They Were Friends: Zola et Cézanne

Émile Zola and Paul Cézanne met at the Collège Bourbon in Paris in 1852 while both still young and years ahead of the separate fame they would each reach in separate fields of the arts.

Zola was a master of letters, distinguished gentleman of the school of naturalism, and liberal social activist. He had an substantial output during his lifetime, maybe most famously his letter that blew open the sordidness of the whole Dreyfus Affair, "J'accuse." Another distinguished man of letters, Gustave Flaubert, paid him a high compliment indeed when discussing Zola's Nana as "Nana tourne au mythe, sans cesser d'être réelle."*


Cézanne was a stalwart of the post-impressionistic school of painting, his mastery of colour and the brush forming a bridge between Impressionism and Cubism. Both Henri Matisse and Pablo Picasso have been attributed stating he "is the father of us all."


*"Nana turns into myth, without ceasing to be real." Thought I'd be an ass, like when I read those essays and they quote some foreign text and proceed to offer zero translation like I'm automatically some prerequisite of world languages to be reading their lousy thesis.

Untitled Melodrama 01

So, for fun, here are some excerpts from the screenplay I wrote for no reason at all. It currently clocks in at 36 pages.

Originally, I had titled it while a work in progress as "Untitled Melodrama 01" but this completed first draft, dated June 26, 2008* is titled "Backyards."

It includes some uncomfortable homoeroticism:


My love of squash:


And an obligatory Jurassic Park reference:


*But why is this dated after your previous post where you said you had finished it, you ask. Because, that's why.

Top Five VI: Fears

5. Global Warming
4. Economic recession
3. The decrease in rights, freedoms, and privacy in the name of security
2. The Wolfman
1. When I'm dead, that people will say "He was a kind man."

Judging a Student Newspaper by Its Crossword

So at the University of Waterloo, there is a student newspaper known as Imprint. I read it to stay afloat of the latest happenings at this fair school. It is terrible. To tell you how terrible, I will provide select examples from the crossword puzzle for the issue dated Friday, June 13, 2008 and credited to the editor-in-chief. I view this as a microcosm of her editing abilities at large.

Across
1. Opposed to (suffix) Answer: ANTI
Issue: Clearly a prefix.
18. Abbreviation of stenographer Answer: STENO
Issue: This is just insulting. "Can you abbrev. this word? Good job!"
19. Major or minor, of the beer variety Answer: URSA
Issue: Let's misspell the most important word in the clue, the one that is literally latin for the answer.
47. To remove the mythical element from Answer: DEMYTHOLOGISE
Issue: Again an insult. "Take this word we give you and make it the opposite. No not 'un-'..."

Down
1. A tank of gas might soon cost you this Answer: ARM
Issue: This is not Cockney Rhyming Slang, you can't use half an expression. Otherwise, it's not an expression, it's just dumb.
2. Something wanted or required Answer: NEED
Issue: Something required? Yes. Something wanted? No. Those are opposites.
13. Parent-Teacher Association Answer: PTA
Issue: Insult #3. Acronym these words.
25. Rocky is one nickname for this, meaning "rest" Answer: ROCCO
Issue: The Internet doesn't know where you get off.
26. Opposite of "same" Answer: OTHER
Issue: Other and different are not synonymous.
31. One who eases Answer: EASER
Issue: Insult #4.
35. Tiniest Answer: TEENSIEST
Issue: I thought we were using real words, not the marketing style guide for My Little Pony.
50. No Clue Answer: OTIS
Issue: I guess this clue is suppose to imply the EIC has no clue either. The Internet (the internet for god's sake, that repository of all human knowledge) has no entry for "otis."


But Justin, you say, editing is a really hard job. Shut up. Having professional experience as an editor, it is the most obsessive-compulsive undertaking I've ever done. Plus, this is a summer issue, meaning it is biweekly, not weekly.


BONUS ERROR: The photo captions on the last page (pg.24) confuse left and right.

Weekly Wikipedia Find: Turtles all the way down

Now I often hear you saying, "Justin, how did it all start? Where did we come from? What's the meaning of it all?" And I always say, "Well there was this big bang, and space and time and everything else sort of expanded out of that.

