No movie today, officially wrapping up the 13 Days of Terror or whatever the hell this special feature was called. The End.
I took Elliot trick or treating last night. The chamber of commerce got its businesses to sponsor booths in the park, so you basically just hopped from station to station getting handouts. We got some good loot. Elliot was Batman.
The milfs were out in force last night, as well, lugging around their spawn. Friendswood has pretty much one of the highest milf concentrations of anywhere that I've ever been. This phenomenon is easily explained by the fact that its median income is well above the state average. True, it's not quite the level of a Collin or Fort Bend county, but it's still sufficiently high enough to prove the old axiom, "Money begets hotness."
Places to go milf spotting:
Target. Bonus points for this one, because it boasts a generous level of younger aged hotness, also.
HEB. And Kroeger, to a certain extent, but HEB is the king. Because sustenance is a constant requisite of her spawn, the milf spends many an hour on weekly grocery shopping.
Westwood Elementary School. At about 2:30 PM when school is letting out, there are hordes of them here, waiting to pick up their spawn. They're like a fleet of hot soccer moms in their pimped out SUVs.
On the Street. When you're driving on the street, and you see a Suburban/Navigator/Excursion or other ridiculously oversized motor vehicle, there is a 98.3% chance that a milf is driving it. If you notice that it has a DVD player in it, the chances inrease to 100%. A milf's #2 status symbol is her vehicle. #1 are her spawn's wardrobes.
I was sitting around outside yesterday, watching Elliot run around in circles, when I felt a sting on my arm. It felt like a wasp sting. Minute by minute, the pain intensified, and the affected area got super swollen. I found the culprit on the ground nearby:
Okay, that's not really the one that got me, but it's definitely one of his brothers.
It's called an asp, and it's a motherfucker. Hidden in its hair are little spines that it uses to release some sort of toxin. Within about half an hour after I was stung, my entire arm, up to and including my armpit, was throbbing. Today, the point of contact looks like a little purple hickey, and it's stil painful to the touch.
The moral of the story: if you see this guy, fucking step on him.
Day 12: In which Father Damien gets his groove back
To me, The Exorcist is a real standout. Maybe it's that in standard horror fare, the concepts of good/evil, or God/Satan are non-existent.
It drives me crazy when films don't even address the possibility that a higher power could help them out of whatever situation they're in. I think the argument is that appealing to God is too much of an easy out - the "If God is for us, who can be against us?" kind of thing - but I think that The Exorcist serves as a prefect counter-example to that line of reasoning. Conceding that ultimate power exists does not necessarily eliminate interesting and realistic conflict.
Days 10 & 11: Pet Sematary and Night of the Living Dead
I think Richard hates me.
I just watched Julius Jones run for the lead-taking touchdown and suddenly remembered that I have two movies to write about before tomorrow. Pet Sematary has the best story of any that I've watched during this whole thing. Production value is kinda 1989 shitty, but damn, Stephen King has some great ideas.
Night of the Living Dead is what it is: a low budget, genre defining classic. Find my previous post on Romero somewhere in the archives. Also, if you buy this movie, make sure you get the EE Millenium Edition. There's an Anchor Bay release out there that's re-cut and includes some extra footage. I rented it once in high school; it's ass.
Free fantasy football advice.
Romo's two favorite receivers: T.O. and Jason Witten. I think they've been thrown to 34 times now. Each. Pick them up.
Day 9: In which Freddy the Phallus comes... for you!
Just about all of the movies I am doing I have seen several times each, but mostly during childhood or high school. I'm amazed at how much my perception has changed, and the different things I am picking up on now as I re-visit them. Witness: Nightmare.
A Nightmare on Elm Street. Wes Craven's intention was for this to be a self-contained horror film; he did not foresee any sequels. As such, we shouldn't lump this one into the same category of movies that we do its campy, self-aware, future brethren. Its thematic content should actually be taken seriously. Snicker, snicker.
Here's the lowdown. Fred the child molestor-murderer is dead, burned to death at the hands of vengeful parents. No longer able to physically rape children in the conventional manner, he must now force himself upon them in their subconscious (the dream state) in order to "penetrate" the real world (and their flesh).
