Author's note: This section, and subsequent sections, contain a couple footnotes. Superscripts and footnotes are not something the blogosphere handles well (or at least I don't know how to use them) so where applicable you'll just see a regular number in parentheses and then the note will be at the end of the post. Just didn't want to confuse anyone. On with the show!
Part 2: The Aftermath
Chapter 1
Ivan was not prepared for this, and the shock of that alone was almost enough to knock him over. He was never unprepared. Never. If there was one thing he had been known for since his youth it was his deliberate, meticulous, almost obsessive-compulsive attention-to-detail planning (some would argue that there was no ‘almost’ about it). The very idea that there was a contingency that he hadn’t planned for kept him awake night after night. He simply couldn’t sleep until he had convinced the rest of his mind that he truly had every angle covered. But now as he leaned back in his reclining leather office chair that sat behind the blood-splattered desk of the White House’s oval office, he reflected back on the events of the previous 6 months and wondered how he had possibly failed to account for this.
After vanquishing Captain Invincible(1) everything had pretty much fallen into place just as he had planned. He quickly revealed to the world, via an internet video that was quickly picked up by the major networks, that his nuclear surprise in the U.S. heartland was by no means a solitary phenomenon. He divulged that he had over 100 other nuclear weapons at his disposal, all strategically hidden beneath major population centers throughout the world. In truth he had only about 40, and about half of those were not exactly positioned amidst large urban throngs (unless one considers Fruitland, Idaho to be a burgeoning metropolis). Nevertheless, no one was in a position to dispute his claim and, following a brief demonstration, an accurate inventory became the furthest thing from people’s minds. He had always had a particular disdain for L.A. and the greater Southern California area. Not necessarily for the shallowness and greed that it represented; he was actually a big fan of that aspect. It’s just that he’d always hated the motivations of a group of people who, it seemed, wished to spend as much of their time as humanly possible standing around getting cooked by the sun. He decided that it was really just a tremendous service to increase their ultraviolet radiation exposure by a few thousand orders of magnitude. Sure, they might all be cadavers and piles of ash, but man did they have a nice healthy tan!
After incinerating the city, he quickly discovered that although the capital of the U.S. might be listed as Washington D.C., almost everything that mattered to most of the general population occurred on studio lots and in recording studios in the City of Angels. Even after the death of Captain Invincible, there were a lot of people that found it surprisingly easy to ignore him. They considered his presence a problem for the politicians or possibly the army, if it came to that. The most important thing was that it certainly wasn’t their concern. After all, they had families to feed, bills to pay, and sports to watch. They couldn’t be expected to drop everything and worry about the health of the country and the world every time a super villain got his hands on a few dozen nuclear warheads. When every news show in the country was broadcasting his video, a lot of people simply changed the channel or headed out to the movies. But once that mushroom cloud ballooned over LA, everything changed. Once people realized that the one movie they had waited for all summer was now in fact never going to be released, all future episodes of Lost were just that, and that Us Weekly had just lost its entire subject matter, everyone found it suddenly very hard to be distracted.
So naturally they did the thing that, as Americans, came most naturally to them. They started blaming people. Namely, anyone and everyone that would listen, or at least pretend to. With tremendous efficiency the blame recipient would then waste no time in calmly explaining that they had in fact done all that they could and it was in reality someone else’s fault because either a) it really didn’t fall under their jurisdiction or b) someone else had not provided the support that was desperately needed at the critical hour. This process was repeated ad nauseam until it reached a high enough level where the individual being blamed was sufficiently insulated from public outcry that they could safely proclaim that it wasn’t at all their fault, and anyone who thought it was could go straight to hell. At which point the proceedings would begin again with another low-level blame target, and round and round it went in that phenomenon of modern civilization whereby a problem gets tremendous exposure followed by seemingly endless debate and in the end absolutely nothing is accomplished.
People first began to blame the Soviet Union for not taking better care of their weapons arsenal. After all, most of the world’s nuclear weapons that were presently unaccounted for originated with them. This had shades of actual logic, and in fact it was right here at the start that the general population was closest to blaming the right people, at least in terms of actual responsibility. However, given that the Soviet Union had been disbanded for the better part of 20 years, this left everyone a little less than satisfied. Given the choice, people find it far more preferable to yell at someone that at least has the capability of yelling back. This is not at all out of a sense of nobility that it is not right to attack those that cannot defend themselves, but instead probably arises from a rudimentary understanding that those no longer in existence cannot be sued, voted out of office, or lynched. It would be a bit like the citizens of Atlanta still screaming at General Sherman for burning their town to the ground during the Civil War. Given that many citizens of Atlanta still actually do scream at General Sherman to not burn their town to the ground, it would probably be in the best interest of the greater Georgian population to reread this paragraph.
After the Soviet Union scapegoat turned into a dead end, the next target became the Decatur power plant that Dr. Destructo had infiltrated and where Captain Invincible had met his doom(2). First the head of security was paraded out to answer questions of how the Doctor had managed to infiltrate what undoubtedly should have been top notch security. The head of security responded that he was merely an administrator at the plant and that the job of plant security had actually been fully transferred to municipal law enforcement several years ago. Then the local Chief of police came out to say that due to budget cuts they had been unable to upgrade security equipment since approximately 1986 and had even had to let their best trained and consequently highest paid guards go in favor of mainly 18-year-old high school dropouts that had somehow managed to pass a GED equivalency exam.
Next the mayor came out to answer questions about why the budget had been cut so severely, and he responded that it had been on referendums that the citizens of Decatur themselves had proposed and voted for. Since most of the residents of Decatur had been incinerated, this was not at all a popular response. The fact that it was the truth did not dissuade those offering a dissenting opinion. Many accused the mayor of dancing on the graves of those dearly departed and of being a corrupt good-old boy (he was 27), who had no education (he had a B.S. in Psychology from Southern Illinois and a Law Degree from Northwestern), and anyway he was the one responsible for what referendums ended up on the ballot (he wasn’t). However, sensing a dead end here (at least until the next election), the metaphorical angry mob of less-than-ethical journalists and blame-mongerers went off to find a way to tie the state legislature and, hopefully, the governor into the disaster.
At the same time that this was going on in Decatur, all across the country people wanted to know what their local government was going to do to make sure that this catastrophe didn’t happen there. How good was the security? What progress had been made on finding out if there was a nuclear warhead under their town? Was marshall law being declared? Did all citizens have the right to arm themselves? When was Bravo going to be back on the air? This line of questions followed the Decatur blame model as well, until finally communities in every state across the country were ready to bring their grievances to their state capitals and Washington D.C.
But by that time, there was no state or national Representatives to hear them. Dr. Destructo had disbanded them.
(1) - When you have been the cause of death of a super-hero, and especially one you consider to be your arch-enemy, the appropriate terminology is always “vanquish”. Only if one wishes to trivialize his importance is it acceptable to use “dispatch”. This is not advised, however, if his death has been achieved only after multiple attempts, as it has the undesired effect of making you appear weak.
(2) - In this context, “met his doom” is also acceptable
Friday, May 06, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Evil Genius (Part 4)
Chapter 5
Megan and Terry lay next to each other in a post-coital embrace, passing a cigarette between them. He knew that she was going to attempt to pry information out of him now, but he was fine with that. It just came with the territory when you were involved with a journalist. The amusing part of it was that she always approached him after sex, figuring that he was most vulnerable and thus susceptible to reveal more intimate details then. The reality was that he would decide far in advance what he would and would not share with her, but he always held out because he knew she’d end up sleeping with him. It was a nice little dynamic they had worked out.
She rolled over onto one side and looked up at him. Here it comes, he thought. He was right.
“So what’s going on with you? What is it the Doctor is planning this time?” She asked, attempting innocence. She was very convincing and if he had not already been prepared for it, he probably would have been fooled.
“Not sure.” He replied. And that was actually the truth. “That’s what’s got me worried. He’s usually so straightforward with his intentions and demands. But not this time. He is being very cryptic.”
“What do you mean?” She asked, with genuine curiosity now.
“Well, neither I or anyone else has heard anything from him in over 2 years, and all of a sudden from out of nowhere I get a message from him yesterday saying that I have to meet him at some nuclear power plant in the middle of rural Illinois and that if I don’t he will remove the control rods and cause a meltdown in the reactor.”
“Oh my god! Do you think he can really do it?” She was getting a little worried now. She always got worried when he told her about the evil schemes of these lunatics.
“Well, all we’ve been able to confirm so far is that he has indeed taken control of the plant and has punched holes in the containment building. We have to assume that either he or more likely someone he has hired knows how to trigger a meltdown.” He got up and started gathering up his clothes. It was time to get ready.
“What kind of casualties are we looking at if he succeeds?” She asked. Casualties. She was back in journalism mode. He was surprised she hadn’t referred to it as “collateral damage”.
“Well, that’s pretty tricky, actually. People hear the word 'nuclear' and they instantly think 'nuclear bomb'. But a power plant’s not like that. There’s not going to be a huge explosion that’s gonna vaporize people like at Hiroshima. But what will happen if he goes through with it is the creation of a huge cloud of radiation that will escape into the atmosphere. How much damage that does will depend a lot on which way the wind is blowing and how long it drifts before it hits a major population center. If we’re lucky, there will only be a couple hundred deaths. If he’s lucky, it could be a couple hundred thousand or more.”
“My God! So what are you gonna do?”
“What else can I do? I’m not gonna just let him kill all those people. I can’t take the risk that the winds will favor us.”
“But what if it’s a trap?” She was pleading with him now. The journalist was gone again and was being replaced by a semi-hysterical woman that didn’t want her man going headlong into danger.
“Oh, I’m sure it IS a trap, but I don’t have a choice. I’ve got to find out what he’s up to, and this is the only way.”
She was silent. She just sat there looking at him with a slight frown. He supposed it was a kind of pout, but if it was designed to make him reconsider it wasn’t working. She was very important to him, that was true, but this was something far more important. She just lay there in silence as he finished dressing. Then, he sat down and looked back at her, trying to look gentle and stern at the same time.
“Alright Meg, I gotta go.” He said, preparing to battle against her last minute pleadings, but none came.
“I know” is all she said.
He walked over and kissed her, lightly at first and then with a deepness that surprised them both. He had left her on dangerous and important missions before, but somehow this just felt different. That uneasy feeling came back to him again. At last he pulled away from her and brushed his hand lightly against the side of her face as he walked away. As he reached the bedroom door, she called after him.
“Terry” He turned to face her. “Come back to me quickly, OK?”
“Of course, babe” He said, as easily as he could manage. “There's nothing to worry about.”
But nothing could be further from the truth.
Chapter 6
A crimson and blue halo surrounded the nuclear plant in Decatur, IL. Every available police car within 100 miles had turned up to create a perimeter. And since just about every citizen within 100 miles had turned up as well, they were pretty much all available. The fact that a large civilian crowd had decided to crowd around a nuclear power plant that was under the control of a madman might seem unusual. But the people knew they weren’t in any real danger. They knew that Captain Invincible was en route and would have the situation resolved in no time. Their faith was such that their number one fear was failing to get a glimpse of their hero as he majestically arrived on the scene. Total annihilation via gamma rays was a distant second. Public speaking was third.
A great cheer went up as a small bright comet became visible in the eastern sky. No had ever asked the Captain if the light he emitted during flight was a natural by-product of whatever miraculous process gave him his gift or if he just did it for effect. In truth it was a little of both. The friction caused by his body skipping across the atmosphere like a stone created a natural incandescence, but he had the power to either maximize or minimize its effects. Tonight, as with most nights, he chose to maximize it. But unlike most nights, tonight he did it to portray the kind of confidence that he did not feel.
From about 30 miles out he had spotted what appeared to be the biggest hub of police cars and landed there. He was greeted immediately by a heavyset middle-aged officer in blue.
“Captain! Thank god you’re here! We’ve got a madman . . .”
The Captain raised his right hand to interrupt the officer.
“Yes officer, I was briefed on the situation in New York. Anything changed in the last 20 minutes?”
“No sir. He holed himself up in there yesterday, demanded to see you, and hasn’t said a word since.”
“Any casualties?”
“Unknown. We’ve reviewed the exterior surveillance cameras and the only thing we know is that no one’s come in or out of the facility since he entered it sometime after 11 yesterday.”
“Do we have any surveillance inside?”
“Negative. One of the first things he did was disable all the cameras. That’s actually how we first found out something was wrong.” The officer paused briefly and looked off towards the plant, and then back at the Captain. “What do you suppose he’s up to?”
