossamer Tear teetering agonizingly in the corner of an Eye, and She Spake unto we huddled masses Her Almighty Will. This time it was James Fey's 'A Million Little Pieces', a gut wrenching tale of overcoming something by finding something within something and blah-blah-blah.

Upon her command, millions of her Obedient Servants sprang forth from the bowels of suburbia like locusts and made the book an instant best seller overnight. J.K. Rowling couldn't get arrested for a while, because Oprah's Almighty Book Cult, which had long stopped promoting fiction and started pushing weak kneed self-help bric-a-brac was in full swing. Any drunken hack who happened to hit it off with Mrs. Stedman could sell a million copies while the next Dostoevsky could be...well, in a gulag somewhere, I guess.

But why encourage people to read truly great books, when they could read something that just made you cry so hard you'd never notice through your tears how badly written it truly was?

And then the book turned out to be at least in part fake. And it wasn't the first one. Had Oprah failed? Was she losing her touch? Was she a fake too?

I'll be honest with you - Oprah's done a lot of good for some people but from the perspective of the Non Afflicted, something has always bothered me about her. It's the way that even in the beginning she pushed herself as one of us - someone who was just trying to figure out how to be a better person, and wanted to share it with all of us. She had a conversational presentation whereas the other leading talk show host of her day - Phil Donahue - was something of a cross between a completely humorless David Letterman and Sam Donaldson in a white wig.

But Oprah never really was one of us - despite her humble beginnings. There was always something about her that implied that the reason she was trying to help you was because she was just an itty bitty bit - just a little bit better than you.

Oprah needs to fix you, sort of the way you'd treat cockroaches if you didn't have the guts to kill them but instead felt the need to train them to accept your table scraps on command. With a single wave of your arm they'd scurry from the walls, humbly accept your bread crumbs, and then with another, obediently disperse when your dinner party guests arrived, picking up their filth behind them.

And who knows...if you needed them to kill for you, maybe...just maybe...they'd do that too.

And for more than one generation of Americans who think the answers to life are inside the television Oprah has given more and more of us reason to sit and be coddled by the warm fuzzy glow of high calorie cathode rays than find a path to enlightenment within ourselves.

You know the biggest difference between television and books? Television - for all its merits - flings ideas at you like a rabid electronic monkey hurling poo and you sit there gurgling at it with all the immediacy of a puppy chasing its tail. Books on the other hand - good ones at least - are the blood and sweat of a single author just as he put them to paper and they retain their relevance throughout the ages. They rip feelings from you, impart intellectual sustenance to you, awaken parts of your mind you didn't know were there and before you know it you're creating ideas independently and thinking for yourself.

The difference is, it takes work. Effort. That's right. Self improvement takes work, people and it's painful and it will suck. It's supposed to. Nothing worth doing that is meant to change your life is ever going to be easy or pleasant. And while it doesn't hurt to have help it's something that you ultimately have to do yourself. Oprah can't tell you what to do, and neither can Doctor Phil, James Fey or anybody else.

Resist Oprah, my friends. Turn away the Kool-Aid and Just Say No. Awaken your mind, turn off the television and learn to think for yourselves. Tell the world what I have said here today. Pass it on and don't let my words die with me. You can become a better person, but you have to do it yourselves.

Oh God...what's that? No...not yet...I've still so much to say...no...you'll never take me alive...oh...you're not here to keep me alive. Well, that's a good point. Still though, it is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done...oh...what? You've heard that one? I'll admit I'm a little surprised, I wouldn't have expected Dickens to be on Oprah's list...

Very well...do your worst...wait...who's there? You? Can it be? Dear God someone's come to save me...I'd never have dreamed in a million years there was anyone powerful enough to challenge Oprah...but...

Your Generosity Insults Me.

2008-08-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

It's strange how the older you get, you start to notice the 'little' things in life. It isn't unlike watching a movie or reading a book several times, and seeing something you hadn't noticed before even though you're repeating the same activity.

Likewise with life, if you're unfortunate enough to get into a rut for long enough you will eventually begin to take note of such things. You begin to notice your own peculiar little zeitgeist of boredom.

So it is with furniture. There is a point in the lives of most normal middle class people where you've graduated (or otherwise left) college and find yourself living on your own for the first time. At this point all the furniture you own is probably borrowed, found in an alley or courtesy of the grocery store down the street.

At some point, you enter a phase of life where things evolve and before you know it you're doing things like opening a checking account, investing in real estate, showing up at work on time and even - hold on to your hats - buying your own furniture.

Little by little all of the old remnants of your life pre-financial solvency diminish and fade away but this takes time, to be sure. I'll be honest here - I am a homeowner but furnishing it has never been a priority. I have decent furniture, it's just that it is almost all second hand and by that I mean things my parents once gave me, or friends unloaded on me after getting married and realizing they now had three queen size beds and four sets of bookshelves.

They are nice enough things but they are nonetheless second hand. Not to mention that when I look at the furniture in my living room the stuff doesn't exactly all match. Seriously, there are more woods in here than a golf bag. But I am the type of guy who likes things simple, functional and efficient. I'd like to have a house full of kick ass furniture, hardwood floors, pictures on the walls and a space age stainless steel kitchen but I am in no way willing to go into debt to get it.

When the television I have finally explodes, I'll get a new one. When the bookshelf I have collapses then I will replace it. And when the Orkin man shuts the bathroom door where I keep the litter box and eight hours later the cat decides to use the couch...

...I will grudgingly but finally get a new couch. Trust me, like the blood on Macbeth's hands or the shame you felt after taking home Samantha Dogface after the bar closed last Saturday night - some things just cannot be washed out.

This brings me to the subject of this post.

I was over at a friend's house this weekend watching some football. This is a good friend but nonetheless the sort of person who is still using the same filthy furniture from the year after college some fifteen plus years later and thinking nothing of it. This isn't my problem of course but when I mentioned the incident with my couch and that I would soon be purchasing a new living room set I was informed that my friend was considering the same thing and that I would be welcome to his existing sectional.

Normally this is the sort of generosity would be appreciated but this time no sooner than the words had left his mouth I felt something...a pang of some sort in my stomach. It felt something like the time back in college when you ate that Hamburger Helper out of your friend's dorm room fridge. You knew full well it had been in there for three weeks but at this stage in your life you're pretty much thumbing through the Universal Rolodex of Bad Decisions and dialing every number at random.

It wasn't twenty minutes before that first stomach cramp arrived and you knew you were going to be spending the night in the emergency room with a tube in your arm.

Well, this is how I felt when my friend said 'You're welcome to my sectional when I get my new stuff'. I leaned back in my chair, peered into the living room and took in said sectional. Remember what I said - good friend but the sort of person whose home still looks sort of like a frat house. The carpet looks like it's moving, the floorboards along the walls all have fur, the microwave looks like someone cooked a hamster in it and if I sent a swab from the bottom of the refrigerator to the CDC in Atlanta I'd be arrested for biological terrorism.

Similarly, the couch in question (along with just about everything else in the living room) was covered with a very visible film of cigarette smoke, beer stains, and dog snot from the pair of eighty pound pooches that also share the house.

And let's not forget the body oil stains from where people's arms, legs, bare backs and God knows what else have been in constant contact with this never-been-cleaned biohazard over the course of its unfortunate existence.

Full disclosure: I do sit on this thing when I am over there but it is just to be polite. You have to respect a friend inviting you into his home but you don't have to approve of the accommodations. Just the thought of putting this monstrosity in my living room made my skin crawl and the fact that my friend would assume I wanted it sort of...well...

Insulted me.

I keep a pretty damn clean home - in fact most of the time it is probably nearly as clean as the day I bought it. I'm not saying the place is going to win any awards - I told you about my admittedly Spartan tastes. But even though the walls are still bare after three years and it is only slightly better furnished than a Howard Johnson's it sure as hell is CLEAN. And let's not forget - I mentioned I had to get rid of my own couch because the cat pissed on it, and my pal turns around and offers me something that looks like it was fished out of an empty lot in Upper Ninth Ward New Orleans and transported here tied to the top of a Chevy Impala.

There's only one couch in America I'd like to own less.

Are you serious? Is this what you think of me? Are you high? Pluck the saddest character out of any Charles Dickens novel and ask him where he'd like to sleep tonight - on this couch or a storm sewer and you know what his answer would be?

Well actually I am pretty sure the answer would be "You have sewers?!?"

But you get my point. Don't worry though, as I said this is still a friend of mine so I politely declined, although I am sure the look on my face gave away what I was thinking. But there's no reason to go there with people. There just isn't a polite way to inform someone that the toilet upstairs is actually cleaner now that you've used it.

Weekend Movie Reviews

2008-08-04T13:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome to a new feature here at Criticult. We have decided to give you our thoughts on various cinematic weekend adventures in what should be a weekly entry. We think you are all smart enough to search the IMDB for relevant information so think of it as the Cliffs Notes versions.

First up we have two movies bound to be cult classics. On deck...BLACK SHEEP

Proving once again that genetically mutated animal experiments rarely turn out ok, Black Sheep arrives from New Zealand to give the horror-comedy genre a swift kick in the ass. On a large farm in NZ, scientists have been mucking about with sheep and managed to create a carnivorous version that also can turn people into some sort of were-sheep through their bites. Yes, it is as ridiculous as it sounds. Yes, it sounds pretty damn awesome.

NZ effects house Weta did the effects for this low budget gore-fest and there is some truly awesome work on display. For anyone that is a fan of laugh-and-squirm classics like Dead Alive, Evil Dead and Reanimator you are going to want to seek this one out. It's a hell of a lot of fun. As gory as it gets, and it gets VERY gory indeed, you just can't help but laugh watching a sheep tugging on a man's intestine. Or maybe that's just me.

DOOMSDAY

In 2008, Scotland will fall to a horrible and incurable contagion called the Reaper Virus. The United Kingdom decides to wall off the country and leave everyone inside to die but protecting the rest of the island. Jump forward 25 years and the Reaper has shown up again in London. The government has had evidence for 3 years via satellite imagery that there are survivors inside Scotland. So they send in Major Eden Sinclair (Rhona Mitra) to lead a team to find a survivor and bring them out so a cure can be extracted from their blood. She has 48 hours to accomplish her mission before London is wiped out.

Taking bits from Escape from New York, Aliens, Mad Max, and a dozen other genre classics of the 80's Director Neil Marshal has crafted an action/adventure that exceeded all my expectations. To be blunt, I haven't enjoyed an action movie this much in quite a while. Fast moving, inventive, and filled with violence Doomsday is just immensely likable if you are a fan of the movies mentioned above. It's not exactly original but I've never seen this many disparate elements mashed up into one place before so it gets points for pulling it off successfully.

I'm not saying Doomsday is for everyone. If you cringe at head shots and turn away from the screen during a bloody fire fight you will probably want to pass. The movie features multiple decapitations, bloody shootings, grievous head injuries, and one unlucky fellow is roasted alive and then eaten, but for fans of early John Carpenter and George Miller you are going to want to rent this one. Or hell, just buy it. I love this movie like a love puppies. Ultra-violent, cannibalistic, tattooed puppies sporting Mohawks. Named "Fluffy".

Highly recommended.

