Ghostmen on Second and Third

Movie Review: The Road 7.5/10

2010-05-31T12:46:00.000-07:00

Finally watching the film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s 2006 novel “The Road” was a long journey for me, although not a post-apocalyptic one.

The film was released December and, like the adaptation of McCarthy’s “No Country For Old Men,” did not make the cut to be featured at Valdosta Stadium Cinemas. Alright then, no problem. Chrissty and I were making the 1,500 mile trek to New Hampshire to visit my folks for Christmas, so it had to be featured there at one of the many surrounding theaters, right?

Yes, its playing. My mom quipped grinning. Knowing the punch line was right around the corner
I played the straight man.

Where at?

I found it playing in Minnesota.

Skunked again. I thought. This movie has turned into Ralphie’s official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time. Okay, well I’ll give Valdosta another chance. Many films haven’t been released there immediately only to be shown a month or two later after their initial wide scale release.

Not happening.

Okay, I give up. I’ll see it on DVD. Five months later it was released on May 25. Sorry, Netflix I could not wait the customary two months to receive this new release.

So, to the nearest redbox, Chrissty and I went. Sold-out. Damn. Back to the apartment. This time to reserve a copy. Reserved we headed another two and a half miles north to the next nearest Kroger. One bonus of our new Atlanta living, more than one redbox.

There was a mass of redbox devotees huddled around the machine. OUT-OF-ORDER. The sign laughed at me. Hand held chaos as users scrambled to their cell phones to report the inconvenience. Me one of them. The one drawback to this new school version of renting films, no human hand to pass over a DVD. Was this machine self aware? Was it trying to spite us?

This was now a mission. A call to redbox, a cheery customer rep named Chris and a new destination another three miles away to the next nearest redbox. Chrissty and I were off.

15 minutes later we had our movie in hand, after waiting for two girls to take 10 minutes to ultimately decide on Marley and Me, not the best Saturday night fare unless they had a surplus of Kleenex (saying the guy who is renting “The Road”), and another chap who had preconceived plans for Sherlock Holmes.
So was the film worth the months of waiting and the scavenger hunt across Atlanta? Sure, with the stipulation that we had nothing better to do and had been wanting to explore the city randomly anyway for the past weeks.

In a year that broughr this and another post-apocalyptic film, the multimillion dollar waste 2012 (For the record we didn’t even make it through the whole thing, debating a quarter of the way to just send it back before finally relenting half way through), “The Road” was a terrifically depressing film, an anti-2012, in that it was actually worth watching, and contained the realism and heartache that an end of world scenario would actually create.

Viggo Mortensen is typical Viggo playing The Father perfectly opposite a tearfully realistic turn as The Son by Kodi Smit-McPhee as the two head south in hope of warmer weather and a new civilization.

While the film was worth our journey, I understand now why in a year that also brought us 10 nominees for the Academy’s Best Picture Award, it was not one of them. The film’s gloomy imagery matches the grayness McCarthy conveyed in a world where humanity is sharing a can of pears with a stranger amidst cannibals hunting for human flesh.

Mortensen, McPhee and even director John Hillcoat do the best they can translating McCarthy’s material to the screen, showing viewers the modern-day heartache of living just to survive. Its just that something is missing. The film seems to do everything right, but for some reason, it feels like a shell in comparison to the weight of the novel.

Maybe this is just an ode to the greatness of McCarthy. The product of attempting to translate a novel to the screen with the scope and masterful writing of “The Road." Sure the Coen’s managed to do it with “No Country for Old Men," but the success of that film is based on its action-packed sequences and plot twists, along with its unrelenting look at good versus evil, something “The Road” was never about.

Where "No Country for Old Men" was meaning disguised as an action packed thriller, "The Road” is anti-Hollywood at its best, relying almost completely on human emotion and the bond between father and son -- something not easily presented on the screen.

In the end, that is where the novel "The Road" succeeds so well and why the film seems to fall a bit flat. It’s definitely worth watching, but fans of the book will feel that something is missing. “The Road” is just another example of the impossibility that it usually is for a film to live up to the book that it is based on.

Much Better Live But Still Not Too Sure About This Album

2010-04-01T16:06:00.000-07:00

Evil Dead Claymation

2010-03-23T14:16:00.000-07:00

Evil Dead done in 60 seconds with CLAY - 2010 from Lee Hardcastle on Vimeo.

Billionaire Industrialist Buys Backstreet Boys' Plane, Fans Crushed

2010-03-20T07:03:00.001-07:00

Pavarotti Killington
The Citizen

RENO - To the chagrin of Backstreet Boys' fans, Bruno Komp, billionaire industrialist and aviation collector, is now the owner of the jet that appeared in the group's music video, "I Want it That Way."

The Boeing 727 was bought by Komp for a staggering $5 million Friday night, outbidding the $3.5 million collective effort of BSB United, the Backstreet Boys' largest fan club.

"We can't believe it." Darcy Templeton, founder of BSB United, said while holding back tears. "It was supposed to be the prized piece in United's memorabilia collection. Fans worldwide donated to this cause. Some even sold their dripping wet Nick (Carter) posters. That's a huge commitment. We already cleared out a spot smack in the middle of the museum. It was supposed to go next to the framed piece of t-shirt I tore off of A.J. (McLean) during the guys' 1999 TRL appearance and the lock of Howie's (Dorough) hair I cut off backstage in Stockholm during the Black and Blue Tour."

Templeton began to sob uncontrollably. "We only hope that A.J., Howie, Brian (Littrell), Nick and Kevin (Richardson) aren't disappointed with us. We love you guys so much."

Komp said he felt bad for the fan club members but, at the same time, was overjoyed to add the jet to his already vast collection.

"This is a day collectors like me live for," Komp said while clutching the jet's keys to his heart. "This is what it's all about, adding a jet of such history, such magnitude, to their collection. And it's mine, all mine. Look, show me the meaning of being lonely, I'm sure it doesn't include having over 65 pieces of aviation history in your collection. I'm a big dick player. I want it that way. I'm larger than life, baby."

Backstreet Boys' member Brian Littrell commented on the disappointment felt by BSB United and shocked members by saying the Backstreet Boys would donate one of the jet's used during the Black and Blue Tour to the fan club's memorabilia collection.

"What can we say," Littrell said. "We love our fans so much and we hate to see them so unhappy. This plane is a reflection of how much our fans mean to us. And on another note, we love every backdrop that we've ever slow motion walked and sang in front in front of. That plane isn't just a plane. We're happy for Bruno but it's still a part of us and it saddens us that it is no longer a part of us. But that's okay. We're just ecstatic that the Black and Blue 727 is in a place where it can truly be celebrated."

Responding to Littrell's statement, Templeton said, "Screw the plane. Brian said they love us. They really love us. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh my God," before she collapsed and was rushed to the emergency room.

Dawkins Medical Center officials said Templeton's condition was stable and that she merely suffered from panic attack like symptoms.

The money donated to purchasing the jet by BSB United members is being returned to members, Nikki Stewart, chief financial officer of BSB United, said.

"We're hearing rumors that a mattress Kevin soiled after drinking a little too much one night is going to be available soon," Stewart said. "We hope members will show just as much generosity if not more considering what happened. We don't want to lose out to some kind of soiled mattress collector next time out."

BSB United has more than 25 million members worldwide.

"I Want it That Way" was the first single off of the Backstreet Boys' 1999 platinum album "Millennium." It reached the number one spot on the Billboard Hot Adult Contemporary Tracks where it stayed for 14 weeks. It set a record for most weeks at number one on the Top 40 Mainstream chart. The song also received three Grammy nominations, including one for "Record of the Year."

The members of the Backstreet Boys are Howie Dorough, A.J. McLean, Brian Littrell, Nick Carter and Kevin Richardson.

Album Review: The Whigs "In the Dark" Grade: C+

2010-03-17T04:43:00.000-07:00

Fans of “Rocky” saw what happened when “The Italian Stallion” moved from the streets into a posh mansion -- he got pampered, lost the “eye of the tiger” and was pummeled by Clubber Lane.

The Whigs’ third release, “In the Dark,” won’t get the Athens’ rockers destroyed in the ring but fans have to wonder if the band was influenced too much by the glitz of tour mates Kings of Leon and “cock of the walk” producer Ben Allen.

Like Rocky in his third film, it sounds like The Whigs have forgotten who they are in this third installment. Sure there are glimmers of the trio’s Replacements’ style college alt rock sound, but a lot of “In the Dark” is missing the unabashed ferocity that has made the trio such a success in the past. The album is a drunk’s line walk between the band’s garage rock roots and an overly studioized, Kings of Leon arena style sound. It works like jukebox provided back ground music to noisy bar conversation. Sure, it’s entertaining and fills in the gaps of awkward silence, but where’s the pulse?

Standout tracks include “Hundred/Million,” “Kill Me Carolyne” and “In the Dark,” but even they sound buried alive compared to fist pumpers “Like a Vibration” and “Right Hand on My Heart” off the band’s second effort “Mission Control” and the infectious sing-a-longs “Technology” and “Violet Furs” off the trio’s’ debut “Give ‘Em All A Big Fat Lip.”

The Whigs have not resurrected Shakespeare with any of their lyrics, but the album’s study hall quiet make the clichéd intros in “Someone’s Daughter” and “So Lonely” stand out. I know lead singer/guitarist Parker Gispert said in a November interview with Rolling Stone that he wanted to be more lyrically direct with “In the Dark,” but this can’t be what the band intended.

While “In the Dark” does not deserve the pummeling Pitchfork delivered, it also is not the progression that was expected. With their next album, The Whigs need to stay out of the arena and rediscover the garage. Ding…ding.

Fans look to 'Indepedence Day' for Leadership; Kline Camp Not Concerned

2010-03-14T12:47:00.000-07:00

Pavarotti Killington
The Citizen

LOS ANGELES - As President Obama's approval rating continues to go down amidst stalled health care reform and a double digit unemployment rate, movie fans rallied in the hills this morning calling for a leader known for taking action - even if he is purely fictional.

Hundreds of fans of the 1996 blockbuster "Independence Day" gathered outside the home of actor Bill Pullman chanting "Today we celebrate our Independence Day" in hopes that the actor would storm Washington and oust the current regime immediately through a violent takeover or at least by 2012 through the democratic process.

"I've been out of the job for nine months now," Tom Browinsky, an unemployed welder and freqent movie goer said. President (Thomas) Whitmore is the right man for the job. In fact, he's been the right guy since '96 and I've been writing his name in the box ever since. For me the job of President is all about integrity and looking out for the regular folks like you and me. He could have laid down when those aliens were shooting that green junk everywhere but he didn't. He delivered the best speech in presidential history and even fired the first missile when their shields went down. People want a return to greatness and that's something out of George Washington's playbook, right there. He wasn't in a bunker hiding. He was there fighting for all of us."

Sandra O'Brien, an unemployed hairdresser, echoed Browinsky's view.

"Look, the guy lost his wife with his daughter at his side, and then saves the world all in a couple day's time. If he's not right for the job, then nobody is. President Whitmore has the experience and the gusto. He's even got military experience and even supported his wife Dottie during a time when many men wouldn't have, when she was catcher for the Peaches. I can't say it enough. He is the man America needs. A man of action and progression."

After twenty minutes of chanting, Pullman addressed the crowd from his front door in a bathrobe.

"I appreciate your support. I really do. But I'm not a politician. President Whitmore was a character I played 15 years ago. Please go home, please. I love that I have such great fans, but please. Remember, I'm Mr. Wrong. There's people out there, real politicians, who you need to get behind. They're Mr. Right."

However, the crowed remained while Pullman stayed indoors until a street brawl broke out between Pullman supporters and those of a Jeff Goldblum/Will Smith ticket.

"They came out of nowhere," Earl Goodwin, a Pullman supporter said, as his forehead gushed blood. "We were just gathering peacefully and they go and do this. What is the world coming too?"

Dedrich David Smith, the spokesman for the Los Angeles Chapter of Get (Jeff) Goldblum and (Will) Smith Into the White House, said "Look I hate that people got hurt. We're not about that. Sometimes people lose their heads. We're just here to show that Mr. David Levinson and Capt. Steven Hiller are the true heroes and not that charlatan Whitmore. Levinson cracked the code knocking out the force field and is the reason Whitmore even got out of the White House before it blew up, and Hiller is the pilot that Whitmore wishes he could be. All Whitmore did was push a button. The truth is, if the greatest American hero, Mr. Russell Casse was still with us, he'd be the first President elected unanimously in history, and that's a fact."

Goldblum and Smith could not be reached for comment by press time.

The campaign manager for Kevin Kline's presidential bid, Cecil Forte, issued a short statement to the press in response to the outpouring for Pullman.

"Look, nobody can deny that President Whitmore did amazing things. He's the only president who ever had to respond to an alien invasion, and even I can't say that he could have handled it any better than he did. But the fact is, we're not under attack by aliens, right now. We're under attack from unemployment, insurance companies, and a distrust in government. It won't take a scientist turned cable man and a future astronaut to solve these problems either. It'll take a man of Dave's stature. An everyman who got people jobs when there were no jobs to be had. A man who fought so he could see the triumphant look on the faces of those who had work. A man who cut government fat so the money could go to children who needed it. To me that's real action and it doesn't take being in a cockpit to do it. It just takes being there for the American people when they need you most."

After issuing the statement Forte refused to answer questions. Kline could not be reached for comment by press time.

Michael Douglas, Dennis Haysbert, Martin Sheen, John Travolta, Jack Nicholson and Chris Rock could also not be reached for comment by press time.

Book Review: "No Country for Old Men" by Cormac McCarthy 5/5

2010-02-12T11:48:00.000-08:00

Cormac McCarthy’s last novel, 2006’s “The Road,” is a handkerchief soaked look at the love between a father and son trying to survive the carnage of a post apocalyptic world. It received much praise from the literary community, including a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and many awws and tears from Oprah’s Book Club members.

“No Country for Old Men,” McCarthy’s preceding novel, is worthy of similar praise and, for those who read it after first consuming “The Road,” blasts any lingering scraps of sympathy away with a silenced shotgun. It is sheer ruthlessness packed into a modern cowboy noir page turner.

For those who are too busy hanging out at The Maxx to write a Belding approved book report, the Coen Brothers’ 2007 Academy Award winning masterpiece based on this novel pretty much has it covered from start to finish. Readers are introduced to three men whose storylines intertwine through numerous shootouts and bloodbaths until fate or their own actions (you decide) take them to at least two, maybe three surprising conclusions:

Llewelyn Moss, a trailer park genius forced to live on the wits his Vietnam War training gave him as he absconds with a briefcase containing two million drug war earned dollars; the monster on his trail, Anton Chigurh, a philosophical sadist hitman who doles out death as the hand of fate with slaughterhouse weaponry and viciousness; and the Eisenhowerian Ed Tom Bell, an “I’m too old for this shit!” sheriff content with drinking sweet tea as he rocks his way into the sunset of retirement, now faced with capturing the Devil spawned Chigurh, whose thirst for killing is as gargantuan as the Texas county he swore to protect.

As is usually the case, the novel is superior to the movie. While the Coens make terrific films, McCarthy’s a run producer in the starting lineup of American literary giants. His story telling is brilliant, and his ability to craft realistic regional dialogue is a big part of what makes this thriller flow so well. Also, movie goers who frowned at the Coens’ seemingly non-climactic ending will have a better sense of its meaning (or at least think they do) when they finish the novel, as it is made clearer through McCarthy’s use of Bell’s separate monologues commenting on society’s current state and the aimless battle between good and evil.

These themes are prevalent among others like fate and aging, and another part of what McCarthy does so well with “No Country for Old Men.” It is a tale filled with so much meaning disguised as a “can’t put it down” action thriller.

Definitely not a bedtime story for the kiddies unless the pop doing the reading is Ed Gein, ”No Country for Old Men” is a must for readers who want a thrilling tale told by one of today’s best authors.

Book Review: "Into Thin Air" by Jon Krakauer 4.5/5

2010-01-31T07:43:00.000-08:00

For most of us, rolling off the couch for an hour long session of working out and ogling before primetime requires a depressingly modern form of energy drink induced willpower. For a few, like author Jon Krakauer and mountain climbers in general, will is something much more.

In, “Into Thin Air,” Krakauer’s personal account of the 1996 Mount Everest disaster, readers are introduced to a world where will is training for a year to fulfill a lifelong dream of climbing one of the world’s most hallowed peaks, continuing to climb despite bitter cold and increasingly oxygen depleted air, and turning back because of unfavorable conditions only hundreds of feet from the peak after a lifetime of dreaming and forking over thousands of dollars -- something that the climbers suffering from “Summit Fever” on May 10 could not do.

Krakauer’s gut wrenching, journalistically sound account makes it clear that the true danger in scaling Everett isn’t reaching the top but having the energy and clear mind to get back down. The novel, written as a catharsis over his survivor’s guilt only a year after the disaster, attempts to ask, what happened up there? What led experienced expedition leaders to make such egregious decisions?

Mainly the answers come in the form of varying high altitude sicknesses that affect the mind. Suffering from hypoxia (an amount of oxygen deprivation so great the adult mind is turned into that of a slow child’s) himself, it is tear jerking to read Krakauer’s account of how his oxygen depleted mind would not allow him to comprehend the obvious dangers looming ahead for his fellow climbers and save his friend and guide, Andy Harris.

Answers also come in the commercialization of Everett where expedition teams haul novice climbers up the mountain as long as their wallets are fat enough. Since Sir Edmund Hilary and Tenzing Norgay became the first climbers to scale the mountain 43 years earlier, the previously unreachable Everett had almost become a joke to respected climbers. Mapped out by expedition teams, Everett had become exploited to the point where clients were bringing fax machines to base camp, a lama showed off a picture of himself posing with Steven Segal, and deceased climbers from failed treks shared the mountain with hundreds of depleted oxygen tanks.

Therefore, there were climbers on the mountain who had no business being there who paid an extravagant amount of money to reach the 29,028-foot summit, as if reaching the peak is something automatic when it has more do with luck and perfect conditions than actual skill and a $65,000 price tag. The question then became for expedition leaders, how do we turn around clients who are so close, have endured so much, and have paid so much money? What will turning around such high paying clients do to my company’s reputation? And sadly, the inability to make this tough decision led to the deaths of so many clients and the expedition leaders themselves.

While this is not a book that will be studied in literature classes, it is impossible not to be moved by “Into Thin Air.” It is a novel that will be enjoyed as much as Krakauer probably hated writing it.

R.I.P J.D. Salinger

2010-01-30T11:04:00.000-08:00

J.D. Salinger, the author known for his solitary lifestyle almost has much as his literary talents, died two days ago at the age of 91 at his home in Cornish, NH. I'm not going to attempt any kind of essay on Salinger as the New York Times has it covered, and it will only serve as an injustice to the man who wrote "The Catcher in the Rye."

I've only read two of Salinger's novels, "The Catcher in the Rye" and "Franny and Zooey." The latter was read in my high school honors English class manly in passing as I had to write a research paper comparing and contrasting two novels written by an author we read that semester. I don't remember the novel at all as, like many papers written back then, it was done in between games of HalfLife, CounterStrike and online chatting.

But I'll never forget "The Catcher in the Rye." I've always enjoyed reading, but as many of us can agree to I'm sure, reading for school can be a chore. Often students feel forced to read novels by authors long dead about topics long forgotten in forms of English that are barely understandable today. Sometimes there are books that go against this norm and "The Catcher in the Rye" was that for me.

Finally a book for school that I actually enjoyed. This hadn't happened since sophomore English when we read the "Odyssey," and, let's just say, Salinger far surpassed Homer. We were only assigned to read the first two or three chapters the first night, but I found myself unable to put the novel down. I read at least half the book that night, only stopping because there was other homework to attend too.

"No wonder kids needed a permission slip to read this book back in the day." I thought as I flipped page after page filled with the profanities and "phonies" of Holden Caulfield.

Almost a decade later, a few years back, I re-read the book, and was amazed at how I still identified with it even though high school seemed one hundred years away. I decided then to re-read it at least once every five years or so to see how my opinion of it would change. Would I still identify with Caufield or view him with an adult's cynicism?

We'll see.

Thank you Mr. Salinger for giving us this book. I wonder how much you laughed between 1961 and 1982 when it was the most censored book in the United States.

Looking Forward to The Whigs' "In the Dark"

2010-01-27T07:43:00.000-08:00

As January comes to an end, my anticipation is growing for The Whigs' latest album, "In the Dark," which has an official release date of March 16.

The Whigs have to be one of the most underrated bands out there. The band's first two albums, "Give 'Em All A Big Fat Lip" and "Mission Control," are what Christopher Walken as The Producer Bruce Dickinson would refer to as pure gold although neither feature one nanosecond of cowbell.

So, I'm excited to see what the trio have in store. After hearing the title track live at the Hummingbird Stage & Taproom a few months back and listening to more of the new stuff online, its pretty clear that "In the Dark" will be a new step for The Whigs.

