Haven't taken one of these in a while

But I just logged onto MySpace for the first time in a while, and it's against the law to not take at least one of the halfassed online surveys you come across there. Somehow, I'm not surprised by this one's results, but I don't know how this jibes with the content of the monkee strip, though.

You Are An Invisible Ex

You're so over your ex, you hardly even remember you have an ex
You prefer leave all of the baggage behind you - far, far behind
As they say, indifference is the opposite of love!

The 1041st step on the last road home.

another question in a bottle

I don't watch the late-night talk shows anymore, but I was just walking by a TV tuned to one. When did David Letterman get the gap between his front teeth fixed? It must have been recently, judging by how he kept licking them.

(By the way, Steve Martin is really starting to look old, but he still moves like a classical dancer. I thank the charity of fate for every classic movie Martin doesn't help remake -- but if there's anyone who deserves Jacques Tati's mantle, it's Steve Martin.)

Digitally stompin' on tube classics

I only recently discovered the great musical-gearhead site MusicThingUK -- it should be on my linkroll, but I'm too lazy to make just one template change at a time -- and discovered that BOSS' next big release, in partnership with Fender Amplifiers, will be two modeling pedals based on the 1959 Bassman and the 1965 Deluxe Reverb, two of the best guitar amps ever made. BOSS makes my favorite effects foot-pedals and Fender makes my favorite amps, but those pedals have ACROSSTHEBOARDFAILURE written all over them.

As a shitty guitarist, I'd like to think that I'm not like my peers, who are intractably conservative about gear and how modern it's allowed to be. Nothing would make me happier than to have the sound of a '50s Bassman in a box I can hold in my hand, because I own a '50s Bassman that sounds great but weighs a ton [actually about 55 pounds; I'm a weakling] and looks like a swell scratching post to every cat who has ever seen it. Really, if/when I A/B my Bassman and the pedal running into, say, a Pignose amp and they sound pretty close to the same, I'm selling the amp that day. It still sort of bothers me that the '59 BOSSman pedal isn't finished in a faux-tweed finish -- blond tolex wasn't an option for that model then. Yeah, I'm that nerdy about gear.

I've never been a fan of the blackface-era Deluxe-Reverbs, but that emulator can't possibly clone the sound of the amp's vibrato or spring reverb. BOSS made a functional, fairly versatile analog vibrato pedal in the early '80s that sounded better than a cranked-up chorus pedal -- but chorus vibrato sounds only slightly better than a freshly wounded infant -- but they've never made a great solid-state or digital reverb. Passable, yes -- certainly more versatile than an old spring tank if you're looking for new sounds and audio techniques -- but not nearly as natural, warm and complex as a Fender spring-reverb. So the idea of BOSS making a Fender reverb is just weird.

UPDATE: I just went to Musician's Friend to price the '59 pedal out, and listened to the MP3 demos they have of the pedal in action. Blergh. I guess we're supposed to believe that the "classic sound" that guitarists spend years seeking out a vintage tweed Bassman to get is an awful lot like BOSS' other overdrive/distortion pedals. I'm not going to look at the '65 D-R page.

The 1038th step on the last road home.

Testing Message Inna Bottle 2.0

So, near the end of THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK's third act, Leia, Chewbacca, Lando and the droids are in the Falcon hauling ass away from Cloud City. My question is, where were they going? I can't think of a good answer -- if they're chasing Boba Fett to retrieve Han, why? You can't really raid a spaceship -- even the space pirates in STAR WARS don't fuck around with spacesuits and airlocks -- and even if you could, they could have destroyed Fett's ship as easily as they could disable it enough to board. And why chase Fett at all when you know where he's going and could catch up once you've helped Luke out of the trap you were the bait for in the first place? Wherever they were headed, it took some please-and-thank-yous from Luke to get them to turn the ship around and come back for him. Assholes. Does anyone have any good ideas for where Leia's group was flying to while her dad was kicking the shit out of her brother?

