Tag Archives: humor

Reboot THIS!!! (Part One: Remakes)

There’s been much discussion about the sorry state of Hollywood of late.  In particular, the apparent need to REMAKE ALL THE THINGS!!  Or even better, prolong a franchise well beyond the realms of good taste.  (Seriously, how many SAW movies were there?  About five too many, prolly.  I don’t know, as I’ve never seen a one.)  Dig this stat: in 1981, seven of the top-ten grossing films were originals. Those titles included Raiders of the Lost Ark and Stripes proving that diversity was not only celebrated, but downright necessary.  Two of the top-10 films were technically sequels, although For Your Eyes Only doesn’t really fit my criteria.  I’d say that’s more of a “franchise.”   By 2011, not ONE SINGLE ORIGINAL SCRIPT found its way to the top-10.  Not one. Eight (EIGHT!) were sequels, including Fast Five and Cars 2.  The other two titles were comic book adaptations, Thor and Captain America.  Wow.  Bridesmaids finished in the fourteen slot, and Super 8 was a measly 21st.  Last year was no better.  The wonderfully unique time-travel flick Looper was ranked  #45 in the 2012 box-office tally.  Pathetic.  However, there were two bright spots:  The charming Disney anti-princess film Brave made it to the eighth spot (although one wonders how it would’ve fared without that big Disney machine behind it) and the love-it-or-hate-it Ted edged in at #9.

But let’s be honest: sometimes remakes/reboots work.  They do.  Star Trek needed a fresh coat of paint, lest it fall into obscurity.  21 Jump Street was an unexpectedly enjoyable re-imagining of the old Fox TV series.  So maybe the problem isn’t that Hollywood insists on doing remakes and reboots, but that they’re picking the wrong properties.  That’s where I come in.  In addition to being a certified genius, I also have a keen sense of the “good shit,” a talent that has been honed over these almost 43 years on Earth.  Here, then, are my humble suggestions for remakes (we’ll handle the sequels next time.)  Your move, Hollywood…

Smokey and the Bandit (LIKELIHOOD OF AWFULNESS: Low)

See? They're already BROS!!

See? They’re already BROS!!

I seriously cannot begin to understand how this hasn’t already happened.  The popularity of the Fast and Furious series alone should’ve gotten some coke-fueled producer on the horn with Judd Apatow to get the ball rolling.  Imagine Matthew McConaughey’s “Bandit” running interference for Kid Rock as The Snowman, while Sheriff John Goodman chases after them with every police car and helicopter ever.  Amy Adams or Rachel McAdams or some Adams-sounding hot, cute, quirky girl as the love interest/runaway bride.  Sure, the plot would have to be tweaked.  Maybe Bandit has a GPS-jammer in his new-school Trans-AM (PRODUCT PLACEMENT, PEOPLE!) and if he gets too far ahead of the semi, WHUH-OH!!  Also, the whole “bootlegging beer” plot is kinda stale.  But I recently learned that it is impossible to order online and then have delivered a new Tesla electric car to North Carolina.  Hmmm…the Tesla manufacturing plant is in Fremont, California. Smuggling one of those bad-boys all the way across the country would be risky, yes? Plus, IMPORTANT ENVIRONMENTAL ANTI-OIL MESSAGE!!  Dude, this thing is writing itself.  And I want a screen credit, dammit.

Tank Girl (LIKELIHOOD OF AWFULNESS: Very High)

See? Just hire some cosplay geeks and LET'S SHOOT THIS FUCKER!

See? Just hire some cosplay geeks and LET’S SHOOT THIS FUCKER!

This will never happen, so I shouldn’t get my hopes up.  The thing is, I had my hopes up waaaayyyy too high for the first one.  You could tell that nobody involved with the making of the film had any clue.  They just didn’t “get it.”  The soundtrack was killer (soooo many 90′s movies sucked, but managed to have AMAZING soundtracks.  Looking at YOU, Crow: City of Angels.)  My only hope here is that after butchering Judge Dredd, someone went back and tried to do it right, with much better success.

Tank (LIKELIHOOD OF AWFULNESS: Average)

See? You can't even see Mel Gibson's racism and anti-semitism!

See? You can’t even see Mel Gibson’s racism and anti-semitism!

I really enjoyed the James Garner version, even if C. Thomas Howell had some truly awful delivery.  That Partridge Family chick as the mom was sort of wasted, too.  But you do it today with a new, slightly darker edge (which Hollywood loves right now) and have the main character be an Iraq War veteran, and make it some sort of protest about disabled veterans or human-rights abuse cover-ups or Gitmo or something.  Hell, maybe you throw in some drone policy commentary, and you’ve got a fun romp where stuff gets crushed by an M-1 Abrams and we all learn something.  Maybe the lead guy/dad/James Garner is actually doing it for his Iraq Veteran kid.  I can honestly see Mel Gibson in a decent comeback role.  Maybe Harrison Ford.

Megaforce (LIKELIHOOD OF AWFULNESS: High)

See? SUCK IT, CALL OF DUTY!!

See? SUCK IT, CALL OF DUTY!!

Many people have forgotten about (or never heard of) this piece of amazing Hollywood kitsch.  BARRY FUCKING BOSTWICK played the lead.  No, seriously.  Look it up.  (Sidebar: Barry Fucking Bostwick was the never-completed sequel to Witches of Eastwick.) The bald chick from Star Trek: The Motion Picture was in this movie.  Some people thought Chuck Norris was in it, but he was in Delta Force, which was pretty much the same film, but with a better color palette.    I don’t remember the plot too well, but it had a MOTORCYCLE THAT FIRED ROCKETS!!!!  And goddammit, when you are a twelve-year-old boy (and you will be one day) that’s all you need.  A reboot of this flick would be a CGI-Michael Bay thrill ride, and would make the G.I. Joe flicks look sad and out-of-date.  This would be a live-action Team America: World Police.  You could even keep the iconic final credits theme, without seeming ironic.  Seriously, there was a scene in the finale of the original where all the vehicles are streaking across the desert trailing colorful red, white, and blue smoke.  I can’t make this shit up.  Someone MUST remake this movie, if for no other reason than my friend, morning show co-host, and former U.S. Marine Tommy Collins wants it to happen.

