Click here for solid gold. For the solidest gold of all, click on Track 4.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Thursday, September 23, 2004
The Man Who Refused To Take His Gorilla Mask Off, Part 8
Steve puts on the brown dress slacks he's finished ironing and packs some silly straws in his breast pocket, just in case. He checks his watch. The limo should be here in twenty-five minutes, Steve thinks. He decides to wait for it on the steps in front of his apartment building. He checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror before he goes outside.
"You look great," Steve says to himself.
Once outside, he sees three shirtless men drinking beer in the street. One of them is leaning on Steve's 1989 Toyota Camry. If Steve's grandfather were still alive, he would describe these men as "roughnecks."
"So I say to that bitch, you better pack up your shit and get lost by the time I get back from the liquor store," the one leaning on the car says, followed by howls of laughter from all three men. The man's skin is a leathery relic of past sunburns. He has short, curly black hair and has the look of a man who spends most of his leisure time searching for fistfights. The other two men are taller, thinner, and much paler. They have long blonde hair, the taller one wearing his pulled back in a ponytail. They don't say much. "And you better believe that bitch was gone when I come back." He takes a swig of beer and smirks proudly.
"Hey, look," Ponytail says, pointing at Steve.
"Holy shit," Leathery says. "It's Apeman Steve. Yo, apeman. Get down here and have a beer with some other crazy motherfuckers."
Steve feels he has little choice but to comply with the roughneck's wishes. He walks over and introduces himself.
"Man, no introduction is necessary," Leathery says. "I saw you on the news all this week. Have a fuckin' beer, motherfucker."
He tosses a lukewarm can of Schlitz Steve's way. Steve catches it, takes out his silly straw, sticks it in the can, and sips the beer.
"Man, I love that gorilla mask shit," the man says. "I understand. Believe me, I understand."
He stares into Steve's eyes with an intensity that would have made him uncomfortable had he not been wearing a gorilla mask. "It's like you've had it up to here with all the bullshit in the world, man. You just said fuck it. Fuck your boss, fuck your old lady, fuck your parents, fuck the police, fuck a fucking job, fuck the feminists and the draft dodgers, and fuck the man. I like that. I like it a lot."
"Yeah, something like that," Steve says, laughing nervously.
"What you so dressed up for?" he asks.
"Oh," Steve says, blushing under the mask. "The mayor's giving me the key to the city. They're going to send a limo here in about a half-hour."
"No shit," the man says. "It's about time that asshole did something I liked. Fucking Mayor Brannigan, that asshole."
"What do you care," Ponytail says. "You don't even vote."
"Fuck you, Tony," Leathery says. "Give me a reason to and I will."
A lengthy pause ensues, then Leathery speaks again.
"Well, shit, man. We forgot to introduce ourselves. My name's Mustache Tim."
Steve shakes his hand, puzzled at Tim's lack of a mustache.
"Why do they call you that?" Steve asks.
"I won a bet one time," Tim says by way of explanation. Steve decides not to press it.
"These two faggots over here," Tim says, pointing with his thumb at the two blonde men. "You're not going to believe these fuckers' names."
"You're the faggot," Ponytail says. Tim punches him in the arm and mutters under his breath.
"Anyway," he continues. "This goofy-looking bastard with the ponytail is named Tony Bill, and this other goofy-looking bastard is named Bill Tony. I am not shittin' you. God's honest truth."
"That's wild," Steve says. "They're just reversed. Crazy."
"But that's not the craziest thing about their names, dude," Tim says. "It's the second craziest. Guess what's the craziest?"
"I don't know," Steve says.
"C'mon man," Tim says, agitated. "Think. It's real obvious."
"I give up," Steve says. Please don't kill me, he thinks.
"Okay, since you're a hero, I'll let you give up. The crazy fuckin' thing is that both of their names, their first names and last names, are first names. It's like somebody being named John Chuck or Fred Mike. It's fuckin' crazy, dude. It's like, 'Hi, my name's Mr. Tony.' 'Mr. Bill, your appointment is ready.' Crazy shit."
Tim laughs, a desperate wheezy cackle that makes Steve even more uncomfortable.
"So where's this fuckin' key to the city shit goin' down," Tim asks.
"At Dickie Stoolz Park," Steve says. "They've got a little stage set up, and they're going to have some free refreshments afterwards."