But then you respond, "Yeah, I know but what was there before that." At which point, I respond "There was nothing before that."

And that before I forget, an addendum, "Well, there was the Great Turtle."

"The Great Turtle?" They respond to my response to their response to my original response to their question. "What's that?"

"Why you've never heard of the Great Turtle?" I ask derisively. "What do you think is holding up the world?! It's the Great Turtle, silly."

"Ohhhhh." They respond in epiphany. "But what holds up the Great Turtle?"

"Are you daft, brother?" I exclaim, "It's turtles all the way down."

Wikipedia by Week

Week Twenty-Nine: The Diogenes Club
Week Twenty-Eight: E pur si muove!
Week Twenty-Seven: Unico
Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

Canada Goes to Hell

Here is the bullshit, talking-points, form email I received from my MP, the honourable Harold Albrecht, in response to an email (I also sent the same via snail mail) I sent him regarding Bill C-61, An Act to Amend the Canadian Copyright Act:

Dear Mr. [redacted],

Thank you for your e-mail of June 16th regarding changes to Canadian copyright law. I always appreciate hearing from constituents. I hope the following information will help to alleviate your concerns on this issue.

As you are aware, today our Government introduced Bill C-61, An Act to Amend the Copyright Act. I believe that the copyright reform our Government has proposed is much needed and long overdue. It has been ten years since the last major reform of this important legislation, and in that time we have seen nothing short of an Internet revolution and major advancements in technology.

This is a balanced, made-in-Canada approach to copyright reform that will help ensure fair access by Canadian consumers to copyright material and protection of the rights of Canadians who create material that is copyrighted.

The proposed amendments would implement:

* New exceptions for Canadian consumers, so they can record TV shows for later viewing; copy legally acquired music onto other devices, such as MP3 players or cell phones; and make backup copies of legally acquired books, newspapers, videocassettes and photographs onto devices they own;
* New rights and protections for copyright owners, tailored to the Internet, to encourage participation in the online economy, as well as stronger legal means to address Internet piracy;
* Exceptions for some educational and research purposes to promote innovation and enrich the educational experience;
* Clarity for Internet service providers on their roles and responsibilities in relation to copyright, in order to support the growth of Internet services in Canada; and
* Rights for photographers equal to those of other creators.

I believe this copyright reform promotes innovation and competition in a digital, knowledge-based economy.

If you would like more information, please visit the Copyright Reform Process website at www.ic.gc.ca/epic/site/crp-prda.nsf/en/home.

Thank you again for taking the time to write on this important issue. Please do not hesitate to contact me regarding any other issues of importance to you.


Sincerely,

Harold Albrecht, MP
Kitchener-Conestoga

Considering I've already read this email elsewhere on the internet, this is rather insulting. I guess my MP doesn't really care about being representative of or considerate of his constituents and would rather be a giant tool.

So please contact your MP about this issue. Hopefully he is as cool as the honourable member from Timmins-James Bay, Charlie Angus. That guy always rocks on CPAC.

Man in the Mirror VII

So one time I was riding back home after a weekend at a cottage. The trip was about an hour and half and I was sitting in the backseat behind the driver. So when you're in this spot, you can easily see yourself in the rearview mirror.

You can probably see where this story is going. I'm the classic narcissist, right? (well not literally the classic Narcissus). The majority of the ride was spent by me looking at my reflection in said mirror. Sunglasses. No sunglasses. What if I turn my head like this. Run my hand through my hair. Handsome muthafucker.

I don't think she noticed.

Old Timey II: C. M. Burns

Burns: Yes, I'd like to send this letter to the Prussian consulate in Siam by aeromail. Am I too late for the 4:30 autogyro?
Squeaky-Voiced Teen: Uh, I better look in the manual.
Burns: [groans] Oh, the ignorance.
[...]
Squeaky-Voiced Teen: This book must be out of date: I don't see "Prussia", "Siam", or "autogyro".
Burns: Well, keep looking!