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String Theory, Gun Control, and How it All Really Doesn’t Matter

Well, now that right there is a title.  Ain’t it grand? On Facebook I solicited ideas for blog subjects, and my buddy and occasional teammate and verbal sparring-partner Luke gave me that one.  I thought it pretty much summed everything up, so here we are!

But, of course, it does matter.  Not going to delve too much into a discussion about the multiverse, but here’s the thing about time/space: it’s constant and already there.  Imagine a map of the United States, and straight railroad line from New Jersey to California.  The railway itself is time, carrying us towards some future destination.  We see the landscape pass by and that how we perceive or measure time.  But here’s the thing:  just because we leave New Jersey behind (and for good reason.  I KEED!) doesn’t mean it ceases to exist.  It’s still right there, but our train is going full steam ahead.  All the States we pass though are like days, weeks, years that we’ve traveled through.  They still exist, right where we left ‘em.  The trick is getting the train to stop and backing ‘er up.  Is it possible? I think so.  But in order to do that you must lay down some new tracks and leave the old railway behind.  And when you do that, you’ve just created another new set of possibilities.  This happens anyway, every time you make a choice.  Every time you decide to go back to sleep instead of getting up, order Dr. Pepper instead of Coke, watch the rerun of The Jeffersons instead of going for a walk.  There’s an alternate timeline where you kissed your high school crush at that dance instead of chickening out.  And in that reality, you ended up getting married to your crush and having two kids before seeing your marriage fall apart and within that reality there’s also one where you reconcile and end up being married for 60 years and seeing your grandkids go to college.  And one where you murder your true love.  Damn.  Thanks, Luke…you’ve just brought everyone down.  Asshole.  I love you.  (Even though this section really didn’t deal with string theory or gun control.)

He looks so cute when he's all victorious and stuff.

He looks so cute when he’s all victorious and stuff.

Okay, next we have Joe Schultz (whose own idea to crowd-source his blog was the inspiration for this one.)  He says to write about the band Rush.  Dude…did you even read the last paragraph?  Tell me that wasn’t basically the blog version of “Freewill?”  Or maybe “By-Tor and the Snow Dog” since the ORIGINAL story concept had Snow Dog losing.  Plus, By-Tor shows up  in “Caress of Steel” and kills the Necromancer so that the three travelers can escape, which means he’s the hero of the story. See, who knows if he would’ve made that sort of decision if he hadn’t been literally taught a lesson by the defeat at the hands of Snow Dog?

I swear to God, this is one of the top-8 images for "By-Tor" on Google.

I swear to God, this is one of the top-8 images for “By-Tor” on Google.

Jesus, this thing is turning out to be a lot geekier than I had planned.  Okay, how about we hear from a lady?  Kellie wants my thoughts on crispy bacon v. chewy bacon.  Dude.  I don’t know what chewy bacon is all about because I won’t eat the filthy motherfucker.  That shit better not even make it to my plate less’n you wanna feel my PIMP HAND.  (I am 100% legit, folks.  No brag.  Just fact.)

Who the hell would ever even try to market "chewy bacon?" Makes no goddam sense.

Who the hell would ever even try to market “chewy bacon?” Makes no goddam sense.

Brandin’s question is whether “liking” your own status is the same as laughing at your own joke.  It is.  It totally is, and Joe Schultz does it ALL. THE. TIME.  Then again, Joe needs me to explain to him when things are funny.  True story.

This is actually Joe's profile picture.

This is actually Joe’s profile picture.

USMC and Royal Marine air-traffic controller and all-around officer and gentleman Rob (true story: he’s so bad-ass that he’s actually commanded Marines for two different COUNTRIES.  You’ll never be that awesome, so don’t even try) wants to ponder “Crazy dreams about having to pee because your body is trying to wake you up to go before you wet the bed.” This would really be a good question for Dream Analyst Lauri Loewenberg.  It’s hard for me to really speak about with any sort of experience, because I usually just pass out and wake up in a pool of my own piss and blood. Often, upon awakening, I discover that I’m clutching what seems to be some sort of scalp or pelt.  Weird.

Uh-oh! Gotta go potty!

Uh-oh! Gotta go potty!

I also had some more musical suggestions, so I’ll cover them all at once.  Joseph (not Joe Schultz) said to write about how excited I am for the Social Distortion show at Piere’s in Ft. Wayne on June 29th.  Extremely.  I’ve seen them before, but to have a legendary band like that playing in our backyard is so wonderful.  Darryl suggested that I wrote about the differences in various styles of Heavy Metal.  The problem is, I’m really not a big “metal” fan.  I prefer punk.  Or Rush.  Plus, as a guy who’s never really followed the genre, I don’t know whether some things I like actually are considered “metal.”  Five Finger Death Punch certainly seems like metal to me, but is a lot more enjoyable than much of what Drew Cage plays on Bear Metal every Saturday at 10m on 98.9 the Bear and online at 989thebear.com!  Sure, there are several bands I can get behind…old-school stuff like Slayer and cheeseball stuff like Manowar…Atreyu seems pretty rad for a more modern band…but, yeah.  That’s pretty much it.

This. This I know.

This. This I know.

Honorable mentions:  2-ply v. 3-ply toilet paper (see also:  crispy bacon v. chewy bacon), my friends Nick and Shannon getting married, how much fun I had at the last FWDG bout, how I resist the societal pressure to “grow up” and act like a 42-year-old, and the Boston bombings.  Some of these things make me happy, others make me sad, and (other than the toilet paper thing) all deserve more time/space/respect than I can afford at this point.  So, go enjoy the weather and we’ll catch up later, mmmkay?  Thanks!

The Search Continues…

Well, it seems like I’m going to be doing those celebrity blogs more often.  That was fun, and got a decent response!  Thanks, guys!

