Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Time To Get Your Jingle On


I don't really know what it means to "get your jingle on", but I saw it on a Christmas box, so it must have some kind of meaning. It actually sounds kind of perverted when you say a couple of times, and really emphasize "jingle" with a creepy seducer-type voice.

When I think about what "get your jingle on" really means, I think about those crazed Christmas types who annoyingly spout out holiday cliches ad naseum to anyone who unfortunately gets within earshot. You know the type I'm referring to. That co-worker that can't shut up about the fact that they're "really excited that Christmas is coming", and they drive home that point every damn day, as if you didn't hear them the first time they said it on November 1. Or that friend that keeps reminding you that they "can't stop baking!", like that's some kind of holiday accomplishment. The most annoying for me are the folks who really take "get your jingle on" to heart. They're the ones who absolutely MUST play Christmas music all the time as soon as December rolls around. No other music - enjoying as it may be the rest of the year - can even be considered worthy to be played. That would upset baby Jesus or baby Santa, or something. They give the excuse that constant playing "puts them in the mood", or some other bullshit. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm against seasonal music, just not ALL THE FUCKING TIME for four weeks.

The problem I do have with Christmas music, is that it never changes. The same songs have been played for what, 100 years or something? Sure, some people will argue that the songs might be the same, but because there's different versions, it's still awesome to sit back, listen to your favourite songs and dream about what presents you're going to get. My problem is this: just because there's a million different variations, covers or versions of a shitty Christmas song, it's still a shitty Christmas song.

Hey, I'm not completely against holiday music, I just prefer it in limited amounts, like only being played on Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day. Not before, and certainly not after (that's just stupid). Here's a few examples of cool songs that I'll be listening to tonight.

All ranting aside, I'd truly like to wish everyone around the world a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a Happy Kwanzaa and a Happy New Year! Now, who wants a drink?

Christmas in Hollis - Run DMC


Let Me Sleep - Pearl Jam


Blue Christmas - Elvis Presley


The Ramones - Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight)


The Kinks - Father Christmas

Friday, December 19, 2008

Pointless Nostalgia 7: Imagination Not Included

'Tis the season, my friends! It's almost Christmas!

Now's the time to whip out all those special holiday season traditions, if you haven't started doing so since the day after Halloween. It's time to spend quality, touching moments with family and friends, mostly because you have to - it's the law, or something. It's that time of year when you eat a boatload of chocolate, candy and every other sugar-infested confection, enough to almost develop diabetes in record time. It's the only time of the year that you can get away wearing turkey gravy-stained pajama pants, and that decade-old "Beaver Canoe" sweatshirt for 2 weeks straight. It's time to dash through the snow, walk in a winter wonderland, and roast chestnuts on an open fire (has anyone even eaten a chestnut? I imagine they taste like eating a chunk of particle board).

And speaking of chestnuts, I'd like to dust off an old theme, with the triumphant return of Pointless Nostalgia! With PN posts, I get to reminisce about the good old days, the not-so-good old days, and those days where I'd just watch television and eat a frozen Coke that I put in the freezer the night before. Since it's close to Christmas, every medium we have (television, radio, newspaper, internet) is saturated with advertisements for children's toys. Basically, Christmas is still pretty much for the kids (unlike Halloween, which has been forcibly taken over by adults in pimp and skank costumes), so I'd like to look back on some of the toys that have come and gone in my lifetime. Nowadays, toys come complete with imagination and complex moving parts, but when I grew up, you had to supply imagination yourself, because the toy was pretty simple. And sometimes, it was just dumb.
Here's some examples of toys that seemed like a fun idea at the time of reception at Christmas, but were ignored 5 minutes later:

Mr. Microphone

Some inventive genius thought that kids would seriously go bonkers for this toy, because really, every kid is an attention whore from birth. Mr. Microphone enabled any one to dial into an FM frequency, and talk like they're on the air. Supposedly, kids are supposed to marvel at the thought of being on the radio. Granted, every kid jumps at the chance to annoy their parents, friends and everyone else around them, but this got old fast. Basically, after the first "Helloooo!", the kid (or adult) gives up on trying to say anything good, and resigns to just making farting noises until even that gets too dull. However, the commercial would have you believe that this is the greatest invention since insulin.


And for a second commercial, see here. I want to face-punch the people at the start.
PogoBall

This was actually popular for a time in the late '80s, and I know that many of my friends had one or two (they wouldn't share with a sibling). It was supposed to give the joy of a pogostick, but without the handy pole. You'd put one foot on it, then try to get your balance with the other. The second part took about a decade to accomplish. Kids with bad coordination were fucked. It was a nice idea, but it ultimately failed, despite its fad status. Why? Because advertisers forgot that kids are fucking lazy, especially once video games became omnipresent, and trampolines became must-haves. However, if you got a fat kid to try it, it did provide something to laugh at.

Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine

A toy company's goal is to create a toy so awesome, that it makes kids throw batshit-crazy temper tantrums when they see it. This toy wasn't one of those toys. I remember one of my sister's friends had one, and I thought "That's awesome! I must have one NOW!". You just put ice cubes in the top, turn the crank, add the sweet sauce, and you've got an instant sno-cone! Looking at it now, it's basically just an ice crusher, and an impossibly hard one at that. No kid likes to have to do work when he or she plays, and this fucker was hard to operate. As this video shows, you have to be an adult to use it, taking away an important rule of toys: Kids have to be able to have fun with it unsupervised. Just like these kids:




This toy fails, because as I mentioned above, I found a better way to enjoy an ice treat. Coke in the freezer. Works every time.