"Hell, yeah, dude," Tim says. "We'll come to that. We'll walk right up to the fuckin' mayor after smokin' a joint, and blow the smoke right in his face and say 'That's one in honor of Apeman Steve, bitch.' Then we'll eat some fuckin' refreshments."
"Dude," Tony Bill or Bill Tony says. "We'll bring some refreshments of our own."
The three men laugh hysterically. Steve laughs weakly and resists the urge to check his watch. He finishes the beer and sets it down gently on the sidewalk. A black stretch limousine moves slowly down the street and parks in front of Steve's building. A short, elderly man in a leather cap steps out of the driver's seat and opens the side door.
"Mr. Smithers," the man says. "I'm John Tarkington. I'll be your driver this afternoon. How do you do?"
Steve greets the man and says goodbye to the drunken trio.
"See you later, Apeman Steve," Ponytail says.
"We'll fuckin' be there, man," Tim says. "See you down there."
Steve waves and steps into the luxury automobile, breathing a sigh of relief. Tarkington shuts the doors and drives away. The three men run after the limo, chugging beers while they give chase. The quiet one with no ponytail throws his empty can at the back of the limo, but it stops a few feet short. Steve reclines in his chair and pushes play on the television built into the seat in front of him. A rerun of "Cheers" is being broadcast.
"Oh, Woody," Steve says, smiling. "Will you ever learn?"
"You look great," Steve says to himself.
Once outside, he sees three shirtless men drinking beer in the street. One of them is leaning on Steve's 1989 Toyota Camry. If Steve's grandfather were still alive, he would describe these men as "roughnecks."
"So I say to that bitch, you better pack up your shit and get lost by the time I get back from the liquor store," the one leaning on the car says, followed by howls of laughter from all three men. The man's skin is a leathery relic of past sunburns. He has short, curly black hair and has the look of a man who spends most of his leisure time searching for fistfights. The other two men are taller, thinner, and much paler. They have long blonde hair, the taller one wearing his pulled back in a ponytail. They don't say much. "And you better believe that bitch was gone when I come back." He takes a swig of beer and smirks proudly.
"Hey, look," Ponytail says, pointing at Steve.
"Holy shit," Leathery says. "It's Apeman Steve. Yo, apeman. Get down here and have a beer with some other crazy motherfuckers."
Steve feels he has little choice but to comply with the roughneck's wishes. He walks over and introduces himself.
"Man, no introduction is necessary," Leathery says. "I saw you on the news all this week. Have a fuckin' beer, motherfucker."
He tosses a lukewarm can of Schlitz Steve's way. Steve catches it, takes out his silly straw, sticks it in the can, and sips the beer.
"Man, I love that gorilla mask shit," the man says. "I understand. Believe me, I understand."
He stares into Steve's eyes with an intensity that would have made him uncomfortable had he not been wearing a gorilla mask. "It's like you've had it up to here with all the bullshit in the world, man. You just said fuck it. Fuck your boss, fuck your old lady, fuck your parents, fuck the police, fuck a fucking job, fuck the feminists and the draft dodgers, and fuck the man. I like that. I like it a lot."
"Yeah, something like that," Steve says, laughing nervously.
"What you so dressed up for?" he asks.
"Oh," Steve says, blushing under the mask. "The mayor's giving me the key to the city. They're going to send a limo here in about a half-hour."
"No shit," the man says. "It's about time that asshole did something I liked. Fucking Mayor Brannigan, that asshole."
"What do you care," Ponytail says. "You don't even vote."
"Fuck you, Tony," Leathery says. "Give me a reason to and I will."
A lengthy pause ensues, then Leathery speaks again.
"Well, shit, man. We forgot to introduce ourselves. My name's Mustache Tim."
Steve shakes his hand, puzzled at Tim's lack of a mustache.
"Why do they call you that?" Steve asks.
"I won a bet one time," Tim says by way of explanation. Steve decides not to press it.
"These two faggots over here," Tim says, pointing with his thumb at the two blonde men. "You're not going to believe these fuckers' names."
"You're the faggot," Ponytail says. Tim punches him in the arm and mutters under his breath.
"Anyway," he continues. "This goofy-looking bastard with the ponytail is named Tony Bill, and this other goofy-looking bastard is named Bill Tony. I am not shittin' you. God's honest truth."
"That's wild," Steve says. "They're just reversed. Crazy."
"But that's not the craziest thing about their names, dude," Tim says. "It's the second craziest. Guess what's the craziest?"