Okay, so maybe this Freudian mess shouldn't be taken too seriously. The film ends up being a smorgasbord of phallic imagery, made to look almost silly in its overtness. Take Freddy's clawed glove, for instance. With it, his ability to subdue his prey is stronger, and he can penetrate to deathly painful depths. As he says in reference to it, "THIS is god!" But the most overt sexual reference made to it comes during the bathtub scene, in which it is literally erected between Nancy's legs, claws fully extended. One, two, Freddy's coming for you... indeed.
Other imagery: A dream with dead and bloody Tina wrapped in a body condom. Her boyfriend being lynched with a dick-shaped sheet. Johnny Depp's death "coming" as a geyser-like eruption of blood as he sinks into a womb-like hole in his bed. Freddy cutting off his own fingers and watching them ejaculate. Father/mother tension and relationship disorders.
Contrast Freddy to Jason here. Jason can be seen as the conduit of moral justice: sleep around, and you will die. Fred is more the demon of anti-sex. In life, he raped (removing all pleasure from the act), and in his current undead state he is able to attack the subconscious, the root of all sexual desire. Now, I don't know what the fuck all that's supposed to mean or signify, I'm just throwing it out there as what I picked up on. Who's a psych major around here?
All the psychobabble aside, Nightmare really isn't even that scary. The story is so far out there that it's almost impossible to relate to, or take to heart. Oh fuck, I better not sleep tonight, or Freddy might kill me in my dreams. Give me a fucking break. Of course, this in no way minimizes its cultural impact, as this is the film in which Wes Craven officially gave Freddy Krueger to the world.
After watching the pilot episode of "Studio 60" a few weeks back, I was kinda excited about seeing where it would go. Unfortunately, each new episode has gotten progressively worse. Last night I tried to watch Monday's, but I couldn't even finish it, nor did I care to. There's only so much preachiness and elitism that can be forced down your throat before the gag reflex kicks in and you puke.
I don't want to waste too much time talking about this show, because it's not really worth wasting brain power on, but allow me to point out but one small example of what makes me sick when I watch it. I speak of the scene in which Simon (D.L. Hughley) bemoans and espews hatred toward a black comedian for relying on what he believes is lowest common denominator comedy: the white people vs. black people schtick.
Interesting. I guess Sorkin never saw The Original Kings of Comedy (or any of Hughley's standup for that matter), and is hoping that none of his elitist target audience has, either. Unfortunately for him, some of us HAVE seen it, and can therefore appreciate the best joke that Studio 60 has (unintentionally) told up to this point in its pathetic existence.
Psycho - Hitchcock's first horror foray, and his finest.
There is sooooo much to say about this film that I don't know where to begin. It serves as a reminder that film can be just as rich and substantial a medium as literature. Hitchcock establishes so many of the modern horror archetypes that he practically re-invents the genre. The technical work is almost unparallelled. I think it's safe to say that this is the absolute best horror film of all time.
Again, any attempt at worthless little blurb of an analysis of Psycho wouldn't even scratch the surface of this film's worth, so I'll just invite you to re-visit as soon as you get a chance. It's a modern masterpiece.
"Carol Anne! Mommy's here, baby!" Yeah, that doesn't get really old, really quickly.
Whereas The Shining is a haunted house story that terrifies, Poltergeist is a haunted house story that entertains. Tobe Hooper gets the directing credit, but Spielberg's influence is obvious (he wrote the story/screenplay, was the producer, and did some of the editing). It follows the basic Spielberg pattern: introduction to the daily lives of the main characters, rise and defeat of the monster/antagonistic force, and a tidy resolution in which the family remains intact. Of course, we are treated to a good measure of awe and wonder along the way, courtesy the special effects department. [Others that follow the pattern: Jurassic Park, Jaws, War of the Worlds, E.T., etc.]
