Higgins!

As I'm writing this, my tragically hip new "roommate" (the quotes are mostly there to emphasize the short time with which he and I will share this house) is moving in. Now, I've "met" him before, in passing mostly, but there's one thing that I cannot get over about him. Now, mind you, this is completely a superficial judgement, but it's something that has boiled up inside of me for some time now, and frankly, I can't take much more... Anyway, back to the subject at hand... My new "roommate" has one of those mustaches... you know, the creepy pedophile, Tom Selleck-circa-1986 mustaches. And, I dislike them. A lot. Why do I dislike them so? Probably because of the mouths they find themselves attached to... Traditionally, these mustaches find themselves on the faces of individuals who fancy themselves hip. So hip, in fact, that they feel it is necessary to be ANTI-hip, meaning, they counteract any semblance of decency, and go for borderline grotesque.

I don't know how many times I've seen these folks out and about, sporting vintage tees (often tank tops), and short shorts, along with their mustaches. They often have cut-offs (thankfully, not of the Never Nude label) and slip ons, and their hair is often windswept or just poorly cut. Again, all of this appears to be an attempt to be the exact opposite of appealing. I guess, maybe, I'm simply out of touch/whack/place, but if that were the case, I'd see this trend on more than just a select few, and certainly elsewhere besides the lovable city I call college home.

Anyway, this house I live in currently, seems to be like a bug light for people of this variety. Not long ago, our house was the famed "30 Minute Dance Party" house, and again, in an effort to appear more than awesome (?), several folks sporting these creepy mustaches would show up, dance awkwardly for 30 minutes, and then hang out, sweaty and repulsive outside on the front lawn. This lasted for about a year, which was long enough for me, because I sadly became rather annoyed with these shindigs, mostly because of the crowd they attracted: this dingy, creepy, anti-hip scenester crowd that was simply "too cool for school."

Anyway, long story short, I hate mustaches, of almost any variety. Tom Selleck can get away with one, because he's Thomas Magnum. He can pull off the short shorts, and the bushy mustache look. This trend was never meant for a revival, people. Certain things disappear for good for a reason, and sadly, the 80s is full of 'em.

I can only pray that this trend will end, like flared jeans and aviator sunglasses... In general, I dig the vintage aesthetic, specifically in regards to men's clothing (suits, in particular), but I draw the line at the things that require one to shop only at vintage clothing stores. Let's leave some things in the past, clothing included, but especially our facial hair.

Now That's What I'm Talkin' 'Bout!

For all those who disliked Hancock, or even for those who liked it, and can't understand why people like myself couldn't stand it, you should read this. But, if you haven't seen it, don't read it, as it's loaded with spoilery-bits. On the other hand, if you didn't see it because it looked dumb, then, rejoice knowing you have $8.50 more in your pocket book, and then read it...

If Hancock Was 10 Times Shorter And 100 Times More Honest

This pretty much sums up why this movie just didn't work. For me, anyway. But, as it appears from this, I'm not alone.

The Choice of a New Generation

So, here I go, once again pointing my blog-o-friends in the direction of some of my favorite media pieces, but alas, media is my life, my obsession and my passion, so that's what you get here at the Haberdashery, so deal with it.


If you haven't seen or heard of Mad Men, the brilliant drama on AMC, then I hope that this post will only encourage you to finally partake of the amazing piece of television.

The show's pedigree is unparalleled. The show's creator, Matthew Weiner, basically went from writing for and producing the most talked about, and critically praised shows of the new millennium, The Sopranos to creating the equally as subversive and brilliant Mad Men. As the story goes, Mr. Weiner's original pilot script for this show was what caught Sopranos exec producer David Chase eye, inspiring him to hire him on. While this little factoid has little bearing on whether or not the show is actually watchable, the good news is that Mr. Chase wasn't wrong in spotting a talent like Weiner, and now because of this, we have the privilege of experiencing Mad Men.

