I didn’t think it was possible, but Electronic Arts (EA) has managed to find a new way to swindle their customers out of money. I honestly thought they had exhausted all available business tactics other than creeping into your house under the cover of night, slitting your throat in your sleep and then proceeding to steal all of your valuables. However, with the November 3rd release of Dragon Age: Origins, EA has demonstrated their willingness to do just that. The heinous act I’ve been alluding to for this entire paragraph is the jarring integration of paid Downloadable Content (DLC) into Dragon Age and what it potentially means to consumers.
Throughout Dragon Age you are able to visit the party camp, where you can recover from injuries as well as buy and sell items from a merchant. This is completely normal. There is also a character with a giant exclamation mark over his head waiting to give you a quest. Seeing as this is an RPG and questing is sort of the entire point of the game, this seems perfectly legitimate—until the character asks you to pay for the quest. I’m not saying that he wants some of your in-game gold; I’m saying he wants some of your real fucking money. It is at this point that the immersive digital environment the developer has tried so hard to create begins to crumble. Moments ago, you were decapitating darkspawn with a Chasind Flatblade and trying to get your freak on with a shape shifting mage, now you’re contemplating grabbing your MasterCard and suckling the corporate teat to the tune of seven dollars. EA has traded the potential impact of a game for the opportunity to wring every ounce of monetary gain out of a product. Admittedly, seven dollars is a paltry sum; however, at its core, this isn’t really an issue of money.
It’s an issue of how far EA will go to foist DLC on its customers. In that sense, Dragon Age represents the middle ground in EA’s vampiric approach to DLC. It was easy to decline when, in 2006, EA brazenly attempted to charge for codes that unlocked content already on the game disc, but it is more subtle than that now. Instead of a faceless corporate entity with its greedy palms open, it is a man who looks down on his luck asking you to honor a promise your mentor made to him (for the low, low price of seven dollars). By tying it into the story of the game, it becomes exponentially more difficult to resist. I fear that soon, the integration of DLC in to EA’s games will be so seamless that, like a back alley sex fiend, you won’t see it coming until it’s too late.
Friday, November 27, 2009
The Lie
There are authors whose novels feel more like math equations than living, breathing organisms. To give you an idea of the type of writer I’m talking about, consider Chuck Palahniuk’s formula: Disillusioned Sarcastic Protagonist + Outlandish Premise + “Shocking” Event – Any Emotional Resonance = Something You Read to Look Edgy in High School. See? After reading Chad Kultgen’s 2007 debut, The Average American Male, I fully expected him to become a mathematical writer, simply plugging in the unvaried variables to create a rehash of his first, best novel. You can imagine my surprise when his latest novel, The Lie, turned into something much more than I thought it could ever be.
The Lie is essentially three people looking back at their four year relationship during university and realizing the precise moments of their mistakes, moments of retrospective clarity, and the moment they crossed the point of no return and kissed their sense of morality goodbye. Despite all three characters being extreme stereotypes of the nice guy (Kyle), the jaded misogynist (Brett), and the gold-digging slutty sorority sister (Heather), Kultgen manages to combine all three (mostly) one-dimensional personas to create a story that is at once enthralling, meaningful and unsettling. The reader is made aware at the onset and throughout the novel that everything the characters do will ultimately lead them to a bitter resolution. It is this sense of futility that lends itself to the dark tone of the novel and instils a sense of hopelessness in the reader. Think back to your last relationship and pinpoint the moment you should have smothered your ex with a pillow but didn’t, and that is feeling of helplessness and regret The Lie evokes.
Kultgen’s writing is, as usual, very easy and enjoyable to read. His real achievement, however, and where his growth as a writer is unmistakable, is in the voices of the characters. Kyle speaks like a normal person with a hint of endearing idealism that gradually becomes perverted; Brett speaks like a teenage Patrick Bateman (American Psycho), obsessed with demeaning women, or as he unfailingly refers to them as: “cunts”; while Heather speaks like a vapid, single-minded Valley girl, punctuating sentences with the words “like” and “seriously”. Equally impressive is Kultgen’s ability to show the reader the flaws of every character, turning them into their own antagonists as they act against their natures because they are blinded by love or jealousy or the need for revenge.
The lie at the end of the novel is often, though erroneously, considered the lie referred to in the title of the novel. It is clear by the final three pages of the novel that the titular lie is the direct product of the falsehoods accumulated over the course of the novel. In the end, the actual lie is the lives the characters lead; lives consisting solely of desperation, duplicity, and apathy.
The Lie is essentially three people looking back at their four year relationship during university and realizing the precise moments of their mistakes, moments of retrospective clarity, and the moment they crossed the point of no return and kissed their sense of morality goodbye. Despite all three characters being extreme stereotypes of the nice guy (Kyle), the jaded misogynist (Brett), and the gold-digging slutty sorority sister (Heather), Kultgen manages to combine all three (mostly) one-dimensional personas to create a story that is at once enthralling, meaningful and unsettling. The reader is made aware at the onset and throughout the novel that everything the characters do will ultimately lead them to a bitter resolution. It is this sense of futility that lends itself to the dark tone of the novel and instils a sense of hopelessness in the reader. Think back to your last relationship and pinpoint the moment you should have smothered your ex with a pillow but didn’t, and that is feeling of helplessness and regret The Lie evokes.
Kultgen’s writing is, as usual, very easy and enjoyable to read. His real achievement, however, and where his growth as a writer is unmistakable, is in the voices of the characters. Kyle speaks like a normal person with a hint of endearing idealism that gradually becomes perverted; Brett speaks like a teenage Patrick Bateman (American Psycho), obsessed with demeaning women, or as he unfailingly refers to them as: “cunts”; while Heather speaks like a vapid, single-minded Valley girl, punctuating sentences with the words “like” and “seriously”. Equally impressive is Kultgen’s ability to show the reader the flaws of every character, turning them into their own antagonists as they act against their natures because they are blinded by love or jealousy or the need for revenge.
The lie at the end of the novel is often, though erroneously, considered the lie referred to in the title of the novel. It is clear by the final three pages of the novel that the titular lie is the direct product of the falsehoods accumulated over the course of the novel. In the end, the actual lie is the lives the characters lead; lives consisting solely of desperation, duplicity, and apathy.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Ass Backwards
Reebok’s first major ad campaign in two years is groundbreaking. It is the only instance in recent memory where a company has so thoroughly failed at selling sex to their target demographic. The magnificent failure in question is for Reebok’s “revolutionary” new shoe, the EasyTone. The idea of the EasyTone is that merely by walking, I can work my calves and hamstrings up to 11% harder (!) and tone my butt up to 28% more than if I were to walk in my common, inferior shoes (!!!). Yeah, I know, who gives a fuck? The commercial features a beautiful woman with legs that are already long and toned and with an ass that would make an atheist reconsider god. The problem is that it also features a sex offender behind the camera and he zooms in on her ass every time she mentions it—which, considering the product, is often. Is she offended when he does this? Does she mace the pervert? No. She coughs politely and motions for the camera to film her face, saying, when the camera begrudgingly moves away from her ass, “I take it you agree?”
There are a couple fundamental problems with this method of trying to sell a product. First of all, treating your target demographic (women) as pieces of meat, whose sole purpose of living is to look beautiful and be stared at by unsavory men with perspiring upper lips, is just bad marketing.
Secondly, knowing who you’re marketing to is probably going to be a big help in moving forward. I was watching this commercial with a female friend and she went from complacent to righteously furious in the span of the thirty second commercial while I went from mildly aroused to…mildly aroused. I’m not a business major or anything, but I think if you make a product for a woman and in attempting to market it to a woman, the woman begins to foam at the mouth, her eyes burning like the lidless eye of Sauron, her body paralyzed with rage, you’ve failed.
The EasyTone commercial seems like it is marketing to men, but logic would dictate that if you buy a shoe that will help tone your girlfriend’s/wife’s/fiance’s calves and ass, you’re just begging to be dumped/dirvoced/a combination of dumped and divorced. It would be akin to saying, “Yes, those pants do make your ass look flat, but I bought you some shoes that can remedy with that.”
However, there is a silver lining. If you failed Marketing 101, Reebok will still hire you.
sign of the times #362
Theoretical Situation:
a.) I approach you and say, “I hate gay people” (I don’t).
b.) I approach you and ventriloquise, “I hate gay people”
Would you think a.) was funny? No, you probably wouldn’t, because there’s nothing inherently hilarious about homophobia. Would you be more inclined to laugh at b.) because I used a puppet as a proxy for my parochial hatemongering? If you were one of the 7.9 million people that tuned in to watch the pilot for The Jeff Dunham Show and didn’t ragequit it after the first two minutes, I would imagine your answer to be something along the lines of, “Fuck yeah, that shit’s funny as hell. Hyuk. I watch it right after Leno.” The sad fact is that The Jeff Dunham Show makes Leno look like highbrow humor filled with incisive social commentary.
The Jeff Dunham Show opens with a racist “joke” about how ironic it is to have a black president in the White House (sigh) and it only gets worse from there. Dunham and his crotchety old man puppet, Walter, just can’t seem to get along so they visit a therapist to work on their issues. Through the course of the conversation, it is revealed that the therapist is gay. Walter’s mouth hangs open while he and Dunham glance nervously at each other. This is followed by a string of offensive homophobic comments that ends in the realization that the only thing Dunham and Walter can agree on is that they don’t want to be homosexual with each other, and by extension, at all. This is just a microcosmic example of the horrifying world Jeff Dunham, his lifeless proxies, and the millions of slack-jawed Jeff Dunham fans inhabit.
