HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!! I'm on vacation. I'm supposed to be moving stuff to the basement while The Husband works. I did just vacuum up a shitload of cat hair, so my allergies are making my chest hurt. This means I have to take a Benadryl and a nap with the cats. But first, I thought I'd share with you the joy of my all time favorite show, THE MAURY SHOW.
I never get to watch MAURY, even though it's on twice a day. It's on at 10am when I'm at work, and at 4pm before I get home. So it's the greatest thing in the world when I'm sick or on vacation because I can catch up.
The MAURY show really doesn't have much in the way of creative show ideas. There're basically seven types of shows that are in repeat ad nauseum:
1) I'm fat/a midget/black/albino/without arms and I'm in love with a skinny person/tall person/white person/normally colored person/person with arms. Aren't we a novelty!!!
2) I have a secret crush on a guy who hated me when I was a fat nerd but now I"m a skinny slut so I want a second chance at love!!!!
3) I have a kid and I need to test fifteen guys to find out who the father is!!!
4) My infant weighs 150 pounds because all he'll eat are chicken wings and pizza!!!!
5) I'm a singing kid!!!! I"m cute!!!!
6) I have no arms/no legs/progeria/a feeding tube/a colostomy bag/a hang nail that has made my life a living hell!!!! But I'm persevering!!!! I need a makeover!!!!
7)I'm ten and I want to have a baby!!! I have sex 300 times a day because I want a baby!!! My mom sucks ass!!!
Number seven is currently on the air. I can't decide which is my favorite: the girls who want a baby NO MATTER WHAT, or the women who are 150% sure this guy IS THE FATHER while he's 300% sure SHE WAS SLEEPING WITH MY BROTHER.
On today's show, a girl made the enlightened observation that she's only going to have sex with older men, because "They make the mad money and can afford child support because I sure as HELL ain't gonna work!!!"
I especially love the ones who've evolved enough in their pursuit that they've begun taking money for the sex, because then not only do they get sex and the chance for a baby, but hey, I gotcha money!!! HEY!!!! But, by god don't call them prostitutes. Because they aren't prostitutes. Well, okay, yeah, maybe we are, but we love sex and are trying to have a baby!!! We need money for nice clothes!!!!
"YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!!" No...you're right. We don't. Who are we to judge a 12 year old who so desperately wants a baby you'll DO ANYTHING!!!
Quote of the day: "I don't know why she wants to have a baby, she can't even make herself a bowl of cereal."
Thank god D is on the case. D is a "motivational speaker" and an enormous bald man who yells a lot. He takes the girls to prison where female inmates yell at them and then the girls magically change their slutty ways. He gives them borrowed infants so they can see how much having a baby sucks ass, and secretly they deep down don't want to take care of a baby as much as they want one, because they thought that after they had the baby their mom would end up taking care of it anyway, so now that they know THAT'S not going to happen they'll NEVER have sex again!!! So you get unbridled hoe-ness and sweet redemption in one episode. It's awesome.
I just reread this entry, and it sounds really mean. It's not meant to be. Because MAURY gives me a lot of pleasure. Even though I should probably feel like a horrible person for feeling that way.
The moral is we shouldn't take pleasure in other people's misfortunes.
I feel like I missed out on a whole world of adolescence that I could have had, had I not been a fat, nerdy, goody-two-shoes.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Saturday, November 12, 2005
review--Michael Flatley's CELTIC TIGER
No, it's not a movie. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Kelmeister, you're thinking, WTF? What is CELTIC TIGER? And more importantly, why? Allow me to explain.
Take a seat while I explain a little something to you. Every year, your local PBS station does what is called a "Pledge Drive." On the surface it's little more than an attempt to collect monies from viewers to supplement the meager funds supplied by the government. In reality, it's an insidious plot by the Illuminati to brainwash the nation's middle-aged and eldery into spending their hard-earned money on carefully constructed "talent" created in part so that Middle America believes it's being exposed to "culture." This occurs every year in waves, which if you pay careful attention to the morning news you will soon be able to decipher. Riverdance was probably the first big phenom to come from PBS fundraisers; other notables are Andrea Bocelli (otherwise known as "Blind Opera Guy"), Josh Groban, Sarah Brightman...you see where I'm going with this. These people appear in concert on PBS and for a pledge at the $125 level you can get a copy of the companion DVD.
My parents LOVE these people.
But, going back in the Wayback Machine...poor, dear Father. When I was younger, The Father was forced to drive me and my friends all over Hell and back, usually Cleveland and Cincinnati, to see various incarnations of Duran Duran. The Father would usually wait in the car. Not because of me, mind you!!! I wasn't so bad a child that I would force The Father to excise himself from my sight so I Would Not Be Embarrassed To Be Seen With My Father. No, he pretty much hated Duran Duran and didn't want to be bothered and preferred to nap. This went on until Kelmeister entered college. By then I could drive myself. By then, The Parents preferred that I drive.
By then, payback.
Yes, kiddies, I found myself in an unenviable position: I had to drive THE PARENTS to SHOWS. See, this is the thing: when you're young, and you're bouncing off the walls and climbing all over the furniture and you won't go to bed when you're supposed to and you and The Brother are beating the shit out of one another in the living room The Parents have a tendency to utter the following curse in an attempt to calm you down:
I HOPE YOU HAVE KIDS WHO ARE JUST LIKE YOU.
What Karma and God don't tell you is that there's a secret inverse to this curse that also goes into effect at the same time:
I HOPE I TURN INTO YOU WHEN YOU'RE MY AGE.
And you know what? It happens. Seriously. One day, you're driving yourself and some friends two hours away to Nine Inch Nails; next thing you know, you're escorting The Mother to see Michael Crawford sing a tribute to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Payback.
Okay, God Damnit. I ENJOY GOING TO THESE FUCKING THINGS WITH MY PARENTS. Are you satisfied?
Once, The Mother and I went to see a production of Love's Labours Lost. We had to leave during the first act because we couldn't stop laughing. We also saw Blind Opera Guy.
But The Father and I have a tradition all our own: We bond over Michael Flatley. I think it started with RIVERDANCE. I'll admit, watching it on PBS during a Pledge Drive with The Father. Thinking the music was so amazingly alive. Thinking Michael Flatley was kind of hot, and Jean Butler was so beautiful. I admit I cried at the end. So it seemed only appropriate that when it came to town we'd go see it. And when Flatley came through with LORD OF THE DANCE and FEET OF FLAMES it made sense for us to go together to see them.
You know, at the end of FEET OF FLAMES, Michael Flatley danced real fast and there was smoke coming out of the floor and IT WAS JUST LIKE HIS FEET WERE ACTUALLY ON FIRE. It was pretty cool.
*cough*
So anyway, it's more about spending some quality alone time with The Father. And making fun of people who are at CELTIC TIGER, because in actuality, we're way cooler than the other people there because we're there IRONICALLY. Because really, these shows are starting to get kind of repetitive. Here is an ACTUAL EXCHANGE The Father and I had at the intermission of CELTIC TIGER:
The Father: You know, some of this music...I think they just changed a couple of measures or something from the other shows.
Me: I warned you going in...when I saw part of this on PBS, it was the exact same thing as last time.
The Father: It's like FEET OF FLAMES Part 2.
Me: No, it's more like FEET OF FLAMES version 1.2.
The Father: Critical update 1 for FEET OF FLAMES.
Me: More like a patch.
The Father: Critical Service Pack 1 for FEET OF FLAMES.
Me: This would be Critical Service Pack 2. FEET OF FLAMES was Service Pack 1 for LORD OF THE DANCE, so this is Service Pack 2.
The Father: [laughter]
Me: It removes a trojan virus installed in the program which made you think you were watching something completely different from the last show you went to.
As The Father said as he dropped me off (I would have driven, as is required in these situations, but The Husband needed the car to visit His Boyfriend), this is more about Being Together and The Power of Love and We Should Really Do This More Often. Which we should. But Michael Flatley's only one man. And there are only so many PBS specials. And The Parents went to Sarah Brightman of their own accord.
OH!!! So you want to know about the show!!! Well, the first half was A Brief History Of Ireland. Much Like LORD OF THE DANCE and FEET OF FLAMES. Only this time, Michael Flatley, acting as a modern day St. Patrick, drove the British from Ireland with the Power of His Dance. Did you know West Side Story is actually a retelling of the Irish Rebellion against British Tyranny? I didn't know that either. So there was dancing and some guy sang a song and it sort of reminded me of American Idol for some reason. And then there was this really awesome part where the British troops burned down a cottage and there were flying dead Irish baby spirits. It was AWESOME.
The second act, everybody came to America and became gangsters. And Michael Flatley's feet were aflame, and some chick was wearing an American Flag bikini. The BEST PART was this celebration of everything that makes America Great. All the things terrorists hate: eagles, and the Statue of Liberty, and cheerleaders, and football players, and more cheerleaders, and another eagle, and a seedy roadside motel, and disadvantaged black youth playing basketball and more football and cheerleaders and THE FLAG!!! And YAY AMERICA!!! And then there was more dancing, and some explosions but no one died because an angel came down from Heaven and brought all the soldiers and Irish rebels back to life, and that biniki chick again, and Yankee Doodle Dandy. THE END.
It was EXACTLY LIKE the other two shows, only this time there were more American flags. It was very silly. But I bought a copy of soundtrack (some of the songs would be awesome for mixes because it's lots of Gregorian chanting and beatboxing) which I am listening to right now so I may better convey to you the beauty and power of this spectacle. And I also bought a t-shirt for The Best Friend's birthday, because I know he'll totally kill me, and that's what birthday presents are all about: embarrassing your friends.
So it's late. The Husband will be home soon, reeking of cigarettes and barbeque sauce. But before I go...
Dad, I had an awesome time. Next time Charlotte Chruch is in town, WE ARE SO THERE!!!!
Take a seat while I explain a little something to you. Every year, your local PBS station does what is called a "Pledge Drive." On the surface it's little more than an attempt to collect monies from viewers to supplement the meager funds supplied by the government. In reality, it's an insidious plot by the Illuminati to brainwash the nation's middle-aged and eldery into spending their hard-earned money on carefully constructed "talent" created in part so that Middle America believes it's being exposed to "culture." This occurs every year in waves, which if you pay careful attention to the morning news you will soon be able to decipher. Riverdance was probably the first big phenom to come from PBS fundraisers; other notables are Andrea Bocelli (otherwise known as "Blind Opera Guy"), Josh Groban, Sarah Brightman...you see where I'm going with this. These people appear in concert on PBS and for a pledge at the $125 level you can get a copy of the companion DVD.
My parents LOVE these people.
But, going back in the Wayback Machine...poor, dear Father. When I was younger, The Father was forced to drive me and my friends all over Hell and back, usually Cleveland and Cincinnati, to see various incarnations of Duran Duran. The Father would usually wait in the car. Not because of me, mind you!!! I wasn't so bad a child that I would force The Father to excise himself from my sight so I Would Not Be Embarrassed To Be Seen With My Father. No, he pretty much hated Duran Duran and didn't want to be bothered and preferred to nap. This went on until Kelmeister entered college. By then I could drive myself. By then, The Parents preferred that I drive.
By then, payback.
Yes, kiddies, I found myself in an unenviable position: I had to drive THE PARENTS to SHOWS. See, this is the thing: when you're young, and you're bouncing off the walls and climbing all over the furniture and you won't go to bed when you're supposed to and you and The Brother are beating the shit out of one another in the living room The Parents have a tendency to utter the following curse in an attempt to calm you down:
I HOPE YOU HAVE KIDS WHO ARE JUST LIKE YOU.
What Karma and God don't tell you is that there's a secret inverse to this curse that also goes into effect at the same time:
I HOPE I TURN INTO YOU WHEN YOU'RE MY AGE.
And you know what? It happens. Seriously. One day, you're driving yourself and some friends two hours away to Nine Inch Nails; next thing you know, you're escorting The Mother to see Michael Crawford sing a tribute to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Payback.
Okay, God Damnit. I ENJOY GOING TO THESE FUCKING THINGS WITH MY PARENTS. Are you satisfied?
Once, The Mother and I went to see a production of Love's Labours Lost. We had to leave during the first act because we couldn't stop laughing. We also saw Blind Opera Guy.
But The Father and I have a tradition all our own: We bond over Michael Flatley. I think it started with RIVERDANCE. I'll admit, watching it on PBS during a Pledge Drive with The Father. Thinking the music was so amazingly alive. Thinking Michael Flatley was kind of hot, and Jean Butler was so beautiful. I admit I cried at the end. So it seemed only appropriate that when it came to town we'd go see it. And when Flatley came through with LORD OF THE DANCE and FEET OF FLAMES it made sense for us to go together to see them.
You know, at the end of FEET OF FLAMES, Michael Flatley danced real fast and there was smoke coming out of the floor and IT WAS JUST LIKE HIS FEET WERE ACTUALLY ON FIRE. It was pretty cool.
*cough*
So anyway, it's more about spending some quality alone time with The Father. And making fun of people who are at CELTIC TIGER, because in actuality, we're way cooler than the other people there because we're there IRONICALLY. Because really, these shows are starting to get kind of repetitive. Here is an ACTUAL EXCHANGE The Father and I had at the intermission of CELTIC TIGER:
The Father: You know, some of this music...I think they just changed a couple of measures or something from the other shows.
Me: I warned you going in...when I saw part of this on PBS, it was the exact same thing as last time.
The Father: It's like FEET OF FLAMES Part 2.
Me: No, it's more like FEET OF FLAMES version 1.2.
The Father: Critical update 1 for FEET OF FLAMES.
Me: More like a patch.
The Father: Critical Service Pack 1 for FEET OF FLAMES.
Me: This would be Critical Service Pack 2. FEET OF FLAMES was Service Pack 1 for LORD OF THE DANCE, so this is Service Pack 2.
The Father: [laughter]
Me: It removes a trojan virus installed in the program which made you think you were watching something completely different from the last show you went to.
As The Father said as he dropped me off (I would have driven, as is required in these situations, but The Husband needed the car to visit His Boyfriend), this is more about Being Together and The Power of Love and We Should Really Do This More Often. Which we should. But Michael Flatley's only one man. And there are only so many PBS specials. And The Parents went to Sarah Brightman of their own accord.
OH!!! So you want to know about the show!!! Well, the first half was A Brief History Of Ireland. Much Like LORD OF THE DANCE and FEET OF FLAMES. Only this time, Michael Flatley, acting as a modern day St. Patrick, drove the British from Ireland with the Power of His Dance. Did you know West Side Story is actually a retelling of the Irish Rebellion against British Tyranny? I didn't know that either. So there was dancing and some guy sang a song and it sort of reminded me of American Idol for some reason. And then there was this really awesome part where the British troops burned down a cottage and there were flying dead Irish baby spirits. It was AWESOME.
The second act, everybody came to America and became gangsters. And Michael Flatley's feet were aflame, and some chick was wearing an American Flag bikini. The BEST PART was this celebration of everything that makes America Great. All the things terrorists hate: eagles, and the Statue of Liberty, and cheerleaders, and football players, and more cheerleaders, and another eagle, and a seedy roadside motel, and disadvantaged black youth playing basketball and more football and cheerleaders and THE FLAG!!! And YAY AMERICA!!! And then there was more dancing, and some explosions but no one died because an angel came down from Heaven and brought all the soldiers and Irish rebels back to life, and that biniki chick again, and Yankee Doodle Dandy. THE END.
It was EXACTLY LIKE the other two shows, only this time there were more American flags. It was very silly. But I bought a copy of soundtrack (some of the songs would be awesome for mixes because it's lots of Gregorian chanting and beatboxing) which I am listening to right now so I may better convey to you the beauty and power of this spectacle. And I also bought a t-shirt for The Best Friend's birthday, because I know he'll totally kill me, and that's what birthday presents are all about: embarrassing your friends.
So it's late. The Husband will be home soon, reeking of cigarettes and barbeque sauce. But before I go...
Dad, I had an awesome time. Next time Charlotte Chruch is in town, WE ARE SO THERE!!!!
Friday, September 30, 2005
review--LEGION OF THE DEAD
SPOILERS!!!
I know what I promised. No more bad movies. But the box was SO COOL. And the movie starred Zach Galligan from GREMLINS and Bruce Boxleitner from BABYLON 5. And its title cooed LEGIONS OF THE DEAD.
Alas, it was not to be.
LEGION OF THE DEAD is about Egyptian vampire mummies in Los Angeles. I know what you're thinking. Kelmeister, you are saying to yourself, isn't the defining characteristic of Egyptian vampire mummies the fact that they are found in Egypt? Well, yes, you could think that. But I bet you'd be surprised to know there are ACTUAL DOCUMENTED THEORIES that the Egyptians had a Trans-Atlantic trade route to the Americas, which conveniently took them by Atlantis. See, ACTUAL REAL-LIFE SCIENTISTS have done studies on mummies and found chemical evidence of plants indigenous only to the Western Hemisphere during the time of the Egyptian Empires. Sound too good to be true? It probably is, but I found it on the internets, so I'm sticking with that as an explanation. So anyway, the Egyptians...they're coming over here and tradin' and tradin' and some stayed they liked it so much and they became the Aztecs. But others thought North America sucked ass, and so they would send the worst people over here to suffer and die. One such person was Aneh-Tet, who did some stuff that probably involved little to no clothing, so she was banished to the LA area, where a tomb was built for her and she was locked in, vowing to return and command both the living and the dead.
Enter Zach Galligan, who has apparently not learned to NEVER FEED THEM AFTER MIDNIGHT. He's a lecherous professor of Archaeology who's discovered Aneh-Tet's underground tomb and is excavating it with some of his Dressed-Improperly-for-Archaeological-Digs graduate sluts-I mean students. One is Molly, a beautiful girl trying too hard to look like a nerd, especially considering she's slept with every guy at the dig...abet drunkenly, as she so delicately puts it. She's a specialist in reading hieroglyphics. Then there's this Australian actor playing a French archaeologist, and he's smarmy enough that you know he's totally going to ressurrect the Egyptian chick. And then there's the dude love with Molly, and Bruce Boxleiter's a cop with a kick ass jacket who knows way too much about dating DNA samples. And there's face melting, and spines being ripped out, and the dead being raised, and boobies. And some virgins were sacrificed. And lots of people die and come back to life. And The Husband and I were in it!! Or at least our car was. THE END.
First, I feel the need to reveal to you that the copy we had was fucked up. And I don't mean the movie itself; there was something wrong with the disc that caused lots of fits and starts and pixilated greenness. So we had to switch DVD players to try and overcome our technical difficulties, and this caused us to miss what were, I suppose, critical plot points of the film. LIke why the hell Molly and Chump-boy went out, broke up, stopped speaking to each other, and wanted to get back together in the first place. Also, people we'd never seen before had a bad habit of dying and then showing up dead, and we had no clue who they were or what function they served in the film. Also, Aneh-Tet's powers of evil had an annoying way of changing their modus operandi, so at one point people could be killed just by having her look at them askance, and other times she'd actually have to touch them. And sometimes touching them would kill them instantly, and other times people pertinent to the plot would be able to get away for a few minutes.
Even despite these tiny quibbles with the script, two points stuck out glaringly:
1) How many women did they have to hire to suck Bruce Boxleitner's dick to get him to appear in this movie? and
2) Can you call your henchmen of undead a "legion" if there are only six of them?
See, I can understand Zach Galligan, maybe. I mean, when all you can think of to distinguish him from all the other pasty-faced actors you haven't heard of since the 80s is "Hey, he was in GREMLINS," I can expect him to show up in a shitty movie such as this. But Boxleitner? CAPTAIN SHERIDAN!?!?! Say it ain't so!
The Husband and I decided the filmmakers gave him his kick ass jacket, and the sunglasses, and the cowboy hat...and probably also the prop cell phone. And he didn't have to die until the end of the movie.
And also, the LEGION OF THE DEAD was only six dead people. I don't know if I should feel cheated, or send the filmmakers an Texas Instruments calculator.
Oh...on a final note I should point out that LEGION OF THE DEAD was brought to you by the production winners who also made JOLLY ROGER. So I should have known. I really, really should have known.
The preview for FRANKENSTEIN REBORN looked kick ass.
And now I'm off to see SERENITY!!! You should go too, so they make more Serenity movies and I'm a happy camper.
I know what I promised. No more bad movies. But the box was SO COOL. And the movie starred Zach Galligan from GREMLINS and Bruce Boxleitner from BABYLON 5. And its title cooed LEGIONS OF THE DEAD.
Alas, it was not to be.
LEGION OF THE DEAD is about Egyptian vampire mummies in Los Angeles. I know what you're thinking. Kelmeister, you are saying to yourself, isn't the defining characteristic of Egyptian vampire mummies the fact that they are found in Egypt? Well, yes, you could think that. But I bet you'd be surprised to know there are ACTUAL DOCUMENTED THEORIES that the Egyptians had a Trans-Atlantic trade route to the Americas, which conveniently took them by Atlantis. See, ACTUAL REAL-LIFE SCIENTISTS have done studies on mummies and found chemical evidence of plants indigenous only to the Western Hemisphere during the time of the Egyptian Empires. Sound too good to be true? It probably is, but I found it on the internets, so I'm sticking with that as an explanation. So anyway, the Egyptians...they're coming over here and tradin' and tradin' and some stayed they liked it so much and they became the Aztecs. But others thought North America sucked ass, and so they would send the worst people over here to suffer and die. One such person was Aneh-Tet, who did some stuff that probably involved little to no clothing, so she was banished to the LA area, where a tomb was built for her and she was locked in, vowing to return and command both the living and the dead.
