The POP-ED - Good Night M. Night: Criticisms of a Real Nincompoop

Here's an idea for a movie: this guy lives in an apartment in Philadelphia. He walks the dark streets of the city and seems to contemplate life all to much while looking at himself in the mirror or at his reflection in a puddle. He's a single father, who's still in love with his ex-wife, even after she ran off with their family friend and took their daughter out west after the custody battle. One day, while watching TV and contemplating his life even more, he notices some weird occurrences on the Pacific Coast. Apparently, an army of giant cockroaches have built a catacomb system under San Francisco and were planning an attack. Some homeless guy was unknowingly walking over their underground homes when the ground caved in to reveal the huge bugs. Many of them got away from the barrage the SFPD sent their way. Our protagonist thought it was a bit strange, but went to bed and didn't lose sleep over it. Upon waking up the next morning, he felt different. He felt like he knew his purpose in the world. He would go to San Fran and win his ex-wife and daughter back, while saving them from cockroach annihilation. He flies out there and finds them, scared and surprisingly glad to see him. He tells them to hide in a basement. He goes to the chief cockroach and barters with him for the lives of the humans. For some reason, they oblige him. Before they shake hands, he winks at the big bug. They touch hands, and he collapses. A midget-sized alien is pooped out of his butt. He is anointed the king of the new cockroach army. He takes his ex-wife's hand and anoints her queen. They go on to rule Earth and a galactic empire.

Congrats to me!!! I just wrote M. Night Shyamalan's newest movie!!! Give me $5 Million, Hollywood!!!

We've all seen the elfish looking, douche-bag Hollywood director, who somehow is still in the business after The Sixth Sense. This guy makes absolute crap, people, and he's as conceited as all hell. How does no one notice it? Okay, maybe I'm wrong. Some people do notice it, but Jesus, does this man need the boot off of the big screen, or what?

Every time he releases a movie, it's billed as the next big mind-blower or the next freakishly creepy film. Newsflash: they never are!!!! Granted, as previously stated, The Sixth Sense was solid. It was his first legitimate Hollywood movie, and I'm disregarding the crap he made before (Wide Awake, for example), which stunk to the gates of Hades. Everything after the Haley Joel Osmond breakout performance, however, has been rotten, stinky feces thrown onto the screen and called a movie, yet for some odd reason, this guy is heralded by so many as brilliant, young and hip. Every year, it seems as though his movies are winning the Razzie. Every year, it seems as though he releases the worst movie or biggest disappointment ever. Let's take a look at the line-up of poo since the Sixth Sense.

Unbreakable: Here's a slow-moving, unbelievable tale about a would-be superhero (Bruce Willis) who discovers his powers and learns about his enemies. I guess in this day of superhero blockbusters, the movie has a decent idea, but all I can remember from it is the deathly slow pace and the complete lack of action. I mean, I haven't heard of too many superhero flicks where they talk their differences out diplomatically in the final scene. I really remember this movie just being boring. Unfortunately, all in all, it's probably the best of the worst.

Signs: Probably his most hyped movie ever, Signs tells the tale of aliens coming to Earth after creating crop circles. But these aliens, although smart enough to travel through vast regions of space, don't have weapons, only a green, arm-fart gas that seeps from their wrists. OoOoOoOhhhh. Scared yet? It was billed as amazingly terrifying work by the impish director, but ended up being frustratingly delicate in every sense of the word. Mel Gibson wanted to weep the entire movie, and his children were downright annoying. Went into the theatre looking for a scare and walked out laughing.

The Village: Another over-hyped movie (get the pattern here) that didn't come close to satisfying moviegoers. This one was supposed to be terrifying and grotesque, just like Signs, but was laughable once again. This time, we were supposed to be afraid of the "scary beings" in the woods. Turns out, it's just a guy in a suit, who was hired by the town's elders to spook the people into complacency. And then, we get thrown into a love story that no one really cared about. In the end, the village in question was stuck living in the 1700s while the rest of the world marched forward into the 21st century. Stupid idea. Not scary. Not moving. Not entertaining. Not fun.

Lady in the Water: Maybe M. Night's movie previews always look creepy because he chooses the most albino-looking chicks ever to play his roles. This movie was hyped amply once again with weird, semi-scary previews. And then, I watched it. In the theaters, no less. Wasted a good twenty bucks on two tickets for this crap. I feel bad for Paul Giamatti, who's a respected actor, but just made a terrible choice with this one. I kid you not when I say that the movie gives everything away before it happens. To a T. We're supposed to be afraid a a pack of mystical wolves in this one but we already know what is supposed to happen to them. And we can't even experience the suspense of the buildup because they tell us how the story goes mid-way through the damn movie. It won four razzies, including Worst Picture. In the end, Lady Should've Drowned in the Water.

The Happening: Here's the latest Razzie-winning excuse of a movie by Legolas. It gives us a cheap flashback to the sci-fi of old, with a family of three running from a green toxin in the air. The movie largely misses on the big screen. Kirk Honeycutt of the Hollywood Reporter put it perfectly when he said it seemed "more like an episode of the Twilight Zone." And many questions seem to go unanswered about the biological threat. Once again, the film was over-hyped, marketed as a horror flick, and failed to entertain or make logical sense at any point. One word: boooooooooo!

This is Shyamalan's legacy. It's tarnished with the stench of the corpses of at least five or six Hollywood films. Someone please stop this man. He's killing the industry. And if he really thinks his next project, Avatar: The Last Airbender, will be a success, he truly has gone off the deep end. After such a stirring movie in The Sixth Sense, M. Night's fall has been long and hard. R.I.P. any decent ideas in Shyamalan's mind, for they have been on a different train for quite some time now and don't appear as though they want to return.

Anyway, I thought that idea with cockroaches and butt-aliens wasn't too bad at all. At least to M. Night's standards. Any takers? Disney? Miramax?

Dispatched - Foreskin: The Armor of the Genitalia

This is the most outrageous story I've read in some time. Good parents buy soft toilet seats. Bad parents buy giant wooden ones. It's as simple as that. Doctors say that an increase of penile "crushings" has occurred with boys who have just been potty trained. And heavy seats are the culprit. Or maybe we need more foreskin in this world. It would definitely offer some serious protection from such accidents. Think about it, America. Keep the penises safe, people!!! Check out the article.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28390912/

The POP-ED - A Sucker for Special Editions

The day after Christmas had me at Best Buy amidst the droves of shoppers and returners. I was a shopper in this instance and a bargain shopper at that. I snagged eight DVDs for 51 bucks. Some were my favorites and some were just damn good. I'll give a brief description of each along with a rating and a recommendation. I'll start with my least favorite.

Team America: World Police ($5)
At five bucks, I thought this movie was a steal. It's first on the list only because I've yet to see it, but it's made by the producers and writers of South Park, so you know it's gotta be gold. The story follows a counter-terrorism unit that fights world crime. The main character is an actor turned special agent. Did I mention the characters are string puppets? IMDB.com gives it a 7.3 and being a huge fan of South Park, I can definitely say that I'm excited to see it.

Mortal Kombat ($5)
I know, I know. It's a bad movie. But it's a classic in my book and some of the action really isn't all that bad. The games for Sega Genesis and Playstation were great. And still are for that matter. Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe was just released and is already a huge hit. Anyhow, I find the movie to be entertaining and even find some of the mythology behind it to be intriguing. Like I said though, it's not winning any academy awards and the storyline is as simple as it gets. See it for some cool fight scenes and funky characters. IMBD.com gives it a 5.3. I give it a 6 for sentimental reasons.

Italian Job ($5)
This is a solid movie and remake of the 1969 Michael Caine flick. Mark Wahlberg headlines a stellar cast of characters including Charlize Theron, Jason Statham, Seth Green, and Ed Norton. The film follows a group of high-end burglars who are two-timed by their friend (Norton), who steals millions in gold from them. The movie shows how they attempt to get the gold back. With dazzling car chases, hip characters, a young and talented cast, and good acting, this movie entertains at all levels. Check it out for a fun viewing. IMBD.com gives it a 6.9. I give it a 7.

