tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34375185115400340172024-02-06T19:42:37.040-08:00The Fix is InMr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-47206964749680847002012-12-04T12:05:00.001-08:002012-12-04T12:17:39.245-08:00The Table Incident<h3>AKA That Time I Bled All Over My Sister</h3> <p>In 1988, my family moved into a duplex on Gillespie Street. It was a little closer to the main part of Pine Bush than our old house in Lake Estates. The streets were often empty and therefore open to us kids. Our living room, however, was an obstacle course of death and destruction. </p> <p>Everything my parents owned was made of wood and sharp corners. Our old country style couch had a solid wood frame with sturdy blue velour cushions. It was flanked on either side by heavy, solid wood, sharp cornered end tables that Dad had built. On top of them rested two tall table lamps. More wood, more corners, more sharpness. In the middle of the room sat the coffee table: another of Dad’s sharp, solid wood monsters, created as a companion to the the end tables. </p> <p>One morbidly hot and humid Saturday morning in 1989, Mom was at work at Epco, building transformers (not the robots in disguise). Dad was in the backyard, mowing the lawn. My brother, Harry, was playing Legend of Zelda in the living room, and my sister, Sandi, was in the kitchen, talking on the phone with her boyfriend. I, however, was running around the house in my Superman Underoos, gassed up on Froot Loops, Fruit Roll-ups and episodes of <i>The Real Ghostbusters</i>, <i>Gummi Bears</i>, and <i>Captain N: The Game Master. </i> <p><i></i>At some point in my sugar-infused state of mind, I decided that my Underoos were symbolic of my own character. I <i>was</i> Superman. As such, I was nigh unto indestructible. I could fly. With my newly discovered powers needing demonstration, I wrapped my blue baby blanket around me like a cape, ran to the living room, and hopped up onto the velour couch cushions. I turned and I jumped, soaring through the air with grace of a superhero… right up until the moment I smashed my right eyebrow into a corner of the coffee table. Blood sprayed. I screamed. My sister hung up the phone to tend to me. She picked me up off the floor and held me and I screamed and bled all over her shirt. She ran outside and called for Dad who promptly came inside, looked over my bloody visage, and brusquely told Sandi to call Mom at work. <p>It took fifteen minutes and two phone calls to finally get a message to Mom at work. None of her coworkers bothered to deliver the message the first time. She was less than pleased at the fact that no one would take me to a doctor which forced her to come home from work early. When she finally arrived, Mom and Dad packed me up into the car. Dad drove and Mom sat in back seat with me. She kept me from bleeding all over the car, kept me calm and held a cloth wrapped ice pack to my wound. Mom explained on the way that I had to be good and keep calm so that they wouldn’t try to strap me down (which happened to me once). <p>At the hospital, the doctors wanted Mom to wait outside while they stitched me up. She didn’t think it was a good idea… after all, she knew me. She also knew that two years prior I had broken out of a Papoose as a writhing, screaming, bloody mess. She assured the doctors I was going to behave. While I got my nine stitches, mom talked to me about my playing Superman and why that may not have been my smartest idea. When the doctors had finished, they offered Mom a job handling other children in the hospital. She refused outright. <p>Over the course of the next ten days, I had this set of nine stitches in my head. Much to Mom’s chagrin, I managed to pull two stitches out by myself. Dad told her to just pop the remaining seven out herself, but Mom thought that would be unsanitary and just incredibly gross. Instead, we returned to the hospital and the remaining stitches came out with no further incident. <p>I, however, learned absolutely nothing. Three weeks later, in true super-heroic fashion, I went right back to attempting to fly. Our back porch had no stairs leading into the back yard; yet I was in dire need of getting back there. The porch hovered roughly fifteen feet off the ground and a multitude of slats caged me in, but that meant nothing for me. I scurried up the railing as quickly my small frame could; perched high on the railing, I prepared for my next dive… and then Mom caught me, dragged me inside and paddled my behind for my utilizing my imagination to the fullest. <p>And that’s just one story of how I busted my head open.</p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-7003413820522372582012-11-29T15:05:00.000-08:002012-11-30T06:55:22.017-08:00Comedy, Gender, and So Forth.<h3>
Obligatory bullcrap about my not posting stuff. </h3>
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If you know me, I like to be funny. Or at least I like to think I'm funny. I could be dead wrong. But you know who is funny? Jen Kirkman. Jen has been in this comedy game longer than I have and she's got quite the flare for it. One of my favorite shows she wrote for is Home Movies. She has a new book, <i>I Can Barely Take Care of Myself... </i>(Details <a href="http://www.jenkirkman.com/Buy_My_Book%21.html">here</a>).<br />
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She's also kinda sick of being objectified. I implore you all to please go read this:<br />
<a href="http://jenkirkman.tumblr.com/post/36829074561/twitter-hiatus-until-the-men-i-know-get-loud">http://jenkirkman.tumblr.com/post/36829074561/twitter-hiatus-until-the-men-i-know-get-loud</a><br />
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I agree with her. Female comedians don't need to put up with this kind of bullshit. In reality, no woman does; however, for the sake of scope, we're going with female comedians specifically. Sartre may argue that objectification is only natural, but let me tell you, I think Sartre is a bunch of crap. This sort of behavior is unwarranted. And eventually this behavior leads to articles like this: <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2012/10/sexism_in_the_skeptic_community_i_spoke_out_then_came_the_rape_threats.html">http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2012/10/sexism_in_the_skeptic_community_i_spoke_out_then_came_the_rape_threats.html</a><br />
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Maybe it's my inner idealist, but women shouldn't have to write blog posts and articles like this. Men should not have to speak out on their behalf, either. But the reality is that we all have to because the problem doesn't seem to be going away. Despite what Adam Corolla (that's a timely reference, right? Are people still mad at him?) thinks, women are hilarious. Hell, Jen Kirkman is way funnier than a lot of guys I know and it's not because she's a woman. She is just damn good at what she does. <a href="http://temmahkrik.wordpress.com/2009/05/27/book-review-twilight/">Some of the funniest writers I wish to emulate are women. </a><br />
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Just as a side-note, one of the comments Jen says she gets goes along the line of “I used to think you’re funny but you’re acting hysterical and like a bummer.” Folks, let's be real. No one is funny all the time, even if it's their job. She's human. She has thoughts, feelings, and concerns. And no one should have to shy away from voicing them.<br />
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So, as I said on Twitter, I am no male comedian and she sure as hell doesn't know me, so I may not count in this, but as a male, and as a humorist of any kind, I voice my support for Jen Kirkman and any other female comedians on the shit end of this equality-stick.<br />
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<br />Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-22618175789668403952012-07-09T22:33:00.001-07:002012-07-10T07:17:54.266-07:00Adventure Ho!<h3>Or How I Learned that LARPers Can’t Make Babies</h3> <p> </p> <p>This is the story of the one and only time I ever went LARPing. For the uninitiated, LARP stands for Live Action Role Play. Think of it this way: take the kids who play D&D<sup>*</sup> then dress them up in costumes and send them off into the woods to act out their brave little fantasies.<sup>** </sup>It’s fun if that’s the sort of thing that blows your skirt up, Marilyn. </p> <p>Back in 2003 I dated a girl – for the sake of this post, we’ll call her Liara – who was really into LARPing. And I mean <em>really</em> into it. And she wanted me to be into it, too. She had a particular “professional” organization that she frequented. I have no recollection of what it was called – most likely something generic like “mythical journeys” or “journey through the realm” but no matter. I just remember it was based in Connecticut on a 4H campsite.</p> <p>In October of 2003, Liara asked me if I would actually like to go with her to this particular organization’s (heretofore referred to as The Valiant Spellbinder<sup></sup>s<sup>***</sup>) event in November. I wasn’t really interested, but she wanted me to go so badly. I agreed and she got me signed up as a volunteer actor. A volunteer actor doesn’t really get play a character. Volunteer actors for the Valiant Spellbinders typically take the roles of NPC (Non-Player Characters) or monsters scattered through the land. AKA Valiant Spellbinders’ cabana boy. Whatever they asked me to play, I’d play. I was going there for free after all. </p> <p>We left for Connecticut on a Friday afternoon. Her mother drove us there because 1) She didn’t have her license and 2) I’m directionally challenged in the days before good GPS. We were dropped off on the campgrounds that evening. If you’ve never been to Connecticut in November, let me tell you this: it is cold. It is bitter cold. I don’t mean Pacific Northwest cold. We’re talking “Holy shit, is it going to snow!?” kinda cold. And me without any kind of a heavy jacket. Way to start the weekend off.</p> <p>Let me let you in on a couple of secrets right off the bat. First of all, not very many women LARP. It’s an incredibly male centric activity. Second, what few women <em>do</em> LARP are prized possessions.<sup>†</sup> They are placed on pedestals, objectified,and worshipped. I’ll give you a moment to think about how obscenely wrong that is on every level. </p> <p>Liara and I stepped out of the car and onto the frozen gravel driveway of the entrance. she quickly spotted people she knew over by the main gate, smoking. She brought me over to them and introduced me as her boyfriend. Connecticut had suddenly gotten colder as I was met with several cold, steely looks. Oh, they all spoke amicably to me, but the looks were undeniable. I was an outsider and I held one of their women. One cloth-armor clad fella, we’ll call him Damon,even went so far as to flirt with Liara right in front of me. Game on, indeed.</p> <p>The first night:<br>After spending about a half hour at the entrance to the camp, and smoking like chimneys, and the guys showing off their boffers – I’ll leave that where it is and let your minds work that one over for now -- Liara took me to “The Barracks.” This is where I’d receive orders, change costumes, eat, and sleep. We dropped our gear upstairs and Liara took off to change into costume: an all black outfit with a red sash draped over one shoulder and tied around the waist and a cliché insignia pinned above the breast. She was outfitted with a miniscule boffer (I promise, I’m getting to that). I stifled a laugh, especially since a moment later I was called over and put in the very same outfit. It was easily two sizes to big for my 120 pound frame. But off we went, dressed as soldiers of some evil ruling army in the land. We really used it as more of an opportunity to take a walk around the campgrounds. It was cold, but it was clear, and a full moon hung over head. That was the last nice moment I was going to have that whole weekend.</p> <p>Day 1:<br>Mountain Troll:<br>For some reason, someone thought I’d make a good mountain troll, despite me being, well, kinda short, and really skinny. I joined up with a group of five others of varying heights and weights. I was given a boffer, and dirty Halloween wig, and a caveman singlet to be worn over my jeans and my jacket. I was the picture of hotness. Ok, really I looked more like Captain Caveman than mountain troll.<br>My rowdy group of trolls was sent to the top of a hill. Our job was to wait for a wandering group of adventurers, pop out from over the hill, and engage them in battle. And, of course, lose. The losing was the easy part. The hard part was making it down the hill. As the first group wandered past, we sprang up and barreled down the hill, grunting and yelling. Then everything was a blur. Next thing I knew, I was sprawled out on my stomach. Somehow, I had managed to trip so spectacularly that I flipped and twisted at the same time, crashed to the ground, and skidded across the dry, frozen dirt path. </p> <p>Bandit:<br>This isn’t the story of the character so much as the aftermath. Now, according to the rules of a combat for Valiant Spellbinders, defeated characters must return to the barracks holding their boffer (sit tight, it’s coming)on their head to signify that the character is out of play. Given that my job was to lose to actual player characters (AKA people who pay to play)I was defeated pretty swiftly on this particular mission. On my walk down the path back to the barracks, boffer on head, I found myself being accosted by a low-rent musketeer, complete with a feather-plumed hat. He insisted on prodding me and taking swings at me with his boffer. Hard.<br>Ok, let me (<em>finally!)