Aliens vs Predator: Requiem

2008-07-28T14:38:00.000-07:00

Man, I love seeing a good movie. Which makes it all the more disappointing that I was unable to see Aliens vs Predator: Requiem. Oh, I was able to rent it. And my DVD player ran it just fine. But the movie was so dark I had to turn off all my lights, unplug the clocks, cover the windows with trashbags, and duct tape over the readouts on my electronics just so I could darken the room enough to get from "I can't see shit." to "Is that a Predator or a lamp?"

Aliens vs Predator: Requiem (referred to with the oh-so-hip moniker AVP:R from here on out) takes place directly after the original AVP ended. If I remember correctly, the lead Predator had just finished killing a bunch of aliens in a Mayan temple in Antartica when his buddies showed up and he died. Or something. Then he was impregnanted with an alien.

Well, I hate to keep you in suspense any longer but at the very beginning of this movies the alien pops out, grows to about 10 feet tall in 45 seconds, and wipes out the rest of the Predators. Luckily this spaceship comes equipped with an "Eject Infected Pod to Earth" option and half the ship breaks off and goes back to Earth from somewhere near one of the ringed planets.

There is no explanation for why this happens and if you expect one you haven't been paying attention to the AVP series. You just go with the flow and hope for some good alien carnage to soothe the migraine you are getting from your brain trying to skip over the continuity and logic issues.

So the ship crashes, facehuggers poor out and proceed to wipe out a town in Colorado. Some humans get together to fight the aliens, another Predator arrives to clean up the mess, and lots of shooting and "homages" to the earlier films fill out the screenplay.

This is all well and good. I knew what I was getting in to here. To be fair, the
plot wasn't awful and the effects were decent. If I could see anything I'm sure I would have enjoyed it. As it stands, AVP:R may be the worst shot theatrically released movie in history. I know Fox long ago gave up on giving a shit about the Alien franchise but was the budget so tight they couldn't hire a goddamn lighting person?

You can have your own AVP:R experience without renting the movie. Just put in any flick of your choosing, turn off all your lights, turn the brightness down to zero on your TV and try to discern what is happening on screen at any given moment. You can even turn it into a game! First person who says "This is unwatchable." wins! It's fun for the whole family!

1/5

The Dark Knight is great, but...

2008-07-21T13:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to review The Dark Knight. Plenty has been written about it and there is little else to add. The movie is brilliant, fully worthy of the acclaim it's garnering. I'm looking forward to seeing it again to watch how it all comes together instead of guessing how it is going to play out. Heath Ledger is outstanding, as is the entire cast, and it is easily the best superhero movie yet made.

But.

Am I the only one that misses Danny Elfman's iconic theme music from the movies and the excellent animated series? It's not that the score in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight is bad, it's actually quite good. But I'll be damned if I can hum it. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Christopher Nolan and company shed everything from the earlier franchise. The taint of Schumacher and Bat-Nipples was dripping over everything so a clean break was required. But was it really necessary to ditch the theme music? You're probably humming it right now, it was that damn good.

I know it's a nitpick but it bugged me last time too. Also, it's kind of hard not to giggle when Christian Bale is doing his angry Batman voice. I know he has to disguise himself, but come on. It's better in this one, but still a tad over the top.

That said, man did I love me some Dark Knight. Even better, it beat the records previously set by the fucking ATROCIOUS Spider-Man 3 so a mighty "Huzzah!" to all involved for erasing the milestone of that piece of shit.

Jesse Jackson And The Art Of The Celebrity Apology

2008-07-12T20:20:00.000-07:00

By now, we've all heard about the brouhaha surrounding Jesse Jackson's apparent desire to castrate Barack Obama for telling it like it is (when he correctly insisted that fathers - specifically black fathers - should take their responsibility seriously and be involved in the lives of their offspring).

And we have, of course, also heard the inevitable public apology where Jackson claims he didn't mean what he said, it was a 'mistake', 'taken out of context', yadda yadda yadda.

You could almost write the script:

Celebrity says something off color, thinking nobody can hear him.
Someone can hear him. Public outcry ensues.
Celebrity claims what he said was taken out of context, or that he didn't mean it.
Public either forgives and forgets, or doesn't forgive but still forgets.

After all, in the modern 24 hour news cycle, even moral outrage has a shelf life of less than a week. What I find amusing is the fact that whenever celebrities are caught saying something offensive in an unguarded moment, they act as though they're the only people on earth who would never dream of speaking or thinking this way and that we just don't know the real them.

As I mentioned in a previous post on a similar subject, each and every one of us has these moments. We have all expressed hateful, profane or even prejudicial sentiments in private moments in the company of people we trust, thinking that nobody else can hear. We've all said, thought and even done things that if were generally known to our acquaintances would probably end a lot of relationships.

But we all do it, have done it and will do it again. If you are shocked that Jesse Jackson would say something like that I have to ask you, why? You really think that every celebrity's public persona is identical to their personal one? You think just because you're not allowed to say 'shit' on television that this means nobody who is on television ever says it in private either?

You do, so why wouldn't - or shouldn't - they?

I'm not saying what Jackson said was appropriate for the situation by any means. Maybe the criticism struck him a little too close for comfort, having himself fathered a child with a woman who was not his wife some years ago.

The truth hurts, but I digress. Let's look at the nature of the private smear/public apology, shall we?

We've all said rotten things about someone behind their back, and when you do, don't you in a perverse sort of way want them to find out? Human nature is such that the majority of us are loathe to approach someone we have a problem with. Confrontation is a natural and necessary part of life but civilization has bred it out of most of us over the past few millenia so that we all grimace at each other in private.

I'm not talking about run of the mill problems like someone owing you five dollars or your neighbor taking too long to return your lawn mower. This paradigm applies to potentially explosive, personal issues that if pursued face to face with someone, might seriously or even permanently damage your relationship.

Jackson and Obama are ostensibly allies, if not friends. So, were Jackson to call Obama on the phone and say "I think you're talking down to blacks and I would like to chop off your balls!" It's more than likely someone is going to get removed from someone else's Christmas card list at the very least.

So when we have such a problem with someone we stew in it, afraid to approach them and therefore unable to resolve it. So what do we do? We tell someone else how we feel and secretly hope it gets back to the person in question. And when it does, and they confront us, what do we invariably say?

"What? Who told you that?"

Because we don't have the guts to take ownership of our feelings or to deny them, we just want to make sure we know they got the information from the intended source. After all, isn't it the height of arrogance and weakness to yack about someone behind their back so that someone else can tell the person you despise how you feel about them?

You want them to find out. You just can't bear to tell them yourself and you hope that they'll get the message and change their behavior without the two of you ever having to discuss it. We all know it never works, and if we later apologize for what we said, we invariably claim that 'we didn't mean it'.

I remember apologizing to my parents for getting into the cookie jar once when I was a kid. Of course like most kids I was explicitly instructed never to do this without permission so I simply defied my parents outright. Looking back, I can tell you that nothing will ever make me regret eating a chocolate chip cookie; those things are good. Of course, it didn't feel good to disappoint my parents - I'm not the Devil - but I was mostly sorry I got caught.

I am not saying all apologies are insincere, but I am fairly certain the majority of them are for the benefit of the listener, and and not the speaker.We don't hate the bad things we do nearly as much as we hate getting caught doing the bad things we do.

We've all blurted out 'I hate you' or 'I could kill you right now' in a fit of anger, and I think this is usually considered an exaggeration and can usually be excused. But when you casually mention in front of a room full of people (in front of a camera no less) that you'd like to 'cut a guy's nuts off', not only do you surreptitiously mean for it to get back to him, but you most certainly did mean to say it.

Sorry, but you just don't say shit like that unless you mean it. That's like the guy who fools around on his wife and then tries to say 'It didn't mean anything.'

Of course it means something, ass clown! It means you're not happy with your marriage, and you didn't have the balls to talk to your wife about it! And when you say you want to 'cut a guy's nuts off', that's some serious shit. It means you're seriously raw with someone, and you two really need to straighten some things out.

I just wish people would stop being so disingenuous about it. When is someone finally going to say 'Yes I meant it, but I should have kept it to myself.'

Trust me, when someone makes a racist comment - like say, calling New York City 'hymietown' - and then hastily backtracks when they realize the wrong people heard it they're merely sorry they were overheard. I assure you this does not mean that they've had a change of heart overnight and are now magically no longer racist.

If Jackson had merely said 'I can't believe that guy' or even 'What the fuck is wrong with him?' then maybe that's one thing. But when you say 'I'd like to cut his nuts off' then my friend, it's on. You are seriously pissed at someone and there's no point in trying to hide it. Rather than cutting of the other guy's nuts you need to call up your own and say something to his face like a man.

And if you don't have the guts to do that then let it go. But despite his many accomplishments, Jesse Jackson has shown on more than one occasion that there are more than two sides to him and some of his sides are hypocritical, sleazy and untrustworthy.

Makes me want to shove a red hot poker up his ass.

I'm sorry, I didn't really mean that.

Three Television Commercials That I Hate

2008-07-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

I don't watch a lot of television, but when I do I am always glad I live in the time and place that I do. The DVR is undoubtedly one of the greatest inventions in all of human history. Imagine - we have machines that do everything for us! My air conditioner runs when it needs to, my PC updates itself if I tell it to, my car tells me when the air in the tires is low, and now my television can watch itself without me!

Unfortunately they haven't invented anything to make commercials suck any less. I have 500 channels now and routinely find like that old Springsteen song, there's only ever anything I want to watch on three of them. And to make matters worse, all the cable channels apparently joined forces to make sure they all show commercials at the exact same time so it seems like when you surf from one channel to avoid a commercial it's just on another channel at the same time.

It's pure evil.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. As I recall cable television was supposed to be commercial free. That didn't last long, and now I have no recollection of those days or if they ever really did exist or were merely legend. I guess I shouldn't complain - there were no commercials because there were only two channels, A and B.

Great. Like I said, now I have 250 times that many channels and there's commercials on them about 60 percent of the time. And there are three commercials I hate more than all the others. They piss me off and while I can't remember ever buying something specifically because a commercial told me to, these products I will be sure not to buy no matter how bad off I get because I hate their commercials so much.