Magic 8 Ball
I can't believe that these are still around, but you can still see one in someone's house in their room, or on a business person's desk, as a result of a shitty Christmas gift exchange. If you do see one of these in a person's possession, and it looks recently used, instead of high on a shelf of other forgotten junk, get the hell out of there. That person should not be communicated with, because they can't make their own decisions to save their life. When I was a kid, the novelty of the 8 ball was asking it questions indicative of a precocious nature, you know, for fun. Asking the ball, "Does Molly like me?" or "Will I get a better Christmas present next year?" were common questions. Unfortunately, the 8 Ball was not magic. It just fucked with you. Giving you answers like, "Outlook not so good", "Concentrate and ask again", or my personal favourite, "Better not tell you now" (why the fuck not?), just fooled with your mind. After a while, you just kept shaking it until you got the answer you wanted. For some reason, I never received "Yes", to my question of "Am I cool". Fuck you, 8 ball.

Snap Bracelet

These suck, and if you had one, you were retarded.

Monday, December 08, 2008

Ein! Zwei! Die!

Gott im Himmel!

When does this open, and how many times am I legally allowed to watch it?

There are as many zombie films out there these days as there are trucks in Alberta, but not all the films are decent or even watchable, just like not all drivers in this province are law-biding non-assholes. And there are plenty of homages, films dedicated to reliving or re-imagining the genre, a genre originate by the legendary George Romero. However, for every "Shaun of the Dead", there's a "Zombie Vegetarians".

And now here's a Norwegian entry into the zombie-homage-comedy, or zomhomcom pantheon. Død snø, or Dead Snow, directed by Tommy Wirkola, certainly has the blueprint for any zombie film: doomed teenagers, some old person predicting inherent danger, blood and guts, and of course, zombies (either of the slow or quick kind). Could be the recipe for just another shitty film, except for one difference:

Fucking Nazis! Zombie Nazis! Yes! Now we're kicking it into high gear.

I assume that this kind of film serves as more than just a movie for the Norwegian people, since they were invaded and occupied by the Germans during World War II. This film could act as a little redemption, because there's nothing more satisfying then resurrecting your hated one-time enemy and defeating him, zombie-killing style. No remorse, no regret. Just kill. Even if it is just in film.

Here's the trailer. Enjoy!


Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Attack of the Tuesday Night


It wasn’t so much a request, but seemingly more like a dare. After hearing about the wonder that is ‘Name That Tune’ at RATT, she seems surprisingly interested, but I sense a small hint of disbelief, even a hint of sarcasm. So I delve further into the scintillating details of the weekly event: the dedicated, almost fanatical teams, the plethora of drinks, and the tunes and the passionate naming of them. She now grows considerately more interested in possibly attending another night, but she requires one thing before: a morning message. She wants to know all the details about the evening’s activities. Salacious or not, it’s the details that could change her outlook from curious fence-sitter to full-blown trivia zealot.

Like in some television flashback, complete with shimmering fade-out, my mind wanders back to just over a half-day past. My faithful friend Justin and I approached the U of A’s Stadium parkade with a sense of impending dread. We were late. We weren’t there at the start of the game. We weren’t there to confidently and assuredly announce our team name, Kathleen Turner Overdrive. Granted, we had teammates there, people trustworthy and dedicated enough to be there on time in our stead. But how many questions had been asked already? How many teams answered correctly? How many teams stole questions out from the grasp of others? How many questions had our team guessed, and guessed right? These questions swirled ferociously in our minds, but our fears were faintly soothed by the history of games played before. We’ve been down before, and we’ve come back to win. As the reigning champions, and team to beat, we do have a reputation of being a stalwart opponent, with sometimes almost limitless knowledge. That knowledge might have to be tested tonight.

As we ponder the uncertainties we’re faced with, we enter SUB with a quicker step in our stride. “If we are down,” Justin remarks, “then we’ve got to get in there. Now.” I couldn’t agree more, as I jet over to the bank machine located a few steps away. If we are down, and can’t recover, I’ll need to buy enough drinks to soften the blow. In this game, if you’re losing, sometimes the only way to save face is to be the drunkest one playing. The elevator sounds off with its familiar high-pitched ding, and its doors slide open, goading us into entering its gaping maw. We each take a deep breath, and accept the elevator’s invitation. The doors close with a nefarious coffin door-like creak, potentially signaling our approaching competitive fate. I almost don’t notice that I’m holding my breath.

I take a breath. Again, that high-pitched ding greets us, almost mockingly. I can hear the faint dim of the room through the doors, and as they open, I suddenly become completely surrounded. The noise is almost deafening. It’s crazy busy in RATT tonight. Every table is occupied. Tables of patrons, some playing teams, some college chums, some colleagues, are all immersed in conversations, anecdotes and jokes. Everything they’re saying is competing for dominion over the audible kingdom, but no-one’s winning. Amongst the clamor, I can smell the years-old beer-saturated carpet. I can detect the automated splash of the washing machine. RATT never changes, it never deviates from its goal: to provide seats and tables to campus travelers who simply want a safe haven to escape the rigors of school, work or both. Also, there are drinks. And plenty of them. “This could be the night of nights,” I say to myself.

I let my eyes wander over the field of humans before me, and I catch a familiar sight. A single, solitary hand is raised, signaling the location of my own sanctuary: my team’s table. Justin and I make some conciliatory gestures to the rest of the team, silently indicating our apologies for being late. We both maneuver to our respective saved seats, cautious to watch our movements while placing our coats, lest we do something unintentionally hilarious like smell ourselves. I have barely begun to get settled when I blurt out the question that needs to be answered, and needs to be answered now: “How are we doing?”

I do not get the answer I want. My teammate Alan, matter-of-factly tells me that our team has 5 points. Only 5 fucking points. My heart sinks for a second, but quickly regains its composure. I don’t need to know how far the game has progressed; I just know that we’ve got work to do and there’s no time to wallow in self-pity. A couple of teams miss their questions and we pick up a couple steals right away. The round ends, and the scores are announced: “And in the lead with 50, KTO”. I almost kill Alan.

