The Inexplicables--Old Man Sundays #2

Sorry I've been gone, folks. It's been so for a whole host of reasons, and since I'm not in the habit of treating this blog like a therapy session, let's just move on, shall we?

I watched Gymkata this week, for the first time in many years. Along with many other bad action movies, I watched this incessantly as a kid. At the time, it could not have been cooler. Unlike many other actioners of my childhood that don't hold up and are now mere bores, Gymkata is so stupefyingly inept, yet seemingly steadfast in earnestness, that it manages to be a bewilderingly charming 90 minutes. Having lately watched another movie of similar simultaneous earnestness and ineptitude (Thank God It's Friday), it gets me thinking that I'd like to see other movies like this. I'm dubbing them: The Inexplicables. I've already mentioned the criteria above: these movies must have earnest intentions, fail miserably in executing them, and precisely because of that ineptitude, impart upon the viewer an absurd glee in the viewing.

I want more examples, people. I've got the musical and martial arts examples par excellence. I don't think I've seen the heist example yet, but I'm guessing that Disorganized Crime is a solid candidate.

Eating at Hugo's Frog Bar and Fish House in Naperville, IL hit home a notion that I've been considering for some time. Namely, it is my experience that restaurants never really cater to the individual diner the way that they should. Whenever I eat out alone, I usually find that the servers are not as courteous as when I'm in a group, my wait is longer, and there are few to no check-ins from my servers after the meal is brought to me. A friend pointed out that the longer wait may simply feel longer, since I'm not conversing with anyone. This may be occasionally true, but certainly is not always so. I'm confused by the seeming lack of respect for the individual diner. Note to servers, mine is the only tip you'll be getting from my table. If you want a good one, show me a little courtesy, and bust your ass for me the way you would for the couple and their gaggle of youngsters next to me. Maybe it's just that I'm not the nicest-looking guy?

If you're wondering why I was in Naperville, it was to meet Charlie Higson, author of the Young Bond series. I was surprised--and a little sad--that there weren't more people there, but it afforded me the opportunity to chat one-on-one for quite some time with one of the few people around who've written Bond. In disarmingly funny fashion, Higson elaborated on the challenges of working certain elements into the Young Bond series--specifically the smoking, the drinking, the sex, and the violence. I took notes, because if I ever write a YA novel, I expect I'll be facing similar challenges.

For those of you in Madison, only one more day of Brat Fest. Your Double Johnnies await! As does your race with the devil on your way home.

I've found myself, on more than one occasion of late, dreaming of a Texas sunset. I think I'll take in a few soon, though I have not endured a Texas summer since 2001. We'll see if I survive.

Now that I have followers, I will start posting stuff on Twitter forthwith. Witticisms abound, people!

Take note, good readers: combing through e-mails at 1 in the morning always leads to no good. Actually, combing through almost anything at 1 in the morning leads to no good.

Best quote I've ever heard about the movie Tombstone: "Man, you were just an asshole if you weren't in this movie."

Watching Justified has, among other things, made me: a) want to buy a new pair of boots, now that my old ones don't fit, and b) wonder about my ability to pull off a cowboy hat again.

Speaking of quotes, I wonder how many times a year George Will describes politics as a "transactional business." Clearly, a reminder we all need.

Watched the Lost finale, like a few of you out there. Enjoyed it, like fewer of you out there. The show is, in the end, my 2nd favorite of all time (between Homicide: Life on the Street in 3rd and The Sandbaggers in 1st). Don't care to discuss further at this time.

Right this second, all I want out of life is to get out of cocked hat and into hog's fat.

Finally, I began with the inexplicable. I shall end with the inexplicable. Watch these now. Thank me at your leisure.

Again, profuse apologies for the absence. More to come. Entries, that is. Not absences.

The Little Things--Old Man Sundays #1

You'd think "Old Man Sundays" would mostly be a jumble of grumbles; at least, that's what the title would imply.

However, the title refers to a propensity, however infrequent, to enjoy a few small pleasures on a Sunday morning that make me feel like an old man. Going out to breakfast by myself, reading a copy of Illustration Magazine while I eat, followed by a bit of pool. This is the program.

So while there are numerous things I could (and want to) gripe about, I'm not going to do that here...at least not today. Instead, in no particular order, here's a brief list of the small pleasures in which I've recently indulged, or to which I always look forward.