Lead singer/guitarist Parker Gispert reaffirmed this in a November interview with Rolling Stone as he discussed the different approaches the band was taking with this album: its the first album with new bassist, Tim Deaux, the first with producer Ben Allen (Animal Collective’s "Merriweather Post Pavilion"), the first where Gispert channels the lyrical directness of country music, particularly that of Johnny Cash and the first after connecting, shiver me timbers, with Kings of Leon.

Well, the Whigs haven't disappointed yet, so I expect more greatness. I just hope "In the Dark" is more Cash than Kings.

The Hidden Genius of Home Alone

2010-01-25T12:44:00.000-08:00

Ahh, there you are. Welcome cinephiles, one and all, to these hallowed pages where we, masters of the craft, can hide from the weekend box office smash watching rabble. I am Pavarotti Killington, your guide to the movies.

Movie critics agree that there have been numerous ground breaking pictures followed by, arguably, even greater sequels: “The Godfather” and “The Godfather II,” “A New Hope” and “The Empire Strikes Back” and “The Fellowship of the Ring” and “The Two Towers,” to name a few examples. But all of these films must bow to the greatest one, two combination of all time, the Ruth and Gehrig of movie pairings: “Home Alone” and “Home Alone 2.”

Surely you jest, sir, you are saying, as you grab the nearest pitchfork and wrap this lighted article around your freshest torch. But, please, sit, and instead grab your monocle and pipe and light your finest tobacco as you ponder my argument.

At their surfaces, these two films are already high in the canon of cinematic taste for good reason. Both are hysterical, emotionally touching, and feature the fine acting of Macaulay Culkin, who is perhaps the greatest young thespian to ever grace the screen, matched, perhaps, only by Haley Joel Osment of “The Sixth Sense.”

However, in its simple packaging as a classic John Hughes comedy revered by young and old, it’s easy to miss the nuances and messages which these films truly wish to convey. Do not feel depressed or curse your supposed good taste. This is something even the greats of the illustrious American Film Institute have failed to realize with all of their tweed jackets and beard rubbing.

Enough cannot be said of the sheer genius of Hughes. Take his satirical portrayal of the suburban family in all its greatness: the big house, the fancy possessions and the wealth to send themselves and Uncle Frank’s family on not one, but two vacations.

Yet, somehow amidst this capitalist prestige, society’s model family manages to forget their youngest son, not once, but twice, causing a chain of calamity that only comes to an end thanks to the street smarts of said youngster. Would an inner city welfare mother working two jobs to make ends meet be met with such forgiveness and robust laughter, or would the forgotten child, soaked in tears, be ripped from mother’s arms to the repeated cries of “I did the best I could. It was an accident.”

The brilliance does not stop there. In “Home Alone 2,” Hughes shows us one of the grandest five stars hotels the world has ever seen. But, with all of The Plaza’s glitz, glamour and supposed hospitality, the young Kevin turns to a feces covered bird lady, who is so much of a hermit that she does not even chant, “toppins for a bag.” Hence, the two stereotypes are flipped upside down as she befriends Kevin and ultimately saves him, which the dolts at the hotel fail to do.

Sure, they were tricked by a Talkboy and foiled by the antagonist of “Angels with Even Filthier Souls,” but as adults responsible enough to run a fine hotel, society would expect them to possess the wisdom of forgiveness to save the boy. Again, Hughes’ shows that society’s labels are not always so fitting. Furthermore, that a world with no labels would perhaps be a true utopia.

The examples of such genius in these two cinematic achievements are endless, so I will digress no further as you clearly get the point. Every artist aims to create something unreachable and ever lasting. May there be hope that these “family” films are not perfection. That artists will not pack their creativity, forever depressed by the revelation that these films make future cinema irrelevant.

Movie Review: Inglourious Basterds (95 Nat-Zi Scalps Out of 100)

2009-09-01T20:05:00.000-07:00

Until “Inglourious Basterds,” ultra-violence never seemed so funny or fist pumping –all it took was Quentin Tarantino’s pithy dialogue and Nazi’s being blasted to pieces to get the audience into a cheering uproar.

In his latest revenge flick, the writer/director presents a spaghetti western turned violently humorous, World War II fantasy that manages to produce laugh out loud hysterics with gallons of bloody carnage.

Opening classically with a deafeningly quiet, cuticle tearing confrontation, the film’s volume turns up to 11 as a team of Jewish American soldiers, under the command of Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), are given a mission to hunt and brutalize Nazis while, simultaneously, Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent), an escaped Jewish girl turned theatre owner, plans her ultimate revenge, creating an ending where both storylines converge to create one uproarious bloodbath.

While “Basterds” doesn’t quite reach the echelon of Tarantino’s masterpiece “Pulp Fiction,” he smashes any lingering feelings of disgust from his last installment, the deplorable yawn fest, “Death Proof.” The film triumphs with its perfect mixture of suspenseful banter and hammer dropping action.

Tarantino is also helped by terrific turns from Laurent, Diane Kruger as German actor/spy, Bridget von Hammersmark, and “Hostel” director turned “Bear Jew” Eli Roth.

Brad Pitt looks like a kid throwing off his school clothes and running outside to play as he gleefully dusts off his Hollywood sheen embracing the southern-fried Lt. Aldo Raine, whose thirst for “Nat-Zi” scalps is only matched by his debauchery of the “I-Talian” language.

But amidst the scalpings, throat slashings, baseball bat skull smashings, and swastika skin carvings, Austrian born actor Christoph Waltz steals the show as the devilish Jew Hunter, Col. Hans Landa, a Nazi detective so evil he manages to create more fear than Tarantino’s Hitler and Joseph Goebbels combined.

Overall, Tarantino hits this film out of the park as well as his “Bear Jew” cracks Nazi skulls with his Teddy Ballgame death swing. Of course there are gimmicky scenes such as Samuel L. Jackson’s random voice overs, but such deviations are quintessential Tarantino, something fans have loved to loathe over the years.

“Inglourious Basterds” is the perfect bookend to the summer that “Star Trek” started.

In the words of Lt. Raine…R-Vee-Der-Chee.

The Freshman’s Guide to a Successful College Experience: 2nd Edition (Few Changes, More Pie Charts, Your Used 1st Edition is Now a $150 Paperweight)

2009-08-15T06:33:00.000-07:00

Tommy: Did you hear I finally graduated?
Richard : Yeah, and just a shade under a decade too, all right.
Tommy: You know a lot of people go to college for seven years.
Richard: I know, they're called doctors.

Baytree is filling up with solemn looking parents driving empty mini-vans home and coiffed 18 year olds, veins bulging, eyes wide, high on freedom uppers. Yes, another Fall Semester must be upon us where Valdosta is bombarded by the newest crop of deer in headlights looking freshmen taking their next step towards the Real World (of course not the drunkin’ orgy in a hot tub, but the business casual, jeans on Friday, maybe drunkenly hook up with the new hire after happy hour deal). I was them once. I was you. I remember those nervous feelings, eons ago, back in ’01: the excitement of new found freedom, the anxiousness of new surroundings, the fear of making new friends, the anticipation for the future.

As the old-timer that I am, I want to take the lessons I’ve learned and act as your Sherpa (China sucks!) through the perilous mountain range that is the college experience. First, I applaud you for making it this far, but it isn’t all Van Wilder, Animal House, Back to School and Saved by the Bell: The College Years as the American media would like you to believe. In fact, the stakes are against you; about half of all college students who start with the best intentions won’t graduate.

Of course the “experts” will give you their reasons for this, but it’s simple really:
successfully completing college is about finding a balance, the yin of studying and making the grades and the yang of having fun and paying the rent. That’s it. For the most part, those who find the balance succeed, and those who don’t are yanked off the stage with a giant cane. So, to help you find that balance, here are my tips and suggestions for success.

1. Graduate Past Your High School Relationship – This goes 10 fold if said person lives more than an hour away. Look, I know this sounds cruel, but stop getting all Notebooky on me. Honestly, this should have been done long ago, but, now that you’re down here, the dawn of text messaging will make the confrontation much easier. I know you pledged your undying love to this other person, but, realistically, it cannot work. You both are at two different stages in your life. Eventually, you will resent this person and break-up three months later anyway because you’ll feel obligated to pack up your room and return to mom and dad’s every weekend so you can spend nights eating pizza at your old hang outs and snuggling up to Maid in Manhattan before the long journey back to Valdosta. This choice of lifestyle totally defeats the purpose of going to college and will only stunt your growth. If you two are meant to be, life will find a way to make it happen. I don’t care how good the sex is, end it!

2. Form a Fellowship (Your Roommate Shouldn’t be Your Only Friend.) – I know you two have everything in common right now, but, as the college experience takes its toll, your straight-edge roomie will quickly turn into a smoking, rolling, techno vampire. It is vital that you make friends with as many people in your dorm as possible so you’ll have somebody to switch rooms with later. More importantly, your posse is your support system; they are the people you’ll laugh and cry with, and as Mystery might say, “Even the best pick-up artists need wingmen.”

3. You’re a Citizen, Not a Tourist. Assimilation: It’s the Tops! (Followed by a Foreigner’s Awkward High-Five and Thumbs Up) – Don’t lay your clothes out the night before the first day of school and become the Hawaiian shirt, Panama Jack hat, Velcro sandal wearing island visitor. While you may look smoking in your dress and heels or designer jeans and witty t-shirt, there is nothing sadder as VSU veterans will only snicker at you because it is obvious that you are a newbie and are trying way too hard to impress. For now, stick with gym shorts or sweats, a wrinkled Febreze soaked t-shirt and flip flops as you zombie it to class and learn from there.

4. Older People Are More Than a Good Game of Bridge or Backgammon –Where would Luke Skywalker be without Yoda? Dead. He’d be dead and we’d all be screwed. Therefore, making friends with upperclassmen, people who can show you the ropes, will help you avoid many of the pitfalls that trap newcomers as your newfound friends will always be ready with sage advice. Also, you’ll need someone to buy you booze because your fake sucks; it may have worked back home, but there’s no way you’re going to pass for a 25 year old Hawaiian organ donor here.

5. There’s More to Them Than Free Food – While it may be fun to play Halo all night with your dorm mates, you need to get out there and mingle with some actual living, breathing human beings. There are clubs and intramural sports abound on campus so take your passion and find others who enjoy it too, except if it solely involves a bar. If you find yourself skipping class at 9 a.m. to talk about “that damn war” with some Grizzly Adams looking guy named Shorty at the local pub, the club you have joined is called alcoholism.

6. Why Kill Trees When There’s Wikipedia? - College isn’t like high school where you borrow a textbook free of charge. Here you have to buy your books and your HOPE book allowance isn’t going to cut it. Thankfully, the prices on kidneys are sky rocketing in the Bangkok black market because, especially for you bio majors, you’ll need every penny you can muster. There is hope though because “required reading” does not necessarily mean that you will actually open your $200 textbook once during the semester. Professors are required to have reading material attached to their class. Some may use them, but many will actually tell you the first day that their “required reading” is only a study aid and no material from the text will be tested during exams. So, wait at least a week or two before you decide whether a textbook is worthy of purchase. If you don’t, at least you’ll have plenty of leather bound books to accent your apartment’s musk of rich mahogany because you’re kind of a big deal.

7. HAMMERTIME! Whoa, Whoa – Walk, skip, roll or do anything necessary other than drunkin’ driving to get to and back from your favorite watering hole. But if driving is the only way to the fine establishment on the other side of town, find a designated driver. Seriously, it’s not worth your life or somebody else's. Plus, that kid who plays World of Warcraft down the hall would love any excuse to get out of his room; unless, of course, you’re interrupting his late night web cam date when things are starting to get very interesting. A quick tip: When a door is shut, always knock.

8. Ride the Rails: Hobo It! – There is no keeping up with the Joneses when you are in college. You are a student so you are supposed to be poor. Eat Ramen and drink Natty Light while occasionally splurging on the good stuff. Learn which restaurants and bars have the best specials on what days. Do not apply for a credit card “for emergencies” or take out a high interest private student loan for that 80 inch plasma to accent your room. While your loans may seem like free money now, you will have to pay them back with interest later and, sadly, a college degree, in this day and age, does not guarantee a high paying job. I’m starting to wonder if my $30,000 debt would have been better spent at the craps table throwing the bones.

9 If You Paid For a Clown You’d Expect More Than Cigarette Butts in Your Children’s Tears – Following up on tip #7, you more inquisitive types probably already noticed that your tuition includes a lot of other things besides classes like a rec center fee, an athletic fee, and a student activities fee. In a slightly underhanded way, you are paying so you can work out at the rec center, attend VSU sporting events, and participate in various student activities brought to you by the Campus Activities Board, even if you never had any intention of doing so. But, hey, if you’re already paying for these things, take advantage. The Rec Center is a great place to work out and master your peripherals with all of the hot ass to check out, CAB usually has finger lickin’ good BBQ’s at Palm’s Quad and if you’re stuck up UGA’s ass (you weren't accepted, get over it) and aren’t aware, the Blazers have one of the best division two football programs nationwide so screw “Go Dawgs,” and take a Saturday stroll to Bazemore-Hyder.

10. It’s 2009. Shouldn’t We Be Able to Teleport By Now? – In my experience, finding an available parking at space at VSU is like finding a politician who tells the truth. Sure, there are parking decks now (a victory for the alumni who fought in The Great Parking Wars) but save your money for more important things like booze, and find your own special spot somewhere off-campus. This is where making friends with upperclassmen (even sophomores) is important because they may make their driveways available to you…for a price, muahahahah!!! Sorry. But, if that ain’t happenin,’ there’s usually some parking at random apartment complexes near campus on College Street, Boone Drive and Williams Street. Most importantly, if you’re going to park illegally, park in a marked VSU staff or reserved space because your fine will usually only be $15, which is substantially less than the more than $50 the city will fine you for parking on a yellow curb.

11. The Real World Can Wait (Puck, Get Your Nasty Finger Out of the Peanut Butter) – Don’t be one of those overachievers who takes summer classes to graduate early. Similarly, if you took AP classes in high school I pity you. College is not meant to be a piece of paper balled up and thrown at you on the way to 9 to 5 gray flannel suburbia. Slow down and take it all in. College is two fold; it is a place for learning and a place for growing. Years from now you’ll forget mostly everything that you learned in those core classes you were forced to take, but you’ll always have the memories, the crazy stories and the friends you made along the way.

Don't Blame Me...I Voted For The Whigs

2009-08-02T08:43:00.000-07:00

After a mostly hellacious week peppered with customer service blues and legends morphing into shams (Big Papi), I skipped out of work Friday, elated, school's out for summer style, to change, pick up Chrissty, get the Mazda's oil changed, and head up to Macon to see friends and the Whigs return to The Hummingbird Stage and Taproom.

After the three and a hour trip, long because of 300 yards in 45 minutes due to an abandoned SUV and sedan in the emergency lane (I'm guessing it was an accident) and scattered Amazon Forest rainstorms, we made it to The Riverview Hotel and Ballroom where Travis and Steph had already rented a room to pass out in after the show. We've stayed there before during past quests for fine original tunes and stayed there again, not because of its service and quality, but for the price and proximity to downtown.

It's a place where the elevators go up but not down, laptops and CD's are hidden in trunks, and where the views don't include rivers of any kind, instead settling for dilapidated brick buildings and a probation office for gazing. Though, to the Riverview's credit, the sheets seem clean (although I forgot to borrow 20/20's blacklight), the A/C works, and we've never experienced a 3 a.m. hooker and/or crack addict's tap tap on the door wake-up call.

It was great seeing Travis and Steph, especially considering it had been a few months since their Valdosta visit. To my surprise, Dickey had decided to come to the show, which was great because I would have felt terrible making the trip to Macon without seeing him. It was early so we stopped for a bite to eat at Acapulco. I cannot say much about the food as I only ate a single taco, but it was tasty, and what I would expect from any similar Valdosta Mexican eatery. Everyone else seemed to enjoy their meals with no complaints. The margarita pitcher Travis and I split was a bit watered down but it did its job inducing the buzz that got the night started off perfectly.

After making our way into The Hummingbird, and realizing I wasted $4.44 in ticket processing fees because I bought our tickets online and Dickey purchased his at the door for the same $10, we made our way to the bar. I had every intention of sipping a frothy black and tan but the $2 PBR special played its siren's song into my belly all night.

The Hummingbird is the type of watering hole that Valdosta desperately needs. It boasts the laid back vibe of a college bar while still providing a dimmed lights hang out where conversation then quality, original music thrive over underages throwing up their fourth meal on vintage suede. The front boasts rock posters of bands to come while the brick walls inside are decorated with music paraphernalia including the infamous poster of Johnny Cash flipping the bird above the bar.

It hadn't changed much since my last visit to see Modern Skirts a few years ago. Although, out back, a deck with cornhole and a massive screen showing the stage for the outsiders viewing pleasure had been added. While Chrissty and Steph secured a table near the stage, we enjoyed a few games of what I called "bean bass toss" until I was corrected and learned that cornhole is actually taken pretty seriously. We tossed the bags long enough for the smell of soured vinyl to seep into my skin (10-15 minutes) and made our way back to the table for the opening band, Vulture Whale.

I sat back and enjoyed the Birmingham, Ala. quartet as I sipped on number three. At times they reminded me of The Replacements, Modest Mouse, and Valdosta's own Ninja Gun. They were good, don't get me wrong, but nothing got me off my seat to join the masses nodding around the stage. Maybe it was the contemplative mood I was in, or that I had achieved the perfect angle of slouch. Either way I enjoyed their set from my seat and anxiously waited for The Whigs.

When the time seemed right I made my way to the front of the stage where I met Travis and was later joined by the rest of our posse. The stage at the Hummingbird is the size of a train station locker and is raised maybe a foot off the ground. Therefore, being at the front is practically standing amidst the on-stage thrash. The Athens trio made their way out egged on by the Atlanta Braves' tomahawk chop chant. Grabbing their instruments they got into two newbies, then grooved straight into "Production City," a track off their second album "Mission Control."

From the beginning it was clear that Parker Gispert, lead vocals/guitar, has been getting the hang of things since the two years I had seen him last. He and the band put on a great show then, but now his Gumby contortions weren't just confined to the basement. He was more involved with his audience, weaving ice cold (alright, alright, alright) stares with one legged pogo-stick antics and even bringing it to the masses, once getting so close that he almost knocked my teeth out with his guitar neck. Luckily for my parents, their hard earned money on orthodontia was not wasted.

Bassist Tim Deaux looked comfortable and has clearly found a new home replacing founding member, Hank Sullivant, while drummer Julian Dorio continues the awe inspiring work that led to an Esky award for best drummer in 2007 by Esquire magazine.

As David Letterman remarked after the trio rocked his show, "thatta boy, nice going, now that was cool," the same goes for Saturday night's performance. Highlights included "Violet Furs," "Half the World Away" and "Nothing is Easy" from their debut "Give 'Em All a Big Fat Lip," and "Already Young" from "Mission Control." The night culminated perfectly with dripping sweat and the bar erupting to "Right Hand On My Heart," which would have been the perfect ending to their set but they decided to end with another tune, which I don't remember. I'll blame it on number 5. (yes, journalism at its finest.)

The new stuff sounded pretty good and I'm anxious for more listens before their new album comes out either late this year or in early 2010. The band played "Technology," the single highlighted by "Rolling Stone" during The Whigs' 2006 "Band to Watch" days, which is usually one my favorites, but this live performance seemed to lack the alt pop flair that makes it so. Instead it was churned with rock heavy guitars that caused Travis to lament that the band had sold out. I don't agree and I think for him it was probably the 420's talking or maybe the bitterness over Ron Paul not being pres projecting itself. Correct me if I'm wrong, good sir.

As the band is about to tour with Kings of Leon, opening for them at places like The Forum, it was remarkable that they returned to such a small venue. I never thought they would play The Hummingbird again, so Saturday was an unforgettable treat.

The Whigs at the Hummingbird Stage and Taproom, Macon, Ga. 7/31 10 p.m.

2009-06-29T06:56:00.000-07:00

Travis introduced me to this band at The Hummingbird a few years back, and considering their increased following, I never thought they would play at this small venue ever again. I look forward to drinking a black and tan with Chrissty, Travbo, Steph, hopefully Dickey, and any other Valdostan who makes the trip to what will be an amazing show. Tickets are available off a link from the Hummingbird's myspace. See you there.

Drag Me to Hell 9.5/10

2009-06-01T18:00:00.001-07:00

Eyeball cake, nosebleed geysers, evil spirits mouth fisting the living, an old lady gumming her oppressor, and a corpse spewing embalming fluid all over the protagonist. Yes, horror fans, rejoice -- Sam Raimi is back.

The "Evil Dead" writer/director makes his triumphant return to horror with his brew of frightful, gorefilled slapstick in “Drag Me to Hell.” Fans of the Evil Dead films (notice I didn’t say trilogy. That’s a bar debate for another night) will be ecstatic as Raimi brings more of what fans have become used too, including his yellow 1973 Oldsmobile.

