The Bears? SO not jerkin

Rod Marinelli continues to live up to his porno name, and bend us all over some piece of furniture that people are bent over for sex in a very uncomfortable place. Like a Volkswagen. This time it was the Cardinals, scoring and scoring until I just couldn't take it anymore.

So, for the first time, I switched off a football game, and began watching a movie about grrrlpower and the super wonderfulness of best friends.


Josie and the Pussycats is a tremendously underrated movie. The cast alone - Rachel Leigh Cook, Rosario Dawson, Parker Posey, Seth Green, Alan Cumming of all people - makes it worthwhile. Then there's the satirical product placement, and the catchy pop punk.

But most of all, there is Tara Reid, in all her empty-headed glory. Sure, now she's unattractive and boozy and weird looking. But back then, she was a ditzy goddess, a walking blond joke. A female, live action Ralph Wiggum:

"These walls are mushy!"
"The tough make lemonade!"

And so on.

So no, I'm not ashamed.

The real question, though, is whether I'm overreacting. After all, the Cardinals are a solid team. So, it turns out, are the Bengals. And Crybaby is playing pretty well.

But my real concern is that I don't recognize my own team. A pass-happy team with terrible defense? I didn't realize I was rooting for the Oakland Raiders. If we use our first round pick next year on a receiver, I'm going to start freaking out.

Oh, that's right - we don't have a first round pick. We sent it to Denver with the Neckbeard.

Which brings me to my other problem with this season. In Bizarro world, Bizarro Fancy Pants is deliriously happy. The Bears are undefeated, with a 2-headed rushing monster - Matt Forte and (I can't BELIEVE I'm writing this) Cedric Benson. Neckbeard is under center, throwing short, sensible passes to people on his own team. Which is fine, because we're running all over everyone, and the defense is lighting people up. Mike Singletary turned down some absurd head coaching offer out west to come back to Chicago and coach the defense, and ever since their first game when they separated Aaron Rogers' legs from the rest of his body, no one wants to play them. Tommie Harris is a model citizen, because the only thing he's more afraid of than Coach Singletary is making Brian Urlacher angry.

And Rod Marinelli is lying dead in a ditch, or doing 50 chicks in a movie, or something completely unrelated to football, per the restraining order.

See what's going on there? There are a bunch of Bears having solid seasons - they just seem to be playing for other teams. And the current Bears don't resemble any Bears team that has ever worn Bears jerseys. Thus, Josie and the Pussycats.

Honk if you love hugs!
Honk if you love rainbows!
Honk if you love Pussy...cats!

Also - read this.

Nerdiness

If you're all of a sudden gripped with a powerful urge to give me a wedgie and take my lunch money during this post, maybe you should skip it and come back some other time.

I'm just warning you now.

Okay then.

Here I go.

I saw G.I. Joe last night, and it confirmed my worst fears. Because, you see, it wasn't completely terrible.

I mean sure, Stephen Sommers can't direct traffic, let alone a movie, and his action scenes could have been so much sweeter. And Channing Tatum, the Mumbling Doofus, is a terrible Duke (and plotwise, he was a terrible character - always screwing up, letting the enemy escape...hell, Marlon fucking Wayans as Ripchord was a bigger hero, and he was the comic relief!). But the explosions were bright and shiny, and the effects were pretty sweet. Even the ninja fights were cool (especially the little kid ones - tiny psychopathic killers are the cutest!). No, it wasn't the footage or even the inane dialogue that killed it for me - it was what they did to Snake Eyes.

For G.I. Joe nerds, Snake Eyes is the Man. Silent, deadly, and a super fantastic ninja, he's the pinnacle of nerd love, for those of us who don't get down with superpowers. So when I first heard there would be a G.I. Joe movie, my first gut reaction was, "Great. How are they going to mess with Snake Eyes?" Just a further example - when I linked above to the Snake Eyes Wikipedia page, I first had to read it all, and then close my office door and perform ninja moves until I calmed down. Snake Eyes is AWESOME.