Those Vonage commercials, with that smug, not very attractive girl in the orange shirt. You know, some dork representing 'the phone company' is talking about all their stupid pricing plans and then this chick in a Day-Glo orange shirt comes out with this stupid smirk on her face like she's the one who invented pizza. And then she starts ripping into his shit. I have nothing against Vonage, in fact some of their old commercials are pretty funny, like the one with the blonde at the beach with the sharks. I just hate this one. I think it's because I hate smug, condescending people like the chick in this commercial. I already don't use Vonage's internet phone service because I can theoretically already use my PC and talk to anyone else on the planet free of charge as it is. I can also use it to tell the world how much I hate that stupid commercial. Mission accomplished.
The Aleve commercials where the people break into spontaneous dance because Aleve has changed their lives. I am not talking about the Super Bowl commercial or the Leonard Nimoy one. No, there's one with a redhead dancing with her kid, and then some wiry looking blonde guy who looks like one of Madonna's backup dancers, a black guy and then an Hispanic man. He asks: "How does a man who survived Woodstock deal with back pain?" My question is what the hell does one have to do with the other? Are you saying that just like in 1968 you feel that drugs are the answer to everything, you dried up old hippie? Then this totally gay sounding song (Yes- it's gay. Very gay.) plays and he starts jumping around like he's got ants in his pants. Warning! Side effects may include acting like a complete homo! Apparently Aleve is for back pain. Well, you'd have to break mine in three places to get me to take that shit since their commercials are so dumb.
And then there's the commercial I hate more than any other in existence. Every time it comes on it makes me question what I am watching because demographics play a large part in what commercials get shown when. Well apparently I occasionally watch the same thing as pot bellied, middle aged men who are incontinent, have bladder control issues, high blood pressure, color their hair, and have limp dicks. This is because I see that mother fucking Viagra commercial a little too often for my liking. You know the one, where a bunch of codgers are sitting around with musical instruments and one of them just starts belting out 'Viva Las Vegas', and they all start playing along. Except they're not singing about Las Vegas, they're singing about taking Viagra and getting some stank on the hang-lo. Usually when people sing about taking drugs and getting laid it has an entirely different connotation, so I guess the irony is a little funny when you think about it that way. But I am way, way too young to be thinking about it that way. I suppose if I hadn't had an erection in 20 years Viagra might make me sing out loud too. Then again, if your biggest problem in life is that then you either aren't trying very hard to get laid or you are just too damn old to be having sex. Your heart couldn't take it old man, just turn on Fox News, pour yourself a Maalox and enjoy your golden years. Plus, imagine a bunch of guys sitting around hanging out and suddenly one of them says "Hey everyone, let's all sing a song about our dicks!"

You're kidding, right? If I ever wrote a song about my dick that didn't sound like Whitesnake I would fully expect my friends to deliver me such an epic beat down I'd end up in one of those Aleve commercials.

"How does a guy who writes songs about his cock deal with back pain? By taking Aleve, and then dancing to a song I wrote about my cock!"

In fact if you're writing songs about your dick at all and your name isn't Howard Stern you need to show me the wormhole that opened up and delivered you here from 1981 because somewhere there's a hair metal band missing a lead singer.

Confessions of a Reformed Trekkie, Part II

2008-07-07T20:17:00.000-07:00

Last post I promised you - inspired by my reading someone else's blog - elaboration on what I once predicted were the things that would kill Star Trek. Now that they have come to pass and we are again on the thresh hold of an unholy reanimation of the decayed old franchise, I give to you, the things I hate about Star Trek. This is by no means a complete list and I will add to it as I see fit.

Particularly if the upcoming movie reboot is as dreadful as I think it will be.

Anybody remember how the Enterprise was always the only ship within five hundred light years whenever something happened? This always ensured they would go into every situation alone and without backup. I know I know – they were on a five year mission in uncharted space – but it became a lazy contrivance the show leaned on one too many times across each incarnation of the show. For all that high minded talk of the Prime Directive our heroes were rarely in a position where they felt they actually had to follow it because the nearest help was always on the other side of the galaxy.
Speaking of the Enterprise, has anyone ever noticed how many times the ship was successfully hijacked? How many times did Kirk, Picard, Janeway, Sisko, Tom Dick or Harry lose control of their command and have to go commando on board their own ship to get it back? Not only is it apparently a piece of cake to commandeer a Star Fleet vessel, there don’t seem to be any repercussions for the crew that lets it happen.
Then again, this may be why it is so damn hard for minorities to get anywhere on that show. You’re telling me Sulu was the best helmsman in the fleet but it took him twenty five years to make Captain? Last time we saw Uhura she was doing the same thing she was back in 1967 – sitting around answering the phone. Sure they made Chekov first officer of the Reliant, and as soon as they made the Brother in charge of the ship kill himself poor Pavel's Gypsy ass is back in his old seat next to Sulu, working the turn signals again. So much for all that racial equality. And don’t bother reminding me about Sisko. They finally put a Brother in charge and he's the most boring schmuck they could find. I don't know about you but I am thinking Affirmative Action is alive and well in the 24th Century. And Richard Daystrom, the black man who invented the Duotronic computer? Yeah, he also almost blew up the Enterprise, went insane and was locked away in Space Prison. A Brutha can’t get a break even on the other side of the galaxy. Damn.
But never mind the minorities, there was always the one Fish-Out-of-Water Character™ on the show who was bizarrely different from the rest of the crew but warmly endearing because all he or she wanted to do was be just…like…us. Spock was the first one, but he wasn’t weird enough so eventually they gave us Data the Self Conscious Android, Odo the Obsessive Compulsive Shape Shifter, the neurotic Holo-Doctor from Voyager, Seven of Nine the Super Hot Cyborg, and perhaps the most odious of them all – Jar-Jar Neelix and his elf-like little girlfriend Kes. Barf. What is it with all these aliens who are perpetually unable to be proud of what they are that they want to be like us? And what’s up with the crew always letting them think that way? What’s so great about being human, anyway? Just so you can pay lip service to the uniqueness of every other race in the galaxy but never let them forget how different they are from you by constantly bringing it up? What are we, a race of politically correct galactic rednecks who speak about equality when it's convenient but can’t resist the occasional inference that you just don’t quite measure up? Why not remind Data that there’s no need for him to be human because he can bench press a thousand pounds, has an IQ of 1200 and according to Tasha Yar, is hung like a racehorse? He's actually better than we are! Because the way to control someone you view as inferior is to keep them neurotic by never letting them suspect that you might view them as an equal.
The transporter! It beams you up, it slices, it dices, it gets the writers out of tight spots that pen and paper just can’t handle; it does everything! What started as one of the coolest ideas in science fiction eventually became a do it yourself cure-all-plot-hole-spackle that usually functioned at the expense of creativity. Someone’s contracted a deadly disease? No problem, just run them through the transporter and it will magically restore them to a previous quantum state. Someone’s being held hostage on an enemy vessel with shields up? Don’t worry, just phase the transporter with the shield rotation cycle and magically rescue them. Chief Engineer Scotty is dead? No he’s not; he ‘suspended’ himself in the transporter beam at the last minute so that he could be conveniently resurrected by the guy who has his job today! Just watch how it slices through this tomato even after cutting through 100 aluminum cans! Unfortunately it also splits people into good and evil twins, sometimes accidentally sends people back in time and like most of the technology in Star Trek, only works like it’s supposed to when the plot requires it to. If anything on the real U.S.S. Enterprise was as unpredictable and gimpy as the transporter the Navy would yank it off the ship immediately.
This brings me to the way the potency of the weapons they use on Star Trek depend entirely on the plot. Sometimes one photon torpedo will blast a ship to smithereens – other times it takes two dozen. Sometimes the ship’s phasers could knock a dime off a Romulan’s ass half a light year away. Other times they can’t hit shit. Sometimes a photon torpedo is enough to kill a powerful God-like alien such as the one in Star Trek V: The One That Never Happened, but Captain Kirk is able to survive the blast by just diving behind a nearby rock. I’m just saying, the only thing he suffered was a dirty uniform.
Speaking of uniforms, why is it necessary for Star Fleet to change uniforms so often? The US Army have worn more or less the same thing since the fifties but Star Fleet changes duds every 22 episodes. Remember the pajamas the characters wore in season one of Next Generation? They never stopped tinkering with them all the way through Deep Space Nine and Voyager. First they were one piece, then they were two, then there were no collars, then there were, then the stripe went this way, then it went that way, then the buttons were over here, then they were over there. Pleats, no pleats, poly-cotton blend, Rayon...everyone on one show dressed slightly different from everyone on another show. Listen, I’m no idiot. They’re just trying to periodically add some spice to the series, the way they periodically have to blow up the Enterprise and replace it with a slicker looking version, or whip out the old 'kill off but not really kill off a character because he ducked into a time vortex at the last minute and will return next season' trick. It’s just that when you resort to goofy little tricks at the expense of creative story telling to keep the show fresh you use up your creative capital pretty quickly.
Time travel. Enough. With. The. Time. Travel. Apparently for some reason the cast of one Star Trek series or another were present at almost every historical event of any importance in the past 500 years. Whether through actual time travel or through some other form of trickery that technically qualifies as time travel our heroes have: Narrowly averted nuclear war with the Soviets, tangled with the Nazis, matched wits with someone who I am pretty sure was supposed to be Bill Gates, gone ten rounds with Genghis Khan, spent a day in Sherlock Holmes' shoes, saved the whales, lent Jack London money to start his writing career, helped invent warp drive, the transporter and the phaser, met their own evil twins about twelve times, hung out with Mark Twain, Abe Lincoln, Robin Hood and his not-so-merry men...uh...invented fire, paper and the wheel...and then hung around to watch the Earth cool just for kicks. Hey look – some of the very best Star Trek episodes (and I am talking about four, five maybe out of the hundreds of total episodes of all the shows) were time travel episodes, but many more of the less memorable ones were as well. I am not saying that a science fiction show shouldn’t examine things like time travel on occasion. But for a series that prides itself on being (arguably, remotely) scientifically relevant you would think they’d at least give a nod to the fact that time travel (unless you're Doctor Who) just isn’t something that conveniently happens to you all the time. And sorry – I am just not willing to accept, even on a fictional level – that everyone who has ever served on a ship called Enterprise all know each other. No wonder the carrier Enterprise was the most decorated ship in World War II. Because Mister Spock was aboard!
All the moralizing. Look, I understand that Star Trek – at least at the beginning – was from the high brow school of science fiction, despite the go-go boots and girls’ asses hanging out of their uniforms. Most of the stories were allegorical in nature, meant to make us think about complex subjects by simplifying and humanizing them. However not only has Star Trek pumped the well dry on its own formula it’s been aped by every other science fiction franchise in existence. Trek has almost become a victim of its own success. I’m not necessarily suggesting they need to abandon all the trademarks of their storytelling – or maybe I am. Gene Roddenberry certainly didn’t invent allegory, nor was he the first science fiction writer to think about it or to bring it to television. But for this sort of adult storytelling to be a part of a science fiction oriented adventure series was unique. The problem is that we’ve seen it all before. Black and white allegory is so transparent – let’s drop the formula and think in broader terms. It probably wouldn’t have hurt the show to experiment with longer story arcs, and being more flexible with its episodic format. But by the time Next Generation rolled around, Roddenberry had far more latitude than he had when NBC was calling the shots and the show’s pedantic moralizing became even heavier handed. The Enterprise became a country club in space manned by a crew of self important Space Liberals. And there they went, rocketing through the galaxy with their clean cut families in tow, sipping Chardonnay and quoting Shakespeare, lecturing to other cultures about the superiority of their way of life:

“We too were once backward, foolish savages such as you. But we abandoned our warlike ways and learned that our differences are what truly make us one. We coalesced into a perfect Socialist collective that no longer cherishes violence, uses money, sees color, or recognizes people as individuals. Technology is our God and we are yours. Aspire to join us and yea, verily when I return to my gleaming city in the sky I will consider your application from on high.”

Yeah, you hear yourself laughing. You know it’s true. You can almost close your eyes and hear Patrick Stewart bellowing at some lumpy headed alien ambassador before dematerializing back into the ether with a flourish. I can get a sermon at church, or from Michael Moore. I like my science fiction on the brainy side but do try and exercise some subtlety, kay?

