Cruise Control

So freaking funny.

Ok, I'm done. Enough about that midget and his cult.

But ohhh man, that's funny.

Tomkat, Jacko, and Other Trite Obsessions

This month was a banner month for the trite obsessions and interests of the american populace..For starters the giggling, grinning, self- obsessed heap of motherlove known as Tom Cruise, has proposed to the doe eyed, b-lister formerly known as Katie Holmes (From this point on we will refer to her as Scientology Soul-Pod #49866 or 49866 for short). Kate and her diminuitive fiancee' have been stomping around the world in a toothy, mid-life crisis tour, spreading the gospel according to lunatic, and showing the rest of the world what hollywood already knew- That Tom Cruise is a gay dwarf with a science fiction fetish, who has no sense of humor. To boot, the much ballyhooed abroad but, hmmm...strangely neglected at home film starring the very scientologist of our dreams, has today announced that no critics will be allowed to see it untill it goes on wide release. Translation: Not even L. Ron Hubbard can save this turkey. I mean the film, not Tommy.

However, the official jumping of the shark by a once respected, but now bewildered and increasingly militant sex symbol wasn't enough, oh no, the trannie queen of pop himself made huge news this month. How badly must your career be going , when beating a charge of pederasty is considered a victory? Did the defense prove that Jacko was not a drooling pervert? No. Instead, the prosecution proved that the defendant and his family were bigger weasels than the famous Giant Weasel of Aberdeen. How can a DA base his entire case on a woman who put a finger into Wendy's chili? Not the same scam artist you say? Then you missed the point,and need to take a lap. Couple this with the hillarious hillbilly antics of Britney and Kevin "I'm gonna be a momma y'all!", and the ever shrinking binge and purge Richie/Lohan/Olsen hydra, and its enough to make you want to lick an outlet.

What truly shocks me is the amount of interest that the public seems to devote to these small-bus personalities, with Bentley wallets, and Hummer egos. Yes, me included. But I have two things going for me. Firstly I have the industry excuse, whereI need to be in touch with how the public sways in order to keep an edge in my phone-answering and copy-making. And secondly, i need to feed my inner bitch. However, what does the double stuff'd, chocolate dipped, peanut butter Oreo, demographic, care if Pauly Shore is dating Jenna Bush or not (Their publicists, have not returned my calls). I learned a shocking statistic from Bill "I'm gonna be a momma y'all!" Moyers. The gap between the rich and poor in this country, is equal to the gap in 1928. Ok, let's review a little history for those of you who tuned out when I invoked Bill Moyers.

1776: U.S is born
1928: Great Depression
2005: Tom Cruise gets engaged to Katie Holmes

The fact is, that this country is in a crisis. More debt, more inequality, more violence, more intolerance, annd the people who it affects the most sit idly by and suck the stuffing out of a hot-pocket with a straw. This lack of involvement and outrage, will affect the people who are blind to it the most. The people who's kids will be kept from college because of prohibitive costs. The people who will need social security because their savings were swallowed by credit-card debt, and hometown buffet. The people who will need medicare and medicaid, and even larger more inclusive socialised medicine because they developed diabetes after LOOKING at a Dominos Cheeseburer Pizza, and the Shamrock shake at McDonalds. I do sense that things will be getting a lot worse before they get better. Gas is supposed to climb to $3.00 this summer, we have an endless war on our hands, the number of kids killed in Iraq is about to equal the WTC death count, our economy is floundering, joblessness is up, and most terrifyingly, Paris Hilton is getting married. Jesus Christ, where's the defense of marriage act when you need it?

KNOW YOUR ENEMY!

Ok, I never liked cats. I have two cats that I come in close contact wth, and both are mildly cute, but at the end of the day no freaking way. For starters, they are dirty. There's an inherent toxicity and grossness about cats. Worms, fleas, FIV (Feline HIV) , it's a mess. Then you get the attitude, the claws with the "Cat Scratch Fever". What is that? I had a friend who's own cat BIT her, and she had to be hospitalised from the ensuing infection. I have frinds with scars from the nasty scratches of their animals, who also scrape around in their poop. Why is it not ok to have dog feces or human feces indoors, but t's ok to have cat poop lying in sand. And when is it time to clean the litter box? When it stinks. Awesome. I have always commented on this to the thorough poo-pooing of people who love their cats, but now....aha! I have it!