"I don't know," Steve says.
"C'mon man," Tim says, agitated. "Think. It's real obvious."
"I give up," Steve says. Please don't kill me, he thinks.
"Okay, since you're a hero, I'll let you give up. The crazy fuckin' thing is that both of their names, their first names and last names, are first names. It's like somebody being named John Chuck or Fred Mike. It's fuckin' crazy, dude. It's like, 'Hi, my name's Mr. Tony.' 'Mr. Bill, your appointment is ready.' Crazy shit."
Tim laughs, a desperate wheezy cackle that makes Steve even more uncomfortable.
"So where's this fuckin' key to the city shit goin' down," Tim asks.
"At Dickie Stoolz Park," Steve says. "They've got a little stage set up, and they're going to have some free refreshments afterwards."
"Hell, yeah, dude," Tim says. "We'll come to that. We'll walk right up to the fuckin' mayor after smokin' a joint, and blow the smoke right in his face and say 'That's one in honor of Apeman Steve, bitch.' Then we'll eat some fuckin' refreshments."
"Dude," Tony Bill or Bill Tony says. "We'll bring some refreshments of our own."
The three men laugh hysterically. Steve laughs weakly and resists the urge to check his watch. He finishes the beer and sets it down gently on the sidewalk. A black stretch limousine moves slowly down the street and parks in front of Steve's building. A short, elderly man in a leather cap steps out of the driver's seat and opens the side door.
"Mr. Smithers," the man says. "I'm John Tarkington. I'll be your driver this afternoon. How do you do?"
Steve greets the man and says goodbye to the drunken trio.
"See you later, Apeman Steve," Ponytail says.
"We'll fuckin' be there, man," Tim says. "See you down there."
Steve waves and steps into the luxury automobile, breathing a sigh of relief. Tarkington shuts the doors and drives away. The three men run after the limo, chugging beers while they give chase. The quiet one with no ponytail throws his empty can at the back of the limo, but it stops a few feet short. Steve reclines in his chair and pushes play on the television built into the seat in front of him. A rerun of "Cheers" is being broadcast.
"Oh, Woody," Steve says, smiling. "Will you ever learn?"
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Giant foods
I was hoping to find pictures of enormous foods on the Internet and share them with you, but it's proving oddly difficult. However, please take solace in the fact that you can create some for yourself, including the dreaded Giant Cheeseburger. Also, if you're ever in Omaha, please check out King Kong Burger and order the infamous Triple Kong. The burger is so huge and greasy that your bun will dissolve before you finish it. One crazy mothafucka once ordered the quadruple Kong and got his picture on the wall when he finished it. It will destroy you, giant burger-style. Also, look at a man devouring a huge wiener.
I love big sandwiches
Let's hear it for big sandwiches everywhere. It's Big Sandwich Tuesday, everybody.
Monday, September 20, 2004
New Robot of the Week Contest
Ladies and gentlebots,
Here's our new Robot of the Week. Give him a name, leave it as a comment under this post, and you could win the weekly prizeless contest and be in the running for the monthly prize-winning contest. The winner will be announced on Monday, Sept. 27. Good luck, jerks.
Here's our new Robot of the Week. Give him a name, leave it as a comment under this post, and you could win the weekly prizeless contest and be in the running for the monthly prize-winning contest. The winner will be announced on Monday, Sept. 27. Good luck, jerks.
Robot of the Week contest winner
I would like to thank all six contestants in this week's Robot of the Week contest. And the winner is ...... Cuttyblacksow for Lonely in Sacramento. Congratulations, Cutty! By the way, Nick, I'm going to mail your prize package today or tomorrow.
Done did watch some ol' movin' pictures, I tell you what
I watched some movies this weekend, but you probably knew that. I watch movies every weekend. It's what passes for excitement in my meager existence. Here they is:
Rendez-vous (Andre Techine) Juliette Binoche is really, really great in this. The camera moves like nobody's damn business, I'm talking some beautiful, inventive visuals here. But this is just, pretty much, a wet fart of a movie. It's dumb. It's really, really dumb. And it's not trying to be dumb. It's trying to be smart. Really, really smart. But it's dumb. Really, really dumb. And it was co-written by a director I like, Olivier Assayas. He did a good job unloading his crap on a different director and saving the good stuff for himself.
