fine whine

Would you believe that some four hundred stories about the Oscars (at least as tracked by Google news) even before the show ended? Some of them have titles like “Lord of the rings: six statues so far” while others veiled their in-progress-ness somewhat more. I just wanted to know who’d won (particularly for Best Film) and happened to turn on the show just after all the envelopes had been opened. I’d like to have a list of every winner, darn it, and have it now. I don’t need a story or jokes, just give me a list. I will find one sooner or later, though; I’m not too hung up on it. It’s all politics anyway.

Speaking of politics, evidently John Kerry decided to toe the party line on same-sex marriages in Massachusetts—the Republican party line. I can’t say I’m surprised; how better to steal a guy’s voters than to emulate him. Why I have chosen this as a pet issue right now I cannot say, but I’d feel better to have a politician in charge who is willing to stand up for the quiet majority instead of caving in to (or belonging to) the much louder minority. I’d like to see a politician who stands for freedom and equality over prevailing morality, and one who leaves responsibilities to the states and churches as need be. So what’s Nader doing this year, anyway?

Jessica and I dropped by Scott and Carina’s place today for a spot of food and hanging out (and some backyard soccer). It was great, though Scott and I didn’t get much time in on our LEGO film. Much was discussed about a pair of ideas I’ve been tossing around for a future feature or perhaps story or novel. Naturally I cannot mention specifics ‘lest we see a raft of movies and books about the robot submersibles revolting and holding the world hostage. Sounds like a great idea, right? We certainly plan more visits if they’ll have us back, though I should probably leave my cleats at home…

Oh, and Return of the king swept some eleven categories, including Best Picture. Woo hoo. Now I can go to sleep. I’m not finished writing, I’m just hanging up my keyboard for the night.

Knowing full well that they’re just begging to be remade, I’ve been watching the Airport series of movies, all four of them. I’m halfway through and just about to see everything I missed of Airport ‘77 at B-Fest.

What can I say so far? George Kennedy is really cool. As the only guy capable of surviving all four installments (we shall only see if I can do it myself), George deserves a lot more respect than he’s getting. What happened to him? A dollar to anybody who can tell me without consulting the imdb.

After waiting for what seemed too long a time, I finally was able to watch the Sopranos fourth season DVD set. Now that it’s over, I’m of mixed opinion. There were some utterly brilliant moments, and others of sheer banality. Whether one outweighed the other is not a question I am likely to answer, except if some guy in a bad suit with greasy hair were to hold a gun to my head and demand it. I don’t regret watching this season but I’m also glad that I didn’t go out and spend my usual thirty or forty bucks on it either. I think my lukewarm opinion comes from some of the directions the show has gradually been taking, and to illustrate let us focus on one character: Janice Soprano (played magnificently by Aida Turturro). I knew a guy in college who was ecstatic every time he saw her onscreen because he knew that sparks would fly sooner or later. That just doesn’t cut it with me. I’m not a fan of the whole abrasive character thing, though I know it makes for interesting happenings. It’s that abrasiveness that hangs me up before I can get too far into the interesting bit.

But enough complaints. Go out and watch it and make up your own mind. I have bigger fish to fry.

Every so often I get an email about some word-of-mouth service that has something about me on it. Evidently there’s a website for all of those “I know dis guy…” sorts of things, combined with a game of telephone and some playground gossip. Naturally I’d need to chuck some bucks at them to find out exactly what’s going on with me, and somehow this seems to be some cross between spam, a scam and something I just don’t want to mess with.

How quickly the quarters pass. Why, it seems like just three months ago our head honchos gathered us together at work and told us how “strikingly mediocre” the business was doing. A lots of words were said this time around, and most of them positive. I’ve never gotten quite the hang of business words, I guess, because to me “execute” means “kill”, not just “do”, and “architect” and “hindsight” are nouns, not verbs.

But I’m not a business man by trade, just by chance, and maybe I missed out on some grammar reeducation somewhere along the way.

On my way home from work I dropped in on a focus group to try out some new sausage, or something. When I got there, though, it became aware that I wasn’t needed. Since I showed up, though, they paid me the same compensation as if I’d participated. Now that’s what I call business.

And the vanity license plate du jour? GUTN TOG, spotted on the back of a VW Passat.