- "Mother Simpson", Season 7

And He Wrote to Completion

That's right, I finished something I started. What's that you speak of?, you ask. Oh, don't you remember. Certainly, little more than a writing exercise. I certainly never intend to produce. But first, a little description of this screenplay. It's melodramatic, sure. But it's sort of an anti-romantic comedy, see. There's the protagonist who is an asshole, the fact that the two leads may or may not end up together, and the less said about the mutual masturbation scene the better. I may post some excerpts. But I may do some extra revisions first.

Okay, so what's next?, you say. I'm going to finally write my short story "Dr. Pretorius." I've never read anything by Kathy Acker, but I can say with the utmost confidence that it will do for Bride of Frankenstein what Acker did for Great Expectations.

Good day, sir.

David Bowie in Pop

Mr. Brisby: Oh that? That's just Lily, enjoying her lunch.

Dr. Venture: Lily?

Mr. Brisby: Yes, my long-time com-panda. I won her from David Bowie in a trivia contest. This was 1980, 1981 perhaps. Years before the big trivia craze. But then, Bowie always was a trendsetter.

- The Venture Bros., "The Incredible Mr. Brisby", Season 1

Nothing's Sacred

This is something I said when told (jokingly I hope) I'd be a bad father whose neglect would cause my (theoretical) son to get HIV. I found it recently, I enjoyed and thought I would share. You're welcome.

"HIV... or HIVopportunity?"

Golden Age Is Five

I had my rose-coloured glasses ripped off my face the other day. So I was channel-flipping (an odd action considering I rarely watch any "live" television these days) and I came across this episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. And I was like, I love this, this is my favourite episode. And so I watched it, excited. And while not terrible, it certainly did not live up to my expectations.

The episode in question is the seventh (and final season) episode "Genesis," airdate March 21, 1994. The plot of the episode is basically "Picard and Data find [...] the crew de-volving into their animal ancestors". I probably didn't see this episode in first run, but in the endless repeats. Still I'd venture to say it's easily been over 10 years since I saw it. Watching again, I couldn't recall the last time I'd watched an episode of TNG.

There were certain memories I had of this episode that did not correspond with the actual product. I thought Data's pregnant cat played a larger role (it was awesome when it was revealed it had turned into an iguana and awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww kittens) and I thought Chief Miles O'Brien played a larger role when in fact he plays none, not making an appearance in the episode.

Obviously, the only reason I remembered the episode (and it's the episode I have the largest vestigial memory of) was because of the high concept plot and the make-up effects used to achieve it. Otherwise, it felt like there were scenes missing and the conclusion felt rushed. The denouement consisted of just a jokey line from Counselor Deanna Troi about having to clear her schedule. I wanted traumatic psychological fallout, damnit. Hell, Worf bit her on the fucking face.

Weekly Wikipedia Find: The Diogenes Club

I have been to many a gentleman's club. I have never been a member of a gentleman's club. I knew not such a thing was possible. But it has been brought to my attention that there may in fact be multiple definitions for a gentleman's club. One has strippers, one has comfy chairs and cigars. I'm not sure the former allows members. One such of the latter, albeit a fictitious one, is The Diogenes Club. It is a place where a gentleman can go to relax, and read without distraction, and possibly a front for the British Secret Service because of an association with the co-founder, Sherlock Holmes' brother. Ostensibly, it is named for the Greek philosopher, but only ostensibly for it bears no obvious reverence for the Diogenes' known cynicism.

Wikipedia by Week

Week Twenty-Eight: E pur si muove!
Week Twenty-Seven: Unico
Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

Replica Ponchos I Would Buy

I don't want to look like a dick, but those Clint Eastwood westerns by Sergio Leone (A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) are totally badass. I don't know how coincidental it is that he is wearing this poncho in all three. The poncho by association is a badass signifier. But who wears ponchos... only if it was this one. Replicas available for purchase here.

Running Joke III: My Type

I like petite brunettes, usually already attached, and possibly brown-skinned.

Choose any or all of the above and come at me. I'm ready.

