I was pretty excited to open this week's New Yorker to find a pretty long profile of George Clooney: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/04/14/080414fa_fact_parker
It was ok, but not that revealing. Clooney is a nice guy, charming, and looks to be the social leader of whoever he's around. I learned that already when I watched Ocean's 11.
This profile is amazing: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/03/24/080324fa_fact_mcgrath
Apparently, the smartest guy in sports, and maybe the world, is former Philly Lenny Dykstra?!? Quirkiest (way he talks, stuff he buys, why he buys it etc.) guy ever. Plus, talks about how he went from drunkard to almost-hedge fund guy.
Read that story about the girl that got beaten, and the video got posted on youtube: http://www.local6.com/news/15858832/detail.html
This part is awesome:
"Families of the teens accused in the beating have received death threats from across the country after their addresses and phone numbers were posted on the Internet, inside a YouTube video.
The new YouTube video calls out for the public to take action, saying, "let your voices be heard."
The video then posts the girls' names, their phone numbers, addresses and other information."
This part is less awesome:
"Meanwhile, an innocent family was targeted by angry callers after their information was mistakenly posted online.
The couple said they got around 300 angry, abusive calls from all over the country Wednesday.
Watch Local 6 News for more on this story."
Local 6 reported that some of the families have spoken with deputies about the possibility of getting protection for their safety.
Good comics: Kick-Ass by Mark Millar and John Romita, and Brubaker's Captain America.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Celebrities
A friend recently posed the age-old question: If you somehow found a genie, which 5 celebrity sex tapes would you wish for.
It's always a hot topic, and if you haven't yet heard, apparently there's a Shakira threesome tape, somewhere out in the ether. That is stepping up your game right there.
Here is a list unnamed friend put together:
1) Hayden Pannettiere
2) Lauren London
3) Leighton Meester
4) Vanessa Hudgens
5) Jessica Alba
I have several problems with this list. One, I don't know who any of them are. Two, if I know unnamed friend's tastes, these girls are probably pretty, but in that I can live without seeing them naked. Third, this list is boring. Four, there is no underlying theme.
Check this list:
1) Nigella Lawson
2) Giada De Laurentiis
3) Padma Lakshmi
4) Rachel Ray
5) Cat Cora
Now that is a thoughtful list.
Also, later this month, I think it's the 16th, come watch A L'Interieur at the Bloor cinema. It is maybe the baddest ass slasher flick ever.
It's always a hot topic, and if you haven't yet heard, apparently there's a Shakira threesome tape, somewhere out in the ether. That is stepping up your game right there.
Here is a list unnamed friend put together:
1) Hayden Pannettiere
2) Lauren London
3) Leighton Meester
4) Vanessa Hudgens
5) Jessica Alba
I have several problems with this list. One, I don't know who any of them are. Two, if I know unnamed friend's tastes, these girls are probably pretty, but in that I can live without seeing them naked. Third, this list is boring. Four, there is no underlying theme.
Check this list:
1) Nigella Lawson
2) Giada De Laurentiis
3) Padma Lakshmi
4) Rachel Ray
5) Cat Cora
Now that is a thoughtful list.
Also, later this month, I think it's the 16th, come watch A L'Interieur at the Bloor cinema. It is maybe the baddest ass slasher flick ever.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tourists on flipped bus tossed 'like a salad'
That's the headline in the star last week: http://www.thestar.com/article/350489
you can now go to the star website, type in "tossed salad" in the search bar, and get a hit.
My other favorite is from last year at the Under-18 World Cup was in Toronto. The Chilean flans got pissed over a red card and they semi-rioted; the cops had to come and use tazers on them. The headline: "Red-Hot Chile Gripers" http://ottsun.canoe.ca/News/National/2007/07/21/4356606-sun.html
I used to wish that I could be an NBA player or... well i guess that's it. But my new dream job is to write headlines full of innuendo and puns. that would make me happy.
actually, check out this job:http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2008/03/10/080310ta_talk_widdicombe
basically, you read a bunch of books and meet a bunch of people, then on the plane, you tell movie producer brian grazer about it. the idea is that grazer is too busy to learn, so you'd learn for him. apparently, the job also pays in the 6-figures. so you'd b ein hollywood, but you could always ratioanlize away the soulessness.
here's an awesome essay by michael chabon on the meaning of superhero costumes:
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/03/10/080310fa_fact_chabon
"Now the time has come to propose, or confront, a fundamental truth: like the being who wears it, the superhero costume is, by definition, an impossible object. It cannot exist."
you can now go to the star website, type in "tossed salad" in the search bar, and get a hit.
