Game over, man

The people who have spent their lives cloistered in this Wall Street community aren't much for sharing information with the great unwashed. Because all of this shit is complicated, because most of us mortals don't know what the hell LIBOR is or how a REIT works or how to use the word "zero coupon bond" in a sentence without sounding stupid — well, then, the people who do speak this idiotic language cannot under any circumstances be bothered to explain it to us and instead spend a lot of time rolling their eyes and asking us to trust them.

That roll of the eyes is a key part of the psychology of Paulsonism. The state is now being asked not just to call off its regulators or give tax breaks or funnel a few contracts to connected companies; it is intervening directly in the economy, for the sole purpose of preserving the influence of the megafirms. In essence, Paulson used the bailout to transform the government into a giant bureaucracy of entitled assholedom, one that would socialize "toxic" risks but keep both the profits and the management of the bailed-out firms in private hands. Moreover, this whole process would be done in secret, away from the prying eyes of NASCAR dads, broke-ass liberals who read translations of French novels, subprime mortgage holders and other such financial losers.

-Scary stuff from Taibbi

Overdue: Hard Boiled

That there is part of the epic "Hospital Shoot Out" scene from Hard Boiled. I haven't seen too many Hong Kong actioners (this makes one) but Jesus Christ this movie. Not content to just make one of the most absurdly violent movies ever, John Woo puts the climactic battle in a hospital.

Too spell it out: Hospitals are where people go when they are sick or injured to get well -- here we have hundreds of people being shot to death. The irony isn't lost, or subtle. Plus the whole maternity ward aspect. Apparently cotton balls completely muffle the sound of gunshots, and the best way to save babies is by lowering them out of windows. It's not like they can fly.

But I digress. The bottom line is I watched this today with subtitles, and I'm going to watch it again tomorrow dubbed, assuming that is an option on the DVD. Hard Boiled belongs in the top 10 all-time pantheon of action flicks, right alongside Predator, Die Hard and whatever else you want to throw in there. Double Impact? No. Maybe Point Break.

The plot doesn't really matter, as it holds up. Chow Yun Fat wields what appears to be an explosive shotgun throughout. Tony Leung is badass with a conscience. Random stuntmen get repeatedly gut shot. If you are like me and crave stylized filmed gunplay, get thee to a DVD supplier immediately. John Woo went on to make some arguably good films in Hollywood, but this blows Face Off out of the water. No doves or John Travolta, always a good thing.

Trained Seals

On an unrelated note: Be sure to vote on Name of the Year.

Get out of town

Sometimes I think the posts here are like tiny little babies, born prematurely, and suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome. Or maybe they are crack babies, abandoned on the doorstep of an orphanage run by old Polish immigrants. Not really sure where this analogy is going, so let's leave it there try and just create something that actually makes some modicum of sense.

This may have limited appeal, but it would be a shame not to mention the closing of that venerable West Chester institution, 15 North. Before the borough's explosion of college bars, not to mention "hip" city-type bars like the abortion that is Landmark: Americana there was one(1) place where the kids would go to get cheap drinks, and probably VD. That place was 15 North.

It's easy to forget how hot that spot once was. There was a time when the goats went there on average 3 nights a week, for an indeterminate length of time. A year? The bar didn't have the history of the Rat, or even Rex's, but it didn't suck either. There was a time when it was the place to be seen, I guess. At this point it's not really clear why, given it was a complete hole. The clientele was shiftless, and there was a mechanical bull on Tuesdays. Did I mention the cheap drinks?

I guess there's just no place for that bar's rough and tumble, cover-band aesthetic in today's town of popped collars and hot chicks with douchebags. It's a shame. People would rather go to a "nice" "classy" establishment where there is no constant implied threat of violence, with dress codes.

In memoriam, two anecdotes that sum it up all too well:

1)St. Patrick's Day, some 5 years ago. The "I Can't See" incident of which some of you may be aware. At the time it seemed like it would be a good idea to celebrate the Irish holiday by taking vicodin and smoking trees before hitting the bar on an empty stomach. Going for my second drink, my vision suddenly diminished by a frightening degree. No periphery visible, and only by extreme determination could I focus on what was directly in front of my face. Apparently that warning on the pill bottle about alcohol isn't complete BS. Long story short, I puked on a friends girlfriend (now his wife) and my eyesight was instantly restored.

2)The Turnpike. This is something I have no direct experience with, but a friend has assured me that it is true. A hazing ritual for employees of this establishment, supposedly secret, the Turnpike is a drink that resurrects the wounded soldiers that the bartender collects during the night. It also includes all other forms of gross terribleness such as wrung out bar rags, spit, cigarette butts and who knows what else, possibly ass hair. It depends on the employee. NUKE alums, think "The Vat" except slightly more drinkable. Anyway, this was a badge of honor, an eternal brotherhood for those who drank it, and not just because of the inevitable reverse drink that follows.

Huh, both those stories involve vomit, probably a lesson in there.

Year in movies: 1994

Inspired by Sinclair, who said that 19--(censored by memory) is the best year ever in movies, we have this feature. Limited research will be required, and requests are encouraged to a point. The idea is to examine the movies from some particular time to determine something, somehow. Results may vary.

Holy hell 1994 was a good year for movies. The most obvious narrative is that of Pulp Fiction vs. Forrest Gump. Or perhaps more accurately it could be remembered as the year the 3 Ninjas finally kicked back. Ha ha, no. Every year will have its fair share of crap, a pregnant Schwarzenegger for every deranged prison warden, if you will.

Still, I could mine this list of movies released that year for hours, or perhaps minutes. Even though I haven't seen Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla the plot is pretty obvious. Plus this is a year with not one, but two skydiving action movies: Terminal Velocity and Drop Zone. Which was better? Drop Zone, in a question best left for another day.

According to some article I just read, 1994 was the year that the dark nihilism and drugs of the counter-culture made their way into the mainstream. Sure, why not? It was also the year that a retard played ping-pong and ran ... into America's collective heart. And ate chocolate. Just a question of generational preferences I guess.

It would be pretty easy to cherry-pick films from this year for random purposes. A compelling argument could be made comparing the relative intelligence of Dumb and Dumber versus say, Speed. Or Clerks. Or what about some sort of re-imagining of The Lion King replacing major plot points with parts from Natural Born Killers and The Shawshank Redemption. That would include Rodney Dangerfield, which is a bonus. You get the idea?