• an unbroken Butterfinger from a vending machine
• fine book design (cover art, trade dress, the works)
• discovering a bourbon that reminds me of scotch (Black Maple Hill)
• discovering a rye that reminds me of all that's good in this world (Templeton)
• merely knowing there's a film out there that's titled Man on the Spying Trapeze
• Tina Fey making a reference to Tron
• almost everything Christina Hendricks says here (particularly her 6th point, which seems like a rare quality)
• sliding my fingers over well kept felt on a pool table, and likewise the feel of the Irish linen on my cues
• my E.T. ad about drinking and driving, shown here.
• the tactility of reading the Griffin & Sabine books
• a sketch that an artist draws inside your hardcover comic, precisely because you bought the hardcover
• tennis at sundown
• using a wooden bat at a batting cage when everyone else is using aluminum bats
• mail-order ribs (from Memphis, specifically)
• that moment during a run when you tell your burgeoning shin splits to go fuck themselves
• lip balm that tastes like Dr Pepper
• this article
• reading any Golden Age comic before I go to sleep
• a superhero who, clearly without any logic or motivation, uses a gatling gun instead of his magical powers
• having a theater to myself (and taking a call during the movie if I want to; it's plain sinful)
• ekranoplans
• watching the entire run of Homicide: Life on the Street in two months
• listening to every Miles Davis Columbia album chronologically
• great screenwriting
• feedback on this blog

It's the little things in life, after all.

And thus I have completed 7 straight days of posting, which for someone who hasn't posted in as many months, feels like a something of a minor feat. I doubt I'll be posting daily this week, but definitely expect new posts for "Monday Movies," "Wednesday Comics," "Friday Night Heists," and "Saturday Swigs."

I hope you've liked what you've read here this week. If there's something I can improve or change--however large or small--tell me. And if you expected a grumpier "Old Man Sundays," well...all I can say is to check back tomorrow for my first installment of "Monday Movies."

And with that, I bid you all a good evening.

We Hardly Knew Ye, Chick Vennera--Thursday Television #1

Remember this, dear reader. It always comes back to Night Court.

You see, whenever my friends get together, if certain folks are around--myself included--a conversation about Night Court will inevitably ensue (especially during any kind of playoff games, for some odd reason). Whether you grew up with it or not, I stick up for its comedic greatness. Like most shows, it has high highs, and low lows, and there was one episode in particular that proved quite a cosmic coincidence for me and my friends. I fear this story will not be as good in the retelling. If it's not, um, sorry.

To explain:

I was out with my friends Dave & Colin at a downtown brew pub. We'd just finished watching the first two chapters of a most excellent serial--The Adventures of Captain Marvel, which deserves an entry all its own--and we were just hanging out, doing two things that we do often: talking about movies, and drinking.

Involved in our conversation, ignoring the music blasting from the speakers, we were then interrupted by the burly gent in the booth next to us, who yelled, "Hey! I got a trivia question for you! Can you tell me what movie this song is from?"

Taken aback and trying to figure out a) what the song was (besides disco), and b) why the hell this guy was so excited to ask us, we sat silent, and we listened. Breaking the silence, he yelled again. "I'll give you a hint, it's got Jeff Goldblum in it."

It was all I could do not to bust up laughing at this point. Really? Jeff Goldblum is our hint? Thanks, total stranger! I mean, in exactly what world is Jeff Goldblum the go-to hint for damn near anything?

Colin and I stalled, pretending like we were on the cusp of the answer, as though if we put our hands to our chins and squinted just enough, oh we'd have it. I was about to signal Dave to get out his iPhone to look it up, but he was already on it. Within a few seconds, he quickly found the answer.

The song was "Last Dance," by Donna Summer, from the 1978 movie Thank God It's Friday. "That's right!" he exclaimed. He then proceeded to talk about how much he loved the song and the movie. It was, apparently, a childhood favorite. Dave brought up a jpeg of the poster (check it out, NOW) for the guy, and he went ape-shit, screaming at his buddies to come over and take a look. The guy thanked Dave profusely for showing him the poster, and the three of us returned to our conversation, thoroughly bemused. Something like 20 minutes later, the guy comes back to our table and thanks us for talking with him about the movie, and Dave in particular for bringing up the poster. He rambled on, but the comment that stuck with me was, "Man, when I saw that movie, I didn't think I was ever gonna get any pussy!"

And out of a combination of discomfort, humor, and genuine absurdity, the three of us just lost it. He left shortly thereafter, and we decided we must see this movie.