Everything is gravy from then on. We’re not perfect, but it doesn’t matter. My team doesn’t relinquish a lead that easy, and we certainly don’t make it easy on the other teams. We yell. We laugh. We point at other teams and give the evil eye. We make fun of everything. We cry foul and shout “EASY!” when we think a question is too simple for another team. We don’t hold any grudges and it’s all in good fun, of course, but we cannot deny or ignore the competitive spirit we all have burning inside of us. We’re here to win and have a kick-ass time doing it. This isn’t competitive knitting here.

In the end, our gung-ho spirit leads us to victory again. Cheers erupt from our table, with smattering of claps and declarations of “Good show!” and “Well done, indeed!” We receive our conquest from the game hosts, a $30 gift certificate good for another night. $30 may seem paltry and there may be thoughts of whether that prize is worth the mental anguish, the nervous preparation, and the never-ending stomach butterflies that comes. Is it worth it?

If you come next time, you’ll know the answer.

Friday, November 21, 2008

A Bad News/Good News Kind Of Day


THE BAD NEWS: Here's just another reason why America needs a helmet.

It needs a helmet, because it's becoming more and more obvious that it has severe learning deficiencies and mental disabilities, and it can no longer hide them. America could seriously hurt itself if the proper precautions are not taken to protect it from the inherent dangers out there in the world.

Specifically, the danger of creative and original thought-provoking entertainment! God only knows what kind of cognitive trauma could beset the USA if programs like Pushing Daisies were to continue on the air. With such sharp and intelligent dialogue, vibrant and engaging visuals and such wondefully well-written characters and plot development, America could actually learn to enjoy such a whimsical masterpiece of creative storytelling. And America can't have that. America is quite happy to wallow in its own stupidity, to marvel moronically at such intelligence-voided "reality" programs like "Dancing with the Stars" and laugh-track turds like "According to the late John Belushi's fat, untalented brother Jim". Why would America need a show like Pushing Daisies, a show that was as clever and witty as any other work of fiction on television today?

Because America doesn't need an uppity show like that reinforcing the fact that America is dumber than a bag of mentally-handicapped hammers. America watched a little bit of Pushing Daisies, and just didn't get it. Now, a show like "Dancing with the Stars", America gets that. America likes celebrities, and it likes things that move. Also, there are shiny costume adornments, and everybody likes those things. DWTS has all of those, and it's easy for America to keep up with shiny, moving people. But if America has to follow a plot, character development and ingenious dialogue, then things get messy. America will stomp its feet, pout its lips and furrow its brow before it wails incessantly that this kind of thing isn't fun. It's not fun because America has to think, and that is far beyond its capacity.

America, you've ruined another show destined for greatness with your limitations and your preference for anything that only requires mental reaction, and no contemplation. If you had only watched, learned and enjoyed, you could have found yourself on a higher plane of entertainment, but you didn't bother. And now Pushing Daisies is cancelled. Like Arrested Development before it, America decided to give creativity and quality the finger. And I hate America for it.

And Canada, you didn't help either. Shame on you both.

THE GOOD NEWS: Speaking of Arrested Development, apparently the film version of the show is a go!

Hurray America!

Now lose some weight.




Thursday, November 20, 2008

I Am A Delicious Word Soup



Sometimes it's not enough to see your written words on the computer screen. Sometimes you want to see them written on your computer screen RANDOM AND IN COLOR! Yeah, this link makes your words incredible and awesome and snazzy.

Try it for yourself, and prepare your face for stunned! I mean, you don't have anything better to do anyways.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Shameless Plug



And apparently, children's imaginations include flourishing hand guestures.

Also, support the Christmas Bureau.

And read the Sun.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

For Everything You Do, Just Be Don Draper


It's no secret that the best television show on TV since July 2007 is Mad Men.

Well, it's a secret to you, because you don't watch it. You'd rather be watching reruns of 'Home Improvement' on CMT (how dare you!). What you're missing out on is possibly the best written, best acted and best directed series your feeble looking balls will ever be laid upon. It oozes sex appeal, it's drenched with alcohol-fueled self-assurance, and it harkens back to a time when days were counted by the number of cigarette packs. It's that good. I mean, 14 award wins and 18 nominations in two seasons? And the second season just ended? And the seasons were each only 13 episodes? WHY AREN'T YOU WATCHING THIS?

Sorry, I get a little flustered when I ask people if they watch great shows, and I only get blank, moronic stares (it's the Arrested Development epidemic all over again). Stop watching anything else, and watch this show. Wait, you can watch Pushing Daisies as well, because it's also super awesome, and you have nothing better to do on a Wednesday night. I know you.

Jon Hamm, Golden Globe winner for Best Performance by an Actor, was recently on Saturday Night Live this past weekend, and although I didn't watch it (I was at a concert), I came across this clip. If you're a fan of MM, you'll get a major kick out of it. If you don't watch the show, just watch it anyways. You're on the internet, and you like videos.


Don Draper, you diabolical bastard. Pick up the DVD of Season One right now. Watch, learn, love. Repeat when Season 2 comes out. Then wait impatiently for Season 3 like a crack addict waiting for the guy at the bottle depot to count his dumpster bottles, so that he can get almost enough money for the next hit.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Time To Dress Up Those Insecurities

Don't you hate it when bloggers drudge out familiar material, in an effort to block the fact that they've nothing new to write about? I certainly hate it, but fuck it if this isn't too damn funny to post again.