The Captain thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
“Not sure. But you can bet I’m going to find out.”
And with that he started walking slowly but purposefully towards the plant entrance. The officer pleaded after him.
“Wait! Captain! What if it’s a trap?” But the Captain just kept moving.
The wail of the sirens was replaced by the hum of the power plant as the Captain drew nearer to the entrance. The rounded dome of the containment building, which had seemed so insignificantly small from 1000 feet up, now rose up and seemed to double in size with every few steps. He hesitated for just a moment as he reached the doors ,placed his steel fists on the handle, and took a deep breath. A sudden fury erupted inside of him and with a mighty swing of his arm he sent the two metal entry doors flying into the interior of the plant. He stepped inside.
“Doctor!” He boomed. “I am here!”
“That’s absolutely perfect.” A voice over the intercom replied. “Because I’m not.”
And with that a small atomic bomb planted in the bowels of the nuclear plant erupted. Captain Invincible, the police at the plant, the adoring crowd, and everyone and everything within a radius of 30 miles was vaporized instantaneously.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: So, what happened to Captain Invincible?
A: He’s dead.
Q: Dead dead?
A: Yes
Q: Really?
A: Yes
Q: OK, but it’s one of those things where he’s in some kind of cryogenic freeze while his body regenerates itself, right?
A: No, it’s one of those not breathing, no longer living, completely vaporized kind of things.
Q: Come on!
A: That’s not a question.
Q: I don’t believe it.
A: Fine. He still is.
Q: Ok, so he’s dead. But it’s a death where he needs the kiss of his true love to resurrect him, or something like that right?
A: Are you high? He’s been vaporized! There’s not even anything left to kiss.
Q: OK, so let me get this straight. He’s really dead-dead and is in no way, shape, or form in any kind of healing process and can’t be resurrected in any way?
A: Right
Q: So how does he come back?
A: I hate you.
Megan and Terry lay next to each other in a post-coital embrace, passing a cigarette between them. He knew that she was going to attempt to pry information out of him now, but he was fine with that. It just came with the territory when you were involved with a journalist. The amusing part of it was that she always approached him after sex, figuring that he was most vulnerable and thus susceptible to reveal more intimate details then. The reality was that he would decide far in advance what he would and would not share with her, but he always held out because he knew she’d end up sleeping with him. It was a nice little dynamic they had worked out.
She rolled over onto one side and looked up at him. Here it comes, he thought. He was right.
“So what’s going on with you? What is it the Doctor is planning this time?” She asked, attempting innocence. She was very convincing and if he had not already been prepared for it, he probably would have been fooled.
“Not sure.” He replied. And that was actually the truth. “That’s what’s got me worried. He’s usually so straightforward with his intentions and demands. But not this time. He is being very cryptic.”
“What do you mean?” She asked, with genuine curiosity now.
“Well, neither I or anyone else has heard anything from him in over 2 years, and all of a sudden from out of nowhere I get a message from him yesterday saying that I have to meet him at some nuclear power plant in the middle of rural Illinois and that if I don’t he will remove the control rods and cause a meltdown in the reactor.”
“Oh my god! Do you think he can really do it?” She was getting a little worried now. She always got worried when he told her about the evil schemes of these lunatics.
“Well, all we’ve been able to confirm so far is that he has indeed taken control of the plant and has punched holes in the containment building. We have to assume that either he or more likely someone he has hired knows how to trigger a meltdown.” He got up and started gathering up his clothes. It was time to get ready.
“What kind of casualties are we looking at if he succeeds?” She asked. Casualties. She was back in journalism mode. He was surprised she hadn’t referred to it as “collateral damage”.
“Well, that’s pretty tricky, actually. People hear the word 'nuclear' and they instantly think 'nuclear bomb'. But a power plant’s not like that. There’s not going to be a huge explosion that’s gonna vaporize people like at Hiroshima. But what will happen if he goes through with it is the creation of a huge cloud of radiation that will escape into the atmosphere. How much damage that does will depend a lot on which way the wind is blowing and how long it drifts before it hits a major population center. If we’re lucky, there will only be a couple hundred deaths. If he’s lucky, it could be a couple hundred thousand or more.”
“My God! So what are you gonna do?”
“What else can I do? I’m not gonna just let him kill all those people. I can’t take the risk that the winds will favor us.”
“But what if it’s a trap?” She was pleading with him now. The journalist was gone again and was being replaced by a semi-hysterical woman that didn’t want her man going headlong into danger.
“Oh, I’m sure it IS a trap, but I don’t have a choice. I’ve got to find out what he’s up to, and this is the only way.”
She was silent. She just sat there looking at him with a slight frown. He supposed it was a kind of pout, but if it was designed to make him reconsider it wasn’t working. She was very important to him, that was true, but this was something far more important. She just lay there in silence as he finished dressing. Then, he sat down and looked back at her, trying to look gentle and stern at the same time.
“Alright Meg, I gotta go.” He said, preparing to battle against her last minute pleadings, but none came.
“I know” is all she said.
He walked over and kissed her, lightly at first and then with a deepness that surprised them both. He had left her on dangerous and important missions before, but somehow this just felt different. That uneasy feeling came back to him again. At last he pulled away from her and brushed his hand lightly against the side of her face as he walked away. As he reached the bedroom door, she called after him.
“Terry” He turned to face her. “Come back to me quickly, OK?”
“Of course, babe” He said, as easily as he could manage. “There's nothing to worry about.”
But nothing could be further from the truth.
Chapter 6
A crimson and blue halo surrounded the nuclear plant in Decatur, IL. Every available police car within 100 miles had turned up to create a perimeter. And since just about every citizen within 100 miles had turned up as well, they were pretty much all available. The fact that a large civilian crowd had decided to crowd around a nuclear power plant that was under the control of a madman might seem unusual. But the people knew they weren’t in any real danger. They knew that Captain Invincible was en route and would have the situation resolved in no time. Their faith was such that their number one fear was failing to get a glimpse of their hero as he majestically arrived on the scene. Total annihilation via gamma rays was a distant second. Public speaking was third.
A great cheer went up as a small bright comet became visible in the eastern sky. No had ever asked the Captain if the light he emitted during flight was a natural by-product of whatever miraculous process gave him his gift or if he just did it for effect. In truth it was a little of both. The friction caused by his body skipping across the atmosphere like a stone created a natural incandescence, but he had the power to either maximize or minimize its effects. Tonight, as with most nights, he chose to maximize it. But unlike most nights, tonight he did it to portray the kind of confidence that he did not feel.
From about 30 miles out he had spotted what appeared to be the biggest hub of police cars and landed there. He was greeted immediately by a heavyset middle-aged officer in blue.
“Captain! Thank god you’re here! We’ve got a madman . . .”
The Captain raised his right hand to interrupt the officer.
“Yes officer, I was briefed on the situation in New York. Anything changed in the last 20 minutes?”
“No sir. He holed himself up in there yesterday, demanded to see you, and hasn’t said a word since.”
“Any casualties?”
“Unknown. We’ve reviewed the exterior surveillance cameras and the only thing we know is that no one’s come in or out of the facility since he entered it sometime after 11 yesterday.”
“Do we have any surveillance inside?”
“Negative. One of the first things he did was disable all the cameras. That’s actually how we first found out something was wrong.” The officer paused briefly and looked off towards the plant, and then back at the Captain. “What do you suppose he’s up to?”
The Captain thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
“Not sure. But you can bet I’m going to find out.”
And with that he started walking slowly but purposefully towards the plant entrance. The officer pleaded after him.
“Wait! Captain! What if it’s a trap?” But the Captain just kept moving.
The wail of the sirens was replaced by the hum of the power plant as the Captain drew nearer to the entrance. The rounded dome of the containment building, which had seemed so insignificantly small from 1000 feet up, now rose up and seemed to double in size with every few steps. He hesitated for just a moment as he reached the doors ,placed his steel fists on the handle, and took a deep breath. A sudden fury erupted inside of him and with a mighty swing of his arm he sent the two metal entry doors flying into the interior of the plant. He stepped inside.
“Doctor!” He boomed. “I am here!”
“That’s absolutely perfect.” A voice over the intercom replied. “Because I’m not.”
And with that a small atomic bomb planted in the bowels of the nuclear plant erupted. Captain Invincible, the police at the plant, the adoring crowd, and everyone and everything within a radius of 30 miles was vaporized instantaneously.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: So, what happened to Captain Invincible?
A: He’s dead.
Q: Dead dead?
A: Yes
Q: Really?
A: Yes
Q: OK, but it’s one of those things where he’s in some kind of cryogenic freeze while his body regenerates itself, right?
A: No, it’s one of those not breathing, no longer living, completely vaporized kind of things.
Q: Come on!
A: That’s not a question.
Q: I don’t believe it.
A: Fine. He still is.
Q: Ok, so he’s dead. But it’s a death where he needs the kiss of his true love to resurrect him, or something like that right?
A: Are you high? He’s been vaporized! There’s not even anything left to kiss.
Q: OK, so let me get this straight. He’s really dead-dead and is in no way, shape, or form in any kind of healing process and can’t be resurrected in any way?
A: Right
Q: So how does he come back?
A: I hate you.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Evil Genius (Part 3)
Chapter 2
Doctor Ivan Destructo was known in various circles as The Destructor, Ivan the Wicked, or often simply as The Doctor. For a brief time he himself had lobbied for the name Ivan the Terrible, only to be informed that he had been preempted by some 450 years by a Russian czar. What exactly he was a doctor of no one knew for sure. If anyone ever did know they had long ago been disposed of, and any that thought about him long enough to wonder about it knew better than to ask him. You didn’t ask The Doctor questions, he asked you. And when he did you had essentially two choices: 1) supply him with the answer he was looking for, or 2) attempt to fake an epileptic seizure. Option 2 was seldom very effective. There were whispers (and they were only very, very quiet and careful whispers) that he in fact was not a doctor at all, and had just taken the title himself, like a rapper. In actuality, technically he was in fact a real doctor. He had actually achieved his doctorate through a series of correspondence classes from a not-very-well respected community college. In botany. That he could scarcely identify a rose when he saw one should give some idea as to the credibility of the degree-granting institution.
To anyone who didn’t know him, and that was becoming an increasingly rare phenomenon lately, he would not have appeared to be anything out of the ordinary. To the untrained eye, he would appear to be nothing more than a bald man in his late 50s or early 60s with thick black-rimmed glasses which, one could imagine, were used chiefly to decipher today’s Wall Street Journal or perhaps the current issue of Reader’s Digest. And when it was his goal to not be noticed that is exactly how he behaved; watching at a distance while appearing to be buried in a newspaper or a novel. But when he wanted to shrug off the image of normalcy; when he wanted to let the unfortunate individual before him know that he was to be taken seriously, he need only perform the simplest of actions. He would smile. And if you were standing before him when he did, you felt physically transformed. A second before you might have thought you were speaking with a feeble, middle-aged man on the brink of senility, but all delusions of that simply melted away in an instant. It wasn’t that he did anything particularly unusual when he smiled, it was all in the quiet but absolute confidence that was portrayed.
And perhaps the most frightening aspect of this confidence was how justified it was. When The Doctor decided that he required something, he did whatever was necessary to obtain it. He didn’t waste his time or energy getting angry or planning elaborate vendettas – such petty emotions were beneath him. Obstacles were to be overcome, not stressed over. The words cold and calculating were never more apt, even if they inevitably fell short of truly encapsulating the true essence of the man.
He also had little interest in celebrating his victories, namely because he didn’t see them that way. Each was merely a stepping stone; one small part of the master plan. From his earliest days knocking over liquor stores and gas stations, to the multi-million dollar operations he now routinely pulled off (effortlessly, it seemed), it had all been building to something. Everyone around him seemed to sense this too, even if they could only guess what the end-game was. It simply wasn’t possible to operate with this much efficiency and calm amidst the chaotic and turbulent criminal world unless you knew exactly what you were doing, and exactly how to do it. It’s what made him perhaps the most intriguing criminal mastermind in the world, and certainly is what made him the most feared.
Chapter 3
Terry Graham, aka Captain Invincible, looked out the window nervously and brought the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling sharply. He needed to quit, he told himself for perhaps the thousandth time. Not for his health; his superhuman body was impervious to the harmful affects of tobacco. It was just that it was such a bad example to set for the kids. That’s what his friends kept telling him, anyway.