I don’t have a problem with incendiary, unapologetic humor that a lot of people might take issue with. However, I do have a problem with humor that is cheap and hateful. There are no jokes in Dunham’s show, there are only insults levelled at homosexuals, black people, Jewish people, and women. In an interview with Slate, Dunham dodges accountability by saying that he would “shudder to utter” the things his puppets say. Yet, it is hard to imagine that Dunham has the artistic capacity to invent personalities for his puppets other than, “the old one hates gay people, the Middle-Eastern one is a terrorist, wait, no, he’s a terrorist ZOMBIE, and the redneck hates every minority.” The dodge is rendered increasingly ineffective when you can see his mouth moving in unison with the mouth of the puppet on his hand.
The worst part of this clusterfuck of hate is that we (as a society), not only allow Jeff Dunham to get on stage and spew his hatred, but we flock to see him, we pay him an inordinate amount of money, we demand he gets a television show, we actually watch it and what’s more is that we love every single goddamned second of it.
If Mel Gibson would have been wearing a puppet on his hand during his drunken anti-Semitic outburst, would it have been acceptable or funny? What about Michael Richards’ (Kramer) crazed racist diatribe? It’s depressing that at least 7.9 million people would answer “possibly” to these questions.
Digesting the Dinosaur
When Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs was first published in 2003, I had never seen anything like it. It was a book of essays that reveled in the fact that it analyzed low culture (see: pop culture) in a way that didn’t involve a thorough knowledge of media and communication theory to appreciate. The essays were written in an amusing, wry way, by an amusing, wry author. They were easily accessible and infinitely entertaining, which is what made the book so great. It was pop culture writing, written for an audience that consumes pop culture. However, it wasn’t a transcript of an episode of Two and a Half Men; it had value in that Klosterman used these essays about pop culture minutiae to illustrate points about our society. For instance, Klosterman argues our obsession with the Real World can be seen as the advent of people developing one dimensional personalities and our voyeuristic perversity as a culture. Eating the Dinosaur takes what Chuck Klosterman started four years ago and adds to it in a more mature—though still amusing and wry—way.
Through a series of what, at first glance, seem to be wild non-sequiturs, Eating the Dinosaur manages to tie together essays that compare Kurt Cobain to David Koresh (think Waco) in a somewhat offensive yet somehow convincing way, an analysis of time travel that is way more in-depth and thought out than it needs to be, a critical take on the laugh tracks employed by sitcoms, and progressive football plays into the larger, more important idea that through our love of culture and idolization of cultural figures, we create a fake reality that is far more comfortable than actual reality. This fake reality is so pure a fantasy that when we encounter someone entirely truthful (Rivers Cuomo or Ralph Nader, to name a couple of Klosterman’s examples) we are hostile and disappointed.
One of the most interesting instances of this fake reality comes in the final essay, named FAIL. Everyone prides themselves on being tough to influence, infinitely skeptical of how much they are affected by the treacherous “media,” but by quoting from Jerry Mander’s book, Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television, Klosterman provides us with a revealing example of how much media we actually internalize and how that internalization of images makes it difficult for us to differentiate from the real and unreal. In order to illustrate this inability, Mander asks people to imagine, “life in an Eskimo village,” the Old South,” and “a preoperation conversation among doctors,” and “playing basketball.” A simple enough task, to be sure. You probably already have the images in your head. Though you have experienced maybe one or two of these scenarios, you can picture them all with clarity, right? Mander says that the images conjured up are “either out of your own imagination or else they [are] from the media. Can you identify which was which?”
Yes, some of the essays are hit and miss—particularly the ones on basketball, football and ABBA. Yes, it’s written in Klosterman’s signature style, which some could argue is getting stale, but it is far and away Klosterman’s most thought-provoking and mature work to date. Besides, (arguably) stale Klosterman is still (arguably) great Klosterman.
Monday, June 8, 2009
wig flipping and teeth gnashing.
At any given moment, if someone were to ask me how I was feeling emotionally I would most likely respond: mad. It's not a big deal, though, because ever since I can remember, I have been furious about something. That doesn't mean I'm always flying off the handle—the fury ranges from mild (1) to righteous (10). I stub my toe: mild. I'm trying to assemble a piece of furniture purchased from IKEA: righteous. However, on rare occasions, I reach a peak of rage unbeknownst to most mortals. A violent orgasm of fury. At first I can feel the acid in my stomach begin to moil like the magical magma of Mount Doom; then I start to sweat for no other reason than my body has reached its red alert stage and is attempting to expel rage through my pores; my body then begins to seize, as if it has become host to a dark parasite that has latched onto my brain stem, controlling me like a marionette suffering from Parkinson's; finally, my jaw cracks and comes loose, a bouquet of the nine reptilian heads of a hydra emerge like a hideous flower blooming out of my throat, the skin of my mortal husk falls in a puddle where my feet used to be; I devour all. This only happens when people don't display proper etiquette at the movie theater.
As a professional moviegoer, I've had time to hone my craft (e.g. creating optimal seating charts, making a best guess as to where the talkative douches will be sitting, etc.), and create a 'code,' if you will, that dictates what is and what isn't appropriate to do at the movies. I would like to outline some of these rules and relate to you some of the more harrowing and infuriating moments I've experienced at the theater in my young, angry life.
For teh lulz
Everyone likes to think that they are funny, but, to be honest, many people aren't. Some people are born funny and some aren't, that's just how it goes. When I hear people trying to crack jokes during movies, I get really pissed off. Not only are they talking during the movie but they are making bad jokes. I don't know about everyone else, but I didn't get the memo that said, "Hey, instead of shutting the fuck up and watching the movie, use every lull in the action of a movie to work on your stand-up routine!" There are very, very few cases where someone has told a joke in the theater and got more than a noncommittal chuckle from an annoyed friend. An example that perfectly illustrates my point was when I went to go see Drag Me to Hell. This douche nozzle behind me would not shut the fuck up with his biting social commentary and what I'm sure he felt were top-notch jokes and when a fly flew into Alison Lohman's mouth, he delivered his comedic payload with, "I hear flies are full of protein. Yum." It was then that I popped open the lid of my friend's giant cup of diet Coke and drowned myself in it. I'm going to the movies tonight, and if I even catch a whisper of some cocksucker saying, "What's the deal with airline food?" during the movie, I'm going to cut his dick off with a spork and shove it in his goddamn mouth.
A new and terrifying phenomenon I've been witnessing over the past year or so are people yelling "OWNED" or "PWNT" (which when spoken aloud sounds less like a hilarious internet saying and more like a verbal tic) or, and this one is getting archaic now—"SERVED". I recently had the opportunity to witness someone saying, "OWNED!" at a movie. It was during Star Trek and this throwaway redshirt is sucked into the engine of a giant drill and you could tell this guy was just waiting for the opportunity to go for the cheese because the very second this character died, the wretch yelled, "OWNED!" No one laughed. His friends shifted their bodies away from him and the offender scratched his neck nervously. It was a beautiful sight to see even this bastard's friend's turn on him. Sadly, this rarely happens. It's the Haley's Comet of social situations.
Malodorous motherfuckers
I smell good because I wash daily and wear deodorant. Do people think that dousing themselves in obnoxiously pungent chemicals makes them more, I don't know, desirable. I'm here to tell you that it does not. Perfumes and colognes remind me of a few things: guid's that use so much of this shit that their sweat actually begins to smell like it, stoners trying to disguise the fact that they are stoners, and old people. My grandparents reek of the most caustic scents known to man. It doesn't matter how much of that shit you spray on yourself, grandma, I still know your life is eroding! There is nothing worse than having to mouth-breathe the entire night because the woman sitting beside you smells as if she has just crawled out of Coco Chanel's rotting vagina.
Despite my aversion to ungodly stink, there are a number of scents I expect to smell at the theater. For example, I expect to smell are anything you can buy at the concession and the one guy who hasn't showered lately, but what I don't expect to smell are KFC (sure, they sell that shit at the theater but nobody buys it) and enchiladas and sushi. I went to the movies with a friend the other night and, since she was running a little late, she hadn't had time to eat dinner. I didn't really pay it any mind until she whispered, "I brought sushi!" and proceeded to take the lid off her vat of spicy sauce and dip her sushi in it. I was mortified. The spicy sauce was toxic and when it opened, a mushroom cloud of gas that singed nose hairs was released into the atmosphere. Shadows of bodies that had been incinerated in the blast radius were etched into now empty, scorched seats. I forgave her, sure, but I think I will always be subconsciously mad about it.
Didn't you hear, four is the new fourteen
In my final guideline, the blame is divided between the people who work at the theater and the people viewing the movie.
