AND THE BIG WHEEL KEEP ON TURNIN

I have an old computer with a dial up connection, and here’s something I find REALLY irritating. Leaving aside how slowly some pages load (although that’s a button you don’t want to push on me; WHY do web designers all INSTANTLY have to incorporate the latest cutting edge animated graphics software into their pages the very fucking SECOND it’s available? Don’t they realize that a significant percentage of the net surfers out there don’t have the software they need to see those graphics, and most likely can’t run it on their older machines?), what I find especially aggravating is that when a page finally DOES load to the point where you can do something with it. So you move the cursor with the mouse into the field you want to type in and you start typing whatever it is… your password, your email account ID, the next URL you want to jump to, your search item, WHATEVER… and you get five keystrokes into it and suddenly, the fucking goddam AD GRAPHIC that your hard drive has been grinding through loading for the last thirty seconds pops in, and just as suddenly, the computer automatically moves your cursor, IN MID PHRASE, to some other field on the page that it thinks is a better starting point.

It’s like, I head out to Juno Webmail and move the cursor to the email ID window so I can type in whichever one of my Juno accounts I want to check. I get halfway through ‘martianmanhunter2’ and abruptly, the goddam ad graphic I don’t care about that takes up half the page finally finishes downloading and suddenly appears… and Juno rips the cursor out of the field I’m typing in and puts it into the password field instead, where I don’t fucking want it yet.

And this happens on probably half the pages I routinely surf to.

Yeah, yeah. Get a real computer, Darren. Get DSL, Darren. Get a life, Darren. I know, I know.

FINDS A CONVENIENT STREET LIGHT, STEPS OUT OF THE SHADE

Paul may be getting lucky tonight. It’s in the lap of the gods. But he went out last night with Scott and Scott’s friend Don, and apparently met this hot blonde who seemed to dig his stuff a lot, and she made him promise he’d be back at the bar tonight, so who knows? My baby brother may be getting his beak wet tonight. Er… or something.

This means I have to remember to put my earplugs in before I go to sleep tonight, because being lonely and miserable is shitty enough without having to listen to someone getting laid in the next room.

Yes, somehow, I DO always manage to make it about me. If you don’t like it, go write your own damn blog.

I seem to be in a bad mood. I wasn’t, moments ago… hmmmm. Well… nobody’s paying anyone to read this, nor am I being paid by anyone to write it, so I’ll just be surly and petulant if I feel like it.

I would, honestly, really wish Paul all the best tonight, except that apparently this chick is from Texas and only in town for a little while due to a funeral, so I don’t think anything long term is going to come of it, and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t need the envy and jealousy and the general reinforcement of my own miserably lonely status I’ll get from Paul getting lucky within the same domicile I share if it’s simply a one night stand.

That realization doesn’t help, because if I were a nice guy I WOULD wish Paul all the best, but, well, on the other hand, if I were a nice guy, I probably wouldn’t have been turned down by every woman I’ve asked for any kind of date at all, however harmless or platonic, in the last three years. So that’s that.

AND THE MOVIE MAKES HER WANT TO BE THE STORY

So, today Paul and I went to see Underworld and The Rundown. Underworld profoundly sucked, although Paul and I had a good time making jokes at the movie’s expense all through it, since we were the only two people watching the 2 p.m. show. The film has a lot of potential… vampires and werewolves in a centuries old conflict fought behind the scenes against a gritty urban backdrop, yeah, I’d say there’s potential for a good story there… but sometimes you just know within the opening five minutes if a movie is going to work or not, and this was one of those ones that from its first few moments pretty obviously wasn’t going anywhere, and wasn’t going to get there very quickly, either.

What this movie mostly struck me as was some kind of wet dream vanity project for a complete and utter fantasy movie geek. Every 90 seconds in this film, Paul and I, who are both complete and utter fantasy movie geeks ourselves (as well as complete and utter fantasy TV/comic book and, in my case, textual fiction geeks, as well) pointed out yet another previous fantasy film that a particular shot or set up or sequence or story idea had been lifted whole cloth from. We concluded, at various points in the film, that the producers, writer, and director had all absolutely LOVED [take a breath]: X-MEN, THE MATRIX, FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING, HIGHLANDER, KINDRED: THE EMBRACED, BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, BLADE, AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, TERMINATOR, INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE, NEAR DARK, STARGATE, ALIENS, STAR WARS… [pant pant]… and various others too numerous to list, but honestly, it would almost be possible to go through this thing frame by frame and point out an endless number of fantasy films and TV shows that various shots and sequences had simply been swiped directly from.

