Saturday, January 31, 2009
Battlestar Galactica is the best show in TV right now. Period.
Wait a second. Sit down. It is not my geek side taking over the good taste and snobbery circuits of my brain, clouding my good judgment at the sight of awesome spaceships and Tricia Helfer. When I say that a show is really that good I mean it; spaceships and murderous sexy robots that like to have hot robot sex with humans aside, Galactica (2K version) it is a fantastic show.
The show shares basically two things with its 1970s predecessor: the premise (last vestiges of the human race on the run after almost completely annihilated by Cylons) and some of the character names. Besides that, it is a completely different show; dark, brooding, gritty, intense and just plain awesome.
It is one of those rare cases that you see a show begin with a good idea and push it way beyond you could ever imagine; Galactica has seen episodes dealing with patriotism, balancing freedom and security, faith, torture, treason, politics, duty, trade unions, trust, friendship, love and pretty much anything you can imagine. The characters in Galactica are not "good" or "bad" they are real, frail, weak human beings / awesomely hot robots trying to cope with unthinkable horrors and very hard choices, and trying to do their best when dealing with them. Treason, failure, fear, heroism, fanaticism, anger, faith is not just a matter of doing the right thing or failing; what is a right and what is wrong is sometimes very hard to say.
I don't want to spoil any plotlines (see bellow), but when a trial against a major character had me seriously having doubts and making me reconsider what treason is and what it means you know a show is into something.
It is actually pretty unbelievable that a show this good has been so ignored come award season. As usual, pointy headed critics are too serious and deep to even come to consider a SciFi / genre show for anything besides visual effects (see also: The Dark Knight Returns, Buffy the Vampire Slayer), something that seriously drives me nuts.
Believe me, I know a good show when I see it. I workship all the right altars. I am one of the cool kids. And Galactica is up there with the Sopranos, the Wire, Mad Men, the West Wing and whatever high brown show of your choice in terms of sheer awesome.
Sometimes, we love waiting for the DVD box set when watching some shows. Sometimes we just discover an awesome show a bit late, and we are furiously Netflixing (yup, it is a verb now) past seasons to catch up. Sometimes we DVR the show with our genuinely awesome franken-DVR that I put together with my very own hands. Sometimes we are just not watching a show just yet, and we will get to watch it some day in a not too distant future. We usually unwrap the box set in less than two years after we got it -hello, Friday Night Lights- but we will get down to it.
Dear prophets in EW: stop fucking spoiling shows in your magazine and website over and over again. We are trying to get to watch the simply legendary, absolutely awesome, insanely cool Battlestar Galactica on DVD, and it has basically been impossible to get the last episodes in true unspoiled, virginal form. Right now those fuckers have a big ass spoiler in the front page of their website, top right, boxed; it is the first place your eyes land on. They have spoiled massively important plot points in photograph captions in the magazine, season previews, season reviews and even on DVD box set reviews.
It is an awesome show, and believe me, we will still watch our last season 4.0 DVD before catching up with the episodes on DVR and watch the finale at the same time as everyone else. But still, dude. Seriously, you had to spoil all those Cylons in a fucking caption? Seriously?
I blame Phil Collins.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Ms. Simpson is not very smart. She can certainly hit high notes but honestly... only dogs enjoy the sound she makes when she gets there. As a woman she makes me kind of sad, really. However I did appreciate that she was willing to be herself (aka a brainless girly girl) on national television without shame. And I can guarantee you that she laughed all the way to the bank (leaving all the MENSA folks in the dust.)
Then the girl had to go all Hollywood...She gets the Daisy Duke gig and starts working out two hours a day. She stops eating her Dominoes, Chicken of the Sea and buffalo wings. Her size 4 turns into a 0. Her ribs start showing, like the creepy picture above. Her boobs pull a "shrinky dink" but her head seems to grow larger. She starts getting the Giada Deluarentis "meatball on a toothpick" look.