</em> explain a boffer to you, dear reader. A boffer is a foam weapon. While they are available for purchase, most people take the DIY approach: they start with a length of thick schedule PVC pipe, then they place foam padding around the pipe. The foam is meant, not just to protect, but to aide in designing a unique weapon. Then duct tape is employed in various colors to ad the final details to the design and hold the foam in place. <br>So, despite any foam padding this weapon provided, this guy cracked me in the ribs with a piece of PVC pipe. I reacted the way any reasonable man who had been hit in the ribs would. I took a swing at him myself. Now, where were on the path had a roughly ten foot drop overlooking a wide stream (Not wide enough and certainly not deep enough to be considered a river and the solid dirt walls of this drop had several thick bushes protruding like would be safety nets. When I swung at my assailant, I missed. Big time. He jumped backward, stumbled over his own feet, and landed in an awaiting bush. I glared at him for a moment. Several people had witnessed our altercation and came over to help. Three people helped him out of this bush where he sheepishly claimed fault. Satisfaction all around. “Game on” was declared and marched back to the barracks.</p> <p>Nightfall/The Undead:<br>What’s a game of pretend at night without the undead? That night I was conscripted to play some kind of magical zombie. Word must have gotten around pretty quickly about the bush incident. Between that and my relationship with Liara, I suddenly became public nerd enemy #1. Everyone who possibly could wailed on me with their boffers and they were not pulling their swings. The thing about being hit full force with a padded hunk of PVC is that at certain point, the force of the hit outweighs the padding. And I was taking a lot of these hits. <br>Liara would later explain to me that they were just passionate about protecting their characters. I’d have bought that excuse more if I had not been the primary target out of eight other “undead” walking around. That night, I didn’t sleep well. Every time I moved, pain shot through my ribs. So, this is fun, eh? Thanks, Valiant Spellbinders. I’ll be sure to come back.</p> <p>Day 2:<br>The Final Hours or The Epic Battle of the Nerds:<br>I learned an important lesson on the last day of Valiant Spellbinders: LARPers are incapable of procreation… that’s probably for the best. <br>The final day of nerd camp culminates in an all out nerd war. The nerds congregate into one part of the field (in this case we went into the woods), half of them representing the aforementioned red-sash brigade, and everyone else as their characters. The head-nerd-honchos count down and a nerd melee begins. Everyone just taking blind swings. In my case, this became literal. At some point, I took a shot to the face that actually knocked out one of my contact lenses. I couldn’t see. I shut my bad eye so I could see, but my depth perception suffered for it. Out of my limited peripheral vision I saw someone running toward me. I took a swing to that side, not really expecting to connect. It took me a moment to realize I’d made direct contact with a crotch. Not only had I scored an unfortunate solid blow, but my quarry seemed completely unphased by this. He kept bounding through the trees unimpeded. I’d have to file it away, though There was no time to ponder this, though. I had to keep running and swinging wildly at anything that moved. <br>A whistle cut through the air. This game was finally over! Sore, out of breath, craving a cigarette and the comfort of my own damn bed, it was at this moment it dawned on me whose crotch I’d Falcon-punched. It was Damon. I Johnny-Caged Damon… and he didn’t go down. Well that was certainly interesting. All the same, one does not go around blasting guys in the hippity-hops. I felt I at least owed him an apology. Before I went back to the barracks to pack my stuff for home, I saw Damon at the entrance smoking. I strolled up, bummed a smoke from someone else there, took a good deep drag, looked Damon in the eye and said “So, uh, I think I may have tagged you in the nuts back there, man. Sorry.” Truly a master of eloquence. <br>Damon smiled and responded with an air of casualness reserved for, well, normal conversations “Did you? Oh, it happens so often I don’t even notice it anymore.”<br>Really, I have nothing more to add to that story. Just contemplate that. This man has been smashed in the primary male weak point so many times that he no longer feels it. To reiterate: “LARPers” plus “procreation” equals “not gonna happen.” That particular information, much like watching that guy fall in a bush, was incredibly satisfying. <br>I returned to the barracks and helped Liara pack up our stuff and pack it all out to her mom’s car. The trip home was quiet, outside of Liara’s mom asking questions and the sound of lighters being flicked to light cigarettes. Things were a little tense after that. However a month later Liara called me to let me know when the next event was and asked if I wanted to go. I hung up on her. </p> <p> </p> <p>*Or any table top RPG. Your mileage may vary.<br>** I know this is a pretty broad generalization, but bear with me. It was one experience 8 years ago. I’m not claiming expertise in the field of LARP.<br><sup>***</sup> It was either that or “Boffer Brigade”<br><sup>†</sup>There’s actually been some good things written about <a href="http://www.gamasutra.com/view/news/173227/Opinion_Video_games_and_Male_Gaze__are_we_men_or_boys.php">the male gaze in gaming and geek culture</a> in the last year. It’s worth checking out. Remember dudes: ladies are people, not things. </p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-74459329757291419572012-02-03T13:42:00.001-08:002012-02-03T13:42:13.931-08:00On Proper Citation<h3>Check Yo Source Befo’ You Wreck Yo Source*</h3> <p> </p> <p>This morning I saw a cute little chain-poem floating around my Facebook news feed. It’s a sweet little number on the importance of nurses. And it’s also true; nurses are rather important people. Here’s the poem as I read it:</p> <p><em><font size="2">About NURSES:<br>Somebody asked: "You're a nurse?!? That's cool, I wanted to do that when I was a kid. How much do you make?"<br>The nurse replied: "HOW MUCH DO I MAKE?" ...<br>I can make holding your hand seem like the most important thing in the world when you're scared...<br>I can make your child breathe when they stop...<br>I can help your father survive a heart attack...<br>I can make myself get up at 5AM to make sure your mother has the medicine she needs to live...<br>I work all day to save the lives of strangers...<br>I make my family wait for dinner until I know your family member is taken care of...<br>I make myself skip lunch so that I can make sure that everything I did for your wife today is charted...<br>I make myself work weekends and holidays because people don't just get sick Monday thru Friday.<br>Today, I might save your life.<br>How much do I make?<br>All I know is, I make a difference.<br>Repost not only if you are a nurse or you love a nurse, but most importantly, repost this if you respect their work!!</font></em></p> <p><em></em> </p> <p>See, isn’t that nice? Now, for those of you who know me, or at least have literacy skills somewhere in the realm of “observant,” you have probably figured out that there’s a problem here: this isn’t an original work; at best, it’s a mimic and at worst it’s plagiarism. </p> <p>No, I’m not a paranoid conspiracy theorist. Shut up. Go read the poem again. </p> <p>Done? Good. Now watch this Taylor Mali video:</p> <p><iframe height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/RxsOVK4syxU?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="480" allowfullscreen></iframe></p> <p> </p> <p>Notice the repetition of the phrase “I make…” all the way through to the end. This repetition is really the only case I can make for the above poem being a mimic. It fails in every other aspect of mimicry: in particular length and tone.</p> <p>Ah, tone. Listen to Mali. He’s an unmitigated fireball exploding on that stage. That is nothing but pure passion for what he is saying. Whereas the nurse version, outside of a moment of “Z0MG AWL CAPZ!?Interrobang!!?” lacks that passion. It’s sweet. It’s nice. However, it lacks passion. </p> <p>To take this further, this poem doesn’t work as a mimic because absolutely nowhere is there any reference to the original work. Someone somewhere tried to pass that cutesy thing off as their own work. “But what if it was submitted anonymously?” you may be asking or I may just be prepping a response to such an argument. Well, to that I say someone <em>cowardly</em> tried to pass off that poem as an original work. </p> <p>The truth is, plagiarism is never cool. Passing off work as your own and/or not attributing works to their proper sources is the sort of thing that makes baby kitties cry. Do you want to make baby kitties cry? Do you, you monster? If you said no, then you’re a good person and should probably maybe not pass off other peoples’ works anymore, ok? If you said yes, then you should seek help. Maybe talk to Dr. Phil. </p> <p> </p> <p><em><font size="2">*I toyed with a few different subtitles for this post. These deserve honorable mention:</font></em></p><em> <ul> <li><font size="2">Every Time You Plagiarize, God Green Lights a Michael Bay Movie</font></li> <li><font size="2">Just Because It’s Cute Doesn’t Make It Yours</font></li> <li><font size="2">How Basic Google Searching Can Get You In Trouble (Sans Sex)</font></li> <li><font size="2">Public Domain Doesn’t Mean What You Think it Does</font></li> <li><font size="2">That’s Not Yours. Put It Down<br></font></li></ul></em> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-71126522457498509552011-10-30T11:16:00.001-07:002011-10-30T11:16:58.398-07:00I’ll Be In the Angry Dome!<h3>Or: Why PHL is a raging cesspool</h3> <p>Let me open by saying that this is not a humor post. This is pure venom because it’s what I have at the moment. Furthermore, if you come here for the funny,check back soon. I have things I’m working on. That said, on with the vile:</p> <p>PHL’s F terminal plays host strictly to US Airways flights. US Airways is an airline company so horrible to it’s customers, I’m forced to write new slogans for them:</p> <p>US Airways – We just don’t give a shit!<br>US Airways – Friendly skies!? Phhhaahahahaaaaa!<br>US Airways – Where’s your god now, huh!?<br>US Airways – *cock-slap*<br>US Airways – As long as we’re being honest, we hate you.<br>US Airways – Because <em>fuck you,</em> that’s why!</p> <p>This whole trip to New York* has been a fiasco. I left on the 28th. I should have been in New York on the 28th. But thanks to one mechanical failure that stranded me here for one night, weather conditions on the east coast have prevented travel to the <strong><em>one airport</em></strong> I need to get to. The only airport that is a half hour away from my family. An hour-long flight that cannot be made, because of One. Mechanical. Failure. I only have until the 3rd of November to spend with my family and I’ve wasted two days in a damn airport. A joke of a terminal, no less. Let’s highlight some of the more amusing aspects of this terminal:</p> <p>It’s being remodeled. That’s all well and good, but that means only the news stands and one “restaurant” are open. Now, all the news stands are the exact same thing. I’m not even sure why they’re marked differently. They’re all Hudson Group shops: over-priced and full of gifts – t-shirts, snow globes, shot glasses – that you’d never buy for another human being. Then there’s the restaurant. Would you like to know the difference between the restaurant and the sandwich stand <em>directly across from it?</em> Booze. Booze and a “Panini grill.” </p> <p>--</p> <p>Last night I slept on the airport floor. US Airways would not help me at all. They offered a “discounted” hotel rate that was still ridiculous. So I slept on the floor of the baggage claim. I slept there because I was told to find my bag there. I asked about it, and they told me that their system showed it was still in Philadelphia but it could take up to three hours to find it. Three hours later and no bag. I asked again, but got no real response. I asked one more person if she knew where my bag was. She went away to check. Another three hours later, she returned. She confessed that she was the last person to touch my bag and that she had put it on a flight to Newburgh. A flight I was never on. My bag is in New York. <em>I am not.</em></p> <p>But it hasn’t all been murderous desire. My west coast people have been wonderful to me. Martha, Julia, and Catherine have all had a hand in being far too sweet to me, making me cry. I also had something of a guardian angel last night… or at least a person of random blessing. She was a fine lass from Dublin. She went to get me a beer in exchange for using my phone charger, or at least that was her reasoning; I’m pretty sure she noticed I’d been crying. When the beer plan failed, she came back out with two bottles of Coke and a pulled a brand new bottle of Jameson from her bag. She had me swig back some Coke, then refilled the bottle… because “Clarleh ye’ve hahd a roof deah.” I don’t know her name. I’ll never see her again. Bless her heart.</p> <p>So what’s the point of all this? I’m pissed off. That’s really it. I’m pissed. I needed to vent. </p> <p>…</p> <p>Ok, one last piece of rage:</p> <p>Fuck you, US Airways. May all of your profits be in the red. May you go bankrupt, belly up, and may all of your rude employees go rot.</p> <p></vitriol> </p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-11727783784078172312011-09-02T23:52:00.001-07:002011-09-03T00:01:31.900-07:00LNN: Episode Insanity II:<h3>Banjos!? The Legends Were True!