I've posted this video before, but it definitely derserves another viewing. Nay, it deserves a yearly viewing! Right around this time of year ought to do enough justice. And since I know some of you are always suffering "costume indecision syndrome", this might give you that much needed boost. For the ladies, anyways. As for me, I have absolutely no clue what to wear for the big weekend. Sure, I have some half-brained ideas and schemes, but there's a huge leap between having wild costume fantasies, and actually putting it into practice. And for cheap.

Sure, I could buy a costume, like at one of those shitty online costume junkyards, but honestly, why? Why would I want to look like one of the biggest douchebags at the party? There's plenty of guys who are going to take the reins for me, so why bother horning in on their douche-tacular territory? As a note, if you looked at the Halloween Distributors/San Francisco insert in Sunday's Edmonton Sun, and thought, "Hey, these costumes are hilarious! I'm totally getting one!", then you are an infinitely-sized douchebag. Like this guy.

But ladies, by all means, if you're going to go slutty, go all the way (I recommend this. Somehow, you can even make the ugliest mythological titan sexy). If you don't have "sexy" in front of your costume, and a minimal amount of clothing, you're ruining Halloween for everyone. Okay, maybe don't go too far. There's should be a definitive line between "holiday fun" and "prostitution ring".

Have a safe and fun Halloween everyone!

Friday, October 10, 2008

A-Ha Has Eight Albums. Seriously.

Here's a bit of a laugh for your long weekend, folks.

The gist: "Ever wish songs just sang what was happening in the music video? Well now they do."

After reading that little blurb about the following video, and after watching the video and then calming myself down after having laughed so much that I started making these sad wheezing sounds, I pondered an interesting ponderance. There are so many music videos out there that one often remarks to oneself that "that video was mega-stupid. What the fuck did any of that have to do with the song? I am outraged, scared and confused."

The video:

The result: Hilarious fun-timery.

Happy Thanksgiving weekend everyone! (Canadians, that is)

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

All My Sticky Notes Are Yellow


After seeing this video, I'm going to get all the sticky notes out of the supply closet here at work, then I'm going to have my own sticky-note fun! Yeah! And I'm going to have a cool musical score in the background (score will most likely be the radio)! This will be the best afternoon ever!

Of course now that I look at my supply capabilities, I have only a faded yellow colour. My cavalcade of stickies would most closely resemble a stream of pee. That's not fun at all, methinks.

In any event, watch this video! It'll warm your heart, even if your heart is locked in your body, and that body is trapped in an office on a beautiful September day.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

No News And Sad News



Alright, so I'm a terrible blogger.

I haven't been posting with any respectable frequency lately, or anything that's even noteworthy or memorably. It's not my fault!

Of course in reality, it's absolutely my fault. I can't really post at work (although I am right now, because I have a few extra moments), and I can't at home because my computer isn't hooked up to the internets. My roommates' computers are, but they're all kinds of slow. And I'm too darn lazy to call up those Telus morons and get their monopolistic asses down to my house.

So yeah, all my fault. No news. No good updates. I suck.

Do you know what else sucks? Don LaFontaine passed away yesterday at the age of 68. You may not know Don by name, but you sure as hell know his voice. Basically every film trailer in the past few decades (over 5,000!) has had Don's voiceover talents in it, as well as over 350,000 commercials. The guy pretty much invented the rather auspicious and diabolical sounding "In a world..." opener, which is always my favourite thing to hear. After you hear "In a world", you're transported via movie magic to that world. Sometimes that world is bad. Sometimes it's kickass.

His voice is the kind of foreboding bellow that I've always aspired to, and it's a damn shame that he's gone. Of course, now there's a open spot for a movie trailer voiceover guy...

Farewell and Godspeed, Don. You'll always be in our world.


Monday, August 18, 2008

The SUN Is Shining


The Edmonton SUN, that is.

My third week at my new job started today, and my first on my own with no supervision. I'm confused and bewildered, with an almost permanent thousand-yard stare. I am doing work though, and probably more in the first three hours than a whole week at Grant Mac this summer. Productivity is on the up! Of course, you're probably asking why I'm posting if I'm so busy. A good-looking question, and I have no answer for you that might take off that stupid smirk on your face. So let's just say that I'm trying to get my mind into a creative mode while typing.

So what's new in the world today? Canada nets ninth Olympic medal. Take that Kazakhstan! Batman may join "Dancing With The Stars". Adam West, you've come along way since "Lookwell".

Ugh. I'm getting back to work.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

Last Day Of Work

Today has been my last day of work. In a couple hours, I will no longer be an employee of the Students' Association of Grant MacEwan College. It has been an incredibly entertaining 27 months, and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything - I'm just trading up. As of Monday, I begin a new position with the Edmonton Sun, one to which I am very excited, mostly because I grew weary of my SA position. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't the organization, or the people or the 70% female campus (no straight male ever gets tired of that), it was just my job lacked passion. And interest. And excitement. I just wasn't suited for advertising sales, and classy begging, aka student organization sponsorship.

So I'm out. And I've been having a very relaxed last day. A late morning, a great lunch, and a slow afternoon. Since this blog isn't a journal blog, I should probably throw in some relevant pop-culture references, so let's take a look at some last days of work in film. Are they great last days? Perhaps. Are they at least filled with an overly dramatic high-pitched musical score? You bet.



The Pledge (2001)

A girl's body is found during homicide detective Jerry Black's (Jack Nicholson) surprise retirement party. He pledges to find the killer for the family, because that's what good cops do - they swear to solve crimes after they've retired, because what else are they going to do? Sean Penn directs, and does a pretty good job of making Nicholson limit his sunglasses-wearing and cease making those scary, smiling clown faces he always seems to have ready for court-side Laker game appearances. If I were Jack Nicholson, I would pledge to forget that I ever saw Diane Keaton naked.



