Last Five Movies

I noticed this was kinda becoming a monthly thing, so, since it's been a month, yet another installment of Last Five Movies.

Mindhunters (2005)
Have you ever seen a movie that was so bad that it made you wonder why the human race exists? Surely, we'd all be better off dead than having to watch that movie. Well, this is that movie. When I saw previews for this a year ago, it looked like a terrible movie. And then, when it sat on the shelf for a year, I thought, "Wow, this movie must be so shitty that I have to see it!" And I was not disappointed. Luckily, I saw it for free, so as not to perpetuate Renny Harlin's filmmaking career. (I did pay to see Exorcist: The Beginning, however, so I kinda fucked myself on that deal.)

The Longest Yard (1974 and 2005)
Since it'd been about 12 years since I'd seen the original Longest Yard, I thought, for comparison's sake, maybe I'd better rewatch it after having seen the Adam Sandler remake. My findings? They're virtually the same movie: near scene-for-scene carbon copies. If you've seen one, no need to see the other. If you haven't seen either one, go with the original. They actually appear to be playing football in that one.

The Machinist (2004)
I had high hopes for Brad Anderson's newest movie, seeing as his last film, Session 9, is one of the creepiest movies of recent years. And, his new film is creepy. Not the movie itself, but the sight of seeing Christian Bale at a skeletal 120 pounds is enough to keep a person awake at night. There are some nice spooky moments, and a plot twist at the end that ties things together nicely. I wasn't disappointed.

High Tension (2005)
Yet another horror movie, with an identical plot twist. (I've seen this particular plot twist at least four times this year, so much so that I've named it "The Imaginary Antagonist.") Yet, whereas that twist explained everything rather nicely in The Machinist, here, it makes me want to kill the filmmakers. There was really only one way to fuck up this incredibly gory movie in my eyes, and this is it. I was so pissed off when I left the theatre that I actually punched a baby in the face. It's really that bad.

And, so, that would make the winner:

Batman Begins (2005)
If you're going to revive a dead series, best thing to do is to shitcan everything that everyone before you has done, and do something completely new. Which is exactly what Chris Nolan has done with the new Batman movie. A perfectly enjoyable movie. (I was sorta busted up not to see Ra's Al Ghul sporting the bouffant and muttonchops that he wore in the comics, but he did have the goofy goatee.) A great start to a (probable) new series; let's see what he does with the next one.

Acquittal of The Century

Since the fine citizens of California have proven their insanity by acquitting serial child molester Michael Jackson of any wrongdoing, I thought I'd post this clip of Triumph, The Insult Comic Dog showing us just how crazy these motherfuckers are. Enjoy.

Triumph and the Jackson Freaks (Courtesy of GorillaMask)

A Day At The Races

On Saturday, I attended the Champ Car race (yeah, I know, fucking Champ Car) in Milwaukee. Here's some totally random pictures of race day.

The official mascots of the TimeWarner Roadrunner 225. Love that corporate synergy.


Lee Greenwood, surprisingly, not singing Proud To Be An American.


A really fucking big flag.


On lap five (!!), Ryan Hunter-Reay crashed the Briggs & Stratton car. Here's his pit moments after the crash:

And 20 minutes later. They're halfway to Portland by this point.


A Tale of Two Spotters: On the left is the spotter for Alex Tagliani, hurriedly updating his driver's status. On the right, the spotter for Paul Tracy, who had a 10 second lead at that point, doing absolutely nothing. Probably got sick of Tracy yelling over the radio, "I know what position I'm in. If you show me that fucking sign one more time, I'm crashing this car into you."


Paul Newman (with his arm up) accepting a giant novelty check.


And, finally, Paul Tracy, after having led 192 of 221 laps and finishing a quarter mile ahead of everyone else, does the obligitory victory donut.


Other than the hearing loss and sunburn I suffered, all and all, a good time.

Greatest Record Ever?

So, I recently had an opportunity to listen to the new Coldplay record, X&Y. Quite honestly, I don't think I'd ever heard a Coldplay song, and really don't know much about the band, except that everyone seems to speak very highly of them. Hell, they must be awesome, as their lead singer was allowed to knock up Gwyneth Paltrow. (Brad Pitt and Ben Affleck never got that far with her.) So, this band must just rock, and this record must be better than Exile on Main Street or Songs in the Key of Life, right? So, I gave it a listen.

Turns out, Coldplay is not as awesome as they would seem to be. If this record is anything like their other albums, I'd say their entire discography isn't as good as, say, "Tumblin' Dice" or "Sir Duke," and those are just single songs, songs that are better than this band's entire repertoire, apparently.

I dunno; maybe I'm too heterosexual to enjoy this band. Maybe they are a good band, as far as some people are concerned. But not for me. My verdict on X&Y:

Sith Happened

Since I assume that everyone has seen this movie, I can speak about it without "ruining" it for some dork.

The initial buzz of Sith was that it was just great, like Empire great. And that's a tall order to live up to, since Empire is the best Star Wars movie. So, needless to say, I was pretty psyched to see it.

During the first minute or so, when the two ships are flying about, and they fly over the big spaceship, and then you see the massive space battle going on below, I thought, "Wow, here comes some SHIT!" And, two and a half hours later, I was still waiting for that shit to happen. The verdict: This movie may be in the same league with the first three movie, maybe even on the same team, but it's like comparing Scott Seabol to Albert Pujols. Big difference in quality.

The thing about the recent trilogy is that each one has something great about it, even if the movies aren't very good. Phantom Menace had the pod race, and the great lightsaber fight at the end. Clones had the droid factory, and the clone war. Sith, well, had some stuff.

Quite honestly, there wasn't anything of great interest in Sith. (About half way through, one of the guys I saw this with said, "I think it's about time for a montage." It coulda used it. Anything at that point.) The way the Emperor got Anakin to turn to the Dark Side was well written, and the space battle in the beginning was kinda cool, but, really, there's nothing to put this movie up with the first trilogy. The story is as typically shitty as anything I'd expect from Lucas, as was most of the dialogue. After about the fifth lightsaber fight, I kept hoping for the Jedi to die faster, so that I didn't have to see anymore lightsaber fights. The Emperor destroying the Senate chambers was really lame, and I'm really sick of seeing fucking Yoda fly around. The dude's 900 years old, for fuck's sake!! And all of the last minute exposition (C-3PO's memory loss, Obi-Wan's learning to communicate with the dead) all seemed a little rushed, just kinda thrown in there to keep geeks from going, "Well, in A New Hope, C-3PO blah blah blah."

Is Sith "Empire good"? No, not even close. It may not even be "Jedi good." And that's really not very good.

This Shit Again

At the beginning of the month, I posted on Marquette's second nickname change in 10 years. Now, we're witnessing their second name change in a month.

Due to the outstanding negative response of every person on the planet to the fourth gayest nickname you could pick for a team (Flamin' Faggots and AssRammers are second and third; more on Number One later), Marquette has decided to open an "election" to have The People vote for Marquette's new nickname. As I mentioned before, this was done in '95, when absolutely nobody "voted" for the name to be changed to Golden Eagles. This time around, we're given 10 unwanted choices, instead of the two we were given last time. Four of the 10 are names Marquette has already gone by. The rest are total shit.

Conspicuously absent from a list filled with former Marquette nicknames is the name that everyone wants: Warriors. On the official nominee list, you'll notice that there's a provision for write-in votes. Underneath that, this disclaimer:

Any nicknames under review by the NCAA for their relationship to Native American imagery will not be counted. Examples of nicknames that will not be counted include Warriors (or any variation of the word, i.e., war)

So, no one will vote for anything then? (I suspect that "Warriors" will still get a ton of write-ins, maybe even the leading vote getter.)

This blatant disregard of what everyone wants is due to the machinations of Marquette president Fr. Robert Wild, who hates the name "Warriors," and, allegedly, threatened to resign if Marquette was renamed the Warriors. Well, good riddance, you pedophile. Let's give this motherfucker the kick in the ass out the door he needs, and vote the Warriors back in!

Since Marquette's official ballot is rigged so that only certain people can vote (and, apparently, I'm not one of those people, even though I attended the fucking school), vote on the poll to the right. Hopefully, our voting goes better than I suspect Marquette's will.

Oh, and the Number One Gayest Nickname in History? Number eight on the nominee list. If this wins, I will blow the school up. No shit

Sorry For The Lack Of Updates...

But I recently listened to the new Limp Bizkit album once through, and it was so bad that I immediately went into a coma. I really didn't think that an album could suck so terribly that it would cause my body to shut down to recover from the experience, but, there you go. A terrible record; I'm embarrassed for everyone involved, and their families.

My heart, in particular, goes out to Wes Borland, who left the band, and then came back to make this record. He's a talented guitarist, and it's a shame that he came back to make this: An album that makes the collected songs of the cast of Star Trek seem like The White Album. It's the worst record that Rage Against The Machine never got a chance to make.