The show's setting is the 1960s world of Madison Avenue advertising, taking its title from a phrase coined at the time to describe these Ad Men, or Mad(ison) Men. Clever, yes, but the title also (naturally) refers to our mad men's state of mind, something that most certainly describes the "hero" of the show, Don Draper, played by relative unknown (to me, anyway) Jon Hamm. He's an unbelievably complex character, who never quite reveals his true colors to us, let alone those he loves. Hamm's nuanced performance is just one of the many highlights of the acting pool of this stellar cast. John Slattery who plays Don's boss, nails the cynicism of a man at the end of his rope, facing death head on, as well as coming to terms with his sad marital life. Christina Hendricks, known by many as Saphron from another fantastic piece of television, Firefly, plays the head secretary (her name escapes me). She too delivers week in and week out, and her fiery sexuality helps give the show an edge that is much more sensual than erotic. It's wonderfully appropriate, given the time period's infamous Puritanism, and she is a stellar example of the beginnings of a more sexually liberated woman.


What I find the most fascinating about the show is that its period setting does not necessarily lend itself to be seen as quaint or as a nice way for the elderly to remember a bygone era. Instead, Weiner picked a time when America was changing fast. The show's first season was peppered with references to the Nixon/Kennedy election, and season 2 begins well into Kennedy's administration. This youthful president was the beginning of dramatic shift in consumer culture, where the emphasis of many people's ad campaigns became the youth of America. Women also were on the cusp of moving past the house-wife tendencies of the 1950s and into a more independent realm. The mousy character played by Elisabeth Moss is a fine example of both how men treated women, but also how women were able to rise above. The conflict in Vietnam lay on the horizon, and that pre-existing knowledge affects the show's eerie atmosphere, as most of us realize the modern gloss of this swank ad agency will soon become superfluous fluff in contrast to the war. All in all, the 1960s was a time when the façade of the 50s was beginning to fade. The gilded men of Sterling Cooper (the ad agency of the show) are beginning to show their true forms, something that society had let settle below the surface for so long. This a group of people who will become the most affected by the change to come, as it'll signal the end of the world they have come to inhabit, and this fact lends to the show's ever-present melancholy.

On a lighter note, the production design and the overall look of the show is impeccable. I cannot get enough of the show's opening credits, as well as the set design. As simple as it may seem to decorate and costume a period drama, for some reason, this stands above the rest as just having that vintage, 1960s feel, without feeling like a set. The actors feel right for the location and the time, and one never get's the sense that we're seeing modern players playing dress up.

I've included an embeded portion of the show's season 2 premiere. Don't worry about it spoiling season one, as there's very little revealed in these first minutes that'll really affect your viewing of the first season. If you are serious about waiting, then at least check out the opening credits, and then the first few minutes or so. Spectacular work.

The show is nominated for a butt-load of Emmy's, and frankly, despite my unabashed love for Lost, I can't help but hope that Mad Men takes it this year. Watch the clip below. Bask in it. Savor it. It's pretty fantastic.



Clip courtesy of Hulu

My Name is Judge...

Normally, I find earthquakes to be unbelievably creepy and unsettling, but this just made me laugh, mostly because of the situation...

The Status is Not Quo

Sorry to hit you ad nauseum with this Dr. Horrible stuff, but I've become such of huge fan of not only the show, but the idea that has driven the show to the success it has had: putting the creativity in the hands of the creatives, and allowing a niche market to spread the word. I recently read Joss' interview (along with Nathan, Neil and Felicia) in Entertainment Weekly, and they discussed this very issue. While the Writer's Strike accomplished very little (at least in my eyes), it did however manage to change how a lot of writers saw the Internet. Fighting for their new media residuals seemed to have simply ignited their excitement for the power of the Internet. Another favorite of mine, John August, also has contributed to this new trend, but his product has yet to see any light (as far as I know), but I'm sure it will. The Internet makes it possible for anyone to post anything, and it's about time we move above and beyond the YouTube crowd, and let the big boys play. Having Joss' show be such a success will only fuel other star writers/directors to flex their Internet muscle, and create original material for the Net. This is what makes me excited.

So, yeah... The reason for this post is to simply point you in the direction of hulu.com, where you'll be pleased to find Dr. Horrible, in its entirety, and for free. So please, if you haven't indulged quite yet, do so now, and enjoy.

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

I'd embed it here, but it'd probably take a toll on this page's load times, so thank me for sparing you the agony of dial-up like speeds in today's high-speed world...

Joss is Boss

Have you watched it yet? All Three Acts are now up at www.drhorrible.com. Or, in order to further the notion of choice and our unique ability to have one, you can choose to click the above button, which will whisk you magically away from this blog, and into the world of Joss Whedon and Friends...