Lucky for us after a while her star begins to fade. She divorces the now D-list Nick Lachey. She starts dating Tony Romo and gets blamed for the Cowboys losing streak. She attempts and fails to break into the country music industry. All of this leads her to eat like a normal human being again. She has no tent pole summer movie to skinny up for. Instead she has the chili cook off at the local fair to judge for!!!!
Here is the Jessica Simpson I sorely missed! The "I don't give a flying fuck what y'all think about me - I'll be dumb if I wanna!" Jessica. Yet she gets lambasted in the entertainment press for being FAT! FAT!!!!!! Are they kidding me???
That is the thing that kills me about the huge amount of press that these so called "fat" pictures are getting. Dude....seriously.....she is still frakkin skinny. If you had a picture of her in this (not so flattering - ok pretty damn ugg) outfit standing next to someone like me you would never ever ever say that she is fat. I would look like the Stay Puff marshmallow man next to her. At the most she is a size 4 now. But when you get so uber-skinny like she did any bit of weight you put on makes it seem like you are on a binge with Oprah.
I have a major plea for Hollywood....GAIN SOME WEIGHT PEOPLE! Eat like normal humans and have some damn curves. Stop looking like plastic dolls!!! Perfection is so unbelievably boring! Boobs are wonderful! Asses are wonderful!!!! Shake your money maker Jessica. Shake it loud and proud!!!!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
I won´t be the first to say that this might be more of a pulling an Andy Kauffman than a true Rourkian move, and the whole thing is a big joke to mess with Perez Hilton´s hairdo. In any case, if it is a fake, it is simply awesome.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Holy Christ, is the Wrestler brutal. It definetely takes out all those little good feelings and hope and fuzzy little memories of teddy bears and kittens and babies that you have in your little soul, brings them to a dark, back alley, and fucking kicks their asses and suplexes and bodyslams them into a pulp until the only thing you want to do is go to a corner and cry, as your only remaining memories involve creepy clowns and roadkill.
In any case, yes, Rourke is great; he was born to play this role. The two unsung heroes of the movie, however are Evan Rachel Wood and Marisa Tomei, who are absolutely wonderful. Well, in Tomei´s case she not only is wonderful but actually really, really hot. And not that unsung, either; she got her Oscar nod.
To sum up: yes, the movie is really worth watching. Get ready to some hardcore desperation and hopelesness, in any case; althought considering the director´s filmography, this is Aranofsky most uplifting film.
Monday, January 26, 2009
My fears were laid to rest with a suggestion from one of my roommates. He suggested that I go to bars and blog about my experiences. This idea was so simple, yet, so profound!!! Instantly I began crafting rules and regulations for my future excursions. It will be New Haven bars, ALL OF THEM!! And I shall write the names of these bars on scraps of paper, all of witch will be placed into a basket. And it will be from this basket that the name of a bar will be selected. I will travel to the selected bar and I will have no less than two beverages. I will blog my bloggings and tell tales both grim and fine. Anyway y'all get the picture right.
I'm just gonna do what I do best, except now I'm gonna document my experiences. I plan on focusing on the overall atmosphere of the establishment and whether or not I enjoyed myself. I will not get into details on how good food was or any of that shit. I plan on sticking to what I know, and I fuckin know bars. I must say, I am a little nervous about the thought of going to some of the sketchier places. Fuck it though. If I'm gonna blog I might as well go all the way.
As it turns out,I'm sick at the present time so I need some time to rest before I hit the pubs. I need to compile a list of bars anyway. So hold tight fuckers, The General will be out on the town before you know it.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Some artists have the opposite talent: they can have the best, most delicious ingredients, the best kitchen, the sharpest tools, the shiniest pans and produce a pathetic, tasteless turd out of them. Among those pathetic hacks you find people like yours truly in a kitchen, besides other failed individuals, but the king of lame, the master of bad cooking, the demon god of mediocrity is one director. He is ugly, he is bald, he keeps making movies and oh boy, is he lame: Ron Fucking Howard is his name.