And speaking of Rage, the "new Rage" has put out two really fucking good records since that got rid of that commie that used to front the band. Why doesn't Limp Bizkit take a page from the Rage playbook, and unload their awful frontman in favor of one who can actually sing, and write listenable songs? Musically, Limp Bizkit is not a bad band. Listen to songs like "Nookie" and "My Generation"; there's some subtle and interesting music there. Pretty good stuff, until Fred Durst opens his mouth and sings whatever gay thing he thinks passes for lyrics. It's gay to the point of going so far past gay, that it comes all the way back around to hetro.

Seriously, lose this retard. I'm sure there's a sea lion or a candy wrapper or something out that has less songwriting inability than Fred Durst. Get rid of him, and get to making some real records.

House of Wax

Saw the new remake of House of Wax this weekend. Some random thoughts:

--It's good to finally see a good, old-fashioned R-rated horror movie again, instead of the PG-13 tweenybopper crap that passes for horror movies nowadays.

--This movie and Deliverance just prove my theory that hillbillies are not to be trusted. This is why, living in a hillbilly town as I do, I never leave the house.

--It never occurred to me that you could SuperGlue someone's lips together. Now I know.

--I also didn't realize that wax is strong enough to make buildings out of, yet weak enough to melt in fire. Who knew?

--For being a well-to-do, High Society-type person, Paris Hilton dies a particularly gruesome and prolonged death. One might expect her to die of something more along the lines of a broken finger nail.

--The 1953 version of House of Wax starred Vincent Price and Charles Bronson, and was the first movie shown in 3-D. The 2005 version of House of Wax stars Elisha Cuthbert and Paris Hilton, and is notable for no reason in particular (other than getting to see Elisha and Paris in their underwear).

One might expect the "House of Wax" genre to be limited to this movie and the original. But there's actually a plethora of "Wax" movies out there. This is not the best one, but not the worst, either. Watch it if you happen to find a ticket in the street.

Weezer Doesn't Disappoint...

...And I don't mean that in a good way.

A couple of weeks ago, I predicted that, based on the first single, the new Weezer album would suck. And now, having heard it once through, I consider myself to be the next Nostradamus, as the album does suck.

"Why does it suck," you ask? Because they've already made this album approximately four times. Every song sounds like another song they've already made. And they're not even good ripoffs. Just bad.

Save your money, and go buy the new Audioslave record when it comes out.

Last Five Movies

The Amityville Horror (2005)
Well, when you have a horror movie produced by Michael Bay, it's going to suck (just as the remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre sucked). And this movie, produced by Michael Bay, does indeed suck. Of course, the original version of The Amityville Horror sucked, so why should an inferior remake be any different? (Alias fans will be pleased to know that you nearly get to see Melissa George naked, but there's not much to recommend other than that.)

Meet the Fockers (2004)
As is the rule in Hollywood, whenever a movie makes money, there has to be a sequel. And since Meet the Parents made money, there has to be a sequel. And here it is. It's not really a movie, per se, as one expects a movie to have some sort of story or screenplay or some connective ideas. Fockers basically seems like they got the cast of Parents back together, added Hoffman and Streisand, and just filmed whatever happened. This is, historically, a bad way to make movies (witness Lethal Weapon 4, a movie that was made up as they went along), but (like Lethal Weapon 4) it produces some pretty funny results. And, much like with Anchorman, which is a terrible movie, but is funnier than fuck, it's sometimes funny to watch people waste a movie studio's money.

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004)
Now here's a movie with a script, a very good script, well adapted from the popular series of childrens' books. The problem with this movie is that Jim Carrey doesn't appear to have read that script. He's just out there beboppin' and scattin' all over this bitch. Which is really too bad, because, when he's not in the movie, it's pretty enjoyable. But, he is the star, so he's in it a lot. When are people going to figure out the Carrey has become the Robin Williams of this generation: That his shit was funny 10 years ago, but 10 years of the same schtick ain't gettin' any funnier. Go watch Ace Ventura instead.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005)
Here's a literary adaptation to kill all adaptations. The Hitchhiker series of books has a huge fanbase, and I'm sure when Doug Adams died, fans exhumed his body so they could masturbate to him in person, instead of to his book jacket photo. That being said, I'm not sure the Hitchhiker movie will please them at all, as it seemed like a cluttered mess to me, someone who hasn't read the books. I didn't necessarily like it. (It's real purty to look at though). The one fan of the books that I spoke to didn't like it. Therefore, no one likes this movie. You won't either.

Well, seeing as I've shit on everything else, that would make the best movie I've seen recently:

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)
A really trippy movie, made during a particularly fucked up time in Sam Peckinpah's life. It's Sin City without all the noir elements.
A wealthy Mexican rancher is upset with Alfredo Garcia, as he has impregnated one of his young relations. "El Jefe" orders his lieutenants to "Bring me the head of Alfredo Garcia!" for a million dollar bounty. Enter Bennie (Warren Oates), a down-on-his-luck piano player, who sees this bounty as a primo way to get out of Mexico. Plus, he knows the one thing that no one else knows: That Alfredo is already dead, and won't necessarily miss his head. So, Bennie and his girlfriend begin a cross-country trip to Alfredo's grave to procure the head (and the reward). And what a long, strange trip it is. Next to The Wild Bunch, this is Peckinpah's best. Check it out.

I'm Soooo Embarrassed

When I attended Marquette University, our team logo was the Warrior. During my senior year (95-96), the powers-that-be decided that the Warrior logo was offensive to no one who actually paid money to attend the school, and, therefore, needed to be changed. Hell, that had only been the logo for 40+ years, and any alumnus who was contributing money to the school probably attended as a Warrior. But, fuck the students and alumni; who really gives a shit what you want anyway, right?

So, a vote was held to decide on a new name. Two choices were given (how these choices were picked or why "Warriors" wasn't one of the choices was never disclosed): The Golden Eagles or The Faggots. (I actually voted for Faggots, but the majority voted for the gayer name.) And so, based on the results of the "vote," in 1995, the Marquette Warriors were rechristened the Marquette Golden Eagles. And no one rejoiced.

Fast forward 10 years. Since the name change, there has been much lobbying to have the Warrior name returned. In 2004, two members of Marquette's Board of Trustees, which makes decisions like what the school's logo should be, volunteered to donate $2 million to the school to have the name changed back. While the school declined that offer, it did authorize the Board to look into a name change. And, yesterday, it happened: The long-awaited name change. Yes, my friends, I am proud to announce that, as of today, Marquette is now the Home of The Gold.

The Marquette fucking Gold. This is our return to glory? I am thoroughly fucking embarrassed.

Quiz Of The Day

Just because I'm in one of those moods, here's a pop quiz: What were the three miracles mentioned by Sam Jackson in Pulp Fiction? Shiny star to the first correct response! (If you have to watch the movie to find out, you're really not as smart as you thought you were, are you?)

Fat AND Funny!!

Seeing as Rosie O'Donnell has recently moved her blog to her new website, I thought now was the perfect time to draw your attention to her har-har-harlarious Blogger blog, before it's shut down due to lack of interest. Enjoy! (Seriously, the novel my grampa's pet chimp wrote is more intelligible than anything on this blog. And that was a fucking chimp, for Christ's sake!!)

And speaking of fat people making me laugh, Andy Milonakis (the kid pictured above), who bears a strong resemblance to Rosie O'Donnell, is probably going to be the next Eminem. This one freestyle rap is funnier than than Rosie O'Donnell's entire career. Peep it:

Crispy New Freestyle (courtesy of GorillaMask)

That Time Of Year Again...

Just like millions of Mexicans celebrating my birthday (and Liz Phair writing a song about it), it can't be wrong that my birth month is also Mustache May: The one month of the year in which you are allowed to grow a mustache without fear of retribution. For details on this annual month-long celebration, check out the "official" website. Remember: It's a celebration, not a contest.

(I should note that, even with Mustache May being my "special" month, I will not be participating in the festivities, as 1) I am physically unable to grow a mustache, and 2) in my book, mustache = homosexuality. More power to everyone else, though!)

"Where Are All The Fuckin' Ninjas?"

Not in this movie, as ninjas are Japanese, and House of Flying Daggers is Chinese. Not that it matters, because even Godzilla couldn't have made this a better movie.

House is director Yimou Zhang's follow-up to the incredibly successful Hero. Like Hero, House is a ridiculously beautiful kung fu movie. And, like Hero, it features the oh-so-purty Ziyi Zhang. And, unfortunately, like Hero, it's fatally flawed by Zhang's inability to tell a story.

House tells the story of an Chinese army captain, Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro), sent to find the House of Flying Daggers. The Flying Daggers are a group of assassins. Jin goes undercover as a rogue to follow a blind Dagger, Mei (Ziyi Zhang), the daughter of the Daggers' former leader. Even though Jin knows his mission is to find the Daggers and to make sure Mei doesn't get away, he does something very stupid, and falls in love with her. This is also where the movie does something very stupid, and decides to follow the wrong plotline.