The show is too much fun to pass up, and with the fact that all that is free will vanish Sunday the 20th at midnight, I would expect all of you blog-o-friends to seriously consider your loyalties to Joss and Friends, and take the most appropriate action.

Things like this don't pop up often, so enjoy it now.

Really.

The Dark Screen

Guess who just saw 9/10ths of The Dark Knight?

Yeah, I know... Talk about poor timing. I get up for a 3:10am showing of quite possibly the most anticipated film of the year, only to have the finale cut short by some sort of "power failure" on the part of the IMAX projector that so deliciously entertained me for about two hours. Not only did I have to sit in line for 2 and a half hours, outside, surrounded by drunks and stoners, but we then had to sit in the theatre and wait for the freakin' thing to start for an extra half an hour (at least, I think it was that long). Finally, the film began, and boy did it begin. Full IMAX glory, bank robbery scene. Seen it before, but it was a good refresher. Anyway, the movie rocked. Or, at least 9/10ths of it rocked. I'm pretty sure the last bit was awesome too, but I cannot judge until I see it. We got free tickets, of course, but no refund (the line to get one was super long). Honestly, two tickets would have sufficed.

Anyway, that's the short story. A lot more tomfoolery went down (drunken beach ball poppers, drunk screamers, someone lighting up a blunt while we waited for the movie to come back, etc.). All it all, save for the awesomeness of the film, it was a pretty reprehensible experience. Which sucks.

Oh well, right? Not really. I'm still a little pissed, and rightfully so, right?

Oh, update: I'm esteemed frère has just informed me that per his sources, there was at least a half an hour left. So, let's readjust our fractions: 9/10ths, which is, you know, not too much, has now become 4/5ths, which is, um, redonkulous? Yeah, that's it. Re-freakin'-donkulous.

Ugh. Ugh times 5, hours, of my life, practically wasted.
Ugh times 17, dollars, which is what I spent to see the darned thing on the IMAX screen.
Ugh a million times over.

I'm done here. No one spoil the end. I may see it today. Who knows. Still, I can really say wholeheartedly that this is the best superhero flick I've ever seen, bar none. Spider-man 2 ain't got nothin' on this sucka. Nor Iron Man. Nor X-Men 2. None of 'em. Not even close. See why I'm pissed?

It Must Be Bunnies...

In my efforts to keep all of my blog-o-friends abreast about awesome Internet videos and such not, I feel obligated to link you to this:

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

To summarize, it's got all of the below items in full force:

1) Neil Patrick Harris, who's turn as Barney Stinson on TV's How I Met Your Mother is a bright spot in today's dreary comedic television world.

2) Nathan Fillion, or Captain Tightpants from TV's Firefly. He's just plain awesome.

3) Cute newcomer, Felicia Day, who I've never seen before, but with whom I have instantly fallen in love.

4) All of the above singing... I know, right!?

5) The traditionally witty dialogue stylings of Joss Whedon.

6) Songs, à la Once More, With Feeling!, far and away one of the best episodes of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.

7) It's free. For now.

8) It's pretty funny.

9) It's Joss Whedon, people.

10) Joss. Whedon. For free. Now. Seriously.

There's A World Outside of Yonkers...

C - Johanna DeNeige McCuen, one of my dearest and best friends. She moved away this past weekend, much to my great dismay. Thankfully, she returned to the motherland, so she's only a short car ride away, once I make the move myself. But still, I've lost, for the moment, one of the most amazing individuals I've had the pleasure of knowing.
L - My grandparent's house, waiting to go to the airport. I'm also here alone, which is a rare thing. Usually Gangy is all over me, feeding me way too much, and making sure I have enough blankets to cover me, even in July.
O - My indispensable laptop. Probably one of the smartest purchases I've ever made.
S - Watching Bridesmaids and D-minus with old friends, and laughing just as hard as I did the first time. I love my friends. I really do.
A - Squealing with elation when I realized my grandparents owned Hello, Dolly!
T - Whodathunk that Hello, Dolly! could make a grown man get weepy. Thanks WALL-E.