Enter Zach Galligan, who has apparently not learned to NEVER FEED THEM AFTER MIDNIGHT. He's a lecherous professor of Archaeology who's discovered Aneh-Tet's underground tomb and is excavating it with some of his Dressed-Improperly-for-Archaeological-Digs graduate sluts-I mean students. One is Molly, a beautiful girl trying too hard to look like a nerd, especially considering she's slept with every guy at the dig...abet drunkenly, as she so delicately puts it. She's a specialist in reading hieroglyphics. Then there's this Australian actor playing a French archaeologist, and he's smarmy enough that you know he's totally going to ressurrect the Egyptian chick. And then there's the dude love with Molly, and Bruce Boxleiter's a cop with a kick ass jacket who knows way too much about dating DNA samples. And there's face melting, and spines being ripped out, and the dead being raised, and boobies. And some virgins were sacrificed. And lots of people die and come back to life. And The Husband and I were in it!! Or at least our car was. THE END.
First, I feel the need to reveal to you that the copy we had was fucked up. And I don't mean the movie itself; there was something wrong with the disc that caused lots of fits and starts and pixilated greenness. So we had to switch DVD players to try and overcome our technical difficulties, and this caused us to miss what were, I suppose, critical plot points of the film. LIke why the hell Molly and Chump-boy went out, broke up, stopped speaking to each other, and wanted to get back together in the first place. Also, people we'd never seen before had a bad habit of dying and then showing up dead, and we had no clue who they were or what function they served in the film. Also, Aneh-Tet's powers of evil had an annoying way of changing their modus operandi, so at one point people could be killed just by having her look at them askance, and other times she'd actually have to touch them. And sometimes touching them would kill them instantly, and other times people pertinent to the plot would be able to get away for a few minutes.
Even despite these tiny quibbles with the script, two points stuck out glaringly:
1) How many women did they have to hire to suck Bruce Boxleitner's dick to get him to appear in this movie? and
2) Can you call your henchmen of undead a "legion" if there are only six of them?
See, I can understand Zach Galligan, maybe. I mean, when all you can think of to distinguish him from all the other pasty-faced actors you haven't heard of since the 80s is "Hey, he was in GREMLINS," I can expect him to show up in a shitty movie such as this. But Boxleitner? CAPTAIN SHERIDAN!?!?! Say it ain't so!
The Husband and I decided the filmmakers gave him his kick ass jacket, and the sunglasses, and the cowboy hat...and probably also the prop cell phone. And he didn't have to die until the end of the movie.
And also, the LEGION OF THE DEAD was only six dead people. I don't know if I should feel cheated, or send the filmmakers an Texas Instruments calculator.
Oh...on a final note I should point out that LEGION OF THE DEAD was brought to you by the production winners who also made JOLLY ROGER. So I should have known. I really, really should have known.
The preview for FRANKENSTEIN REBORN looked kick ass.
And now I'm off to see SERENITY!!! You should go too, so they make more Serenity movies and I'm a happy camper.
Friday, September 9, 2005
review--SUPERNATURAL
SPOILERS!!!
So the WB, in its infinite wisdom, has posted the pilot episode of its new series SUPERNATURAL on Yahoo. This is an ingeneous idea long awaited by moi. After all, I can't be bothered to actively seek out TV shows to download and watch during lunch. I like to be handed crap on a silver platter. So in what is a rare occurance, I've actually seen something before you have, and I'm going to tell you about it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you SUPERNATURAL!!!
Let me begin by saying that SUPERNATURAL will be airing opposite HOUSE on Tuesday nights. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Okay, so...SUPERNATURAL. Here's the plot: two dudes, Brother #1 and Brother #2 (okay, it's Dean and Sam) loose their mother when they are both very young. She dies when she sees some guy in Sam's room and then next thing you know she's on the ceiling and she's been stabbed and then she bursts into flames. On the ceiling. So Sam and Dean's dad spends the rest of his life trying to find the "thing" that killed her, dragging his two sons along on his "hunting expeditions." Now they're adults, and Dad's missing, and Sam just wants to go to law school. And Dean's kind of an ass, and they lovingly call each other "bitch" and tell each other to "shut your cakehole." And they're chasing after a ghost, and I think that's Steve Railsback making a guest appearance, and then sucked into hell and more bursting into flames, and Sam gives up the Good Life to go trolling on the highway with Dean, looking for Dad.
First, lots of people who worked on the X-Files worked on this show. It looks like it too: I could barely see what was going on. SUPERNATURAL exists in that America where Daytime never happens.
Second, it's written by the dude who wrote BOOGEYMAN. Did I tell you about Boogeyman? It was shitty. Xena's in it. Not much, though. So the show's kind of like I WISH I WAS ANGEL, BUT I'M ACTUALLY MORE LIKE WALKING TALL BUT WITH ANNOYING COLLEGE KIDS.
Here's the problem: Sam's way too ernest. From the beginning of the show he's whining about how he wants a "normal life," but we're never shown how fucked up his upbringing actually was. It's hinted about, what with guns in the trunk and the incessant bickering and the credit card fraud. But look, his dad keeps a copy of a photo of the three of them with him all the time even though they long ago stopped speaking to one another so he must still really love them even though Sam hates him for ruining his life, oh and by the way Dad's a raging alcoholic, too, just for good measure, but boy does it feel good to be back in the hunt and I guess I acutally do have long suppressed feelings of love and respect for Dad but I still need to go to Law School and Have A Normal Life.
Oh, Sam, Sam...have you not learned? NEVER turn your back on Family. To do so means the show is over, and that can't possibly happen so instead your girlfriend is going to die EXACTLY LIKE YOUR MOTHER DID and now your murderous revenge dovetails nicely with your brother's and father's and you go off to find Dad because now That's All That Matters.
I don't even remember his girlfriend's name. Hmm.
For some bizarre reason, this year's new Fall season is all about space aliens and ghosts. What's that all about? Think we'd forgotten The X-Files so soon? Trying to capture lightening in a bottle? Try to capture this and see where it gets you.
So what else did I want to say? THe special effects are kind of cool. It's just...remember back in the 80s there was this glut of shows about people wandering around searching for stuff? Incredible Hulk jumps to mind (I know that was the 70s) and The Phoenix and Starman and crap like that? SUPERNATURAL is going to be just like that. Only they're looking for their mother's killer AND their dad, so I guess that means the plots are limitless.
"Well, gots to move on to another town."
That's what this show is going to end up being. Maybe I judge too soon: TV Guide practically orgasmed over it, if I remember correctly.
The other thing that bugs me, though, is that it tries to be all down with the paranormal lingo, and instead they end up randomly pulling things out of their asses and out of Google searches with no context or explanation. That's annoying. I know they're supposed to be all "knowledgeable" and whatnot, and that Sam's really good at hunting ghosts even if he wishes he wasn't, but instead of making him look like he's found his true calling he looks like he's making shit up. Which he probably is.
So, yeah, this show's not much to write home about. Maybe it'll pick up; who knows? Not me. I'll be waiting around for my Naked Hugh Laurie Episode of House.
LL Cool J's on the season premiere, Tuesday 13th at 9:00pm on Fox.
I wanted to end this with something funny but I can't think of anything.
So the WB, in its infinite wisdom, has posted the pilot episode of its new series SUPERNATURAL on Yahoo. This is an ingeneous idea long awaited by moi. After all, I can't be bothered to actively seek out TV shows to download and watch during lunch. I like to be handed crap on a silver platter. So in what is a rare occurance, I've actually seen something before you have, and I'm going to tell you about it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you SUPERNATURAL!!!
Let me begin by saying that SUPERNATURAL will be airing opposite HOUSE on Tuesday nights. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Okay, so...SUPERNATURAL. Here's the plot: two dudes, Brother #1 and Brother #2 (okay, it's Dean and Sam) loose their mother when they are both very young. She dies when she sees some guy in Sam's room and then next thing you know she's on the ceiling and she's been stabbed and then she bursts into flames. On the ceiling. So Sam and Dean's dad spends the rest of his life trying to find the "thing" that killed her, dragging his two sons along on his "hunting expeditions." Now they're adults, and Dad's missing, and Sam just wants to go to law school. And Dean's kind of an ass, and they lovingly call each other "bitch" and tell each other to "shut your cakehole." And they're chasing after a ghost, and I think that's Steve Railsback making a guest appearance, and then sucked into hell and more bursting into flames, and Sam gives up the Good Life to go trolling on the highway with Dean, looking for Dad.
First, lots of people who worked on the X-Files worked on this show. It looks like it too: I could barely see what was going on. SUPERNATURAL exists in that America where Daytime never happens.
Second, it's written by the dude who wrote BOOGEYMAN. Did I tell you about Boogeyman? It was shitty. Xena's in it. Not much, though. So the show's kind of like I WISH I WAS ANGEL, BUT I'M ACTUALLY MORE LIKE WALKING TALL BUT WITH ANNOYING COLLEGE KIDS.
Here's the problem: Sam's way too ernest. From the beginning of the show he's whining about how he wants a "normal life," but we're never shown how fucked up his upbringing actually was. It's hinted about, what with guns in the trunk and the incessant bickering and the credit card fraud. But look, his dad keeps a copy of a photo of the three of them with him all the time even though they long ago stopped speaking to one another so he must still really love them even though Sam hates him for ruining his life, oh and by the way Dad's a raging alcoholic, too, just for good measure, but boy does it feel good to be back in the hunt and I guess I acutally do have long suppressed feelings of love and respect for Dad but I still need to go to Law School and Have A Normal Life.
Oh, Sam, Sam...have you not learned? NEVER turn your back on Family. To do so means the show is over, and that can't possibly happen so instead your girlfriend is going to die EXACTLY LIKE YOUR MOTHER DID and now your murderous revenge dovetails nicely with your brother's and father's and you go off to find Dad because now That's All That Matters.
I don't even remember his girlfriend's name. Hmm.
For some bizarre reason, this year's new Fall season is all about space aliens and ghosts. What's that all about? Think we'd forgotten The X-Files so soon? Trying to capture lightening in a bottle? Try to capture this and see where it gets you.
So what else did I want to say? THe special effects are kind of cool. It's just...remember back in the 80s there was this glut of shows about people wandering around searching for stuff? Incredible Hulk jumps to mind (I know that was the 70s) and The Phoenix and Starman and crap like that? SUPERNATURAL is going to be just like that. Only they're looking for their mother's killer AND their dad, so I guess that means the plots are limitless.
"Well, gots to move on to another town."
That's what this show is going to end up being. Maybe I judge too soon: TV Guide practically orgasmed over it, if I remember correctly.
The other thing that bugs me, though, is that it tries to be all down with the paranormal lingo, and instead they end up randomly pulling things out of their asses and out of Google searches with no context or explanation. That's annoying. I know they're supposed to be all "knowledgeable" and whatnot, and that Sam's really good at hunting ghosts even if he wishes he wasn't, but instead of making him look like he's found his true calling he looks like he's making shit up. Which he probably is.
So, yeah, this show's not much to write home about. Maybe it'll pick up; who knows? Not me. I'll be waiting around for my Naked Hugh Laurie Episode of House.
LL Cool J's on the season premiere, Tuesday 13th at 9:00pm on Fox.
I wanted to end this with something funny but I can't think of anything.
Thursday, September 1, 2005
review--MIKE NELSON SHOCKS THE BOX
I'm...dying...
Seriously, I'm totally not long for this world. I just met God...I have no reason to continue on. Also, I think I'm never going to wash my right hand, so I will probably get ebola or flesh eating disease or something, so even if you think I'm being way too dramatic with the declaring my death and all, you'll be sorry if I get something you get from feces or something...
I shook Mike Nelson's hand. And I talked to him. And I watched him be funny. And it was awesome. I also cried a little bit, but I did not pee my pants. So I can die happy.
Wait, Nelson? That 80s hair band? NO, ASS. MICHAEL J. NELSON. Trapped on the Satellite of Love. With the robots. Mystery Science Theater 3000? Just THE GREATEST TELEVISION SHOW EVER, EVEN MORE THAN THE X-FILES AND POSSIBLY HOUSE, BUT HOUSE HAS ONLY BEEN ON ONE SEASON SO IT COULD GET EVEN BETTER LIKE WHEN THEY HAVE THAT EPISODE WHERE HUGH LAURIE IS NAKED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING.
Close your eyes, Dear Reader, and let me take you back, back in time to 1993...Big K Kollege on Top of the Hill, where the men were men and the women wore patchouli. Well, the guys wore it too, but I digress. Friends of Kelmeister weren't exactly the most, shall we say, studious? We got our shit done, but it was a trial. Take for example, MST3K. Every weeknight, midnight. Comedy Central. All work stopped. No matter how many papers you had to do, how many exams you had the next day, everyone gathered around the TV as though it were the middle of a blizzard and Manos: The Hands of Fate was a roaring fire. And considering it was the Big K Kollege on Top of the Hill, that's pretty much the God's honest truth about the situation. Because winters sucked ass. K KOLLEGE IS A WALKING CAMPUS. Anyway, many an evening was spent laughing along with Mike and Tom and Crow, and sometimes Joel. And when it wasn't on TV, we'd recite snappy dialogue amongst ourselves like we were Hailing Mary. I even used this pithy exchange as my senior quote...
Joel: Okay, and what do you want for Christmas, Crow?
Crow: I want the power to decide who lives and who dies!
Joel: Oh, I don't know about that.
I still giggle when I read that. Hey, it was either that, or a quote from Kundera's The Farewell Party, or Faulkner's Light in August. I didn't want to seem too high brow.
Winter Break of 94, I stayed on campus. I had somehow managed to commandeer the dorm's TV/VCR combo, and I began what would become a dangerous trend: I would fall asleep watching tapes of MST3K.
So here it is, over ten years later. The Husband can attest to the fact that I've become somewhat of a chronic insomniac. It could be because of the massive amounts of Prozac I consume. It could be all the tea I drink. Most likely it's all the naps I take during the day...the heart of the matter is that I have a very difficult time getting to sleep at night. If I've got bad allergies I'll take a Benadryl and off to Sleepy Land I go. If it's been a few days and I've not slept at all to the point that my driving is impaired and I scrape the side of the car on a pole at the drive-up ATM, I'll take a Unisom. In every case, drugs or no drugs, I have to have MST3K playing in the background or I still can't get to sleep. I don't know if it's the flickering light from the TV, or the warm dulcet tones of Mike and the Bots bantering back and forth, but it always works like a charm. The Jack Frost episode is the best, followed by The Day the Earth Froze and the Magic Voyage of Sinbad. Also Time Chasers is really awesome. Pod People is my favorite episode to watch when not trying to go to sleep.
So anyway, this morning The Husband and I were getting ready to go to work when The Husband realized he'd forgotten to get his Important Paperwork. I waited in the car listening to NPR (Yes, I listen to NPR, fuck you.). And who is the hometown reporter interviewing but MICHAEL J. NELSON from MST3K!!! He's in town!! And performing live!!! And we missed the first performance but they've added a second show!!! I'M SO FUCKING GOING!!!
I called The Husband after I got to work to see if he'd want to go. Tickets are $30. THIRTY DOLLARS he says. Well, we could get the super special reserved seats for $300, and that includes a bottle of champagne and a picture with MIKE NELSON. We don't drink, The Husband reminds me. It's a picture with MIKE NELSON I stress, in case he missed it the first time. You didn't spend $300 to see Duran Duran even though you could, he reminds me. Yeah, I say, but we'll get our picture with MIKE NELSON. So, The Husband opts for the only true action available to him, which is to sigh and say "whatever." So I got three tickets, in case The Brother, who also Bows at the Altar of MIKE NELSON, would want to go. But he didn't so The Mother went instead.
So MIKE NELSON appeared with Shadowbox Cabaret at Easton. They performed a MIKE NELSON original, and at the end of the show he sang a song about me, called Sci Fi Girl, in which he compared my eyes to Agent Scully's which was CRAZY because X-files was like my all-time favorite show when I still had enough disposable income to waste on David Duchovny magazines. As you well know. MIKE NELSON also appeared in other sketches; one of which that he wasn't in was this awesome parody of the Maury Povich show, which is my Favorite Show of All Time, but only when they're doing the paternity test shows or the lie detector shows, because the shows where they have you guess if it's a man or a woman and the ones where the sexy secret crushes are revealed are really boring.
After the show we got a free poster to have autographed by MIKE NELSON, even though we didn't pay the $300 admission, which was awesome. The Mother had hers autographed for The Brother, and The Husband had his autographed for His Co-Worker Who Also Likes MST3K. I was all atwitter. I couldn't think of anything to say. I wanted to tell MIKE NELSON that I loved him, that The Best Friend and I had fantasized on dark stormy nights at K Kollege that we'd drive to Minnesota and apply to be interns with Best Brains, Inc., and they would love us and make us interns and then they'd realize how insane we were with the pop culture knowledge and we'd get writing jobs on the show and then eventually we'd be on TV and it would be the GREATEST JOB EVER. Because we'd be working with Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo and Gypsy, and they're like my imaginary best friends even though they're puppets. Or what about that time I had really incredibly bad food poisoning at school, and I was projectile vomiting, and I thought I was dying, but I didn't have the TV/VCR combo in my room so I couldn't watch my tapes, and in my delirium I called home and told my mom I wanted to watch TV because MST3K always made me feel better and she and my dad came to school to take me to the emergency but I totally never got to watch MST3K? Or how much The Husband hates having to put up with me falling asleep to the Sci Fi Channel years of the show, because when I taped them I would change the channels during the commercials, so it's like getting a view into my twisted psyche but at the same time it's really fucking annoying because you're watching a tape and you still have to suffer through me fucking with the remote?
But now. This is how the exchange went:
Me: Duh, uhh. Ummm, ah *Shoves poster at MIKE NELSON* Can I shake your hand? *Shakes hand (MIKE NELSON'S hand was sweaty with a firm grip)* Uh, I can't think of anything witty to say.
MIKE NELSON *impressed, points at me*: THAT was really good!!!
Me: Duh, uhh, ummm, ah. I wanted to tell you that I have chronic insomnia, and the only thing I can fall asleep to is MST3K.
MIKE NELSON: You're kidding?
Me: No, seriously, I have the 93 Turkey Day on tape, and I have to put it on a loop to play or else I can't get to sleep. Jack Frost is my favorite to fall asleep to.
MIKE NELSON: You've got to be kidding.
Me: No, really. Uhh, umm *shaking like a leaf, walks off*
So that was my meeting with MIKE NELSON. The Mother later said it looked like I'd made his night, and wondered why I just didn't take tea with him considering how long I was up there. The Husband teased me for tearing up. But it's been a long time since I've met anyone famous, ie someone on TV who makes shitloads more than me and whom people recognize on the street. I can't even remember the last famous person I met. Did I meet Nick Hornby? I don't think I did. I'm usually to scared to talk to them.
God, you know I'm totally like that Saturday Night Live skit with Chris Farley (God Bless Him) where he'd interview famous people and all the questions would be like, "Um, Mr. DeNiro, you remember in that movie TAXI DRIVER, where you were like, 'are you looking at me? are you looking at me?' That was awesome."
Although I did force my way back to meet Warren Zevon (God Bless Him) way back in the day. I was totally in love with this Asshole who was in love with Warren Zevon, so we went to see Zevon and Asshole was totally all over my friend the whole time at the show. And I promised the Asshole that I could get him back to meet Zevon and I did. And then I went to say hi to Zevon and I said, "Mr. Zevon, I've only been a fan of yours for like three months, but I think you're really awesome." And Zevon said, "Three months is a really long time."
And it is.
So it's now Midnight. I'm going to go wash my hand because unfortunately OCD trumps MIKE NELSON every time. I can hear The Husband snoring. So I'm off to bed.
No tapes for me tonight; I'll just replay the real thing in my head.
Seriously, I'm totally not long for this world. I just met God...I have no reason to continue on. Also, I think I'm never going to wash my right hand, so I will probably get ebola or flesh eating disease or something, so even if you think I'm being way too dramatic with the declaring my death and all, you'll be sorry if I get something you get from feces or something...
I shook Mike Nelson's hand. And I talked to him. And I watched him be funny. And it was awesome. I also cried a little bit, but I did not pee my pants. So I can die happy.
Wait, Nelson? That 80s hair band? NO, ASS. MICHAEL J. NELSON. Trapped on the Satellite of Love. With the robots. Mystery Science Theater 3000? Just THE GREATEST TELEVISION SHOW EVER, EVEN MORE THAN THE X-FILES AND POSSIBLY HOUSE, BUT HOUSE HAS ONLY BEEN ON ONE SEASON SO IT COULD GET EVEN BETTER LIKE WHEN THEY HAVE THAT EPISODE WHERE HUGH LAURIE IS NAKED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING.