This movie has two major problems. The first is that it pulls a major switcheroo on the viewer. Remember Gladiator, that perfectly shitty Best Picture winner from a few years ago? Remember how the ending promised us a full-out assault on Rome, and, when the ending came, turns out it was just a knife fight? Same deal here. We anticipate the Chinese Army storming the House of Flying Daggers, and for some real shit to happen. We're even teased with a beautiful shot of the army, clad in green, silently approaching the Daggers' lair through a bamboo forest. Do we get to see some shit? Well, no...

...because of this movie's second problem: It's not really a kung-fu movie. It's a romance cleverly disguised as a kung-fu movie. And that's why there's no war at the end of this, because the movie has to resolve its primary plot, which is the love story between Jin and Mei. No time for kung-fu fighting; we wanna see what happens to these star-crossed lovers!! Zhang's Hero was saddled with a similar burden that basically ruined that film (that, and the fact that it told the same story roughly two too many times). This type of film can be pulled off (witness Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), but this isn't it. Zhang probably needs to go back to making straight romance movies, instead of gearing me up for some serious ass kicking, only to disappoint me with all this lovey-dovey bullshit. Skip this, and go see Kung-Fu Hustle instead. Now there's a kung-fu movie!

Retard Of The Year Award

Seeing as how the original lineup of Dinosaur Jr. recently reuninted to go out on a concert tour, I thought it would be a good time to recount how a Dinosaur Jr. concert led me to be named Retard of the Year for 2003.

On November 5, 1994, a friend and I attended a Dinosaur Jr. concert at The Riviera Theater in Chicago. A good time was had by all.

A number of months later, I went into a local record store and noticed that they were selling a number of Frank Kozik silkscreen concert posters. I've always enjoyed Kozik's work, so I decided to pick one up. Looking through the posters, the only band represented that I had ever heard of was Dinosaur Jr. So, I purchased that poster (the one pictured above) for the bargain price of $12. (To see what it sells for now, click here.) Because this was a legitimate piece of art (albeit, a very ugly piece), signed and numbered by Kozik himself, I framed it and hung it on my wall. And, regardless of where I've lived or what else has been hanging on the walls, this poster has always been hanging on my wall.

Fast forward to 2003. That poster is still hanging on my wall. One day, I just happened to glance at the poster, and actually looked at it for the first time in my life. The poster advertises a concert for Dinosaur Jr., Come, and Juned. "Hey, I went to a Dinosaur Jr., Come, and Juned concert once!" The poster claims the concert was on November 6 at The Metro in Chicago. "Hey, the concert I went to was on November 5 at The Riviera in Chicago!" After having had this poster on my wall for eight years, it finally dawned on me that not only had I been to a show on this tour, but I had been to the one the day before the one advertised on the poster. An almost totally random purchase that I based on nothing but preference in bands had turned up a poster for a concert that I had missed by one day. An incredible statistical anomaly, and one my subconscious mind probably realized right off the bat, but took the rest of my brain eight years to get the joke. And, hence, I was crowned Retard of the Year in 2003, for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Incredible Oversight (and probably, retroactively, for the previous eight years I had failed to notice this). Way to go, Hero!!

Poll Of The Week

If you've watched any of the assorted entertainment news shows (Extra, Access Hollywood, The Insider, etc.) in the past six months, you'll know that, every day, there is always a feature on the "housewives" of Desperate Housewives. Needless to say, it was Tabloid TV heaven when the story broke that the photoshoot for this month's cover of Vanity Fair, which features the Housewives, was nearly not-to-be when Marcia Cross walked off the shoot, due to the attention being lavished on Teri Hatcher. Catfight!!

So, as a tribute to Tabloid TV, I'll ask the question they ask every day: Who's your favorite Housewife? Don't know about you, but I'd have been lavishing more attention on the one that walked out than the ones that stayed.

U.S. Mint Loses They Damn Mind

The other day, I was picking up some change off of the coffee table, and noticed an odd looking coin. "What foreign currency have I been duped into taking now," I asked myself. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it wasn't a krone or a drachma I was looking at, but a U.S. nickel. And a very goofy nickel, at that (see picture above).

Here's a question: Why redesign something that has been the same since 1938, the first year of the "Jefferson" nickel? I realize that eventually people get tired of the "same old, same old." This is why car companies change car models every five years or so ("The Dodge Dart: All New for 1967"), why household goods companies add new ingredients to their products ("Now with Teflon!"). Manufacturers know that people won't buy a product if they get bored with it, so they mix it up to keep it new and fresh.

But, see, those are things that you have to buy. If you don't like them, you don't spend money them. The nickel is a different story. It is money. People are going to use it regardless. It could have a picture of a turd, with the slogan, "Fuck you, Jesus!" and people would still use it, because they have no choice.

So, why change it? Did they get some polling data that indicated that use of the nickel was down, due to its 67 year old design? Last year, the nickel went through a bit of a makeover, with the reverse of the coin containing a couple of new designs. The same has been going on with the quarter, the reverse now representing the States of the Union, but the front of the quarter is still the same. Paper money has also undergone a transformation, but this is to combat counterfeiting: a problem not relevant in coinage. (Wait until we get goofy, foreign-looking, colored paper money!)

The nice thing about the coins was that they were all, stylistically, the same: The profile of the President on one side, the whatever on the other side. Now, we have an "All New for 2005" nickel that doesn't look like any other piece of currency. What's up with only half of Jefferson's head? When I first picked up the coin, I expected to turn it over and see the other half. (I was disappointed to find a buffalo, returning to the back after a 67 year absence.) Tres ugly! Maybe the U.S. Mint will return to their senses and put the nickel back the way it was. Or, worse, make all the other coins look like that. It would make for some ugly coins, but would make for a neat history lesson for our kids: "When I was a boy, little Jimmy, coins had the President's entire head on them! What crazy times we lived in!!"

"Sign, S-S-Sign Up Now, Girl"

"If you and y'alls peeps wanna holla, you best sign up for a GGG-GMail account. This the shiznits, for real."

GGG-GMail

'Roids: They're All The Rage

Major League Baseball once again flexed its anti-steroid muscle by suspending 41 more players since Monday. Wow: Four days, 42 players. At this rate, every player in organized ball will have a suspension by the end of the season.

Well, probably not. Honestly, I don't think that, regardless of the number of tests performed, the number of suspensions will exceed 100. "Why," you ask? Because it's bad business.

When a players' strike caused the cancellation of the 1994 World Series, the fans responded in kind by not showing up for games the next year. And this went on until the 1998 Home Run Derby by Sosa and McQwire got people interested in baseball again. (It's ironic that two men credited with saving baseball are also two men whose names have been linked to steroid use.) Since then, baseball has been doing alright. But a rash of high profile steroid suspensions could put an end to that.

In order to get people to watch baseball, MLB has to present an interesting product. And in order to present an interesting product, it needs great players to do incredible things. And in order for some players to do great, incredible things (and this applies to all sports, not just baseball), they have to take steroids. (That may sound like bullshit, but peep this: Last year, three former MVPs admitted to steroid use during their MVP seasons; reality bites sometimes.)

What would happen to baseball if suddenly everyones' favorite players got busted for steroids and (worst case scenario) got banned from the game? Seventy home runs is exciting; 25 is not. Leading the league with 12 home runs may have been exciting in Ty Cobb's day, but the stakes are much higher now, and people have come to expect waaay more from players. With all of our (possibly) performance enhanced players on suspension, people would stop watching, regardless if it's now a "clean" game or not. The only reason there is a "new" steroid policy is because the Commissioner got so sick of hearing people bitch about steroids that he came up with this "steroid policy". But he's not stupid. He knows that busting suspect players like Bonds and Sosa would not only taint those players' accomplishments, but would taint baseball as well. And with as much trouble as baseball has had in the past with putting asses in seats, he's not going to jeopardize any good relations he's built with fans by fucking with their favorite players. People don't actually want these players to get suspended or thrown out of the game; they just want to know that what they suspect about them is true.

So, we'll get some more Bush Leaguer suspensions, maybe some B-list major leaguer sacrificial lambs, but the chances of big names like Bonds or Sosa getting busted are about as good as Pope JP2 coming back from the dead and curing cancer. I suspect that Bonds will become a decent, caring person before he ever gets busted for steroids. And that "decent/caring" thing isn't gonna happen anytime soon.

Now, I'm Really Scared

Seven was already a scary movie to start with, but this reenactment of the final scene is made even more terrifying by the presence of a Boohbah:

SCARY!! (courtesy of CG Gallery)

One Deadly Sin

I don't know: Maybe my expectations were fucked up on Sin City. I enjoyed the comics; I enjoy Bob Rodriguez's movies. Why isn't this a good fucking movie?

Because, it's the best fucking movie I've seen this year. (Yes, I realize it's only April, but gimme a break.) I guess I expected a warmed-over version of the comics, something that just followed the plot. When I heard they were making a movie of the Sin City comics, I thought, "No fucking way are they going to adapt this straight up. It's too dark." Well, what do I know: This thing follows the comics down to the panel. You could take stills from the film and match them directly to panels in the comic. That is a slamdunk adaptation.