Life Review: Dreamgirls

Here's an old memory apropos of nothing:

I was on this date about a year and a half ago. We were going to see Pan's Labyrinth over at the Princess on King. We got there late and it was sold out. So in an attempt to salvage the evening we made a trek to the nearest multiplex to see what was playing.

I wasn't interested in seeing anything. She wanted to see Dreamgirls. I said no. She pleaded. I would not budge. Despite the fact that:

A) I like musicals; and

B) I like black people.

I would just not budge. I probably could have earned some points too.

The Duelists: Andrew Jackson

Andrew Jackson lived from seventeen sixty-seven until eighteen forty-five and he was a politician of the United States. He was also prisoner-of-war, saddle-maker, lawyer, and seventh President of the United States.

While a slave-owning cotton farmer, and already a former jurist and U.S. Senator, Andrew Jackson's honour was offended by Charles Dickinson, expert marksman and professional duelist whose record numbered twenty-six kills. Consequently, Jackson shot Dickinson, placing a .70-caliber bullet in Dickinson's abdomen and severing an artery, in a return volley after having already taken one ball in the ribs. Jackson had planned for Dickinson to fire first. Andrew Jackson fired true and he had his satisfaction that day. Charles Dickinson died a few hours later. Dickinson had insulted his wife, at the prompt of Jackson's political opponents. Jackson had fought thirteen such duels. Dickinson's bullet remained lodged close to his heart for the rest of his days.

The year was 1806.

Running Joke II: Racism I

Racism: It's Not Just For Black People Anymore!

This is a joke I try to make often but opportunities tend to be few and far:

"Why don't you guys take me along next time? I'll show you how to get some snatch."
"What do you know?"
"I've been around. Just last week I had a Chinese girl. And you know, it's just like they say."
"What's that?"
We hit the basement and the doors opened.
"Their snatch doesn't run up and down, it runs from side to side."

- Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

Weekly Wikipedia Find: E pur si muove!

And yet it moves. Galileo is one of the world's all-time badasses, enshrined in the seventh circle of the hall of fame and these were his words, albeit in Italian: E pur si muove! The Roman Catholic Church of the seventeenth century was rather geocentric in its views of the cosmos, see, and its Inquisition into heresy forced Signor Galileo Galilei to recant his opposing belief that the Earth moved around the Sun against penalty of death and these words were his to mutter, maybe only in legend and unheard, but to hold the truth of heliocentrism.

Wikipedia by Week

Week Twenty-Seven: Unico
Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

Privileged III

Okay, it’s storytime, little lady.

First, a little preamble to get to the part of interest. So I was at this party Friday night at a friend’s apartment near campus. It was for her roommates’ birthdays or something. So at one point we (i.e. Justin & co.) went on a quest ostensibly for cigars probably just after 1 a.m. After a detour through Waterloo Park (the adventure route!) and taking the sane route back, we arrive around 2:30 to find the party pretty much dead.

Now the layout of this party is the apartment plus the basement/parking/storage area downstairs. Downstairs is where we had spent most of the party. It had music and flip cup, basically. So we find only two people downstairs just sort of sitting there listening to music.

Attempting to go upstairs to the apartment, we find the door locked. I’m now talking to one of the guys from the basement and he suggests we help boost him onto the balcony so he can go in through the patio door and let us in. So we boost him onto the balcony. I go back in so that I hopefully be let in. He comes back saying that the patio door was also locked. For shit.

So we exchange pleasantries and he says “I didn’t get your name. I’m Ryan.”

“Justin.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be Justin [redacted], would you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I replied. “How’d you know?”

“[Redacted].”

“[Redacted]’s been talking about me?” I ask.

“Well, more specifically [Redacted]’s Facebook.”

And that’s the story of my being Facebook stalked.

Note: Name's redacted to protect the innocent.

Semantics: This v. Next

"So you ready for next Friday?"
"You mean this Friday? It's happening this Friday."
"Yeah, that's what I said."
"No, you said next Friday."
"Well, it's the next Friday on the calendar."
"But it's this Friday."
"Then when's next Friday?"
"The Friday after this Friday."
"You mean next Friday?"
"Yeah, next Friday."
"So the next Friday after this Friday is next Friday?"
"Yeah."
"The Friday next after this Friday is next Friday."
"That's what I said."