A Sunday in the Country (Bertrand Tavernier) Now this is a good movie. It's an early-1900s costume period piece, but it's not some Merchant/Ivory monstrosity pummeling all of the wildness out of some classic book. It's about an old painter, who apparently has enjoyed some fame and recognition but who feels that maybe he missed the boat and that his work won't stand the test of time. His son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids come to visit him and his daughter shows up unexpectedly. And that's about it. This is one of the better films about family and the buried resentments, irritations, secrets, and affections that flit in and out of most family gatherings that I've seen.
In America (Jim Sheridan) I'm not sure about this one. It was waaay sentimental, which always makes me feel manipulated and uncomfortable, but sometimes it earned its sentiment. Other times it felt gross. The acting was wonderful, including the two little girls. Usually I hate little kids in movies because their dialogue sounds written by an adult, not spoken by a child. Why force little kids to be cute? They're going to be cute anyway if you just let them be, and a lot more naturally and less creepily cute, I might add. So stop forcing the cute. Sheridan only forces the cute a few times, but when he does, such as in the final scene, it tarnishes what he's trying to do. And sometimes the drama is ratcheted up too intensely where a subtler touch would be more effective. The most egregious example was a scene in which Paddy Considine, who plays the father, has a monologue about feeling dead inside since his infant son died of a brain tumor. Not even a good actor like Considine could save this scene. He's forced to do something really stupid that you only see people doing in movies. Here's the line:
"I can't see. I can't hear." (punches himself several times in the head and the chest, then yells the next line) "I CAN'T FEEL!"
The movie's got a lot going for it: the acting, footage of New York City that looks different from anything you've seen in movies before, and Sheridan's increasing confidence as a visually exciting filmmaker. It's just that the movie tries too hard to make you like it and to jerk out some tears. It's like the film is running for class president. Lighten up, I wanted to say to it.
Full Moon in Paris (Eric Rohmer) What can I say about this one? If you've ever seen a Rohmer film before, this one is pretty much just like it. That's not a put-down, though. Rohmer as a filmmaker is like James Brown or the Ramones as music makers. He's obsessed with variations on a basic theme, and most of his films are pieces of one single body of work. Like James Brown and the Ramones, Rohmer can be addictive and sometimes irritating. This is one of his good ones.
Rendez-vous (Andre Techine) Juliette Binoche is really, really great in this. The camera moves like nobody's damn business, I'm talking some beautiful, inventive visuals here. But this is just, pretty much, a wet fart of a movie. It's dumb. It's really, really dumb. And it's not trying to be dumb. It's trying to be smart. Really, really smart. But it's dumb. Really, really dumb. And it was co-written by a director I like, Olivier Assayas. He did a good job unloading his crap on a different director and saving the good stuff for himself.
A Sunday in the Country (Bertrand Tavernier) Now this is a good movie. It's an early-1900s costume period piece, but it's not some Merchant/Ivory monstrosity pummeling all of the wildness out of some classic book. It's about an old painter, who apparently has enjoyed some fame and recognition but who feels that maybe he missed the boat and that his work won't stand the test of time. His son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids come to visit him and his daughter shows up unexpectedly. And that's about it. This is one of the better films about family and the buried resentments, irritations, secrets, and affections that flit in and out of most family gatherings that I've seen.
In America (Jim Sheridan) I'm not sure about this one. It was waaay sentimental, which always makes me feel manipulated and uncomfortable, but sometimes it earned its sentiment. Other times it felt gross. The acting was wonderful, including the two little girls. Usually I hate little kids in movies because their dialogue sounds written by an adult, not spoken by a child. Why force little kids to be cute? They're going to be cute anyway if you just let them be, and a lot more naturally and less creepily cute, I might add. So stop forcing the cute. Sheridan only forces the cute a few times, but when he does, such as in the final scene, it tarnishes what he's trying to do. And sometimes the drama is ratcheted up too intensely where a subtler touch would be more effective. The most egregious example was a scene in which Paddy Considine, who plays the father, has a monologue about feeling dead inside since his infant son died of a brain tumor. Not even a good actor like Considine could save this scene. He's forced to do something really stupid that you only see people doing in movies. Here's the line:
"I can't see. I can't hear." (punches himself several times in the head and the chest, then yells the next line) "I CAN'T FEEL!"
