Some things are better left unexplored

I regret that "Family Guy" came back from the dead.

Why do I say that? Because of a recent interview in which David X. Cohen, one of the creators of "Futurama," was revealing some information about the newly resurrected television show. HE was revealed that it would be aired on Comedy Central, and that this run would take place two years after the original run. He also revealed that the shows would begin by cleaning a little house, as it were. They are going to explore some unanswered questions, such as some details about Nibbler and the Nibblonians, Seymour the dog and also some Leela and Fry relationship stuff.

So why am I worried? Well, because I loved "Family Guy." I came to the show during its run on Adult Swim, and I loved every single episode. I was among the masses, howling for an un-cancellation. And then, when our wishes were granted, I was sated for a time. But slowly but surely, the jokes became repetitive, the plots nonexistent, and the nonsequiters overabundant and way too potheaded. I lost interest, and I haven't watched an episode in a long time. And I'm worried a "Futurama" renaissance will suffer the same fate.

However, working for "Futurama" is the fact the Cohen worked on "The Simpsons" since its inception and has a lot more years of experience under his belt than Seth McFarlane.

I would really have preferred than "Family Guy" stayed dead, leaving us with fond memories and forever wishing for more, but never getting our wish. I really hope that I don't feel the same way once "Futurama" returns to us.

Likewise, "Arrested Development" should never have been canceled, because it was one of the strongest, consistently funniest shows ever. However, it ended on a high note, and it would be folly to pick it up now again where it left off, letting it slowly drain and fade. I would rather it end on a high note, leaving me wanting more, than for it to disappoint over time, fading into obscurity.

So this is why I am anxious for new "Futurama." Like "Family Guy," I started really getting into it during its Adult Swim run, and now it's one of my favorite shows of all time. I really don't want to regret mediocrity.

Strangers with Candy

Of all the TV shows adapted into movies, this has got to be in the top 5. It certainly is one of the most inspired, at any rate. You know there's a movie based on hit show "24," simply because the show is fucking amazing.

Sorry, I just like that show a lot.

Anyways, the origin of this movie stems from the production of the television show. When Stephen Colbert, Amy Sedaris and Paul Dinello were writing, producing and performing in the show, they had a lot of material that wouldn't necessarily fit into a 22-minute episode. They saved it, and at the right time, put the material together into a feature length film.

Most of the original cast has returned, including Jerri Blank's step mother, Principal Onyx Blackman and so on. The only missing pieces are the character Guy Blank, Jerri's walking catatonic father played by Roberto Gari, who sadly passed away before he was able to appear in the film, Orlando, Jerri's loyal friend, and Jerri's step brother. Even Stu the meat man shows up.

The story is a prequel to the TV show, picking up how Jerri reconnects with her father after getting out of jail and forcing her way back into the school she ran away from. The basic plotline other than that is that Principal Blackman, in order to keep the funds given to him by the state, he must show some improvement in student performance. This translates into having one of his students win first place at the science fair. To ensure that his school wins, Blackman brings in a famous science fair winner, which upsets the school's science teacher Chuck Noblet, played amazingly by Stephen Colbert.

One of the amazing things about the television show was the morally bereft faculty and staff that inhabit the school, and thankfully this element remains. After all, the whole idea is a satire about public education by way of cheesy after-school specials where the main character learns the exact opposite lesson they're supposed to. For instance, to try and settle a gambling debt, Blackman offers his debtors a shiny new schoolbus filled with young cheerleaders.

Along the same lines is the obvious political incorrectness that made the show controversial. For instance, when choosing science fair teams, Blackman (there's a joke right there) assigns all the Chinese students to the team he obviously wants to win.

The other thing that played well in the show was how well all of the actors play off of one another. You can really tell by all of the performances that this was a labor of love, and they really just plain enjoy what they're doing. Hell, you can catch Colbert's amazing performace Mondays through Friday's after "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" on his "The Colbert Report."

This show, despite its ending, had a lot of fans. Plenty of whom are more well-known actors and actresses. How else would you get such random performers as Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ian Holm, Matthew Broderick, Allison Janney, Sarah Jessica Parker and Kristen Johnson all in the same movie?

One of the downfalls, from the point of view of someone who's seen every episode of the show, was the repeated lines tossed around. For instance there's the line "I'm not pushing you away, I'm pulling me towards myself." There were a bunch of other ones, I just can't remember them right now.


All in all, this movie is fall-out-of-your-chair hilarious. Its outrageous satire and political incorrectness make it a gem among comedies. You can go watch toilet humor and gimmicks that get worn out five minutes into the film like White Chicks or Clerks II, or you can enjoy Strangers with Candy. It's up to you.


Can I make a suggestion, though? Watch Strangers with Candy.

I can't pinpoint the moment

Today was going well. Work was good. I was selling a lot of coffee - at one point, someone walked away with four bags of coffee, all of which I helped them pick out. I felt good.

And then when I got home I got pulled over.

I was keeping up with traffic, and just happened to be the last one in the line of cars. Sure, I was speeding a little, but what are the odds?

I know I can't contest the citation at all because there were no extenuating circumstances - I was not in a rush, there was no emergency, I was just out.

Now, I believe in karma. The ebb and flow of life. You do something bad, something bad happens to you. If you're a rotten person, then something rotten happens to you.

I can't exactly figure out the karma here.

I was running it over in my head: what did I do to deserve this? Who did I ignore or treat like a jerk?

What luck? Of all the shit I've seen people pull in traffic - on 270 especially - and the whole time my outlook is to mind my own shit. Sure, it sucks when someone cuts me off, but I don't get really angry because I didn't get in an accident. As long as no one gets hit, I really don't care a whole lot.

I'm not one of those SUV driving, speed freaks that rides peoples' asses when they're only going 72 in the fast lane. Neither am I one of those people who go 64 in the fast lane because I'm on my cell phone and I'm not really paying attention.

I'm not even mean to people at work. I tip well and I'm nice to waiters at restaurants. I thank people for helping me find something at a store, even when they don't have what I'm looking for. What, exactly, branded me today for a speeding ticket?

Ah well. Fuckin' cops.

Not a whole lot I can do about it but pay up and move on.





Fuckin' cops.

Something else I decided

The other thing I decided to do on the trip, while seeing a lot of businesspeople with the bluetooth thing in their ears was to get one and wear it all the time, without having it connected to any phone.

My idea was that I would just start talking to no one at all, and as long as I was wearing the earpiece, no one would think I'm crazy.

How fun would that be? To just make up a conversation with no one in public, and it's completely accepted.

Should we jump through the concrete pillar?

Holy crap I am tired. The only reason I'm even awake is to wait for my pizza to get here so that I can go to bed, sated.

I had a long, long day. Today was the day I took the trip out to Rockville, Maryland to learn how to use a new piece of equipment to make my life easier.

I awoke this morning at 3:30, to prepare for my day. My flight was at 6:15, but I'd never been to the Columbus airport, so I left myself a lot of extra time in case I fucked something up. Which, by indication that I actually allowed myself time for this reason, is proof enough that I actually need the time set aside.

I arrived at the check-in counter before any attendants had actually started working.

The flight was fine. Nothing special. I read. Because I can.

When we arrived, we (my boss and I) had to go get our rental car. Our car was in spot H-31, and on the way to retrieving our car, Boss gestures towards a silver Chevy HHR, and says, "wouldn't it be cool if this were our car for the day?"

When we arrive at spot H-31, we realize that it doesn't exist. The H section only reaches 29. An attendant helps us find our car by its ID number and it turns out to be the exact car Boss gestured towards earlier. We marvel at the irony, then hop in.

Since our meeting began at 11, and our flight arrived at 7:25, we had some time to kill. We visited another WFM and I was amazed at how dramatically smaller it was. It was cramped. We then visited a record store that was closing down and I got a few things.

The meeting that we had been flown in for lasted for about an hour and a half.

After the meeting we tried to visit the new store that's opening in January, but Boss accidentally took us in the wrong direction, which happened to be the exact direction the airport was in. So we decided to cut our losses and kill a few hours in the airport bar.

What resulted was Boss and me having a few drinks and playing Travel Scrabble, thoroughly entertaining the bar waiters, who had clearly never seen something like that before.

During the delayed, fully packed flight back, I was offered some peanuts. Having had three pints less than an hour previous, I thought some protein would be good.

On the shuttle back to where I parked my car, an overly presumptuous businessman on the same flight back who introduced me not as just a man with a name, but a man with a name attached to the name of a business. He wasn't just Joe Smith. He was Joe Smith Hertzville Packing Inc. He asked me what I did, and I told him that I'm the coffee specialist at Whole Foods Market. "What's that?"

I then proceeded to tell him what the store was about and what specifically I did, and by this time, all other passengers were intently listening to me describing why Kona is more expensive than almost all other coffees.


When I got back out to my car it had started snowing lightly. The attendant taking my ticket was cheerful despite his cramped and obviously deliriously cold and told me "Merry Christmas."

"Thanks, you too."



I am pretty tired. I've been up about 19 or 20 hours. So I'm going to bed, because I open tomorrow.

It's going to happen

I've come to the conclusion that, when I strike it rich doing whatever it is I will be doing to strike it rich, and I become a millionaire, I am going to donate heavily to Troma Films.