As attempting to describe the plot of this movie is nearly impossible, some random thoughts:

--High definition digital video (HDDV) is going to kill film as a filmmaking format. While I still think that regular DV (like you can buy at the store) is total dogshit, HDDV may be the future. While regular film does actually have more resolution than HDDV, it's only on the negative, and is gets waterered down in the transfer to a positive print. Plus, any transfer to a widescreen format cuts resolution, as cropping and enlarging a square 35mm film cell into a rectangle automatically decreases resolution. Lighting for film is a nightmare, as what your eye sees and what the camera sees as colors are two different things. Also, you fuck something up, you just wasted film that now goes right into the toilet. Truly, a nightmare medium. HDDV has none of these problems. There's a reason why George Lucas, one of our more innovative filmmakers (no, seriously: He's figured out how to remake the original Star Wars movies in 3D), has used HDDV for his last two movies. (Wow, that got really technical; let's go back to the fluff.)

--Speaking of digital whatnot, I understand Rodriguez is allll about making epic scale movies for no money, but, seriously, man, you need to spend more than $20 on effects. Some of the effects shots in this movie are embarrassingly bad. Look at Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow: Made for relatively little money, shot in a fashion similar to Sin City, but great effects. That's because that movie was made by a digital animation company: They can do as much as they want on the effects. You can't go to an FX company and say, "Guys, here's the effects shots I need, and here's a $50 to cover costs." You end up with South Park style cars made from construction paper. You gotta spend some money if you want to make things look good. And don't try to blame it off on the quality of digital video; watch the trailer for Revenge of the Sith (which was shot in HDDV) and tell me how much of that looks fake. And speaking of bad FX...

--Let's settle on one color for blood. I realize that, in the comics, which are in black and white, that blood is white. And that's fine if you want the blood in the movie (which is also in black & white) to be white. But, when you also have blood that is red, well, that white blood kiiiinda looks like bird shit. Just something to think about for your next black & white movie.

--Jessica Alba has the biggest lips I've ever seen on a human woman. (I've seen bigger lips on a few mares, but Jessica is not a horse.) Her lips could beat Angelina Jolie's in a fist fight any day.

--Did Tarantino actually direct a scene in this movie? Allegedly, he directed the scene with Dwight and Jackie Boy in the car on the way to the tarpits. Seeing as how it isn't any different in tone or style from the rest of the movie, nor does it suck donkey dick like nearly every Tarantino project post-Pulp Fiction, I seriously doubt the validity of this claim. He may have been on the set during the shooting, but I don't think he had a hand in it. (I will say that if Pulp Fiction had a sequel, it would be this movie.)

--Clive Owen is about to get very famous. Especially if Brosnan does actually bow out, and Owen becomes the next James Bond. (While he's actually underutilized here, check out Closer and I'll Sleep When I'm Dead; mufucka can act.)

--For fans of the comics: If there's anyone more perfect than Mickey Rourke for Marv, you let me know. And I'll punch you right in the face for lying.

Seriously, go see this movie right now. It's just great fun for the whole family. (And go buy the comics too.)

"I'm So Doped Up, I Don't Even Know What Team I'm On!"

Major League Baseball decided to punch the MLB Player's Association in the balls on Opening Day by touting the effectiveness of its new steroid policy. But, instead of busting out a big name like Bonds or Sosa or Giambi, the Commissioner's Office presented us with...Alex Sanchez. (I know you're probably asking, "Who the fuck is Alex Sanchez," as I'm sure the rest of baseball, and possibly Sanchez himself, is as well.) Sanchez vehemently denies these charges, saying, "I'm going to fight it, because I've never taken steroids or anything like that...I never take any steroids because I don't need them." Uh, sure.

Actually, I don't think that Sanchez did take any type of anabolic steroid or human growth hormone. But what I don't think he realizes that there are actually more than just steroids on the "steroid" list. Substances available over the counter, such as ephedra and diuretics, are considered performance enhancing drugs. And I think that's what this knucklehead doesn't realize: You don't have to take steroids to get suspended for taking steroids.

Sanchez has also been quoted as saying, "I take stuff I buy over the counter. Multivitamins, protein shakes, muscle relaxants. That kind of stuff." Well, when you were buying this "over the counter" stuff, did you bother to check if any of it contained any of the banned substances? You can buy ephedra at any drugstore without a prescription. Does that mean you can load up on it because it's not "steroids"? Of course you can't, ya dummy, cuz it's right there on the list next to anabolic steroids. I don't know if the urban myth that eating poppy seeds will cause you to test positive for opium is true, but wouldn't it be worth the trouble to find out if you knew it was something you'd get busted for? Maybe if you'd taken a little time to actually read the new drug policy, and see exactly what it was you were putting into your body, you'd still be playing. To quote Ron Burgundy: "That's Bush League." Which is probably where Mr. Sanchez will be spending the rest of his playing years.

I'm Going Directly To Hell For This

I know it's inappropriate to make fun of the recent dead, especially when they die slow, painful, and ironic deaths. (I say "ironic" because dying of starvation after being removed from a feeding tube that had to be inserted because she tried to starve herself thin 15 years ago is ironic.) And I know I'm going directly to Hell for posting this, but this is some seriously funny shit:

Terri Schiavo's Blog

J.J. Abrams: Please Report Back To Alias...STAT!

For those of you not up to speed as to what's happening on Alias, here's a quick recap: Sydney Bristow gets a job out of grad school with SD6, a CIA offshoot operation. SD6 is headed by Arvin Sloane, a fervent follower of Milo Rimbaldi, a long dead philosopher/inventor. Sydney's father, Jack, also works for SD6, and eventually tells her that SD6 is actually a terrorist organization, and that he is a double-agent working for the CIA to bring down SD6. SD6 is eventually brought down, but not before Sydney is reunited with her mother, Irina, who was exposed as a KGB spy when Sydney was a child. Sloane escapes during SD6's takedown, and goes on a quest to hunt down the lost "Rimbaldi artifacts". During the manhunt for Sloane, Sydney is put into a coma by the clone of her dead best friend, Francie. When she awakens two years later, her former lover and CIA handler, Vaughn, is married to an NSA agent named Lauren, and Sloane has been found, but turned "state's evidence", and now heads a relief organization. During his quest for Rimbaldi artifacts, Sloane comes to find out he has a daughter, Nadia, with Irina, and that she may hold the key to some of Rimbaldi's secrets. Vaughn, meanwhile, discovers that Lauren is actually a double agent working with Sark, one of Sloane's former SD6 cronies, which makes him mad enough to kill her, which he does.

There. That about catches it up for three seasons worth of episodes. If it sounds like a lot to take in, you have no idea: I've left out a dozen or so plot lines, because I just don't have the space to type them all. It's probably the most densely plotted show with this small of a cast. (Shows like ER and The West Wing have more plot, but they also have 5000 cast members each.) It's a show I've enjoyed since I started watching late in Season One.

But I've noticed something odd about this season. Whereas, in past years, there were about a million things going on in one episode, this year, the show's plots run like this: Sydney and the Scooby Gang are given a mission; they go do the mission; they return home to hugs and kisses. Wash, rinse, repeat. Thirteen episodes of basically the same show every week. So, why does an incredibly complex show suddenly stop being complex? What happened?

Lost happened.

J.J. Abrams, the creator and producer of Alias, is also the creator and producer of ABC's new tentpole show, Lost. Lost, as well as being one of two shows keeping ABC out of fourth place (Desperate Housewives is the other), is also the lead-in for Alias. In fact, Lost did so well at the beginning of the season that ABC actually moved Alias to follow it. "But what does ABC moving a show have to do with a show's decline in quality?" Nothing, actually. But notice I kicked this off by saying that Abrams is the producer of both shows. While I have only seen a couple episodes of Lost, it appears to be more complex than Alias, with a cast twice as large. So, if you're making an incredibly complex show that you want to do really well for the network and draw a lot of people, what happens to the other complex show you also produce? You throw it on the backburner.

Since the beginning, Alias has always had a full seasons worth of episodes (about 30). This year: 14. And its first episode didn't air until January, five months into the current TV season. Why? Because who has time to come up with new ideas for some spy show when you're coming up with new variations of Lord of the Flies every week; it's easier to just cut-and-paste old Mission: Impossible scripts together. (Truth be told, Alias has recently been coming up with some things that appear to have future payoffs; shit, there are still things from previous seasons that haven't paid off yet.)

There's a reason why David E. Kelly only has one show on TV now: you can't produce multiple serialized hour-long shows without out having at least one suffer. (Kelly had Ally McBeal, Boston Public, and The Practice all on at the same time; all suffered from Kelly's divided attention.) You just can't sustain the creative pace needed to keep multiple shows interesting. The only person who has been able to pull it off is Dick Wolf, creator of the Law and Order empire. But his shows succeed because they are stand-alones: you don't have to have seen any previous episodes to enjoy them. There is no character development, no story arc; just an interesting plot every week. Unfortunately, this is what has become of Alias. After investing three years into these characters' lives, suddenly, it's just about some people going on a mission (and about Sydney dressing in a costume: a feature that has annoyingly been incorporated into the credits), and that blows.