Underworld was, in most ways, the cinematic equivalent of most of Image Comics ‘creative’ product. Absolutely all its style was stolen from other, better sources, and underneath, it had absolutely no substance of its own to set it apart from any other generic fantasy film. It was Krull with night walking bloodsuckers (all of whom dressed like refugees from The Matrix by way of Interview With A Vampire), it was C.H.U.D. with werewolves (who morphed into really cheesy looking CGI effect lycanthropes for the fight scenes and thus, were allowed to dress for the most part like normal human beings the rest of the time).

There was almost no characterization; what there was was reserved for very few characters, and a lot of it didn’t come until very late in the film, where it was perfunctory and predictable. Even worse, there was no sense of humor to the film at all; this massive work of celluloid larceny regarded itself with leaden, even solemn gravity. I couldn’t help but feel that producers, writer, and director were all absolutely united in their belief that This Was An Important Fantasy Film, that This Movie Said Something, that There Was Nothing Funny About This Stuff.

Nor, alas, was there anything entertaining, other than Paul and I making jokes to each other about how badly this movie needed Kris Kristofferson to show up and provide some expository dialogue on just what it was that made vampires different from humans, since we never saw them drink blood, they didn’t seem to have any particular super powers other than an ability to drop from great heights and land, catlike, on their feet, they reflected in mirrors, obviously breathed and could be wounded by normal weapons, and, in general, if not for their penchant for black, shiny clothing and carrying guns everywhere they went, seemed completely indistinguishable from any other action figures.

Don’t be sucked in by Kate Beckinsale’s loveliness combined with an R rating; either. The R is for profanity and violence (and the violence barely registers on someone, like me, who has been desensitized by decades of watching much gorier vampire and horror films) and nobody gets naked. All in all, my earnest advice is, give this one a miss, ESPECIALLY if you’re a fantasy film geek… unless you’re one who has absolutely no capacity for critical judgement, in which case, you’ll probably adore this film.

The Rundown was surprisingly entertaining. It’s a resolutely dumb film, and once The Rock (or Beck, as he’s called in this film) get to the South American jungle the plot stops making any linear sense at all, and what consistency of characterization there might be goes right out the window as well. Still, the film has an amazingly enjoyable opener, as Beck, working for a particular underworld figure as a collector and enforcer, has to go into a nightclub to get collateral on a large gambling debt from a Super Bowl winning quarterback… and in order to do so, he has to fight his way through the team’s entire offensive line. Each player is introduced with flashy Monday Night Football style graphics, the action itself is choreographed and shot with the kind of astonishing hyperkinetic clarity that whoever fucked up Underworld would most likely sell his left kidney to have half of for any random five minutes of his own movie, and the characterization is all just quirky and nuanced enough to be enjoyable without it getting in the way of the plot, which moves along at supersonic velocity anyway. Add in fun little touches like Schwarzenegger’s uncredited cameo, walking out of the club as The Rock is walking in and throwing him a fast “Have fun”, and, well, I had high hopes that this movie might actually be what the reviews all said it was… namely, the best buddy action flick since 48 Hours (which is very high praise to me).

However, as I say, the film can’t maintain the standard of excellence it sets in its opening sequence, and I have to say that the ad campaign is very effectively edited to make Christopher Walken’s scenery chewing villain seem much funnier and more entertaining than he actually is in the film. (A major disappointment to me is that the funniest sequence in the ad campaign… a spot where the Rock shoots a gun out of Walken’s hand, and Walken wrings his hand and says, in a rather outraged, what the hell did you do that for tone, “OWwww”… isn’t actually in the movie. Walken’s reaction to the Rock’s shot isn’t really a reaction; the pistol flies out of his hand and he immediately yelps “YOW!” not, “OW!” as you see in the commercials.)

Another disappointment was that the producers apparently simply stuck Rosario Dawson into the film to give us guys something fun to look at, and she could have done a helluva lot more than that if her part had been expanded a little, plus, she’s clearly only there to be a romantic interest, yet the movie never really develops anything like that, leaving her as little more than a damsel in distress, which is an absolute waste of as talented a hottie as she is.

