A New Beginning In Springfield

It practically went unnoticed by the general population, but definitely not by those who have followed the show since its inception into the collective consciousness of the world in 1989.

This past Sunday, The Simpsons ran a new opening credit sequence.
If you're a long-time worshipper of the show like me, then this is something HUGE. Sure, it might be only the opening credits and not an episode, but the opening of The Simpsons is undeniably legendary and iconic, particularly for my generation. Notwithstanding the gag changes (Bart's blackboard gag, the couch gag) and some special in-episode credits ("The Thompsons" from ep 9F22, Bart gets fat from GABF11) the main animation sections stayed constant.

Sunday's new opening sequence contained many of the same elements, but was lengthened to just about 2 minutes, and also included many characters, some new, and some updated. According to TVguide.ca, the change was a celebratory, as the episode marked the first time The Simpsons was cast in high-definition. Check it out:


Do I like it? Yes. Yes, I do. It's always good to keep fresh, and even though The Simpsons hasn't been fresh since the Spice Girls were relative unknowns, it's a bold move, one that I hope is accepted by moderate fans and psycho fans worldwide.

Speaking of the Simpsons not being relevant since "Apollo 13" delighted theatre audiences, I'd like to take the opportunity to dig up a post I wrote over two years ago on another blog site, that I'm no longer writing for. I was worried that this post was lost forever, but it's been found (thanks Greg!)! The following outlines my favourite Simpsons episodes. Enjoy!

[Except from article orginally posted by me on www.thirtylives.com on November 26, 2006]

Chris Turner, who wrote the richly encompassing Simpsons saga, Planet Simpson, stated that the best years, the "Golden Era", was the absolute genius involved in Seasons 4 through 9. I wholeheartedly agree. Therefore, as a sort of "antibacterial cleanser for the sense of humour", I give you my top five favourite episodes of all-time. It should be of no surprise that they are all from Seasons 4 or 5. Undoubtably, those seasons, and the rest to Season 9, represent the very best of this legendary television program. I consider my life to have improved after watching these marvels.

5) Deep Space Homer (Season Five, Episode 1F13, Written By David Mirkhin / Transcript)

One of the best "Homer has another job" episodes (another show mentioned later takes the prize). Razor-sharp writing, pacing and inspired references transcend into beautifully crafted assaults on the knee-jerk hysteria of the news media, the irrelevance of NASA, and the evolution of the TV father figure. Everything here is comic gold, and not by the two sweetest words in the English language: Default.

Favourite Quote - Kent Brockman: "Ladies and gentlemen, uh, we've just lost the picture, but what we've seen speaks for itself. The Corvair spacecraft has apparently been taken over, 'conquered' if you will, by a master race of giant space ants. It's difficult to tell from this vantage point whether they will consume the captive Earthmen or merely enslave them. One thing is for certain: there is no stopping them; the ants will soon be here. And I, for one, welcome our new insect overlords. I'd like to remind them as a trusted TV personality, I can be helpful in rounding up others to toil in their underground sugar caves."

4) Homer The Heretic (Season Four, Episode 9F01, Written By George Meyer / Transcript

We interrupt your regular programming to bring you a wonderful episode. In what is an excellent comment on the validity of all religious orders to be kind and generous to its fellow human, this episode really shines in the writing. The jokes are small, but numerous and quick, and the ending, which in the wrong hands could have resulted in a Hallmark-esque disaster, becomes utterly charming. I'm taking everyone's side here: Homer, Flanders, the Water Department, and God.

Favourite Quote - Homer: Kids, let me tell you about another so-called "wicked" guy. He had long hair and some wild ideas, and he didn't always do what other people thought was right. And that man's name was... I forget. But the point is... well, I forget that too--Marge, you know who I'm talking about. He used to drive that blue car?

3) Cape Feare (Season 5, Episode 9F22, Written By Jon Vitti / Transcript

When you can make walking into nine rakes actually funny, then you've achieved legendary status, as this ep has. An obvious homage to Cape Fear, this episode has it all: incredibly witty writing, a great musical number (cheers for Gilbert & Sullivan), the emergence of a great character in Sideshow Bob, and plenty of hilarious references. An absolute must see for any fans of the Simpsons, or the "Thompsons".

Favourite Quote - Marge: [ruefully] We've left it all behind. How can you make a clean break with your life? Homer: Relax, Marge, I tied up all the loose ends before we left. [Scene change to Simpsons' old house] Abe: [knocking] Hello-o? Hello-o! You have my pills! Hello-o?[meekly] I'm cold, and there are wolves after me. [Howling is heard in the distance]

2) Marge Vs. The Monorail (Season 4, Episode 9F10, Written By Conan O'Brien / Transcript

The runner-up in my top five poll is simply one of the best of the best. Conan O'Brien wrote only a handful of episodes, but his masterstroke is this episode, brimming with comedic glee and super-crisp dialogue. From the Flintstones spoof beginning, to the escalator to nowhere ending, this episode shoots comedic gold at a rapid-fire pace, daring you to keep up. The cosmic ballet goes on, and will the humour of this episode for years to come.

