Tongs

I finally bought a pair of tongs today.  I’ve been wanting a pair for several years now.  I feel like a scientist when I use them.  Look, this is me holding a beaker full of exciting material.

The scientist at work

Today was a good day for old Saint Nick

I love everyone talking about the Gladiator 2 screenplay Nick Cave wrote for Russel Crowe.  I love remastered reissues.  I love Nick Cave’s underwear.   I love my friends’ reactions when I tell them how much I’ve paid for those underwear.  I love my iPod’s play count which tells me I’ve listened to many Nick Cave songs over 100 times.   I love coworkers sending me random candid shots of Nick Cave.   I love a world in which Nick Cave not only exists, but is celebrated.  I love having something on which to focus all of my unspent energy! Maybe I need a new hobby?

Some serious Nick-on-Nick action.

Life is a Climb

This weekend my bestest buds and I went to go see Hannah Montana: the Movie.  I’ve never had to answer the question “why” so many times in my life.  Truthfully, I felt it was necessary to go see it since I’ve never watched the show, but I own Hannah Montana flip-flops.  I was starting to feel like a poseur.  Also, I was just plain curious.

A well-earned pair of flip-flops.

Anyway, the movie left me speechless.  My mouth was agape for at least 75% of the thing.  I can’t put into words the thoughts that went through my head as I sat there in a theater filled with families with good intentions.  Did I take irony too far this time?  I think maybe it’s so.  I felt kind of guilty sitting there gasping at how absurd the movie was and how grotesque it was of me to pay ten bucks to see it.   But what lessons did I learn?

Well, first of all, I learned that Tennessee is a dreamworld where families gather together and sing traditional songs all of the time.  It’s a land where horses named Blue Jeans can sense the California in the girl.  A wonderful place where young boys are given a good ol’ shot at capitalism, so long as they can rebuild the chicken coop.  Miley learned these things too, but how to reconcile them with her on-stage persona?  And so Miley’s conflict.  Who is more important? Gramma, or Vanessa Williams?  Tough choice, I know.  Miley knew it, too.  Luckily, her pop, Robby Ray, knew how to set her straight.  He knew the answer was in her heart all along.  “You wanted the best of both worlds” he says to his daughter, but can such a young girl balance two lives that are so different?  In 102 minutes we find out that yes, the girl can have the best of both worlds, she just needs to keep her head out of the  clouds and her feet on the ground!  And while the road to self-acceptance and -realization may be a tough one, that’s what makes it all worth it, because “life is a climb, but the view is great!”

Does the Man Eat Tacos?

????

There are many unanswered questions that plague my mind, like, on a daily basis.   You know, famous questions like:  When am I going to die?  What happens after I do? Do all dogs go to heaven?   Those aren’t the questions bothering me lately, though.  I think there’s just one big enchilada question: does Nick Cave eat tacos?  I’ve read that he can’t eat spaghetti sauce anymore, so does that mean he can’t eat salsa either?  What about taco sauce?  When Nick eats tacos, if, indeed, he does, does he get sour cream stuck in his sexy mustache?  What kind of tacos does he like, hard or soft?  If I know Nick, it’d just be a matter of what mood he’s in.  Actually, maybe the cheesy gordita crunch would be the best option for him, you know, it’s hard and soft at the same time, just like him.  Would he eat only upscale tacos, or would he stoop down to Taco Bell?  Do Australians even have Mexican food?  What about the Brits?  Are the tacos in England as bland as the roast?  The potatoes?  When Nick is in his office writing, does he ever drip melted cheese onto his song lyrics?  Not knowing is torture.

Someone told me last night I’ve been living in a (Nick) Cave

Savior of My Sanity

And yes, it’s true; 100% of the music I listen to for pleasure is related to Nick somehow, I got all these posters in my room and 99% of what I read online is related to Nick.  So I don’t know what they’re talking about when they say “the Obama hope photo” blaaaa whatever.  Not as good as this photo of Nick  Cave.  Could anything be as good as this photo?

Really I don’t think I can be blamed for what’s happening to me.  We’re talking about a guy here who is equal parts lounge singer, poet, bluesman, sex machine, cowboy, balladeer, bible-enthusiast, satan-worshiper and comedian!  It’s like a one-stop shop mega store that’s still owned by Mom and Pop.   Finding music like this gave me a jump-start.  Just when I had convinced myself a good record hadn’t been made since sometime in the ’90s Nick slaps me in the face with a shit-ton of good fucking music made right here in the 2000’s.   It really gave me hope for the future, you know, art isn’t dead, bla bla bla.