Close your eyes, Dear Reader, and let me take you back, back in time to 1993...Big K Kollege on Top of the Hill, where the men were men and the women wore patchouli. Well, the guys wore it too, but I digress. Friends of Kelmeister weren't exactly the most, shall we say, studious? We got our shit done, but it was a trial. Take for example, MST3K. Every weeknight, midnight. Comedy Central. All work stopped. No matter how many papers you had to do, how many exams you had the next day, everyone gathered around the TV as though it were the middle of a blizzard and Manos: The Hands of Fate was a roaring fire. And considering it was the Big K Kollege on Top of the Hill, that's pretty much the God's honest truth about the situation. Because winters sucked ass. K KOLLEGE IS A WALKING CAMPUS. Anyway, many an evening was spent laughing along with Mike and Tom and Crow, and sometimes Joel. And when it wasn't on TV, we'd recite snappy dialogue amongst ourselves like we were Hailing Mary. I even used this pithy exchange as my senior quote...
Joel: Okay, and what do you want for Christmas, Crow?
Crow: I want the power to decide who lives and who dies!
Joel: Oh, I don't know about that.
I still giggle when I read that. Hey, it was either that, or a quote from Kundera's The Farewell Party, or Faulkner's Light in August. I didn't want to seem too high brow.
Winter Break of 94, I stayed on campus. I had somehow managed to commandeer the dorm's TV/VCR combo, and I began what would become a dangerous trend: I would fall asleep watching tapes of MST3K.
So here it is, over ten years later. The Husband can attest to the fact that I've become somewhat of a chronic insomniac. It could be because of the massive amounts of Prozac I consume. It could be all the tea I drink. Most likely it's all the naps I take during the day...the heart of the matter is that I have a very difficult time getting to sleep at night. If I've got bad allergies I'll take a Benadryl and off to Sleepy Land I go. If it's been a few days and I've not slept at all to the point that my driving is impaired and I scrape the side of the car on a pole at the drive-up ATM, I'll take a Unisom. In every case, drugs or no drugs, I have to have MST3K playing in the background or I still can't get to sleep. I don't know if it's the flickering light from the TV, or the warm dulcet tones of Mike and the Bots bantering back and forth, but it always works like a charm. The Jack Frost episode is the best, followed by The Day the Earth Froze and the Magic Voyage of Sinbad. Also Time Chasers is really awesome. Pod People is my favorite episode to watch when not trying to go to sleep.
So anyway, this morning The Husband and I were getting ready to go to work when The Husband realized he'd forgotten to get his Important Paperwork. I waited in the car listening to NPR (Yes, I listen to NPR, fuck you.). And who is the hometown reporter interviewing but MICHAEL J. NELSON from MST3K!!! He's in town!! And performing live!!! And we missed the first performance but they've added a second show!!! I'M SO FUCKING GOING!!!
I called The Husband after I got to work to see if he'd want to go. Tickets are $30. THIRTY DOLLARS he says. Well, we could get the super special reserved seats for $300, and that includes a bottle of champagne and a picture with MIKE NELSON. We don't drink, The Husband reminds me. It's a picture with MIKE NELSON I stress, in case he missed it the first time. You didn't spend $300 to see Duran Duran even though you could, he reminds me. Yeah, I say, but we'll get our picture with MIKE NELSON. So, The Husband opts for the only true action available to him, which is to sigh and say "whatever." So I got three tickets, in case The Brother, who also Bows at the Altar of MIKE NELSON, would want to go. But he didn't so The Mother went instead.
So MIKE NELSON appeared with Shadowbox Cabaret at Easton. They performed a MIKE NELSON original, and at the end of the show he sang a song about me, called Sci Fi Girl, in which he compared my eyes to Agent Scully's which was CRAZY because X-files was like my all-time favorite show when I still had enough disposable income to waste on David Duchovny magazines. As you well know. MIKE NELSON also appeared in other sketches; one of which that he wasn't in was this awesome parody of the Maury Povich show, which is my Favorite Show of All Time, but only when they're doing the paternity test shows or the lie detector shows, because the shows where they have you guess if it's a man or a woman and the ones where the sexy secret crushes are revealed are really boring.
After the show we got a free poster to have autographed by MIKE NELSON, even though we didn't pay the $300 admission, which was awesome. The Mother had hers autographed for The Brother, and The Husband had his autographed for His Co-Worker Who Also Likes MST3K. I was all atwitter. I couldn't think of anything to say. I wanted to tell MIKE NELSON that I loved him, that The Best Friend and I had fantasized on dark stormy nights at K Kollege that we'd drive to Minnesota and apply to be interns with Best Brains, Inc., and they would love us and make us interns and then they'd realize how insane we were with the pop culture knowledge and we'd get writing jobs on the show and then eventually we'd be on TV and it would be the GREATEST JOB EVER. Because we'd be working with Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo and Gypsy, and they're like my imaginary best friends even though they're puppets. Or what about that time I had really incredibly bad food poisoning at school, and I was projectile vomiting, and I thought I was dying, but I didn't have the TV/VCR combo in my room so I couldn't watch my tapes, and in my delirium I called home and told my mom I wanted to watch TV because MST3K always made me feel better and she and my dad came to school to take me to the emergency but I totally never got to watch MST3K? Or how much The Husband hates having to put up with me falling asleep to the Sci Fi Channel years of the show, because when I taped them I would change the channels during the commercials, so it's like getting a view into my twisted psyche but at the same time it's really fucking annoying because you're watching a tape and you still have to suffer through me fucking with the remote?
But now. This is how the exchange went:
Me: Duh, uhh. Ummm, ah *Shoves poster at MIKE NELSON* Can I shake your hand? *Shakes hand (MIKE NELSON'S hand was sweaty with a firm grip)* Uh, I can't think of anything witty to say.
MIKE NELSON *impressed, points at me*: THAT was really good!!!
Me: Duh, uhh, ummm, ah. I wanted to tell you that I have chronic insomnia, and the only thing I can fall asleep to is MST3K.
MIKE NELSON: You're kidding?
Me: No, seriously, I have the 93 Turkey Day on tape, and I have to put it on a loop to play or else I can't get to sleep. Jack Frost is my favorite to fall asleep to.
MIKE NELSON: You've got to be kidding.
Me: No, really. Uhh, umm *shaking like a leaf, walks off*
So that was my meeting with MIKE NELSON. The Mother later said it looked like I'd made his night, and wondered why I just didn't take tea with him considering how long I was up there. The Husband teased me for tearing up. But it's been a long time since I've met anyone famous, ie someone on TV who makes shitloads more than me and whom people recognize on the street. I can't even remember the last famous person I met. Did I meet Nick Hornby? I don't think I did. I'm usually to scared to talk to them.
God, you know I'm totally like that Saturday Night Live skit with Chris Farley (God Bless Him) where he'd interview famous people and all the questions would be like, "Um, Mr. DeNiro, you remember in that movie TAXI DRIVER, where you were like, 'are you looking at me? are you looking at me?' That was awesome."
Although I did force my way back to meet Warren Zevon (God Bless Him) way back in the day. I was totally in love with this Asshole who was in love with Warren Zevon, so we went to see Zevon and Asshole was totally all over my friend the whole time at the show. And I promised the Asshole that I could get him back to meet Zevon and I did. And then I went to say hi to Zevon and I said, "Mr. Zevon, I've only been a fan of yours for like three months, but I think you're really awesome." And Zevon said, "Three months is a really long time."
And it is.
So it's now Midnight. I'm going to go wash my hand because unfortunately OCD trumps MIKE NELSON every time. I can hear The Husband snoring. So I'm off to bed.
No tapes for me tonight; I'll just replay the real thing in my head.
Friday, August 26, 2005
review--JOLLY PIRATE: MASSACRE AT CUTTER'S COVE
SPOILERS!!!
Okay, look. It's time to be serious. This isn't a laughing matter.
I don't know if this experiment in terror The Husband and I are engaged in is working out. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that I've lost so much time...we may need to rethink this. It seemed like so much fun at first, but instead it's led to pain and disappointment, anger and sadness, frustration and lost dollars. People have gotten hurt. We've hurt each other, again and again...this wasn't what I signed on for. I knew going in that it would be tough, that we'd have to work together to get through--to be happy. But I can't do it. I can't pretend anymore. I just...can't. I didn't mean for this to happen, for things to turn out the way they have. But at the same time I can't take any of it back, so I can't really say I'm sorry. I don't have any regrets, but I can't keep doing this.
JOLLY PIRATE: MASSACRE AT CUTTER'S COVE was the final straw. No more shitty movies on purpose.
See, part of the inspiration for this was competition with The Brother. He and The Brother's Best Friend are always bragging about the crap they watch. NO FAIR, I say, I WANT TO WATCH SHIT, TOO, so The Husband and I haul ass to Blockbusters and actively search it out. This used to lead to a few diamonds in the rough, a few gems that would provide hours of enjoyment at a later time, as you recounted both the movie and the shitty viewing experience to friends, reliving that terrible time. But I don't know what's happened: either the movies have gotten shittier, or we've lost our touch when it comes to picking them out. Case in point, tonight's winner: JOLLY PIRATE: MASSACRE AT CUTTER'S COVE.
Problem #1 is that new technology means the golden days of crappy shitty video filmed in someone's backyard are GONE...now that everyone has access to a digital camera, every piece of shit film LOOKS like it was crapped from Spielberg's ass. There was a certain, oh, jah nah say quaw about them, an innocence and ignorance that was charming; we all wanted to be filmmakers, and boy did we try. But it still looked like shit, but hey, at least they tried. Now, because it looks like a Hollywood movie, your brain is tricked into thinking it IS a Hollywood movie, so when it sucks ass it sucks all the harder. This also applies to actual Hollywood films being released today, only they've wasted way more money making that shit happen.
Problem #2 is that the dudes in charge of the script had never seen an episode of CSI, CSI:NEW YORK, CSI: MIAMI, LAW & ORDER ad nauseum, et cetera. The coroner was a boob. Seriously, he comes into a crime scene. The cop asks for approximate time of death. The coroner looks at the body sans head and says, "It's hard to say. The body lost all its blood. I don't know how long that takes." The Husband, who cares not a whit about such things, knew enough to scream at the TV "basal body temperature." Thank God the coroner was there at the end of the film to see a gunshot victim and be able to surmise, "It may be fatal."
Problem #3 was that this movie was just simply ass.
I should probably tell you what the film's about, in case you're curious. The movie opens with teens having a cookout/sex on a beach. Lameass Jock and Whore go off to have sex, but they are not horny enough to not stop and check out the pirate chest that's washed up on the beach. Opening the chest unleashes the undead pirate Jolly Roger, who proceeds to go on a murderous rampage, chopping off the heads of the ancestors of his crew, who years ago mutinied against him and killed him and stole his treasure. Our intrepid heroes are teen couple Goody-Goody Schoolgirl and Hoodlum With A Past. He's afraid the cops are going to pin these murders on him, because he "had a run-in with the law" many years ago, apparently for robbing a 7-11 while dressed as a pirate. Strippers are killed, a guy is beaten to death with his own severed arm, the mayor is killed even though she "puts up a fight" which is French for "runs right into the sword," and everyone lives Happily Ever After, except that they don't because the pirate totally comes back from the dead a second time to kill all the losers who are left. THE END.
We should have known we were in trouble when the movie began with Goody-Goody Schoolgirl and Hoodlum With A Past having a fight because she had their whole lives planned out even though they'd only been dating two months, because he was going to go with her to State but he hates school and wants to travel for a few months and what, do you want to see other people? Seriously, no, because I love you but I hate math, so here's my class ring that my mom bought me, I never wear it because I hate it and I don't like to wear jewelry because it messes up my hoodlum reputation to wear rings, but I want you to have it as a token of my love. God, you just don't get it, do you?
I get it, Goody-Goody Schoolgirl, oh how I do. It all became clear to me when you and Hoody broke out of jail to head to the high school so you could use the computers to Google "homicidal dead pirate." I got it when the secretary of the dude getting his head lopped off into a fish tank was typing up a memo using only the function keys on her keyboard. I got it when your friend, right before he died, cooked hot dogs over the campfire until they were burnt, and he tried to convince you they were still good to eat, but I can see why you weren't fooled: he totally pretended to take a bite out of that hot dog.
So I think this signals the end of The Husband's and my quest to find the shittiest movies ever and watch them. It's just too painful and time-consuming and fruitless. I've only shared this with you out of frustration; I've spared you the recaps of KOBOLOS and THE INCUBUS starring John Cassavetes and some other stuff that was so bad I can't remember it off the top of my head. Oh, God was THE INCUBUS weird. My whole life I'd wanted to see it, and I finally watch it and it's all weird violent rape and people talking about the number of sperm and the main character's got this weird incestuous vibe with his teenaged daughter. Maybe I will tell you about it some time, because it was that fucked up.
But that's that. From now on, I think we will try our damnedest to only watch GOOD MOVIES. No more of this shit on purpose. LIfe's too short. So with that, expect reviews of such films as...I can't think of anything off the top of my head. But I really mean it, better movies...yeah.
Right after we finish watching ASYLUM OF THE DAMNED.
Hey, we paid for it already...we might as well go ahead and watch it.
Okay, look. It's time to be serious. This isn't a laughing matter.
I don't know if this experiment in terror The Husband and I are engaged in is working out. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that I've lost so much time...we may need to rethink this. It seemed like so much fun at first, but instead it's led to pain and disappointment, anger and sadness, frustration and lost dollars. People have gotten hurt. We've hurt each other, again and again...this wasn't what I signed on for. I knew going in that it would be tough, that we'd have to work together to get through--to be happy. But I can't do it. I can't pretend anymore. I just...can't. I didn't mean for this to happen, for things to turn out the way they have. But at the same time I can't take any of it back, so I can't really say I'm sorry. I don't have any regrets, but I can't keep doing this.
JOLLY PIRATE: MASSACRE AT CUTTER'S COVE was the final straw. No more shitty movies on purpose.
See, part of the inspiration for this was competition with The Brother. He and The Brother's Best Friend are always bragging about the crap they watch. NO FAIR, I say, I WANT TO WATCH SHIT, TOO, so The Husband and I haul ass to Blockbusters and actively search it out. This used to lead to a few diamonds in the rough, a few gems that would provide hours of enjoyment at a later time, as you recounted both the movie and the shitty viewing experience to friends, reliving that terrible time. But I don't know what's happened: either the movies have gotten shittier, or we've lost our touch when it comes to picking them out. Case in point, tonight's winner: JOLLY PIRATE: MASSACRE AT CUTTER'S COVE.
Problem #1 is that new technology means the golden days of crappy shitty video filmed in someone's backyard are GONE...now that everyone has access to a digital camera, every piece of shit film LOOKS like it was crapped from Spielberg's ass. There was a certain, oh, jah nah say quaw about them, an innocence and ignorance that was charming; we all wanted to be filmmakers, and boy did we try. But it still looked like shit, but hey, at least they tried. Now, because it looks like a Hollywood movie, your brain is tricked into thinking it IS a Hollywood movie, so when it sucks ass it sucks all the harder. This also applies to actual Hollywood films being released today, only they've wasted way more money making that shit happen.
Problem #2 is that the dudes in charge of the script had never seen an episode of CSI, CSI:NEW YORK, CSI: MIAMI, LAW & ORDER ad nauseum, et cetera. The coroner was a boob. Seriously, he comes into a crime scene. The cop asks for approximate time of death. The coroner looks at the body sans head and says, "It's hard to say. The body lost all its blood. I don't know how long that takes." The Husband, who cares not a whit about such things, knew enough to scream at the TV "basal body temperature." Thank God the coroner was there at the end of the film to see a gunshot victim and be able to surmise, "It may be fatal."
Problem #3 was that this movie was just simply ass.
I should probably tell you what the film's about, in case you're curious. The movie opens with teens having a cookout/sex on a beach. Lameass Jock and Whore go off to have sex, but they are not horny enough to not stop and check out the pirate chest that's washed up on the beach. Opening the chest unleashes the undead pirate Jolly Roger, who proceeds to go on a murderous rampage, chopping off the heads of the ancestors of his crew, who years ago mutinied against him and killed him and stole his treasure. Our intrepid heroes are teen couple Goody-Goody Schoolgirl and Hoodlum With A Past. He's afraid the cops are going to pin these murders on him, because he "had a run-in with the law" many years ago, apparently for robbing a 7-11 while dressed as a pirate. Strippers are killed, a guy is beaten to death with his own severed arm, the mayor is killed even though she "puts up a fight" which is French for "runs right into the sword," and everyone lives Happily Ever After, except that they don't because the pirate totally comes back from the dead a second time to kill all the losers who are left. THE END.
We should have known we were in trouble when the movie began with Goody-Goody Schoolgirl and Hoodlum With A Past having a fight because she had their whole lives planned out even though they'd only been dating two months, because he was going to go with her to State but he hates school and wants to travel for a few months and what, do you want to see other people? Seriously, no, because I love you but I hate math, so here's my class ring that my mom bought me, I never wear it because I hate it and I don't like to wear jewelry because it messes up my hoodlum reputation to wear rings, but I want you to have it as a token of my love. God, you just don't get it, do you?
I get it, Goody-Goody Schoolgirl, oh how I do. It all became clear to me when you and Hoody broke out of jail to head to the high school so you could use the computers to Google "homicidal dead pirate." I got it when the secretary of the dude getting his head lopped off into a fish tank was typing up a memo using only the function keys on her keyboard. I got it when your friend, right before he died, cooked hot dogs over the campfire until they were burnt, and he tried to convince you they were still good to eat, but I can see why you weren't fooled: he totally pretended to take a bite out of that hot dog.
So I think this signals the end of The Husband's and my quest to find the shittiest movies ever and watch them. It's just too painful and time-consuming and fruitless. I've only shared this with you out of frustration; I've spared you the recaps of KOBOLOS and THE INCUBUS starring John Cassavetes and some other stuff that was so bad I can't remember it off the top of my head. Oh, God was THE INCUBUS weird. My whole life I'd wanted to see it, and I finally watch it and it's all weird violent rape and people talking about the number of sperm and the main character's got this weird incestuous vibe with his teenaged daughter. Maybe I will tell you about it some time, because it was that fucked up.
But that's that. From now on, I think we will try our damnedest to only watch GOOD MOVIES. No more of this shit on purpose. LIfe's too short. So with that, expect reviews of such films as...I can't think of anything off the top of my head. But I really mean it, better movies...yeah.
Right after we finish watching ASYLUM OF THE DAMNED.
Hey, we paid for it already...we might as well go ahead and watch it.
review--The New Look Of My Blog
So what do you think? I love it. I think it's much more polished and professional looking.
But you'll have to thank the people at Movable Type and my host, Gigamatt, for that, because I'm an incompetent boob when it comes to fucking with blog templates. Fucking up? That's another story.
So Movable Type released a new release, and fortunately for me I guess the default is the brand spankin' new blue thing you see here. It is really cool. Of course, I just spent a half hour trying to find something even more spectacular in another color, but couldn't figure it out so I'm sticking with this. I did take a semester of HTML at school, but the extent of my retained knowledge is the kick ass picture of the angry puppy in the corner.
And if it looks familiar, yes, I do occasionally post comments to the House MD fan fiction forums on Live Journal.
I am teh lame.
So I hope you like the new layout, and that it's easier for you to read, and that its beauty and simplicity mezmerize you into thinking I'm far more witty than I actually am. That would be kick ass.
Think of the marketing: TURN EVEN YOUR MOST PATHETIC DRABBLE INTO RUMIATIONS ON PAR WITH WILDE AND PARKER! UPGRADE TO MOVABLE TYPE 3.2 NOW!
Leave a comment about when I can expect my spokesman checks.
But you'll have to thank the people at Movable Type and my host, Gigamatt, for that, because I'm an incompetent boob when it comes to fucking with blog templates. Fucking up? That's another story.
So Movable Type released a new release, and fortunately for me I guess the default is the brand spankin' new blue thing you see here. It is really cool. Of course, I just spent a half hour trying to find something even more spectacular in another color, but couldn't figure it out so I'm sticking with this. I did take a semester of HTML at school, but the extent of my retained knowledge is the kick ass picture of the angry puppy in the corner.
And if it looks familiar, yes, I do occasionally post comments to the House MD fan fiction forums on Live Journal.
I am teh lame.
So I hope you like the new layout, and that it's easier for you to read, and that its beauty and simplicity mezmerize you into thinking I'm far more witty than I actually am. That would be kick ass.
Think of the marketing: TURN EVEN YOUR MOST PATHETIC DRABBLE INTO RUMIATIONS ON PAR WITH WILDE AND PARKER! UPGRADE TO MOVABLE TYPE 3.2 NOW!
Leave a comment about when I can expect my spokesman checks.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
review--HAMMERFALL
So, it's true, dearest kiddies...I am a virgin no more. I have "popped my cherry."
I have attended my first power metal show.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Kelmeister, you're saying to yourself, you like Duran Duran. Power Metal? What the fuck's up with that? Well, The Brother is into crazy metal shit where they make these albums where all the songs are based on Lord of the Rings and the people dress up like they're in a Renaissance festival and it's all crazy metal shit. And I was driving past The College Concert Venue and saw that Hammerfall was coming and I thought to myself, Hey, that's one of those crazy metal bands The Brother likes. So I threw him an email and sure enough, he was psyched. And he asked if I wanted to come. And I thought, Hey, The Brother and I rarely do anything together that doesn't envolve movies or British television shows. So, I went.