The 1030th step on the last road home.

So, very weak, part IV or V

This one probably goes without saying -- despite its reputation as the crudest of classic comedies, this film is still smarter than all the movies currently playing at your nearest cineplex combined.

Co-BRA! I love that Sylvester Stallone dropped out of making BEVERLY HILL COP because it was too comedic for his serious tastes, and then used his ideas for the project on this movie, which is almost as funny as SADDLES. It's like if Paul Verhoven was an indentured servant forced to direct a totally lunkheaded blockbuster and all he could do to retain his sanity and dignity was crank his sarcasm up to 11. [A warning: If you're my friend, don't buy this: At a mere five bucks each, I may or may not have bought a dozen copies to send to all my snotty pals.]

My last Soderberg movie, but still a fun actor's movie. The obvious stand-ins for the Wilson-brother characters should have just worn OWEN and LUKE t-shirts, but Clooney and Pitt work beautifully together and Don Chedle steals every scene he's in. It's a shame that the filmmakers didn't showcase Eliott Gould's back hair a little; it's part of Gould's greatness. The framing for Carl Reiner's character throughout the plot is ingenious if shamelessly manipulative -- maybe ingenious because it was so shamelessly manipulative -- like they designed it as a custom-made slower-motion Oscar montage in case he died the year O11 was released. The initial ending is interesting -- unlike most homages, this one probably makes less sense to cineastes than to the regular audience. I mean, an homage to THE RIGHT STUFF at the end of a heist caper based on a glacially slow and woodenly acted Rat Pack movie?

Assuming this two-fer disk has the extras from the original releases, it's a nice deal. Two of the least annoying TV-cartoon-to-feature-film adaptations, especially if you still have a crush on Linda Cardelini. Matthew Lilard's flexibility and commitment to even the stupidest of characters is sometimes stunning. Fred Prinze should have shaved off that five o'clock shadow between takes, though,

Campy fun at Jesus' nuttiest followers' expense. Orson Welles does a brilliant, textbook job of narrating. And it was only $4.99

Warner Bros. Special Editions -- I would recommend virtually all of them, especially the older movies. Warner made a huge leap forward in their DVD packaging with the SE series -- they're the finest movie presentations this side of Criterion -- but because I'm such a cheap ass, I'll only direct-link to the 63% off ones I bought and/or like:

I'm not sure this is Bruce Lee's best film -- that's probably either FISTS OF FURY or WAY OF THE DRAGON, depending on if you prefer a bulk-lot of canned whupass or merely want to watch Chuck Norris get his ass kicked for your movie's climax -- but ENTER is my favorite for a few, mostly parochial reasons. Hidehiko "Hidy" Ochiai is something of a local hero; I'm pretty sure he's the first person I saw on television whom I recognized from life; I somewhat regret not taking his "Zen and the Martial Arts of Japan" class, but I already had more than enough Anthropology credits for my major. Master Ochiai taught Lee the nunchaku and appears in the movie, which is still pretty cool to me. Anyway, this set is packed with solid extras, including the documentary A WARRIOR'S JOURNEY, which seems to includes Lee's intended edit of floor-by-floor penultimate fight from GAME OF DEATH, which somehow seems to contain more actual footage of Bruce Lee than the entire finished film did. Did I mention how great Lalo Shiffrin's score was for ENTER? I bet it sounds nut-rattlingly awesome on a good sound system.

I only have one shut eye and one jaundiced eye for film-school-generation filmmakers, but these movie won me over on cable a little while ago. I really liked Nick Pieleggi's WISEGUY but an Scorcese adaptation of it sounded like it was sure to be a pedantic drag of gangster-movie references and homages. Which it often is, but I was surprised by how remarkably true to the tone and reality of the book -- strangely enough, virtually all the fudging the movie makes centers around Joe Pesci's character, which makes me wonder if there's a backstory there. I appreciate the movie's almost Easter Egg-like details, like the yellow sweaters the mooks at the cab stand wear for no apparent reason for a scene [in the book, it's explained how the guys wound up with a shitload of yellow sweaters from one of their robberies] and Ray Liotta's ironic voiceover explaining how intra-mob killings are handled in negotiation [the movie doesn't spell out that that's what Paul Sorvino's character does with Billy Batts' people so that they can whack Pesci in retribution, which is what their real-life models did].

