So I’m the Asshole!
Category: Pets and Animals

A few months back, on a hot sweaty humid August day, I stopped at a rest stop on my way to a horror convention to snag a pee and something to snack on.  What I found instead pissed me off beyond belief...

... a cute little dog locked in an SUV with all four windows opened a crack.  And no, the car wasn't running.

I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of man and took my pee and got my snack.  Sitting by the window, watching not only the time ticking on by but the dog barking it's head off in the sweltering SUV.  I could feel my body stiffen and tense as five minutes became ten, and then ten became fifteen.  Fifteen minutes and no one has come out to give the dog water or take him out.  Fifteen minutes in a sweltering car on bright sunny summer day where the temperature outside was 92 degrees.

Fifteen minutes became thirty-five minutes and finally someone went over the SUV.

Did she bring her dog water?  No.
Did she take the dog out of the SUV?  No.
Did she turn the SUV on and crank the A/C?  No.
Did she get in and drive off while I choked her to death in my mind?  No.

So what the hell DID she do?

Nothing.  Pet the dog a couple of times and went back inside to rejoin her dim-witted travel companions.

I had had enough.  I walked over and said how nice for you to be sitting in the cool A/C while your dog is sweating his ass off in your car while you stuff your face and sit on your fat ass... you could have at least brought him something to drink.

And the woman, I will never forget this, said to me...
WHAT ARE YOU FROM PETA?

I blinked once, fighting the urge to bludgeon her to death with candy bar wrapper, and said... if I were from PETA I would have your ass arrested for animal cruelty you fucking jackass... how about I stuff your head in a hundred degree oven for half an hour and see how YOU like it...

At this point I was pissed beyond belief and contemplated calling someone on the neglectful travelers.  I made my way to the door and one of the other traveling companions jumped in front of me and said....

... you're an asshole!

I blinked once.

I'M THE ASSHOLE?  I'm not the one torturing my dog.  YOU are.  That makes you a cruel, sadistic, ASSHOLE... and your ugly wife too.

He repeated... you're an asshole!

I wanted him to hit me.  I did.  I admit it.  I wanted an excuse to break his 1980 Elton John glasses and shove his ugly wife's head, she really was aesthetically challeneged, into the garbage. 

Someone, however, intervened and pulled the man out of my way.

As I opened the door and heard from behind me...
yes... yet again....

YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!

I shot back, without even turning... If it makes me an asshole to say something when someone else is clearly abusing an animal without care or concern, then yes... I'M THE ASSHOLE.


People never cease to amaze me.  How many children, animals, and adults have to die in cars before they stop leaving their supposedly loved ones behind to die?  How many?  It's fucking crazy.  It was 35 MINUTES that I was there.  Who knows how long they were there before that.  Clearly the dog wasn't happy-he was barking non-stop.  And other people were annoyed as well.  People walked past the SUV, looked around, and shook their heads in disdain.  They just didn't know who to direct their anger and rage at... I did.  And I did.  So if that makes me an asshole, so be it.  But I'll tell you what, minutes later they got in their SUV and left.  I'm sure they turned the A/C on when they got in to cool THEMSELVES down, so at least the innocent little dog FINALLY got to cool off a little.  Unfortunately he still had to go home with the real assholes. 

I guess it is true-we can't pick our parents!

As a P.S. to this blog, if you scan the on-line news headlines you should find one most appropriate: "Toddler left in hot car outside Hooters dies". 

People just never learn...  how sad.

10:08 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

"SEED" never grows into anything memorable
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

Poor Uwe Boll.  He has a reputation more notorious than angora sweater wearing late Ed Wood Jr.

I've always given Boll credit for two reasons:
1) He does what he wants to do: make movies.  How many of us can say that?
2) He does what he wants seemingly not caring what critics or filmgoers say.

Now giving Boll credit and liking his films are two very different things.  As a director he's not exactly the most shall we say gifted.  However, as a writer, he's almost incapable of telling a coherent narrative let alone an interesting one.