PROOF at long last that those hacking vicious disease ridden animals are detrimental to your health.

The things done in thy name.

For Blog Readers Only

I thought I'd let people know who deserve to. Following my friend Kenny's line of thought, I have moved, up. I will be living in a gorgeous place, in a better neighborhood, with finer ameneties. No one knows that I'll probably be able to move in next week. I'll leave it as a suprise for my non blog reader friends.

Jesus H. Christ!

My dear cousin is getting married this weekend. Though I love him, and our families are close, there has always been a slight rift in our belief systems. They are right wing Jesus freaks, we read books. Crazy thing is, today of all days i came across some pretty severe Jesus stuff. Please Enjoy the preachings of the Landover Baptist Church. And then quickly follow suit with this video of Appalachian Snake /Jesus People. The Money Shot is when the preacher gets bitten near the end, though the entire thing is worth a look-see simply for the anthropological value.


Suffer not a woman to teach nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.
1 Timothy 2:12-15

Addendum: In case you think only Appalachian and Southern Baptist Customs are a bit screwy, take a moment to read THIS ARTICLE, courtesy of my buddy Dave.

The Disenfrachisedator

Last Night, in lieu of watching LORDS OF DOGTOWN with a sultry starlet as I was promised, I went through the emotional equivalent of cutting myself (In the style of a teenage goth chick), and had a lovely dinner with my ex girlfriend. It was a pleasant affair. No punches were thrown, there were no major insults or injuries, and the evening ended with the viewing of the excellent Documentary DOGTOWN AND Z BOYS. This wonderful piece tells the story of The Zephyr Skateboarding team, and the advent of modern skateboarding. A wonderful story that revels in a special place and a special time where young people changed a sport and a subculture was born…riveting stuff. In the middle of this luscious documentary, in the throes of free summers, long hair, and unbridled youth, appeared the enormous block head of one Henry Rollins. Who the hell is this guy? Why on earth did he get two minutes to discuss how he likes skateboarding. His appearance in this documentary was the most trite, useless moment, but there he was! Veins a-bulging, eyes a-blazing. This man obviously feels he has much to say, and does he ever. His IMDB credits list a HUGE number of films he’s done… none of which I recall seeing, much less seeing his beefy melon in them. So ok…he’s not an actor per se. So what is he? I sat through a bit of his soon to be embarrassingly brushed aside program on IFC: Henry’s Film Corner. He reviews films with the insight of an angry Minnesota teen.
“THIS HAS NO PLOT!” He’ll exclaim. “I TRIED TO FIND IT AND IT WAS NOT THERE!”
Bravo captain subtle. Score one more for the tattooed intellect of Henry the Filiminator. Truth be told, he possesses the clout of a Star-Wars nerd who lined up at the wrong theater. So , ok we can agree a serious film critic he is not. But I did learn that he postures a heavy amount. He represents himself as an extreme sort of outsider, like a WWE wrestler that stands for …er… outsiderness. We’ll call him the Disenfrachisedator. Ok so, he’s really intense and certainly has much to say…about music? He has a show on a favorite local radio station. Granted I listen to that station often and hadn’t realized it, but nonetheless he was the front man for the band Black Flag. A punk/body-building band of the eighties that sort of began that whole punk/body-building craze…ahem. So he writes poetry that no one’s ever heard, and he yells. I think that’s the gist of it. Henry is angry, and disenfranchised, and frighteningly tattooed, and muscle-bound therefore he has his own show. It’s a cunning combination, you see? I’m angry and disenfranchised, but not tattooed or even remotely muscled. Hence not qualified. Likewise, Barbara Bush is muscled and tattooed, but not dejected or upset…no TV show for her.

I’ve come to realize that certain combinations work in Hollywood in absence of a marketable skill. For Paris it’s the lethal combo of money, slutiness, and idiocy. For George Lopez it’s being Hispanic and not employed as a gardener, along with his goofy eyes (Gawd aren’t they hilarious?). For Andy Dick it’s unbridled gayness, a coke addiction, and eyeglasses (because they’re disarming) . And for Henry, it’s pissed of musculature under the guise of depth that will pay his way into a comfy retirement. As for his show on IFC, I recommend that if you ever drink solo, and are looking for a fight, you turn your cable box to IFC and allow Henry to threaten you till either you put your fist through the screen, or pass out, exhausted by the intensity of the nothingness that is Henry Rollins.

