Archive for February, 2009

I came face to face with the horrendous truth of our existence today. And it was communicated to me in a single phrase that captured everything that is wrong with our society in just four words. (No, it wasn’t, “In God we Trust,” though that’s a close second.)

“Advances in mattress technology.”

Over the course of 8 hours I heard this phrase no less than twenty times. Gentle readers, today I was subjected to that most undignified of job related tortures, the vendor training session. And this one was training on how to sell mattresses.

Imagine, if you can, the mind numbing boredom of sitting in a room while six different mattress companies try to convince you that theirs is the only bed worth sleeping on; and then try to feel the frustration I felt, sitting in that room, brain cells being eradicated by the cacophony of inanity I was drowning in, all the while being surrounded by 50 beds that, were my boss not present, I could have curled up on in the fetal position to shelter my fragile mind.

I was inundated with phrases like;

“Coil count.”

“Integrated coils.”

“Pocket Coils.”

“Pillow Top, Tight Top and Euro Top.”

But worst of all of these, was, “advances in mattress technology.”

Roll that around in your mouth for a few seconds. See if it starts to taste moldy.

As far as I’m concerned there has been only one major advance in mattress technology; it was around the same time that people started thinking it was a great idea to let one person be in charge of the rest of them. Can you guess what it was? It was the invention of the fucking mattress! (more…)



Not two days have gone by. Two lousy, stinking, itty bitty days since I railed against the injustice of an entertainment industry populated exclusively by talentless hacks who delight in raping the cinematic clouds of nostalgia that permeate the memories of my childhood. And in that time, my enemies (k,maybe not my enemies since they don’t actually know who I am and are therefore probably not doing this to me specifically. But still. Grr, aargh)have launched a return salvo against me.

Based on the success of the Friday the 13th opening weekend (and to all of you who went to see it, I will find you, and I will scream impotently at you. Grr, aargh. If you can’t tell, I’m super stoked that Joss Whedon has a new show on the air. :D)the PsT.B.(Powers that Be) in Studio Land greenlighted three fabulous new and shiny remakes today.

Grrr Fucking Aargh.

Crap Watch is not going to be in the vein of my usual rants; rather, as cinematic muggings occur, I’ll tabulate them here and tell you why I think they’re a bad fucking idea. So without further ado; I give you Crap Watch’s first list:


1)The Neverending Story: It ended.

I read this book when I was in Grade 4, 3 years after I’d seen the movie, and let me tell you, it was my first experience finding out how vast the difference between literature and the novels based on said literature usually was. But both media had similarities; the primary one being that “The Neverending Story” fucking very well did end. And I was pissed. I always hated when movies or books were over; I knew it meant it was time to return to the real world, which, even at 9 sucked severe balls for me. Remember any popular kids who read books in elementary school? Yeah, me neither. But here, I thought, finally was (based on the bloody misleading title) something that wouldn’t lift me into the clouds only to dump me, two hours later and heartbroken, into the waiting arms (fists) of The Nefarious Jared. (Side note, I ran into T.N. Jared a few years ago. Nice guy, bald; fat, and lisping, but not at all nefarious seeming.) But it ended, illusions were shattered, Jared noogied, and I learned the valuable lesson that titles don’t mean shit. (Flowers in the Attic? Not, as it turns out, about gardening in poor lighting conditions. Guh.)

A couple of years later, there was a sequel (starring the soon to be famous and soon after that, dead, Jonathan Brandis) and then another sequel, and then an ill advised attempt at a T.V. show, and then, finally, it was over.

I loved the story of Bastian, the plucky young bullied boy who wins the geek lottery and gets whisked off to fantasy land to save the day and get the girl and ride on the back of a giant Luck Dog…er Dragon, I really did.

When I was five.

It doesn’t need updating, it doesn’t have some new current context that will allow it to say fresh and exciting things, it just needs to die. Please. For the love of Atreyu, just let it die.

Wait, read that above description again. Minus the fluffy dragon, doesn’t that sound a lot like The Forbidden Kingdom? And really, if you think about, Jet Li was sort of the Luck Dragon in that movie. SEE! SEE! It’s already been remade and it did shit at the box office.

Moving on.

2)Total Recall: I don’t know. If this is a vehicle to get Arnie out of politics and back into the movies where he belongs, I’m all for it. First, I’m not ready for an Austrian President; I grew up on horror stories of the last time an Austrian ran anything that wasn’t Austria. Second, I miss Arnie. So, for him, I would give this a pass. But, if it’s not, please please please, Studio Execs, listen to me carefully.


If the point of the pointless remake is to capitalize on the nostalgia of the built in audience, you don’t make movies that they’re definitely going to pass on, on the grounds that they already know exactly what’s going to happen. We all still fucking remember that Marshall Bell had that weird psychic puppet buried in his chest. IT’S NOT GOING TO SURPRISE US, SO WE’RE NOT GOING TO PAY TO SEE IT FOR MORE THAN TRIPLE THE COST OF THE FIRST TIME!