Is this considered a horror movie? It's a fairly smart and visually sophisticated popcorn movie, regardless.

They don't make movies like this much anymore -- ones where the heroes are more loathsome and creepy than the heavies. There's not a single character in it worth rooting for -- except maybe the shot of Karen Allen giving the finger, before settling into The Sensible/Nagging Girlfriend role -- which I admire about it.

I've heard this movie is awful, but only from blue-haired assholes; either aging OUR GANG fanatics for whom no adaptation could satisfy, and uptight-PC vegan douchebags who consider the source material racist and misogynistic in the first place. I'm still mildly concerned that the movie sucks but, for six bucks, not too much.

This is one of the few movies made in my lifetime that I could watch over and over. I'm fuzzy on the chronology, but: THREE KINGS showed that George Clooney could really act and then OUT OF SIGHT showed that he is a bonafide movie star in the classical sense. Unlike OCEAN'S ELEVEN, here Soderberg's extra-curricular genre play [using ideas, techniques and influences from outside the thriller genre's expectations and standards] dovetailed cleanly into the material -- in other words, he made something marvelous out of equal parts of Francois Truffaut, Nic Roeg, Gordon Parks and Elmore Leonard. He even got a performance out of Albert Brooks that was more than Brooks playing a slightly exaggerated version of himself! And we get to see the greatest scene-stealers of our day [Don Chedle and Steve Zahn] battle it out Godzilla vs. King Kong style. And there are a few shots of Jennifer Lopez's marvelous ass and the sexiest elided sex scene in film history.

My favorite Preston Sturges comedy that's not SULLIVAN'S TRAVELS. I'm not a fan of these older-movie releases that are only nominally better packages than what one can achieve with a DVD recorder and basic cable -- if TCM consistently ran the trailer for the film they're about to air before it, they could put these bare-bones DVD lines out of business in a few months -- but BEACH is the kind of movie that DVD chaptering was invented for.

I didn't buy this one nor have I seen it and can't make a recommendation either way. I just wanted to apologize for seeing the title pop up regularly over the years but thinking it was a movie about George Foreman's children. Sorry.

This one also contains YOU'RE IN LOVE, CHARLIE BROWN and IT'S YOUR FIRST KISS, CHARLIE BROWN. This collection is funny in how it charts the [de]evolution of the Peanuts cartoons, even as it goes off the shark with Charlie Brown actually making the moves on the [seen] Little Red-Haired Girl.

The first of the four Peanuts feature films, and the highwater point of the animated franchise for my money. The art direction and animation are clever, the jokes are funny, the music is catchy and memorable and it has a story rich enough to justify the broad canvas of a movie-movie.

What sold me on this disk [which also includes SOMEDAY YOU'LL FIND HER, CHARLIE BROWN] is the inclusion of THERE'S NOT TIME FOR LOVE, CHARLIE BROWN, which is one of my Top-Five favorites of the series. There's something glorious about a Valentine's Day special that focuses on the kids going on a field trip but winding up in a supermarket instead. And this version of "Joe Cool" is the best Peanuts song not written by Vince Guaraldi or Rod McKeun.

This one I have in an attractive little slipcase with the Christmas and Halloween disks. THANKSGIVING includes THE MAYFLOWER VOYAGES, a mild mindfuck starring the Peanuts cast as the Pilgrims.

It's pretty clear that Charles Schulz was gone by this one, but I love that Rerun, Schulz's last great character and the focus for his classic final year on the strip, stars in this one. The disk is supplemented with a decent documentary about A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS and a grabbag titled CHARLIE BROWN'S CHRISTMAS TALES.