The Sporting Life

team sports

rampant fervour

patriotic regionalism

squash

non-competitive

I'm doing something a little different with my post today. See by the original timestamp the genesis for this post was 5:19 PM on December 27th, 2007. And the above bullets were what I wrote at the time. Now often when I have an idea, I'll just put a little something down and save it as a draft for "later." Now sometimes later is a long time away. Currently, later is just over five months. By the time later comes around, well let's just say I had different expectations when I opened this post saying its time has come. More references to flow of space-time, mainly. Now let's see what I can make of this. Blogpost, Ho!

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I try to stay active. But there's only so much one can do. There is something purely rote, about isolated exercise, a "workout," spotter or not. It's just motions, no poetry. These days I spend about 70 minutes everyday on a treadmill. Now I don't necessarily enjoy this. It can feel like an obligation, too much of one sometimes. And anything that is an obligation often and irrefutably will breed procrastination (this blog for instance, for something that as a writing exercise and as such would expect to be fun, is often procrastinated). So often the treadmill will be procrastinated, sometimes until the late afternoon.

Now how do I do something everyday that gives me no joy? Well I love books and I love music, so often with me on the treadmill are a book to read and music to listen to. So this gives me time to read. Now I might love the idea of books more than I love the idea of reading so this makes me make time for reading where otherwise I might not. Likewise, while I exercise my brain, I also get to exercise my body. Obviously reading is not very easy to do while moving at 8.5 km/h, so some of my time is split between speedwalking, a steady gallop really, at 6.4 km/h. A good reading speed. And at the end of these daily sessions, I do feel good. A self-esteem boost! Take that, chronic depression.

But maybe still, was I looking for something more? So, then I come to the conclusion that sports are something that are both exercise and fun. But which sport? There are certainly so many. Each likely with their benefits, and their many many many detractions. I'd occasionally watched sports on the telly, but I had never gotten into them at any really "fan-like" level. There was always a distancing effect created by the rampart fervour and patriotic regionalism inspired in the diehard hardcore devotees (Two birds, one stone; Take that, past-me).

Certainly there were many solo person sports as well. Hang-gliding, snowboarding, boogie boarding, and other singles sports that John Kerry used to distance voters in the 2004 United States presidential elections while George W. Bush threw around a football, and which I quickly dismissed as too blueblood.

And for some reason I decided upon squash. There's always been something about squash. That room, maybe? Is it from the future? Maybe. But there was more. Maybe this idea of my childhood. You don't exactly see squash played, you see. Sure, a lot of courts had viewing galleries. But I'm thinking back before I knew that. Before I could think of it as something competitive, that had star athletes (at least stars in the world of competitive squash), before YouTube clips, before (again) the viewing galleries, it was something where you and your opponent entered a closed room, equipment in hand, and later you exited something decided. There was something mysterious and desirable about that idea.

And that's still something I desired.

Now a closer look a squash. What is all this special equipment you need? Who's going to play this, kings? Definitely a rich person's game, no? Let's see you need a racquet, a ball, probably goggles for safety's sake (stay safe, kids), and most vexing of all this room. This long room, with the hardwood court, and the walls, with the lines going up and down and maybe on angles (say what?!) and what is that, did someone weld a chunk of scrap metal to the front wall? The door closes behind you, everything about it flush with the wall, to be unobstructive, and you're sealed. A space capsule, right? Ready for the future? Well you better be.

So now we have decided upon squash. It's awesome, right (see previous paragraph)? It's a simple sport, requires little material, your relatively free university gym membership, and two or four people. Not exactly team, but less masturbatory than windsurfing. And I'm inclined to say it's not technically a contact sport but... Well think of tennis. Now think, instead of boundary lines, you have walls: you run into those walls. And instead of a net, you have a wall. This results in the two sides of the court (i.e. tennis) becoming mirrored as one (i.e. squash) and both players playing in the same field. Therefore, you have people colliding. Which is usually avoidable. I personally bounce off the wall far more often. Although, those person-on-person collision sometimes also including the floor while keeping the ball somehow in play is the most glorious wonder of this sport as seen from my imaginary perspective from the sometimes nonexistent viewing gallery.