Ever heard of a screenwriter named Don Jacoby? Or an author named John Steakley? No? How about a movie director named John Carpenter? I bet I hit home with that one, even if you haven’t watched any of his movies. His connection to the other two guys is a little movie he humbly titled John Carpenter’s Vampires. He wrote the musical score, but Don Jacoby takes the credit for writing the screenplay. Also picking up a writing credit, though, is somewhat established author John Steakley (well, he got a couple books published) with a novel called Vampire$.

Can’t anybody come up with a simple title anymore?

Anyway, on a whim (or maybe something more sinister, I can’t remember) I decided to read this book. I had enjoyed the film, I thought, and figured the book could be interesting. It and the movie couldn’t have been more different, except that the leader of the team in both is named Jack Crow.

That’s it. One name is all that links the movie and the book. Both are interesting, though each has a tendency to get a little messy at the end (and I’m not just talking blood and guts here). The connection is just so… tenuous. The book would make a pretty decent movie, I’d say, but I’d forego the trouble of coming up with an altogether new story and stick to the one that the author wrote. But hey, he got paid, didn’t he?

Seeing as my little forays into what goes on between the ears of fellow drivers (or at least between their headlights) seem to spur such interaction that I’m dredging the topic up again. I need somebody to figure out what WXY MNX means. I saw it just after being amused (and somewhat surprised) to have seen a PT cruiser emblazoned with DJ RUSH or something similar that didn’t call mention PTs or Cruising in any way.

Waxy Minx? (t)Wicksy Mannix? Something about those tailless cats? I don’t get it. I think a dude was driving the car, too.

Despite everybody else in the free world deriding it horribly, I watched What planet are you from? tonight, and I am obligated to say that everybody else isn’t entirely right. It’s a relatively amusing movie that I will nevertheless fail to recommend to anybody I ever intend to talk to again. No wait, just the people who still think I have any taste in movies.

I don’t mean to be too hard on the film. For what it is, it’s amusing. At times it’s even inspired and generally it made me laugh. It just didn’t go as far as it should’ve and the ending was telegraphed from about the first half hour. And since when is “Not enough fish out of water comedy” a valid complaint? But I’d make it.

I will, however, pay some attention to Skippy’s movie recommendations. After all, he’s only seen every other movie in the world that I haven’t.

In what can only be described as a completely trivial bit of coincidence (or rather a coincidental bit of trivia), today marks the end of HBO’s wildly successful series Sex and the city and the day I watched, for the second time, Star trek VI: the undiscovered country. While the link is obvious to me now, it wasn’t before I threw in my laserdisc and remained unknown until a certain Lieutenant Valeris appeared on screen. Though dark-haired and shorter than I’d expect, I eventually recognized her to be Kim Cattrall, one of SatC’s quartet. What I’ve seen of the show contrasted highly with what she was doing on Kirk’s bridge. She looked small, meek and (most shockingly) entirely un-sexy. Then again, the film’s also twelve years old, or thereabouts, and she’s only becoming more stunning the older she gets.

That may account for some of the difference, and also the fact that now she largely hangs out with shorter people.

I’ll admit it this time: I’m fudging the timestamp. I actually got home after midnight, so technically this should be the next post, but whatever.

I’ve been over at Skippy’s place hanging out and playing with LEGOs. Just before they went to bed I caught the two six-year-olds looking at us enviously, I think.

We, of course, weren’t merely playing but blocking out and building sets for our upcoming full-length all-LEGO adaptation of a literary classic, which will be something of an undertaking, albeit a cool one. None of the brick films I’ve encountered so far tackled such a literary, er, piece of literature, so it could well be groundbreaking in several aspects. Particularly because it will kick ass, and all.

So the other day I’m driving to work and I see 4SBWTHU on somebody’s plate. I’m not so quick in the mornings and it took me a good three stoplights of following the lady (or long-haired dude) to decipher it. Fortunately he/she was going the same way I was.

Then, as though to portray another end of an entirely different spectrum, I saw a BMW station wagon (I’d known such existed but never really seen one) bearing plates of MOMSTER. I could “read” that one right away but am stymied to this day as to what it means. Is it to be a clever combination of “Mom” and “monster” or “mobster? Or rather more in the vein of the SNL Rob Schneider nickname guy (”The momster. The mom-o-rama. The mom-inator” et al. ad nauseam)? Inquiring minds must know.

Inquiring minds are also tired. I’m going to try and get twelve hours of sleep tonight, just for the hell of it.