Box office top 10:
Forrest Gump
The Lion King
True Lies
The Santa Clause
The Flintstones
Dumb and Dumber
Clear and Present Danger
Speed
The Mask
Pulp Fiction

Others of note, not previously mentioned:
Fear of a Black Hat, The Hudsucker Proxy, Ed Wood, Hoop Dreams, Quiz Show, Stargate, The Crow, The Professional

Today, we are all Bison

So I marched in the St. Patrick's Day parade in Baltimore on Sunday for some reason. Well the main reason was a keg of Guinness on a bus. I enjoyed yelling "Where the fuck is Wallace? Where Wallace at String?" at small children along the parade route.

Also apparently the Wire is fiction, because there are nice areas of Baltimore. I didn't even see anyone who looked looked like Bubbles. Disappointing really. What wasn't disappointing was a bar district called Fell's Point, where we went after the parade.

It's Monday morning now, and I've reached that half-drunk, half-hungover state where everything is somehow stupid, annoying and hilarious all at the same time. But I didn't call in sick, because of dedication and experience. This is not the first time I've been drunk at work. Wearing sunglasses in a cubicle is not suspicious.

Is it inappropriate to laugh at something called "Crime Spree-Asians" on the AP wire? Probably, considering its crime against Asians. Although I don't know whether it would be OK if it were crime committed by Asians. Clearly I'm babbling. In conclusion, uh, this video.

Zombie twitch dance

Right back atcha there buddy

Click to embiggen.

Society's blood

Picture via here

Here's a few things for your perusal. Sorry for less this week, but constant harassment by Rita's PR flacks has cut my productivity. Why yes, our readers would like to participate in mystery water ice FREE-ver promotion! It's like a disease, but better!

Should I have put something up about Watchmen? Nah, except to say read the book first and its enjoyable. There was way too much written out there already. Oversaturation, if you will. Still, the people complaining about this, that and the other were a bit obnoxious. Good thing the voice of reason comes from ... Patton Oswalt's MySpace page?

This is some crazy shit about some sort of dirty bomb inauguration plot. Too bad its from a source(wikileaks) only slightly more credible than Alex Jones, 9/11-truthers and the like. Although the passive aggressive nature of the section titled "Why hasn't the story been picked up by the national press?" pleases me. Uh, guys? Your paranoia is showing. WAKE UP SHEEPLE.

Via Vishnu's facebook feed (where else?), we have this thing about something called WeedMaps, a google maps derivative that aims to be a Yelp for the chronic. Ah decriminalization, I'm twittering in anticipation, and not electronically. The new drug czar is Michael Douglas from Traffic!

Speaking of twitter. So queer, I don't care if Shaq does it. No one cares what you ate for breakfast. Shit I have enough trouble keeping this thing relatively current without that level of over-sharing. I enjoyed this vicious takedown that contains more than 140 characters.

That's it. Not sure what future there is here. Reading things like this makes me feel terribly inadaquate in bloggerocity (Warning: Contains Soccer). I blame lack of focus. Wow, a blue car!

Here's something

Not only is this the best possible use of iPhone technology, it is also the most productive municipal meeting on record.

Deuce Deuce

Before taking in much-anticipated Watchmen, the goats made their way down to Philadelphia for some Beer Week related revelry. Notably a bunch of drinks from some Colorado brewer at For Pete's Sake Pub, a small neighborhood bar that for some reason was determined by a local weekly to be one of the top ten bars in Philly. It's no Oscars, but still, $7 Chimay.

No other major details, because it didn't occur to me to scrawl in my notebook until I realized I was too drunk to read David Foster Wallace on the bus ride back home. Consulting it now there really isn't much legible, let alone coherent. Random sketches of billboards and retail signs. Something about an old man with a huge white beard, although he may have been younger, because the beard obscured his age. He had difficulty walking, which indicates advanced age or hard-living, or both. The bus driver was able to somehow lower the bus to allow his exit, while someone said "Jesus Loves You." Probably a black woman.

Also I wrote this: "Kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day, good thing kitten is not allowed on the bus." Presumably that has something to do with this, along with public transit's staunch anti-pet policy. Or maybe I was thinking of murder because of some token idiot who happened to be within ire range. Or the faint smell of urine that accompanies any trip on the 104. I don't know. Maybe things will be clearer if I make a second trip to beer week, to bicycle.

Oh right, Watchmen

So it opens today. Here's part of a "negative" review.

WATCHMEN is a repulsive, mediocre, long movie filled with gory violence, graphic sex, extreme nudity, and other immorality. Audiences have never seen so much gore, blood, sex, and sadism, especially in a major action movie meant for a mainstream audience. Ultimately, WATCHMEN strongly affirms humanist, socialist, anti-American values promoting a socialist utopia where liberty, justice and goodness are destroyed for the sake of a totalitarian peace.

At least there's the inevitable Saturday morning cartoon.

Sometimes this job has rewards

And yes, I am only putting this up to push that horrifying picture of Nicholas "Birdhead" Cage down the page. More later? Perhaps.

Couldn't resist

Cleaning out the queue: Christ on the Moon edition

Lets go back to an old standard here and take a look at DVDs that have been sent to me through the mail. Some removed due to previous looking and typing.

Ninth Configuration
Shades of Stanley Kubrick here. This film (aka Twinkle Twinkle Killer Kane) from Exorcist writer William Peter Blatty falls into both the categories of "genre-defying" and "criminally under-seen." It's set in a European style castle in the Pacific northwest, which is being used as a sort of experimental treatment center for soldiers mentally damaged during the Vietnam War. It's surreal, funny and subdued. The best moments are kinetic exchanges about the nature of good and evil and the existence of God between Colonel Kane (Stacy Keach in a definitive film role) and an astronaut who suffered a nervous breakdown seconds before being launched into space. Also: Hamlet as performed by dogs and a great bar fight scene.