Now you the skeptic say this sounds more like DeathBall 3000 than any fun. Well, fuck you, mister, I ate the horse you rode in on, he was delicious. Squash is pure fun. There's a certain rush going on with all this. When I play it's sort of noncompetitive. I barely keep track of the score (What is it 5-2 me, 5-3 me? Let's say 5-3). It doesn't matter that much. Instead it is a collection of moments. Those collection of moments, like life, add up to something so much more than statistics.

There is a certain moment that comes that I wish to highlight. There's a certain rush of playing that I mentioned. You're pumped. Blood is flowing. Maybe some endorphins being released in your brain from when you flattened your arm against the wall running for that return shot. You're wearing your goggles (stay safe, kids) and they're fogged up, likely from your sexy sexy perspirations (with all the sweaty sweaty pheromones in the air, the sealed room, the close proximity, squash is a highly erotic and sexually charged sport... hey there, wink, you're looking good to all my past competitors).

A calm comes over you. Everything slows down. Everything makes sense. You're moving at the same speed but processing it differently... faster. As if you have conquered time. The squash ball (single yellow dot... long the competition standard before the advent of technology allowed the development of the single yellow dot. What's that smell? The Singularity.) becomes a superdense orb, its own gravity field becoming the new point of relativity, warping the space-time continuum around it. (Or maybe its like that Futurama episode "Three Hundred Big Boys" where Fry uses a tax refund to buy 300 coffees in a day and reaches a moment of zen at the pinnacle and saves the day. Yeah, its a lot like that actually).

Everything slows down. Your perspective is different, warped, better. You have reached enlightenment. That is why I play squash. For those moments of zen, and pure bliss. Then you come down from the mountain, your pact with God made, you look at your partner, wondering if he/she understands, or even made the same pact. Then you make a return, and the cycle begins again.

I wish I could play squash more than I have as of late. I think I played three times last month. And only once, maybe twice a month, the four previous months (i.e. whenever I came to town). I might, I just might, have to join the squash league in the fall. I'm pretty sure that's a real thing.

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Well, I think I acquitted myself well. Happy D-Day, everybody!

Inspired Moments, Terrible Movies: Captain America

So there I was at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night watching Teletoon with the dull boyfriend of a friend who lay passed out somewhere in the back. Fortunately Captain America, the 1990 abomination of a live-action film starring J.D. Salinger's son Matt, is hilarious and on at this time.

So Captain America, in full rubber suit, has presumably just woken up from a deep (cryogenic) freeze and wandered into what we're told is the Canadian wilderness. After narrowly escaping the line of fire of a bunch of dirt bike-riding Nazis, the Captain hitches a ride with Ned Beatty, sent by the President (of the United States) to retrieve the good Captain. Of course, the Captain is too culture-shocked by all of this. Come on, Japatronics in the car?! Shudder, for the good Captain. Naturally, he suspects Ned Beatty of actually being an Axis spy. So the Captain tells Ned Beatty, "I'm feeling sick" and Ned Beatty pulls his truck over. The Captain runs behind the truck, oh let's say a good 20 yards away, and bends over ready to heave. And he waits. Ned Beatty comes to check on him. Once Ned Beatty reaches him, then the Captain makes his move. He dashes back to the car, while jolly, rotund ol' Ned Beatty watches in bewilderment, and the Captain drives that truck away. All the way to sunny California.

Great Scenes, Bad Scenes

The longstanding conceptual inspiration to the above:

Samuel L. Jackson gets eaten by a motherfucking shark

When Great Scenes Happen To Bad Movies

and

When Bad Scenes Happen To Great Movies

c/o The A.V. Club

Weekly Wikipedia Find: Unico

Here we are having passed the threshold, the precipice, of the halfway point and we're going to celebrate with Unico.