 

In the meantime, here’s how people have been getting to this blog the last few days. Yesterday’s searches looked like this…

I'll take "things that will blow my fucking mind" for $200, Alex.

I’ll take “things that will blow my fucking mind” for $200, Alex.

Again with the Yar-Yar.  I know that’s probably how they say it in Germany, but…spelling it phonetically?  Weird.  But welcome, Deutschers!

Then, today brought some more interesting searches…

Miss Scotland knows how to party. As if that was ever in doubt.

Miss Scotland knows how to party. As if that was ever in doubt.

I don’t recall ever featuring sexy shagging nuns on this blog, but hey, new pope.  Crazy times in the ol’ Vatican, eh?

Anyway, it doesn’t matter how you found my page.  I’m just glad you did.  Thanks for reading, true believers!

 

 

 

 

Celebri-tastic!

My dear friend and wonderfully successful multi-media darling and Dream Lord (that’s the new title I’ve bestowed upon her by virtue of my standing in the Affiliation of Gilead) Lauri Loewenberg suggested that I do a fake celebrity gossip blog.  Before I launched such an endeavor, I thought I’d try it out first.  You know, take ‘er for a test drive. (The blog concept, not Lauri.  Although, have you seen her?  Dayum.)  Anyway, here goes…

Jackman and Hoffman VERY Hungry!

NEW YORK – With pre-production over, shooting FINALLY began in earnest on the big-budget adaptation of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”  Hugh Jackman, who plays the leading role, told us exactly what drew him to the character:

“Well, he’s a bit of mystery, isn’t he?  I mean, here’s this caterpillar with only one purpose in life.  One purpose that we, the audience, can see.  But then, well, it’s  a bit of a shock at the end, innit?  Crikey!”

The superstars took time out from filming recently to catch a Nicks game!

The superstars took time out from filming recently to catch a Nicks game!

Dustin Hoffman seemed incredibly eager to get to work, even though it meant hours spent in makeup and motion-capture CGI rig.

“It’s wonderful.  Simply wonderful.  This is the first time I’ve gotten the chance to combine two things I’ve never really done before.  I get to literally become a singing leaf through the magic of computer animation, and that’s wonderful!  And I get to indulge myself by singing a few old Negro spirituals. And I can say ‘Negro’ because our peoples have been through so much.  And by ‘our peoples’ I mean, of course, actors and athletes.”

Hoffman went on to say that he was more than excited to put such utter crap as “Mister Magorium’s Wonder Emporium” in the rear-view mirror once and for all.

“I will make a successful kid’s movie.  I WILL. ‘Hook’ was so long ago.  So very long…”  the actor then drifted off, staring into space for a few moments before wiping away a bit of drool and excusing himself.  “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” is scheduled for a Holiday 2014 release.

Pop-Star’s Panties Purloined?  “Pish-Posh” Say Police!

Minaj signs a few autographs before being whisked away by the LAPD.

Minaj signs a few autographs before being whisked away by the LAPD.

LOS ANGELES – Pop diva and possible space alien Nicki Minaj  had a bit of a scare recently. Upon arriving in Hollywood for the taping of American Idol, the superstar was met at LAX by Los Angeles police detectives keen to speak with the musical harpy regarding the supposed theft of a pair of her underpants.

“We just couldn’t believe anyone would do that.  Anyone.  Seriously.  Nobody would do that.  Steal her panties, I mean.” That’s according to Detective Ryan Doheny of the LAPD.  He and other law-enforcement personnel began to doubt the singer’s assertion that her “draws been snatched!” when they figured out that “draws” meant “underpants.”

After a brief interview with police, Minaj was free to go.  Detective Doheny concluded by saying “I seriously don’t know what’s going on.  I mean…what the f*ck?  I need a Tylenol.”

Good luck, officer!

Whedon’s Secret Weapon!

SAN DIEGO – Joss Whedon certainly has a lot on his plate. The Avengers director and Firefly creator seemingly has a dozen irons in the fire, and shows no sign of letting up.  The rumor machine fired into high gear recently when Hollywood insiders hinted that Joss may take over the Star Trek franchise when JJ Abrams begins work on the next batch of Star Wars properties for Disney.  Rumors that gained steam when, ahead of the upcoming Comic-Con in San Diego, Whedon was spotted on the town with a man many refer to as “the guy behind the guy.”

Whedon's mystery man just may be his silent partner...

Whedon’s mystery man just may be his silent partner…

Who is this mystery man?  A possible sleeping Hollywood giant?  A brilliant script doctor?  A talent-spotter extraordinaire?  Or a tubby Trekkie fanboy known only as “Sam?”

The Whedon camp is mum, giving only this cryptic answer to our prodding questions:

“We have no idea who that kid is.  He just shows up.  Joss took a picture with him last year, and now he, well…he just hangs around.  It’s getting sort of annoying”

Hmmm…sounds like someone is trying to throw us off the scent!  that’s fine with us, as long as that Whedonesque magic keeps-a-comin’, even if it really is all thanks to the mysterious “Sam.” (Wink-wink!)

Clutter.

Many years ago, my brother and I used to “jam” in my mom’s basement.  I’d riff some Barre chord punk riffs on my reverse-headstock Aria Pro II, my brother would pluck away on his Fender bass.  We weren’t any good, of course, but that didn’t matter.  It was therapeutic.  Now and then, our buddy Danny would join us. Danny lived up the street and was essentially another brother.  One day we discussed getting an actual punk band together, and what we should call it.  The winning entry, in my opinion, was Danny’s suggestion of “Clutter.”  He said it represented the disorder of our music and the varying styles we would surely incorporate into our live shows and albums.  I thought it was wonderful.  But, as you can’t download our music on iTunes and I’m writing a blog in my spare time instead of banging groupies and dodging rehab, “Clutter” the band never took off.    But that name is still a good one, so I’m using it for this catch-as-catch-can blog entry.  Thanks, Danny!