Sparky's swan song for the animated specials doesn't rally and reach new peak the way that the PEANUTS comic strip did, but it's an amusing half-hour of entertainment. The disk includes a nice Schulz retrospective/interview.

I'm not much of a baseball fan, but it's Charlie Brown! Includes CHARLIE BROWN'S ALL-STARS and IT'S SPRING TRAINING, CHARLIE BROWN.

Another feature-length film, this one is more episodic than BOY NAMED CHARLIE BROWN, but it's third act is startlingly, shamelessly effective in its crudity. I still get a little misty trying to watch it.

Bernardo Bertolucci has made other great movies, but the sun rises and sets on his early sex-and-revolution-minded thrillers; This is my second favorite; there's something about the deliberate pace and color palette of THE SPIDER'S STRATAGEM that haunts and delights me.

The project that did helped end Orson Welles' charmed life as a filmmaker. The fragments and vignettes that longtime Welles aide Richard Wilson assembled for this documentary on the South American "Good Neighbor" PR project Welles took on after THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS and JOURNEY INTO FEAR. The Welles footage is gorgeous and dreamy, despite being incomplete.

There is a sizable chunk of alternate-take jokes and deleted scenes for this greatly underappreciated gem, but they're nowhere to be found on this bare-bones DVD. But considering what a flop the movie was, we should be happy to have a decent widescreen transfer until the day I win the lottery and bankroll a Special Edition of the project myself.

I'm a Rachel McAdams fan -- she's a character actress trapped in a cover girl's body. This movie was a pleasant surprise; it's surprisingly smart and honest about the eternal dynamic of high-school life. Sue me.

It's unfortunate that Steven Spielberg eventually matured enough to want to make movies with a moral compass other than the inherent rules of movie genres. But there's almost nothing wrong with this movie's wobbly moralizing that can't be fixed by skipping the Arlington opening scene and going straight to Omaha Beach; Capt. Miller and most of his squad died saving Ryan, not saving Ryan so that he could father a very large, very blonde upper-middle-class family. Lopping off that half of the Arlington bookend makes the ending, when old Ryan begs his wife for a redemption she's in no position to even understand much less give, all the stronger. The more that's shown of Ryan's post-war life, the smaller and more meaningless Miller's sacrifice becomes, because there's nothing you can do to make up for that kind of sacrifice. That Spielberg seems to think a large brood of WASPy children and grandchildren can even partially fill that hole in Ryan's soul is telling.

This is an amiable enough chunk of holiday laffs, but I cite it for the textbook example of how throwing a sirloin steak into a sausage machine doesn't produce sausage and a steak in sausage casings, it produces sausage. I don't know who or what watered Michael O'Donoghue and Mitch Glazer's savagely funny script -- basically, imagine a world written by Bill Murray's character -- into something so bland it makes you wonder why they didn't just drop Mr. Mike's script entirely and make a modern direct version of the Dickens story from scratch. But I would guess that Richard Donner was largely responsible and not just because I think Donner eats balls.

Screw THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE, this is John Frankenheimer's masterwork. This is a fine little package, boasting one of his best commentary tracks. The "Is there anything left, son?" one-shot scene just destroys me every time.

I'm not a Henry Jaglom fan -- like Albert Brooks, he's clearly playing an exaggeration of himself in his autobio/essay movies, but that doesn't mean we have to like him any. Sally Kellerman, Monte Hellman and Welles are what sold me on this one, which I would have paid more for if I had known the disk was out earlier.

In general, the even-odd rule for TREK movies is accurate, but this one has a tone I really like. It has far more in common with 2001 than that post-Lucas space-opera bullshit or even the original TREK television series.

Just as I like the first movie more than I should like an odd-number TREK movie, I don't like this one as much as most Trekkies would say I should. I'm always impressed by Ricardo Montelban's manly chest, however.