Here's what Abrams needs to do: Pick a show and go with it. Give another creative team your notes for the other, and let it go. If you have to pull a "Kelly" and shitcan one of them, so be it. But do something, and quick. This two-show bullshit seriously fucks with my Alias enjoyment.

Ringing In My Ears

I'll start this by saying that I'm a huge fan of the Japanese movie Ringu, and have been for a long time. (I'll use the Japanese names for the Japanese movies, and American for American, just to avoid confusion.) So long, in fact, that I own a VHS dub of the movie, because, when I bought it, the movie was unavailable on Region 1 or 0 DVD. Loved that one so much that I bought the rest in the series: Ringu 2 and Ringu 0: Birthday, also on VHS dubs, because they aren't available on DVD either. And I'm not the only one who loves the original Ringu. It was one of the highest grossing movies in Japanese history, and it spawned hundreds of imitators. At one point, every horror movie released in Southeast Asia featured a doppleganger of Sadako, the friendly ghost from Ringu. So, of course, it was only a matter of time of time before Hollywood, the Land of No Original Ideas, got in on the action. (I assume that, since Pearl Harbor, all Americans are afraid of Japanese people, and would rather see American actors instead of scary Japanese actors. So, we get remakes instead of rereleases.) And, hence, The Ring.

And, as it turns out, The Ring was actually pretty good. It's a noisy, glossy, stepped-on version of Ringu, but, for those who haven't seen that, it's a pretty scary movie. (A note on the title of The Ring: The "ring" of the title refers to the halo of light around the opening of the top of the well, as seen from the bottom: a literal "ring" of light. I always thought "ring" referred to the ringing of the phone. After reading Koji Suzuki's recently translated source material, I now know that "ring" refers to the infinite loop created by the spreading of the cursed video. A pretty highminded idea, yes, and not one that Hollywood seemed to grasp. So they invented the whole thing about an actual ring: THE Ring.) And it was a big hit. So, you know what comes next: The Ring 2.

I'll start this by saying The Ring 2 is one of the lower forms of entertainment: a sequel of a remake. And it is pretty lowly entertainment. But it's not entirely the producers' fault. If they'd have gone with a remake of Ringu 2, they'd have a train wreak on their hands, because Ringu 2 itself is a train wreak. (There were actually two sequels to Ringu, produced independently of one another: Rasen, which follows Suzuki's book of the same title, and Ringu 2, an original work by Hideo Nakata, the director of Ringu (and, ironically, The Ring 2). Ringu 2, probably because it contained "Ringu" in the title, was a hit, and Rasen flopped.) Not that they could have anyway, because they altered the story of Ringu so much, that none of the events in Ringu 2, if presented straightforwardly in a remake, would have made any sense. But Ringu 2 is still enjoyable, because it's such gonzo filmmaking. Two minor characters from Ringu are the main characters, there are about 50 plot threads, it has more scary bits than Ringu, and gets so fucking goofy toward the end that it's hard not to enjoy. The Ring 2 is also pretty fucking goofy, but not in an enjoyable way.

Rachel and Aidan, the deadbeat mom and creepy kid from the first movie, are back again. They've moved away from Seattle to little Astoria after the events of The Ring. (It's odd that no mention is made of the fact that Rachel had to kill her father to relieve her son of the "video curse", but I guess that's not important.) But, just when they think they're out, they get pulled back in when a copy of the cursed tape resurfaces and kills once again. I actually don't know why I mentioned this plot point, as it is never mentioned again in the film; it's just a scary bit to start the movie, I suppose. (This movie also fails to solve a logical problem that also occurs in Ringu 2: If only Rachel made a copy of the tape, how do more turn up? Maybe I'm thinking too much; I guess this is why I'm not a screenwriter.) This reappearance of the killer tape does bring to Rachel's attention the fact that her son is slowly being possessed by Samara, that lovely ghost from the tape. And so, we're off on just a really great adventure!

Actually, not really. I thought having Nakata, the director of the Ringu movies, on board would make this a good movie, but he's apparently had his ability to create suspense, inherent in all Asian directors, sucked out of him. He's Hollywood all the way now. And this movie isn't suspenseful at all. The Girl, a notorious loud noise jumper, remained planted in her seat like the Rock of Gibraltar: A very bad indicator for an allegedly "scary" movie. It also doesn't make any sense; mind you, Ringu 2 didn't make any sense either, but at least it had the sense to get so far off the boat that it didn't matter. The Ring 2 is just not good. Don't see it. You'll thank me later. And speaking of later...

Later this summer, a movie called Dark Water is coming out. It too, like The Rings 1 and 2, is an American remake of a Nakata/Suzuki collaboration. When that comes out, do yourself a favor: Track down Ringu, Ringu 2, and Honogurai Mizu No Soko Kara (the Japanese title for Dark Water), and watch them instead. Then you'll really see what happens when you put these two Japanese Masters of Horror together. They suck ass on this side of the Pacific; they're much better on their home turf.

Britain Finally Beats U.S. At Something

Tonight was the premiere of The Office, the new docucomedy featuring lovable moron Steve Carell. I'm sure people watched this and just thought it was funnier than shit (or not, depending on your taste in comedy). What most people don't realize is that this show is actually a remake of a BBC show called The Office. (For my feelings on remakes, see My Last Five Movies.) Now, this has been done before (usually quite unsuccessfully), but usually the UK and US shows are so different, that it's hard to make an apples-to-apples comparison. The neat thing here is that the pilot for the US Office is exactly the same as the UK Office. They took the script, changed the jokes, made the actors Americans, but otherwise, exactly the same. Unfortunately, this was a dreadful mistake, because it proves to me the UK version is better.

For those of you who haven't seen the original, go do so right now. (Better yet, just buy it now.) Ricky Gervais, who created the show, and also plays David Brent, has created a character so obliviously stupid, that I am literally embarrassed for him every time he comes on screen. (The Girl quite often covers her face and says "Oh my God" every time he does something stupid.) It's such a convincing portrayal that I actually have no problem believing that David Brent is a real person. And that's the brilliance of the show: It could be an actual documentary. There isn't anything that seems fake. Sure, some of the characters (Gareth and David) are really ridiculous, but they're played right at the edge of going into camp. You can look at them, and say, "Wow, that's just like that asshole [insert name] that I work with." It works beautifully on this show, but, unfortunately, it's why the American version fails.

I'll come right out and say that Steve Carell is a funny guy. Anyone who saw his bit in Bruce Almighty can attest to that. But, being a Daily Show alum, he's from the "Saying Ridiculous Things With A Straight Face" School of Comedy (kinda like how Mike Myers is from the "Beat A Joke To Death Like On Saturday Night Live" School of Comedy). The fact that I can compare his performance in the US pilot scene for scene to Gervais' in the UK pilot shows me that he's the wrong guy for this role. I'm sure he watched the UK version and said, "Oh, he's playing it straight, and then throwing in these little wacky bits. I can do that. Did it on The Daily Show for years." But that's not what Gervais is doing. He's not playing anything: He is David Brent. I'm sure he's not a mongoloid retard like Brent in real life, so he's obviously channeling this oddball character from somewhere. But Carell isn't channeling anything. He's imitating. And anyone who's seen a zombie movie made after 1978 knows you can imitate all you want, but it doesn't make you Dawn of the Dead. He's trying too hard. It's like he's trying to top on Gervais. But if you're going to top on one of the most brilliantly stupid characters ever portrayed on TV, you better bring some major shit to the table. And he doesn't. It's a nice try, but it's an impossible to be better. (I'll also note that Rainn Wilson, who plays Dwight, is not even close to being half the asshole that Mackenzie Crook, as Gareth, was in the original. That's tragic, because Gareth's the second best character.)

So, next Tuesday, I'll watch again, because, well, the show is funny. (Actually, I'll tape it, because it's on at the same time as House, M.D., a show The Girl and I and everyone else in America watches at that time.) Maybe once they get to their own original material it will get better. But if they continue to just do scene-for-scene remakes of the originals, I'll be tuning out. I've seen Hitchcock's Psycho; no reason for me to see Van Sant's. Same deal here.

Rockin' & Weezin'

Depending on how "cutting edge" your local "rock" station is, you may or may not have heard the first single, "Beverly Hills", off of Weezer's new record, Make Believe. Having heard it for the first time today, two things surprised me: 1) For a first single, it really sucks, and 2) It sounds exactly like "Undone (The Sweater Song)". It also brings up something that I've been kicking around in my head for quite some time: When did Weezer become a Weezer Tribute Band?