10. Every planet they visit is populated by 30 people and looks suspiciously like Southern California. Yeah, they’re on a budget. This would be why on Stargate SG-1 every planet in the galaxy looks like Washington State. I’m just telling you I’ve noticed.

11. Every alien race just looks like the guy from the soap commercials with some putty on his forehead. Again I know – there’s a budget. Once again I’m just telling you I’m wise to it.

12. The Disease of the Week episode, where some or all of the crew is infected by a rare alien microbe for which there is no cure, but the Doctor nonetheless manages to spontaneously invent one, just in time for the last commercial.

13. All the villains have been neutered. Remember the Klingons? Yeah well they’re like pets now. They growl from time to time but they know who has the kibble. And the Borg, one of the most ingeniously diabolical sci-fi villains ever? Yeah they were ruined in First Contact. What was once an unstoppable, immortal collective of soulless cyborg worker bees with no command hierarchy to outwit became just another gang of ordinary thugs with an ordinary moustache twirling ham running the show. Sorry, I meant ‘ordinary’ hip swinging tart in a bat-suit. It turns out that the Borg aren’t exactly a collective, strictly speaking. They have a Queen Bee who’s just as good at mind numbing academic discourse as Picard. Of course, she’s not smart enough to realize that her insane Rube Goldberg plan to destroy humanity by keeping us from meeting the Vulcans is pointless and overly complex. All the stupid bitch had to do was drop off a couple of drones in 1860 wait a couple of days, come back and make robot Abraham Lincoln kneel before Zod.

14. The techno-babble. What do I mean by that, you say? O, you know how when power to the warp core suddenly drops thirty five percent due to a plasma rupture in the EPS conduits adjacent to Jeffries tube 32 or a spike in zeta-chronoton particle emissions overloads the shields and forces a temporary power shunt from life support. Then of course, there’s the old transporter malfunction caused by a failure in the polymer integrity of the dorsal buffer probe that overloaded the Heisenberg compensator. Huh? Look, I imagine that some of the conversations aboard a real naval vessel are equally confusing to the lay person so I don’t necessarily have a problem with them trying to replicate that – to an extent. But all too often minute after minute of screen time is taken up with this nonsense in place of any sort of meaningful story momentum. I really wondered sometimes whether or not it was sometimes said in meetings:

“Look, at this point we’re about thirty minutes into a forty minute episode. Just kill five with some bullshit about running an interior baseline diagnostic on the isolinear input generator, we can put in a commercial here, Doctor Crusher cures the disease in five, commercial, Picard gives a speech about how this proves humans have overcome their violent ways to work together for the benefit of all and…roll credits."

It would appear that no art, literature, music or any other form of entertainment will be in use for the next 400 years. Ever notice how everyone on Star Trek is obsessed with Shakespeare, Mozart, or generally people and things from the 20th Century? Doesn't anybody watch whatever the hell is on television in the 24th Century? Did Khan take away all the books when he took over the world? Are the Dallas Cowboys no longer around? Were there no brilliant scientists on Earth after Einstein and Stephen Hawking - and that drunken asshole from First Contact? What the hell is wrong with these people?
Wesley Fucking Crusher. Enough said.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Star Trek is an old tea bag that’s been used 50 times. The product is just watered down, tired and worn out. Remember what I said earlier about the Bond movies? You remember how each one had a megalomaniacal super villain with the island fortress and an evil sidekick with the freakish physical deformity? It got to the point where anybody who had seen one could probably write one, and the average Star Trek episode – or movie – was no exception.

My suggestion back in 1996 was that since Next Generation had run two years longer than it probably should have, Generations had been 90 minutes of pointless dreck and the bastard monstrosity that was First Contact had removed what little credibility remained from the franchise, it was time to just let it go. Give it a rest for a few years to be sure, but I was okay just letting Star Trek go away with what dignity it had left before it overstayed its welcome to the point that Paramount itself had to put a bullet in it. Well here we are 12 years later, and I think almost everyone can agree that my dire prediction has come true and I am here to tell you it was even more horrific than I’d imagined.

Is there hope for the franchise? I really don’t think so. The upcoming Star Trek ‘reboot’ includes an old cast member (Leonard Nimoy), a time travel story partially lifted from an episode of the original series and a ubiquitous, overexposed director who is the first guy that gets called whenever Judd Apatow isn’t available.

Oh great, we couldn’t just have a reboot with an original story, concept and actors, No, we have to continue carrying 40 years of baggage along with it just to please the dwindling number of obsessive compulsive nerds who can’t let go of the original show.

It’s the exact…same…way the last iteration of Star Trek began in 1987. But don’t listen to me. What could possibly go wrong? Flame me if you want Trekkies, but it happened before and it will happen again - and there's nobody to blame but yourself. I saw the light and tried to warn other fans but you didn't want to listen. Star Trek died because it failed to change and adapt - because fan's refused to let it! Star Trek always had to stay the same - the stories, the cast, everything. No matter how boring, cheesy, old or fat anything or anyone about it got, you wanted the status quo.

Well that's fine, that's the way you wanted it. Just remember that things which fail to change and adapt eventually outlive their usefulness and become extinct. There's a reason the word 'dinosaur' is an adjective as well as a noun.

And Star Trek, unless a lot of things change - beginning with the fans - is the biggest lizard going in the world of science fiction. Live long and prosper kids, for you have killed Star Trek, and it will do neither.

Get it? That's from episode #30!

Oh shit, I did it again.

Confessions of a Reformed Trekkie, Part I

2008-07-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

I read an article recently about Star Trek that gave several pretty convincing reasons why the franchise has outlived its usefulness and should be left to wither in the entertainment purgatory where it has languished since the cancellation of the wretched Enterprise some years ago.

I got a chuckle out of it because it was clearly written by someone with some knowledge of the franchise who - like me - was probably once a fan. This got me thinking about a website I created back in 1996 when Star Trek was still alive and well, enjoying a great deal of undeserved popularity. It detailed my reasons why Star Trek should be destroyed, buried and forgotten about.

I said it not as a hater, but someone who at one time had just about everything memorized about all 79 original episodes of the Star Trek series. I can’t say I ever learned to speak Klingon or anything but I was a little obsessive about my devotion to Star Trek and would go to any lengths to obtain information on the show. But one day I realized that the fine line between simple geek and world class loser is a fine one indeed and I needed to get some perspective. My obsession with Star Trek needed to deflate to reasonable proportions.

And now, I had seen something I once loved become feeble, sick and infirm. It was suffering, I was suffering with it and for both our sakes it needed to be put out of it's misery.

That’s right, I was once an Orthodox Trekkie, but now I am Reformed. Praise be. I can still talk shop with the dorks, as you will see – but trust me kids, there’s a whole big wide world out there. Move out of Mom’s attic and go check it out.

Speaking of the aforementioned dorks, it is safe to say at the time my thoughts were not well received by the notoriously rabid Star Trek community. I found myself the target of endless email flaming as well as some not too thinly veiled threats. I also drew some positive attention from a guy who was somehow associated with Mystery Science Theater. I’ve long since misplaced the email so don’t ask me for a name. Believe me, I wish I could remember. So not only did I feel vindicated in my thinking, I also waved the endorsement in the face of each and every angry dork who suggested that I deserved to be torn limb by limb for all eternity in the Klingon hell of Gre'Thor.

That’s one thing that has never failed to amaze me about life in general and the Internet in particular. People get so very, very angry with you simply for having a different opinion than they do. They will argue in circles with you until at some point, unable to withstand the deluge of juvenile brickbats, exclamation points, random capitalizations and poor grammar you will just give up and agree with them. Luckily I just don’t live in the same world as most people so the benefits of this demented method of discourse are lost on me.

All I did was point out the fact that Star Trek had become nothing more than an ATM for Paramount and the quality of the product grew more suspect each year for one simple reason: Because as finicky as sci-fi and horror fan-boys like to believe they are, they generally will accept anything and everything that you give them because they have no lives.

It’s that simple. Despite the decades long friendly (and sometimes not so friendly) feud between them, the one thing that Star Trek and Star Wars fans have in common is that they’ll sit through absolutely anything, as long as it says Star Trek or Star Wars on it. Trek fans would gleefully pay to watch static for 79 minutes as long as it started with those eight musical notes of theme music and somehow worked in a Shakespeare quote. Star Wars fans would watch George Lucas take a shit for two hours as long as he had a light saber in one hand (no, the other hand), which was not terribly unlike the experience I had sitting through all three Star Wars prequels.

At least George Lucas Taking a Shit would have a logical beginning, middle and end. It also would have cost Lucas about $300 to make and he still would have earned four hundred thousand billion dollars at the box office as geeks around the world debated the hidden meaning of it all.

All they want is more, more, more and they don’t even care how good it is. And you know what you dorks - your wish has been granted. The overwhelming majority of science fiction and horror stinks because apparently all of us can’t get enough of it. Star Trek – the focus of this discussion – reached a creative nadir at least fifteen years ago because creative ideas to the world of Star Trek are a basic requirement of the system but the system is a closed loop, doomed to run out of them very quickly.

In other words there was a formula – one for the films and one for the television shows – and once fans became addicted to the formula they weren’t willing to wean off the teat even once it had gone dry. So, rather than provide you with any more reasons why Star Trek should stay dead, I will try – to the best of my recollection and in no particular order – to recall the reasons I gave in 1996 why its death was inevitable. Bear in mind that this really is little more than a list of clichés and contrivances that by and large once made Star Trek compelling viewing. However, long ago the franchise became a slave to these things the way the Bond movies became indistinguishable parodies of themselves.

What did I say? Well like I said I just remember the gist of it but as we approach the next unnecessary chapter in the Star Trek saga I relish the opportunity to once again rankle the loyal, dorky masses. I’ll elaborate in my next post. Stay tuned, loyal readers to subspace channel 445.32-Zeta and...shit...you know you dip your toe back in and next thing you know it all comes back to you.

The Family Truckster is loaded and waiting.

2008-07-05T03:14:00.000-07:00

Because I know how to operate a savings account Marla and I are taking the little Tylers on vacation this week. I'm sure it will be rife with adventure and peril at every turn. Probably every time I accidentally take the wrong exit off the highway and spend the next 45 minutes trying to get back to it while avoiding Guido the Killer Pimp and those roving bands of street gangs that I've heard so much about on 60 Minutes.

TIP! If you are driving late at night and an oncoming car flashes it's brights DON'T FLASH BACK! It's a gang initiation and if you do they will find you and run you off the road and slash your achiles tendon and totally murder you. It's true, my cousin's nephew's brother's former roommate told me.

I just avoid the whole deal entirely and leave my lights off. That'll show them.

Jack will be here to fulfill your snarky needs.

Happy 4th everybody.

Nothing is over.

2008-07-02T14:46:00.000-07:00

Finally got around to watching Rambo yesterday. A fairly slight movie plot wise. The story offers no real surprises and unlike Rocky Balboa it never feels necessary but it is still pretty impressive. Stallone directs with a lot of confidence and the movie looks and feels more realistic than the other sequels, bringing it a bit more in line with First Blood. It is an uncommonly violent movie. The war violence is at the same level as the opening sequence in Saving Private Ryan. People get exploded by high caliber gun fire, mines, rockets, etc and in large quantities. Then there are the multiple stabbings, gang rape, maimings, and one unlucky fellow literally has his throat ripped out. NOT one for the whole family.

