Regarding the King of Crooners

A kid, any kid, screaming I'M THE BARBER OF SEVILLE on a stage is unfailingly hilarious. If I could figure out how to word it in a way that could be taken at all seriously, I would apply for a grant to study this.

Sent via blogger-by-mail, and I don't care if this doesn't post went I sent it (Sunday, Feb. 25, in bed watching a Little Rascals DVD at 10:38 pm). I'm too tired and sore to get up and post on my computer, and it's amusing to see how many hours/days these things take to post.

[Actually this one bounced back as undeliverable 6 hours ago; I'm really starting to take a perverse enjoyment in Blogger-By-Mail's message-in-a-bottle random reliablity.]

The 981st step on the last road home.

Random thoughts, in sequence, while watching BATMAN BEYOND: RETURN OF THE JOKER

Are explosions fun to animate? It seems that everything that's not meat explodes if you look at it sideways in that world.

The opening fight scene has the rhythm and logic of a child playing with his action figures.

'80s shred guitar never died, it just went into playing "totally awesome" music for these cartoons.

That has to be first time Henry Rollins and Frank Welker shared a title card.

So in the distant future, dance clubs look and sound like they did 10 years ago.

It doesn't matter if he does the voice right in front of me, I still can not believe the Joker's voice comes out of Mark Hammil's mouth.

Nothing so portentous as microphone feedback, especially when there's an old rich white man at the mic. That never happens!

Didn't Joker die and return from the dead every few months? Even as an old man, Bruce spent an awfully long time on his knees gaping. Especially considering the new guy's first thought afterward is that it could have been a robot or clone or copycat, etc.

Did they recycle the Krypton set designs and fashion ideas from the SUPERMAN series for BB? Barbara looks to be wearing their style of legless goggle-looking glasses.

Wouldn't Joker be one of the first villains Bruce would mention? And wouldn't you read up about your predecessor at the library, at least?

Wow, exposition as a heart-to-heart conversation. All they left out were their full names and blood types.

This series should be all about Ace the Bat-Hound. Now that's a cool design.

A giant lavalamp. Oy.

I'm shocked that the jack-in-a-box clue exploded. Shocked!

It's odd that the flashback characters have the great stripped-down designs of the last season of the BATMAN series, except for the Joker. I liked the black-eyed version more, even if it was only changed for budget reasons.

OK, the scene starting with "Our Home Movie" and in the projection booth hits the spot-on right tone and pacing. 45 minutes in.

Old Tim Drake looks a bit like old Jack Kirby.

"No one's leaving until I get answers" and then they leave while BB does, um, nothing. I think I remember why I never watched more than a few minutes of the BB series. So, is the corporate douche bag's girlfriend still bound and gagged to a pole on the pier? I hope hookers and alkies are good Samaritans in the future.

Did a table just explode after being shot with a laser? A fucking table??

"Papa spank" is a nice piece of hardcore fan service.

You could make a good drinking game out of the explosions in this movie. Really, is it that they're fun to draw?

That's so not how DNA works that even children should call bullshit on it. I like the quote that an excuse should be like a skirt, long enough to cover the essentials but short enough to be tantalizing.

Shame on anyone who didn't see the beam slowly coming to destroy the hideout BB and the Joker are in.

I have to pee. I assume the hideout is destroyed in a massive fireball, the Joker is destroyed but Drake survives and is cured with an electrical jolt or something.

OK, I'm back -- "Bruce couldn't have picked a better person to put on the mask." Oy! Does anyone really go along with the bit where an established character on a previous series gives the new show's protagonist an ecstatic, unconditional (usually zero-sum) endorsement? The Star Trek: Next Generation writers could have written an episode where the Original Series cast appeared but did nothing but praise the TNG crew as being superior to them in every way -- Shatner's dialog readings being unintelligible because he has Patrick Stewart's dick in his mouth the entire show -- and it still wouldn't convince me in the slightest. These sequel-show endorsements are hackier than having an episode's threat kill the red-shirted extra in the cold opening to show how badass it is.

Well, that was no Mask of the Phantasm. It wasn't even a Mystery of the Batwoman. I would like to get back all but the 5-10-minute flashback scene from my life, please.

[Sent via Blogger-by-mail, February 25, 2007 at 10:36 AM]

The 980th step on the last road home.

New Year's Resolution update

Well, I managed to go 53 days without buying DVDs. I just snagged two great documentaries [WHEN WE WERE KINGS and AMERICAN DREAM], five beautiful imports [RED, WHITE, BLUE, MALENA and CHILDREN OF HEAVEN] and some delicious junk [AMAZON WOMEN ON THE MOON and both flicks in CONAN: THE COMPLETE QUEST] for about $6 each. The lie I'm going to tell myself to feel better about my lack of willpower is that I needed two of the dozen [SILENT RUNNING and AMERICAN GRAFFITI] right now for a project I'm starting work on; I don't really need them now. But now, I have them in case I do. Sigh.

I've revised my resolution: I will not buy DVDs more than six times this year -- once every other month, probably -- and I will post about what I bought to counter the occasional urge to buy stupid, stupid shit. This, I swear!

[As soon as I posted this, I realized that every catastrophe in my life these last four years has been capped, sometimes cauterized, by a DVD splurge of comparative size. It's clearly my first preference in retail therapy; I can't imagine, say, a dozen cheap books or CDs taking the edge off life the way these magnificent DVDs do.]

The 973rd step on the last road home.

The 971st step on the last road home.

so'me bi'ch

It seems that only two of the last 21 posts I composed actually posted; two of my three senryu updates and none of the monkee panels or my Little Man birthday post. I hate you to pieces, Blogger-By-Mail.

The 969th step on the last road home.

Senryu to kill time before Physical Therapy

Watching TODAY show's
reheated stale tabloid shit;
flogged irrelevance.

Ray Hoffman's wrestler
should have been a blowjob; nice
child toss, you asshole.

Jet Blue passengers
what, no Anna Nicole Smith?
Fear peanut butter.

A hiccuping teen,
three weeks of hicks; her segment
felt even longer.

First-hour's "hard" news:
No stories about the wars,
but what's coming up?

"A serious subject"
Meredith darkly intones
.. Obese school kids. Oy.

TODAY's ratings slip
the more they target older
women. Go figure.

Post-ER senryu

Laying on my side
requires three chairs; good thing
waiting room's empty.

Pain so intense it
takes blood pressure critical;
nurses check often.

Sciatic attack
hurts much more than being shot
no shock to numb me

Darvocet, ketoprofen
prednisone cocktail.

I had so hoped for
codeine; alas, Pink Ladies
only girls in town.

Never shat while on
muscle relaxants before.
Not recommended.

X-rays show my back
in perfect, mint condition.
Years of pain, from nerves?

Get up, stand up mon.
Don't sit before your 'puter
for hours on end.

Little stabbing pain
for right now, we have become
uncomfort'bly numb.

The 957th step on the last road home.

Injured senryu, sent from my phone

back nerves gone haywire
fetal position, alleve
no chair for me, thanks

face down for the count
history channel watching
I salute dale dye

february three
buddy, richie, big bopper
screw you, don mclaine

The 956th step on the last road home.