Furless Bears Attack!!!

As if being attacked by a bear, nature’s overweight, sharp-clawed death beast of the forest, wasn’t bad enough.  Imagine being attacked by one with no fur.

That’s right!  Bears, long thought to follow a strict moral code that consisted of eating lean meats, resting for months at a time, never traveling to Vegas without loved ones in tow, and actually having fur on their bodies at all times, seem to have stooped to a new low.

“I mean what’s next?” Boonesboro, Wisconsin native Alan Hermunk was quoted as saying.  “Them bears do enough what with them roaring and stealing picnic baskets and just plain trying to take a swipe at everything that even smells like honey.  I don’t know what to expect no more.  If you’d a told me ten years ago we’d be seeing bears with no fur, I woulda said, no sirree, ain’t a cat with no mittens chance that’ll happen.  But after today, looks like nature just kinda gave up on them big, fat, man eatin’ creatures, and said to h#ll with it, let’s see what they kin do without no hair on ‘em!”

To make matters worse, it appears the bears have now begun to partake in secular, humanized activities like getting tattoos, wigs, and piercings.  One male, usually noted for his calm demeanor and affection for trout, was spotted with a “Feed bears, not humans” tattoo inked across his back, another, more volatile male, had the words “National Parks Suck” emblazoned across his buttocks, and was wearing what appeared to be a million dollar diamond grill and a green mohawk.

For years many top zoologists have noted an alarming shift in the North American bear populace away from their general conservative views, but nudity, inflammatory political messages, and crazy hairdos have gotten many top level experts worried about what may be just around the corner.

“At this point, I think we still have things relatively in control,” Dr. Russ Coghan, San Diego Zoo, said, “but the day some one ton grizzly shows up at a 7-11 all coked up and wielding a fully loaded Ak-47, well, then we’ll be looking at a serious, serious problem.”

I don’t know about you, but bears, in and of themselves, already scare the living Cheez-its out of me.  Combine that fear with automatic weapons, drug overdoses and a rise in violent gang-bear related crimes, and you just may see this citizen fleeing South to the cozy confines of Mexico quicker than you think.  At least all they have is the Chupacabra.

2012 – The End of the Calendar!!!!

The world is always supposed to end.  Mankind writes stories, stories have endings.  Thus the story of mankind must have an end, right?

And so the newest disaster simply foaming at the mouth to show up on the scene and kick the crap out of humanity is none other than a year, 2012.

That’s right friends, no aliens (or maybe no aliens), no Godzilla, no fount of molten lava slushing through the streets.  But rather a numerical anomaly posited some thousands of years ago by a culture that didn’t even have the decency to exist long enough to explain itself.

According to the Mayan calendar, there is no 2013.  And since they were inable to conceive of the years racking up to such a monstrous number, they just kind of quit.  Does this strange occurence by the ancient stargazing peoples of Central America spell doom for us all, or is it merely the shortcomings of an imperfect people when anticipating how long existence would really carry on?

I mean imagine some thong clad, blood drinking, monkey/pheasant/snake worshipping, monotheistic Mayan preist, adorned with gaudy, slaughtered animal headress, sitting down to plot out of the path of the world.  Dude plans for a few millenia, gets tired of not killing or pointing out spirit demons in the scared sh#tless populace that he tyranically rules over, and decides to call it a night with the whole future prognosticating mumbo jumbo.  2012 seems as good a place to stop as any, seeing as how there is no way in a million siestas he’s gonna live that long!

Now, a good thousand or so years later, civilized man crouches in corners, and waits like so many Chicken Little’s before him for the sky to come crashing in!

Likelihood of happening, who knows, but I wouldn’t bet the ranch on it.  The worst thing about civilizations or people who we analyze in retrospect and then determine to be prophets, is that most don’t stand the test of time.  Remember Y2k, or Nostradomus and how everyone misquoted him about a zillion times right after 9/11.  We aren’t even meant to comprehend the Bible word for word, and it’s written by a dude who’s all-knowing.