</h3> <p>I should be off the hook after watching <em>Parking Wars</em>. There is no possible way things could be any stupider than that. I mean, who wants a show about parking enforcement? Evidently, enough people to get it renewed for a fifth season. Yeah. Thanks, America. </p> <p>Look, I’m not exactly a hyper-genius. Take this for example: One balmy summer Saturday, when I was just a wee five year old lad, back in New York, I got really gassed up on sugary cereal and started bombing around the house in my underwear. Superman underoos FTW. At some point in this fit of fervor I decided that I <em>was</em> Superman, so I hopped up on the living room couch, proclaimed that which I believed in that moment and then I made one hell of an attempt to fly. Instead, I fell like a thirty-five pound sack of rocks. In fact, this plummet was so stellar that I smashed my head into a corner of the obscenely heavy coffee table that my father built (A table I think my folks still have, and I’m fairly certain is still obscenely heavy). I gashed my right eyebrow open and bled all over the place. There were stiches involved. </p> <p>The point? Even in that stage of total madness, as well as the subsequent <em>smashing of my skull,</em> I am <strong><em>still</em></strong> not dumb enough to enjoy <em>Parking Wars</em>. I mean, what could possibly be worse than that? Maybe a show about the unfortunate and uneducated hunting for alligators in Louisiana…</p> <p>Wait, what? That’s an <em>actual show!? </em>Aw, come on!!<strong><em> </em></strong></p> <p>Fine! I’ll review it, but I’m holding every last one of you accountable for my therapy bills! </p> <p>Here’s the Netflix blurb on the series:</p> <blockquote> <p>Set in the swamps of the Atchafalaya River Basin, this series follows a clan of Cajuns and one resident’s quest to nab a nasty reptile.</p></blockquote> <p>Charming. This sounds less like reality TV and more like an old episode of <em>Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.</em> </p> <p>I’ve decided to cover the 3rd episode of the first season, called <em>Troy’s Gamble</em> because, well…:</p> <blockquote> <p>Troy desperately needs to find a new honey hole – a corner of the bayou teeming with gators. He thinks he’s found one, but the rights to hunt it will cost him a lot of cash. He takes the risk – but will it pay off?</p></blockquote> <p>Hotel Foxtrot Sierra, people. We’re in for a ride. Strap in and let’s get ready for <em>Swamp People.</em></p> <ul> <li>The show opens with a viewer’s discretion warning that also tries to justify this show existing. We’re 10 seconds in, the show hasn’t made a sound yet and we’re already bursting with quality and real fruit filling.</li> <li>Am I going to spend the next 42 minutes not understanding one damn thing anyone says?</li> <li>Banjos! Run! Save yourselves!</li> <li>According to this voiceover, our man Troy is apparently the gator hunting equivalent of Sherlock Holmes… The Asylum’s Sherlock Holmes, but Holmes nonetheless.</li> <li>Nope. Not going to understand one word.</li> <li>We’re moving on to a new person named Trapper Joe and all I can think about is whether or not he killed Trapper John, M.D.</li> <li>And sure enough, I can’t understand anyone in this section, either. </li> <ul> <li>Wait! Someone who annunciates! … He must be a plant.</li></ul> <li>Seriously? They put a rifle in the water and just shoot the gators? That seems anticlimactic for a show like this. Shouldn’t they wrestle for supremacy?</li> <li>So we come back to Troy, who gets his boat stuck in the swamp and… wait, he paid <em>thousands</em> of dollars to hunt for gators? Holy smokes, dude! That’s a lot of money for you not catching anything. At least, that’s what I gather from the Narrator.</li> <li>And now we join a man in a trucker cap, t-shirt, and overalls. We’re told he’s a mechanic, and welder, and he hunts gators year round. And he built Troy’s boat! Actually, to his credit, this guy has some impressive credentials in metalwork. I want to crack jokes, but I’m actually impressed with that guy.</li> <li>TROY!! </li> <li>Oh holy crap, this show is only half over! Why won’t the hurting end? </li> <li>Shoot a gator! LIKE A BOSS! In the face! LIKE A BOSS!</li> <li>Ok, first of all, the guy who was annunciating for me clearly earlier? That’s done. I don’t understand him anymore either. Second, yes. Yes they just kinda shoot the gators. </li> <ul> <li>Ok, in all fairness, moving boat, gator going nuts. But I still prefer the rasslin’ idea.</li></ul> <li>We’re going back to the metalwork guy. I’ve decided he needs his own show. I’d totally watch something about him.</li> <li>At this point I’m running out of things to say and the show still has 10 minutes left. At this point the formula goes:</li> <ul> <li>Wander around looking for gators.</li> <li>Find gators.</li> <li>Shoot gators in face.</li> <li>Repeat ad nauseum. </li> <li>I’m bored now.</li></ul> <li>Oh, the drama has shifted for old Troy! Now he <em>too many</em> alligators, he can’t carry them all. So he needs to find help, which he does, and saves all his gators. Is this really the last segment of this show?</li> <li>No, because Troy had to get paid, and they had to invoke the episode title. </li> <li>There’s more!? End! End already! END!</li></ul> <p>Well, that was <em>Swamp People</em>. Final thoughts? The last 42 minutes of my life were spent trying to understand Cajuns. Burt Reynolds, where were you when I needed you?</p> <p>Netflix Assumptive Rating: <sup>****<br></sup></p> <p>Actual Rating: <sup>**1/2</sup></p> <p>The only reason I don’t completely hate this show was that metalworking guy who built the boat. That dude gets respect. Everyone else on this show just hurt my brain. Or, as our friend Troy might say, “Whoo hoo hoooooooo.”</p> <p>Are you people done torturing me now, or do you have an even worse reality show for me to touch on?</p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-73929590029026467642011-08-18T22:30:00.001-07:002011-08-18T22:58:24.056-07:00LNN: Episode Insanity I:<h3>Twin Spirals of Pain</h3> <p>You know, when I revamped this blog and decided to change my direction, I thought <em>Gee! I wanna write funny reviews of terrible things!</em> Now? I don’t want to do this. This was an awful idea all along. Everything about this experience promises to be painful. This is a punch in my soul, people! And yet I did promise that this would be my next post. Well, fine. I’m going to be a man of my word and endure this. I’m going to watch <em>Parking Wars.</em>The shit I watch to try making you people laugh…</p> <p>According to the Netflix blurb about the show, it’s a “gritty reality series” about “resourceful parking enforcement officers” (I dare you to say that with a straight face!) and “inventive citizens who park illegally.” In a one sentence description, I gather that this is going to be as unintentionally hilarious as an Asylum movie. We’re going to kick this off with Season 1, Episode 1. </p> <p>Netflix, tell us what this episode is about:</p> <blockquote> <p><em>Jeff, whose favorite insult is being called "meter maid," squares off with an irate citizen over a broken meter. The booting team of Steve and Sherry encounters a woman who has an extreme emotional attachment to her car.</em></p></blockquote> <p>Sounds like pure gold to me! Let’s dive in!</p> <ul> <li>Wow. In the title sequence, in the very first second, the word “Gestapo” is used. Godwin’s Law officially invoked. Classy.</li> <li>Generic rock soundtrack? Check.</li> <li>I don’t even know what to say to this: <em>“By day we tow, we boot, we write tickets, we deal the power, the pain, the thrust. You eatin’ dust. We the PPA enforcers. You can’t mess with us.” </em>This was just rapped. WhatisthisIdon’teven…</li> <li>The aforementioned Jeff from the episode blurb apparently has an eye for the ladies as evidenced by the continual shots of him looking at their butts. Also this is mostly going to consist of him being called a slew of names. And this is riveting TV. </li> <ul> <li>Also, “meter maid?” Really? That’s your favorite insult, Jeff? There has to be something far more original and amazing that you’ve been called. Hell, the show you’re <em><strong>on</strong></em> played the Nazi card in the first second! Have some standards, man!</li></ul> <li>And now a crazy little elf man is screaming about a parking meter and being cheered… while being on hold on phone. I have no idea what’s going on anymore, but Philadelphians? Class acts. </li> <li>And now? Booting. They even get their own theme song!</li> <li>Cliché: “We have a hit!” Check!</li> <li>Cliché 2: “It’s a bit of a ‘cat-and-mouse’ game.” Check!</li> <li>I’ve just been given some serious parking enforcement lingo. Cindy, the emotional car lady from the blurb, is an “H&H” which is a “heavy hitter” which means she’s racked up over $700 in parking tickets. </li> <ul> <li>First of all, that’s pretty damn impressive to rack up that kind of parking fines</li> <li>Second, your lingo sucks… and it’s inaccurate. There’s no “and” in “heavy hitter.”</li></ul> <li>And now they’re going to wait for a tow truck! </li> <ul> <li>And the tow truck driver is an arrogant assbag! Fan-flipping-tastic!</li></ul> <li>STOP SAYING “HEAVY HITTER!”</li> <li>Cindy said her car is like a pet. That’s… Are all people in Philly that dumb?</li> <li>Generic hip-hop/R&B song? Check!</li> <li>TO THE IMPOUND YARD!</li> <li>This place is filled with some hilarious rage… ok mostly just the guy who called them the Gestapo in the title sequence.</li> <li>Gestapo guy hands the lot officer his phone, to show that he has been on hold with his insurance company for some time. She closes his phone, ending his call. He’s distraught. She laughs. If this show was meant to make me appreciate these parking enforcers it just failed big time.</li> <li><em>“If someone is angry I tend to be a little bit kinder to show them this is not a personal thing.”</em> As totally evidenced by you copping an attitude with the guy who was rightfully upset by you hanging up on his phone call!</li> <li>The show ends with Gestapo guy getting his car back, roll credits.</li> <li>Generic rap track? Check!</li></ul> <p>So, a guy got called a meter maid, someone taught us some parking enforcer lingo, and Godwin’s Law. I don’t know I’d call this show gritty… probably more grating.I cannot honestly fathom why this needed to be a show. If I wanted to watch sad people get cussed out by the general populous, hell I’d probably just go watch parking enforcers in real life.</p> <p> But the fun doesn’t end here, kids. Tonight is a two-for-one special on my misery. Up next: <em>Mall Cops: Mall of America.</em> All I can say right off the bat is <em>Minnesota, I thought you were cool, man… </em></p> <p>Okay, let’s see what Netflix has to say about this show:</p> <blockquote> <p><em>The Mall of America’s security team is charged with maintaining order and safety at the largest retail space in the United States.</em></p></blockquote> <p>Well… that didn’t really tell us much. Why am I going to watch this again? Oh. Right. Mall security equals “teh funneh.” Ok, well, let’s look at the episode brief Season 1, Episode 1:</p> <blockquote> <p><em>S1:E1 – Black Friday<br>When shoppers invade Mall of America on the busiest shopping day of the year, mall cops deal with a shoplifting ring, a man carrying a concealed weapon, a girl who has had a seizure, and an intoxicated man who refuses to leave the mall willingly.</em></p></blockquote> <p>Yikes. Black Friday? Don’t you think your playing this gambit a little too soon? Shouldn’t this be your season finale episode, or something? Also, <em>‘invade?’</em> Nobody is invading the Mall of America. It’s no a micro-nation that we’re attempting to conquer just by showing up. Mall of America, you are no <a href="http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/thatguywiththeglasses/nostalgia-critic/21882-kickassia-part-01">Kickassia</a>. Alright, enough stalling:</p> <ul> <li>Intense preview sequence? Check!</li> <li>They used the word epic… FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU--</li> <li>America, your Black Friday obsession is scaring me. Why are any of you outside, in Minnesota, in late November, at 2:30AM, waiting for the mall to open? Does this sound like a thing reasonable human beings do? </li> <li>Show about the mall uses the line “shop ‘til you drop.” Check!</li> <li>I admit, I love this bit that moments before opening, everyone inside the mall is wearing an expression of “Oh shit…” And you know what? I know how they feel. </li> <li>Sped up film? Check!</li> <li>The profiles to introduce the… officers(?) are ridiculous. </li> <li>Report of a shoplifter!? OH NOES!</li> <ul> <li>Wait. That was it? They got word of a shoplifter, the guy ran, cut to commercial? Then why make it a segment!?</li> <li>This mall cop running is hilarious. I’m going to renamed him Joey Bagodonuts.</li></ul> <li>“The Handbag Mafia”? Really!?</li> <li>Oh neat! We get to talk to a crazy guy who’s putting on make up in the middle of the mall! </li> <ul> <li>AHHAHAHAHAAA!! Best exchange ever between Mall Cop and Crazy Guy:<br><em>MC: Do you have any weapons on you?<br>CG: The most powerful weapon I got is my mind.<br>MC:Got a knife?<br>CG: Yeah!<br></em>Oh sweet! He’s armed!</li> <li>Oh… and end segment. What the hell, <em>Mall Cops</em>!? What the hell!?</li></ul> <li>Wait wait wait. Sergeant!?. Do mall cops have actual <strong><em>ranks!?</em></strong> Pfffhaaahahahaaaahahaa!!! No! No stop! That’s too much! </li> <li>I’m not even going to comment on the seizure segment. I can’t be that much of an asshole. Sorry, everybody.</li> <li>The last segment is about a belligerent drunk man stealing wine from a store then resisting ‘arrest’. </li> <ul> <li>Aaaaand the drunk man pooped his pants. Wow. I’m so glad we’re ending on that note.</li></ul> <li>End credits bonus! A mall cop has to help someone find their car at the end of day! Groundbreaking television!