Falling Down (1993)

Another retiring cop on his last day, Martin Prendergast (Robert Duvall) rushes to track down an unemployed, divorced engineer (Michael Douglas), who violently snaps during a day where nothing seems to be going right. I think we've all been in similar situation: bad day at work, morons driving on the road, gas prices too high, no good popsicles to buy at the grocery store, etc. But we don't get guns and shoot up shit. This is Canada. We just talk down to every one we see in a very patronizing passive-aggressive tone. We don't get violent, we just become assholes.



Snakes On A Plane (2006)

Julianna Marguiles is a flight attendant on her last day of work, when all hell breaks loose. An assassin attempts to kill a murder witness by releasing a crate-full of deadly snakes when the plane is airborne. Only Samuel L. Jackson can save the day. Enough ridicule has been thrown at this movie already, so I'll spare you that tripe. Some thoughts, though: I believe that Julianna Marguiles has the record for most acting projects in which the title pretty much sums it up. Along with Snakes on Plane, she's been in Traveller, Dinosaur, The Big Day and Ghost Ship. What could these be about? It's a puzzler.



Clerks II (2006)

Ten years after Clerks, Dante and Randall are still mired in dead-end jobs, this time at a fast-food restaurant. To get out of his rut, Dante wants to move away with his girlfriend, and just has one last day at work beforehand. Naturally, in order to have a movie at all, things must happen, which writers call a "plot", with side orders of "rising action", squirts of "conflict" and a juicy "climax" which isn't as sexy as it sounds. The plot for me today involved the dangerous turning on of my computer, the tense struggle to pack up my personal belongings, and the heart-warming denouement, which involves me looking back at my office with a look of soft, self-satisfaction, mouthing some cliched departing sentiment, and turning out the lights.

To all my friends and coworkers at the SA,

Good night, and good luck.

Friday, July 18, 2008

For Your Viewing Pleasure

Strolling around the internets today yielded a few videos of great interest. That interest turned into squeals of glee and unbridled giddyness. And I'm at my office. Kind of embarrassing, I have to say.

The first video is the trailer for what should definitely be next year's geek wank-fest, Watchmen. Arguably the greatest graphic novel of all time (although one can make a case for Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room), this film adaptation is being helmed by Zack Snyder, the man who brought us the ass-kicking, dialogue-screaming, almost permanent slow motion 300. Will Watchmen have the same level of "oh SHIT!" scenes that 300 had? Will it also almost be filmed entirely in slow-mo? Will I be able to repeat killer lines of dialogue ad naseum after the film has ended, much to the annoyance of my friends and co-workers? I hope so. For the HD version, check it out here. High-definition equals ten times as mind-melting.



Next, I have the first teaser trailer for Terminator Salvation. If you recall, I posted about Christian Bale's involvment, and how fucking incredible it is for him to be on board. And for the next few films in the franchise, no less. This trailer just gets the fanboy in me frantically jittery, like the ADHD kid who's gorged on the bulk candy at Safeway while weekend mom is busy reading self-help magazines. I'm all a-tingle. Have a look!



Finally, I have the trailer for American Ninja. Why? Because they don't make movies like this anymore, and this is fucking awesome. Michael Dudikoff for the win, people. If anyone can defeat "the secret Black Star Army", it's him. He was in TRON.


Thursday, July 10, 2008

That's Enough Already, K-Tel


Do you ever watch a TV program, or see a commercial, and instantly feel immense hatred, unyielding disgust, and an almost uncharacteristic urge to put your fist or inanimate object through the screen? I do, every time I see a commercial for children's music, or rather, music sung by children. And to thank for this unbridled rage? K-Tel.

K-Tel is a Canadian-based company that was started by Philip Kives, a Saskatchewan-born entrepreneur who originally sold items like cookware, sewing machines and vacuum cleaners door-to-door and in department stores in Canada and in the US. Kives made a decent living, due to his fast-talking style which won over consumers who didn't have a moment to think about whether they wanted the product or not. Everything changed in 1962, however, when while in Winnipeg, Kives demonstrated a non-stick Teflon pan in a 5-minute program on television. With what could be the world's very first informercial, Kives was able to sell anything to a vast audience of people, and give unemployed loners something to watch at 3am. In early 1966, K-Tel began selling compilation TV records, starting with 'Twenty-Five Country Hits'. After that, K-Tel started releasing compilation albums featuring contemporary hits at an alarming rate throughout the '70's, and much of what was found in record stores were "as seen on TV!".

In 1983, Channel 4 in the UK began a series entitled, "Minipops", which consisted of cherubic pre-teens dancing and singing to pop hits of the era, and some classics. The kids were revealingly-clothed and makeup-splattered like the artists of the songs, which some viewers either found cute and innocent, or degrading, immoral and pedophile-enticing. The show was popular with kids initially, but adults found that children singing lyrics of a sexual nature to be a tad unsettling, like when five year-old Joanna Fisher covered the Sheena Easton song "9 to 5" in nightclothes and included the lyrics "we make love". That's fucking creepy. Despite ratings success, the show was cancelled quickly, and albums were soon released, with much success in Canada, where the albums were picked up and distributed by K-Tel.

Yes, my family had the first album, and yes, I listened to it. But even as a young boy, I could tell that there was something wrong with the concept. I understood at an early age that songs are sung by the original artists, because for the most part, they actually sound good. Pardon my generalization, but kids don't do anything really well. They can't really sing, they can't dance (jumping around is not dancing), and they're not funny (unless they're hurting themselves in a non-permanent way, like after jumping into something). I believe that the album's popularity stemmed from many children seeing the kids dressed up as music stars, hearing them sing, and thought that one day, that could be them. What kid doesn't like dressing up and bouncing around to music, whatever the style? Mini-Pops was a dream for some kids.