Maybe even finance a feature. Or be in one.

Basically I'm obsessed with Troma.

UHF

This is further proof that my parents have had the biggest impact on my movie tastes. For those of you not aware, UHF is the movie starring "Weird Al" Yankovic, in which he plays the over-imaginative George Newman who gets a chance to manage a short-wave television station.

Not long into the movie, you understand Al's entire being. It opens up into a near shot-for-shot remake of the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark. All you see is the hero's back walking through a jungle, and just when the traitorous jungle guide reaches for his sidearm, the hero turns his head slightly, reaches for his whip and cracks it loudly. Just like in Raiders. Except, in this recreation, Al takes off the guy's entire arm.

This short glimpse, not even three minutes into the flick, and you get it. Just as in Al's numerous pop song parodies, the framework and melody remains the same, but a few of the details in between are...just a little off.

Al continues with the Raiders riff and ventures into the cave, veering past obstacles, including about 20 road signs indicating falling rocks. And, in the famous scene with the hero contemplating switching out the prize for a bag of sand, Al hesitates, thinks, gets ready, and at the last second reconsiders and just takes the damn thing.

From this brief parody is a clear message: "Weird Al" loves what he does, and if he wasn't such a big fan of everything he pokes fun at, it wouldn't be funny at all.

At a certain point through the movie, it rolls off like a family-friendly "Mr. Show" episode, meandering from brief spots of the various television shows on the station to the commercial ads featured to pay revenue. One of the best commercials is one for Spatula City. For all your spatula needs.

Something else you may notice, especially if you've seen a lot of sight gag-heavy movies like Airplane!, Top Secret! or any of the Naked Gun movies, is a noticeable volume of fake-out sight gags. For example, R.J. Fletcher, the bad guy of the movie, and senior editor of the local network affiliate, is chewing out one of his office lackeys, a mustachioed man (I love that phrase) wearing a ridiculous-looking cowboy hat, complete with feathers, leather, and a raccoon tail. When R.J. is done chewing him out, he yells, "Now get out of here! And take that thing off, it looks ridiculous!" The man shrinks down a little, dejectedly, sighs, rips off his mustache, and walks away. You wouldn't believe how hard I laughed. Okay, you would believe it. You all know how much of a geek I am for that sort of joke.

One of the big things to point out is that this features a young, pre-Kramer Michael Richards as Stanley Spadowski, the janitor-turned star of the small station. He's wacky, energetic, and kind of a goofball. It's all incredibly endearing, especially his soliloquy using his mop as a metaphor for life during his debut as a kid's show host. Sometimes, you just gotta clean it out and start over.

It occurred to me late in the movie that the main flaw is its limited reliance on one of the most heavily used 80's movie cliches - the rag-tag, underdog crew who takes down the established, and therefore evil, suit.
However, it then occurred to me after that that is an even larger "Weird Al" parody - that of a hackneyed, over-used movie plot. After all, he did co-write the movie. This is what I choose to believe.

This movie is fun, charming at some points and hysterical at many many other points. If you like "Weird Al," any of the ZAZ flicks (Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker, i.e., Airplane!), or other silly movies with well thought-out sight gags, you're going to like this movie.

They are a part of life.

It's been a busy weekend. I was in Youngstown for Thanksgiving, and back in Reynoldsburg the very next day. I turned 23 and got a thumbs-up on my job at work thus far.

Thanksgiving was fun. As per usual, my family drank a bunch of wine and got silly. After we ate, Nick wanted to go throw a football around outside. Since we were both...silly with wine, this turned into about an hour-and-a-half's worth of shtick in the street, entertaining the rest of my family.

Nick, Amy and I eventually watched "Deal or No Deal" with the rest of my family, making fun of a southern woman who kept saying "might could," as in, "I might-could take that deal." She was also calling her husband "Love Dove." We have no idea what his real name was. Damn south. Hannah was asleep from about 6:30 that evening until about 7:30 the next morning.

At any rate, Monday was my birthday. I had to go into work to do all of my ordering and things, and then I came home. When I arrived home, Amy was waiting for me on the couch. There was a card on the table, that said, "OPEN ME FIRST." Tied to the chair was a balloon that featured Darth Vader. Taped on the balloon was a note imploring me to "Use The Force" to find my presents. So for the next ten or so minutes I wandered around the apartment on a scavenger hunt for my presents.

She's the one for me.

If you think this typing looks a little different, it is. It's a very subtle change and I applaud you for finding it. The change is that I got a laptop computer.

Amy and I made a compromise to the effect that I could get a laptop if we could start seriously shopping for engagement rings. This is a compromise I could live with. So, while we were out Monday night, we stopped in at Best Buy because one of her gifts was a $10 gift card (which had a dreidel on it). On a whim, I suggested we go back and look and laptops, just to start researching. After a few minutes of looking, I happened across one that caught my eye. It was great price for the features that it had, and since it had Windows Media Center, when the Vista upgrade came out, this one would come with Vista Premium. And on top of that, if I got a wireless router and signed up for the Geek Squad to come and set up two computers on it, I would get a $150 rebate. So, all said, I would pay $10 for a router and an appointment. I didn't get it Monday night, but we did some more looking around.

Yesterday we came back to Best Buy and I bought it. It's great.

Lastly, I'd like to ,with your indulgence (like you have a choice), mention a few work-related items. First of all, I found out what the deal is with my meeting in Maryland next Thursday. My flight out of Columbus is at 6:15 a.m., and my flight back TO Columbus is at 5:40 in the evening. I hope I get paid for this.

Also, there's a very good chance I'm going to win the trip to Costa Rica. Basically, there's a holiday coffee competition going on in the region. The store that sells the most as a percentage of the overall store sales, wins a trip for a week to Costa Rica, along with 10 or 11 other people.

Lastly, the regional director-type for coffee was in yesterday and today, but he had to leave earlier than he expected today, so I didn't get a chance to talk to him. But I called him, and he said that I was doing a really good job and that he's really impressed with what I've done to bring the sales back up and to make everything look better.

Success!

Casino Royale

This is a first for this blog: an actual, first-run movie review. You see, the thing is, ticket prices are ridiculously expensive these days, and if there's a movie I'm only kind-of interested in seeing, I'm perfectly content to wait until Netflix, the wonder that it is, sends it to me wrapped in love and a waxed paper sleeve.

So unless there's something I really want to see, I don't go to the theater all that much. I dig the cheap theater with the second-run movies, but I live pretty far away from one, so that the convenience of checking out a flick is nil.

However, Casino Royale is something that I really wanted to see, and Amy agreed to seeing it, stating that she wouldn't mind seeing Daniel Craig shirtless. Whatever. He's attractive. I get it.

Anyways, I wanted to get my overall opinion in early, to convince you that it's worth the money.

You want to see this movie.

When the word broke that Daniel Craig would be the new Bond, I was all for it. I thought he was good in Road to Perdition and Layer Cake, and I could see what he could bring to the role. But a lot of people scoffed and threatened boycotts. Whether any of them made good on the threat is something I don't know, especially when the first trailers were released.

I was all for change because the series had started to become a joke unto itself. It became about a few stock items in each submission: the gadgets, the car, the chick. I noticed a while ago that the movies have to have the climax take place in the following places: underwater, in the air, or on land. This may seem obvious, but take a look back at the movies. You can predict what it's going to be 9 out of 10 times. In the beginning of Tomorrow Never Dies, a submarine gets sunk by a weird torpedo: this one's going to take place at sea. Moonraker: this one's obvious. No matter what the story, who the actor is, who the Bond Girl is, you knew what was going to happen. For a while, the producers considered opening up the franchise as a director showcase. What would John Woo's Bond be like? And exactly how much blood would be in Tarantino's Bond? It seemed like an interesting prospect.

But then, something else happened. In almost clear deference to Batman Begins, the solution to a stale, jokey franchise is to take it back to square one. And for those of you who don't know, Casino Royale is the very first Bond novel Ian Fleming ever wrote.

Okay. Enough about backstory - let's get to the movie. It's intense - the most intense in the series, in my opinion. We start out just as Bond gets his 00 status. He's a rookie, and it shows. He shows definite potential for the job, but he's a little sloppy and way too arrogant. He's put on his first mission and it goes wrong somewhere, which nearly leaves him out in the cold completely.

The first mission, while I won't deal out spoilers, is a great sequence. Craig lends a great physicality to the role that was missing from Brosnan's later entries and pretty much all of Roger Moore's leathery hide. I mean, seriously. He was like "Bond: Age 52."

Craig's physicality definitely shows in pretty much all of the action-oriented scenes. The cool thing is that, when the fights happen, there's no slow-motion, so everything goes amazingly quickly. Another neat thing is that, during all of the action-sequences, when Craig is doing all this chasing and fighting, while he's still a young scrapper, every now and again he shows some of the Bond intellect we are used to. For instance, while chasing a criminal that is climbing up a thin wire holding up a bunch of pipes on a construction site, instead of chasing him up the wire, Bond shoots the lever and is launched quickly upward. Also - don't have a lot of bullets but have a lot of people to shoot? Aim for something that blows up.