</li></ul> <p>So, that was <em>Mall Cops.</em> And it was, um, well, pretty terrible! I mean, wow. It was kind of stupid, and mostly just really boring. Even playing the Black Friday trump card from the beginning did not help. The rest of this show must be an absolute snooze-fest.</p> <p>Final thoughts on these two shows? I cannot fathom why these are even on. I mean they were funny in all the worst possible ways. <em>Parking Wars </em>felt miserable to watch and <em>Mall Cops</em>, which should have been hilarious, was really just dull. America, I beg you, stop putting this shit on TV. Stop letting it run for season after season. </p> <p><em>Parking Wars:<br></em>Netflix Assumptive Rating: <strong>****<br></strong>Actual Rating: <strong>**</strong></p> <p>It had funny moments, but mostly just unpleasant to watch. </p> <p><em>Mall Cops:<br></em>Netflix Assumptive Rating: <strong>***<br></strong><sup>Actual Rating: <strong>*</strong></sup></p> <p><sup>zzzzzzzzzzzzz…</sup></p> <p>Well, with that slice of hell off my plate, I’m going to go watch something less mind-rotting. Something simple and kind. And maybe, if I’m lucky, it’ll have robots.</p> <p>…</p> <p>Or ponies.</p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-46041350651503493882011-07-30T10:06:00.001-07:002011-07-30T10:06:06.682-07:00A Moment of Silence…<h3>…For Liam Neeson’s Career</h3> <p>You know, I was under the distinct impression that things could not get much worse for the movie industry than… well… than just about anything Michael Bay has made in the last decade. But now there are two far worse things and, oddly enough, they both beat my childhood with a splintered 2X4. First, there’s Smurfs. I refuse to comment on it. I refuse. My only comment on this travesty is this: Neil Patrick Harris… what the hell, man? What. The. Hell.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXf6tZzALJRh_zlDk5gPJqR9tVx0P_LWZs4H_gvlmeh4USvS1aRC9HpIndgSVHJWgDbHxm6iC6lPcrs9E5WHfTHY5Jm7lfzTFg-ioxmaRL6aMD0z6593HddkwsxRG_trakJAsQAUlUarHi/s1600-h/michael-bay%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="michael-bay" alt="michael-bay" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUdLPhvhuy-Mv0ECHCf1v0OoAaHv8lGkQGhYaqgxUFG2W_6PeffXnXPDPPHcgBIL9Vp5jTdbKhhnycCNFawPQVz138aVBsTF3Zt-T1xCYmNP3NqHrwZSFGL5Fy9Mrdmoqom00R_YA9HHFV/?imgmax=800" width="158" height="240"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1" face="Arial"><em>Multi-million dollar budget to make bad CG,<br>recycle old footage, beat your childhood,<br></em><strong>and</strong><em> be a sexist tool? Yes, please!</em></font></p> <p>The other nostalgia-wreck is coming to theaters in 2012.<br>Ladies and gentlemen… <em>Battleship</em>:</p> <p><iframe height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3B3moWiI_J4?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="560" allowfullscreen></iframe></p> <p>Oh yes. This is the real deal, pegs and all. I could believe this sort of thing coming from The Asylum, but a major studio? A major studio gave this the green light!? WHY!? I’m tempted to make a joke about other board games becoming movies, but I’m better than that.<font size="2"><sup>*</sup></font></p> <p>Instead I think we owe it to ourselves and to Liam Neeson to remember some of the good movies he did. He was amazing in <em>Michael Collins</em>, a movie about the formation of the IRA. He was a raging badass father in <em>Taken</em>. Sure he was in <em>Phantom Menace, </em>but it’s not like he had to suffer all of the <em>Star Wars</em> prequels, right? <em>Gangs of New York,</em> anyone? And what about <em>Les Misérables… </em>his performance as Valjean? He was the voice of Aslan, for cripes sakes! And yes, I even forgive the A-Team. At least that was a fun action flick. </p> <p>But now? Now there’s Battleship. And because of that, I feel we owe it to Mr. Neeson to bow our heads and remember his career fondly. </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrRMa23OuEjCULk8DMJGnStg3CPjzY9Vb0PD23XGYREcFj4-GyDjEdW8bgeKrMrnVBf1B4cmm_CdBRikY8AZNXmmcV-gUvXs4FtGmct4Bwh9_aalKN0cfJt_cZyBdhA2nuIjsv4SrxX4m/s1600-h/taken1%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="taken1" alt="taken1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwsq5Vmhy9gT3Atlvou-6HA0z_7P9GYuy99Gy0sEF5ijI-dXsRk5PyNcr-nPRNp3fy-lB6D4VDOLGYY3NWFoYsLdAYn2EwvECzxj7Vx7A7G2NaTB8J_Xo0vFDKeYnfRhvZtVZ1aeyvY4g/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="155"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1" face="Arial"><em>You forgot </em>Batman Begins. <em>Now I’ll have to<br>break your spine.</em></font><br></p> <p> <hr> </p> <p><strong>Next time on <em>The Fix is In</em>:</strong></p> <p>It’s time to do my first installment of <em>LNN: Episode Insanity.</em> I’m still infuriated that this show even exists and even more baffled that Netflix thinks I will love it: <em>Parking Wars.</em> America, you drove me to this and now you’ll have to read my suffering. Or you could just not read it all.</p> <p>…</p> <p>Hey! Wait! Come back!</p> <p> <hr> </p> <p>*<em>I’m actually not above that joke at all.</em> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTyKgpoZOrwWNWeyOuyKBXrSBr7o8PkN7YCI-Co9di5vw9cUY5ALZK1y4lTk3uERFjJQSGOJ4iDtgw5KxqdCNoOHJv-1j35OEqgPa8QIzhnvrGM4Ghuh5V7DmYH44SPfRbgumdXeo7qz70/s1600-h/Operation-Game.jpg-6913%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="Operation-Game.jpg-6913" alt="Operation-Game.jpg-6913" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sW5DtlsqPfVfo4PIC7lo8XYkHS1z3gzfiBmkUcPrUk91Y8uqKXrt0v6C26YLriTYwRLYwbrxb36DNH9VWc3pgripb-j87WKSToeRvjIhXfw6w1KC3oNsTEOIiuH8Z6eOJAOCZROkeNli/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="240"></a></p> <p align="center"><font size="1" face="Arial">Operation. <em>Coming to theaters in 2014. <br>Don’t touch the sides…</em></font></p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-36046201778189371252011-07-24T11:52:00.000-07:002011-07-24T13:26:17.699-07:00Facepalm and Foxtrot<h3>New Television Should Be Ashamed</h3> <p>America, we need to talk. Other countries, you may want to leave the room. You can stay if you want to, but America and I have something to discuss. </p> <p align="left">When I was young, I had the TV to babysit me. I used to watch anything and everything that I could. After everything switched to digital and the world needed converter boxes, I broke free. I don’t watch anything new on TV anymore. I admit, I catch a lot of shit for this, but I’m honestly thrilled to not be glued to the TV 24/7. However, you <a href="http://thefix-isin.blogspot.com/2011/05/whizzer.html">may have noticed</a> that I have a <a href="http://thefix-isin.blogspot.com/2011/06/late-night-netflix-movie-mania.html">Netflix streaming account.</a> Now, I may not be ahead of the curve on what’s hot anymore, but I’ve been finding out the types of things you people have been watching and I am disappointed.</p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2OhoO0le0QOiCn6_WyY_7vcaM6ztPlM7XRdxnw1InHt9RgPZlAIrh8-5ArffCIZHlJ-PGWvpyKuWevewmtm_8-WhEavTxjzMHKdbNLGKBh6Pwze8dDgN_wJrNpdYdVsGRsp_sljrUTMH/s1600-h/robotfacepalm%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="robotfacepalm" alt="robotfacepalm" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBOFya4F-uuFDQZcSXeezRNY_yXtuo3PH0ZUAzvLTXC96vKZJmIAGMWBf_UBnj1QrSwTacmE-MW3R1kdRXISGjhD0DieLn6m60OZQSkptbeeYVXekIQI1xEyi6swTZz-Ays3p5vn26s0a/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="160"></a><em><font size="1" face="Arial"><br>*Siiiiiiiiigh*</font></em></p> <p>Look, enough beating around the bush. I need one of you to justify to me why <em>Parking Wars, Mall Cops, </em>and<em> Pawn Stars</em> are even shows, let alone ones that have more than one season? Why have you made these things popular? I was willing to forgive you for <em>Dog the Bounty Hunter, </em>and I even manage to mostly overlook <em>Jersey Shore. </em>But shows about parking lot enforcement, mall security, and pawn shops? Really? Are you just willing to watch anything?</p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhk2LQOC5Nm-un1RVKqwmrY1Hk97HrOjmLU-9cL8mDiERHk2fdnzilv0wtnXJ4duJ6BCuqp_0ILjEuunwXsNFVDmchPs5J3oZFo4nBAweJiM16IWqOsPbe7Tr_-gZ4yDtcTzCHoRTiDz3N/s1600-h/frytv%25255B11%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="frytv" alt="frytv" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtS_gpGV7uq4OITVBD_IuKkywzMRTElmHkPLeELXh6wAjfAG8Cf-u-6KuOo4i3rP5KEyw-sBSCh5fv37qc2FZhVBxwYKgw1qavJaA8Gy9wI_-4oJ9dUr5N2cNGMTlZWTGtmXupvJbt5Uxi/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="166"></a></p> <blockquote> <p align="center"><font size="1" face="Arial"><em>Sheesh! 40,000 channels and only 150 have anything good on.</em></font></p> <p align="left"> </p></blockquote> <p align="left">What’s just as scary as these shows being popular is the fact that someone, somewhere decided to pitch this to a network, and they <em>thought it was a good idea.</em> And evidently, given that all these shows have several seasons, they weren’t wrong. What the hell is wrong with all of you!?</p> <blockquote> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrDVUKLBhM2sp4G6rbOvmCBBQx893LtV9M7w0TD9_KicJSuf55wLJKKR-H0xRQNkn_GbAakmW8bWU-MACewYX9dwo68wlUE-_zavPVV4heEBmypEfJptgCnMs_yt7Rsb-IhVJ5zMMJS1v/s1600-h/twobusinessmen%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="twobusinessmen" alt="twobusinessmen" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVMclrPClzqFJu2hchVG9o45jlFBMU7In8AmlxzC-ZhFhqlYwU17Fl-3bDEiCoBHuyWSIXIiR4rfngp2-2n-hvvNhi6Y9InxcNrBOChsrtAMEDq_nLRavFQaHpvwITFrckNTuhsYg0XRk/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="209"></a></p></blockquote> <p align="center"><font size="1"><font face="Arial"><em>“You know, Phil, maybe people don’t </em><strong>want</strong></font></font><em><font size="1" face="Arial"> to watch a show about parking lot cops…”<br>”And that’s why you don’t work here after today, Bob!”</font></em></p> <p align="left">In conclusion: shame on all of you, America. Now I’m going to go be all pretentious and watch <em>Downton Abbey</em> or <em>Twin Peaks.</em> I suggest you all start doing the same, immediately.</p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8Nirdjk3snFbigfhRCMwdOUAihcRBJmv3xXOzIea13LPqs5ZYF9kBWd5-A_x-L_eScVUbNIs6KCANur2m7x9kqtxKxi6dVn6CRnMNh86QyclCWKVmKIRIj6-N8o80-uvII78QsPfdxDw/s1600-h/marycrawleyclass%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" title="A CARNIVAL FILMS PRODUCTION FOR ITV1.<br /><br />DOWNTON ABBEY.<br /><br />EPISODE 4<br /><br />ITV’s new costume drama series, Downton Abbey, written and created by Oscar-winning writer Julian Fellowes and made by Carnival Films for ITV will star Maggie Smith as Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham, Hugh Bonneville as Robert, Earl of Grantham and Elizabeth McGovern as Robert’s wife, Cora, Countess of Grantham. <br /><br />They will lead an all-star cast, which also includes: Penelope Wilton, Dan Stevens, Michelle Dockery, Jim Carter, Phyllis Logan, Lesley Nicol, Siobhan Finneran, Rob James Collier, Joanne Froggatt and Rose Leslie. <br /><br />Set in an Edwardian country house in 1912, Downton Abbey will portray the lives of the Crawley family and the servants who work for them. <br /><br />PICTURED: MICHELLE DOCKERY as Lady Mary Crawley.<br /><br />This photograph is (C) ITV Plc/CARNIVAL FILMS and can only be reproduced for editorial purposes directly in connection with the programme or event mentioned above, or ITV plc. Once made available by ITV plc Picture Desk, this photograph can be reproduced once only up until the transmission [TX] date and no reproduction fee will be charged. Any subsequent usage may incur a fee. This photograph must not be manipulated [excluding basic cropping] in a manner which alters the visual appearance of the person photographed deemed detrimental or inappropriate by ITV plc Picture Desk. This photograph must not be syndicated to any other company, publication or website, or permanently archived, without the express written permission of ITV Plc Picture Desk. Full Terms and conditions are available on the website www.itvpictures.com<br /><br />Photographer: NICK BRIGGS.<br /><br /><br />For further information please contact:<br />patrick.smith@itv.com" alt="A CARNIVAL FILMS PRODUCTION FOR ITV1.<br /><br />DOWNTON ABBEY.<br /><br />EPISODE 4<br /><br />ITV’s new costume drama series, Downton Abbey, written and created by Oscar-winning writer Julian Fellowes and made by Carnival Films for ITV will star Maggie Smith as Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham, Hugh Bonneville as Robert, Earl of Grantham and Elizabeth McGovern as Robert’s wife, Cora, Countess of Grantham. <br /><br />They will lead an all-star cast, which also includes: Penelope Wilton, Dan Stevens, Michelle Dockery, Jim Carter, Phyllis Logan, Lesley Nicol, Siobhan Finneran, Rob James Collier, Joanne Froggatt and Rose Leslie. <br /><br />Set in an Edwardian country house in 1912, Downton Abbey will portray the lives of the Crawley family and the servants who work for them. <br /><br />PICTURED: MICHELLE DOCKERY as Lady Mary Crawley.<br /><br />This photograph is (C) ITV Plc/CARNIVAL FILMS and can only be reproduced for editorial purposes directly in connection with the programme or event mentioned above, or ITV plc. Once made available by ITV plc Picture Desk, this photograph can be reproduced once only up until the transmission [TX] date and no reproduction fee will be charged. Any subsequent usage may incur a fee. This photograph must not be manipulated [excluding basic cropping] in a manner which alters the visual appearance of the person photographed deemed detrimental or inappropriate by ITV plc Picture Desk. This photograph must not be syndicated to any other company, publication or website, or permanently archived, without the express written permission of ITV Plc Picture Desk. Full Terms and conditions are available on the website www.itvpictures.com<br /><br />Photographer: NICK BRIGGS.