Memento Special Edition ($9)
I was more than excited to say the least to see this special edition lying around for nine bones. It's a dark, psychological masterpiece about a man who loses his short term memory and his wife in an incident in his own home but struggles to find out who did it and how and why. Guy Pierce headlines and is joined by Carrie-Anne Moss and Joe Pantoliano, who both help and abuse their friend who's lost his mind. The movie requires multiple viewings because of the many subtleties inherent to it and because some of it is shot going backwards in time, revealing more and more of the plot. The viewer can really feel the main character's pain as he struggles with everyday life and continually writes notes to remember the simplest of things. We root for him the whole way, not necessarily knowing what to expect of the man, but full knowing that we want him to find his wife's murderer. See this movie immediately if you're a fan of film, specifically deep, intellectual pieces. This one will keep you thinking for days after. IMDB.com has it at an 8.6 and ranked #27 of all time. I give it an 8.5.

Reservoir Dogs 15th Anniversary Special Edition ($5)
Once again, five dollars for this special edition is a no-brainer. This edition carries its DVDs in a mock-oil can and a giant book of matches. It's awesome. If you don't know this Tarantino flick about a heist gone bad, you need to know, and you need to know fast. The movie is sheer style, with its cast (Michael Madsen, Steve Buscemi, Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel, etc.) oozing with early 90s confidence. The dialogue is extraordinary as is the case with Quentin's films. His great feat, however, is how he's able to tell the story without ever showing the actual heist. After they figure out that someone in their group ratted them out to the police, we see the members of the criminal team lose all faith in each other and completely lose their cool because of it. Throw in a nice torture scene and a little bit of the background information of the job, and you've got yourself a great movie. See it immediately. IMDB.com rates it at 8.4 at #68 of all time. I give it an 8.5.

Spider Man 2 ($5)
This movie is great. Enough said. The action is ridiculous, and it is arguable that this sequel is better than the original. I think so. Doctor Octopus (played by Alfred Molina) is a great villain. The backstory is pieced together nicely as always and the comic book feel is simply perfect. The minor characters are played well by James Franco, Kirsten Dunst, and J.K. SimmonTs. I guess I'm just a sucker for superhero movies, but make no mistake: this movie will knock your socks, sneakers, shoes, and galoshes off. See it now, or forever be a terrible person!!! IMDB doesn't give it enough credit with a 7.7. I give it an 8.5.

The Matrix ($7)
This is the first installment to what is easily my favorite trilogy ever. I honestly couldn't tell you why I didn't own it until now. I've owned the second two for some time now. The Matrix seems to be hit or miss with moviegoers, but I think it's just brilliant. It is easily the most psychological, philosophical, and religiously deep movie ever made. In fact, it's so deep that when someone asks you what it's about, you might as well order a pizza and break out some diagrams for the night because there's no way they'll understand you otherwise. Each of the three films requires multiple viewings to grasp all of the nuance and subtlety. This first one follows Neo, a computer junkie who feels that there is something more to his life. He is found by a man who says he can show him the path, and he evolves into the leader of a revolution to save humankind from complete destruction. Now, this is just the base storyline, and the film has top-notch dialogue, mind-bending action, and drama, with deep characterization to boot. I do realize that some critics and filmgoers do not like the movie. And their opinion is noted, but I strongly urge anyone to see this movie and see it fast. It truly is the full experience. IMDB.com gives it ans 8.6 and the #30 ranking of all time. I give it at least a 9.

American History X ($7)
Here's another gem, starring Ed Norton and Edward Furlong. This movie is a hard-nosed drama about racism and ethics in sub-urban America. Norton plays a devout neo-Nazi, who changes his ways after many trying experiences and must teach his younger brother (who has followed in his footsteps) of his new epiphany. It chronicles not only the main character's past experiences, but also the relationship between the brothers. Revealing much else would do a disservice to the film. All that needs to be said is the acting is marvelous and the movie includes some of the most gripping, most hard-hitting, most issue-driven drama in recent memory. Norton is at his absolute best here, and the story is haunting. IMDB has it rated at #40 all time with an 8.6. I give it a 9.

So, I think these are 8 decent flicks. Check them out if you can. If not, I think you're a cotton-headed ninnymuggins. I think the real moral of the story here is to get your ass to Best Buy immediately.

The Skinny Post - The Latest in Cultwear Fashion

The world is pooping the bed, people. Just take a look at the newest fad in the land of infomercials: Snuggies. It's a blanket with sleeves. I believe the pitch for the product is something like "ever have problems getting your arms stuck in your blanket? Not anymore." And I promise that's not a joke. It has to be the most useless, most absurd product I've seen in a few years. The idea itself is stupid, but apparently, the marketing and production departments didn't realize that their buyers look like they're wearing priest garb. Take a look at the commercial yourself. The sleeves are gigantic and it looks like a robe when worn. Calling all cult leaders! We've found your official product! And it's cheap! You can buy the expensive punch now! Take a look.

https://www.getsnuggie.com/

The Festo - State of New England Sports

With three teams currently dogging it out within their respective leagues, while each maintaining stellar records, it'd be hard to complain about being a sports fan in New England. Lately (this decade), there really hasn't been much to complain about either, but hey, this is a blog, and what else are blogs good for but complaining. So, let's start from the top, with the hands-down best sport ever created in the history of things with legs and arms: tackle football.

The New England Patriots: Coming off the greatest single year in the history of the sport (and the most monumental of collapses), things didn't get much better for the Pats. Tom Brady's knee said bye-bye, and most fans said bye-bye to the season and hopes of Super Bowl prominence when Brady's backup, Matt Cassel, stepped in. Cassel was a lifelong backup (4 years in the NFL and 4 years at USC at both quarterback and centerfield), and that's never any fun. After a few hiccups, however, Cassel proved to be a solid leader, and the Patriots once again found themselves in the hunt for the AFC East Championship and the playoffs. With a win at Buffalo and a loss by either the Dolphins (@ the Jets) or the Ravens (vs. the Jaguars), the Pats would find themselves fighting it out for the AFC crown for the sixth straight year. They held serve, defeating the Bills 13-0 in wind gusts of up to 60 mph. The two 4 p.m games ensued, and we watched with fingers crossed as the Jets became our last hope for the season (the Ravens had dominated in Baltimore). Brett Favre looked shaky as he had in the latter half of the season, and Pennington and the Dolphins looked lucky enough and destined to win as they had all season. In the end, it was the Dolphins who won, seemingly with God on their side, putting an end to the Pats' dreams of taking a most unlikely Super Bowl. They finished 11-5 on the year, and were only the second team in history with a record that good to miss the playoffs (1985 Broncos). All in all, it was a great season. Eleven wins in the AFC and all after the league's MVP went down early. Cassel showed some resolve and promise for the future. He's now expected to be one of the biggest free agents on the market, apparently earning himself a contract of up to 80 million dollars. Next year is still shaky, however, what with a very slow recovery process for Brady and the loss of Cassel. Every New Englander simply hopes that Brady can be the quarterback he was after the injury, especially after seeing the woes of many NFL stars after similar knee shots (Carson Palmer, Daunte Culpepper, Cadillac Williams, and even Donovan McNabb). The talent is undoubtedly still there (Moss, Welker, Watson, Morris, Faulk, Maroney) and if Brady can lock it up, the offense will still be potent. A minor problem could be an aging defense (which still managed to finish ranked seventh in the entire NFL), but a moderate draft position could help with that.