Something else I wanted to talk about is the music. We all know the Bond theme. It's a globally recognized series of notes. However, in this movie, we don't hear it but only a rare few times. It's really fun when he first puts on The Tuxedo, and the theme plays quietly with subtlety in the back. Also, a negative about the music. I hated the song. I'm not a Chris Cornell fan, and why he was chosen to write and perform the song is way beyond me. You'll know what I'm talking about when you see it.

As naturally occurs in movies that are based on old novels, some updating needs to take place. One of the things changed was the gambling. Instead of the obscure card game played in the original novel, they play Hold 'Em Poker. But, of course, this is allowed. After all, you wouldn't see Pinochle in a Western - you'd invariably see Five Card Stud.

However, as Bond himself has some weak moments, as does this movie. Somewhere in the second half of the movie, Bond mutters a really cheesy line. You'll know it when you hear it. And there's also the obligatory love story subsumed in there that feels, well, just obligatory. It's obvious that this was meant to be an action flick.

Beyond Craig himself, there are some really great performances. Eva Green plays the lovely Vesper Lynd, who is responsible for the money Bond is gambling with, and she lends a sweet vulnerability and naivety to the role. Mads Mikkelsen is disturbingly maniacal. There are physical bad guys and there are brainy bad guys. Mikkelsen as Le Chiffre is just quietly menacing.

A few funny moments happened in the theater while watching the movie. The first happened when the MI6 correspondence car first showed on screen. Amy and I heard about 50 guys climaxing. The opposite happened during the torture scene, when Amy and I heard just about every guy inhaling sharply in sympathetic pain. It was a little disturbing for a guy to watch, in their defense.

To put an end to this ridiculously long post, you must see this movie if you're a Bond fan (die-hard or moderate) or even if you just dig really great action movies. This one certainly breathes life into a franchise that was left asphyxiating (that's a hard word to spell) in mediocrity.

Thank You for Smoking

One of the most impressive things a movie can do is to make the audience get behind the bad guy. It worked ridiculously well for Mel Gibson in Payback, one of my all-time favorites (which is coming out with a drastically re-cut version after the new year).

In Thank You for Smoking, you really get behind Aaron Eckhart as he talks his way into making a sick-child group seem evil, getting cigarettes into space and as he mentors his son into being a successful arguer.

Eckhart plays Nick Naylor, the very public face of the collection of cigarette companies commonly referred to as Big Tobacco. As he puts it, he is "paid to talk." Officially, his title is the lobbyist for the companies, trying to get his way in Washington, D.C. He has two comrades, the lobbyist for Alcohol, Maria Bello, and the lobbyist for the Firearm industry, the amazingly funny David Koechner, The three of them make up they are informally called the "Merchants of Death," or the MOD Squad.

Throughout the course of the film, Eckhart talks to his son's class about being a lobbyist, during which he makes the point of "deciding for yourself what's best," which sounds dangerously close to encouraging a class of 6th graders to start smoking. Somewhere in the fold, Katie Holmes, a reporter for a national newspaper, interviews Eckhart for a piece in her paper, and then has sex with him a bunch of times. Eckhart also has to deal with William H. Macy, a senator from Vermont, who has taken it upon himself to adorn every cigarette pack with a big skull-and-crossbones picture with the word "POISON" emblazoned underneath it.

But perhaps the crux of the film is when he takes his son, who he only gets to see on the weekend, due to divorce, on his business trip to Los Angeles to try and get some cigarette product-placement in the film industry. Eckhart wants his son to see just what he does up close, and his son wants to learn more about convincing people to do whatever he wants them to believe. In a choice scene, Eckhart is teaching his son the tricks of the arguing trade. In a mock debate about chocolate versus vanilla ice cream, Eckhart teaches his son that, if he proves that vanilla is not the best flavor in the world, then by default he's won. Proving the other side wrong makes you right.

This is one of the smartest satires I've ever seen. Every scene that depicts Nick Naylor as the good guy, every scene the depicts the senator of Vermont a socks-with-sandals-wearing hippie, every joke David Koechner makes, you can feel satire oozing out of it. However, the remarkable thing is that, at the center of all the satire, the story is about a father trying to make a connection with a son he rarely sees, a son that sees him as the hero we all used to see our fathers as.

In the end, if you want a sometimes-biting-but sometimes-subtle satire, wrapped inside a bunch of very well-executed jokes and some affecting father-son moments, this is the movie for you.

Perks of the job, in a manner of speaking.

It appears that, in two weeks, I will be taking a day trip to Maryland for work.

I will fly out in the morning to attend an 11 a.m. meeting, and then fly back sometime after that is done.

Why, exactly, is this happening? Well, there is some new technology available to us (the company and the coffee area I maintain) that will help smooth out the ordering process. Everything will be computerized and I will be using a computer do-hickey to scan what I have, and the amount I have, and an electronic order will be automatically sent to the company.

How cool is that?

And I'm pretty sure, after the new year, that I'll be taking another work-related trip to Colorado. How's about that?

My first-ever submission to FOUND Magazine:

Amy found it in her fortune cookie.





That is all.

The Twilight Samurai

If it's one thing I enjoy in movies, judging from the past few movies I've seen, it's stripped-down stories contradicting heroic generalities.

I reviewed Dirty Harry and said it was about how being a cop isn't all it's cracked up to be, and how you can't always be a hero.

In The Twilight Samurai, we see a man both satisfied and dissatisfied with his own position, and how unwilling he is to be a warrior.

This movie is about a very low-level samurai near the end of feudal Japan whose wife has been killed by a disease they call "consumption," or tuberculosis. So he's left to care for his two young daughters and his aging, senile mother. So when it's time to come home from work, it's all making dinner and tending to his garden. Oftentimes, he doesn't even have time to bathe himself.

The woman he married was in a station above his own, and she always wanted him to try to rise in his station, seeking to quell her family's disgust. So when she eventually died, she requested a funeral way more expensive than he could afford, leaving him in drastic debt. However, he's made peace with his own way of life, and he truly loves his daughters. He's made them do book learning, something women were not normally even allowed to do, in favor of learning just enough to make a proper home. He doesn't even seem to care that his co-workers call him "Twilight" because he never wants to go out drinking and he never seems happy at all.

Upon visiting a friend of his, he learns that a childhood friend of his, a girl named Tomoe, has been divorced from her husband, a high-ranking samurai, because he habitually got drunk and beat her. A divorce was also controversial, and getting one required direct permission from the lordship. He inadvertently gets in the middle when the ex-husband comes around, and challenges him to a duel.

I won't tell you how the duel goes down - it's one of the more exciting scenes in the movie. But our hero fares well.

Eventually, he gets called upon to kill a renegade general who refuses to commit suicide upon orders from high above. Only, Twilight doesn't want to. He's not a killer, and he's been considering giving up the sword to become a farmer. But he's a samurai, and he has to obey orders.

Twilight's character represents the general feeling towards samurai near the end of the 19th century - who needs them anymore? There isn't a whole lot to fight for - every time a leader dies, there's a political war that causes former allies to fight against one another. It's a shit life.

The story and acting, all great, put aside, another thing to take note of is the period recreation. Everything looks beautiful and genuine. There are a lot of earthy tones and a lot of shots of open fields. I've seen a bunch of period pieces, and one of the main differences between the good and the bad is how much effort is put into generating every detail relevant to that period.

Likewise, there are a lot of good medieval movies - but put in a rock and roll soundtrack, and the entire movie gets turned to complete crap (see: the unbelievably god-awful A Knight's Tale).

This one is a great twist on the familiar samurai genre flick. This is a thinking man's samurai. Definitely rent it. Or borrow it from your local library, like I did.

Dirty Harry

Without a doubt, my favorite cop movie of all time is Bullitt, starring Steve McQueen. It is a movie that I watched with my father some years ago, when he got a copy of it on VHS. A while ago, I got it on DVD and have watched it several more times, absorbing more and more each time.

I bring this up because of its similarities to today's subject, Dirty Harry, starring, of course, the Magnum toting Clint Eastwood.

There are several similarities. For one, the settings are both the same: San Francisco. The music for both was done by Lalo Schifrin, who has done a ridiculous amount of movie soundtracks, including, but not limited to, THX 1138, Enter the Dragon, The Amityville Horror, the Mission: Impossible trilogy, the Rush Hour movies, After the Sunset, and the theme song for the second "Splinter Cell" video game. They also feature characters whose reputations seem to precede them, not all of the time in a positive way.

Both of these films feature main characters who are not completely satisfied with their lives, as Callahan demonstrates near the beginning when he dolefully stops about four bank robbers while chewing the only bite of his hot dog he got before shots were fired (this is the scene where he spews the famous line about "I know what you're thinking: did he fire six shots or only five...?"). And throughout the movie, various characters make brief references to Callahan's wife, only to immediately correct themselves with, "Oh...sorry Harry."

The opening shot of Harry features the San Fransisco Police Department's memorial wall, listing the men who've fallen on duty, suggesting that being a cop isn't all what it's cracked up to be in the movies (which is odd because at one point during the movie, Callahan jumps on top of a moving school bus).

In terms of reputation, which I mentioned earlier, Callahan gets the nickname Dirty Harry, as revealed after he tricks a jumper into attacking him by insulting him, because he's called whenever someone's dirty work needs doing. As his partner says it, "He's always given the shit end of the stick."