Ron Howard is as his most damaging lamest when he has a stellar cast, and great plot with tons of potential, a killer budget and plenty of time to plot his pathetic, sad movies. No matter the source material, no matter the available talent, he will manage to turdify anything into a blabbering, pointless, bland, tasteless pile of crap.
His filmography is a long list of missed opportunities, wasted potential and by the numbers oscar baiting lameness. From the painful, unforgivable use of Steve Guttenberg (another source of evil that will be carefully examined soon) in Cocoon to the absolutely devoid of charm fantasy world of Willow; from the agressively pointless and mindnumblingly boring tale of a Mathematician (sexy!) in a Beautiful mind to the decrepid clone of the brilliant Truman Show that is EdTV, Howard able to consistenly make anything lame.
This is the man that turned the once edgy, brilliant, agressive, creative career of Rusell Crowe into a pathetic pile of mild mannered burgeois turds. This is the man that made Tom Hanks (Tom Hanks!) wear a fucking mullet. This is the man that though that adapting a book as awful as the Da Vinci Code was a good idea. This is the man that turned an intelligent theatre play about an interview into a moralistic display that treats the viewers as idiots. This is the man that made a boxing movie (boxing!) into some sort of sugar coated, glossy looking fairie tale of how awesome was to be poor in the great depression. This guy is so awful that he hired Renee Zellweger, for fuck's sake.
The worst crime of Ron Howard, however, is his blatant Oscar-baiting, and how the academy falls for it. He is the go-to fake autheur of painless, risk free, completely devoid of any passion or edginess adult serious movies. He is able to produce one lame turd reasuring enough for those academy members that are too stupid to appreciate anything that has a hint of modernity. And they fall for it, every fucking time.
The worst part? I suspect the fucker does it on purpose. When no one is watching (and really, no one did watch) he is able to produce wonderfully demented shows like Arrested Development. Most of the time, however, he prefers to perform the dark arts of lame and create his usual bland, completely pointless, hugely popular drivel to torture us all.
Shame on you, Ron Howard. Shame on you, King of the Lame.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Evil is wise, and has many incarnations. The Evil God of Suck has lived since the dawn of times. It was there in Vienna, with a Salieri sucking the life out of Mozart. It was there during the Middle Ages, with an evil nosy troubadour annoying the shit out of Brave Sir Robin. And it is here, now, terrible, destructive, lurking in the shadows, destroying everything that is good and holy in music.
I have seen the evil of our times, and I know his name. The source of all evil in music, the black hole that sucks all talent, is here, and his name is Phil Collins.
Consider some of his crimes. This dude managed to make Peter Gabriel run away from Genesis. This master of the dark arts corrupted untold amounts of ears and scarred them forever when he commited Sussussusudio. He made people homeless by telling everyone that they lived in paradise. He then proceeded to perform jazz covers of his own work (and the sad remains of Genesis) for the hell of it. He destroyed Disney by singing in the soundtrack of Tarzan.
Worse of all, he influenced hundreds of individuals that went on to create even shittier music, spawning creatures like Michael Bolton, Jimmy Buffet, Peter Cetera, Josh Groban, every single annoying asshole that has been in American Idol and -Oh Lord- Kenny Fucking G. He is the creator of a whole category of garbage music characterized by the relentless shittification of any formerly glorious musical genre. It was Collins who inspired Vainilla Ice to launch his career, moved four crappy tennors to piss on the grave of opera by forming Il Divo, and generally launched the ever growing trend of eviscerating good music by draining all the talent out of the recording.
His powers of evil are so wide, so complete, so destructive that from the wreckage of the Tarzan soundtrack he made the corrupted corpse of Disney come back to live as a Demon Wraith from music hell: they launched the music channel, vomiting Britney, Hannah Montana, High School Musical and the Jonas Brothers to the world. Collins is so malignant, so poisonous, that he is essentially unkillable; his evil has spread and is procreating, multiplying, spreading, taking over the world.