First up: This…

D'awww! Some Indonesian kid made his own Mushroomhead band member!

D’awww! Some Indonesian kid made his own Mushroomhead band member!

That right there is a little voodoo keychain guy that my Sweet Baby got me on one of her travels because she knows I miss surfing.  She’s a good ol’ gal, that wife of mine.  Anyway, the other day I noticed something horrifying.  Apparently, my little surf guy was a proud member of Hitler’s Waffen SS.  Take a look at the board…

Gott in himmel!

Gott in himmel!

Sure, it’s probably supposed to be a lightning bolt, like the legendary Lightning Bolt surfboards surfed by the likes of Gerry Lopez at places like Pipe.  Probably.  Or maybe this is supposed to be a promotional piece for “Surf Nazis Must Die.”  Either way, I’ll betcha green money that some little Indonesian kid fucked this shit all up.

Speaking of things I didn’t notice at first…the other night was a windy, blustery, snowy one in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.  I sat alone in my loft and fired up the ol’ Netflix, choosing (for the 346th time, I believe) John Carpenter’s amazing, classic, incredible 1982 sci-fi thriller “The Thing.”  (Trust me, there really is no better dead-of-winter movie.  None.)  Anyhow, my friend and fellow blogger Blake (The Beard Gospel, Poptopia Madness, reviewer for Nerdspan, etc.) pointed this particular Easter egg out to me, so I waited eagerly for the last few moments of this film to see it for myself, and…I’ll be goddammed.  I’ve been watching this movie for over thirty years now and never caught it.  Peep this…

“Okay,” you say. “What’s the big deal?”  Here’s the big deal: SPOILER ALERT!!  SCROLL TO THE NEXT BIT IF YOU DON”T WANT TO HAVE A THIRTY-YEAR-OLD MOVIE THAT YOU SHOULD’VE ALREADY SEEN RUINED FOR YOU!!

The big deal is that Childs is The Thing, although technically he could be one of several “Things.”  Did they all get blown up?  Maybe.  MacReady was able to escape, so what if that final creature-combo that looked like a Super Mario Dragon Plant mixed with the worst sort of Greyhound rescue ever at Red Lobster didn’t include Blair?  Or Garry? Nauls?

Back to the point. How do I know that Childs is the creature?  We can’t see his breath.  MacReady’s is steaming and swirling with every word, encircling his head with clouds of cheap scotch-scented respiration.  Childs is in within three feet of MacReady, and yet…nothing.  Nary a wisp. He’s not a real human. He’s waiting to either freeze again so that when the rescue crew comes to the research station, they cart his remains back to the mainland where he will thaw and get into an amazing street fight with Rowdy Roddy Piper over whether or not to put on glasses that let him see (ironically) the alien invaders as they really are…or he straight up kills MacReady and assumes his identity.  (Although my money is on Mac.)

kurt

Remember, when you mess with Mac, you also mess with Snake and Jack. Just fair warning, pard…

Next subject:  Burn Notice.  Yeah, I know. I’m late to the party.  The wife and I basically started watching it this last fall because Netflix.  Boy, is it good.  I don’t know what I expected.  Maybe I figured it’d be a revamped Silk Stalkings or that stupid syndicated show wherein Hulk Hogan drove a powerboat around the Florida panhandle or whatever.
"Terry?" Really? Also: there are three discs in this box. Three. how...how did this come to pass?!

Terry? Terry?!? Okay. What if all this time, the Hulkster was really just Terry Bradshaw with a paste-on Fu-Manchu?!? It would make so much sense…

Anyway, it struck me the other day why I enjoyed it so much (Burn Notice, not that “Terry” Hogan crap.)  The writing is decent, the locale is spectacular (seriously, as long as there is a Miami, there will be crime dramas and such) but it’s really the cast.  Man, what a cast.  It reminds me of Firefly, in that it’s the grand total of all the pieces…that’s what makes this thing shine.  Change one character…say, the mom from Everybody Loves Raymond instead of Sharon Gless…or Tom Selleck as Sam…and the whole thing falls apart.  Sure, characters come and go, and it took about a season before everything gelled so perfectly, but imagine Bruce Boxleitner playing Jayne Cobb.  “Did that almost happen?!?” you shocked fanboys scream, to which I simply whisper back “No.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the Hero of Canton!

Ladies and gentlemen, the Hero of Canton!

But here’s my semi-legitimate fear:  I really hope this show doesn’t end up being like LOST or something.  Seriously, consider this theory that I just came up with:  what if Michael didn’t actually get burned in the pilot episode.  What if he got SHOT?  What if the whole show is either in his mind or in actual purgatory?  That would explain why he has trouble leaving, why he’s surrounded with the only people he’s ever really cared about, and why he’s compelled to help others.  He’s trying to earn his way NOT back into the service of the CIA, but into heaven.  It’s very possible that in the final episode of the series, Michael sacrifices himself for someone else and the show ends with him standing in a bright, white light as the voice of Morgan Freeman welcomes him home.  Or even better, Sam Axe is actually wither God or THE DEVIL!!! Does that make a lick of sense?  No. But tell me it wouldn’t fuck with some heads.
Thanks for reading, all.

Rhyme Time!

Okay, so this is kinda stupid, but I thought I’d share it anyway. My Sweet Baby and I use text-messaging a lot.  A whole lot.  People that have never grasped the benefits of texting have never been at a car lot doing a radio station remote for three hours.  See, in addition to killing time in a non-distracting way, it also makes communication easier and more discreet.  Nobody wants to see a jock (that’s what radio people call themselves) chatting away with a phone to his/her ear for long periods at a time.  And make no mistake:  over-texting and fiddling with your phone still pisses some people right off, so when in a public setting, please…use discretion.

Okay, there’s that.  Now on with the meat of this story.  Heidi (my Sweet Baby) had texted me to see if I would pick up Taco Bell on the way home.  She ended with “Okay?”  I responded with “Okay.”  Then, as they tend to do with silly people, things…escalated.  Here, then, is a screenshot of our first salvo.  Heidi is in yellow, I’m blue.