Almost three months later, several of my friends and I get together, and we watch this Oscar winning masterpiece (for the song) by a first-time filmmaker (who would go on to direct his second, Weekend at Bernie's II; we're waiting with bated breath for his third).

There's no plot summary I can give better than the poster. If you didn't look at it, scroll back up now and do so. When we started the movie, this is what greeted us.

And what followed was a captivatingly inept network narrative about people...ehhhh...without much in the way of actual story. It hinges on a dance contest...that only lasts 8 minutes! Jeff Goldblum tries desperately to break up a marriage...for a night of sleazy, meaningless sex! Donna Summer knows she can make it...if she can just break into the DJ booth! Debra Winger...realized she should never do slapstick comedy again! Oh, and the Commodores eventually show up...and then half an hour later, they actually play!

And then, there's the mystery that is...Chick Vennera, here bringing Marv Gomez, aka Leather Man, to life.

As I'm sure you get from these two clips, TGIF was a hilariously awkward, almost inexplicable movie, and one best experienced with a group of great friends, with a great deal of scotch, bourbon, and beer at the ready.

So, after the movie, in the midst of our befuddlement at what we'd just beheld, we debated what to watch next. And, for those of you who don't know me, there's quite the selection in my collection. (What the hell is it with me and unfortunate rhymes today?)

And of all the discs that we could have chosen, we chose Episode 17 of Season 3 of Night Court, entitled "The Mugger." It's the one where Dan's on the trail of a hot stock tip, and, more importantly, a guy who mugged Christine ends up taking hostages. Much to the chagrin of a tubby, half-naked, gunbelt-strapped, M16-wielding army surplus store owner, Christine eventually negotiates with the mugger, promising him a fair trial and defusing the situation.

'member it?

Well, we get ten minutes into the episode. We see the mugger for the first time (he was masked at the beginning). I hear somebody say, "Isn't that Leather Man?"

And sure enough, it was; I double checked afterward. Chick Vennera, who we'd just seen as the guy for whom, "dancing is everything, and everything else is BULLSHIT," played the mugger on Night Court. And by night's end, thanks to a wonderful cosmic coincidence, we'd had what I'm sure was the only Chick Vennera double feature ever.

Oh, Chick Vennera...we hardly knew ye...and that's probably for the best.

Like I said, folks, it always comes back to Night Court.

And for those of you for whom I was right--if the story wasn't as funny in the retelling--well, hell, if nothing else, you should count your lucky stars that you too have now seen the Columbia lady shake her groove thing.

Refilling the Empty Hand

Right. It occurs to me that I have neglected my meager chronicle for much too long, and I return to it now for two reasons.

1) A friend of mine gave me 4 instructions yesterday, and writing each and every day this week was on the list (others include taking a look at the Shoedini, watching as much of The Mighty Boosh as I can, and having a John Parr dance party).

2) My Jim Thompson quote rant has been my last post for long enough. Those of you who read me but don't know me have likely thought that I went bug-fuck mad. Those of you who do know me...well, keep schtum, would you?

Now, apropos of daily scrawls, I know that the friend in question meant that I should be working on my variety of undeveloped and long percolating ideas for comics, prose, musical theatre, etc. And I will indeed start working on those again. But I need something both regimented and something that the rest of you can read.

Thus, I'm kinda rebooting the ol' blog. Hollywood studios are rebooting all the time now; why can't I?. From now on, each day's post will have a theme. Below are the themes and what I have on tap for this week:

MONDAY MOVIES, which I'll begin in earnest next week, due to my very procedural intro tonight.

Tomorrow will bring you TUESDAY TOMES, in which I'll look at the last Queen & Country novel, Private Wars, by Greg Rucka.

And because I just can't get enough Queen & Country, I'll use my WEDNESDAY COMICS installment to look at a single page from Rucka's first arc. I'll then argue why I think that page is one of the best examples of comic storytelling I've seen in the past several years.

THURSDAY TELEVISION will be a 2-for-1 deal, in that I'll throw in some Monday Movies action along with the TV, by talking about a strange confluence of events that led my friends and me to watch a charmingly inept and bizarre disco movie and follow that up with what turned out to be an amazing (and even more bizarre) episode of Night Court. Those of you who lived it are, of course, excused from reading this post.

FRIDAY NIGHT HEISTS will explore some of the movies that I watched in my 101-day heist marathon, along with some other flicks that I've found post-'thon. I'll start off with the 1968 Gordon Flemyng rarity, The Split.