Only in the internets, a small band of bloggers resist the advance of chaos and musical sucktitude, by revealing and unmasking all that is evil in the world. Will they win? The Collins is strong in this planet...
Monday, January 19, 2009
- Bruce Springsteen performing The Rising is fine and dandy but did he really have to order the super sized choir?
- The mini celebrity speeches were bland and George Lopez was downright annoying. Seriously, how is this man a comedian?
- Song selections were soooooo obvious and trite. Roger and I had a game choosing what songs we thought they would do - I won with my awesome "This Land is Your Land" prediction! Lets see what the other brilliant and original selections were: Lean on Me, A Change is Gonna Come, Shower the People, My Country Tis of Thee, America the Beautiful, One Love, etc. etc. etc.
- I will admit that one of the best performances of the concert (besides U2 who always manage to rock) was Garth Brooks. With John Mellencamp as a close second. yeah. exactly.
- By the way, did I mention that part of Garth Brooks' medley was American Pie - which I wholeheartedly believe is the MOST wretched song ever inflicted on human beings. Yeah - he was one of the best performers.
- Josh Groban.
- Usher and Shakira singing Higher Ground with Stevie Wonder. They did the first few verses of the song and then Stevie started singing and rendered them useless. They shouldn't have even been there - it should have been all Stevie!!
- I must mention the amaaazing jacket said Stevie Wonder was wearing - the back had a huge bedazzled face of Martin Luther King Jr. And I never joke about fashion.
- Joe Biden - no need to shout brother - you have a microphone.
- By far the most awkward and strange part of the event was Tom Hanks' speech regarding Abraham Lincoln. The orchestra in front of him was playing Lincoln's Portrait - which actually sounded a lot like the music from Apollo 13 but way more boombastic! His speech was like this: talk talk Loud music Loud Music pause pause pause talk talk LOUD MUSIC pause pause pause LOUDER MUSIC talk LOUDER MUSIC talk pause talk pause CYMBALS CRASHING!!!!!!! etc.
The only really fun part of the event was looking at all the amazingly expensive outer wear that celebs wear. You don't tend to see the winter coats of the rich and famous and I was totally enthralled (basically I was bored and it kept me occupied). Usher's was hideous - too military looking. The Edge had a really cool leather coat. Shakira had one of those mullet style jackets - business in the front - party in the back. Mary J. had the prettiest - cream colored, sweet buttons. Although I consider him to be the Prince of Lame - Josh Groban had a classy coat - similar to Obama's. The best coats though - the daughters, Malia and Sasha. Too cute - although Stevie Wonder's may just be cuter.
In an effort to look a little less like a hater - there were some good parts of the concert. Obama gave a good speech. U2 was really good, per usual. And there was a little girl sitting behind Obama who was asleep the whole concert. She was the only one with the balls enough to admit that this sucker was booooring.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
But seriously, critizing Guitar Hero by quoting the post-consumption theorizing of Jon Elster? I know Jon Elster, sir (seriously, I do. I told you I am thick-rimmed glasses intellectual) and he will call you bullshit in that statement. They really don´t get the point.
Guitar Hero (and its awesome, badass, glorious full-band successor, Rock Band) it is not music for people that don´t have time for learning to play music. It is not a cheap, fast food version of glory for morons; melody and rythm for dilettantes, those guys too lazy and lacking the level of true awesome to learn to play guitar (or drums) for real.
Why? Well for starters there is a whole bunch of people out there that will never be able to learn to play a real instrument. I love music; I have a ton of it. I workship all the right bands and musicians. I am a member of the "in" crowd, card carrying hipster armed with iPod and Gigabytes of awesome music. Despite the fact that I fart good taste, I am completely, utterly, totally devoid of music talent. I can not hit a note to save my life. My sense of rythm is non-existant. My fingers are as good as iogurt when trying to strum a guitar. I can´t follow a drum pattern even if it was 10 beats per minute. You get the idea.