Running Scared
Without a doubt I can say this is the best Paul Walker movie of all time. And he is a man whose film credits include 2 Fast 2 Furious and Meet the Deedles. In all seriousness though, Running Scared is one of those action thrillers that moves so fast you don't have time to realize how ludicrous it all is. Like Walker getting fluorescent hockey pucks shot at his face. Not for the squeamish.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall
Here's something a little lighter, which definitely has some laugh out loud moments. "VJ" Russell Brand is surprisingly funny as a playboy rock star. I also enjoyed the Dracula puppet rock opera.

The Onion Movie
This is basically a bunch of Onion News Network sketches strung together, with the loosest of plot strings combining them. Fortunately that plot string has the strength of a cock-punching Steven Seagal. It's irreverently hit or miss, but always cutting satire.

Iron Man
Yeah, finally got around to seeing this. Good, not great. Here's some synergy.


Beowulf: Director's Cut
This was a terribly skippy disc, so I didn't watch it too closely. Probably for the best.

Munich
The revenge of the Jews! That's anti-semitic at best, but still true in that this film is about a death squad enacting vengeance for the deaths of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. A bit long, but nuanced look at the changing nature of warfare in the time of terrorism. Eric Bana is at his best as a killing machine with a conscience.

Futurama: Bender's Game
NERDS!!!!! Since I don't have anything else to add here, check out this outstandingly simple Simpsons site: Eye on Springfield.

Gonzo
This documentary is required watching for any fan of Hunter S. Thompson. Way better than "Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride."

Wanted
I bet you thought Running Scared would be the most violently absurd movie on this list, didn't you? Well it doesn't have curving bullets and a "loom of fate" which makes a hit list for a secret order of assassins. It's ridiculous, but oh so entertaining. I think this scene sums it up pretty well.


Hancock
I think this could be useful to judge other's taste in movies. Borderline watchable, but ruined by the predictable twist. Put it this way: If after 20 minutes you can't make a sort of accurate prediction of the left turn this film will make in its second half, you suck at movies. Still, Will Smif.

Man on Wire
You may know this one because it just won an Oscar for best documentary and then the guy balanced the statue on his chin. It's about some crazy French guy who thinks his life's calling is to walk on a tightrope between the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Plays out like a heist caper, and gains poignancy now that the towers no longer exist.

Dead Man
This is black and white western starring Johnny Depp is an interesting in concept, but failed to hold my attention.

Primer
This is one of those that causes multiple thoughts along the lines of "guh-wha" or perhaps "snuh?" It's about two engineers who accidentally invent time travel. Not flashy (It was made for $7,000) but the ideas in the film carry it. Frankly, I barely comprehended what was going on, multiple paradoxes inside boxes of paradoxes. This and Ninth Configuration are two of the biggest mindfuck movies I've seen in a while.

That's it, Repo Man's on the way.

What could this be for?

Since the dawn of time domestication, man has yearned to get his pets high. And thanks to the ingenuity of one Nebraska man, that dream is now reality. Assuming he doesn't go to jail for animal cruelty charges, this so-called "cat bong" could revolutionize the lives of pet-loving stoners the world over. Ferret owners in particular.

It amazes me what people think of to do with animals.

Indeed, local humane society representative. INDEED.
Also, this:

Jarrett said Schomaker told deputies the cat was out of control and he wanted to calm him down.

Redux

So that video was briefly up here on Sunday morning (?) because I accidentally posted it. The Internet and Scotch can be a bad combination. At least I didn't go on some sort of facebook wall-writing spree. But at the time I thought it would make hazy sense to post that video along with this link: Hipster: The dead end of Western Civilization. Because that is a hipster band? I don't know.

What I do know is that that an article talking about how terrible hipsters are appearing in AdBusters is a bit counter intuitive. This is a publication that uses terms like "culture jamming" in complete seriousness. I remember some quote in Naomi Klein's anti-brand bestseller No Logo in which one of these so-called jammers talks about how his work is like cultural jujitsu, taking the momentum of advertising campaigns and spinning the message to something counter of what the company intended. Thus does graffiti supposedly instill social change.


The problem with that article is it uses a broad brush to paint what should be a narrow subject. Yes, kids with trust funds who ride fixed gear bikes, wear skinny jeans and glasses with no lenses are stupid. But what about those that drink PBR and shop at thrift stores and cut their own hair because of genuine financial hardship? Where does one draw the line between manufactured image and reality? And does a cultural group exist if no one self-identifies with it?

I may be raising more questions than I have the ability or desire to answer. It is difficult to determine where the line between genuine and fake lies these days. As if it ever was easy. But with marketing groups and cool-hunting consultants seeking out and co-opting the next big thing instantaneously, it's impossible to sell out when everything has already been bought. Maybe it's better to just party in the streets and not worry about what it looks like.

There are no believable gods

My internet/cable is broken, probably forever. I'm currently posting this at the library, and it's not clear when I will be able to put something more up this week. Til then, turn every link on this page grey. It's not worthwhile.

That's a new one

I was actually watching this live last night. Caught the last 30 seconds or so after the latest Heroes, aka Lost for dumb people. Not going to get into that. For those unaware, the Sixers dropped a game to the Nets when Devin Harris hit an absurd half-court heave, while being harried by Iguodala.

Watching the Sixers in close games has been agonizing at best. Last night was the fourth (4th) loss from a buzzer-beater this season by my count. So as the clock ran down, each missed free throw inspired feelings of -- the opposite of faith? And those feelings were justified by the most ridiculous of shots, by a Wisconsinite.

Also, the clock didn't start on time, because New Jersey cheats.

Independent Spirit Awards > Oscars

Today should be a holiday

Four years ago today Hunter S. Thompson killed himself. And it should be made a holiday, at least for the Freaks (god save them). But how to celebrate? Grapefruit and mescaline would be involved somehow, but what else? Running for sheriff?

Perhaps a good way to get in the right mood would be with a viewing of documentary Gonzo, followed by some Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas. Then renting a huge American convertible which could be driven at terrible speeds while shouting "Tell me about the fucking golf shoes!" Hmmm. The documentary film is certainly worthwhile, focusing on the good doctor's prime years, before he became so well-recognized and found himself berating british journalists. Not sure about the rest of it.

Or what about some sort of gonzo comparison between the presidential campaigns of George McGovern and Barack Obama, through the use of rhythm logic. This would require the consumption of large amounts of wild turkey. Or taking some high-powered hallucinogens and listening to the Gonzo Tapes at high volume, while shooting guns. Not really sure what results one could expect from that, probably the fear.