If there is only one thing to be said about Poltergeist, it's that it is definitely entertaining. Said special effects may be archaic, but they also carry a certain novelty and charm. The movie is also sufficiently chilling at times, featuring what is possibly the creepiest closet monster of all time. Social commentary is kept to a minimum (it's a real stretch to say that this film speaks to the evils of suburbanization or excessive TV watching), and there is light-hearted humor sprinkled throughout to keep things from getting too serious.
When it's all said and done, we're left with a fun, well-produced romp that stands the test of time. This is "family" horror, if there is such a thing. Way to go, Spielberg.
Day 5: In which all work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy
The Shining is the first of two Stephen King adaptations I plan on covering here. It's almost not fair - with source material like this, how can you NOT make a good movie? Oh yeah, it's called Dreamcatcher.
To be fair, Kubrick's Shining deviates substantially from the novel, so we should be careful not to give too much credit to the source (that may be one of the stupidest soundest things I've ever said.) There's already a shitload of material out there that analyzes its thematic content, so I want to focus on the pure horror aspect of it.
What is most impressive to me about this film is the way that Kubrick is able to sustain such an overwhelming sense of dread for 145 straight minutes. It's fucking relentless. From the opening scene - hell, from the rolling of the credits - you can feel it in your bones: absolutely nothing pleasant is going to happen, and this is all going to end very, very poorly. Early scenes like the family driving in the car to the hotel give us no more than a whiff of just how nasty Jack is going to turn out to be, and leave us tense and uneasy through the middle of the film as we expect him to snap at any moment.
Something that is very effective is little Danny. Every time he's on screen, every feeling of dread we have is compounded exponentially. This is not insignificant, as the kid's got a good chunk of screen time. There's just something sickening about a little kid who is at the mercy of "shining" with a frakkin' haunted house, and who lives in paralyzing fear of his father. By the time we get to the REDRUM/MURDER scene, our dread is converted to outright terror. I've seen this movie maybe 7 or 8 times, and last night I was STILL frightened to the point of barely breathing during that part.
And that's pretty much why I enjoy this film so much. It's a thrill, but in no way a cheap one. Kubrick is masterful at painting an oppressive, claustrophobic, and terrifying atmosphere in a movie about a house that's as expansive as they come. Rock and roll.
Days 3 & 4: In which Jeff Goldbloom gets a makeover, and Leatherface is born
God did not intend for blogging to occur during weekends, so I'm going to be combining the weekend posts into one-shot quickies.
In David Cronenberg's The Fly, Jeff Goldbloom is introduced to "the flesh" by Gina Davis, and subsesquently transformed into a giant, walking, pus-oozing scab. Draw your own conclusions. This movie rocks the fucking house.
Twelve years prior to its release, in 1974, Tobe Hooper was working on a little low budget job called The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Shot in the Austin area (Leander, I think?) and produced for less than nothing, this film pretty much invented the "slasher" subgenre. How's that for cultural significance? Last night was the first time I had watched it in several years, and holy FUCK it holds up just as strong as ever. The "grandpa" scene - shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!
So it was a good weekend of horror, now let's hope this week's flicks hold up equally well.
Somebody made a youtube greatest hits. Say so long to all the free music videos, and revel in the greatness of fred durst, funtwo, and the fighting cats.
Day 2: In which the brutality of man is made manifest
Wes Craven made his directorial debut with The Last House on the Left. Though it didn't have the overall impact of his future Nightmare or Scream franchises, it has managed to stand the test of time as an early example of the "torture" subgenre of horror.
Story: Two teenage girls from subarban New York go to the city for a night to attend a concert. Trying to score some dank before the show, they have a run in with a pair of escaped convicts, who turn out to be psychopathic. The girls are submitted to rape, torture, terrorization - the usual fare - and are eventually killed. Coincidentally, the next stop the killers make is at one of the girls' houses, where they are found out by the parents, and murdered in revenge.
I have mixed feelings about this one. For one thing, I've never really been a huge fan of the "torture" subgenre in the first place; I just don't find the deranged, sadistic psychopath thing to be that interesting. (Recent films that fall into this category: Saw, Hostel.) Also, Cravens frequently and abruptly cuts scenes from brutal torture of the girls to the parents really hamming it up and having a good time. I understand the juxtaposition, but I don't think it works particularly well - maybe it's just that it's too obvious to be satisfying as a literary device.
