The guy behind the counter at the 31 flavors cut his hand while serving up the frozen treats for my 11th birthday party. We thought it was strawberry topping at first but we were quickly proven wrong. Gross! Sundae, bloody sundae.
Archive for June, 2013
I keep seeing an ad for Walmart where some goon goes around and switches out the primo meat at some fancy steakhouse with Walmart brand steaks. Nothing new here, really. This advertising trope has been going on for decades – switching soda, coffee, snacks, wives, what have you. I can’t stand it, personally, because it smacks to me of fraud at the very basis and anyone who knows even the slightest anything about ads and television and production understands that for every person in the spot that gleefully accepts the bait-and-switch premise there must be ten that raise hell, storm out, threaten lawsuits and just generally treat the bamboozler with the ire, disdain and mockery they deserve. “What the hell? I saved up my money for months to afford to take my wife out for our tenth anniversary at the five-star Chez Le Boeuf and you come along and switch my T-bone with some processed crap from Walmart?!” “But, sir, you said you and your wife enjoyed the steak so that means Walmart’s is just as good.” “Now, you’re calling me shallow? You son of a – step outside and let me kick your ass, you smarmy jerkhole!”
Yes, not only am I calling these commercials lies (and don’t get me started on how strongly I believe the people portrayed as *these are not actors* most likely are) and an insult to the collective intellect but I have to go on record and say I cannot wait until the outtakes surface on YouTube.
Not long now, folks. Just a few more weeks…
Play that funky music, White boy!
You know who had it made come Christmas time? George Washington Carver. I mean, hell, all he needed was one bag of peanuts and – presto! – he’s got, like, 200 gifts! That would totally rock.
Who: The person who greenlit Grown Ups 2.
Why: Because the last thing we needed was another lowbrow family comedy replete with cute kids, pratfalls, man-children-a-plenty and I’m sure more shots to the nuts than sanity, decorum or a PG-13 rating should allow. Yes, I’m aware that the first film made over 250 million dollars (don’t get me started). And I know that Adam Sandler, for whatever his critical appeal, has a fan following that will allow him to continually churn out the type of big budget fare that makes Eddie Murphy’s career look like Shakespeare. But every time I see the ad for this filmflam spectacle I feel the need to take a Lifetime shower or at least offset the banality and folly with something off the AFI 100. And someone made this happen. It didn’t just spontaneously generate itself on some Hollywood Avid and show up unannounced on the distributor’s desk. No, an executive had to rubber stamp this and give the thumbs up to something which could have been quashed before the pitch, ceding space to something more creative, original and worthwhile.
How I justify it: Grown Ups 2. Dammit. Just … just … dammit.
It’s Ray Davies’ birthday and while the casual Kinks fan might opt for a Lola or a You Really Got Me or even a Waterloo Sunset I have to select a little ditty called Celluloid Heroes to celebrate. Enjoy!
It was bound to happen. I absorb trivial information like a sponge. Music titles, TV character names, comic book plots, advertising slogans, whatever useless knowledge that only serves to aid me in impressing people at pub quizzes. I barely passed most of my college classes because I was memorizing lines from Monty Python and Doctor Who trivia. And today, earlier tonight really, what I had feared for years came to pass.
I reached my limit.
Assuming the human brain is like a hard drive, mine reached capacity. In order to take in anything new, I had to expunge something else, something random, something quite possibly important. And thus with the knowledge that teen country singer Bradbery won The Voice (I didn’t want to know; I read it on Yahoo, damn them) something else gave way to the recycling bin of my extremely loaded memory. Maybe it was my first memory – in the crib, my grandparents entering the room. Nope, still there. Maybe it was the name of my first girlfriend – Bubbles from next door when I was 8. Still in there, as well. Maybe it’s something I need on a regularly basis, like my PIN number – 1999 (like the Prince song). Whew. Still got that one. Hey, perhaps it was the restaurant where I got that great salad – Village Deli, sadly now closed and it was a gorgonzola walnut salad which I still weep over, it was so good. It’s there, thankfully.
So what was it? No idea. It’s gone, I know it’s gone but I have no idea what the hell it was. And I know that for every new piece of minutiae gained I will lose something else. Of course, I have TONS of things I can spare to lose (the film Gymakata – still there yet I’d jettison that flotsam in a heartbeat) but since it’s gonna happen at random I just know something relevant is gonna give way to something inane and that just chills me.
I mean, if when I find out the name of the Kimye baby that causes me to forget the smell of honeysuckle out of the car window that spring I got sick and had to stay home from school in third grade then I will bloody well lose it and I might take hostages.
To quote a famous motto from a philanthropic organization: The mind is a terrible thing to … um … uh .. oh … son of a bitch!
Five Least Marketable Superman Family Characters
Superman’s Landlord, Larry Lewis
Ploppo the Super-Grouper
Clark Kent’s Optometrist
Craig Luthor, Lex’s younger, less successful brother
Yok-El, Superman’s Redneck Kryptonian Cousin
Five Unknown Superman Weaknesses
Can’t do Sudoku
Heat vision doesn’t work on gazpacho
Vulnerability to yodeling
A hot dog makes him lose control
Five Jimmy Olsen Complaints
Superman doesn’t trust him with his secret identity
Daily Planet 401K sucks
Clark Kent won’t join him on LinkedIn
Krypto always greets him by sniffing his crotch
At office parties, Perry White gets a little “handsy”
Five Rarely-Used Superman Nicknames
The Man of Molybdenum
The Flying Buttress
The Metropolis Meatball
The Illegal Alien from Krypton
Five Valuable Superman Comic Books
Action Comics #1 – first appearance
Superman #61 – first kryptonite
Superboy #14 – Clark Kent uses x-ray vision to spy on Lana Lang in shower
Action Comics #663 – Lex Luthor tries Propecia
World’s Finest #52 – Superman & Batman in drunken threesome with Hawkgirl
Sparky MacMillan is a strange visitor from another planet.
Awesome commercial for a B-movie horror that scared the hell out of me when I was a kid (only the ad – never saw the film).
Oh – and apropos of nothing, Kim and Kanye had their baby. Congrats!
Sunday is Father’s Day. I say that in case you are a father. Or know someone who is a father. Or maybe just want to honor someone who fathered someone sometime. Or will. It’s up to you.
Me? No, I don’t have a father. I did, of course, it’s not like – wow, Immaculate Conception, call the Vatican or anything. It’s just; my dad’s no longer with us. Oh, no!! He’s not dead! He’s just gone. Away. Far, far away. Back to his home planet. See, he came to Earth to save mankind from its own stupidity by giving us the cure for all our diseases and by sharing unlimited free energy sources and providing plans for an automobile that runs on garbage, but of course the government sent special CIA assassin squads to kill him and he had to flee and go back to his home world – but not before impregnating my mother. And one day he’ll be back to take me away from all this. Which is neat because he’s like the president or king or something on his planet. He’s definitely mega-cool and everyone loves him and would automatically love me, his son.
Sure, I know it’s kind of hard to believe and I don’t have any proof or anything but it’s the truth, I swear it! And I will stick by that story as I cry myself to sleep each Father’s Day and try my darnedest not to remember the time I asked my slapper of a mom who my daddy was and she just rolled over, burped George Dickel, pointed to her high school yearbook and said, “Take your pick.”