Let me begin by saying that I really wanted to go because The College Concert Venue was renovated earlier in the year and I hadn't been yet to see what they did. The Husband remarked that he hoped it no longer smelled like pee. Ah, will he be disappointed! Not only did it smell like pee, but there was no soap in the bathroom (the men's room was apparently missing soap AND toilet paper) and when I went a second time to pee, three of the five toilets were filled with poop. It was crazy disgusting.
What I don't understand: How does something like that happen? Do you poop, and then you're afraid you pooped too much and you might clog the toilet so you leave it for the next person to flush so it backs up on them? Were you so drunk you forgot to flush, because no matter how drunk I've been, I always managed to take a shower and remove and clean my contacts when I got home, so how you'd forget something as automatic as flushing.... Or are you just really, really nasty? I wish someone would explain this to me. Also, you think it's usually the men who do shit like that (no pun intended) but actually I think women are fifty million times dirtier than men.
So anyway, back to the show. Power metal is really weird. I like metal, but I like shitty metal. At least this is what people tell me. I like stuff like Sabbath and AC/DC. I also like Powerman 5000 and System of a Down. I heart rap metal most. Because there's nothing like driving down the street in your Hyundai, a white woman screaming SHIT NIGGA FUCKIN' BITCH PUSSY at the top of your lungs. It's very liberating and life affirming.
Power metal isn't really my thing. To me, it's always been crazy operatic orchestrations and effeminate screaming. And it's totally like that in real life, too. But there's something really headbangingly awesome about it.
Here's the thing: I think it sucks on record, but live it's tons of fun.
Into Oblivion was the first band out, and they were pretty cool. Their music flirted close to the edge of sounding like Stabbing Westward in places, and I approved.
Edguy was the next one up. The lead singer made a joke about the opening of one of their songs sounding like Europe's Final Countdown, but the joke was on them: All of their stuff sounded like Europe's Final Countdown. The BEST was that half the crowd left after they were over. WTF? But they were fun, in a totally cheesy Europe's Final Countdown kind of way.
Note to self: make sure I have Europe's Final Countdown in my iTunes shopping cart.
Finally, the headliners, Hammerfall. The lead singer was a hottie. Willem Defoe played bass. They were cheesy, but they revelled in their cheese, the lead singer saying at one point that life reminded him of 1985, only now they were old enough to go to titty bars. And I think that was the main thing of the evening: These guys were just a little more hardcore than Jon Bon Jovi. Seriously, Bon Jovi, Extreme, Warrant...all rolled into one. With faster guitar licks.
I had a lot of fun. Some random guy high-fived me at the end of the evening, in his unadulterated joy. And there was lots of crazy air guitar happening. Not enough SHIT NIGGA FUCKIN' BITCH PUSSY for my taste. But then I probably would have gotten my ass kicked or something. Metal and no cursing. WTF? Throwing around the devil horns and no cursing?
I have attended my first power metal show.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Kelmeister, you're saying to yourself, you like Duran Duran. Power Metal? What the fuck's up with that? Well, The Brother is into crazy metal shit where they make these albums where all the songs are based on Lord of the Rings and the people dress up like they're in a Renaissance festival and it's all crazy metal shit. And I was driving past The College Concert Venue and saw that Hammerfall was coming and I thought to myself, Hey, that's one of those crazy metal bands The Brother likes. So I threw him an email and sure enough, he was psyched. And he asked if I wanted to come. And I thought, Hey, The Brother and I rarely do anything together that doesn't envolve movies or British television shows. So, I went.
Let me begin by saying that I really wanted to go because The College Concert Venue was renovated earlier in the year and I hadn't been yet to see what they did. The Husband remarked that he hoped it no longer smelled like pee. Ah, will he be disappointed! Not only did it smell like pee, but there was no soap in the bathroom (the men's room was apparently missing soap AND toilet paper) and when I went a second time to pee, three of the five toilets were filled with poop. It was crazy disgusting.
What I don't understand: How does something like that happen? Do you poop, and then you're afraid you pooped too much and you might clog the toilet so you leave it for the next person to flush so it backs up on them? Were you so drunk you forgot to flush, because no matter how drunk I've been, I always managed to take a shower and remove and clean my contacts when I got home, so how you'd forget something as automatic as flushing.... Or are you just really, really nasty? I wish someone would explain this to me. Also, you think it's usually the men who do shit like that (no pun intended) but actually I think women are fifty million times dirtier than men.
So anyway, back to the show. Power metal is really weird. I like metal, but I like shitty metal. At least this is what people tell me. I like stuff like Sabbath and AC/DC. I also like Powerman 5000 and System of a Down. I heart rap metal most. Because there's nothing like driving down the street in your Hyundai, a white woman screaming SHIT NIGGA FUCKIN' BITCH PUSSY at the top of your lungs. It's very liberating and life affirming.
Power metal isn't really my thing. To me, it's always been crazy operatic orchestrations and effeminate screaming. And it's totally like that in real life, too. But there's something really headbangingly awesome about it.
Here's the thing: I think it sucks on record, but live it's tons of fun.
Into Oblivion was the first band out, and they were pretty cool. Their music flirted close to the edge of sounding like Stabbing Westward in places, and I approved.
Edguy was the next one up. The lead singer made a joke about the opening of one of their songs sounding like Europe's Final Countdown, but the joke was on them: All of their stuff sounded like Europe's Final Countdown. The BEST was that half the crowd left after they were over. WTF? But they were fun, in a totally cheesy Europe's Final Countdown kind of way.
Note to self: make sure I have Europe's Final Countdown in my iTunes shopping cart.
Finally, the headliners, Hammerfall. The lead singer was a hottie. Willem Defoe played bass. They were cheesy, but they revelled in their cheese, the lead singer saying at one point that life reminded him of 1985, only now they were old enough to go to titty bars. And I think that was the main thing of the evening: These guys were just a little more hardcore than Jon Bon Jovi. Seriously, Bon Jovi, Extreme, Warrant...all rolled into one. With faster guitar licks.
I had a lot of fun. Some random guy high-fived me at the end of the evening, in his unadulterated joy. And there was lots of crazy air guitar happening. Not enough SHIT NIGGA FUCKIN' BITCH PUSSY for my taste. But then I probably would have gotten my ass kicked or something. Metal and no cursing. WTF? Throwing around the devil horns and no cursing?
Tuesday, August 2, 2005
interlude--What is this book?
Just a quickie...
When I was little, my mom bought me the most awesomest gift ever, and for some bizarre reason I was just thinking about it, and tried to Google it to see if anyone's written about it, but I can't find anything about. So here I am.
Here's what it was:
My mom got me a box that had a book and small teddy bear in it. The joke was that the book was a manual on caring for your bear...but when you flipped it over, it was a manual for the bear on how to care for their human.
Here's what made this so special: you know how previously I've mentioned how impressionable I am? How gullible I am? How freaked out I get about anything remotely paranormal and/or satanic? Well, in the middle of the book, there was a warning for the human/bear NOT TO READ THE OTHER'S BOOK!!! And then there were all these illustrations of the horrible things that would happen to you if did. Like your bear would come to life and strangle you kind of things. So for the longest time I was completely freaked out that my bear was going to kill me. BUT I WANTED TO READ THE OTHER PART OF THE BOOK SO BAD!!!!
And then one day I did, and as you can see the bear did not kill me. But it was like porn: I'd read it all illicitly, totally freaking out about it the whole time. I would stare for hours at the drawings of women in Victorian dresses being mauled by teddy bears.
I just had the weirdest sense of deja vu, that I've blogged about this before. Weird.
So in conclusion, this is probably partly the reason why I am now so fucked up.
But if you know what I'm talking about, please commiserate with me. I really want to find drawings of women in Victorian dresses being mauled by teddy bears in a Google image search.
When I was little, my mom bought me the most awesomest gift ever, and for some bizarre reason I was just thinking about it, and tried to Google it to see if anyone's written about it, but I can't find anything about. So here I am.
Here's what it was:
My mom got me a box that had a book and small teddy bear in it. The joke was that the book was a manual on caring for your bear...but when you flipped it over, it was a manual for the bear on how to care for their human.
Here's what made this so special: you know how previously I've mentioned how impressionable I am? How gullible I am? How freaked out I get about anything remotely paranormal and/or satanic? Well, in the middle of the book, there was a warning for the human/bear NOT TO READ THE OTHER'S BOOK!!! And then there were all these illustrations of the horrible things that would happen to you if did. Like your bear would come to life and strangle you kind of things. So for the longest time I was completely freaked out that my bear was going to kill me. BUT I WANTED TO READ THE OTHER PART OF THE BOOK SO BAD!!!!
And then one day I did, and as you can see the bear did not kill me. But it was like porn: I'd read it all illicitly, totally freaking out about it the whole time. I would stare for hours at the drawings of women in Victorian dresses being mauled by teddy bears.
I just had the weirdest sense of deja vu, that I've blogged about this before. Weird.
So in conclusion, this is probably partly the reason why I am now so fucked up.
But if you know what I'm talking about, please commiserate with me. I really want to find drawings of women in Victorian dresses being mauled by teddy bears in a Google image search.
Friday, July 15, 2005
review--FANTASTIC FOUR
SPOILERS!!!
I wasn't going to review FANTASTIC FOUR, mainly because I couldn't get it up enough to care. But I've got some time to kill, so what the hell.
Here's my review: FANTASTIC FOUR doesn't suck all that much.
In filmdom, there's this certain kind of movie that exists with a certain level of quality. You know what I'm talking about...they perfected it in the 80s and 90s. Should have gone straight to video but they'd sunk a lot of money into it, and it stars people just slightly above B-list so it's probably written into someone's contract that it had to be released in theaters or we'll sue....Google the upcoming BLOODRAYNE movie. I dare you. This is the type of movie I'm talking about. It's an adaptation of a video game STARRING THE CHICK FROM TERMINATOR 3 AND BEN KINGSLEY. How fucked up is that? So it's supposed to come out in theaters but I have a sneaking suspicion it'll go right to Blockbuster. Although Ben Kingsley AND F. Murray Abraham were in SLIP STREAM with Mark Hamill, so my logic may be flawed.
But if you were to undergo a bout of insomnia like I've been recently experiencing, you'd see these movies on late late TV. Remember REMO WILLIAMS? LAKE PLACID? This is what I'm talking about.
FANTASTIC FOUR feels like a movie that were it on at 4:30 in the morning, I wouldn't turn it off, but I would flip around to see if Elimidate was on. It's not bad, it's just not all that awe-inspiring. Like, I think it could have been, but I don't know what I would have done to make it better. It's weird. It was good...but I don't know.
So Reed Richards is a scientist but he's incompetent at love and making money. So he comes up with a scheme to study dust clouds in space, but he approaches is evil arch-rival Victor von Doom for funding. So Victor gives him the money and lords over Reed that Victor had to give him money, oh and by the way Victor's dating Reed's ex-girlfriend Susan Storm. Susan's asshole Xtreme sportman brother Johnny hates Reed's right hand man Ben...it's one big happy dysfunctional family *hint hint wink wink*. Think they'll all end up happily ever after when they're superheroes?
So there's people turning into metal and going all invisible and catching on fire, and Ben's finacee Marita Covarrubias from the X-Files dumps him because he looks like a giant orange circus peanut. And there's fighting and explosions and SELF-SACRIFICE and LOVING YOUR FELLOW MAN and FIGHTING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT and YAY AMERICA!!! And then Ben hooks up with a blind chick who's black because IT'S WHAT'S ON THE INSIDE THAT COUNTS AND THAT WORKS BOTH WAYS, MISTER and Johnny's still an ass but because he's hot and is DRINKING AND PARTYING RESPONSIBLY he's now Ben's Best Friend Forever. And Susan dumps Victor because he's an ass but instead of having being hot to fall back on he's turning into a giant walking lightening rod and HE ONLY THINKS OF HIMSELF. So she hooks up with Reed because that's what the script tells her because I can't think of any other reason why anyone would pick him over Johnny except for the fact that they're brother and sister and that's illegal. THE END.
So it did have some funny moments, and the scenes where they first use their powers to save a truck full of firefighters is cool, but it's just...empty? You know how sometimes you watch movies--like take THE INCREDIBLES for example, which is basically about the same set of characters trying to work out a familial structure--and by the end of the movie you feel like you're going to start applauding because you love everyone to death and you're so happy that they won in the end and they're all better people for the experience but the growth was slow and made sense and wasn't forced? FANTASTIC FOUR's not like that. It was serviceable, but not Rah-Rah. I don't know. It was what it was, and didn't try any harder than that, I guess is what I'm saying, so on those merits it was enjoyable. It should have been BUCKAROO BONSAI and ended up being DELTA FORCE.
And Chris Evans's hip bones were nowhere near as hot as Ryan Reynolds's.
Next: Hell if I know. I may review MINDHUNTERS, which I just saw at the dollar theater with the husband and ended up being KICK ASS. WHAT A SURPRISE FOR ONCE!!! Awesome, awesome movie.
I'm going to pee.
I wasn't going to review FANTASTIC FOUR, mainly because I couldn't get it up enough to care. But I've got some time to kill, so what the hell.
Here's my review: FANTASTIC FOUR doesn't suck all that much.
In filmdom, there's this certain kind of movie that exists with a certain level of quality. You know what I'm talking about...they perfected it in the 80s and 90s. Should have gone straight to video but they'd sunk a lot of money into it, and it stars people just slightly above B-list so it's probably written into someone's contract that it had to be released in theaters or we'll sue....Google the upcoming BLOODRAYNE movie. I dare you. This is the type of movie I'm talking about. It's an adaptation of a video game STARRING THE CHICK FROM TERMINATOR 3 AND BEN KINGSLEY. How fucked up is that? So it's supposed to come out in theaters but I have a sneaking suspicion it'll go right to Blockbuster. Although Ben Kingsley AND F. Murray Abraham were in SLIP STREAM with Mark Hamill, so my logic may be flawed.
But if you were to undergo a bout of insomnia like I've been recently experiencing, you'd see these movies on late late TV. Remember REMO WILLIAMS? LAKE PLACID? This is what I'm talking about.
FANTASTIC FOUR feels like a movie that were it on at 4:30 in the morning, I wouldn't turn it off, but I would flip around to see if Elimidate was on. It's not bad, it's just not all that awe-inspiring. Like, I think it could have been, but I don't know what I would have done to make it better. It's weird. It was good...but I don't know.
So Reed Richards is a scientist but he's incompetent at love and making money. So he comes up with a scheme to study dust clouds in space, but he approaches is evil arch-rival Victor von Doom for funding. So Victor gives him the money and lords over Reed that Victor had to give him money, oh and by the way Victor's dating Reed's ex-girlfriend Susan Storm. Susan's asshole Xtreme sportman brother Johnny hates Reed's right hand man Ben...it's one big happy dysfunctional family *hint hint wink wink*. Think they'll all end up happily ever after when they're superheroes?
So there's people turning into metal and going all invisible and catching on fire, and Ben's finacee Marita Covarrubias from the X-Files dumps him because he looks like a giant orange circus peanut. And there's fighting and explosions and SELF-SACRIFICE and LOVING YOUR FELLOW MAN and FIGHTING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT and YAY AMERICA!!! And then Ben hooks up with a blind chick who's black because IT'S WHAT'S ON THE INSIDE THAT COUNTS AND THAT WORKS BOTH WAYS, MISTER and Johnny's still an ass but because he's hot and is DRINKING AND PARTYING RESPONSIBLY he's now Ben's Best Friend Forever. And Susan dumps Victor because he's an ass but instead of having being hot to fall back on he's turning into a giant walking lightening rod and HE ONLY THINKS OF HIMSELF. So she hooks up with Reed because that's what the script tells her because I can't think of any other reason why anyone would pick him over Johnny except for the fact that they're brother and sister and that's illegal. THE END.
So it did have some funny moments, and the scenes where they first use their powers to save a truck full of firefighters is cool, but it's just...empty? You know how sometimes you watch movies--like take THE INCREDIBLES for example, which is basically about the same set of characters trying to work out a familial structure--and by the end of the movie you feel like you're going to start applauding because you love everyone to death and you're so happy that they won in the end and they're all better people for the experience but the growth was slow and made sense and wasn't forced? FANTASTIC FOUR's not like that. It was serviceable, but not Rah-Rah. I don't know. It was what it was, and didn't try any harder than that, I guess is what I'm saying, so on those merits it was enjoyable. It should have been BUCKAROO BONSAI and ended up being DELTA FORCE.
And Chris Evans's hip bones were nowhere near as hot as Ryan Reynolds's.
Next: Hell if I know. I may review MINDHUNTERS, which I just saw at the dollar theater with the husband and ended up being KICK ASS. WHAT A SURPRISE FOR ONCE!!! Awesome, awesome movie.
I'm going to pee.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
review--LAND OF THE DEAD
SPOILERS!!!
So right now it's 10:07pm and I was lucky enough to catch the tail-end of the "Damned If You Do" episode of HOUSE, which I'd never seen. Oh, yeah, and I went with The Brother to a sneak preview of Romero's LAND OF THE DEAD. Hugh Laurie in a turtleneck...yum.
But that's not why you're reading...you want dead people and guts. Okay, here it goes...
I think I may have told you a while back that I used to have this THING about GORE. I had a small problem with it, being that I couldn't watch it. But now that I'm in my thirties my stomach and I have gotten over it and now I can watch just about anything as long as it's still not ALIEN. Because I will NEVER EVER EVER watch ALIEN EVER. Even though I've now seen lots of pictures of John Hurt with a chestburster bursting out of his chest, and have not lost my senses and facilities, I'm still not going to watch it.
So needless to say I grew up without the benefit of a lot of the greatest horror movies of all time. It wasn't until college that I started to catch up, and even then it was kind of hit and miss. Like John Carpenter's PRINCE OF DARKNESS. I literally FLED halfway through that movie. I spent the remaining time in the hall outside my dorm room crying because I was so scared. Forced The Husband to watch it not too long ago; "Seriously, it's the scariest movie you will ever see!" I think I told him. That ended up being a bit of an exaggeration. THE EXORCIST? Also made me cry. I had a big paper to write that night, too. Satan apparently stays away if you've got a paper due. EVIL DEAD? Made me cry. And chain smoke for a half hour.
I knew I'd reached a turning point when a friend and I went to an all night horror marathon and I laughed my way through LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, which both my friend and my aunt said was the most disturbing film they'd ever seen. And my aunt is something of a horror aficionado so I kind of believed her. But it was still funny.
Does being completely desensitized make you a bad person?
So just this last year, at the urging of The Brother, I finally caught up on my Romero. DAWN OF THE DEAD, the original one, is all sorts of KICK ASS. It takes place in a mall, where four people run to hide from a horde of zombies. It reminded me of the 80s masterpiece NIGHT OF THE COMET. Valley girls, upon discovering they are the last people on earth, head for the mall to try stuff on. In both films, there's a novelty about having the place all to yourself that eventually wears off when you realize the finality of your predicament. DAWN OF THE DEAD was supposed to be social commentary about consumerism: when the zombies finally invade the mall, they lumber around and window shop, just like they did in life.
DAY OF THE DEAD, the next in the series, was supposed to reflect the detactment of the 80s. Everyone out for themselves. Not a care in the world for anyone else. Military versus Science. The Brother explained that the final film wasn't what Romero wanted, that he ran out of time and money. It's not that great of a film, although it has its moments.
So finally comes LAND OF THE DEAD, which exists in a limbo of NOW and SOME INDETERMINANT TIME SINCE THE LAST MOVIE, where zombies and humans have sort of reached a harmonic balance. Zombies still eat people, and people still shoot zombies in the head, but it doesn't happen with much frequency. Humanity has holed itself up in what are essentially "gated communities:" Pittsburg is chained in, the wealthy living in ivory towers of luxury, oblivious to the suffering of the poor in the streets and the death that still occurs. Some of the poor make a living running errands outside the city, fetching food and supplies for everyone else. There's a growing resistance among the poor, wanting to fight against the inequality, but the rich have that taken care of easily enough. Meanwhile, the zombies have begun trying to rebuild some semblence of the lives they once had: one pumps gas for cars that don't come, two teenagers hold hands, a cheerleader still carries her pompoms. And one gets smart, learning how to fire a gun and recognizing the shining beacon of an office tower for what it means, and he leads the others toward the city to get what's theirs.
So call it a kinder, gentler zombie movie for the new millennium. I know that sounds crazy, because lots of guts are eaten and heads are torn off, but let's look at the facts:
1) The Good Guys are multi-ethnic. Seriously, you have White Guy, Latino Guy, Samoan Guy, Disfigured Retarded Guy, Tough White Chick, Tough European Chick, Lame Skateboarder Dude, Irish Guy Leading The Resistance...seriously, it's crazy. There's a DWARF, for chrissakes.
2) The Bad Guys are all white. And old. And they talk like George W. Bush. And they're racists. And they have black servants. Even in the apocolypse, they have Negro Servants. What's up with that? Although you know that would totally happen, the bastards.