My worst movie experience would have to be seeing Eagle Eye (love you, Shia) in September of 2008. I knew it was going to be trouble when a young boy of around nine or ten asked if the three seats beside me were taken. I said they weren't, thinking that maybe his parents were coming. NOT THE CASE. He had, against the wishes of his parents--who had no doubt instructed him to take his brothers to see a kid-friendly film-- I'm sure, brought his six-year-old brother and four-year-old brother with him. I was willing to give them a shot. I thought maybe instead of teaching their children about Feng Shui and how to really appreciate good sushi, his parents had taught him how to behave in a movie theater. NOT THE CASE. Throughout the entire movie, the older brother was explaining what was happening in the story to his overwhelmed brothers who acted as if they had never been in public before. The youngest one was slurping at a drink that was long gone, his lips puckered, eyes bulging in vain. Pretty bad, right? It gets worse. They had kinder eggs. If you have ever had a kinder egg, you know it is not about the chocolate, it is about the toy. You might be wondering how one assembles microscopic toy in the dark? Well, you don't. You flip open your cell phone and use the LCD that looks as if it's being powered by a nuclear generator, a radiant beacon of assholery in the dark, and attempt to construct all three at once. I kept looking over at these kids with a WTF look on my face, but that shit don't faze a 4 year old. The icing on the infuriated cake was during the climax of the movie when Shia is shot (SPOILER ALERT!), the littlest fuckwad whispers to his brother, "Did that boy just get shot?" It's probably a good thing I keep being denied a firearms licence or four boys would have been shot that night instead of just Shia. And I would be blogging this from prison.
I don't mind if you let a thirteen-year-old into a 14A movie or a sixteen or seventeen-year-old into an 18A movie, but I think four years old is pushing it, guys.
I'd like to thank all the people who follow these rules because, really, this shit is common sense. And for the villainous creatures that refuse to act like humans, there's a special spot in hell for you mofo's.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
is milo the future of gaming/technology?
One must always take care when writing about video games. To most people it probably seems like a pretty innocuous topic, but to gamers, it's quite a volatile subject. Sidestepping fanboys that will drop everything in order to take up the shield emblazoned with the logo of either Sony, Nintendo or Microsoft is a difficult task even when attempted by the most soft-spoken of writers. Soft-spoken I'm not.
The Electronic Entertainment Expo (E3) is always an exciting time for gamers. E3 offers insight into the direction technology will be heading in the future and reveals some of the most anticipated games of the next year from the biggest companies in the industry. Being a gamer, I follow E3 fairly closely every year and I've always been excited to the point of arousal by some of the announcements, but never before has my jaw come unhinged and hit the fake mahogany finish of my desk. Such was the case with one of the most interesting announcements since it was announced that the Wii would use motion controls. I'm talking about Milo.
Milo is, essentially, a very sophisticated piece of AI in the form of a young boy. You interact with Milo by utilizing Microsoft's cutting edge Project Natal camera device. Project Natal allows you to interact with a game by using your entire body instead of just your sweaty, calloused fingers. If you're having trouble understanding what exactly that means: if you see a soccer ball coming at you, move your leg and you have kicked it. Milo incorporates facial recognition, voice recognition and even color recognition. What's most impressive/terrifying about Milo is that he has a memory and feelings. By identifying the unique tone of voice one uses when telling a joke, Milo will laugh. When using nervous mannerisms, Milo will inquire as to what's troubling you. And, probably the most jaw-dropping detail of all, when a reviewer told Milo that he was standing with Peter Molyneux (the developer of Milo), Milo sighed. As Milo's creator, I imagine Milo has spent hundreds of hours with Molyneux and the sigh is like, "when is he not standing around me?"
It's hard to get too excited about Milo because Peter Molyneux is developing it. Anyone who has taken an interest in gaming beyond shoving the disc into the console probably knows about Molyneux and sort of smirks whenever they hear his name in the news when he's hyping a new project. The fact is that Molyneux was something of a messiah many years ago when he was working on a game called Fable. He promised gamers a lot of things that he didn't deliver on. Fast forward to The Movies, same thing. Fable 2, same thing, though to a far lesser extent than Fable and The Movies. He always described his product with a wild gleam in his eyes, using words like groundbreaking, revolutionary, earth shattering, and urethra tearing. It appears as if Molyneux has learned his lesson, though. He kept his mouth shut about Milo for quite a long time (for him) and when he did speak about it, you could see he was excited about it, but his mouth wasn't frothing and he didn't say anything about trees aging with your character (a la Fable).
Molyneux has gone on record as saying that Milo would, indeed, be a game. I'm not sure if I like the idea of that. Milo is an eight year old boy and, by and large, I hate eight year old boys. It has also been revealed that if interacting with an eight year old boy isn't your cup of tea (which it isn't), then you also have the option of interacting with an eight year old girl named Millie. Awesome! Now I cannot wait. I'm kidding, of course. What has yet to be revealed is whether or not Millie just shouts nonsensical pieces of dialogue from Hannah Montana at you or sings Jonas Brothers songs out of key, as my inferior (i.e. human) eight year old sister does.
Even though Milo isn't finished and there will probably be bugs and glitches, that does not mean the technology isn't new and, to say the very least, interesting. I remember when the iPod first came out, there were a ton of glitches, but look at it now. The current generation iteration is barely recognizable when compared with the first generation model. It's gone from the size of a sandwich to slightly larger than a pack of gum. It's akin to looking at our early ancestors and then looking in the mirror. To me, Milo could symbolize something huge. Imagine playing an RPG where characters recognize you and your facial expressions and tone of voice guide social encounters. God, I moisten at the very thought! I'm not saying this will ever happen in my lifetime, or ever, but a nerd can dream, can't he?
Saturday, May 30, 2009
discrepancies.
Whenever I have high expectations for something, or feel my expectations mounting, the voice of my ex-girlfriend screeches into my skull, a spectre that forever haunts my gray matter. She told me that no matter what my expectations were, I would universally be disappointed. And as treacherous a woman as she was, she could not have been more correct. I didn't realize it at the time, but she was basically outlining the whole foundation of our relationship. The burgeoning relationship I had such high hopes for imploded after one bonnie and clyde-esque, hallucinogen-fueled night filled with misdemeanor felonies involving three gallons of A1 steak sauce and a transient hooker. One criminal record and a broken heart later, I have try to not have expectations of anything. Without any expectations, it's impossible to be let down. However, I couldn't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment. Perhaps the word disappointment is too strong; it would be more accurate to say they weren't what I expected. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, in fact, it was sort of refreshing, but it was fairly evident that not everyone enjoyed the show.
I don't want to go into great detail about the mute, holier than thou, 'experimental' (see: shitty) 'band' that preceded Animal Collective. It was just a woman with a bunch of tapes and tape decks, a looping device, a frown and a guitar that she barely played. What I do want to say is that people actually clapped for her and I can't tell if they clapped because it was bad and they wanted to seem as if they appreciated it because it was 'real art' or if they clapped out of the goodness of their hearts. Either way, after people clapped and howled for her, she just walked off the stage. Look, I know being a pretentious bitch is probably an acceptable professional persona in the world of really bad music, but honestly if you don't even say thanks to the people wasting their time watching you be unique, then you can go fuck yourself. And, yeah, when I clapped sardonically for you, it was a gentleman's middle finger.
To me, Animal Collective are more artists than musicians. That sentence sounds like it should be followed with a painfully contrived comment about my favorite year for wine or about the unimaginable depths in Albert Camus' (pronounced with a French flair) criminally short story, L'etranger or, The Stranger, for the uninitiated. You'll get no such comments from me, though. The reason behind my viewpoint is fairly straight across: I've never heard a band layer so many different sounds on top of each other to create a beat that is as comprehensive, luminous, and frenetic as Animal Collective's are. It evokes the feeling of being lost in a sea of sound yet always having something solid to latch onto.
I remember a friend of mine telling me before the concert that a lot of their songs were improvised and sometimes they just played a lot of new stuff with only a few of the songs being devoted to stuff off the album they're touring. He was right about the first part, whereas I imagine the only reason he was wrong about the second is because of the steadily increasing popularity of Animal Collective. They can't go back to their roots of screaming unintelligibly into microphones and pouring milk all over each other anymore, unfortunately. Although I'm sure their more la-de-da fanbase would love this high concept art, rich in both metaphor and calcium.
As I said before, my expectations are never high, BUT when I go to a concert, I expect to hear the songs I heard on the record. Probably because at 99.9% of the live shows I've been to, that's what happens. I long to recognize the song and sing along with it in my signature falsetto. However, since Animal Collective improvise a lot of their sound during their live show it has an almost disorienting effect. There would be rambling interludes of laser sounds and rhythmic chanting that lasted almost five minutes before they would morph it into a song. It might sound as if I'm excoriating them for it, but I happen to think that's a big part of their genius. There would be a tangle of sound but then a tiny drum beat would flit in and out of the noise, barely there, and before it dawned on you, it had become the instantly recognizable opening drum beat of Fireworks. Picture it as starting a sculpture with a huge block of marble (or whatever) and chipping pieces off until a basic shape was created and then refining it until it was something beautiful.
Sure, they played a couple of my favorites like Brothersport and Fireworks, but they often changed the tempo of the songs and added little bits to it. I didn't mind it, personally. I was just there to see these guys go buck ass wild, which I did see. But you could tell a lot of people felt, I don't know, betrayed, perhaps?
ps. that's a picture I took of the geologist.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
damaging sterotypes, or why fox news is filled to the brim with ignorant c-words.