I will say that TLHOTL definitely pushes the envelope for 1972. Nudity of what are supposed to be seventeen year old girls, their forced mutual rape, forcing one girl to piss herself, and an unforgettable blow job scene are just a few of the highlights, if you want to call them that. However, these things turn out to be problematic to the film as a whole, as they detract heavily from any impending sense of doom. When the girls are finally offed, it's basically putting them out of their misery. We don't feel any worse for them, or hate the antagonists any more by that point. Because everything has been one episode of shock after another, death seems like the least interesting thing that could possibly happen.
The unexpected does occur at the end, when the parents are afforded their revenge. Maybe that makes this a cautionary tale on two different levels, I don't really know. On second thought, fuck that. The more I think think about it, the more superficial this film gets. Absolutely no moral can be sifted out from this mess. Yeah, violence is ugly, but it's also almost never a "FOR THE FUN OF IT" act. This is exploitative, but not in a good way, like Cannibal Holocaust et al. This is emotionally exploitative.
Yesterday, the Houston City Council voted 13-2 to extend its indoor smoking ban to virtually all bars.
Fuck that shit.
Fuuuuuuuuuuck thaaaaaaaaaaat shiiiiiiit.
You don't want to smell like an ashtray when you get home at 2:30 in the damn morning? Grow a pair, you fucking pussy. Unless you're sleeping in your fucking clothes, what the fuck does it matter? Besides, that girl you wanna take home and fuck is drunk enough that she doesn't give a rat's fucking ass what the shit you smell like. Fuckface.
Oh, what's that? You're tired of breathing in the toxic fumes of my secondhand smoke? Newsflash, asshole: you live in fucking Houston. Toxic fumes are a part of your existence. Unless you are NOT breathing between the hours of 3 and 7 every evening, I can pretty much guarantee that your pansy ass little lungs are taking way more of a beating from car exhaust and refinery emmissions than from my fucking 15 cigarettes I smoke around you once a week. Shitscum.
Hey, you, slutbag waitress. Yeah, you. Listen to me. You work in a fucking bar. You were well aware of what that would entail when you signed on for the job. Stop pretending that the whole world revolves around your pathetic fucking miserable life and trying to mold it that way. Bar culture is well established and proud, and was getting along just fine until you decided that your fucking health concerns were relevant. Guess what? They're not. Workers' rights my fucking ass. If you don't like secondhand smoke and still wanna work at night, I think Taco C is hiring. Whore.
Fucking dammit cockshit motherassfucker.
Alright, I'm over it.
The other thing is this. Last Friday, Two Gallants played at Walter's on Washington. The place is in a residential area, and there was a noise complaint, so a beat cop showed up to get them to turn down. The details are still in dispute, depending on whose story you hear (obviously), but I think its probably a fair bet that the officer didn't exactly handle the situation diplomatically. A melee ensued, which included multiple taser discharges, and four arrests. Full story.
NOW, all that said, let's review Chris Rock's "How Not to Get Your Ass Kicked by the Police":
Step 1: Obey The Law Step 2: Use Common Sense Step 3: Stop Immediately Step 4: Turn That Shit Off Step 5: Be Polite Step 6: Shut The Fuck Up
So simple, yet so effective.
Roll tape.
Hmmm, seems like there was a massive failure to follow ANY of the steps here.
Listen, kids. When dealing with an officer of the law, you are wrong. Period. C'est la Vie. Don't try to argue with him, and for God's sake don't get in his fucking grill. Just say "yes sir" and "no sir" until he leaves you alone, or realizes that you are lying and arrests you. The sooner you internalize this, the happier and less-angst ridden you will be.
Don't be fooled by the pseudo-intellectuals who think that...