Christine (Allison Lohman) conjures Ash Williams, sans chainsaw, delivering his campy one-liners, as she tries to rid herself of an evil spirit that wants to, drum roll please, drag her to hell. Along for the ride is boyfriend Clay Dalton (Justin Long) who, despite the hip philosophy professor job and Prius, still manages to act like an uptight Windows user for most of the film until he realizes that his lady’s outbursts may not be easily explained away by Freud or as an early indicator of Tourette’s.

Add a decrepit, doe-eyed, yellow-fingernailed gypsy villain played brilliantly by Lorna Raver who, pissed that Christine denied her a third extension on a bank loan, returns the favor with a curse (while still stealing all of the complementary candy) and a Carl Jung quoting psychic (Dileep Rao) turned supernatural savior, and Raimi has produced a living “Tales From the Crypt” style movie.

“Drag Me to Hell” is a return to true horror greatness, arguably even surpassing the "Evil Dead" films. Where those films delivered lovable over the top, disgusting slapstick comedy, Raimi’s latest installment has more substance as it continues to gross out and deliver laughs while also leaving viewers terrified. The twist at the end won’t win Raimi any 1960’s dance-offs, but it is still more than enough to leave movie goers satisfied.

Based on “Drag Me to Hell,” we can only hope that Raimi will give the “Spider-Man” style blockbusters a rest and save movie goers from the overproduced teen screams, Japanese rehashes, and snuff film horror of today. If he doesn’t, hopefully Peter Jackson will take note and start filming fright-filled slapstick again. The world can always use more 10 minute scenes of zombies being mowed over.

Tweet Tweet

2009-05-25T14:45:00.000-07:00

I've done it. I finally joined Twitter. And wow, only 2 months after the 24 hour media outlets started having their Sanchez's and Fox and Friends report on it. By the way, have you kids seen the new Chaplin flick and what's with the charleston being all the rage?

Actually, I've known about Twitter for quite awhile; I just never understood what the point of it is. Really, though, I could ask the same question for facebook and MySpace. Is it some pathetic form of 21st century loneliness that makes us post drunk pics for friends and HR managers to see? Maybe its cyber revenge at its finest as people post their wedding pics for the still single, Snackwells scarfing, high school tormenters to see. Or maybe its just a way for us to validate our existance in our small bubbles. Look at me, I'm a man about town. I have 234 friends.

I like the sites because they allow me to keep in contact with friends, who are now scattered across the country. But, Spock would then ask, wouldn't a telephone be better? Then you could have a more meaningful conversation without submitting your information in a voluntary Orwellian fashion. To that, I would say, Obama still hasn't gotten to the wire taps on my phone (do they really expect you to sit at home and wait from 8 to 12 or 2 to 6) and your death grip is no match for my phaser.

Meaningful conversations are out of date in the Internet age, anyway. Who actually mails hand written letters anymore with correct grammar and spelling that are more than 50 words, besides my mom? In the land of Wi-Fi hot spots and drive-thru liquor stores, convenience is king.

So, with that, I'll get with the times and post on there somewhat frequently, so you all can keep tabs on me. In the meantime, just be thankful that we have smart phones and 3G networks for solace while McDonalds takes a ridiculous 5 minutes to prepare our Number 1 Big Mac Combos.

Welcome to the Real World

2009-05-18T08:49:00.001-07:00

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge.

This is the dimension of trying to find one’s self and place while tap dancing like an organ-grinder’s chimp to avoid layoffs, licking return envelops for 80 years worth of student loan payments while leaning back in a papasan chair that perfectly accents your parents’ basement, and living it up on Washingtons Friday and Saturday nights and sleeping off the hangover on Sundays so you can start the whole 9 to 5 all over again Monday morn. It is an area which we call The Real World.

First, let me just say congrats to all of the folks who just graduated. Now, I hate to break it to you, but when you shook hands with the older guy who has something important to do with VSU and walked back to your seat, you crossed through a worm hole taking you from Academia into the Real World. Great Scott, Marty.

Here’s a paper bag. Just breathe into it. It’ll be okay. This dimension is a lot different than your former college life, but there still is a lot of fun to be had. For those of you who didn’t get off the Gravitron, there’s still grad school to spin around in. For others, there’s a cushy desk job lined up for you by your parents at Callahan Auto.

For the rest, many will tell you there’s years of weekly 40 hour cubicle living, settling for a career which has nothing to do with what you spent four to six years working towards, or lounging in three day old boxers and a Dorito stained wife beater searching Craig’s List for the perfect job you thought was waiting for you as soon as you threw your cap in the air.

Sure, the Real World can be a lot like this and it is full of toolbags as MTV illustrates, but neither of these has to be your life. Sure, you’ll have to sell out a little bit, but that’s better then being thrown in debtor’s prison and being shipped to Australia. So punch in, collect your check, and enjoy your passions when the whistle blows. Never stop searching for your perfect career, and never stop learning. Your local library will allow you to build on the $50,000 library card you’ve already started for free.

So, heed this advice and always remember, “Where you’re going, you don’t need roads.” If this doesn’t do it for you, and you’re still freaking out, hopefully the following wisdom will calm you down. If not, try a horse tranquilizer or start researching graduate schools.

Where There’s Kid, There’s Play – When the infamous rap duo wasn’t in the lab crafting timeless rhymes, they were enjoying not one or two, but three unforgettable house parties. The same should go for you. Don’t let work control your life. Put in the time and sweat, but always remember to have fun. For the best results, try combining the two. I’m sure you’ll have no problem convincing your boss that a House Party style dance off would be a good team building exercise.

Welfare: The Real World’s Excess Check – Many of you are used to a hefty check at the beginning of every semester to pay for life’s necessities: food, water, Louis Vuitton handbags and Jet Fuel. For those of you who don’t find a job and/or refuse to cut back, fear not as the government is here to help.

The checks and food stamps are supposed to go towards helping you live until you can get on you feet, but you’re smart. You’ll have no problem convincing the gov that the 60” Plasma you bought on sale was necessary because you plan on eating it. Paula Deen suggests sautéing plasma with some mushrooms and green peppers and accenting it with a dark ale, but I love it between two slices of Wonder bread, smothered in mayo, and topped with a slice of government cheese. The lesson here: don’t live above your means; be happy with what you have.

Channel Your Inner Kardashian: No, I’m not telling you to profit by taking your clothes off and then complain that people only know you for taking your clothes off. I’m saying, in this economy, your diploma is certainly not a golden ticket to automatic employment, so master the art of making money by doing absolutely nothing.

Start stalking one of the celebutants until you become best friends, so you can profit from their version of the pyramid scheme (The Hilton Chain of Friends). If you cannot do this, try the newest do nothing and get paid thousands rage: life coach. Just remember that zombies aren’t technically living so they can’t be clients.

The Light Saber, TIE Fighter, and Dental Benefits Aren’t Worth It: It’s sad, but some of you will be forced to work jobs you despise in order to pay the bills until your real calling surfaces. For others, you’ll be faced with two roads diverged in a wood, one taking you to vast financial glory working a job you hate, or one of sweatshop level pay working a job that you love and are passionate about.

Take the latter. Sure, being able to buy a bunch of crap you don’t need seems great (check out the new app on iPhone that measures the emptiness a person feels inside), but it won’t be worth the toll the job takes on your soul. Doing something you love will be worth it because it will almost be like you’re never working at all, although your fingers will start getting sore after the 26^th soccer ball.

Win the Lottery: Thousands of people have done it, so who says the odds are against you? With financial independence you can rise above the Real World by having complete freedom to do everything you want. Don’t believe anything you hear about a lottery curse. Sure, some past winners have lost everything and even died, but you’ll be fine. Sure, Hurley crash landed on the island and is now stuck in the 70’s, but Locke will fix everything, don’t worry. If Ben and Richard get in the way and he can’t, remember that true happiness lies inside. It’s your destiny.

At Least Officer Barbrady Has a Heart

2009-03-30T17:24:00.001-07:00

I know I've been away for awhile, but I had to bust out my workday shackles Hulk style to respond to the farce that is the above video.

Houston Texas running back Ryan Moates (the guy trying to see his dying mother-in-law) accepted an apology from Officer Robert Powell today, but I cannot imagine how he's feeling.

The guy runs a red light, slowly, emergency lights flashing--nobody is injured, Communists don't start chucking Molotov cocktails, the world doesn't implode-to see his dying relative, and instead has to deal with Robobastard drawing his gun like he's thwarting the Hamburglar's latest hungry raid as he requests proof of insurance.

Then, even after a nurse comes out to tell Powell that Moates' mother-in-law is in fact really dying, Powell responds with "Alright, I'm almost done." and later, after Moates isn't able to say a final goodbye, Powell defends himself by saying "all you had to do was stop" and "remember attitude" before STILL writing him a ticket (it has since been dismissed) for running a red light and finishing with a, My bad. Next time stop and let them know what is going on and they'll let you go, just like he did of course.

Thanks Officer Powell for your provocative "The More You Know" lesson. I'm sure Moates will remember your sage advice the next time he has to rush to a hospital in order to have a few precious moments with a loved one before he or she passes.

Some thoughts here:

1. There are good cops out there, although this incident reminds me of my own tale of dealing with a bad cop. Long story short, after a night in Savannah for St. Patty's day a couple years back we returned to our original meeting place about a mile or so from our hotel room, and I, after hours stuck downtown waiting for a ride and unable to go to the bathroom, sober mind you, took a South Georgia style pee in the woods only to be thrown in the back of a squad car handcuffed until my sobbing, inconsolable girlfriend and her friends could gather up $300 to get me out. The cop claimed the jails were full because of St. Patty's and that would be my penalty anyway, so the officers on duty were instructed that exchanging money at the scene was acceptable. In the end, he told me never to come back to whatever county it was like I was some sort of drug dealer pushing to 5 year olds. He gave us his business card with a case number and sheriff's office info, but you be the judge.

2. When will the bad ones figure out that their cruiser has a dashboard camera, and that every 10 year old skatepunk has a camera phone?

3. If Moates wasn't an NFL player would the public have any idea that this actually happened?

4. Somebody needs to find a way in the police officer application process to screen out the people who ripped the legs off of spiders as a kid and/or were the last picked in dodgeball as they picked out an atomic wedgie.

5. Heartfelt apology - Yeah right. I love how Powell all of a sudden has a change of heart after he is suspended WITH PAY.

I was listening to NPR tonight and they had one of Powell's supervisors on to discuss the incident. The host of the program asked him if he thought Powell's actions were race related. Hmm...ya think? I would hope that something this horrible, if it had to occur, would happen regardless of color, but I think we all know that isn't the case. Hopefully Obama would have at least made it to the elevator though.

The Best Reason to Visit Disney World

2009-03-05T07:41:00.000-08:00

Mickey Mouse gets served

This Never Gets Old

2009-03-03T13:04:00.000-08:00

I'm Still Alive

2009-02-01T09:47:00.001-08:00

Here is Andrew's most recent performance at the Comedy Zone in Tallahassee. By the way, Donnie Darko is one of my favorite films but I just realized yesterday that Seth Rogen plays one of the bad kids. "Err, well I mean...didn't your dad stab your mom?" What an A-hole. Quite some range for the ultimate funny slubbish guy.

A New Age Begins

2009-01-20T09:32:00.000-08:00

The following is the transcript from President Obam'a inauguration address.

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often, the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land -- a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

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Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America: They will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the fainthearted -- for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long, rugged path toward prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again, these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions -- that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act -- not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions -- who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them -- that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works -- whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account -- to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day -- because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control -- and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: Know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort -- even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus -- and nonbelievers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West: Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment -- a moment that will define a generation -- it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence -- the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

transcript taken from CNN.com

A New Hope (Celebrate Like the End of Return of the Jedi)

2009-01-20T06:52:00.001-08:00

Today at noon marks a new beginning. Gone is arguably the worst presidency in our history, a time sandwiched between the worst attack on our soil and one of the worst financial collapses we have ever faced. The amount of rotten, stinking, maggot infested meat in the middle is staggering: lies, deceit, the War in Iraq, the mishandling of Katrina (good job Brownie!), Darth Cheney, the Patriot Act, Guantanamo, and so on. The list seems endless.

Obama has yet to step one official foot in office, but with him comes a new hope. Gone are the crummy prequels and now begins the true trilogy. Obama is not Luke Skywalker. He is not an all powerful Jedi who can wield tremendous power, but he is a true leader. He is a guy who seems to get it and will actually work to make good, real changes happen. He is not the Messiah. He is not a face on a commemorative plate to pray to before hogging on meat and mashed potatoes, but he is an elected official whom we can be proud of. We are the world's fart joke no longer.

He will make mistakes. He will have his Bay of Pigs, but he will be honest with us. He will speak to us as equals and not as a trumped up king reciting PR rubbish from an ivory tower. He will treat us as fellow citizens and not cows to throw money at in order to bump up approval ratings. Hopefully gone are the days of Hummers garnished with yellow ribbons, but it will take time. People poor today will still be poor tomorrow. People losing their homes today will still be losing their homes tomorrow. People searching for jobs today will still be searching for jobs tomorrow. We must be patient and we must be willing to work.

These are my hopes for our 44th president. He has a lot of work to do in order to turn around the mistakes of the past administration and our partisan cynicism, and he cannot do it alone. We cannot expect him too. This truly is a historic time, and we are a part of it. Now we must figure out what we're going to do with it. Will we help create real positive change or let our apathy continue to control us? Will our generation be celebrated or blasted in high school history classes 20, 50, and 100 years from now?

I'm excited to see what Obama is capable of. I hope he makes cynics of government like me reconsider our libertarian stances. If he can live up to half of the hype that he has generated we can expect great things. Hopefully the Dark Ages are over and America is on the cusp of a Renaissance.

The Long Wait is Over

2009-01-19T09:17:00.001-08:00

This week my life will have meaning again as LOST returns Wednesday at 8 p.m. Season four is hazy so here is a great recap I found. Longtime LOST fans know we cannot expect any answers in the first episode, such as to questions like how did Locke end up dead and where did the island go, but I'm hoping we'll find out if Jin is alive or dead.

BRAINS!!!

2009-01-14T07:31:00.000-08:00

For those of you looking for something to do tonight, according to the Valdosta Daily Times, Extras Casting Inc. is holding auditions for folks wanting to play zombies in the film "Zombieland" at Black Crow Media, 1711 Ellis Drive, from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m.

It sounds like a fun way to make some moola. I'm trying to figure out what style zombie I'll use for my inspiration. Do I go old school with "Night of the Living Dead" or kick it up a notch with a "28 Days Later" rendition? I'm thinking Resident Evil style, lumbering into gun shots until either my head is blown away, or I get lucky because Leon runs out of bullets and healing herbs allowing me to gorge myself on his throat.

The Value of a College Degree

2009-01-13T06:38:00.000-08:00

Does agreeing with this article make me an elitist, uppity, Victorian ahole or simply a realist?

Runnin' With the Devil

2009-01-13T06:12:00.000-08:00

A friend posted this link on MySpace and I had to share it with all of you because it is one of the funniest things I have ever seen online. Sammy Hagar must be so pissed. He needs to start his own sound board so fans can decide once and for all who the best Van Halen front man truly is. Singing aside, Hagar could never match Roth's high kicks, flying splits, and other various quasi rock 'n' roll ninja techniques, but Hagar had the perm, so the debate rages on.

14.59. I Wish

2009-01-10T09:35:00.000-08:00

Enough of this woman, please. This latest edition of Palin rambling comes from conservative documentarian John Ziegler's next film "How Obama Got Elected."

This clip is laughable as Palin rambles and blames the "mainstream" media (mainstream - the term used by the ultra-right when describing the liberal media like the Limbaughiacs are toiling away in basements, hiding from "the man" in order to feed the real truth to the masses. Viva la Fox News!), the entire world, and any and every animal, plant, or mineral except herself for not being able to hang moose antlers up in the Oval Office. I could also ramble on for days about the glaring hypocrisy that is Sarah Palin, but here is my condensed rant.

The "mainstream" media didn't ruin your chances, you did. You gave the press the middle finger by refusing interviews, and when you did dare to speak to them, watching the interviews was like watching the Hindenburg disaster. Oh the humanity! You are a caricature. You are a marketing research burrito, wrapped up and served to the starving, zombified masses who bought the down home cookin', gosh darn "I'm a real person like you" George W. Bush in 2000 and 2004.

Stop blaming the "mainstream" media and the blogosphere for your ignorance. You and your followers act like you are not to blame at all for your loss, like you were this perfect candidate and the Hellish "mainstream" media made it its mission for you not to succeed. You act like journalists wanted you to harness cold fusion. Katie Couric, for instance, just wanted to know what news publications you read, if any. You were asked questions that a future vice-president should be able to answer and you failed miserably, thus one big reason why you are sitting at home cooking moose chili.

Sure, outright lies were reported about you. But you provided plenty of head scratching fodder yourself, and you perpetuated outright lies about the guy you were running against as well (Ayres, "palling around with terrorists" for example). We can only hope that you become a pop culture footnote by 2012, but I'm losing hope now that you've figured out how to use the "mainstream" media to keep you in the public eye. Just don't go the Paris Hilton route. Keep the lights on.

Our only hope is that the Kool-Aid you are pouring is misplaced with Ecto Cooler Hi-C or that Alaska's moose nation will finally storm Achorage and send you packin' on your snowmachine into the icy tundra. Look out, Russia can see you too.

Movie Review: The Aristocrats 3.75-5

2009-01-08T06:47:00.000-08:00

A family walks into a talent agent's office claiming they have a terrific act that will make tons of money. The talent agent replies, let’s see it, and the family begins committing the most disgusting, revolting acts imaginable. They finish, TA-DAH!, panting, teeth gleaming, jazz hands shimmering. The talent agent nods, sits back in his chair, and asks what the family calls this act. Their response: “THE ARISTOCRATS!”

The 2005 documentary, “The Aristocrats,” co-created by Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette celebrates the grotesque genius of this joke as the creators document 100 of their comedian friends, such as George Carlin, Drew Carey, Sarah Silverman, Paul Reiser, Whoppie Goldberg, and Gilbert Gottfried, sharing their versions of the joke. The set-up and punch line are always the same: family walks into a talent agent’s office, the agent asks what the act is called, and they respond, “the aristocrats,” but the different versions of disgusting family acts are infinite with the only barrier being the extent of a comedian’s own vile imagination.

It takes a certain type of mind and sense of humor to truly enjoy this joke and the documentary as the different versions of the joke frequently feature bestiality, incest, sodomy, vomit, feces, urine, and other bodily fluids. Many out there will laugh hysterically throughout the entire film but most will turn it off in disgust. Some will probably even gouge their eyes out, or scream “Hallelujah” and run to the nearest church to repent.

If you have the stomach for it, Bob Saget’s version of “The Aristocrats” alone is worth seeing the film as his is beyond nasty and therefore the funniest. In comedic circles, he is known as one of the dirtiest comics out there, but mainstream audiences won’t believe the filth that comes out of Danny Tanner’s mouth. His rendition is definitely not the advice DJ would be looking for after Gibbler stole her boyfriend. How rude!

I laughed throughout the entire documentary, although it did get a bit repetitive towards the end. The most shocking part for me was that not the amount of crap being thrown around or the numerous family members committing sexual acts, but that Paul “Mad About You” Reiser actually made me laugh. It’s a good thing Helen Hunt wasn’t around. Also, it was a treat watching the late George Carlin recount the history of the joke.

“The Aristocrats” is a must see for dirty-minded individuals and comedy connoisseurs, but I suggest keeping a six pack of soap nearby.

Ode to the Big Red Machine

2009-01-06T09:49:00.000-08:00

Today, while I was driving downtown, I saw my first car - a red 1996 Oldsmobile Achiva SE. I knew it was mine, the one I sold for the low, low price of $500 because of the "Williams, Dover, NH" dealership tag on the rear bumper. I was surprised at the wave of emotions and memories that came over me. I still cannot believe I sold that car in the first place. At the time, it was part of the Alamo's yard, like the bent over polka dotted bottoms that grace gardens. It sat beside the house in a state of perpetual unmotion, the grass rotted underneath it while the grass beside grew like weeds. I was too poor to afford car insurance and registration fees, which included fines from car insurance lapses. Thus, she was stuck rocking away, remembering the old times.

Except nobody brought out a pitcher of sweet tea or lemonade. Chrissty's Honda became our primary transportation. Hopefully it didn't laugh as it waited for our return, engine still warm. The day eventually came when we had to say sianara to the Alamo and, needing the money, I priced the car to sell quickly. It did. I defended my selling of the Big Red Machine by saying that I couldn't afford her. She had sat for so long and was a mess. She was a dog that I drove out to the country and abandoned by a farm. She had aged before her time, maybe she secretly shot whiskey at night while I slept. Maybe she grew complacent, never having to struggle and eventually start on a knuckle aching, below zero January morning since my move south.

