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Monday, June 1, 2009

Drag Me to Hell 9.5/10


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.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Tweet Tweet


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.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Welcome to the Real World


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 sautĂ©ing 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 26th 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.

Monday, March 30, 2009

At Least Officer Barbrady Has a Heart



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.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

I'm Still Alive

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.