As long as anyone is placed in a position of power over others, abuses like this will continue to be the norm. The problem isn't "one bad cop," or even the police system in general - this is a result of hierarchy itself. Such violence is inherent to any hierarchical system, whether it's the police, racism, government, an abusive husband, or the bosses at our workplaces. As long as such positions of authority continue to exist, they will continue to be exploited, and real democracy and equality will remain no more than a mythology that these authorities assure us is true.
Yes, unfortunately, there really are assclowns who still believe this dribble. And yes, this person was actually willing to put his intellectual retardation on public display by posting it to a Chron.com blog. Other than pubescent sentiment, I've never been able to pinpoint what exactly causes this sort of irrational phobia of authority, but you would think that people would have to outgrow it at some point if they want to function in civil society.
Newsflash to people like this: your revolution is over; the bums will always lose.
Step 1: Obey The Law Step 2: Use Common Sense Step 3: Stop Immediately Step 4: Turn That Shit Off Step 5: Be Polite Step 6: Shut The Fuck Up
Day 1: In which Bela Lugosi establishes himself as THE screen vampire
Tod Browning's Dracula has permeated our culture to a point where it is almost impossible to analyze objectively. Everything that the modern American knows about vampires, or at least the very first things he learned about vampires, he learned from this film. For Joe Schmoe, Bela Lugosi's Count IS the archetypal vampire... "I vaaant to suuuck your bluuud."
The screenplay for Dracula was based on a British stage adaptation of the original novel. As such, the storyline is extremely barebones. Also, Browning, himself more accustommed to directing silent films, is responsible for the snail's pacing, wooden dialogue delivery, and the mind-numbingly static framing of most of the film.
What works, then? Obviously, Lugosi. His command of the role of Count Dracula is superb. A native Hungarian, he had the accent, the look, and the presence that would define Dracula for the rest of the century, and into the present. Dwight Frye as Renfield is also a gem as he manages to singlehandedly develop the classic henchman character as we know it. Unfortunately for both actors, they did such a great job in their respective roles that they would be typecast for the rest of their acting careers.
Dracula also managed to establish some pretty iconic scenes - Dracula enveloping Mina in his cape as he vampirizes her, the Count descending the staircase as we first meet him, etc. Again, these are scenes that have been imitated, or at least re-presented, in countless future Dracula films, and continue to serve as staple iconography in any incarnation.
All in all, Dracula is a deeply flawed classic. It is a technical disaster, but as a truly seminal work, it defined and established horror conventions that are still revered and appreciated to this day. Overall, 4 out of 5.
Check it, I come out of a hiatus and post about something cool as shit. Are american music audiences finally getting on board with something remotely cool or different? Is Pitchfork winning? My answer is yes. Yesterday, on TRL, our favorite rapping chav white british "midgit" hit #1 on TRL, making her the first British artist to reach number 1 on TRL. She did it for her song "Love Me or Hate Me." This isn't her best song, but it could be a sign that people are starting to listen to different shit. In her random honor, I have changed the video of the week early, apologies to the Scissor Sisters.
Remember last year when that 85 year old man tried to kick Ken's ass after the ULa-La game because he and Michelle and his brother "ruined the game for a lot of people" by standing up and cheering? Well this is the same thing, only different.
Tennessee fan Victoria Caldwell said she was speechless after receiving a call from the UT Athletic Department on Thursday. Fans seated near her in Neyland Stadium would have a hard time believing that. Caldwell, a first-time season ticket holder, said UT's Bill Higdon called her at home and said other fans had complained about her. Their complaint? She cheers too much.
After seeing the video evidence, it's fair to say that the fans seated around her had a point.
I wouldn't have snitched to the AD, mind you, but I don't think throwing an empty flask at the back of her head would've been totally out of the question.
There's a picture of her in the article, btw. On second thought, she's definitely fair game.
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The 13 Day Bender
Here's the movie list for my horror marathon. If my finger arithmetic serves me correctly, I'll need to start on Thursday to end on Halloween. Be on the lookout starting then.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Halloween The Last House on the Left The Exorcist The Omen The Shining Friday the 13th Bride of Frankenstein Dracula A Nightmare on Elm Street Poltergeist Pet Sematary Suspiria
The whole thing is dependent each movie's availability on Netflix, and several of these are in demand right around now, so neither the order nor the list itself is set in stone. This means that I'm still taking suggestions, so feel free.