“Superheroes don’t smoke, Terry. It’s just not natural.”
That always gave him a chuckle. He was a man blessed with the strength of at least a hundred men. Hell, maybe even a thousand; his limits hadn’t ever been sufficiently tested. He also possessed lightning quick reflexes, x-ray vision, was impervious to fire, and on the rare occasion when he had been unable to dodge a bullet intended for him, they had stung with all the force of a small piece of hail before bouncing harmlessly to the ground. Yet despite all this, it was his smoking that was “not natural”. He had been intending to quit for years now, but had basically settled into the routine of only smoking in private, when the faces of the oh-so-impressionable young children were nowhere to be found. He tended to smoke more when he was nervous. And he was VERY nervous tonight.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Megan cooed to him as she put her arms around his shoulders.
“Nothing, Meg, just work stuff.” He lied, unsuccessfully attempting to derail the line of inquiry.
“It’s that business with the Doctor, isn’t it?” She continued, as she laid her head against his back. He could feel her blonde hair against his neck, and could smell her perfume. God, she smelled good today, and it was very distracting. He pulled away and turned to face her.
“Yes it is, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He said, trying at the same time to convince both himself and her and failing at both.
“Of course you can handle it, dear. You can handle anything.” She tried to reassure him as she moved in closer again.
“I know that. It’s just that it’s different this time. He’s different, somehow. This plan of his is not like anything else he’s tried before, and it scares me. I don’t like surprises.”
“Well, talk to me then. We can work it out together.” She was in his arms now, with her head against his chest. He could see where this was going. Not that he was terribly upset that it was going there. He kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“OK. But not now. Later.” She looked up at him, and he kissed her passionately. Slowly, they made there way over to the bed without breaking, and made love for hours.
Chapter 4 (A Brief Aside)
This is probably a good time to mention the inherent difficulties involved with the sex lives of superheroes, particularly those, like Terry, who have been blessed with superhuman strength. With men in general, maintaining control during sex is always a dicey proposition, but with superheroes it is absolutely essential if massive injuries are to be avoided. As a point in fact, during Terry’s first sexual encounter he had momentarily got lost in the emotion of the moment, thrusted just a tad too hard, and consequently shattered the pelvis of his unfortunate partner in three places. The proceedings had ended rather abruptly then and not only was he not afforded the opportunity to redeem himself, he barely missed getting hit by a rather scathing assault lawsuit. Since that day he had always taken the utmost care to place the well being of his partner ahead of his own pleasure, with the end result being that although he still enjoyed the sexual act very much, he would have to admit that he had never really been completely fulfilled in his entire life.
And the problems were just as bad when he attempted a “solo flight”. During his early teen years, when he was just discovering the joy of artificial stimulation, one night he had gotten a hold of some particularly explicit material and had decided he was going to just let himself go and see what happened. The result of his orgasm can only be likened to a torpedo that caused such structural damage to his parents’ house that it eventually had to be condemned. As a result of both of those experiments gone awry, Terry had long ago accepted the fact that lack of sexual fulfillment was just going to have to be one of the few downsides to being a superhuman.
Just something to think about.
Doctor Ivan Destructo was known in various circles as The Destructor, Ivan the Wicked, or often simply as The Doctor. For a brief time he himself had lobbied for the name Ivan the Terrible, only to be informed that he had been preempted by some 450 years by a Russian czar. What exactly he was a doctor of no one knew for sure. If anyone ever did know they had long ago been disposed of, and any that thought about him long enough to wonder about it knew better than to ask him. You didn’t ask The Doctor questions, he asked you. And when he did you had essentially two choices: 1) supply him with the answer he was looking for, or 2) attempt to fake an epileptic seizure. Option 2 was seldom very effective. There were whispers (and they were only very, very quiet and careful whispers) that he in fact was not a doctor at all, and had just taken the title himself, like a rapper. In actuality, technically he was in fact a real doctor. He had actually achieved his doctorate through a series of correspondence classes from a not-very-well respected community college. In botany. That he could scarcely identify a rose when he saw one should give some idea as to the credibility of the degree-granting institution.
To anyone who didn’t know him, and that was becoming an increasingly rare phenomenon lately, he would not have appeared to be anything out of the ordinary. To the untrained eye, he would appear to be nothing more than a bald man in his late 50s or early 60s with thick black-rimmed glasses which, one could imagine, were used chiefly to decipher today’s Wall Street Journal or perhaps the current issue of Reader’s Digest. And when it was his goal to not be noticed that is exactly how he behaved; watching at a distance while appearing to be buried in a newspaper or a novel. But when he wanted to shrug off the image of normalcy; when he wanted to let the unfortunate individual before him know that he was to be taken seriously, he need only perform the simplest of actions. He would smile. And if you were standing before him when he did, you felt physically transformed. A second before you might have thought you were speaking with a feeble, middle-aged man on the brink of senility, but all delusions of that simply melted away in an instant. It wasn’t that he did anything particularly unusual when he smiled, it was all in the quiet but absolute confidence that was portrayed.
And perhaps the most frightening aspect of this confidence was how justified it was. When The Doctor decided that he required something, he did whatever was necessary to obtain it. He didn’t waste his time or energy getting angry or planning elaborate vendettas – such petty emotions were beneath him. Obstacles were to be overcome, not stressed over. The words cold and calculating were never more apt, even if they inevitably fell short of truly encapsulating the true essence of the man.
He also had little interest in celebrating his victories, namely because he didn’t see them that way. Each was merely a stepping stone; one small part of the master plan. From his earliest days knocking over liquor stores and gas stations, to the multi-million dollar operations he now routinely pulled off (effortlessly, it seemed), it had all been building to something. Everyone around him seemed to sense this too, even if they could only guess what the end-game was. It simply wasn’t possible to operate with this much efficiency and calm amidst the chaotic and turbulent criminal world unless you knew exactly what you were doing, and exactly how to do it. It’s what made him perhaps the most intriguing criminal mastermind in the world, and certainly is what made him the most feared.
Chapter 3
Terry Graham, aka Captain Invincible, looked out the window nervously and brought the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling sharply. He needed to quit, he told himself for perhaps the thousandth time. Not for his health; his superhuman body was impervious to the harmful affects of tobacco. It was just that it was such a bad example to set for the kids. That’s what his friends kept telling him, anyway.
“Superheroes don’t smoke, Terry. It’s just not natural.”
That always gave him a chuckle. He was a man blessed with the strength of at least a hundred men. Hell, maybe even a thousand; his limits hadn’t ever been sufficiently tested. He also possessed lightning quick reflexes, x-ray vision, was impervious to fire, and on the rare occasion when he had been unable to dodge a bullet intended for him, they had stung with all the force of a small piece of hail before bouncing harmlessly to the ground. Yet despite all this, it was his smoking that was “not natural”. He had been intending to quit for years now, but had basically settled into the routine of only smoking in private, when the faces of the oh-so-impressionable young children were nowhere to be found. He tended to smoke more when he was nervous. And he was VERY nervous tonight.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Megan cooed to him as she put her arms around his shoulders.
“Nothing, Meg, just work stuff.” He lied, unsuccessfully attempting to derail the line of inquiry.
“It’s that business with the Doctor, isn’t it?” She continued, as she laid her head against his back. He could feel her blonde hair against his neck, and could smell her perfume. God, she smelled good today, and it was very distracting. He pulled away and turned to face her.
“Yes it is, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He said, trying at the same time to convince both himself and her and failing at both.
“Of course you can handle it, dear. You can handle anything.” She tried to reassure him as she moved in closer again.
“I know that. It’s just that it’s different this time. He’s different, somehow. This plan of his is not like anything else he’s tried before, and it scares me. I don’t like surprises.”
“Well, talk to me then. We can work it out together.” She was in his arms now, with her head against his chest. He could see where this was going. Not that he was terribly upset that it was going there. He kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“OK. But not now. Later.” She looked up at him, and he kissed her passionately. Slowly, they made there way over to the bed without breaking, and made love for hours.
Chapter 4 (A Brief Aside)
This is probably a good time to mention the inherent difficulties involved with the sex lives of superheroes, particularly those, like Terry, who have been blessed with superhuman strength. With men in general, maintaining control during sex is always a dicey proposition, but with superheroes it is absolutely essential if massive injuries are to be avoided. As a point in fact, during Terry’s first sexual encounter he had momentarily got lost in the emotion of the moment, thrusted just a tad too hard, and consequently shattered the pelvis of his unfortunate partner in three places. The proceedings had ended rather abruptly then and not only was he not afforded the opportunity to redeem himself, he barely missed getting hit by a rather scathing assault lawsuit. Since that day he had always taken the utmost care to place the well being of his partner ahead of his own pleasure, with the end result being that although he still enjoyed the sexual act very much, he would have to admit that he had never really been completely fulfilled in his entire life.
And the problems were just as bad when he attempted a “solo flight”. During his early teen years, when he was just discovering the joy of artificial stimulation, one night he had gotten a hold of some particularly explicit material and had decided he was going to just let himself go and see what happened. The result of his orgasm can only be likened to a torpedo that caused such structural damage to his parents’ house that it eventually had to be condemned. As a result of both of those experiments gone awry, Terry had long ago accepted the fact that lack of sexual fulfillment was just going to have to be one of the few downsides to being a superhuman.
Just something to think about.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Evil Genius (Part 2)
Chapter 1
It was just after 9 A.M. on a sunny May morning when a large white van pulled up outside the First National Bank of Chicago. In a flash, five armed men in ski masks leapt out the back and inside the lobby. One of them raised his semi-automatic into the air and fired a burst at the ceiling.
“Everybody get down!” He shouted. This command was unnecessary, as it turned out, since everyone had done precisely that as soon as the shots were fired.
“Nobody does anything stupid and nobody gets hurt.” He continued, well aware of how clichéd his speech was. Some things become clichés for a reason. He waved his gun in a menacing fashion and motioned to the tellers behind the counter.
“All of you; out in front with the rest. Anybody who trips the silent alarm gets a bullet between the eyes.”
The terrified employees filed out with their hands in the air. The rest of the armed men went around the lobby to disable any cameras that were visible. They were aware that undoubtedly there would be hidden cameras as well, but it still seemed prudent to at least destroy whatever was in sight. Plus, wrecking things was fun.
Once the employees and customers were secured on the ground, the men nodded to each other. One man began emptying out the cash drawers at each teller station while two others continued to patrol the lobby; their guns trained on the hostages, ready to unload at the first sign of movement. The remaining two headed off downstairs, where the vault was located. As they descended and began to sift through the various tools and explosives they were carrying in tote bags, they looked up and noticed with equal parts confusion and excitement that the vault door was already open. They paused briefly to process this unforeseen turn of events, but only long enough to notice the 3 by 3 by 3 cubed palette of $100 bills that was visible at the vault’s rear. With the giddy excitement of a child on Christmas morning, the 2 criminals rushed headlong into the vault. They barely had time to appreciate the perfume of the thousands of crisp bills in front of them when the vault door suddenly slammed shut behind them.
Upstairs, the 3 criminals heard the crash of the vault, but mistook it for the sound of the door being blown open. It wasn’t until after they had finished collecting the contents of the cash drawers that they realized the 2 men in the vault hadn’t checked in.
“Echo one, come in” the man said into his walkie-talkie. He paused and listened. One second. Three seconds. Five seconds. Static was the only response.
“Echo one, what’s your status. Come back.”
Nothing.
“Shit”
He motioned towards another of the men.
“Bravo, get down there and find out what the problem is.”
The other man nodded and headed towards the downstairs steps and disappeared from view.
With all the teller stations bare, the two men had no choice but to wait to hear back from their recently departed cohort. And, as is wont to happen when two men who are in the middle of committing a class B felony have a few moments to themselves for quiet contemplation, they started to get nervous. Very nervous.
The two men walked towards each other and met in the center of the lobby to conference.
“Shit man, I don’t like this. We’ve already been here too long.”
“Relax; we’re still on schedule. Everything’s going to be fine.” The other man replied. Even as he spoke, he was acutely aware that he was trying to reassure himself at least as much as the other man.
“Get Bravo on the line. See what the hold up . . .” He broke off suddenly. A noise in the distance. An unmistakable and terrifyingly shrill noise. The one noise above all others they preyed they wouldn’t have to hear today. Sirens.
“Oh fuck! Go see how close they are!”
The men split up, with one heading towards the front window and the other heading towards the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he screamed down: “
Echo one, Bravo we’ve been made. We’ve got to move now!”