Asshats. Sigh

And finally:

3)Arthur: No, not a movie about King Arthur. Even though we’ve already seen a bozillion of those, I will still pay to watch everyone that get’s released. As long as Kiera Knightely plays Guinevere. Forever. No, this was Arthur, starring Dudley Moore. I can’t bear to tell you this myself, so here’s the synopsis, courtesy of IMDB:

“Arthur is a happy drunk with no pretensions at any ambition. He is also the heir to a vast fortune which he is told will only be his if he marries Susan. He does not love Susan, but she will make something of him the family expects. Arthur proposes but then meets a girl with no money who he could easily fall in love with.”

Does that sound like something that should be remade?

This turd sat in our Beta collection for a decade and I never got all the way through it. And just so you understand, when I was a kid I loved EVERY movie. All of them. I sat through Fantasia for fucks sake. I watched Twelve Angry Men in black and white when I was ten and didn’t hate it. I watched Crocodile Dundee II, 16 times. This movie I couldn’t get through once.

I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but when Arthur is your pitch for a $20 million remake project, maybe it’s time to cut off your own balls and stuff them in your mouth.

Or, like the sub-title of this piece says, I’d be more than happy to come down there and do it for you.

Until next time Crap Watchers.

Unless they announce a remake of Romancing the Stone. If that happens I’ll just douse myself in gasoline and take my chances in a godless universe. I can’t handle anymore Michael Douglas or Danny DeVito in this lifetime.


Of adaptations and remakes and reboots and sequels.

Ghostbusters 3.

In a world where it seems like everyone is losing their jobs, where Republicans are concerned about the debt being left to future generations (and if that’s not a sign of the Apocalypse I don’t know what is) and there are still people claiming that global warming is a hoax, I want to talk about Ghostbusters 3.

The thing is, it’s precisely because western civilization is spontaneously combusting that’s it’s important we have this conversation. So, sit down, pull up a chair, close your yap and listen to your Grandpa Jules. He’s about to wax philosophically about the days of yore. (more…)

Not really a rant but…(Ok, it turns into one down near the bottom.)

I took a toddler to a horror movie. The one in the yellow rain jacket up top.

Yes, yes, I’m a bad bad man. Cool your jets, it wasn’t Friday the 13th part 2938479.

I took my two year old daughter to see Neil Gaiman’s new flick, Coraline. You know, the one that kind of looks like A Nightmare before Christmas, but way cooler, and without the monsters bursting into Oscar winning song?

Yes, I was aware that it had a content warning specifically stating that the film wasn’t for small children. Yes, I knew it had “frightening scenes.” But fuck it, I’m a Gaiman fan from way back, a selfish bastard and I figured, hey, you know what; worst case scenario I have to pay a few extra therapy bills down the road; it’s not like she won’t need them anyway with a know-it-all prick like me for a dad.

Mostly though, I did it because the kid went apeshit when she saw the trailer a month or so back and, after testing the waters a bit by putting on the aforementioned stop-motion classic from the House of Mouse, it was clear that she wasn’t going to have a negative reaction to animation of a more icky sort. (I’ve now learned that there are very few things as disturbing as a child of two, pigtails and dimples everywhere, pointing gleefully at Jack the Pumpkin King and screaming “Pretty!”) (more…)

As promised, zero religious content in this post 😀 (probably)

I hate the elderly. Generally. I’m not talking about the very very old, they’re kind of cute, in a way too tall toddler way. I’m talking more about the 60-70 crowd. The ones who think they know everything because they were alive when racism was still kinda cool.

To clarify, I really hate everyone. I’m a 30 year old white male; that makes me, just by breathing, the very antithesis of the politically correct movement. Rather than fight it, I embrace my unwanted, genetically stereotyped, attitude of death and, instead of pointing it any specific ethnic group (like so many of my sheet wearing brethren of the deep south who don’t realize that, as well as wearing white after labor day, they’ve accidentally adopted a horribly unsupportable life philosophy)I just kind of beam it over everyone and everything.

But now, especially, I’m beaming fiery death at you, Boomers. (more…)



Oy. Freakin’. Vey.

And le sigh.

Here’s the article that’s sparked today’s plaintive cry for reason:

Read it, don’t read it, it doesn’t matter. If you’ve caught on to the theme of the last month’s worth of entries, you can probably guess what the subject of the offending article will orbit around.

I’m really getting tired of writing about religion, the religious, and all things affected by the aforementioned. I am going to do my very best to make this the last piece on this subject for awhile because I’m starting to bore myself and I fucking love me. The reason I’m talking about this one last time is that the above article allows me to unify my loathing for most of the things I’ve discussed on this blog, namely; Fox, religious zealotry, censorship, and Fox.