Case in point: "SEED".

I had the... misfortune, extreme misfortune I should say, of catching SEED over the weekend at the NYC Horror Film Festival.  Going into it I knew pretty much what to expect from a Uwe Boll movie having agonizingly sat through House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark and Blood Rayne (yes, I enjoy torturing myself... thank you sir, may I have another?).  However, SEED took away the one once of respect I had for Boll for doing things his way. 

SEED is one of the most irresponsible films I have ever seen.  From internet chatter Boll wanted to make a tasteless horror film; one so disturbing that it gets under your skin.  Well, Mr. Boll, you achieved that goal but not for the reasons you think.

SEED opens with nearly FIVE MINUTES of REAL footage of extreme animal cruelty and torture.

I'll say that again in case you missed it the first time.

SEED opens with nearly FIVE MINUTES of REAL footage of extreme animal cruelty and torture.

Is it disturbing?  Does it get under your skin?  You bet.
Does it have anything to do with the plot?  Absolutely not.

Now some Bollheads have defended his choice of using this extreme footage to show that while SEED is only a movie there are real horrors in the world, and that man is the real monster inflicting horror.  Ummm... yeah and?  Like we didn't already know that?  And was showing animals being skinned alive screaming and being kicked and stepped on half dead the only way he could think of to show this?

I wanted to leave the theatre thirty seconds in.  I SHOULD have left the theatre thirty seconds in.  Those images are now forever burned in my head.  I can still hear the screams and whimpers.  Now if SEED were a movie about animal cruelty and torture that would be a good thing.

SEED is not.

What followed the first five minutes was 85 minutes of a typical Uwe Boll movie.  Convoluted story that often makes little to no sense, spotty acting, and horrendous pacing.  The rest of the film is hardly memorable.  SEED will prove to do more for PETA than for Boll.

The been there done that story of SEED involves a nasty serial killer that starves dogs, women and children to death and videotapes the deaths until the corpses are rotted to dust and eaten by maggots.  Said serial killer, named Seed, is caught on a rainy night at an isolated farm house in a scene where it's often so dark you can't make a thing out other than flashlight beams moving around.  Several cops are killed in the capture, but again its often too dark to see how.  Instead we're treated to the sound of someone chomping down on Rice Crispy Treats instead.  Ooooohhhh..... scarrryyyyyyyy...

So, Seed is caught by former Eddie and the Cruisers Michael Pare way too easily.  Seed just cut through about five cops without breaking a sweat... at least I don't think he did... it was too dark to tell... But then Michael enters with I guess superhuman powers because he takes Seed down pretty easily.  As an interesting side note, if you watch carefully Seed himself grows taller and wider, shrinks a bit, grows taller again, and then shrinks again.  I kid you not.  How many actors played Seed?

Anyway back to the plot.  Are you still awake?  So now Seed is captured and sitting in jail.  His execution day arrives and apparently the Warden's request for a new electric chair has fallen on deaf ears because he's still using the 1969 model.  So they set Seed up in the outdated not so stylish electric chair and try to fry his ass... once..... twice..... three times a lady.... no, two times.  Apparently if you try three times and the prisoner lives, they are set free. 

Let's look at that again.  If you try to fry a prisoner's ass three times and he lives, they are set free.

THAT sounds like an interesting premise for a movie.  Sadly, it's not the premise of this movie even though that little three strikes and you're out rule was told to us via supertitle after we sat through whimpering animals.

So after two times of flicking the switches Seed still lives.  The warden, doctor, electrocutioner and cop who caught Seed all decide to tell spectators that Seed is dead so they wouldn't have to risk him surviving the third jolt and walking.

Seed is then bound in a rope knot an infant could get out of and buried alive. 

Right now you should be thinking what we all were thinking... why didn't they just shoot him in the head to be sure he was... you know, dead?  Well, kiddies, then we wouldn't have another hour of SEED to watch.