So it begins...

So it begins…

See what’s happening?  She starts by rhyming with “okay.”  Then I return fire. And keep going…

There it is. She dropped the "gay" bomb. It was so on...

There it is. She dropped the “gay” bomb. It was so on…

There really aren’t any rules.  It’s all free-association, and borderline rhymes still count.  (Much like when Shaquille O’Neal tries to rap.)  Heidi started getting momentum.

Too far? TOO FAR?!?! THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS "TOO FAR!"

Too far? TOO FAR?!?! THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS “TOO FAR!”

Pleased with herself, she continued to press…but I had an ace up my sleeve.

"HA!" INDEED!

“HA!” INDEED!

See that?  Todich, Ray?  That’s a reference to our friend Ray.  His last name is “Todich.”  See what I did there?  Yeah. It was a masterstroke, and my Sweet Baby doffed her hat and knelt in my direction.  BUT WAIT…like the Terminator, Jason Vorhees, and Michael Myers, Heidi stood back up for one last scare.

So you know, her kids are my kids, too. Just wanted to clarify that.

So you know, her kids are my kids, too. Just wanted to clarify that.

Every. Day. In. May.  Boo-ya.  Game, set, match. Natch. I’d offer a light, but I don’t have a match.  Too much thatch.  GOD HELP ME I CAN’T STOP!! Pumpkin patch. Down the hatch.  SOMEONE HELP!! Flip the latch.  Nice catch!  GAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

Everything’s Cool.

I was going to call this post “Everything’s Cool, and That Ain’t Cool” or steal from Pearl Jam and say “Everything Has Changed; Absolutely Nothing’s Changed.”  But there’s really not a whole lot of negative to my thoughts on this subject, so I figured I’d leave it with the simple, hopeful, calming “Everything’s Cool.”  Because it is.  Literally.

There was an article earlier this year in Vanity Fair that basically said that stylistically we’re exactly the same as we were in 1992…twenty years ago.  The article points out that the styles of 1952 were vastly different from those of 1962, and those were different from 1972, and all of ‘em were nothing like the fashions of 1982, and so on.  Basically, every ten years there’s a new way of doing things, and from car designs to clothing to music. There’s a big change with each passing decade.

Except, you know, Steve Jobs.

Not anymore.  According to the article, we’re stuck in a stylistic wormhole, reliving the same things for twenty years.  My initial reaction to this reality is:  Um…so?

In this very blog I’ve mentioned how cool it is that I can, in this 21st century, elect to wear a wide-brimmed Fedora and listen to Operation Ivy on my way home from seeing “The Avengers” in IMAX to play Black Ops II on my HD television before switching over to TCM and watching “Invasion of the Saucer Men” or settling in for a night of Star Trek (the original series) on Netflix or reading The Dark Tower.  I mean, I can literally do whatever I want from whichever time I choose.  Music, books, movies, television, fashion…all mediums and all genres and all styles and so on have been archived so well over the ages that we now have the sum of EVERYTHING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED at our fingertips.  That’s very powerful.  I can pick up a Nook or an iPad or whatever and read Chaucer or George R.R. Martin.  I can look at sketches and read translations from Copernicus or “A Brief History of Time” by Hawking.  That is so incredible.

Or hell, combine the two! Save time!

As for fashion, I’ve kind of developed the following philosophy regarding trends in fashion:  FUCK FASHION.  Have I been caught up in one trend or another over the years?  Sure.  And anyone who says otherwise is lying.  I rocked a blazer with a t-shirt during the early-2000′s.  But you know what I realized?  I also rocked that look in the early-90′s.  I was too young to really rock a blazer in the 80′s, when that seemed like the thing to do (thanks, Miami Vice!) but I’m sure I would’ve.  Also, that style combo wasn’t born in the 80′s anyway.  You know who started the shirt-sans-tie/blazer combo?  Jed fucking CLAMPETT, that’s who.

Well, I reckon it ain’t lupus! Can’t rightly figure what in tarnation it is, though.

I love this outlook in current trendy fashion.  Quick:  what’s the popular male hairstyle called these days?  Is it the high-top fade? The buzz-cut? The side part? The pomp? The shag? I’ve seen every one of those at the mall in the last few months.  What the hell is that mullet-shaven-skater cut that Skrillex is rocking?  Who knows?  More importantly, WHO CARES?!? Hell, I’ll make the question easier:  what’s the trendy female hair style?  Or hair color?  The bob?  The pixie?  The Rachel? (remember that?  Everyone wanted hair like the characters on Friends!)  In a world where Miley Cyrus goes with a near-buzz cut and one out of every four chicks sports either that bright fuchsia color (sometimes just highlights) or wears shiny blue extensions, I suppose anything goes here, too.  Katy Perry wears blue or pink wigs. Rockabilly chicks sport sleeve tattoos and Bettie Page ‘dos. The Katniss braid shows up here and there.  Short, sexy, sassy haircuts mingle with luxurious manes of auburn curls.  It’s literally all good, and it seems that for once (I am an outsider here, so forgive my naiveté) women are genuinely excited to see/meet someone with a strikingly different hair style than their own.  “Oh my GOD!!  I love you hair!!  Who does it?!?”  seems to have replaced “Uh, the 80′s called and they want their bangs back.” That’s so nice.