The sirens were getting louder now. The man whirled around. “Charlie, how much time have we…”
But the other man wasn’t there anymore.
“What the hell. Charlie where the hell are you?” No response. “Charlie, if you fuckin’ bailed on me I swear I will rip your goddamn nuts off!”
Getting desperate now, he screamed into the walkie-talkie.
“Echo one, Bravo, Charlie somebody talk to me goddamn it!”
Static again.
Where the fuck could they all be? This momentary curiosity was replaced almost at once by the stark realization that wherever they were, it meant that he was now all alone. The thought hit him like ice-cold water at the base of his neck. He was standing in the middle of a bank lobby with a handful of stolen money as the cops were closing in. And he was all alone.
Suddenly, he heard a voice. A deep, booming voice that didn’t so much speak as much as emanate from the air all around him.
“Feeling a little lonely?”
The man whirled around, trying to track the source, but it was useless. The speaker, whoever he was, seemed to be everywhere all at once.
“Don’t worry; you’ll be making lots of new friends where you’re going.”
The man’s breathing quickened and he started shaking.
“Wh-wh-what the h-h-ell is going on here?” Trying to sound tough and failing miserably. “Show yourself, c-coward.”
“Alright, if you insist” the voice cheerfully replied. In front of the man a chiseled vision of steel and grey descended slowly from the ceiling. The man knew him. Everyone knew him. Captain Invincible.
“We gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?”
The man responded by opening fire from his semi-automatic. But even before he could press his finger to the trigger, the man in front of him seemed to lose physical form and become a blur of blue. Only when the clip was empty did his shape return. Not so much as a scratch was on him as he walked up to the now hysterical man.
“Ah; the easy way”
Outside, the police arrived on the scene just in time to see a man in a ski mask suddenly explode through the glass window and land on his back in the middle of the street. As the dust settled, Captain Invincible could be seen emerging through the now-shattered glass. He headed straight towards the Chief.
“Sorry about that. Meant to whip him through the revolving doors. Looks like my aim’s a little off. As usual, I’ll transfer you funds to pay for the damages. You’ll find 2 others unconscious just outside the vault and 2 more inside it.”
The Chief couldn’t help but smile. “Man, Invincible we’ve got to get you a cell phone. One of the tellers tripped the alarm but we wouldn’t have bothered if we’d have known you were already on the scene.”
“Yeah, well I enjoy the incapacitation but I prefer pickup to delivery so it’s good you’re here.”
The chief smiled again, but Captain Invincible noted a hint of fear behind the smile.
“Something wrong Chief?”
The smile melted away from the chief’s face and he inhaled deeply and nodded.
“I think you’d better come back to the station with me so I can explain. It’s the Doctor, and it’s not good.”
It was just after 9 A.M. on a sunny May morning when a large white van pulled up outside the First National Bank of Chicago. In a flash, five armed men in ski masks leapt out the back and inside the lobby. One of them raised his semi-automatic into the air and fired a burst at the ceiling.
“Everybody get down!” He shouted. This command was unnecessary, as it turned out, since everyone had done precisely that as soon as the shots were fired.
“Nobody does anything stupid and nobody gets hurt.” He continued, well aware of how clichéd his speech was. Some things become clichés for a reason. He waved his gun in a menacing fashion and motioned to the tellers behind the counter.
“All of you; out in front with the rest. Anybody who trips the silent alarm gets a bullet between the eyes.”
The terrified employees filed out with their hands in the air. The rest of the armed men went around the lobby to disable any cameras that were visible. They were aware that undoubtedly there would be hidden cameras as well, but it still seemed prudent to at least destroy whatever was in sight. Plus, wrecking things was fun.
Once the employees and customers were secured on the ground, the men nodded to each other. One man began emptying out the cash drawers at each teller station while two others continued to patrol the lobby; their guns trained on the hostages, ready to unload at the first sign of movement. The remaining two headed off downstairs, where the vault was located. As they descended and began to sift through the various tools and explosives they were carrying in tote bags, they looked up and noticed with equal parts confusion and excitement that the vault door was already open. They paused briefly to process this unforeseen turn of events, but only long enough to notice the 3 by 3 by 3 cubed palette of $100 bills that was visible at the vault’s rear. With the giddy excitement of a child on Christmas morning, the 2 criminals rushed headlong into the vault. They barely had time to appreciate the perfume of the thousands of crisp bills in front of them when the vault door suddenly slammed shut behind them.
Upstairs, the 3 criminals heard the crash of the vault, but mistook it for the sound of the door being blown open. It wasn’t until after they had finished collecting the contents of the cash drawers that they realized the 2 men in the vault hadn’t checked in.
“Echo one, come in” the man said into his walkie-talkie. He paused and listened. One second. Three seconds. Five seconds. Static was the only response.
“Echo one, what’s your status. Come back.”
Nothing.
“Shit”
He motioned towards another of the men.
“Bravo, get down there and find out what the problem is.”
The other man nodded and headed towards the downstairs steps and disappeared from view.
With all the teller stations bare, the two men had no choice but to wait to hear back from their recently departed cohort. And, as is wont to happen when two men who are in the middle of committing a class B felony have a few moments to themselves for quiet contemplation, they started to get nervous. Very nervous.
The two men walked towards each other and met in the center of the lobby to conference.
“Shit man, I don’t like this. We’ve already been here too long.”
“Relax; we’re still on schedule. Everything’s going to be fine.” The other man replied. Even as he spoke, he was acutely aware that he was trying to reassure himself at least as much as the other man.
“Get Bravo on the line. See what the hold up . . .” He broke off suddenly. A noise in the distance. An unmistakable and terrifyingly shrill noise. The one noise above all others they preyed they wouldn’t have to hear today. Sirens.
“Oh fuck! Go see how close they are!”
The men split up, with one heading towards the front window and the other heading towards the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he screamed down: “
Echo one, Bravo we’ve been made. We’ve got to move now!”
The sirens were getting louder now. The man whirled around. “Charlie, how much time have we…”
But the other man wasn’t there anymore.
“What the hell. Charlie where the hell are you?” No response. “Charlie, if you fuckin’ bailed on me I swear I will rip your goddamn nuts off!”
Getting desperate now, he screamed into the walkie-talkie.
“Echo one, Bravo, Charlie somebody talk to me goddamn it!”
Static again.
Where the fuck could they all be? This momentary curiosity was replaced almost at once by the stark realization that wherever they were, it meant that he was now all alone. The thought hit him like ice-cold water at the base of his neck. He was standing in the middle of a bank lobby with a handful of stolen money as the cops were closing in. And he was all alone.
Suddenly, he heard a voice. A deep, booming voice that didn’t so much speak as much as emanate from the air all around him.
“Feeling a little lonely?”
The man whirled around, trying to track the source, but it was useless. The speaker, whoever he was, seemed to be everywhere all at once.
“Don’t worry; you’ll be making lots of new friends where you’re going.”
The man’s breathing quickened and he started shaking.
“Wh-wh-what the h-h-ell is going on here?” Trying to sound tough and failing miserably. “Show yourself, c-coward.”
“Alright, if you insist” the voice cheerfully replied. In front of the man a chiseled vision of steel and grey descended slowly from the ceiling. The man knew him. Everyone knew him. Captain Invincible.
“We gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?”
The man responded by opening fire from his semi-automatic. But even before he could press his finger to the trigger, the man in front of him seemed to lose physical form and become a blur of blue. Only when the clip was empty did his shape return. Not so much as a scratch was on him as he walked up to the now hysterical man.
“Ah; the easy way”
Outside, the police arrived on the scene just in time to see a man in a ski mask suddenly explode through the glass window and land on his back in the middle of the street. As the dust settled, Captain Invincible could be seen emerging through the now-shattered glass. He headed straight towards the Chief.
“Sorry about that. Meant to whip him through the revolving doors. Looks like my aim’s a little off. As usual, I’ll transfer you funds to pay for the damages. You’ll find 2 others unconscious just outside the vault and 2 more inside it.”
The Chief couldn’t help but smile. “Man, Invincible we’ve got to get you a cell phone. One of the tellers tripped the alarm but we wouldn’t have bothered if we’d have known you were already on the scene.”
“Yeah, well I enjoy the incapacitation but I prefer pickup to delivery so it’s good you’re here.”
The chief smiled again, but Captain Invincible noted a hint of fear behind the smile.
“Something wrong Chief?”
The smile melted away from the chief’s face and he inhaled deeply and nodded.
“I think you’d better come back to the station with me so I can explain. It’s the Doctor, and it’s not good.”
Friday, April 08, 2011
Evil Genius (Part 1)
OK, so here we go. I won't usually post introductions, but wanted to this first time because the Prologue is a bit on the darker side. Just keep in mind that it's going to be a comedy (albeit a dark comedy) so please view the violence to follow in the comic book style that is is intended.
Prologue
Two Years Ago
“Repent! Repent sinners for the end of the world is near!”
The preacher stood in the middle of the park with one hand on the bullhorn and the other on his Bible. He turned slowly from side to side to engage the people as they walked towards and then away from him. A few paused to listen and every once in a while one stayed to argue, but most just ignored him and walked on by.
“The day of reckoning is at hand, children of God. Do not be lost when the time comes. Jesus loves you, but if you turn your back on him today, he will not recognize you when you stand before him in judgement.”
It had been a pretty slow day, thought the preacher. He wasn’t sure that thus far he had saved anyone. This only spurred him on harder, though. He decided that what was needed was the power of God’s words, rather than his own. He began to quote scripture.
“And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night”
Yes this was better, thought the preacher. He always felt the power flowing through him when he recited the Book of Revelations.
“And I stood upon the sand, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty-six.”
Now the preacher could see that he had caught someone’s attention. A man of average build in perhaps his mid to late 50s had paused directly in front of him and was listening intently. This was good; men of his age frequently began to confront their own mortality for the first time. They were ripe for salvation. This really gave the preacher momentum.
“And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns. And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.”
Now more than a few people had paused, though whether it was the power of the word or the theatrics of the performance that held their attention is anyone’s guess. And still the middle-aged man stood directly in front of him, his eyes locked intently on the preacher and a small smile beginning to appear on his lips. ‘This man is ready to be saved, and with my help God will save him this day’, the preacher thought as he returned the man’s smile. But he was not ready to abandon the rest of his audience, now that he finally had one.
Now he put down the bullhorn and amped up the performance, shouting as loud as he could and thumping the bible for emphasis.
“And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. And every deed of every man was recorded in the books, and each was judged according to their work. And another book was opened, which is the Book of Life. And any who’s name was not found in the Book of Life was cast into the lake of fire for all eternity.”
The preacher paused reverently to allow the words to sink in a moment. Then he looked up at his audience, which numbered only a dozen at the most. In his mind, though, he was speaking to thousands, and they were hanging on his every word. Just as he was about to speak again, the man in front of him put his arm on his shoulder.
“And is your name written in the Book of Life?” he asked.
The preacher beamed as he answered. “God has saved me from death. I am one with Jesus and we shall live forever.”
The man nodded and then turned to face the rest of the crowd.
“This man speaks the truth. The day of reckoning is close at hand. And all of you will be judged!” The man said. The preacher continued to beam; he had reached this man, and he had been saved. Praise Jesus! All at once the man turned back to look at the preacher and suddenly the preacher felt as though his whole body had been submerged in ice water. The man was smiling broadly, but there was no joy in that smile. The man turned again to face the crowd.
“But retribution does not come from God. Oh no, my friends. It comes from me!”
A deep silence now descended on the crowd. Even those that had heard nothing of the preacher’s sermon could sense that something wasn’t quite right, and paused to find out what it was. The preacher was shaking now; he had been unprepared for this sudden outburst of blasphemy. He was searching for the words to use to decry him, when the man turned to face him again. The preacher now understood why the smile had froze him. It wasn’t a lack of joy. It was pure evil.
“And you, sir, are not in my book.”
And with that the spell was broken. One woman’s piercing scream gave rise to fifty more, as people began to slowly back away from the grizzly scene before losing all composure and just running and scattering in all directions. And in the middle of the mayhem that he had created, the man stood silently with his eyes closed and breathed deeply. With his arms extended and his palms and face pointing skyward, he basked in the terror that he had created. Every scream was music to his ears, and his every thought centered on how, very soon now, he would be the cause of hundreds of millions of screams just like this. When at last he heard the first of the sirens approaching, he sighed and pulled himself out of his daydream. He had nothing to fear from the police, and indeed the incident with the preacher had only whetted his appetite for blood. He could stay and make a bloody mockery out of the local law enforcement. But there was so much work to be done, and that would only be a distraction. Soon enough, he told himself. The time for blood will come soon enough.