It's a two-disk set for less than seven bucks, dude. I like what a mensch Nimoy comes off as in his commentaries.

The strangest but most effective series. It's odd that the Roddenberry ideal of using adventure fiction to consider real-world concerns didn't really kick in for the movies until this late in the series and then skipped the next movie entirely.

Even if he had the time and the budget he would have needed to fully realize this project, the Shat still would have produced the most odd-numbered TREK movie of the odd-numbered TREK movies. Has anyone else ever noticed Dr. Phil more or less uses Sybok's high-speed therapeutic technique?

This is my favorite of the Trek movies. I like that it's sophisticated without being overreaching, it's funny without being farcical, and it's slightly ridiculous at times with what it asks us to believe these post-middle-aged men are able to still do. It's great that all of the original crew get a chance to shine in a logical [hrmph] way, especially Sulu getting his own command [helmsmen are typically the last position before the Captain's chair nautically]. In a lot of ways, VI is the only character-driven movie in the series.

I was not a Trek fan when I first saw this documentary, but it still cracked me up. It's loaded with funny moments, not so much because the director cut the footage to make these dorks look ridiculous as people with a passion for their hobbies are often just funny. The only documentaries about nerd culture that can't make you laugh are the ones about your particular interests. My favorite nerds in TREKKIES are the lead Spiner Femme [she's a dead ringer for a girl I should have slept with in high school] and of course the mighty Gabriel Koerner, the living embodiment of our collective awkward adolescence. I hope he cut off the mullet shortly after being interviewed and has never ever grown a beard or goatee to "hide" a double/triple chin. [Gabe, you had to have grown up to be someone who Googles himself daily -- we have five bucks riding on when you discover this, so if you drop me a line when you do, that would be just swell. Thanks in advance.] Actually, I really like the cute Klingon-language student in the mohair sweater, the Mexican fast-food clerk who smiles when he's asked if he's ever served a Klingon before too and the rosy-cheeked convention-table merchant who trades Gabe for some rare action figures; the guy looks like a goddamn Raggedy Ann doll.


I'm sick of reading just the Musician's Friend and Cheap Joe's Art Supply catalogs on the toilet. I like that this book has Steve Gerber's complete Howard work complete in one volume; it should be an entertaining read, even if it's not as good as I remember it. WAAUGH!

I've been excited to see this book since someone on the LIFE IN HELL yahoo group found its pre-order page on Amazon a few months ago. Matt Groening's strip is still my favorite weekly strip and the Will & Abe pieces are the best work he's ever done, so a collection of them is sure to be a funnybook of the year. I'm surprised and ecstatic that the decade-long gap between LiH books is ending with a W&A volume, since I've often heard that Groening got a lot of crap from his papers about the W&A strips, and more or less stopped doing them.

Good grief, that took forever. I'm too tired to proofread for corect name spelling -- whoever sends an email with the most numbers of typos in this post wins a prize.

The 1024th step on the last road home.

The 1022nd step on the last road home.

Mason jar! Mason jar!! MASON JAR!!!

It seems that LovelineArchive.com is down, possibly forever. But the official LL Westwood One page has the recent episodes available for download. Stryker is the worst co-host the show's had, but LL is like cold pizza and awkward sex; it's still pizza. I endured cassette after cassette of Riki Rachtman's lameness and a "Fat Elvis" period from Adam before he rallied his last year or two on the show; Stryker too will pass.

I dearly hope that the Aceman's archive of earlier shows reappears somewhere on the net in some form, both as a public health service and so more people can experience the surprisingly great few months between Adam Carolla's departure and Stryker's squatting where it was Drew and guest five nights a week. If I had a website, I would happily host those episodes and/or David Alan Grier's best appearances on the show.

The 1021st step on the last road home.

The 1018th step on the last road home.

"You shouldn't feel that."

I just happened across Mark Tonra's website for the first time in a while -- it's undergone a really elegant redesign and has generous galleries of his marvelous comic strips TOP OF THE WORLD and JAMES as well as a sketchbook section of his delightfully jaunty doodles and studies. Check them out today, won't you?