The main plot of the film is that there's a rooftop sniper loose in S.F. and he's randomly shooting one person a day, until he gets a ransom of $100,000 dollars. Pretty meager by today's standards, of course, but that was, what, 35 years ago? Things go haywire when a stakeout leaves the sniper, who calls himself Scorpio (and we never learn his real name), very aware that the cops are onto him. So, he takes a hostage and demands more money.

The major plot piece occurs near the middle of the movie, where Scorpio has Callahan running around the dirty San Francisco nightlife with $200,000 in cash in a yellow suitcase.

And while we're on the subject, one of the major characters in this movie is the city of San Francisco. Filmed merely three years after Bullitt, this San Fran is much grittier and scummier, and the fact that Callahan get stopped by mugger and perverts on his frantic trip around the city proves this point.

When Callahan delivers the money, Scorpio reveals that he's going to kill the girl anyways, and runs off. Long story short, he catches Scorpio and arrests him.

In any normal movie, this would be where the resolution would hit. By arresting Scorpio, the location of the girl would be revealed, and she would be returned to her parents with only minor psychological damage. Hell, it happened in Silence of the Lambs, and that movie was way more messed up.

But you'd be wrong to think all of that. This is a different kind of movie. The girl is found, dead, and Scorpio's arrest doesn't stick because Callahan broke into his house without a warrant, rendering the rifle Scorpio used to kill two people inadmissible as evidence. Also, Callahan shot Scorpio in the leg to stop him from running, and then stepped on his gunshot wound to force him to reveal the location of the girl. Ah, well, that's law for you. Ask everyone's favorite deaf criminal justice/law student/i don't remember exactly what it's called-type girl Brooke.

The climax actually occurs after Scorpio strikes again, having been released back on the streets due to Callahan's altruistic, if legally flawed, law enforcement techniques. He hijacks a bus full of schoolchildren and now demands the money and a jet waiting for him at the airport.

After all this excitement, running around San Fran, jumping onto a moving school bus, and so on, Callahan shows he doesn't quite dig it all. As he tells the wife of his wounded partner, "I don't know why [I'm still here]..I really don't." One of the last shots of the movie has Callahan ripping the badge out of his wallet and hurling it into the water of the big climatic set piece.

And if Dirty Harry didn't spawn four sequels, this would have been a grander gesture to remember.

This is a great movie, and certainly a classic. It has very memorable moments and very memorable lines. The performances, especially Clint Eastwood's, are really great. It's major flaw, however, is that its ideology seems to contradict itself. Its opening shot and its closing shot seem to convey the fact that being a cop isn't a glamorous job, and it makes you consider your self-worth. But a lot of it in between, especially the bus sequence, seem to convey the opposite notion. Rooftop shoot-outs don't normally occur on the job, especially right after seeing, with binoculars, a naked girl, with two other girls starting to strip, through their apartment window, which happens to be open in the middle of the night.

This is definitely a renter, but it's a buyer for die-hard fans.

The coporate lateral ladder.

I'm having a lot of frustration at work recently. The holidays are coming up, and it's the perfect opportunity to get my sales back up to where the should be, as opposed to where they have been while there was no one in my position taking care of everything.

I have a store manager who is complaining about bad comps (how the sales are doing in comparison to last year's sales at the same time), but who doesn't allow a lot of displays throughout the store. He doesn't like nice wooden display fixtures that match all the shelves throughout the store, but he allows product still in the boxes to be stacked upon one another, with the cardboard cut open. Some of them are actually on the floor. Not the sales floor, I mean the actual literal floor.

He gave me one place to do some cross-promotion. There was olive oil there, but he said grocery would take it out. A week ago. I had to do it myself today.

While doing that, I was stopped by someone in the bakery department, where the display would be, and was told that I couldn't put my coffee there because he needed it for his product.

So I'm stuck now.

You know, I've been making a huge effort to get displays up, to keep the shelves full, and to talk about the product as much as possible to get the sales back up. But it's not enough because the people who want sales up are blocking everything I do. When I was hired for the job, I was told one of the reasons was my creativity. But I can't exactly let that shine, can I? If I'm not allowed to do my job?

If I make an effort, and sales suffer because of a higher-up's trite standards, I can't blame myself for it. But I applied for the job because I wanted to do it, and if I'm not allowed to do it, it's torture.

It would be different if I were given the opportunity to do all of this stuff, and sales were still bad. But I'm not getting the opportunity.

So luckily I have the next few days off to cool down and think about what I'm going to do. What loopholes do I have?

I do have one thing. It's a piece of advice I was given by the man that pretty much gave me the job, and it's what I'm going to leave you with tonight.

It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Mission: Impossible III

I don't care what you have to say about Tom Cruise. We all know he's lost it somewhere along the line, or he's always been nuts and has been hiding it ridiculously well all these years.

The fact is that he's a great performer. Put him in a Jerry Maguire and he'll make your date cry. Put him in a Last Samurai and you want to start taking sword fighting classes. Put him in a Collateral and you want to be a hitman.

His first turn as Ethan Hunt in Mission: Impossible was a great spy thriller with the appropriate twists and turns. Mission: Impossible II, though not a perfect follow-up, was a pretty kickin' action turn. And now, Mission: Impossible III was an absolutely nail-baiting action-thriller.

One of the concepts that started with M:I:II was getting a different director to helm each project, to see what exciting direction each director could take it in. Brian De Palma, who gave us Scarface and the fascinating Femme Fatale, directed the first one, while John Woo lent his "ballet of bullets" style of action sequences to the franchise. J.J. Abrams, director of the incredible "Lost," now infuses his unique brand of storytelling with the series' lexicon.

One of the key elements of Abrams' stories is his flash-forwards/backs. You can notice it in "Lost," where each episode explores a different character's back story, giving us insight into that character. M:I:III is no different, as the movie opens up to a scene presumably from somewhere in the middle of the story. It opens up with Tom Cruise strapped to a chair across from his lady, and Philip Seymour Hoffman with a gun in his hand, saying, "You have an explosive device in your head. Sound familiar?"

Not yet, but it will soon enough.

Hoffman proceeds to grill Cruise and interrogate him, threatening to kill the lady if he doesn't 'fess up. And, as a testament to Cruise's performance abilities, as each number counts up to ten, he goes from desperate confusion, to angry threatening, to hopeless pleading and bargaining.
Hoffman reaches ten, a shot rings out, and the screen goes black. Now that's a pre-opening credits sequence.

From then on, it's a fairly straight-forward story. Cruise is now not an operating field officer, but a training officer for IMF, and is getting engaged to Michelle Monaghan (see: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang). He gets called onto a mission that goes wrong somehow, and is left to figure out why.

Throw in a very cool mission that gets pulled off without a hitch, Philip Seymour Hoffman as a very maniacal bad-guy, a simply stunning action sequence on a bridge, and some office administrative double-crossings, and you've got your basic spy action-thriller.

The supporting characters are just as important. Simon Pegg shows up as the office-side technical support/comic relief in his first American-made film (to the best of my knowledge), other than a very brief cameo as a zombie in George A. Romero's Land of the Dead.

The big beef I have with this movie is the ending. Although I won't get into it now so as to not ruin it, suffice it to say that it seemed very tacked-on and disconnected. I get a feeling that there was a different ending intended, but was changed before releasing.


Who cares if Tom Cruise has a crazy personal life? That's Hollywood. Beck's a scientologist, too, you know. Is that going to stop you from buying his next 17 albums? It's all the gossip about personal lives that makes movies perform poorly. A lot of people missed out on this great flick just because of Tom Cruise's personal life. I went to the theater to see this, told everyone I knew, and 9 out of 10 times, I got back, "I know...I just think he's out of his mind."

As a result of the movie's poor performance, Cruise's production company with Paula Wagner was cut loose, and there can at this time be no more Cruise-starring Mission: Impossible sequels. The rumor around the internet is that Brad Pitt will pick it up.

Now my question to you is: How exactly would the movie explain that?



You. Go rent this movie, then buy it to watch it over again. Now.

Really quick (but excellent) news:

Go here for the article I read, but it appears as if "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" can temporarily forget its threat of cancellation.

I can't tell you how thrilled I am, and Tim no doubt will be, at this news.

As a user called El Fuego on the Ain't It Cool News website put it, "Hey, if 'Joey' lasted 2 seasons, this deserves at least that long. It's not perfect, but it's better than most of the crap out there."


If it had been canceled, however, I would have posted this paraphrased quote from the Onion's A.V. Club, in regards to the "Stella" Season 1 DVD:

"Considering most of the crap that stays on the air these days, getting canceled is almost a badge of honor."


But it didn't get canceled. So I won't post that.

But I just did.


Pretend I was talking about "Sports Night."

I want to direct your attention to this:

Hey people. As I continue to add and play with the new Blogger Beta template, of which, by the way, I am a fan, I want to direct your attention to some things.

One of the things I added recently was a site feed to The Onion Radio News. Click on the links and it will take you to a page to listen to a roughly minute-long radio news story that is perpetually the funniest thing you've ever heard.

Enjoy. Let me know how you like it.