The Boston Celtics: After the big three led the C's to the promiseland last year, many thought age and complacency would hinder some of the goals for the year. Boy were they wrong. The C's have the best record in the league after their first 32 games (28-4) and had the best start in the history of the league (27-2) after a 19 game winning streak. They're primed for another run at the title, with the big three playing just as well as they did last year, and with Ray Allen playing even better. The real pleasure, though, is watching the development of Rajon Rondo, the flashy point guard from Kentucky. He's really come into his own with this team, and has truly become a leader on the floor. I remember many of my friends being sceptical about the draft choice, but even they have reneged on their reservations. He's that damn good. Pair that up with Kendrick Perkins getting better and the bench with an extra year of solid experience and you have a recipe for another championship as well as one for the disaster of the rest of the league. The Lakers ended their historic 19 game run on Christmas night, showing that they are still the team to beat in the West and the second in line to the Celts leaguewide. The Cavaliers and Magic have stepped up to be more than formidable opponents in the East, with Lebron and Dwight Howard looking better than ever, and the usual suspects are still around in the West. Two questions still linger for the Celts as the season moves along. The first is will they make a move for a free agent to compliment their squad? Some say yes. Names like Alonzo Mourning and Dikembe Mutombo have been floating around, as well as P.J. Brown's once again. Veteran point guard Sam Cassel is still on the bench providing leadership and savvy, and the biggins on the bench seem to be holding their own, so a move is still up in the air. The second question: when can we start the playoffs?

The Boston Bruins: Let's face it: we all know they're playing great. They're in first place in their conference and tied for the best in the NHL. I'm excited for them. I have friends that are huge fans. But I can probably only name about four players on their team, and I think the general consensus is that Hockey has grown irrelevant. I'll pay attention to them when the playoffs roll around...maybe.

The Boston Red Sox: They took a tough loss to the Rays in the ALCS last year, and the Yankees are signing every free agent on the market, but everyone seems to think they're still the frontrunner in the AL East. Their offseason has been quiet, probably because they have the most complete team in the majors, not to mention their young talent that gets better with every game, but I still think they could put another good arm to use. I also think Jason Varitek is a washed-up dinosaur. The potential woes are as follows: Beckett needs to have a Cy Young caliber year for them to be competitive, but he had an off-year in 07. It'll be hard for Lester to keep up his nasty streak of last year. Dice-K seems to always be a question mark. Getting to Papelbon could pose a problem. And Varitez was the worst hitter in the entire league last year (I'm not exaggerating). Maybe Theo Epstein was thinking on my level when he traded Coco Crisp for Royals pitcher Ramon Martinez, signed Japanese pitcher Junichi Tazawa, and recently signed pitcher Brad Penny of the Dodgers and catcher Josh Bard of the Padres. Now, it appears that Epstein is looking for a bat, reportedly talking to Rocco Baldelli and Jarrod Saltalamacchia and already touting young first baseman Lars Anderson within their ranks. They did pursue Mark Teixeira rather boldly, offering eight years and 160 million, but were outbid by the Yankees only a day or two after the Red Sox were named the leading candidate for the gold glove caliber switch hitter. And Manny Ramirez is still a free agent, but for obvious reasons the Red Sox are not going to do anything to change his status. In the end, it may be a very similar team to last year's that plays the 162. And that's just fine, with young studs like Pedroia, Lowry, Ellsbury, and Youkilis leading the way. Veterans Mike Lowell and David Ortiz should have better season after recovering from injuries, and the rotation, although shaky at times, is still one of the best in the MLB. Indeed, the season should be an intriguing one. The AL East is as stacked as ever, and big names have shifted all over the country. Either way, the Sox should be fully immersed in the hunt for the World Series.

I can't deny it. Being a New Englander is as pleasing as ever. Each team is in the playoff hunt, and we have some of the biggest stars in their respective leagues. I certainly can't complain at all and I know many of you are jealous. Haha. Let's go Celts.

The Festo - The Yankees Don't Need a Gift Receipt for Their Christmas Present

How does it happen every year? It becoming annoying to say the least, but the New York Yankees have once again dug deep into their wallets and signed the biggest free agents of the year. This time it's been to the tune of more than 400 MILLION DOLLARS!!!!!! And this is for just three players.

Let's see: their major problem last year was pitching. Andy Pettitte and Mike Mussina held their own, but Wang was hurt, they were aging, Pettite was going to be a free agent, and Mussina just happened to retire in the off-season. So, what do you do? First, give A.J. Burnett a call. He'll listen. Tell him you're ready to give him 5 years and 82 million, and he'll drop the phone and collapse. Let's face it: he's a middle-of-the-road pitcher who's had injury problems for literally the entirety of his career. But he was a markee name in the mix because of his first truly stellar performance with the Blue Jays last year.
So, that's one minor solution to the problem. The major solution: C.C. Sabathia, the Cy Young caliber pitcher recently of the Brewers and Indians. He had a monster second half of the year with the Brewers, so much so that although he started horrendously, he still garnered some NL MVP consideration. So, offer him the biggest pitching contract in MLB history. 7 years and 161 Million. No big deal, right? Just pocket change. That makes two big name pitchers to alleviate their woes from the mound. And they still have Wang coming back healthy and the option to sign Pettitte again. Joba Chamberlain can move back to the bullpen, and this team will have the filthiest rotation in the league.

From there, you may say that the Yankees' bats were a bit weak last year. I wouldn't necessarily, but maybe their upper management would. So, they go looking for a new bat. Not Mark Teixeira, though, because he was being pursued by the Red Sox, Angels, and Nationals, among others. Well, guess what? Everyone was wrong. Teixeira sat back and watched for weeks as teams offered him contracts of up to 160 million. The greedy bastard that he was waited on it, and sure enough, when it seemed as though no one was interested, the Yankees swooped in and offered him 20 million more than that 160. Yup. 8 years and 180 million. It's absurd.
For the two or three weeks prior, the Red Sox were the consensus frontrunners, but when Teixeira threw their 160 million back in their face, they pulled away. Then came the Angels, who offered a very similar hefty chunk of change but were denied. They pulled away also. The Orioles and Nationals, who were willing to dish out some serious cash as well, just never seemed like they would snag him anyway. So, it was the Yankees, who seemingly always use their power of green to win over their players, and in the course of about two and a half weeks, they managed to sign three of the biggest free agents in the market at a price of 420 million. And now, they're targeting Derek Lowe and Manny Ramirez, the two other big free agents this year.

The crux of the matter here is the lack of the salary cap. Every other major sport has one. And every other major sport is that much more competitive. The Major League has easily become the most top-heavy of them all, with only five to ten teams having a legitimate chance at winning the World Series each year. Some would argue the opposite, citing the Tampa Bay Rays of last year or the Florida Marlins of years past, but consider this: the Rays have loads of young talent. Everyone knows that. They also only have a 40 million dollar payroll each year. So, what happens when those young, talented players' contracts expire? Teams like the Yankees, Red Sox, Angels, or Mets will swoop in and scoop them up with lucrative contracts. The system is inherently flawed.

We saw the same thing happen with the World Series Marlins, who shipped off all of their markee players in the following two years. The MLB has no parody whatsoever, and it hurts no one but the fans. What's exciting about seeing the Yankees in the World Series nine out of ten times? Nothing. What's exciting about seeing the same teams in the playoffs every year? Nothing. What's exciting about watching as money and greed take over the sport instead of hard work and loyalty. Nothing. And this is coming from a Red Sox fan, who has watched his team use this system of no salary cap to perfection. But as a fan of baseball as a whole, these recent events have truly made me nauseous.

A potential solution would undoubtedly be a salary ceiling and floor. Say 120 Million and 60 Million just to inject some parody in the league. When stars are only going to one of a possible three or five teams, the league goes stale. A plan like this would eliminate that possibility and showcase some smaller market teams to the U.S. Because now, those small market teams are hurting terribly. If I'm a Pittsburgh Pirates fan or season ticket holder, where's my incentive to continue paying for the tickets? The Pirates aren't competitive every year, and most of us know how difficult it is to root for a bad home team. The MLB needs to implement some legislation to fix this problem. Otherwise, we're going to end up where the league started: with a few marketable teams left and an interest level that is solely attributable to the region in which you live.

The Skinny Post - Shoutout to Some Good People

I recently caught wind of a blog that a few of my friends put together here on blogspot. It's called The Art Official Commune. Basically, it's an attempt to unite the local artists of Rhode Island, East Providence, or anyone else we've encountered along the way. Being an East Providence Townie, writer, and artist myself, I found it interesting and unique. In fact, I had no idea some of these friends of mine were writers, painters, musicians, etc. So, needless to say, I'm excited about its endeavor and look forward to posting some of my own work in the future.