<br /><br /><br />For further information please contact:<br />patrick.smith@itv.com" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrivsR66yApxUIvEXuL6d9KwRoivFxUjwR4X_1uVESjs_yuJSSBqHR2FzizPYpZ6KHPHudQarO7Qr_z3apB2lNmMsZ166l7B0cj6ar5aoi_0_-1AKvFy42In8CGH7Q1mgjpKMPo0GVJIOG/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="176"></a></p> <blockquote> <p align="center"><font size="1" face="Arial"><em>I have far too much grace, sophistication, and money to pawn anything on</em> <strong>Pawn Stars.</strong></font><br> </p> <p align="center"></p></blockquote> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-9374757861828276022011-06-26T00:37:00.001-07:002011-06-26T00:37:44.437-07:00A Not-So LNN:MM<h3>Wherein My Nerd-Cred Slips to Nil.</h3> <p>After my last <em>Late Night Netflix: Movie Mania,</em> I learned a few things:</p> <ol> <li>The result of doing reviews that way is a two-day hangover with only about half the fun of getting there.</li> <li>I really limited my material by going only with streaming. I know there’s a lot of streaming, but I do get DVDs too. </li> <li>I don’t want to post that much reactionary stuff again. I certainly do want to post my initial reaction comments, but I want to write something slightly more substantial</li></ol> <p>Congratulations, The Asylum. You gave me a learning experience. So, I’m changing things up for this edition of <em>LNN:MM. </em></p> <ol> <li>I’m obviously doing this earlier than midnight.</li> <li>This movie is on DVD</li> <li>Less notes! More actual content!</li></ol> <p>Now I know this is only my second one of these and I’m breaking my own pre-established rules, but it’s my blog and I’ll do what I damn well please! Besides, this is all meant for entertainment and sharing the things in the fantasy kingdom that is my brain.</p> <p>Speaking of fantasy kingdoms, that brings us to tonight’s movie: <em>Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, </em>an all CGI affair brought to us by the beloved Squeenix. I’m not going to lie to you; I’ve only managed to stomach ten minutes of this so far. But I’m prepared to try again. For you. You torturous, hateful sadists…</p> <p>The DVD menu, like any DVD menu that has an animated loop with soundtrack, if left on too long will make you want to punch a nun. This choir singing the name “Sephiroth” over and over again is pretty annoying. My options are: Play Movie, Languages, Scene Selections, and Reminiscence of Final Fantasy VII; all pretty standard options, except that last one. That just sounds weird. Let’s just play the movie:</p> <ul> <li>This opening is boring. There’s a ton of action and all of it off screen. This is followed by one of the Peanuts children expositing by offering the plot to <em>FF:VII</em>. Way to go movie. You’re not even five minutes in and you’re boring me.</li> <ul> <li>Also, this sequence seems to be where they pulled all of the action from the DVD menu from.</li></ul> <li>Everything in this movie so far has been muted and gray. </li> <li>And a cut to an even grayer wasteland and the Square-Enix logo. Is it too late to turn back now? It is? Shit.</li> <li>In the same breath we’re introduced to our hero, Cloud Strife; a man whose hair looks like a variegated star (Thank you, Nikolina) and whose outfit looks like it was rejected from Mad Max. </li> <li>And now we have three guys all dressed alike speaking very weirdly about mothers and big-brothers, and telling each other not to cry. Creepy.</li> <li>Cloud just got cold shot in the face and he just winces? Either I’m very confused about physics and/or biology right now, or that dude is effing hardcore.</li> <li>And Cloud’s first actual lines are a whiny and petulant “I’m leaving!” Our hero!</li> <ul> <li>Followed soon after by “Too bad. I’m a delivery-boy now.” Cloud, buddy… looking like you do, that line does not sound as badass as you think it does. </li> <li>And our hero walks away with a mighty “Not interested…” Truly, stalwart and mighty is he.</li></ul> <li>Ok, this action scene between Tifa and one of the creepy-trio is actually fairly decent, and has the first real bits of color I’ve seen in the movie. </li> <li>That said, creepy-guy #3’s cell phone rings and the ringtone is the battle victory music from <em>FF:VII</em>. It’s a cute piece of self-referential humor; however, it’s ruined by the fact that his phone <em>keeps ringing. </em>It goes from a cute chuckle to insanely annoying very fast.</li> <li>The three creepy guys are rounding up children in a glowing forest and talking about healing them. Pedobear would be proud.</li> <li>We come into another action scene which is trying so hard to be epic; full of guns and super powers, swords and martial arts. The problem is, between all the zoom shots and the pale lighting, you can’t tell what’s going on at all. It’s pretty disappointing.</li> <li>And now we’re introduced to “Vincent” who sounds like Wolverine after smoking a pack of cigarettes and apparently owns Spawn’s cape. He and Cloud have an exchange about what the creepy-trio are up to, which is apparently resurrecting Sephiroth, the big-bad from the game. Well… ok. </li> <li>This plot makes no sense. They want to resurrect Sephiroth because “Mother” wants them to, but they don’t have any real plans after that. No world domination (of course!), no conquest. Just, bring back the old big-bad. Why!?</li> <ul> <li>Creepy guy #1 summons a giant monster. It blows up a pillar.monument and then leaves. Well. That was necessary. Just had to get that “Summon” in there?</li> <li>And this is followed by a really lame fight sequence. </li></ul> <li>Creepy #3: “You meanie!!” … Really, movie?</li> <li>We’re a little over halfway through this movie and you want to pack in five more characters? Movie, I know you want to make sure you get all the favorites in here, but come on. Especially when these guys are as much comic relief as the two jokers from the last lousy action scene!</li> <li>Oh, finally our petulant hero returns! And cue a relentless action sequence involving eight heroes and one giant monster where you cannot possibly tell what is going on. </li> <ul> <li>By the way, unless you’re familiar with the games, you’re never told who half these people are. Way to go, movie!</li></ul> <li>And a guy in a wheelchair from the beginning didn’t need a wheelchair after all, had “mother” the whole time, and threw it off a tall building. WHAT A TWIST! M. Night would be proud!</li> <li>Movie, when your motorcycle chase/ action-packed fight is full of muted grays, to the point that the audience can’t tell what’s happening. it is not exciting. </li> <ul> <li>Though, to be fair, the part where creepy guy #3 <em>throws his motorcycle with his legs</em> and Cloud <em>cuts it in half</em> is pretty badass. The rest of the action kind of sucks, though.</li></ul> <li>Ok, I’m getting bored with this. Let’s wrap this up. Cloud fights Creepy guy #1 to no avail;<em> </em>they have a fairly impressive sword fight (only fairly because of several moments of “what the hell just happened!?”); Cloud’s friends babble incessantly and don’t help AT ALL; creepy guy #1 changes into Sephiroth, the two have a really boring Dragonball Z style fight with Sephiroth quipping away the whole time; Sephiroth almost wins, but Cloud, through the magic of the world, or friendship or some crap overcomes; Creepy guy #1 returns and it starts raining and he dies in Cloud’s arms; The rain heals everyone in the world, everyone lives happily ever after… until Creepy guys #2&3 return to shoot Cloud and blow up the building they’re on top of(WHY ISN’T THIS OVER YET!?) and Cloud gets…. kicked out of heaven and back down to Earth? I think? His friends surround him and we live happily ever after. Friendship babble. Roll credits!</li></ul> <p align="center">THE END!</p> <p align="left">GAH, this movie is terrible! I know this is a grave taboo to fan-boys the world over, but this movie just is not good at all. The characters are boring, or just plain unlikable. Characters got shoved in just because they were in the game. The villainous plan has no point, other than to resurrect a dead evil guy for no other reason than “because we can!” The three creepy villains are supposed to have a comic element to them that just falls flat. Sephiroth shows up for an epic battle that does nothing and ends on an absurdly confusing note.</p> <p align="left">Speaking of confusing, that sums up the action in this movie. Between constantly muted colors, or fighting going on in areas with bad lighting, IE <em>everything</em> is awash in blue light, and the constant zooming shots, the action is just… confusing to watch. I had no idea what was going on most of the time.</p> <p align="left">Advent children was also just… aesthetically unappealing to me. I don’t care for straight CGI in the first place, but when all of your colors are gray and muted, everything looks boring, dull, and waxy. The end credit sequence and one fight with Tifa looked so much brighter and vibrant than the vast majority of this movie. </p> <p align="left">All I can say is this: This was made for the fan-boys. If you’re a huge <em>FF:VII</em> fan, then you might like this. But as someone who just kind of picked this up? This movie was horrible and made me want to set bunnies on fire.</p> <p align="left">Netflix Assumptive Rating: <strong>*****<br></strong>Actual Rating: <strong>**</strong></p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-61762594481750272112011-06-11T14:10:00.001-07:002011-06-12T09:11:03.620-07:00Fu… Fubu… Furbu… Fruits Basket!<p>I know I’ve been really post heavy the last few weeks. The writing bug bit me hard and I wanted to take advantage. However, I wanted to take a quick break from my usual postings to call attention to someone else’s hard work. </p> <p>The delightful <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/jesuotaku">JesuOtaku</a> has started a radio drama based on the Fruits Basket manga. It’s only two episodes in so far, but it is an absolute pleasure to listen to. Whether you’re familiar with the source material or not (for the record, I am not familiar with the source material) it is well worth your time.</p> <p>It’s a deep story with complex characters, great voice acting, and steeped in folklore (specifically in the Chinese zodiac). Hope Chapman’s (JesuOtaku) direction goes a long way in bringing this story to life; it’s obvious that she and her voice actors have put a lot of thought and love into this project. It’s refreshing to note how much care is put into this adaptation, which is more than can be said for a lot of adaptations these days (I’m looking at you, Brett Ratner and Michael Bay). Even if it isn’t a 100% faithful adaptation of the source material(again, I don’t know), it does clearly stand as a loving tribute to said source material.</p> <p>I highly recommend giving The Furuba Radio Drama a listen. You can listen to the episodes as they’re released on thatguywiththeglasses.com:</p> <ul> <li><a href="http://furubadrama.weebly.com/index.html">Furuba Audio Drama</a> <li><a href="http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/ir/jo/fruits-basket-radio-drama">Furuba Audio Drama episodes on TGWTG</a> <li><a href="http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/ir/jo">JesuOtaku's other works on TGWTG</a> <li><a href="http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/">That Guy with the Glasses</a></li></ul> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-23778742879990512512011-06-10T18:25:00.001-07:002011-06-11T01:23:04.753-07:00Late Night Netflix: Movie Mania<h3>The First… Blogisode?</h3> <p>Hello and welcome to <em>Movie Mania</em>! It’s my first post in this series, so I suppose this is where I ought to explain how this works (If you don’t care about any of this, just jump down past the line-break and get right into the review). Netflix has an ever expanding list of titles available for online streaming. The internet has has an ever expanding list of asshats on the internet writing or filming reviews of thing while maintaining some sort of gimmick. I decided it was time to combine the two in my series <em>Late Night Netflix.</em> Here is my criteria for both <em>Movie Mania</em> and <em>Episode Insanity:</em> </p> <ol> <li>I choose a movie/series that Netflix says I’m going to love (it assumes at least a four star rating from me) or hate (it assumes at most a star and a half from me). I’ll also watch and review things people suggest or take on items whose titles and/or descriptions grab my attention.</li> <li>I wait until at least 12AM to start. I want to be really tired for these viewings to make them a bit more interesting</li> <ol> <li>No naps beforehand.</li> <li>Caffeine shall be considered both legit and necessary. </li></ol> <li>I’ll be writing the reviews as I watch, so that the finished post ends up being my gut reactions to what I’m seeing… Well, 95% gut reaction. Sometimes I’ll backtrack for comedic value. </li> <li>I’ll draw up a short conclusion and give my rating versus what Netflix assumed I’d give it. </li></ol> <p>“How do we know you’re not faking this?” you may be asking this page. Well, I suppose you don’t. We’re on the honors system, friends. Also, you’re trying to talk to a website. That cant be healthy. Anyway, enough of this preamble garbage! Let’s do this thing!</p> <hr> <p>As this is the first installment of this shipwreck of an idea, I think it is only fitting to watch The Asylum’s <em>Titanic II.