Many of you are aware of one my biggest wishes/inappropriate thought: Marry Tina Fey. Yes, she's super married, and yes, she's totally a hot mom, but I cannot help but seriously swoon when I watch 30 Rock, or that wicked awesome American Express commercial with Marty Scorcese. But, I am realistic, and completely aware of the absurdity of my obsession, so I simply hope that the bride I eventually wed be equal parts funny and hot. Yeah, I wanna funny woman, ladies, so if you desire the flesh de Parker, brush up on your improv, join The Groundlings or Second City, and then give me a ring.

But, it was just yesterday that I realized I have another wholly unrealistic obsession, but possibly more probable: I want to work for Pixar. Not as an animator, as I've abandoned that idea with a series of sub-par sketchbooks, but as a writer. I remember listening to a podcast featuring Michael Arndt, Oscar winning writer of Little Miss Sunshine, and the writer of Toy Story 3, discussing the writer's room at Pixar, which he recently joined. This room, if you were curious, features some of the brightest talent working in the biz, from Pixar's Grand Chef, John Lassiter to a god in his own right, Brad Bird, as well as my new favorite Andrew Stanton (Thanks WALL-E). My mind was blown, literally, when I heard that such a room existed. I'd often heard of television writers rooms, and the idea always gave me a slight orgasmic giggle (all that clever crowded into one room? Yeah, it's a writer's wet dream), but I'd never really imagined a room within the realm of cinema. Mr. Arndt talked about how each and every writer would consult on the various films being worked on by each party, and they would offer support and aid for any story issues and character problems. Now, at this point, I pulled my oxygen mask down, and declared quite boldly that I would someday be a part of this room. A moment of silence passed, and then I sat back down, shrugged, and realized my dream was about as distant as the possibility of Mrs. Fey's marriage falling apart, and me (her new best friend) falling for her romantic comedy style, and then getting hitched. Yeah, I'm sick...

Again, the possibility of my employment at Pixar is much more probable, but that doesn't make it any less difficult. I can only hope that my pure, unadulterated desire to work for such a creative giant will eventually produce fruit, and I suppose that's the only way to move about it. And, I think it'll continue to haunt me, as long as each Pixar film that comes out is as spectacular as WALL-E. I mean, what film could cause me to ever put on Hello, Dolly!, a film I have purposely avoided, due mostly to it's star, and also the fact that I've seen the original play upon which it is based (Thornton Wilder's "The Matchmaker"), which I really didn't find that interesting? I suppose a Pixar movie could, and it did, as that's what is keeping me "entertained" as I blog.

Anyway, enough of that. Back to reality, I suppose. *sigh*. Still, I think I'll do whatever it takes to get to that point, even if takes me to a different, and equally as rewarding point in my life. I'm a firm believer in dreams coming true, if we will them to be. Why? Because if we simply take what we can get, we're always settling, and as I've always said, you get what you settle for. That's not to say I'll sit on my arse until Pixar comes a knocking. I certainly want to try my hand a television writing, and probably some feature writing before I settle down in Northern California, but I think if I do my best to prove my worth as a writer, then the chances are all the more realistic.

So, there you have it. My heart. On my sleeve. Now all my blog-o-friends will know what keeps me up at night, and what keeps me going. I hope Tina never catches wind of this blog, because that would be embarrassing, until she realized my comedic genius (HA!) and invited me to join the writing staff on 30 Rock (double HA!). No, really, it'd be pretty awful if she did see this. She's totally married, people. With a cute baby daughter. And to that, I simply say: Blurg.

I Don't Snack on Meat

C - Tina Fey, because her show 30 Rock, and her character Liz Lemon, offer up some of the brightest and most ingenious comedy on TV today.
L - A children's clothing store in Dubai
O - Drumsticks. You know, the ice cream cones with the unbelievably good waffle cones that have that teeny bit of chocolate at the reverse apex, that's just teeming with orgasmic goodness that I find I can hardly express myself without the use of sexual metaphors, they're just that good.
S - Trying to break my spec for Pushing Daisies, while at the same time get a treatment together for a feature, edit my dern movie, meet with Parkin, find a wife, and figure out what August will bring once I leave my domicile for bigger and better things.
A - Physically injuring to near hospitalization the once lauded M. Night Shyamalan. Three movies full of disappointment hit its peak two weeks ago with The Happening, his biggest ball of suck by far. Redemption will not be easy, nor swift, and by the good gods of Olympus, you better not screw up the Avatar movie, or so help me I'll personally cut your legs off.
T - Never trust anyone wearing pleats in their slacks, especially if they're a woman. Ms. Poundstone, I'm glaring in your direction...