The bottom line is, mankind misinterprets things.  We always have and we always will.  It’s kind of ironic then, because our fatal flaw seems to be that we can’t predict when the end will come namely because it’s not in our nature to know.  Crashed computers, crashed planes, desert wars, and derelict calendars all point their fingers at the end of all things.  And it’s nice in a way, to be human and think that you have some insight into omniscience, some insider info. that makes you a little less fallible.  But I don’t think we do, and I don’t think that thong clad, toad worshipping, stargazing Mayan priest did either.  He too, was just another dude trying to make a claim to supreme knowledge, because somewhere deep down he wished he knew things about the world that he never would.

Obama School Speech

President Barack Obama is planning to give a motivational speech to students across the nation next week.  His speech is aimed at encouraging students to set goals for themselves, to take their education seriously, to aim high and strive to achieve great things.

But many students will never hear his words.
Many schools will never air his speech.
Many eyes will never see his message.

Based partly on a  strong Republican backlash, and partly on parents who realize that pumping political messages into their children’s schools may be stepping just a mile or two over the line, many schools have pulled the plug.

Obama, once America’s rhetorical golden boy, seems to have lost his loquacious touch of late, and deaf ears are all too often greeting his teleprompted teachings.

To say Obama is no longer the media darling he was a mere 6 months ago is harsh, but in the life of a president, it is also all too true.  Hailed as a savior upon his election, Obama is now wallowing through the scrutiny and ravages of constant coverage much like every president before him. 

Navigating a financially fueled, bi-partisan congress is akin to wrestling yaks blindfolded and fighting giant mutated tiger monkeys with naught but a shrimp net and some catnip.  And Obama is finding himself more crusader for his own cause rather than champion of a nation’s far too often these days.

Quixotic he is not, but the message America seems to be sending is one of apathy rather than adoration.  If the economy continues to stagnate, the deficit climbs, and health care teeters on the brink, no amount of finely crafted words will be able to endear the commander in chief to his citizens much longer. 

Only action can achieve that aim.

Best Jobs in the US

Many people work.  Many of those people hate their jobs.

Many humans dread the soul-sucking drudgery that is the very means to their existence.  The lifeblood to their addiction to hooch, snuff, twinkies, diet Coke, and all the rest.

Man was not born to work.  He was born to rule, or at least to believe that the work he was forced partake in ruled.  And so a panel of millions and millions of voters (or one) have nominated the following jobs as the all time greatest jobs in the history of the United States.

BEST JOBS IN THE US

10.) Krispy Kreme Delivery Guy – come on, think about it, how many doughnuts does this guy get for free each year?
        It’s like winning the lard lottery every day.

9.) Stunt Double for Jack Nicholson – Wait a minute, what action films does Nicholson make?  Oh yeah, none.

8.) Counter Midget for Burger King – Come one, admit it, when you read the word midget you started laughing!

7.) Ninja Assassin – Sure, the pay sucks and your life is constantly hanging by a thread, but where else can you carry a Samurai sword and lop heads off for fun?

6.) Chris Farley Impersonator – I know, I know, he’s dead.  Isn’t he?

5.) Dog catcher in San Fran’s Chinatown – Oh yeah, there’s money to be made in this one!

4.) Wall Street Broker – Sure, there’s no money in it anymore, but still, don’t the words Wall Street sound cool?

3.) President – Obama’s doing the job now, and Bush was before him, but really, anybody who runs can do it.

2.) Cat Urine Scent Detector – As if cats weren’t evil enough, imagine rubbing their faces in their own urine and living to tell about it.

1.) Slaughterhouse Floor Scrubber – You’ve always dreamed of being smattered in bloody bovine bile as your ears are deafened by the slurp of your motorized vaccuum, praying that your boss doesn’t traipse into the room and demand you to scrub it down again!

The Jersey Devil – World’s Worst Monster

History, or perhaps man, has produced monsters since the dawn of time.

The Hydra
The Werewolf
Dracula
The Loch Ness Monster
Bigfoot

Creatures of such mythic lore, that to actually debate their  existence is as trivial as questioning the rights of Southern Malaysian pygmies to eat the magic eggs of the largest meerkat in the village.

These creatures exist.  And they rock.  And if we never find them, in the end who gives a rat’s #ss, because we created them didn’t we, and isn’t that good enough.