Fast-forward to present day. K-Tel has recently released the fourth album in the new incarnation of Mini Pops, Mini Pops Kids, and Kidz Bop in the States, has released 13(!) compilation albums, all featuring "today's top hits!" and "all your favourite songs!". Well, not my favourites, but probably some 13 year-old's favourites. Whereas I can accept the proliferation of albums in the US (because they love the sexualization of children, and generally everything stupid), I can't see why we accept it in Canada. But thanks to K-Tel, we are going to have album after album featuring phony-acting children butchering modern and classic pop songs. And for whose benefit? Children who are musically entering a post-Doodlebops world should be listening to the actual artists, not some pre-pubescent wannabes. Any parents who think that buying this for their kids will save them from lyrics or images that they find distasteful or inappropriate, try actually fucking parenting, instead of accepting a watered-down facsimile, because your kid is going to hear and see the original somewhere else. Kids are quite adept at downloading, so they don't need a shitty compilation CD to get the songs.

What K-Tel is doing, is telling a bunch of child actor rejects that they could be the next big thing, but in actuality, they're just getting an early start at really bad karaoke. They're going to be the ones that you see in the corner of the bar on karaoke night, singing every second song. But you're drunk, and they're serious.

K-Tel, just give it up already, and stop making me hate every kid in those commercials I see, and every song I hear them sing. I mean, I already hate all those songs, but those kids don't deserve it. Okay, that kid with the hat does. I hate that bastard.


Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Happy 141st Birthday Canada!

We all go out
Then we all come home
But I fall asleep with the TV on
At 3 AM they play "O Canada"
True patriot love and lalalalala
True patriot love and lalalalala
True patriot love and lalalalala
True patriot love

- "True Patriot Love", Joel Plaskett Emergency

Happy Canada Day everyone!

Friday, June 13, 2008

Capital Gains: The Ottawa Chronicles


Another year, another free laundry bag.

A week ago, I returned once again from the greatest conference known only to college event planners, student life proponents and all-around permanent students who only know how to drink and sway listlessly to music. A conference that creates wondrous memories and also deletes potential wondrous memories, depending on the amount of free alcohol consumed. A conference so great in scale and entertainment, that it's at least one hundred times better than this one.

Yes, last week was another edition of COCA (Canadian Organization of Council Activities), this time in Ottawa, the capital and home to an NHL team that can't even get to game 7 before they lose in the Stanley Cup finals (losers). This was the third conference that I managed to sneak past security for, and I couldn't have been happier with the results of the six days there. This COCA may well be my most favourite yet, due to musical showcase quality, good people and the amount of sweat produced when no sweat should be produced (like when standing still). The whole point to the conference is to bring together individuals, schools and companies that are related to the campus entertainment and programming industry and get them networking, friend-raising, and generally truth-spewing drunk. Therein lies the fun. It's truly great to be with many like-minded individuals, regaling tales of wonderful campus events, sharing innovative ideas and concocting wild, insane beliefs that this is the year their school will be immortalized for bringing U2 to play.

I was lucky this year. Again. It seems that I've been in the right place at the right time for the last two years in order to attend this conference. And I couldn't be happier, and to my place of employment, SA MacEwan, I give a hearty salute. To them, I lift my free rum and cranberry juice-filled Festival Promotions water bottle to them, and say "Thanks for settling with me as your representative! I promise that I'll now come in before 10am to keep your trust."

Here's some memories:

- The 98% humidity. The 30+ degree temperatures. No A/C in the hotel. Yeah, this wasn't cool at all (no terrible pun intended), and it made for a most uncomfortable stay, especially since I thrive in colder climates (I live in Edmonton by choice, kids). However, the topper is the hotel staff telling us to "turn your thermostat all the way to HOT to get colder air out of the vents". If that isn't the most unintentionally hilarious piece of hotel damage-control B.S., I don't know what is. After complying with their "advice", I managed to flood half my room. Thanks, dorks.

- The Showcase Talent. I don't want to play favourites, so I'll say that every single band, artist, comedian, lecturer or variety entertainer was 10 pounds of awesome in a 5-pound bag. That being said, here's my favourites (in chronological order), and friendly links for you to check them out. Creature, The Carps, Brendan McKeigan, Dan Mangan, Darrin Rose (thanks for the shout-out!), The Coast, Hey Ocean, Hey Rosetta!, God Made Me Funky (two years in a row!), The Johnstones, and every artist in the singer/songwriter showcase (Craig Cardiff, Colin Munroe, Jessica Rhaye, Robyn Dell'Unto, Lesley Pike and Casey Desmond).

- The Random Word Game. Pretty much self-explanatory. People do weird things while drinking, and if you're trying to come up with clever dialogue with which to contribute to a discussion, sometimes you just get one random word out. If random enough, you might drag some others along for the ride (thanks Courtney, Jenna and Sameena!). Example: You say "clouds". Someone else says "credenza". Another person says "muskrats". You say "earlobe". Someone says "this is retarded".

- The Canadian Heritage Commercial Recollection. Similar to the Random Word Game, on many a night, I found myself drinking and probing people's minds for crazy things. One thing I couldn't get enough of, was asking people what was their favourite Canadian Heritage commercial moment. The answers were excellent, but even more so, was the startling realization that I can pretty much recite the ones I know by heart. I watch too much TV. But you know what? I'm fucking learning. So there. My favourite moment? "But I need these baskets back!"

- Shelly Climbing A Tree Outside Algonquin College. Man, she fucking got up there quick. And high!