This isn't going anywhere, so straight from the theater of the absurd, here's video of Thompson's appearance on Late Night with Conan O'Brien, in which the host "met him on a farm in upstate New York to shoot guns and drink hard liquor."

No self restraint

Against my better judgment, I read a column today by John "Free Market Uber Alles" Stossel. It compares Obama's stimulus package to the building of the pyramids in Egypt, then goes on to say we should outlaw machines, and later insinuates that the draft may be reinstated. It's like some sort of bizarre trifecta of socialism, only with its own web site, and lacking grounds in reality. The goats like to keep the discourse friendly and mature, but Stossel should go suck John Galt's dick.

Moving on, here are two outrageous time sinks that have been killing productivity of late.
a) Sporcle.com is trivial but gives your brain a workout, and your wrists carpal tunnel. Apparently I know 14 of the 20 richest football clubs in the world.
b) Kongregate.com is far worse in that the brain doesn't have to do much to play flash games like Superstacker 2.

Just gotta dig out an innappropriate pic and that's a post.

Surrender is death and death is for pussies

If you have access to HBO, highly recommend checking out the new show from the McBride-Hill-Best combo, Eastbound and Down. Danny McBride plays the main character, a washed up baseball player forced to become a teacher in his hometown, you may remember him from small roles in Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder.

For anyone familiar with Foot Fist Way, McBride plays Randy Powers like Fred Simmons with a mullet. A man who listens to his own audio book: You're Fucking Out, I'm Fucking In (narrated by himself, of course).

Undaunted I knew the game was mine to win. Just like in life all of my success depend on me. I'm the man who has the ball, and I'm the man who can throw it faster than fuck. So that is why I'm better than everyone in the world. Kiss my ass and suck my dick, everyone.

The first episode contained everything that is wrong, like antisemitism and excessive cocaine. Oh and more profanity in a half hour than any other show in the history of television. Just unbelievably crude, but it does have a heart. Just before Powers becomes a completely insufferable oblivious ass it pulls back a bit. Not much, but something to give the characters some depth.

You get the feeling this show is actually going somewhere. It's certainly got more going on than that other HBO asshole-fest, Entourage. Plus it has more Valtrex jokes.

This holiday sucks (bad language)

Presidents Day is lamer than a bucket of stale carrots baby owls, or perhaps the people who dedicated hours of their lives to making this.

Wither without Gerald

Don't know how many of you watched the NBA "extravaganza" Saturday night. If you didn't consider yourself lucky. Disappointing, truly. No blowing out cupcakes. Just straight corn, and Barkley wasn't there to eat it. The biggest news was Lebron saying he will be in the dunk contest next year.

The highlight of the evening may have been the first event, the terribleness of which is made apparent by the sponsor, Haier, a company know one has heard of (but that's all changing thanks to their "Shooting Stars" sponsorship!). The other events have known brands paying more money than you'll make in your life to have their name associated with them. Haier makes washing machines.

Anyway, dunk contest. The problem is the competitors. Dwight Howard, obviously, puts on a show. His dunking on a 12 foot rim was pretty entertaining. But really ... The cape again? How about something new. The power of Christ compels you to channel your God-love into some sort of crucifix slam. Too soon?

But what about Nate "Kryptonite" Robinson you ask? He's relatively short, yet can still dunk! Ugh. I feel safe in saying that Nate is the most unappealing player in the NBA, and that's not just because of his running feud with Lou Williams. And the inclusion of Rudy Fernandez by fan vote is inexplicable, and proof of stupidity.

That's it, the blood is up. Gotta watch some AI to calm down, or Skeets.
So robbed.

Like a rat in a cage hauling minimum wage

Don't do drugs

And if you do, certainly don't go on Letterman.

To Bonnaroo

Or not? Line up seems impressive so far. The Phish reunition aspect is a bit discouraging because Phishheads will outnumber everyone else, but still, a good scene. I'm convinced by the consecutive listing of The Mars Volta, TV on the Radio and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. So much good music in one place Bob Geldof is spinning in his grave.

The goats would enjoy getting to a festival, especially cause they haven't been to one since Rock the Bells in NYC a couple years back. Who doesn't enjoy dozens of bands and fires, a la Woodstock. Or some Ozzfest or Feztival or Live 8 or some other thing I can't remember because I got a concussion in the mosh pit? Stupid Korn.

There have been serious discussions about Bonnaroo with Sinclair, in which the conclusion of "going" has been reached. The lack of cars means we are looking at flying to Nashville and thumbing it. Or going Greyhound. Options are unlimited at this point, and I'm dreaming of the Greenbriar. Not to mention, any Midwestern folks out there could probably make it a trip somehow.

Bottom line -- days of entertainment for the price of a Wii. Any takers HMMMMMM?

Louis Guthrie didn't kill anyone

So that there is the the video for The Giraffes song "Wage Earner." Low budget, yes, but not lacking merit. And by merit I mean T&A. Seriously, this band rocks, Queens of the Stone Age-style except harder. Call it surfer metal if you are inclined. Just ordered their relatively new CD "Prime Motivator" off the tubes. With random record label schwag!

Three minor points here:
1) This band is worth a listen, and I don't care if they are making fun of this blogger. Just read the ridiculous backstory. In fact, it seems the gunshots and heart attacks may have hardened up the lyrics a bit. In other news, stonerrock.com is something that exists.

2) The Brooklyn music scene has been blowing up over the past couple years, with bands like The National, MGMT, Grizzly Bear, Vampire Weekend, etc. gaining popularity if not cash. Its good to see something a little harder come out of there, even if hipsters don't like it with their high bikes. Note: If anyone has a current day picture of someone riding one of those old timey bikes with a big front wheel and small back wheel please send it to me.

3) A great thing about the web is how it has democratized music consumption. No longer are you confined to what they have at the local record store or venue. Supporting local music is a good thing, of course, but now one can seek out tunes beyond their normal everyday sphere. It's clear iTunes and Myspace are in the mainstream. And there is all types of niche sites and blogs that cater to every possible taste, Pitchfork be damned.