On another related note, I've recently discovered the show Red Eye of FoxNews. I know, I know. Some of you hear Fox and curse it and its hosts to the high heavens, but Red Eye is quite different. First of all, it airs at three in the a.m. That alone should tell you its a bit of an outcast within the FoxNews ranks. It also doesn't take on too many political issues, but rather just jokes on various situations in pop culture and the mainstream media. The show is downright hilarious and the host of the show, Greg Gutfeld, is gold. He has his own blog, The Daily Gut, that posts a daily rant about whatever issue seems to be prevalent at the time. If there is anyone who reads my stupid blogs (I'm fairly convinced that there isn't), they should also definitely check out these two gems. There located on my blog list to the left, or if you're lazy and don't feel like scrolling down, here are the links.



http://artofficialcommune.blogspot.com/
http://thedailygut/

The Skinny Post - Dodgeball Prospect?

"If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball." How about a shoe, though? Last week, we saw our commander in chief show some serious athletic skills when an Iraqi reporter threw two shoes at him in the middle of a press conference. President Bush dodged them artfully and popped his head up smiling as if to say "listen buddy, we can go a full twelve if you really want." Bush handled the situation with complete class as he has in his two terms in office, never too effected by the political left loons and always quick to show compassion before hate. What really kills me about this particular situation, however, is the complete lack of respect by this reporter for the democracy that we have provided and helped sustain for him. Apparently, he likes his newfound freedoms in Iraq, enough so to throw his shoes in a press conference, but he isn't too fond or appreciative of the folks that perpetuate the democratic sentiment. Tell me how that makes sense. Aside from the sheer disrespect for a world leader, or another human being for that matter, this reporter seems to so quickly forget what Saddam's dictatorship meant for him and his family. In his previous leader's regime, this reporter wouldn't need shoes at all. Because Saddam would've lopped his feet off if he even threw a sock in a press conference. This is what happens when you give primitive folk a freedom they're not accustomed to. They shit all over it and expect some sort of sympathy. How about a simple thank you and a logical debate or discussion about your region's problems like what should've happened. Apparently, that's out of the question. Apparently, democracy to him is the freedom to play dodgeshoe with people who have fought long and hard to earn their political merits. Luckily for us, we have a president that not only has the ability to stand up to the sheer terror of the world, but the class to deal with the kooks who don't understand it. On a lighter note, we're lucky he's studied Vince Vaughn's moves in Dodgeball.

The POP-ED - No More Sequels for Saw, No Solace for Bond's Script, and Please No More of Will Smith's Children in Movies!

This past month has seen me at the theater three times. Each film was marketed well, and I fully expected to be entertained regardless of the actual quality of each film. They were each tops at the box office in their respective opening weeks, and they each had some history to them. I felt like I knew them rather well. That said, at least two of the three failed miserably, while the other failed in a rather important aspect of filmmaking.

I suppose I'll start with the movie that I felt to be the worst of the three: Saw V. Let me preface this by saying that I've been a Saw fan since the beginning. I've found all of their movies to be quite entertaining, even cutting edge in a couple of instances, and even though I was able to realize that they were pushing the limits in regards to storyline, I still told myself to enjoy them. The original Saw had a plotline and birthed a serial killer by the name of Jigsaw (although our antagonist would never admit he actually was a killer; he insists on splitting hairs) that audiences had simply never seen before. The movie was released around the same time as Hostel and held viewers to their seats with an anticipation and suspense that few had seen since perhaps The Ring. The sequel, Saw II, had a different plotline, with the same killer, that followed a group of people who were challenged by Jigsaw collectively. Here, we saw how Jigsaw was able to directly effect the police force that had been attempting to nab him. The third and fourth installments can in fact be seen as one film and were frankly an excuse for gore and blood. And then, there was the fifth. Saw V was the biggest stretch of a sequel that perhaps I had ever seen (The one I can remember being as absurdly desperate was Predator 2, but I can't say I've seen all of the Jason Voorhies installments). The film resembles Saw II the closest, in that it followed a group of victims who were urged to work together to survive their situation. Otherwise, the film attempts to delve into the police force wayyyyyy more than humanly tolerable and fails at its attempt to weave new characters and plots into the main story. Also, while I'd normally say that the bad acting and poor script were negligible because of the entertaining, new ideas, now, I can only drop my jaw at some of the predictability and redundancy. The bottom line here is the sequels should've probably stopped a year ago at four. Frankly, I'm embarrassed that one of my favorite horror classics has been relegated to this. I'm even more embarrassed that I'm giving this movie a 5 out of 10 simply because I still have a particular place in my heart for the original story. Somehow, I can still get off to this: the most blatant attempt at a genre horror film in some time. 5/10

The following week I walked into the theater, excited to see The Day the Earth Stood Still, featuring Keanu Reeves, Jennifer Connelly, and Jon Hamm of Mad Men (my favorite show on television by the way). I had heard nothing but good things about the film it was based on: the 1950s sci-fi tale of an alien and his robot. I expected something of the same, with a storyline geared for today's audience and dazzling special effects. I actually imagined it to be quite similar to War of the Worlds, the Tom Cruise remake of a few years prior. And for the first thirty or forty minutes or so, I was quite right. The effects were spectacular, the plot and back-story (which was plain old cool for any movie fan) picked up right away, and I was excited to see what would happen next. Then entered Jaden Smith, the child actor and son of star Will Smith. I can honestly say he ruined the final hour and thirty minutes of the movie. He played the role of the naive child who wanted all of the aliens dead. He came off as whiny and annoying. After convening with my compadres, they all felt the same. Smith was the major downfall of the movie. Each scene he took part in was simply unnecessary and bothersome. It was clear that this kid only got the part because of his name. It was clear that this kid did not belong on the big screen. Keanu and Connelly played their parts well enough though. I had always felt that Keanu was an underrated actor due to his ne'er do well, surfer-boy mystique that he so well earned as a young guy. But he has made some decent movies as of late (The Matrix Trilogy, Speed, Street Kings, A Scanner Darkly, Devil's Advocate, Constantine) and he plays his parts well. Make no mistake, I'm not saying he merits an Oscar or even Oscar consideration, but he makes entertaining movies nonetheless. Connelly is an esteemed actress in her own right (Blood Diamond, A Beautiful Mind, Requiem for a Dream) and she pulled her weight. But a deviance from the original story, including the sheer neglect of many major details of the aliens' motives and some predictability in regards to run-of-the-mill sci-fi flicks, had this film teetering on mediocrity. Ultimately, it was the overbearing overacting of Smith did us all in. Combined with the fact that as the movie went on, it strayed from the original plotline, Smith took this movie under. It was an unstoppable duo. And because of these two problems, I give it a 5 of 10. See War of the Worlds instead. 5/10

The third and easily the best of the movies I was lucky to see this month was Quantum of Solace with Daniel Craig as the new James Bond. When I say that this was an action film, I mean it was THE action film. Immediately, the film starts off with a car chase, with multiple European sports cars flying around, between, and off of bridges. From there, we see a foot chase, similar to that of the foot chase in Casino Royale, where bond hunts a man who has information about his lover's murder. Next, there's a boat chase. A few boats get blown up over here. A few more over there. And then, on to the plane chase. I kid you not. There were three chase scenes in the first half hour, capped off with a plane chase somewhere in the middle of the movie just for kicks. It was absurd action. Daniel Craig IS James Bond. Let's get that straight. He embodies him in every way, and carries himself with a ruggedness that Pierce Brosnan was unable. Craig did what he was expected in his role, as did the Bond girls Olga Kurylenko and Gemma Arterton (why do they always find the difficult names for the Bond girls), but there was one simple problem: lack of story and script. This movie was a true-to-form revenge flick. Very little important dialogue and loads of mindless action to entertain the viewer. And in this aspect, it did its job. Action. Action. Action. Cut. Nice shoot everybody. Go home. And wait until we destroy box office numbers with its release. I can only imagine that that's what producers had expected. And it worked. I walked out of the theater confident that I spent my ten bucks well. As a guy, I loved Bond and I loved the action. And as a fan of genre films, I got what I wanted. I gave it 7.5 of 10. I can't wait to add it to my James Bond DVD collection.