And with that most pleasant thought in his head, Dr. Ivan Destructo smiled and slowly began to walk away. This was shaping up to be a very good day.
Prologue
Two Years Ago
“Repent! Repent sinners for the end of the world is near!”
The preacher stood in the middle of the park with one hand on the bullhorn and the other on his Bible. He turned slowly from side to side to engage the people as they walked towards and then away from him. A few paused to listen and every once in a while one stayed to argue, but most just ignored him and walked on by.
“The day of reckoning is at hand, children of God. Do not be lost when the time comes. Jesus loves you, but if you turn your back on him today, he will not recognize you when you stand before him in judgement.”
It had been a pretty slow day, thought the preacher. He wasn’t sure that thus far he had saved anyone. This only spurred him on harder, though. He decided that what was needed was the power of God’s words, rather than his own. He began to quote scripture.
“And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night”
Yes this was better, thought the preacher. He always felt the power flowing through him when he recited the Book of Revelations.
“And I stood upon the sand, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred and sixty-six.”
Now the preacher could see that he had caught someone’s attention. A man of average build in perhaps his mid to late 50s had paused directly in front of him and was listening intently. This was good; men of his age frequently began to confront their own mortality for the first time. They were ripe for salvation. This really gave the preacher momentum.
“And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns. And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.”
Now more than a few people had paused, though whether it was the power of the word or the theatrics of the performance that held their attention is anyone’s guess. And still the middle-aged man stood directly in front of him, his eyes locked intently on the preacher and a small smile beginning to appear on his lips. ‘This man is ready to be saved, and with my help God will save him this day’, the preacher thought as he returned the man’s smile. But he was not ready to abandon the rest of his audience, now that he finally had one.
“And I saw the beast, and the kings of the earth, and their armies, gathered together to make war against him that sat on the horse, and against his army. And the beast was taken, and with him the false prophet that wrought miracles which he deceived them that had received the mark of the beast, and them that worshipped his image. And they were cast alive into a lake of fire burning with brimstone.”
Now he put down the bullhorn and amped up the performance, shouting as loud as he could and thumping the bible for emphasis.
“And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. And every deed of every man was recorded in the books, and each was judged according to their work. And another book was opened, which is the Book of Life. And any who’s name was not found in the Book of Life was cast into the lake of fire for all eternity.”
The preacher paused reverently to allow the words to sink in a moment. Then he looked up at his audience, which numbered only a dozen at the most. In his mind, though, he was speaking to thousands, and they were hanging on his every word. Just as he was about to speak again, the man in front of him put his arm on his shoulder.
“And is your name written in the Book of Life?” he asked.
The preacher beamed as he answered. “God has saved me from death. I am one with Jesus and we shall live forever.”
The man nodded and then turned to face the rest of the crowd.
“This man speaks the truth. The day of reckoning is close at hand. And all of you will be judged!” The man said. The preacher continued to beam; he had reached this man, and he had been saved. Praise Jesus! All at once the man turned back to look at the preacher and suddenly the preacher felt as though his whole body had been submerged in ice water. The man was smiling broadly, but there was no joy in that smile. The man turned again to face the crowd.
“But retribution does not come from God. Oh no, my friends. It comes from me!”
A deep silence now descended on the crowd. Even those that had heard nothing of the preacher’s sermon could sense that something wasn’t quite right, and paused to find out what it was. The preacher was shaking now; he had been unprepared for this sudden outburst of blasphemy. He was searching for the words to use to decry him, when the man turned to face him again. The preacher now understood why the smile had froze him. It wasn’t a lack of joy. It was pure evil.
“And you, sir, are not in my book.”
The blade came out quickly. Impossibly quick, for a man that age. The preacher could not even identify it as a knife before it disappeared into one side of his neck and reappeared on the other.
Now the silence was deafening. People stood in shock, searching their minds for another explanation of what they had just witnessed. Some thinking that it was an elaborate magic stunt; others thinking they were in the midst of some terrible nightmare and that they would wake momentarily. All eyes were fixated on the preacher, who stood with the same look of shock on his face. He took one small step forward and as he did so his head came loose from his body and fell to the ground.
Now the silence was deafening. People stood in shock, searching their minds for another explanation of what they had just witnessed. Some thinking that it was an elaborate magic stunt; others thinking they were in the midst of some terrible nightmare and that they would wake momentarily. All eyes were fixated on the preacher, who stood with the same look of shock on his face. He took one small step forward and as he did so his head came loose from his body and fell to the ground.
And with that the spell was broken. One woman’s piercing scream gave rise to fifty more, as people began to slowly back away from the grizzly scene before losing all composure and just running and scattering in all directions. And in the middle of the mayhem that he had created, the man stood silently with his eyes closed and breathed deeply. With his arms extended and his palms and face pointing skyward, he basked in the terror that he had created. Every scream was music to his ears, and his every thought centered on how, very soon now, he would be the cause of hundreds of millions of screams just like this. When at last he heard the first of the sirens approaching, he sighed and pulled himself out of his daydream. He had nothing to fear from the police, and indeed the incident with the preacher had only whetted his appetite for blood. He could stay and make a bloody mockery out of the local law enforcement. But there was so much work to be done, and that would only be a distraction. Soon enough, he told himself. The time for blood will come soon enough.
And with that most pleasant thought in his head, Dr. Ivan Destructo smiled and slowly began to walk away. This was shaping up to be a very good day.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Crossroads
OK, well I think it's high time that I stopped pretending that I haven't let this blog fall into a condition that resembles your average 1977 Ford Pinto.
A big part of it is that I became accustomed to blogging during work, and now a good part of my workday is now filled with, shockingly enough, work. The other problem is that I have become much more apolitical over the last year. That is partially due to the fact that it's just hard to get excited when the party in power either does nothing or waters down the few good ideas they do have till they're effectively nothing while you disagree with pretty much everything that the other party wants to do. And after working and spending time with Christy and Anabelle, in the few hours of truly free time I do have generally the last thing I feel like doing is getting myself riled up about something I have very very little control over. I still try to keep myself informed, but I just don't have the motivation that I did. I prefer the escapism of sports, movies, books, and video games.
All of which has left me pondering the question "if I'm not going to write opinion pieces, what am I going to write about?" My wife's blog does a fantastic job of capturing our family life, and I don't really see a lot of value in writing about every trivial non-event that happens to me in an average week (one of the main reasons I'm still not on Facebook). I contemplated just throwing in the towel and calling it a day and letting the fat lady sing and all sorts of other cliches too. I may very well end up doing that, but I decided I'd try something else first.
One of the main reasons I started this back in 2006 was that writing was always something I enjoyed, but it saddened me that I just hadn't done a whole lot of it since high school. I look back and I'm a bit amazed at myself that I wrote 3 screenplays before I was 19. None of them were what I'd call good but still, that's 3 more than most people and 3 more than I've done since. In fact, I've started on about half a dozen screenplays or books since then only to put them aside and never pick them up again. I had thought that by starting to write again here that it would give me some momentum in that arena as well. In fact it has had the opposite effect; for the most part I've gotten my writing "fix" here and haven't felt compelled to do anymore outside of this.
So now I've decided that it's time to align the projects. The closest I've come to completing one of my major undertakings was a story I came up with about 4 years ago that was somewhat inspired by watching Superman 2. I have written about 40 pages of it and actually had a pretty good outline of where I wanted to go with it. Then about a year ago I had a soul-crushing experience where I was lying in bed one night watching TV and saw a trailer for Megamind. My story is a bit different but the set-up is the same - it's about what would happen if the supervillain actually beat the hero and took over the world. On the one hand I was disheartened because one of my main motivations for writing it was that it had never really been done and now it has. On the other hand it was at least a little gratifying to see some other people thought that an idea I had come up with was a good idea too.
In any case, I've decided that I want to finish this story if for no other reason than to just complete a writing project for the first time in 12 years. And even though the set-up is largely the same I think it's sufficiently different from Megamind that it can stand on its own. So here's what I'm going to do; starting next week I'm going to use this blog to publish weekly installments so that hopefully within 6 months I'll have the whole thing finished and out there. I'm hopeful that having some kind of weekly "deadline" will give me the motivation I need to finally finish this.
I'm hopeful that some of you will still continue to follow me in my repurposed blog, as above all I want to improve my writing and it would be invaluable for me to hear about what you like and don't so I can help figure out what's working, what isn't, and what I need to work on. But I certainly understand if reading amateur short fiction is not something you have much interest in, and let's face it I'm doing this mainly for me anyway.
So that's where we are. Wish me luck and I'll post the first installment sometime next week.
A big part of it is that I became accustomed to blogging during work, and now a good part of my workday is now filled with, shockingly enough, work. The other problem is that I have become much more apolitical over the last year. That is partially due to the fact that it's just hard to get excited when the party in power either does nothing or waters down the few good ideas they do have till they're effectively nothing while you disagree with pretty much everything that the other party wants to do. And after working and spending time with Christy and Anabelle, in the few hours of truly free time I do have generally the last thing I feel like doing is getting myself riled up about something I have very very little control over. I still try to keep myself informed, but I just don't have the motivation that I did. I prefer the escapism of sports, movies, books, and video games.
All of which has left me pondering the question "if I'm not going to write opinion pieces, what am I going to write about?" My wife's blog does a fantastic job of capturing our family life, and I don't really see a lot of value in writing about every trivial non-event that happens to me in an average week (one of the main reasons I'm still not on Facebook). I contemplated just throwing in the towel and calling it a day and letting the fat lady sing and all sorts of other cliches too. I may very well end up doing that, but I decided I'd try something else first.
One of the main reasons I started this back in 2006 was that writing was always something I enjoyed, but it saddened me that I just hadn't done a whole lot of it since high school. I look back and I'm a bit amazed at myself that I wrote 3 screenplays before I was 19. None of them were what I'd call good but still, that's 3 more than most people and 3 more than I've done since. In fact, I've started on about half a dozen screenplays or books since then only to put them aside and never pick them up again. I had thought that by starting to write again here that it would give me some momentum in that arena as well. In fact it has had the opposite effect; for the most part I've gotten my writing "fix" here and haven't felt compelled to do anymore outside of this.
So now I've decided that it's time to align the projects. The closest I've come to completing one of my major undertakings was a story I came up with about 4 years ago that was somewhat inspired by watching Superman 2. I have written about 40 pages of it and actually had a pretty good outline of where I wanted to go with it. Then about a year ago I had a soul-crushing experience where I was lying in bed one night watching TV and saw a trailer for Megamind. My story is a bit different but the set-up is the same - it's about what would happen if the supervillain actually beat the hero and took over the world. On the one hand I was disheartened because one of my main motivations for writing it was that it had never really been done and now it has. On the other hand it was at least a little gratifying to see some other people thought that an idea I had come up with was a good idea too.
In any case, I've decided that I want to finish this story if for no other reason than to just complete a writing project for the first time in 12 years. And even though the set-up is largely the same I think it's sufficiently different from Megamind that it can stand on its own. So here's what I'm going to do; starting next week I'm going to use this blog to publish weekly installments so that hopefully within 6 months I'll have the whole thing finished and out there. I'm hopeful that having some kind of weekly "deadline" will give me the motivation I need to finally finish this.
I'm hopeful that some of you will still continue to follow me in my repurposed blog, as above all I want to improve my writing and it would be invaluable for me to hear about what you like and don't so I can help figure out what's working, what isn't, and what I need to work on. But I certainly understand if reading amateur short fiction is not something you have much interest in, and let's face it I'm doing this mainly for me anyway.
So that's where we are. Wish me luck and I'll post the first installment sometime next week.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Tis The Season
For sure the most depressing thing about the holiday season ending every year is the fact that, if you live in Chicago, you can look forward to at least two more months of frigid weather and grey days. But for me and my peers there is another beast waiting to pounce just after the New Year: tax season. Fortunately, I don't have one of those jobs where you basically live at the office from Jan to April. I do, however, get to be the guy that is in charge providing all our internal documentation to those individuals who do live at the office for those 4 months. In addition, since I've become a CPA I have become the one-stop shop for tax advice and/or preparation for many of my friends and family. I'm happy to help out and even happier when I get some paying work thrown in, but it does make for a pretty hectic couple of months. This year, in addition to our own personal taxes (which were more complicated than usual due to us having rental income and expenses for the first time) I also got to do personal taxes for two uncles, my uncle's business, my friend's partnership, and another friend's corporation. Today at lunch I mailed the last envelopes off to the IRS so as of now I can officially stop thinking about the IRS. That is, of course, until one of you pop up in the comments with "I have a question about my taxes . . ."