Normally I'm not one of those people that are like, "Oh, Fox News, what are you doing?" in an exasperated tone. I'm one of the people that views Fox News as, in essence, the Duke brothers. Every week they get themselves into some sort of bucket of syrup and it'll be entertaining to watch them wiggle their way out of it. I know they've been a bad steward of the news for the slack jawed American public and I don't mind that because I think if I put a dish of excrement in front of you and you eat it, it's your own goddamn fault. However, I was on Yahoo! of all places a couple nights ago when I saw one of their front page stories "WHICH PROFESSION MAKES THE BEST LOVERS!" Naturally, my interest was piqued. When I clicked the link, instead of being taken to a page of text as I had hoped would be the case (honestly, for a question like this I only need one word, or two if it was dental hygenist or something), I was taken to a video for Fox News instead. I was immediately assaulted by this smug-looking chubby guy who looks like he's trying to age gracefully. He has his hair gelled up into spikes, which I always take as a phallic compensation, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone to indicate that he's cool and that he's into partying on nights when Matlock isn't on. He looks like the kind of person that, in apropos of nothing, says INTERNET! or SKATEBOARD! during normal conversation just to show how 'in touch' he is. He probably describes himself as controversial and unapologetic and 'real'. In short, he's a real douche.
To give you an idea of how stupid this person is, his first line is "Do the geeks inherit the skirts?" At this point, I calmly retrieved the pistol I keep in my desk drawer, put it into my mouth, pulled the hammer back and painted the wall behind me with my beautiful, beautiful brain. Obviously, unfortunately, that wasn't the case, though, I wish it were. The next thing he says--this time to his co-host--some bleach blonde woman with this thoroughly-fucked glazed over look in her eyes-- is, "according to this study, 81% of IT professionals said that their pleasure was secondary to their partner's pleasure. Why do you think that?" The fact that he posed this woman a question is hilarious because it becomes evident that, clearly, this woman doesn't think. At all. Ever. Her reasoning is that IT professionals are just so excited to have sex that they want ensure a repeat performance by making sure everyone's needs are fulfilled. There are a number of problems with this statement. First, I think it's just good manners to make sure everyone is having fun during sex. I assume she isn't fucking the IT department (in fact, they probably all revile her wretched soul), so then is it also safe to assume that she's never been pleased during sex? She's probably a cadaverous lay and the husband that she married for money no doubt drapes himself over her like a wet pile of laundry and shoots a load of dust into her. Secondly, I was hoping that we'd moved past this whole nerds don't mesh well with women, etc. bullshit. Sure, we're a socially awkward bunch. Some more than others, but the fundamental nature of people is that they'll have sex with whoever they want to have sex with. It's sort of antediluvian to say or think, "oh, man I'm only going to have sex with people that are confined to a certain group of individuals..."
I tried to convince my friend that this was racist, but she wasn't buying it and I guess I can understand the reasoning behind her decision, because nerds aren't a race. But it's still a form of prejudice based on spurious stereotypes.
Then he asks this other guy, who looks like a chubby tanned baby with a receding hairline, why he thinks 'nerds' make the best lovers and not gym rats that have so much energy and are so awesome, etc. I'm surprised the word sex is even in this munchkin's lexicon. The repugnant munchkin says he doesn't know why nerds make the best lovers and instead does this impression of a nerd asking if they should get down at his mother's basement or her mother's basement. He should spend less time mocking the question no nerd would ever ask and ponder the only question he ever has to ask in a sexual relationship - "How much for the night?"
The host appears to ask his only semi-intelligent question during the last minute of the segment by asking this 'author' named Ron, who, again, is a chubby grey-haired babyman in glasses, if he thinks that narcissism ruins all forms of human interaction. A valid question... UNTIL he says that it's about people with smaller egos thinking they have to perform better in bed. Sigh. So close. Anyway, the guy answers with this stupid story about how he's slept with the ugliest women on earth that he had to bring in through the fire escape, yet, it was these women that gave themselves wholly over in a bid to pleasure this terrestrial porpoise.
One of the people, and I use that term loosely, says that it was like Ron was helping these women by having sex with them. If anything, sir, I would consider having sex with Ron a disservice to women.
The woman then comes in with a zinger: "But could she set up your wi-fi?" Oh! Glad to see the vapid bitch brought her A-game tonight!
If you thought this segment couldn't get any dumber or offensive, you were wrong! Because in the last 15 seconds, they crank this shit to eleven. They cut to a talking...newspaper? The newspaper says that the study showed that people who frequented the gym were less likely to use sex toys. The reason for this, according to the newspaper? Because they don't need to. Because people who go the gym have stamina and don't get tired after 'the first thrust' and that maybe nerds should frequent the gym.
I'm foaming at the mouth now, gnashing at anything that moves. I'm a human old yeller. Waiting for someone to shoot me behind the barn so I never have to witness what stupid shit people will get up to when they have an audience ever again.
Hit the link if you want to experience it for yourself:
Frustrating Bullshit
To give you an idea of how stupid this person is, his first line is "Do the geeks inherit the skirts?" At this point, I calmly retrieved the pistol I keep in my desk drawer, put it into my mouth, pulled the hammer back and painted the wall behind me with my beautiful, beautiful brain. Obviously, unfortunately, that wasn't the case, though, I wish it were. The next thing he says--this time to his co-host--some bleach blonde woman with this thoroughly-fucked glazed over look in her eyes-- is, "according to this study, 81% of IT professionals said that their pleasure was secondary to their partner's pleasure. Why do you think that?" The fact that he posed this woman a question is hilarious because it becomes evident that, clearly, this woman doesn't think. At all. Ever. Her reasoning is that IT professionals are just so excited to have sex that they want ensure a repeat performance by making sure everyone's needs are fulfilled. There are a number of problems with this statement. First, I think it's just good manners to make sure everyone is having fun during sex. I assume she isn't fucking the IT department (in fact, they probably all revile her wretched soul), so then is it also safe to assume that she's never been pleased during sex? She's probably a cadaverous lay and the husband that she married for money no doubt drapes himself over her like a wet pile of laundry and shoots a load of dust into her. Secondly, I was hoping that we'd moved past this whole nerds don't mesh well with women, etc. bullshit. Sure, we're a socially awkward bunch. Some more than others, but the fundamental nature of people is that they'll have sex with whoever they want to have sex with. It's sort of antediluvian to say or think, "oh, man I'm only going to have sex with people that are confined to a certain group of individuals..."
I tried to convince my friend that this was racist, but she wasn't buying it and I guess I can understand the reasoning behind her decision, because nerds aren't a race. But it's still a form of prejudice based on spurious stereotypes.
Then he asks this other guy, who looks like a chubby tanned baby with a receding hairline, why he thinks 'nerds' make the best lovers and not gym rats that have so much energy and are so awesome, etc. I'm surprised the word sex is even in this munchkin's lexicon. The repugnant munchkin says he doesn't know why nerds make the best lovers and instead does this impression of a nerd asking if they should get down at his mother's basement or her mother's basement. He should spend less time mocking the question no nerd would ever ask and ponder the only question he ever has to ask in a sexual relationship - "How much for the night?"
The host appears to ask his only semi-intelligent question during the last minute of the segment by asking this 'author' named Ron, who, again, is a chubby grey-haired babyman in glasses, if he thinks that narcissism ruins all forms of human interaction. A valid question... UNTIL he says that it's about people with smaller egos thinking they have to perform better in bed. Sigh. So close. Anyway, the guy answers with this stupid story about how he's slept with the ugliest women on earth that he had to bring in through the fire escape, yet, it was these women that gave themselves wholly over in a bid to pleasure this terrestrial porpoise.
One of the people, and I use that term loosely, says that it was like Ron was helping these women by having sex with them. If anything, sir, I would consider having sex with Ron a disservice to women.
The woman then comes in with a zinger: "But could she set up your wi-fi?" Oh! Glad to see the vapid bitch brought her A-game tonight!
If you thought this segment couldn't get any dumber or offensive, you were wrong! Because in the last 15 seconds, they crank this shit to eleven. They cut to a talking...newspaper? The newspaper says that the study showed that people who frequented the gym were less likely to use sex toys. The reason for this, according to the newspaper? Because they don't need to. Because people who go the gym have stamina and don't get tired after 'the first thrust' and that maybe nerds should frequent the gym.
I'm foaming at the mouth now, gnashing at anything that moves. I'm a human old yeller. Waiting for someone to shoot me behind the barn so I never have to witness what stupid shit people will get up to when they have an audience ever again.
Hit the link if you want to experience it for yourself:
Frustrating Bullshit
Monday, May 25, 2009
hell on earth.
Every couple months I venture out into the vast expanse to go shopping. Sometimes it's for small things like underoos or sockies, but yesterday it was for "summer wear." And my definition of summer wear is not shorts with radical floral prints on them. My definition is "i don't want pants that make me feel sorry to have testicles." I live with that shit for 9 out of 12 months of the year, but the combination of summer and my signature dark denim nut crunchers just does not mesh. I wanted khakis. I went to H&M and instead of finding khakis I found the largest panic attack I'd ever had.