The movie's got a lot going for it: the acting, footage of New York City that looks different from anything you've seen in movies before, and Sheridan's increasing confidence as a visually exciting filmmaker. It's just that the movie tries too hard to make you like it and to jerk out some tears. It's like the film is running for class president. Lighten up, I wanted to say to it.
Full Moon in Paris (Eric Rohmer) What can I say about this one? If you've ever seen a Rohmer film before, this one is pretty much just like it. That's not a put-down, though. Rohmer as a filmmaker is like James Brown or the Ramones as music makers. He's obsessed with variations on a basic theme, and most of his films are pieces of one single body of work. Like James Brown and the Ramones, Rohmer can be addictive and sometimes irritating. This is one of his good ones.
Friday, September 17, 2004
This is awesome
If you're having a bad day, Makigami Koichi will make it all better.
(Please watch the Voice Art Movie)
(Please watch the Voice Art Movie)
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Boring
I'm bored at work. It will be a long time before I get to go home. Even though the Neil Young biography I'm reading is really good, time is still moving slowly. Someone, please regale me with tales of hilarity and/or woe in comment form under this post.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
The Man Who Refused To Take His Gorilla Mask Off Part 7
Steve enters the burning home, looking frantically for any sign of the children and the kitty. The mask feels hot against his face. He looks around to get his bearings and sees smoke billowing up the staircase toward the back of the kitchen in the west side of the house. The living room he stands in is reasonably untouched, but the hallway in front of him is full of smoke. He takes a deep breath and runs into the haze. He hears a small child crying at his left. On his right, a bedroom is full of flames. Steve veers left and enters a child's bedroom. A boy of five or six is curled up in a ball on the bed, crying. A crib sits on the other side of the room. Steve looks in and sees an infant and a kitten, sleeping gently. He scoops the baby and the kitten up in his arms. The baby begins to cry and the kitten claws at the mask and squirms in Steve's arms. He walks over to the boy.
"Come on," Steve says. "I'm going to get you out of here."
The boy looks up and cries even harder.
"My hands are full," Steve says. "You'll have to walk right in front of me. I'll be behind you all the way, and we'll get you out of here and back to your mom outside, okay?"
The boy continues to cry. He tries to talk, but his crying is too intense and his chin shakes.
"W-w-w-w-w-wh-what in the crap?" the boy finally manages to say.
"It's alright," Steve says. "I'm a friendly apeman and I'm going to get you out of here. Get off the bed, keep low, which shouldn't be hard since you're so short, and I'll be right behind you. Ready?"
"I'm n-not so sh-short," the boy burbles.
"Okay," Steve says. "On the count of three, we're going to get the hell out of here. Ready? One. Two. Three."
The boy jumps off the bed and runs out the front door, Steve and the baby/kitty combination closely behind. The boy runs into the arms of his crying mother, who cries even harder. She hugs the boy, the baby, the kitten, and Steve.
Steve sits on his couch, the remote control on his lap, watching the evening news. Timmy sits next to him, a plate of nachos on the coffeetable in front of them.
"Gee whiz, Steve," Timmy says. "Why are we watching the dumb old news? Let's watch 'The Matrix'."
"Just wait," Steve says. "You'll find out."
Timmy fidgets impatiently and eats more nachos.
"Oh!" Steve shouts, turning up the television. "Here it is!"
A newscaster for NBC affiliate KZYL, Jim Tompkins, smiles and begins to speak. A graphic of an ape mask appears in the upper right hand side of the television screen.
Tompkins: And now for our Oddly Enough segment. An apeman became an ape hero earlier today when he rescued a small child, an infant, and a kitten from a burning home. The woman, 35-year-old Tina Smucklers, woke up from an afternoon nap to find her bedroom in flames. Disoriented, Smucklers ran out of the house, forgetting that her two children, Buster and Donny, and her kitten, Mr. Poopers, were still inside. Steve Smithers, a recently unemployed proofreader wearing a gorilla mask, happened to be passing by when he heard Smucklers' screams. He ran into the burning home, picked up Donny and Mr. Poopers, and convinced Buster to follow him outside. The family were successfully reunited moments later.
Footage of the burning home is shown, followed by a KZYL reporter interviewing young Buster in front of the fire.
Reporter: What did you think when you saw the fire?
Buster: I was really scared. I started to cry. It was really hot. I saw some fire. Then I saw a gorilla man and I got even more scared. But he told me he was going to help me, so I stopped being scared. He's a nice gorilla man, not a scary gorilla man.