So even though it's not exactly current anymore I do feel compelled to make a comment or two about the Oscars. As promised by me last year, I watched exactly 4.7 seconds of the Oscars (the time it took for me to get up off my couch and walk to the PS3 to put Mass Effect 2 in). As I played my PS3 I had the laptop open and automatically refreshing the winner lists; I'd periodically announce the winners to Christy. Now that's the way to watch the Oscars. Judging by some of the stories I saw the next day, I missed even less than usual. The very idea of trying to make the Oscars "hip" is pretty comical. It's like going off camping in the middle of the woods and then complaining that there isn't a good day spa in the area. Certain things just don't go together.
As for the winners themselves, overall I think the decisions were decent. My biggest gripe is probably in the Best Supporting Actress category. I was pretty astonished when I first heard that Melissa Leo was nominated. I didn't have anything against her performance; there just wasn't anything there that stood out to me. Hailee Steinfeld, on the other hand, definitely stood out to me (even though I still contend that her role was a leading and not supporting one). The Academy tends to penalize you for being young though, so it didn't surprise me that she didn't win.
Next week brings my favorite sports event of the year - the first 2 rounds of the NCAA tournament! The whole tournament is great, but it's the first weekend that's really something special. 48 games in 4 days and for the first time every single one will be televised this year. Could there be a better reason to sit on the couch and not move for 96 hours?
So even though it's not exactly current anymore I do feel compelled to make a comment or two about the Oscars. As promised by me last year, I watched exactly 4.7 seconds of the Oscars (the time it took for me to get up off my couch and walk to the PS3 to put Mass Effect 2 in). As I played my PS3 I had the laptop open and automatically refreshing the winner lists; I'd periodically announce the winners to Christy. Now that's the way to watch the Oscars. Judging by some of the stories I saw the next day, I missed even less than usual. The very idea of trying to make the Oscars "hip" is pretty comical. It's like going off camping in the middle of the woods and then complaining that there isn't a good day spa in the area. Certain things just don't go together.
As for the winners themselves, overall I think the decisions were decent. My biggest gripe is probably in the Best Supporting Actress category. I was pretty astonished when I first heard that Melissa Leo was nominated. I didn't have anything against her performance; there just wasn't anything there that stood out to me. Hailee Steinfeld, on the other hand, definitely stood out to me (even though I still contend that her role was a leading and not supporting one). The Academy tends to penalize you for being young though, so it didn't surprise me that she didn't win.
Next week brings my favorite sports event of the year - the first 2 rounds of the NCAA tournament! The whole tournament is great, but it's the first weekend that's really something special. 48 games in 4 days and for the first time every single one will be televised this year. Could there be a better reason to sit on the couch and not move for 96 hours?
Saturday, February 05, 2011
#s 1-5
5. Winter’s Bone - This is why, despite all my complaining about the pageantry and self-importance of the Oscars, I’m still glad that they exist. Here’s a little known film that I had heard of but probably wouldn’t have gotten around to seeing if it hadn’t been for this. It’s a fact that year in and year out it’s easier to get nominated in the Best Actress category than the Best Actor, there’s just a dearth of good female leading roles that there’s a lot less competition. Well here’s one of the few very good ones, and Jennifer Lawrence nails it playing a 17-year-old that’s forced to deal with things no 17-year-old should have to. An excellent portrayal of poor, rural
4. True Grit – For better or worse I’ve never seen the original and thus can’t do a comparison. Here’s another really good female role that’s once again nailed by a young actress – Hailee Steinfeld. She gets a Supporting instead of Leading Actress nomination because, um, well I guess the studio decided she had a better chance of winning that. I don’t really understand how the individual with the most screen time in the movie is somehow a supporting role but there you have it. The comment I made earlier about Pixar could be said about Jeff Bridges as well. He always brings it and, Tron Legacy notwithstanding, as a rule he’s simply not in bad films. Like The Fighter, original concept is not this film’s strong point (it’s your pretty basic Western revenge tale) but is proof again that if you take a cliché and inhabit it with a good script and strong performances you can still end up with a memorable tale.
3. Inception – Let’s get this out of the way. Any film with a blatantly open ending is guaranteed to piss some people off. And the criticisms about the film making less than perfect sense and being overly complicated are fair. But I also think they miss the point. The way this film is meant to be seen is with a dream mindset, by which I mean that basically you’re Ellen Page’s character and it’s your dream. When you dream, each dream has its own logic and you don’t question it at the time. It’s only later when you think back and say “wait, that didn’t make any sense.” So it is here. This is a film to be experienced, not analyzed to death for every logical thread. No, that doesn’t mean that I give carte blanc to every film to make no sense because they can just say “it makes its own kind of sense.” This is a special case because of its subject matter, but to elaborate further would get into spoiler territory, and I don’t want to go there. Of all the films on this list, this is the one I had the most fun with and is probably the one that will have the most repeat viewings (well, technically it will probably be Toy Story 3 but they won’t all be voluntary). The last third of the film may be a bridge too far so to speak and is what keeps it from taking the number 1 spot. Finally, a quick word about the ending. Often, an open-ended conclusion is viewed as laziness on the part of the author. And speaking as an author of a screenplay who did choose to end it openly precisely because I couldn’t think of a good way to end it, I can say that it’s sometimes justified. But that is not the case here. This film ends in the best possible way. To end it any other way would have directly contradicted one of the main themes of the film.
- The King’s Speech – This is the kind of movie people “expect” to see nominated for Best Picture. A period piece about the British royalty with lots of costumes and accents. But anyone who just dismisses it as that is missing out. This is a very accessible movie and one that anyone with even a passing fear of public speaking can relate to. Yes it’s true that the monarchy doesn’t have any actual power and didn’t then, but I wouldn’t suggest that it means what the king does or says doesn’t matter. The British monarchy is the one part of their government that remains constant. Prime ministers come and go as different parties come to and then leave power. That stability makes it a powerful symbol of the
- The Social Network - Another one that I’ve talked about previously on here so I’ll keep this one brief. Ebert often says how good a film is doesn’t depend on what it’s about but how it’s about it. That’s certainly applicable here. I could really care less about Facebook, so please believe me when I say that whatever your opinion of it is will have no bearing on whether or not you like this film. What this movie is really about is what happens when some very smart but inexperienced people have a good idea and try to turn it into the next BIG idea. And from that springboard an extraordinarily engaging story unfolds. Jesse Eisenberg does just a phenomenal job walking a real tightrope of a character. You’ve got a guy that’s brilliant but extraordinarily arrogant and the trick is to take both of these naturally alienating qualities and still create a character that the audience likes. And the way that Fincher chooses to tell this tale is pitch perfect. It’s one thing to read about how these giant companies start up with an idea and a few friends and end up with multi-million dollar lawsuits between them, but it’s another to actually see it unfold step by step. This is simply a captivating film with some great performances (yes, even including Justin Timberlake) and perfect direction.
Ranking the Best Picture Nominees
As promised (or at least, as hoped for) here’s my order and review of the 10 films nominated for the Best Picture Oscar. Keep in mind that I’m not agreeing that these are the top 10 films of the year; there’s too many that I missed for me to feel like I can make a solid list at this point. As a general point, all 10 are certainly good films and there’s none that I can categorically say have no business being nominated. However, in my opinion, this list has 3 tiers. #s 9 and 10 are clearly the weakest, #s 8 – 4 are a step ahead but are all very close in quality, and #s 1-3 are clearly in a separate class. As long as it’s one of those 3 that win the Best Picture I won’t be disappointed no matter which one it is. So without further ado, here we go with films 6-10, with 1-5 to follow in the next couple days. Don’t worry, the reviews have already been written, so I promise there won’t be a month-long wait for them.
- 127 Hours – Guranteed to be the best film you’ll ever see about a guy who cuts his own arm off. All credit to James Franco, who gives a great performance, and to Danny Boyle, who does a terrific job of directing what had to be considered an unfilmable project. But at the end of the day, it’s a 10-minute intro, a 10-minute wrap-up, and an hour of watching a guy slowly die and hallucinate while he’s standing in one spot. Considering that, they did as good a job as can be done with that story, but there’s just a limit to how good that kind of story can be.
- The Kids Are Alright – This was the last one of the 10 I saw, and the one I was looking forward to the least. This film can best be summed up as 105 minutes of awkward conversations. Those who enjoy psychoanalyzing every scene and bit of speech will love this film. Every line of dialog or look from one character to the other is loaded with text and subtext and it just gets exhausting after a while. In a drama, you usually try to alternate between building up and releasing tension (so you can build it up again) but here they don’t do a very good of releasing. Good performances all around, interesting subject matter, and it’s certainly never boring, but it’s also a film I never see myself watching again.
8. Black Swan – I already posted most of my thoughts in the comment section, and I don’t want to repeat myself too much. This is a very good film that I just didn’t like very much. Just as it’s hard for a lot of people to understand how I can be so into the Cubs/Bears/Illini, it’s hard for me to understand how someone could be so obsessed with ballet. The result is that I found it very difficult to connect with Natalie Portman’s character. So let me just state explicitly (to save others the trouble) that I willingly admit that’s a flaw with me and not with the film. Again, great performances; Portman is well deserving of a nomination. It’s incredible that she basically started from scratch and learned everything in 8 months. But Vincent Cassell gives a really fine performance as well. Aronofsky’s direction, as usual, is excellent as well. Somehow, though, everything together just didn’t quite work for me.
7. The Fighter – This one surprised me a bit. All I knew going in was that it was a “boxing movie” and really how excited can you be about one of those? And really that’s basically all it is, but it’s just done very very well. Christian Bale gives a phenomenal performance and despite the fact that it is an acclaimed performance I still think it’s underrated. Playing a crack addict can be challenging. Playing a boxer can be challenging. Playing a character that’s both simultaneously and pulling it off is a real accomplishment, and Bale does it perfectly. I’d recommend anyone who watches this movie to look up Dicky Ecklund on You Tube and see just how good of a job Bale did at nailing his moves and mannerisms. The actual boxing in this movie is some of the best I’ve ever seen; it really looks like you might be watching Saturday Night Boxing on HBO. None of the Raging Bull dinosaur noises and slo-mo and none of the “what’s blocking?” you see in the Rocky films. And Wahlberg looks like he belongs in the ring and does his best work in the fights, so credit to him as well, even though outside of the ring most of the time he’s just kind of there. But I’ll also be honest; put Amy Adams in as little clothing as she’s wearing in this film and you’ve already got me.
6. Toy Story 3 – A bit ironic that what is arguably the weakest entry in the series is the only one to be nominated for Best Picture – pretty obviously a beneficiary of the expansion from 5 to 10 films. The public has gotten so used to Pixar constantly turning out one great film after another that it’s easy to overlook how big of an accomplishment that is. And this series stands out as a shining exception to the “sequels suck” rule. When you take the series as a whole you see a lot of common themes which are explored really well. Where most animated series are happy to take advantage of the fact that you can make time stand still, the beauty of Toy Story lies in its acknowledgement of the passage of time and the changes it creates. I know that I haven’t said much about this particular film, and I don’t think I need to. It’s another Toy Story that’s as good as the other two.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Preparing for the Massive Raging Insane Storm of Mega Super Death
That's what I've taken to calling the impending blizzard (which should be arriving in the next couple hours). Trademark pending. I think that the media has just lost their creativity in naming these things. I mean if you really want to strike the fear of god into someone, you've really got to step it up a notch.
I'm ordering my "I Survived the Massive Raging Insance Storm of Mega Super Death" t-shirts now. Naturally I put it on my credit card. I figure if I do survive I'll have a nice little memento and if I don't then I won't have to worry about paying for them. Pretty clever, huh?
In all honesty, I'm not terribly concerned. I'll most likely work from home tomorrow but that's more because I have the option to and not because I expect to have to. The only thing I'm worried about is losing power, particularly because we've got an electric stove. It'll be a lot of PB&J if it does happen, though if I really get desperate I can go out to the garage and fire up the gas grill. Really happy that we invested in our snow blower; should really get tested tonight.