So I'm learning as we speak that absence makes the heart grow fonder. What a dumb cliché, I know, but as someone may or may not have said, "It's resonant because it's true." I am so bored here at my place of employ, I can barely stand it. I finally have time to start working 40 hour weeks here at my editing job, only to find that the first week of 40 also happens to be limbo. Nothing to do here. The person who could be giving us loads of work hasn't shown up in two days, and thus we are stuck to our own devices. One of us is gleefully entertaining himself with Final Cut Pro and prosumer camera tutorials, hoping to someday become so techno-literate, he could make the world's greatest wedding video (which, unfortunately for him, I've already seen *cough*Johanna*cough*, so he's got quite the uphill battle). My other coworker (and "non-sexual life partner" for the past two years) is busy doing whatever his mind tells him is next on the agenda, whether that be reading the comic tomfoolery of Chris' Invincible Super Blog, or just Wiki-ing random names and people for his latest thrill of knowledge. He was looking at Clark Gable not too long ago, which is at least slightly classy (unless he was only curious about Clarky's sexuality, which can be a surprisingly fun game to play with classic Hollywood stars and starlets).

I myself have personally ravaged the video resources available to me, from Hulu to the new thewb.com, which is still only in Beta. I've kinda grown tired of Internet video viewing. I'm not sure whether it's the fact that I'm not on a comfortable couch, or the fact that I'm sitting in an impossibly awkward wooden torture device (read: chair), or just that I'm not comfortable (I'm 98% sure it's screen size). In any case, it gets boring after a while. Real fast.

So, in between random spurts of AD, Buffy, Burn Notice, Raising Arizona, and Eternal Sunshine, I've found myself entranced by the long forgotten joys of Ben Folds courtesy of Pandora, and bits of writing (mostly emails and blogs). It calms me down between fits of intense boredom, but still doesn't solve my problem. What I need is some honest to goodness work. I need to strap myself down in my little wooden chair and multi-clip edit the bejeezus out of some wickedly boring Masterclass. What I wouldn't give to hear the incessant plucking of a slightly out of tune Folk Harp at an Open Mic session, or the jazz harp stylings of Park Stickney, as he thumps the pedals up and down to achieve such a crisp jazz sound. That's what I need right now. That is my drug of choice du jour, thank you very much. How I often used to believe that any double dose of Buster Bluth could cure the boredom of even the most humorless people now seems ridiculous. In my eyes, such a feat cannot fully give a man back his joy.

Work is essential for humans. Haven't we all noticed that the most miserable individuals are those who have not, or are not currently putting in a hard days work, day in and day out? I know of someone now who fits this bill, and his life is utterly (pardon the sharpness) pathetic. He works, yes, but for 4 measly hours out of the day, at a job reserved for high school kids and college freshman. The rest of his time is spent doing who knows what, holed up in his bedroom. He occasionally makes an appearance in our living room, if only to participate in whatever we are laughing at for the moment, even if he doesn't quite get it most of the time (yeah, he's like that). I don't mean to harp (ha!) on the guy, but I pretty much get depressed just looking at him, because I know he's not happy. I've been in his shoes, where I know that I'm not getting the most out of life. It saddens me to think about.

And so, here I am, again, wondering why I'm not working. Well, this time, it's out of my hands. While the money is rolling in at a steady $8.95 an hour, I'm still wasting my time away. And while reading up on Tina Fey's Wiki, or writing on someone's wall on Facebook may sound like the ultimate in luxury if one is getting paid, it's not. It's a little like hell. Each minute that passes is a minute wasted, and you know deep down that there's something better you can be doing.

My hope is that this blog will be a call to action on my part. I need to stop sulking, and find work. I have two projects that desperately need my fingers to type them up, and also countless other ideas that could use a treatment or two. What am I doing wasting my time relishing in the works of others? This time is a gift, given to me to really flesh out the things I've come to find most important to me. If time is not to be wasted, why am I so insistent on complaining about my situation?

I dunno. I really don't. I guess blogging is better than sitting about, so I suppose this is the final complaint; the final straw. No more complaining. Seize the opportunity to creatively expand the world. Seize it, and then go watch something cool.

Faster, must go faster...

Sorry for no real posts, but this was just too awesome, once again...