So he's all scarred, and had this thing with Scarlett, and that's why he doesn't talk and is all supercool. So what does Stephen "Moronface" Sommers do? He gives Snake Eyes a vow of silence, and hooks up Scarlett and Ripchord, who was most recently seen in Norbit and Little Man. And for this, I will never forgive Moronface. God, I hate him so much.

Why yes, this IS a copout

Some of you may have noticed that I don't write so often. I've made excuses before, but when you get right down to it I'm just lazy. Too lazy to create the funny, too uninspired to dream up the haha. And I apologize for making you wait for my random flashes of brilliance: you deserve better.

I was thinking this as I read the Great Ali's recent post, which kindly offered to provide interview questions, per these rules:

If you would like to participate in the ME interview, here are the rules.

1. If you want to be interviewed, leave me a comment that says “Interview me”.

2. I will respond by emailing you 5 questions (I get to choose the questions).

3. Update your blog with the answers to the questions and let me know when you have posted it.

4. You will include this explanation and offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When other comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

And like I said, I've been grossly delinquent in my own originality, so I'm swiping Ali's who swiped someone else's, and so on. Plus, who doesn't love to be interviewed about themselves? Probably the Dalai Lama, but he's disqualified because he spends too much time with Richard Gere, who loves to talk about the Lama. It's all "Lama this," and "Buddha that." Get a room, Ricky and Lama!

Here then, Ali's questions, and my answers:

1. What is your favorite movie?? Now tell us the one we REALLY want to know...the movie that you are embarrassed to admit that you love and can watch over and over and over?

Pulp Fiction, and here's a little story by way of illustration:

The first time I saw this movie I was in Boston, visiting some friends from my summer Israel trip and checking out colleges. This girl invited me to stay at her place for the weekend (clue no. 1), and we hung out, going out with her friends, giving each other backrubs (clue no. 2) and generally having a good time. But I was stupid, and so I made no move in any sort of romantic/boob-ish direction. The last night I was there, we went to go see Pulp Fiction. I hadn't seen anything like it in my entire life. The dialogue, the blood, the music, the sodomy - it was genius. Sometime during the movie, I felt a hand on my upper thigh (clue no. 3). My friend had abandoned subtlety.

What did I do? Here were the thoughts in my head:

"Wait, did she? Oh man, she did. That's her hand, and it's on my thigh. It's up there, man. Oh my god, is Zed raping Marcellus Wallace? Um, I have to make out with this girl right now. Or do I? I'm staying at her house, we're going there right after this. Do I say anything? Is there anything I could say that wouldn't sound like I'm rejecting her very generous and insistent offer? Maybe if I say nothing, and act like I don't notice her hand, which is now pretty much massaging my hip, and moving ever closer to - holy crap, that was HILARIOUS! Man, Samuel L. Jackson should be in like, every movie from now on. OK, just play dumb, and watch the rest of the movie, and you can hook up at her place, where there's a bed, and it'll be more comfortable anyway."

Only your favorite movie would compel you to put off the perfect hookup situation. Or maybe your especially screwed-up priorities. Did I mention how few girls I dated in high school? No, fewer. Fewer. Yeah, that's about right.

As for the movie I'm embarrassed to love? There is no shame in loving Say Anything... because John Cusack is awesome. On the other hand, there is a little shame in having a strange fixation on Ryan Reynolds, and being able to watch any movie he's in. Van Wilder? Funny. Waiting? Strangely absorbing, and hilarious. Definitely, Maybe? Unconscionable. And yet I cannot turn away.

2. If you could have any superpower, what would you choose? And what would your superhero name be? any ideas what your costume might look like?

The power to kill a yak from 200 yards away, with mind bullets. That's telekinesis, Kyle.