The passenger window was arthritic, moving in spurts never to roll up fully. The CD player developed Alzheimer's and no longer recognized CD's. Her A/C couldn't compete with Valdosta's simmering summer heat and puttered out. The back seat was a refuge of yellowed newspapers from my editor days. The driver's side floorboard became the home of a cat and her litter of kittens. A-Mac ran inside one day, "Guys you'll never believe this." We left the door open so they could get out freely because we were afraid to move them. Subsequently, the battery died and had to be replaced. The cat and kittens eventually moved out to the woods never to be seen again.

I spent a few hours cleaning Big Red before I stuck on the black and orange "FOR SALE" sign. Cleaning her up didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. She went from sleeping in an alley to nailing job interviews. She looked like her former self, the day I test drove her with my dad, us laughing as we turned around in a dirt lot and screamed out kicking up dust. The way she looked in her first photograph, posed behind the smiling dealer and the smiling me. Him happy with a sale and me happy at my new freedom. She was the first and only car I test drove that day.

The SE stood for sports edition, the insurance company charged more because of these two letters and because of the red paint. She has two doors and a spoiler, but she certainly was not a sports car despite what GM claimed. My brother laughed at me when I asked his advice on customizing it. He said I would be a laughing stock if I put rims and a giant spoiler on an Oldsmobile. He drove a hunter green Mustang and did not have that problem. I relented. At least my car had a black interior and a switch to engage into all-wheel drive - a nice edition for icy, winter roads.

She took me to and from soccer practice and my high school, weekend afternoon until 2 a.m. job as a hotel porter. She took my friends and me to the mall and movies. My dad's Silverado pulled her the 1,271 miles to Valdosta and sent my parents back, my mom weeping, minus me and Big Red. I started at VSU a few days later. Back and forth. Back and forth. School. Work. Girlfriend. Friends. All over. To and Fro. A summer trip 1,271 miles back to New Hampshire. Then 1,271 miles back to Valdosta.

Eventually, I moved closer to VSU and my left foot was able to pound the pavement instead of the gas pedal. My roommates' cars had four doors so she was rarely driven when it was time to pile to Wal-Mart or the bars. She grew older. I called less and less. I rarely visited. When I did it was for meaningless two minute trips to What-a-Burger or Taco Bell. Her last great hurrah was a sweat soaked ride with A-Mac to Tampa for our first Tropicana Field Red Sox/Rays series. It was the first time I looked forward to seeing a ballgame indoors in the refuge of air conditioning. We cursed her the whole way. We were just thankful that she made the trip, although she should have left us on the side of the road. Then she sat....and sat....and sat.

Seeing her today, I wish I hadn't sold her. My mind turned into a crystal ball briefly allowing me to see this future sentiment the second after I finished cleaning her. I saw this feeling again when I allowed her new owner to drive her around the block, and again when I told the buyer I would take her off the market for a day so he could get the $500 together.

I miss the Big Red Machine. She had just over 150,000 miles and would have run for many more years. I could have gotten the money for fines and a tag together. If not, I could have towed her to the new apartment until I did. We love our new younger Mazda. Mindy's modern four cylinder would crush Big Red's older six and saves us money at the pump. But we could do without the monthly payment. Big Red was all mine but not anymore.

I'm glad to see she's still running. I'm glad to see that she is being used. That she is a car again and not a lawn ornament, a piece of modern art depicting time's cruelness. I should have taken better care of you. You deserved better. You were my car and now you're an old photograph laying in an old album. Every now and then I'll take it out or I'll see you around town and remember. You will always be my first car.

Favorite Music of '08

2009-01-04T07:07:00.000-08:00

There was a lot of great music in '08. Here are the top 50 lists from Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, and Myspace. I didn't listen to 50 albums thoroughly all year so I going to take MySpace's approach and just list the albums that I enjoyed most in '08 in no particular order. The first album, "Restless Rubes," belongs to Valdosta's own country punk heroes Ninja Gun. I know the National's "The Boxer"came out in '07, but I didn't discover it until '08 and I cannot get enough of it.

Zoiks! A Friday Show For Once

2008-12-30T06:36:00.000-08:00

Last night, while enjoying a smashing evening with friends at O'Corleys, I learned that three terrific local bands are actually playing at Vito's on Friday instead of on Thursday for once. So rise fellow weekday work zombies as we can enjoy a local show for once without fear of employer reprisals. Friday, Friday, Friday, Prepare for Fancy Blood, No More Analog, and False Arrest at Vito's. OBEY!

What a Year

2008-12-26T09:21:00.000-08:00

2008 was quite a year, a mixed bag if you will. Where there was the election of the indestructible Obama (up, up, and away) there was Blagojevich and Spitzer. Movies like “The Dark Knight” and “Wall-E” were worth every Benjamin spent on tickets and popcorn while films like “The Happening” and “The Love Guru” incited rioting in the streets.

Musically, Axl Rose finally gave us “Chinese Democracy” after 13 years, Rihanna went “Thriller” with 2007’s “Good Girl Gone Bad” as almost every track became a single making the album relevant in 2008, Britney Spears got her sexy back allowing guys who live in their parents’ basement to cancel their porn subscriptions, and Vanilla Ice released an album featuring “Ice Ice Baby” remixes and covers of classic 90’s rap hits. The album is like a harder version of Robert Goulet’s “The Coconut Bangers Ball: It’s a Rap!”

As far as politics go, 50 percent of California’s gay community won’t be getting divorced because of proposition eight, the presidential election made Alaska relevant for 15 minutes, terrorists are still acting like a playground bully, pirates are swashbuckling on speed boats sans eyepatches and peg legs, our economy is in the tank, and China will probably control the world by 2050.

In the sports world, the other Manning foiled the Patriots perfect season, Floridians actually watched baseball because of the Rays, Big Brown didn't live up to the hype causing many broken thumbs and a shortage of rope, handsaws, and plastic sheets, hockey still isn’t on a TV channel I get for free, and Plaxico Burress brought an unregistered gun into a night club…loaded…and shot himself in the foot.

And the most shocking news of all…Clay Aiken is gay.

What a crazy year, and that’s not even it. Enjoy the following list of the best and worst moments of 2008.

The Worst Moments of 2008

The Mumbai Massacre - Some terrorists once again decided to ruin everybody’s fun and commit another act of douchebaggery. I’m not going to get into a discussion on ideology, revenge, or other reasons why these rat bastards continue to commit these acts. I agree, there are lots of things f#$%&# up in the world but killing people is not helping you make any new friends. In the movie “Demolition Man” the terrorists ransacking the Taco Bell’s actually had a worthy cause. You are just assholes.

The Next Bailout Should be for my Student Loans – The economy is terrible, so what do the fat cats in Washington decide to do? Throw money at the problem. I guess they figure the same approach works whenever a DUI or dead hooker shows up so apply the same solution in this case. First, the banks got billions.Then the auto industry got some. Now the retail industry is clamoring because people aren’t maxing out their credit cards anymore in pursuit of crap they don’t really need. I’m not an economist so don’t ask me if the bailouts will actually work or not. Really, I don’t think the “experts” even know. The funniest thing about this whole situation is that these industries wouldn’t let many of us near a loan or a car unless we agreed to pay a ridiculous interest rate (hmm…maybe that’s one reason why we’re in this mess to begin with), and now they want to borrow money from our moth infested pockets. If the retailers somehow get a bailout then shoplifting should be made legal for one day so we can get some return on our “investment.” Look out Best Buy, here I come.

Who Wouldn’t Kill for a Nintendo Wii? Do You Know How Hard They Are to Find, Geesh! – Some folks in Long Island showed us their version of the meaning of Christmas when they trampled a Wal-Mart employee to death because of their zombieish hunger for heavily discounted items. Next year, so everybody has a chance, I say get the poor employees making minimum wage out of the way and have the shoppers fight for their prized items in a Roman style gladiator match. The last people standing will rejoice knowing they won and that little Timmy won’t throw a temper tantrum Christmas morning. The losers still alive will have to live with the shame that they let their families down, but they’ll have a great story to tell. Sorry, Bobby, at least Daddy still has all of his limbs.

High School Health Class Just Got a Little More Interesting - The man who gave birth did not make my worst list because I have something against transgendered folks. You’re adults so do what you want, except your “Crying Game” trickery makes the push up bra a welcome surprise. The guy who gave birth makes this list because now women everywhere actually have some weight behind their complaints that men should have to bear childbirth so we understand the pain. Forget that a pebble could barely squeeze through our pee holes, the doctors would have to rip that sucker straight out. Think of Kuato from Total Recall.

Democratic Republic: The Right to Vote for the Best Hypocrite - While 2008 gave us the election of Barack Obama, a guy whose trustworthiness causes shivering orgasms, the year also brought us the likes of Governor Rod Blagojevich, Governor Elliot Spitzer, and Senator John Edwards. All three candidates ran on high moral platforms and all managed to show us once again that you can never trust a politician. These men did do some good with their scandals, however. Blagojevich showed that Lego Men can achieve greatness in the human world, Spitzer’s main lady Ashley Dupree got her music heard because of her 15 minutes of fame (I think her single “Pearl Necklace” was number one on Itunes for a week), and Edwards, well, I cannot say the same for him. The guy cheated on his cancer ridden wife. Bastard move. And Sen. Larry Craig still hasn’t resigned. Way to go, Wide Stance!

The Best Moments of 2008

Obama Almighty (Hopefully not Another Crappy Bruce Almighty Sequel) – The 2008 election gave us two things: an inspirational leader who wants to unite our split country and an Obama commemorative plate to add to our already vast collection of fine china. He’s going right next to Elvis and the porcelain rooster napkin holder. Sure many of us believed a tin of SPAM would be an improvement of Dubya, but this guy actually seems like he’s going to get the job done. His name conjures up visions of Kennedy and Lincoln, and he hasn’t even served one day in office yet. Who-ahh! The election also showed how far we’ve progressed as the country elected an African-American to the highest office, and the 18-24 crowd stopped just saying they would vote and went to the polls finally. It was nice not having voting machines, lawyers, and the Supreme Court choose our president for once.

The Dark Knight (No, I’m not talking about Obama again) - Christopher Nolan’s sequel to “Batman Begins” was the best movie of the year, the best movie of the decade, and maybe even the best movie of all time. The fact that many snooty critics are considering the action-blockbuster for a best picture nomination speaks volumes. The late Heath Ledger has already picked up numerous Best Supporting Actor awards and is a shoo in for the Oscar in the same category. He personified the Joker, and future Batman films will suffer because they won’t be able to live up to the bar that he set. So, yeah, it was a great movie. Hopefully you didn’t waste your money on “The Happening.”

Flipper, Flipper, Faster Than Lightning – Michael Phelps looked like a dolphin competing against men as he decimated the competition in Beijing. Jason Lezak came a nanonsecond away from beating Aquaman, but not even he or China’s air quality (luckily Phelps had to hold his breath most of the time) could thwart the swimmer’s record breaking eight Olympic gold medals. Now the guy is showing up everywhere with all the gold bling around his neck. Don’t let the fame get to your head. Facebook photos of you at strip clubs aren’t helping your cred with sponsors. You seem like a nice guy. You don’t want to end up like Pacman Jones, do you?

J.J. Abrams Just Likes to Torture Us – Enough with the questions man, we want answers! “Lost” season four brought us more questions, some answers, and hours of hair pulling. We learned a little bit because of future glimpses of the Oceanic Six, but the last half of the year we’ve been torturing ourselves trying to figure out why Locke is in the casket, where the island went, and if Jin is still alive. If “Lost” episodes were shown to terrorists every attack would be thwarted because they would give up all information in return for future episodes. We would get the last laugh though because there never are any answers. And everyone thinks waterboarding is cruel.

TV Evangelicals Have Been Right All Along – The Tampa Bay Rays removed “Devil” from their name, and, presto, they went from American League laughing stocks to American League pennant winners. The ball club proved that teams with lowly payrolls can be successful against richer franchises if they possess the right combination of youth, pitching, speed, scouting, power, chemistry, and veteran leadership. Having a ton of first round draft picks for the last decade helped a lot too. Even though the Phillies defeated them in five games to win the World Series, baseball fans will always remember 2008 as the year of the Rays. Although, Tampa’s fair weather fans will probably forget in two years, if the team doesn’t duplicate its success next year.

New Sports Blog - The Walk Ons

2008-12-22T10:09:00.000-08:00

Some friends and I have started a blog called The Walk Ons, which can be read at www.walkons.blogspot.com. For those of you who like to read my occasional sports rants, those articles will move to the new blog. For those of you who were picked last for dodgeball in gym class, you'll no longer have to curse my name as sports blogs will no longer be a part of Ghostmen. Stay classy San Diego.

TGIF, but Monday is Always Looming

2008-12-19T06:00:00.000-08:00

"Did I do thhaaatttt?"

Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend" says it all. So, so poignant. Friday's are always such a cheerful day because two and a half days of freedom from work drudgery are a five o'clock whistle blow away. For those of us who don't enjoy our job, have no passion for it, and/or trudge there everyday only in the name of bills, bills, bills, weekends are everything.

Doing the math, weekends equal around 130 days of the year, meaning, if you work a five day work week, eight hours (if your lucky) of each day of the remaining 235 days (not factoring in holidays and "sick days"), are spent "working for the weekend." This doesn't include the time spent in preparation for work or the nights spent at home instead of at a show because it would be irresponsible/craptacular to stay out all night and zombie it through the next day.

The joys of the real world. Luckily, for the folks out there who aren't shackled to their cubicle with a one foot titanium chain, there are hilarious friends and co-workers to countdown the work days with.

I envy all of you who are passionate about your job and have employers who actually appreciate and reward your toil. This post is way too depressing for a Friday. To get back in the groove, for your listening pleasure, the theme song to "Family Matters." Ba ba ba ba ba do (music, not Robert Goulet).....It's a rare condition, this day and age to read any good news on the newspaper page. Love and tradition of the grand design (high and long on the -sign), some people say it's even harder to find...

"And What Do You Call the Act?" The Aristocrats!

2008-12-18T11:05:00.000-08:00

On the way to Tallahassee for Andrew's Open Mic at The Comedy Zone, he and Billy told me about a behind closed doors joke shared by comedians called The Aristocrats." Basically, the setup and punchline are always the same, something along the lines of somebody pitching an act to a talent agent and then the talent agent asking what the act is called followed by the answer - "The Aristocrats."

The middle of the joke is where hilarity ensues. It is always different and the idea is to ad lib the most nasty, shocking, grotesque act that anybody could ever imagine.

In 2005, a documentary came out about "The Aristocrats." It shows various comics doing their version of the joke, and, according to Andrew, Bob Saget does the best version. For your enjoyment here it is. It's definitely not the after school special brand of Full House that we're all used to.

Note: This video is totally inappropriate for anybody under the age of 175.

1. Keep It Away From Bright Light 2. Don't Get Water On It 3. Never Feed It After Midnight

2008-12-17T11:42:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of our cat Boston when he was a wee kitten. Even then it was clear he would grow to gargantuan proportions. I found it on the computer and put it on here because it is hilarious. He looks like Garfield now, but, back then, he looked like a nice Gremlin.

If You Can Dodge a Wrench, You Can Dodge a Shoe

2008-12-15T08:42:00.000-08:00

Apparently, in Arab culture, "throwing a shoe or striking someone with one is the ultimate form of contempt," according to this CNN story. In that case, this Iraqi journalist showed how he and I'm sure more than a few of his country men and women feel towards our lame duck pres and the U.S.'s treatment of Iraq.

Bush looked like a true dodgeball hero or the latest human saved from the Matrix as he avoided the casual shoe fastballs. I know they were shoes and the journalists covering the press conference were probably searched for "real" weapons before they entered the press room, but security looked pretty lax as this guy was able to chuck not one but a pair of footwear on stage. Luckily for the pres, Oddjob wasn't out there camouflaged with glasses, a notepad, and a cynical smirk or he would have suffered a flying hat to the jugular.

Finally, It's Here

2008-12-08T09:03:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow folks. Tomorrow. Tomorrow my favorite film of '08 will be in my firm grasp. It's a longshot for Best Picture, but the fact that critics are even considering this blockbuster for a nomination says volumes.

If you haven't seen it yet, I feel sorry for you. The only way you missed this picture is if you were just rescued from avalanche asphyxiation by a St. Bernard carrying rum around his neck. When the hangover wears off read my review of the film, but, honestly, unless you are just bored at work and porn isn't an option because of those pesky filters, just go out and rent the movie tomorrow. You will not be disappointed.

Figured I'd Share Some of the Art I've been Working On

2008-12-07T17:26:00.000-08:00

As a kid I drew all of the time drawing inspiration from the Looney Toons and Marvel and DC comics. Then, for some reason, as I got older I stopped drawing less and less until I stopped. However, recently I picked up the ole pencil again when I discovered rock posters. My folks got me this book called Art of Modern Rock two years ago for Christmas, which I highly recommenend as the artists are truly awe inspiring, and I started going from there attempting to duplicate pieces from some of the posters I liked the best. I still have a long way to go but I figured I'd share of the pieces I've been working on anyway.

I would love any feedback and constructive critism that you have. It goes in the order of my most recent work to the first piece, which was done about a year and a half ago.

Recreated from a silkscreened rock poster for the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion by Methane Studios out of Atlanta for the Echo Lounge. I used pencil and blue, red, and green Sharpie markers.

Redrawn from a silkscreen poster for Scissorfight by Aesthetic Appartus out of Minneapolis, MN for the Triple Rock Social Club. I used pencil and a blue Sharpie marker.

This is based on a frame from Frank Miller's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns when the caped crusader kills The Joker. It was done with charcoal pencil.

This is based on an image of Death that I found online. I think drawing hands will forever baffle me. It was done with charcoal pencil.

I cannot quite remember what the inspiration for this was. I think it is based on an AC/DC album cover. It was done with pencil and charcoal pencil.

This is based on Art Sasse's iconic photo of Einstein during his birthday at Princeton. Saying it has some proportional issues would be generous, but it's recognizable at least. It was done with pencil and Sharpie markers.

Random Fodder: Barry McSteroid Backlash

2008-12-05T06:42:00.000-08:00

Do Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens hang out on weekends now?

I noticed last night that Major League Baseball 2K8 for PS2 (no, I'm not cool. I don't have one of those new fangled video play machines yet) does not include the single season and all-time home run records in their list of all-time Major League Baseball records.

This game is extremely buggy at times and inaccurate (they claim Ken Griffey Jr. has the all-time stolen base record to name one example), but leaving out The Sultan of Steroids (Shrinking Testicles) cannot be a mere oversight. It's nice to see that the folks who made this game actually took a side in the Barry Bonds steroid/home run record controversy by choosing not to publish the category and record* at all. Is this "oversight" the same on the next gen versions?

It's too bad they didn't go a step further by including the home run categories and attributing the records to their true holders: Roger Maris and Hank Aaron.

If the Glove Doesn't Fit, You Must Acquit: Legal Logic From the Lazy Boy Lawyer

2008-12-04T10:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, the family of Jdimytai Damour, the man trampled to death at a Long Island Wal-Mart filed a wrongful-death lawsuit against the retail chain claiming store ads offering deep discounts "created an atmosphere of competition and anxiety" that led to "crowd craze," according to this story.

This legal argument sounds like something from the guy in the commercials between The People's Court and The Bold and the Beautiful, but it will still hold up. When something devastating happens society must find somebody to blame and because none of the mob will ever be held responsible, Wal-Mart, it looks like your it. I don't blame Damour's family for going after Wal-Mart for compensation because they deserve something for what happened. But c'mon, really, deals leading to crowd craze. I guess I need to watch out for all the 80 year old ladies with their fists full of coupons from the Sunday circular the next time I go to the grocery store. Nobody wants a 2 for 1 can of tuna to the side of the head.

Seriously though, who do we blame here? Which side is the correct one to take? Is picking one side really that easy or is there plenty of blame to go around? On the one hand, you have a greedy retailer providing door buster (literally in this case) prices, so they should expect a huge turnout and be ready for it, especially considering there are massive Black Friday crowds every year. On the other hand, the shoppers acted like unstoppable brain-hungry zombies, who actually tore the doors down on their way to trampling Damour.

Another point: Were any other people killed at the thousands of other Wal-Mart's in the country, which most likely provided the same level or lack of security, depending on your viewpoint. No. So, the question becomes: Was Wal-Mart lucky in the sense that only one person was killed because of their lackluster efforts, or was this an isolated incidental caused by the maniacal mob?

Also: Wal-Mart was not the only giant retailer offering incredible Black Friday deals. Was security much better at Target, Kohl's, K-Mart, and the other retail chains, or, again, was the tragedy at the Long Island Wal-Mart an isolated incident? Similarly, Black Friday has been going on for years so how come people haven't been dying at these sales events for years? Was security better in past years, or, again, was this an isolated incident?

While most of us have a negative view of Wal-Mart except when we're getting a 3 for 1 deal on Hot Pockets, is it fair that they will end up forking over millions because of the deplorable actions of a group of people, while those folks receive no consequences for their actions at all?