3) Zombies have feelings. They care, like you and me. Head zombie dude kills another zombie who accidentally catches fire, presumably to put him out of his misery. It was actually kind of cool and sad.
4) Everybody loves everybody else. You get bit, they don't hesitate to shoot you in the head before you turn, but Man, do they feel bad about it. They all watch each others' backs, and they do what they do for The People.
5) The Bad Guys talk about how people are expendable and replaceable. They shoot people just for looking at them wrong, and they call our heroes "terrorists." BOO!
The end of this film, however, is the BEST. Our heroes, realizing the zombies have infiltrated the city, rush back with weapons to help. But they're too late!!! The zombies are chowing down on innocents! But they blow the suckers to Hell anyway, crying at the souls lost because They Were Too Late, but LOOK!!! There are survivors!! And Thank God, they're led by Irish Guy Leading The Resistance!! Thank God HE of all people survived!! Who knows what would have happened if the two chicks making out at the taco stand had made it out.
And then...The Tough White Chick spots a gang of zombies moving across a bridge into...who knows? "I'm going to kill them!" she says. But her hand is stayed by The Touchy-Feely New Age White Guy Leader. He looks through the binoculars and sees Head Zombie Dude looking back at him.
"Leave them be," he says. "They're just looking for a place of their own...like us."
And then he blows a kiss at Head Zombie Dude and Head Zombie Dude sheds a tear for the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name And Can Never Be.
And then The Heroes drive off into the sunrise under a hail of Fireworks!!! YAY AMERICA!!!
Okay, the kiss part didn't happen. But the rest of it did.
So my review? Well, I had fun. It was a fun zombie movie. Greatest movie ever made? Well...that honor still belongs to THE CUTTING EDGE. But I'll have you know I didn't cover my eyes once!! Not even when dude was getting his guts ripped out through his mouth. And that same exact thing totally made me cry when I saw EVENT HORIZON!!!
To sum up: as The Brother put it...
WHEN THERE IS NO MORE ROOM IN HELL, THE DEAD SHALL WALK THE EARTH...And demand equal rights!!!
I think the zombies were a metaphor for gay people. Which means this is ANOTHER movie that is advocating gays to BLOW SHIT UP in the name of equality!!! And also tear people's gut out through their mouths. But only if that seems necessary.
REMEMBER: THE LAND OF THE DEAD was inside you the whole time. THE LAND OF THE DEAD that you were looking for...is family.
The next one should be made by Disney and star Nick Cage.
Coming up: I don't know. Stuff's coming out left and right, as it's summer. So we shall see. Fantastic Four is a definite. And...I'm drawing a total blank. This summer's movies are going to suck ass.
So right now it's 10:07pm and I was lucky enough to catch the tail-end of the "Damned If You Do" episode of HOUSE, which I'd never seen. Oh, yeah, and I went with The Brother to a sneak preview of Romero's LAND OF THE DEAD. Hugh Laurie in a turtleneck...yum.
But that's not why you're reading...you want dead people and guts. Okay, here it goes...
I think I may have told you a while back that I used to have this THING about GORE. I had a small problem with it, being that I couldn't watch it. But now that I'm in my thirties my stomach and I have gotten over it and now I can watch just about anything as long as it's still not ALIEN. Because I will NEVER EVER EVER watch ALIEN EVER. Even though I've now seen lots of pictures of John Hurt with a chestburster bursting out of his chest, and have not lost my senses and facilities, I'm still not going to watch it.
So needless to say I grew up without the benefit of a lot of the greatest horror movies of all time. It wasn't until college that I started to catch up, and even then it was kind of hit and miss. Like John Carpenter's PRINCE OF DARKNESS. I literally FLED halfway through that movie. I spent the remaining time in the hall outside my dorm room crying because I was so scared. Forced The Husband to watch it not too long ago; "Seriously, it's the scariest movie you will ever see!" I think I told him. That ended up being a bit of an exaggeration. THE EXORCIST? Also made me cry. I had a big paper to write that night, too. Satan apparently stays away if you've got a paper due. EVIL DEAD? Made me cry. And chain smoke for a half hour.
I knew I'd reached a turning point when a friend and I went to an all night horror marathon and I laughed my way through LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, which both my friend and my aunt said was the most disturbing film they'd ever seen. And my aunt is something of a horror aficionado so I kind of believed her. But it was still funny.
Does being completely desensitized make you a bad person?
So just this last year, at the urging of The Brother, I finally caught up on my Romero. DAWN OF THE DEAD, the original one, is all sorts of KICK ASS. It takes place in a mall, where four people run to hide from a horde of zombies. It reminded me of the 80s masterpiece NIGHT OF THE COMET. Valley girls, upon discovering they are the last people on earth, head for the mall to try stuff on. In both films, there's a novelty about having the place all to yourself that eventually wears off when you realize the finality of your predicament. DAWN OF THE DEAD was supposed to be social commentary about consumerism: when the zombies finally invade the mall, they lumber around and window shop, just like they did in life.
DAY OF THE DEAD, the next in the series, was supposed to reflect the detactment of the 80s. Everyone out for themselves. Not a care in the world for anyone else. Military versus Science. The Brother explained that the final film wasn't what Romero wanted, that he ran out of time and money. It's not that great of a film, although it has its moments.
So finally comes LAND OF THE DEAD, which exists in a limbo of NOW and SOME INDETERMINANT TIME SINCE THE LAST MOVIE, where zombies and humans have sort of reached a harmonic balance. Zombies still eat people, and people still shoot zombies in the head, but it doesn't happen with much frequency. Humanity has holed itself up in what are essentially "gated communities:" Pittsburg is chained in, the wealthy living in ivory towers of luxury, oblivious to the suffering of the poor in the streets and the death that still occurs. Some of the poor make a living running errands outside the city, fetching food and supplies for everyone else. There's a growing resistance among the poor, wanting to fight against the inequality, but the rich have that taken care of easily enough. Meanwhile, the zombies have begun trying to rebuild some semblence of the lives they once had: one pumps gas for cars that don't come, two teenagers hold hands, a cheerleader still carries her pompoms. And one gets smart, learning how to fire a gun and recognizing the shining beacon of an office tower for what it means, and he leads the others toward the city to get what's theirs.
So call it a kinder, gentler zombie movie for the new millennium. I know that sounds crazy, because lots of guts are eaten and heads are torn off, but let's look at the facts:
1) The Good Guys are multi-ethnic. Seriously, you have White Guy, Latino Guy, Samoan Guy, Disfigured Retarded Guy, Tough White Chick, Tough European Chick, Lame Skateboarder Dude, Irish Guy Leading The Resistance...seriously, it's crazy. There's a DWARF, for chrissakes.
2) The Bad Guys are all white. And old. And they talk like George W. Bush. And they're racists. And they have black servants. Even in the apocolypse, they have Negro Servants. What's up with that? Although you know that would totally happen, the bastards.
3) Zombies have feelings. They care, like you and me. Head zombie dude kills another zombie who accidentally catches fire, presumably to put him out of his misery. It was actually kind of cool and sad.
4) Everybody loves everybody else. You get bit, they don't hesitate to shoot you in the head before you turn, but Man, do they feel bad about it. They all watch each others' backs, and they do what they do for The People.
5) The Bad Guys talk about how people are expendable and replaceable. They shoot people just for looking at them wrong, and they call our heroes "terrorists." BOO!
The end of this film, however, is the BEST. Our heroes, realizing the zombies have infiltrated the city, rush back with weapons to help. But they're too late!!! The zombies are chowing down on innocents! But they blow the suckers to Hell anyway, crying at the souls lost because They Were Too Late, but LOOK!!! There are survivors!! And Thank God, they're led by Irish Guy Leading The Resistance!! Thank God HE of all people survived!! Who knows what would have happened if the two chicks making out at the taco stand had made it out.
And then...The Tough White Chick spots a gang of zombies moving across a bridge into...who knows? "I'm going to kill them!" she says. But her hand is stayed by The Touchy-Feely New Age White Guy Leader. He looks through the binoculars and sees Head Zombie Dude looking back at him.
"Leave them be," he says. "They're just looking for a place of their own...like us."
And then he blows a kiss at Head Zombie Dude and Head Zombie Dude sheds a tear for the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name And Can Never Be.
And then The Heroes drive off into the sunrise under a hail of Fireworks!!! YAY AMERICA!!!
Okay, the kiss part didn't happen. But the rest of it did.
So my review? Well, I had fun. It was a fun zombie movie. Greatest movie ever made? Well...that honor still belongs to THE CUTTING EDGE. But I'll have you know I didn't cover my eyes once!! Not even when dude was getting his guts ripped out through his mouth. And that same exact thing totally made me cry when I saw EVENT HORIZON!!!
To sum up: as The Brother put it...
WHEN THERE IS NO MORE ROOM IN HELL, THE DEAD SHALL WALK THE EARTH...And demand equal rights!!!
I think the zombies were a metaphor for gay people. Which means this is ANOTHER movie that is advocating gays to BLOW SHIT UP in the name of equality!!! And also tear people's gut out through their mouths. But only if that seems necessary.
REMEMBER: THE LAND OF THE DEAD was inside you the whole time. THE LAND OF THE DEAD that you were looking for...is family.
The next one should be made by Disney and star Nick Cage.
Coming up: I don't know. Stuff's coming out left and right, as it's summer. So we shall see. Fantastic Four is a definite. And...I'm drawing a total blank. This summer's movies are going to suck ass.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
review--MR. & MRS. SMITH
SPOILERS!!!
So yesterday was my second wedding anniversary. Two whole years. Goes by in a blink, when all you can think about is when the laundry's going to do itself and what's needed from the store. Seriously though, whoever said everything changes once you get that piece of paper was lying through their teeth. But of course, they also probably didn't start out thinking the ultimate romantic night out was walking off Hometown Buffet with a stroll through Target.
So, I guess you could say married life is treating me well. Or as The Therapist put it, "Kelmeister, look at your life: You're fat, you haven't started your Master's thesis, your house is a wreck, and you're the happiest you've ever been in your life." And it's true. And part of that is due to massive amounts of Prozac, and part of that is The Husband.
The only thing I would change is that I wish I could drive like Angelina Jolie in MR. & MRS. SMITH.
I don't know if you know this, but it's very difficult to review a movie that doesn't suck ass. VERY DIFFICULT. You basically say, "It kicked all sorts of ass," and then you're done. But for your sakes, I'll try to muster.
Did I ever tell you about how The Husband proposed? He came to The Job dressed as a gorilla. HA! I wish. Instead, it's an incredibly complicated story. Many years ago, before the Earth was formed, The Then-Not-Yet-Husband and I went on a trip to Cincinnati, because that's where all young lovers go. We were there to visit the museum, but when we arrived at our hotel (ROOM 1013!!! That's The X-Files' Chris Carter's Birthday! And production company! Fate was afoot!) The Then-Not-Yet-Husband sent me off for ice for the purpose of getting me out of the room for fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for me, the ice machine was in a cubby hole right next to our room, so I sat in a chair in the hall with a bucket of ice, praying no one would come by. When I was finally allowed to enter the room, The Then-Not-Yet-Husband had transformed the room into a real life romance novel, with rose petals strewn all over, and candies and chocolates and small French pastries, and champagne. And that night was the first time we confessed our undying love for one another. Awwww.
Fast forward a few years. The Then-Not-Yet-Husband's best friend is coming into town for a visit, and we're meeting her for dinner and a movie. But she's not getting into town until later; we'll meet up at the movie. He takes me out to dinner at a swanky restaurant. I'm convinced TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT: my mother gave him her engagement ring to give to me, so I knew all about the coming proposal because every time I saw my mother she'd ask if he'd asked yet. Yummy pasta ensues; no proposal. We go to the movies to see BOURNE IDENTITY. Still no friend; he's called, she's tired, we're meeting at the hotel after the movie. Okay, whatever. "You know," I says, after we sit down, "I was sure you were going to propose, what with the swanky restaurant.' The Then-Not-Yet-Husband laughs. The movie KICKS ASS. We leave and go to the hotel.
"Did you call The Best Friend?" I ask. No, but she knows we're coming. "What if she's sleeping and we wake her up?" She's not sleeping. "How do you know?"
By then, we're at her room. The Then-Not-Yet-Husband pulls out a key card. "You have a key?" I ask. Yes, she gave it to him earlier for just such an eventuality. We walk inside. All the lights are out.
"Goddamnit, she's still sleeping!" I hiss. I call out The Best Friend's name as I creep into the bedroom. The lights come on. "She's not here," I say, "where'd she go? Do you think she left without us?"
I turn around, and of course The Best Friend isn't there. It was all a scam, as the room is decorated to remind me of our night in Cincinnati. Except this time there's a bottle of Dom and an engagement ring. And an expensive designer candle that I promptly knock over on top of the TV so a half hour is spent scraping hot wax off the carpet and monitor. And we don't drink all the champagne, so an hour is spent trying to cork the bottle back up. And we have to walk fifty miles to the front door to smoke, and I'm a total mess with the hysterical crying, and the earth-shaking post-engagement sex never happens because I pretty much cry myself to sleep on the couch watching "Chef."
And that is How I Got Engaged.
So it was only appropriate that two years later we spend the day after our anniversary celebrating our anniversary by going to see BOURNE IDENTITY BUT WITH WAY HOTTER ACTORS AND MORE EXPLOSIONS, AND IT'S ALSO A METAPHOR FOR MODERN MARRIAGE.
MR. & MRS. SMITH stars two people I normally don't really care about, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, basically acting their socks off, if they were actually wearing socks. They're a married couple on the verge of divorce, until they learn that they're both hit men and they have to kill each other. But then they join forces because they actually do love each other, and because of the First Law of SPEED the sex is now totally incredible, and so they go on a rampage and blow lots of shit up and look beautiful doing it, and Vince Vaugh is in it and he's totally a part of my Imaginary Harem because he rocks all kinds of shit. And there's therapy and pot roast and David Duchovny's ex-girlfriend Perrey Reeves and Jennifer Morrison from HOUSE and Adrian Brody from the OC which I know about even though I totally DO NOT watch that show, and shit blowing up while looking beautiful doing it, and then I totally cried at the end because the movie just goes to prove that EVERYTHING THE REPUBLICANS EVER SAID ABOUT THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE IS TOTALLY TRUE, especially if shit blows up.
Gays, get out there and start blowing some shit up, and then they CANNOT DENY YOU the right to marry!!!
Let me just interject here that I don't give a Rat's Flaming Ass if Brad Pitt left Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie. It is totally beneath me to care. Although I totally believe it's because he wanted to have children and she wanted to concentrate on her career. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And I'm not one to pass judgment, especially over people I don't even know. But seriously, I would leave Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie. She's SMOKIN' HOT. And I'm not even a lesbian. I read an interview where the writer was talking about how Angelina Jolie doesn't care about POP CULTURE, she's worrying about REAL THINGS THAT MATTER, and that is so awesome. I wish I could do that. I mean, I do care. And if I didn't have to work or write this blog and I was a millionaire, I'd do stuff, too.
But luckily for you, I'm sitting right where I am.
Anyway, this movie is the dog's balls. It's really funny. I don't think I've had that much fun at a movie in a long while. And Brangelina have tons--TONS--of chemistry. Seriously, this sounds really trite and crass and like I'm really old, but they are a joy to watch. I giggled--GIGGLED--when they argued. They were really cute kicking the crap out of one another.
So now I think that they're actually half-decent actors. And the script was very clever in its use of layered dialogue: are they talking about their jobs or their marriage? Very intelligent. Very witty. Brad Pitt did some great physical gags, too. And there were many spectacular explosions.
Well, I'm off to bed. I wish I could say that I was going to partake in some post-anniversary sex, but The Husband just bought an Xbox, and a man's gotta have his priorities. I can't complain: I've got about forty pages left in my rereading of The Amityville Horror. Gots to cue up the VCR; since I started rereading this, I've not been able to sleep without the TV on. I'm lame.
"Jodie's my friend. Jodie's a pig."
Seriously, saw the movie, and except for Ryan Reynolds's hip bones...not much worth seeing. The book's a billion times scarier.
Ryan Reynolds's hip bones are my new imaginary boyfriend. Did you know he's married to Alanis Morrissette? It's true! And his character shot Scully on The X-Files. But I think I told you that already.
Next up: BATMAN BEGINS on Saturday. Then LAND OF THE DEAD. Then, who knows?
PS: If The Husband reads this..."10." He'll know what it means.
So yesterday was my second wedding anniversary. Two whole years. Goes by in a blink, when all you can think about is when the laundry's going to do itself and what's needed from the store. Seriously though, whoever said everything changes once you get that piece of paper was lying through their teeth. But of course, they also probably didn't start out thinking the ultimate romantic night out was walking off Hometown Buffet with a stroll through Target.
So, I guess you could say married life is treating me well. Or as The Therapist put it, "Kelmeister, look at your life: You're fat, you haven't started your Master's thesis, your house is a wreck, and you're the happiest you've ever been in your life." And it's true. And part of that is due to massive amounts of Prozac, and part of that is The Husband.
The only thing I would change is that I wish I could drive like Angelina Jolie in MR. & MRS. SMITH.
I don't know if you know this, but it's very difficult to review a movie that doesn't suck ass. VERY DIFFICULT. You basically say, "It kicked all sorts of ass," and then you're done. But for your sakes, I'll try to muster.
Did I ever tell you about how The Husband proposed? He came to The Job dressed as a gorilla. HA! I wish. Instead, it's an incredibly complicated story. Many years ago, before the Earth was formed, The Then-Not-Yet-Husband and I went on a trip to Cincinnati, because that's where all young lovers go. We were there to visit the museum, but when we arrived at our hotel (ROOM 1013!!! That's The X-Files' Chris Carter's Birthday! And production company! Fate was afoot!) The Then-Not-Yet-Husband sent me off for ice for the purpose of getting me out of the room for fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for me, the ice machine was in a cubby hole right next to our room, so I sat in a chair in the hall with a bucket of ice, praying no one would come by. When I was finally allowed to enter the room, The Then-Not-Yet-Husband had transformed the room into a real life romance novel, with rose petals strewn all over, and candies and chocolates and small French pastries, and champagne. And that night was the first time we confessed our undying love for one another. Awwww.
Fast forward a few years. The Then-Not-Yet-Husband's best friend is coming into town for a visit, and we're meeting her for dinner and a movie. But she's not getting into town until later; we'll meet up at the movie. He takes me out to dinner at a swanky restaurant. I'm convinced TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT: my mother gave him her engagement ring to give to me, so I knew all about the coming proposal because every time I saw my mother she'd ask if he'd asked yet. Yummy pasta ensues; no proposal. We go to the movies to see BOURNE IDENTITY. Still no friend; he's called, she's tired, we're meeting at the hotel after the movie. Okay, whatever. "You know," I says, after we sit down, "I was sure you were going to propose, what with the swanky restaurant.' The Then-Not-Yet-Husband laughs. The movie KICKS ASS. We leave and go to the hotel.
"Did you call The Best Friend?" I ask. No, but she knows we're coming. "What if she's sleeping and we wake her up?" She's not sleeping. "How do you know?"
By then, we're at her room. The Then-Not-Yet-Husband pulls out a key card. "You have a key?" I ask. Yes, she gave it to him earlier for just such an eventuality. We walk inside. All the lights are out.
"Goddamnit, she's still sleeping!" I hiss. I call out The Best Friend's name as I creep into the bedroom. The lights come on. "She's not here," I say, "where'd she go? Do you think she left without us?"
I turn around, and of course The Best Friend isn't there. It was all a scam, as the room is decorated to remind me of our night in Cincinnati. Except this time there's a bottle of Dom and an engagement ring. And an expensive designer candle that I promptly knock over on top of the TV so a half hour is spent scraping hot wax off the carpet and monitor. And we don't drink all the champagne, so an hour is spent trying to cork the bottle back up. And we have to walk fifty miles to the front door to smoke, and I'm a total mess with the hysterical crying, and the earth-shaking post-engagement sex never happens because I pretty much cry myself to sleep on the couch watching "Chef."
And that is How I Got Engaged.
So it was only appropriate that two years later we spend the day after our anniversary celebrating our anniversary by going to see BOURNE IDENTITY BUT WITH WAY HOTTER ACTORS AND MORE EXPLOSIONS, AND IT'S ALSO A METAPHOR FOR MODERN MARRIAGE.
MR. & MRS. SMITH stars two people I normally don't really care about, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, basically acting their socks off, if they were actually wearing socks. They're a married couple on the verge of divorce, until they learn that they're both hit men and they have to kill each other. But then they join forces because they actually do love each other, and because of the First Law of SPEED the sex is now totally incredible, and so they go on a rampage and blow lots of shit up and look beautiful doing it, and Vince Vaugh is in it and he's totally a part of my Imaginary Harem because he rocks all kinds of shit. And there's therapy and pot roast and David Duchovny's ex-girlfriend Perrey Reeves and Jennifer Morrison from HOUSE and Adrian Brody from the OC which I know about even though I totally DO NOT watch that show, and shit blowing up while looking beautiful doing it, and then I totally cried at the end because the movie just goes to prove that EVERYTHING THE REPUBLICANS EVER SAID ABOUT THE SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE IS TOTALLY TRUE, especially if shit blows up.