The scant plot concerns a group of missionaries, including Julia Benz from Dexter and Angel, hiring John Rambo in Thailand for transport into Burma to bring aid to the villagers in the war torn country. The missionaries are captured, and the leader of their church asks Rambo to take some mercenaries to the site where he dropped off the unlucky doctors to get them back. All manner of hell commences to break loose.

It’s an entertaining movie that makes you feel guilty for being entertained. On one hand you are actively rooting for the disembowelment of the EVIL Burmese Army bad guys. On the other, you know they are going to get theirs so all the atrocities are just window dressing to get to the action. It's a strange film to sit through and I'm still not sure if I liked it or not. I know it's not going in my "probably will buy someday" pile but I could see myself watching it on HBO in a year.

If you are a fan of the first and 2nd movie or have a Sunday to spend an hour and half it’s worth a view. It’s not a particularly pleasant movie and is utterly devoid of humor but it is far less cheestastic than the first 2 sequels.

Interestingly, Rambo shows the acting range of Stallone quite well when comparing it to the 2006 Rocky Balboa. There is not a hint of Rocky in this performance. Whereas Rocky is not the smartest guy on the block, he has a big heart and it shows. He’s all big gestures and a friendly, unhurried way of speaking. Rambo is an intelligent guy that is almost incapacitated by regret over what he IS and as such very nearly incapable of showing feeling off the battlefield. I believe his first line of dialogue is "Fuck the world." He speaks little, but when he does it is clear he is still haunted by the same old ghosts.

Stallone steps into the role like no time has passed and the world weariness he brings to the character is well earned. The first explosion of violence from him is shocking in the suddenness and finality of it and really makes you take notice.

Then the movie goes off the rails with total mayhem but for a bit there you could see the movie it wanted to be underneath the bloodshed.

Old People Should Not Be Allowed In Public

2008-07-02T12:15:00.001-07:00

Yes, I said it. I came out and said it. Is it politically correct? No, but scroll down a few weeks and you'll see how I feel about Political Correctness.

Is it something you yourself have often thought? Yes, it is. Don't deny it. Are you telling me you haven't approached checkout at the grocery store after 30 minutes of shopping hell, ready as a wrongly convicted felon to get the hell out - but you have more than 15 items so the express checkout is a non-starter. You peruse your available choices and are faced with the following scenario:

Lane Four - Disinterested looking teen at the register. Line is backed up like Rob Reiner's colon.
Lane Five - Single Mom alert - two carts filled with Captain Crunch and Similac with three kids hanging like screeching bats from each one. You want to walk up to her and tell her there's a Sam's Club down the street and that condoms are in aisle five but there's no reason to make a scene. You just want to pay for your crap and then get out. Shopping for groceries sucks almost as much as shopping for clothes.
Lane Six - Hippie Guy with a cart full of organic produce, soy milk and Scooby Snacks who insists on using his own landfill friendly hemp bags for everything. This is going to take a while. In line behind him is Comic Book Guy with a week's worth of Mountain Dew and Totino's Pizza.
Lane Seven - Holy shit, it's empty. People are walking right by it like it isn't there. Sweet deal - you high tail it over to lane seven, sneering at all the suckers trapped in line behind Shaggy and Future Jerry Springer Guest.

That's when you see it. There was a reason nobody wanted to get in line at Lane Seven. You glance over at Lane Eight and make contact with NASCAR Guy - belly perched like an asthmatic pigeon on his shopping cart full of bratwurst and Light Beer and his beefy little hands wrapped around an issue of Weekly World News. His eyes twinkle with mockery as though he's at his favorite dive bar, nursing a warm pitcher of Bud Light while watching a college kid try to order something decent like Sam Adams.

"Today isn't your day, Fancy Boy." He seems to be saying.

Yes, there's only one person in front of you in Lane Seven but in this case one is enough. It is Little Old Lady with Twelve Items, A Bag Full Of Nickels And A Mason Jar Full Of Coupons.

There's nowhere to go. All the other lines are full. You're trapped, my friend. Your next stop, the sign post up ahead. The Twilight Zone.

You know what's coming. She disputes the price of everything in the cart...

"I thought this was ninety eight cents, you rang up ninety nine."

"Last time I was here milk was cheaper."

"I have a coupon that's fifty cents off, and would like to combine it with this coupon that lets me get two for one."

"That seems a little high, I need to speak to the manager."

"Maybe I should write a check, I don't want to use all my nickels. Now, where did I put my pen. No, I can't use your pen because it is on a chain and I don't like that. It's too hard to write. Just give me a moment, I am sure my pen is here somewhere. Then again, I do hate to have carried all these nickels in here for nothing..."

And the hits keep on coming. You're going to be in line for three hours over a horoscope book, some beets, a couple of cans of creamed corn and some Metamucil. Single Mom and her $450 of pop tarts is long gone. Comic Book Guy has been back home playing World of Warcraft for half an hour.

It is then that you realize that the country would be better off if Old People stayed home and had their food delivered to them. That way they can't hold up the line at the grocery store trying to redeem coupons from 1989, they can't plow their cars into the Farmer's Market and best of all they can't disturb you by acting as a stark reminder of your own fragile mortality.

They can rest at home in climate controlled comfort watching game shows, grousing about young people and reminiscing about how much better things were when FDR was President. Better for them, better for you, and better for me.

And in case you're wondering yes, I will gladly abide by my own rules if and when I am old. As a matter of fact I have to constantly remind my beloved but constantly brooding grandmother to take heart, because she has into her eighties what those of us in our thirties would pay real money for - unlimited time to do what we want when we want.

The bright lights, noise and bustle of the world isn't for you. Stay home and enjoy your golden years and let the many services and products made possible by your decades of hard work finally work for you.

And more importantly, save me some time. Just as your fellow octogenarians can't wait to hear how angry young people make you, all ten of my loyal readers are clamoring to hear my opinions on how angry you make me.

It's the Circle of Life. All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.

George Carlin Dies Watching The Love Guru

2008-06-23T11:51:00.001-07:00

Seriously, it was that bad.

Come on, don't look at me like that - if he could come back for five minutes Carlin would make that joke himself.

Vaya con Dios, George.

Crud Lite Presents: Real Men of Douchebag!

2008-06-17T14:54:00.000-07:00

Cue Music...

Here's to you, Mr. Driving Around With Your Parking Lights On All Day Guy!

Background Singer: Mr. Driving Around With Your Parking Lights On All Day Guy!

You wanted daytime running lights but they weren’t an option on your cheap import. But you’ve never played by the rules. No, not you. You’re the kind of guy who thinks outside the box.

Background Singer: Outside the boooooooowwwoowoooooooox!

As soon as the clock hits four PM you reach for the switch. Not too hard now, gently…gently…you don’t want to turn it all the way because that would actually turn the headlights on. No, you’re going halfway…you’re going for that sweet orange glow...like a cat’s eyes….

Background female singers: Sweeeeeeet orange glooooowoooooooooowww!!

Look at all those daytime running lights. They’re just as big a traffic hazard but they don’t look nearly as cool as you do. You’re menacing. You’re dangerous. You’re a little timid because you didn’t just turn your fucking lights on but mostly just menacing and dangerous.

You’ve got the cat’s eyes.

Background Singer: Got the cat’s eyes…..roooooowrrrrrr!!!!

And those fools who have their lights off just because the sun is still out, and they’re perfectly visible….they don’t have the guts to ride the lightning, like you and your annoyingly half turned on headlights. They aren't man enough to almost turn on their headlights but not quite do so. You’re a pioneer. You’re King of the Wild Frontier.

Background Singer: Daveeeeeeeey, Daaaaaaaaveeeee Crockett!

Yes, you drive around all in the broad daylight with your lights half on, but not completely on because you’re making a point. Sure, you’re distracting to other drivers. Maybe you could just turn your lights all the way on. And maybe it doesn’t make you any easier to see. But that’s not the point. Your car looks like it’s in one of those commercials where the guy skids through the water, knocks over all those orange cones, offers zero percent financing until January and then gets the girl in the bathing suit.

You’re a Rock Star, my friend. You ARE…

Background Singer: Mr. Driving Around With Your Parking Lights On All Daaaaaaaayyyyaaaaaayyyaaaayyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaay Guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Congratulations on being completely ordinary in every way.

2008-06-14T16:07:00.000-07:00

I was hoping last night that I could finally go out to a restaurant with a group of friends without one of the girls at the table having to bring up the fact that she used to be a waitress. You know what I am talking about? Say, the bill comes and you try to leave a tip and one of the girls snorts at you and says:

"Is that all you're going to leave for a tip? You know, I used to be a waitress and I would be insulted if...blah blah blah blah..."

What, twenty percent isn't enough for just bringing me my food? I'll go get it myself if that'll make you feel better. My Dad always tries to leave five percent, but you don't have to have physically waited tables before to know that leaving a five percent tip is really poor form.

That's just common fucking sense. Twenty percent is the minimum and while fifteen is a little rude, it's the least you should leave if you want to avoid getting someone's pubic hair added to your food next time you drop in for dinner.

I don't remember the context of the remark last night but as soon as she started: "Blah blah blah blah, as a former waitress I think that..."

I stopped her. "Ok are you really gonna be that girl who whips out the whole 'you know I used to be a waitress' thing at a restaurant? I mean, that's great and all but big deal? You want a cookie or something?"

I know it sounds harsh but the tone of my voice was only gently mocking. She actually got it and had a good laugh over it.

But seriously, what is it with girls who always have to bust that one out? Not to sound misogynistic but it's almost always the girls and it's almost always 'waitress' or 'nurse'. Oh Christ, if I have to hear one more girl whip out the whole 'I used to be a nurse' thing, as if that makes her opinion on your twisted ankle somehow more valid.

There's a girl at my office who was a nurse for one year and as a result thinks she's Trapper Fucking John - every time someone has a headache she's screeching out shrill, unsolicited advice like a life-size Kathy Griffin Pez dispenser.

Being a nurse is a perfectly noble profession and I have plenty of respect for it; I know more than a few people - male and female - who've burned themselves out in it faster than Ryan Leaf burned out on football. However - and I hate to be the one to break this to you - but being a nurse is not the same as being a doctor so I don't really need your opinion on my paper cut any more than I do George Clooney's.

He once pretended to be a doctor too, you know. Just hand me the Neosporin and shut up.

Getting back to the waitress thing, though...

I am fairly certain that as an unscientific statistic that fully eight of ten randomly selected people right off the street have waited tables before, so there's really no need to wear your former food service duty like a red badge of courage. Everyone knows how hard it is to wait tables; big fucking deal? It isn't like you fought at Iwo Jima or walked on the moon, or made the Patriots 18-1 or something.

And why is it always the girls who have to whip it out?

"I used to be a waitress you know, so you really shouldn't split up your order like that."

First of all, who asked you? Second, I don't give a shit whether or not you waited tables in college; so did everyone else. The difference is that every man I've ever known who's ever waited tables is either still at it or would like to just forget about it, thank you very much. Meanwhile half the former waitresses I've ever known are still trying to make everyone else feel guilty about it.