As soon as you cross the threshold into this nega-realm, it's like you've pried open the hellmouth only to find that dwelling inside is, instead of demons dwelling and the sounds of the damned howling in eternal pain, trendy asians and white people trying to be trendy and techno music that sounds like it is pumping inside your fucking skull like a live organism writhing in time with the repetetive beat. I know that sounds hyperbolic, but it is true! The place could not be any more fucking packed. The place is essentially two lines. One line for people waiting to pay and one line waiting to try shit on. And there are two or three people actually shopping in between. Picture a really popular store, like a Future Shop or something, on boxing day. It's all lineup and screaming and grabbing hands and the sound of money. Every day is like this at H&M. In fact, I heard a woman, a woman who didn't belong in H&M say to a flustered employee (who is ALWAYS flustered), "Is it always this busy?" The flustered employee smiled grimly and said "Yes."
That said, the shit there is nice and relatively inexpensive, which is, I'm sure, why it's so goddamn popular. If I can get an electric blue polo, 2 (TWO!) sweater vests and short-sleeved button down plaid shirt for under $75 then that's it. There's nothing more. They have me. The polo is really great. Too great, in fact. I think i may have to go back in for a couple more. They're designed in a really cool way in that the armpit of the shirt doesn't really fit snugly in your armpit, so you can't see it if you're sweating. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm sweating all the time, just when it's really hot or when i'm panicking. I guess it would be a nice gesture to wear the polo next time I go to H&M so you can't see that i'm shedding pounds in panicked sweat. Though, I guess you'll still be able to see the bulging veins glistening with fear standing out on my forehead.
As soon as you cross the threshold into this nega-realm, it's like you've pried open the hellmouth only to find that dwelling inside is, instead of demons dwelling and the sounds of the damned howling in eternal pain, trendy asians and white people trying to be trendy and techno music that sounds like it is pumping inside your fucking skull like a live organism writhing in time with the repetetive beat. I know that sounds hyperbolic, but it is true! The place could not be any more fucking packed. The place is essentially two lines. One line for people waiting to pay and one line waiting to try shit on. And there are two or three people actually shopping in between. Picture a really popular store, like a Future Shop or something, on boxing day. It's all lineup and screaming and grabbing hands and the sound of money. Every day is like this at H&M. In fact, I heard a woman, a woman who didn't belong in H&M say to a flustered employee (who is ALWAYS flustered), "Is it always this busy?" The flustered employee smiled grimly and said "Yes."
That said, the shit there is nice and relatively inexpensive, which is, I'm sure, why it's so goddamn popular. If I can get an electric blue polo, 2 (TWO!) sweater vests and short-sleeved button down plaid shirt for under $75 then that's it. There's nothing more. They have me. The polo is really great. Too great, in fact. I think i may have to go back in for a couple more. They're designed in a really cool way in that the armpit of the shirt doesn't really fit snugly in your armpit, so you can't see it if you're sweating. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm sweating all the time, just when it's really hot or when i'm panicking. I guess it would be a nice gesture to wear the polo next time I go to H&M so you can't see that i'm shedding pounds in panicked sweat. Though, I guess you'll still be able to see the bulging veins glistening with fear standing out on my forehead.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
a shimmering beacon of light in the dark, or, why i won't be firebombing jeff zucker's house anymore.
There are a couple of these faint points of light in the stygian world we share. I am one. The television series "Chuck" is the other. Ever since I saw Chuck's first episode air I knew it would become one of my favorite shows on the entire planet in the history of the galaxy, just because I could self-identify with the eponymous character. Chuck is an awkward man-boy that plays video games and hasn't rebounded from his first heartbreak...years ago. I almost always identify with a character if he or she is awkward and he or she plays video games. I honestly wonder how all these fucking procedural cop shows are getting any viewers because I view television as a twisted sort of alchemy where my feelings are combined with the character's feelings, etc. how many people are like, oh, man, I can totally relate to a detective on the mean streets of New York strong arming "perps" into confessing several murders/rapes. NO ONE. There's very fucking little character development in a show like that, which means people are turning off their minds and lookin at all dem pretty pitchas on the gotdamn screen. Chuck, the television show (and the character), is smart, funny, and dripping with pop culture references. Those are all great things but they are the entire fucking opposite of what the American public craves.
The creator behind Chuck is the prolific Josh Schwartz who has made shows The O.C. and Gossip Girl. I've liked both of those shows until they became utterly convoluted and bad (hey, OC season 3! and to a lesser extent Gossip Girl season 2!) I think JS is like the JJ Abrams of the sexy teen dramedy. He's just gold. But he's never been stronger than he is with Chuck.
As I said before, when I saw Chuck's first episode, I was hooked. Literally counting off the fucking days until Mondays at 8, but I knew that since I loved it so much, someone was going to try and take it from me sooner or later. Now, anyone who watches television knows that Monday's at 8 is the most volatile slot on network television. You're stepping to American Fucking Idol, (and later in the year, HOUSE) and the CBS comedies Big Bang Theory (great show, btw) and How I Met Your Mother (it's okay. love you NPH). American Idol eats competition alive while the general American public applauds, their palms greasy from barefisting hungry man dinners into their perpetually opened maws. Because of the writers strike that happened, Chuck's first season was only 13 or 14 episodes. All good. There were whispers that it would be canceled but thankfully it came back for a full second season. And they took it to the fucking hoop! Every episode was good. I often read the AV club for the television reviews, just to see what they thought, and Chuck episodes rarely fell below an A- or B+. That's an incredible feat. With the show getting rave reviews from everywhere and being featured on critics favorites lists and "top 10 shows you aren't watching" lists (1-10: CHUCK), it would be reasonable to assume the show was going to get picked up for a third season. I mean, it leveled off at about 6.2 million viewers a night, whereas Heroes (a show that used to be good in season 1, not too horrible in season 2 and WTF?! in season 3) only averaged around 6.7 million and had already been renewed. But nooooooo. I'm probably the only person on the face of the earth that was like "FUCK YEAAAAAH MAY 4TH NBC UPFRONTS!!!" Come May 4th and there had been no news on Chuck. The internet had been whipped into a fury about a month before when it became clear that Chuck was on the bubble and even television critics were beseeching NBC as well as fans sending in NERDS candy to NBC HQ and purchasing 5 dollar footlongs from Subway (one of Chuck's main sponsors)
Waiting.........
There was no news until a couple days ago. Chuck has been renewed!!!! Before you start whooping and cheering about a victory for the little guy, let me tell you the caveat. Only a 13 episode season with an option for NBC to order a back 9, cut two staff writers, cut the budget, lose one minor-ish actor (though, if you watch Chuck you know they're all indispensible) and that's it. OH WAIT, THEY'RE NOT PUTTING IT ON THE SCHEDULE UNTIL AFTER THE 2010 OLYMPICS (TEN MONTHS FROM NOW). It's some bullshit, but I want Chuck bad enough to put up with some shit and if this is their final season I will be sad, but I will have seen it coming. Who goes from a 13 episode order to a full order the next season? who even gets a next season? (other than dullhouse).
What I find hard to stomach is that Chuck is so much better than Heroes, yet NBC picks up Heroes BEFORE upfronts. I know why they did it, because NBC owns Heroes whereas Chuck is owned by the WB, but still if Heroes is bad television with ever-slipping ratings, why the shit would you even bother?
Oh, and the reason Chuck and all these other shows on NBC were on the bubble? Fucking Jay Leno. He has a 10 o'clock slot now. Give it a rest, Leno. I thought you were funny when I was 14, but now your giggling and repetition of jokes makes me want to drive a rusty nail into my urethra so my anguished screams will drown out your bullshit monologues. What a dick.
I want to finish by telling, not asking, you all to watch Chuck and you won't be disappointed. Maybe if you cut out on of the three episodes of CSI (CSI, CSI MIAMI, CSI: NY) you're watching, you'll give this show a chance.
Oh, and you're safe for this season, Zucker. I'll review your case again next year.
The creator behind Chuck is the prolific Josh Schwartz who has made shows The O.C. and Gossip Girl. I've liked both of those shows until they became utterly convoluted and bad (hey, OC season 3! and to a lesser extent Gossip Girl season 2!) I think JS is like the JJ Abrams of the sexy teen dramedy. He's just gold. But he's never been stronger than he is with Chuck.
As I said before, when I saw Chuck's first episode, I was hooked. Literally counting off the fucking days until Mondays at 8, but I knew that since I loved it so much, someone was going to try and take it from me sooner or later. Now, anyone who watches television knows that Monday's at 8 is the most volatile slot on network television. You're stepping to American Fucking Idol, (and later in the year, HOUSE) and the CBS comedies Big Bang Theory (great show, btw) and How I Met Your Mother (it's okay. love you NPH). American Idol eats competition alive while the general American public applauds, their palms greasy from barefisting hungry man dinners into their perpetually opened maws. Because of the writers strike that happened, Chuck's first season was only 13 or 14 episodes. All good. There were whispers that it would be canceled but thankfully it came back for a full second season. And they took it to the fucking hoop! Every episode was good. I often read the AV club for the television reviews, just to see what they thought, and Chuck episodes rarely fell below an A- or B+. That's an incredible feat. With the show getting rave reviews from everywhere and being featured on critics favorites lists and "top 10 shows you aren't watching" lists (1-10: CHUCK), it would be reasonable to assume the show was going to get picked up for a third season. I mean, it leveled off at about 6.2 million viewers a night, whereas Heroes (a show that used to be good in season 1, not too horrible in season 2 and WTF?! in season 3) only averaged around 6.7 million and had already been renewed. But nooooooo. I'm probably the only person on the face of the earth that was like "FUCK YEAAAAAH MAY 4TH NBC UPFRONTS!!!" Come May 4th and there had been no news on Chuck. The internet had been whipped into a fury about a month before when it became clear that Chuck was on the bubble and even television critics were beseeching NBC as well as fans sending in NERDS candy to NBC HQ and purchasing 5 dollar footlongs from Subway (one of Chuck's main sponsors)
Waiting.........