I pray he can’t read.

On a more whimsical note, I found more pictures of Hercules the LIGER. Does a TIGON have skills in magic as well?

Star Wars Geek 101

Oh what a severe amount of dorkitude I’m about to embark on. What unmitigated nerdery I’m about to commit. Since the opening of Episode III, I have seen my role as ambassador to the world of ten sided dice and all things fantasy, expanded. You see, it’s not that I’m all that INTO sci-fi. But rather, I’m unable to have a passing interest in things. So if ever I found a comic book intriguing, I immersed myself in the literature, so I could at least enjoy some fluency in Comic Book speak. That being the case, I have now found myself to be fairly fluent in Star Trek, Star Wars, DC Comics (Specializing in Green Lantern , with conversational Batman, and Superman), and Lord of the Rings. I can flash my knowledge on any number of nerd subjects, and keep up with nearly any conversation, without betraying my inherently normal tastes. Star Wars however, holds a special place in my heart for many reasons. Not the slightest of which is the affinity my mentor Joseph Campbell held for the original triology. So when I write essays where I compare the Ramanaya, or the Journey of the Buddha, and Treasure Island to Luke Skywalker
(The Name “Sky Walker” in and of itself alluding to a heavenly disposition) , my friends are bound to ask me-
“What the hell is going on?”
It’s been four years since the last episode. Clone Wars, Sith Lords, Romances, and Jedi are all over the place. Many people who could care less about the politics of the Galactic Senate are still interested in the back-story to episode III. So, for the uninitiated, and probably better looking segment of society I offer the following synopses of the first two films, divided by characters, and a guide of what we KNOW must happen in Episode III, if we take our knowledge of the original triology.





Episode I



Episode II


Things To Look For in Episode III

Lion/ Midget Gem

This may be my favorite News post of the year!
How often do Midgets and Lions meet? How often do they fight?



I guess In Cambodia the answer is at least once. 42 Midgets, one Lion. What could go wrong? Read on my Brothers and Sisters this GEM from the BBC.

UPDATE!!!!
My Friend Lindsy, who is also amongst the cool chicks of the world alerted me to this.
Proof I'm afraid, that wishful thinking doesn't always make it so.

Fun with a Hun

Have you ever wanted one of your own? Does a hacking spittle riddled Language Turn you on?

Then ACHTUNG BABY!

Angels and Deeznuts

You know when you have a friend, and they suddenly discover a band that you’ve always loved? Remember how retarded they sounded when they tried to talk to you about the band, and the resentment they built? You almost considered disowning them because you knew this already, and THEY weren’t even scratching the surface of your VAST knowledge on the subject. Remember that feeling? I just wasted about three hours of my life with the most vapid, blithering, concocted, mass produced, pseudo-intellectualist, piece of fluff-lit, that my hands have ever come in contact with. I have read the literary equivalent of Paris Hilton, and damaged my sensibilities, possibly forever. The thoroughly researched (If by research you mean a google search on the Vatican, and the Illuminati) piece titled Angels and Demons, was the precursor to the slightly superior piece of shit, The Da Vinci Code. As I gaze at the beaten paperback copy of this (Beaten because I threw it several times) master-crappery, I read the back cover and a man professes his love for the author, Dan Brown.

“Dan Brown has to be one of the best, smartest, and most accomplished writers in the country”
–Nelson DeMille

“Nelson DeMille has to be one of the dumbest, most illiterate, bumpkins in the country. Either that, or he’s a computer literate chimp.”
-Alf LaMont

Why anyone bought this book, or the equally watered down and ridiculously simple DaVinci Code, eludes me. Harry Potter with all it’s acquiescence to children is still more sophisticated in its turn of phrase and less apologetic in its skin that the tragically retarded Angels and Demons . Dare to imagine with me here, a world with a super secret society that leaves behind a map and secret clues. Now imagine these clues to be so simple that a blind, deaf and wheelchair bound child, could easily decipher them, and now watch as the Vatican, a Harvard professor, and an Arabic “Hassasin” (Google it like the Author did) all get mixed up like an unsophisticated Marx brothers film. To say I loathed this book would be too kind. I hate the publishers for throwing out this dribble, I hate the Author for writing it, I hate my friend for offering it, and I hate myself for almost finishing it.