Sorry but there's nothing particularly exceptional about having held down a menial job that everyone and their dog has done. You're never going to hear me start a sentence with:

"You know, I used to work at Burger King, so believe me, I know what I am talking about."

Yeah, I've worked at almost every fast food joint in existence south of Colorado Springs and there are only two discernible benefits to it:

I know that even at eight dollars an hour it's not hard to remember that I asked for pickles on this you little shit, so fix it.
And bring the pickles up here, don't take it back to the grill so you and your friends can spit on it. That's right, I was born at night, but it wasn't last night kid.

So spare me your war stories people, unless they're actual war stories, because then you will have actually done something worth discussing. Otherwise, save it. After all, I once was a paper boy but all I did was deliver the news.

It doesn't make me Tom Freaking Brokaw.

This Just In: Shia LaBeouf is human and so are you

2008-06-12T22:01:00.000-07:00

You've already heard about this, right?

I suppose this makes me a lousy blogger since I am not posting on this ten minutes after the story broke, but you know what? Sue me. I have a life and this ain't it. Unlike a lot of people on the internet, I do see the sun every day.

In any case, I find the entire situation hilarious.

If of course by 'hilarious' we mean yet one more sign that nobody can say 'boo' any more without some hyper-sensitive candy-ass getting whipped up into a frenzy and turning it into some sort of socio-political battle cry.

I don't feel like posting the link to the video because you've no doubt already seen it and heard about it 1000 times by now. But if you're like me when you saw it you said:

"That's it?"

In fact if you're not listening carefully you'll completely miss the word 'faggot', and to be honest with you, I thought the OTHER guy was Shia LaBeouf. It's literally just some sort of house party where a bunch of people are plastered out of their minds and Shia and his pal are having a drunken slap fight.

I don't know about the slapping part but as far as the whole drunken horsing around bit, this is literally nothing that just about every red blooded American male who's ever been to college has done no fewer than about...oh...500 times. I remember being at a party with TylerDFC during Super Bowl XXXIV where after a series of keg stands someone decided it would be a terrific idea to have a WWF match in the living room of a 700 square foot apartment.

I am a little fuzzy on this but I am pretty sure I incorrectly executed the People's Elbow because I couldn't bend my arm for a week. I am also pretty sure since a bunch of guys were drunk, watching football, eating red meat and hitting each other with steel chairs at some point the words 'faggot', 'pussy' and 'bitch' were used.

People, this is what men say to one another when they're drunk and sopping over with beer, testosterone and tryptophan. I just don't see the big deal.

Look, I know that Shia is the 'It' boy in Hollywood right now, as well as Steve Spielberg's little darling (sorry River Phoenix, I guess you shouldn't have...you know...died.) and the heir apparent to the Jimmy Stewart/Tom Hanks/Harrison Ford actor-anyone-can-love mantle. A guy like that can't afford to be heard using the word 'faggot' any more than Miley Cyrus can afford to be photographed in her underwear.

However, it amuses me when a public figure is caught saying something off color on camera and the public goes into an uproar of finger pointing recrimination and self righteous stone throwing. It's disingenuous at best, and utterly hypocritical at worst. It's like someone once said regarding masturbation:

There are two kinds of people, those who do it and those who lie and say they don't.

Yes everyone jumps on celebrities when they get caught in the act but come on! No really, COME ON! You don't think if everything every one of us ever did or said was on You Tube any of us would ever step outside the house again? Much less point an accusing finger at someone like Shia LaBeouf?

Maybe it should be that way. Just like they say, if we all had guns we'd be more polite to each other - well if we all had video of each other picking at zits in high school we would be too. Imagine if you could log on to You Tube at any time, type in anyone's name and see every embarrassing thing they ever did. Such as:

Bob in Kansas whacking off to that Farah Fawcett poster as a pimple faced 13 year old back in 1980.
Sarah at a UCLA sorority party in 2002 making out with another girl.
Your next door neighbor dropping the n-bomb on a black motorist who cut him off in traffic, thinking nobody could hear him?
Or, yourself taking a shit.

Or why limit it to the anonymous? Suppose at any time you could see:

George Dubya Bush - standard bearer of Christian propriety and conservative values - picking his nose, calling someone an asshole behind their back or flipping off the camera.
Pamela Anderson working Tommy Lee's Donkey Kong in a way that makes Jenna Jameson look like an amateur.
An owl-eyed Ben Affleck literally molesting a reporter during a television interview.
Shannen Doherty basically cussing like a longshoreman.

Oh, wait. You CAN, because all of these things actually happened! Yes, I hate to burst your bubble but celebrities are not only just like you, you're just like them! Maybe you can't act, sing, catch a football or dance without breaking your ankles but there are at least a few things 99 percent of us have in common, famous or not:

We have all used dirty language at one point or another.
We've all been drunk and then done or said stupid things.
We've all expressed prejudice toward something or someone.
Lying, cheating and stealing: If you can read this you're guilty of at least two of them at some point in your life.

Yes, I know, there's the one person in ten million who really has never taken a drink or had anything harder than morning breath come out of their mouth all their lives, but you know as well as I do these people are about as rare as a three dollar bill so yeah, just save it.

Before you point the finger at your favorite celebrity for using dirty language, expressing a social stereotype, drinking too much and making an ass of themselves or looking like shit on a Sunday morning remember something:

Whatever it is, you've probably done it too, to one degree or another. It may not make the papers but if it did, I'll bet you wouldn't be so quick to pile on every time someone else got caught with their pants down.

Besides - does any of it really matter? So Shia got drunk in private and called someone a 'faggot'. What are you going to do, eat your copy of Disturbia? So, Tom Cruise is a nut-bar. Top Gun still rules. Mel Gibson clearly has some issues but I am still down with Mad Max and Lethal Weapon. So Russel Crowe likes to make like Nolan Ryan with hotel telephones.

The quality of Gladiator is not affected by this.

Rumor has it Walt Disney had a problem with Jews. So, are you going to tell your kids 'no' on behalf of all six million Holocaust victims when they pee themselves begging you to take them to High School Musical 3?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

And don't give me all that crap about how celebrities are supposed to be role models. I agree that you should watch what you do and say in public but that really goes for any of us. At the end of the day, what you do on your own time is your business. It isn't against the law to be a heavy drinker, an alien, a bigot or a hot tempered prick.

If we all worried primarily about how we conduct ourselves and left others to do the same the world would be a lot better place. Besides, your parents should be your role models, not some total stranger you saw on television who lives two thousand miles away. And if your parents suck then be your own role model - the dimmest man in America still knows right from wrong. Just because he doesn't have someone around to slap him on the wrist when he fucks up doesn't let him off the hook.

Get over yourselves, people. Your shit stinks too, you bunch of lousy faggots.

Ah, shit. There goes my shot at the White House.

So sue me, I don't like Radiohead.

2008-06-11T22:47:00.000-07:00

I just felt the need to record my thoughts about an incident today where someone saw me writing TylerDFC over my shoulder at work about how although I was listening to Radiohead at that moment, I am not really a fan.

I have one of those music subscription services (see my post below for a little insight on that) and one of the great things about it is it allows me to have access to countless artists whose albums I'd never dream of buying but I can at least expose myself to the material and appreciate it.

Oh, I appreciate Radiohead and respect them as artists, I just can't stand that genre of music. You know, that navel gazing emo piffle with all the jangling guitars and gobs of reverb. Radiohead fans hate it when people call them an emo band but look me in the eye and tell me the following equation is not accurate:

Death Cab for Cutie+one additional minute per song-talent/2(No Female Fans)=Radiohead

Isn't it funny how emo fans love emo but hate it when you use the term? Everyone's favorite emo band is never an emo band. Oh no, My Chemical Romance is not an emo band, their black eyeliner-wearing fans will tell you.

But back to Radiohead. The person who excoriated me for my point of view was one of those people who owns six thousand albums and can tell you what the band was having for breakfast when each one was recorded, but has never actually picked up a musical instrument in his life.

He just thinks that owning a shitload of albums and having opinions on them all is the same as actually being a musician. These are the sorts of people who like Radiohead, much the way half the people who listen to Jethro Tull are tone deaf English majors who have every J.R.R. Tolkein novel committed to memory and insist they don't own a television.

Hey it's nothing personal. They're just not my cup of tea. No, seriously. No, I don't need to hear you tell me about how they're one of the most influential bands ever. Please tell me who they influence other than music critics (meaning people who always wanted to be musicians but can't play so they write stories about people who can) and beatniks sitting around in college coffee shops arguing about the pros and cons of ethanol, the meaning of Donnie Darko and whether it's still ok to like Dave Matthews Band after the Toilet Incident.

Good thing I didn't tell him I don't like The Beatles, either. I'd have had to call up my CPR training. Let's see, is that 15 compressions to two breaths or two compressions to 15 breaths?

Never mind, you don't deserve to live you pretentious snob.

Ok, I am being harsh. I'm just sick of music snobs and social lemmings telling me what I am supposed to like and treating me like a pariah if I don't agree. No, I never liked Nirvana. The only good Nirvana ever did was give the world Dave Grohl and made the planet safe for real bands like Soundgarden.

So no, I don't like Radiohead. I am not against them, and I don't mind if you love them. Just stop looking at me like that. Can we at least agree that the whole emo thing is just a weak kneed, watered down ripoff of the whole Goth thing?

No? Okay, okay...just finish up your soy latte and go have a good cry, emo-boy.

Does your iPhone have a 'Shut The Fuck Up' button?

2008-06-11T21:14:00.000-07:00

So there's a new iPhone out, and within seconds of the official announcement hitting the internet the guy in the cubicle next to me at work was on his current cell phone gushing to someone about how wonderful it was.

Just because it was.

This is a friend of mine and although there's not much chance he'll ever read this I'll go ahead and point out that I bring this up just as a typical example of our culture's fascination with technology for technology's sake and not as anything personal. My friend has been trying to invent reasons to buy an iPhone since the day they came out, not necessarily because he needed one but because, well...you know...they're cool.

Yes they're cool all right but I can't help but notice the way people these days are in constant consumer mode, never happy with what they have and always fretting over the fact that there's a better, faster, shinier version of everything they own every time they turn around.

On no, there's a slightly better version of my cell phone out! Now I have to immediately toss the one I have - you know, the one I stood in line for sixteen hours to buy last year - and get the new one. I'm not going to do anything different with it, I just couldn't stand for all my friends to see me with last year's model.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the iPhone, or against Apple. Apple helped invent desktop publishing, redefined what a mainstream personal computer could be and transformed the wireless industry with the aforementioned iPhone. They've done a lot of good.

They also make slick, elegant, relatively easy to use devices that sell at boutique prices, are difficult or impossible to upgrade and they do their best to make you feel like an idiot for not replacing it every year with a new one. It's insidious, but it is also genius because they have legions of loyal fans who worship Steve Jobs like a sweater-wearing rock star. At his beck and call they throw away all their disposable income on expensive, shiny gear that will be sitting in a landfill 16 months from now, but they clearly feel that the whole convenience and ease of use issue is an acceptable trade off for all those shortcomings.

