I'm your homeboy, Chrisss
I refuse to explain. You can either jump right in cold, or you can listen to this example I tried on my pal Taylor… then jump right in cold.
P.S. I tried the phone method, and Taylor got the call. This was a surprise, as I thought it might only be a US thing.
Cracked v2.0
So, after dying a slow, painful death, my favorite Mad Magazine alternative – Cracked – went away – well, Florida. And it never technically died, but it may as well have. When was the last time you saw Cracked in the supermarket?
BUT. Now it’s back! Rather than go head to head with Mad again, the magazine is now what I would describe as one part Daily Show, one part The Onion, and just a touch of Mcsweeney’s. In fact, the premiere issue, that just hit stands, features a cover parody of Steve Carrell’s 40 Year Old Virgin poster, and a head-to-head feature article between Rob Courdry and Ed Helms. And, just to be shameless, they completely lifted Mcsweeney’s journal of a Cobra Recruit, represented as a Cobra recruitment pamphlet – which, to be fair, is pretty funny, and comes off almost as a prequel to the Mcsweeney’s piece.
I’ve got to give it a thumbs up. I’m not exactly the target demographic (which seems to be somewhere between 17-27 year old males… The Daily Show demographic), but I had a laugh. One article was on them trying to convince the Army that it could solve their quota woes by recruiting civil war re-enactment societies… and then pay them a bird-dog fee. Another outlined why Tom Cruise was douchebag of the year (or Douchbag of the Year, I guess) – and as their advertising points out, as far as their lawyers are concerned, Tom Cruise is not gay.
Don’t know that I’m going to keep buying it, but it’s something to watch.
[update] Another, more serious banner ad says that writers from The Daily Show, SNL, Stella, MST3K, and Chapell’s Show are contributors to the magazine. So, no duh it feels the way it does. That’s it, I’m picking this magazine up for awhile – a test run, if you will.
The Rebel Fleet/End Title
Weird morning today–found a live roach in our bedroom, some stupid accident on the interstate sent hordes of traffic onto the tiny backwoods road that is my main conduit to the magycale cityee known as Jamlando, the coffee didn’t really pick me up.
Made me melancholy. So as I often do, I turned to music to regulate my mood, and the goddamned shuffle ended up pulling in some pretty dour stuff, including the big end credits suite from The Empire Strikes Back.
And it hit me–that fucking movie has been fucking with my mood for years. Every time I think of it, it makes me sad–Han’s in carbonite, Leia’s missing her man, Luke’s got a robotic arm and a half-robotic daddy. Their only hope is a scoundrel who just betrayed them and is going off to find Han, in Han’s ship, with Han’s buddy, WEARING HAN’S OLD CLOTHES. Creepy.
Star Wars IS who I am, more or less. Geek tropes come and go but those damned movies keep dragging me back in. It’s an essential component of my DNA…and MAN, is Empire a melancholy movie.
It’s like Nick Hornby wrote in High Fidelity, only a little different: Which came first, the movie or the misery? Was there always a Han in carbonite lurking around my mood and the movie just reinforced it, or did this fucking flick shove this wistful bittersweetness into my brain?
This, my friends, is why I need therapy.
"My daddy's in a coma!"
Had an amazing moviegoing experience Saturday night…in Orlando, FL.
If you’ve never been here, you may not realize the shocking revelation in the above statement. Orlando is a town built on tourism, and so its cultural offerings tend toward the uber-mainstream. They don’t really have movie theaters; they have only massive gigaplexes screening every mass-market slab of Hollywood pap that is available to them. Ten screens of Superman Returns, twelve of Talladega Nights, and so on.
Which means seeing an indie movie–a damn funny one–in an actually charming environment floored me. The theater in question is the Enzian, which is actually the ONLY theater screening arthouse-type flicks in Orlando, so it’s pretty easy to figure out where to get your Todd Solondz/Michael Gondry/Atom Egoyan/etc fix in Central Florida.
This is a true dinner theater; they serve meals and show movies. The only slight critique is the color palate for the decor, which is reminiscent of what someone thought would seem “artsy” in 1992. Lots of pastels.
Otherwise, this is really one of the finest places I’ve ever seen a flick. Sumptuous chairs, delicious food, exceptional (and unobtrusive!) service, just PRIMO.
The movie weren’t bad neither. Strangers With Candy should be on every geek’s viewing list, if only because it stars Stephen Colbert, who deserves status as some kind of Inhuman Geek God for being painfully funny AND an unrepentant fan of geeky stuff like Lord of the Rings.
Strangers With Candy is a prequel to the short-lived Comedy Central series of the same name, which starred Colbert, Paul Dinello, and the unbelievably hilarious Amy Sedaris in a weekly parody of after-school specials revolving around Jerri Blank, the fortysomething former “boozer, user, and loser” who decides to go back to high school after thirty-odd years in prison.
This comedy is not for everyone. It’s an occasionally absurdist mix of parody, satire, vulgarity, and flat-out offensiveness. Maybe Netflix the DVDs of the series if you have any question about your ability to enjoy.
If you think you can handle it, you will laugh till you hurt.
And that was my weekend.
Be A SpokesShatner! (A Spatner?)
Is it just me, or does this have “Matt” written all over it?
The Shat wants YOU to be his DVD Club spokesperson! Submit a video clip, explain why you’re a big genre fan, boldly go, etc.
There are already a bunch of submissions for your perusing pleasure.