But somewhere along the way a mistake was made.  Somehow the state of New Jersey felt shafted, felt left out of the inside joke that is the mythical beast, so they went and created perhaps the worst monster of all time, the Jersey Devil.

In fairness, this is New Jersey we speak of, and to truly expect an ounce of greatness from a state made famous mainly because it flanks the metropolis of Manhattan to the south would be ridiculous.

But nonetheless they created the devil, a strange, winged goat beast that resides in the trees.

I mean come on! A goat with wings? Why not Googonkula, oddly misshapen ooze beast hatched from the sewers of New York.  Or Rodney, yankified jokel of the north that prides himself in his ability to live above the Mason-Dixon line.

In a recent worldwide poll, citizens from China to Canada were asked to rank the 5 worst monsters in the history of the world.  The results were as follows:

5.) Ching-Chat-Chu – Ancient Chia-Pet Demon of the Pacific Realm
4.) Promthompsuous – Dance Afflicted Spanish spectre of Teguicalpa
3.) Lu Bing – Korean Wharf Rat rumored to be the size of an F-16
2.) Borushkanuma – Lithuanian she-yak of the hills
1.) The Jersey Devil - Demonical Flying goat of the Northeastern US

Voters don’t lie, and polls exist to expose frauds.  The Jersey Devil is a has been, a washed up fear monger in a world that passed him by.  For shame to whatever misgiven lad traipsed a wood late one night some two and half centuries ago, and upon startling some hapless wild animal just so happened to be frightened into rushing home, crying wolf, and thus creating the lamest monster ever!

Cash for Clunkers Extended

In a secret press release by the man assumed to be our president, Barack Obama, it was announced Monday that Cash for Clunkers will continue, forever.

“Simply put, cars die,” the president said, “and it’s our duty as Americans to make sure that before something dies, even if it’s supposed to die, we put a ridiculously absurd amount of taxpayer money into hopelessly and wastefully trying to revive it.”

Across the nation, the response was mixed. 

One woman in North Carolina was seen hugging a 1972 Buick LeSabre only moments before it was blindfolded and executed in the town square.

In Iowa, Carl Ludgens has resorted to driving a makeshift tractor, comprised mainly of chicken manure, lollipops and an old cardboard box.

Lurlene Chapel, of West Franklin, Delaware, was rumored to have dressed her 81 El Camino in a gigantic “diaper-looking” cloth in order to mislead her husband from trading in the vehicle.

Are these tales the rarity, or a glimpse into the motorized soul of America.  At once in love with the notion of getting a few bucks for a car with no more bang to give, and yet also sadly nostalgic at the passing of perhaps the world’s most eco-evil machines, the American Automobile.

Cars are, in the end, what defines our country.  The thrill of the open road, the wind in your hair, woodland creatures crushed betwixt your glistening chrome grill, and oddly fragrant trees swaying gently from our rear view mirrors.  We drive because it’s in our blood.  And every man, woman, and child knows that when one car dies, another rises to take its place. 

So carry on Cash for Clunkers, may our wits never outweight our wallets, and may the open road be fodder for classic cars no more.

District 9 Spoiler

There are countless movies where hulking, monstrous, acid-dripping aliens that can rip your face off and take a hundred rounds to the torso without even flinching get their comeuppance from scrawny, one-liner spewing humans.  This is not one of them. 

I don’t know quite how to pigeonhole District 9.  Think Blade Runner, Empire Strikes Back, Aliens, Predator, or Alien Nation.    Think whatever you will, but think.  Think long and hard.  Because you haven’t quite seen a movie like this before.

Peter Jackson’s newest sci-fi thriller (adapted from a Neil Bomkampt short), in which aliens are quarantined, humans mutate, corporations cover up the truth, motherships hover in the air, Nigerians eat aliens, aliens eat cat food, etc., basically has everything you could want from a sci-fi movie.  The aliens have superior technology, but they can’t get to it.  They’re stronger than humans, but uglier.  They’ re disgusting in some ways, but also worthy of respect and compassion in others.  What the film creates is an alien race that is unique.  A race that makes you think, what if there’s something out there that’s not quite like me, something I think I could never identify with, something that appalls me and I hate and for the most part want to destroy?  But at the same time, something that is far closer to being just like me than I want to acknowledge.  The film creates aliens as a metaphor for the word “alien” itself.  They could be from any nation, any religion, any planet, it doesn’t matter.  As long as they’re different in some way, we can find a way to hate them, or so goes the premise of the film.