I was Four pages from the end, and could care less.

Nerdy Nupitals

My good Friends mAc and Dinah (Their Blogs are linked to in my Friends section) were married last night.


Naturally, during a wedding one asks themselves many questions.
Will I ever marry?
Is the Bride pregnant?
What are people in the midwest THINKING?

But my primary question, my solid bafflement of the evening came not at the hands of the wedded couple, who are ripping people with excellent taste (Tell me Han and Leia on the cake isn't classy), but rather at the hands of many of the guests. It has come to my attention that the nerdier people are, the easier they find love. I remember a particular batch in college that we used to refere to as "The Pirates" because college is far more mature than High-school where we wouldn't have reffered to them at all. It was my academic observation that all these people, including the pastiest and puffiest of them, were not only in relationships, but engaged in frequent congress with each other and were very vocal about it. I was certain, that even casting a ten sided dice, would render you impotent. Women go sterile at the sight of a man in a cape and a jester's hat with bells, but here they all were. Sallow skinned, fringe, flab-monsters, with a happy relationship. More to my horror I realised that many of these relationships end in marriage. Early marriage at that. Too too many of the "Pirates" had married before college had even ended.

Is it possible that severe nerdery is such a niche, that when you find like minds it is an immediate attraction? As someone fluent in Nerd, i hesitate to think it's as simple as "I like Buffy, you like Buffy, let's mate."

My friend Nick (Who provided THIS excellent bit of Nerd Erotica), thinks it has to do with the sudden pleasure of human contact, mixed with the fear of never feeling it again. He maintains that the first, is usually the only for the geeky. It is his theory that whomever breaks bread, and shares the bed of the spotty-faced D&D afficionado, is most likely to become Mrs. Mega Nerd. Or to use a direct quote "They get so excited that someone lets them stick it in, that they figure they better get married or it won't happen again."

I Paraphrase of course, but the "Stick it in" part of the quote is entirely accurate.
Nonetheless it gives us pause. Those of us who strive to be well adjusted members of society, like my newlywed friends. Those of us who don't doff the pirate hat, and have never owned a pewter Dragon that holds a krystal, but still seek love. Are love and an interest in Lord of The Rings only compatible when you dress like Gandalf? mAc and Dinah seem to prove otherwise, but the numbers certainly do speak volumes.

The Japanese, Sand Sculptures, Watermelons, and Frodo Baggins; A Love Story

Ok, so we know the Japanese have a different sense of taste, ethics...reality. Check out these commercials, and tell me there's not something a bit askew about the society that these would sell to. While there, please enjoy some sweet Sand Sculptures (Two Links there), a Dictionary of Limmericks (With a wee poem about an aorta to get you started) , and polish the whole thing off with this blessed reunion from the Lord of the Rings. That should get you through the day, and prep you for my upcoming rant.

Yeah, so it's been slow.

The Emotional lives of Stormtroopers

Hath not an Imperial Stormtrooper eyes? Hath not a Stormtrooper hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you blast us with a lazer, do we not die?

Llama Llama Llama Llama La- Chameleon

Let's just say that this might be the best song about Llamas...ever.

Vegas Magic

So I was in Vegas this weekend and though that desrves a thorough posting, I wanted to comment on the sad state of magic. Sure there's Penn and Teller, and The Amazing Jonathan, who's acts are funny and interesting and exciting. But most of magic nowadays seems to be overrun by Lance Burtons and Ziggy and Roy. Bedazzled, fairies who wear so much makeup that it puts Kabuki actors to shame. With enormous gestures and the now inevitable white tiger and menagerie of endagered creatures, they prance about the stage, and rake in the Dough with the same eight tricks done in fifty variations, as the magicians of times gone by roll over in their graves.

Wow! She can be levitated! Watch as I use this Hoola Hoop to prove it. Wow I can cut her in half and then pull a pheasant out her ass...where did it go? Please step up here sir...now bend over, It was in YOUR ass all along! Now i will slice her into five pieces, and feed one of them to my white tiger. I close the door on the cutting chamber, and...PRESTO! She's whole AND holding a Pheasant! Now if you step up here sir, we'll pull a White tiger out of your ass!