Seed... you guessed it.... claws his way out of his own grave and kills the warden, the electrocutioner and doctor all in one night.  These kills were easier to see as the lights were actually turned on here. 

So, examining the kills.  Were they brutal almost snuff-like?  Were they so disturbing that you had to look away?  Nope.  Not at all.  Standard paint by numbers here.  The kills don't compare to the most grisly SAW or HOSTEL scenes.  So right there Boll failed at his ultimate goal: to make a nasty, grisly horror film.

Three down, and Eddie and the Cruisers Michael Pare is the only one left. 

SIX MONTHS later... what the hell is he waiting for? 

Seed has been up to his old tricks and the press apparently thinks its a copy cat since the world believes the real Seed to be dead.  But we, and Michael Pare, know the truth.

So I guess Pare is looking for Seed but all we ever really see him doing is reading newspaper clippings I can only assume he cut out himself so why is he re-reading and re-reading them?

Anyhow, next we are treated to a truly bizarre scene.  Seed has some random woman tied to a chair and toys with her with some kind of hammer.  Then he bashes her head in for about two to three minutes.... we, the viewer, however are standing about fifteen to twenty feet away so all we can really see is bad CGI.  The scene has no impact what so ever.  After awhile it is just boring and repetitious.  We don't know this woman so we don't have anything invested in her and without even ONE close up or medium shot we can't see her fear... or pain.  It's actually an embarrassing scene that falls horribly flat.

We're now closing in on our big finale.  Seed kidnaps poor Michael Pare's wife and kid.  Michael pursues Seed to... the old farmhouse.  Michael gets trapped in a large room much like the ones we saw earlier in the slow rot scenes.  A tv and video camera turn on.  Michael can see and hear his wife and child.  They can see and hear him too.  Seed wants him to kill himself and he'll let wifeypoo and kiddiepoo go.  Michael says no.  Seed kills wifeypoo with a nail gun.  Michael kills himself.  Seeds locks kiddiepoo in the same room as her brains freshly blown out Michael-daddypoo.  End.

Interestingly, the movie is set in 1979.  The Seed killings take place I believe from 1973-1979.  So I'd like to know how he has a VHS camera that he can rig up real-time to record his victims dying slowly and allow Michael to talk to his wife and daughter.  I know we were still shooting our home movies on super 8mm until well into the 1980s when VHS cams were more widespread and affordable.  Seed, I don't think, had a job making big bucks.

Anyway, the credits rolled and those of us who sat through it at the festival were silent and giggled at how utterly atrocious this film was.  I lamented the waste of time and how those upsetting animal torture scenes were still in my head.  The rest of the movie was pretty much forgotten as soon as I put my coat on but like taking a swig of sour milk I had a bad taste in my mouth.

SEED is easily one of the worst movies I have ever seen.  However, what makes it truly tasteless is those opening five minutes.  Without them, there would be nothing to talk about but the logic problems and inconsistencies and gaping plot holes.  It would be, in other words, a movie by Uwe Boll.  However, by including those five minutes it becomes something else entirely-an utterly tasteless exercise in irresponsible filmmakingr by a man not qualified to direct a kindergarten school play. 

I gave Uwe Boll credit.  He did what he loved, how he wanted to, telling the world to go scratch. 

Now I have no respect for Uwe Boll.  There were a hundred other ways to show that either our violent exhibitionist/voyeuristic society creates its own monsters like Seed or that the real world is full of real horrors other than showing people torturing defenseless animals.  There was an interesting glimmer of an idea in Seed, a society by its own laws having to release one of its monsters back into the populus.  But Boll, lacking any real vision as a filmmaker or writer blows it all... again.  In the hands of a better writer and director maybe it could have worked though I suspect anyone with half a brain would have dropped the animal footage.

Boll should serve as an inspiration to everyone.  If a complete moron like this can make movies that get shown in major film festivals, ANYTHING is possible.