Unico is the delicious-looking, cute, little baby unicorn star of his own manga and anime as created by the creator of Astroboy and Kimba the White Lion (shades of Disney's The Lion King as gossip goes). Unico has happiness- and wish-giving powers of magic for his friends. Unico likewise is friends with a delicious looking, cute, little baby devil named Beezil and a delicious-looking, cute, little baby cat named Chao (a kitten?). Unico starred in three awesome sounding movies.

Wikipedia by Week

Week Twenty-Six: Panopticon
Week Twenty-Five: Legendary
Week Twenty-Four: Ostern
Week Twenty-Three: Kilroy was here
Week Twenty-Two: Jack Parsons
Week Twenty-One: The Wold Newton Universe
Week Twenty: Anonymous
Week Nineteen: Monty Hall problem
Week Eighteen: Brown Booby
Week Seventeen: Dieter Dengler
Week Sixteen: New Jerusalem
Week Fifteen: Technological Singularity
Week Fourteen: Numbers Station
Week Thirteen: Culper Ring
Week Twelve: Mary Sue
Week Eleven: Byford dolphin diving bell accident
Week Ten: Deep-sea gigantism
Week Nine: Bloop
Week Eight: Rat king
Week Seven: Gustave Doré
Week Six: Tomorrow
Week Five: Borscht Belt
Week Four: Swampman
Week Three: Chinese room
Week Two: Ambrose Burnside
Week One: Lolita fashion

The Villains: Frank Booth

George Lucas asked David Lynch to direct Return of the Jedi. He didn't end up directing Return of the Jedi; instead, he made Blue Velvet. Like Star Wars, Blue Velvet has an ominous villain, a force of unbridled tension on screen who prefaces events of bad things happening. Star Wars has a Darth Vader. Blue Velvet has a Frank Booth. Frank Booth is Darth Vader in love.

He is a psychosexual force veering to be unleashed at any moment. He'll explode into violence, laughter, tears, or erotic longing. Vvhhhhhuhhh. "Mommy, baby wants to fuck."

Instead of a respirator, he's got an oxygen mask full of amyl nitrate fueling his maddening descent into self.

He's a candy-coloured clown, dressed to be a rock star, the original hipster, listening to Roy Orbison in the eighties when you were listening to hair metal. He's your hipster hero. He even drinks your hipster beer. "Heineken?! Fuck that shit! PABST BLUE RIBBON!"

Comedy/Dialogue III

The Living Doll: Let me at 'em, Captain. I'm full of tinier men.

Captain Decency: Not yet, Doll. Not... yet.

- The Tick, "Grandpa Wore Tights", Season 2

Film Watch List: May 2008

*film has been seen previously/rewatching
†watched in theatre

in viewing order

Reign Over Me (2007)
Iron Man (2008)†
BloodRayne (2005)
Michael Clayton (2007)
The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)*
The Reaping (2007)
Jurassic Park (1993)*
Tideland (2005)
Escape from New York (1981)*
Mr. Brooks (2007)
Bratz (2007)
The Nanny Diaries (2007)
Crank (2006)
Employee of the Month (2006)
The Naked Prey (1966)
In the Land of Women (2007)
Predator (1987)*
Green for Danger (1946)
Evan Almighty (2007)
The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997)*
Breaking and Entering (2006)
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)
A Mighty Heart (2007)
Young Mr. Lincoln (1939)
Scoop (2006)
Next (2007)
1941 (1979)
Candy (2006)
1408 (2007)
Recount (2008)
The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984)

Stats
Films watched: 31
Films previously seen: 5
Films watched in theatres: 1

Average # of films watched per day: 1.00

By Decade
1930s: 1
1940s: 1
1950s: 0
1960s: 2
1970s: 1
1980s: 3
1990s: 2
2000s: 21

Conclusion: I can get pretty obsessive compulsive when I want to watch as many films as there are days in a month. It kind of takes the joy out of it. Like when I would be checking if I was below my quota. And it's not like I watched a film everyday. I think there was one day, I watched four movies.