I think it happened with the release of Weezer, Part Deux: The Green Album. Their first album, Weezer, was just great, and, buoyed by some excellent Spike Jonez videos, everyone loved it. Their second record, Pinkerton, for no particular reason, was reviled by everyone, even though it was just as good as Weezer. (Sure, they changed their sound a little, but it wasn't as big of a difference as between, say, Metallica's ...And Justice For All and The Black Album). So, they took five years off, and realized the old ways are the best ways, and remade Weezer as Weezer 2. And suddenly, Weezer is the best band in the world. Rock critics couldn't write enough about how Rivers Cuomo was the world's greatest rock-angst songwriter (even though he was just taking '50s and '60s pop melodies and turning the amps up, much like Pearl Jam did with "Last Kiss"). Revitalized by this burst of good will, they fly back to the studio and crank out Maladroit, an album aptly described by its title. Even though there are some good songs on the record, most of it sounds like Weezer going, "Look at us! We are rocking harder than Weezer ever did!!" Uh, guys, that's great if you're a tribute band called Buddy Holly, but you are Weezer. You already rock. Are you trying to be Van Halen or Boston or some other shitty arena rock band? If so, you need to knock it the fuck off and get back to doing what you do best: making catchy pop tunes. Did Linkin Park try to top on Hybrid Theory? No, they just released the same record and renamed it Meteora. Stop getting caught up in the "Greatest Rock Band" thing and trying to take it to the next rock level. You're going to end up like Styx, and end up kicking Rivers out for fagging out your band. You guys are too good to let that happen. Please, let Make Believe be Weezer Part Trois: Greatest Album Ever. All will be forgiven.

P.S. All of this venting may be for naught, as their new record may turn out to be the greatest record ever. But I won't know 'til it comes out. I may be eating crow here shortly, but, if the new single is any indication, I don't think so.

Some Kind Of Good Movie

Usually, when you have a documentary about a musical group, they fall into two categories: the concert movie (like The Last Waltz or Woodstock) or the life of the band (like This Is Spinal Tap). Some Kind Of Monster, a documentary on Metallica, falls into the second category. Actually, it's kinda scary how similar this movie is to This Is Spinal Tap. It's almost as though Metallica has co-opted Spinal Tap's comedically tragic life as their own. (Fans of the movie will remember that Spinal Tap also released a Black Album.)

The film is very much in the style of the Behind The Music TV show. But, unlike that show, it doesn't focus on all the adversity the band has had to face to become the smash hit they are today. Randy Rhodes doesn't die; Nikki Sixx doesn't O.D.; Steve Perry isn't kicked out of the band. Monster (and here we go back to the Spinal Tap thing once again) is basically just two years in the life of Metallica. Without resorting to melodramatic elements (although James does go to rehab, and Jason quits the band), it tells the story of how one of the best bands in the world puts together St. Anger. How does a band that's been together for 20 years, and has no members that are on good terms, get motivated to go into the studio and put together a groundbreaking record that actually allows all of the members to contribute (James and Lars have always been the masterminds) and marks a return to their earlier sound? Simple: Get a therapist.

Yes, Metallica is so fucked up that they actually bring in a group therapist to hash out 20 plus years of differences. The therapy sessions are the best part of the movie, because of all of the years of pent-up frustration coming out in the open. It makes James and Lars look like two of the biggest egomaniacs of all time. It also contains one of the best parts of the movie: A cameo appearance by former Metallica member Dave Mustaine. Here's a man that, 22 years after being kicked out of the band, is still haunted by the fact that he was once in what became one of the most successful bands ever.

The other relevatory part of the movie is the production of the record. In the past, everyone came to the studio, James and Lars bringing the songs with them, and telling everyone else what to play. This time out, they come to the studio with nothing. They get in there and just jam for hours, and everyone contributes. It's kinda cool that these guys getting together and jamming is eventually morphed into St. Anger (an album I didn't really care for, but it's a neat process).

There is one thought that never occurred to me before seeing this movie: I feel bad for Kirk Hammett. Here's a guy who knows he's in the best rock band in the world, and probably thanks Jesus every day for getting the chance to be in the band. He's a great guitarist, and he just wants to make a fucking rock record. But it's hard to get anything done when your bandmates are two warring rock divas, constantly at each others' throats. He's the most normal guy in the band (even though he collects all kinds of weird shit, but he's a fellow movie poster collector, so I'll let that pass), and it's rather heartbreaking that this guy can't do what he loves until the two knuckleheads he works with get right with each other. Ahh, the Life of a Rock Star.

A great movie. Who knew that watching taped therapy sessions would be so fascinating?

"Donde Esta Me Burrito?"

Ha Ha, funny Mexican. Actually, this post has nothing to do with burritos or Mexicans at all. It does have to do with the impending spring season. With spring comes baseball. And with baseball comes all of its inferior siblings, such as softball, and, oh yes, wiffleball.

The Stateline probably has many wiffleball leagues, but only one is crazy enough to change the name of the sport. This, of course, would be the loveable lunatics of WifferBall, Rockford's only non-completely fat guy wiffleball league. As the baseball season is getting under way, I expect the Boys of Wiffer will be getting under way, too.

"But isn't 'wiffle'ball just a step above Tee Ball?" Well, of course it is. But look at these guys' fucking stats! Holy Balls, they're good! My favorite of all the Wiffers is Donut, not because I think he's a good player, but because he's got a funny name. (Ha ha. Donut.) I also enjoy these guys because they allow me to contribute to their site without actually having to attend any games. (Not that I would, regardless; they are usually overrun with the sycophants Mark Strehl brings with him.) A-OK in my book! So, do yourself a favor, and peep some hard wifflebat hittin' niggas here.

Cases Of The Century

Pop quiz, hotshot: Which of the two men above just got sentenced to death? The fella on the right actually appears more busted up to be going free than the Hell-bound man on the left. Some thoughts on yesterday's verdicts:

While I was at the bar yesterday, awaiting the start of the next NTN Trivia session, they announced that Scott Peterson had received a death sentence for the murder of his wife and fetus. What surprised me about this was not the fact he got Death, because I think that was a foregone conclusion, but the weird outpouring of emotion of people not even connected to the case. Whatever news channel I was watching was reporting from the courthouse, and the woman reporting on the proceedings was getting rather frothy at the mouth just talking about it. Others were reaching states of apoplexy. Settle down, people. Unless you're a member of Laci's family, there's really no need for you to be getting this upset. Sure, it's terrible what happened to Laci and Fetus, and Scott is a world-class prick, but he's getting what's coming to him, even if he was convicted on a case based solely on circumstantial evidence and that his actual death will be put off for years by the appellate process. The person I feel sorry for is Amber Frey, whose 15 minutes of fame, after a quick tour through the talk show circuit to discuss this verdict, will be up. Poor Amber; that's what she gets for dating a murderer.

And speaking of cases based on circumstantial evidence, the jury couldn't pin the murder of Bonny Lee Bakley-Blake on Baretta. Despite the fact that, other than the victim, he was the only person at the crime scene, the gun was right there, and he had more than enough motive to do the deed, the jury took a pass. This probably worked out for the best for all parties involved, however. If anything I've heard about Bonny is true, she probably got what was coming to her. To misquote Chris Rock for my own personal use: I don't condone what Robert Blake did, but I understand.

The Dawn of the Poll

As I slowly, slowly learn how to write HTML, I'll try to make some appearance changes on the blog. The easiest thing to do to effect change is to just add something that's already been coded. Hence, The Poll. And, of course, in an attempt to offend everyone, the inaugural question is: If given no choice, would you punch a baby, or kick a baby? Vote away! (I should mention that this poll is for entertainment purposes only, and no children were harmed during the polling. Also, any similarities to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.)

No Surprises Here

Now the college basketball season is officially over and the brackets are out, and, surprise, surprise, Marquette's name is not in there. They did, however, make it into the NIT. But, as I've stated earlier, this will be the last time they will be in any kind of tournament ever again.

As I've also stated before, MU heads to the Big East next year, joining (and taking with them) a lot of really fucking good basketball teams. (The Big East has six teams in the tourney this year, plus Louisville and Cincinnati, who will be members next year.) And I don't see us ever being able to compete at that level. "Well, doesn't basketball go in cycles, where a team is good one year and not the next year?" Well, yes, it does, but here's the thing: Most of the teams in the Big East (and I'll include Louisville and Cincy in this) are known as good basketball schools. They're able to recruit a lot of the best high school talent, because incoming players know these are good programs that are going to do well. Marquette, historically, has been a decent team, but they've always played in a weak conference. Of course you can get players on your team if they think they have a chance to go to the tourney every year. But, in the Big East, prospective players looking at Marquette are going to look at their schedule and say, "Nigga, you crazy you think I wanna play them teams! Shit, I'll just play for one of them teams." Hence, the talent that Marquette could have possibly recruited dries up real fast. Even state talent might head somewhere else in the state, because they have a better chance to compete.

Speaking of which, why didn't Marquette join the Horizon League, which contains mostly Midwestern teams, and even some state teams (UWM and UWGB)? It even contains another one of our bitter Catholic rivals (Loyola). But then, why would we want to join a league in which we could regularly kick the shit out of state schools' bitch asses? I can't help notice that UWM is in the tourney. Why would we want that? We'll just join the State of Pennsylvania League instead. (Pennsylvania is actually right next to Wisconsin, in case you might be confused on your geography.) In fact, now that I've got to talking about it, I really like our chances in the Big East. I can't wait for Western Michigan to kick our asses out of the NIT, so we can get down to some real competition. Next year: Final Four, Baby!!

"Bitch, Be Cool!"