SATURDAY SWIGS is born of a suggestion my fellow whiskey club co-founder made to me. I'm going to start reviewing whiskeys. However, while I'll post here this week, I'll very shortly pop the cork on a blog specifically for whiskey reviews. Get ready to move "From the Sweet to the Peat" in the not-too-distant, in which I shall style myself the poor man's Jim Murray.

And that brings us to OLD MAN SUNDAYS, in which I'll talk about whatever the hell I want to, goddammit.

As always, I hope to have enough smart, entertaining type that I can hand you.

Oh, and um, Maureen? You didn't mention the Gilbert Gottfried voiceover for Shoedini, which puts it over the top. I have to admit, though, I'm wondering if a Bootdini is in the works, if for no other reason than that I can hopefully do the voiceover. And, while I'm at it, thanks for the list.

Read: The Nightly News, by Jonathan Hickman

Watch: The Small Back Room (dir. Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger, 1949)

Listen to: I Liked It Better When You Had No Heart, by Butch Walker and the Black Widows

Pledge Turned to Prestige

Is it weird to want to be able to do this?

Perhaps You Didn't Know, But...

Hmmmm. Yes, well...we'll see about that. And perhaps sooner than you might think.

Oh, don't worry, kids.

I'll return to less vexed verbosity soon enough, with such fascinating topics as my thoughts on Bond fans (hint: they make comic nerds look pretty sane sometimes), a meeting with Steve Rude, my disappointment in the International Mind Sports Association, bemused wonderment at the power of sentence fragments, an in-depth analysis of a few panels and gutters...

...and why--when robots do battle with donuts--we all win.

Meantime? Crooked Little Vein and sleep will do battle to hold sway over me. I bid you all a good night (or a good whatever time of day you find your eyes upon my meager text).

I Like My Drinks Educated

I will try this someday.

A Couple of Faves

My favorite working comic talks about my favorite movie of 2007. Thanks to Brandon for providing me with this most excellent clip.

If I say this is funny, you will agree.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0h0J1sphPu4

Lying Math Shaman

Per someone's request, I give you a statement I made about The Happening, yet another actively awful film by M. Night Shyamalan.

The nice thing for me is that it's not a twist ending...it's just a poorly scripted ending.

Innocuous Toilet Humor

For those of you eagerly awaiting the footage of my skydive, be patient with me. Don't, like, boycott my blog or anything. (Lou!!!!!)

I need to do some editing, and with my new job, I haven't exactly had the time.

All that said, because I can't let a whole week go by without posting, here's a quick bit o' potty-funny. No worries, kids; it's quite harmless.

We've all seen our fair share of writing on privy walls, most of it spectacularly offensive and creatively, you know, bankrupt.

Every once in a while, when I see something that sets off my bizarrometer, I take a picture of it with my cell phone camera (which is what that particular invention was designed to capture).

Apologies for the focus. Needless to say, I snapped this under, shall we say, adverse conditions.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the most innocuous stall scrawl I've ever seen.



Alright, good people.

It's late. I'm tired. And there's so much left to do.

And I'll be shocked as hell if anyone can tell me what movie I'm quoting with those past three sentences.

Life's Certainties

There are few things of which I'm certain. Here are three:

1) The word "the" possesses an unmatchably innate hilarity. If you don't believe me, check out this classic clip from The Daily Show. (Go to the bottom of the page to turn off the tunes.) For those of you in a hurry, the "the" moments are at 2:03 and 5:10. However, you owe it to yourself to watch the entirety of this expose of my home state.

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-may-9-2005/wiltfong---no-child-s-sweet-behind

2) The word "savvy" is ceaselessly useful as an interrogative. If you don't believe me, check out almost ANY WESTERN.

3) The third certainty? I am in need of the sleep. Savvy?

Read: Illustration Magazine (info at http://www.illustration-magazine.com/)
Watch: Man of the Century (dir. Adam Abraham, 1999)
Listen to: My new playlist, which is located at the bottom of the page for those of you who need to turn it off while you read.

More Fun with Phrases

Phrase that describes this coming Saturday: "Free Comic Book Day."

Phrase that always makes me laugh: "flamboyant Kabuki vampire."

Phrase that always makes my wallet scream: "limited to 1000 copies."

Phrase that I just coined that you should start using: "getting into hog's fat and out of cocked hat."