</em> For those not in the know, The Asylum is a low budget production company that makes movies known as “mockbusters,” movies meant specifically to cash in on blockbuster cinema. They operate on a production schedule of a few months and therefore their finished products are always hilariously bad. </p> <p>Given how bad these movies are supposed to be and what Netflix knows of my taste they assume a a one-star (*) rating from me. Oh man. This is going to hurt. Without further ado, welcome again to the <em>LNN:MM</em> viewing of <em>Titanic II:</em></p> <ul> <li> Wow. Open on a frozen wasteland and the opening credits, and these credits aren’t wasting any damn time.</li> <li>A man is… surfing in the frozen wastes? Yes! He waited for a hunk of ice to drop into the water and create a wave for him to surf on. We have one character in the movie and he’s an absolute idiot. </li> <li>More ice drops creating a tidal wave, killing our super-genius surfer. I’m pretty sure that’s not how anything works. Ever.</li> <li>Hey! Bruce Davison! Goodie!</li> <li>Well, at least they didn’t waste time getting us to the titular boat. Five minutes in and there she is.</li> <li>We’re introduced to our two heroines for this film.They look exactly alike and are wearing the same outfit so I will never be able to tell them apart. Stellar.</li> <ul> <li>“I swear to god I’d rather watch some of these people drown than give them CPR.” Oh good! One of them is completely loathsome as a human being!</li> <li>The loathsome one is adequately counterbalanced by… a character with a complete lack of personality</li></ul> <li>A blonde D-bag lands on the ship in a helicopter land slow-mo walks toward the camera with what I can only assume were once Playboy bunnies. </li> <ul> <li>“It’s so big!” “Airplanes are big, babe. Trains are big. This… is monumental.” Oh good. I get to hate <em>him</em> too.</li> <li>He… owns the Titanic II? Damnit!</li> <li>He also can’t speak. “Sophithticeted?”</li> <li>He also seems to have put <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0641168/">Brian O'Halloran</a> in charge of the ship. </li></ul> <li>Bruce Davison has brought us to Green(screen)land. to meet with attractive lady-scientists.</li> <ul> <li>“A piece of ice broke off this thing the size of Manhattan…” aaaaand I officially call my first “Bullshit” on this movie. </li></ul> <li>Meanwhile, back on the boat Not-Leonardo DiCaprio makes an ass of himself with our cardboard cutout of a heroine.</li> <ul> <li><em>Not Leo: Your father punched me in the nose.<br>Cardboard: He caught you joyriding on his boat at 2AM. I think he had a right.<br>Not Leo: Still a daddy’s girl, huh?<br></em>No, dude! No! You stole the man’s boat! He gets to blast you in the face for that! I’d call you an overly-entitled prat, but, well, you also own a luxury-liner. Still, punch in the nose deserved!</li></ul> <li>If one more person in this movie says “Well, uh…” so help me, someone will die.</li> <li>The most wonderful line ever delivered by Captain <em>Clerks</em> “She make look like her predecessor, but underneath she’s anything but.” </li> <li>Back in GreenScreenland, scientists are tripping over poorly rendered ice fields! Oh no!</li> <li>The Titanic II! It’s 2010, but our CGI is straight out of Babylon 5 in 1994.</li> <li>What a lame-ass dance floor.</li> <ul> <li>What a lame-ass luxury cruise!</li> <li>No, really. The only two people on the dance floor are standing there talking.</li></ul> <li>Apparently Bruce Davison has the military authority to make submarines move. And that’s why he’s a bad-ass.</li> <ul> <li> And now he’s telling the Titanic II to go back where it came from. So cool! He’s like an aging action star without any of the pesky explosions.</li></ul> <li> I know this is supposed to be super tense and foreboding with all the yelling and concern, but it’s actually a little boring.</li> <li>AND WE HAVE ICEBERG!</li> <ul> <li>Furthermore HAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! </li> <li>There’s that gorgeous CGI again</li></ul> <li>This movie is in LOVE with the Coast Guard.</li> <li>Sheesh. This isn’t its predecessor alright. <em>This</em> ship gets hit and it pretty much folds in on itself. Fantastic.</li> <li>What the hell!? Does this ice just have a vendetta against the ship?</li> <li>Does—Does the ship have mini submarines in it? Is that what I just saw?</li> <li>I can’t even keep up with the crazy, but let’s try: The D-Bag decides to stay on the ship while it’s going down because “IT’S MY SHIP!” He runs off to find the cardboard cut-out who petulantly refuses to go with him until they go below decks to find that other girl we all hate. Out of nowhere some dude just starts beating up on blonde-boy. All of this happens in five seconds amidst pandemonium. Did you catch all that?</li> <li>Why the hell is the infirmary in THE BOILER ROOM!?</li> <ul> <li>And what is this woman’s obsession with moving the critically injured!?</li></ul> <li><em>Bruce: You have to get the people on the lifeboats!<br>Cap’n: Half the lifeboats were crushed in the impact<br>Bruce: The lifeboats are deathtraps!<br></em>Wait. What!?</li> <li>How in the hell does she have cell reception in the elevator of a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean!? She has an iPhone and damnit, AT&T’s service is not nearly that good!</li> <li>This is the greatest scene in this movie. Our heroes are making their daring escape. Our blonde heart-throb tries to pry a door open with an axe-head. He can <em>just barely</em> hold it. The cut-out barely squeaks through. The obnoxious one makes her attempt and the door crushes her, killing her instantly. Our lone heroine crouches next to her and with all the emotion of a coffee table screams a feeble “Kelly? Noooooooooo…!” Our hero then suddenly turns into The Last Son of Krypton and just waltzes through the damn door that he could barely hold open ten seconds ago.</li> <li>Daring escape trap number 2! Our plucky couple need to pass a pool water with live wires in it. To do this they need hang onto a plot contrivance, I mean… an overhead pipe and work across. Suddenly Superman has no clue about monkey bars. </li> <li>A trapped person is trying to signal for help by knocking loudly. Rather than help him, the blonde bomber yells “WHO’S THERE!?” Really, man? Is that<em> really</em> important right now? What else would you like to know? “DO YOU OWN A WHITE HONDA ACCORD!?”</li> <ul> <li>Aw. Now he’s dead. *sad face*</li></ul> <li>Their next brilliant plan is… to put her in a wet suit? Oh. I see. Plot contrivance to get her in her bra. Gotcha. Well played, movie. Well played.</li> <li>Seriously, this ice is just aiming for them now.</li> <li>“We capsized.” But we didn’t have the budget left to show that.</li> <li>Bruce Davison is going into rescue his daughter damnit! COAST GUARD!</li> <li>The long kiss goodbye and wait for it… he’s dead! Just like in <em>Titanic</em>!</li> <li>And Lo! Neptune didst swallow the presumptuous ocean liner and Bruce Davison, in true bad-ass fashion didst saveth his daughter from Poseidon's icy grip.</li> <ul> <li>Bruce is so hard, he even went saved his daughter’s boyfriend… hopefully to revive him and punch him in the knows again.</li> <li>Nope. When the Atlantic kills a rich fool, he stays dead… Just like in <em>Titanic</em>! THE END!</li></ul></ul> <p>So, that was me writing about watching The Asylum’s <em>Titanic II.</em> Was it a good movie? Not at all. But it’s one of those movies that’s so bad it’s entertaining. It’s unintentionally hilarious. And at the end of the day, if it was entertaining then it did its job. I highly recommend making this a movie you throw on at a party just for the laughs and to watch Bruce Davison be a raging bad-ass.</p> <p>Netflix assumption: <font size="5">*<br></font>My rating: <font size="5">***</font><font size="2"><sup>1/2</sup> </font></p> <p><font size="2">Now I’m going to go get some sleep.</font></p> <p><font size="2"></font> </p> <p align="center"><font size="2">These aluminum soldiers died for your amusement.</font></p> <p align="center"><font size="2">RIP Coke products</font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Nx7zD2yWq_843tOV9AjhldMIMZ71ptm1n5Z-59JeRrfShYEJW4J_LCemZHIbx2QzvJg66P3R39yQdFFH27gYvqUAsKSaZ-NzPCgFDZAuBEeFLpRpsuW40rsuf5A9buUC7ifDU0-3mGgl/s1600-h/Deliciouspoppydeath%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Deliciouspoppydeath" border="0" alt="Deliciouspoppydeath" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHhxmiKw0leGv6_tVWx2nFS4C1OrHw-0hVGauw8OBnacqtlqeYrgWLiw5SeTEOu8xV2plBtru290ZN4ewE5G7PzUoUBCtohKemzIDPq2HlMPeGnWJGxQmqpeewWjgKAvpq1PKVV8zYJTr/?imgmax=800" width="232" height="244"></a></p> <p align="center">2011 - 2011</p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-4044539417521183892011-06-09T12:06:00.001-07:002011-06-10T05:49:56.654-07:00Pedantry Does Not Make You an Authority<p>First of all, I’m going to get this out of the way up front. I fully understand the irony in me complaining about other people being pedantic. It’s as absurd as William Shatner complaining about hammy acting. </p> <p>Earlier today I read a blog post someone linked on Facebook regarding someone’s <a href="http://listverse.com/2011/06/07/top-10-misused-english-words/">top ten list of misused words.</a> If you know me at all, you probably think this is something I could get behind. Up until this morning, I would have agreed with you. The author of this piece seems to think of “misused words” as any word used outside of its original definition. The problem with this view is that it completely ignores one of the beautiful things about language: it evolves. </p> <p>Words do, in fact, change meaning over time. A word is defined by its common usage amongst the majority of the population. The purpose of language is to clearly communicate some meaning. Stephen Fry <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7E-aoXLZGY">said it best:</a> “There is no doubt what ‘five items or less’ means…” The fight for clarity becomes moot when ideas conveyed are readily understood. </p> <p>I’m not saying that there should be no standards in word usage. A person can’t say “I literally dropped water in my diaper” and expect to have people understand that what the person means is “I was completely scared.” There’s no reasonable correlation there. However, this is because most people would still agree that “literally” does not mean “figuratively”; also, nobody is going to understand what the phrase “dropped water in my diaper” is even supposed to mean. I wrote the damn sentence and I’m not even sure exactly what it means. </p> <p>All I’m saying is that it strikes me as pompous and priggish to claim a word can only ever maintain its root usage. Claiming that words are being used wrong simply because they are not being used in their original sense robs the English language of something beautiful. Of course, I could always stop overanalyzing what someone on the internet posted on his blog.</p> <p>___</p> <p>While I get over my pot-kettle-black problem above, why don’t you tell me what words you think are getting misused and abused.</p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-39532703390898520872011-06-03T23:00:00.001-07:002011-06-03T23:00:56.286-07:00Now With 30% More…<div class="wlWriterHeaderFooter" style="float:none; margin:0px; padding:4px 0px 4px 0px;"><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/widgets/like.php?href=http://thefix-isin.blogspot.com/2011/06/now-with-30-more.html" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; width:450px; height:80px"></iframe></div><p><strong><font size="3">Of whatever it is you came here looking for!</font></strong></p> <p>Look! An update! Unfortunately, it’s nothing major; just a quick post to inform the masses (read: you) of up and coming things around <em>The Fix Is In</em>:</p> <ul> <li>The first installment of the HWP is almost ready to go. It’s taking a lot longer than I initially expected, because of things that are mostly my fault. I promise you that it’s coming. </li> <li>NEW FEATURE: My post on <em>The Wizard</em> gave me an idea. Granted, it’s one of my worse ideas, and there’s already a zillion people doing similar things on the internet, but I won’t be dissuaded! Introducing <em>Late Night Netflix!</em> Using Netflix’s instant-watch titles, my Roku player, and unfortunate decision making skills regarding time, I’m going to watch things on my Netflix account while I write the reviews for them. This is actually a two part feature:</li> <ul> <li><em>Late Night Netflix: Movie Mania:</em> This is where I take a look at movies that Netflix claims I will absolutely love or absolutely hate. We’ll see how well it knows me. </li> <li><em>Late Night Netflix: Episode Insanity:</em> This where I look at pilot/first, standout, or random episodes of TV shows or anime that Netflix says I will, you guessed it, love/hate. </li></ul></ul> <p>If you have any suggestions you like to see for Movie Mania, or Episode Inanity, feel free to let me know. I’d be happy to look into it and deprive myself of sleep for your amusement.</p> <p><font size="1"></font> </p> <p><font size="1"><strong>Unrelated to anything else here: Thanks to my good friend Charlie-D for coming over and enjoying <em>Mystery Science Theater 3000: Zombie Nightmare</em>. I don’t entertain guests at home very often, but I could get used to guests if MST3K is involved. </strong></font></p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-2462343097734766452011-05-29T02:12:00.001-07:002011-06-16T01:52:55.969-07:00The Whizzer<div><div class="wlWriterHeaderFooter" style="float:none; margin:0px; padding:4px 0px 4px 0px;"><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/widgets/like.php?href=http://thefix-isin.blogspot.com/2011/05/whizzer.html" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; width:450px; height:80px"></iframe></div><p><strong>Or: Why I Shouldn’t Watch Movies at 1AM.