Here is my Swiftian suggestion: If retailers continue to have Black Friday in years to come, all shoppers should be tazered and wheelbarrowed into the stores so nobody's safety will be compromised. Sure, it will sting for a little while but after a few seconds they will return to normal and have no problem reaching for their wallets.

The Mob Needs Coal and Compassion Shoved Into Their Stockings

2008-12-02T11:52:00.000-08:00

I still cannot get past what happened last week when a Wal-Mart employee was trampled to death by a mob driven mad by Black Friday deals. I wish it was easy enough to blame Jdimytai Damour's death on a stint of insanity, but unfortunately it is just another example of people not giving a shit.

While we rage at the Mumbai massacre and terrorists and the hell they are putting this world through, a guy gets killed so people can be first in line at the $2 DVD bin. The senseless of it all.

In the preceding clip, and this story from the New York Times (more detailed than msn's piece I linked to before) a witness, Kimberly Cribbs of Queens, said many of the shoppers acted like "savages" and were upset because they had to leave the store after the man's death.

“When they were saying they had to leave, that an employee got killed, people were yelling, ‘I’ve been on line since yesterday morning,’ ” Ms. Cribbs told The Associated Press. “They kept shopping."

Wow, and I thought Christmas was supposed to be about compassion and love. I guess I'm just a naive idealist.

The only good to come out of this is that the pregnant woman didn't lose her baby and ended up being okay.

In the aftermath I have several thoughts on the matter:

1. When I originally heard this story I assumed it was an elderly greeter who was killed. No, apparently Damour was something like 6'5" 270 lbs. For me, that makes the story even more unbelievable.

2. Defending Wal-Mart makes me feel so dirty, and by no means do I applaud their treatment of employees, but it is too easy for our blame everybody else society to pin everything on the retail giant's lack of security and not on the mob's zombie-like hunger for deals. Granted, Black Friday is known for stampeding crowds and Wal-Mart could have provided more barricades, fences, and security, but Damour would still be alive if these shoppers had acted like human beings and not rabid wolves. I've got it! In the future tazer them all and wheelbarrow them in.

3. Similarly, the only punishment in this whole thing will be to Wal-Mart's purse as it will be forced to relinquish millions in a civil suit. Not one person from that mob will serve a second in jail or provide a minute of community service, even if their faces are visible on tape. The defense is too easy. "I was pushed." "I had no choice but to follow the wave." Sadly, Damour's family and friends will only receive corporate PR apologies and never anything sincere from the persons who actually did the deed. Yes, I just puked in a bucket too.

4. What will shopping the rest of the Christmas season be like? Do I need to don riot gear and a Kevlar vest as I peruse through close-out, bottom-line weekend discounts? Maybe I should do all of my shopping online this year to avoid any injury.

The True Meaning of Christmas: Knocking Someone Out for the Last $550 50" Plasma

2008-11-28T08:39:00.000-08:00

"My preciouses. The Black Friday specials are all MINE!"

After celebrating all that we have to be thankful for yesterday, today, consumers flocked out in the wee hours of Black Friday to buy a bunch of crap they don't need at low, low prices. Every year there are news stories about the folks who participate in this capitalist endeavor, so those who don't can marvel at the insanity people will go through to save money during the holiday season.

To be fair, especially considering my current financial straits, I understand the need to save a few bucks, but is the Mad Max mentality really necessary?

I participated one year, mainly just to witness the chaos that I had heard so much about. For those of you who haven't, it is amazing. If you want to see people at their worst, or what will happen when all the food, oil, and water runs out, this is the place to be. On a similar note, this story illustrates how sad things have gotten.

According to the linked story, in their anxiousness to get inside a Long Island Wal-Mart, shoppers trampled and killed a Wal-Mart employee. Also, according to the story, "Unconfirmed reports said a pregnant woman also miscarried as the crowd rushed in."

Simply amazing. For those who don't want to read the entire piece, highlights include a Wal-Mart employee saying the mob took the doors off their hinges as he had to fight people off his back.

The paramedics arrived to help the pregnant woman only to tell her that it was too late. "The baby is gone."

According to shoppers, people continued to enter the store even after the paramedics worked on the deceased Wal-Mart employee and the pregnant woman.

I hope the mob enjoys their new plasmas and Little Johnny smiles when he opens up the game mom and pop had to rush in to grab so they could save 10 bucks. It truly is Black Friday.

Based on This, My Official Title is Car Squire

2008-11-28T08:19:00.000-08:00

In my forever continuing search for a decent job which pays a decent wage in this town, I came across one of the funnier job titles that I have ever seen: sandwich artist. Apparently, this is the title for folks who make subs at Subway.

I had no idea that each individual sub I purchased was a unique piece of art. In the future, I will forgo eating my foot long turkey and cheese, and, instead, shellac it and display it next to my original Van Gogh for all to see.

I would have loved to witness the corporate meeting where they came up with this doozie. Any ideas what the job title is for the person who creates these superfluous job titles?

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-26T13:35:00.000-08:00

In a somewhat hilarious/macabre sense of irony, Palin plays Upton Sinclair giving us a glimpse into the horrors of how turkey reaches our plate....after she pardoned one lucky turkey only minutes earlier. Enjoy the following clip and be glad that Alaska is far away from Washington D.C.

In her defense, I have to question whether Palin had any clue this was going on behind her at the start of the interview, but, even after she acknowledges it, she continues rattling off information. It's hilarious how the guy in the background (worker or interview saboteur) just keeps putting turkeys down the shoot as he looks at the camera smiling and laughing.

I wonder how the reporter and camera crew decided that this was the best location on the entire farm for an interview. We all know the governor's answers, like most politicians, are scripted anyway so reshoot anybody?

Crazy Like a Fox or More Evidence of the Long Term Effects of Concussions

2008-11-26T07:06:00.000-08:00

Sorry, Tom, it just isn't working out anymore. Cassel had one good year so you are obsolete. I hear the used car lot down the road is hiring.

Hall of Fame Quarterback Warren Moon is actually suggesting that the Patriots would be better off keeping Matt Cassel and trading Tom Brady. I think he got hit one time too many. The funniest thing about this statement is that there are some out there who actually agree with him.

It's ridiculous taking time to debate this statement considering how outlandish it is, but here it goes. Matt Cassel will be a pretty good NFL quarterback, but it's crazy to base one good season as fodder for trading one of the best quarterbacks ever, who by the way is still only 31. One good season, even if it compares to Brady's first campaign, does not make you the next Tom Brady.

In baseball, how many times have we seen a pitcher have a fantastic year, get the big bucks, and then never come close to duplicating that success ever again. I'm all for trading a player when his or her value is high because high draft picks are necessary to sustain a successful franchise, but Tom Brady is not just another quarterback.

Here is how the two each stacked up in their first true season.

Brady '01

86.5 passer rating
15 games
264 completions/413 attempts = 62.1 completion percentage
3,764 yards 18 TD/12 INT

Cassell '08 (so far)

90.5 passer rating
238 completions/359 attempts = 66.3 completion percentage
2,615 yards 13 TD/8 INT

Eerily similar but keep in mind:

1. Having Tom Brady stats for one year doesn't make you Tom Brady. Back in '01, nobody could have expected Tom Brady to become one of the best quarterbacks of all time. It is rare for rookie quarterbacks to succeed at the pro level, let alone become top tier Hall of Famers. Simply, lightning doesn't usually strike twice.

2. Tom Brady is not Drew Bledsoe. While Bledsoe was an above average quarterback he never possessed the skill set and leadership ability of Brady. Plus, Brady can actually move a little bit while Bledsoe needed a Rascal to get around. There's no way anybody can compare Brady replacing Bledsoe to Cassel replacing Brady.

3. Cassel has the likes of Randy Moss and Wes Welker to throw to. In '01, Brady had Troy Brown, David Patten, and Terry Glenn. Enough said.

4. Most importantly, if Brady leaves so does Gisele. That fact alone should be enough to keep him around.

I'm a Boy

2008-11-24T10:58:00.000-08:00

I was reading one of my favorite blogs and came across the Gender Analyzer. According to it, there is a 59 percent chance that my blog is written by a man, although "it's quite gender neutral."

Whoop, whoop, my masculinity is confirmed.

Book Review: Matt Reilly: "The Demolition Man" of Novels - Critically Terrible but Great for What They Are

2008-11-18T08:28:00.000-08:00

Fuck you Simon Phoenix.! "You are fined one credit for a violation of the Verbal Morality Statute." Fuck you stupid machine! How do I use these sea shells?

Ice Station by Matthew Reilly, 513 pp. 2.5-5

Temple by Matthew Reilly, 508 pp. 2.5-5

Area 7 by Matthew Reilly, 483 pp. 2.5-5

In a perfect world Sly Stallone and Aaaaanold would be putting out their 90’s style action extravaganzas for years to come, but, alas, minus “Rambo”, Old Man Time and governating have taken these thespians from us. However, Australian author Matthew Reilly and his monster truck to the face military action thrillers have enough explosive power to generate the jigowatts necessary to turn back the clock and get these gents out of retirement. But, if they aren’t willing, I’m sure Dolph Lundgren and Sasha Mitchell are kicking around somewhere.

Reilly’s novels are the bad action movies that we all love on paper without Steven Seagal’s ponytail. Similarly, both are centered around crude writing, one-dimensional character clichés and the outlandish becoming reality. But what both do to perfection is entertain. They are fun, edge of your seat thrill rides without the safety bar, and they make no apologies for it.

This is what makes reviewing Matt Reilly novels so tough. It’s like convincing your hot, intelligent friend to go out with your loveable but schlubish roommate.

“He’s great, trust me. He’s been one of my best friends for years.”

“Hmm…what does he look like.”

“….Umm. I guess you could say he has striking features and any Hawaiian would be envious of his wardrobe. Plus, he has a great personality.”

Enough said. Your roommate isn’t going anywhere but to his room to play World of Warcraft and delete his history folder.

The same scenario goes for Matthew Reilly books. On the surface they seem terrible, but they are as addictive as the queso crunchwrap. As stated above, Reilly does a lot of things badly, but he is an action master making 400 plus pages of heart pounding chases and last second escapes come alive. He is also terrific at making military

jargon make sense without taking readers out of the moment.

Because Reilly’s books are all so similar in style this review isn’t going solo but instead turning into an orgy featuring his first three published works, white tube socks left on of course.

In Ice Station, Reilly’s first published work and the best of the three, readers are introduced to USMC Lieutenant Shane Schofield, a fixture in most of the author’s novels. Known as Scarecrow because of the grotesque vertical scars covering both eyes, he is the typical “I’m just doing my job” hero with a heart who always saves the day. On this day, he and his recon team respond to an ice station’s distress signal bu

t all is not what it seems as they are forced to protect the station from rival nations hoping to gain control of it and the secret that lies below. The highlights in this novel include a thrilling 60 plus page chase scene across a glacier, and, of course, the outrageous as several characters lose their lives to demonic orca whales.

Area 7, Reilly’s third published work and first sequel, again traces the path of Lt. Schofield and a few members of his former Recon team, who, now working presidential protection detail, must protect the Commander-in-Chief from a rouge general and his minions. Add in the Sinovirus, a disease created by the Chinese to kill everybody on Earth except the Chinese, and this is quite a meaty disaster stew. Of course, nobody counted on Schofield and his Marines being around so you can guess how things end, but highlights here include a space shuttle battle and hungry Komodo Dragons. Watch your toes!

Temple, Reilly’s second published novel, does not feature the Marine Lieutenant for those of you Schofielded out. It instead focuses on reluctant hero professor William Race, whom is along for the ride as the Army, Navy, Nazis and the Texan Republican Army all converge in search of an ancient Incan idol containing material that has the potential to destroy the entire world. Of the three, Temple is the most outlandish as it features caimans, giant black panthers, and caimans fighting giant black panthers. Also, the last scene is a bit much as Race is about to meet his doom in a tank plunging to the ground when, miraculously, the “weird looking vest” he was wearing turns into a jet pack. Apparently, the pack is intelligent and automatically turns on when its wearer is but mere feet from the ground. Pheww, it’s enough to make my armpits sweaty.

I recommend Reilly books to readers who want an action packed adventure that is easily finished in a few days. His military thrillers are a great addition to any long trip because they will keep the boredom at bay.

Behold! The Best and Worst Christmas Movies of all Time

2008-11-12T18:51:00.000-08:00

You'll shoot your eye out, kid.

As I headed towards a cash register at Wal-Mart the other day I was perplexed when I heard what sounded like Christmas music over the loudspeaker…...more than two weeks before Thanksgiving. Growing up, my mom always had a rule that the Christmas stuff couldn’t go up until the day after Thanksgiving, which often meant my pop, brother, and me were forced to battle the abominable snowman putting up Christmas lights. Oh well, I guess. Sorry, mom.

In their pursuit for the all mighty dollar, retailers are making Christmas come earlier and earlier every year, so we procrastinators will be tricked into handing over our hard earned clams sooner and sooner. In five years, we’ll probably be singing “Deck the Halls” as we carve jack-o-lanterns. Seeing that like small mom and pop businesses I cannot fight the power of Wal-Mart, and honestly I’m too lazy right now to try, I’ll succumb to their whims and provide you with my list of the best and worst Christmas movies of all time…two weeks before Thanksgiving.

Trust this list. Use it. It will save you hours of frustration that you can tap into when you say screw the 10,000 piece erector set your nephew’s new bike turned into and bring out the duct tape, or when you’re fighting for packs of white tube socks and stale fruitcake with the other slackers Christmas Eve.

THE BEST

1. A Christmas Story (1983) – There is a reason this movie is shown for 24 straight hours every holiday season. It is the best Christmas movie of all time. No other movie on this list has this honor and no other Christmas movie ever will. This movie perfectly captures what it is like during Christmas for both young and old--the joy, the anticipation and the frustration. No other Christmas movie has as many memorable references as this film. Everybody knows what “You’ll shoot your eye out” and “FRA-GEE-LAY” refers to. As far as “A Christmas Story” is concerned, every other movie can stick their tongues to a pole.

2. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) - The genius it took to adapt this Dr. Seuss book into movie magic rivals only the mind behind the spork. Everything was done perfectly from the Grinch’s devilish grin to hiring horror icon Boris Karloff to provide the narration. While Lindsay Lohan can’t get away with forgetting her underwear, the Grinch can because, one, he’s the Grinch, and he doesn’t care what you think unless you reside in Whoville, and two, because he is a timeless classic that we’ll all be enjoying 50 years from now. I can’t say the same for “I Know Who Killed Me.”

3. It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) – This is the Babe Ruth of Christmas movies minus the hot dogs and debauchery. The question is why doesn’t this movie belong in spot one or two? Simply put, at times, it’s depressing. Yes, I know, it perfectly illustrates the true meaning of Christmas, but who wants to sit down with a mug of hot chocolate next to the chestnuts roasting over an open fire and watch some depressed guy come an angel away from killing himself? While Clarence may be second only to Al from “Angels in the Outfield” when it comes to the best movie angels, and I know we’ve all been in George Bailey’s shoes, I would much rather watch Ralphie beat up Scut Farkus.

4. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989) – In this 3rd installment of National Lampoon’s vacation series the Griswolds’ stay home and are forced to deal with their crazy relatives and a maniac squirrel. Chevy Chase, the number one person on my “What Happened to That Guy” list, will keep you peeing in your pants long after your great-uncle Milo has finished telling anecdotes and passed out from drinking too much eggnog.

5. Home Alone (1990) – This movie is every kid’s dream and every parent’s nightmare. While the sequel with “the bird lady” in New York is hilarious, the original is the best. Kevin McCallister is every kid’s hero because he escaped from the Neverland Ranch, and because, while he missed his family, he proved he’s better off without them. Adoption papers are already in the mail to “the guy with the shovel” and “the bird lady.”

HONORABLE MENTION

1. Miracle on 34th Street (1947) – I haven’t seen this movie but my girlfriend says it belongs on this list. Seeing how I do everything she commands for risk of reprisal it is here. Please don’t hurt me!
2. A Christmas Carol (1984 TV) – George C. Scott plays the quintessential Ebenezer Scrooge in this made for television movie classic.
4. The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) – I’m not sure if this is a Halloween or Christmas movie; but, either way, Tim Burton’s gothic tale turns Christmas upside down and captures the essence of what the holiday season is truly about.

THE WORST

1. The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause (2006) – Like the “Godfather” trilogy, this third installment is by far the worst in the, what is already terrible enough, “Santa Clause” series. The first movie in the threesome was decent, but the trilogy snowballed downhill until this movie smashed into the ski lodge ruining everybody’s hot cocoa drinking fun. These movies leave me wondering what seedy lawyer created the document that is the “santa clause” because there seems to be a lot of fine print. If there is a sequel it better be straight to DVD and it should be titled “The Santa Clause 4: If the Glove Doesn’t Fit you Must Acquit.” In this film Scott Calvin would hire the best elf defense lawyer ginger snaps and candy canes could buy and finally save himself and us from the misery that is this series of movies. In the end, Calvin would channel Steven Spielberg’s ex-wife, prove the clause was written on a napkin, and reap the multi-million dollar reward.

2. Jingle All the Way (1996) – The movie Predator featured two future political studs: Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jesse “The Body” Ventura. My only hope is the same doesn’t go for this Arnold film. Although Sinbad proved in “First Kid” he could bring more comic flair to the White House then Clinton and Bush combined, he and this film belong in the $1 DVD bin. Not even the late Phil Hartman could save this film from disaster.

3. Christmas With the Kranks (2004) – Tim Allen must be the modern day Ebenezer Scrooge because he doesn’t seem to care how much he fouls up Christmas for others as long as he makes a buck. This film makes me think of that awkward encounter with your attractive aunt by marriage under the mistletoe. Like that situation, when it comes to Christmas With the Kranks, just play it safe; walk away no matter how much eggnog you’ve had and no matter how much the coast is clear. It’s not worth the decades of awkwardness and regret.

4. The Polar Express (2004) – This movie makes the worst list mainly because of the creepy look the characters have in this live action/animated feature. Long before the high-class performance capture effects of movies like “Beowulf,” the performance capture technology used in this flick is eerie at best. Somehow they managed to turn loveable guy next door Tom Hanks into five different soulless, plastic cyborgs hungry for your brain. Normally, I would be more forgiving because the movie’s plot isn’t so bad, but the book of the same name that the film is based on is beautifully illustrated. It’s like starting with Giselle Bundchen and ending up with Dorothy from the Golden Girls

5. How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) – Musically, I despise bad covers and covers of artists that should be untouchable. It is for this reason above anything else that this movie is on the list. Re-doing the Grinch, no matter how noble the reasoning, is like attempting to cover Zeppelin or Dylan. It just shouldn’t be done. Hendrix made magic with “All Along the Watchtower” covering the latter, but director Ron Howard, while talented, definitely did not channel the guitar god in his version. At least they made this film live action and not animated, or that would have been a crime worse than Jim Carrey’s thriller “The Number 23.”
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DISHONORABLE MENTION

1. Surviving Christmas (2004) – Has there ever been an actor more hit or miss than Ben Affleck? He’s just lucky “Reindeer Games” doesn’t show up here as well.
2. Ernest Saves Christmas (1988) – This movie, along with all of the Ernest movies, were great – when I was six. For arguments sake the best Ernest film was “Ernest Goes to Camp.”

Nintendo Power!

2008-11-10T11:10:00.001-08:00

He will break you.

Saturday, after Chrissty and I gorged ourselves on Sonny's breakfast buffet, she had the ingenious idea to check out the Lake Park Flea Market. I highly recommend checking it out as we found a ton of great stuff, including a shop that buys and sells used video games. My inner seven year old laughed with delight as the store featured original Nintendo and Super Nintendo games among its wares.

I gazed at the numerous titles and salivated when my view happened upon Mike Tyson's Punch-Out, the best boxing game ever created. At $17.99 it was a more than I wanted to spend, so we headed home to pick up some games I had not played in a while and traded them in. Being used to the Scrooge-like corporate video game retailers who toss out a few pennies for your trouble, I expected very little value for my games. However, shockingly, the guy running the store gave me $25. We purchased Mike Tyson's Punch-Out, Tetris, A Boy and His Blob: Trouble on Blobolonia, and another NES controller. Unfortunately, when we got home we found out the down arrow doesn't work. CURSES!

The thing about playing old games that I find so fascinating is how much I still remember from when I was a kid. For example, I still remember how to get half the star punches in Punch-Out. Was I just smarter back then, or am I really going through early Alzheimer's in my present state? I'm not surprised when people say it is easier for young kids to learn foreign languages then their adult counterparts. My once endless sponge of a brain now feels saturated.

So, I spent pretty much half of my Saturday afternoon playing as Little Mac against Nintendo's fearsome lineup of contenders. I still have not reached Tyson, but, hopefully, I will fare better than Boston's own Peter McNelly.

We will return next week for Metroid. Hopefully he has Paperboy and Ninja Gaiden II by then too.

Wow, It Actually Happened

2008-11-05T06:33:00.001-08:00

Of course Obama winning is awesome, but how cool was CNN's use of hologram technology?