I quote Sam Jackson's line from Pulp Fiction because 1) Pulp Fiction was one of the last good movies that John Travolta has been in, and 2) it contains the title of Travolta's new movie, which I recently saw. But, before I express my opinion on the film (and it will all come together; trust me), let me discuss the slippery slope that has become adapting Elmore Leonard's work to the screen.

Next to Stephen King, Elmore Leornard is probably the most adapted author in the world. (And why wouldn't he be; man is nearly 80 and still turns out a book a year.) The problem with Leonard adaptations used to be that no one understood Leonard's writing. You watch movies adapted from Leonard, like 52 Pick-Up or Stick, and you see a grimy movie with scummy characters that do mean and violent things. And that's exactly how Leonard writes them: He's a hardboiled crime-noir writer. But what's in the books that the movies are missing is Leonard's tongue-in-cheek attitude. He knows no one acts or talks like that in real life, and that's part of his brilliance (other than his gift for dialogue). He's writing the same stories that Jim Thompson wrote in the 50s, but he knows it's all bullshit. He's writing all this hardboiled pulp fiction, and laughing the whole time. And that's the thing that Hollywood screenwriters never seemed to understand about Leonard.

And then came Get Shorty.

For some reason, someone in Hollywood actually sat down and read Leonard's book. Not just the words, but actually read the subtext: that it's all a big joke. "Hey, wait a minute, this shit is actually funny!" And so, Get Shorty comes to the screen and completely slam dunks Leonard's style. Everyone suddenly takes notice that Leonard's work actually has some humor in it, and begins to adapt it with that in mind. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, some confusion ensues. Adaptors begin to think that Leonard's work is to crime fiction as The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is to sci-fi: It's actually a comedy. It gets so bad that Dave Barry writes Big Trouble, a Leonard-esque crime novel without the crime (or the jokes, for that matter), and it, in turn, gets adapted into a movie. For some reason, this now seems to be the Rosetta Stone for interpreting Leonard's work. Which brings us back to Be Cool.

Whereas Get Shorty was a perfect balance between seriousness and comedy, its sequel, Be Cool, is allll about the jokes. There are characters in this movie that exist solely to be funny. (These characters are also in the book, but they don't come off as Laurel-and-Hardyish in the book.) Vince Vaughn, playing a "wigger" music manager, is allowed to just do whatever the fuck he wants for hours at a time. The Rock, playing a gay bodyguard, is made to do some incredibly embarrassing things. There are others, but I'll kill myself listing them off. It's kinda hard to come of as hardboiled when you're trying to win a Razzie.

And then there's the screenplay, which has made an incredibly wrongheaded change in Leonard's story. In Leonard's Be Cool, the main female character is Linda Moon, Christina Milian's character in the movie. Uma Thurman's character, Edie Athens, simply serves as a way for Chili to get into the music business. In the movie Be Cool, the roles are reversed, with Edie as the main female and Linda as Chili's reason for getting into the music biz. Works movie-wise, because Uma is a bigger star than Christina, but it kills the story. The book is about Linda Moon. Linda is the reason Chili wants to get in the biz, and he uses Edie, who owns a record label, to accomplish this. Linda could essentially be written out of the movie with no effect on the story. She's onscreen for about 10 minutes; needless to say, she's not really the focus of the story. But then, neither is Edie or Chili. That honor goes to Raji, Vince Vaughn's character, who, at one point in the movie, I believe, actually began to eat the scenery. Yes, it really is that bad.

After all that slamming I've laid upon the movie, I will say there are some funny bits in the movie. (One of the best is an in-joke that involves how many times you can say "fuck" in a PG-13 movie.) If you're going in blind, you might enjoy it, but I doubt it, because it's really just a terrible movie. If you're a Leonard fan and have read the book, you'll hate it, because, once again, Hollywood wanted to make another Get Shorty, and made another Big Trouble instead.

Yes, I Can Hear You Now

Last month, I posted on the impending merger of Baby Bell SBC with its former parent, AT&T. I claimed that this would create a megacompany with its hands in all aspects of telephony. Well, I stand corrected: There are now two companies that can make this claim.

Mid-February, Baby Bell Verizon agreed to buy the once-mighty WorldCom, the remnants of which are now known as MCI. (Another Baby Bell, Qwest, also offered to buy MCI, but they're debt-ridden, and would have to cut around 15,000 jobs to make the merger. In the business, this is what they call "a bad fit".) This merger creates one of the largest telecommunications companies in the world. If taken in conjunction with the SBC/AT&T merger, we now have two companies that: are the market leaders in residential phone service; are the market leaders in long-distance service; are the market leaders in cell phone service; are the market leaders in broadband internet service; have huge data networks; and have cemented a foothold in the burgeoning VoIP market. This, my friends, is what is known as a duopoly. But, that's not the "Big Deal" of this merger; the "Big Deal" is that the 20 year division between residential and long-distance service has been erased.

Residential phone service is provided through localized networks of phone lines. The service in these networks is restricted to certain regions (the reason for area codes). This network is fine if you want to call someone in the same area, but the restricted nature of these lines don't allow for calls across the country. This is where long-distance lines come in. They are able to carry calls (or data, for that matter) over a "long distance", unlike the local phone lines. In the Ma Bell days, AT&T controlled all phone lines, including the long-distance lines. After the breakup, the Baby Bells had the residential lines, and AT&T retained its long-distance lines. Until the 90s, AT&T was pretty much the only game in town if you wanted long-distance service. Needless to say, they built a fairly large customer base. (They are still the largest long-distance company.) Then, companies like MCI and Sprint began to lay their own long-distance lines, and began to eat away at AT&T's customer base. But this is all just a history lesson. The real point is that, since 1984, residential and long-distance service have been two separate businesses. Oh sure, you could get long-distance service from your residential provider, and vice versa, but what each business is actually doing is leasing the use of the others' lines, and then reselling the service to their customers. (Last year, SBC successfully petitioned the FCC to deregulate the fees associated with reselling their residential service; AT&T stopped offering this service shortly after.) But now, that is all over. When SBC and Verizon acquire the assets of AT&T and MCI, they will own the long-distance lines they once used to rent. It's really a deal you'd be insane not to make: Not only do you effectively kill your residential competition, you now get access to long-distance service for free, and you inherit the total customer base for both. Less competition, less money going out the door, more customers: Why has it taken 20 years for this to happen? Have these companies just now realized the potential of what they can accomplish? I don't think so...

Verizon has gotten well under way with plans to entirely replace its existing phone lines, which are made from copper wire and are very old, with fiber optic cable. Now, this may not seem like a big deal, because there's already a lot of fiber optic cable involved in telephony. But these only run between switching stations or serve as backbones for high-traffic metropolitan networks. The phone line that goes from the switch to the jack in your wall is copper wire. Verizon wants it to be a fiber optic cable. Copper wire is an extremely poor way to transfer data, which is why you can basically only get phone service from your phone line. (You can get broadband internet from it, too, but it's relatively slower than what a cable would provide.) Fiber optic cable can handle much more data at a faster rate. It's actually quite similar to the "cable" lines run by cable TV companies. Oh, speaking of cable TV...

Huge cable TV companies, like Comcast and Cox Communications, also offer phone service. They have cables that are able to handle both telephonic and television transmissions on the same line. The problem is at the end, i.e. your home. Because they don't own any actual phone lines, they have to lease the lines from one of the Baby Bells. They can get the calls from place to place without a phone company's assistance, but they can't actually put them into your home without it. When Verizon's plans come to fruition, they will have done what the cable companies cannot, which is run the cable/phone line right to the jack in your wall.

So, what do these mergers do in the larger scheme of things? Here's how I see things shaking out: SBC and Verizon will begin to offer long-distance service at discounted rates, because they no longer have to pay rent on the lines, and can make up for any price cuts with the added volume. Their residential and cell phone service will remain unchanged, unless SBC and Verizon decide to buy out their shared cell phone businesses from BellSouth and Vodaphone, respectively, then we'll see some price slashing. It makes for lots of competition in the phone biz, but Verizon will take it a step farther. Once they get fiber optic cable into some larger cities (it's only in test markets now), they'll begin to offer digital cable. They'll offer hyper-fast DSL connections (we're talking in the GB range, which is unprecedented in this country). And they may even phase out traditional phone service for VoIP, because, if all of your phone lines are broadband, why wouldn't you?

When I posted on the SBC/AT&T merger, I made it sound like the end of the world. Now that this other merger has happened, I've flip-flopped. I think this will be good for the phone business. One megacompany holding all the cards is a bad thing; two is a good thing. It makes for a lot of bloody price wars that are good for the consumer. Let's just hope the merger fever stops here. Should one (and pray this never happens) buy the other, we're all fucked. Be prepared to take out a second mortgage to pay your phone bill.

New Conference = Ouch

Now that my beloved Marquette Warri...uh, Golden Eagles have been knocked out of the C-USA tourney by the Texas Christian Horned Toads, and their season is essentially over (an NIT bid may be forthcoming, but I'm not holding my breath), let's start looking towards next year.