The Hidden Fortress.

I decided that eventually it would be time to put my zombie fanaticism to an end, and that I would need to transition into another genre I can call my own.

I, of course, am doing this no time soon, but I thought it would be good to get some fresh film in there somewhere. Thus, The Hidden Fortress.

As one of Akira Kurosawa's classic and seminal samurai films, Fortress sounded like it would be a good primer because of its known influence on George Lucas into creating the Star Wars trilogy. The older ones. Not the newer ones, also known as The Worst Movies Ever Made trilogy.

Fortress tells the tale of a general and princess from a recently destroyed kingdom who must travel across enemy borders, sneak through enemy territory, and into the land of allies carrying 200 pieces of gold. Also in the movie are two bumbling peasants, who can't seem to keep their greed in check as they are blindly convinced to help the general and the princess. As the general Rokoruta put it, "Make them carry gold and they'll do anything we ask."

One of the key elements of Kurosawa's films is his visual style. His trademarks carry long, single-frame shots where a lot of action takes place. One opening scene has the two bumbling peasants lamenting their position in life and suddenly looking past the camera shocked, as a war-torn man is chased into the frame by several men on horses and killed right there in front of them. All of this takes place in one single wide shot.

Another positive of this film is that the peasants, though best friends at heart, often end up in fights with each other of small pieces of the gold. This functions as the comic relief of the film, and their physical acting is timeless.

The special feature on this disc that I watched was an interview with George Lucas about the film's influence on himself. He tells of his upbringing, where he didn't get to see any foreign films until film school, where he was exposed to Kurosawa's work. The main influence on Lucas, as he states it, is the telling of the story from the two lowliest characters. In Fortress, that means the two peasants. In Star Wars, that of course means the two droids, C-3PO and R2-D2. It is a very unique attribute to have, and an uncommon one. A lot of movies have two very lowly characters partnered up - say, Dumb and Dumber or the like, but although the characters are idiots, they are still the main characters of the movie.

As a primer, this was a great one. It gave me a lot of insight into Kurosawa's world of storytelling, without having too much clutter to muck it up. There have been better-rated films in his catalog, like Seven Samurai or Yojimbo, but The Hidden Fortress stands as a testament to Kurosawa's work as timeless and important.

Bride of Re-Animator

I'm going to start off this section with a movie that very clearly shows a portion of my film tastes with Bride of Re-Animator.

For those of you not familiar, this one is a direct sequel to the movie Re-Animator, starring Jeffrey Combs as Dr. Herbert West, a man very interested in...well, eliminating death. The original was a great flick if you enjoy 1980's special effects and lots of blood. Dr. West moves to Massachusetts as a Med student at a hospital Miskatonic, and soon finds his way into sharing an apartment with the handsome and talented Dr. Daniel Cain, who happens to be dating the daughter of the Dean of the medical school. Well, Dr. West soon involves Dr. Cain in his activities and they both get kicked out of the medical school, with a little help from obvious bad-guy Dr. Carl Hill, played creepily by David Gale. Things go very much awry and Dr. Hill ends up a headless zombie (carrying around his own head), the dean of the medical school ends up a zombie, and what is referred to later as the "Miskatonic Massacre" breaks out, involving all of Dr. West's "experiments," killing Dr. Cain's girlfriend Megan in the process.


This second installment picks up months after the Miskatonic Massacre and finds Dr. West and Dr. Cain in Peru, lending their medical expertise to a Peruvian rebellion squad. I didn't just make that up. At any rate, the rebellion goes kaput, and the two doctors make their way back to Miskatonic, practicing again. Meanwhile, a fatty police lieutenant is put in charge of investigating the Miskatonic Massacre, who seems to have his own personal stock in it. A woman from the Peruvian rebellion, Francesca, shows up as well, looking or Dr. Cain and gets forced into the investigation by Lt. Chapman. Dr. West has taken it upon himself to console a still-grieving Dr. Cain over the loss of his girlfriend Megan, by stealing various body parts from the morgue and reassembling a body around Megan's heart. Meanwhile, a bumbling pathology doctor has inadvertently reanimated the head of Dr. Hill, who wants revenge on Dr. West. the climax takes place in the two doctors' shared house on a windy, stormy night.

While I thoroughly enjoyed Re-Animator, I found Bride to be a little more tedious than the first, with a few more forced plot points than the first. However, there was a lot of plot going on that was well-paced throughout the movie. It didn't seem too hasty, even at a mere 1:40 runtime, especially taking into consideration the fact that movies with half this plot these days run at over two hours. Dr. West's speech just before the climax is very well-done, proving that although Jeffrey Combs isn't a widely known actor, he definitely knows is territory.

So in the end, more of the same blood-spilling, reanimating fun, with a few more plot points thrown in to complicate things, sometimes a little for the worse. It's worth reanimating your DVD player for.

These things I have learned.

This isn't something I normally do, but I thought that it would be something at least mildly entertaining, just like the rest of this blog.

Relationships, as the cliché goes, take some work. A lot of this work hangs on communication. You have to learn how to communicate effectively.

This means that, not only do you have to make sure you verbalize your thoughts and actions clearly, but you also have to learn how to listen to your partner. You have to understand what they mean when they say something.

This kind of goes along the lines of speech patterns, meaning that if a certain word or phrase is used, it has its own unique meaning, and you have to understand what the intended meaning is, regardless of the word. For instance, this is something that happened the other night:

Amy: "Honey, I'm going to do the laundry, so go separate your clothes."


This statement is a bald-faced lie on the surface. Because ten minutes later, after my laundry was separated into neat piles on the floor, and I returned to my television, Amy said this while carrying in a basket full of dirty clothes:

"Ok, you wanna help?"

This statement has its own meaning, but I'll get to that shortly. What I wanted to talk about was the bald-faced lie. The phrase in question is, "I'm going to do the laundry." I'm. You see, in order for her statement to be 100% accurate in both syntax and intended meaning, the statement would have to go, "We're going to do the laundry."

The second statement, the question, isn't a question at all, but a very in/direct request. The problem isn't the words, but rather the punctuation at the end. That statement should be:

"Ok, you wanna help."

And these are the things you have to learn if you're in a relationship. You understand the difference between what your partner says and what they mean.

You also have to learn that anything you say can and will be used against you. After the question was asked, my initial thought was, "No, I do not." But that's between me and my brain. I wouldn't actually say that. My balls are too precious to me.




One last thing to mention is that you have to have preternatural para psychic abilities. You have to read minds. When she has a few spare hours in the morning, Amy likes to sleep in, and on mornings off I usually get up no later than 9:30 whether or not I've got the entire day off. I've made the mistake in the past of trying to wake Amy up before she wills it to be so, and it usually goes like this:

I say, "Hey baby, it's x o'clock. You wanna get up?"
Amy says (in a manner of speaking), "Ten more minutes." I leave the room, and then come back in ten minutes.
I say, "Hey baby, it's time to get up."
She says something along the lines of, "I'll get up when I want." I sigh frustratingly and leave the room, which can coerce her into getting up. She comes into the living room, lays down on the couch with the blanket, and groans whenever I try to get near her.

So, one day the conversation (of sorts) went like this:

The night before, Amy says, "Don't wake me up tomorrow, I don't have to work until 1."
I say, "Okay, that sounds good."
In the morning, I wake up when I usually wake up on mornings off and say, "I'm gonna get up, ok?"
"Okay."
I then leave the room, shut the door behind me, proceed to make my coffee and sit down on the couch and switch on my morning CNN Headline News.
11:30 rolls around. Amy comes out of the bedroom and says the following:

"Why did you let me sleep this late?"


I laughed sadly, defeated.

Why would my brain do that to me?

So I had a crazy work dream last night. Usually, work dreams consist of the inane things I have to do. If work gets really stressful, I have work dreams.

Last night, however was a work dream of a completely different sort.

I was standing behind the counter at the coffee roaster, roasting coffee, helping customers, etc., when all of the sudden who should come up to the counter and ask about a pound of coffee but Hitler?
Hitler came to me looking for coffee. He asked a few questions, asked for a recommendation. And the oddest part was that it was totally casual. He was wearing a normal suit, like he was on his lunch break from his cubicle job at the office. Like, "okay, I'm here for some coffee to take home for the morning before I head back to work, which happens to be killing millions of Jews."

I don't remember exactly what kind of coffee he got, but I remember him leaving and me thinking, "Wow. What a low-key guy. That Hitler is really misunderstood."







Another dream I had from a few years back is equally crazy, and involved just as much introspection on my part. I was riding around in a car in the Coventry part of Cleveland with Bill Cosby. Just cruising, you know? And then, he asked me, "Hey, Jeff. You want some of this pot?"

And I remember being really conflicted. Because I'm not a pothead at all - I've never actually tried it. I'm not against other people using it, that's their own business - I've just never had the urge. But, unless he's offering you a part in Ghost Dad 2 (inside Tim joke), how do you say no to Bill Cosby?


And that's a question for the ages, my friends. How, exactly, do you say no to Bill Cosby?

Echoes.

Things we do, watch, listen to and say stick with us over the years. Things that are important to us ingrain themselves into our memory no matter how long ago the memories are from.