You get the picture. So for your Viewing enjoyment I'm posting these beautiful posters from the heyday of Magicians.

Dramatis Personae

I have recently gotten into some verbal slinging with actors, and I’ve decided to post to the ether or blogosphere, whichever you prefer according to your technical savvy and nerdability, the ruminations that led to near fisticuffs, and much wailing from several dramatis personae.

I maintain that an actor is not an artist, but rather a tool through which an artist expresses him or herself. A Director, a playwright, a set designer, are all artists. An actor is a craftsman. Like the carpenter who pulls together a set, an actor portrays the ideas of the playwright and embodies it as such through use of their emotional toolbox, and physical and mental abilities.

Oooh a nasty thing to say, that I’m sure caused many actors to take pause before blustering forth, demanding recognition of their efforts as art. I do not argue that it is a difficult thing to be an actor. Moreso a trained actor. I spent my collegian life studying the various forms of theater and have endured everything from the psychotic version of Stanislavsky that Lee Strasberg defined as the “method”, to the facist rendering of Meisner Technique that David Mamet and his Steppenwolf/Atlantic cronies practice. I am familiar with styles, methods, history, acting, screen, stage, production, directing, musical, drama, comedy, and I defer to Orson Welles who said of the Academy Awards, “ Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences? What Art? What Science?”. I am hardly Orson Welles, and truthfully only Citizen Kane himself could be so wholly dismissive of the beauty and art of cinema. There is art in cinema. A film in its entirety can be a transcending, artistic experience but much like painting, it a series of elements put on a canvas.

An actor, at the end of the day can offer no more, regardless of training and experience, than himself. His reactions in real life, will be equivalent to his reactions on stage or screen. The notion of a transformation is a false one. The most effective actors are those whose personalities are so complex, that we cease to care about who they are on stage or off, it’s a joy to simply watch them being them. Take the three following actors as my examples: Al Pacino, Jack Nicholson, and Daniel Day Lewis. Three of the most intense and amazing actors I could muster. I challenge anyone reading to name me four characters each of them has played. Name Al Pacino’s character’s name in The Devil’s Advocate. Better yet, Jack Nicholson’s Name in ANYTHING other than Batman. Daniel Day Lewis is a man who take great effort to transform himself into whatever character he is playing, and even then I say that only Daniel Day Lewis is complex enough a Human being to give these characters life. Daniel Day Lewis decided to quit acting years ago, moved to Venice and became a woodcarver or some such manic thing. I say that there is something unstill about him, a quest for some peace that explodes onto the screen, but is also omnipresent in his personal life.

We all believe that our emotions and our feelings are not only valid, but far more sharp than those of the people around us. You look at the lives of quiet desperation around you and wonder “Do people feel as much as I do?” . To desire to be an actor, you must also posses the egomaniacal notion that your emotions, your life, your experiences are interesting enough to be watched. In a few instances they are. People themselves become or are so complex, apply training and discipline to the point where they merit watching and accolades. But what about the uninteresting? The mediocre? Surely they also become actors.

The Mediocre actor, is a person who has not engaged fully in life, and is therefore limited by their own experiences, or lack thereof. Simply put. Real people can be real boring. There are Outlandish humans out there who make for beautiful moments, but you surely can’t call the random experiences of living “Art” if someone who lives well, and feels deeply is considered an artist, then surely there are deeply emotional fishermen who deserve the term “Artist”. So the ego to put it forth is the only deciding factor as to what’s Art and what’s simply living? Highly unfair, and unwarranted. Actors should be happy enough knowing that they have honed a craft and posses a skill, without needing to elevate what we all experience daily to the title of “Art”. Let’s keep that beauteous elevation far from the reaches of the mundane. Let us keep Art sacred and away from the hands of actors.

Zing.

Take a walk on the wild side

Have I ever told you about my friend Serena?
Actually I KNOW I have. Through Gnarling and gnashing of teeth, through screaming, and kicking, she's still the coolest chick I know.
Listen to this, and tell me she isn't..

Oops!

Is today a great day on the web or what? I haven't been surfing this well since I was employed.



THE ORIGINAL?

OOPS! I Did it again.