Today has been great because I've discovered a new distraction from work: Cracked. The content is outstanding.
My across the hall office neighbor probably thinks I'm a fucking wanker because she's heard nothing but snickering coming out of my office... pretty much all day, now. We're even though, because I've had to listen to damn CNN blaring from her machine, telling us repeatedly that "what we do know for sure is that this was not a helicopter..."
The point of the story is that you should go to the Cracked site and check it out, as well as its associated blogs, because there is lots of laugh out loud and just plain awesome shit to be found there. Richard and Giz may appreciate this gem - the Pitchfork Media Drinking Game. Bottoms up!
"Harry here... My dick just went titanium! I want to see the fucking GRINDHOUSE movie now! It shot to the very frickin' top of the world in terms of films I want to see. I just can't fucking imagine anything better than seeing this. Here - watch, I'm just gonna continually watch this like that first porn I got back in 9th grade!"
...I forgot to give Virgil a shoutout for letting me hang out at his house and drink his Crown and eat his homemade cornie dogs during TX/OU. Thanks, Virg!
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As a good Catholic, it is my duty to squash all dirty pagan rituals and dispel all evil associated with Halloween. Therefore, for the 13 days leading up to that dastardly day, I will observe a penance of one horror classic a night whilst inebriating myself via Theological Depth Charges.
The theory is that my righteous drunkenness will strengthen my resolve to... fuck, I dunno. I just thought it would be fun to toast to good ol' B-16 while I watch Carol Ann come to the light, or little Linda Blair do the projectile hellspawn-vomit thing.
Anyhow, I need suggestions for movies. You're the ones who are going to get my drunken commentary for 13 straight days, so let me know what you me to watch/write about.
Once upon a time, before it "Knew Drama," TNT was the shit. Any network that willingly shows Red Sonja, The Beastmaster, or Gymkata with any sort of regularity deserves heaps and heaps of accolade. TNT used to broadcast all three religiously. Unfortunately, after a major format overhaul a few years back, it make the jump to legitimacy and stopped showing cult cable favorites altogether.
For me, the most devastating casualty of the format change was Monstervision. Whereas USA Up(!) All Night was critical in establishing my transfixion with the B Movie, Monstervision transformed my affinity for Drive In Horror into a full blown love affair. From the Godzillas to Ghoulies, Harryhausen to Phantasm, and zombies galore... Monstervision provided me my first significant exposure.
However, because so many classics are so readily these days, the real loss of MV's demise was that of Joe Bob Briggs on television. Prior hosts of Monstervision included Penn & Teller and Bob Denver, but Joe Bob manned the helm for the final four or five years, and really made the show. Before that, he had a long run hosting a similar show on TMC, but I never really got to see him until he was on TNT. He instantly became one of my heroes, for sure.
Other than a few outstanding DVD commentaries (add I Spit On Your Grave to your queues NOW), I haven't seen/heard anything from him for awhile now, but his website is still up an kicking. Interestingly enough, he was on The Daily Show for the first couple years after it premiered, and eventually had plans to spin off a new show called the Joe Bob Report, spoofing - you guessed it - O'Reilly. No idea if Colbert's track was only a coincidence or not.
Anyway here's Joe Bob (as John Bloom, his real name) doing his Daily Report segment, Godstuff:
And as a special bonus... for those of you familiar with one of Joe Bob's favorite euphemisms, "aardvarking," it's The Aardvarking List!
Every night after Elliot has his bath, he knows it's time to watch "ball." We lay on the bed and find a game to watch while I drink a beer and he drinks a glass of milk. Eventually, he finishes and then snuggles up, and then it's time for bed.
Since there was no baseball last night, we were forced to watch what ended up being a pretty exciting ending to Marshall-CFU. For the life of me, though, I couldn't figure out what the hell our oooooold buddy Jack Arute Mr. McConaughey was doing on a sideline in freaking Huntington, WV, and why the camera kept cutting to him there. I figured he had taken a wrong turn at Albequerque during a bad shroom trip.