And this one too...

Thanks Arthur

Best 9 seconds ever...

Iron Head

If you don't find this funny, well, then, you're hopelessly hopeless... Or just not as immature as myself...

Indiana Jones and the Disappointed Masses

C - Sam the Cooking Guy. He's a local (local as in San Diego) cooking show host who just released a pretty solid cookbook. Nifty.
L - David Day's office. *GULP*
O - An elusive copy of The Usual Suspects that doesn't cost me $20.
S - Trying to get my old video editor job back at the library.
A - Losing an important prop for a film shoot that shoots tomorrow. Awesome, right?
T - Expectations: they'll kill any chance of a great experience.

So, I saw Indiana Jones. The new one. The Crystal Skull, as they call it. I came out of it with a very ho hum attitude. I was frustrated. I was let down. I was, like so many, disappointed in the film. It felt weak, unnecessary, and at times, utterly ridiculous. I sat around in a pity storm all day, thinking about how sad I was that a beloved franchise and character were completely mishandled and mistreated. Why so much CGI? Why the trip into the science fiction? Why Lucas? Why Spielberg? WHY?

However, in spite of my unrelenting questioning of the filmmaker's motives, I couldn't help but wonder how so many critics, who usually tend to be very harsh on films of this nature, are almost unabashedly accepting of it. The film currently ranks a 79% Fresh rating at RottenTomatoes.com (which is an amalgamation of critical reviews from across the internet). They hold no shame in proclaiming that Indy is back, and that this film serves the franchise well. Huh? Did we see the same film?

So, I kept thinking. A lot. Did I miss something? Was the magic there, but I chose not to see it? Did I accentuate the negative? Was I, in spite of my long-running, pre-film mantra of "This'll never be Raiders", really expecting the second coming of a classic? I don't know. I really can't say. I do know that I'm not alone in my distaste for the film. Several friends absolutely hated it, calling it terrible names and pushing it off the swings into the dirt at one point. This, of course, angered me. Why? I dunno. Probably because I want to like it. I want it to be the Indy I remember.

I've been thinking a lot about phenomenology (thanks theory), and Indy is a perfect example of this idea. Phenomenology, according to Dudley Andrew, says that a film-going experience is not solely shaped by the narrator's (the filmmaker's) presentation of the film, but also by the experiences of the viewer. It is clear that, in spite of what my friends may believe, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull's failure as a film cannot be solely placed on the filmmaker's shoulders (which is where they instantly went to). Why is this? Because while they disliked it, many people did not, critics included. Thus we see phenomenology at play: [LONGTIME FANS + MIDNIGHT SHOWING] (high expectations, or their own personal experience) + [SUBPAR SEQUEL] (yes, the filmmakers are at fault for many things) = [PURE UNADULTERATED DETEST]. However, lets plug in the critics to this equation: [LONGTIME FANS] (who isn't?) + [FREE CRITICS SCREENING] + [SUBPAR SEQUEL] + (and here's the x factor)[LOWERED EXPECTATIONS FOR ANY AND ALL BIG BUDGET BLOCKBUSTERS] = [A RATHER PLEASANT, FUN, FILMGOING EXPERIENCE].

So, class, what have we learned? Well, that maybe, Indiana Jones is not plagued by a bad script, or bad ideas, but rather by an audience not ready to accept a new Indy film. They may pretend to be; they may have even lined up, hundreds upon hundreds of 'em, at 9:30pm on Wednesday the 21st to see the film at 12:01am, but they weren't ready. I wasn't ready. Count me among the many incapable of letting this new entry into the canon of fantastic adventure films. Is that so wrong? No, probably not, as we are all entitled to our opinions, and certainly phenomenology insists that we allow our own experiences to play into the film viewing, but that's not the point. My point is, I think, that we need to stop blaming Spielberg, Lucas, Ford, LaBeouf, Allen, Winstone, Koepp, Hurt and maybe, if we're super vindictive, Connery. Yes, the film stumbles, and is without a doubt superbly inferior to the best of the series, but can we honestly say, given our excessive fandom for this beloved series, that this was indeed a bad film? No. We cannot. We are a biased majority, bent on destroying all that does not please. It's in our very nature. Fans are ruthless consumers of anything out of the ordinary. Lost anyone? The show strays from answering mythology questions for barely one half of a season (it's a character-based show, people, not some elaborate video game enigma for you to solve at your own disposal and patience level), and there's a significant (10 million viewers) drop in viewership, and constant cries from all sorts of detractors that the show is dead, and that it's lost what it once had (pretty quick to judge a show after only one season...Oh, and by the way, most of those detractors have eaten their words....).