My name would be Motion, and I would wear no cape. My logo would be a stencil of me kicking Isaac Newton in the crotch as he sits under his apple tree. Where's your equal and opposite reaction to that, bitch? That's what you get for taking credit for gravity. Are we supposed to believe that it didn't exist before the 18th century? Screw you and your stupid wig.

3. What is your biggest pet peeve? What is one thing that you do that might drive other people crazy?

I hate being reminded to do something I already know that I have to do. It's not that I don't know I'm supposed to replace the garbage bags in the garbage can - I just don't care enough to do it right now.

And since I have always believed I know more than I actually do, this pretty much extends to anyone telling me to do anything. I could be lying in a pool of my own vomit, and you could come by and say "Hey, you should roll over, otherwise you're going to choke to death." My immediate internal response will be to inhale puke, just to spite you. See? Now I'm dead. That's what you get for trying to help me, dickface.

What might drive people up a wall is when I don't do things I'm supposed to do. It might be even more aggravating when I snap in response to your demand that I stop being so oblivious. That might bother people. Like Wife. Possibly. One can never really know for sure.

4. Choose one moment in your life you could go back and do over...what would you do differently?

I'm guessing your first suggestion would be the Pulp Fiction scenario mentioned above. But I've got a least 6 or 7 of those puppies in my past, so how to choose one? I could choose the day I decided against going to Michigan and to go to YU. I could choose the day I decided to stay in business school and not switch to English. I could choose any number of screwed up interviews, or professional decisions. Or how about the time I spent a summer at this other camp because a girl convinced me to come, only to get there and find out she was already dating the guy who is now her husband?

We'll go with the summer I spent in Israel, because I blew not one, not two, not three, but six different hookup opportunities in less than 9 weeks. Because I am the MASTER, that's how.

5. Create the playlist you would choose if you could hijack a radio station and be a dj for an hour:

"This or That" - Black Sheep

"10 A.M. Automatic" - Black Keys

"The Wolves (Act I and II)" - Bon Iver

"The Teeth Collector" - Pretty Girls Make Graves

"God" - The Dodos

"What?" - Tribe Called Quest

"Looking for Astronauts" - The National

"Da Mystery of Chessboxin'" - Wu-Tang

"Holland, 1945" - Neutral Milk Hotel

"Boom" - The Roots

"You're No Rock'n'Roll Fun" - Sleater Kinney

"All Fires" - Swan Lake

"Definition" - Black Star

"Gun Street Girl" - Tom Waits

"The Greatest Man that Ever Lived" - Weezer

"New Partner" - Bonnie "Prince" Billy

"The Bleeding Heart Show" - New Pornographers

Because I'm a snob.

So then, if you'd like to be interviewed, say so in a comment, and verily I shall ask you 5 questions. Kindly post them on your blog, or if you have none, write them on a postcard in lipstick and mail it to me, and I'll do my best to transcribe it here.

Two men enter, one man leaves: Phil Hartman vs. Will Ferrell

For some reason I was watching Elf last week. Maybe because it was on. Maybe because I was hiding from In-Laws. Who knows. Either way, I'm not usually down with Christmas, being one of the Christ-killers and all, but I'm ok with that movie. Is it because of Zooey Deschanel? She plays her part, certainly. But really it's all Will Ferrell. And then I remembered a conversation I had in college, while he was still on SNL.

The question was: who is your better Everyman, Will Ferrell, or Phil Hartman? This was obviously before Will Ferrell became WILL FERRELL, but still, he's got a bit of that regular Joe appeal. He's awkward, his body is funny looking, and we know his body is funny looking because he has no issue whatsoever with letting the world see it. And then encouraging the world to giggle at untoned hairy chest. Plus he had Adam McKay as his own Cyrano, writing amazing characters and lines for him.

But Phil Hartman... Everyone who loves the funny loves Phil Hartman. He was plain, and brilliant, and dumb, and clever, and he did high comedy, and he did impressions.