With ratings of 5, 5, and 7.5, I actually was surprised to see that the voters of IMDB.com agreed with me. They graded the films 5.9, 5.8, and 7.1 respectively. Maybe I should keep up with this kind of stuff. Haha.

The Skinny Post - Great Minds Have Big Feet?

So, I was lounging around like I usually do during the week, thinking of fun, cheap ways to make some money. In fact, the money really wasn't the main issue, but rather some sort of venture my friends and I could embark on, with fun in mind and the mere potential for profit. I remembered a kid I met down in Tampa. He was a legend in his own right, had a sweet pad on a lake, and was all about water sports. He owned his own clothing label, chiefly selling tee-shirts. It seemed like too simple an idea, maybe too hopeless, but to my surprise, the kid was profitable as all hell. He sponsored a couple of the local waterskiers and wakeboarders and we'd head over to his house for parties and exhibitions that they actually held on the lake. It was badass. He was badass. I wanted that badassness. I still do. I began to think of what kind of tee-shirt label my friends and I would come up with. I decided that we were all cooky enough to where we said or heard about fifty ridiculous, inane, stupidly hilarious things in a given week. Why couldn't we tranfer that over to some tees? It'd be that simple. I still have no idea as to what I would name the small company, but ideas for the content definitely flowed well. I figured I'd throw three on here just to get a rise.

1st shirt:
Front: You know what they say about great minds?
Back: Big Socks...

2nd Shirt:
Front: Women...can't live with 'em....
Back: .........................................

3rd Shirt:
Front: My girlfriend says she like Slim Jims...
Back: ...I think she likes chubby ones too.

I know they're stupid, but hey, it's a goofy thing to think about.

The Skinny Post - The Hair to End All Hairs

We've all seen Illinois State Governor, Rod Blagojevich, or Blagamavich, or Blahblahblahvich. We've all seen him on the daily news, and we've all seen the coverage about how he's a shady prick who wanted to deal under the table for the vacant Illinois Senate seat. There's no doubt he's a sheisty bastard. It seems pretty darn apparent. All politics, bribery, and hoopla aside, however, I honestly think more people should be talking about how ridiculous this guy's hair is. It is the ugliest thing I've seen since I went to Water Country ten years ago and stumbled upon two wet, naked, and noticeably hairy retards in the bathroom making out by the bubbler. I was scarred for life. Now, it seems that excessive hairiness has struck me terribly wrong once again. This hair rivals the absurdity of Trump's and the laughability of Conan's. Does anyone think he looks like Stephen King, by the way? Check out some pics, people.


http://www.ipsn.org/indictments/levine/gov0916_285.jpg
http://tomroeser.com/blog/img/f24534/blagojevich.jpg
http://insidesportsgeek.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/blagojevich.jpg

The Skinny Post - Hypocrite-opotamus

So, I'm back and it's been a few months, I know. I did exactly what I told myself (and everyone else) I wasn't. I simply got bored and neglected my page. Since I last posted, Tom Brady's knee was blown out, Barack Obama was elected first black president, I turned a year older, and the Celtics have had the best start in league history. I guess these things have distracted me. Truth is, I expected to keep up with the blog until my departure for basic training for the Air Force Reserves (which was supposed to be on October 7th). I'm not sure if anyone has noticed but it's a little later and a little colder than that nowadays, and I'm still here freezing my ballsack off. Fact is, I dread winter more than most, and I would have basked in my own self-satisfaction down in Texas, where the air is warm and the women are like fine rubies ready for a buffing. But I'm not there, am I? No, I'm not. I've been swindled and screwed over royally by this incompetent branch of the armed forces worse than the dentist did Gary Busey's veneers. I've been massively duped by tumbling dickweeds. Somehow, they seemed too foul up my paperwork, fully preventing me from embarking on my flight down south. What's worse, is I was the last one to find out. A day before my scheduled flight!!!!! So, I tried and tried to leave ASAP, but the earliest possible flight they found for me was on the upcoming St. Patrick's Day. March 17, folks. I signed my papers in May of last year. Do the math: that's almost a year later. My life has officially been postponed, and I'm not sure if I'll be back in school before next fall. My only problem now is finding a goddamn job. I've been looking for months now, but because of the dwindling economy, everyone seems to have a spending freeze. So, hoo-hah two times Tuesday; i need to find one desperately. I'm back, bitches.

Invented - Semi-Self-Control

Semi-Self-Control

It was two Saturdays ago and well
past midnight when the lot of us strolled in
the black-lit house with our share of Miller
Lites in hand, each of us bobbing our heads
to a song by some obscure Reggae band
that would surely be off the music
market within a month or two. I could

never account for the amount of times
I had frequented such a house - single
and multileveled, spacious and swarming,
blurry and sober - but I was sure I
had been to this particular two-floor
home before, probably too many drinks
deep and ready to heave up the contents
of my pasta dinner. It was in this

moment of our entrance that I realized
that I should just turn myself around, walk
back out the front door, and take the hour
drive straight home, wholly bored with the primitive
scene but ready to sleep knowing full well
that this moment of semi-self-control
would almost certainly crumble in the
moment the following Friday arrived.

The Festo - Humans Living in a Hobbit's World

Close your eyes. Imagine we're all Hobbits, the halfling creatures created by J.R.R. Tolkien for the Lord of the Rings series, among other things. They walk barefoot and have hardened feet, transformed through a millennium of stomping through the mud and grass and rock of the Shire. They like to drink heavy ales and lagers. And boy, they like to smoke the good stuff, because in the Shire there really isn't much else to do. Hobbits live amongst the trees and the hills of the shire and generally bother no one but themselves. Living in their hillside abodes, dug out of the ground, they've learned to keep to themselves for the most part, a virtue that is generally respected through the various lands of their world. In fact, many of the different cultures and/or species living in Middle Earth couldn't even tell you what a Hobbit was. If that's not proof of their fondness of some good ol' fashioned privacy, then I don't know what is. Anyhow, their living quarters are largely exquisite for beings of their size, with long, circular halls and vaulted ceilings that wind and weave their way directly into the countryside. While our properties here may range from a lowly trailer in a trailer park to an acre with a raised ranch and a backyard and on up, theirs may range from a mound to a larger hill. Where we would say, "I own that parcel of land," they'd make sure to retort, "Well, that's my hill." Nowadays, actually living inside a hill would either disgust the rich and privileged or elicit chuckles of absurdity from the rest of the bunch, but whether or not you're ready for such a move doesn't change the fact that the move may happen.

I've recently come across a little something that would almost certainly improve the Hobbits' living conditions in Middle Earth and potentially improve ours here on Mother Earth. It's called eco-architecture, and it's science is truly mind-blowing. Engineers and botanists alike have discovered another way to live as one with the greenery around us, specifically inside the comfort of a tree or two. Experiments commence when scientists in Tel Aviv began looking for a way to better shelter those in earthquake and tsunami stricken areas. What they found was a specific type of tree that, when grown in air instead of soil and water, developed a soft enough root for shaping. The roots are then molded around metal structures that have already been shaped into a specific object. Finished projects include multiple park benches that even include their own natural form of shade. Future projects include streetlamps and an entire playground, and within the decade, a prototype home is expected to be finished.

Think of the positive ramifications for such a project. First off, and quite obviously, instead of chopping down the trees to build homes, we'd be living in and under the shade of them. Secondly, they would completely protect inhabitants from earthquakes and other natural disasters as stated earlier. Trees are generally the only things standing in the wake of said disasters. Third, these "eco-structures" would cut costs, strenuous manual labor hours, and would aid in the fight to go "green" by contributing to a more eco-friendly and eco-safe environment. And these are just a few of the benefits that eco-architecture would provide.