Gays, get out there and start blowing some shit up, and then they CANNOT DENY YOU the right to marry!!!
Let me just interject here that I don't give a Rat's Flaming Ass if Brad Pitt left Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie. It is totally beneath me to care. Although I totally believe it's because he wanted to have children and she wanted to concentrate on her career. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And I'm not one to pass judgment, especially over people I don't even know. But seriously, I would leave Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie. She's SMOKIN' HOT. And I'm not even a lesbian. I read an interview where the writer was talking about how Angelina Jolie doesn't care about POP CULTURE, she's worrying about REAL THINGS THAT MATTER, and that is so awesome. I wish I could do that. I mean, I do care. And if I didn't have to work or write this blog and I was a millionaire, I'd do stuff, too.
But luckily for you, I'm sitting right where I am.
Anyway, this movie is the dog's balls. It's really funny. I don't think I've had that much fun at a movie in a long while. And Brangelina have tons--TONS--of chemistry. Seriously, this sounds really trite and crass and like I'm really old, but they are a joy to watch. I giggled--GIGGLED--when they argued. They were really cute kicking the crap out of one another.
So now I think that they're actually half-decent actors. And the script was very clever in its use of layered dialogue: are they talking about their jobs or their marriage? Very intelligent. Very witty. Brad Pitt did some great physical gags, too. And there were many spectacular explosions.
Well, I'm off to bed. I wish I could say that I was going to partake in some post-anniversary sex, but The Husband just bought an Xbox, and a man's gotta have his priorities. I can't complain: I've got about forty pages left in my rereading of The Amityville Horror. Gots to cue up the VCR; since I started rereading this, I've not been able to sleep without the TV on. I'm lame.
"Jodie's my friend. Jodie's a pig."
Seriously, saw the movie, and except for Ryan Reynolds's hip bones...not much worth seeing. The book's a billion times scarier.
Ryan Reynolds's hip bones are my new imaginary boyfriend. Did you know he's married to Alanis Morrissette? It's true! And his character shot Scully on The X-Files. But I think I told you that already.
Next up: BATMAN BEGINS on Saturday. Then LAND OF THE DEAD. Then, who knows?
PS: If The Husband reads this..."10." He'll know what it means.
Friday, June 3, 2005
interlude--Magical Musical Meme
This challenge comes from Nala over at Naladahc.com, an entity I like to think of as my "blogging mentor." So when he says jump, I ask how high. And then when I land I kick him in the balls for ordering me around.
I'd like to begin by saying I own a Creative Nomad Jukebox Zen Xtra, 40GB. I own, like, five CDs and they're all Duran Duran, so imagine my surprize when I when I went to check how much space I have!!! What is all this crap? And where did it come from?
Total volume of music files on my computer:
Stuff on my computer is either all over the place waiting to get transfered to my Zen or it's stuff from my Zen that I'm holding in protective custody. I tried backing up my CDs on my computer and ended up killing the hard drive: too much stuff.
My Zen has 4678 songs, 18578 MB. I don't know how much that is in GB. Some of those are duplicates; I have 3 copies of Hooverphonic's 2Wicky on three different albums. Why, I don't know.
The last CD I bought:
The last physical CD I bought was Beneath... Between... Beyond by Static-X. I bought that on 5/27/05. The last CD I bought was Poison Arrows by Communique, purchased from iTunes on 6/1/05.
Song playing right now:
A Praise Chorus by Jimmy Eat World.
Five songs I listen to a lot, or mean a lot to me:
In heavy rotation on my player right now:
1. "Back That Azz Up" - Juvenile
2. "A.D.D." - System Of A Down
3. "Long, Long Road" - Bo Bice, American Idol Finals Show
4. "Fix Up Look Sharp" - Dizzee Rascal
5. "Fuck The World" - Insane Clown Posse
Five songs that I'd have with me on a desert island to remind me what I'm missing:
* "The Promise" - When In Rome
* "Try" - Billy Pilgrim
* "Walk On The Ocean" - Toad The Wet Sprocket
* "How Will You Go" - Crowded House
* "Palomino" - Duran Duran
Five people to whom I知 passing this baton:
Hell, I don't know. Who do I know who Blogs? Besides the usual suspects who've already been called out by Nala. Fuck it.
I'd like to begin by saying I own a Creative Nomad Jukebox Zen Xtra, 40GB. I own, like, five CDs and they're all Duran Duran, so imagine my surprize when I when I went to check how much space I have!!! What is all this crap? And where did it come from?
Total volume of music files on my computer:
Stuff on my computer is either all over the place waiting to get transfered to my Zen or it's stuff from my Zen that I'm holding in protective custody. I tried backing up my CDs on my computer and ended up killing the hard drive: too much stuff.
My Zen has 4678 songs, 18578 MB. I don't know how much that is in GB. Some of those are duplicates; I have 3 copies of Hooverphonic's 2Wicky on three different albums. Why, I don't know.
The last CD I bought:
The last physical CD I bought was Beneath... Between... Beyond by Static-X. I bought that on 5/27/05. The last CD I bought was Poison Arrows by Communique, purchased from iTunes on 6/1/05.
Song playing right now:
A Praise Chorus by Jimmy Eat World.
Five songs I listen to a lot, or mean a lot to me:
In heavy rotation on my player right now:
1. "Back That Azz Up" - Juvenile
2. "A.D.D." - System Of A Down
3. "Long, Long Road" - Bo Bice, American Idol Finals Show
4. "Fix Up Look Sharp" - Dizzee Rascal
5. "Fuck The World" - Insane Clown Posse
Five songs that I'd have with me on a desert island to remind me what I'm missing:
* "The Promise" - When In Rome
* "Try" - Billy Pilgrim
* "Walk On The Ocean" - Toad The Wet Sprocket
* "How Will You Go" - Crowded House
* "Palomino" - Duran Duran
Five people to whom I知 passing this baton:
Hell, I don't know. Who do I know who Blogs? Besides the usual suspects who've already been called out by Nala. Fuck it.
Friday, May 20, 2005
review--THE RING 2
SPOILERS!!!
Here's a question:
Why is Indian food so yummy? It's like eating booze: it's all warm going down and it makes you feel real good. Even the burps are delicious. Indian food is the BEST!!! Except maybe for Japanese food. Making an ass out of yourself with utensils kicks ass!! And those red bean paste thingies, daifuku: they are the grossest things I've ever experienced and yet they are SO GOOD. What's up with that?
Horror films in general are like daifuku: our natural tendency is to reject them outright because of their weird gelatinous rice cake outside, and we totally miss the surprisingly sweet red bean paste of humor on the inside. Because all horror movies, when you distill them to their bare essense, are really silly.
Take for instance, THE RING 2. No, please.
I don't know if you ever saw the first RING, or the original Japanese verison, RINGU. I have seen both. RINGU kicked all sorts of ass.
Here's an interlude: I've seen enough Japanese horror that I think I can safely generalize here. Japanese and American horror are incredibly different. A lot of it's on the surface; we Americans seem to revel in the splatter a little more than the Japanese. Not that they don't appreciate gore...they do. But there's a strange psychological aspect that's far more terrifying. The Husband and I have discussed this at length. There's something intrinsic about the Japanese mind and culture that America can never grasp, and you see this reflected in our "attempts" to "redo" Japanese horror for American audiences. Think of the things we fear in films: sharks, Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers, zombies (even though nowadays other countries are doing zombies better than we are; George Romero, save us with your LAND OF THE DEAD!!!). Then there's Japan: a land descimated by atomic warfare; a culture that reveres the ancient, the anscestral, whose religions are seeped in supernatural; a pop sensibility that is an amalgum of many, and yet totally alone on its own island. Their horror is infused with a profound loneliness and alienation, oftentimes with a strange convergence of the technological and the spiritual that is everywhere and inescapable. And we just don't get it. Even when Freddy is chasing you in your dreams, you can still grab onto him, fight him physically. He's tangable. Michael Myers is psychotic, but he's real. I think the only thing America really does right in horror is The Devil, and it's because Christianity has permeated our consciousness to such an extent that even Islamists and Buddhists can understand the threat to our souls. Ghosts can't really hurt us because Souls are Good, if ghosts even exist. God doesn't allow such nonsense here. The threat in Japanese horror can't be touched: it's the primal raging of a wronged lost soul, and you can't stop it. The wrong can never be made right.
And that's the most important difference: in Japanese horror, Good never triumphs over Evil. And that's scary.
The first American RING movie came close to this idea by sticking to the main plot points of RINGU: the only way the Mother can save the Son is by spreading the evil, sacrificing an innocent in his stead. But where they failed is that the American version tried to give the action in the story a Reasonable and Rational Explanation. And in RINGU, there was no explanation. How could there be? Why do you need one? Why do you need to know WHY something is happening if there's no way of ever stopping it?
So RING 2 begins following the end of RING, with Rachel and her son, Aiden, moving into new digs in a small town in Washington State; they've saved themselves by showing the Samara tape to someone. Rachel, through her job on the small town paper, learns of a death she suspects involves a copy of said tape. Finding the tape, she burns it, releasing Samara's soul from the confines of the Magnetic Strip Of Doom to possess Aiden's body and attempt a real life. Stuff happens, the hottie from CBS's THE GUARDIAN gets himself killed, and Rachel saves the day twice, very anti-climatically both times. THE END.
I have to admit that I enjoyed RING 2 quite a bit. It was a lot of fun, even though there were some problems.
1) Remember the end of POLTERGEIST? How the Freeling family, having escaped the evil that sucked their youngest daughter into Limbo through the TV, go to a motel and toss the Free HBO out onto the balcony? That was AWESOME. You KNOW they're never going to enjoy a February Sweeps ever again. Beginning of RING 2? Rachel and Aiden have just escaped an evil that ATTACKS PEOPLE BY COMING THROUGH THE TV SET, and yet in their new house they have THE BIGGEST FUCKING TV SET EVER. And it's not even plasma. I don't know much about the paranormal and endoplasmic transmission, but since most psychic and supernatural occurrences involve some sort of electromagntic interference, do you think a plasma or LCD set would prevent spiritual manifestation? Just asking in case the need to buy a new set arises. But still, LADY GET RID OF THE DAMN SET!!! I seriously couldn't believe it when I saw it.
2) Rachel and Aiden TOTALLY had my living room rug from Lowe's!!! It was very distracting, because it was totally devoid of cat hair.
3) I may have mentioned this before, but I have a thing about real life stuff. As anyone living in real life would, ha ha ha. But seriously, I have to mention the AWESOMEST scene, where Aiden goes into a park bathroom and sees Samara in the mirror behind him and takes pictures of himself as she creeps up on him. THAT WAS AWESOME!!! Digital cameras scare me. As do mirrors.
Here's a fun trick: Tonight while you're brushing your teeth, when you bend over the sink to spit, think briefly how FUCKED UP it would be if you stood up and there was someone STANDING BEHIND YOU!!! TOTALLY SCARY!!! This trick also works when you have your eyes closed while washing your face, and also when you're washing your hair in the shower. Bathrooms scare me. I think this is because of THE X-FILES: nothing good ever happened in a bathroom on THE X-FILES.
4) Poor Simon Baker. All he wanted was some tail, and instead he ended up dead. There's a lesson in that somewhere.
Also: Rachel leaves him dead in a RUNNING TRUCK OUTSIDE HER HOUSE. Explain THAT ONE to the police, especially after your crazy kid left a dead doctor in his hospital room. Even though we know she's not responsible for any of it, imagine how what's going on with Rachel must look to the police. Just once I'd love to see a movie where the police are like,
"Umm, you desperately wanted your son back from Child Services so you killed his doctor, stole him from the hospital and took him home, and then killed your co-worker who came to your house, who was the person who called Child Services on you in the first place. And your defense is what?"
"I didn't do any of it. A dead girl from a videotape possessed my son."
"Umm, okay."
5) This is my biggest problem with the movie, and I will leave it at this because I have to pee and I also really should work on ordering some stuff for work. The problem with horror movies today (and I think it's due in large part to the fact that American filmmakers are dumbing them down to get a PG-13 rating and thus get a bigger audience and more money) is that people in horror films don't say "fuck" enough. Seriously, there were SO MANY TIMES during the film that if I was in that situation? I would totally say "fuck." Fuck is such an awesome word to use in situtations where you're confronted with Unimaginable, Unconquerable Evil. It fits every instance, depending only on change of inflection.
Surrounded by a pack of crazed deer? "Ffffuuuuuck." Son just morphed into a dead body in front of you? "FUCK!!!"
Seriously, if you were an Evil Spirit, and someone came at you instead of running away in fear, and she's all like, "YOU FUCKING FUCK ASS BITCH, YOU LEAVE ME AND MY SON ALONE OR I WILL SO FUCKING FUCK UP YOUR UNDEAD ASS YOU FUCKHOLE DAUGHTER OF A FUCKTARD!!!!" I know I would think twice about doing battle with her for her son's soul.
So, in conclusion, I think I'm going to write my own horror movie. I know I promised that FLUSH POINT would be out sometime in the near future, but I feel it's my civic duty to correct this injustice of language. Because if we cannot tell the Evil invading our lives to fuck off, then the fucking fuckwad terrorists have fucking won.
Here's a question:
Why is Indian food so yummy? It's like eating booze: it's all warm going down and it makes you feel real good. Even the burps are delicious. Indian food is the BEST!!! Except maybe for Japanese food. Making an ass out of yourself with utensils kicks ass!! And those red bean paste thingies, daifuku: they are the grossest things I've ever experienced and yet they are SO GOOD. What's up with that?
Horror films in general are like daifuku: our natural tendency is to reject them outright because of their weird gelatinous rice cake outside, and we totally miss the surprisingly sweet red bean paste of humor on the inside. Because all horror movies, when you distill them to their bare essense, are really silly.
Take for instance, THE RING 2. No, please.
I don't know if you ever saw the first RING, or the original Japanese verison, RINGU. I have seen both. RINGU kicked all sorts of ass.
Here's an interlude: I've seen enough Japanese horror that I think I can safely generalize here. Japanese and American horror are incredibly different. A lot of it's on the surface; we Americans seem to revel in the splatter a little more than the Japanese. Not that they don't appreciate gore...they do. But there's a strange psychological aspect that's far more terrifying. The Husband and I have discussed this at length. There's something intrinsic about the Japanese mind and culture that America can never grasp, and you see this reflected in our "attempts" to "redo" Japanese horror for American audiences. Think of the things we fear in films: sharks, Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers, zombies (even though nowadays other countries are doing zombies better than we are; George Romero, save us with your LAND OF THE DEAD!!!). Then there's Japan: a land descimated by atomic warfare; a culture that reveres the ancient, the anscestral, whose religions are seeped in supernatural; a pop sensibility that is an amalgum of many, and yet totally alone on its own island. Their horror is infused with a profound loneliness and alienation, oftentimes with a strange convergence of the technological and the spiritual that is everywhere and inescapable. And we just don't get it. Even when Freddy is chasing you in your dreams, you can still grab onto him, fight him physically. He's tangable. Michael Myers is psychotic, but he's real. I think the only thing America really does right in horror is The Devil, and it's because Christianity has permeated our consciousness to such an extent that even Islamists and Buddhists can understand the threat to our souls. Ghosts can't really hurt us because Souls are Good, if ghosts even exist. God doesn't allow such nonsense here. The threat in Japanese horror can't be touched: it's the primal raging of a wronged lost soul, and you can't stop it. The wrong can never be made right.
And that's the most important difference: in Japanese horror, Good never triumphs over Evil. And that's scary.
The first American RING movie came close to this idea by sticking to the main plot points of RINGU: the only way the Mother can save the Son is by spreading the evil, sacrificing an innocent in his stead. But where they failed is that the American version tried to give the action in the story a Reasonable and Rational Explanation. And in RINGU, there was no explanation. How could there be? Why do you need one? Why do you need to know WHY something is happening if there's no way of ever stopping it?
So RING 2 begins following the end of RING, with Rachel and her son, Aiden, moving into new digs in a small town in Washington State; they've saved themselves by showing the Samara tape to someone. Rachel, through her job on the small town paper, learns of a death she suspects involves a copy of said tape. Finding the tape, she burns it, releasing Samara's soul from the confines of the Magnetic Strip Of Doom to possess Aiden's body and attempt a real life. Stuff happens, the hottie from CBS's THE GUARDIAN gets himself killed, and Rachel saves the day twice, very anti-climatically both times. THE END.
I have to admit that I enjoyed RING 2 quite a bit. It was a lot of fun, even though there were some problems.
1) Remember the end of POLTERGEIST? How the Freeling family, having escaped the evil that sucked their youngest daughter into Limbo through the TV, go to a motel and toss the Free HBO out onto the balcony? That was AWESOME. You KNOW they're never going to enjoy a February Sweeps ever again. Beginning of RING 2? Rachel and Aiden have just escaped an evil that ATTACKS PEOPLE BY COMING THROUGH THE TV SET, and yet in their new house they have THE BIGGEST FUCKING TV SET EVER. And it's not even plasma. I don't know much about the paranormal and endoplasmic transmission, but since most psychic and supernatural occurrences involve some sort of electromagntic interference, do you think a plasma or LCD set would prevent spiritual manifestation? Just asking in case the need to buy a new set arises. But still, LADY GET RID OF THE DAMN SET!!! I seriously couldn't believe it when I saw it.
2) Rachel and Aiden TOTALLY had my living room rug from Lowe's!!! It was very distracting, because it was totally devoid of cat hair.
3) I may have mentioned this before, but I have a thing about real life stuff. As anyone living in real life would, ha ha ha. But seriously, I have to mention the AWESOMEST scene, where Aiden goes into a park bathroom and sees Samara in the mirror behind him and takes pictures of himself as she creeps up on him. THAT WAS AWESOME!!! Digital cameras scare me. As do mirrors.
Here's a fun trick: Tonight while you're brushing your teeth, when you bend over the sink to spit, think briefly how FUCKED UP it would be if you stood up and there was someone STANDING BEHIND YOU!!! TOTALLY SCARY!!! This trick also works when you have your eyes closed while washing your face, and also when you're washing your hair in the shower. Bathrooms scare me. I think this is because of THE X-FILES: nothing good ever happened in a bathroom on THE X-FILES.
4) Poor Simon Baker. All he wanted was some tail, and instead he ended up dead. There's a lesson in that somewhere.
Also: Rachel leaves him dead in a RUNNING TRUCK OUTSIDE HER HOUSE. Explain THAT ONE to the police, especially after your crazy kid left a dead doctor in his hospital room. Even though we know she's not responsible for any of it, imagine how what's going on with Rachel must look to the police. Just once I'd love to see a movie where the police are like,
"Umm, you desperately wanted your son back from Child Services so you killed his doctor, stole him from the hospital and took him home, and then killed your co-worker who came to your house, who was the person who called Child Services on you in the first place. And your defense is what?"
"I didn't do any of it. A dead girl from a videotape possessed my son."
"Umm, okay."
5) This is my biggest problem with the movie, and I will leave it at this because I have to pee and I also really should work on ordering some stuff for work. The problem with horror movies today (and I think it's due in large part to the fact that American filmmakers are dumbing them down to get a PG-13 rating and thus get a bigger audience and more money) is that people in horror films don't say "fuck" enough. Seriously, there were SO MANY TIMES during the film that if I was in that situation? I would totally say "fuck." Fuck is such an awesome word to use in situtations where you're confronted with Unimaginable, Unconquerable Evil. It fits every instance, depending only on change of inflection.
Surrounded by a pack of crazed deer? "Ffffuuuuuck." Son just morphed into a dead body in front of you? "FUCK!!!"
Seriously, if you were an Evil Spirit, and someone came at you instead of running away in fear, and she's all like, "YOU FUCKING FUCK ASS BITCH, YOU LEAVE ME AND MY SON ALONE OR I WILL SO FUCKING FUCK UP YOUR UNDEAD ASS YOU FUCKHOLE DAUGHTER OF A FUCKTARD!!!!" I know I would think twice about doing battle with her for her son's soul.
So, in conclusion, I think I'm going to write my own horror movie. I know I promised that FLUSH POINT would be out sometime in the near future, but I feel it's my civic duty to correct this injustice of language. Because if we cannot tell the Evil invading our lives to fuck off, then the fucking fuckwad terrorists have fucking won.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
review--Neon Genesis Evangelion
Oh, it's been a long while, has it not? I must apologize profusely. I would like to claim illness or Major Life-Altering Events, but in fact it was just laziness, pure and simple. Oh, Dear Reader, all the times I find myself sitting on the couch, eyes glazed over at yet another report of Lindsey Lohan's new eating disorder or Kevin and Britney's One True Love, and I think, "I could be writing about this in my blog right now." Yet alas, I cannot muster the energy to care, let alone write scathingly about it.
Plus, I've actually got SHITLOADS of shit to do at work, and since this this usually where I write these things, I've been DOING MY JOB, and sorry, but my job is NOT TO ENTERTAIN YOU. That's my hobby. My PREDILECTION, if you will.
But the complaints have been flowing in from FAR and WIDE, so here you go...a REVIEW of NEON GENESIS EVANGELION.