- Post-Hospitality Room Parties In The Breakaway Tours Hotel Room. This is where much free booze was consumed, and many inane, yet hilarious conversations about nothing were conducted. This room introduced many of the revelers to the "quiet coyote", which was dedicatedly used to quiet the masses after numerous hotel security visits. I can only hope that Lora has managed to regain her sanity after the coyote was less than successful. I was quiet, Lora, but mainly because my voice is so low that it appears to most people as if I'm just mouthing words.

- The Worst Named Candy Ever. Honestly, whoever in Cadbury's Maynards marketing department thought of this is probably a pervert. Or a satirical genius. I'm guessing a pervert.

- Being Called "The Biggest Disappointment Of COCA 2008". Fine, so I didn't go "pool-hopping". So fucking what? This is what I get labeled as for not wanting to put my clothes on while soaking wet? Thanks for the confidence boost, Guillaume. I'm a bigger downer than no hotel air-conditioning. Yay.

Have another memory, my dear fellow COCA-goers? Let me know!

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Moving On Up...To The West Side


This weekend involves easing up the pressure on the fun pedal a bit, as I'm moving out of my apartment, and into a house.

There's a significant portion of my feelings that are slightly hurt due to this decision, but most of my feelings are on board, saying things like, "Yes! Good show!", "I heard there will be two fridges! Excellent!", and "What's this phenomena known as 'air conditioning', and what does it do? Does it make the air more awesome?" This was a decision that wasn't made lightly, but then, I hardly make any decisions heavily. There are a number of reasons for the move, some of which I don't need to go into here. Alright, the rent is lower. Satisfied? I work for a non-profit organization that isn't crooked. I'm not exactly buying any rocket cars or solid gold shoes any time soon.

I've been reflecting quite a bit on the past year, and what living alone in my own apartment meant to me (the ability to walk around in minimal clothing, basically). Last year, I wrote a post on how incredibly super great it was to live on my own, and now, I have a few things to look forward to while living in the new house. In no particular order, here they are:

- Roommates. Yes, I remarked last year that I liked not having roommates, because I didn't want to be subjected to inane conversations about things nobody cares about. However, after a year on my own, I've had inane conversations about things nobody cares about with myself. Recently, I talked to myself about why I hate it when little bits of lint get caught in the toe-end of my socks. Roommates will save me from kicking my own ass.

- Air-conditioning. Last summer, I almost died from heat exhaustion in my own home, and stripping down to nothing almost every day helped very little. I can't wait to avoid the "window-temperature conundrum", wherein you can have the windows open, and let the heat in, or close the windows and let the heat dwell. Even with an almost never-ending supply of popsicles, I pretty much lived in Sweat City for months. And adding a ceiling fan in late September? Great timing, genius.

- Community beer, backyard deck and fire pit. This summer is going to be just like a beer commercial, with plenty of beer on ice, scantily-clad hotties engaging in summer activities (like hottie frisbee, hottie picnic table dancing, and hottie walking around), and everyone having the best day of their lives. Seriously, it's going to be killer, and we're having open auditions for the hotties starting on Monday. Don't be afraid girls, I have a free "Snow Jam" visor for all that attend.

- Living a block away from Kevin Lowe. If any readers hear about Kevin getting daily trade requests and operational tips in his mail, that might be me. And the ones signed in blood, with temporary Oilers tattoos on the envelopes? Yeah, that was definitely me.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Back To The Usual Routine: Having A Mind-Asplosion

Last week, I was in Jasper for a staff retreat, which was only memorable for the sheer number of animal statues that were ridden, and then I was in Las Vegas for a wedding, the ceremony of which I actually missed. Were good times had? You betcha. Quite frankly, I'm a little depressed to be back in town, although this rain is a bit beautiful, considering the 40+ degrees I experience in Sin City. However, my depression will not quell the onset of my usual metaphorical "brain aneurysms" that I have when I read certain articles of incredible wonder.

I've just read a news article that put my pop-culture, film nerd mind beyond the stratosphere, into the damn mesosphere. Included in the article are things that I thoroughly enjoy: an actor, a film series and a certain time period.

For your reading enjoyment: The Article.

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?!

Christian Bale. Signed on for the next THREE Terminator films? I've had fanboy mindgasms before, but this one is unconscionable. And to think that I've just come down from my excitement cloud having known that Bale is in Terminator 4. After reading the headline, I pretty much started having renewed crazy hallucinations and visions, not unlike William Hurt's character in Altered States. But I had good ones - we're talking evolutionary progression, here. Not only does one of my favourite actors (and let's be honest, one of the best actors working today) have a starring role in the next film of one of my favourite sci-fi franchises, but he signed on for THREE films? I can't believe that this is happening.

Granted, I have my reservations regarding the direction of the fourth film, due to McG's involvement. This guy directed Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. Fuck. However, with Mr. Bale taking the lead, and the future time period being the battlezone, I can only have good thoughts regarding the quality of the final product. And for the films to follow, as well. Many, many kudos to The Halcyon Company for their prowess on the negotiating table (and securing the rights to Philip K. Dick's works as well - great work!).

Christian Bale. Three Terminator films. My birthday and Christmas have just merged into one gigantic orgiastic present getting-fest.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Happy Mom's Day, Mom!


Hey Mom, I hope you're having a great day today, and I'm sorry for once again showing up hungover. That's eight years in a row, I know. I can't help it, though. It just that the day before your special day is always nice out, and there's always something going on. I know you didn't pick your day to be a Sunday, but that's not my fault either. I got you some flowers! I hope that you like them. I had to ask this really cute girl at the greenhouse "what kinds of flowers do moms like?", and she probably thought I was retarded. No matter, she's probably a psycho anyways.

I love you Mom, and even though I reek of beer, I'm sure you can smell the love emanating from my pores.