Tompkins is shown at his desk again. The camera pans back to show him and his co-host, Linda Teagel.
Tompkins: The 30-year-old Smithers says he's worn the gorilla mask since Halloween. He says he feels like himself in it and has no immediate plans to remove it. Fire marshals aren't sure what started the blaze in the Smucklers' home, but have ruled out arson. What a story, Linda.
Teagel: Amazing. Ha ha.
Tompkins: What a weirdo.
Teagel: He sure is a weirdo, but a weirdo with a heart of gold.
Tompkins: You said it, Linda. Well, that's all for tonight. Join us tomorrow when we look at the latest in designer cheese graters. We'll tell you which ones are hot and which ones to avoid. And join us tomorrow morning at six for the early show with Pete and Angie. Goodnight.
Teagel: Goodnight.
"Holy cow, Steve," Timmy says, eyes wide. "You're a hero."
"I couldn't let those kids burn," Steve says. "I did what I had to do."
"Gee whiz," Timmy says. "I can't believe it."
"I can't either, Timmy," Steve says. "I can't either."
Next week: Steve gets the key to the city!
"Come on," Steve says. "I'm going to get you out of here."
The boy looks up and cries even harder.
"My hands are full," Steve says. "You'll have to walk right in front of me. I'll be behind you all the way, and we'll get you out of here and back to your mom outside, okay?"
The boy continues to cry. He tries to talk, but his crying is too intense and his chin shakes.
"W-w-w-w-w-wh-what in the crap?" the boy finally manages to say.
"It's alright," Steve says. "I'm a friendly apeman and I'm going to get you out of here. Get off the bed, keep low, which shouldn't be hard since you're so short, and I'll be right behind you. Ready?"
"I'm n-not so sh-short," the boy burbles.
"Okay," Steve says. "On the count of three, we're going to get the hell out of here. Ready? One. Two. Three."
The boy jumps off the bed and runs out the front door, Steve and the baby/kitty combination closely behind. The boy runs into the arms of his crying mother, who cries even harder. She hugs the boy, the baby, the kitten, and Steve.
Steve sits on his couch, the remote control on his lap, watching the evening news. Timmy sits next to him, a plate of nachos on the coffeetable in front of them.
"Gee whiz, Steve," Timmy says. "Why are we watching the dumb old news? Let's watch 'The Matrix'."
"Just wait," Steve says. "You'll find out."
Timmy fidgets impatiently and eats more nachos.
"Oh!" Steve shouts, turning up the television. "Here it is!"
A newscaster for NBC affiliate KZYL, Jim Tompkins, smiles and begins to speak. A graphic of an ape mask appears in the upper right hand side of the television screen.
Tompkins: And now for our Oddly Enough segment. An apeman became an ape hero earlier today when he rescued a small child, an infant, and a kitten from a burning home. The woman, 35-year-old Tina Smucklers, woke up from an afternoon nap to find her bedroom in flames. Disoriented, Smucklers ran out of the house, forgetting that her two children, Buster and Donny, and her kitten, Mr. Poopers, were still inside. Steve Smithers, a recently unemployed proofreader wearing a gorilla mask, happened to be passing by when he heard Smucklers' screams. He ran into the burning home, picked up Donny and Mr. Poopers, and convinced Buster to follow him outside. The family were successfully reunited moments later.
Footage of the burning home is shown, followed by a KZYL reporter interviewing young Buster in front of the fire.
Reporter: What did you think when you saw the fire?
Buster: I was really scared. I started to cry. It was really hot. I saw some fire. Then I saw a gorilla man and I got even more scared. But he told me he was going to help me, so I stopped being scared. He's a nice gorilla man, not a scary gorilla man.
Tompkins is shown at his desk again. The camera pans back to show him and his co-host, Linda Teagel.
Tompkins: The 30-year-old Smithers says he's worn the gorilla mask since Halloween. He says he feels like himself in it and has no immediate plans to remove it. Fire marshals aren't sure what started the blaze in the Smucklers' home, but have ruled out arson. What a story, Linda.
Teagel: Amazing. Ha ha.
Tompkins: What a weirdo.
Teagel: He sure is a weirdo, but a weirdo with a heart of gold.
Tompkins: You said it, Linda. Well, that's all for tonight. Join us tomorrow when we look at the latest in designer cheese graters. We'll tell you which ones are hot and which ones to avoid. And join us tomorrow morning at six for the early show with Pete and Angie. Goodnight.