There was no news until a couple days ago. Chuck has been renewed!!!! Before you start whooping and cheering about a victory for the little guy, let me tell you the caveat. Only a 13 episode season with an option for NBC to order a back 9, cut two staff writers, cut the budget, lose one minor-ish actor (though, if you watch Chuck you know they're all indispensible) and that's it. OH WAIT, THEY'RE NOT PUTTING IT ON THE SCHEDULE UNTIL AFTER THE 2010 OLYMPICS (TEN MONTHS FROM NOW). It's some bullshit, but I want Chuck bad enough to put up with some shit and if this is their final season I will be sad, but I will have seen it coming. Who goes from a 13 episode order to a full order the next season? who even gets a next season? (other than dullhouse).
What I find hard to stomach is that Chuck is so much better than Heroes, yet NBC picks up Heroes BEFORE upfronts. I know why they did it, because NBC owns Heroes whereas Chuck is owned by the WB, but still if Heroes is bad television with ever-slipping ratings, why the shit would you even bother?
Oh, and the reason Chuck and all these other shows on NBC were on the bubble? Fucking Jay Leno. He has a 10 o'clock slot now. Give it a rest, Leno. I thought you were funny when I was 14, but now your giggling and repetition of jokes makes me want to drive a rusty nail into my urethra so my anguished screams will drown out your bullshit monologues. What a dick.
I want to finish by telling, not asking, you all to watch Chuck and you won't be disappointed. Maybe if you cut out on of the three episodes of CSI (CSI, CSI MIAMI, CSI: NY) you're watching, you'll give this show a chance.
Oh, and you're safe for this season, Zucker. I'll review your case again next year.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
having their cake and eating it too.
Don't misunderstand me, I love cake. However, I hate being lied to, or not being lied to so much as duped and made to play the fool. The Fox network strikes me as a brazen company that feeds the buck-toothed American public with the television equivalent of fast food. You've all heard of those bullshit shows like WILDEST COP CHASES CAUGHT ON FILM!!!! It's like, how many more fucking cop chases can I watch? If you've seen one, you've seen them all. Instead of releasing the hotly anticipated CRAZIEST RAPES EVER CAUGHT ON CAMERA!!! they stuck with shows that I feel are very good but have betrayed me this season- House and Bones.
House- House is a good show because House is a genius and a prick. If he were just a genius the show would suck. Anyway, this season was pretty inconsistent altogether but I leapt for joy when House and Cuddy (who, by the way is the finest looking Jewish woman over 40 on television) finally fucked. This was a storyline that had been simmering all season. I had been reading about it all over spoiler sites and blogs (yes, I do love a good spoiler). The episode after they bang sees House trying to get Cuddy to acknowledge their tryst but she doesn't even react. He doesn't understand why until near the very end of the episode when we are made aware that the final, squeal-inducing scenes of the previous episode had all been a fucking hallucination. House and Cuddy didn't have sex, in fact, that whole thing was a hallucination caused by Vicodin addiction.
Fox - 1 Viewer - 0
Bones- Bones has been great this season. The chemistry between Booth (David Boreanaz) and Brennan (Emily Deschanel - GORGEOUS) has been slow building (a couple minutes at the end of each episode is devoted to sort of furthering their love) and incredible. It's obvious these two have strong feelings for one another and they play it in a very believable way. A sex scene between the two was promised this season and hyped and spoiled at least once a week on the blogs. So when Brennan asks Booth to impregnate her, via a sperm sample, he has to confront all these feelings in one of the most touching episodes of television I've ever seen. Soon Booth starts hallucinating - oh, fuck, here we go - and seeing Stewie from Family Guy (another Fox property. Hey, synergy). At the end of the penultimate episode of the season we find out, along with everyone else, that Booth has a brain tumor. Operable and benign. Thank God. It should be noted that I fucking wept during this episode. Cut to the finale, every role is reversed and it's quite obviously a dream. Oh, of course. Anyway, Booth and Brennan are married and very, very in love. There is a sex scene. Oh joy of joys! But we know this cannot last. At the end of the finale, you find out that Brennan has been writing the annoying voice-over that bookends the episode as sort of a love letter to an unconscious Booth. A Booth that has been in a coma for four days, which seems pretty light as far as comas go. Brennan is overjoyed. The man she loves was in danger of dying and now he's awake and fine. Oh, except he's lost his fucking memory. This is a fairly blunt 'game changer.' Something that will invigorate the show with new life. Booth won't remember anything about his love, Bones, until probably halfway through the next season, whereas Bones will suffer and pine for Booth until his memory comes back. Good one, Fox.
Fox - 2 Viewer - 0
This feels like betrayal because they know that fans of this show have been waiting for a Booth/Bones hookup since the beginning of the show and House/Cuddy fans since at least season 3. And the thing is that both shows promised to deliver on the sex in their finales and while they did so, they immediately took away the warm and fuzzy feeling that accompanied it. It's like what's been happening on Smallville since the dawn of time: Clark will expose his secret in one episode and by the end of it he's used a ring to go back in time and never make the same mistake again. The shows offer fans a taste of what things could be like and then yank the rug out from underneath them. It's bullshit. But it's understandable bullshit. I would love Bones even if Booth and Bones hooked up because I'm sure they could make it fresh, but there would be no more anticipation. And without the sexual tension between two main characters in a television show, you may as well hang it up because I think that's what people tune in for. I know that the last few minutes of every episode of Bones is my favorite because it offers the most character exposition and it's where the heart of the show is. Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed and annoyed, but I can also understand it. We all know Booth and Bones will end up together in the end, though the verdict is still out on House and Cuddy.
House- House is a good show because House is a genius and a prick. If he were just a genius the show would suck. Anyway, this season was pretty inconsistent altogether but I leapt for joy when House and Cuddy (who, by the way is the finest looking Jewish woman over 40 on television) finally fucked. This was a storyline that had been simmering all season. I had been reading about it all over spoiler sites and blogs (yes, I do love a good spoiler). The episode after they bang sees House trying to get Cuddy to acknowledge their tryst but she doesn't even react. He doesn't understand why until near the very end of the episode when we are made aware that the final, squeal-inducing scenes of the previous episode had all been a fucking hallucination. House and Cuddy didn't have sex, in fact, that whole thing was a hallucination caused by Vicodin addiction.
Fox - 1 Viewer - 0
Bones- Bones has been great this season. The chemistry between Booth (David Boreanaz) and Brennan (Emily Deschanel - GORGEOUS) has been slow building (a couple minutes at the end of each episode is devoted to sort of furthering their love) and incredible. It's obvious these two have strong feelings for one another and they play it in a very believable way. A sex scene between the two was promised this season and hyped and spoiled at least once a week on the blogs. So when Brennan asks Booth to impregnate her, via a sperm sample, he has to confront all these feelings in one of the most touching episodes of television I've ever seen. Soon Booth starts hallucinating - oh, fuck, here we go - and seeing Stewie from Family Guy (another Fox property. Hey, synergy). At the end of the penultimate episode of the season we find out, along with everyone else, that Booth has a brain tumor. Operable and benign. Thank God. It should be noted that I fucking wept during this episode. Cut to the finale, every role is reversed and it's quite obviously a dream. Oh, of course. Anyway, Booth and Brennan are married and very, very in love. There is a sex scene. Oh joy of joys! But we know this cannot last. At the end of the finale, you find out that Brennan has been writing the annoying voice-over that bookends the episode as sort of a love letter to an unconscious Booth. A Booth that has been in a coma for four days, which seems pretty light as far as comas go. Brennan is overjoyed. The man she loves was in danger of dying and now he's awake and fine. Oh, except he's lost his fucking memory. This is a fairly blunt 'game changer.' Something that will invigorate the show with new life. Booth won't remember anything about his love, Bones, until probably halfway through the next season, whereas Bones will suffer and pine for Booth until his memory comes back. Good one, Fox.
Fox - 2 Viewer - 0
This feels like betrayal because they know that fans of this show have been waiting for a Booth/Bones hookup since the beginning of the show and House/Cuddy fans since at least season 3. And the thing is that both shows promised to deliver on the sex in their finales and while they did so, they immediately took away the warm and fuzzy feeling that accompanied it. It's like what's been happening on Smallville since the dawn of time: Clark will expose his secret in one episode and by the end of it he's used a ring to go back in time and never make the same mistake again. The shows offer fans a taste of what things could be like and then yank the rug out from underneath them. It's bullshit. But it's understandable bullshit. I would love Bones even if Booth and Bones hooked up because I'm sure they could make it fresh, but there would be no more anticipation. And without the sexual tension between two main characters in a television show, you may as well hang it up because I think that's what people tune in for. I know that the last few minutes of every episode of Bones is my favorite because it offers the most character exposition and it's where the heart of the show is. Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed and annoyed, but I can also understand it. We all know Booth and Bones will end up together in the end, though the verdict is still out on House and Cuddy.