Surely, not many of us who have watched Lord of the Rings once or even upwards of fifty times could've imagined living a day in the life of a Hobbit, but perhaps, we should've. We could certainly learn a thing or two from them. They're a jolly people. Maybe this stems from their oneness with the land. Who am I kidding? It may have something to do with that, but their affection for the hash probably takes the cake there. All kidding aside, a world with eco-architecture, not that dissimilar from a Hobbit abode, is a better world. Period. Sign me up for the first prototype right now. You'll all soon follow. Give it ten years, and we'll all realize that it is a Hobbit's world, and we're just living in it.

Check out the article and the pictures. The house looks amazing.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26438939/

Dispatched - Mutant Name: Treebeardhandsman

Most of this speaks for itself, so I'll keep it short. Actually, I'm already speechless. All I can say is: a guy in Indonesia has tree roots for hands! Not literally of course, but either way, you have to see this for yourself. It'll make you want to run to the bathroom, throw up, and run back to your computer for more. I heard about this guy a couple of months ago, and apparently he's making a recovery now. Either way, it's horrific. Read the article and specifically check out the video report. Ewwwwwwwwww.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26406111/

The Popcorn Editorial (The POP-ED) - Is The Dark Knight really the GOAT?

I ran into Seekonk Showcase with the rain coming down on me in sheets, fully expecting to be a soaked, smiling movie-goer withing the half-hour. It was the second week that The Dark Knight had been out in theaters, and as was to be expected, I had heard nothing but rave reviews. One particular appraisal caught my eye, however, simply because it was so preposterous that it couldn't have been true. On my go-to movie website, IMDB.com, The Dark Knight had received a sufficient amount of excellent ratings to warrant the #1 movie of all time crown. Initially, this rating came as a complete surprise to me, but then, I started thinking. I became angered with movie-goers everywhere for making such a mockery of the system.The Dark Knight had vaulted itself above movies of the likes of The Godfather, The Empire Strikes Back, and The Shawshank Redemption, among dozens of others, and simply because it was so overly over-marketed and shoved down our throats. The Heath Ledger tragedy notwithstanding, I guess the PR department executed their task to perfection, building their movie to be the most anticipated sequel ever, but I couldn't understand why the majority of Americans, usually knowledgeable and sensible with their movies, bought the garbage. America had already decided, before they had even seen the movie, that they would love it unconditionally. Were they really that stupid?Were they really that anxious to immediately rate this movie a 10 without question? I was sorry to say it, but yes, they were. Don't get me wrong here, though. I love my Batman, too. But I like to be a bit more practical when it comes to these things. I mulled over this situation as I entered theater number 9. Would I somehow be let down, disappointed because it had already been so hyped? Or would I stay level-headed and keep my wits about me in the midst of the barrage of hoopla? We would soon see......

...Two and a half hours later...

I walk out of theater 9 jumping out of my boots. The movie was excellent. Christian Bale was born to play Batman. He brought a performance just as good if not better than his in Batman Begins. Maggie Gyllenhaal played a much more mature Rachel Dawes. I thought she stepped up to the plate in a way that Katie Holmes could not. And Aaron Eckhart played a wonderful District Attorney Harvey Dent, endearing us to this character that was the main symbol of hope in Gotham before he takes the ultimate plunge into the darkness. Surely, however, not one person in the theater that day or week or month went to examine Gyllenhaal's Dawes or Eckhart's Dent. They went to see Heath Ledger and his utterly demonic portrayal of The Joker. Ledger stole the screen every time he appeared and commanded the movie every time he didn't. Each scene he graced us with gave us a glimpse into a truly troubled character, hell bent on his theory of chaos, and each scene without left us yearning for more. I must have caught myself saying, "When the hell is Joker coming back?" or "Alright, where's our man Heath?" about a dozen times throughout the film. And each time he came back, he delighted me even more. It was truly one of the best performances that I had ever seen.

All hugs and kisses aside, this movie was not a 10. It is NOT the best movie of all time. I personally wasn't the biggest fan of Eckhart's Two-Face. He came off as whiny. Furthermore, for a man who prided himself on such strong will and character early in the film, he turned over to criminality rather easily. Perhaps, that was the director, Chris Nolan's problem there. I also thought the movie's length was a small problem. It seemed to linger on more than it needed to later in the movie. This may be attributable to the fact that Nolan attempted to include the plots of two major villains in the film. I saw that as a slight problem as well. Two-Face arguably deserved his own movie. He seemed be entirely underappreciated as a villain, while Dent grabbed all of the spotlight. These are all manageable errors, however, and it should be noted that the movie is a must see regardless. I give it a 8.5 to a 9. See it immediately if you haven't already.

For the record, The Dark Knight is still ranked in the number one spot at IMDB.com, but now it is tied for first with The Godfather and Shawshank Redemption. Maybe our movie fans are beginning to come to their senses.

The Festo - Scrumptious...

Hey, would you eat a five pound hunk of shark that's been rotting for two months in a rundown shed somewhere in Iceland? No? How about a yellowtail heart, just recently yanked out of the fish's chest and still beating? Not too appetizing, huh? Well, here's the main course: a smorgasbord of bugs and insects, including deep fried tarantulas on a stick and baked hissing cockroaches that are fed almonds to give them a nutty taste. Yummy. Although these dishes may seem waaayyyyy too over the top normal folk like you or me, they are a part of the everyday scene for a guy like Andrew Zimmern. The Travel Channel's show, Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, is truly one of the great finds on primetime television. Every episode contains some of the grossest, most addictive content found on any station.

It's currently 12:30 on a Monday night-slash-Tuesday morning and I'm watching this culinary freak of a man stare at a bucket of sheep's blood, wondering whether or not he'd like to go bobbing for brains. It's great TV. And it's in Hi-Def!!!! Now, he's gobbling up a piece of grandma's sheep's blood cake. I kid you not. Nothing like some feel-good dessert to cap the night off.

Folks like me remember the days of Fear Factor, where desperate people would put themselves through the agony of eating cow anus for a shot at forty thousand. Well, this guy does it for free. I guess his show could be considered the spawn of the NBC hit, but I can guarantee it's much more fun and definitely more informative, especially for those of us who enjoy the Food Network. Yes, it is that good of a show. It has single-handedly pulled me away from the Olympics, for Christ's sake. So, it must be good. And on that same token, while we're tooting many horns here, let's just give the Travel Channel a round of applause for not stopping the fun at Zimmern.

Their other major primetime show, Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, is a great hit as well. Bourdain, though probably just as crazy in his broad spectrum of tastes, doesn't seem as desperate to eat fire-roasted bat as Zimmern might. But this works just fine within the parameters of his show. He routinely takes his viewers to exotic locations, not to find the most absurd foods known to man but to give us a quick taste (usually with the help and guidance of a local or two) of what the food and drink would be like for the average tourist.

Both in primetime slots, the two of these hosts work incredibly well together, Zimmern with his wackiness and Bourdain with his calmer, composed demeanor. In fact, Travel Channel is at its best when it throws on a long marathon of Bourdain and Zimmern, just as I'm doing right now. It's like watching the Ali and Frazier of eclectic palettes, each of them throwing haymakers in the form of funky dishes and traditional tastes.

Sometime in the future, I can see a mega-show. We'll call it, "Hey, Try This! We Swear it's Great! With Bourdain and Zimmern." Their logo will be the two of them giving the cheesiest smiles to go with a couple of giant thumbs-ups, while a recently hacked-off giraffe head sits on a plate in front of them. The show itself will be a two or a three hour monster of a Monday night with the two of them on screen at the same time challenging each other to eat more cow dung custard. I can see the two of them pushing each other to the absolute brink, where they begin trying foods that not even the natives thought of attempting. They'd each have the most manufactured smiles pasted on their faces as they lined up ten shots of coagulated goat semen.

All that wishful thinking aside, however, both shows are spectacular as is. Kudos to the both of them for doing some of the coolest shtuff I've seen. I'm jealous. Three cheers to the Travel Channel for striking gold twice. Hip-Hip...Hooray!

Written Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at 12:16 in the A.M.

The Skinny Post - Foot Locker, Eh?