Seeing the man live right after his 51st birthday and just a few days before my 28th was quite literally a life-changing experience.   I was deep in the doldrums of a quarter-life crisis, freaking out about turning 28 witha go-nowhere job, living off of fucking Rockville Pike and doing nothing about it,  and this 51-year-old, mustachioed mother-fucking badass dude gets up on stage and shakes it right the fuck out of me!  Holy shit, if I can be that cool when I’m 51 I’ll fucking wait for it.  And yes, I’ll try to revel in that feeling for as long as I can.  No, I’m not listening to all the other records that made the top-10 of 2008, even though I bought a few of them.  I bet they don’t have lyrics like “everythings’ dissolvin’ babe, just according to plan” or “I spent the next seven years between her legs pining for my wife” or “love followed just behind me pantin’ at my feet as the steeple tore the stomach from a lonely little cloud”, so what would be the point?

Thank god the cats don’t have thumbs

I still can't tell them apart, so this is either Finn or Verona

I’m really glad Reba’s cats don’t have thumbs.  If they did, they would have opened up the oven while I was baking my dinner tonight.

Taping the trashcan shut doesn’t help because the jerks just knock it over.  They’re clearly deprived of styrofoam and aluminum foil.

Also, Finn is addicted to drugs.

Weird Flick of the Week: “Executive Koala”

He's working so hard he needs a sweatband.

Spoilers included in this post, but don’t worry, you shouldn’t be watching this one for the plot.

As soon as I heard the title Executive Koala I just knew I had to see it.  Before you even ask, yes, it is Japanese and yes, it is about a koala bear (played by a human wearing a koala suit) who is an executive at a Japanese pickling company.  He’s not just any executive, though - he’s very successful and respected and has just sold the company’s president (who is a rabbit) on a business deal with a South Korean kimchi company.  He’s quite the visionary; had to convince all those conservative humans that kimchi represents the future of Japanese pickling! 

At first he seems like a real sweetheart, albeit a bit furry.  He’s got a human girlfriend, who he bangs, and evidently loves, even though his wife has been missing for the last three years, gone without a trace, and he still shouts out her name in his sleep.   It’s this that raises the eyebrows of a hard-working cop when the koala’s girlfriend is found murdered.   We see our koala friend break down when he’s told of his girlfriend’s demise, but in the end he still weeps for his lost wife.  The tears don’t convince the cop, though – he’s determined to find out the truth about the koala.

I won’t go into too many details, but we find out that the koala is actually a rage-aholic who terrorized his hometown in northern Japan and would beat and humiliate his wife (one of my favorite scenes is the koala, sitting at the dinner table drinking a beer and laughing while his leashed wife is eating rice out of a bowl on the floor) and eventually murders her.  When he focused his passion on business, things were good, but we learn from his psychiatrist and the rabbit-president that the koala’s unleashed rage would have caused the demise of the pickling company.  So for the good of capitalism the koala asks the psychiatrist to erase his memory and the rabbit to take his place as president of the company.

To complicate things further, we find out that koala’s partner-in-business, the South Korean kimchi guy, used to date his dead wife, who is actually not dead because she learned to self-resuscitate through some ancient South Korean martial arts.   This brings us to the final sequence, where the not-dead-but-murdered wife and the South Korean kimchi guy are gonna fight the koala.  In the midst of the awesome video-game-like fighting we find out the koala’s motive for murdering his wife: he sought revenge for the slaughter of hundreds of koalas, for which his wife’s ancestors were responsible!  This is probably my favorite part of the flick, where they show paintings of koala bears getting slaughtered in the trees, with blood dripping down their faces and eucalyptus leaves in their cute little mouths.  Fantastic.

This just confirms for me that Japanese flicks are the weirdest out there.  It really must be seen to be believed.  I’m not saying that everyone will like it, and surely it is stupid, but it’s very charming I think, and definitely worth a watch, especially if you’re into the bizarre shit like I am! 

I can’t wait for Tokyo Gore Police!