</strong></p> <p>It’s well after midnight here in my wonderful world. I can’t sleep. I find myself watching <em>The Wizard</em>, an insanely stupid movie from 1989 whose sole purpose is to herald the coming of one of history’s greatest video games, Super Mario Bros. 3. </p> <p>The movie itself, however, is a pile of crap. A lot has already been said about it, especially by the likes of <a href="http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/thatguywiththeglasses/nostalgia-critic/215-the-wizard">The Nostalgia Critic.</a> But, hey, this is the internet, it’s late, and I need to update this blog with <em>something. </em>Therefore, I’m going to rant about this stellar dunce of a movie; however, I’m not going to bother with the plot itself, as it is completely nonsensical. Go watch Nostalgia Critic’s review if you want to hear about that. I’m also not touching the dialogue, as it’s just… well, it’s about what you would expect when you slam Fred Savage, Christian Slater, and Beau Bridges in a movie together. It’s just plain weird.</p> <p>This movie’s only real purpose, as I said earlier, was to usher in SMB3, which it did and did in quite the epic fashion; however, if that’s all this movie was, there wouldn’t be a problem. Pretty much everything else about video games in this movie is just dead wrong. And it is just this very point that I want to rant and rave. Why? Because I can. </p> <ul> <li>Jimmy, the Rain Man of video gaming, comes across a Double Dragon arcade cabinet, where in a matter of 30 seconds he scores 50,000 points. <ol> <li>Why is the arcade cabinet playing the NES version of the game? <li>Really? 50,000 in the time it took Fred Savage to not buy a bus ticket? That’s not just impressive, it downright defies the nature of what’s possible! <li>Let’s say that conversation about buying bus tickets took a lot longer than it actually did. This movie made a huge deal about Rain Man here making 50,000 points. Congrats, kid. You made it to level 6. TRULY THOU ART A GOD OF GAMERS.</li></ol> <li>F1 Dream – What, you mean the Rad Racer demo? <li>Speaking of the Rad Racer demo: Lucas. Oh lord, Lucas. Strap in, folks. This where I get really ranty: <ol> <li>Lucas claims to have “all 97” NES titles. Right off the bat I have to call BS. Wikipedia tells me that “There are 799 titles in the NES library in the US and PAL region.” That’s from 1985 – 1994.This number doesn’t include the unlicensed games. In 1991, the SNES came out, meaning new release titles for the NES from 1991-1994 were very small in number. My point? THERE WERE MORE THAN 97 GAMES IN 1989! <li>Lucas is pretty good at the Rad Racer demo screen, too! <li>Lucas is even good at it using Mattel’s <em>Power Glove</em>, which is hilarious because that thing never worked. <li>Side note: I had a <em>Power Glove </em>growing up, but it was mostly for uppity rich, whiny kids who just had to have the coolest stuff. <li>Extra side note: You could not be cool AND own a <em>Power Glove.</em></li></ol> <li>This is really just a continuity thing, but the father character (Why did you do this movie, Beau Bridges?) claims to have gotten really far playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Movie cuts to what he’s doing and…he’s on level 1. That’s just great. NEXT! <li>The Nintendo. Power. Hotline. Oh good gosh. Look, it existed, but it was never a good idea. At all. It was a toll-number where a person could call up and get hints and cheats for video games. Given a rather large stack of binders a call operator is accumulating while on the phone with one of our plucky heroes, I can safely infer that this phone bill is going to be epic. The kind of phone bill with at least four zeros. <li>Rain Man Jr. is playing yet another arcade cabinet that is… the NES version Ninja Turtles. Wait. What? No! Stop putting the NES games into arcade cabinets! That’s NOT how these things work! <ul> <li>They keep doing this, as Jimmy bounces from cabinet to cabinet and you clearly hear the coin sound from Super Mario Brothers at one point. <li>Ok, they do this for a LOT of games, but I’m going to leave it with these two: METROID WAS NEVER IN THE ARCADE! NEITHER WAS SUPER MARIO BROTHERS 2/DOKI DOKI PANIC! Ok, I feel better.</li></ul> <li>At the McGuffin, er… video game competition, everyone is gearing up to play Ninja Gaiden. For some reason they pronounce this as “Guy Dan.” Words do not express how sad that makes me on the inside. <ul> <li>Look, I’m just going to say it. Nobody can beat Ninja Gaiden without a Game Genie. The movie confirms this as everyone is at the same damn part of stage 2-2.</li></ul> <li>The unveiling of SMB3. I have no beef here. This was as epic as it was supposed to be. Move along. <li>However, when they do start playing the game, I do have a gripe. They state very explicitly that no one has EVER played this game before, but Jimmy finds the warp whistle pretty easily! Now, I know the point here was for the movie to say “Look kids! This game has <em>secrets</em>!!” but even Fred Savage is sitting on the floor screaming “FIND THE WARP, JIMMY!” How the hell did <em>he</em> know it was there? <li>“Jimmy finishes world 2!” Then how did he get three cards? <li>“The magic flute opens the warp!” Again, How the hell do you know that!? No one has ever played this game. You cannot know what an unfamiliar object does in a game that has never been played.</li></ul> <p>Ok, that about wraps up my review for this one aspect of this stupid movie. I know this isn’t a typical movie review and some of this requires context. Again, go watch the Nostalgia Critic video, or see this movie for yourself. It’s not a good movie by any stretch of the imagination. Its only saving grace is that epic reveal of Super Mario Bros. 3. Everything else is dark, depressing, or just plain wrong. And with that, I’m going to bed. </p> </div>Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-51053920254341628452011-05-03T19:51:00.001-07:002011-05-04T05:42:59.222-07:00I’m a Real Boy!<div class="wlWriterHeaderFooter" style="float:none; margin:0px; padding:4px 0px 4px 0px;"><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/widgets/like.php?href=http://thefix-isin.blogspot.com/2011/05/im-real-boy.html" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; width:450px; height:80px"></iframe></div><p>Has it really been close to a month since I last updated? My apologies. I don’t have much in the way of posting right now, but I thought I should give a quick update on some things.</p> <p> </p> <ul> <li>The <strong>HWP</strong> is proving to be a difficult project, but I <em>am</em> working on it. To anyone who has been asking where these posts are, please be patient. This is a new sort of thing for me. I promise you that it is coming. <li>I am officially a full-time student again. I have a schedule and everything. Come August 29th, I return to the world of the academe. </li></ul> <p> </p> <p>On this second point, I’ve been asked the same question over and over again: “Are you excited?” At first my honest answer was “Among other things…”<br>Truth is I was a whirlwind of emotions; mostly a combination of excitement and fear. Yet, every step I take, every moment I come closer to returning to classes I find myself less fearful, still excited, and quite content. </p> <p>I only ask that you hold me in your thoughts and prayers (if you’re the praying sort) during this next phase of my life.</p> <p><em>Addendum: Over on the right, there’s a shiny, new ‘Like’ button for Facebook. It would mean the world to me, my lovely readers, if you would click that little button. It’s lonely and waiting for you.</em></p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-12547338579116176962011-04-11T17:14:00.000-07:002011-04-11T17:22:30.763-07:00The Craftsmanship of Bees<div class="wlWriterHeaderFooter" style="float:none; margin:0px; padding:4px 0px 4px 0px;"><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/widgets/like.php?href=http://thefix-isin.blogspot.com/2011/04/craftsmanship-of-bees.html" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; width:450px; height:80px"></iframe></div><p> </p> <p><em>In my last post, I announced that I had some plans in the works around this-a here bloggoscope. Well without further ado:</em></p> <p>Over the last couple weeks on my Facebook page I have been participating in something called the 30 day song challenge. Each day I post a song based upon a specific criterion. I also try to write up a short blurb on why I chose it, or at least something snarky. Day 11 was “A song from your favorite band.” </p> <p>For anyone who knows me well, this choice was a pretty easy one; Hawksley Workman. I wrote a short bit on why I chose him and it spurred a huge idea in my little mind. </p> <p>I have been listening to Hawksley Workman for the past ten years. Whenever I don’t know <em>what</em> I want to listen to, I typically return to Hawksley Workman, specifically to the album <em>Lover/Fighter. </em>I got to thinking - always dangerous, yes – that it would be fun and enlightening to take a look back at the career of Hawksley Workman and honor this fine artist through my sincere – albeit meager – words. </p> <p><strong><em>A Lesson in History: What’s So Special About This Guy?</em></strong></p> <p>From <em>For Him and the Girls</em>, released<em> </em>in 1999, to <em>Milk</em> and <em>Meat,</em> both released in 2010, Hawksley Workman has been a prolific songwriter, a poet, a gifted producer, a consummate live performer, and an immensely talented musician. He releases several albums a year, produced the first album commercially released by Tegan and Sara, <em>This Business of Art. </em>Not only did he produce it, but also played every instrument on the album. He has also produced albums for Sarah Slean, Serena Ryder, and Jeremy Fisher. He sent a series of poetic letters into a Toronto magazine and later collected them in the book <em>Hawksley Burns for Isadora.</em> There are live clips of his performances all over YouTube, as well as a DVD of a concert from Lille, France, appropriately titled <em>Live in Lille. </em>He will produce and release his own albums within weeks of completion, resulting in the release of several albums in a year (not to mention several EPs as well), such as <em>(Last Night We Were) The Delicious Wolves </em>and <em>Almost a Full Moon</em> in 2001, <em>Between the Beautifuls</em> and <em>Los Manlicious</em> in 2008, and the aforementioned <em>Milk</em> and <em>Meat</em> in 2010. All of this adds up to a multi-talented artist that, at least in my humble opinion, deserves a fair bit of recognition.</p> <p>And recognized he shall be. Over the next few weeks/months/however the bloody hell long this takes me, I’ll be taking a look back at Hawksley’s body of work and writing extensively about the experience. I’ll be looking at each album individually and offering an overview of the album, looking at thematic elements, general style, instrumentation, and any additional information I can come across on the album. (It’s worth noting that my major resources for this project will be the albums themselves, Wikipedia, <a href="http://www.hawksleyworkman.com">Hawksley’s website</a>, <em>Live in Lille,</em> and <em>Hawksley Burns for Isadora.)</em> I’ll also be providing a song by song breakdown of the albums, discussing their merits and shortcomings, elucidating upon elements brought up in the overview, and even take into account alternate or live versions of the song that can be found. After all of that, I’ll wrap up with some final thoughts on each album. </p> <p>I suppose if you’ve read this far you’re wondering exactly how many albums this is going to cover. Well, just for you (you sweet person, you), here’s what we’ll be looking at:</p> <ul> <li>Albums <ul> <li><em>For Him and the Girls</em> – 1999 <li><em>(Last Night We Were) The Delicious Wolves – </em>2001 <li><em>Almost a Full Moon</em> – 2001 <li><em>Lover/Fighter – </em>2003 <li><em>Treeful of Starling</em> – 2006 <li><em>Between the Beautifuls/Between the B-Sides*</em> – 2008 <li><em>Los Manlicious – </em>2008 <li><em>Milk</em> – 2010 <li><em>Meat</em> – 2010</li></ul> <li>EPs <ul> <li><em>Before We Were Security Guards – </em>2004 <li><em>My Little Toothless Beauties</em> – 2006 <li><em>Puppy (a boy’s truly rough) – </em>2006</li></ul></li></ul> <p>If anything else is released in the duration of this project of mine – and let’s face it, with how often this man turns out something new, it’s a strong possibility – I will try to cover that as well. So what do you say? Won’t you join me in this endeavor of love? Won’t you help me celebrate the man’s work? Let us go kicking and screaming. Singing and dancing. Let us appreciate the candles and the honey.</p> <p> </p> <p><font size="1"><strong><em>* </em>Between the B-Sides<em> is a three song B-side (duh) released alongside </em>Between the Beautifuls<em>, therefore, for the purposes of this project, it’s being counted as part of the album.</em></strong></font></p> Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-23131428843476691862011-04-08T19:45:00.001-07:002011-04-08T20:10:31.427-07:00Time to Get Back to WorkHello, blog of mine. Hello, readers. I miss you all so much. Life has been a whirlwind of activity and I feel like I can finally talk about some things. <br />
<br />
First and foremost, I’ve decided to go back to school. I’ve been making declarations of this nature in person for a while now, but this time it’s for real. I’ve applied, I’ve been accepted. There’s a few odds and ends left to shore up, but it is confirmed and I am returning to school. I am going to be an English major, concentration in literature, with a Music minor (already completed). <br />
<br />
This is going to mean some heavy-duty, life-shifting adjustments. Work, living arrangements, life-style… well, what I’m getting at is this: for the next year and a half I’m going to be a complete mental case.<br />
<br />
"But, Mr. Stern, you're already a mental case!"<br />
<br />
True enough.<br />
<br />
Either way, this should be <i>a lot of fun</i>. <br />
<br />