Heroes is good again

Gotta say, this new season of Heroes has picked up its game after the last two lackluster installments. As the gravelly voiced announcer guy says: They're on the run ... from the U.S. Government. Plus Sylar's new sidekick Microwave Boy, fairly major characters dying, and Peter Petrelli's ham-fisted plot exposition dialogue.

Sure, the whole show is about as subtle as a 2x4 to the ribs. It's not "smart" or "deep" but sometimes its nice when every thing is spelled out, and it makes sense (unlike last season). Even the oh so ambiguous HRG hits the audience over the head with his moral grayness. Oh really, you had the shot but didn't take it? What's next, arguing with his daughter about something. Speaking of which, does anyone else want to see a My Two Dads type spin-off with HRG, the cheerleader and Nathan?

That's neither here nor there. This season shows how much better socio-political commentary works in television as compared to time travel. I read somewhere that they picked up a writer from Battlestar, and it shows in that they are going with more a topical narrative. Orange jumpsuits! Black-clad gunmen! Hoods! So much better than rolling out new characters with random-ass powers every week. Black hole Bubbles comes to mind. Terrible.

Anyway, the Sylar torture scene was probably the highlight of the episode, even if I laughed at Microwave Boy's frying the coffee cup to stop his slutty mom from getting choked out (Must ... help!). Also, Sylar had two of the best lines I can remember from this show -- the ones comparing himself to a force of nature, and about letting the kid live being a big deal. Almost enough to make up for Peter's consistent terribleness.

Coming next week? Fingers crossed for Japanese people in India!

03.06.09

Lobster parade

Since posts remain elusive this week, I dug this half-done guy out of the archive and tried to wrap it up.

Meant to post this last week in November, but then bad things happened.

Remember when I started this blog, more than two years ago? I don't. Reason being one of the "founding principles" was the posting of drunken stories. There was a good run of those -- involving baseball bats, condiments or fake blood. But drinking and memory are not two great tastes that go great together, it seems, and the telling of the belligerence petered out. But hey, its never too late to resurrect a classic. So here's one man's experience from the Phillies Championship Parade two weeks ago to the day. History.

The original plan was to take SEPTA into the city. No car, hey. But the worst public transit system ever had different ideas. Those ideas being to run fewer trains on a day with their highest ridership ever. The local station was packed with people. Some shitfaced patrons were entertaining themselves by setting their empties on the tracks and then throwing rocks at them. Broken bottles are fun to cheer at 10 a.m.
But standing around with 800 drunks and children got old after about 20 minutes and my friend, lets call him Justin, decided to drive into the city. Glorious internal combustion got us there in no time at all. Seems all the dumb saps were waiting for the train, leaving the highways relatively congestion-free.

ed note: Up to this point this was all written back in November, let's see what the old memory can provide without notes. May contain false information.


The closest I could get was at the very start of the parade. Close enough to snap that photo of my hero and yours at least. Close enough to shout "Bulldogs!" and get a wave in response. After seeing them off, Justin and I decided to make our way down to Broad Street to "see" the rest of the parade. And by the rest of the parade I mean Greenman. Not really sure what is going on behind that parking meter.


The parade went by, and the street was opened. We went to McGlinchey's, a bar right in the heart of Philadelphia that maintains what I like to call a "blue-collar asthetic." Meaning dirty as all hell, bathrooms don't work, reeks of cigarette smoke despite a citywide ban, etc. The kind of place where a nearby group of reprobates in stylish caps asks for your empties, to fill with Keystone Light from a backpack. Don't want to raise suspicions.

An indeterminate amount of time passed, several hours at least. Eventually Justin called it day and I walked out to West Philly to meet some relatives who were in town. Not much for the goats there, except for a hipster I saw holding his own dance party on the street. He was certainly more amusing than the homeless man Sinclair and I encountered a month later outside a Hard Rock Cafe. He was letting out blood-curding screams every minute or two. Terrifying.

Indeed. Where was I? There were drinks at some place called the Raven Lounge. And finally met up with some others at Oscar's, a Rittenhouse dive known for its $3 23-ounce domestic drafts. There I chatted up a couple Obama volunteers, and received a sticker. Unfortunately the mood was ruined by some over-educated white girl who insisted on dropping the n-bomb in an attempt to seem with it. Even a McCain-supporting friend of mine was confused by the situation.

I think there may have been more, like the journey home, but that's just about all I care to remember at this point.

Fryolaters for all

Never underestimate the popularity of canned meat. Spam-maker Hormel saw net growth in 2008, with published reports saying that manufacturing of the meat product is “pretty busy.” Better than most, I suppose.

[DLN column]

Mmmmm, pie

Is there such a thing as an avant-garde talk show?

No setup

Year in movies: 1989

Inspired by Sinclair, who said that 19--(censored by memory) is the best year ever in movies, we have this feature. Limited research will be required, and requests are encouraged to a point. The idea is to examine the movies from some particular time to determine something, somehow. Results may vary.

Top 10 (gross)
Batman
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Lethal Weapon 2
Look Who's Talking
Honey, I Shrunk the Kids
Back to the Future, Part II
The Little Mermaid
Driving Miss Daisy
Parenthood
Dead Poets Society

Random wiki note
License to Kill was released, last of the "old style" Bonds.

Rant
You know what came out in 1989? Do the Right Thing. And Driving Miss Daisy won the Academy Award. Hilarious, in that it proves the irrelevance of the Oscars. They for the most part do not reflect the "best" cinema of the year. Looking back its fairly easy to find a dozen movies better than the "best picture" but that's not the point. Driving Miss Daisy won because of Do the Right Thing. Only after film exposed the raw realities of pregentrified Brooklyn could a pseudoslave teaching a senile old woman about life be recognized as great.

Who doesn't eat spaghetti in the shower?

Best infomercial ever?

Warning requires effort

"We used to make shit in this country, build shit. Now we just put our hand in the next guy's pocket."
-Frank Sobotka

This makes sense in an everybody getting theirs kind of way. Noted war-profiteers Halliburton were caught bribing some Nigerian officials for access to their precious sweet crude fields, and the punishment is to pay the government some half-billion dollars. The penalty for U.S. companies bribing foreign nations is massive payouts to American regulatory agencies. Let's see here, something seems amiss. Let's consult an online dictionary.