Friday, May 8, 2009
the movies i must see this summer make me a douche
My seasonal metamorphosis has begun. Every summer since the dawn of time, I, someone with admittedly un-mainstream (tut tut) tastes, transform into a 'bro' with a deep tan, rippling abs, spiky gelled hair with frosted tips and a barbwire tattoo wrapping around my perpetually bulging bicep. At least, that's what I feel like. And what makes me feel this way is the movies that come out during the summer. For the blissful summer months (May-Sept) I will crave the mainstream. In my youth I used to crave summer movies. My friends and I would get our parents to drive us to go a real summer blockbuster and we would love every single, soul-sucking second of it. These days, someone like myself, someone who has crafted a very singular persona around his tastes, it brings less joy as I am put in the position of the person who says stuff like "Transformers 2 looks fucking sweet," or, "Michael Bay does all right with these movies. Maybe we can forgive him for past mistakes?" Those are things that someone like me should never say. But say it I shall. The reality is that I spend 9 out of the 12 months in a year thinking about the deeper meanings in most of the movies I see. For once I don't want to have to Wiki a movie after I watch it (I'm looking at you, Lynch). There's no fucking way I'm going to Wiki Transformers 2 after I force my friends to come see it with me. I'll never be wondering if the all spark (?) is a metaphor for the inherent darkness of man being foisted on machines. I won't because that's not the goal. The goal is to see shit go boom. And for these 3 glorious months, an explosion will be an explosion. Not a phallic representation of man trying to penetrate Mother Earth. So, without further ado, I present to you my summer movie list.
1. Wolverine - I saw it when it leaked online. It was really bad. Thank god I didn't start off the summer movie season with that piece of shit.
Verdict - Shit
2. Star Trek - I have never been a Star Trek fan, except for when I watched Voyager with my mom. Even then, it wasn't about the Star Trek Universe, it was just about me being young and wanting to watch television with my mother. We also watched the series "Sliders" (it was the first time I ever heard the words "son of a bitch" on the television. I think it was when Jerry O'Connell was punching a dinosaur in the face.) Either way, this movie looks very good and RT agrees with a staggering 94%, making it the highest rated movie in wide release. For now.
Verdict - Really fucking good
3. Terminator Salvation - Seeing anything with Bale these days makes me second-guess myself because I hate it when actors act like douches to the 'little guy'. I see a DP as a little guy in the movie-making process. So while it's true that Bale is seven different kinds of a cunt, this movie has Bryce Dallas Howard. And I love her. Oh, plus it's Terminator. I wonder if it turns out that John Connor is a terminator. That would be stupid. Or it would turn out that without John Connor there would be no resistance, but there would also be no SkyNet. I really enjoyed all three movies (but the graphics in 1 made me shudder) and the now-canceled television show, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. AFTERTHOUGHT: Can we trust McG? I remain dubious.
Verdict - Sukt
4. UP - You can just never go wrong with Pixar. These mofos hit the mark everytime. Even with oddball premises like WALL-E, the plot of which I didn't even know until it was unfolding on the screen. WALL-E, to my surprise, turned out to be one of the most touching movies I've ever seen.
5. The Hangover - A lot of 'bros' are excited about this and so am I. It looks really fucking funny. You can never go wrong with Galifinakis and a baby duo. Look for the buddy cop sequel starring those two to come out next summer. All kidding aside, whichever company is putting this out already ordered a sequel. BEFORE IT OPENED. That's fucking confidence.
6. The Proposal - Anyone who knows me knows I love a good rom-com. Shit, I even love a bad rom-com. This looks to be a middling rom-com. Look for me to be there with my dick tucked in, just to blend in with the crowd.
7. Year One - Not a huge fan of Black, though I enjoyed School Of Rock. The big thing here is Cera. I want to see if he's growing as an actor. He has two of my favorite series' film adaptations coming out later this year (Scott Pilgrim and Youth in Revolt). In both of those movies he plays against his stereotypical awkward shy, guy-with-a-heart-of-gold unsuspecting hero. From what I've seen he doesn't really seem to break that mold. It'll still be worth seeing.
8. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen - I just really want to see this movie. Shia is always watchable and Michael Bay is always good for an explosion or two...zillion. He`s really funny, too. You should check out his twitter. I find Megan Fox annoying, but hot in a slutty way. Rainn Wilson is also in it, so there`s some mild indie cred. This movie also sees the parents becoming more involved and realizing Sam`s sort of destiny and all these insane things he does with cars that are sentient. The part where he goes crazy at school after touching that shard looks immensely enjoyable. I`ll be smiling the entire time.
9. Public Enemies - What I said about Bale stands, but I won`t let him drag Depp down. I haven`t really been looking forward to this, but I am interested to see what it`s about. Because, believe it or not, I haven`t read any shit about it. Ever.
10. Bruno - Borat was good, but hearing everyone talk in a gay-boy voice all summer and well into 2010 is going to be a fucking pain in the ass.
11. I Love You, Beth Cooper - Funny book. I don`t know about the actors they chose, but Hayden Panettiere is okay. What I`m trying to say is that I would stick it in her, given the opportunity.
12. (500) Days of Summer - Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt in a romantic drama...yes please! It will be the only vaguely independent movie I see all summer in the theater. Look for Zooey to play Zooey, as per usual.
13. Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince - I literally started foaming at the mouth during the trailers. The WB are a wild pack of cocksuckers for pushing this back so far, but I doubt I will have any hard feelings while watching it, other than the hard feeling in my pants. Seriously, this looks really good. It`s the only summer movie I will attend a midnight screening for.
14. Funny People - I am excited to see all these funny people in one place. Seth Rogen, Jason Schwartzman, Jonah Hill and Aziz Ansari (who is my friend on facebook!), are all very, very funny. But Adam Sandler is a wildcard. He could ruin the movie or he could just detract from it slightly. Nice to see Eric Bana branching out from the Hulk and a murderous Jew.
15. GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra - I can`t even explain why I want to see this. It will probably be very bad. Although, I do want to see Joseph Gordon-Levitt in it. They`ve kept the look of his character very secret.
16. The Time Traveler`s Wife - I haven`t read the book, but I want to. It looks interesting, at least.
17. Inglourious Basterds - Eager to see anything by QT that has Brad Pitt playing something other than a hunky guy put in a weird situation where he can be very good-looking. Fuck you, Pitt!
There you have it. The 17 stages of my metamorphosis. Come Septemeber we can have deep discussions about the merits of Japanese Cinema vs the superficial, morally desiccated Western Cinema.
1. Wolverine - I saw it when it leaked online. It was really bad. Thank god I didn't start off the summer movie season with that piece of shit.
Verdict - Shit
2. Star Trek - I have never been a Star Trek fan, except for when I watched Voyager with my mom. Even then, it wasn't about the Star Trek Universe, it was just about me being young and wanting to watch television with my mother. We also watched the series "Sliders" (it was the first time I ever heard the words "son of a bitch" on the television. I think it was when Jerry O'Connell was punching a dinosaur in the face.) Either way, this movie looks very good and RT agrees with a staggering 94%, making it the highest rated movie in wide release. For now.
Verdict - Really fucking good
3. Terminator Salvation - Seeing anything with Bale these days makes me second-guess myself because I hate it when actors act like douches to the 'little guy'. I see a DP as a little guy in the movie-making process. So while it's true that Bale is seven different kinds of a cunt, this movie has Bryce Dallas Howard. And I love her. Oh, plus it's Terminator. I wonder if it turns out that John Connor is a terminator. That would be stupid. Or it would turn out that without John Connor there would be no resistance, but there would also be no SkyNet. I really enjoyed all three movies (but the graphics in 1 made me shudder) and the now-canceled television show, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. AFTERTHOUGHT: Can we trust McG? I remain dubious.
Verdict - Sukt
4. UP - You can just never go wrong with Pixar. These mofos hit the mark everytime. Even with oddball premises like WALL-E, the plot of which I didn't even know until it was unfolding on the screen. WALL-E, to my surprise, turned out to be one of the most touching movies I've ever seen.
5. The Hangover - A lot of 'bros' are excited about this and so am I. It looks really fucking funny. You can never go wrong with Galifinakis and a baby duo. Look for the buddy cop sequel starring those two to come out next summer. All kidding aside, whichever company is putting this out already ordered a sequel. BEFORE IT OPENED. That's fucking confidence.
6. The Proposal - Anyone who knows me knows I love a good rom-com. Shit, I even love a bad rom-com. This looks to be a middling rom-com. Look for me to be there with my dick tucked in, just to blend in with the crowd.
7. Year One - Not a huge fan of Black, though I enjoyed School Of Rock. The big thing here is Cera. I want to see if he's growing as an actor. He has two of my favorite series' film adaptations coming out later this year (Scott Pilgrim and Youth in Revolt). In both of those movies he plays against his stereotypical awkward shy, guy-with-a-heart-of-gold unsuspecting hero. From what I've seen he doesn't really seem to break that mold. It'll still be worth seeing.
8. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen - I just really want to see this movie. Shia is always watchable and Michael Bay is always good for an explosion or two...zillion. He`s really funny, too. You should check out his twitter. I find Megan Fox annoying, but hot in a slutty way. Rainn Wilson is also in it, so there`s some mild indie cred. This movie also sees the parents becoming more involved and realizing Sam`s sort of destiny and all these insane things he does with cars that are sentient. The part where he goes crazy at school after touching that shard looks immensely enjoyable. I`ll be smiling the entire time.