Just…so much…HAIR…

Sometimes I wear a suit.  Like, a real suit and a tie.  Sometimes I wear shorts and a hockey jersey (sidebar:  nobody cares about you anymore, NHL.  Not many people did before, but now?  Forget it.  You’ve effectively fucked yourself after an amazing playoffs including a first-ever Stanley Cup awarded to a team in the SECOND-LARGEST TELEVISION MARKET IN THE UNITED STATES!  Good job, assholes.  You all suck.  Owners, players, etc.)  Sometimes I wear a “Portal” t-shirt and some jeans.  Now and then, a baby-blue guayabera shirt and some linen pants.  And any time I wear one of these wardrobes in public, it’s like I don’t even get a second glance.  I love second glances, because I crave attention. It’s becoming harder and harder for me to glean that oh-so-wonderful attention simply based on my clothing alone.  Now I must stand in the middle of the Glenbrook Mall food court wearing nothing but an old Chick-Fil-A napkin that I’ve poked a hole in with my pecker (see, the napkin is impaled on my business) and a beaver-skin hat that I’ve set on fire before anyone even nods knowingly at me, like they’re in on some sort of joke.  I must essentially be a one-man flash mob these days.  It’s too much work.  And the reason for that is that anything goes.  Really.  Literally. Anything. Wife-beater-wearing women, utilikilt sporting fellas, old-school Mod Cloth dresses and slinky tube skirts.  Flat-brimmed caps with the sticker on ‘em and tweed newsboy caps.  High-top Chuck Taylors, black Doc Martens, leather flip-flops, two-tone wingtips, alligator skin stiletto heels. Faded blue denim jackets, Hurley hoodies, Dickies work jackets, stoner-riffic bajas. Flannel shirts, athletic-fit moisture-wicking polos, pearl-snap western shirts.  All of it.  It’s all good.  Some of it has changed very little in the last twenty years.  Some of it hasn’t changed at all in fifty years.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.

Sigh. It’s not a chihuahua skirt, goddammit!!

Except, of course, for one tiny little issue.  The idea that maybe, just maybe…the reason that anything goes right now is that, well…there just aren’t any more ideas.  Nothing new.  We’ve reached the end, and so now we just recycle everything that’s already come to pass.
This theory is supported, of course, by looking at our popular entertainment choices.  Hollywood is staggeringly bad, simply re-hashing or re-booting old films instead of offering original, entertaining fare.  Another option, of course, is taking old television shows and making them into movies.  Then again, looking at the television itself and seeing recycled shows like “Hawaii 5-0″ and “Dallas” and you realize that we are indeed pretty much done giving a shit.  Musically, things are as bad as they were in the woeful 1985-1991 time period, when the likes of Foreigner and Boston walked the Earth side-by-side with atrocious crap like Every Hair Metal Band.  At least then we felt like something was coming.  Something new and slightly dangerous was bubbling up and threatening to upset the entire music industry.  I just wish I believed that something like the Grunge Revolution was going to happen again.  ‘Cause I’ll tell y’all right now, the answer ain’t dubstep.

This image speaks for itself.

In the meantime, I suppose I’ll just have to make do. I’ll avoid the Red Dawn remake like the plague, but revel in the fact that my black leather Brando-style motorcycle jacket will always be cool.  Unlike Crocs and Affliction shirts.  Seriously, that crap is stupid.  Stop it.

Mean Old Ladies, etc.

Oh my God, an old lady was in our office yesterday and she wanted my soul.  She was a soul-eater.  I think.  I’m not really sure.  All I know is that I was leaving the restroom, on my way back to the studio, and GAH!!  There she stood, near one of the unoccupied desks that the sales weasels use/used.

Like this, only less “smiley.”

The desks are mostly unused because they’re moving us all down to another building, see.  The radio station I work for, 98.9 the Bear is owned by a company that holds several radio properties in Ft. Wayne.  Finally, after about twenty years or so, somebody got the great idea to move us all in to the same building.  Cut overhead costs, etc.  One of the hiccups that I foresee is the fact that all of the 98.9 the Bear staff are roughnecks.   No, really.  I know that radio rock jock assholes all try to act like a bunch of bad-asses and hard-charging partiers, but the fact is that this crew is loud, obnoxious, literally filthy, and has little or no sense of decorum or self-control.  They’re going to add us to the mix that includes female-friendly country juggernaut K-105 , female and family friendly Adult Contemporary WMEE, and conservative news-talk WOWO.  I’m stocking up on booze, whoopee cushions, fake blood and vomit, giant rubber dongs, and some anarchist propaganda posters and literature. We’re going to FORCE these motherfuckers to get down with us.

Awwwwwww, shit! Look at these booty-slammin’ crunk-ass mothafuckas right here!!

The only hitch in this plan, of course, is the Mean Old Lady.  It turns out that she works in the South Building.  The same building we’re going to be relocated-to. God damn it, Mean Old Lady is going to be my Nurse Ratched…my Richard Vernon…my Dean Wormer…a nemesis to be overcome and/or destroyed.

Then again, she might just eat my soul.  And flesh.  Oh, she probably loves eating human flesh.  It’s the only thing that sustains her.  She’s probably a thousand years old, and continues to exist simply through force of will and the consumption of human flesh and the wails of infants as she passes by in the night, her long, spindly shadow washing over their cribs like a cold terror…

Wow…I found an image of a crib that is actually scarier than the Mean Old Lady. Thanks, internet!

Anyway, that’s what’s going on in my world.  At least, that’s what’s going on when I’m not doing the Sloppy Swish. I also sometimes try to respond to stuff here and on Facebook.  One young man asked me recently how I got my hair to be so goddam awesome and good-looking.  (Okay, so that’s not an EXACT quote.)  I steered that young ‘un over to Jan Hella at The Rebel Rouser (I still need a bumper-sticker, Jan…hint-hint…) for more tips and vids on how to rock a decent pomp and such, but here’s Uncle Turner’s go-to formula:  start with mostly-dry hair, get yourself some Murray’s or Dax Wave and Groom.  Getcha a dab/scoop a couple fingers’ worth, rub it between your palms until it’s melty smooth, and work it through your hair.  THEN…and this part is muy importante…add a dab or so of either Tres Flores brilliantine or Royal Crown hair dressing. Smooth it through just like the Murray’s/Dax.  This does two things:  it softens the sticky pomade and also adds shine.  It seems like most pomades have an inversely proportionate hold/shine ratio.  The shinier it is, the less holding power and vice versa.  You can use Murray’s to pile that hair to the goddam sky…but it’ll be dull and matte-finished.  You want a little shine.  Trust me.  OTHERWISE YOU BE ACKIN’ DA FOO’!!  (I have not idea where that came from.  Apologies.)  You’ll know you’re doing it right if your hands are a sticky, greasy mess after doing up your ‘do.  Y’done good, son.