Favourite Quote - Marge: Homer, there's a man here who thinks he can help you! Homer: Batman? Marge: No, he's a scientist. Homer: Batman's a scientist. Marge: It's not Batman!

1) Last Exit To Springfield (Season 4, Episode 9F15, Written By Jay Kogen & Wallace Wolodarsky / Transcript

This is the one. The absolute best (according to me). This shouldn't be of any surprise to the big Simpsons fans out there, as this episode has topped many 'best of' lists. And it should. It's as close to perfection as you will get in an episode, on any comedic television series. Homer as a union boss, "Lisa needs braces - Dental plan!", the Big Book Of British Smiles, the best of times - the "blurst of times", hired goons and on and on and on. This is what comedy is in it's most pure form. It's a legend. It should be knighted, or bestowed upon it sainthood. This is television turned up to 11. And I wish there were more like it - we as a planet would be better off.

Favourite Quote (among many) - Kent:Homer, organised labour has been called a lumbering dinosaur. Homer: (scared) AAAAH! Kent: Um, my director is asking me not to talk to you anymore. Homer: Woohoo!

That's my top five. What are your favourite episodes? Moments? Quotes?

The Day The Music Died

A long, long time ago. 50 years ago today. February 3, 1959.

A concert tour called the "Winter Dance Party" was enjoying big successes through the US Midwest, despite the frigid temperatures and poor travelling schedules. Featuring a very popular lineup of up-and-coming musicians, it included Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, J.P. Richardson (aka "The Big Bopper") and Dion & The Belmonts. The cold weather may not have been affecting the attendance, but it was creating havoc on the artists' tour bus, causing malfunctions in its heating system. Frostbite and illness were starting to afflict much of the traveling crew. When an extra show was added to the schedule in Clear Lake, Iowa, band members, especially Buddy Holly, succumbed to their frustrations with the malfunctioning bus and looked for other means of transportation. Holly, needing to get fresh laundry before the next performance, made arrangements with local pilot Roger Peterson to fly three people to Minnesota for $36 each.

J.P. Richardson had the flu, so he urged Waylon Jennings to let him fly instead of anguishing in an ice-cold bus, to which Jennings agreed. Richie Valens wished to fly as well, and won a coin toss with one of Holly's bandmates. Dion DiMucci from Dion & The Belmonts couldn't afford the cost of the flight. When the plane took off, it carried the pilot Peterson, Holly, Valens and Richardson. It never made it to Minnesota.

The plane crash cost the lives of everyone on board, and was the first high-profile music celebrity crash. Every artist was under the age of 30, Richardson being 29, Holly was 22, and Valens was only 18. The tragedy devastated the music industry and shattered the illusion that popular artists, at times worshipped and idolized, were invincible demi-gods. It was a loss of innocence, a loss of talent, and a loss of out-of-touch reality. The incident has been cause for creation, however, as seen in Don McLean's famous 1971 song, "American Pie".

If only this crash was the only one to claim the lives of talented artists, but there have been more. Here are some other famous musicians to have tragically lost their lives in aviation accidents.

Patsy Cline: March 5, 1963. Patsy, famous for her hit "Crazy", was killed along with artists Cowboy Copas, Hawkshaw Hawkins and Cline's manager when their plane crashed in a forest during bad weather conditions outside Camden, Tennessee.

Otis Redding: December 10, 1967. Three days after recording "Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay", his best-known hit, Otis, along with four members of his Bar-Kays band, were killed when their plane crashed in Lake Monoma near Madison, Wisconsin.

Jim Croce: September 20, 1973. "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" was skyrocketing Jim to the top when he crashed into a tree while failing to take off in Louisiana.

Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines and Cassie Gaines of Lynyrd Skynyrd: October 20, 1977. A pilot's error of miscalculating the amount of fuel in the plane caused the crash that killed many members of the immensely popular band just outside Gillsburg, Mississippi.

Randy Rhoads: March 19, 1982. The seemingly infinitely talented Rhoads, playing in Ozzy Osbourne's band, was killed along with two others when the plane he was riding in clipped Ozzy's tour bus during a botched "bus buzz".

John Denver: October 12, 1997. While flying his own experimental plane near Monterrey, California, Denver made a pilot error causing his own demise.

Aaliyah: August 25, 2001. Instead of celebrating my birthday, Aaliyah was killed after leaving a video shoot in the Bahamas. The plane she was in was overloaded and the pilot had traces of cocaine and alcohol in his system.