Teagel: Goodnight.
"Holy cow, Steve," Timmy says, eyes wide. "You're a hero."
"I couldn't let those kids burn," Steve says. "I did what I had to do."
"Gee whiz," Timmy says. "I can't believe it."
"I can't either, Timmy," Steve says. "I can't either."
Next week: Steve gets the key to the city!
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
I done watched some movies
Caught a few movies on video and in the theater this past weekend. Here they are:
Saw Ju-on (Takashi Shimizu) at the Alamo Drafthouse Village on Sunday. I'm not sure what to think. Apparently, this is the third version of the story that Shimizu has filmed (the first two were TV movies), and he's going to remake it again as an American film starring Sarah Michelle Gellar next year. I think maybe he should just move on to something else. The scary, creepy parts of the film were really effective, but the story was complete and utter nonsense. It wouldn't have bothered me much, but it was needlessly confusing, incoherent, and thin. Why not do away with the story entirely and make a frightening series of mood pieces, or beef it up until it makes sense?
I rented these:
Deathdream (Bob Clark) Clark has had an extremely bizarre directorial career. He started out making really interesting low-budget horror movies, moved on to the "Porky's" series, "A Christmas Story," "Turk 182," and, recently, the "Baby Geniuses" movies. This one is really good. It's the story of a young man, killed in Vietnam, who returns to his small town a sort of zombie/vampire/heroin addict/disgruntled youth combination. Basically, he never shows emotion, save for the occasional sarcastic remark, and kills people, removes their blood with a syringe, and shoots their blood into his arm to stop himself from decomposing. The way it's presented is unique because it works as a drama that shows, in the most realistic terms possible, what it would actually be like if your son came home from the war a bloodthirsty zombie. And the zombie's parents are played by John Marley and Lynn Carlin, who previously played a couple with marital problems in John Cassavetes' "Faces."
First Name: Carmen (Jean-Luc Godard) This is very interesting, but it left me a little cold. Not as difficult as some late-period Godard films, it still kept its distance from the audience. I couldn't find any entry point into the film and admired it more than I liked it. The best scenes involved Godard as a formerly great director named Godard who went nuts and checked himself into a mental hospital.
Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky) Tarkovsky's "Stalker" is one of my ten favorite films of all time, so I had high hopes for this one. I didn't like it nearly as much as "Stalker," but it's hardly a bad film and may even be a great one. Tarkovsky's pacing takes a lot to get used to (it's incredibly slooooow), but if you give yourself up to it, it's incredibly hypnotic. The first two-thirds work beautifully, but I think Tarkovsky showed a failure of nerve in the closing moments, in which a long philosophical discussion explicitly spells out the film's themes. The few moments after this scene, however, somewhat redeem it. Tarkovsky himself said this was the least favorite of his own films, but I would be extremely happy if this was the worst I could do.
Last Night at the Alamo (Eagle Pennell) I'd never heard of Pennell until a few years ago, when he died of acute alcoholism and his obituary appeared in all the local papers. Apparently, he was a minor Texan celebrity. Born in west Texas, he lived in Houston and occasionally Austin. He only managed to direct a handful of ultra-low-budget movies and, eventually, his alcoholism derailed any chance of a continuing career. "Last Night at the Alamo" suffers from its budget limitations (some of the acting is pretty rough, the film stock is cheap and ugly), but manages to mostly overcome them. It's a loosely plotted film. The Alamo is a dive, redneck, working class bar in Houston that's going to be torn down so a highrise can be built, and the clientele are living it up one last time. And that's it. But it's so much more than that. Definitely worth seeing, and the lead performance by Sonny Carl Davis (he's the asshole customer who gets Judge Reinhold fired from All-American Burger in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High") carries the film. And, the screenplay was written by Kim Henkel, who also wrote "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre."
Saw Ju-on (Takashi Shimizu) at the Alamo Drafthouse Village on Sunday. I'm not sure what to think. Apparently, this is the third version of the story that Shimizu has filmed (the first two were TV movies), and he's going to remake it again as an American film starring Sarah Michelle Gellar next year. I think maybe he should just move on to something else. The scary, creepy parts of the film were really effective, but the story was complete and utter nonsense. It wouldn't have bothered me much, but it was needlessly confusing, incoherent, and thin. Why not do away with the story entirely and make a frightening series of mood pieces, or beef it up until it makes sense?