In other news: Big project coming up on the blog. Stay tuned for details.Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-27457112226957563312011-03-14T21:30:00.000-07:002011-03-14T21:30:11.988-07:00Internal DialogueMe 1: AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Me 2: Calm down! It's okay! Stop panicking!<br />
<br />
Me 1: But... but... AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHhhhhaaaaaAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Me 2: Oh my gosh! Shut up! Look, yes we've been filing paper. Yes, we've been making plans. Yes, it is scary. But we are doing this!<br />
<br />
Me 1: But! School! Scary! Too old for this crap! Job! Bills! We're never going to make it!<br />
<br />
Me 2: Yes. Scary. But, look, we've got this. For one, we're a tough a tough son of a bitch. Two, people love us and will be helping us! We can. . . No, we <i>will</i> do this.<br />
<br />
So, this is what has been in my head the last few weeks. Part of me is scared to death to return to school. (Incidentally, this is one of those days where that part of my brain is dominating my thoughts.) Part of me is excited and determined to do this thing. I'm ready to start moving forward. It's time to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and I'm all out of gum. <br />
<br />
For the record, should I be concerned that my brain thinks in terms of "we" and not "I"?Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-32693199741079276572011-03-07T15:48:00.000-08:002011-03-07T15:48:19.727-08:00Short NotesDear Body,<br />
<br />
Please get healthy again. I need you.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Dear Mind,<br />
<br />
Stop it. You're not helping me right now.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Dear Spirit,<br />
Could you please put those other two in check? I know things are really out of whack, but we all need to be on the same page in the coming weeks and months.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Dear Me,<br />
<br />
Write more. Write more and be happy. Please?<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Dear Readers,<br />
<br />
Sorry. Just trying to iron myself out. Bear with me.Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-10090970863665889912010-12-11T23:39:00.001-08:002010-12-11T23:39:15.793-08:00Swept Ashes and Windstorms<span xmlns=''><p>I am going to refer to posts like the following in one of two ways. Humorously, I will call this a 'duct-tape' post, as it will have a light side and a dark side, yadda-yadda-yadda. You know the rest. Seriously, this is a 'human' post, for the very same reason. You see, as self indulgent as it may be, I have these thoughts and they need to come out. So please, bear with me as I post my disjointed thoughts. They are important, even if only to me. <br /></p><p>I have been trying little things to cheer myself up lately. Last night I watched a children's movie that warms my heart greatly, <em>Kiki's Delivery Service</em>. I know it seems a bit silly, but it put a smile on my face. I do so love a good coming of age story.<br /></p><p>I've also begun reading Stephen Leacock's <em>Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town.</em> I haven't made it very far in the book as I keep laughing so hard I have to set it down.<br /></p><p>Pandora is playing a song from Ingrid Michaelson's album <em>Be Ok.</em> Take that for what it's worth.<br /></p><p> Today I was feeling a bit of residual ennui, so I went for a walk down to the local Starbucks. The staff at the Houghton Starbucks is wonderful; the young lady behind the counter was ready to prepare my usual, until I threw her for a little loop:<br /></p><p>Barista: Double-tall gingerbread latte?<br/>Me: Nah. I need something different, but I don't know what. Why don't you surprise me?<br/>Barista: Oh! Ummm… Any flavors you don't like?<br/>Me: Just do what you gotta do.<br/>Barista: <em>(smiling)</em> So long as it's a double-tall…?<br /></p><p>She set me up a salted-caramel mocha that was quite tasty. As silly and inane as this story is, it helped put a smile on my face. Even if it was only for a short while, it was certainly better than nothing.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p>I have decided that, starting tomorrow, I am going to carry notebooks with me to fill with notes about what I see around me. Mostly I want to record the small kindnesses I see that go on in the world. They happen every day and I think writing them down for myself, and subsequently here, will be beneficial to me and hopefully to others. After all, I don't know about you, but I am in love with the small kindnesses in the world. There's just something about holding doors open for people or smiling at someone that just does a lot to restore some of the lost hope I feel. <br /></p><p>However, I must admit that I am incredibly guilty of <em>not</em> putting forth those kindnesses at time. Today, in fact, I disappointed myself. I was in the self-check line at Safeway, ringing my last few items through, when an elderly woman came up to me and asked if I was a Christian. I told her I was and she then asked if I could help her. I responded with a rather awkward noise from my throat. She asked me for money and I told her no. Now, I could offer any number of reasons or excuse as to why I said no. I could say I'm leery of giving money to strangers, or that I just had no cash on me, but it really doesn't matter. I had the chance to help someone and I didn't. I've been kicking myself for that all night.<br /></p><p> <br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p>I've been feeling a bit roughshod lately. Call it stress; call it loneliness; call it ennui; call it SAD*. Whatever you call it, it's had a profound effect on my ability to cope with day to day life. I find myself becoming increasingly reclusive and exponentially more tired. I often come home feeling like I want to cry and I have no real idea why. I suppose it's a combination of things: I am feeling stressed about my future and about my present. I hate coming home to no one to talk to but myself. Yes, I talk to people on the phone or on various other mediums, but it's not the same. I haven't seen my family in almost three years now… There are a lot of other things, but they're all part of a jumbled up mish-mash in my head. <br /></p><p>I want to wrap this up, but I have a few people I owe thanks to. Heather, Julia, and Sondra: you have been wonderful and I'd have surely slipped into the depths of insanity were it not for my conversations with you three. Thank you. <br /></p><p>Hey, Scribbles. I've mentioned a few things in this post of a personal nature. Now I'd like to hear from you: <br /></p><p>-What movies books, or songs warm you up or bring a smile to your face? <br /></p><p>- Have you said or done anything lately that you've felt disappointed in yourself? If so, what?<br /></p><p>- This is a pretty broad question, but how are you feeling this month? Up? Down? Stressed? At ease? <br /></p><p>Feel free to leave your answers in the comments. I look forward to reading them.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:10pt'><em>*Actually, as SAD is a real disorder that I've never been diagnosed with, let's not call it that, ok?<br /></em></span></p><p><br /> </p><p> </p></span>Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-83166193957118483372010-12-02T19:19:00.000-08:002010-12-02T19:19:47.279-08:00Extreme Blog Makeover!Already dated pop-culture references aside, if you've been reading my blog at all it may look a bit different. If you just stumbled upon it, well you won't notice a damn thing. The fact of the matter is I have been wanting to give this thing a face-lift for some time now; however, I have no mind for coding something, no real eye for design, and Blogger's templates all kind of suck. <div><br />
</div><div>This is what I'm getting at: </div><div>I need help on this one. I need help on this in a major way. I want this goofy little blog to be something I can be proud of, but I just cannot do it alone. What do you say? Help me make this blog less hideous to look at.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Help me help you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Or at least help me to stop insulting and assaulting your general sense of aesthetics.</div>Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-1283297195864112362010-11-22T16:02:00.001-08:002010-11-22T16:05:04.683-08:00Mundane Monday<span xmlns=""></span><br />
<span xmlns="">My dearest Scribbles, I think we need a little pick me up on this fine Monday afternoon. My dear friend, Sondra, sent me a link to the most unintentionally funny thing I've read in a long time.<br />
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<span xmlns=""><a href="http://www.lttr.org/journal/1/the-scub-manifesto">http://www.lttr.org/journal/1/the-scub-manifesto</a><br />
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<span xmlns="">Go ahead. Read it. I know the print is small, but do your best to read it. I'll wait.<br />
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<span xmlns="">You done? Ok.<br />
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<span xmlns="">It's hilarious because it is serious. Now, I titter every time someone claims to have a manifesto in the first place, simply because they all think they're the next Marx, but they're all wholly ridiculous. This one may just take the cake.<br />
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<span xmlns="">When I think about this, my mind conjures the best mental image in the history of mental images: a haute couture snob wearing a rainbow feathered hat, a three bracelets made of raw bacon, a gold corset, neon green hot pants with black fishnet leggings, a superhero mask, purple lipstick, one blue sparkly high heel, and a black and pink converse high heel boot* running around Stockholm with a razor knife and a pair of scissors, hunting down people wearing jeans and t-shirts to hack and slash at their clothing, all the while shouting about how her victims have no identity and must be destroyed. It is fantastically hilarious.<br />
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<span xmlns="">Are you smiling? If so, you're welcome. If not, then you're reading the wrong blog.<br />
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<span xmlns=""><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><em>*Seriously, if any of my artistically inclined friends could draw this, I would love you forever, and even use the image here and on my facebook as my profile picture.<br />
</em></span></span>Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-14477708318775499272010-11-06T09:29:00.000-07:002010-11-06T09:29:07.314-07:00Gentle Reminders<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Thought for your Saturday, Scribblers:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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<div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The New Colossus</b></span></span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">With conquering limbs astride from land to land;</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px; text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">--Emma Lazaraus, American poet 1849-1887</span></div>Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3437518511540034017.post-77735150139791970992010-11-03T22:01:00.001-07:002010-11-03T22:01:16.216-07:00Litany Mimic<span xmlns=''><p>So, at the behest of my friend Randall, I am posting my Litany* mimic assignment, which was done for my Structure of English class. So, basically you all get to suffer for Randall's amusement. <br /></p><p style='text-align: center'>Litany Mimic<br /></p><p>You are the pen and the paper,<br /></p><p>the wet ink and the words.<br /></p><p>You are the snap of Highland snare<br /></p><p>and the droning hum of the pipes.<br /></p><p>You are the slate stone of the path,<br /></p><p>and the desert fox silently at night.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>However, you are not the string of the violin,<br /></p><p>the wine in the cask,<br /></p><p>or the stack of books.<br /></p><p>And you are certainly not the brisk chill in the wind.<br /></p><p>There is just no way you are the brisk chill in the wind.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>It is possible that you are the cards on the table,<br /></p><p>maybe even the fob on the gentleman's watch,<br /></p><p>but you are not even close<br /></p><p>to being the meadow of dandelions in mid-afternoon.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p>And a sharp reflection in the pond will show<br /></p><p>that you are neither the wood in the pile<br /></p><p>nor the fir tree stoic in its grove.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>It might interest you to know,<br /></p><p>speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,<br /></p><p>that I am scent of the leaves in the air. <br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>I also happen to be the billowing smoke,<br /></p><p>the casual conversations heard all across the room,<br /></p><p>and keferloher of ale waiting on the bar.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>I am also the bread in the hand<br /></p><p>and the working man's soft sigh.<br /></p><p>But don't worry, I'm not the pen and the paper.<br /></p><p>You are still the pen and the paper.<br /></p><p>You will always be the pen and the paper,<br /></p><p>not to mention the wet ink and –somehow—the words.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p>*The original Litany was written by poet Billy Collins. Google it, or check it out <a href='http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/litany/'>here.</a></p></span>Mr. C. Elliot Sternhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03158430914805156450noreply@blogger.com0