So, if you didn’t read the article linked to up top, here are the Cliff’s Notes. Myspace deleted the Atheist and Agnostic group, the world’s largest collection of organized atheists (35000 strong. Remember that number, it’s going to be important later.) Not only did they delete this group but, when they finally, grudgingly reinstated it, they’d banned most of the more prolific contributors and deleted the profile of the group’s founder. For the cheap seats, Myspace, who are owned by the Murdoch Corporation, who also own Fox News (whom I love so very very much, see references in earlier posts) engaged in blatant censorship and suppression of thought (the digital equivalent of book burning)and then, when the uproar was too loud to ignore, still lashed out and spanked the filthy heathens for daring to talk to one another.

A moment of silent reflection for the glory and genius of the Reichspace.

I should mention that this piece of news is just over a year old, I just found it because, unlike discrimination levied against every other group of minorities, nobody really gives enough of a crap about us pesky malcontents to really mention it when we get downtrodden.

I’m not going to rant. (not yet)

I’m going to tell you a story. It’s called;


Umm, I Art!

Posted: February 15, 2009 in Writing

I am, I am Emo Man

The following should only be read aloud
In a coffee shop that allows smoking
To the sounds of bongo drums
Whose skins are made from the
Flesh of crying baby seals.

Also the questions should be asked
By someone who has absolutely nothing
Better to do on a Friday night.
And who has
An appropriate number
Of self inflicted wounds.

Oh God!!!!

Q: What?

My life is shit!!!

Q: How is your life shit?

What do you mean?

Q: How is your life shit? You kind of have to back that up, dude.

Um, my parents are rich?

Q: That sucks.

Oh! And I have to work, ‘cause they cut off my allowance.

Q: That is shitty. What else?

I’m in love with a girl who may or may not be legal.

Q: Ooh that’s sexy. How old is she?


Q: Not sexy.

But age is just a number. She has an old soul. And likes Good Charlotte.

Q: Try again. What else?
I told my stylist to dye my hair Suicide Black but he dyed it
Eternally Optimistic about Death Black, instead.

Q: You have a stylist?

Uh, yeah?

Q: Just go fucking die.


No. Nein. Nyet. Uh uh. Back the fuck off.

Ok, so today I found out that another one of my Obama bubbles has been burst. You know, scratch that. It’s not that my bubbles are being actually broken; it’s more like a howler monkey is standing amidst the soapy, floaty and Oba-oaty marvels, flinging a deranged, rainbow colored fork into the air that will eventually burst one my happy thoughts.

This time the bubble being poked and prodded is the question of “whatever will we do with do with these pesky Gitmo detainees.”

I love that one of Obama’s first official acts was to order the shutdown of the Bush dictatorship’s habeas corpus free, Never Never Land. When I was younger and more idealistic (like say before 2000) I truly believed that the U.S. could be a bright and shiny gold penny amongst all the tarnished copper bits, making all of us look a little brighter by proximity. Mind you, I also believed (many many moons ago) that if I flung myself off enough slightly elevated surfaces, I’d eventually figure out how to miss the ground. I was ten then, but still. I watched, over the last eight years, as the rule of law and any sense of real justice were trampled beneath a wave of paranoia and greater clamouring for security, and I feared that the U.S. would never recover from the damage to its image and sense of self worth. My optimism was crushed. And then, like a bolt of chocolaty goodness, El Presidente BHO swooped in, hands on hips and he started yelling things like; rule of law! And; clarity in government! And; it’s the economy stupid! And; (this one is my personal favourite) IT IS NOT OKAY TO TAKE A GOVERNMENT HANDOUT BECAUSE YOUR BUSINESS IS FAILING AND THEN PAY YOURSELF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS IN BONUSES! IT. IS. NOT. FRIKKIN’. OKAY!!! (more…)

I loathe Fox “News”.

In fact I loathe Fox in general.

Fox Co. waited until the last second to sue Warner Bros. over the rights to develop a Watchmen film, thus endangering the release of what promises to be the pivotal cinematic experience of my young life. Fox did everything it could to kill Firefly, Joss Whedon’s space western masterpiece and now, on the eve of his first new television foray in over four years, they’re doing their very best to abort his new show, Dollhouse, in advance. When a projectionist working stateside for a multiplex chain dared to write a negative review of Fantastic Four 2 and posted it on, Fox forced the chain to fire him under the threat of denying said chain distribution rights for any future Fox properties. And, more heinous than any other sin they’ve ever committed (including giving O’Reilly any airtime at all) Fox Co. was the network that sued all the way up to the Supreme Court of the U.S. to reclassify news services as being entertainment rather than providers of factual information designed to safeguard the public from corporate or government propaganda; this in order to justify their termination of three employees who tried to run a story about the dangers of Monsanto’s BGH being added to the American milk supply.

I tell you all of this so you understand that, when I say I hate Fox, I mean I hate them like I hate the fact that, after spending a lifetime safeguarding my anal virginity, I find out that I have to get regular prostate exams to avoid death.

And yet… (more…)