Avoid SEED like the plague.  And if you choose to see it and skip the first five minutes, you too will find yourself trying to re-grow the brain cells that jumped to their death while you watched it.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

8:00 AM - 4 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

The Road I Travel
Category: Writing and Poetry

I have traveled this road step by agonizing step for most of my life.  Really, for as long as I can remember.  Push on, keep your head above water, stay strong... but in the end, where does it go, this road that I am traveling?

Will there be a light at the end of a tunnel, or eternal black?  Old friends, new friends, or no one at all?  Will I find a small country cottage by a deep blue sea, a crisp Irish wind dancing through my hair... and inside a roaring fire, the intoxicating aroma of slow cooked meal to tease my senses, and a book with all the answers to every question I have ever pondered or amused myself with to pass the long hours sitting innocently on a small wooden desk lit by a single reading lamp?  Or will it be the book of my life...my triumphs and my failures brilliantly captured for all to review and relive at their leisure?  Perhaps it will be a big old leather bound journal brimming with yellowed blank pages inside waiting to be filled with the stories of a life, waiting to be made alive.

     That is where I am on this road, waiting to be brought to life.  Sure, in the strictest sense I live... my heart beats, my lungs inhale and exhale the air around me, my mouth tastes the food I need to sustain myself... but it is mechanical, like a strange sort of life support while I wander in a perpetual dream state.  How can I wake up when staying asleep is so...seductive?

In my sleepened state I dream often of places I've been, people I've known now gone, and of days many sunsets passed.  Once in a while it's of this moment, here and now.  I sit beside my sleeping self and stare at him.  They are the me I am and the me I want to be, still so cruelly separate.  When I wake, the me I want to be is gone and I am still just the me I am now.

     There are no forks along this road.  It just keeps going forward far beyond what my eyes can see.  Sometimes the path is rocky, unsure and dangerous.  Other times it's soft and gentle like fine blades of fresh spring grass.  How can I know the way one minute and an instant later be lost in a ferocious thunderstorm of my own confusion?  Where is the omniscient weather person to warn me of the perils ahead and to take an umbrella?  Or to watch out for falling rocks?  And that the bridge freezes before the road?  Maybe that there's a fog zone ahead?  There is no one.  I walk this road alone, and with nothing to protect me from the horrors that hide deep in the woods or the wake of nature's own fury.
    
     There are times in the middle of my storms I find the eye of the storm.  There it is calm...peaceful... profoundly and darkly beautiful.  It is there that I see flashes of light, the most intense, awe inspiring, spirit soaring flashes of radiant light.  I am suddenly filled with hope as petty doubts and fears creep back under the rocks of my imagination.  My soul is recharged.  I am a new me, not quite the me I am desperate to be, the one that fights and struggles to make it to the surface, but he is close... very close.

There, in those flashes of light I can see it all... what lies at the end of this long hard road... what it is all for, this journey... what waits for me... what I am, what I am meant to become... is all there, plainly before my weary eyes as well as all the false starts, false prophets and panaceas, and ultimate failures whose memories are now washed from my skin in the stillness of the eye.  It is in that moment I find what I long for the most, serenity.  Absolute and complete serenity.  It wraps itself around me and pulls me in a tight embrace, drowning me in its delirium.  I have found my way.  I have found me.

     And then, as has happened countless times before, the eye of the storm closes and darkness returns.  The warm soothing tears of serenity are replaced with the cold and icy sting of the rain.  And it's just me, this me...the me I am now... brought again to my knees in the rain.

     And so I continue to walk down this road I travel, growing tired and weary as the two prizes I seek continue to elude me so painfully.  Are they out there somewhere along this desolate stretch of road as I need to believe?

     Sometimes I think if I run as fast as I can I will catch up to them again.  I convince myself that I do in fact see them, faintly, ahead of me not so great a distance that I can't catch up but just far enough to elude and tease me.  But I am so tired.  My legs tremble with each step.  I have to slow down and rest.  When I stop to rest, even for a second, they are gone again.  Will we ever meet, or is it just in the foolish dream of a boy inside a scarred man that they exist at all?