[Dear comics publisher with enough printer credit to afford printing a thick partial full-color book: Please give Mark a contract and a pile of money for a COMPLETE TOP OF THE WORLD collection immediately. It's an overlooked classic, you know. Then do the same for JAMES, since the two collections aren't enough. Thank You.]

The 1016th step on the last road home.

Regarding the onomastics of my junk

All men eventually name their dick something -- I alternate between "The Fighting American," "The Crimson Avenger" and "Giant-Sized Man-Thing" depending on how nerdy my girlfriend at the time is -- but few men will admit it and even fewer still bother to name their nuts anything. I am no longer part of the latter groups; now and forever, my balls shall be called "The Fantasticles." I'm unsure, but perhaps the individual balls are named "Fantasticle Red" and "Fantasticle Blue," going from my right to left.

Bert Richards is still alive. I think dead, but was not snorted

Keith Richards is tailor-made for April Fool's Day; there's no act a human being can commit, no matter how senseless or extreme, that you can't convince large chunks of people that Keef did. A few days ago NME, of all papers, got a huge chunk of the press to repeat the story that Richards snorted some of his dead father's ashes with some cocaine without, y'know, actually trying to confirm the story themselves. Unsurprisingly, this same lazyass mass-media hasn't made many phone calls to ferret out little nuggets of information like Speaker Pelosi's Syrian trip being the second by US Congressmen of late; the first being a Republican delegation that's still in Syria as we speak. Maybe MTV News can make another phone call to do some homework on this story too.

While I'm relieved to know the Iranians are pardoning the 15 British troops for Easter and I'm delighted to hear that they treated the troops very well, part of me wishes that they have some of the troops pose for photos mirroring/parodying the Abu Ghraib shots before they leave. Not actually torture anyone, mind you, just strike a few poses to see if a moral victory is mitigated any if you tag a photo of it with "LOL PWNED."

UPDATE: Keith Richards' father died in 2002.

THURSDAY UPDATE: I forgot to add a bit about Richards I thought of before dismissing the story as a hoax: Despite his reputation for excess, at first I thought that even Keef wouldn't bother snorting some of his father up his nose because even he would be content with already having his father's blood in his veins. Then I remembered all the stories of those total-blood transfusions he had to kick heroin in the '70s.

The 1014th step on the last road home.

IRYCRT2001:ASO Day 2007 too

IRYCRT2001:ASO Day 2007

We're One, But We're Not The Same

So, after a half-dozen calls, 3-4 hours collectively spent on hold and more than a dozen customer-service reps from three different bureaus, I finally got a straight answer on why my Bank Of America account no longer seems able to transfer out funds. Since their merger with MBNA, it seems that all their checking accounts must have 12-digit numbers, but accounts started in Washington State [like mine] have eight numbers. Apparently, this is one of the sticking points in ratifying the merger in the state. You would think that the WA people would know this and have a quick answer, regardless of how annoying it is, for their customers. I would have loved to know this before I [unsuccessfully] transferred a very large amount of money from my BoA checking account to my BoA Mastercard. They never even sent me a failure notice, like they used to. Assholes.

In comparison, I called CS for my AT&T Universal Card because my March bill there is for a few cents more than the cost to cut a check and mail it in. Total time on the phone: 5 minutes, 37 seconds and it would have been a minute less if Jennifer hadn't needed me to pass on signing up for their bullshit credit-card-protection program, which offers a FREE Credit Report [just like the ones citizens can get FREE once a year from three different services] upon signup. I spent twice as long on hold waiting for the first CS clerk at BoA/MBNA.

Some time

This blog is now 3 years old. The late Tomas Pottawatta would have turned 69 today. There is now 45 minutes until International "Record Your Cat Reacting To 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY" Day on the East Coast of the United States.

The 1013th step on the last road home.