In other news (but potentially related if we get snowed in for a few days), Christy and I are attempting to watch all of the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars. I know that a lot of them aren't available for rent yet but that's not much of an obstacle in this day and age. In any case, right now I'm ahead of her (I've seen 6 and she's only seen 2). So far, of the 6 I've seen (The Social Network, The King's Speech, True Grit, Winter's Bone, Toy Story 3, and Inception) I think that The Social Network is the best. And this is coming from someone who has doggedly refused to join the Facebook revolution. On the other hand, I am a big fan of both Jesse Eisenberg and David Fincher. Next would probably be a tie between Inception and The King's Speech. All of them were good though. Next up will probably be Black Swan; I have the distinct feeling that will be a movie I'm either going to completely love or absolutely despise. If I'm successful in getting through all 10 of them, I'll try to post a review of each.
I'm ordering my "I Survived the Massive Raging Insance Storm of Mega Super Death" t-shirts now. Naturally I put it on my credit card. I figure if I do survive I'll have a nice little memento and if I don't then I won't have to worry about paying for them. Pretty clever, huh?
In all honesty, I'm not terribly concerned. I'll most likely work from home tomorrow but that's more because I have the option to and not because I expect to have to. The only thing I'm worried about is losing power, particularly because we've got an electric stove. It'll be a lot of PB&J if it does happen, though if I really get desperate I can go out to the garage and fire up the gas grill. Really happy that we invested in our snow blower; should really get tested tonight.
In other news (but potentially related if we get snowed in for a few days), Christy and I are attempting to watch all of the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars. I know that a lot of them aren't available for rent yet but that's not much of an obstacle in this day and age. In any case, right now I'm ahead of her (I've seen 6 and she's only seen 2). So far, of the 6 I've seen (The Social Network, The King's Speech, True Grit, Winter's Bone, Toy Story 3, and Inception) I think that The Social Network is the best. And this is coming from someone who has doggedly refused to join the Facebook revolution. On the other hand, I am a big fan of both Jesse Eisenberg and David Fincher. Next would probably be a tie between Inception and The King's Speech. All of them were good though. Next up will probably be Black Swan; I have the distinct feeling that will be a movie I'm either going to completely love or absolutely despise. If I'm successful in getting through all 10 of them, I'll try to post a review of each.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Anybody Else Feel Binary Today?
I felt like a computer writing out the date today: 01/11/11. Only day that will ever be more one-y will be in 10 months on 11/11/11. Yes, that's just more of the kind of hard-hitting analysis you've come to expect from this blog.
On a more serious note, I do feel compelled to say a few words about the events of this past weekend. If anyone saw The Daily Show last night, Jon Stewart was pitch-perfect. There is waaaaay too much obsession right now about whether or not the combatative political climate is the cause of this. I agree with Stewart when he says that you can't blame that anymore than you can blame Marilyn Manson for Columbine. Even worse is this petty bickering over what category this guy belongs in - crazy right-winger or crazy left-winger - because the operative word is not left or right but crazy.
When something this stupid and senseless happens, it's only natural for people to seek to explain it. That is our nature as problem-solving animals, and it's the defining characteristic that has helped us become the dominant species on this planet. But unfortunately too often in non-scientific matters (and sometimes even in those too) we attempt to ascribe our vision of the world to events rather than letting the events speak for themselves. If you believe in god, it's easy for you to see evidence of his work everywhere. If you're an atheist, it's just as easy to see evidence that there couldn't possibly be a god. In other words, if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
That's perfectly understandable, but just as regrettable. What's important here is that we all agree that this lunatic did something that we as a society cannot and will not tolerate and tragically took the lives of 6 innocent people. That should be the focus here; all the rest needs to be pushed into the background.
I've previously written on here that I do not support the death penalty. I still believe that, but I will admit that it's awfully hard to defend that position in this particular case.
I'm working on another post now that unfortunately will also be pretty weighty and melancholy. Sorry for that. Like The Daily Show promised, don't worry, I'll be back to my stupidity and inanity very soon.
On a more serious note, I do feel compelled to say a few words about the events of this past weekend. If anyone saw The Daily Show last night, Jon Stewart was pitch-perfect. There is waaaaay too much obsession right now about whether or not the combatative political climate is the cause of this. I agree with Stewart when he says that you can't blame that anymore than you can blame Marilyn Manson for Columbine. Even worse is this petty bickering over what category this guy belongs in - crazy right-winger or crazy left-winger - because the operative word is not left or right but crazy.
When something this stupid and senseless happens, it's only natural for people to seek to explain it. That is our nature as problem-solving animals, and it's the defining characteristic that has helped us become the dominant species on this planet. But unfortunately too often in non-scientific matters (and sometimes even in those too) we attempt to ascribe our vision of the world to events rather than letting the events speak for themselves. If you believe in god, it's easy for you to see evidence of his work everywhere. If you're an atheist, it's just as easy to see evidence that there couldn't possibly be a god. In other words, if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
That's perfectly understandable, but just as regrettable. What's important here is that we all agree that this lunatic did something that we as a society cannot and will not tolerate and tragically took the lives of 6 innocent people. That should be the focus here; all the rest needs to be pushed into the background.
I've previously written on here that I do not support the death penalty. I still believe that, but I will admit that it's awfully hard to defend that position in this particular case.
I'm working on another post now that unfortunately will also be pretty weighty and melancholy. Sorry for that. Like The Daily Show promised, don't worry, I'll be back to my stupidity and inanity very soon.
Friday, December 17, 2010
They Should've Done a Remake
Due to my boss and, well, about half the office being on vacation today I was able to get out at lunch and see Tron: Legacy in 3D at the IMAX at Navy Pier. My overall impression is that it was decent but not spectacular and I walked away feeling a bit underwhelmed by the whole experience. It was great to see the world of Tron fully realized now that they have the technology to do it but the story and the characters just don't measure up to the original. That left me to have to face the somewhat awkward conclusion (since I've gone on so many tirades) that they should have just remade the original Tron.
To be sure, second only to Avatar it's the both the best use of 3D and the best example of a fully rendered digital world ever created for "live action". I say live action in quotes because the line between it and animated films blurs more and more each day. But the problem is that I've grown pretty tired of the "special-effects extravaganza". To quote Idiocracy: "And there was a time in this country, a long time ago, when reading wasn't just for fags and neither was writing. People wrote books and movies, movies that had stories so you cared whose ass it was and why it was farting, and I believe that time can come again!" That sums it up pretty good. Action sequences can still be thrilling but only if you have some characters that you actually care about and whom you actually believe might be harmed. And that's just largely lacking here. I would agree that Flynn wasn't the most fully-formed character to begin with in the original film, but I would argue that's a good reason why you could have really used this movie to flesh him out. You had a character that was instantly recognizable to your fan base and yet was still largely a blank slate. What more could you ask for? But what we get instead, and I wish I were kidding here, is Kevin Flynn infused with the Dude. And I promise you that whatever you just imagined when you read that is infinitely more exciting than what shows up on screen. I'd say that the other big problem with the movie is the new character Quorra (played by Olivia Wilde). Acting-wise she does just fine and clearly she's largely there for eye-candy purposes (and in that she succeeds). But the subplot revolving around her is just not nearly interesting enough to justify the attention it takes away from the main story between Flynn and his son.
If you read Ebert's review, he closes by pretty much telling you straight out that you should see it stoned (at least as much as he can say it while still being printed in a major newspaper). I think I'd have to agree with him.
To be sure, second only to Avatar it's the both the best use of 3D and the best example of a fully rendered digital world ever created for "live action". I say live action in quotes because the line between it and animated films blurs more and more each day. But the problem is that I've grown pretty tired of the "special-effects extravaganza". To quote Idiocracy: "And there was a time in this country, a long time ago, when reading wasn't just for fags and neither was writing. People wrote books and movies, movies that had stories so you cared whose ass it was and why it was farting, and I believe that time can come again!" That sums it up pretty good. Action sequences can still be thrilling but only if you have some characters that you actually care about and whom you actually believe might be harmed. And that's just largely lacking here. I would agree that Flynn wasn't the most fully-formed character to begin with in the original film, but I would argue that's a good reason why you could have really used this movie to flesh him out. You had a character that was instantly recognizable to your fan base and yet was still largely a blank slate. What more could you ask for? But what we get instead, and I wish I were kidding here, is Kevin Flynn infused with the Dude. And I promise you that whatever you just imagined when you read that is infinitely more exciting than what shows up on screen. I'd say that the other big problem with the movie is the new character Quorra (played by Olivia Wilde). Acting-wise she does just fine and clearly she's largely there for eye-candy purposes (and in that she succeeds). But the subplot revolving around her is just not nearly interesting enough to justify the attention it takes away from the main story between Flynn and his son.
If you read Ebert's review, he closes by pretty much telling you straight out that you should see it stoned (at least as much as he can say it while still being printed in a major newspaper). I think I'd have to agree with him.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Bipartisanship: Let's Just Replace The Last Letter with a T
Thankfully, I now get to go back to one of my favorite pasttimes: bitching about politics!
This latest tax deal proves once again that the only thing worse than the two parties not working together is when they do. Allow me to set up the impasse. The Democrats (and Obama, at least until recently) were committed to letting the Bush-era tax cuts expire for all those making $250,000 per year or more and extending them for everyone else, while the Republicans wanted them extended for everyone across the board. In other words, in the name of getting the deficit under control, the Democrats' solution was additional taxation and the Republicans' solution was to cut spending. That seems about right. So what compromise did they reach (they being Obama and the GOP)? Extend all the tax cuts and in return extend unemployment benefits and lower the social security payroll tax for next year. In other words, reduce taxes and increase spending.
If you're hearing a dull thud right now, that's the sound of me banging my head against the desk (or, if you're reading this after business hours, my palm slapping my forehead). What's perhaps even more dumbfounding than this is the fact that it's Congressional Democrats who are set to rebel at this. Aren't Republicans and those associated with the Tea Party supposed to be the ones all about fiscal responsibility? This is just a horribly irresponsible deal and the kind of thing Republicans always campaign against.
I'm sorry, but this is our government at its worst. This was financial shenanigans when Reagan did it in the 80s, it was shenanigans when Bush did it in the 00s, and it's shenanigans now. I've often been accused of being a fence-straddler when I say that I want a balanced budget and I don't really care if it comes via increased taxation or cutting spending. But this is why I say that! I can't afford to be picky with my ideology; I just want someone who can do math! You don't want to raise taxes? Fine, then you need to cut spending. Don't want to cut spending? Fine, then you have to raise taxes. It isn't quite, but it's damn close to a zero sum game. The cut to Social Security payroll tax is just the coup de grace. Hey look! We've got a program that's on pace to go bankrupt in 25 years. Let's cut the amount of money we pay into it! (THUD) (THUD) (THUD)
If you supported the Replublicans or the Tea Party last month, you should be furious right now. This is exactly the type of short-sightedness that let the deficit get to this point. But the truth is that the real agenda of the Republicans is simply low taxes at any cost, with lip service paid to the idea of a balanced budget via vague promises of budget cuts that never materialize. To be sure, the Democrats are no better but at least they haven't campaigned on it incessantly for the last 30 years.
This latest tax deal proves once again that the only thing worse than the two parties not working together is when they do. Allow me to set up the impasse. The Democrats (and Obama, at least until recently) were committed to letting the Bush-era tax cuts expire for all those making $250,000 per year or more and extending them for everyone else, while the Republicans wanted them extended for everyone across the board. In other words, in the name of getting the deficit under control, the Democrats' solution was additional taxation and the Republicans' solution was to cut spending. That seems about right. So what compromise did they reach (they being Obama and the GOP)? Extend all the tax cuts and in return extend unemployment benefits and lower the social security payroll tax for next year. In other words, reduce taxes and increase spending.
If you're hearing a dull thud right now, that's the sound of me banging my head against the desk (or, if you're reading this after business hours, my palm slapping my forehead). What's perhaps even more dumbfounding than this is the fact that it's Congressional Democrats who are set to rebel at this. Aren't Republicans and those associated with the Tea Party supposed to be the ones all about fiscal responsibility? This is just a horribly irresponsible deal and the kind of thing Republicans always campaign against.