Bribery (n) the practice of offering something (usually money) in order to gain an illicit advantage

So the punishment technically isn't a bribe, it's more like government-sanctioned extortion or "disgorgement" whatever that means. Still, good idea? The Department of Justice could use the money to fight assorted civil court cases brought by newly-released foreigners unlawfully imprisoned and probably driven insane. Could be expensive due to the lack of casework, because of the previous administrations apparent policy to "torture it out of them."

Hmm. Making sweeping generalizations off the cuff. Let's see if we can gnaw it down to the bone. The point is that this country runs as it does because everyone looks out for number one. The economy, among others things, is based on the idea that anyone can get rich, realize their dreams and read to achieve. Unfortunately most still feel queasiness over the disgusting things that run off an individualistic society when it ignores the good of many for the luxury of few. Call it liberal if you want, but Jesus.

After reading the narcissistic whining of New York banking whores, I can't really blame Uncle Sam for trying to get a little back for himself, when things look terrible. Suppose it is better that some of those slightly less massive profits goes to some faceless government agency than Dick Cheney's kin, even if it is small potatoes in the age of Obama money.

Almost earnest

I was nearly convinced this was a legitimate non-joke. But then, no. Still, it could be real, in that some certainly believe in it's message, if not it's tone. And that's what matters.

Comedic Gold

It's difficult to consume my DFW-mandated 6 hours of television a day. But fortunately you have shows like 30 Rock. So many jokes a few are bound to hit, like Alec Baldwin doing an impression of Fred Sanford. Kind of amazing this show is still on the air while getting killed in its timeslot. Demographic respite?

Kind of reminds me of Arrested Development, even though that show is way better. Both half-hour network comedies that don't get a big viewership despite critical adoration. The benefit 30 Rock gets is it is on NBC Thursday night, while Arrested Development was on Fox who knows what day of the week. The suits are more lenient because of the Seinfeld legacy, Lorne Michaels, etc.

Existentiovoyeuristic conundra notwithstanding

Surely I'm not alone in having acquaintances I hate to watch TV with because they so clearly loathe it -- they complain about the hackneyed plots, the unlikely dialogue, the Cheez-Whiz resolutions, the bland condescension of the news anchors, the shrill wheedling of the commercials -- and are just as clearly obsessed with it, somehow need to loathe their six hours a day, day in and out. Junior advertising executives, aspiring filmmakers, and grad-school poets are in my experience especially prone to this condition where they simultaneously hate, fear, and need television, and try to disinfect themselves of whatever so much viewing might do to them by watching TV with weary contempt instead of the rapt credulity most of us grew up with. (Note that most fiction writers still tend to go for the rapt credulity.)

-David Foster Wallace, A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again

Book Club: Breakfast of Champions

This has been sitting in the unfinished queue for more than a month -- figured I'd bang it out right quick today. Breakfast of Champions is by Kurt Vonnegut, arguably his funniest book. As is pointed out right from the start, it has nothing to do with General Mills breakfast cereals, and should not taint the image of their fine products.

This book is hilarious, charming and scary. As the NYT book reviewer said back in 1973, "[Vonnegut] wheels out all the latest fashionable complaints about America -- her racism, her gift for destroying language, her technological greed and selfishness--and makes them seem fresh, funny, outrageous, hateful, and lovable, all at the same time."

Take this passage describing the importance placed on Columbus' discovering the New World. I laughed out loud.

Teachers of children in the United States of America wrote this date on blackboards again and again, and asked the children to memorize it with pride and joy: 1492. The teachers told the children that this was when their continent was discovered by human beings. Actually, millions of human beings were already living full and imaginative lives on the continent in 1492. That was simply the year in which sea pirates began to cheat and rob and kill them.

The deadpan description style and tone belies the sarcasm and wit therein. The basic story follows two men -- Kilgore Trout, an aged science fiction writer who is relatively sane; and Dwayne Hoover, a very well-off businessman who happens to be completely insane. The story follows these two til their inevitable meeting, when one of Trout's stories drives Hoover to a violent rampage.

There is a lot in this book, too much for a blog post. Questions of awareness and crude sketches. It gets pretty meta toward the end, when "the author" writes himself into the book. This author is a version of Vonnegut (presumably) who then meets Trout, who is also a version of Vonnegut (I think). And so on.

Well of course the rules don't apply to Desmond

Don't know if any of you are big "Lost" fans. I'm not, but still caught the season premiere last night. Actually the first hour was all I could handle because it appears this season they are finally resorting to that most confusing of plot elements -- time travel. Oh God why.

As if this show needed a more labyrinthine narrative. Even the writers seem to be struggling with it -- they already are exempting characters from the rules of space-time. So the character can wake up after experiencing a change in his past and say something like, "That wasn't a dream, it was a memory." It's gonna need a lot more of gun-toting Hurley to maintain its DVR status.

This got me thinking -- what TV shows have successfully used time travel. Quantum Leap and Doctor Who are the only ones I could think of that don't completely suck. Uh, Heroes? I guess that worked out OK for a while. Yeah wikipedia's got nothing. Seven Days? Christ. Although that Outer Limits episode sounds promising.

What's weird about this is that time-travel works so well in other media. There are tons of well thought out films and books that deal with traveling through time, from The Time Machine to Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Something about the small screen seems to make it bad.

I think that inherent crappiness is because often traveling through time is resorted to as some kind of plot cure-all. Your basically granting the writer's god-like powers to sew up any dangling plot string. Shot in the leg and bleeding to death? ZAP, now you are in a time/place where there is someone with crack bullet-removing skills. It's just too easy, lacks the kind of payoff the viewer of such a convoluted show deserves. Explain the black fog monster and the polar bear goddammit!

They should make a show where a different person goes back in time every week to kill Hitler.

Cynic is broken

A black man is president and the Arizona Cardinals are in the Super Bowl. Truly.

Not going to make any kind of observation here, except to say it's fun to look at all the frontpages of newspapers from around the world.

Heh

Wocka Wocka

All last week, listening to the local media and fans all but guarantee American football victory in the desert, all I could think was how hilarious it would be if the Eagles somehow fell short in the NFC championship game once again. Is it wrong to feel schadenfreude when "your" team loses?