Let me begin by saying it's Eve-an-GELL-eon and not E-vanj-a-LEE-on like I've been incorrectly pronouncing it for years. Just in case you didn't want to look like a total loser when you go to the comic book store and ask for a copy.
Next, let me give you a bit of history...NGE is the GREATEST ANIME EVAH!!! It's the 1337 r0x0rs!!!!11!!! Here is what Amazon.com has to say about NGE:
"A benchmark series in the history of anime, Hideaki Anno's Neon Genesis Evangelion is one of the most widely discussed in anime. It's not the first series to combine mecha (futuristic machines, especially robots) with theology and a character-driven story, but it does so exceptionally well. The designs of the robots by Ikuto Yamashita are strikingly original; the questions raised about the future of the human race stimulate viewers' imaginations and the characters show a depth of personality rare in anime."
This was not the version I saw.
The NGE I watched was 26 half-hour episodes detailing how a total loser and an annoying German chick with a Japanese name become fighter pilots even though they are 14 years old. Shinji is a total pussy; his dad is super-powerful and runs/is a member of/does the bidding of a secret organization that uses this other organization, NERV, as its cover.
Okay, let me back up.
NGE is 26 episodes long. The first, eh, twenty are the exact same episode, with varying levels of people being annoying. And there are robots, but they're not really robots.
Okay, wait.
NGE takes place in 2015. Most of the population of Earth has been killed off due to the after-effects of what is called "The Second Impact." The public has been led to believe this was a meteor strike, but it was actually an attack by one of a sentient race of beings called "Angels." Angels periodically attack the earth for no reason. And they don't attack Earth persay, but NERV, a government organization sometimes in opposition to the UN, but whose charter is to destroy Angels. To do this they've created biomechanoids called Evangelion, or Eva for short, that are piloted by psychic 14 year olds. The action begins when Shinji is recruited to join NERV by his absentee father, who is not only high up in NERV but is also part of a shadow organization working behind NERV. Shinji reluctantly pilots an Eva, mainly to win approval from his father. The first fifteen or so episodes feature Shinji and his teammates battling various Angels with their Eva, with varying degrees of success. Then there is a recap/clip show.
Then, FINALLY, after all of this, a semblence of a plot!!! The old flame of one of the military personnel in charge of the operation is a spy!!! He thinks something fishy is going on!!! Eva are actually made from a captured Angel!!! Evas think!!! One of the pilots is a clone!!! There are lots of her!!! And Shinji's Eva contains his dead mother's spirit!!! IT'S AWESOME!!!
And then Shinji has a crisis of conscience and doubts his existence in the next to last episode and it's a bunch of crap about "who am I if I am not me?" And it's like you've dropped acid and are watching the Teletubbies but not nearly as well-written and acted. And then in the last episode Shinji decides who he is, and everyone claps.
No, seriously. Shinji picks a personality and all the characters applaud. And that's the last episode.
Nothing about the clone. Nothing about the Angels. Nothing about Shinji's mom being trapped in a robot. The conspiracy is dropped.
Now, I REALIZE that there are other NGE out there; yes, I am well aware that this ending was not what the animator Hideaki Anno wanted so he made some more clip shows and whatnot. But give me a break, THIS is the GREATEST ANIME EVER?!?! It is, if by "greatest" you mean "no plot." If "greatest" is the French word for "makes no sense."
And the WORST of it was I sat there, The Husband by my side groaning the entire time, and we SLOGGED through this piece of crap, waiting for something to happen. And then when it finally did happen, it meant nothing.
I would hate it if this had been my introduction to anime. Anime as a genre kicks all sorts of ass. Yes, you have to weed through crap like any kind of entertainment, but what's most difficult to reconcile with anime is the fact that you have to devote a lot of time and energy to a story, only to sometimes have it totally suck ass. And you also sometimes have to deal with lots of naked chicks. And chicks with tails. And tentacle sex. Nevermind.
If this hasn't totally turned you off of anime, check out WICKED CITY for a really fucked up but relatively easy to follow story, MILLENNIUM ACTRESS for a more traditional story told in a non-traditional way (MILLENNIUM ACTRESS really shows how freeing animation can be to a narrative) and of course anything by Hayao Miyazaki (SPIRITED AWAY). MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO makes me cry EVERY TIME!!! COWBOY BEBOP is something you'll have to invest a lot of time toward, but the story's amazing and the characters are well fleshed out. And of course there's AKIRA, which makes NO SENSE whatsoever but it has gigantic killer teddy bears and creepy pale kids and people screaming TETSUO!!! over and over again, so it's awesome even if you don't understand a word of it.
And that, kids, is Anime 101. There will be a mid-term.
Hopefully, I will review the new STAR WARS piece of crap. And I have to tell you about my trip to New York to see HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. And I still haven't seen AMITYVILLE HORROR. But we shall see, kiddies, we shall see.
Now I'm off to look for more naked pictures of Hugh Laurie, and then go get The Husband from work. WATCH HOUSE MD, GODDAMNIT!!! Last night's episode was the GREATEST EPISODE OF ANYTHING EVER ON TELEVISION, including when Kelly won American Idol.
Maybe one day I will write about it.
Plus, I've actually got SHITLOADS of shit to do at work, and since this this usually where I write these things, I've been DOING MY JOB, and sorry, but my job is NOT TO ENTERTAIN YOU. That's my hobby. My PREDILECTION, if you will.
But the complaints have been flowing in from FAR and WIDE, so here you go...a REVIEW of NEON GENESIS EVANGELION.
Let me begin by saying it's Eve-an-GELL-eon and not E-vanj-a-LEE-on like I've been incorrectly pronouncing it for years. Just in case you didn't want to look like a total loser when you go to the comic book store and ask for a copy.
Next, let me give you a bit of history...NGE is the GREATEST ANIME EVAH!!! It's the 1337 r0x0rs!!!!11!!! Here is what Amazon.com has to say about NGE:
"A benchmark series in the history of anime, Hideaki Anno's Neon Genesis Evangelion is one of the most widely discussed in anime. It's not the first series to combine mecha (futuristic machines, especially robots) with theology and a character-driven story, but it does so exceptionally well. The designs of the robots by Ikuto Yamashita are strikingly original; the questions raised about the future of the human race stimulate viewers' imaginations and the characters show a depth of personality rare in anime."
This was not the version I saw.
The NGE I watched was 26 half-hour episodes detailing how a total loser and an annoying German chick with a Japanese name become fighter pilots even though they are 14 years old. Shinji is a total pussy; his dad is super-powerful and runs/is a member of/does the bidding of a secret organization that uses this other organization, NERV, as its cover.
Okay, let me back up.
NGE is 26 episodes long. The first, eh, twenty are the exact same episode, with varying levels of people being annoying. And there are robots, but they're not really robots.
Okay, wait.
NGE takes place in 2015. Most of the population of Earth has been killed off due to the after-effects of what is called "The Second Impact." The public has been led to believe this was a meteor strike, but it was actually an attack by one of a sentient race of beings called "Angels." Angels periodically attack the earth for no reason. And they don't attack Earth persay, but NERV, a government organization sometimes in opposition to the UN, but whose charter is to destroy Angels. To do this they've created biomechanoids called Evangelion, or Eva for short, that are piloted by psychic 14 year olds. The action begins when Shinji is recruited to join NERV by his absentee father, who is not only high up in NERV but is also part of a shadow organization working behind NERV. Shinji reluctantly pilots an Eva, mainly to win approval from his father. The first fifteen or so episodes feature Shinji and his teammates battling various Angels with their Eva, with varying degrees of success. Then there is a recap/clip show.
Then, FINALLY, after all of this, a semblence of a plot!!! The old flame of one of the military personnel in charge of the operation is a spy!!! He thinks something fishy is going on!!! Eva are actually made from a captured Angel!!! Evas think!!! One of the pilots is a clone!!! There are lots of her!!! And Shinji's Eva contains his dead mother's spirit!!! IT'S AWESOME!!!
And then Shinji has a crisis of conscience and doubts his existence in the next to last episode and it's a bunch of crap about "who am I if I am not me?" And it's like you've dropped acid and are watching the Teletubbies but not nearly as well-written and acted. And then in the last episode Shinji decides who he is, and everyone claps.
No, seriously. Shinji picks a personality and all the characters applaud. And that's the last episode.
Nothing about the clone. Nothing about the Angels. Nothing about Shinji's mom being trapped in a robot. The conspiracy is dropped.
Now, I REALIZE that there are other NGE out there; yes, I am well aware that this ending was not what the animator Hideaki Anno wanted so he made some more clip shows and whatnot. But give me a break, THIS is the GREATEST ANIME EVER?!?! It is, if by "greatest" you mean "no plot." If "greatest" is the French word for "makes no sense."
And the WORST of it was I sat there, The Husband by my side groaning the entire time, and we SLOGGED through this piece of crap, waiting for something to happen. And then when it finally did happen, it meant nothing.
I would hate it if this had been my introduction to anime. Anime as a genre kicks all sorts of ass. Yes, you have to weed through crap like any kind of entertainment, but what's most difficult to reconcile with anime is the fact that you have to devote a lot of time and energy to a story, only to sometimes have it totally suck ass. And you also sometimes have to deal with lots of naked chicks. And chicks with tails. And tentacle sex. Nevermind.
If this hasn't totally turned you off of anime, check out WICKED CITY for a really fucked up but relatively easy to follow story, MILLENNIUM ACTRESS for a more traditional story told in a non-traditional way (MILLENNIUM ACTRESS really shows how freeing animation can be to a narrative) and of course anything by Hayao Miyazaki (SPIRITED AWAY). MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO makes me cry EVERY TIME!!! COWBOY BEBOP is something you'll have to invest a lot of time toward, but the story's amazing and the characters are well fleshed out. And of course there's AKIRA, which makes NO SENSE whatsoever but it has gigantic killer teddy bears and creepy pale kids and people screaming TETSUO!!! over and over again, so it's awesome even if you don't understand a word of it.
And that, kids, is Anime 101. There will be a mid-term.
Hopefully, I will review the new STAR WARS piece of crap. And I have to tell you about my trip to New York to see HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. And I still haven't seen AMITYVILLE HORROR. But we shall see, kiddies, we shall see.
Now I'm off to look for more naked pictures of Hugh Laurie, and then go get The Husband from work. WATCH HOUSE MD, GODDAMNIT!!! Last night's episode was the GREATEST EPISODE OF ANYTHING EVER ON TELEVISION, including when Kelly won American Idol.
Maybe one day I will write about it.
Friday, February 25, 2005
interlude--Sorry...I Suck.
So, I've been away for a while. I've been meaning to put something up...I actually get around to writing something and my computer dies, or something comes up, or I hate what I wrote. I know you don't give a shit, Gentle Reader, but hey, suck it up and deal.
1) I liked ELEKTRA okay. It wasn't the greatest movie ever, but it was okay.
2) LEMONY SNICKET kicks all sorts of ass. It was way better than I expected.
3) HOUSE, M.D. is all sorts of awesome. Hugh Laurie is my new Imaginary Boyfriend. Being in an Imaginary British Sandwich with him and Imaginary Boyfriend Simon Cowell would be awesome.
4) BTW, Paul Rudd is my new Imaginary Best Friend With Possibilities.
5) I'm just coming to realize I haven't seen very many movies in the theaters. I will be seeing CONSTANTINE, I swear. Keanu Reeves is, after all, my Imaginary Sexual Plaything.
6) I did see the documentary SPELLBOUND on DVD, about the Scripps National Spelling Bee. It was as depressing as you would expect, watching over 200 12-year-olds spell words you've never heard of. The Husband and I broke out the dictionary and tried to follow along. There was an awesome word which was the medical term for the subcutaneous bleeding that causes bruises, but I forgot what it was.
7) I MISSED THE ABC DOCUMENTARY ON UFOS!!!! I hate myself.
8) Remember, kiddies, Lent doesn't last forever. Get your awesome Wendy's Fish Sandwich while you can.
9) I restarted therapy and it's all sorts of awesome. I'm taking mega-amounts of Prozac, and I feel like a million bucks, thanks for asking. I have begun eating mayo again, because I've somehow overcome my fear of it, and I actually ate a plate of spaghetti which had meat sauce on it (even though I picked the meat out). Many of you will not appreciate the significance of this breakthrough, but suffice it to say, I have OCD which has caused many very strange habits/fears/beliefs/actions/non-actions and it's amazing to be able to watch a news program on the Asian Bird Flu and have only two thoughts:
a) I don't have it nor do I think I do, and
b) Why aren't they talking about the Michael Jackson trial?
Normally I would spend my day at the computer, trolling the net for the latest information on signs and symptoms of Asian Bird Flu, so that I could be assured I don't have it and also that I would know what to look for in case I had it. It was this sort of thing that led me to become a vegetarian: obsessive fear of Mad Cow Disease. While I doubt I will be chowing down on a Big Mac any time in the near future, it's nice that my afternoons are now anxiety-free for other pursuits, namely trolling the web for naked pictures of Hugh Laurie. Not that I do that sort of thing. Because I don't. Except that I totally do.
10) Before you see CURSED, check out GINGER SNAPS. Though I haven't seen CURSED yet, although I might go and see it, I think I can safely say at this point in time that GINGER SNAPS is a billion times better.
11) It's sad when you've reached that time of the day when you've checked out all your web sites at least fifty times, and they haven't updated, and you've run out of things to read. Hence why I do this now. The Internets should spontaneously update when I mentally command them to.
I guess I should get back to work.
1) I liked ELEKTRA okay. It wasn't the greatest movie ever, but it was okay.
2) LEMONY SNICKET kicks all sorts of ass. It was way better than I expected.
3) HOUSE, M.D. is all sorts of awesome. Hugh Laurie is my new Imaginary Boyfriend. Being in an Imaginary British Sandwich with him and Imaginary Boyfriend Simon Cowell would be awesome.
4) BTW, Paul Rudd is my new Imaginary Best Friend With Possibilities.
5) I'm just coming to realize I haven't seen very many movies in the theaters. I will be seeing CONSTANTINE, I swear. Keanu Reeves is, after all, my Imaginary Sexual Plaything.
6) I did see the documentary SPELLBOUND on DVD, about the Scripps National Spelling Bee. It was as depressing as you would expect, watching over 200 12-year-olds spell words you've never heard of. The Husband and I broke out the dictionary and tried to follow along. There was an awesome word which was the medical term for the subcutaneous bleeding that causes bruises, but I forgot what it was.
7) I MISSED THE ABC DOCUMENTARY ON UFOS!!!! I hate myself.
8) Remember, kiddies, Lent doesn't last forever. Get your awesome Wendy's Fish Sandwich while you can.
9) I restarted therapy and it's all sorts of awesome. I'm taking mega-amounts of Prozac, and I feel like a million bucks, thanks for asking. I have begun eating mayo again, because I've somehow overcome my fear of it, and I actually ate a plate of spaghetti which had meat sauce on it (even though I picked the meat out). Many of you will not appreciate the significance of this breakthrough, but suffice it to say, I have OCD which has caused many very strange habits/fears/beliefs/actions/non-actions and it's amazing to be able to watch a news program on the Asian Bird Flu and have only two thoughts:
a) I don't have it nor do I think I do, and
b) Why aren't they talking about the Michael Jackson trial?
Normally I would spend my day at the computer, trolling the net for the latest information on signs and symptoms of Asian Bird Flu, so that I could be assured I don't have it and also that I would know what to look for in case I had it. It was this sort of thing that led me to become a vegetarian: obsessive fear of Mad Cow Disease. While I doubt I will be chowing down on a Big Mac any time in the near future, it's nice that my afternoons are now anxiety-free for other pursuits, namely trolling the web for naked pictures of Hugh Laurie. Not that I do that sort of thing. Because I don't. Except that I totally do.
10) Before you see CURSED, check out GINGER SNAPS. Though I haven't seen CURSED yet, although I might go and see it, I think I can safely say at this point in time that GINGER SNAPS is a billion times better.
11) It's sad when you've reached that time of the day when you've checked out all your web sites at least fifty times, and they haven't updated, and you've run out of things to read. Hence why I do this now. The Internets should spontaneously update when I mentally command them to.
I guess I should get back to work.
Wednesday, February 2, 2005
tidbits--MY AWESOME DREAM LAST NIGHT
I know I've been promising movie reviews, but I've been sick and busy. Alternately and at the same time. But the dream I had last night was awesome and I want to share.
I had this weird dream that Robert De Niro was in love with me, but my Japanese parents disapproved. By the way, I am not Japanese.
It was really weird because in my dream I was having this really bad day...all these horrible things were happening to me: the restaurant messed up my order, I got someone's drink dumped on me, I'd had a fight with my real life parents. I had a female relative that was younger than my deceased grandmother but older than my mom, and this new relative had Alzheimer's and she was very violent towards me and I was tired of dealing with it. So I left to go get a coffee, and I couldn't find one anywhere, no one had the drink I wanted, per my day. So I was really upset, and Robert De Niro saw me and took pity on me and took me to his apartment where he did ink paintings and had lots of hanging beads instead of doors, and a great view, and he wanted to have sex but I felt I couldn't because of The Husband. And then all of a sudden I had Japanese parents who didn't like De Niro because he had served in WW2 and they felt he mocked their culture. With his ink paintings and hanging beads, I guess. They wanted me to come with them, but I wanted to be with De Niro because he was the only person who'd shown compassion and concern for me on my bad day. So I ran back to his apartment and I was wearing a geisha dress and those awesome Japanese flip-flop shoes but with socks, and there were women who were praising my ethnic authenticity.
De Niro is very well endowed, by the way, at least in my subconscious.
I had this weird dream that Robert De Niro was in love with me, but my Japanese parents disapproved. By the way, I am not Japanese.
It was really weird because in my dream I was having this really bad day...all these horrible things were happening to me: the restaurant messed up my order, I got someone's drink dumped on me, I'd had a fight with my real life parents. I had a female relative that was younger than my deceased grandmother but older than my mom, and this new relative had Alzheimer's and she was very violent towards me and I was tired of dealing with it. So I left to go get a coffee, and I couldn't find one anywhere, no one had the drink I wanted, per my day. So I was really upset, and Robert De Niro saw me and took pity on me and took me to his apartment where he did ink paintings and had lots of hanging beads instead of doors, and a great view, and he wanted to have sex but I felt I couldn't because of The Husband. And then all of a sudden I had Japanese parents who didn't like De Niro because he had served in WW2 and they felt he mocked their culture. With his ink paintings and hanging beads, I guess. They wanted me to come with them, but I wanted to be with De Niro because he was the only person who'd shown compassion and concern for me on my bad day. So I ran back to his apartment and I was wearing a geisha dress and those awesome Japanese flip-flop shoes but with socks, and there were women who were praising my ethnic authenticity.
De Niro is very well endowed, by the way, at least in my subconscious.
Monday, January 10, 2005
review--THE ACTUAL WHITE NOISE MOVIE
SPOILERS!!!
Once upon a time, The Mother used to listen to Art Bell on the radio, really late at night. The next day, she'd call me at work and recount the previous night's show, and then I would further explain to her the intricacies of Ufology and crystal healing and Black Helicopters and the HAARP Project. Because I'm down with all that craziness.
So anyway, on one show he featured this story (now confirmed to be a hoax) about these Siberian oil drillers who drilled into the earth and punched into a pocket and they stuck a microphone into the hole thinking they'd hear tectonic plate movements and instead they heard THE VOICES OF HELL.
Check this shit out in real player
So, yeah, this story is totally whack; I mean, why in the hell would anybody be carrying around a nine mile long microphone cord to listen to tectonic plates shifting? But The Mother told me about the tape and I looked for it on the Art Bell site and I listened to it and I nearly peed my pants because I'm totally gullible like that.
WHITE NOISE is not as scary as that tape, although they totally played something like that in the movie.
The movie stars Michael Keaton as a guy who makes shitloads of money so he can freely indulge in whatever craziness he wants for two hours because he doesn't really need to go to work. His wife dies tragically and then a fat guy starts following him around. The fat guy tells him he's been receiving messages from Keaton's wife from beyond the grave by recording the ambient noise in rooms and then filtering it through the computer. And seriously, if you squint really hard and have a small grasp of Esperanto it does sound like his wife saying his name. And some other stuff. So Keaton goes out and buys shitloads of equipment because he can, and he spends all his time trying to tape his wife. And then she starts showing up and tells him cryptically to rescue people, but she's totally not because that's not what she's saying at all and you can tell he's totally making that shit up because he's desperate for his wife to be a life-saving angel and not a hell-bound demonic spirit bend on global dominance and destruction.
At least that's how I translated that section of Esperanto.
But then he figures out that all the people who are dying were also going to the fat guy to hear their dead relatives, and then his creepy girlfriend shows up in a tape and does a Louganis off her balcony but she doesn't die for some reason, and there's a serial killer and some creepy shadow demons and a climatic fight to the death and THE END.
But back to Art Bell. Another show that totally freaked The Mother out was one about "SHADOW PEOPLE." These are the forms that you see flutter by out of the corner of your eye when you're alone in a room. Here's a supposed picture so you can be as freaked out as my mom. Shadow people figure prominently in the action of WHITE NOISE (actually more like in the televisions) but there should have been way more of them.