For the final analysis of the '08 election I turn to Kool and the Gang.

Celebrate good times, come on! (Let's celebrate)
Celebrate good times, come on! (Let's celebrate)

There's a party goin' on right here
A celebration to last throughout the years
So bring your good times, and your laughter too
We gonna celebrate your party with you

Come on now

Celebration
Let's all celebrate and have a good time
Celebration
We gonna celebrate and have a good time

It's time to come together
It's up to you, what's your pleasure

Everyone around the world
Come on!

Yahoo! It's a celebration
Yahoo!

Thank you, Kool and the Gang, for your insightful remarks.

Last night I received my LEGO Robin Hood Adventure Set. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote about going to bed and waking up to the election results like Christmas morning. Of course I stayed up. Of course I saw the results at 11 p.m. when Blitzer, in all of his white-bearded glory, called the election for Obama. The sights at Grant Park and the accompanying celebrations across the country and the world were amazing. It looked like the end of Return of the Jedi. Prince would say people were partying like it was 1999. In a sense it was a New Year's Eve party. It was a celebration of a new beginning.

Obama's speech last night was so fitting, so eloquent. He amazes me every time he gets behind a podium because he always delivers something awe inspiring when the country needs it most. Some people say there's more to being pres than speaking well. I agree, but, at the same time, isn't part of the President's job description to be the ultimate salesperson?

I wanted a speech about unity and he delivered something that just blew my mind. He didn't holler and rally his followers. Instead, he spoke like the president that we need. He said WE still have a lot of work to do, that WE are all in this together, that it will take a tremendous amount of time and work but WE will get there. The speech was about all of us as a whole and never just about him. He spoke to the folks who voted for McCain and told them I will win your support. For once I don't feel completely cynical towards politics. I feel inspired.

McCain was so gracious with his concession speech. It reminded me of the candidate he was back in 2000. He is a true American hero and patriot.

I still don't think I have fully grasped how truly historic this is.

I'm glad Obama won by more than 7 million votes. We wouldn't have survived another 2000 or 2004.

He's not perfect. He said so himself. He will make mistakes. Even JFK had his Bay of Pigs. To cynics, I ask that you just give the guy a shot. If he doesn't deliver on his message then by all means throw tomatoes.

I want to thank David Gergen and John King for providing such unbiased, insightful election coverage. I will miss the magic map but I look forward to CNN's continued use of hologram technology. Beam me up Blitzer!

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow? or Thoughts on Election Day '08

2008-11-04T09:09:00.001-08:00

Election Day. The last eight years will soon be over. No matter whom you prefer, if there is any justice in the world, either guy has to do better job then Bush. Whatever the outcome, in a little more than a month, Bush will be sitting in the oval office, packing picture frames, a novelty decision making dart board, and other office regalia into cardboard boxes. I wonder what he'll be thinking. I think he's relieved. I think when the economic crises happened, he thought "C'mon you couldn't have waited six months." Then he probably thought, well they can't think any worse of me. I wonder what his conversations at night in bed with Laura are like. I wonder if he regrets running for president and wishes he still owned the Texas Rangers. The eight years have definitely taken a toll. His face and hair tell the story of our collective suffering. The ranch has never looked better.

My parents have always been staunch anti-voters, repeatedly arguing that their vote doesn't matter and me responding it's a good thing everybody else doesn't feel that way. I cannot blame them though. 2000 and 2004 are great examples; Elections that close gave us a window into our Democratic dream world. When every single vote actually mattered, we saw how many fell through the cracks and how the presidential election is not a battle between voters but a battle between the lawyers representing each side. I hope Hanging Chad doesn't return this time. For the first time in their lives, my parents are voting. They know what is at stake. They illustrate how important this election is in the minds of the masses. Democrat or Republican, collectively we all know things should be better and people are going out to the polls like never before.

Change. That is what everybody wants. The question is, who will actually deliver it? Obama has championed change from the beginning and McCain grasped on to it a few months ago when he saw the life boat inching away. I have always been vehemently cynical towards politicians. I know Obama won't be able to deliver on all of his proposals, but if half actually jump out of the fairy tale book things will be looking up. I like how he actually holds all of us accountable and expects us to contribute. I hope he actually strive for bi-partisianship because that is what this melting pot of people really needs. I hope he takes a lesson from the last president and actually invites the brightest minds to be a part of his cabinet, regardless of party lines. Something is going on this time around. You can feel it as you stand in line at the polls.

Either way, the end results of the presidential election will be historic. We'll either have the first African-American, the oldest president ever, or the first woman vice. This election will prove that anybody really can become president, although despite your age, race, or sex you will still need millions of dollars to do it. So as long as you're not poor, you'll actually have a shot.

I hope everybody who said they would vote actually does so for once. I'm concerned about what might happen if the overwhelmingly pro-Obama polls turn out wrong. People are so passionate this time around; I don't think they'll shrug and go back to watching CSI and eating Cheetos like in 2000 if there is even a whiff of foul play. I hope Diebold does not decide things. Every election seems like the latest Terminator installment with the machines looking to take over.

Tonight we will go to bed full of nervous anticipation. Some will try to stay up and actually catch a glimpse of the results. Some may leave out cookies and milk hoping to sway the results their way. In the morning, we will wake up and run downstairs and click on our preferred news outlet, either grinning in triumph or howling in disdain. Some will get their LEGO Robin Hood Adventure Set and other will get dirty coal. To the victors, congrats. I hope your guy does all the good he promised to do, and for the losers, at least the last eight years are over. The next guy, even if you did not vote for him, cannot do any worse, right?

I'm not a member of Obamamania screaming and crying at the next pres like a Bon Jovi groupie, but I hope he makes it.

Image taken from obeygiant.com

SMILE! It's Halloween '08

2008-11-03T10:13:00.000-08:00

Not too shabby for 25 bucks

After very little convincing from Jessica and a visiting Sarah, Chrissty and I decided it would be much more fun to actually dress up and go out Halloween night instead of waiting until Saturday. Originally, over a month ago, we had planned on going as Mario and Princess, but who has the money for a frilly dress, overalls, and a plunger?

I am notoriously bad about waiting until the last minute to come up with a costume. I find this funny considering Halloween is my second favorite holiday with Christmas being my first. If Halloween had catchy songs it would probably be a tie.

Friday afternoon I had a revelation about the cheapness of face paint, so I decided to dress up as The Joker. I loved The Dark Knight and figured I could come up with something pretty creepy in the few hours I had after work before we would head out. I raced to the Halloween store in the mall and bought a bunch of stuff: a pack of face paint and other assorted items for only $7 on sale, an additional pack of white paint for $2, green hair spray for $4, a latex gash for the sides of my mouth for around $6, and glue for about $5.
I wanted scars but I guess they were out. I was concerned that the gashes would be way too large, but after I cut the gash in half and sized the pieces down a bit with scissors, it worked out pretty well. I already had the shirt and tie and green 70's polyester suit jacket from a past St. Patty's Day. After Chrissty got off work, she put together an 80's outfit and we were off for a thrillerific time at O'Corleys. We ran into Jessica and Sarah in the parking lot. Jessica was dressed as Lady Luck and Sarah was dressed as Lady Liberty.

The Joker wasn't very original, so I was happy when I saw only two others at O'Corley's, where we spent the majority of the night, and none at Jak's Library, when we eventually ended up there. This was the first Halloween that I have received compliments on my costume (along with freaked out looks), so I thought I had a decent chance of placing in the costume contest. I didn't, but the night was still great fun. In fact, it was one of the better bar nights I have had in a long time. We ran into a few friends and made some new ones. It reminded me of old times at the bar before friends graduated and moved away and were replaced by young strangers.

O'Corley's costume contest was pretty weak though. I'm not bitter that I didn't win because there were so many terrific costumes. They just did it in kind of a passing way where they pretty much just threw gift cards at people. I still cannot tell you who won in the "Best Costume" category. Jak's Library approached theirs better allowing the audience to pick the winner, although the winners are usually just the people with the biggest posse. On a completely random note, I don't know the name of the band that was playing at Jak's but Renyi was excellent on the sax.

Good times with good friends. Until next Halloween. I'm thinking I'll be Alex from A Clockwork Orange.

DEATHRAYS: Killer of the '08 Red Sox Season or They're Still Devils to Me

2008-10-20T12:19:00.001-07:00

As a Red Sox fan it would be wrong for me to blame '08 on the baseball gods seeing how we won the big one in '04 and again in '07, but I feel cheated. At midnight on the 16th the Sox were shutout 7-0 with two outs in the seventh inning. They looked doomed, fit to spend the off-season wondering what happenend in the ALCS, left to ponder how they, a 95 win team, could look like something out of Williamsport. Admittedly, even after the miraculous comebacks in '04 and '07, I gave up. As I laid in bed ready to pack in the '08 season, I casually watched the game flipping back to it every 10 minutes or so when, lo and behold, something out of this world. First a Pedoria RBI, then a dormant Big Papi erupting with a 3 run shot.

"Holy shit, it's a three run game!" I screamed.

Then Pap shut the young Rays' bats down. Bay walks. J.D. homers. Two more runs on, 7-6. You have got to be kidding me! Then, Kotsay doubles over Upton's head, the guy who previously looked like he had a teleporter out there because he grabbed everything in sight. Then the at bat to end all at bats, the unforgettable moment that made him a true Sox after two years of injuries and mediocrity, Coco hits the RBI single. Tie ball game.

Enter Masterson against their healthy Big Papi, the clutch Carlos Pena, which sent shivers down my spine. Double Play. No way! Then Youk goes to 2nd after a Longoria throwing error and J.D. comes through again with a ground rule double over Gabe Gross's head. Ball Game. Sox win! Sox win! Sox win! If the moon was made out of barbeque spareribs I would eat it.

Long story short, after all of that, after somehow winning game 5 and then game 6, how, how in the world could we lose game 7? It was ours. Fate's team seemed destined again to somehow overcome the odds, but, alas, it wasn't so. Certainly became cruel disbelief when Iwamura stepped on the second base bag. That was it. Fate had a new favorite now.

"Fuck," I murmured.

"Fuck," Chrissty's step-dad, Dana, echoed.

Him off to bed. Me back to my house to wallow in the post game show. That was it. See you in 2009.

I wish I could just be okay with what happened. I've said this all along: if you are not a fan of the Red Sox you should be rooting for the Rays to win it all. What they've done all season long is amazing. Last to first. Laughingstocks to future dynasty. Nobody expected it.

It's easy for me to say that to others but Red Sox Nation knows how I feel. I'm bitter. I see missed opportunities around every corner: Francona keeping Beckett in Game 2, even after Grady Little watching at home knew he was done, and Kotsay and Tek stranding about 100 runners in scoring position, just to name two examples. I wanted to pat the Rays on the back and say great job, no one expected you to make it this far, as WE hoisted the trophy. Is it selfishness or is it just vehement fandom that makes me, us, this way?

"You guys have two, let the Rays have one, especially after all they've done," Chrissty said trying to console me.

There is no consoling though. I love her for trying, but she doesn't understand. We're done. I'll watch the Series and root for the Rays to finish their storybook season with a happy ending, but I'll loathe every minute of it thinking Youk would have hit that or Pedoria would have gotten to that ball.
They'll say the silver lining is that the Sox put up a fight, that they did not go gentle into that good night, that they did not go out playing like beer bellied amateurs in an over 40 softball league. On that Thursday night, the ALCS turned from one of the more embarrassing moments in Sox history into one of the better and most competitive series that I have ever seen. In a series that goes the full seven, I'd like to believe the winner is truly the better of the two teams, but after the Pedro/Grady incident in '03, it's hard to say that.

It truly was an amazing season topped off with a magical ALCS. Either team could have won this thing. In the end, it's disapointing, but the Rays are doing something special. They're good for baseball. When A-Mac and I ventured down to the Trop to watch the Sox and Rays over the past few years we marveled at how good Tampa could be, at how with some above average pitching and quality veteran leadership they could be a force in the AL East. Well, this year they did it. They're proving that free agents and payroll aren't everything, that guts, fundamentals, chemistry, scouting, farm system and heart can push you through to October. They, like teams such as the Twins and Marlins, are showing that the gap between small and big market teams is much smaller than previously thought. They are making the unconventional conventional. For that I have to tip my hat and say "beat the hell out of the Phillies," as I murmur, "we'll get you bastards next year."

Photos taken from imdb.com, si.com, and espn.com

Let's Get Po-lit-ical, Po-lit-ical: Isn't it a Little Early to be Voting?

2008-09-23T06:10:00.000-07:00

Early voting began in Valdosta and throughout Georgia Monday, a month and a half before the Nov. 4 election and days before the first presidential debate, which, currently, is still scheduled McCain or no McCain.

It is irresponsible for voters to cast their ballot this early, especially before any major debate has taken place. What is your vote based on? Party lines. Your gut feeling. Misleading and completely false negative TV ads. 24-hour news talking squares. Teleprompter speeches. In this public relations run world, especially considering the sickening display both camps have displayed towards free press, debates are the one place where voters will be able to see these candidates for what they really are. No more talking points. No more Wikipedia references. No more smiling photo ops. No more waving off screaming reporters, People magazine photo ops, and PR agents saying 99% of questions are off limits.

Besides this point, once you vote that's it, that goes even for you folks down in Florida (By the way, I hope they've finally got their act together. To quote the wise Ug of Salute your Shorts, "Now get it right or pay the price!") There are so many "what if" scenarios that can occur before the election that it seems silly to vote this early. Sure, like most of you, I'm leaning a particular way, but what is the rush? Election time is a mudbog; Let's stop and smell the monster truck exhaust fumes.

So why would you vote this early?

To avoid long lines? You cannot get off work Nov. 4? These reasons are legitimate and it's sad in the self proclaimed model of democracy that people have to choose either a) voting early and possibly regretting their choice or b) missing a day off their paycheck to take part in the Democracy our leaders supposedly hold in such high esteem.

I propose this: If the U.S. government is so quick to write a 700 billion dollar bail out check to big business with little to no checks and balances, why not provide funds to working folks so they can take off Nov. 4 and vote?

If you're going to vote early, vote during the early voting period a week before the election. By then the cards should be laid out for all to see. In the meantime, just sit back and laugh with me at what was supposed to be "The High Road Election" - the "Straight Talk Express" vs. "Hope, Change, and Real Solutions" and what has sunk to Swamp Thing vs. Sasquatch, mud and lore.

New Orleans' visitors/A Slightly Inappropriate? Edo to Primeveal

2008-09-06T07:27:00.000-07:00

With Hurricane Gustav headed towards New Orleans, Chrissty's family members who live in the city and the surrounding area came to Valdosta while the storm passed over. Not the best reasons for a family reunion but it was good to see everybody. Interestingly enough, Chrissty's cousin Kaleigh was here three years ago hiding out from Hurricane Katrina when Chrissty and I first got together on the night of Sept. 15 on the beer soaked Mellow Mushroom floor.

Almost three years later, Kaleigh was back with her brother and brother's friend so we took them out to Milltown Groove, formerly Loozie Anna's, for a night of debauchery. The inside is still decorated with New Orleans garb, which seemed to make Kaleigh feel at home, but they took out the table and chairs that used to clutter up the stage front. The stage front is actually now a dance floor with a DJ spinning all the latest in beat driven hip-hop that drunkin' ladies love bootyshaking too. With this in mind, I wonder if this new bar will feature the great music that its predecessor was known for?

Also, they added horseshoes pits in the back (am I the only person who refers to Horsehoes, as Horeshoes? How funny would it be if you had to try and ring 5 inch Stellitos). I love this addition, but as Bunky and I enjoyed a few rounds, I couldn't help wonder what the liability coverage on something like that costs as drunkin' fools are tossing around weighted metal. Then I realized I don't own the bar and it's not my problem, so game on. This new establishment will do well with its size being the only thing that will impede its success, but, the people who own Flip Flops own it, for now paying a Milltown/Flops cover will also get you into the other bar, so it's looking like the Milltown Groove will act as a flood ditch for the people washed over from the Greek chaos of Flip Flops.

Long before Hurricane Gustave hit, I heard its name uttered as it was headed towards the Gulf and my mind conjured the gigantic killer croc of the same name from the ridiculously campy, Sci Fi Channel Aztec Rex of a movie released to theatres, Primeval.

Adam and I went to see this movie back in '07 thinking it would be one of the greatest slasher movies ever, based on the film's tagline, "Inspired by the True Story of The Most Prolific Serial Killer in History," but instead were forced into a poor man's Lake Placid that had no place in theaters, not that Lake Placid really did either. This movie is an example of some of the best marketing ever as we couldn't have been the only poor souls duped into paying the $8 plus popcorn and soda to attend this dirty diaper disguised as delicious curry chicken.

Bravo (accompanied by sarcastic slow dramatic clapping) for the suits who spent countless 3 a.m. mornings surrounded by empty Chinese food containers crafting this ploy. While you're drowning in 2 for 1 martinis celebrating, I'm still wondering what joys I missed on a glorious Valdosta night because I didn’t walk out as soon as I realized what this movie really was. I'm shocked not one seedy advertising during afternoon soaps lawyer hasn't tried making billions from a false advertising suit. If you're not to busy hanging out in emergency rooms or getting people out of blatant DUI charges, call me, but in the meantime, I'm appalled at the irresponsibility of the people in charge of naming hurricanes. If you're willing to name hurricanes after laughable movie monsters in even worse movies that take themselves way to seriously, what's next? Clearly, you need help naming these storms, so feel free to consult the following list:

T1000, Hannibal Lecter, Leatherface, or any other horror/thriller/action movie villain whose name causes Chuck Norris to cry – I'm sick of people trying to stick out category 5 hurricanes during mandatory evacuations, so if the threat of 200 mph winds and torrential rain isn't enough maybe these names will put the necessary amount of fright into them. I understand nobody wants to leave if they really don't have too. I get it. I'm all for drinking hurricanes at a hurricane party, but if there's a mandatory evacuation get your ass out of there; the Big Bad Wolf is coming to blow your house down.

Corporate Sponsorship – If you’re going to give hurricanes unjustified or boring names at least make some money doing it. Hurricane Microsoft, Hurricane Starbucks, Hurricane Wal-Mart. Get the picture. Bubby, these storms aren’t just blowing winds; they’re showering you with loads of cash. Sure, any PR director will tell you that it probably isn’t a good idea for their company to be associated with a destructive storm, but I defer to celebrity press secretaries who say any press is good press. On the same note, how about Hurricane Obama or Hurricane McCain? Name recognition is vital in an election people.

Bertha and Helga - My apologies to any hot and/or friendly, let's sit back with a brew and aimlessly chit chat ladies of this name, but, really, any reference to this name conjures some redwood tree of a woman with a menacing look in her eye, cracking her knuckles, looking to cause some form of pain to any and all bystanders around. Not even the promise of a happy ending could get me on the massage table with one of these ladies standing over me.

Nitro, Laser, Lace, or any American Gladiator name (the original, not the farce they're trying to peddle now) – These names just sound cool and any excuse to use them in a real world context should be taken. Hurricane names are the first step in the grander scheme of things. I want to see things in the future like the Nitro Public Library and The Gemini Champion of the Joust College Scholarship.

Recommended Rental: They Live (1988) 3.75/5

2008-08-26T20:39:00.000-07:00

Before I saw They Live, the undisputed champions of movies featuring 80’s professional wrestlers were Predator and Suburban Commando. However, now John Carpenter's cult classic has been tagged in.

This film is 80’s cheese at it’s best with former WWF star “Rowdy” Roddy Piper taking on the role of down on his luck, homeless laborer John Nada and his quest to enlighten his fellow Earthlings to the fact that aliens have taken over the planet and are profiting through human ignorance in a twisted form of capitalism and media control through subliminal messaging and a signal that hides their true form. Much of the acting and dialogue will get you rolling on the floor laughing, but this dark comedy is a perfect satire of 80’s consumer culture, something viewers can identify with today in our current gimmie, gimmie society.

They Live teachers viewers why they shouldn’t just wear their sunglasses at night as, while lazing about his shantytown dwelling, Nada uncovers an underground revolutionary movement creating sunglasses that allow its wearers to see through the aliens’ subliminal signal. The effects are shocking as Nada finds the truth is a black and white reality where magazine and billboard advertisements are replaced with sayings like “OBEY” and “MARRY AND REPRODUCE.”

Look out for one of the longest and most hilarious fight scenes in movie history as, after what looks like a murderous rampage to the unenlightened public, Nada tries to convince his fellow down on his luck best friend Frank Armitage (Keith David) to the truth. Here we see why Piper was cast as he continually takes punches and body slams Armitage while repeatedly wiping the blood from his lip and saying “Put on the glasses,” until Armitage finally does, sees the world for what it really is, and joins Nada and the underground revolutionary movement.

I’ll leave it up to you to see how this ends but I will say it concludes with a perfect middle finger before death. Check this movie out if you are looking for something to quote and laugh along with while receiving a strong satirical, sociological message.