To each their own. I guess I see the drunken furor over the new iPhone as symptomatic of how people are fascinated by gadgets, and not necessarily the usefulness or immediate necessity of the technology behind them.

Recently I was in Las Vegas on vacation (which is a whole other entry), standing at the Hard Rock with a vodka tonic in hand when I spot some UFC guys in town for a pay per view event on the other side of the bar. I am texting someone back home about this when suddenly I find myself being taunted by all my friends, and for what?

My cell phone. Now, you know how it is these days. Every where you go socially people are walking around with their Blackberrys, Chocolates, iPhones and whatever other flavor-of-the-week phone that's out conspicuously in hand as though they must be tinkering with it at all times or they'll miss something critical out of life. You know, the way when you're at a restaurant everyone has to have their phones out on the table in a sort of subliminal, unspoken line-in-the-sand competition to see who has the most ostentatious piece of mobile bling in the joint.

Nobody's phone actually ever rings, no they're not expecting a call. They're just hoping for one so that everyone will see them using their new Palm Centro with smoke screen, oil slick and laser pointer.

So, I whip out my good old Samsung SPH-A680 (Awkward name circa 2003, before they started naming cell phones after foods) to send some text and next thing you know people are treating me like I am carrying around an abacus. For Christ's sake, this phone is by no means state of the art any more but it does have a color screen, internet, text, gaming and email capability - all novelties at the time I bought it.

I just never use any of that crap, save the texting. I don't even have any of that other stuff on my plan. I don't even have any of those stupid, annoying custom ring tones. When my phone rings it just rings. Call me insane but my cell phone's primary purpose is to place and receive phone calls. I don't need or want to surf the net, send emails or watch movies on it. And I only got the texting turned on because a girl I was dating was always bitching that she couldn't text me.

"It's a phone. Why don't you just call me, as long as you're holding it?" I'd ask.

"Because, sometimes you don't have enough to say for a phone call."

"Well if you don't have anything to say you probably don't really need a phone."

Well, nobody ever said logic works on everyone. So, in the interest of getting some I did what I was asked. It's handy sometimes but it's mainly it's just a silly trifle.

It's a god damn phone, and it works great, has survived two trips through the wash and several drops from heights greater than four feet so you know what? One day when it stops working I'll look into a Nakatomi Whizbang 5000, but not before. I don't give a shit about you and your fucking iPhone or whether you can get stock prices and access You Tube in the middle of dinner at the Olive Garden.

Congratu-fucking-lations. Can it make phone calls? Well so can mine.

I'm no luddite - I have no fewer than ten functional PC's in my home (including an Apple IIe, by the way), three of them in regular use. But that's the thing. I am surrounded by technology at work and at home. Even my fucking car talks to me. I do want there to be at least 30 minutes of my life every day where I am not tethered to the internet or having a conversation with some form of artificial intelligence.

Plus, I am just not the sort of person who has to have all the latest shit just to say I have it. When I need it, I'll get it. When my 32 inch color TV, circa 1998 finally explodes in the middle of the Super Bowl XLIX, trust me I'll be down at the Best Buy in a flash to watch the rest of the game and then price HDTV's.

But not before.

I have an MP3 player. It's not an iPod, and it only has 4GB of memory, two of which I installed myself. My iPod owning jackass friends scoff at me as they wave their shiny new $500 32 GB iPod Touch in my face. Why did I not buy the flashiest, most expensive device available?

Well, I'll give Apple credit for finally lowering their prices on much of their product line but at the time I bought my player I wasn't prepared to spend more than $150 and the comparable iPod Nano to the one I did buy was a piece of shit with no screen.

Yeah, I have yet to understand how an MP3 player with no display is useful.

Sure you can get a 1GB iPod Shuffle for $50. That's fine if it works for you. But I'd suggest that if you only have $50 to spend on an MP3 player, it's possible that you have better things to do with your time than listening to music. Like, getting a job. Save up and buy something useful, my friend.

I found 4GB to be more than sufficient, because 4GB will hold about a week's worth of music, give or take. I can't imagine being away from a computer long enough to run out of stuff to listen to before I can load up again and if I am I am probably lost in the desert and have bigger problems than not having the Foo Fighters around.

Besides, whether your player holds 4GB, 40GB or four hundred, you can only listen to one song at a time, right? Now aren't you glad you paid for all that fucking space? Hey, get what works for you, but don't wave it in my face or act like because less is more for me that I have a problem.

Look at what I have! It holds eighteen thousand songs, plays videos, talks to me when I am sad and touches me in special places when I am lonely!

Well fuck you and your overpriced toy. My little Sansa holds way more songs than I could possibly listen to if I were stuck up to my waist in cement for five days, it can show movies but why I would want to watch movies on my MP3 player when I can watch them on my television is beyond me. It can hold photos, but I already have a three year old five megapixel camera with 2GB of storage that I have used on approximately five occasions, so who cares? It even has an FM radio tuner, which is ironic because FM radio is what drove me to buy an MP3 player in the first place.

I just want to listen to music. You can keep all that other crap.

So, now that Apple is only charging $200 for the entry level iPhone, I say good on them. All they have to do is un-tether themselves from Ma Bell and they'll have something. But they'll have to wait until my trusty Samsung dies and there's no indication that's going to happen before 2010.

And when I do finally buy one of those flashy new handsets, do you know what I am going to do with it?

Place and receive 150 minutes a month of phone calls, just like I do now.

We interrupt this program...

2008-06-11T16:35:00.000-07:00

I have formed a team with my friends and family and will be participating in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life event on June 27 to raise money for cancer research. My mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a couple of months ago and is currently undergoing chemotherapy. I hope my small gesture can help to end the suffering for others so they don't have to experience what she is going through.

Please click the link below for more information and consider making a donation. It is for a great cause and every little bit, no matter how small, is another drop adding to a hell of a big pool.

Thanks for reading.

click here to visit my team site

Just. Fucking. Stop.

2008-05-29T14:11:00.000-07:00

So continuing to provide me with evidence that Hollywood needs to be burned to the ground for the good of the world of cinema comes word that Brett Ratner (excuse me, Brett FUCKING Ratner) plans to bring the same "magic" to the Beverly Hills Cop series that he brought to the Rush Hour (and X-Men) series.

Fuck. Ducks.

So let me get this straight. Eddie Murphy, who hasn't had a movie that was worth a shit since Bowfinger, is teaming with Brett "I took over the reins of X-Men 3 and managed to make the worst comic book movie since Dolph Lundgren's Punisher" Ratner to resurrect a franchise that was PREVIOUSLY resurrected with the abomination (and cleverly titled) Beverly Hills Cop 3? So now Hollywood is re-launching series that ALREADY HAD RELAUNCHES?

Piss off.

Seriously, this has got to stop. What GOOD can come of Beverly Hills Cop 4? Will Danny Glover pop up occasionally to say "I'm too old for this shit."? My GOD. I could get through "Indiana Jones and the Not Really an Indiana Jones Movie but Good Enough in the Kingdom of George Lucas' Fucking Obsession with the 1950's" purely on the charisma of Harrison Ford and some great action scenes. But THIS is just too much. Eddie Murphy jumped over the shark so many times he's a frequent flyer.

And FUCK Brett Ratner right in his stupid face. X-Men 3 was a goddamn travesty and if you disagree, I will fight you.

They should just call it Beverly Hills Cop 4: Meh and move on.

Confucius say: Euphemism same shit, different word.

2008-05-06T21:05:00.000-07:00

There comes a time with every decade – usually 20 years on or so – where pop culture, ever more out of original ideas, decides to strip mine a previous generation's formative years for cultural riches.

As you may or may not have noticed it's been the 1980's turn for some time now. Having experienced my most coagulative years during this time this in some ways reinforces the sense of nostalgia we all feel to some degree for the past and in other ways sickens me immensely. Few things make you feel old and insignificant faster than watching something like The Wedding Singer and hearing yourself say “You know there were more than five songs written between 1981 and 1990.”

Or, watching the recent NBC remake of Knight Rider, wondering why it sucked so hard, and then remembering – Knight Rider was always garbage. You just didn't realize it when you were twelve.

And then there's another, seldom mentioned by product of the 1980s that like Chernobyl and Fine Young Cannibals nobody wants to talk about but to this day has left an indelible scar across modern society that may never be healed.

I speak of course about that wretched form of social Marxism called Political Correctness. Now permanently stamped onto society's back end like a bad graduation night tattoo, believe it or not Political Correctness did not always exist. Oh, it's been a part of leftist thinking since early in the 20th Century but it didn't really begin to permeate American culture and manifest itself into the law books and the general social lexicon until the 1980's.

Great. I was born just in time.

You remember when fraternity movies were funny because they were able to make fun of how exclusionary and yes – sometimes racist many fraternities are? (Yes, satire works best with holding a mirror up - tongue in cheek - to the ugly truth). Do you remember when hard rock was more fun because it was sexist and apolitical? (Anyone who takes that sort of excess seriously has their own issues. The password is: repression!) Do you remember when people were just black, white or Asian instead of Something-American? (Yet the people who were here originally aren't referred to by their tribal association, just ubiquitously as 'Native Americans'. Another gift from their European conquerors!) When the only girls on the field during football games were holding pom-poms? (Reporters used to wait till after the game to ask players how they 'feel'.) When Ace was the place with the friendly hardware man? (Yet they still use the song...) Or how about when 'developmentally challenged' people were simply retarded?

Really, despite the available pejorative meaning, 'retarded' already means 'developmentally challenged'.

Yes, those were simpler times.

All that has changed now – people feel that by limiting what we can say or how we say it that it will somehow prevent us from also thinking it and thereby eliminate it from existence. If you can prevent people from expressing what they're thinking, it will somehow keep them from thinking it. You know, the way placing electrical tape over your check engine light will fix your engine. Slathering a nice layer of socially repressive cement into the faults between us will do us more good than actually talking about them.

Yes, the virulent social deconstruction that is Political Correctness is pernicious not just because it aims to homogenize society into a bunch of docile, myopic intellectual peasants – it also threatens to drive the way real people think and act underground, making normal human behavior seem subversive.

Why do you suppose shows like The Simpsons, South Park or Family Guy are considered so subversive – or for that matter are animated? Because animation is still considered an innocent form of entertainment by most Americans and therefore is – ironically – one of the last refuges of free thought in American society. A live action show could never get away with the things the Griffin family does on Family Guy. But the truly sad thing is how many of us enjoy watching a cartoon family think and act the way most of us already do not as an act of admission but because the subversion lies in pretending we're not really watching ourselves!

But there's a point to this intellectual treadmill I am on and I should get to it. The widespread tidal forces in society that beg us not to offend one another by thinking honestly, acting true to our nature or speaking forthrightly have now begin to infest the food we eat. I now know the end of Western Civilization is truly at hand. When even your food begins spouting Marxist pabulum at you it won't be long before the crossing guard is goose stepping your kids cross the street. I speak now of fortune cookies.

I ordered Asian-American® food today and after finishing my spicy shrimp whatever it was found a couple of fortune cookies. Curious, I opened them to find the following two sayings:

Your qualities overshadow your weaknesses.

(Not if you actually believe that they don't.)

People find it difficult to resist your persuasive manner.