9. Public Enemies - What I said about Bale stands, but I won`t let him drag Depp down. I haven`t really been looking forward to this, but I am interested to see what it`s about. Because, believe it or not, I haven`t read any shit about it. Ever.
10. Bruno - Borat was good, but hearing everyone talk in a gay-boy voice all summer and well into 2010 is going to be a fucking pain in the ass.
11. I Love You, Beth Cooper - Funny book. I don`t know about the actors they chose, but Hayden Panettiere is okay. What I`m trying to say is that I would stick it in her, given the opportunity.
12. (500) Days of Summer - Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt in a romantic drama...yes please! It will be the only vaguely independent movie I see all summer in the theater. Look for Zooey to play Zooey, as per usual.
13. Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince - I literally started foaming at the mouth during the trailers. The WB are a wild pack of cocksuckers for pushing this back so far, but I doubt I will have any hard feelings while watching it, other than the hard feeling in my pants. Seriously, this looks really good. It`s the only summer movie I will attend a midnight screening for.
14. Funny People - I am excited to see all these funny people in one place. Seth Rogen, Jason Schwartzman, Jonah Hill and Aziz Ansari (who is my friend on facebook!), are all very, very funny. But Adam Sandler is a wildcard. He could ruin the movie or he could just detract from it slightly. Nice to see Eric Bana branching out from the Hulk and a murderous Jew.
15. GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra - I can`t even explain why I want to see this. It will probably be very bad. Although, I do want to see Joseph Gordon-Levitt in it. They`ve kept the look of his character very secret.
16. The Time Traveler`s Wife - I haven`t read the book, but I want to. It looks interesting, at least.
17. Inglourious Basterds - Eager to see anything by QT that has Brad Pitt playing something other than a hunky guy put in a weird situation where he can be very good-looking. Fuck you, Pitt!
There you have it. The 17 stages of my metamorphosis. Come Septemeber we can have deep discussions about the merits of Japanese Cinema vs the superficial, morally desiccated Western Cinema.
Monday, May 4, 2009
get your subversive social commentary out of my pornography! or...wait...
Whenever I troll the darkened alleyways of the internet in search of illicit materials I am looking for a relatively quick, ultimately empty physical release. I am not looking to laugh, to cry or to even think. My range of thought when viewing pornography should be limited to "wow, this is a really long web address to type with one hand." That's why whenever a piece of smut makes me stop and ponder the 'deeper meaning' of sexual intercourse, I know it has failed me. I came across such a 'film' a little while ago and it has stuck with me. It was the funniest, saddest and most ironic piece of porn I've ever seen. Though, that kind of title is not hard to attain. The jokes in porn are along the lines of, and I think I may be quoting directly here:
"Knock knock"
"Who's there?"
"Suck my dick."
(Cue porn music)
The porn I saw is funniest when viewed as the most ironic porn ever made, full of middle to lower class social commentary and it is saddest when viewed as two bored people fucking. I'll provide you with a vivid description and let you share in my pain.
It takes place in a bedroom that is painfully 90's. The carpet is dark green and comforter on the double bed has a big floral print splashed across it. A handycam, through which all of this is viewed, is set up in the corner of the room, focused on the bed. Enter the moderately attractive middle-aged wife. She takes her clothes off. Her body is okay but she should have been shorn, much as a sheep is, before the filming of this. She gets onto the bed. The springs whine, realizing what is forthcoming. Enter the husband. Undoubtedly dressed in his Sunday best: a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He pulls his sweatpants off and the wife sucks his dick. After a fairly boring blowjob, he tells her to bend over. Fuck reciprocation. I feel for the husband, though, as finding the clitoris would have been a needle in a haystack scenario. Here's where the shit starts to unravel. He grabs the remote for the tv (off camera) and turns it on. All right, now they can fuck. He puts it in her and she gamely receives him. (I got that last sentence off the description of an unrelated video and thought it was hilarious because gamely means heroically. Who heroically takes a dick?) The television isn't really a factor until your consciousness picks up on it. The voice is eerily familiar. Whose voice is that? If you guess the guy that narrated the 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous' then you would be correct. So while these two painfully middle-class people are fucking, they are both watching--honestly their eyes rarely leave the direction of the screen--a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous episode itemizing every posession Arnold Schwarzanegger owns. His garage--no doubt larger than the fucking couples house--is being narrated as the man comes.
The juxtaposition is haunting.
Afterward, the man pulls out of his wife, pulls up his sweatpants and continues to watch the show.
Note to the internet: I don't want to be depressed when I'm looking at porn. Thanks.
"Knock knock"
"Who's there?"
"Suck my dick."
(Cue porn music)
The porn I saw is funniest when viewed as the most ironic porn ever made, full of middle to lower class social commentary and it is saddest when viewed as two bored people fucking. I'll provide you with a vivid description and let you share in my pain.
It takes place in a bedroom that is painfully 90's. The carpet is dark green and comforter on the double bed has a big floral print splashed across it. A handycam, through which all of this is viewed, is set up in the corner of the room, focused on the bed. Enter the moderately attractive middle-aged wife. She takes her clothes off. Her body is okay but she should have been shorn, much as a sheep is, before the filming of this. She gets onto the bed. The springs whine, realizing what is forthcoming. Enter the husband. Undoubtedly dressed in his Sunday best: a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He pulls his sweatpants off and the wife sucks his dick. After a fairly boring blowjob, he tells her to bend over. Fuck reciprocation. I feel for the husband, though, as finding the clitoris would have been a needle in a haystack scenario. Here's where the shit starts to unravel. He grabs the remote for the tv (off camera) and turns it on. All right, now they can fuck. He puts it in her and she gamely receives him. (I got that last sentence off the description of an unrelated video and thought it was hilarious because gamely means heroically. Who heroically takes a dick?) The television isn't really a factor until your consciousness picks up on it. The voice is eerily familiar. Whose voice is that? If you guess the guy that narrated the 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous' then you would be correct. So while these two painfully middle-class people are fucking, they are both watching--honestly their eyes rarely leave the direction of the screen--a Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous episode itemizing every posession Arnold Schwarzanegger owns. His garage--no doubt larger than the fucking couples house--is being narrated as the man comes.
The juxtaposition is haunting.
Afterward, the man pulls out of his wife, pulls up his sweatpants and continues to watch the show.
Note to the internet: I don't want to be depressed when I'm looking at porn. Thanks.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
blogs are weird.
As a scion of the internet era, it would stand to reason that I own and operate a blog. In fact, in starting this blog, I leave my first blog in my wake. If I focus I can see it off in the distance, wheezing and malnourished. It was a twisted experiment in the vein of Frankenstein's monster. It was the dreaded music blog. A fucking music blog. My mom has a fucking music blog now. My dogs have music blogs. There is nothing to be had in a music blog. You post a link and maybe a little description of what you think about the album above. It is a thankless and possibly dangerous profession-- I'm sure you've all heard of the guy who posted the Guns et Roses album and the FBI sunk his fucking battleship. What a horrible thing to go to jail for. To be sodomized day in and day out for posting a middling piece of fucking shit is to languish in some hell I can only dream about. After repeated e-mails from the semi-polite and vaguely threatening WEBSHERRIF, I decided enough was enough. Fuck the WEBSHERRIF and fuck my music blog. However, I should note that I still love music blogs like bolachas and iamrare, but it just isn't for me. I'll leave it to the professionals with premium rapidshare accounts and an unerring sense of moral justice.
There is something strange about blogging without links to music preceded by superficial thoughts about said linked music. There were very few personal posts on my wretched music blog. If you think about it, blogs that aren't about music are about--for better or worse-- the author. I am free to blog about puppies, my favorite recipes for vegan eggnog or how tough it is to retain my sense of uniquity as a middle-aged housewife deteriorating in suburbia. They are diaries 2.0. Fuck pen and paper. There are no tiny heart-shaped locks on this blog. No equally tiny keys (that always get lost). There is no fear of repercussion because you don't know me. If someone were to find a physical diary, say, in my room, then some shit would go down because they would know the author and they would read all the mean things I had to say about them. I'm hoisting the blessed anonymity of the internet as one may hoist a shield. From behind this shield I am not only able to, but prepared to scream about all the shit that flows through my physiologically sound, psychologically disturbed mind. Let this blog be your conduit to someone far more interesting, unique, handsome, and generally pissed off than you are--me.
There is something strange about blogging without links to music preceded by superficial thoughts about said linked music. There were very few personal posts on my wretched music blog. If you think about it, blogs that aren't about music are about--for better or worse-- the author. I am free to blog about puppies, my favorite recipes for vegan eggnog or how tough it is to retain my sense of uniquity as a middle-aged housewife deteriorating in suburbia. They are diaries 2.0. Fuck pen and paper. There are no tiny heart-shaped locks on this blog. No equally tiny keys (that always get lost). There is no fear of repercussion because you don't know me. If someone were to find a physical diary, say, in my room, then some shit would go down because they would know the author and they would read all the mean things I had to say about them. I'm hoisting the blessed anonymity of the internet as one may hoist a shield. From behind this shield I am not only able to, but prepared to scream about all the shit that flows through my physiologically sound, psychologically disturbed mind. Let this blog be your conduit to someone far more interesting, unique, handsome, and generally pissed off than you are--me.
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