The shiny, perfect hair of Jan Hella.

Final thought:  I’m giving serious thought to sporting a mohawk for the holiday season.  A real one, not that fake David Beckham circa 2000 faux-hawk crap.  Shaven sides.  Stiff strip of inch-wide hair jutting proudly.  I made a joke about it, and my friend/coworker Drew Cage said “Dude!  You hafta do it green!”  I laughed and made the remark that I would consider doing it, but alas, I am a 42-year-old man.  An old guy.  A husband and father.  A responsible adult.

“That’s exactly why you should do it,” he replied.

Goddammit.

So…that happened.

It’s Friday, November 9th.  Last night, apparently, I went on a bit of a Twitter binge.  This usually happens when I watch the NHL playoffs (which may or may not happen next spring.  Don’t get me started) or U.S. Presidential Election-related stuff like debates or election-night coverage (which is thankfully over for another four years) or the Walking Dead.  Another time this phenomenon occurs is when I partake of some manner of booze.  Usually, the booze is simply a catalyst, acting in conjunction with the other events I’ve mentioned.  Sometimes, however…well, the booze just unlocks the crazy, and I take to Twitter to try to infect everyone that follows me.  Here, then, are some highlights from last evening’s Twitsplosion…

Okay, see that Tweet at the bottom? The one about the mayonnaise? Yeah, that’s how it all started. Also, there is a reference in there to me changing my avatar.  The old one looked like the offspring of The Governor and Wil Wheaton.  I changed it to the one you see now.  It’s more…me. you’ll also note some response from @WoMarty. That guy is my boss, BTW.  Good chap.

Some more responses.  Hey, great!  People are paying attention!  TO ME!! I LOVE ATTENTION!!!

The pic that I failed to expand in this screenshot is of me drinking Scotch.  Okay, we get it.  Turner likes Scotch.  Also, this marks the second time in this blog entry I’ve mentioned Wil Wheaton.  I long ago unfollowed Wil because he went on and on about the Big Bang Theory, a show he makes frequent guest-appearances on.  You may recall that I am not what you’d call a “huge fan” of that show.  Since then I’ve begun following him again, in part because he is sometimes the polar opposite of Adam Baldwin.  Adam and I used to get into spirited political discussions.  One night I gave him a royal beating in a debate we were carrying on via Twitter and the sumbitch blocked me. That’s how you know you’ve won the argument.  The other person takes their ball and goes home.

Apparently, when I drunk Tweet two things happen:  I forget how to spell and I start obsessing about body parts.  Okay, good.  Also, @jan31875 followed me, and it made me happy (I don’t know who that is, BTW.)

More interaction: @ajmotia (a lovely young lady whose last name is pronounced “mo-TEE-ya”) makes a joke about my old avatar.  Ha.  Then @RMRacing19 chimes in with concerns for my wife’s safety.  Russ is a lcoal Komet hockey fixture, NASCAR fan, and race care driver.  I will fucking END HIM if he doesn’t watch it.

I have deliberately left the conversation between myself and my old friend @brettyrocks hidden from your sight.  See, Brett is a big ol’ dirty, stinky hippie.  He’s also gay as they get.  I love Brett because he once wore his “100% Negro” shirt to work when Reverend Al Sharpton came to visit when we both worked at the alternative station 99X in New Bern, NC.  Oh, by the way…Brett is also very white. True story.  The suits were nervous about the non-PC shirt and Sharpton’s reaction to it, but to everyone’s surprise the good reverend absolutely loved it and even posed with  Brett for a picture.  Last night, however, Brett was describing sexual acts with gentlemen, and while I am all for guy-on-guy or girl-on-girl (okay, mainly girl-on-girl) action, I’m treating his Tweets as the language of Mordor and will not utter them here.  One more to wrap it up…

The guy named Sneed was a consultant when I worked in NC.  He was the mentor of my sworn enemy, so, yeah.  And that’s my foot.  I think I blacked out after that one.  I Tweeted a few pics last night, and one of them was of me eating my kitty cat, Keyser.  My good friend (and sometime drummer for the rock band Rains) @TheJoeSchultz reminded me that he, in fact, had posted a similar pic long before I did.  Giving credit where credit is due:

And finally, my boy @TikiBoundRay tried to unravel the mystery of the strange Tweets coming from my account…

Quite a detective, that guy.

Upon Further Review: Big Bang Theory One Year Later

The week of September 23rd-29th marks the one-year anniversary of this blog post of mine.  People have viewed this particular entry almost 8,000 times over the past year.  By the end of this anniversary week it will exceed the 8,000 mark and by the end of the year have over 10,000 visits by curious fans and detractors of the popular show.  Yay, good for me, right?

Pictured: My biggest fan.

So, the wife and I were sat on our couch watching the Primetime Emmys this past Sunday.  TBBT was nominated for several Emmys, including “Outstanding Comedy Series.”  It did not win any Emmys this year.  (The series has won a couple of trophies over the years, both of which went to Jim Parsons for his portrayal of Dr. Sheldon Cooper.)  I decided to go back and revisit my original anti-Big Bang Theory rant and discovered that while I stick by my original assessments and conclusions, I was sort of dickish about it. No, really. Also, while I realize that I have very far to go before I could ever consider doing this as a full-time job, it seems that my writing has gradually increased in quality over the past year.  Good for me. Also, good for anyone who reads this stuff. (Thank you, by the way.)