A Trip Down Remembery Lane: 2008 Edition

Yes, I did just look at my calendar, and yes, I do know that it's January 29th. Is it too late to do a "remember last year? I do, and here's some highlights because I know you care" post? I don't think it's too late. It's still January, right? Hey, this is a yearly tradition, so just sit back, adjust your reading glasses (and clean them too, they're filthy) and enjoy.

How can I best sum up 2008? A daunting task if I may say so. 2008 was an emotional year, I'll say that. There were some dizzying highs, some very rough lows, and as always, the consistent creamy middles. Now that the year's over, what effect on me did it ultimately have? Now that's the $64,000 question. I'd love to say that since another year's gone by, that I've grown wiser by a year, that I've come to a maturity level 366 days greater than this time last year, and that I've progressed occupationally by 52 weeks. I'd love to say that, but I can't. I can say that I've become a tad more emotional in the past year, mostly due to a very important person in my life changing the distance between us from minutes to nine time zones. I still talk to myself, I still make fun of others to make up for my own issues, and I still seem to lock my keys in my truck.

But you know what? You don't care, and neither do I. Nobody said at the start of 2008 that "personal growth" was required before 2009. Things happen, people change, and time flies. That's life. The only constant year to year? The Edmonton Oilers still frustrate the shit out of me, but I can't stop loving them.

Now, on to the memories! This year, I'm giving the top prize a cheap plastic trophy! Hooray!


BEST EYE-GASM: In Bruges

There were a shat load of great films in 2008, but I'll have to say that the film that flew under the radar and really shouldn't have, was this gem from director Martin McDonagh. An incredibly well-written dark comedy with outstanding performances, it features a murdered kid, a hooker and coke-obsessed midget and the most boring beautiful town in Europe. And I couldn't have enjoyed it more!

Participant Ribbons: The Bank Job, Be Kind Rewind, The Dark Knight, RocknRolla, Slumdog Millionaire, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, The Wrestler

BEST EAR-GASM: Into Your Lungs - Hey Rosetta!

Basically, no other album has generated more happiness, brought me through more times of sadness and boredom and kicked more ass than these Newfies. Leader Tim Baker has more talent in his dead skin flakes than most musicians out there. I predict this band will get very, VERY... somewhat noticed by the masses. And that will be a huge, unforgivable crime. They should be at least bigger than Akon. Damn Akon. He sucks.

Participant Ribbons: Beck - Modern Guilt, Black Mountain - In The Future, Constantines - Kensington Heights, The Hold Steady - Stay Positive, TV On The Radio - Dear Science, Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer

BEST CONCERT-GASM - Hey Rosetta! and Two Hours Traffic (Pawn Shop, Nov 10)

I shall repeat the comment I made on Facebook the moment I came home from this show: "If War and Peace was an epic, then tonight's Hey Rosetta! and Two Hours Traffic show was 10 War and Peace's worth of epic." Enough said. (Hey Rosetta! also played with The Coast on June 26. That show was 10 Ben Hur's worth of epic)

Participant Ribbons - Bedouin Soundclash with Shad K (Grant MacEwan, Apr 4 - First show I planned!), Every act at COCA (Ottawa, June 6-11), Bloc Party with Shout Out Out Out Out (Edmonton Events Centre, Sep 9), Bedouin Soundclash and Hey Ocean! (Edmonton Event Centre, Oct 25), The Australian Pink Floyd Show (Winspear, Dec 10), Monotonix (Pawn Shop, Dec 27 - most insane show I've ever seen!)

BEST LIVER-GASM: COCA Conference (Ottawa, June 6-10)

Once again, COCA proves to be unstoppable, in that I couldn't stop myself from indulging in a few drinks. Times 10. Per day. For almost a week. A truly wonderful experience shared with equally wondrous delegates, associates and musicians from across the country. Oh, and those beers on the right are mine. The red-coloured drinks are some douche's. Probably somebody from Ontario. Burn.

Participant Ribbons: Stampede Pubcrawl (Calgary, July 5), Bike 'N Wipes II (Bentley, AB, July 26), My birthday pubcrawl (Edmonton, Aug 25), Halloween Pubcrawl (Oct 31)

There might be more best things next post! But probably not.

"You Gotta Get In The Rhythm, Gino."

Hey literacy fans!

I took a bit of time off, but I'll be writing again soon. My next post should be my annual "Best of whatever I liked last year" post, but for now, let's just enjoy this post-game moment, courtesy of Ethan "Always liked Oates better" Moreau.




Also, there will be more post frequency from me! And that's certainly something to clap for.

CLAP! CLAP!

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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

Shameless Plug

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

Also, support the Christmas Bureau.

And read the Sun.

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.

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!

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)

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.

EepyBird's Sticky Note experiment from Eepybird on Vimeo.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.