What I had forgotten is that he recently shot this movie, so that it did, in fact, make sense for him to be there after all. Mystery solved.
This is the first year in several that I have absolutely no worries about the ou game. I keep trying to come up with reasons why it may end up being close, but none of them seem to hold much credence. I guess if we turn the ball over 3+ times and Peterson rushes for 200+ yards we might have some sort of nailbiter. Otherwise, I'm going with a 3 touchdown victory.
I'm playing Tito this week, which may be my best chance to win yet. As it stands now, I'm definitely in lowly, lowly last.
I actually just noticed this, but Tito is second in overall point total, yet has scraped up only one win so far. I guess that's when you know that God really does hate you.
Man cannot live on Big Brother and Project Runway alone
We finally made it to the fall. The suck of summer primetime television is no more. Hoo-ray.
For the betterment of mankind, I have decided to let it be known which shows - new and old - would be worth committing to this season. The following is the rundown.
Oh yeah, first, an FYI. Growing up I was always more likely to watch a Matlock rerun than a Mission: Impossible, and the same is still essentially true. As much as people rant and rave about shows like 24, or The Unit, I just don't do the whole techno-action-suspense thing unless it's on the big screen. Sorry.
1. The established.
LOST. Yeah, S3 hasn't even premiered yet, but we all know it is going to kick fucking ass. Even though they have at times failed miserably at progressing a plotline, the writers have definitely managed to build up quite an impressive mythos in just two seasons' worth of material. This is Television 2.0, thriving because of wikis and a wealth of interactive content online.
Two and a Half Men. One of two [true] sit-coms in existence that heterosexual men can actually appreicate (the other being The King of Queens. The circle is now complete as Charlie Sheen actually gets paid to act like himself - an alcoholic womanizer. See, God does have a sense of humor.
The Office. The force is strong with this one, although this season is off to a rocky, and remarkably un-funny, start. I think the writers let the pressure of "kicking it up a notch" get to them; hopefully they will return to form soon. The first two seasons, though? Pure ironic gold.
How I Met Your Mother. Mystery of the universe #2,878,654,182: Do I like this show because I'm gay, or am I gay because I like this show? The band chick from American Pie is annoying as shit, but Doogie Howser is awesome. So there.
Deal or No Deal. "No deal, you fucking retard! What is wrong with you?!? Don't be a fucking pussy! NO DEAL!" I love watching this show.
Boston Legal. Shatner is God.
The incoming.
The Class. Three little words: GAY. AS. AIDS.
Studio 60. I never watched The West Wing, so I don't know what that business is all about, but this show looks like it has potential. At times the all too obvious pontificating has made it difficult for me to suspend my dispbelief, but more often than not I have felt myself being actually entertained. Plus, I really want to make babies with Amanda Peet.
Smith, The Shark, some other shitty show with a movie actor that I can't remember the name of. No, no, and no. Stick to the big screen, boys.
Jericho, Hero, Kidnapped, Six Degrees. ZZZzzz...
I might watch Friday Night Lights to see just how UN-West Texan they actually make it. Or who knows, it may actually be fun. It starts this week as well.
Also coming soon which I will check out is 20 Good Years, starring Mr. Henderson aka John Lithgow. He was pretty funny on that one show where he was the patriarch of an alien family that included as members that freakishly huge chick, that squinty eyed weird guy named French something-or-other, and the kid with the long, soft hair. That means he could be funny in this one, too.
And I'm not watching the new show with Tina Fey. I can't fucking stand Tina Fey.
All in all, it looks like it'll be more of the same as far as TV viewing is concerned. Gravy.
The milfs were out in force last night, as well, lugging around their spawn. Friendswood has pretty much one of the highest milf concentrations of anywhere that I've ever been. This phenomenon is easily explained by the fact that its median income is well above the state average. True, it's not quite the level of a Collin or Fort Bend county, but it's still sufficiently high enough to prove the old axiom, "Money begets hotness."