I rented these:
Deathdream (Bob Clark) Clark has had an extremely bizarre directorial career. He started out making really interesting low-budget horror movies, moved on to the "Porky's" series, "A Christmas Story," "Turk 182," and, recently, the "Baby Geniuses" movies. This one is really good. It's the story of a young man, killed in Vietnam, who returns to his small town a sort of zombie/vampire/heroin addict/disgruntled youth combination. Basically, he never shows emotion, save for the occasional sarcastic remark, and kills people, removes their blood with a syringe, and shoots their blood into his arm to stop himself from decomposing. The way it's presented is unique because it works as a drama that shows, in the most realistic terms possible, what it would actually be like if your son came home from the war a bloodthirsty zombie. And the zombie's parents are played by John Marley and Lynn Carlin, who previously played a couple with marital problems in John Cassavetes' "Faces."
First Name: Carmen (Jean-Luc Godard) This is very interesting, but it left me a little cold. Not as difficult as some late-period Godard films, it still kept its distance from the audience. I couldn't find any entry point into the film and admired it more than I liked it. The best scenes involved Godard as a formerly great director named Godard who went nuts and checked himself into a mental hospital.
Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky) Tarkovsky's "Stalker" is one of my ten favorite films of all time, so I had high hopes for this one. I didn't like it nearly as much as "Stalker," but it's hardly a bad film and may even be a great one. Tarkovsky's pacing takes a lot to get used to (it's incredibly slooooow), but if you give yourself up to it, it's incredibly hypnotic. The first two-thirds work beautifully, but I think Tarkovsky showed a failure of nerve in the closing moments, in which a long philosophical discussion explicitly spells out the film's themes. The few moments after this scene, however, somewhat redeem it. Tarkovsky himself said this was the least favorite of his own films, but I would be extremely happy if this was the worst I could do.
Last Night at the Alamo (Eagle Pennell) I'd never heard of Pennell until a few years ago, when he died of acute alcoholism and his obituary appeared in all the local papers. Apparently, he was a minor Texan celebrity. Born in west Texas, he lived in Houston and occasionally Austin. He only managed to direct a handful of ultra-low-budget movies and, eventually, his alcoholism derailed any chance of a continuing career. "Last Night at the Alamo" suffers from its budget limitations (some of the acting is pretty rough, the film stock is cheap and ugly), but manages to mostly overcome them. It's a loosely plotted film. The Alamo is a dive, redneck, working class bar in Houston that's going to be torn down so a highrise can be built, and the clientele are living it up one last time. And that's it. But it's so much more than that. Definitely worth seeing, and the lead performance by Sonny Carl Davis (he's the asshole customer who gets Judge Reinhold fired from All-American Burger in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High") carries the film. And, the screenplay was written by Kim Henkel, who also wrote "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre."
Monday, September 13, 2004
New Robot of the Week
Here is the new Robot of the Week. Give this robotic son of a bitch a name by Monday, Sep. 20, and, if I like yours the best, you will be honored with victory and entered in the monthly prize-winning contest. Good luck, humanoids.
Robot of the Week and Month contest winners
Hey everybody. It's time to announce the best robot name of the week and our first ever monthly prizewinner. Congratulations are in order for this week's winner, Receptionista, and her robot name, Bruno. Here's a recap of our last four winners:
Week 1: Kristy - Immobilebot
Week 2: Nick - Electro-jaundice
Week 3: Kylie McKain - Bocephus
Week 4: Receptionista - Bruno
And the monthly prizewinner is:
Nick for Electro-jaundice! Congratulations, Nick! I will be contacting you to find out where you want your prizes sent. Thanks to everyone who participated in each weekly contest.
Week 1: Kristy - Immobilebot
Week 2: Nick - Electro-jaundice
Week 3: Kylie McKain - Bocephus
Week 4: Receptionista - Bruno
And the monthly prizewinner is:
Nick for Electro-jaundice! Congratulations, Nick! I will be contacting you to find out where you want your prizes sent. Thanks to everyone who participated in each weekly contest.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Come on people
I just want to remind everyone to enter the robot-naming contest. The turnout is a little slow this week. Come on people. Robots. Possible prizes. The thrill of victory. The shame of defeat. It will make your life more exciting, and give the robot's life more meaning. Enter the contest. Do it. Come on. Do it.
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