My other favorite is from last year at the Under-18 World Cup was in Toronto. The Chilean flans got pissed over a red card and they semi-rioted; the cops had to come and use tazers on them. The headline: "Red-Hot Chile Gripers" http://ottsun.canoe.ca/News/National/2007/07/21/4356606-sun.html
I used to wish that I could be an NBA player or... well i guess that's it. But my new dream job is to write headlines full of innuendo and puns. that would make me happy.
actually, check out this job:http://www.newyorker.com/talk/2008/03/10/080310ta_talk_widdicombe
basically, you read a bunch of books and meet a bunch of people, then on the plane, you tell movie producer brian grazer about it. the idea is that grazer is too busy to learn, so you'd learn for him. apparently, the job also pays in the 6-figures. so you'd b ein hollywood, but you could always ratioanlize away the soulessness.
here's an awesome essay by michael chabon on the meaning of superhero costumes:
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/03/10/080310fa_fact_chabon
"Now the time has come to propose, or confront, a fundamental truth: like the being who wears it, the superhero costume is, by definition, an impossible object. It cannot exist."
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
whats up
where the fuck is the wire season finale on tmn ondemand.
the most thoughtful and awesome present i got for my bday is a nespresso machine from my dad
that thing is awesome. it makes really good espresso from these plastic pods. you just put it in, press the button, and drink coffee. im lazy so its good for me. the only downside is the heart palpitations. so next time youre over, ill make you a cup.
vazquez-marquez was last saturday. i missed it live, then when i searched for the video online, i got a headline about the result instead. it didnt matter though. the fight was so good that the result didnt matter. im not writing about the outcome, so youtube that shit. oh and anderson silva is a badass.
chris's going away party was good. nice performances by colin (rapper's delight), justin gayle (never gonna give you up) and chris (grapevince) though chris's wasnt as good as this http://youtube.com/watch?v=3poeBGG70zY
everyone got drunk, and so did i which isnt generally a bad thing. but ended on a bad note when i got into a bit of an altercation with another (more)drunkard over a cab. instead of letting it go i pressed the problem. in general im pretty easy going, but i still get these flashes when i let off steam but in a bad way. if youre a friend and reading this, it's your job to calm me down.
good luck to chris in chinaland!
the most thoughtful and awesome present i got for my bday is a nespresso machine from my dad
that thing is awesome. it makes really good espresso from these plastic pods. you just put it in, press the button, and drink coffee. im lazy so its good for me. the only downside is the heart palpitations. so next time youre over, ill make you a cup.
vazquez-marquez was last saturday. i missed it live, then when i searched for the video online, i got a headline about the result instead. it didnt matter though. the fight was so good that the result didnt matter. im not writing about the outcome, so youtube that shit. oh and anderson silva is a badass.
chris's going away party was good. nice performances by colin (rapper's delight), justin gayle (never gonna give you up) and chris (grapevince) though chris's wasnt as good as this http://youtube.com/watch?v=3poeBGG70zY
everyone got drunk, and so did i which isnt generally a bad thing. but ended on a bad note when i got into a bit of an altercation with another (more)drunkard over a cab. instead of letting it go i pressed the problem. in general im pretty easy going, but i still get these flashes when i let off steam but in a bad way. if youre a friend and reading this, it's your job to calm me down.
good luck to chris in chinaland!
Friday, February 22, 2008
Diary of the Dead review
We real zombie fans don’t apologize. We like flesh eating, just ‘cuz. Only the lame blush at torn-off limbs and heave at intestines hitting the floor. We zombie fans are simple people with simple needs, give us some blood and guts and we’re happy. But George Romero’s latest and weakest zombie film, Diary of the Dead, isn’t for us real zombie fans.
Diary takes place during that original night of the living dead, but before the dawn, when corpses have just started coming back to life and when the necessity of head shots isn’t yet common knowledge. At the center of this chapter is a group of university film students trying to drive home safely from a midnight shoot in the forest. When they can’t avoid the undead, they drive through them. Jason (Joshua Close) feels compelled to film their entire ordeal, as his friends die one by one, and the story unfolds from the point of view of his digital camcorder.
Even before the first frame hits the screen, the film fails, breaking the first rule of good zombie moviemaking: keep the characters confined to one place, be it darkened theatre, shopping mall, or abandoned house. A single zombie—slow, dumb, and vulnerable—isn’t really scary. The threat of being gradually swarmed is.
Diary, though, is essentially a road movie, all the kids piled into a Winnebago. Gone, then, is any sense of claustrophobia and looming dread. Instead of the fear of what’s going to get us, we get let’s hope nothing is there when we arrive. It’s an ignorant bliss, and we experience a threat that’s far off, not immediate. Diary, as a result, is just plain not scary. Watching Shaun of the Dead, a comedy at heart, on the other hand, is a much more stressful experience because, simply, the last two acts unfold exclusively in a boarded-up pub.