Gory at times, with slaughtered animals, humans, and “prawns” ( a less than affectionate name for the insectoid aliens), the movie follows the quest of a middle-level MNU employee who gets a promotion thanks to his marriage to the boss’s daughter.  Filmed in mockumentary style, we follow his quest into District 9 to evict aliens, his accidental dousing with a DNA altering substance, and the absolute mayhem that follows.  In plot structure, think Blade Runner.  The action starts slow and builds to a no-holds-barred, climactic finish that rivals any in the modern sci-fi era.

The film is rough around the edges at times, particularly with violence and bloody, pulpy deaths, but does it ever entertain.  Imagine millions of cracked-out yodas (with a hankering for eating severed goat heads and beating the crap out of things), roaming amongst huts and yearning for a flight back to Dagoba.  Now imagine these yoda’s, along with an average joe human thrown in for good measure, being chased by Stone Cold Steve Austin with a full arsenal of weapons.  You’re beginning to get the picture.

I could go on, but the bottom line is, see it, then jump to your own conclusions.

Funny People, a Sad Tale

I’m sure it has been said a thousand times.  In a thousand reviews.  But it has to be said again.  Funny People is not funny.  It is sad.  Sad not in an emotional, but in a “are they even trying” way.

Was Funny People meant to be funny?  Is the name in and of itself a purposeful misnomer?  Is the title simply saying the private lives of people paid to be comedians are in fact not funny?  I don’t know the answer to any of these questions.  I do know that Judd Apatow has created perhaps his darkest, most lowbrow film about an aging comedian who rages against the dying of the light.  One in which there are brief moments of acting wedged between the innumerable sex or crotch jokes, references, allusions, etc.  But it’s all pointless.  Sandler may give his deepest performance to date, but it’s squandered.  Completely squandered.

Apatow has made his name with somewhat raunchy, yet socially spot on films like The 40 Year Old Virgin, I Love You Man, Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Knocked Up.  Each has been successful in its own right, combining enough heartfelt situations, strong plotlines, off and on color humor, and awkard situations to make them modern classics in their own right.  Apatow is talented, very talented.  Yet somewhere in the near epic length of Funny People, you begin to wonder what happened.

All the ingredients are present for an uproarious tale: Sandler, a mansion, Rogen, the fatter guy who looks like Rogen, a near death experience, a movie called Merman.  You name it, this film has it.  It could have been amazing.  It could have been anything Apatow wanted it to be.  The jewel in his crown, a comedic masterpiece, a screen gem.  But it was none of these.  Instead Apatow for some reason went more low brow than he’s ever stooped before, and the result is an infinitesimal crude joke that only ends when the credits roll.  If you make it that far.

I’ve seen Billy Madison twenty times.  Happy Gilmore ten.  “Stop looking at me swan, what is she talking about, circles, Happy, circles”.  These quotes and countless others will ramble about in my head, causing me to chuckle to myself at any given moment of the day for the rest of my life.  Adam Sandler was a genius once.  He knew it.  We knew it.  And all parties involved had the time of their lives.

So how then did two comic geniuses combine to make perhaps the most disappointing movie with the word “Funny” in its title, in the history of the world?  Who knows.  What mere mortal can guess what went wrong.  I can’t.

Transformers II – Revenge of Michael Bay

There are many maxims in life.  Small contextual truths that hold true within certain confines.

One such maxim is as follows: If it a movie makes a lot of money, then it should have a sequel.

Michael Bay directed Transformers in 2007 and it made a lot of money.
THUS – Michael bay was asked to direct Transformers II in 2009 to make a lot more money. 

And he did.

But Transformers II isn’t really about gigantic sentient robots who mire earth in a dire struggle for survival as they seek to find the resources necessary to power their precious energon cubes.  Transformers II isn’t about Optimus vs. Megatron, good vs evil, the introduction of new characters, confusingly loud and yet still interesting CGI, or some half-baked plot about a robot called the Fallen that no one’s ever even heard of.