Phrase that fucking horrifies me: "A Brett Ratner Film."

Phrase that will probably be etched on my tombstone: "Out of Print."


Read: Gruau, by Francois Baudot (brief bio of fashion illustrator Rene Gruau, packed with some of the most beautiful illustrations you could ever hope to lay eyes on)
Watch: Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (dir. Edward F. Cline, 1941)
Listen to: Speak Like a Child, by Herbie Hancock
Visit: http://freecomicbookday.com/ (Find a store and get your free comics!!!)

30 Get You Greatness, 3 Get You Damned

Some friends and I were discussing movies over lunch one day several years ago, and we got on the subject of Die Another Day. I quickly broke into my usual spiel: how it's the failed masterpiece of the James Bond series, how I lay the blame at Halle Berry's doorstep, etc. One of the people at the table then proceeded to say one of the most brilliant things I've ever heard:

"Yeah, but at least there were hovercrafts. A movie can't be all bad if it's got hovercrafts."

Hilarious as that statement is, I have thought about it pretty much daily for the past 5 years. What are the elements you can have in your movie and automatically make it better? Make a wretched film tolerable? Make a solid film memorable?

Discussions with friends (you all know who you are), combined with my own ceaseless thought, have produced a list. This one's off the top of my head and is, of course, by no means comprehensive.

If you want to improve your movie, use any or all of these.

(DISCLAIMER: Use of all of these elements in a movie could jeopardize the future of cinematic entertainment by possibly creating the greatest movie the world's ever seen, thus wreaking devastation in the collective consciousness of heretofore untold proportions. So for God's sake, man, show some moderation!)

In no particular order:

1. hovercrafts
2. zombies (dangerously close to removal due to overuse)
3. someone wearing a monocle
4. ninjas
5. use of the phrase "moon cannon"
6. an ejector seat (only one per car; more than that would just be silly)
7. random bullwhip fights (see El Topo for example par excellence)
8. cane swords
9. Martians
10. jet packs
11. a band of misfits coming together to make a family (see The Outlaw Josey Wales, Serenity)
12. brassy score (for best modern examples, see David Arnold, Michael Giacchino)
13. fedoras
14. extended scenes/sequences sans dialogue
15. biplanes and/or triplanes
16. tommy guns
17. capes and cloaks (not merely in a superhero context; add a dash of top hat for flavor)
18. 78-82 minute runtime (see Budd Boetticher)
19. snow (only as applies to Westerns; see The Great Silence, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford)
20. revolvers with silencers (which, news flash, don't work in the real world, kids)
21. moats (alligators optional but preferred)
22. cracked safes
23. prison escapes
24. random musical interlude (either a nightclub sequence like Rififi or, as a friend once said, when a scene becomes so emotional it can only be properly conveyed by bursting into song, for which I would invoke Magnolia)
25. lasers (particularly as obstacles to the aforementioned cracked safes)
26. flamethrowers (only as applies to comedies; see Spies Like Us, Spaceballs)
27. kids who ride bikes and fight evil (see The Monster Squad)
28. use of the word "crawfish" as a verb
29. Cate Blanchett
30. ...and Anthony Wong

A teaser for the list of things that automatically make your movie worse:

1. Sean Penn as director
2. use of the phrase, "72 Hours Earlier," after the first few minutes of the film
3. Juliette Lewis

So, what elements do you think automatically make movies better? Comments are both welcome and encouraged. (Crap, how could I forget? Pool halls!)

Good day, all.


Read: The Gunslinger, by Stephen King
Watch: Walk on Water (dir. Eytan Fox, 2004)
Listen to: Watch the Fireworks, by Emma Pollock

We Live They Live

I have come here to eat Snickers and kick ass. And I'm all out of Snickers, as you can see.

It shouldn't be news to anyone that advertising has always been firmly ensconced in and, when possible, sliding even closer to the world of They Live's blatant marketing mockery. Naturally, this fact was the first that sprang to mind when I spotted the back of the new Snickers wrapper (followed by uproarious laughter).

Seriously, it should just say OBEY, or in this instance, CONSUME would be more appropriate.

And we don't even need the special sunglasses anymore!

Read: Hieronymous B. 1997-2007, by Ulf K.
Watch: Yellow Sky (dir. William A. Wellman, 1949)
Listen to: Werewolves and Lollipops, by Patton Oswalt
Visit: http://www.labelmaker2600.com/