     The road I travel is long, and grows longer.  I am no longer a boy, though not yet old.  But I am getting tired of walking, so very tired.  I travel this road in faith, believing if I walk far enough I will find some place better.  I travel this road in fear, scared to stand still and settle for being the man I am today.  I travel this road in reverence, for those in whose steps I follow.  Though I am weak, broken, and scared I will continue to walk down this road I travel.  I will walk until I have to crawl...I will crawl until I have to pull myself along... I will pull myself along until I have nothing left to carry me home.  I will walk this road to the end.

                    © 2007 Ought2bCommitted Productions RJC

4:30 PM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Have the time?
Category: Writing and Poetry

Time-
to let go,
to move on,
to stop looking back,
to heal,
to grow,
to change,
to forgive but never forget,
to seek,
to be sought,
to dream big,
to be dreamt of,
to scream,
to cry,
to fall to my knees,
to get up again,
to repeat over and over until my knees bleed,
to laugh about the silliness of it all,
to think,
to ponder,
to ask the really important questions,
to reminisce,
to say hello,
to mouth good-bye,
to kiss,
to shake hands,
to wave,
to walk,
to run,
to stand still for a moment,
to look,
to see,
to take in,
to understand,
to be lost,
to be found,
to be lost again,
to want,
to need,
to get,
to lose,
to get back,
to lose again,
to make mistakes,
to learn from them,
to make them again,
to do something good,
to aspire to something great,
to end up doing something bad,
to feel bad,
to punish,
to serve your time,
to make a promise,
to break it,
to seek redemption,
to fall apart,
to come together,
to find yourself,
to lose yourself in someone else,
to find yourself again,
to not like what you find,
to make a friend,
to betray a friend,
to say you're sorry,
to mean it,
to realize its too late,
to take action,
to be a force of change,
to start with yourself,
to put someone else first,
to go hungry so someone else may feast,
to abstain,
to refrain,
to remain,
to close your eyes,
to stare at the sun,
to see spots before your eyes,
to wish on a star,
to talk until dawn,
to listen to the silence,
to talk,
to confess,
to reveal yourself,
to accept,
to deny,
to face,
to hide,
to find happiness,
to destroy it,
to save,
to be saved,
to love,
to be loved,
to touch,
to be touched,
to stop,
to start,
to know everything,
to forget it all,
to grow old,
to grow young.

Time-
never seems to be enough to go around.

10:16 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

NO MORE
Category: Writing and Poetry

8:33 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

A Goodbye to Bob Clark, R.I.P.
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

I've always enjoyed the films of Bob Clark.  In many ways, they were a rite of passage for myself and others in my generation.

As a director he fascinated me for not staying with any one genre for terribly long.  He wasn't afraid to branch out and take chances in other genres.  From horror to the raunchy comedy to nostalgic yuletide family movies, he truly ran from one extreme to the other seemingly with both ease and adeptness.  That truly takes talent.

Bob Clark's "Black Christmas" is trly the grandpappy of the slasher genre.  It was ahead of its time, inventing many of the iconic images and cinematic trademarks that we have come to know and love about the slasher genre.  All you have to do is look at "Black Christmas" to see which later films were inspired by it.  You'll easily recognize a few without even trying.

Bob made us laugh until it hurt with "Porky's".  Did he invent the raunchy comedy?  Probably not, but he certainly took it to new levels of comedic lows.  Would there have been an "American Pie" without "Porky's"?  I doubt it.  If you are of my generation, "Porky's" was one of "those" movies you talked about with both utter lust and delirious curiousity if you had not seen it.  We would gather at someone's house who folks were either not home or didn't care that a gang of pre-pubescent boys were watching titties to watch "Porky's" in a wide eyed erotica induced silence that was broken only by the sound of our laughter.