Next year, Marquette will be changing conferences. This is not necessarily a bad thing for a team of Marquette's caliber, if they were moving to, say, the Patriot League or the Mid-Continent Conference. But they have voluntarily chosen to commit basketball hara-kiri and move to the Big East, one of the, if not the, toughest basketball leagues in the NCAA. There, they will join teams such as Syracuse, Pitt, UConn, Boston College, Georgetown, Villanova, Seton Hall, St. Johns, Providence, and dreaded Catholic rival Notre Dame. If this means nothing to non-NCAA fans, let me lay it out for you: There are currently five ranked teams in this conference, more than any other; teams in this conference have won the NCAA Championship three out of the last six years, including the last two; all but two of the teams listed above have been to the Final Four at least once in the past 20 years, and four of them have won the whole thing. Pretty scary shit. And, as if this wasn't bad enough, Marquette has decided to bring two of the best teams in the nation along with them from Conference USA: Cincinnati and Louisville. (DePaul and S. Florida are also going, but they're worse than Marquette.) So, what you have is a decent team in a mediocre conference becoming a shitty team in the best conference. It's slightly better than moving to the ACC, but it's still pretty bad.

Not to shit on what the Men's team is going to face, but I feel sorriest for the Women's team. Being in the Big East, they'll have plenty of conference games against the UConn Lady Huskies, the most destructive force in Women's basketball. (They've gone 162-15 in the past five years, during which they've won the last three championships.) But don't get me wrong; the Men are fucked, too. It's going to be a hard bunch of years for Marquette basketball. It's too bad we don't have a football team; we might actually win a game in that Big East.

Man Turns Gay In Front Of Friends' Eyes

No real point to this post, other than making good on a threat to a friend of mine that I would publish pictures (and unflattering pictures, at that) of a girl he refused to talk to. Outgoing, eligible male; attractive, apparently unattached female. Made sense to everyone but him. Oh well.

And just for clarification purposes, here's a picture of that friend with two other gentlemen, having a good time:

He is sooo not gay.

My Last Five Movies

In an earlier post, I said I'd let you know if I saw any movies that weren't complete shit. Well, as of yet, nothing. So, I'll just tell you about the last five movies I've seen.

Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow (2004)
Not really of much as a great movie as it is an insane technical achievement. This is probably the most technologically advanced independent movie of all time. The entire movie (sound, effects, production) was done in-house. With the exception of some props like ladders, doorways, etc, the entire movie was shot in front of a greenscreen, and all of the backgrounds were added in later. Something that looks like an office in the movie may actually just be a desk and a doorway, with all the walls and decorations added later. It's actually a really fucking cool way to make a movie. But enough of me beating off to the technical aspects of the movie: Is it any good? Well, it's enjoyable, and some of the robots are neat, but it's really nothing special. Ya know what actually ruined it for me? The fact that it was in color. If you're going to make a movie with an obvious retro look like this one, why not make it in black and white (the movie was actually shot in color, bleached to black and white, and then recolored)? It would have worked much better than the faded sepia tones it sports now. Other than that, it's pretty watchable.

SAW (2004)
What isn't watchable is this terrible movie. What was shown to be some sort of "New Wave of Horror" actually turns out to be an "Old Wave of Toilet Water". The idea of a serial killer who makes his victims kill themselves is a nice twist, but the fun stops there. I'm sure maybe this is a good movie, but there were so many annoying little things that maybe I got distracted from all the goodness. Why is Cary Elwes attempting an American accent? And what's up with him acting like one of the "Queer Eyes" whenever he talks on the phone (and especially at the end)? And what's up with Danny Glover grunting like a pig whenever he moves? And what was up with that embarrassing fast-motion chase scene? And what's up with this movie being so stupid? Beats the shit out of me, on all counts.

I "Heart" Huckabees (2004)
David O. Russell is a strange man. If you look at his filmography, he has all of these weird little movies about weird little things. His last film, Three Kings, is the most normal of the bunch, but compared to other movies of that type, it's really out there. So, he follows up a "normal" movie with what I will describe as one of the goofiest fucking things I have ever seen. To describe it, imagine a Charlie Kaufman movie without all the mindfucking. It's actually very similar in tone to Flirting With Disaster, another Russell movie, but with no real plot to speak of. It's basically Jason Schwartzman trying to figure out the Meaning of Life, with the aid of Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin, all while trying to keep Jude Law from destroying a beloved marsh by constructing a Walmart-esque Huckabees on it. I really can't describe it any more than that, as it's almost indescribable (the Kaufman element I spoke of; seriously, try to describe the plot of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). If there was an award show for acting like you'd just escaped from an asylum, this movie would win everything.

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)
Remakes come in two forms: remakes of old movies that someone thinks they have a fresh take on (I don't see what kind of fresh take you can have on Revenge of the Nerds, but, sure as shit, it's coming), and remakes of foreign pictures that Americans wouldn't see otherwise (every movie to come out of East Asia in the last five years is being remade). I hate remakes. When you remake a movie, you don't want to pull a Van Sant and remake it frame for frame. So, you have to change something. And, invariably, the thing that gets changed is what made it good in the first place. Take this movie, for example. John Carpenter made this as an obvious homage to Howard Hawks' Rio Lobo and Rio Bravo (which were essentially the same movie). There's stuff in this movie that he steals directly from other Hawks movies. Plus, his movie was a low budget indie film with a no-name cast. And that's why his film works: it's a well-written, gritty movie with people who look like they may actually be going through this in real life. The remake is a loud, dumb action movie with a ridiculous plot, with a lot of big-name actors in some shit that would never happen in real life. Try this: when a movie comes out, go on IMDB and look up that movie's title. If your search results yield an older movie with that title, do yourself a favor and go see the original. I couldn't see how they could top on the original Dawn of the Dead, and, whadaya know, they didn't. They didn't do it with Precinct, either. Good flick, but not as good as...

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972)
I hate to come off sounding like a Tarantino wannabe, but I love Japanese exploitation flicks. Unlike American exploitation flicks, which just make me feel dirty, Japanese exploitation actually has a great degree of artistic merit to it. Oh sure, it's full of the same sort of debauchery as American exploitation, but it's so goddamned pretty that I want to cry. These movies are the bottom rung of the filmmaking ladder, but the cinematography and musical scores are better than what goes into mainstream American films.
The 70's were kind of a Golden Age for Japanese exploitation, as many Japanese studios were cranking out some grade-A material. The Female Prisoner series was one of the better entries in the field. It told the story of Scorpion, one of the meanest bitches to ever occupy a jailcell. She gets raped, kills, betrays, and escapes prison with the grace of Audrey Hepburn, all without saying a word. And that stare; she'd make anyone think twice attempting to touch her with a 50 foot pole. Scorpion was played by Meiko Kaji, who would go on to play Lady Snowblood. I wish we had actresses like this today; men would be completely scared of women. Outstanding flick, if not the Best Broads-Behind-Bars Movie Ever.

To Ad, Or Not To Ad

I recently toyed with the idea of putting ads on the site. But one simple fact (other than becoming a sellout whore) stopped me.

This blog is hosted by Blogger, the largest blog publisher. They provide this service free of charge. Blogger, as you may or may not know, is run by Google, the search engine folks. They provide search service also free of charge. If the purpose of running a business is to make money, and a company provides most of its services for free, how does Google make any money (other than minting stock at $188/share)? Well, they sell ad space.

Google offers a program called AdSense, in which businesses can buy ad space that Google will strategically place on a participating website. The neat thing about the technology behind this is that Google actually caters the ads they provide to the content of any particular webpage. If this blog had Google ads, and you were reading the post on the Nokia 7280 mobile phone, for example, the ads provided by Google might direct you to Nokia's website, or to an online retailer who sells the phone. But, this isn't even the best thing about this service, which Google, once again, provides free of charge.

Because this is an insanely lucrative business for Google (which made $1.5 billion last year), they actually give back to their consumers. When someone clicks on an ad on your site, the advertiser pays Google for referring the business, and Google turns around and pays you for supplying the leads. It's really a pretty sweet fucking deal, one that I'd be almost crazy to pass up. I was ready to sign up. But then, I had a rather elementary thought: Who the fuck ever clicks on those ads?

In the 10 years that I've been surfing the Web, I've clicked on maybe a dozen ads (I should mention these numbers are somewhat skewed: In the years before Internet Explorer, and for a few after, there were no ads on websites. It is a phenomena that has literally popped up in the last few years). Everyone that I know that reads this blog is nearly as jaded as I am, and I'm sure that they don't click ads either. I'm sure there are people who click ads, because Google earns shitloads of money from just that (so much so that they turn around and give it right back). But that's from traffic on sites with a lot of hits. I have a couple dozen hits. And how many of those people are going to look at ads? Not me. Just the process of signing up isn't worth the trouble of the $.14 return I'd probably get. Truth is, I will probably find more money in payphone coin returns or on the ground than I would make from selling out and having ads on my site. So, hence, no ads on my site. Although, based on this one post, it would be funny to see an "Ad by Gooooogle" that referred you back to Google. Gotta love fuckin' with The Man.