THE HIGHS: Classic dialogue. Examples: Nada to Armitage, “Brother, life's a bitch... and she's back in heat.” Nada walking into a bank during his alien killing spree, “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass... and I'm all out of bubblegum.”

THE LOWS: Acting from crazy eyed actress Meg Foster that is amazingly worse than Piper’s. For her sake, I hope her dismal performance is due to an accidental Piper elbow slam from the top rope.

Guerrilla Charity: The T1000 of Solicitation

2008-08-22T16:11:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't have a cyborg sent from the future to protect you from weekend morning solicitors, turn off the lights, shut the blinds, and lock the doors.

Anybody who has walked through the city with me will tell you that I’m the kind of guy who looks the downtrodden in the eye. When they want something I give it. Call me what you want; my friends always blast me for my giving nature, but I don’t care how these folks have gotten into the mess they’re in. If I can spare some change or the rest of my bottled water I will. If a guy needs a buck to purchase a 40 of Steel Reserve, I’m like Superman swooping in and extending a crumpled Washington. But, before you start throwing Nobel Peace Prizes at me and spitting at Mother Theresa’s supposed generosity, when it comes to certain other solicitors, I’m not so understanding.

Until recently, my resentment scope has been aimed at the Jehovah’s as they are always willing to walk up in their white button up and black slacks and ruin a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. I remember as a kid working with my dad in the garage and us running inside when we saw them approach. I think my dad might have even shut the garage door but the brain cells holding that memory have been sucking on an exhaust pipe.

Not even my pop, a pretty tough hombre, wanted to deal with these characters. Upstairs, we wiped our nervous sweaty brows and chuckled, knowing we had pulled off a James Bond like escape, and watched them, shoulders hung, walk next door to terrorize our neighbors. We had escaped, but, like the ending of a good film-noir, there would always be the “Until we meet again…”

Also, in this same category, are the Sunday pamphlet wielders ready to ruin a good hang over as they push their beliefs on my just rolled out of bed, alcohol oozing, hair fairy self, forcing me to awkwardly half smile until I can make up some lame excuse of why I need to go inside. “Umm…yeah…I hear what you’re saying, but…ummm...I think my laundry’s done.” Most of the time they are easy to avoid as judges aren’t allowed to grant them warrants into your home, but they have a knack for timing their arrival perfectly as I’m putting the keys in the door, breakfast in hand. No wonder the Chinese don’t want missionaries in their country.

The two above solicitors cause my heart to plummet every time I hear a knock on my door, but this rant is really aimed at Guerrilla Charity. At least Jehovah’s and pamphlet wielders have the cohones to stand in the open and fight in a gentlemanly manner. But, lately, I’ve been bombarded at retail stores and fast food eateries by at purchase, Vietcong foot in a spike trap box style $1 donations. The charities launching these missiles from afar vary quite a bit and sometimes the name tagged solicitor just says the dollar is “for charity.”

Very cunning. Very sly. No longer can I shut off the lights or ignore the knocking door. They’ve taken the battle out in the open and have used my good-naturedness against me. Either I give the dollar or feel like scum for not donating “only a dollar” and worry about the consequences. At PetSmart I’ll usually give $1 to help homeless animals but today at Taco Bell I declined giving a dollar to the Boys and Girls Club. Clearly, based on my dollarmenuaire order I only had so much moola, but did my refusal cause a loogey to be donated into my cheesey double beef burrito?

I have nothing against giving to charity. In my current financial state I try to help out when I can, donating old clothes and what not, and, when things improve, I would like to help more. But, sadly, right now, all of those dollars add up. In the meantime, until I’m winning eight gold medals swimming in piles of cash, it would be nice not having to feel like an asshole whenever I buy a crunchwrap supreme or some cat food.

Book Review: Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life by John Lee Anderson, 754 pp. 5/5

2008-08-16T06:08:00.001-07:00

Revolutionary Robin Hood. Murderous despot. Father. Husband. There are many titles you could give to Che Guevara depending on your political and ideological leanings; however, no matter what your opinion is, nobody can dispute that he is one of recent history’s most controversial and mysterious figures. Who is this man whose face appears on countless dorm rooms and t-shirts? Why could pundits argue for hours about his legacy? Who is Che Guevara?

These are the questions I wanted answered when I picked up Jon Lee Anderson’s Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life. I wanted to get past the newsroom truths and passionate following surrounding Che and find an objective, truthful voice to share his life story. With Anderson’s biography that is exactly what I found. There are many other “biographies” of the revolutionary out there, but even though Anderson’s was published 11 years ago, I challenge any of them and future Che biographies to match the scope and objectivity that is found in this masterpiece.

The biography begins with the birth of Che and ends with his death in Bolivia at the hands of the Bolivian military and the CIA. In the middle you learn countless things. Che was not Cuban but Argentinean. He suffered from debilitating asthma his entire life, which makes his treks through the Cuban jungle even more remarkable. He was a doctor. He is a father of today’s guerilla warfare as he constantly improved his tactics and wrote guides on the subject. His socialist cause did not end in Cuba as he left the island after the successful revolution and tried to spread his ideas to Congo and Bolivia.

You also see why so many people could love him and why others could despise him at the same time. As a youngster, Che saw people suffering throughout his travels and could not understand why they received no aid. As he grew older, although his means spawn countless arguments, he wanted to create change so all would be provided for. Che was not like the leaders of today who preach one thing and do another. He truly believed in socialist reform and the “new socialist man,” people who shunned individualism and worked for the whole, and was willing to give his life for this cause as he eventually did. He lived in a modest home and received modest pay, and even participated in his own program that called for citizens to take one day and volunteer one’s self for society with no consideration of payment.

However, while it is honorable that he followed his own example, it is easy to see why he could also be hated as his socialist passion and anti-individualist ideals caused him to be often ruthless towards those who did not share his vigor. Also, from an American standpoint, his principles differ completely with the capitalist, “winner take all” U.S. mindset. He also believed the only way to end “Yankee imperialism” was through all out war, which almost came to be during the Bay of Pigs incident.

People who read this biography will, of course, learn about Che, but Anderson also does much to illuminate the Cuban Revolution and Fidel Castro, being that Che’s relationship with both is pivotal in fully understanding the revolutionary. Much of the middle of the biography is devoted to Castro’s beginnings, his clash with America’s imperial influence in Cuba, and his rise to power after the Revolution with Che at his side.

At an epic 754 pages this biography may seem daunting to the casual reader, but curiosity and Anderson’s quality writing will keep you going. I recommend this book to anybody who was as curious as I was about Che and to those out there who truly want to know how powerful the image on their walls and t-shirts is.

Ninja Gun CD Release Party at CR's August 9

2008-08-11T19:59:00.000-07:00

Ninja Gun front man Jonathan Coody belts out "Eight Miles Out" (my favorite song of '08 so far) at the band's CD release party Saturday night at CR's. So, who wants to give me a Nikon?

Saturday couldn't come soon enough as Chrissty and I headed up to CR's to see the much anticipated Ninja Gun show. I've been wanting to see these guys since January when I first heard them on Myspace, but because of weeknight shows and weekmorning work drudgery, my responsible side wouldn't allow me to attend.

We met Santanna there at 9, which we should have known was way too early. Knowing this fact, you would have expected us to show up in a Lincoln Towncar, Chrissty fashioning a broach and me boat shoes and a nice pair of slacks on the way to an early bird prime rib, but at least we only had to wait 10 minutes for a cold brew (specifically a $4 32-ouncer; very nice) and another hour for the show to begin.

Ninja Gun didn't get on until about 12:30, but it was well worth the wait as the three opening bands showed off some of the true original talent that exists admits Valdosta's obsession with three 45 minute sets of covers.

Leading off was False Arrest.

This young band proved that quality hardcore punk rock does exist in Valdosta with its 30 second AK-47 blasts to the eardrums. For those out there not into this style of music, the band's stage presence alone was worth witnessing as the lead singer windmilled and convulsed among the guitarist and bassist frenzying at finger tip bleeding speeds. After each conniption/song, the lead singer would plop down on the drum stand, chest heaving, down some water and converse with the crowd. It would have made for the best Vh1 Storytellers since Meatloaf's.

I welcomed their sound as I hadn't experienced any thing like it in a long time, but, at the same time, I cringed at what poor Chrissty and Santana were going through behind me as False Arrest is definitely not their cup of tea. Luckily, things calmed down some or I would have ended up on the Rock 'N' Rodeo dance floor doing the Souja Boy.

Next was No More Analog

Chrissty and I had no idea that our friend Taylor was in a band until he told us before the show. Then, an hour or so later, there he was looking like the Cheshire Cat as he banged on the drums. It's quite a sight witnessing somebody enjoying themselves so much. The Captain's deep, fast vocals sounded superb on "No Vacancy" and later meshed well with Jack Dean's, higher vocals on one tune I missed the name of. No More Analog's brand of punk rock was intense but more laid back than False Arrest's in the sense that a fire bombing isn't as destructive as an Atom Bomb.

Next was Second to Edison

This is a band I've heard a lot about but had never experienced until Saturday night, and I wasn't disappointed. The lead singer's voice was amazingly powerful as it resonated through the entire bar. The band mixed in this amazing slow song I wish I remembered the name of; it's pace and the despair of the lead singer's voice made you cling to every word. The guy was also hilarious between sets. I don't know if it was him or the booze talking but, either way, you sir deserve an invitation to the Bob Saget roast.

Last but not least: Ninja Gun

As the band took the stage the crowd pushed towards the foursome like a group of 5 year olds listening to a grandfather' s old wise tales. The bands who played before them stood among us and looked on like apprentices watching their master craftsman pound steel.

Ninja Gun was well worth the wait as they sounded better live than on their album. They were true showmen as they put on a fun show much helped by Coody's "crazy eyes," "'Preciate it," a foul-acting guitar strap that constantly came undone, and the hilarious buffoonery of the Second to Edison lead man joining Coody on the mic on numerous occasions.

The band began with the self titled track from their new album "Restless Rubes," and followed with the faster paced "Eight Miles Out," which got many of the few remaining table dwellers out of their seats and up to the stage. The songs get hazy from there but they also played "Darwin was a Baptist", the crowd going nuts and joining in on "Can I get a little church in my state/Give me one more reason to hate everything around me," "Asking Price," "Permanent Press," and "Smooth Transitions" from their debut album Smooth Transitions; the crowd going crazy and screaming along at "God bless me, God bless me, God bless me."

All and all a perfect Saturday night. Good beer. Good friends. Good music.

The Freshman's Guide to a Successful College Experience: 1st Edition

2008-08-07T13:51:00.001-07:00

"Back to school. Back to school, to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool. I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don't get in a fight. Ohhhh, back to school. Back to school. Back to school. Well, here goes nothing." (Billy Madison, 1995)

Baytree is filling up with solemn looking parents driving empty mini-vans home, and beamers driven by 17 year olds way too young to deserve them; therefore, another Fall Semester must be upon us where Valdosta is bombarded by the newest crop of deer in headlights looking Freshmen taking their next step towards the Real World (of course not the drunkin’ orgy in a hot tub, but the business casual, jeans on Friday, maybe drunkenly hook up with the new hire after happy hour deal). I was them once. I was you. I remember those anxious nervous feelings, eons ago, back in ’01: the excitement of new found freedom, the anxiousness of new surroundings, the fear of making new friends, the anticipation for the future.

As the old-timer that I am, I want to take the lessons I’ve learned and act as your Sherpa (China sucks!) through the perilous mountain range that is the college experience. First, I applaud you for making it this far, but it isn’t all Van Wilder, Animal House, Back to School and Saved by the Bell: The College Years as the American media would like you to believe. In fact, the stakes are against you; about half of all college students who start with the best intentions won’t graduate.

Of course the “experts” will give you their reasons for this, but it’s simple really: successfully completing college is about finding a balance, the yin of studying and making the grades and the yang of having fun and paying the rent. That’s it. For the most part, those who find the balance succeed, and those who don’t are yanked off the stage with a giant cane. So, to help you find that balance, here are my tips and suggestions for success.

1. Graduate Past Your High School Relationship – This goes 10 fold if said person lives more than an hour away. Look, I know this sounds cruel, but stop getting all Notebooky on me. Honestly, this should have been done long ago, but, now that you’re down here, the dawn of text messaging will make the confrontation much easier. I know you pledged your undying love to this other person, but, realistically, it cannot work. You both are at two different stages in your life. Eventually, you will resent this person and break-up three months later anyway because you’ll feel obligated to pack up your room and return to mom and dad’s every weekend so you can spend nights eating pizza at your old hang outs and snuggling up to Touched by an Angel reruns before the long journey back to Valdosta. This choice of lifestyle totally defeats the purpose of going to college and will only stunt your growth. If you two are meant to be, life will find a way to make it happen. I don’t care how good the sex is, end it!
2. Form a Fellowship (Your Roommate Shouldn’t be Your Only Friend.) – I know you two have everything in common right now, but, as the college experience takes its toll, your straight-edge roomie will quickly turn into a smoking, rolling, techno vampire. It is vital that you make friends with as many people in your dorm as possible so you’ll have somebody to switch rooms with later. More importantly, your posse is your support system; they are the people you’ll laugh and cry with, and as Mystery might say, “Even the best pick-up artists need a wingman.”

3. You’re a Citizen, Not a Tourist. Assimilation: It’s the Tops! (Followed by a Foreigner’s Awkward High-Five and Thumbs Up) – Don’t lay your clothes out the night before the first day of school and become the Hawaiian shirt, Panama Jack hat, Velcro sandal wearing island visitor. While you may look smoking in your dress and heels or designer jeans and witty t-shirt, there is nothing sadder as VSU veterans will only snicker at you because it is obvious that you are a newbie and are trying way too hard to impress. For now, stick with gym shorts or sweats, a wrinkled t-shirt, flip flops and that “Oh, God am I really up at 9 a.m. look,” and learn from there.

4. Older People Are More Than a Good Game of Bridge or Backgammon –Where would Luke Skywalker be without Yoda? Dead. He’d be dead and we’d all be screwed. Therefore, making friends with upperclassmen, people who can show you the ropes, will help you avoid many of the pitfalls that trap newcomers as your newfound friends will always be ready with sage advice. Also, you’ll need someone to buy you booze because your fake sucks; it may have worked back home, but there’s no way you’re going to pass for a 55-year-old Asian here.

5. There’s More to Them Than Free Food – While it may be fun to play Halo all night with your dorm mates, you need to get out there and mingle with some actual living, breathing human beings. There are clubs and intramural sports abound on campus so take your passion and find others who enjoy it too, except if it solely involves a bar. If you find yourself skipping class at 10 a.m. to talk about “that damn war” with some Grizzly Adams looking guy named Shorty at the local pub, your passion and the club you have joined is called alcoholism.

6. HAMMERTIME! Whoa, Whoa – Walk, skip, roll or do anything necessary other than drunkin’ driving to get to and back from your favorite watering hole. But if driving is the only way to the fine establishment on the other side of town, find a designated driver. Seriously, it’s not worth your life or somebody else’s. Plus, that kid who plays Dungeons and Dragons down the hall would love any excuse to get out of his room; unless, of course, you’re interrupting his late night web cam date when things are starting to get very interesting. A quick tip: When a door is locked, always knock.

7. Ride the Rails: Hobo It!– There is no keeping up with the Joneses when you are in college. You are a student so you are supposed to be poor. Eat Ramen and drink Natty Light while occasionally splurging on the good stuff. Learn which restaurants and bars have the best specials on what days. Do not apply for a credit card “for emergencies” or take out a high interest private student loan for that 80 inch plasma to accent your room. While your loans may seem like free money now, you will have to pay them back with interest later and, sadly, a college degree, in this day and age, does not guarantee a high paying job. I’m starting to wonder if my $30,000 debt would have been better spent at the craps table throwing the bones.

8 If You Paid For a Clown You’d Expect More Than Cigarette Butts in Your Children’s Tears – Following up on tip #7, you more inquisitive types probably already noticed that your tuition includes a lot of other things besides classes like a rec center fee, an athletic fee, and a student activities fee. In a slightly underhanded way, you are paying so you can work out at the rec center, attend VSU sporting events, and participate in various student activities brought to you by the Campus Activities Board, even if you never had any intention of doing so. But, hey, if you’re already paying for these things, take advantage. The Rec Center is a great place to work out and master your peripherals with all of the hot ass to check out, CAB usually has finger lickin’ good BBQ’s at Palm’s Quad and if you’re stuck up UGA’s ass and aren’t aware, the Blazers are the DII National Champs so screw “Go Dawgs,” and take a Saturday morning walk down to Bazemore-Hyder.

9. It’s 2008. Shouldn’t We Be Able to Teleport By Now? – In my experience, finding an available parking at space at VSU is like finding a politician who tells the truth. I know the powers at be probably told you during orientation that the parking decks will provide more than 2000 new spaces and solve VSU’s notorious parking problem, but, as a veteran who fought in The Great Parking Wars, I’m not optimistic. I hope I’m proved wrong, but there are a lot more of you now and these decks should have been built at least five years ago. I say save your money and find your own special spot somewhere off-campus. This is where making friends with upperclassmen (even sophomores) is important because they may make their driveways available to you…for a price, muahahahah!!! Sorry. But, if that ain’t happenin,’ there’s usually some parking at random apartment complexes near campus, College Street, Boone Drive and Williams Street. Most importantly, if you’re going to park illegally, park in a marked VSU staff or reserved space because your fine will usually only be $15, which is substantially less than the more than $50 the city will fine you for parking on a yellow curb.

10 The Real World Can Wait (I Love Money and The Entertainer are the Shiznit) – Don’t be one of those overachievers who takes summer classes to graduate early. Similarly, if you took AP classes in high school I pity you. College is not meant to be a piece of paper balled up and thrown at you on the way to a house in the suburbs. Slow down and take it all in. College is two fold; it is a place for learning and a place for growing. Years from now you’ll forget mostly everything that you learned in those core classes you were forced to take, but you’ll always have the memories, the crazy stories and the friends you made along the way.

Photos taken from actual CD and movie covers, IMDB.com, music.aol.com and city-date.com. Article also published in Valdosta's entertainment magazine The Glass Onion. For those of you away from Titletown, I hope you enjoyed it here.

Book Review: Can't Find My Way Home: America in the Great Stoned Age by Martin Torgoff 4.5/5

2008-08-02T14:54:00.000-07:00

Can’t Find My Way Home: America in the Great Stoned Age, 1945-2000 by Martin Torgoff, 545 pp.

Drugs have become an inevitable part of life for many Americans. Our drug fueled society has created a revolving door where back alley trenchcoaters and grinning pharmaceutical companies Irish jig all the way to the bank as rehab centers later pick up the pieces and collect their reward. Add this to the bejillions of tax payers’ dollars the government spends on the War on Drugs, and we’re talking about more than enough coins to fill Scrooge’s money vault. Money aside, just considering the lives lost to mind altering substances, and the hypocrisies surrounding how different drugs are viewed and punished, clearly, drugs are a force that cannot be ignored.

In Can’t Find My Way Home: America in the Great Stoned Age, 1945-2000, author Martin Torgoff explains how society has gotten to this point by taking readers on a magic carpet ride through the drug cultures of the last half century. Mixing his own drug raveled accounts with experiences of drug aficionados/celebrities and policy makers, he provides readers with a “true-life chronicle of the use of illicit drugs in America without sensationalizing, apologizing, moralizing, or demonizing.” As he states in the book’s preface, his intention was to provide readers with the objective truth and let them draw their own conclusions, and he does this to perfection.

I decided to read this book after seeing Torgoff appear on the documentary “The Drug Years”, which VH1 shows about as regularly as MTV airs NEXT. So, if you happen to see it come on, I highly recommend it. The documentary and Can’t Find My Way Home follow similar lines as both describe the many different drug cultures that turned the Great American Century into “The Great Stoned Age:” The Beat Generation and the bebop jazz scene of the 1940s and ‘50s, the clashing West Coast psychedelic scene and New York Andy Warhol amphetamine underground of the ‘60s, the use of amyl nitrate by the gay sexual culture of the 1970s, cocaine in the ‘70s and ‘80s, the impact of crack in the nation’s inner-cities in the 1980s and the ecstasy fueled rave cyberculture of the 1990’s.

Clearly, Torgoff embarked on a huge undertaking, so it is no surprise that this book took him 12 years to finish. His objectivity is superb as he provides sources from both sides of the reformists/prohibitionists drug spectrum like LSD guru Timothy Leary who wanted an amendment added to the constitution which gave individuals the right to seek an expanded consciousness, and former Head of the Office of National Drug Control Policy William Bennett who “told Larry King that the beheading of drug dealers was ‘morally plausible.’”

Also, the many whacked out tales told by the drug vets and VIPs. will keep the pages turning: Party girl Suzie Ryan on a cocaine high getting it on with her husband Richard Stoltz in front of his business associates, Woodstock MC Wavy Gravy discussing his encounter with Charles Manson and Jimmy Carter’s progressive drug policy czar Dr. Peter Bourne snorting coke at a Christmas party put together by the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, just to name a few examples.