What someone as musically inept as myself has left to fullfill his music fantasies (Glory! Fans! Arenas!) is either rocking out in the shower (sad) or getting into the fake plastic guitar business. It is that simple. Those games are basically a better, more fun way to enjoy music; not just listening, but playing along even if you are completely talentless. You focus and the music and let go; yes, it is just a game, but it feel awesome. If turned all the way to eleven, you do it with three friends, in a friggin´ band, and call it Rock Band, possibly the best party game of all time this side of Wii Sports.
Of course, having fun is probably not good enough for those that crave the pain of learning. It is not music if you don´t make your fingers bleed. Whatever. I will never be able to learn for real; let me enjoy my cheap imitation.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Yet now there is one product I have heard about that I do not believe I will be able to resist. The Slanket. Yes people, the Slanket - the blanket with sleeves. I am a hard core blanket person from way back. As we keep the heat in our apartment set to "just high enough to avoid freezing pipes," I am always bundled up under one. Unfortunately blankets have one major flaw: when you need to hold a book or change the channel your arms become exposed to the elements! I refuse to pass the remote to my husband for fear of a cable news onslaught, so I just let my poor arms suffer.
The Slanket is the answer to my prayers!!!! It is ingenious!!!! I can guarantee that Barney Stinson owns one, as he is a Sky Mall addict. I....must....buy......now. One problem though. The Slanket is pricey. $44.99 is a bit outside of my budget for "As Seen on TV" schwag (aka my husband won't let me spend that kind of money on a blanket no matter how many times I tell him that it is not a blanket, it's a Slanket). And I do not want to go for the cheap imitation either. The Snuggie does not have the same ring that the Slanket has. My only option is to wear my husband down. I reference the Slanket at least once a day. It is getting under his skin. I will have my Slanket. I will.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Case in point these days: Bones. Bones and Booth are dying to jump into each other, do some pretty crazy things that would require a long, long commercial break to avoid the FCC going bonkers, and basically let some good sense into the plot for once. These guys really need some relief, and seriously, someone should rent a room for them.
I don't just want to put an end to their suffering, though; it is their work mates I worry about. Can you seriously imagine working with two first class morons like that for that many years? And boy, she is you boss. Mentioning that stuff to her will get you some crazy looks, and definetely nothing like a solid, stress free working enviroment.
It is a cheap plot point, but I can't help but fall for it. I kept watching X-Files long past its due date just because of their obnoxious non-romance (and my favorite episode, "Triangle", basically spends most of its time teasing about this), Battlestar Galactica has decided to torture me with a presidential unfulfiled relationship, and at the current rate 30 Rock is going to add a Jack / Liz subplot by the end of the season, binding me to the altar of the almighty Tina Fey forever.
So note to writers: any show that has this silly plot device, I will fall for it. Hard. Add one sucker to your ratings.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I know it sounds sick but we really get competitive with this game. The first thing my sister said when Heath Ledger died was "Damn, I wish he was on my list!" All I can say is that the death of Paul Newman was sad for me on many levels due to this game. Unfortunately for me the wrong Golden Girl died (RIP Estelle Getty) and Roger won with his one correct death, the bastard.
This year I have retained Bea Arthur and added another Golden Girl, Betty White. Due to some drunken reminiscing on New Years Eve my final slot went to Dick Clark. Roger unfortunately came up with another excellent list. He kept Tony Bennett (the dude is 82!) and added two cancer patients: Patrick Swayze and Ted Kennedy. My brother also joined in this year and went with two overweight aging musicians: BB King and Aretha Franklin. He gave his final slot to John McCain (to show all those republicans that they almost put another moron in the oval office).
There is no real point to the game and it is "kind of" in poor taste, however whenever a celebrity passes we do pay attention. Every time I log into yahoo! I go straight to the entertainment news page to check to see who is the latest celeb to croak. Today it was Ricardo Montalban. You really never know who will be next. I hate to say it but I can only hope that it's a Golden Girl - other than Rue McClanahan of course. No offense Dorothy and Rose but here's hoping that all those late night trips to the fridge for cheesecake finally catch up with you.