After about a half hour of marinating at a buddy's house, he randomly asks me to come upstairs to his room. He says he wants to show me something. So, thinking nothing of it, I follow, naturally not expecting much, maybe some previously-rolled goodies or a new pet or something. Turns out that this kid has a foot locker up against one of the walls of his room, and in this foot locker is pure adrenaline and sheer testosterone with a sprig of delight and masochism. He's packing an arsenal of assault rifles and shotguns that could hold down a small battalion. Turns out that he's collecting these things. Turns out that I like this kid a whole lot more than I thought I did. Here I am, blatantly awed by this run of events and visibly excited from the mere presence of these beasts of destruction. So, first, he reaches in, breaks out his twelve-gauge, and passes it around, unloaded of course, for me to feel up and play around with. Next thing I know, he hands me a 1917 Smith and Wesson, old school rifle mostly made of wood. I forget what kind. I take a long gander and place it back in its respective cubby, and right away there's another gun in my hands, this time a World War I sniper rifle of some sort, equipped with a contemporary scope and a five round clip. Absolutely unreal stuff. Then, comes the grand finale. I'm fiddling with these guns, laughing and drooling over them, and he reaches back into the foot locker and pulls out an AK, built from the ground up. This was easily the coolest thing my tender eyes had ever seen. The rifle is at least three feet long, resting nicely in my hands and has a banana clip that's two times bigger than Mr. T's head. And the damned thing is heavy. All I could think of at the time was the video clips of destitute children living in poverty-stricken African countries in the midst of never-ending civil war. At the ripe age of seven, they're handed these guns, fed some drugged concoction, and told to fight for a side. There are still two hundred thousand child soldiers on the continent of Africa. Insane. Heavy. Too heavy. Nonetheless, who could really think about that in this particular situation. Especially with some tasty spirits already flowing through me. This gun was clean, unadulterated power in my hands, and I loved it. I remember being speechless for the following half hour or so. Then, we went outside to drink another brew.

Dispatched - Excuses, Excuses...

Raise your hand if you had ear infections as a small child. I know you can't see me, but my hand's up. In fact, it's way up. I had some biggins to say the least as a young one, and at a rate that I couldn't even tell you. It seemed as though every couple of weeks I was back at the good Dr. Wexler's office, getting a massive clump of earwax plucked from the inner caverns of my skull with something that resembled a weapon from Hostel. Anyhow, all of the trouble finally came to a head when the doctors claimed that the infections were causing serious damage. I was sent thereafter into the operating room, where giant men and women in white and blue garb would magically cure me with the wonderfully complex ear-tube technology. Many years and not so many earaches later, I'm here doing completely fine, my would-be lifelong hearing problem thrown to the wayside and left to rot and die in the deep past. Turns out, however, it isn't gone. Apparently, I'm scheduled to be obese.

According to a study done at the University of Florida, inner ear infections lead to a very sweet sweet-tooth (we'll call it a sugary, syrupy, Twinkie-tooth), and eventually to obesity. This is just great. Now I have an excuse to give myself up wholly to the perils of weight-gain and the exhilaration of sheer gluttony. Here's the problem: I'm not going to do that, but there are plenty baby belugas in this world who wait for this kind of info. You'll be able to spot them easily; they'll be the one's sitting outside Ben and Jerry's, taking a quadruple scoop of Rocky Road topped with caramel, chocolate syrup, peanut butter, Frank's Red Hot Spicy Cayenne Pepper Sauce, and Italian dressing to the face, only to whip out their box of Twinkies afterward to sop up whatever goo they couldn't pick up with their spoons. And don't forget the fact that they won't be feeling bad for themselves because they'll be giving you an earful about how they think they can remember this one time in third grade, where they needed to leave school because of an ear infection. Or could it have been a toothache? They can't remember. Fabulous. Check out the article.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26391940/

The Skinny Post - Don't Spare the White Russians, Spoil thy Child

I had an awesome White Russian the other day that had a shot of espresso and a double shot of Sambuca. Dee-lish. I had really only tried White Russians on one other occasion, and that was back in high school. At least I think it was back then. Anyway, my buddy and I were at a party that was thrown by some girlfriend of a friend of a friend, and we sat at their home bar and drank them all night with the girl's mother. It was a good time. She was a loose parent, and I liked it. She was a realist, and that's how you need to be sometimes as a parent. A realist. unfortunately, kids will be kids no matter what, and as a parent, there are two ways to go about controlling your kids: the hard way and the really hard way. The latter consists of keeping your child closeted and reclusive during high school so when it comes time for college, they end up in an ambulance during the first week of the first semester of Freshman year, getting their stomachs pumped because they didn't know what the hell was going on when it came to partying. It's like throwing a rookie boxer in the ring with no training and no sparring experience. It just doesn't work. The boxer's going to get hurt. The kid is going to end up hospitalized or dead. On the other hand, the hard way is much, much easier. Of course, it entails walking that fine line, but it's possible regardless. This method consists of simply communicating, accepting the fact that your kid will drink, coming to terms with yourself and your kid, and realizing that you, as parents, probably did much, much worse when you were young. I mean, if anyone is my age, then their parents definitely grew up in the seventies, and we all know that the seventies were chock full of very large, naked parties and no-holds-barred, psychedelic drug raves. And naturally, White Russians. I enjoyed them so.

The Festo - Kitty Vacation

Recently my eldest and best kitty friend, Shiloh, just happened to disappear for two weeks. The ten year old cat was getting up there in age, and after a week of his disappearance, I decided that he was probably dead, most likely curled up under the massive tree next door that had gobbled up many a wiffle ball in my day. It was no surprise to me that an older cat would do such a thing; two of our previous cats had vanished years ago at a tired age never to be seen again.

Anyhow, on one of the days without him, I took a look outside as I waited for a friend to arrive, and a friend i did find. Shiloh sat there, looking up at me, his white paws a little dirtier, his body a little slimmer. I screamed his name to my sister to alert her of his presence before letting him back in the house that had missed him for days. He looked beaten, as though he had been through a few bar fights or slept on a curb one drunken night. In any event, he sprinted the length of the house and made a dash for the bowl of food. When i say he ate for fifteen minutes straight, I really mean he ate for more like five to ten, but that's not the point. He chowed down like he had never chowed down before. he ate cat food like Ed Norton ate teeth in Fight Club. And once he was done feasting, he got back to living life just as he had for the prior ten years, laid-back as ever and loving the catnip.

This got me to thinking, though. What the hell was my cat doing for two weeks? We all know he wasn't here, and he had never pulled such a stunt before. So, without further ado, here is my Shiloh two-week vacation story. I'll keep it as short and as absurdly over-the-top as possible.

Shiloh packed his bags and his flea collars and told his best buddy from down the street, Elliot, that they needed a break from the rigors of couch napping and carpet napping and...lawn napping. Elliot concurred, and they were off to Mexico for some fun in the sun and some beach napping. Each of them knew that no airline would willingly let felines on a flight, especially not middle-class felines like them. So, in a daring effort at T.F. Green Airport, the two of them hit the runway in hot pursuit of a large passenger plane, their tote bags flailing behind them. Toward the end of the tarmac, the front of the plane began to lift. They knew that the back wheels were their only shot. When they began coming off the ground, Shiloh and Elliot leapt with dreams of sipping run by the pool at the resort/spa still in their heads, hoping to grab something, anything. Shiloh stuck his left claw into the rubber of the tire and Elliot clamped on to his best friend's hind leg. As the wheel retracted back into the plane, they regained their footing. They were officially on the flight.

Three hours later, the wheels touched down again. They were in Mexico. They jumped out of the wheel cubby and immediately went searching for cute cats in bikinis. Shiloh had heard such wild stories of Mexican cats, but he'd never seen it for himself. Walking down one of the streets, Elliot noticed something a little strange. "Why does that say New Orleans Motel?" he asked. They each realized their dilemma as a seven foot transvestite wearing a Mick Jagger mask approached them, asking if they knew where his uncle Penelope was. They shuffled past him, or her, and decided to cut down a small alley to book it. During their race down the street, a small group of dirty men, probably washed up go-go dancers, jumped out and mugged them, taking their dufflebags, IDs and spending money. They were left battered in a New Orleans alley with no where to turn, when someone popped out and gave them a break. He tossed two tabs of acid their way and told them to take it easy. Shiloh, seeing no current way out of the situation, popped his tab immediately and Elliot soon followed. They looked up to give thanks, but their charitable friend had disappeared.

