Manic for Summer Movies

Live Free or Die Hard

It’s been a long time since Bruce Willis donned this franchise and the rust shows a little bit – but surprisingly, not on Bruce. The problems inherent in Live Free or Die Hard fall more on the direction and plotting of the movie, than Willis’ gruff speaking character, who really isn’t a character at all, but simply how we all perceive the persona of Bruce Willis.

Yes, things explode and people are shot many times. Cars crash and fights ensue. The math is easy – but somewhere along the way the equation loses a little of the heart and charm of the previous movies. In the last Die Hard, Samual L. Jackson saved an otherwise lame excursion that fell somewhere between Lethal Weapon 3 and Rush Hour 3 in uselessness. In Live Free or Die Hard, the premise starts with blazing action as Willis must transport a valuable hacker into the government’s hands. This works – the banter between Willis and Justin Long is sharp and the suspense of how McClane (Willis) will outsmart a cunning ex-government hacker boils in adrenaline.

One of the joys of the Die Hard series is that it always heralded some small amount of reality, where the audience felt that McClane’s situation could be, at least slightly, plausible. Unfortunately, as the second half of this latest film rolls, the plot takes a number of missteps and the action drops into ridiculous hyperbole. Between the unnecessary bringing of McClane’s daughter into the movie and so-stupid-it-needs-to-be-seen battle between Willis and a fighter jet, Live Free or Die Hard doesn’t evoke the same spirit as its predecessors, especially the first one – which in comparison feels all the more inspired and essential.

Hairspray

Let me make one thing clear – I have an odd fondness for musicals. It’s probably due to the fact that I like music, more than I like, say, over-acting and choreography. Regardless, Hairspray is a good musical with boisterous songs, tight dance numbers and loads of sarcastic charm. One of the most appealing things about Hairspray is that it isn’t played completely straight – the lyrics are often mean-spirited while the music plays on unaware. On the opening number, “Good Morning Baltimore” a joyous chorus rings on about homelessness, town drunks and the poor – good morning Baltimore indeed.

The basic plot revolves around a dance competition and the larger racial implications of 60’s USA. The movie favours the microcosms of the characters rather than try to teach too many lessons to the audience ala Rent. For my money, this elevates Hairspray beyond a recent crop of other musicals in that it lets the characters imply the big picture, rather than hit us over the head with it, to music. I had low expectations of this movie before walking in, and arguably seeing John Travolta kissing Christopher Walken did disturb, I was pleasantly surprised with the outcome.

The Bourne Ultimatum

Another title for this movie should be – “10 steps to making a good film.” As with the Bourne Supremacy, Paul Greengrass takes the helm with his patented jittery camera-style and launches Robert Ludlum’s third novel into the filmmaking stratosphere. In this latest installment, plot development takes a backseat to pure chase. The tension of the movie isn’t watching Bourne figure out who he is; it’s watching him careen towards ever-dangerous US authorities like some kind of unstoppable missile.

There are huge spectacles of chase, explosions, crashes and fights –all done with a thoughtful lack of special effects. The realistic style is incredibly refreshing in an age of Transformers, where nothing felt real and there was no reason to invest in the action. Transformers made you watch action. Bourne’s efficacy makes you feel like you are part of it. Spy movies need a little grit. It’s nice to see a protagonist with dirt under his fingernails - it puts heart into stories usually concerned with glitzy technology and acronym-wielding intrigue.

The only negative? The movie ends! Before you know it, it’s over – like, over over. But what a ride it was. In a just world, these movies would serve as an actual ultimatum to other filmmakers to stop throwing CGI at us, and tap into something other than adrenaline.

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Sunshine

Sunshine

Most people scoff when I say I liked Steven Soderberg’s Solaris, but there was something instinctively powerful about its story and its slow grace. Keeping in mind that I haven’t seen the original (and continue to search for it), the subtle opera called out to some higher sense than that of typical science fiction– cough cough Armageddon. What I enjoyed most about Solaris was the threat was our own weaknesses and inability to cope with the potency of our emotions, rather than say, a giant hurtling asteroid.

Well, Sunshine tries for the same austerity of say Solaris or 2001, but ultimately fails. Visually, it’s a stunner – there’s a fascinating slow boil that rises up from the dark and light interplay of the ship as it hurtles toward the sun. Directory Danny Boyle, continually presents shots of the ship’s bright orange shield, followed by the immense shade of the ship hiding behind it. As fascinated as the characters are in the brightness and immensity of the sun, Boyle also keeps us focused its devastating power and beauty.

The plot revolves around a group of astronauts, physicists and scientists aboard the fatefully titled Icarus II, which of course not only invokes the old greek tragedy but implies that there was an Icarus I. As the group moves toward the sun, tensions flare, mishaps occur and the crew is put under great stress to solve them. For the first hour, the film chugs with clockwork perfection – the focus on the drama inside and outside the ship is tight. The dialogue and scientific focus of the plot adds a great depth of believability and lets us invest in these characters.

While there are certainly some familiar touchstones of other science fiction movies, Boyle adds just enough visual flash and drama to keep it interesting. Unfortunately, this balance is upset about midway through the movie, when characters begin to act against type, clichés rear their ugly head and believability is sacrificed for cheap thrills. After probably the best scene in the movie, where all the characters watch Mercury drift across an ocean of fire, things go down hill. The crew find out that the Icarus I is floating somewhere near the surface of the Sun and they go to investigate – cliché alert. Of course, something goes wrong and crew start dying – double cliché alert. Unfortunately, this is the high point of the low points – the plot gets more muddled, as does the special effects, strangely enough. The end turns into a mish-mash of pseudo-everything that darkens all of the promise from the first half.

Too bad – it’s especially disappointing when all of the mystery and tension are released in such a confusing, yet conventional way. Watch Sunshine to understand what it could have been, not for what it is.

Summer Movie Roundup

Summer Movie Round-up:

I see a lot of movies. Well, I think I see a lot of movies – compared with most people.

You know that movie quiz that’s always floating around facebook – I think I’m somewhere in the 250’s out of around 300ish movies. I probably like movies more than I admit to myself. I’m the kind of person who, when watching Grind House and hearing about that movie’s influences, goes in search of the movies that inspired it. Right after Grind House, I quickly went looking for Last House on the Left and Vanishing Point. When I was younger, I used to wander around the video store picking up classic movies and old oscar-nominated movies just so I could watch them. Does this make me some kind of expert? No. Does this make me obsessive? Kinda.

Jackie and I always feel strange when people tell us they only see a couple of movies in a theatre a year. We probably see that many in the span of a week, or at least, a couple weeks.

With that in mind, here’s what we’ve seen since Jackie’s been back for the last two weeks.

License to Wed

This movie got drubbed by the critics, and while I can understand why they might dislike it, it’s not nearly as bad as they made it seem. It’s a typical rom-com, but certainly not any worse than most typical rom-com’s. There were some decent laughs, the characters were decently acted, with maybe the small exception being Robin Williams taking it a little too far and coming off creepy instead of the desired well-meaning. Otherwise, it was a pleasant summer movie – not deep by any means – but light and reasonably funny.

Transformers

Like the above movie, this movie is basically the same thing. A high concept movie that is incredibly light on substance. This should come as no surprise – it’s a movie about talking, transforming robots based on an old Hasbro cartoon and toy line. The action was okay, although occasionally too jumpy to the point of not being able to understand what was happening. The dialogue was occasionally self-referentially hilarious and occasionally groan-inducing cheesy. Another light summer movie where you can leave your brain at home.

Pirates of the Caribbean

It’s a long movie and it’s a convoluted movie and it’s the prototypical summer spectacle movie. The story wrapped up decently, the action and stunts were fantastic. The special effects were eye-popping. I can’t say that I felt truly satisfied by the conclusion, but I wasn’t disappointed either. Adding Chow Yun Fat was also a bonus, scoring brownie points with me – although I was a little sad inside that he didn’t have a toothpick in his mouth and two guns at any point – but perhaps that’s just me not letting go of my many-year obsession with Hard Boiled.

Knocked Up

The thing I liked most about Knocked Up was the fact that I could actually picture it. With most comedies, there’s an element of suspended disbelief so that the jokes can operate freely. With Knocked Up, the scenario, the characters and especially the dialogue never seemed out of place from my everyday reality. Judd Apatow has a knack of taking an ensemble cast and letting them simply follow the wireframe script in a way that comes across refreshingly real. Characters don’t seem like they’re aching to shoot out a funny line, but instead simply say them. The way the dialogue is so fully infused with pop-culture references while still retaining that sense of real people talking is exceptional for most movies.

When one of the kids in the movies says to her aunt “I googled murder” it’s both hilarious and realistic because it seems like something a kid would do if they had access to google. When Ben starts talking about how sometimes he wishes he could change his past actions, it’s all the more amusing and seemingly real when he uses Back to the Future first as a metaphor, which then devolves straight into bad movie quotes and impressions.

Knocked Up wasn’t as consistently funny as The 40-Year Old Virgin, but that’s more attributable to the fact that it’s a different animal entirely. Knocked Up is not as slick a movie and isn’t as driven to uncover the laughs. It’s more content in finding the humorous moments between all the stress, worry, pathos, melancholy and everyday fight of life.

For this, it might not be as visceral as The 40-Year Old Virgin when sitting in the theatre, but it sticks with you a lot longer afterward.

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Sorry, it was a little late - getting back into the groove now.

Calgary Stampede - Good, Bad and the Ugly

The Good

Fireworks
In the quest to super-size everything into grand spectacle, the Stampede offers up nightly fireworks just to remind everyone that one more day of gong show is gone. While the sentiment’s cheap, the fireworks are pretty cool to watch from the safe distance of Scottman’s Hill. Aside from Global Fest, there aren’t too many opportunities to sit down with the family for a fireworks show in land-locked Calgary. It’s one of the more lasting Stampede traditions, and now, seems kind of classy in comparison to the rest of the junior-Vegas debauchery we host.

Free Food
Free food, even when it’s bad, is ultimately still good. Regardless whether those sausages have been evolving in the sun over an 8-hour span, they still taste as sweet and delicious as nectar from the gods for the sole reason that you did not pay for their botulism-fused goodness.

The Sky Carriage
The forbidden pleasure of spitting on tourists can hardly be matched in this entire world.

The Bad

The Coca Cola stage
If you are a musician or entertainer, and say you’re looking through the stable of shows your agent booked, and you see that you’re scheduled to play the Stampede Coca Cola stage, this means only one thing. It’s over. Whatever success you achieved, whatever heights you reached in the past, they are not coming back. The Coca Cola stage is the place where bands come to die. It’s a veritable garden of Tom Cochrane’s, Cheap Tricks, and unforgettably, Hinders. I can’t in recent memory, think of a band who played the Coca Cola stage and was better for it – Matthew Good fell Icarus-like after his show. Sloan never tasted the same success after the Stampede. If you see it on your schedule, just put your guitar down, put on that Arby’s smock and get that burger spatula ready. It’s the only way to save a little dignity.

Country Music
Country music was once good. There was Merl Haggard, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline. Then came Billy Ray Cyrus with Achy Breaky Heart and it was bastardized forever. Let’s make one thing clear. Today’s “country music” is hardly country music. It’s generic rock music with violin. Worse still, is that country music is nearly as bad as rap music for gimmicky concepts and atrocious lyrics (uh, hello, Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy – barf!). Today’s country music is what office drones want to dance to in their one pair of embarrassing white jeans. Ever notice that cowboys on old western movies don’t wear white jeans. That’s because they would be shot. Enough said.

The Ugly

Being trapped in the Zipper with someone getting sick above you or losing your wallet on the Zipper.

Both are equally frightening. There’s nothing quite as terrifying as being stuck in the caged claustrophobia that is the Zipper, stuck facing slightly up listening to the squeaking of the badly-carnie managed ride, when all of a sudden, you hear the familiar sound of someone losing their corndog high above you. You’re stuck. There’s nowhere to go and that mesh front is hardly a defense. You shake the cracked mahogany chest pad in desperation. But it’s too late. Here it comes. No, no, noooooooooaaaaah.

The other scenario is frightening, but not as disgusting, and I actually had happen to me when I was like thirteen. When you’re thirteen, if you are a loser-kid like I was, you had a slim velcro wallet of some kind. You probably were a dumb kid, like me, and didn’t put it in your acid wash jeans and instead put it in your jacket. So the Zipper starts up and you get a swinging and whoops, there goes your wallet into the bottom of the compartment. You hope it stays there, but of course the ride starts up again and you go spinning upside down. Your wallet plummets out the loose grate and you watch it go tumbling into the crowd. Being the respectful Stampede crowd it is, your money disappears forever. Spiderman wallet, why did you forsake me?

Topless Guys and Girls

You know that sweaty shirtless guy dancing outside at concerts. He’s all drunk, swaying and yelling random crap. He pisses you off and rubs his mansweat up against you as he stumbles frantically toward the front of the stage. Well, the Stampede is where all those guys get together. It’s the shirtless douche bag convention.

Dude, I don’t need to be coated in your Ogden-flavoured manbrine. And, really, you and your beer garden breath are totally wrecking Hinder for me! You are ruining my Hinder experience.

Ladies you fare no better. If having some chain-smoking cougar flash her low-hanging milk curtains at you is a special thrill – look no further than the Stampede. If I want to see soggy flapjacks, I’ll take in a free mall breakfast.

I’m always surprised at these quality people who show up. Where do they come from? I never see them all year, until the beginning of each July. Do they all reside in some secret cave, and come July, go rolling out of it into the blazing sunlight, their fingers splayed, shading their eyes from the judgmental heavens?

Or is it some kind of Bruce Banner-like transformation, only instead of incredible superpowers, people lose half their IQ, half their walking speed and have the sudden desire to walk in a horizontal line slowly so it is impossible get around them and traverse the Stampede grounds from end-to-end in less than three days.

Why does the Stampede give regular people the excuse to be morons – do they simply think that big crowds hide stupid better? I haven’t pinpointed the exact reason, but I have my clear suspicions. It’s those damn superdogs.

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the wolf - thirteen

Another transition comic - but this time in semi-colour. Or, how Dean bought art pens and needed a reason to play with them (and blur in photoshop).

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Ex Machina

Every time I seemingly think I’ve outgrown old staples of my childhood, they come rearing back with the unexpected force of newfound depth. At some point in my high school years, the concept of visiting the comic store lost its appeal, either in the fact that the comics I read took a turn for the worse or the fact that I’d suddenly gone from doing something every other kid was doing to something that only a few kids did and were socially marginalized for doing. Either way, my visits became less frequent and eventually I stopped buying comics regularly.

Now, a grown man, or at least as close to a grown man as I’m likely to become, I’ve gone back to the comics format – on my knees no less – weeping and pleading for forgiveness. A lot of my return can be attributed to stemming interest in cross-over comics such as Miller’s Sin City and Batman, but there have been a couple other titles that have demonstrated a uniquely adult perspective on the world, while still using familiar comic-book tropes and artistry.

On my last birthday, my girlfriend gave me two collected works for Brian K. Vaughn’s Ex Machina. Looking at the covers while we ate our steak dinners (at the 80’s timewarp restaurant known at the reef n’ beef), I really came into the comics with no expectations. I had never heard of Vaughn and had never heard anything about Ex Machina. Jackie described it as a superhero comic that involves politics and she was right, it was, and oh so much more.

Ex Machina basically follows the story of Michell Hundred, who by some accident acquires the ability to talk to machines – basically any machine that involves some level of complexity from phones, to billboards to even guns. With his newly-found powers Hundred decides to fight crime as “The Great Machine” in his home city of New York. At this point it’s pretty standard comic-book fare.

Where it gets interesting is that all these details are in the past – the story is told from the present – where Hundred has retired from crimefighting, ran for Mayor of New York and won. During Ex Machina, Vaughn weaves the current story of Hundred’s daily struggles as Mayor of New York with his recollections as a crimefighter and ultimately the day that shaped his future – September 11th.

It’s a fascinating story in that Vaughn doesn’t pull any punches about politics in New York or what makes Hundred tick – he’s by no means a superhero in personality and struggles like any normal man to wade through the myriad of back-dealing that’s involved with his job – all of this occurs as he must deal with his past, his unknown powers and new crops of dangerous people trying to harm the city, him or his family.

The timeline of the story starts sometime after September 11th and Vaughn explores a number of big-picture issues such as the war in Iraq, first-amendment rights in art, children’s education, labour issues, gay marriage, and the New York power blackout. As much as there is tense action and suspense, there is a great deal of interplay from the characters as they deal with issues that often share thematic similarities with issues from The Great Machine’s personal history. It makes for some interesting parallels to watch how Hundred treats politics in the same was as he treated crime fighting, or at times, how he treats them differently.

I’ve enjoyed this series so much that I’ve actually gone back to the comic store to buy issues now. Sometimes you really can’t appreciate something until you’ve come full-circle to see it from all the angles. I’m glad I came back to comics for this great series.

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Latest Greatest

Alex Delivery – s/t

Alex Delivery sounds like the kind of band that either loves every kind of music or hates it completely. On their self-titled release, genres are set up only to be torn asunder by ADD-riddled hysterics. Call it prog, call it post-rock, call it punk or call it a rose. By any other name, it still kicks.

Dan Deacon – Spiderman of the Rings

The first song is titled “Woody Woodpecker” and perfectly amplifies both the catchy and ingratiating quality of the cartoon character’s catch-phrase. Dan Deacon has written the ideal anthem of five-year olds everywhere. The music is sweet, yet disturbing like a manic child after his or her firth bowl of sugary cereal.

Longing for Dawn – s/t

This is pretty much the anti-thesis to summer. Moody keyboards and guitars stretch black as a desolate industrial back road. Longing for Dawn play metal for unsettling mood rather than frightening thrash. Instead of horror movie flash, Longing for Dawn settles into a nebulous suspense that’s never resolved, which is wholly more satisfying. Let Longing for Dawn make your summer a rainy day.

The National – The Boxer

For me, 2005 equated to a contest between The National’s Alligator and Okkervil River’s “Black Sheep Boy” for best album. Ultimately, I’d give it to the former by a hair. The Alligator was the true definition of a grower with continually rewarding turns of phrase and enigmatic melody. With The Boxer, The National venture further down the path with an album full of obtuse songs with odd lyrical content. Whether it’s the stalker elegy of Green Gloves or downtrodden examination of adulthood on Mistaken for Strangers, The National make is all sound hauntingly natural.

Jet Planes of Abraham – s/t

I remember reading a review that this was a Canadian super-group of sorts. Sure, that could be the case, but I actually have no idea who’s in this band. What I do know is that they play an infectious blend of Broken Social Scene style big-band with the small-picture focus of a Belle and Sebastian. The mix between coimmunity sound and small band lyrical focus is winning. Whether it’s the vocal chants of “take the cash” or the blazing bright guitar on “tunnels/terminals” this is an assured debut from a great group of, uh, some people.

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Sorry this one was a bit late. I was busy working on a secret comic - more secret comic information to come at a later date than today.












That bathroom panel looks suspiciously like my bathroom because I am not a bathroom savant who can just whirl up fantastic bathroom imaginings in my mind; I am human and can only reference bathrooms that are immediately on hand.

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I like story transition comics because I can just draw straight out. I don't dislike photoshop or illustrator, but sometimes it nice to be able to just draw.

and yes I meant for the background lines to be uneven - I could have used a ruler, but I wanted an authentic feel - which in drawing speak means amatuerish and messy.

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the wolf part six

Here's the wolf part six - thank you to all those that offered me scanner services, including jackie (whose gave me a scanner that I somehow broke - I'm so sorry sweetie), pam and ryan (who offered me his scanner that kevin is using - I think ryan wanted me to foribly remove it from his home).

Anyway, here it is:

Recent Reviews

Apologies, the wolf comic is not ready. Some changing job issues and needing to find a new scanner issues mean it should be ready tomorrow.

In the meantime, here are some recent music reviews.

Better versions of a couple of these reviews can be found on the BeatRoute site:

http://www.beatroute.ca/view_article.php?sectionID=4&articleID=981

http://www.beatroute.ca/view_article.php?sectionID=4&articleID=980

Voxtrot
s/t
Playlouderecordings

Voxtrot are done with teasing, it’s time for the real thing. After three tantalizing, yet all too brief EP’s through 2005 and 2006, Voxtrot finally release their first self-titled record. With a larger canvas, Voxtrot break away from measured gauziness to produce songs brimming with propulsive energy and stand out hooks. The first song, “Introduction” starts familiarly enough as delicate strings and hushed guitars weave together behind singer Ramesh Srivastava’s deep voice that pays homage to Morrissey; however, by the time the second chorus ends, a white hot guitar solo erupts, signaling a change to the band’s typical sound. By the time “Firecracker” rolls around, Voxtrot plows through statacco rhythm and stop-start percussion until the song unleashes frenetic guitars and clean high-register vocals from Srivastava. Voxtrot’s first full-length is a welcome change from a band growing out of its influences into its own distinctive sound full of confident aggressive melodies.

The Locust
New Erections
Anti-

Is it possible for a band like The Locust to grow up? Inherently self-destructive, it’s a tough job to chart the sonic evolution of a band whose sound is closely tied to an annihilation aesthetic If New Erections is any indication, The Locust are making strides away from their thrashy grindcore into unnervingly focused neo-prog. Oddly enough, the band’s effort to slow down the tempo results in their most unsettling work yet. On songs like “The Unwilling led by the Unqualified…” spastic drum fills drop away revealing decaying horror movie keyboards and Bobby Bray’s blitzkrieg shrieking about our trash-worshipping culture building garbage towers to heaven. While New Erections is more chaos than control, there is definitely a politically-charged theme behind the strangled synthesizers and short-circuit riffs. While it’s hardly a lucid affair, New Erections is the closest the band has come to actual songs, without losing their raucous intensity. It’s these small steps that show The Locust’s creative leaps, and once again, put them one step ahead of the game.

Dntel
Dumb Luck
Sub Pop

Dumb Luck is a fitting title for an artist whose success was totally unexpected. While few remember now, Dntel (Jimmy Tamborello) was already an established electronic artist before he took part in the zeitgeist known as The Postal Service. Going solo for the first time since 2001’s Life is Full of Possibilities, Dntel’s newest is like his previous collection of austere electronica. Unfortunately, Dumb Luck doesn’t recapture the playful spirit of its predecessor. Instead, the record downplays hooks for tone, burying captivating synths behind wet blanket production. Sadly, it makes Dntel’s electronics unnecessary and leaves the album without a memorable foothold. Add that to the fact Tamborello’s woe-is-me lyrics dance around with two left feet, producing a few cringe-worthy stumbles. While contributions by Lali Puna and Grizzly Bear’s Edward Droste show promise, it’s drowned out by mailed-in performances from the likes of Conor Oberst and Mia Doi Todd. Too bad, Dntel’s Dumb Luck falls flat from such great heights.

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here is the wolf part five - I changed how I do dialogue boxes, mostly because a) it fit the minimalistic style I was going for and b) I suck at making box dialogue clouds.

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the wolf part four:

Letters from Neo-Tokyo:

“Living Fast in a Viral Video World or How Idiocracy Taught Me How to Love the Bomb”

Spoiler: This is a random rant

Far back, in the summer of 2006 a little movie came out called “Idiocracy.”

It was made by Mike Judge who was made famous (or infamous) for his previous work: Beavis & Butthead, King of the Hill and Office Space.

The movie had one simple premise:

Instead of getting smarter in the future, society will get markedly dumber.

Why?

Well, the movie hinges on the premise that smart people have fewer children than dumb people.

The film shows this by illustrating that Nobel scientists are too busy furthering humanity while trailer trash has nothing to do but each chips, watch daytime television, and oh yeah, have lots of sex. So, eventually, say roughly 500 years in the future the world is so dumb that the following occurs:

- Everyone drinks Gatorade instead of water (because it has electrolytes!)
- Nearly all companies have merged into one – one ATM machine called the AT&T, Taco Bell, Goodyear, United States Government cash machine.
- The most popular TV show is called “Ow, My Balls” which consists of a half-hour of a guy getting hit in the balls.
- The Academy Award winning movie is “Ass,” which is just a farting ass for two hours.

What really struck me about Idiocracy were some of the parallels the movie made about society today, and the dystopian one pictured in the future. While I’d like to think that humanity is progressing (and don’t get me wrong, in technology and some levels of science, I think we are), there’s a nagging part of me, pulling at my shirtsleeve that says we’re also regressing.

What, with recent movie trends where films such as “The Queen” or “Last King of Scotland” barely make adequate viewers while other movies such as ‘Norbit,” “Wild Hogs” and yes even “300” (don’t even get me started on why this movie is terrible) do spectacular business. What’s stranger still is that each of these three latter movies took a critical drubbing, and frankly, should have – while they have some redeeming points, for the most part, they are poor facsimiles of better movies.

Which leads to the question why?

Is it the nature of the movie industry where viewers are left with little choice?

Or is it the nature of movie viewers themselves – have movie studios figured out something that critics haven’t – that people aren’t as interested in films that are unsettling, difficult or slower-paced. Do viewers simply want commitment-free, concentration-light entertainment?

I don’t have a concrete answer – but my hunch would be the latter.

I would say that in the past 10 years and probably the next 20, we will begin to see the full impact of the online generation. Arguably, the recent trends in movie viewing might be a bellwether for the coming cultural shift.

Having everything accessible immediately online means people are getting accustomed or attenuated to wanting information now, wanting satisfaction now and wanting entertainment now. In some ways, viral videos kind of reflect our society’s new viewing habits – we want something that entertains us to be immediate – flash bang – that quicktime video better be less that thirty seconds and make me laugh. How can this sort of mentality not make the transition over to other forms of entertainment?

So what does that mean – well, it means that we get “300” instead of “Spartacus.” We get intense visuals, outlandish special effects and overdriven language in favour of setting, tone and dialogue. Instead of “Trading Places” we get “Norbit,” both movies are comedies, but the former trades in cultural satire, razor sharp wit and decent characterization. The other, is simply full of bizarre characterizations as though that is the same thing as being funny. Maybe I’m being judgemental (I probably am), but it’s hard not to notice the shift from movies like “Airplane” which parodied/satirized cultural tropes for comedic effect to movies like “Date Movie” and “Epic Movie” that simply trot out someone dressed as a movie character and have him say “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow” and that’s supposed to be funny.

Well apparently it is; Epic Movie came in number one its first week, so that’s saying something isn’t it?

While Idiocracy’s premise is not a heart-warming one – I mean, who really wants to watch a movie that basically scolds you (or most people in the middle class) for not reading enough, for not caring enough or not volunteering enough – it doesn’t diminish the movie’s potent point.

Perhaps, we are getting culturally dumber and perhaps it’s a product of our over-commercialized and materialistic lifestyles.

The entertainment industry, for better or worse, is like a mirror – it makes its money by reflecting the cultural values we want to see. When movies don’t reflect our interests, they simply don’t do well. With that in mind, there’s a lot invested in the Norbit’s of the world – the popularity of these movies can longer be seen as aberrations, but as growing trend.

It’s a disconcerting thought (at least to me) that these films will be the new language of our cultural exchange. No doubt, Mike Judge is rolling in the inherent irony that his low-brow satire about our low-brow culture didn’t do well.

Like Private Joe Bauers, I fondly want to recall our enterainment of the past - "Reading wasn’t just for fags. And neither was writing. People wrote books and movies. Movies with stories, that made you care about whose ass it was and why it was farting."

Me? I think I’m going watch some classic movies like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Duck Soup and Yojimbo. And how will I watch them? I’ll download them of course.

Other interesting articles:

http://www.slate.com/id/2150627/

http://www.the-declaration.com/index.php?issuedate=2007-03-22&showarticle=1669

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The Further Adventures of Bevan and Keen

Welcome to the Further Adventures of Bevan and Keen, a semi-real take on the lives of two guys living in Calgary, and their demented pet rheseus monkey, Ryan.

Today's episode: "Facebook is another way of saying I love you."

Recent Reviews

Fall Out Boy – Infinity on High

My inner indie cred says I should hate this, nay, it commands that I at least show a passing dislike. I wish I could, but I simply can’t. And this despite hating-on the ever-smirking Pete Wentz and knowing the album is about as deep as a half-empty kiddie pool. I’d like to look at the album, raise my nose and sniff, and then tighten my plaid scarf ever tighter, but I just can’t.

There’s simply no resisting Fall Out Boy’s dark powers, which manifest themselves in soaring choruses that are ridiculously hooky. Like any good pop culture nugget, Infinity on High revels in the nether between high and low-brow. Really who’s keeping score though – all that matters is getting the kids to dance. As I look in the mirror, I’ll tell myself over and over that Fall Out Boy is a guilty pleasure. Then, I’ll open a fresh copy of the latest Hinder record and start to cry.

Crime in Stereo – The Troubled Stateside

I guess this is the third album by this New York group – but the first to move away from a hardcore approach into something more melodic. From what I’ve read, some of their fans were a little dismayed. I’m not sure why since all punk bands become U2 eventually, unless of course, you are U2 and then you try to become more like punk bands – it’s the U2/Punk Band circle of life - it’s tragically beautiful, like a hungry lion leaping on a gazelle in the Serengeti. While it won’t give you ear-boners, The Troubled Stateside is pretty solid for its fist-pumping factor. Combine this with the rarest of animals, “I, Stateside”, a political protest song that actually feels heartfelt and we’ve got a winner here.

Angel Witch – Angel Witch

I have no idea how this found its way into my Ipod, but I’m all the luckier for it. Angel Witch is guitar porno with handlebar mustaches attached. This 1980 release hardly sounds dated, but perhaps that’s because bands like Wolfmother and Early Man are wantonly strip-mining the same mix of power metal and D&D tropes. As opposed to current trends, Metal Witch isn’t about blastbeats and cookie-monster vocals but Bruce Dickensen howls, Sabbath drones and scorching dual solos. It’s totally ridonkulous and about as subtle as a dinner theatre run of Grease, but it’ll put a smile on your face and make you wanna scream like a warlock in the night. That is, if they scream. Maybe they just chant and in that case, Angel Witch will make you wanna chant like a Warlock in the night.

the wolf part two

Here is the next installment:

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

Sunday night I finished reading Haruki Murakami’s “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.”

It’s one of those books that you come across in the bookstore by total serendipity and turns into an instant favourite. I found this book while combing through an ‘Author Recommends’ section in the bookstore. I think it was Dennis Bock who put this on his favourite’s list.

As Jackie can attest as soon as I started reading this book, I was hooked. The set up’s fairly simple, a man Tora Okadu goes in search of his missing cat Noboru Wataya. Where the story goes from there is astoundingly complex invoking a myriad of oddball characters, elements of macabre magic realism, Japanese pop-culture, pseudo-transcendentalism and historical politics circa World War II with Japan’s Manchuria campaign.

How Murakami brings these elements together is seamless, but at the same time, he’s equally adept at letting all the heterogeneous pieces fall apart just as easily; the image that comes to mind is a giant lego tower, a self-consciously unstable pop-culture artifice that could come crashing down at any time.

Where Pynchon seems willfully post-modern as though consciously attempting to deny meaning, Murakami’s writing seems totally unaware that the purpose of writing is to distill a kind of meaning. In some ways, Murakami plays each character and angle of his story as though they weren’t interrelated parts realized into a whole, but simply separate strands of stories that occasionally come together through, well, serendipity.

While I can see how some might find this unsatisfying, I found it mesmerizing and am still thinking about all the directions “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle” went. Fortunately, for my early birthday, Jackie bought me a bunch more of his novels. A great author I’m glad I discovered.

the wolf

the wolf

This is something that I've been thinking about for a long time and finally got up the nerve to start doing. I can't promise it's going to be perfect (or even within throwing distance of perfect), but progression is something tangible too.

I've been toying with writing this as a short story while also missing the feeling of writing a comic, so I thought, why don't I do both.

Here's the first panel with plenty more to come - I promise, I will update probably weekly, with perhaps other comic ideas thrown into the mix as I drawn them.

Reviews por vous...

Glad my limited learning in french came in handy somehow. I should've known that learning french (kind of) would only be useful for smart-alek titles and reading the back of cereal boxes.

Here's some recent reviews of music I've been listening to:

Zozobra
Harmonic Tremors

Not quite a cobra, not quite a zombie, Zozobra is named after a fictitious bogeyman set on fire every year in Santa Fe. Like this hideous monster, the band’s first release Harmonic Tremors comes alive through a frightening patchwork of metal, hardcore and noxiously good sludge. Sharing members of Cave In and Old Man Gloom, the band spews menacingly thick guitar drones that ooze more toxin than Du Pont into a small town’s water supply. On Levitate, distant tom fills stomp through a black cesspool of guitar drones like the personal soundtrack for the Swamp Thing. Likewise, on Silver Ghost, singer and bassist Caleb Scoffield furiously howls as the song completely breaks down around him, leaving only a brittle pulse of feedback that echoes off tin can walls. Ironically, don’t go hunting for harmony on Harmonic Tremors because it doesn’t live here, but if heavy slabs of wet-dirt riffs are your thing, look no further.

Dolorean
You Can’t Win

An organ breaks the silence, a piano coldly chimes and someone chants “you can’t win” over and over. The balance between despair and hope is delicate, and it’s the crux Dolorean deftly explores on their third release, “You Can’t Win.” Vocalist Al James digs into the psyche of paycheck-to-paycheck labourers, mining out the helpless and powerful truth of their circumstances. With Holy Sons’ guitarist Emil Amos in tow, Dolorean paints dustbowl landscapes with a restrained acoustic backdrop, distantly plaintive vocals and plenty of space for the songs to exhale. On Beachcomber Blues, James sings “I let the rising tide rinse off this dead end hotel haze” while Amos plucks through solemn minor chords. As the album closes, the tempo picks up and by the time “One Bottle Can Do” ends, Dolorean lifts itself above a sepia-soaked veil of emotional turmoil to find something more resolute, an optimism grounded in the everyman’s will for hard luck survival.

The Postmarks
s/t

If music were clothes, the Postmarks would be a slightly oversized maroon turtleneck. Approachable, yet sophisticated, The Postmarks’ debut is a nuanced blend of baroque-touched pop that’s both classy and wistful. Chanteuse Tim Yehezkely doesn’t sing so much as whisper in a small, sweet voice that sounds as though it was caught in a perpetual daydream. Multi-instrumentalists Christopher Moll and Jonathan Wilkins provide lovingly crafted backdrops that have one foot in cool French lounge and the other in Brian Wilson’s mini-concertos. While the lyrics sometimes stumble into precociousness as Yehezkely stretches her metaphors to match the album’s weather-tinged theme, she’s saved by the subtle touches of theremin, clarinets, flutes and violas in the musical accompaniment. On “Watercolour” Yehezkely’s breathy vocals, “paint my heart black and blue, in the portrait you said you’d do” come together perfectly with the stinging sincerity of a melancholy vibraphone to give this album its swooning heart. Airy, yet warm, this debut is perfect for a cloudy day.

More Sketches

Here's some more random before meeting drawings:

Early Disappontments

Arcade Fire – Neon Bible

Some bands have a distinctive sound so, when you hear it, it’s unmistakable. With Neon Bible, the Arcade Fire proves that this isn’t always a good thing. The band’s latest sets its sights on all things religious, which is commendable for its audacious ambition. Unfortunately, the music’s tone and approach are so narrow that the lyrical content could be on just about anything and it would still sound like Funeral. The same insistent drumming, the same vocal inflections, the same mid-jangle tempo and the same kitchen sink instrumentation that starts small and builds into white noise strings. For any other band, maybe this works, but with Arcade Fire’s patent set of grandeur, monotony comes too quickly. Perhaps it’s too much to be asking, but this sophomore release doesn’t better what the band has previously done.

Bloc Party – A Weekend in the City

There’s no avoiding it. This album is a clunker. Bloc Party tries to go big or go home on A Weekend in the City and they fail miserably. Every song turns into an epic with devastating lyrical precision. The only problem is that the band forgot to make the music interesting. A Weekend in the City is plagued by mid-tempo yawners that are either hookless or simply too distant or too cluttered with self-seriousness to go anywhere interesting. If I wanted to listen to Coldplay, I would listen to Coldplay. By the way, I don’t want to listen to Coldplay, and after a few spins of this record, you won’t want to listen to Bloc Party either.

Quickie Reviews

Here's some of the stuff I've been listening to this/last week.

Boris with Michio Kurihara - Rainbow

So, this is what it sounds like dripping acid into your eyeball.

Albert Hammond Jr – Yours to Keep

The lead guitarist of the Strokes writes his own album, betters anything Strokes have done in last five years.

Angela Desveaux – Wandering Eyes

Sometimes I’m in the mood for roots music. With a song like “Bury Me Deeper” it’s hard not to be. Pretty, gritty, hard luck tales.

Bert Jansch – Black Swan

Without going too much into backstory, Jansch is an old-hand folkie making a return after a number of years. His sound certainly isn’t updated as it’s filled with that throwback feel of 60’s slash 70’s folk rock ala Donovan or Nick Drake. Not that it’s a bad thing. A little meandering guitar and fond recollection goes a long way.

The Bicycles – The Good, The Bad and the Bicycles

Where the Kooks are a little too smart for their own good, but play incredibly catchy pop tunes, the Bicycles are a little too sweet to be enjoyed on endless repeat. Sorry boys (and occasionally girls), but any good recipe needs a little sour to go with the sweet. There’s some great songs here, but it occasionally takes cute to stomach churning levels. Maybe next time folks.

The Blow – Paper Television

Catchy girl-sung indie-rock played over farty keyboards. Thomas Moog meets Kelly LeBrock circa Weird Science. Soulfully bent, bargain basement pop songs by your friend’s bratty younger sister. You know, the one you always crushed on.

Oh yeah...

I did make a non-exhaustive list of things I liked; in no way does this reflect everything.

The Dudes – Brain Heart Guitar

The Cape May – Glass Mountain Roads

Wood Pigeon - Songbook

Sunset Rubdown - Shut Up I Am Dreaming

Shearwater – Palo Santo

Agalloch – Ashes Against the Grain

Junior Boys – So This is Goodbye

Midlake – Trials of Van Occupanther

The Hold Steady – Boys and Girls in America

Ladyhawk – Ladyhawk

Jacob Kirkegaard – Four Rooms

M. Ward – Post-War

Misery Signals – Mirrors

Tussle – Telescope Mind

Supersystem – A Million Microscopes

Mastadon – Blood Mountain

I'll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours

iPOD This!

I realize this is an incongruous title, but after spending some hours researching website design and eye-tracking statistics, I’m learning that the key to a good webpage, and invariably a good blog, is a good title and sub-heading.

So, in light of the fact I didn’t publish my favourite music from last year (not out of effort, but out of the sheer inability to remember everything I really liked this year, er, last year), I’ve decided to publish what I’m listening to and liking as I go for this year. That way, come this same time next January, I can recall all the audible delights.

So here goes:

Tim Hecker – Harmony in Ultraviolet

Droooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeee thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat iiiiisssssssss gooooooooooooood.

Converge – No Heroes

Somewhere between Noise, hardcore and metal sits Converge. I haven’t anything that delicately plays the balance between catchy and anarchy quite like this record, or their previous records actually.

The Golden Dogs – Big Eye Little Eye

Sort of in the same vein as Hold Steady with piano/guitar boogie rock with some decent lyrics. Not especially special, but still enjoyable.

Misery Signals - Mirros

A DNA splicing of hardcore and metal. It sounds like it would suck, but honestly, this record kicks my ass. Love it.

Insomnium – Above the Weaping World

Like Agalloch, it’s metal with a touch of class. Melodic, yet punishing. Like a fine bottle of Baby Duck drunk from a brown paper bag behind a convenience store.

Eminem Presents the Re-Up - Music Review

Various Artists

Eminem Presents: The Re-Up

Shady Records

The holiday season is truly a paradox. It’s the only time of year we embrace the most unwanted of things: drunken relatives or a seasonal filler album like Eminem Presents: The Re-Up. Surprisingly, the record isn’t as bad as its premise, as long as you discount the fact Eminem barely appears on it. Aside from a couple of singles and short verses, Eminem’s absent. It’s a good thing though since new Aftermath members Stat Quo, Cashis and Bobby Creek bring a hunger that’s been missing from the label’s bigger names. The standout here is the oft-forgotten Obie Trice who lays a vicious set of lines on the menacing “Pistol Pistol.” It more than makes up for the abysmal Eminem and 50 Cent duet “Jimmy Crack Corn,” which features the worst use of a nursery rhyme in a rap song ever, a true feat in itself. Only on the scathing closer “No Apologies” does Eminem redeem himself with a fiery rebuke to critics for blowing up his personal failures (drugs, divorce). The Re-Up is as inconsistent as mix tapes go, but oddly, it delivers just enough punch. Lower your expectations and you won’t be disappointed.

Upsell Working Draft

Upsell

privilege a kind of sieve,

gaps or sieges

score, in the exegesis.

it excises it,

daylight.

stultified

by broader fugues,

survivalist ethos

returns with don’t

egg them on.

hands across

America,

then gradually,

scissors.

married to the

revival,

whose Ohio

had ceased.

villainy can

plateau,

soften than

old rhubarb

all the oil in heaven

won't move me

Sketch Head

Another work-related sketch while waiting for a meeting to start. The notes at the top are my reminding myself to download Tom Wait's Nighthawks at the Dinner for my girlfriend.

Early Day Miners - Offshore - Music Review

Early Day Miners
Offshore
Secretly Canadian

Perfectly suited for winter’s bleak early nights, Early Day Miners’ moody soundscapes offer post-rock odes to the indeterminate grey of snow-covered cities. On their latest, the band re-imagines the previously released Offshore by adding it into a six-song cycle full of restrained melancholy devoid of highs or lows. Instead, the band opts for plaintive drums that plow through washes of pensive reverb white outs. While contemporaries like GSYBE or Mogwai eventually fall into cacophonous crescendos, Early Day Miners strive for a different payoff. Moving from the opening instrumental of Land of Pale Saints to the desolate Deserter and finally into the glowing Return of the Native, the band maintains a tight focus on tone, which underscores the subtle shifts in melody. This propulsive effect infuses Amber Webber’s lyrics “losing you to your desire, in rooms with ocean views” with aching vulnerability. On Offshore, don’t mistake subtle for slight. This brief song-cycle packs an emotional wallop.

You Am I - Convicts - Music Review

You Am I
Convicts
Yep Roc

While they’re a mystery stateside, You Am I are already rock legends in their homeland Australia and abroad. Convicts is the band’s seventh release and finds them searching for footing after a few years of label battles and a few too many public meltdowns by lead singer Tim Rogers. Out to prove they still have it, You Am I fire off Thank God I’ve Hit Rock Bottom with a squall of feedback and the line “I’ve got dime bags lined up like trophy wives.” The band keeps the throttle maxed across the album’s brief 36 minutes with Roger’s punchy verses on Nervous Kid or the chiming guitars and organ on Gunslingers. Yet, among all the hooks and verve, the band also exorcises four years worth of bitterness through slow-burners such as the patently ironic The Sweet Life. Convicts was recorded in 16 days and it bears this mark by being hardly perfect or consistent. Despite its flaws, or perhaps because of them, You Am I’s latest has plenty of thuggish charm though to make it memorable.

Paul’s Team – 1

It’s been a long haul for you this year; there wasn’t the same certainty emanating from this team as last year when you basically walked away with the crown a few weeks before season’s end. This year, your team was still strong; in fact, you’re in the top five for almost every category. Still, Lindsay had a good year too. While there’s one week left, it would take a total meltdown for things to change, so congratulations on a repeat. That’s no easy feat in the land of fantasy football.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Immanuel Kant – your team has nothing but positives to consider so it basically can be said that you are a living model of transcendental idealism. Your team appears to be great; thus, it is.

Lindsay’s Team – 2

I will give you credit because I had you ranked as number seven at the beginning of the year. Like a perennial underdog, your team Mighty V’d all over our fantasy football league (yes, that was a Mighty Ducks reference – Emilio Estevez at his true acting pinnacle). Your team is like the embodiment of a David Blaine street magic trick; we have an idea how you might have achieved number two, but it’s difficult linking the perception to the reality of actually doing it. I guess having a 1000-yard rushing quarterback helps. So does having a surging Vince Young and making a smart trade on Marvin Harrison to some pathetic loser who needed the picks (oh wait, that’s me!) Well, good job fighting for number two and doing it basically with the team you drafted.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Thucydides – you certainly are a pertinent example of how man produces the ordinary world (in your case fantasy football success) without the intervention of the gods. Or as he said it himself, “the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.”

Larry’s Team – 3

Speaking of hard fought victories, Larry had to battle it out every week just to keep this spot. As I said weeks ago, it’s an unenviable position to be in. Not only are you fighting off at least three or four potential rivals, you’re doing it for Lindsay and Paul’s table scraps First things first, you should send a personal thank you note to Marc Bulger for deciding to drop a huge game when he did. Sure, he was inconsistent this year, but his performance last week has basically sealed you spot number three. At the beginning of the year, I asserted that you had a strong stable of running backs. What’s the lesson we’ve learned at the end of the year? I think it’s that I’m a poor judge of talent. This team made it on Bulger’s arm and some great performances by wide receivers. Next year though, it’ll be a rough ride if the backs don’t perform.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Leo Strauss – Why? Because it is your adherence to real politics that sealed your success. By acknowledging that Machiavellian tools are needed to function – you understood what lengths were needed to beat out the other competitors.

Brian’s Team – 4

In terms of our fantasy football league, it can be said that fourth place is the first loser. About the only thing you have as a positive to the season is some modicum of pride for beating out six other people. Unfortunately, those same people, who like you did not get any money, will have better picks than you next year. The sliver of a silver lining here is that you have a team with potential. Although they had to dunk Pennington into the Lazurus pool to revive him after every game, he did survive. Plus Bush and Rivers will be mainstays in the fantasy world, which means future success for you.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Saren Kirkegaard – your team truly embodies the existentialist duality between faith and doubt. On one hand, there is faith in your team to perform well. On the other, you could always end up in the same place next year.

Ian’s Team – 5

Well, at least Steven Jackson did what was expected of him. Otherwise, this is a team I had ranked pretty high (number two!) and it didn’t perform as expected. Perhaps it begins and ends with the quarterback play – both Big Ben and David Carr proved to be colossal busts this year, as did Clinton Portis and Stephen Alexander. Those two injuries alone probably cost you at least two spots in the league. Looking forward though, this team has potential once again; with new additions like Jones-Drew and Jay Cutler, you might have enough depth to make a little noise next year.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Ludwig Wittigenstein – if for the only reason that like him, your team attempts to defy the limits of logic by looking so good on paper, but completely was disappointing in the real world.

Dean’s Team – 6

I can’t even lose good. In terms of beating out expectations, my team is second only to Lindsay’s. What that means, I don’t know. My best running back is Rudi Johnson, who only appears to be getting worse. My second quarterback was Jon Kitna, who will soon be out of a job. This team is poised for a another run at the bottom, since I have only development projects for the future and my team’s performance sealed me with a less than stellar pick for next year. Who do I have to blame though? Somewhere in my profoundly absurd logic, telling myself that Musa Smith was a steal seemed to make sense. After a full season to look back on, I understand why I got all those looks on draft day.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Plato – For two reasons; my team only appears half-way decent because I somehow accrued points, but don’t believe it, this team is like the shadows on the cave wall. And the other reason is because my team is about as brutal as having to listen to the Philosopher Kings (I’m referring to that really bad neo-soul canadian band – yeah, I realize this analogy is about as bad as my team).

Derek’s Team – 7

Having Seneca Wallace on your team at any point during the season says a lot. In plain english it means, your team isn’t doing too well when you’re digging so far into the well you’re hitting dirt. On the upside, Drew Brees decided to revive the moribund franchise that is the Saints. And despite Larry’s continued insistence, the answer is no, New Orleans would not be where they are without Brees. Sean Payton coach of the year you say? If that’s the case, let’s make the Bronco’s the team of the year. This team is sitting somewhere in the middle and probably will be again next year – it’s hard to really put a finger on why – there just seems to be no momentum either way – either up or down. By the very least, hopefully Derek picks better defenses for next year (negative four points in week 16 – ouch!)

Philosopher you most resemble:

Jean Claude Van Damme – well, he’s not really a philosopher but he does churn out mean windmill kicks with the best of them. And really, isn’t that really what the world needs more of?

Dennis’ Team – 8

In an alternate universe, this team might have topped our fantasy league. Of course this alternate universe would have Drew Blendsoe and Jake Plummer setting the NFL on fire. Also, the Dallas Cowboys would win the Superbowl, so you know it’s totally the opposite of this world. This insane universe would also have Ron Dayne collect 44 fantasy points in one outing; wait, that really happened! Man that Colts defense is rougher than prison intensity beard-burn.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Jacques Derrida because he is french, and like the french, your team quit early. Also because his theories while interesting have little retail value in practical life. Same thing for your team.

Ryan’s Team – 9

It’s a long way to the top if you want to rock’n’roll. So says ACDC. It’s also a long way to the bottom for this team, which I had pegged at a much higher spot. Well, Frank Gore proved to be a quality pick. Others, like Charlie Frye and Aaron Brooks will be riding the short bus to unemployment. Perhaps they can star in a sitcom together ala Perfect Strangers, but instead of being cousins, they’ll just be crappy quarterbacks. You never know, perhaps Ryan, you could get a guest spot. Your receivers could certainly drop by for a cameo since they were equally terrible. Rough year for this team.

Philosopher you most resemble:

Boo boo from Yogi Bear - "I don't know Yogi, I don't think that's a good idea."

Wayne’s Team - 10

Here’s one team I had accurately pegged. Sorry Wayne, another year of promise, another year looking up. Where did it go wrong. Not sure, but I would guess around week five to six. Rex Grossman started being gross and almost all of your starters decided to watch the games rather than play them: Hurt Warner, Lamont Jordan, Mark Brunell, Kevan Barlow and Donte Stallworth. I’ll give you credit, you made a gamble. And, you lost. Just remember, the promise is all in next year’s pick. My recommendation: go for Musa Smith!

Philosopher you most resemble:

Denny Green: Your team is what we thought it is! Your team is what we thought it was! That man's shit, is deep.

Tales from the Box - Burning Ring of Fire

To name this segment more appropriately, it should be renamed Tales from the white plastic thing sitting on my coffee table that doesn’t work. Yes, I’ve now joined the unfortunate and growing subset of humanity known as an Xbox owner with a defective Xbox.

See, it was working fine prior to around the first week of December. And then, kaput. Aside from a couple of freeze-ups playing Dead Rising with Kevin, my Xbox had been free of issues. If anything, I was mightily pleased and surprised by the quality of Microsoft’s offering.

Not only was the Xbox easy to use and get into, but its features such as Live, were a dream. Where Sony and invariably on the PC, online gaming is a jungle of mind-boggling tasks not unlike a frat boy frosh test, Xbox made it clean and quick to hook up to online play.

So, was my experience too good to be true? From reading online, the answers is perhaps. There was a mighty cry into the empty night from many a nerd following Microsoft’s latest software update. Apparently, this update was something of a covert nature – intended to produce HD TV in the new downloaded televisions shows now offered in the Xbox Marketplace.

Alas, from the forums I’ve browsed, the updates had the unintended consequence of messing up a number of people’s consoles, maybe including mine. The problems after this supposed Dec. 6, 2006, update are various including visual problems (like my console) to bricked units where the little indicator light turns red (called the red ring of death).

So, after three phones calls to Microsoft and testing my console at a friend’s house (where his Xbox worked), Microsoft has agreed to replace/repair/hit with hammer my console for free since it’s under warranty for a year (I only got the system in September).

Hopefully, once I’ve packed away my little white friend and sent him away, I will in return receive either my same little friend, only repaired, or a cousin who is equally operational. The real stress of this situation is that the Xbox was a gift – an expensive gift – and I hate the feeling it gives to the person who bought me the gift in that the gift they got, is no longer working (say that last sentence five times fast – it’s almost as hard as “Scott Stapp sex tape.”).

Conversely, the universe did balance itself by rewarding me with a Wii; but more about that adventure in my next post.