Likely. But what's a bigger sign of mental illness -- getting so emotionally invested in the outcome of the most fascist game in the world that it makes you physically ill when things don't go the way you had hoped, or laughing (only on the inside, I don't want my nose broke again) at those that do just that? To put it another way: Fuck the NFL.

It will be mildly fascinating to see how the locals are going to react to this loss in leiu of recent events. After all the Phillies ended the "championship drought," such as it was, a couple months ago. And given the fact that the Eagles even making the playoffs was improbable at best, will fans still have the typical sky-is-falling, burn McNabb at the stake apoplectic over-reaction? Judging by this piece, the answer is yes.

And to all you die-hard Iggles fans, before you start raging look at the bright side: At least you didn't make a ridiculous bet on the outcome that will stay with you forever. Plus now you have something to complain about, and everyone loves to complain.

There is always this

Where's your god now Kurt Warner? Oh.

Man up

Sorry for nothing this week, still dealing with fallout from the mugging. Namely visits to the doctor and the the police department. Worthless both, initially. But! Wheels were set in motion that got me to a "specialist" doctor yesterday, who actually knew how to fix a broken nose. Apparently standard procedure these days is get a hospital trip with the sedation and all.

I say, fuck that. Way too much drama for what amounts to the doctor shoving a metal stick up your nose and popping it back into place. So that's what I told the nurse, without the profanity. The doctor was all like, "It's not the most humane way, blah. But I'll do it." Five minutes and a bunch of numbing needles later it's all good.

No wonder health care costs in this country are so out of control. A 3-second non-invasive procedure requires a hospital visit. Christ. I guess its not the most pleasant feeling in the world, but still. People are such pussies.

Movies you haven't seen (probably)

Maybe you have seen these three, but I doubt it. One is barely in theaters yet and the other two are a bit obscure. Still, I highly recommend you check 'em out.

In Bruges
The plot of this one finds two hitmen hiding out in Bruges, Belgium. Which sucks, according to Ray, played by Colin Farrell. Weird hilarity and sporadic brutal violence ensue.
Criminal dark comedies have long been a favorite of the goats, from Pulp Fiction to Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Unfortunately criminals witty banter has been so often used in Hollywood that sometimes it just comes off as rote and stupid (cough, Smoking Aces, cough). But this is somehow fresh. Hard to believe there are still original ideas out there in this genre.
A lot of it is just bizarre, especially the dialogue. Example: "An Uzi? I'm not from South Central Los Angeles. I didn't come here to shoot twenty black ten year olds in a drive-by. I want a normal gun for a normal person." Sure you do Ralph Fiennes. Or how about: "You can't sell horse tranquilizers to a midget!" Yes, there is a midget, or dwarf as he prefers to be called. Also there is a lot of anti-Americanism in the form of the two hitmen giving tourists a hard time. And don't forget about the darkness. Jokes about child murder usually aren't funny.

Kabluey
This is like Napoleon Dynamite only not retarded. Don't get me wrong -- I like delicious bass as much as the next guy -- but this has more going on than Uncle Rico and hilarious dancing.
Plot: A sadsack guy moves in with his sister-in-law to help out while her husband and his brother is serving in Iraq. The guy is unbelievably pathetic -- until he becomes the costumed mascot of a failing dot-com company, forced to stand on the side of a country road and hand out fliers advertising office space for rent, which allows him to kind of become a superhero.
Here is the final credit sequence. It doesn't really have anything to do with the movie.


The Wrestler
Rourke! Aronofsky! Absolutely!

That's it on movies till next time, after I see JCVD or perhaps Donkey Punch.

The jerk store called

And Donovan transferred them to Joe Buck.
Read some comment on the tubes comparing the McNabb-Warner matchup to Obama-Dubya. Not sure exactly how that makes any sense, given that Obama never ran against G-Dub, but I like it.

McNabb: Picks up phones on opposing team's sidelines.
Warner: Draws pictures of God that look like Jesus.

True

via deadspin to here

A pistol-whippingly good time

Here's a little hypothetical for you:

You ever have one of those nights where you don't really have any plans, and then all of a sudden its 11:30 and you are at some kids house and everyone is drinking Jack Daniels straight from the bottle and there is a skateboard without wheels set up as a balance board with which you can break your ass? No?

If you ever do find yourself in such a situation be sure to not go out to the bars and get so drunk that you can't even ride your bike home without falling in the middle of the street. Because if you do that and are lying there laughing at yourself some guy might come up and stick a gun in your face and demand that you empty your pockets.

But if that does happen mere blocks from your apartment you might want to just fidget in your pockets for a while in a vain attempt to only give the mugger a couple dollars. Of course he mugger will likely demand you go faster. When that happens you can respond with "Just shoot me motherfucker. Fucking shoot me."

This little bit of reverse psychology/drunken masochism will certainly throw your assailant off for a moment. Then he will pistol whip you in the face, breaking your nose, and run off. After returning home and cleaning up the blood, be sure to call a friend's voicemail at 2 am, saying something like: "Dude, just got jumped. I told the guy to shoot me. He didn't. [incoherent mumbling]. See you at The Wrestler."

And then you can enjoy several months of agoraphobia.

We took a perfectly useless psychopath and turned him into a successful executive

Last night Trading Places was on TV, I had forgotten its hilarity. It's one of those early 80s classics that was neutered and shown on Comedy Central so often that you forget how good it was in its original form. Amazing a few well-placed profanities can improve the comedy.

Its one of the best movies set in Philadelphia, and one of the best movies set around the holidays. I want to recreate the scene where Ackroyd the drunken Santa is walking down the middle of Market Street, gets on a Septa bus, then pulls out the huge hunk of jerky though his beard and starts eating it. Stupid santa, don't you know food and drink are not allowed on SEPTA?

It also makes you wonder what the hell happened to Eddie Murphy. Given the dreck he stars in now (Meet Dave? Really?) it's easy to forget he was once the funniest man on the planet back in the days of Raw, Coming to America or even Beverly Hills Cop. What the hell happens to comedians as they age? Yes Man aside, I can only think of two that aged reasonably well: Carlin and Don Rickles.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Trading Places. You just don't get movies like this in today's Apatowed cineplex: A comedy that makes social points. Because once you get past the gorilla rape jokes, the theme at the heart of this film is nature vs. nurture. Can a street hustler become a successful investor when placed in the proper environment? Apparently the answer is yes.