The following two weeks were a complete blur, a fourteen day LSD trip that probably should've killed them. Twelve pound felines can't handle large amounts of drugs. That was common sense. Shiloh could only remember something about a voodoo lady and her bleeding goat. When the two cats finally came to, they were decked out in funny-colored beads and riding in the back of what seemed to be somebdy's work van. Shiloh looked to his left and saw a pile of brass instruments sitting next to a man who was holding a saxophone. He called himself Hank, but who could be sure? Hank looked back at them and seemed to be excited that they were awake. "Fellas, our roadies are awake!" he screamed to the front. "Nice," they returned. "You flippin' felines are crazy, man. I can't believe how miffed you were last night," he continued.

He would later fill them in on how he and his two buddies were a saxophone band and were heading to New England for a bunch of shows. Apparently, our feline protagonists met them at a bar called Bungalow Bill's and proceeded to smoke peyote with them until the sun came up. They had been on the road for over ten hours already. The two cats were told that they'd be home in a little over a day. Twenty-four hours of grogginess later, Shiloh and Elliot were dropped off on the street they knew so well. Shiloh walked up to his door and knocked twice.

Written on Wednesday, August 13, 2008 at 1:28 in the A.M.

The Festo - Olympic Couch Potato

Today is the third day of these 2008 Beijing Olympics. Needless to say, I've been glued to the screen watching many of the diverse events, not excluding badminton, gymnastics, rowing, and handball. After a breathtaking opening ceremony, filled with a dazzling light display, an otherworldly soundtrack, and quite frankly, the most artistic overall performance I have ever seen with these two brown eyes, the Olympics have shot out of the gate running, sprinting rather, and I, for one, am teeming at the lips for much, much more.

The problem here is that over these last three days, I have grown into a bum, a couch potato. There are no other words for it. There is no excuse, no point for my sheer bumdom...aside from the twenty-ninth Olympiad, that is. These last three days have seen Manny Francis abed or acouch all day long, flipping through the multiple channels that NBC has offered with coverage of boxing, swimming, or weightlifting, only to get up at a rare commercial to fix myself a ham and cheese sandwich on toasted white bread with a dab of light mayonnaise or to snag a granola bar for a quick exit of the kitchen and a hasty return to my warm seat in front of the television. Sure, some may say my slight obsession with the quadrennial games is a bit too wild. Some would say that medication could be the answer. And then, some, myself included, would call an ace an ace. We'd tell you that the Olympics have created a bum.

I can only imagine the thousands of people like me in the world, our own fraternity of Dorito-eating, ottoman-worshipping Olympic fanatics, ready to pop the tube on at any time of day for hours upon hours of fun. I guess we could sue for our troubles, couldn't we? "Your honor, we bring forth this case against the International Olympic Committee and the thousands of athletes that took part in the games. They've made couch potatoes of us. We've lost jobs, friends, and self-respect. We all currently have bed sores. Now, tell them to give us money." What a case it would be.

But all kidding aside, maybe bum is to strong a word. Sports nut would suffice. I promise. I've been watching nothing but baseball (the Red Sox usual mid-season woes have trickled into the latter stages of the season) and Brett Favre coverage (JUST RETIRE ALREADY!) for the last three months. So, give me a break. The myriad of Olympic events are a breath of fresh air. Even the casual fan is intrigued by synchronized diving or water polo. We never see these sports, and they're nothing short of addictive once we start watching them. Who can really blame us?

That being said, I'll take the first step and admit my problem. I'm infatuated with the games, and because of this (coupled with my odd body clock), I am quite bothered by a couple of the aspects of the coverage. Beijing operates on a clock that is twelve hours ahead of the east coast of the United States. Over there, athletes compete in events from 8 a.m. to 11 p.m, give or take, which means that the broadcasts must start at 8 p.m. and end at 11 a.m over here. Follow? Now, that coverage is entirely cool with me. It's not uncommon for me to stay up until the sun rises anyway. With that said, I figured I'd be watching live events all night long, for 12 hours straight. Makes sense, right? Wrong. The live coverage begins at 7:30 p.m. or so and ends around midnight, and I wish someone could tell me why. Maybe it's money. Gotta make that paper cheddar. Maybe they won't get the ratings they desire if they broadcast live during my hours. Frankly, I don't care what it is. This particular fan can't get enough of the Olympics, and by god, if I'm up during the hours when competitions are being held, I want to see them as they happen. I don't want Bob Costas to give me the rundown of what we all missed during his primetime slot. And for this, I'm terribly vexed. I could care less what events they throw on during the wee hours just so long as they're live. I'd watch twelve hours straight, midnight to noon, and wouldn't lose a beat. Believe me. And I just know there are many more like me out there. So, let's rise up and write mass amounts of hate mail, people. Let's wake the neighbors and go streaking in the name of more live coverage. Let's start the petition now, so this doesn't happen to us four years from now. If I have to wait another four years for these precious events only to get the royal shaft with the live coverage again, I swear to the highest heavens......I'll just settle for whatever coverage they give me. And still love it. HAHA.

Written Monday, August 11, 2008 at 3:50 in the A.M.

Draw the Curtains...The Unveiling of The MannyFesto

It seems to me that many of the blogs nowadays have taken a direction for the absolute worst. We've seen it where bloggers have chosen to neglect their pages completely or where they have opted to use their blog as a medium to promote something other than good, clean writing, i.e. countless advertisements, fraudulent personal businesses, or someone else's videos or multimedia. Blogs have seemed to stray away from the creative and morphed into the lazy. Blog diaries are quite simply stale and boring, as they have always been, and Youtube video blogs are downright unintelligent. These reasons, up to now, have dissuaded me from starting my own blog and turned me off from blogs in general, but clearly, my sentiment has changed in that regard. Maybe I'm bored with many of the other blogs I've sampled and hope to present something that I (and hopefully many others) would read and perhaps get a kick out of. Maybe I'm just bored with my own everyday life, as I'm sure is the case with many or most of those in the blogosphere. Whatever the case, I have deemed it the correct time to unveil The MannyFesto, a comprehensive online blog that will emulate something of a mini-magazine.

The MannyFesto will contain no less than four major sections that will be posted during the course of the five day week. The first of these is aptly named The Festo, which will be posted two of the five days. This will be the real meat of the weekly blog, where I will rant, so help me god, on one of the many topics floating around in my mind. Expect exciting topics How Dr. Phil, John Edward, and the Fat Guy from Subway have Ruined the World and Daddy, Would you like some Sausage? The first of the subsections has been dubbed The Skinny Post, where I will post a small paragraph about a simple subject that seems a bit askew. I suppose this section could be comparable to a Peter Griffin, "Grind my Gears" piece. I'll attempt to keep these as terse and to-the-point as possible. Be prepared for a quick read here. Dispatched, the second of the subsections, is where I will peruse an article, give it a quick overview, and provide a link for those who may be interested. In the final weekly piece, The Popcorn Editorial (The POP-ED), I will post a discussion about a movie, newer or older, and a personal rating for that movie. From there, I may have one of my very, very super-interesting friends make a guest appearance and rant about one of their many, many problems in a piece that we'll call The Celebrity Shot, and maybe, juuuuuuuust maybe I'll have the urge to post some of my fiction. I wouldn't expect any posts on the weekends, but I also wouldn't put it past me.

And so will be The MannyFesto, a blog that will hopefully entertain and elicit many a chuckle. Now, for a taste of things to come, I will post a few of my recent pieces. Olympic Couch Potato, Kitty Vacation, and Don't Spare the White Russians, Spoil thy Child were written last week. I feel like they will get the ball rolling nicely and give the reader a good idea of what to expect. Enjoy.