Transformers II is about Michael Bay, the Revenge of Michael Bay.

You see Michael Bay is a man, and like all men he could be considered both good and evil.  Having made past “End of the World” movies like Independence Day and Armageddon, he understands that when big things come from the sky, humans get scared.  He also understands that scared humans are especially patriotic around July 4th, particularly scared American humans, because they have some collective memory of an independence gained through combat that was well worth fighting for.  In this way, simply by understanding our history, Michael Bay is smart.

So Michael Bay decided that the best way to live a good life and have stuff was to make movies about big, ominous, robo-alien things that may or may not cause mankind to cease to exist.  Every movie he makes is the same movie, he just changes the actors and the title a wee bit so that he can make it again, and make more money.  In this way also, Michael Bay is smart.

Hence my statement that Transformers II is not really about any of the things we as a viewing audience may think it is about, but rather it is a movie that portrays the real life saga of Michael Bay in terms of his revenge against all other movies that ever existed and took money out of his pocket.  As stated before, Michael Bay can be considered both good and evil.  He wants to be productive and creative and someone who makes things.  This is good.  He also wants to make the same thing, again and again and again, and expects his customers to pay for the old like it is new.  This is bad.

If Michael Bay were a car manufacturer, let’s say he made Jeep Grand Cherokee’s, and he took one old Jeep Grand Cherokee from 1994 and every few years just painted it a different color, and then tried to sell it as a 1994, 1998, 2007, and 2009 vehicle.  Each time claiming it was new and needed to be paid for. We would call him a crook and cheat, and we would no longer be interested in his product.

But Michael Bay does not make cars.  He makes movies.  Big, loud, scary, hopeful, July 4th type movies, that sucker in American audiences every time.

Transformers II is a movie that Michael Bay made.  It  made a lot of money.  Michael Bay got his revenge.

In a few years Michael Bay will make another Tranformers movie.  It will be the same movie he has always made, but he may call it a different name  just to be sneaky.  Many people will see this movie, and Michael Bay will make lots of money. 

Michael Bay is smart.  He knows that there are many maxims in life, and some maxims hold true.

G. I. Juh?

Someone has stolen my childhood. That someone is Stephen Sommers.  For such a crime, I ask only this…

What have you done, Stephen Sommers?  What have you done?

For you see I believed in evil once, evil personified by the rasping, cartoonish voice of Cobra Commander, belting out untimely and ill-devised schemes to his hordes of soulless troops.  Of fiendish metal faced morons, galavanting across the terra firma to battle heroic Joes in what could only be described as perhaps the greatest marketing ploy to sell 6″ posable figurines since George Lucas put a retractable laser in a star pilot’s hands and crowned himself god.

I read the Joe comics, watched the cartoon, almost gave up after the cartoon movie but stiff upper-lipped my way through, wasted my college savings on the toys and vehicles, burnt Joes with lighters, allowed them to fight over Cheese-Its amidst the crumpled pillows of my bed in the waning hours of the night, lost them on rainy days in mud puddles the size of lakes, then fished out their waterlogged corpses later and resuscitated them back to life. 

I was in.  I was dedicated.  I was a fan.  My Joes bonded with one another, formed alliances, represented truth and justice, carried the most amazing miniature, plasticized weapons that any boy could ever dream of.  They fought and killed on an unimaginable scale, and I believed that the scathing evil they held at bay represented the greatest fear the American public could ever possibly have forced upon it.

But I was wrong, Stephen Sommers.  I was wrong because my Joes had never faced you.

Stephen Sommers is older than me.  Maybe he never played with a Joe.  Maybe he missed the cartoons.  Maybe he thinks Nemesis Enforcer is a term coined by George Bush to demonize some middle eastern nation, instead of the single most a$$beating humanoid to ever be scribbled into existence.

I don’t know what he thinks.  But I know by some monumentous error, Stephen Sommers got paid by some money grubbing movie tycoon to put his thoughts on screen, and in turn took the revered mythology of GI Joe and backhanded it into submission in order to create a docile, mindless sprawl of a movie that bears more resemblence to a blender with crayons in it than an epic tale of good vs evil.

Obviously, there will be a sequel to this melange of garbage.  The good Lord help us if Stephen Sommers directs it.