Yet the movie was fun to watch and quite entertaining, and the various climactic characterization moments, while all completely predictable, are still deftly handled. The Rock is a surprisingly good actor (although he isn’t exactly going to be overshadowed by too many of his cast-mates in this movie, especially with such a non-memorable script) and while Paul and I afterwards could not, between us, really remember any really quotable or interesting dialogue, still, the film has a lot of funny moments and for the most part works reasonably well.

It is not, however, within several parsecs of the same league as 48 Hours.

In TV stuff, I failed to mention last week that I checked out ABC’s new sitcom “I’m With Her” last week, mostly because I’ve had a huge crush on Teri Polo since I first saw her in a supporting role on Sports Night several years ago. She is, in addition to being absolutely the epitome of sexiness to me… great voice, great smile, great face, great body, she’s the whole package… also a very talented actress (from what I can tell; her character on Sports Night, Rebecca, was a very complex creation whose persona let Polo display an enormous array of sometimes very subtle and other times extremely intense emotions), and I’ve enjoyed watching her in the various other places she’s shown up over the years since Sports Night folded. She can also do comedy really well, which people tell me is very difficult. So I’ve been rooting for “I’m With Her”; I wouldn’t mind at all if Teri Polo had a regular gig, especially one where she gets to be sexy every week, as she does in this show, where she portrays a major Hollywood sex symbol who ends up dating a public school teacher.

So, anyway, I checked out the show last week, and, well, since I’d also been sucked in by the Dead Ritter Sentimentality Barrage ABC put on, and I’d also tried to watch “8 Simple Rules” right before it, and “8 Simple Rules” seems to be a painfully, wretchedly awful sit com, “I’m With Her” apparently did well by comparison. Teri Polo was luscious and funny, anyway, and the other people in the sit com seemed to do fairly good jobs, too (although the obnoxious best friend part, and the obnoxious sister part, are both just, well, obnoxious, and really should be fired out of a catapult into a large body of water as soon as possible) and while I wouldn’t have given the episode more than a 5 out of 10, watching “8 Simple Rules” reminded me rather painfully that the vast majority of television sit com fare is simply dreadful, and wouldn’t even rate a 1 on my personal scale.

However, I also watched it tonight, and, well, Jesus. Yes, it is still an oasis of relative excellence in ABC’s 8 to 10 Tuesday timeslots (surrounded as it is by “8 Simple Rules” and “According To Jim” and “Less Than Perfect”), but last week’s 5 fell off to maybe a 4, and I’m not sure even Teri Polo’s infinite delectability and undeniable talent is going to be enough to carry this loser if it drops off any further.

Tomorrow night… hmmmm… later on tonight, rather… we have Season Premieres of Smallville and Angel, plus I get to tape West Wing, plus there’s also the premiere of Karen Sisco, which seems like it may be worth watching, although I’m kind of worried it will suck since ABC seems to be really emphasizing a few short, probably completely out of context quotes from reviews I haven’t read about how ‘cool’ it is. Whenever elderly marketing people start talking about how ‘cool’ a new show is, I get the heebie jeebies. Still… Carla Gugino in tight and skimpy clothing can’t be a bad thing… although I recollect saying much the same thing about Yasmin Bleeth in Titans a few years ago, too…

And while I’m on the subject of the tube, ABC Monday Night Football must, immediately, stop doing these cutesy openings to each football game. For the Giants-Cowboys game, featuring Bill Parcells’ return to the Meadowlands, they did this horribly lame mob-oriented pastiche featuring Joe Mantegna, which was just painful to watch, and this week, with the Bears playing the Packers, they had Jim Belushi doing a Broadway style song and dance number like something out of Chicago, which was a shitty movie anyway, and Jim Belushi CANNOT sing and MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO TRY… at least, not when I’m watching TV.

Guys… people watch Monday Night Football because they want to watch, you know, FOOTBALL. And Lisa Guerrero. (What, you think I tune in for that idiot John Madden?) I doubt anyone out there really enjoys these ‘cute’ little intro numbers much, and I personally cannot STAND them. Let’s dump ‘em.