I plan on seeing Indy again, and in the very near future. Am I crazy? Maybe. But I just got a job, and $5.50 (yeah, cheap!) is pretty expendable at this point. I want to enjoy it. I need to enjoy it, or else my summer will be ruined. Yeah, that might sound premature and childish, but I cannot continue to believe that my own high expectations didn't, in some regard, hurt my acceptance. I can't live with that, and I'm certainly not waiting until DVD to find out.

But, please, humble blogites, see this movie and judge for yourselves. The fans'll have their opinion, and they'll fight it till the day they die, but it's up to you to know how the film is. Keep your expectations low. Remember that both Spielberg and Lucas have both changed as filmmakers. Remember that this is Indiana Jones, a series made famous for having the spirit of God melt the faces of Nazi's, ruthless cults tear the hearts out of humans (who continue to live), and a 1,000 year old knight guarding a carpenter's cup that can heal a bullet wound like OxyClean gets out red wine stains from the whitest of carpets; it's all ridiculous... It's all out of this world. Remember that, and maybe this film's leap into the 1950s won't feel all that dissimilar.

What's In The Satchel?

Gay Anton...


No Country For Gay Men from Lawrence Scaduto on Vimeo.

I'm On The Pill Now

For those of you under a rock, How I Met Your Mother is consistently one of the funniest shows on TV, and this week they continued the saga of Canadian teen pop icon of the 90s Robin Sparkles, née Scherbatsky (Cobie Smulders) with a brand new single to follow up her not even close to platinum hit "Let's Go To The Mall". This, my friends, is right up there with "Werewolf Bar-Mitzvah" in terms of absolute perfection. Check it out below! And yes, that is Dawson... And Tiffany... And Jason Seaver.

Robin Sparkles – Sandcastles in the Sand


So rad, eh? Told ya so!

And, well, if you haven't seen it, here's her first hit below. Mid-90s Pop Gold!:
Let's Go To The Mall


Oh, and a side note: the 80s didn't come to Canada until the 90s, hence the anachronistic clothing choices.

Gold...

Try this one on for size...

Boxy Brown

C - Tina Fey. If you need to ask why, you really don't know me, or anything, for that matter...
L - Bunguren's car, where we discussed Hugh Nibley and his Marxist tendencies, and how that relates to media theory.
O - DVDs! Four of them! For my birthday!
S - Having to carry my bag, under my arm, all around campus today because the shoulder strap broke today, after 4 long years of loyal service.
A - Watching new episodes of 30 Rock and How I Met Your Mother. Deborah has the bearing of a queen, and Ted Mosby is not a jerk.
T - Trust everyone.

My apologizes for the last post, with all of the links to YouTube and what not. I hope you enjoyed them, in spite of their load times.

I celebrated my birthday last weekend, and it was quite the celebration. Wednesday was party time chez the Fudges, where we watched a creepy film (Joshua), ate some really good dip, and some cheap pizza, but mostly we enjoyed each other's company, I think. Thursday, I spent the whole day at school, which sucked, considering that was indeed my birthday, but Johanna made my evening by taking me for frozen yogurt, and by having me come to her work to help her fix a wedding video she had some issues with. I was able to watch it, and it was pretty fantastic. Friday was a bigger day. Johanna and I went to a really great play, and then to dinner (we discovered a fantastic Mexican place. Ask me or her about it), and then dessert at Maestro's for gelato and European drinking chocolate, which was delicious. Overall, a great birthday. I thank you all.

The semester ended today. I managed to survive, amazingly enough. Considering all of the garbage I've been put through on several fronts, I'm happy to be done, and move on.

Okami came out today, and so did Juno. I want both, but cannot afford either. *sigh*. Why? Because I bought this coupon card for a mechanic's shop, that I hope to use, but fear that I won't. Yeah, it's an investment, but one that I wasn't really hoping to make right now. Oh well.

So, yeah, that's all from here, I think... Stay tuned for more late-breaking developments on whatever may or may not be happening in my life.