So WHITE NOISE wasn't really all that scary. I told The Brother that I was going to pee my pants in fear but that was more from the soda. He said I looked very engrossed all hunched over and leaning toward the screen near the end of the movie, but that was to relieve the pressure on my bladder. See, I kept thinking that if I left to pee I'd miss the really scary part, but there never was a really scary part. There were a couple of scenes that were jump-out-of-your-seat moments, but that was more from the fact that you're watching the tape and watching the tape and watching the tape and listening to the static and you think you hear a Jonathan I love you and then OHMYGODYOUBASTARDPIGROTINHELLDIEARGH!!!!ANDEVILNESSONTHETELEVISIONFORASPLITSECOND and then it's over.
I think the idea (without overanalyzing) was that when you're supposed to go, you're supposed to go. And the "Other Side" is not something for the living to be meddling in. And if you meddle you've gotten a glimpse of something no living person should see, and so the Shadow People come and get you. Unless you're a crazy girlfriend doped up on tranquilizers because then they don't bother you. Or something. But part of the problem with WHITE NOISE is that the Shadow People didn't fuck around with the living enough. Not that I wanted limbs torn off torsos or anything.
Did you see GHOST? You did? Because you wanted to see Demi Moore naked and at the time that Righteous Brothers song hadn't been played into the ground so you could still stand to hear it without desperately wanting to stick a Q-Tip into your ear all the way totally going against everything they tell you on the packaging? You remember the scene at the end where evil murderer and attempted rapist Tony Goldwyn gets the shit kicked out of him by the evil smoke demons and they drag him to hell? You do?
The end of WHITE NOISE is exactly like that.
No, really. Only no Patrick Swayse.
I will also readily admit that more than once during the movie Michael Keaton gave this penetrating look of concern and concentration that made me think to myself "I'M BATMAN." Which threw me out of the movie. But afterwards The Brother confessed he thought the same thing. And also his dead wife appears to him in person as this apparition and granted the rest of the film was pretty unbelievable but I'd successfully suspended my disbelief but THAT was crossing a line of credulity that even I would not walk over. It was just really cheesy and stupid.
Once again I was taken by a preview. But I did tell The Husband that I would see it again at the dollar theater, because I have to admit that part with the OHMYGODYOUBASTARDPIGROTINHELLDIEARGH!!!!ANDEVILNESSONTHETELEVISIONFORASPLITSECOND part was really fucking awesome. There just needed to be way more than that.
There was this awesome syndicated show on called SIGHTINGS. On one episode they interviewed this women named Sarah Estep, who is a researcher in Electronic Voice Phenomena. She went to a civil war cemetary with her tape recorder and started asking questions and when she got back to her lab and listened to the tapes there were these voices talking about their experiences in the war. It freaked my shit out. That was way more scary than WHITE NOISE. The Brother's theory, which sounds completely plausable, is that because you are seeing it under the guise of "documentary" your mind automatically says "TRUTH," because you're conditioned to believe that things you see in documentaries are true. So documentaries are scarier because you believe everything in them acutally happened and are possible. And there's a certain clinical detachment as well that adds to the scare. WHITE NOISE spends so much (or so little) time trying to get you to give a rat's ass about the people in the movie that you aren't as frightened.
And you keep thinking, "I'M BATMAN." Which doesn't help.
So the Moral of the Story, according to The Brother, is DON'T FUCK WITH THE DEAD. I am leaning more towards DON'T HAVE MORE THAN ONE TV, AND IF YOU DO, FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T PUT THEM ALL IN ONE ROOM. And also DON'T BUY LILIES FOR ANYONE EVER, THEY'RE TOTALLY BAD LUCK.
Next week: ELEKTRA. I'm hoping for some really shitty MORTAL KOMBAT-y goodness. And crossing my fingers for a Christopher Lambert cameo. More films need Christopher Lambert. And Jean-Claude Van Damme. But that's just me.
PS. The best part of WHITE NOISE was that as The Brother and I were leaving we passed by this couple, and the chick was totally crying. I don't know if someone close to her had just died, or she's been contacting the dead recently, or what, but--not to be mean--that's really fucking funny. I mean, why would you go see a movie about contacting the recently deceased if you have had someone recently decease? I mean, recounting the plot to The Mother, I told her about this part where this girl gets a message from her recently deceased grandmother, and I got kind of choked up and my grandmother's been dead for three years!!! So why you'd actively search out a movie like this in those circumstances is beyond me.
But then again she could have been upset about something completely unrelated to the movie. It's not nice to make fun of people. I don't know why I brought it up.
She was probably upset that she wasted two hours of her life that she'd never get back.
PPS. Just to geek for a moment, the way the fat guy EVPs in the movie is totally not how you do it in real life. But I'm not going to get into that. As I'm not one to nitpick.
PSS. Have you ever thought about reincarnation? You know how people are always claiming that they were someone famous, like Napoleon? Did you ever stop to think that if you were reincarnated, and your future self were to get hypnotized and relive your life, that they'd totally tell people they were Napoleon, too, instead of admitting their previous life was spent in a cubicle during the day, and then playing video games at night? I often thought about that when I worked at the bookstore, like how depressing would that be to relive a past life and you're like, "I was a supervisor at a Borders, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." No one's ever a scullery maid, you know? Were there even such things? How did the world end up the way it did with fifty gajillion Napoleons running around?
Once upon a time, The Mother used to listen to Art Bell on the radio, really late at night. The next day, she'd call me at work and recount the previous night's show, and then I would further explain to her the intricacies of Ufology and crystal healing and Black Helicopters and the HAARP Project. Because I'm down with all that craziness.
So anyway, on one show he featured this story (now confirmed to be a hoax) about these Siberian oil drillers who drilled into the earth and punched into a pocket and they stuck a microphone into the hole thinking they'd hear tectonic plate movements and instead they heard THE VOICES OF HELL.
Check this shit out in real player
So, yeah, this story is totally whack; I mean, why in the hell would anybody be carrying around a nine mile long microphone cord to listen to tectonic plates shifting? But The Mother told me about the tape and I looked for it on the Art Bell site and I listened to it and I nearly peed my pants because I'm totally gullible like that.
WHITE NOISE is not as scary as that tape, although they totally played something like that in the movie.
The movie stars Michael Keaton as a guy who makes shitloads of money so he can freely indulge in whatever craziness he wants for two hours because he doesn't really need to go to work. His wife dies tragically and then a fat guy starts following him around. The fat guy tells him he's been receiving messages from Keaton's wife from beyond the grave by recording the ambient noise in rooms and then filtering it through the computer. And seriously, if you squint really hard and have a small grasp of Esperanto it does sound like his wife saying his name. And some other stuff. So Keaton goes out and buys shitloads of equipment because he can, and he spends all his time trying to tape his wife. And then she starts showing up and tells him cryptically to rescue people, but she's totally not because that's not what she's saying at all and you can tell he's totally making that shit up because he's desperate for his wife to be a life-saving angel and not a hell-bound demonic spirit bend on global dominance and destruction.
At least that's how I translated that section of Esperanto.
But then he figures out that all the people who are dying were also going to the fat guy to hear their dead relatives, and then his creepy girlfriend shows up in a tape and does a Louganis off her balcony but she doesn't die for some reason, and there's a serial killer and some creepy shadow demons and a climatic fight to the death and THE END.
But back to Art Bell. Another show that totally freaked The Mother out was one about "SHADOW PEOPLE." These are the forms that you see flutter by out of the corner of your eye when you're alone in a room. Here's a supposed picture so you can be as freaked out as my mom. Shadow people figure prominently in the action of WHITE NOISE (actually more like in the televisions) but there should have been way more of them.
So WHITE NOISE wasn't really all that scary. I told The Brother that I was going to pee my pants in fear but that was more from the soda. He said I looked very engrossed all hunched over and leaning toward the screen near the end of the movie, but that was to relieve the pressure on my bladder. See, I kept thinking that if I left to pee I'd miss the really scary part, but there never was a really scary part. There were a couple of scenes that were jump-out-of-your-seat moments, but that was more from the fact that you're watching the tape and watching the tape and watching the tape and listening to the static and you think you hear a Jonathan I love you and then OHMYGODYOUBASTARDPIGROTINHELLDIEARGH!!!!ANDEVILNESSONTHETELEVISIONFORASPLITSECOND and then it's over.
I think the idea (without overanalyzing) was that when you're supposed to go, you're supposed to go. And the "Other Side" is not something for the living to be meddling in. And if you meddle you've gotten a glimpse of something no living person should see, and so the Shadow People come and get you. Unless you're a crazy girlfriend doped up on tranquilizers because then they don't bother you. Or something. But part of the problem with WHITE NOISE is that the Shadow People didn't fuck around with the living enough. Not that I wanted limbs torn off torsos or anything.
Did you see GHOST? You did? Because you wanted to see Demi Moore naked and at the time that Righteous Brothers song hadn't been played into the ground so you could still stand to hear it without desperately wanting to stick a Q-Tip into your ear all the way totally going against everything they tell you on the packaging? You remember the scene at the end where evil murderer and attempted rapist Tony Goldwyn gets the shit kicked out of him by the evil smoke demons and they drag him to hell? You do?
The end of WHITE NOISE is exactly like that.
No, really. Only no Patrick Swayse.
I will also readily admit that more than once during the movie Michael Keaton gave this penetrating look of concern and concentration that made me think to myself "I'M BATMAN." Which threw me out of the movie. But afterwards The Brother confessed he thought the same thing. And also his dead wife appears to him in person as this apparition and granted the rest of the film was pretty unbelievable but I'd successfully suspended my disbelief but THAT was crossing a line of credulity that even I would not walk over. It was just really cheesy and stupid.
Once again I was taken by a preview. But I did tell The Husband that I would see it again at the dollar theater, because I have to admit that part with the OHMYGODYOUBASTARDPIGROTINHELLDIEARGH!!!!ANDEVILNESSONTHETELEVISIONFORASPLITSECOND part was really fucking awesome. There just needed to be way more than that.
There was this awesome syndicated show on called SIGHTINGS. On one episode they interviewed this women named Sarah Estep, who is a researcher in Electronic Voice Phenomena. She went to a civil war cemetary with her tape recorder and started asking questions and when she got back to her lab and listened to the tapes there were these voices talking about their experiences in the war. It freaked my shit out. That was way more scary than WHITE NOISE. The Brother's theory, which sounds completely plausable, is that because you are seeing it under the guise of "documentary" your mind automatically says "TRUTH," because you're conditioned to believe that things you see in documentaries are true. So documentaries are scarier because you believe everything in them acutally happened and are possible. And there's a certain clinical detachment as well that adds to the scare. WHITE NOISE spends so much (or so little) time trying to get you to give a rat's ass about the people in the movie that you aren't as frightened.
And you keep thinking, "I'M BATMAN." Which doesn't help.
So the Moral of the Story, according to The Brother, is DON'T FUCK WITH THE DEAD. I am leaning more towards DON'T HAVE MORE THAN ONE TV, AND IF YOU DO, FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T PUT THEM ALL IN ONE ROOM. And also DON'T BUY LILIES FOR ANYONE EVER, THEY'RE TOTALLY BAD LUCK.
Next week: ELEKTRA. I'm hoping for some really shitty MORTAL KOMBAT-y goodness. And crossing my fingers for a Christopher Lambert cameo. More films need Christopher Lambert. And Jean-Claude Van Damme. But that's just me.
PS. The best part of WHITE NOISE was that as The Brother and I were leaving we passed by this couple, and the chick was totally crying. I don't know if someone close to her had just died, or she's been contacting the dead recently, or what, but--not to be mean--that's really fucking funny. I mean, why would you go see a movie about contacting the recently deceased if you have had someone recently decease? I mean, recounting the plot to The Mother, I told her about this part where this girl gets a message from her recently deceased grandmother, and I got kind of choked up and my grandmother's been dead for three years!!! So why you'd actively search out a movie like this in those circumstances is beyond me.
But then again she could have been upset about something completely unrelated to the movie. It's not nice to make fun of people. I don't know why I brought it up.
She was probably upset that she wasted two hours of her life that she'd never get back.
PPS. Just to geek for a moment, the way the fat guy EVPs in the movie is totally not how you do it in real life. But I'm not going to get into that. As I'm not one to nitpick.
PSS. Have you ever thought about reincarnation? You know how people are always claiming that they were someone famous, like Napoleon? Did you ever stop to think that if you were reincarnated, and your future self were to get hypnotized and relive your life, that they'd totally tell people they were Napoleon, too, instead of admitting their previous life was spent in a cubicle during the day, and then playing video games at night? I often thought about that when I worked at the bookstore, like how depressing would that be to relive a past life and you're like, "I was a supervisor at a Borders, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." No one's ever a scullery maid, you know? Were there even such things? How did the world end up the way it did with fifty gajillion Napoleons running around?
Wednesday, January 5, 2005
review--BLADE:TRINITY
SPOILERS!!!
So, I finally dragged myself out to see BLADE. And I mean that literally: before going to the movies with The Brother I'd left the house approximately two times in the week following Christmas. I was in bed on New Year's Eve at 10pm. AND I was pissed at the neighborhood partiers for making it hard for me to go to sleep.
I have become a lazy bum.
So anyway, on the way out of the movie The Brother and I had the following exchange:
ME: Do you know who Dracula was? He looked really familiar.
THE BROTHER: No. We'll have to look him up when we get home.
ME: He was kind of a hottie.
THE BROTHER: I wouldn't know, I was too busy looking at Jessica Biel.
ME: There's nothing like watching BLADE: TRINITY to make you feel fat.
THE BROTHER: Ryan Reynolds did not look like that in VAN WILDER.
By the way, as a side note Ryan Reynolds guested on THE X-FILES on that episode where Scully's investigating the never-dying photographer and she gets shot. Just in case you wanted to know.
BLADE: TRINITY is the ironically named third installment in the BLADE trilogy, and it features a host of REALLY HOT ACTORS. I say "ironically" not because it's THIRD in a TRILOGY, or that there are THREE VAMPIRE HUNTERS (although one is taken out of most of the action for a good deal of the movie so technically that's not true), but because Blade has three lines in the whole movie:
"I forgot my sword."
"Choochie-coo."
"*grunt*"
Okay, I may be exaggerating, but seriously Blade's in the movie for all of five minutes.
BLADE: TRINITY is about a group of vampires who awaken Dracula (who's buried in Iraq for some reason) because they believe he's the only thing capable of killing off Blade once and for all. Meanwhile the FBI's gunning for Blade because he's a Menace to Society, and they end up blowing up his hideout. And some of the cops are helping the vampires. It looks really bad for our hero until a heretofore unmentioned shadow network of vampire killers led by heretofore unmentioned Whistler's daughter Jennifer Biel comes out of hiding to rescue him and help him out. And then there's fighting and stuff blowing up and sarcastic line delivery and tight abs and THE END.
The acting, for once, is top notch. Parker Posey, Queen of Indie Film, plays the head vampire, and you can tell she's having fun bossing people around, throwing fits and torturing people. Also she looks like a bad ass. Ryan Reynolds is kind of funny. The guy who plays Dracula is awesome (he was TV's JOHN DOE, by the way, on Fox's short-lived series).
And this is where the problem comes in. BLADE: TRINITY had the possibility to be something really great. It's hinted at in a couple of places: you have the King of All Vampires coming head-to-head with the King of All Vampire Killers. What kind of strange dynamic would this create? What sort of mutual introspection would it lead to? Dracula talks about an honor modern vampires have lost, an honor he finds in Blade. In the end, he "sacrifices" himself so that Blade can live. AND there's this awesome scene where he goes into a goth shop and is horrified to discover how his legend has been twisted by lame poseur kids. So many possibilities!!!
Then there's this MATRIX-y subplot where the vampires have victims set up in this warehouse being artificially kept alive so that their blood can be continually harvested. It was really cool looking, but pretty easy to undermind: Blade grunted at the only tech to "turn it off."
The only other thing worth noting was that Dracula's "true form" was fucking BAD ASS. This movie did some cool stuff with the conceit from the second of the vampires with the expanding jaws. But in the end I think it was just way too much trying to be packed into one movie. Not that I expected BLADE: TRINITY to be a Master's Class in character development, but it was disappointing even from a blowing lots of shit up angle.
I think I have to stop trusting in trailers. I'm learning that they don't often deliver what they promise.
I'm JUST NOW coming to understand this?!?!?!?
Coming up: WHITE NOISE (which still freaks my shit out), ELEKTRA, HIDE AND SEEK (looks pretty awesome), and CONSTANTINE. And some other stuff. Also I just bought some really awesome crap films like ZOMBIE LAKE, THE VIRGIN OF NUREMBERG, and DEMON UNDER GLASS featuring the sort-of-hot goateed guy from BABYLON 5. So I will be wallowing in shit for some time to come, and I'm taking you with me.
PS speaking of zombies, The Brother made The Mother watch SHAUN OF THE DEAD after telling her how awesome it was. The Mother hated it. Her exact quote was, "Why did it need to be so violent? I mean, did they really have to eat those people?"
We tried to explain the concept of zombies to her, but she wasn't having it.
So, I finally dragged myself out to see BLADE. And I mean that literally: before going to the movies with The Brother I'd left the house approximately two times in the week following Christmas. I was in bed on New Year's Eve at 10pm. AND I was pissed at the neighborhood partiers for making it hard for me to go to sleep.
I have become a lazy bum.
So anyway, on the way out of the movie The Brother and I had the following exchange:
ME: Do you know who Dracula was? He looked really familiar.
THE BROTHER: No. We'll have to look him up when we get home.
ME: He was kind of a hottie.
THE BROTHER: I wouldn't know, I was too busy looking at Jessica Biel.
ME: There's nothing like watching BLADE: TRINITY to make you feel fat.
THE BROTHER: Ryan Reynolds did not look like that in VAN WILDER.
By the way, as a side note Ryan Reynolds guested on THE X-FILES on that episode where Scully's investigating the never-dying photographer and she gets shot. Just in case you wanted to know.
BLADE: TRINITY is the ironically named third installment in the BLADE trilogy, and it features a host of REALLY HOT ACTORS. I say "ironically" not because it's THIRD in a TRILOGY, or that there are THREE VAMPIRE HUNTERS (although one is taken out of most of the action for a good deal of the movie so technically that's not true), but because Blade has three lines in the whole movie:
"I forgot my sword."
"Choochie-coo."
"*grunt*"
Okay, I may be exaggerating, but seriously Blade's in the movie for all of five minutes.
BLADE: TRINITY is about a group of vampires who awaken Dracula (who's buried in Iraq for some reason) because they believe he's the only thing capable of killing off Blade once and for all. Meanwhile the FBI's gunning for Blade because he's a Menace to Society, and they end up blowing up his hideout. And some of the cops are helping the vampires. It looks really bad for our hero until a heretofore unmentioned shadow network of vampire killers led by heretofore unmentioned Whistler's daughter Jennifer Biel comes out of hiding to rescue him and help him out. And then there's fighting and stuff blowing up and sarcastic line delivery and tight abs and THE END.
The acting, for once, is top notch. Parker Posey, Queen of Indie Film, plays the head vampire, and you can tell she's having fun bossing people around, throwing fits and torturing people. Also she looks like a bad ass. Ryan Reynolds is kind of funny. The guy who plays Dracula is awesome (he was TV's JOHN DOE, by the way, on Fox's short-lived series).
And this is where the problem comes in. BLADE: TRINITY had the possibility to be something really great. It's hinted at in a couple of places: you have the King of All Vampires coming head-to-head with the King of All Vampire Killers. What kind of strange dynamic would this create? What sort of mutual introspection would it lead to? Dracula talks about an honor modern vampires have lost, an honor he finds in Blade. In the end, he "sacrifices" himself so that Blade can live. AND there's this awesome scene where he goes into a goth shop and is horrified to discover how his legend has been twisted by lame poseur kids. So many possibilities!!!
Then there's this MATRIX-y subplot where the vampires have victims set up in this warehouse being artificially kept alive so that their blood can be continually harvested. It was really cool looking, but pretty easy to undermind: Blade grunted at the only tech to "turn it off."
The only other thing worth noting was that Dracula's "true form" was fucking BAD ASS. This movie did some cool stuff with the conceit from the second of the vampires with the expanding jaws. But in the end I think it was just way too much trying to be packed into one movie. Not that I expected BLADE: TRINITY to be a Master's Class in character development, but it was disappointing even from a blowing lots of shit up angle.
I think I have to stop trusting in trailers. I'm learning that they don't often deliver what they promise.
I'm JUST NOW coming to understand this?!?!?!?
Coming up: WHITE NOISE (which still freaks my shit out), ELEKTRA, HIDE AND SEEK (looks pretty awesome), and CONSTANTINE. And some other stuff. Also I just bought some really awesome crap films like ZOMBIE LAKE, THE VIRGIN OF NUREMBERG, and DEMON UNDER GLASS featuring the sort-of-hot goateed guy from BABYLON 5. So I will be wallowing in shit for some time to come, and I'm taking you with me.
PS speaking of zombies, The Brother made The Mother watch SHAUN OF THE DEAD after telling her how awesome it was. The Mother hated it. Her exact quote was, "Why did it need to be so violent? I mean, did they really have to eat those people?"
We tried to explain the concept of zombies to her, but she wasn't having it.
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