I have no idea what to name this post

How much can you really remember from a movie you’ve only seen once?  So many times I’ve watched a movie for the second time and thought to myself how I’d forgotten everything that was happening on the screen.  Like the eggs in Alien; I forgot about the FUCKING EGGS IN ALIEN.  That’s like vital to the plot; how did I freakin’ forget that!?

And why are there so many movies I keep forgetting to put on my Netflix list of “all time favorites”?  How could I just have added Heathers to that list today?  That movie defined my personality for eight years.  In fact now that I’m thinking about it, that movie left more of an impression on me when I was 10 than The Exorcist did.  I thought The Exorcist was for weenies.   And now look at me, all I watch are horror movies.  How can I trust anything I believe today if everything ends up so differently?   If I were shown these two movies today I totally would have picked The Exorcist over Heathers!  I probably would have wanted to kill Christian Slater.  He really is such a jackass in that movie.  And the nerve he had, calling Jack Nicholson for his opinion on his performance.  Ha!

And this is what i do with my Friday nights?  Analyze my Netflix habits?  Wow.  Maybe it’s all ’cause I don’t drive; I’m like a trapped 15-year-old, but at least I can buy beer… I just have to walk long distances carrying it.

I Want You to Dig!

He wants you to dig too!

Quarter 4 of 2008 is shaping up to be a real winner, despite that whole economy thing.  October brought Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to my face.  November gave me the president I wanted.  So what do Nick & Barack have in common?  They’re both responsible for my current identity crisis.

Both of these cool dudes have really put a damper on my usually all-encompassing cynicism.  I’ve said it before, but god-damnit if Nick Cave hasn’t made me believe in Love again.  I even want to capitalize the damn word.  Not just his songs, but his live performance and even just his attitude are inspiring.  It sickens me to write something so positive!  This guy’s like legal psilocybin; one of those things you just want to share with everyone you know because it makes you feel guilty to keep something so awesome to yourself!

Luckily, no problem sharing Barack with everyone, you got him whether you want him or not!  But the cynicism I’ve been perfecting over the last eight years with respect to the American public is seriously going to suffer.  I kinda feel like Inigo Montoya must have felt at the end of The Princess Bride.  Like I’ve been preparing myself for a particular moment in my life and now that it’s come, don’t know what to do with myself.  This is not a complaint, of course; I would much rather share Inigo Montoya’s fate than Batman’s (with Dubya bein’ my Joker).

Well looking on the bright side of the bright side, at least I’m still a dork.  I wonder what sarcasm-crushing gift December will bring?

The Gingerdead Man Was A Real Disappointment!

Bunker Horror’s selection this week was yet another bomb suggested by me.

I thought with a name like The Gingerdead Man you couldn’t go wrong!  The appeal doubles when you find out the title character is played by Gary fucking Busey.  I’m pretty much crapped my pants at the thought of this movie when I first heard of it!  So, on to the top of the queue it went.

Regrets, I’ve had a few…

The premise of the film is a young lady named Sarah Leigh witnesses her brother and father get slaughtered.  Her testimony sends the murderer to the electric chair.  Promptly thereafter said murderer’s ashes are mysteriously dropped off at Sarah’s family’s bakery in the form of… ahem… gingerbread seasoning!

Amazingly, when the Butcher Baker’s blood (Sarah’s colleague and an amateur wrestler) gets into the mix, things really start cooking.  But when what Sarah thinks will just be another sort-of-unusually-large-but-nowhere-near-as-big-as-it-should-be gingerbread cookie hits the oven the result is no normal cookie!  In its place, the Gingerdead Man is risen.  God, things are never as good as they seem.

Now, the first problem, and I want to clear up right away (so you don’t get your hopes as high as I did) is that this is not a giant gingerbread cookie.  It’s probably as big as a forearm.  The cover would give you the impression that this is a GIANT gingerdead man.  I was thinking more like Stay Puft wreaking havoc on the city.  Instead, it’s the dumbest size for a cookie imaginable, and it can drive a car.

Here’s where I start worrying to myself that we’ve got another Worm Eaters on our hands.  It really only gets worse when Sarah and Amos (yeah, even the puns are bothering me) explore their burgeoning romance.

The A+ scene for me is when Butcher Baker eats the Gingerdead Man.  There is blood/jelly all over his face.  That’s about as gory as the damn movie gets.

All in all I’ll have to look back on this one as wasted potential.  If I ever remake a movie, this would be the one.  It just goes to show that even puns involving the word “dead” won’t save a movie.