Here, look at some clips of these magnificent comedic gods. And I know I forgot Robert Goulet, and More Cowbell, and Colon Blow. And I would have Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer but Lorne Michaels can sometimes be a douche, and there's no footage online that I could find in 10 minutes' searching. Let us also not forget Kap’n Karl. Alas, no video, but you should find it and bask in the glory of Phil Hartman as a saucy seacaptain, and pre-public masturbation Pee Wee Herman. But anyway, some highlights:

Phil Hartman, Frank Sinatra:




Newsradio: Real Deal Bill McNeal



The Simpsons: Troy McClure



Lionel Hutz, attorney at law



So I Married an Axe Murderer.





Will Ferrell, Perfect Cheer



Celebrity Jeopardy



Ron Burgundy, you magnificent hunk of mustache



Ricky Bobby



Mr. Mugatu



Now, because of his evil, whorish wife, we'll never know the kind of leading man career Phil Hartman would have had on the big screen. But I think he'd have been glorious. Will Ferrell, for all his above-mentioned regular...ness, is totally whacko. You can see it in his eyes. Phil Hartman, though, he could play anyone. Sea captain with a love for some painted-up french chick? He's your man. Radio personality with a god complex? Phil Hartman redefined the standard office blowhard. The only person who's come close since is Dwight Schrute, and even Rainn Wilson has a little too much Will Ferrell in him.

I freely acknowledge that this is some Freedarko-style argumentation, all potential over actualization. But if I want to cast a mild-mannered accountant who's sick of everyone calling him "Numbers," and eventually leads his office in a coup over the regional manager, I'm going with Phil.

Unless he has to get naked for some reason. Then it's all Will Ferrell.

No time for love, Dr. Jones!

Harrison Ford is the paragon of American manhood. Smarter than John Wayne, more able to read ancient runes than George Clooney, not less attractive to women than his wife, like Brad Pitt. Better looking than Humphrey Bogart. Hairier than Bruce Willis. Not as whiny as James Dean. He has smaller ears than Will Smith (what? They're like wings for his head. That's not normal.). And he aged monumentally better than Sylvester Stallone. Sure, give me your Steve McQueens and your Robert Redfords and your Paul Newmans. I retort with two names: Han Solo; Indiana Jones. Neither of them had to eat 50 eggs, did they?

And for this we have to suck it up and thank George Lucas. Without him, Harrison Ford would be just some extra in Apocalypse Now. Well, maybe he'd have a movie career, but it might be more D.B. Sweeney-ish (Harrison Ford, starring in Cutting Edge 4: Wheelchairs on Ice! Catch it!).

So it is with a grim determination that I ignore the cutaways to freaked-out gophers in the new Indiana Jones movie. I adamantly look past Shia TheBeef swinging from vine to vine with his new monkey pals. And I swallow hard, and applaud the inevitable alien plotline.

Why do I do this? Shouldn't I be raking this 2 hour "thrillride" over the coals, trashing the waste of Cate Blanchett, rolling my eyes at the 1980's-style Soviet bad guys, banging my head against the obvious Indy-Mutt connection?

Spoiler digression - none of these are spoilers. If you can't predict any of this from the preview, you are either Child (who is 5 months old), or an Amish farmer. And if you're an Amish farmer who's been watching the Indiana Jones preview, you're going to hell.

Anyhoo, I can't do any of those things. Perhaps other critics will just add this to the abominations of the three Star Wars prequels, but I can't even bring myself to hate George Lucas for those. Because he made Star Wars. And Empire Strikes Back. And Raiders of the Lost Ark. And he made Harrison Ford. And he gave Mark Hamill his 15 minutes. And he gave Kevin Smith a reason to live. And he put Carrie Fisher in a metal bikini. And he made snakes scarier than Nazis.

So what did I think of the new Indiana Jones movie? In all, it was pretty sweet.

Yo Joe!/Hey, Brother

Today I offer two forms of shame, arising from opposite ends of my life. Shame and excitement. Shame, excitement, and apprehension. Shame, excitement, apprehension, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope. No, wait, that's the Spanish Inquisition.