With "A Christmas Story" Bob reminded us of seemingly simpler times and made us wistful about being a kid all over again.  Who couldn't relate to Ralphie on some level, who didn't want a gift at one time that everyone said was too dangerous to have?  You'll shoot your eye out, kid!  Indeed.  I adore this film most of all his films.  I absolutely cherish it, know every line by heart, and watch it several times a year-not just during the "24 HOURS OF A CHRISTMAS STORY" marathon.  It always makes me laugh and forget about my problems or whatever is bringing me down at the moment.  That's a truly great film, one that can still evoke a response on its hundredth viewing.  That's genius.

Bob made us scared of ringing phones and Christmas trees, undead corpses, made us laugh until it hurt over the perverted exploits of Pee Wee and crew and their "tallywackers", and made us warm and fuzzy all over again for the holiday he once butchered (pun intended).  He will be truly missed.

Thanks for the memories, Bob!  You were a huge part of my childhood and I'll never forget your films, or the first time I saw them.  They are memories I will always cherish.

Rest In Peace.

6:12 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Your favorite show? CANCELLED!
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

Have you ever had problems finding your favorite and not so favorite shows because the networks love to play the hokie pokie juggling shows seemingly almost every week?  Have you ever tuned in faithfully to see the second part to a cliffhanger of an episode only to find out your show is not on tonight, or tomorrow night... hmmm... is it on again at all? How many times have you gotten really into a show only to then find out five episodes in it's been cancelled? 

I've been a victim, yes VICTIM, of all of the above; sadly, more than once.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice...

I want to like TV, really I do; but I just have no faith in the networks anymore to deliver the goods.  And really, how can any of us?  Why do we bother?  I'm not sure myself.  I guess it's a case of wishful thinking.

The first thought I have when I see a promo for new show that appeals to me--it's going to get cancelled.  Law of averages: if I like a show there's an 80% chance it will get cancelled before 8 episodes have even aired.  Eight episodes.  Eight hours.  And that's out of about 22-24 episodes.  Not even half-way through.  Not nearly enough time for a story to really get going or for a show to really build viewership.

It doesn't seem fair to me, does it to you?  The networks tease us with their goods, flaunting them like a cheap hooker-COME WATCH OUR SHOW, FORGET WHAT THE HOOKER ON THE CORNER IS OFFERING, WE'RE THE REAL DEAL!  And we fall for it.  All of us.  Time and time again.  We get suckered into watching something, liking it, maybe loving it, getting hooked or even just enjoying it as a time passer and then BOOM!  Sorry folks, your show has been cancelled. 

I think the networks should be obligated to keep a show on to run its course for an entire season at least.  That would at least give producers some chance of ending their series in a way viewers might feel okay with instead of the coitus interruptus they inflict on us time and time again.  It should be like an unspoken contract.  If you watch we'll give 24 episodes, and maye more.  Not really loving the we can pull rug out from under you anytime we want scenario.

Don't get me wrong, there is certainly no shortage of crap on the good old boob tube, but there is also some programming that is well produced, well acted, and well made.  You may not like said show, but you recognize it's not a steaming pile of crap either. 

I bring this up because today NBC cancelled "The Black Donnellys", and it really is a shame.  The show, while not perfect, was certainly more original than any of the CSI or Law and Order clones on the tube right now.  It ran for a handful of episodes and I have to wonder how much of a chance is that for a show to gather a following, gain momentum, and blossom?  Really not much.

What bothers me most about this process, aside from being whammied again into not finding out what happens to these characters, is how the viewership is determined.  Do you have a Nielsen box?  I don't.  Nor do I know anyone personally who does.  So who has one?  And why do I care what they are watching?  Shouldn't the networks care about what WE'RE watching, us non-Nielsen types, too?  They should, but alas they don't.  We all have to put in our trust in those pesky Nielsen families to decide FOR US what we're able to watch.  Plus, how many of us actually watch a show live and not on DVR or Tivo?  How do the astute folks at the Nielsens account for this phenomenon or... gasp... dual tuners... you mean you can record two shows at ONCE while watching a THIRD?  Golly, gee Ma isn't technology freaking astounding?