While Can’t Find My Way Home was as satisfying as a puff of Columbian cannabis, it made for a long read as it took me several weeks to digest the vast amount of information that Torgoff provides. I recommend this book to cultural history enthusiasts and people who want an outside of the box look at the history of America during the last half century. Also, anybody who wants insight on today’s drug culture will have a much clearer picture after finishing this work.

Leaving On a Jet Plane: Manny Out, Bay In

2008-07-31T14:15:00.000-07:00

(Above) One of about a million examples showing how Manny dogs it to first; this one just happened to get caught on camera. Trust me, its not like the guy shooting spotted a UFO or something. In this instance, a bad throw was still enough to get Manny because he took more than five seconds to reach the bag.

"I have never had any interest in owning a Manny Ramirez t-shirt jersey."

These are the words I uttered to Chrissty one humid night on our front porch when she asked which Red Sox players' t-shirt jersey I wanted to purchase next. My answer left her perplexed.

"How could you not want his jersey. He's one of your best players. Look at what he has done."

In my mind, the answer was simple. "He's not a dirt dog. He's never been a hustle, leave it all on the field kind of player."

This conversation was the first thing that popped up in my mind when I heard that Manny had been dealt to the Dodgers in a three team switch-a-roo that brought Jason Bay from Pittsburgh to Boston. Am I disappointed to see the dreadlocked wonder go? Sure. The guy is a lock for the Hall of Fame. He and Big Papi, David Ortiz, were the most feared 3 and 4 hitters since DiMaggio and Ruth. Just in a Red Sox uniform alone he hit around 250 homers, drove in countless runs, and provided many key hits on the way to two World Series championships for the former chronic losers. But, on the other hand, I'm not crying my eyes out. In fact, after years of Manny trade speculation, I'm smashing a bottle of Sutter Home on the private jet flying him to L.A. and saying bon voyage because I'll no longer have to dry heave at his shrugged shoulders approach to the game.

For non-Sox fans, trading Manny must seem insane. "So what if the guy is outrageous sometimes. He just likes to have fun, lighten up. Who are you, the Yankees?"

Sure, I get it...As long as he hits and plays decent in left who cares if he doesn't hustle. It's just Manny being Manny.

There isn't a saying in sports that I despise more. Sure, I'll admit it. I laughed my ass off when he took a piss in the Green Monster a few years back, and, earlier this year, when he caught a fly ball on the run, ran up the wall, high-fived a fan, and threw a guy out at second. But, these aren't the Manny moments I have a problem with. I have issues with the Manny being Manny moments that don't make it to SportsCenter: him constantly dogging it to first, him turning a ball off the wall from a triple into a single because he has to admire what he thinks is a homerun while he skips out of the box instead of RUNNING and him threatening every year to leave even though John Henry and company pay him a fortune and the fans love him.

On a team of guys who care a great deal, dirt dogs like El Capitan Jason Varitek, Curt Schilling, Dustin Pedroia, Mike Lowell, Big Papi, and Kevin Youkilis, the '08 Manny was a Steel Reserve in a bucket of Sam Adams Boston Ale. He made his individual goal, money, more important than the team goal, winning, so the Red Sox did the right thing showing that no player, no matter how Hall of Fame bound he may be, is greater than hoisting the World Championship trophy in October.

So long Manny. I'm sure you'll have much better luck in L.A. because it is a city that caters to people with egos and attitudes just like yours.

I'm looking forward to the Jason Bay chapter in Boston. This season the former All-Star and Manny are sharing similar stats, although Bay plays much better defense. Also, I see him becoming a much more consistent 30 homer 100 RBI type of player batting in front of the titanium plated protection of Big Papi, and he's from Canada so maybe he can help the Bruins out during the off-season.

However, while I'm optimistic, the one variable no one can predict is the pressure playing in Boston provides; We've seen Boston eat up All-Star caliber players before (Edgar Renteria to name the most recent). Plus, Bay has additional pressure in that he's never been in a playoff chase, and he's replacing one of the best hitters in the history of the game.

For now, as long as he hustles to first and runs out his round trippers, I'm happy.

Photos taken from bostondirtdogs.com (originally shot by Jim Davis of the Boston Globe), rotorob.com and cbc.ca

Ninja Gun "Restless Rubes" 4/5

2008-07-26T15:21:00.001-07:00

Uninspired corporate FM is brainwashing the world and Valdosta is no exception as the maniacal Black Crow has the city's citizens shackled in a similar state. There is hope in homegrown punk-country heroes Ninja Gun and their latest album Restless Rubes.

If you haven't heard of the self described Podunk kids before, the term punk-country might incite shivering, thumbsucking flashbacks to the Tim McGraw/Nelly mash-up of yesteryear, but, fear not, Ninja Gun's Replacements meets Tom Petty chased with a PBR sound will keep your toes tapping at the next hootenanny (or shindig, if you prefer).

The band's South Georgia heritage is clear upon first listen, although I'm disappointed to hear nobody blowing on a jug or tickling a washboard. Musically, Ninja Gun sounds like a combination of the country ditties the guys listened to in their daddys' pick-up truck and the rock/punk abominations they championed away from freezing glares.

Lyrically, the entire album illustrates the band's love/hate relationship with its Deep South upbringing; for example, beginning with the album's title track "Restless Rubes," where frontman Johnathan Coody laments "Painted in shades of grey/The uniform they praise/Why should it end this way?" and later on "Red States Blues" with "In a present state of bright red/I'm legendarily alone."

This album is a complete experience whether you're driving 80 mph down dusty back roads listening to "Eight Miles Out" (my favorite song of '08 so far), or making out under the stars in an F-150 listening to "Life is Loud." Restless Rubes proves Ninja Gun belongs in the same class of young Southern bands like Band of Horses who are redefining the meaning of Southern rock.

photos taken from myspace.com/ninjagun

The Dark Knight (The Best Movie Ever?)

2008-07-23T17:24:00.000-07:00

Tim Burton is a master director and Jack Nicholson is classic as the Joker, but, my apologies good sirs, The Dark Knight just made your involvement in the Batman series of movies as irrelevant as Katie Holmes' (I don't wannnaaa waiitttt.....) disappearing act from the latest installment in director Christopher Nolan's new and improved series. The Dark Knight is awesome, action-packed, bad assery from start to finish. Where movies before have failed to live up to their grandiose expectations (cough, cough the Star Wars prequels, Matrix sequels, and, of late, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull), this film takes a sledge hammer to any and all nay sayers.

Starting from where Batman Begins leaves off, Batman (Christian Bale) and Lt. James Gordon (Gary Oldman) are trying to rid Gotham City of its nefarious underbelly, but a pesky, purple suited newcomer, who calls himself the Joker (Heath Ledger), keeps getting in the way. Enter the White Knight, District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaaron Eckhart), and, now, it's the Three Musketeers against the demonic clown, played by Ledger to Oscar worthy perfection (wow, whoduh thought, really, the guy from A Knight's Tale).

This film is currently the best picture of 2008 for several reasons: First, it's the darkest of all the Batman films, a black hole compared to Burton's fun house hallways and Kilmer and Clooney's puke inducing night-lighted bedrooms.

Second, it's not just non-stop action. Don't get me wrong, the action scenes are killer, but this film goes beyond BAMS and BLAMS, bringing up themes that are relevant today: for example, how do you fight an enemy who lives on a different moral plane, is killing ever justified and how far should civil liberties be suppressed in order to keep the world safe.

Lastly, the acting in this movie is superb. Everybody does their part; Maggie Gyllenhaal is an improvement over Holmes, and Bale is fantastic, although I couldn't help chuckling the first time I heard Bale switch from playboy Bruce Wayne voice to "I will eat your heart" Batman voice. The man of the hour, however, is Ledger. Jack had the smile, but Ledger's punk rock portrayal of the Joker is a nightmare on screen. Generations from now will ask, "What if" because of the actor's untimely death.

If you have a beating heart or an operating pacemaker you must see this film. This could be the best movie ever made; fuck Citizen Kane and rosebud.

SPOILER ALERT: DON'T READ IF YOU PLAN ON SEEING THE MOVIE.

The Internet is already buzzing about who will play the Joker in the next film because the villain does not meet his demise. Daniel Day Lewis seems like a perfect choice, although, like Ledger, another young up and comer like James McElvoy could be great too. Usually, actors would be jumping at this role, but failing to live up to Ledger could be career suicide if left in the wrong hands.

Photos taken from batman-movie-buzz.com and ign.com

Atlanta Trip (The Prosecution Rests - Me Thinks I Have ADD)

2008-07-21T18:56:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Chrissty and I did our best Snake Plissken impression, sans eyepatches, and escaped from Valdosta to the big city of Atlanta. Before I get into the details, here is one note of interest:

Gas in Atlanta was $4.02 vs. $3.99 in Valdosta when we got back Sunday night. Correct me if I'm wrong, but something seems odd about this, especially considering people actually get paid real money there and aren't expected to volunteer their time like they are here. Clearly, gas prices do not reflect standard of living/something sinister is going on.

FRIDAY

The drive up went smoothly, and we ran into an old friend and Spectator refugee, Dave, at a random gas station on the Macon bypass. As the ride annoyingly sings, it really is a small world after all. Then, an hour or so later, I did my best Da Gama impression trying to navigate the Atlanta streets with a cell phone in one hand getting directions from Travis to the Midtown Tavern, a wheel in the other, and nothing but confusion in my head.

I went down a hill and, unknowingly, the bar and a screaming Travis were right next to us. We couldn't see them because of the steepness of the hill. Well, a homeless guy was trying to get our attention because Travis was yelling at us, but I thought he was yelling because we were blocking traffic or something, so we pulled into a Post Office across the street. In my haste and excitement, somehow, I managed to lock the keys in the car....while they were in the ignition.......while the car was still running. Not my best moment and the final straw in Chrissty and my battle over whether I should be taking ADD meds too. The worst part was we didn't realize what I had done until almost two hours later when we left the bar. Here's how the conversation went:

"Chrissty get our keys out of your purse (I didn't have pockets in my driving shorts/comfortable gym shorts)

"I don't have them (followed by 10 minutes of searching)

I check in the bathroom thinking I left them on the shelf, ask the bartender, get a shrug and a sorry, then take the anxious "OH SHIT!" strides back to the car shaking my head hoping there's no way they could be in there.

SURPRISE!!! There they were. This is only the third time since I started driving at age 17 that I have locked the keys in the car, the first time with the Mazda, and the first time I've actually left the car running. Good news; I have AAA, and they said they would put me on the priority list meaning my wait would only be TWO HOURS.

Luckily, there was a locksmith in our midst in the homeless guy who was yelling at us earlier. His name is Charlie and he was a really nice guy. He came out of the brush with a pair of needle nose pliers and a wire a little thicker than a coat hanger. He asked if he could give it a shot. I figured sure because A) The night would be ruined if we had to wait two hours and B) Chrissty would give me the flogging of my life if we didn't get out of this jam. So, Charlie went to work.

Honestly, it was pretty impressive. Granted, I know his help was coming at the expense of a lifetime of stolen cars, but I was amazed that he was able to open our door a crack with the pliers and get a wire onto the lock in only about five minutes. It ended up being a $20 lesson in how easily somebody can steal our car because AAA called back and said they would only be 15 minutes, so we told Charlie not to sweat it and gave him 20 bucks for his trouble. Unfortunately, I saw Sunday afternoon that he had scratched the car to hell in the process, but, at the time we were desperate and we were able to help out a seemingly nice guy down on his luck. So, we're not too upset, especially considering you can only see the scratches when the driver door is open.

Long story short, the whole ordeal only cost us $20, a notch of gas, and a half hour. Not bad if you ask me. I'm charging $10 per cup for the lemonade we made from those lemons.

The night didn't really get much better from there. We headed to a techno club called the Apache Cafe. Techno is not our thing, but Travis's friends were going there, so we went and then were stood up because they got wasted and passed out. I've been there and understand, but I was still pretty pissed because we paid 10 bucks just to get into the joint. Eventually, we headed to the Estoria, which looked like the type of establishment where revolutions get started, a chill, deep discussions with your neighbor kind of place, but, after a long and frustrating night, Chrissty and I got into it, and it was homeward bound from there.

At least we were introduced to some great new music on the way into the city by my Christopher Columbus of quality tunes, Travis, when he played some of the Atlanta based, indie rock band, Morning State's album "You Know People I Know People" Stand out tracks include "Sad Is When I'm Driving" and "Out For a Walk."

SATURDAY

Travis took us to IKEA because we had never been there. While there was a lot of cool stuff that made the consumer section of my brain salivate, I kept thinking of Edward Norton before his change in Fight Club sitting on the toilet ordering stuff out of the catalog. No, I never saw the Ying Yang coffee table but I was looking for it.

From there we went to the Mexican/Cuban restaurant, La Fonda Latina, located in Atlanta at 923 Ponce De Leon Ave NE, where we loaded up on their excellent food. The waiter forgot about us (we were nestled in a corner but still...) so we loaded up on three bowls worth of chips and queso. After about a half hour of waiting for the waiter to come back after getting Chrissty's salad order, and another 15 minutes or so for the food to arrive, I was treated to my first ever Cuban sandwich; I cannot see any of its brethren ever topping it as it was perfection in my mouth. While the service of our primary waiter stunk (the guys handling the chips and water were excellent) I recommend La Fonda to everyone. Check out the upstairs covered patio area for a nice view in the shade while you eat.

With full stomachs, we went to Little Five Points and checked out the wares. I was disappointed to see an American Apparel there as Little Five is an eclectic, unique kind of place where corporate entities should be off limits. Admittedly, I've never been to one of their stores, but some places just belong in the mall. I was impressed by the two record shops we went in. I cannot remember the name of the first but the second was called Criminal Records, which was featured in Paste's top record shops in the country article last month. One thing I loved about Little Five was all of the music posters floating around. It's amazing what some people can do with a copy machine. Regrettably, I was too full to eat at the Vortex.

Later, we met up with Travis and Emily after skipping out on a wine and cheese testing that Travis was semi-obligated to attend. If they were my friends I would have gone too, but sorry, wine and cheese, unless it's in cube form, are right up there with techno for me. After enjoying a few swigs of Miller Light and Newcastle at Travis's apartment, we ended up at Smith's Old Bar.

This place is great. If Valdosta really wants people to flock downtown they need a locale like this. The place has a little something for everybody not looking to "Walk it Out" - top notch music upstairs with cover, a dark, laid back, central area to sit back and enjoy their $4 Giant Red Stripe special with friends, and a good number of pool tables. If you don't have any dancers/clubbers in your gang, this would be the place to go as it is the ultimate foil to Glo Ultra Lounge.

By the way, if you've never had Red Stripe, I highly recommend a swig. It has a sweet after taste that I have never experienced in any brew before. Also, I love how most of the bars we went to up there had Pabst in a tall can or at least on tap, although everyone knows PBR is the one beer that is best experienced in can form.

The ladies wanted a change of pace so we found ourselves at Moondogs in Buckhead. This was a Valdosta style bar, a lot like 1 a.m. Mellow Mushroom, as chill and laid back were replaced with a crazed college crowd. There was plenty of Souja Boy style dancing and drinking to go around. Earlier in the night I would have been annoyed, but with that right mix full of Red Stripe and PBR, it was a merry ole time. I had another former Spectator sighting in Meg but the loud tunes did not allow for any form of conversation. However, I will give them this: they had Sam Adams Summer Ale on tap and Pabst in a tall can; very nice.

SUNDAY

A perfect day for Six Flags after the late night we had. What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn't, but I'm a big proponent of living in the moment. We were already running late as we were supposed to meet up with A-Mac, Billy, and Sarah at 10 a.m., and then we hit Atlanta traffic (6 lanes were reduced to 2), so they went into the park without us. After arriving, we had to wait in line for more than an hour (I know now I couldn't survive in a desert for more than half an hour because the sink faucet in the men's room is the only reason I am still alive), so we didn't get in until around 11:30.

NOTE TO SIX FLAGS OVER GEORGIA: Your line area is abysmal. The only thing you're missing is tearing off your customers' clothes, smothering their sweating, stinking bodies in BBQ sauce, and then staking them over live fire ant beds. I cannot believe you haven't had problems with patrons passing out or getting heat stroke while waiting the hour in the hot sun to get into the park. You don't provide any water fountains, and, even more surprising, you don't have any stands selling overpriced bottled water. Also, unlike Universal Studios, you don't have any misters for the folks in line. I hate that last comment because it makes me sound like a spoiled human, trust me I want to slap myself. But they really do help cool people down, which makes for much nicer folks when it comes time to snatch their money.

It was my first time visiting any Six Flags, and, the whole time we were waiting in line, I was thinking, "Why the hell did I come up with this idea," but that annoying voice that continually repeated "More rides, more fun." was actually right. We only rode four rides in about six hours, but it was still a blast. It was pretty much a day of catching up with friends while we sweated in endless lines (I hadn't seen Sarah since she moved to Athens a little while back so that was nice) and eventually reaching the promised land in a ride. Apparently, Adam and Billy are scared of heights but somehow Adam got up the gusto to ride the Goliath, which is imposing for any roller coaster veteran. We all got soaked on the water ride, especially me because I was stuck under the waterfall for what seemed like an hour, but it was welcome in the hot sun. All and all a good time. My only regret is that I missed out on the Superman ride.

Overall, it was a fantastic trip. Really, any excuse to escape Valdosta is good to me. It's too bad David couldn't make the trip up from Macon. I always forget something when I leave for home, and this trip was no exception. I left my Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and our new cooler. Luckily, Travis is coming down next month so I will see him and them again.

All is not lost as I got a lot of new tunes from Travis including Morning State, listed above, Buddy Holly, The Shins, Modern Skirts, and National's "The Boxer." I've been wanting to hear that album for a while now and it did not disappoint. It's amazing and belongs on all of the top 10 in 07 music lists it ended up on. We also enjoyed the Whigs first album, "Give 'Em A Big Fat Lip," during the final hour home. If you haven't heard these guys yet you're missing out on the next big thing. Both of their albums are amazing.

Photos taken from: http://www.size-acceptance.org/, http://www.morningstate.com/, http://www.sixflags.com/, and http://www.marqueemag.com/

Bored at Work (I'm an Idiot)

2008-07-11T17:20:00.000-07:00

At home, I mean work, we have this sign that reads "We do not allow animals in our vehicles." In a fit of boredom, as I was sitting there at 11 in the evening waiting on the last flight from Atlanta, I came up with some possible customer responses to this signage. Enjoy.

1. So much for listening to "House of the Rising Sun" on the iPod. I won't be charged a penalty fee if it shows up on the shuffle, right?

2. We're not animals. We're just two wiilllddd and crazzzy guys!

3. How about on the outside of the car? See our friend, Teen Wolf, was really looking forward to car surfing down Patterson St.

4. (I stole this one from "Knocked Up." I couldn't resist.) Can you make an exception for Robin Williams' knuckles?

5. Well charge me for a DVD player then, geesh! I was hoping a game of Jumanji would keep my kids entertained on the way to Orlando.

6. (If I was renting to Kermit the Frog) Fine with me. Fonzie, Ralph, Ms. Piggy and I were not looking forward to eight hours with that spitting loud mouth Animal anyway.

7. Well Sigfried, I guess we'll have to ride our beautiful white tigers all the way to Vegas for the show then. Giddy up!

8. Sorry Cheetara, I know it's midnight but it looks like they won't be able to rent you something after all, and it's going to take me at least a few days to fix your car. You're more than welcome to stay at my house free of charge (creepy wink at me)

MTV Movie Awards or A Tale of Two Hours Wasted

2008-06-03T14:28:00.001-07:00

So another MTV Movie Awards has come and went and my disapointment in what is supposed to be the edgy, common-man's Oscar's is festering like stinking, post beer night, bathroom air

There were some funny moments: Seth Rogen's "bag of weed," Mike Myers' caterer and animal trainer, and, saving the best for last, the return of Dana Carvey and Wayne's World, but, overall, it was a microcosm of the corporate cool, over commercialization that MTV has become.

Throughout the pre-show and Awards show, viewers were left trying to stuff their mouths with popcorn because suffocation had to be better than the endless line of presenters and guests merely there to promote their upcoming blockbuster or MTV reality bologna. Sadly, this included Myers who not only plugged his next film in promos but throughout the entire Award show.

I haven't watched the MTV Movie Awards in years but I was hoping that Mike Myers' return to the lead off spot was a sign of yesteryear. I still remember a headbanded Myers doing a spoof of "Lord of the Dance" and my highschool self, acne faced and bowlcutted, rolling on the floor laughing.

But, alas, laughter was few and far between, as common as a music video on the music channel. What happenend to the movie spoofs and the middle finger at the pompous movie critics? Rogen and Myers did what they could, but, like the MTV of today, the greatness of the past is forever gone.

Hello

2008-05-03T08:11:00.001-07:00

Let's see how this goes. I'll try to keep up with it.

"The eye altering alters all." - William Blake