I tend to be a positive person, so just blasting a show and the parties involved with the production of said show is not only shitty, but counter-productive. See, I really WANT to like this show.  There are so very few good geek-related television programs on prime-time and most of those are on cable.  I therefore  decided to dig in and see if this whole mess can be fixed.  I think it can.  I really do. Here are some suggestions for improvement, in no particular order:

Fixed! Now, on to the economy…

Turn the Whole Thing Over to Joss Whedon

I know it’s a stretch, esp. with a new SHIELD series in development and Avengers 2 and so on, but Mr. Whedon has such a great knack for managing and balancing an ensemble cast that I think this would be a perfect marriage.  Plus, considering how much of the interaction of the BBT characters, esp. Sheldon, revolves around sci-fi and fantasy, um…that’s all Whedon friggin DOES, people!  Sure he’s capable of more, but this is his strong suit. The banter would be intense, smart, and hilarious.  Of course, the current dialogue would be helped tremendously if they’d do this one simple thing…

ZOMG!!! Joss’s Shadow!! That means he’s totally putting THE VISION IN AVENGERS 2!!!

Lose the Goddam LAUGH TRACK

“But you’re WRONG!” the fanboys scream. “There IS NO LAUGH TRACK!! It’s a live studio audience!”  Okay, I’ll give you the “studio audience” and raise you “Sweetening.”  This is the process of adding canned laughter on top of a studio audience, especially when the jokes are falling flat.  See, they go through the trouble of setting, lighting, and performing the episode.  Everything goes smoothly, all the marks are hit, there are no line flubs…perfect execution. Except on any particular night the audience just isn’t feeling it.  Rather than scrap the whole thing, they just throw in some pre-recorded laffs and bingo!  Or should I say “BAZINGA!!”  This has been going on since the dawn of television (and, honestly, radio), when shows weren’t recorded in front of a live audience to be aired at a later date; rather, they did that shit LIVE without a net.  If Perry Como or Sid Caesar had a listless audience, they’d “sweeten” things with pre-recorded sound effects.  The home viewing audience was none the wiser. Read more about it here.  And I understand the need for this bit of subterfuge, except when I don’t.  Scooby Doo added a laugh track.  Because reasons.  The Big Bang Theory does it, too, and most of the time it’s WAAAAAYYYYYY too much.  Check out the following clip.  It’s a scene from the show with the laugh track removed.  Because of this, it’s also faster-paced.  Watch it, and I’ll tell you what it reminds me of after.  Okay, GO!!

Okay, you know what?  That scene isn’t terrible.  And you know what else it reminds me of?  Kevin Fucking Smith.  Seriously, that could easily be an outtake from Mallrats or Chasing Amy.  Perfect? No.  Far from it. But so much better. Which brings up another suggestion…

Back when Stan the Man made cameos in non-Marvel projects.

Turn the Whole Thing Over to Kevin Smith

Hey, if Joss isn’t available, let Kevin try his hand at a mainstream network comedy.  Sure, he’s kind of hit-or-miss…but his knowledge (and experience) with the world of comics and sci-fi is pretty damn good.  And his dialogue concerning such subjects is rapid-fire brilliant at the best of times and smarmy other times.  In other words, a perfect fit.

Pictured: NOT a perfect fit.

Add a Full-time Female Foil

Penny is on the show as the everyman analog. She’s the majority of the viewers: a basic grasp of science and nerdity, but not immersed in it. She also fills the position that Spock and Data filled on Star Trek.  She’s an outsider, commenting on the human condition.  Okay, maybe that’s a stretch.  But the sexual tension-eye candy aspect of her character is wearing a bit thin.  How about you cast Felicia Day as a new neighbor?  Maybe she’s a librarian or something, adding some more literature-based nerdity to the show?  Felicia would have another purpose:  a tongue-in-cheek nod to all the REAL geeks out there.  Or how about Adrianne Curry as a professional cosplay girl?  One that dresses up as video game and comic book characters without a full-on grasp of the source material?  Whatever.  The point is, make Penny WORK to be the object of affection.  Maybe she’d realize how much she really does have in common with the guys?  It couldn’t hurt to add a new character or two.

Back when Stan the Man was…he, uh…what were we talking about?

Now, all these are long-term fixes, but I had a few one-off suggestions…

The Mirror Universe

Star Trek has done this several times, never better than the episode Mirror, Mirror form the original series.  In that episode, Kirk, Scotty, McCoy, and Uhura travel to a dimension exactly like ours, only in THAT universe the Federation has been replaced by the warlike Terran Federation and everyone is cruel and mean.  Spock even has a goatee, so you just KNOW he’s a badass.  Why not have some fun and have the Big Bang fellas find their way to Bizzaro World or somesuch.  Sheldon could be the captain of the lacrosse team at the local Community College.  Penny could be the lesbian astrophysicist astronaut and so on.  It would also open the door for full-on sexual relations and stuff.  Despite my disdain for the show itself, I have always thought very highly of the cast, and would love to see them really chew the scenery in some new situations that wouldn’t otherwise work.

See? The fanboys are already on this shit!

Time Travel

Another tried-and-true science fiction gimmick that would make sense due to the quantum-physics nature of the discussions and jokes on the show.  (Same would hold true for the Mirror Universe storyline.)  The fellows either go forward to see how their lives turn out or backwards to see themselves in the 80′s.   Again, you could explore the characters themselves and even add some humanity!  Romance!  Action!  Quantum entanglement and string theory!  WIN!

Or you could do it THIS way, I suppose…

Guest Directors/Writers

I mentioned turning the whole thing over to Joss Whedon and/or Kevin Smith earlier.  But realistically, this ain’t gonna happen.  But what if guys like that did guest spots?  What if J.J. Abrams wrote and directed an episode?  Quentin Tarantino directed an episode of E.R. once and it was awesome.  Why not?  There are guest stars on television programs all the time.  Throw in some writing and directing superstars and pump some life into this baby.

Sometimes the interwebs align themselves perfectly for the purposes of this blog.

So there you go, Hollywood.  Make some of this happen, or even just make a concerted effort to drag what could be a great show up out of the easy-joke, laugh-tracked abyss, and I’ll give it another chance.  I’m counting on you. You’re our only hope for this sitcom to live long and prosper. (See what I did there?)