Frankly, that sucks.  I love horror.  How many horror shows are on the tele right now?  Ummm... not many.  Why is that exactly?  It's a genre show and the Nielsen viewers generally don't like genre shows.  Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a great example of this.  Look at it's numbers.  It NEVER was a top 5, 10, 20, or even 50 show.  Not once.  Yet, would you say it was a hit?  Damn skippy you should!  Video games, comic books, collectibles, novels... you name it.  The show was a huge hit... just not in Nielsen numbers.

I'm just tired of being bamboozled by networks with their slick ads and campaigns to get me to tune in and then they take it away, without even one whole season for both them and us to see how it goes.  Maybe after one season I won't want to watch again.  Who knows?  But a handful of episodes really doesn't seem like a fighting chance for ANY show to survive.

I think now of the world of publishing and of Stephen King.  Why you ask?  Good question.  While I love Mr. King a lot of people out there do not and find his work "trashy" and "illiterate".  However, there's no arguing the guy's a huge success, like it or not.  Because of Mr. King his publishing house has the ability to buy works they wouldn't have had the funds for before, you know more "literary" works.

Shouldn't the networks follow this example?  Shouldn't the ridiculous success of "The Sopranos" pay for "Rome", "Deadwood", or "Carnivale"; or all of them?  You would think so, but alas no. 

It seems to have a show on the air these days you have to just appeal to as many people as possible and that's it.  Why do you think we suffer "reality show" after reality show?  "Dancing with the Stars"??? Come on, America you can do better!  I have no problem with mindless entertainment now and then but at least be honest about it... "Dancing with the Used-to-be-Stars" is a lot more fitting. 

Television has always gotten a bad rep going back to the 50s and 60s for rotting the minds of America.  Funny now when you look at the shows they were talking about; shows that at least had narrative plots, some shows we regard as absolute classics!  I don't, unless we suddely migrate into Bizarro world, that "Dancing with the Stars" or that awful "Queer Eye" crap will ever, EVER be considered "classic tv".  Shoot me if it does.  Really.  Shoot me.  I don't want to live in that world.

It truly is the boob now.  And we're the boobs for continually watching and being sucker punched by the executives at the networks.  All I know is I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!!!  You shouldn't either.  I'd find it really hard to believe you were blissfully happy with television programming at the moment or that you've never been victim of cancellation.  The odds are against it, in fact.

So, like it or not the Donnellys are no more.  I think it's a waste of a lot of money and talent.  More people should call in to their networks and complain about the shitty ass programming.  And while you may not have liked or even seen the Donnellys it is a shame to see them go prematurely.  You should say something about it.  Next week it's likely to be a show you've given fice or six hours of your life to in the understanding that you were going to get a full season's worth of stories out of.  Ahhh, there's the rub.  They never promise you anything.  Sure seems like they do though, doesn't it?  I suddenly feel dirty and used.

I think more people should speak up when good shows get cancelled, whether you watched them or not.  I get zero out Mr. Tony Soprano, but were it to be cancelled I'd be pissed for those that do.  It's well done, just not for me.  I grew up with guys just like that.  I don't want to see them in my free time going to shrinks and stuff.  Just not interested.  But I wouldn't want to see it off the air because I don't care.  Maybe its just me.

So, call NBC.  212 664 4444 Tell them they suck for canceling the Donnellys and while you're at "Knight Rider" and "The A-Team".

Then call Fox... and CBS... and ABC... and HBO...

Maybe we'll actually get some decent programming again of these days if more people gave a shit and didn't just rant about how "there's never anything good on".

Yes, I called.  Twice.

Gotta run.  I have twelve episodes of "Celebrity Paranormal Project" to catch up on.

Ta-ta.

See you on the other side.

Robert

3:22 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Out, out damn spot!
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

I saw you again last night, sometime during my restless slumber.