Also: "I'll rip out your eyes and piss on your brain."

It's unclear if Norm Coleman ever said that to Franken during the course of their Senate race, but he was most assuredly thinking it.

Mmmm ... squirrel

Recently the news broke that British people are eating squirrels on a regular basis. In fact, according to this article, the Brits are now eating squirrel so much that butchers have begun stocking it in their shops. With the worldwide recession, squirrel seems to be a viable source of protein to those with a taste for rodent. Unfortunately squirrels are quite difficult to kill and skin appropriately for eating. Headshots, etc.

But apparently they are only eating gray squirrels, and not the beloved red squirrels. Like there is a difference besides color. Holy crap there are a lot of squirrel pictures and photoshops floating around out there. Fuck you, penguin.

Veering off track. The point is that this is the kind of faux-news bullshit that some newspapers love. So when the New York Times "breaks" the story, editors across the country scramble to assign their wackiest reporter to put together something on squirrels' rise in the culinary community across the pond.

Take this gem from the NY Post (bastion of evenhanded, rational journalism).

Squirrels. Cute, bushy-tailed, chase-each-other-around-the-yard squirrels.
Want one for dinner? Um, probably not.
But some people do.

Indeed. But where is the lede playing on the cliche about horrible British food? Pick up your game New York Post. Also I would have enjoyed some "man on the street" interviews or possibly video in which people are clearly revolted by the idea of eating a squirrel.

Internet justice, away!

A friend of a friend had a bunch of shit stolen from their Brooklyn apartment by their former subletter and Frenchman. So what did they do? Create a blog of course!

Peep it here: Remi Pinaud is a thief.

Happy now?

You asked for something on Pat the Bat, because you are gay for him I presume. Well the goat delivers.

I've long been a Burrell apologist. A better way to say it is that I've long been an apologist for just about every Philly sports figure maligned by the idiotic, yet knowledgeable fan base. McNabb, Andre Iguodala, Jimmy Rollins, David Bell -- the list goes on to include just about every athlete that has played in this town except for Willie Green, Todd Pinkston and the Flyers.

That said, Burrell is a unique case because the fans actually came around to embrace him this year, for a variety of reasons. Was it his renowned swordsmanship? The fact that he absolutely kills Mets' pitching? Ryan Howard's strikeout rate making Burrell's 6-pitch K's seem productive by comparison? The inevitable sucking of Raul Ibanez? Who knows.

What is known is that he is one of the few Philadelphia athletes shown the door who will get a good reception when he comes back through town. The rest of the list: Allen Iverson.

I knew the attitude toward Burrell was shifting this year while sitting in leftfield and the group of drunks behind us began referring to "Burrell shuffle," the slow-footed sluggers' patented foot-scuffle on every pitch that was remotely inside, which often resulted in a ball call from the ump. A far cry from a year or two earlier when his batting stance was openly mocked and derided by others in the section. Although I did enjoy yelling the number of outs at him.

Cazart!

A few quick thoughts while trying to determine whether today was a good day.

Finished reading Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail the other day. Could be my new favorite from Dr. Thompson -- right up there with Hells Angels, certainly. It'll get its own post -- someday when I have the book sitting next to me for reference, which may or may not ever actually happen. For now here's another quote:

At the stroke of midnight in Washington, a drooling red-eyed beast with the legs of a man and a head of a giant hyena crawls out of its bedroom window in the South Wing of the White House and leaps fifty feet down to the lawn ... pauses briefly to strangle the Chow watchdog, then races off into the darkness ... towards the Watergate, snarling with lust, loping through the alleys behind Pennsylvania Avenue, and trying desperately to remember which one of those fore hundred identical balconies is the one outside of Martha Mitchell's apartment. ... Ah ... Nightmares, nightmares. But I was only kidding. The President of the United States would never act that weird. At least not during football season.

Switching gears: Just when you thought the the era of indoor smoking bans meant you no longer had to fear the deadly cigarette, scientists discover something they are calling third hand smoke. You know how smokers smell bad when they come in from have in from their outdoor drags? Not to be an alarmist, but smelling that will kill you and everyone you care about.

If somebody gets me this shirt, I will be your best friend.

And last, is a video from some random British indie band, because Bon Iver videos are all boring and nonexistent.

Dance like no one is watching

Crank was an underrated movie

Behold the red band trailer for Crank 2: High Voltage.
It's NSFW-ness is absurd.

Amateur Night

So how was your New Year's? Better than mine I trust? Let's just say having your first ever type 4 New Year's Eve is lame. But hey, at least the heat wasn't working in my apartment so I had to break out the champagne at 10:30, for warmth.

Since the details of that story be depressing -- here's a tale of which I am only cursorily involved and just about everyone who I see in person has already heard. A "friend" who we'll call C. Sinclair, no that's to specific, Chris S., was supposed to travel to New York City for a Christmas party a few Saturday's back.

The person who knew the party's location (yours truly) called him up on Friday to make sure it was still on with the Chinatown bus and what have you. He was in Baltimore to see some sort round robin electronic abortion. OK whatever, are you still going to New York? Yes? See you there. Give me a call tomorrow and I'll get you directions to the party.

Unfortunately that call never came and all attempts to reach him went straight to voicemail. Given that last contact was a slurry call around midnight that involved attempting to tell him where he was by looking it up in google maps, followed by descriptions of his location as "some Wire shit" -- prospects were not keen that he was going to get to New York.

So it with some surprise that there was a facebook wall post from Sinclair on Saturday asking the address and naming the specific street in Brooklyn where the party was being held. Apparently he had triangulated the location by looking at various photos and captions on flickr and facebook, eventually homing in the exact house by asking neighbors where the white people lived. And a good time was had by all. Bonfires.

You may wonder what happened with the phone. Well the answer is simple and obvious: He crashed into one of those metal fences they have out front of concert venues to control the line and his phone fell in a puddle. Because he was riding his bike (did I mention he was on his bike this whole time?) and the brakes weren't working because they were wet. There are other details that I left out for brevity, like trying to sleep at a McDonald's in Manhattan because he never slept Friday night. Also picture him wearing a bicycle helmet for the entire duration of the story.

Sinclair later described this as "the best weekend ever"