Eric Matthews, a musician, just released a new album in a long time, and it's very good. I then ordered the album of his that I remember from 1995, about 11 years ago, on Amazon.com. It was my brother's and I borrowed it and listened to it endlessly. So I received it yesterday (it would have been a few days earlier, but Amy forgot to give me the little note that said our mail carrier tried to deliver it but no one was home), and, driving around, I slid it into my car CD player. The tunes and melodies were instant in my mind, and as I suddenly found myself singing along, it occurred to me that I haven't listened to or thought about this album in over 7 years. But there I was, singing along.

I went to Best Buy to buy a copy of Mission: Impossible III. Shut up. It's a good movie. There was another sale going on there and I decided to pick up Memento and Enter The Dragon. Later that evening, while watching Enter The Dragon, a movie a watched a lot when I was a kid because my parents are Bruce Lee fans, a lot of the scenes and lines recalled themselves instantly again, even though I haven't seen that movie in a number of years.

My parents are action/adventure fans, so we tended to watch a lot of those movies. And those movies are older movies - movies that were big then, but no one really remembers that much now, at least not in the same regard when they were released. I can't tell you how many times I watched Ghostbusters during my childhood, nor Star Wars. And seriously - who has actually seen The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai? I have.

Another movie that comes to mind that I watched a lot with my parents but haven't seen in years is Big Trouble in Little China. I'm willing to bet that, if I ran out and got a copy of it, brought it home and put it in my DVD player, I would instantly begin to remember various scenes throughout the movie.

People can't escape this sort of thing. I bet that if, right now, you started to think about a movie or album or a book or a TV show that you haven't thought about in years, went out and found it and took it in you would know exactly what I'm talking about. It's like going back in time. It's like communicating with yourself from years ago.

The best all-around athlete ever.

In celebration of my promotion, I took Amy out. To dinner. Not "took out" in the sense that I assassinated her.

We had a nice night out. We went to Texas Roadhouse, where the hostess was indeed five hostesses, all pretty inept at their one singular job. We called ahead for a 15-20 minute wait, and since our ride to the restaurant was inadvertently about 10 minutes, we expected another 5 minutes of waiting. We got there and they told us another 10-15 minutes. What, exactly, then, was the point of calling ahead?

I had a beer, and accidentally asked for a tall-boy. It was enormous.

After dinner, I had the idea of walking around somewhere to help the food digest a little easier. We ultimately went to Target where I threatened to buy some Legos, but in the end bought Super Mario Strikers.

After Target, Amy wanted to stop at the liquor store, having had a margarita with dinner and craving more. We tried to buy our respective choices with our credit cards, but were informed that it was cash only and that we needed to sacrifice two dollars to the ATM gods to use it.

So we came home after that, having sacrificed our two dollars each, and put in Super Mario Strikers while taking in some of the Sacrament. Amy bought Captain Morgan's, I bought Jameson.


And let me just say that Mario is an insanely talented athlete. Tennis, Baseball, Driving, Golf and Soccer - whatever sport Mario plays, he's ridiculously good at. Meaning that, my hate for sports-related video games ends when Mario comes on the field. Mario Strikers is amazingly fun to play.

And not only when you've been drinking, though that did add to the fun.

Very good work-related news.

If you've talked to me lately and asked me about work, no doubt I'd have told you that I am working in coffee and am filling in as a temporary coffee buyer until the official one is chosen, which I am applying to be. I would also have told you that as the temporary coffee buyer, I've been responsible for maintaining the inventory, making sure it's properly stocked and looking good on the shelf.


At least, that's what I would have told you last week.


As of today, officially, I have been hired as the coffee buyer for my store. It comes with the added responsibilities of keeping an eye on the sales and numbers, and a substantial pay raise to match.


That's all, really. I've had an 11-hour workday. I'm going to bed.

I'd like a response.

Okay, so I've been watching a few movies today, and I'd like to do an informal poll of sorts. What I'd like you all to do (and by "all," I of course mean, like, one of you), is tell me what your favorite cop movie is, and tell me why it is such.

I'll start it out.

My favorite cop movie is Bullitt, starring Steve McQueen. Throughout the whole movie he's just really calm and collected, he's just cool and nothing gets to him.

Okay, so send me your favorite cop movies. My goal is at least three responses.

You'd think the opposite would be a better option.

At work, during the lunch hour, I see a lot of different types of people in from their respective workplaces. Some are from the Staples or Babies 'R' Us stores nearby, while others are more business class.

Today, there was a particularly odd businesswoman in getting a cup of tea.

She was young - maybe mid to late 20's, blonde and pretty darn attractive. She was wearing one of those dark grey pantsuits.

She was also wearing a rather large name badge, or rather what I thought was a name badge until she came up closer to the counter to retrieve the tea I had just made her. What I previously mentioned what I thought was a very large name badge was not a very large name badge, but was rather a large badge advertising the drug Cialis (I love how awkward and long this sentence is).

The conclusion I drew from the Cialis badge was that she was a drug representative, responsible for pushing the latest and greatest pharmaceutical products. Normally, of course, it would be incredibly wise to have the face of the company be a young, attractive female. But then, I thought, the drug is Cialis. And, being an attractive young female, she wouldn't be the best person to sell this drug due to the fact that she wouldn't normally need to administer the drug to get the...desired effect.

On the other hand, I think that it would be wiser to have a dumpy-looking middle-aged woman sell the drug to push the effectiveness of Cialis.

If a man took the drug and became aroused while looking at the young attractive girl, the man could claim that, well, that was very probably going to happen anyway and would doubt the effectiveness of the drug.

If a man, on the other hand, took the drug and became aroused while looking at the dumpy middle-aged woman, then the man would clearly see that arousal would very probably not have happened anyway, affirm the effectiveness of the drug, and buy ten cases, being thrilled to have an answer to the problem of not being able to make love to his own dumpy middle-aged wife at home.




These drug rep executive-types need to think more subversively when it comes to shoving pills down our throats. Get with it!

We shall be triumphant.

In relation to a recent post about Dane Cook ruining America and the comedy business within it, Tim and I have formed a cadre of heroes dedicated to foiling Dane Cook's plot to lower our collective comedic standards to near-Blue Collar Comedy depths.

With a mission statement this emphatically important, such a collective needs a proper name. We haven't got one yet. We wanted to have a name whose first initials would spell something, but a) I don't remember what that's called, and b) thinking of that shit is fucking difficult. Ask Tim. We exchanged ideas for a full half-hour. The best we got was embarrassingly juveline.


However, a squad this revolutionary and needed also needs a uniform. We have this base covered.

Just Say No To Dane Cook.

Our friend Jake, whom you may remember as creating a massive amount of t-shirt art surrounding Snakes On A Plane, and whom you may remember as being mentioned in a national publication based on the internet fan-promotion of said B-movie, has taken it upon himself to make the coolest anti-Dane Cook design and merchandise ever.

That was a long sentence.




However, t-shirts, mugs, baby onesies, courier bags, coasters, etc. are on sale now. Support our cause and do your part to put an end to the terribly unfunny tyranny of the scourge known as Dane Cook.



P.S. We need help finding a name for our collective. Send in your suggestions and be inducted into political party. If we choose your name, I don't know...Tim and Jake and I will buy you a shirt or a baby onesey or something. Deal? Deal.


Now I have to tell Tim and Jake about this promotion.

It's the small joys in life.

If you know anything at all about me, you know that I enjoy irony in every sense of the word. Usually, I enjoy irony if it means something is funny.

For instance, I have an aunt who is a staunch vegetarian. My mother chewed her out for pushing vegetarianism on my brother and me when we were smaller. All our lives she has been a vegetarian. So, then, a few years back in the beginning of October, my brother's birthday to be specific, he received a package in the mail. It was a very large, unmarked white styrofoam carton. We were both caught by surprise, as neither of us could remember having ordered anything over the internet or otherwise that could possibly fit in a very large white unmarked styrofoam carton. Feeling brave, we opened it to find that it was from a company called the Omaha Steak something or other. They specialize in very delicious meat products. This bit of information startled us a little bit, mostly because our grandmother on our father's side ordered from this company a lot, and she had just passed less than a month previous.

Was this steak from beyond the grave? Did our grandmother gain supernatural steak-ordering capabilities? Is this, in fact, the lamest post-mortem supernatural power anyone could possibly hope to possess?


However, having inspected the invoice, we still had no inclination as to who sent it to us. Eventually, we found a short birthday greeting on one of the pamphlets. It read something along these lines: "Happy birthday, Nicholas - enjoy the hamburgers and filets! Love, your Aunt _______."

We had a good laugh about that.





This is why I was particularly delighted by a piece of mail I received today. It was a coupon card from the auto shop that had just serviced my car, saying "Thanks for your business." It was ripped very jaggedly pretty much right down the middle of it.

It was stuffed in my mailbox inside of a large, clear plastic bag with the U.S. Postal Service logo on it, bearing a big greeting that read, "We Care."


After that, I inspected another piece of mail I ultimately determined to be junk mail, ripped it in half, and said, "I care."

Past few days.

I've been pretty busy at work. I have officially taken over the coffee buying. That said, I still have to apply for the job.