It was as though time had remained still all these years since last I saw your face.

You were still beautiful, beguiling me with a single look.  And I hated you for it.

Your smile almost convinced me you had changed, almost; that underneath that cold exterior you had melted and warmed inside.  For a second I believed you were human.

Then I saw deep into your eyes and saw the inevitable truth staring back at me, yet again:  you hadn't changed.  Time had moved on.  Somewhere out there you live and breathe, and I don't care.  I severed you from myself long ago-

-but haunt me you still do.  You show up at my most vulnerable, when I am too tired, too weak to fight you.  You invade my subconscious sucking the life right from my light.  You taint and poison my every thought until I wake with only thoughts of you.  You are a succubus that knows my every weakness, my deepest secrets.  And you use them to bring me to my knees time, and time again.

I know you.  I've seen you at your best, loved you at your worst.  And I hate you.  Yes, I hate you.  Your unremorseful retreat from my life was the last pitiful act of a coward too afraid to live. 

And yet, somehow, you've bewitched my psyche into seeing you only as you wished to be seen, a princess most perfect and sincere.  We both know you are nothing short of the devil in disguise.

I will break your spell.  I will be free of you in my waking and sleeping hours.  I will exorcise you from every cavern of my being where your filth can hide.

Out, out damned spot-

-be gone and haunt me no more.

10:26 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

"Keeping Mum"

Keeping Mum
Directed by: Niall Johnson

Think "Nanny McPhee" meets "Arsenic and Old Lace" and you've got a good sense of "Keeping Mum".  I loved it.  What a surprise!

After clearing Blockbuster out of horror movies, new and old, while I've been recovering from surgery I came across this gem sitting on the New Release shelves.  I grabbed it without reading the synopsis simply because I love Maggie Smith.  She is one of the greatest actresses of our time, in my humble opinion.

"Keeping Mum" starts with a flashback to Maggie's character "Grace" as a young pregnant woman on a train.  A routine check of the baggage car reveals a large trunk oozing blood-lots of it.  Of course, it belonds to our girl Grace.  What's in the trunk?  The dismembered bodies of both her husband and his mistress.

The film then fast forwards to the present where we meet the Goodfellow family-absent minded neglected husband, cheating neglected wife, rebelious daughter and bullied mama's boy son.  Clearly a family in need of help.

Cue music.

Help arrives in the form of a new housekeeper, our girl Grace.  And the help she provides the Goodfellows with is the stuff of black comedy gold.  There's some level of predictability but it does not deter from the enjoyment of the film one bit.  It's really a lot of fun.

The strangest piece of the movie is Patrick Swayze as Mrs. Goodfellow's lover.  It's not that he's good or bad in the role, it's just that... well... what the hell happened to him?  His face looks like a leather shoe that's gone through a lawn mower.  Who knew he had huge really distracting Dumbo ears either.  It just kind of added to the humor for me.  All his "Dirty Dancing" days "No one puts Baby in a corner" fantasizing fans should see him now.  Egads.  I hope I age better.

Anyway, the cast is all top notch, led by the incomparable Maggie Smith as Grace.  Rowan Atkinson turns in a really subtle performance as the family patriarch.  Kristin Scott Thomas is heart breaking and riotously funny as his neglected golf pro cheating wife.

Niall Johnson does a good job pacing the story and painting a pretty portrait of life in a small UK town.  The film is beautifully shot by Gavin Finney with a delightfully peppy score by Dickon Hinchliffe.

The DVD features some nice extras like bloopers and out-takes as well as an interesting alternate opening that was thankfully not used.  I do think the "last look at Grace" scene should have been included though, even though it may have been a touch cliche.

Definitely check this one out.  Well worth your time and viewing pleasure.  And since there's nothing note-worthy at the cinemas right now, and nothing worth a look coming out on DVD for a couple of weeks...

11:17 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

"Night of the Living Dorks"
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

6:47 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment