Splendiforous

Finally rented the movie “American Splendor,” which was a film I’ve been meaning to check out for a long time. In case the title doesn’t ring a bell (a very likely case, since it was a small independent film, albeit an award winning one), the movie is based on the life of real life comic book writer Harvey Pekar. If you’re not familiar with his work, he transforms generous portions of his real life situations into comic book form. What makes his stuff oddly appealing is that his life is not filled with glitz and glamour (although he did make several appearances on Letterman in the ’80s), but rather mundane stuff.

It’s that mundane quality that makes a little part of you wonder why Pekar hasn’t gone berserk. The movie shifts constantly shifts from the real life Pekar and his family to the actors and actresses portraying them, and along the way Pekar is pretty much narrating the fact that a good portion of his life was a piece of crap. From what we see in the film, it’s certainly nowhere near a great life; most of the time, he struggles to remain above mediocre. He lives in a bad neighborhood, doesn’t drive, is twice divorced, and works as a file clerk at a hospital, something he never stopped doing despite his comic books being published. It’s a tough movie to watch at times; despite the success of the comics, he really never seems to better himself except for finding his true equal with his similarily quirky third wife Joyce. However, he is a guy that made me pause for reflection. After all, I’m a guy struggling to get into the world of print, with a rather maudlin day job, blessed with an equal mate. Throughout the movie, I saw things that Pekar did that reminded me of myself, such as his record collecting and his frugality. It jolted a little bit of fear into me; fear that informed me that if I’m blessed enough to become a published writer, that I don’t eventually wind up like this guy later in life-63 seemingly going on 85, crotchety, convinced that his formative years were pretty much an exercise in excrement. Then again, I’m sure I feel much better about my life than he felt about his life when he was 32, so I’m probably off to a head start.

Paul Giamatti as Pekar is brilliant, as always (he’s a guy that needs to get more good movie roles, anyway), and Hope Davis, as his wife, Joyce, is unrecognizable in long, stringy black hair and eyeglasses that nearly border on novelty size. Anyway, I do recommend this movie. It’s a great look into a group of people that you’d typically want to distance yourself from, yet you wind up having some sympathy for anyway.

How to be an “Edgy” Journalist

WARNING: This post is, as they say over at Snopes, NSFBK (not safe for British school kids).

Now that we got that disclaimer out of the way, on with the rest of the post.

If you’ve rummaged through my past rants about politics, it shouldn’t surprise you that I tend to lean toward the right on most issues, especially those of a financial manner. What you may not know is that I’m a sworn enemy of the free “alternative” newspaper OC Weekly. However, my resentment doesn’t come from where you may think it does. Sure, I disagree with their staggeringly liberal views; that’s a no-brainer (besides, their silly, weak arguments transcend the realm of holes on their way to becoming festering gaps). But what really rankles me is the unbearably whiny, sarcastic tone that they write every political, economical, and social diatribe in, and the fact that their propaganda machine refers to it as “edgy journalism.” To place a visual to their writing style, picture a three year old child who has an uncanny knack for throwing his or herself on the floor of a public place while screeching in that special way that makes you want to sell him or her to the circus. There is only one real difference between the two (one is words on paper, the other is child on floor). In both cases, there’s nothing much going on other than disassocated, garbled noise. Yet their journalism is “alternative,” according to themselves.

Just for kicks, I did a Google search for “OC Weekly.” To what should be the surprise of no one, OC Weekly is a property of Village Voice Media. The same Village Voice from New York City that is the Alpha and Omega of whiny liberal newspapers. Or, as they tout themselves, alternative weekly newspapers. If you’ve ever seen a copy of the Voice, you’ll know that it’s full of just as many “edgy” reporters as OC Weekly.

So what’s the purpose of this posting? Simple. If I had more time, I would love to grab hold of the “edgiest” article that OC Weekly had to offer each Thursday and reduce it to ticker tape. However, in lacking that, I’ve decided to teach you, the reader, on how to be an effective “edgy” journalist, fit for a Village Voice Media paper. That way, you can see for yourselves that these guys are to intelligence and journalistic integrety as John Kerry is to empathy for the welfare state. You won’t even have to read the damn “Feiffer” cartoon.

WARNING: Here’s the dirty part. Normally, I don’t like to post strong language on my site, but I will be doing so to emphasize how childish these papers can sound at times.

1. Say “fuck” a lot. The more you say it, the edgier you appear.
2. Hate the Republican party and anyone who is of Republican leanings. Helpful phrases these days are “Fuck Bush,” “Fuck Cheney,” and “Fuck Michael Powell.”
3. Look for anything that could be interpreted as a stereotype (unless it has to do with a European stereotype), and call it racism. Just like the OC Weekly did a couple of weeks ago when they cited a Mexican restaurant’s logo of a fat, sombrero clad cartoon as racist, even though I’ll bet my right hand that the owners are Mexican.
4. Deprave yourself of any sense of humor possible. You know, because someone might be offended.
5. The more you say things like “Bush is the new Hitler,” the more bonus points you are rewarded!
6. Christians? Yeah, they’re all a bunch of idiots. Make fun of them; they don’t know how to read, anyway.
7. If you can find a way to tie all six of these tips together (remember, “fuck” to them is practically a linking verb), you may be up for “alternative” journalist of the year!

There you have it. “Edgy” journalism in a nutshell. Even if I can’t rip into an OC Weekly article every week, I may have to destroy one on this board every so often just so I can blow off some steam. If and when I do, I promise to keep it clean.

Shaq Karma?

First of all, I don’t believe in that karma crap. I coundn’t think of anything better to title this entry. It’s after midnight. Gimme a break.

Anyway, that large bombshell you just heard going off was the sound of the Miami Dolphins’ star running back Ricky Williams retiring after a mere 5 seasons in the NFL. This is shocking, to say the least. Here was a guy, 27, getting into his prime as a player, and he’s walking away from the game, on the grounds that he doesn’t find it fun anymore.

The rational human being in me says that I understand his decision. After all we quit jobs that we don’t like, right? Why should it be any different for a professional athlete? However, the crazed football fan that has been invited to play in an unprecedented (for me, anyway) five fantasy football leagues this year is kinda freaking out. This guy was good for another few years! He rushed for over 1,800 yards a couple years back! The Dolphins had a pretty solid team this year, too! What was he thinking?

Ah, screw it. He wasn’t one of my players in the one fantasy keeper league I’m in, anyway. I’ll guarantee you one thing: This completely steals any and all thunder from Shaq winding up with the Miami Heat. Everything in Miami’s sports scene begins, ends, and revolves around the Miami Dolphins. Everything else is just kinda swept under the rug unless something great happens, and even when that occurs, it’s only temporary. Case in point: The Marlins won the World Series last year, yet they are 24th in attendance this year out of 30 teams. So much for carryover. The Dolphins could go 2-14 for three consecutive years and still assure themselves of home game sellouts.

Of course, jerking the spotlight away from Shaq like this may further angry his blood. Bad news for the rest of the NBA. Especially you, Kobe, you ball hog.

This entry is low-carb

The local supermarket where I shop has been overrun by low-carb products. So has the fast food joint down the street. Now, it’s even hit the neighborhood pet store. Yep, you can now force Fido on his very own low-carb, Atkins friendly diet.

Just like creatures from an old ’50s sci-fi movie, the low-carb food items are attacking towns and cities everywere in the country. The operation has been swift, as was proved by a friend of mine recently. She said her brother had left the country a few months ago, before the low-carb craze placed our society in their meat and cheese covered grip. When he came back six months later, he thought the country had gone completely insane. Personally, I’ve tried to combat this craze in my own little way, but my constant supersizing of my fries has had little effect slowing the low-carb beast down.

So I’m going to have to wait it out until the inevitable happens, and the fad loses steam until it falls off the map, relegating all these special low-carb food products to your grocers’ freak section.
But how is it going to end? That’s the rub. I can’t remember a diet or exercise fad that had the country in its clutch since the jogging craze in the late ’70s/ early ’80s. If you recall or ask your parents if they recall, it seemed like the joggers clogged the sidewalks at times. It wasn’t like today, where you’ll see a small handful of runners tooling around the streets every week. They were everywhere, wave after wave of people clipping along at a steady rate, dressed in something far worse than today’s running clothes: 70’s era running clothes. Yes, the decade that gave good fashion sense the finger took that same philosophy to the arena of athletics. It looked like the craze would last at full throttle forever, until Jim Fixx died. Fixx was this fitness guru whose book, “The Compelte Book of Running,” was widely credited as being the launching pad for the jogging fad. Then one day in 1984, while out on a run, Fixx dropped dead of a massive heart attack. The autopsy showed that his arteries looked as good as a fat guy who spends his whole life eating fast food. Suddenly, there were less joggers on the street.

I’m afraid that something drastic like this is going to have to happen before the low-carb craze ceases. In case you’re wondering, Dr. Atkins has already passed, so that route is out. Somebody may have to crap an edible meatloaf or something to scare dieters into enjoying bread and potatoes again.

They can’t talk.

Saw something on the web that further proves the existence of God. Joan and Melissa Rivers are not going to be allowed to annoy the world with their inane red carpet babbling before the Emmys this year. Turns out that hag and hag lite jumped ship to the TV Guide Channel for a fatter contract after years with E! (which, by the way, has always struck me as the silliest name for a TV network. It looks like the way you would transcribe a scream from a Troma film or something). However, E! still holds exclusive rights to the Emmy’s red carpet stuff, so we won’t be privy to some of the gems that Joan has given us in the past. By gems, of course, I mean “stupid things that she has said to celebrities that prove that she never does any homework on them and therefore has no idea what the hell she’s talking about.”

Two classic examples of that happened during last year’s award circuit. (My wife watched the pre-show stuff, which meant I listened to them in the office). The first one comes when she was interviewing Joe Pantoliano before the Emmys. Pantoliano was up for a best supporting actor nomination for his work in “The Sopranos.” He was also starting a new show on CBS called “The Handler.” Rivers asked him how he could prepare for two different shows at the same time. Turns out it was easy to prepare, since his Sopranos character, Ralphie, got whacked. Pretty easy to do a show when you’re no longer on it anymore, isn’t it? Unfortunately, Pantoliano answered the question with class, declining to point out the fact that Rivers’ clavicles were touching her anus.

The second one was from the Oscars, when she pulled Sean Astin and his wife aside. Here’s a recreation of the ensuing exchange.

Joan: Oh, Sean Astin! Good to see you! Who’s that lovely gal on your arm? Is that your girlfriend?
(Pause)
Sean: No, that’s my wife of eleven years.
(Pause just long enough to be hilarious).
Joan: Oooooooooohhhhhhh.

Yet the old bat gets paid more money than you and your friends combined. If capitalism ever fails in the U.S., Joan and Melissa should be one of the first people blamed for its destruction.

Sports Gaming Geek Bliss

I’m in a serious amount of trouble. We’re talking crazy trouble here. As most of you know, I have a Playstation 2 (FYI, I have not nicknamed it “Electric Boogaloo,” but that’s not a bad idea). As you can probably ascertain from some of my previous ramblings, I’m a bit of a sports fan, which in some regards is like saying Jimmy Page can play a little bit of guitar. You put the two together, and you can figure out how I waste time before I go to bed around midnight.

Well, the good folks at Sega, who design the “ESPN” series of sports games (the best sports games I’ve ever played), have announced that all of their so-called “2K5″ series of fall and winter sports games (football, hockey, college and pro basketball) are immediately coming out for the low, low price of $19.99. In a market where brand new games are usually priced starting at $49.99, this is unheard of. The reason they’re doing it is obvious: They are intent on knocking off the king of sports video games, Electronic Arts (who have produced the big-selling yet inferior product “Madden” series of pro football), off of their bloated, smug throne. Here’s hoping they do it, because their product is so much better.

Anyway, NFL 2K5 comes out tomorrow. On a totally coincidental note, my wife leaves for a week long trip to Olrando Thursday. I may not leave the house while she’s gone.

Crap!

I just got done writing this blog entry about the sci-fi film “I Robot” and how I’ve read conflicting stuff about how much (or little) the film has to do with legendary author Isaac Asimov’s original story and vision. However, I screwed up trying to add a “books” category, and it wiped out my lovely, thought out post.

So in lieu of that, here’s a picture of a rabbit with a pancake on his head.

I Think He Hates it.

You know, there are few things that you can find in a newspaper that’s funnier then when someone puts a quarter in Roger Ebert and he goes off on a bad movie. For example, check out his review of A Cinderella Story. Good times, except if you’re somehow involved with the film.

If you enjoy stuff like that, there is a book that you can find at your friendly neighborhood retailer called “I Hated It!” It’s a compilation of the best of Ebert’s movie pans, and it’s a pretty hilarious read, especially if you are familiar with the suckitude of some of the movies he destroys.

The Big Liquidation

So that’s it. The Lakers that you’ve known and either loved or hated is over. Kaput. Fin. Faster than a Kobe Bryant pass-oh wait, he doesn’t pass the ball. Scratch that.

It’s amazing how bad I feel that Shaq is leaving my favorite basketball team. It’s incredible, considering I wasn’t too thrilled about him arriving on the scene. The image I had of him when he fled Orlando was this selfish, brooding hulk of stupid who mumbled his way through questions and whose main talent was being large. Then I started to watch him away from the court. He was a humanitarian. He was good to his family and friends. He was culturally savvy (you may laugh, but you try to find another basketball player that can reference Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” and the Walter Hill cult classic “The Warriors” in the same speech). Not only that, he looked fun. You knew he was fun. If he didn’t have all the bling, he’d still be fun. He’s like the friend you have that you invite to a party simply because there’s a good chance he may do something that you’ll remember fondly for the next several months. He wasn’t afraid to show his goofy, playful side, which went in complete contrast to his demeanor on the court. Sure he made a bad movie here and a worse CD there, but those are minor quibbles in hinesight.

Now he’s a member of the Miami Heat, and the Lakers in return have themselves an All-Star who is just two years removed from being a notorious head case with a nasty pot habit, a rapidly aging undersized power forward, a budding role player, a draft pick, and some magic beans. No Dirk Nowitzki, no Antoine Walker, no Peja Stoiakovich. Just a caution of an All-Star and two other guys.

The Lakers did three mistakes here. First of all, they traded away a guy that you can refer to by one name. You never do that, unless you want it to come back and bite you in the ass. Milwaukee did it with Kareem. The Warriors and the Sixers did it with Wilt. The Rockets did it with Moses. All four teams instantly fell apart after making the deal. It’s a pretty easy rule of thumb, isn’t it? If everyone knows who your talking about just by mentioning one name, hang onto him. He’s probably pretty good. Of course, I’d like to remove first name status from Kobe Bryant, but more on that later.

Or more on that now. Secondly, they kept the wrong guy. Seriously, Shaq’s leaving further solidifies Bryant’s turn from face to heel. The only thing missing was him not picking up a steel chair from the first row during the Finals and smacking Phil Jackson over the head with it. It’s hard to believe thought this was a model NBA citizen, wasn’t it? All these things that we’ve found out about him over the past few months-brooding, selfish, borderline megalomaniacal-no longer seem as surreal as they once did, do they? His infamous trial aside, this is a guy who had everything on the court-Hall of Fame coach, Future Hall of Fame center, teammates who came over specifically to win a title-and he drove them all away. He’s poison in the locker room. He’s just as big of a poison on the floor, too. There were large streches against the Pistons where he never got anyone else involved. He took shots that would make Steve Francis wince. His play made me blurt out “Kobe Bryant. Where all ball movement comes to die” in the middle of Game 4. He tried to be the man against a superior team and failed miserably. Do you really think that he’s going to lead the Lakers anywhere without Shaq in the middle? Neither do I. In fact, I’ve made a vow that I wouldn’t refer to him as just “Kobe” anymore, because he doesn’t deserve to be called just “Kobe.” Hell, Big Ben in Detroit deserves that kind of recognition at this point.

The final mistake the Lakers made was they made Shaq angry. And just like David Banner assured Mr. McGee that he wouldn’t like him when he’s angry, Shaq should inform the NBA the very same thing. But it wasn’t the Lakers that cheesed him off. Teams like Sacramento and Dallas got under his skin for not wanting to put together a serious deal for him. People who are convinced that he is in the decline of his career. Any team with a big man whose city’s sportswriters are boasting is better than Shaq. So the Big Aristotle will be angry, and he will be vengeful. We’re talking The Bride from “Kill Bill” vengeful. The Heat should just play the “Ironside” theme every time Shaq trots out for player introductions.

I’ll finish with this bold prediciton. In two years time, Shaq will be hoisting up a championship trophy. The Lakers might make the playoffs.

Fab Time at OC Fair

Went to the Orange County Fair for the first time in three years on Friday, and it was enough for me to vow to never miss another Fair. I forgot how much of a blast that place was. The food, of course, was a cardiologist’s nightmare. The first thing Heather did was round up some “tasty chips,” which is best described as a cross between a potato chip and a French fry. Not to be outdone, I ordered me up some deep fried Oreo cookies, which tasted like Oreos encased in funnel cake. After sprinkling in some colossial onion rings, fried chicken, and barbecue turkey, we capped it off with some wine tasting. Good times. I swear, they should allow Hoag Hospital to open up a makeshift facility in the parking lot.

We managed to roll ourselves over to the Pacific Ampitheatre to catch the world’s greatest Beatles tribute band, The Fab Four, perform with the Pacific Symphony Orchestra. For those of you who remember these guys from their humble roots playing in the Tomorrowland Terrace at Disneyland, you could say they’ve come quite a long way. How many tribute bands can you think of that have played at such a large venue? I gotta think that they themselves have to be amazed at times. Anyway, they put on an amazing show, as always. This is the second time we’ve seen them with an orchestra, and this time around was so much better (especially since “Paul” had a bit of a cold the first time around-he absolutely nailed “She’s Leaving Home” on Friday).

If you’re a Beatles fan and haven’t checked them out, you gotta do it. I would suggest hunting out their “basic” show first-the one where they play “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “Strawberry Fields Forever,” “Here Comes the Sun,” and other hits. If you’re really impressed, then you can be on the lookout for the “special shows” designed for Beatle nuts. These are the kinds of shows where they could open with “Komm Gib Ner Dinne Han”[sic] (the German version of “I Want To Hold Your Hand”) and close with “Helter Skelter.” They did the entire “Rubber Soul” album live last year. They recreated the Apple rooftop concert in Santa Monica a couple years back. I just found out that they did a show for the Alhambra street fair in which their “early” and “late” sets were sandwiched between an Elton John tribute performer, and during “Elton’s” set, “John” came out in mid-seventies Lennon regalia (the “New York City” T-shirt that’s in the famous photograph) and the two recreated the moment in Madison Square Garden in 1974 in which Lennon joined John onstage and performed “I Saw Her Standing There.”

Check out their website for more details.