They way things are right now is that it's officially me and one other person working coffee. We had another person, but she's just left for bigger and better things. She was doing the coffee buying un/officially until someone was actually hired. So now that she left, I'm doing the same thing.

There was a big staff shake-up, and many people left the department and the company. One of those people was the person that took care of pretty much the entire coffee area. He did the buying, maintained inventory, maintained staff and maintained maintenance. So now that that person left, half of that shit isn't, or rather hasn't, been done. Therefore, no inventory has been rotated, leaving older stock in the back to spoil. Today I had to shrink over $300 worth of coffee. People just kept adding onto the shelf without putting the older stuff in front. But the good news is that now that there is a new permanent, full-time person to take care of that sort of thing (i.e. me) that sort of thing won't happen any longer.


Switching gears, the other day I watched Enter...Zombie King. It combines the zombie genre with the infectious joy of the luche libre. It was more Mexican Masked wrestling than zombies, and the acting was terrible, but the gore was decent. That said, it is difficult to begrudge that sort of movie, especially when the executive producer is named El Fuego. It was a short 75 minutes or so, and it was mostly entertaining. I would call it a renter, or a must-buy if you are really into that sort of thing.


Okay, switching gears again, I just picked up Dr. Octagon's The Return of Dr. Octagon. As the lore goes, Dr. Octagonecologyst was released in 1996 and made a lot of people think differently about underground hip-hop. The main character, Dr. Octagon, was an alien doing odd and laughably violent things to people. Then, during some unnamed year (not because the release date is unknown, but rather because I simply refuse to look it up at the moment), Nogacto Dr. was released, and Dr. Octagon was killed off for some reason. Now, in 2006, The Return of Dr. Octagon was released, and it is also very entertaining. The beats are more hyperkinetic and there isn't much of Dr. Octagon's "practice" in it. Rather, there are a bunch of songs about masturbating telephone operators, dying trees, ants, and of course, aliens.

Finally, I just downloaded the newly released Twilight Singers EP, A Stitch In Time. It was released exclusively through iTunes and cost $3.99 for 5 songs. As I'm typing now, it's just finishing. It's very good and features Mark Lanegan and Joseph Arthur. Normally, I would leave this sort of thing to Timothy, but he's expressed dislike for Twilight Singers (which I completely respect, because, let's face it, I don't like Grand Buffet), so I thought I'd talk about it.


At any rate, having to be up before 6 a.m. makes one tired around the 11 p.m. area, so I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight.

I hate Columbus Day.

What a useless holiday! Only banks and government offices are closed. No schools are closed and they certainly don't close retail businesses. What the hell? Only third graders celebrate it with ships made out of construction paper.


Also, what an offensive holiday. We all know that Columbus raped and killed the natives, right? We're all caught up on that little tidbit of history, aren't we? Why would we celebrate that?

It completely confounds me.

Done with it.

I decided it was better that I cancel my Facebook account. Why? Mostly because I was tired of receiving invitations to about 8 million groups I don't really fucking care about.

The group invitations have an option where you can send it to specific people, or just everyone on your friends list. I was invited to a group relating to a fast-food chain I've literally never heard of before.

I was also invited to about 10 groups starting off "___________ for Homecoming Court 2006!"

I graduated. Why would I care who's on the homecoming court, especially seeing as though I never cared when I was still a student?

Dear Dane Cook:

This has gone on long enough. It is time to stop now. I know you think you're funny because Best Buy stocks about twenty copies of each of your albums, but it's a lie. No one is buying them. So, I reiterate. Please stop. That's enough.



Dear Dane Cook fans:

Please stop encouraging him. Buying his albums as joke-gifts for other people is making him think he's successful. He cannot sense the sarcasm through record sales. Why do you think William Hung put out an album?

A dash of esteem.

I sometimes think of adding a "III" to the end of my name.

Jeffery William Lombardi III.

It in no way is accurate, but I think that it would make me seem more WASPy, and therefore, make me more successful in life.

I never even liked the smell of it.

I subscribe to Gmail's services. It's a great email service - easy to use, lots of space, a spam filter.



Speaking of spam.


There's this little feature that kind of reads what is in the subject or part of the body of an email, and then gives me a link to go to related to whatever they pick out. For instance, my brother Nick emailed me his wishlist, as his birthday is fast-approaching. In it, he asked for a few zombie-related horror DVDs. The email service picked out a few choice keywords from the body and gave me a link to a website that sells rare horror films.

Also, occasionally, the email will suggest recipes and give me a link to one. More often than not, they involve Spam as a main ingredient.

Dear Gmail: I do not want to make Spam tacos, Spam casserole, or Spam wraps. I hate Spam.



It seems that, due to the high frequency of spam messages being sent to everyone around the world, and to my inbox (which thankfully is filtered into a separate "Spam Folder") in particular, the email seems to think that I love Spam, seeing as though I indeed have a folder titled "Spam".

What kind of circular logic do computers have?

And people are worried that computers will rise up and overthrow governments, thus ruling the world and, according to The Matrix, use our energy to power themselves. I can't see this happening if they keep trying to feed us Spam. Humans would not live long enough to see this apocalypse occur.

A sudden and disconcerting realization.

Okay, so if communion means drinking the blood of Christ, does that mean that followers of the Christianity-based religions are all vampires?

And, since the majority of Americans are followers of said Christian-based religions, that means that the majority of America are vampires!

Furthermore, since there seems to be such a problem with the separation of church and state in this country, that means that AMERICA IS RUN BY VAMPIRES!!!



George Bush keeps sending in troops because he wants to drink their blood!!!

"Times, they are a-becoming quite different."

Indeed. As you may have noticed, I have changed the template, in my opinion, drastically.

I took Tim's advice and pretty much copy-pasted someone else's page source into my own and made some of my own changes. Took some gifs down, changed a few colors. And, of course, made the header say "Jeebus Loves You."

I aim to change the template for my last ten tracks played in my iTunes, but the last.fm website is giving me my favorite number: 404.

Let me know what you think about the new setup. I like the colors and the little bubbles.

Also, cite the quote from the title and you win.

Very good news.

I just watched Reanimator earlier today, and about five minutes ago, I decided to search for Jeffrey Combs, the actor magnificently portraying the creepy Dr. Herbert West, in the Internet Movie Database website.

Go here for what ultimately came to my attention.

That's right, George Wendt will play the Vice President of the United States of America.

Finally, this is the next movie coming to me via Netflix.

Build it up to crash it down.

On Thursday I worked my first shift in coffee. It was a closing shift, and I was by myself. It was quiet, I knew what I was doing, and I wore normal human clothing, as opposed to the chef coat, chef pants and hat that causes me to look like everyone in the prepared foods area.

When I got home, I realized I smelled like coffee. It was glorious.

People asked me questions, to which I knew the answers. Part of the hour-long training I received was on how to use a french press coffee pot, which I already knew, since I have one myself.

And then, when I closed the area, I left. I didn't have to go help any other slow bastards anywhere else. It was 10 p.m.





So, literally the next day, I had to go back to work to finish up my week in prepared foods. They gave me a great day, so they could instantly break my spirit. I had to work in an area, of course, in which I had no experience and in which I have no idea about the protocol of how the area runs. Shitty night. Was there till, like, 11:30.

And yesterday was my last day in prepared foods. I was supposed to work in the chef's case, an area in which I do have experience and in which I do know the protocol of how things run. And even the foresight to be able to facilitate a fast and efficient close. But, no. Didn't work there yesterday. I worked, of course, in an area in which I have no experience and in which I have no idea of the protocol of the way things run. This is how the news was broken to me.

I came into work, clocked in, and turned around to see Worst Manager Ever sitting on a table with a grin on his face. "How ya doin', Jeff?"
"Ah, having my day ruined with whatever you're about to ask me to do." (Note: not my line, but rather Michael Bluth's. Works well, though.)
"Am I that predictable?"
"Well, you don't say hi to me any other time."
"We want you to work in the bistro today."
"Are you kidding? I don't know what I'm doing over there."
And it goes on like that. So cut to 15 minutes later, where I'm standing in the bistro, miserable and fuming. Does this man have no tact to speak of?

So, of course, I worked there all night, because the guy that was supposed to work there walked off the day before. However, we got out of there slightly before 11 p.m. because I kicked so much ass. The bistro closed at 8, so then I took my break and immediately started preparing to close to chef's case. I then proceeded to kick it's ass and then pee on it.


Now today I start my stay in the coffee area, and I am excited to wear jeans to work. I don't feel the soul-crushing desperation I felt when I'd go into work at the pizza place on a Sunday.



A quick note: "Brisco County, Jr." is everything I expected, and my latest Netflix correspondence is one of the greatest horror movies of all time The Reanimator.

My day had gotten exponentially better by 10 a.m.

Today is my day off, and it's been an amazing day off.

Last night I worked from 3 to close, which should have been 11 p.m., but was rather 11:45. I was working in the chef's case (read: deli) which is way easier and quieter than pizza. I also learned how to use a deli slicer. You know, those big "back and forth" ones that could potentially sever a finger. However, the cooling system underneath the chef's case was pretty much solid ice, which means that my coworker and I had to lift up the entire thing and melt all the ice with a hose. It wasn't that stressful, even though it was a late night. At least I knew what we were going to be doing the entire time, and this time my job required me to thaw the chef's case. That means that I didn't spend the entire time thinking, "this is definitely not my job."