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The Best Written Article You'll Read This Week

Sadly, no, I didn't write it. I had a rant all revved up and ready to go on the subject, but alas, I'm not one to put down mediocre stakes on land someone's already put down much better stakes. Random metaphors aside, I was going to weigh in on the current Miley Cyrus witch trial, because a) I watch too much TV, and b) because I had nothing better to write about other than a salacious picture of a 15 year-old. I can't tell which is more pathetic. No wait, I can.

But I won't. Instead, I'll leave you to read this article by "STV" on Defamer.com.

It sums up exactly what I've been thinking and getting sick and tired of, which is the hypocrisy of the apparent "general public consensus" and all the constant "outrage du jour" that infests some media outlets (Nancy Grace - just calm the fuck down!).

Highlights:

"This isn't about Miley Cyrus without a shirt on or if she's been seen somewhere in her lingerie, or if her father dropped the ball. It's simpler than any of that; this whole thing comes down to picture of a 15-year-old looking like she just got the shit fucked out of her. And if there's anything America loves more than a war, it's teenagers fucking."

"Also, teenagers fucking is a billion-dollar industry. Juno, for example, would not have been a lucrative, laureled darling of both the Christian right and the hipster left had she and Paulie Bleeker not A) fucked and B) kept the baby they conceived. Superbad was a more pointed argument for the appeal of teenagers not only fucking, but fucking well."

Well put.

**UPDATE**

Yeah, Disney sucks. Damn hypocrites.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

You've Got The Touch!

Yeah, just so you know, you've got it. You've got the touch. Also, you also have the power. To really make you believe that you're a winner, I've asked Stan Bush here to really drive this home. Happy? You should be.



Also, that kid needs to shut the fuck up. Optimus doesn't have to answer your questions. He transforms days into adventures. Fucking adventures, man.

YEAH!

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Life Is A Pretty Sweet Fruit

Whilst trolling the internet today, I came across my favourite of favourite Kids In The Hall sketches, which pretty much sums up my life at times. Pure comedy mastery. Videos!

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Since The Dawn Of Time Fact #2311: People Getting Hurt Is Funny, As Long As It's Not You

Hey party people.

It's been a crazy couple of weeks, as work has been incredibly busy. Which is a good thing for making time go by faster, but it cut deeply into my internet surfing. And I needs my internet surfing.

So here's a compilation clip showing some of the dangers of being a news reporter. Of course, many of these reporters put themselves into danger willingly, so the fact that some may have been hurt makes it all the more humourous.

Enjoy!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

When People Drink During Infrastructure Meetings


If you live in the capital city of Alberta as I do, you may know about the awesome little intersection I like to call the "Colon" of Edmonton, that is, Calgary Trail/Gateway Boulevard and 23 Avenue. For several years now, since the development of the South Edmonton Common business/commercial district, this intersection has become one of the worst sites for accidents, rush-hour/any-hour traffic jams, and general douchebaggery with respect to driving skills. The once simple southern T-intersection that was once a oft-ignored landmark on the way out of town, has become a significant infrastructural blight on the face of this fair city.

Could this nightmarish roadway crossing have been averted? Of course. Are the solutions only being acted upon now? Of course. Construction on an interchange that will service Calgary Trail south, Gateway Boulevard north, 23rd Avenue and 19th Avenue will begin the day after April Fool's Day this year, and will continue for 3 years until it is operational. 3 years! Not only is traffic and general "getting around" terrible now, but it's going to become even worse, and for 3 years. This project is so intense and utterly awesome in scale, it has its own website, 23avenue.com. What I want to know is this: I assume that city planners weren't broad-sided by an overnight pop-up of commercial development that spans 320 acres, and has 2.3 million square miles of retail space. I assume that this area was in the works for some time before it was actually built. Therefore, WHY THE FUCK WASN'T THIS INTERCHANGE BUILT THEN? Why is it always a knee-jerk reaction when it comes to projects like this? Because the City of Edmonton has done it before.

You may know of a fairly significant landmark between 170th and 178th Street, and between 90th and 87th Avenue, for an area coverage of over 570,000 square metres. Yeah, it's West Edmonton Mall. Recently, the City is trying to figure a way to extend the Light-Rail Transit (LRT) system to the mall to alleviate traffic along 170th street. The cost will probably be in the hundreds of billions, and probably won't be done until 2050, but it's worth a shot, right? I mean, who'd have thought that there would be traffic to THE WORLD'S LARGEST SHOPPING AND ENTERTAINMENT COMPLEX. I sure didn't. Naturally, the city would have probably known that this sort of development was happening in advance. I can imagine, though, the following conversation taking place when the mall was being built:

City of Edmonton Employee #1: "Wow! We're going to have the largest mall in the world, right in our city. Edmonton will be world-class! Perhaps we should consider extending the LRT in that direction, as we discussed as far back as 1962? I mean, it's bound to have a huge draw, and it sure would make it easy to get there and back from central locations along our existing LRT line."

City of Edmonton Employee #2: "Nah".

Simplistic, but probably not far off. Just crazy. This town has a serious hard-on for "better late than never" construction projects. From the interchange to the LRT, nobody will do it better, or later, than the City of Edmonton. And if you think I'm exaggerating the possible completion date of 2050 for a westbound LRT, look at the stats for the extension from the University station to the Health Sciences station:

Distance: 800m

Time from initial planning/construction to completion: 6 years.

By comparison, let's look at the development of the Chunnel, the fixed-link crossing between Folkstone, Kent, England and Coquelles, France.

Distance: 50.5 kilometres. UNDER WATER.

Time from initial construction to completion: 6 years.
Awesome.

However, it could be worse. It could be very worse. Check out this site for some serious traffic issues around the world. We might have it bad sometimes here, but damn if it isn't a Sunday stroll compared to some of these places. Edmonton rules.