Being un-scary isn’t unforgivable. Being didactic though, is something else. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead is his best in part because of its sharp social commentary, mindless zombies equals mindless shoppers. However, it’s a subtle, embedded commentary among the gore, not the bombastic message of Diary, the look-at-me meditation on new media and the compulsion to record and upload.
As Joshua points his camera and shoots, he says, “If we’re not recording it, it’s not happening.” And says. And says again, just in case anyone in the audience might have missed it. And says. Joshua is so unbelievably enamored with making his record, that, instead of helping which he easily can, he films as one of his friends is being chased and almost chomped.
Diary uses a unique convention to further flog it’s message: we are actually watching the final, edited product of the kids’ record of the disaster. The documentary form arises out of the need to film, to upload the real story, the story not told by CNN and Fox News.
But this too-clever turn isn’t enough to deny the fact that the fake documentary film convention never actually really works. Comedic mockumentaries can work, not dramatic. Like The Blair Witch Project and Cloverfield, the artificiality stares us in the face, even points at itself. It’s impossible to believe a cast of less than perfect actors speaking directly into a camera, directly to us for that matter. It’s no fun watching them flail through extended periods of realism, with no cuts in which to hide. Other films let us forget there are actors, let us lose ourselves and make-believe. In films like this, though, the more we remember.
Zombies are the best because, more than any other movie monsters, they lend themselves to good allegory. They’re basically human, give or take a faculty or two. They can be used to show how much we like to shop or how much we like to abuse the Other. We are them, they are us. But that’s in metaphor only. Romero must have worked with them too long and forgotten. Might explain why he made such a simplistic, didactic movie: though us real zombie fans are simple, we’re far from fucking brain dead.
Diary takes place during that original night of the living dead, but before the dawn, when corpses have just started coming back to life and when the necessity of head shots isn’t yet common knowledge. At the center of this chapter is a group of university film students trying to drive home safely from a midnight shoot in the forest. When they can’t avoid the undead, they drive through them. Jason (Joshua Close) feels compelled to film their entire ordeal, as his friends die one by one, and the story unfolds from the point of view of his digital camcorder.
Even before the first frame hits the screen, the film fails, breaking the first rule of good zombie moviemaking: keep the characters confined to one place, be it darkened theatre, shopping mall, or abandoned house. A single zombie—slow, dumb, and vulnerable—isn’t really scary. The threat of being gradually swarmed is.
Diary, though, is essentially a road movie, all the kids piled into a Winnebago. Gone, then, is any sense of claustrophobia and looming dread. Instead of the fear of what’s going to get us, we get let’s hope nothing is there when we arrive. It’s an ignorant bliss, and we experience a threat that’s far off, not immediate. Diary, as a result, is just plain not scary. Watching Shaun of the Dead, a comedy at heart, on the other hand, is a much more stressful experience because, simply, the last two acts unfold exclusively in a boarded-up pub.
Being un-scary isn’t unforgivable. Being didactic though, is something else. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead is his best in part because of its sharp social commentary, mindless zombies equals mindless shoppers. However, it’s a subtle, embedded commentary among the gore, not the bombastic message of Diary, the look-at-me meditation on new media and the compulsion to record and upload.
As Joshua points his camera and shoots, he says, “If we’re not recording it, it’s not happening.” And says. And says again, just in case anyone in the audience might have missed it. And says. Joshua is so unbelievably enamored with making his record, that, instead of helping which he easily can, he films as one of his friends is being chased and almost chomped.
Diary uses a unique convention to further flog it’s message: we are actually watching the final, edited product of the kids’ record of the disaster. The documentary form arises out of the need to film, to upload the real story, the story not told by CNN and Fox News.
But this too-clever turn isn’t enough to deny the fact that the fake documentary film convention never actually really works. Comedic mockumentaries can work, not dramatic. Like The Blair Witch Project and Cloverfield, the artificiality stares us in the face, even points at itself. It’s impossible to believe a cast of less than perfect actors speaking directly into a camera, directly to us for that matter. It’s no fun watching them flail through extended periods of realism, with no cuts in which to hide. Other films let us forget there are actors, let us lose ourselves and make-believe. In films like this, though, the more we remember.
Zombies are the best because, more than any other movie monsters, they lend themselves to good allegory. They’re basically human, give or take a faculty or two. They can be used to show how much we like to shop or how much we like to abuse the Other. We are them, they are us. But that’s in metaphor only. Romero must have worked with them too long and forgotten. Might explain why he made such a simplistic, didactic movie: though us real zombie fans are simple, we’re far from fucking brain dead.
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