RULES OF THE ROAD

In one of his many invaluable essays on life in Hollywood, Mark Evanier described his first meeting with legendary TV comic and icon Milton Berle. Upon being introduced to Uncle Miltie and shaking hands with him, Mark, who is a pretty witty guy, blurted out without even thinking about it, “Wow, I didn’t recognize you in men’s clothing”. According to Mark, this soured Uncle Miltie on him from that point forward, because Mark had broken Rule Number One When Hanging With Milton Berle, namely, Never Be Funnier Than Milton Berle.

I’m reminded of that anecdote now.

Recent experiences at Electrolite being pretty much entirely similar if not completely identical to my previous experiences at Uppity-Negro.com and TampaTantrum.com, I thought I’d take the time to extrapolate whatever wisdom there is to find in the whole mess. Here’s The Deal, as far as I can see:

If you want to make friends and influence people when you head out onto the blogging trail, at least, as regards your posting comments on other people’s blogs, you MUST NOT:

Rule E comes mostly out of my experiences with Aaron Hawkin’s Uppity-Negro blog. He gets a lot of female posters and like any of us male geeks would be in that admirable position, he is thoroughly whipped by them. If a new reader comes along and does anything whatsoever to offend the babes on Aaron’s blog, that new reader can expect a cold shoulder from Aaron roughly the size of the Greenland glacier. I don’t really blame Aaron for this; for a male geek, positive female attention is a jewel beyond price, and if I ever had any women posting to my blog who weren’t related to me by marriage, I’d most likely dance and sing like a puppet on a string when they cracked the lash, too.

I should add to this that I’ve learned, from Electrolite, that one Must Not Be Whimsical, Oblique, or Overly Geeky When Posting To A Big Important Political Marketplace of Ideas Type Blog, because those guys just have no time for Theodore Marley Brooks or Cornelus van Lunt references, regardless of how amusing or entertaining you and some others may find them.

Now, I am posting this to point out that while these may be the universal Rules of the Road on other blogs (and as far as I can see, they are, indeed, pretty much universal) you can ignore them here. I don’t care if you:

Oh, and I like geeky references and would just adore whimsical, cleverly elliptical posts to my comment threads, although I suspect I’d get annoyed if someone started posting a whole lot of Harry Potter-speak here, just for one example.

If there is a universal rule on this blog, it is quite simply, Do Not Be A Bigger Asshole Than The Blogger. In fact, if you can avoid it (and most of my small number of regular posters avoid it with style and panache) Don’t Be An Asshole At All. I am quite a big enough asshole myself to supply all the assholiness necessary for any blog, and I will continue to keep this blog well furnished with stupid remarks, doltish mistakes, whiney rationalizations, and defensive recriminations by the ton lot, there can be no doubt. You need bring none of your own asshole nature with you, I have plenty and am always willing to share.

THE INEVITABLE DISCLAIMER

By generally accepted social standards, I'm not a likable guy. I'm not saying that to get cheap reassurances. It's simply the truth. I regard many social conventions in radically different ways than most people do, I have many many controversial opinions, and I tend to state them pretty forthrightly. This is not a formula for popularity in any social continuum I've ever experienced.

In my prior blogs, I took the fairly standard attitude: if you don't like my opinions or my blog, don't read the fucking thing.

Having given that some more thought, though, I'm not going to say that this time around, because I've realized that what this is basically saying is, 'if you don't like what I have to say, tough, I don't want to hear it, don't even bother to tell me, just go away'.

And that's actually a pretty worthless attitude. It's basically saying, 'I don't want to hear anything except unconditional agreement and approval'. And that's nonsense. This is still a free country... for a little while longer, anyway... and if you really feel you just gotta send me a flame, or post one on my comment threads (assuming they actually work, which I cannot in any way guarantee) then by all means, knock yourself out.

Unless your flame is exceptionally cogent, witty, or stylish, though, I will most likely ignore it. You do have a right to say anything you want (although I'm not sure that's a right when you're doing it in my comment threads, but hey, you can certainly send all the emails you want). However, I have an equal right not to read anything I don't feel like reading... and I'm really quick with the delete key... as various angry folks have found in the past, when they decided they just had to do their absolute level best to make me as miserable as possible.

So, if you don't like my opinions, feel free to say so. However, if I find absolutely nothing worthwhile in your commentary, I will almost certainly not respond to it in any way.

Stupidity, ignorance, intolerance... these things are only worth my time and attention if they're entertaining. So unless you can be stupid, ignorant, and/or intolerant with enough wit, style, and/or panache to amuse me... try to be smart, informed, and broad minded when you write me.