(Actually most of the people I know already think they know everything.)

Huh? Okay, full disclosure – I have eaten at this place before and have noticed that all their fortune cookies are full of soporific blather like that. I remember reading somewhere – and it may be myth – that the normally honest, occasionally thought provoking Confucianism of traditional fortune cookie sayings like...

Overcoming weakness is the key to inner strength.

Knowing one's self is the key to honesty with others.

...was off putting for many people, to the extent that fortune cookies more commonly appear stocked with hackneyed nonsense like what I found. Great, so first of all are you telling me people actually think that a dessert can predict your future? Second, you're telling me they believe it to the point that like a true friend, they'd rather their dessert coddle them with banality rather than inform them with the truth?

Yes, it's true. Your food is now PC. Since the key to self improvement – as an individual or a society is to face your weaknesses and shortcomings, come to terms with them honestly and grow as a result is too hard, we prefer to cover it all up with revisionism and euphemism. Most people used to be lazy, unmotivated or stupid. Now everyone has ADHD! Just take a magic pill that removes your personality and not only will you become less ignorant, you'll no longer be responsible for your constant lack of achievement!

No, you can't call that person handicapped, even though 'handicapped' simply means 'disabled'. You need to call them 'disabled', which of course means 'handicapped'. Rejoice! You're not a 'trash man', you're a 'sanitation engineer'! Not only would I love to hear Stephen Hawking explain some of the governing scientific principles of 'sanitation engineering', I'd like to point out that 'trash man' means 'man who picks up trash'. That's what you do. If you don't like it then do something about it rather than relying on me to soften the blow by calling you something you're not.

And one more thing – and I am talking to you, Jesse Jackson - I'm not African-American (for those under 30 - no, that's not really me in my profile photo). I've never set foot in Africa in my life and my blood is enough of a social cocktail of influences I'm comfortable simply calling myself – are you sitting down? - an American.

And if you don't like it, here's a fortune for you:

Screw you and the crippled, retard, faggot horse you rode in on.

Now there's something you could still say in 1985. I think I'll go pop in The A-Team season one and fondly reminisce about the America I knew as a boy.

A kinder, gentler GTA.

2008-05-02T13:10:00.000-07:00

I find it amusing that media pundits, desperate to find something to talk about now that the Obama/Wright controversy(?) has started to finally wind down, think that the box office performance of Iron Man will be affected by the release earlier this week of Grand Theft Auto IV.

In case you have been living with Osama bin Laden in a cave, I should tell you that Iron Man is the movie that people that don't like movies plan to see. The super-hero flick that your comic hating friends/family/and significant other are beating down the door to get tickets to.

These experts reached this conclusion based on the preposterous theory that Halo 3 affected the poor box office performance of The Heartbreak Kid back in September. Yes, that must have been the problem. Well done, folks. You've solved the mystery.

This is why media experts are fucking tossers.

The Heartbreak Kid did poorly because it looked like a shit movie. Iron Man will do well because it looks fucking spectacular and Robert Downey Jr. rocks whatever movie he deigns to take part in. If you disagree, watch Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and get back to me.

So no, I don't think there is a correlation here, people. Move along.

Saints of Los Angeles

2008-04-16T12:48:00.000-07:00

I don't know what is more surprising, that Motley Crue is back in their original lineup and STILL has an album coming out before the mythical Chinese Democracy, or that Vince manages to get through the song without skipping every other word.

All bullshit aside, this song is pretty damn catchy. I've been a fan of Motley Crue since, well, since the beginning so I gotta admit it's pretty damn cool it's 2008 and they got a new track out. And if you haven't read their book The Dirt yet I can only say get your ass (or mouse) to the book selling establishment of your choice and rectify the situation. That book is the unofficial guide on how to be a proper rock star. Oh, those glorious bastards.

Obi-Wan Was Right

2008-04-13T20:47:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of friends.

Or, I should say I have a lot of different kinds of friends – the numerical count probably isn’t that impressive. But I’ve always viewed most of the people I know as acquaintances – you know, the type of people you’d probably give a lift to the airport but you’d never lend money to.

Incidentally, I wouldn’t recommend lending money to your friends either but that’s another story for another day.

So anyway as I said I have many different kinds of friends from all over the social spectrum and this weekend I had some friends of the jet-setter variety come into town. I have spent most of the last few days (enjoyably) socializing with fairly well off forty-somethings who spend a lot of time traveling to exotic global destinations and eating at classy restaurants where they serve things I often can’t pronounce and certainly can’t afford more than once a month.

So this morning at brunch - yes, it turns out that once you pass a certain income level there is a magical land where people go to art shows, travel overseas at will, drive cars that park themselves and have discovered an ancient long lost extra meal called 'brunch' - we were having a conversation about crime – specifically career hoodlums like gypsies, confidence men and racketeers. It was pointed out that more often than not these types of people are extremely intelligent and in some cases downright gifted.

Why, it was suggested, could such people not use their talents for goodness instead of badness?

I pointed out that I once had a similar discussion with a friend who was a law enforcement officer and he explained that many such people insist it’s simply easier than going straight. One of my friends replied:

“Why would you want to spend your life looking over your shoulder?”

Another replied: “Sure, they don’t have to pay taxes.”

Well, last time I checked everyone has something waiting for them over their shoulder. Without exception, everyone on the planet has a wake up call coming sooner or later – a nasty surprise of the cosmic bitch-slap variety that will turn your life in a different direction, turn it upside down or maybe just plain end it.

I am not saying you need to run around in a panic about the fact that one day your parents will die, you’ll wreck your car or your appendix might explode suddenly. I am just saying you need to be aware that negative shit doesn’t just happen to other people whose lives you happen to disapprove of.

Then again, a great Jedi once said that what we consider to be the truth often depends on our perspective – in this case globe trotting upper middle class white guys without an apparent care in the world. I’m not trying to sound like a bleeding heart liberal but let’s see YOU just wake up tomorrow and just change careers at the drop of a hat. Let’s be honest – many career criminals sort of end up that way through happenstance, environment or just dumb luck and they aren’t thinking about convenient ways to get out of paying taxes – sometimes when you’re born into a world of shit and that’s just how it is.

I am not saying that life isn’t about choices, and of course if you’re a criminal you do have at any time the choice to ‘just say no’ and walk away from your life of crime and you know, just go legit right? Maybe, maybe not. I suppose I could just wake up tomorrow morning and decide to be a jet pilot, but I have a feeling it simply isn’t that easy.

It’s cake for a 45 year old investment banker who already owns two houses and drives a Lexus to say to a career criminal: “Why don’t you just take your skills as a mob accountant and use them for something else instead?”

Ok, I’ll tell you what. I will play the part here of fictional hood Jimmy 'Fingers' Vineroni, who has just been busted running a numbers racket in Las Vegas.

“Hey you bet, mister GQ! Great idea! I’ll go legit! I’ll just quit tomorrow and go straight to a bank for a small business loan, or better yet to a fortune 500 company like yours for an interview. I can see it now; they ask me ‘So, Jimmy Fingers, what skills do you think you can bring to the investment firm of Goldstein, Goldberg and Goldman?’ And I’ll say to them: ‘Well, I have an extensive background in graft, extortion, racketeering and fraud so I’m good with people and I know how to make large sums of money disappear for long periods of time. I can guarantee you a reasonable rate of return on your investment in me.”

As you can probably guess, this is why many people like this find it easier and more dignifying to just do what they do until they get caught or killed, rather than go out into the cruel world and end up wearing the blue vest at Wal-Mart. When all you’ve ever done is swindle little old ladies out of their life savings, you may or may not hate what you do but you also aren’t likely to find a legitimate gig outside the French fry making or gas-pumping industries, so why clean up your act? Besides, if and when you're caught you do a little time, find another racket on the inside and when you get out go right back to what you were doing.

It's not the way I personally would want to live but like anything, I imagine you get used to it.

Needless to say you should have seen the way these people looked at me. I’m not sticking up for criminals; I’m just saying that the longer you are exposed to only one point of view the harder it is to accept that there are others. You also have to understand that while these people are my friends they're almost all considerably older and better off than I am so I barely fit in with them.

The most far away place I've been in the last few years is Madison, Wisconsin, my car does not have a number for a name and although I like a four star joint as much as the next guy, my usual idea of fine dining is an evening at ESPN Zone with the type of girl who is more likely to be able to belch the National Anthem than she is to know Gucci from Prada.

I guess I just am used to looking at the world from multiple perspectives, and ready to accept the possibility that mine may not be the right one. It seems to me that's the best way to even begin to understand this planet.

Or, in the words of Jimmy Fingers, “That’s easy for you to say.”

Now if you’ll excuse me it’s late – I have some money to print.

It's ok Battlestar Galactica hates you, too.

2008-04-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a long, long year since fans saw Kara Thrace miraculously re-appear after being long thought dead. In that time we were given a 2 hour movie, Razor, that helped to fill the gap. But there is nothing that beats fresh Battlestar.

Every so often a genre show comes out of nowhere and captures a large audience while maintaining, at least for a time, a measure of intelligence and daring that makes a cult show a phenomenon. The X-Files, Lost, Heroes, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, these shows are far and away the exception that proves the rule. Namely that smart dialogue, imaginative stories, and boundary pushing entertainment rarely are rewarded by your average television viewer.

So they die on the vine before their time. This is not the case with Battlestar Galactica.

While I'm sure the producers would love to keep the show going, and keep getting paid for as long as possible the Sci-Fi Channel has finally said enough is enough. After all, their core audience tunes in for Mansquito and Hammerhead Island what could they possibly want with a tightly plotted space opera?

No, Battlestar is going out but it IS going out on top. They may not be able to do everything they planned, but at least we are getting a damned ending. And if the two episodes we have seen so far are any indication it is going to get bloody indeed.

What is entirely obvious is that the show is no longer trying to bring in new viewers. It has been a losing battle that they seem relieved to give up on. Exposition explaining past events has been largely replaced by character interactions that are relevant and meaningful and will sail cleanly over the heads of anyone tuning in for the first time. It is as if the show is saying "You had your chance, either keep up or frack off."

And it's about damn time. Battlestar Galactica has reached it's turning point and there is now no going back. No longer having to court new eyes means that the writers can concentrate on wrapping up the considerable plot threads without worrying about the casual viewer being able to follow along. This new attitude is evident even in the opening credits. What used to serve as a fast backstory to the evolution of the Cylon has been replaced by a tag describing the 11 revealed Cylon models with the 12th model left to be shown. Generalities are no longer required, now we are down to the details.

Of the final 20 episodes, we now have 18 to go. Every time the end credits appear it is another nail in the coffin of what IS the best science fiction show yet seen on television and one of the best DRAMAS of all time.

Welcome to Criticult

2008-04-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

The grand experiment begins again. Don't bother looking for our old site as it no longer exists. Built on an outmoded structure that was harder to keep updated than Mickey Rourke's parole officer, it ended up being more work than it was worth.

For the most part this blog will concern itself with entertainment related issues, but from time to time we like to dip our feet into politics and the news.

Enjoy your stay, intelligent discourse is always welcomed. Flame and spam attacks will be deleted.

So say we all.

TylerDFC & Jack F'n Burton