Anyhoo, there are two filmic events that both excite me and scare the bejesus out of me (shouldn't it be beJesus? Who knows. Jesus might, I guess).

The first is G.I. Joe. As a liberal who hates military fascism and moral absolutes tied to nationalities, it's embarrassing to admit that I used to love this show. I read the comic books, I bought the toys, I staged hundreds of epic battles between the Joes and COBRA, a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world. COBRA, if you were curious, had fantastically better characters and vehicles, and the Terror Drome was badass. On the other hand, G.I. Joe had Snake-Eyes, who made up most of the difference. But I digress. As ashamed as I am to have loved - and, evidently, still have strong feelings for - the hyperpatriotic Joes, I was thrilled to hear they were going to do a live action movie.

Then I heard it was going to be directed by this guy, and I broke out in hives. What if it blows? Who am I kidding, of course it's going to be terrible! Destro doesn't even have a chrome mask! This is the sort of trauma that ruins childhood memories. And yet...still, there is a fluttering in my soul. Against all odds, it may not suck old man balls. Right? Right?

The other end of this admittedly unique spectrum is Arrested Development. Holy mother of magnificence is it going to be fantastic.

So where, you ask, is the shameful component? Here it is: I only watched maybe half a season when it was first run on TV.

You see? I, an ordinarily loyal member of my demographic, should have scheduled my weeks around the show, should have been shouting from the rooftops odes to its absurdist glory, and devoted hours to dissecting and memorizing each episode. Not only that, but now, having rented and pored over the scant few episodes, I proclaim its glory to every one I know. I truly believe, guilt notwithstanding, that Arrested Development is the funniest show ever. It beats Seinfeld, Cheers, The Simpsons, Family Guy, South Park, The State, Mr. Show, Larry Sanders, 30 Rock, and The Office (even the British one).

Despite all that wonderfulness, just as I am culpable for Weezer sucking (an explanation of which will be a future post), I am responsible for the cancellation of Arrested Development. There. Ah, the confession feels good, like ripping a Band-Aid off.

But let us forget the past. Both movies are going to be glorious, and I will weep tears of joy just to see them brought to the big screen.

The lost possibilities of Mystery Men

If I pitched you a movie based on indie superheroes, and I had cast of:

William H. Macy
Greg Kinnear
Hank Azaria
Ben Stiller
Claire Forlani
Janeane Garofalo
Paul Pee Wee Herman Reubens
Eddie Izzard
Geoffrey Rush
Tom Waits
A not-so-annoying cameo by Dane Cook
Ricky Jay

And I told you it was not one of the greatest movies of the nineties, you'd think I was nuts. Mystery Men represents a phenomenally blown opportunity. Not clever enough by half, and too reliant on fart jokes to be embraced by the hipsters - who would otherwise be rolling on the floor, convulsing in knowledgeable smirks over the black Invisible Boy and his powers, which can only be used when no one is looking - it is maddening to watch.

Transfixed by the near miss I watch it again and again, spotting blown opportunity after gaping plot hole after half-assed joke. I can't help myself - I can see the shell of the classic it could have been. Coming out as it did in 1999, Mystery Men could have been the definitive Gen-X slacker comedy, referencing indie comics and music, the angsty comedians who got rich and bloated off the decade, Ben Stiller before he got annoying, Dane Cook before he became the opposite of funny.

But why harp on Mystery Men? There are literally dozens of similarly afflicted movies, movies that could have been so much better with a tweak here or a rewrite there. But Mystery Men's failures are more personal, they hit closer to home, at least for me.

It could have been my favorite movie, dammit! What a cast! What a concept! And it all went to hell because it wouldn't go far enough! It wussed out, falling back on farts, and easy sight gags. Typical Generation X laziness. In that respect, it truly is the pardigmatic 90's movie, with all its unrealized potential.

So really it's all Kurt Cobain's fault.