Anyways, since I got off at 11:45, that means that I got home around 12:15 and subsequently went to bed a half an hour to 45 minutes later.

I had a meeting at work at 6 a.m. this morning. So I had to wake up again at 4:50 in order to become fully conscious and make it to work on time.

The meeting was supposed to start at 6:30, but because the presenter (the regional director) didn't bring a cable to hook up his laptop to the projector, the meeting didn't start until a little after 7. So I got home a little after 8 a.m.

But rather than go back to bed for a little bit, I thought that if I prolonged my conscious state, a mid-morning/afternoon nap would be ten times better. So I drove up to Half-Price Books just to look around. I ended up finding the original Star Wars Trilogy on VHS. For six dollars. (And a birthday present for Amy, which I will divulge to you freely as long as you don't tell her.)

I know what you're thinking. "What a fucking nerd." Yes. Correct.

I digress. However, the version that I bought was before George Lucas ruined it by adding more explosions and Greedo shooting first. The version I bought is the remastered version, which was put out about a year or two before the rereleases. The version I wanted was the un-remastered, very-first VHS version ever put out, but a used copy of that will run me upwards from one hundred dollars. So I'll stick with my copies.

So, then, my day shifted from me not knowing what to do with it to revolving around watching all three movies. Here's how it went:

Came home from Half-Price Books, settled in. Watched Star Wars.
Fell asleep on the couch for 1-2 hours. I'm not quite sure.
Woke up, did a few errands, came home, had lunch.
Watched The Empire Strikes Back.
Surfed around the internet for a while, sent some albums to Tim via AIM.
Ate dinner and watched Return of the Jedi.


Today has been an amazing day to myself.

What a night/Good news

I am sitting here now, after coming home from a very long, insanely stressful night at work, drinking a very large glass of wine.

Work was awful tonight. I feel like I was brutally raped repeatedly, and then peed on. Like, the smelly yellow variety.

Sorry, I don't usually get graphic like that in type. But tonight was just awful. Fucking retarded white people.

Note to all of you out there: if you name your child Parker, I will make fun of you and be sorry for your child.

Also, if you ask what the new venue is, and I say something along the lines of it being a French Bistro-themed, sit-down style place, do not ask me if they're going to have food.

Also, do not ask me the following question, and especially do not ask it verbatim: "Is there chicken on the Buffalo Chicken Pizza?"

Please wait until I ask you how I can help you before you start barking out your orders. Especially when I have just told you, "I'll be with you in a minute." I'm obviously doing something for someone that arrived before you did.

Finally, after I ask you what you'd like, do not stare blankly and indecisively at the pizza when there is a voluminous line behind you. I will want to smash a heat lamp over your head.

(Extra note: while looking up an adjective for the word large, for which I ultimately chose "voluminous," I came across my new favorite word: skookum. It also means large, but didn't flow in the aforementioned sentence.)


Okay, now the good news. After tomorrow, I will no longer be working in pizza. My transfer is official, and I am moving to the coffee roaster. For the next week, starting Monday, I will be filling in in various places around my present department, as well as working some overtime in the coffee roaster, because I am now one of three people working there.

More good news is that, once I get my feet wet in the roaster, there is a higher position open called "Coffee Buyer," which entails ensuring proper inventory and ordering, and so on, and which I could very possibly be applying for.



Finally, I know this is not my territory, but rather this bloke's, but I felt it necessary in this instance. Please buy the new Richard Buckner album, called Meadow. It is that good.

This is all very confusing.

I would like to try and change this up a little bit. A color scheme, a few neat pictures, maybe a different font.

I am utterly clueless when it comes to html.

When I look at the template for this thing, it's all one big clusterfuck of html code. I pretty much have no idea what any of it means.

I feel so retarded.

How did the reference originate?

Okay, this is how my brain works.



I was just watching TV, flipping around. I caught the local 11 p.m. news, and there was a special report on about the E. coli-infested spinach scare.

Everytime they referred to the "tainted" spinach, I giggled like a thirteen year-old.

"Taint" is nothing other than a funny word. It should only be used in the funny sense from now on, if only to keep people like me from giggling like said thirteen year-old.


They said "taint" three times.
I counted.

A small collection of things.

This did not all happen in the order I'm telling it, just however I feel like it. Deal with it. Beyatch!


I just got done today with my two-day orientation/brainwashing at work. Two months after I was hired. Interesting strategy. My favorite phrase is "that's below the line." What this means is that, in terms of workplace appropriateness, there is a line that is used to determine what is appropriate workplace conversation/comments, etc., and what is not appropriate. What is appropriate is considered "above the line". Anything considered inappropriate is, obviously, "below the line". Thus, if someone says something you feel is inappropriate, you can just say, "that's below the line!" and the coworker will understand and stop discussing whatever they were discussing. It's also a lot of fun to say. "That's below the line!"

Things I've been into lately:
-----> Watching my Netflix DVDs. Last night Amy and I started watching "Sports Night". I also got to watch Tromeo and Juliet, which is probably the best Troma movie I've seen so far.
-----> I am still reading the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. I am currently on So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, the fourth out of five. My Hitchhiking experience will culminate with Mostly Harmless. And then it's on to...I don't know yet. Maybe Wigfield, which was written by Stephen Colbert, Amy Sedaris and Paul Dinello, or possibly All the President's Pets by Mo Rocca. Of course, I should get to reading Casino Royale before the movie comes out.
-----> Playing Lego Star Wars and Lego Star Wars II: The Original Trilogy. These games are ridiculously entertaining. Whenever you blow something up, it all falls apart to Lego blocks. Everything, including all of the scenery and levels, are made of Lego Blocks, including the cutscenes. In the newer release, which covers the original three movies, there is a cut scene portraying the climax of The Empire Strikes Back, during which Darth Vader cuts off Luke Skywalker's hand and then reveals to him that he's his father. In the video game, there is no dialogue, because they're all Lego men, so when Darth Vader gestures that he is Luke's father, and Luke disbelieves him, rather than Darth Vader telling him that it's true, he whips out a picture of himself with Princess Amidala, Luke's mother. (If you laughed or someone around you laughed at that, you or whoever laughed is a complete nerd. It's a proven study. I laughed.)
-----> I finished watching my "Strangers With Candy" box set. Fucking amazing. As was the final season of "Arrested Development". Both of those shows lasted three seasons and were prematurely cancelled.


I went to get my hair cut this evening, and when I was sitting, awaiting my turn, an older, tall man wearing jean shorts, a sleeveless black t-shirt, and a large knee brace came in and sat down. The woman asked if he was getting a haircut, he said yes, and she asked him his name. Rather than say his name, he spelled it out. "S-H-A-W-N."
"Shawn?"
"Yes."
The woman laughed and said, "You know, you didn't have to spell it out for me..."
"Yeah, I did. There are, like, 30 ways to spell Shawn."
"Ha ha ha..."
"But there's only one right way."
No more laughter. Awkwardness at this point. And I should point out that at no point during this small exchange did Shawn laugh. He was dead serious. Would he have been offended if the woman had spelled his name wrong on the little paper she had that only detailed the order in which customers arrived and would inevitable throw away at the end of the night, never to be seen again? Would he, in fact, have been able to tell if the woman had spelled it Sean or Shaun or even Sion on her piece of paper when she called him when his turn was up?
"Okay, Sean, are you ready?"
"Uh, excuse me. My name is Shawn. Not Sean."
"That's what I said..."
"No. You said Sean. It's Shawn. This is completely unprofessional. I demand compensation."

When it was my turn, the other woman there asked me if I was ready, and then once over there, kind of whispered to me, "Can you believe that guy?"

Yes. I can believe that guy. Which points to the fact that I have little faith in the average human being. Or rather, American human being.

I can't believe it took me this long to realize this

I recently realized, while watching The Fixx perform on the mainstage at Black Swamp Art Festival, that the majority of pop songs are about these three things:

1. Doin' it.
2. Wanting to do it.
3. Not getting the chance to do it, for various reasons.

Why I was disappointed by the new "Family Guy"

Number of story-damaging, completely unrelated cutaway scenes, a.k.a. number of times someone said "It's just like that one time when...": 6

Number of "purely reactionary and retrospective because it's popular and current" gay jokes about George Takei: 2

Number of outdated jokes of the same nature about Michael Jackson: 1

I am not an evil person and if you think the same way as I do you are similarly untainted by the draws of the dark side.

I was driving home yesterday, and it happened to be during rush hour on 270. It took me about an hour to travel from Dublin to Reynoldsburg. Here's a word of advice:

If you're traveling, and traffic is insanely backed up, and you suspect it's because of an accident, it's okay to think, "Someone had better have fucking died. There had better be body parts sprawled across two of the three lanes."

And when you get to the scene of the accident, and you see that no one had died, but rather some yuppie's Beemer got into a fender bender with some redneck's rusted-out, broken rearview mirrored, Ford Tempo, and they refused to move their little tiff to the shoulder, it's okay to wish that one of them had died.

There's nothing like the unmitigated rage one attains when driving in Columbus during rush hour.