Cucumberwang!

C - Diablo Cody. Why? I don't know. Because she's funny, and I envy her success, and I just found out today that she'll be featured on the commentary track for Spaced, the greatest British TV show America hasn't seen. Yet (see below). Check out her blog. (Warning: contains colorful language)
L - Panda Express, where I actually asked the poor lady there for two helpings of Panda Express... I meant Orange Chicken, but I somehow crossed the streams, and my words went all manic-a-what. Side note: Their Beijing Beef is pretty fantastic. Check it out before it's a goner.
O - A new belt. After 6 years, I finally purchased a new belt. Believe me, the time had come, many a moons ago. And, to boot, it's reversible, so I now have the ability to coordinate my colors with a simple pull and click action. What a world we live in!
S - The Tom Hanks-a-thon, currently in progess. First it was Catch Me If You Can (featuring the best score John Williams has ever composed), and now we are indulging in a little That Thing You Do! (featuring one song that doesn't seem to get old, even though they play it at least 8 times during the course of the film).
A - Neglecting to write a single word on either one of my scripts. Why? Even boredom can't cure writer's block...
T - Be kind, rewind.

Saw The Kingdom - Decent action flick, with a shallow attempt at some sort of political message. Jen Garner swears a bit (why Sydney? WHY!?) but kicks some serious terrorist behind, and Jason Bateman makes me laugh, even though he's kidnapped and nearly decapitated. The other two were just Oscar-winning showboaters (the usually fantastic Chris Cooper and the okay Jaime Foxx) feigning sentimentality; I could have lived without them, frankly. Overall, a nice weekend rental.

I found my little black notebook with tons and tons of secret things (mostly film ideas). I was glad it was only under my bed, and not in the hands of some evil-doer. While I doubt anyone would have the know-how to take my ideas to La La Land and pitch them to the folks at Dreamworks, you never know sometimes... The mind makes up some pretty interesting stories when you can't sleep (thanks Kent), and so I became relatively obsessed with getting it back.

My senior project approaches. I don't know what to think or say about it at this point. More work needs to be done. If anyone knows a good songwriter, let me know... I am in need, like yesterday, for a song. Talk about writing oneself into a corner!

Oh! If any of you fools get the BBC, or its American equivalent BBC America (whoa!), then you need to check out my newest addiction, That Mitchell and Webb Look. This show borders on Python-esque genius, I kid you not. There are loads of clips on YouTube. I think I'll post my favourites (wink wink) here below:





So, enjoy. Mind you, the language is a bit coarse at times, but their British accents make it sound so regal that it's hard to feel cross. I just wanted to spread the love.

And, finally, as I mentioned earlier, Spaced, the brilliant show from Simon Pegg, Jessica Hynes (née Stevenson), Nick Frost and Edgar Wright, will finally make its Region 1 debut this July, with all new commentaries, and loads of new stuff. I have seen most of this series, and can vouch for its uncanny brilliance. It launched the careers of these folks, and helped get two of the greatest po-mo comedies of this decade made (Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz). More deets to come. Video below!

Insolent Noise...

C - Anthony Minghella, who just this morning passed away at the too young age of 54. I've loved every movie of his I've seen, and this is truly a sad, sad day for the film world. He will be missed, but fondly remembered thanks to his beautiful films.
L - The lobby at Novell, again, where we had to plaster a 30 pound directory sign up on a marble pillar with 14 3M adhesive strips. Surprisingly enough, it stuck, so good on us, right? Too bad getting it off wasn't quite as nice... Thank you Windex!
O - The Hellboy 3-Disc Director's Cut for only 10 bucks at Wal-Mart. All my dislike for WallyWorld aside, that's a price I can't ignore.
S - Going to see Be Kind Rewind at the last minute, and loving it. This is a film for filmmakers, or anyone who has ever experienced the transcendental bliss of watching their creation on screen.
A - Buying Silk (the vanilla flavor), and liking it. Makes my Special K all the more special...
T - It is decidedly difficult to argue that Titanic did not deserve the Best Picture Oscar in 1997, but it could prove to be a worthy challenge.

Nothin' big to say now. This post was really my tribute to Mr. Minghella, whose sudden death really hurts to think about. He was a talented writer, and an equally as talented director, and he will be missed, for sure. Sad, sad day...