I'm sorry, but this is our government at its worst. This was financial shenanigans when Reagan did it in the 80s, it was shenanigans when Bush did it in the 00s, and it's shenanigans now. I've often been accused of being a fence-straddler when I say that I want a balanced budget and I don't really care if it comes via increased taxation or cutting spending. But this is why I say that! I can't afford to be picky with my ideology; I just want someone who can do math! You don't want to raise taxes? Fine, then you need to cut spending. Don't want to cut spending? Fine, then you have to raise taxes. It isn't quite, but it's damn close to a zero sum game. The cut to Social Security payroll tax is just the coup de grace. Hey look! We've got a program that's on pace to go bankrupt in 25 years. Let's cut the amount of money we pay into it! (THUD) (THUD) (THUD)
If you supported the Replublicans or the Tea Party last month, you should be furious right now. This is exactly the type of short-sightedness that let the deficit get to this point. But the truth is that the real agenda of the Republicans is simply low taxes at any cost, with lip service paid to the idea of a balanced budget via vague promises of budget cuts that never materialize. To be sure, the Democrats are no better but at least they haven't campaigned on it incessantly for the last 30 years.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Deja Vu
Well the last thing that I expected or wanted to do was post back to back posthumous tributes, but I can't let the great Ron Santo's passing go by without mention.
He retired in 1974, so obviously I'm too young to have seen him play and I've only seen the odd highlight film of his playing career. I remember knowing who he was when I was growing up a Cubs fan in the 80s but it wasn't till college that I really became a big Ron Santo fan.
The first couple years in college, the cable down in Champaign wasn't very good and as a result we only got the Cubs games that were on WGN. In addition to that, Christy was in school at Northern and that meant a lot of weekend road trips. So the end result was a lot of listening to Cubs games on the radio, and it was then that I really came to know the tandem of Pat Hughes and Ron Santo.
Now let's not mince words here. Ron, from a purely broadcasting standpoint, was terrible. He made absolutely no pretense at showing even the slightest hint of impartiality, he often forgot to either mute his mic when he was doing something noisy like clearing his throat or opening a bag of chips (yes, he ate while broadcasting), or would forget to unmute his mic on the few occasions when he remembered to mute it. And whenever anything exciting happened you'd have to wait a good 5 seconds to actually find out what happened because the first few seconds of air were always filled with Ron drowning out the play by play call with either a thunderous "Oh Yeah!" or an absolutely agonizing "Geez!" You always knew right away if something good or bad had happened, you just didn't know exactly what for a while.
But despite the fact that he certainly wasn't in line for any broadcasting awards, myself and most other Cubs fans loved listening to him. Because no matter how big of a Cub fan you were, no matter how much you lived and died with every pitch, Ron had you beat. Nobody was more excited when they won and nobody took it harder when they lost. So much so that it got to the point where whenever you listened to the Cubs blow another game in excruciating fashion, your own personal angst over the loss took a back seat to a desire to want to console Ron. You always knew that as hard as you could ever take a loss, he was taking it harder. And then you'd tune in the next day, and no matter if they were 20 games above or 20 games below .500 he'd be right back with as much optimism as he'd ever had and you almost had no choice but to get over yesterday's loss too. He wasn't Ron, the ultimate broadcaster, he was Ron, the ultimate Cub fan. And we loved him for it.
One of my favorite segments from the last couple years was the "daily pitching matchup breakdown with Ron Santo." Here's the hard-hitting analysis you could expect. No matter how bad a Cubs pitcher had performed recently, Ron had a feeling that today was the day he was gonna turn things around. And no matter how good the opposing pitcher was or how much he had dominated the Cubs in the past, Ron had a feeling that today was going to be the day that we were going to get to him. He wasn't Ron, the ultimate analyst, he was Ron, the ultimate optimist. And we loved him for it.
Honestly I don't know what he did during the off-season. I think he probably just sat around and simultaneously thrilled his fans and annoyed his family by relentlessly talking about what moves the Cubs had made or were going to make and how they were going to look next season. For Ron Santo, baseball wasn't his job, it was his life. And we loved him for it.
There's one story that does a great job of epitomizing him. Most people know part of it. It's the famous Brant Brown call. Late in September of 1998, with the Cubs tied for the wild card lead, they are playing the Brewers and it's the bottom of the ninth. The Cubs are leading by 2 runs with the bases loaded and 2 outs in the bottom of the ninth. Geoff Jenkins hits a completely routine fly ball to Brant Brown in left field, and he inexplicably just drops it. 3 runs score and the Cubs lose. As per usual, Ronnie talks right over Pat's call and just screams "OHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOO!" with such raw shock and anguish that you'd think someone had been murdered right before his eyes. Here's Pat Hughes describing the aftermath:
"After the inning ended I looked over and Ronnie had his forehead on the desk and wasn't moving. I thought he had died right there, so I poked him with my fingers to see if he was alive and he finally moved. After the game we were in the manager's office and I saw something that has never happened in American sports. The manager of the cubs, Jim Riggleman, put his arm around Ronnie and was trying to console him about the loss, Riggleman saying, don't worry, Ronnie, we're going to Houston and we're going to win and make the playoffs, and Ronnie just kept saying, 'how could he drop that ball?"
And what does Ron do next? He goes down to the clubhouse, gives Brant Brown a hug and tells him not to worry, that it's ok, and that he's made mistakes before and he knows how he feels. And the Cubs, despite getting swept in Houston, did end up making the playoffs that year, and no one was happier about it than Ron Santo (well, except maybe Brant Brown). We won't talk about what happened in the playoffs that year (or any year since 1908 for that matter).
I've always said that for whatever stupid reason, there was a group of miserable SOBs in the Hall that were going to make sure that he never got into the Hall of Fame while he was alive and that as soon as he passed away he'd get in for sure. I still think that's the case, and it makes me mad. Everyone that voted against him while he was alive and still does so now, that's fine. I disagree with them, but that's their right. But although I'm not a violent man, I'd like to go up to every guy who voted against him and changes their vote now and punch them in the face. His baseball numbers haven't changed in 36 years, so that means you weren't keeping him out because of what he did on the field. You were keeping him out because for whatever reason you disliked him and wanted to make sure that in his lifetime he never got to experience the one thing that would have meant the most to him. That is mean-spirited and despicable in a way that there's barely words for, and it makes you a horrible human being.
But at least he was around last year as the Cubs honored him on the 50th anniversary of his major league debut. And at least he lived to see his number retired and sent up the left field flagpole to a well deserved standing ovation at Wrigley in 2003. The next time I'm at Wrigley I look forward to raising a glass towards that flag and drinking a toast to the man that was the face of Cubs baseball for the last 50 years.
And so for the 2nd time in a week I have to say goodbye to someone who brought a lot of joy to my life. Farewell Ronnie; wherever you are, I hope there's baseball there!
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
I Would Have Written This Sooner, But You Weren't Dead Then
As I'm sure everyone's aware by now, Leslie Nielson passed away last weekend. I remember first looking up his age when Mr. Magoo came out in 1997 and thinking "whoa; he's 71!" so it's certainly not a shock that 13 years later he's gone. But it's still sad nonetheless.
When little 9-year-old John went to the theatres to see The Naked Gun in 1998, he instantly became one of my favorite comedic actors. When I got introduced to Airplane a couple years later and then Police Squad a couple years after that, I was even more hooked. But as big of a fan as I was and am, he's also one of the actors that disappointed me the most.
If there's one word that best describes Leslie Nielsen, I think it would be charisma. That may sound strange, and I certainly don't mean it in Hollywood sex-symbol kind of way. But he just had this way about him that made him instantly likeable the minute he appeared on screen. Even when he was doing the most absurd things, he conveyed such an innocence that you viewed it almost like you were watching a puppy do it. The act might have been bad, but you couldn't really blame him.
In any case, I think it was that quality in him that led me to be so disappointed so often. Because Leslie Nielsen has been in a lot of baaaaaad movies. Some that are just run of the mill bad but most of which are utterly and irredeemably awful (Spy Hard, Dracula: Dead and Loving It, 2001: A Space Travesty, Scary Movie 3 and 4). And because he was in them, I went into just about every one thinking, "Leslie Nielsen can save this movie." But of course he couldn't, because they were unsaveable. Besides The Naked Gun series (which get progressively worse but are all still enjoyable) and Airplane, I think the only other comedic film of his that I really enjoy (and I know I'm in the minority here) is Wrongfully Accused. But really, only Airplane and the first Naked Gun are worthy of being called great, and The Naked Gun was 22 years ago. Since then, in the back of my mind I've still been waiting for the next great Leslie Nielsen film, and even though the odds of that happening have gotten longer and longer with each passing year it's not till now that I've finally had to accept that it's now officially never going to happen.
But in a way, isn't that what every actor strives for? No matter how many laughs he gave me, he always left me wanting more. Farewell, Mr. Nielsen; thanks for all the laughs!
It has really bugged me that 90% of what I've read about him in news stories, celebrity tweets, etc are all fixated on the "Surely you can't be serious!" quote. While it's a great line, in my opinion he's got a lot that are at least as good if not better. So I'd like to invite any of my blog readers who are Leslie Nielsen fans to share some of their favorites. Here's a couple of mine (in addition to the one that inspired my blog post title):
Man: Who are you? And how did you get in here?
Frank Drebin: I'm a locksmith, and I'm a locksmith.
Frank Drebin: I'm single! I love being single! I haven't had this much sex since I was a Boy Scout Leader!
(Music stops; people stare)
Frank: I mean at the time I was dating a lot.
Finally, I was only recently introduced to the non-comedic acting of Leslie Nielsen in The Forbidden Planet. That movie is just lots of fun; everything a hokey, B sci-fi movie from the 50s is supposed to be. Highly recommended for anyone who enjoys that kind of thing or has ever wondered what the hell they were talking about in "Science Fiction Double Feature" from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
There Are Some Things For Which There Are No Explanations
Are you people punishing me with no comments or have I truly lost what extremely small readership I had? Am I just talking to my wife now? If that's the case, how's it going dear? What's for dinner tonight?
So god help me but I watched the Karate Kid remake this past Saturday. I woke up at 8 on Saturday morning and couldn't get back to sleep 'cause my back was hurting me so I went downstairs and put it on (baby had stayed overnight at Grandma's). I take some solace in the fact that the time I spent watching this film was just replacing time where I should have been unconcious. Makes it seem like less of a waste that way. Anyway, I really don't know how to review this movie other than to recommend that anyone who has ever seen the original shouldn't watch it. But if you've never seen the original, then I think it's probably a halfway decent film. Basically every place where the new one strays from the original, it was better in the original. And everytime the new one copies the original, it was waaaaaaaay better in the original. Probably the single biggest problem of the new one has to do with Jaden Smith. Notice that I say "has to do with" because it's not actually anything to do with his performance that's the problem - he actually does just fine. It's the fact that he's 11 (playing a 12-year-old). All the "teens" in the original were in their early to mid 20s playing 16-year-olds. Seeing a relationship between two 16-year-olds (who are really 23 and 21) is a lot more believable and relateable than one between two 12-year-olds (who are really 11). Second, the bullying of the enemy gang just doesn't carry the weight that it did in the original. What are a gang of unarmed 11-year-olds gonna do to you? Give you a cut lip? This leads to easily the most absurd scene in the movie. In the original, Daniel is literally getting the crap kicked out of him by a bunch of thugs in scary-looking skeleton makeup and Mr. Miagi comes and saves him. It works because 1) you feel like Daniel really might be in some legit danger, 2) Mr. Miagi looks like a frail old guy that you'd never expect this from and thus 3) you believe that he is actually putting himself in danger as well. The new one tries to recreate that scene but now you have Jackie Chan taking on a group of pre-teens. That's right; Jackie f'n Chan, martial arts god, taking on 6 11-year-olds. Feel the drama! That's like asking the audience to cheer for Bruce Lee as he beats up the Partridge Family (ok maybe I would have cheered for that).
I've gone off on tirades before about Hollywood running out of ideas and resorting to remakes and reboots, so I don't want to repeat myself too much. But I think what really gets me is when they decide to do so with blatant disregard as to why the original was a success. Or they do something equally absurd like the shot for shot remake of Psycho. Um, if I wanted to watch the script and shots that Alfred Hitchcock created, why I don't I just, you know, watch the film he already made? To me it just says that studio heads are wishing they could get away with just rereleasing the original films but they know they can't so they're just trying to repackage them and call them new. "Remember the Karate Kid? Big hit for us. But Pat Morita's dead and Ralph Machio's old, so do we have an old asian and a young actor that audiences will recognize? Great, go!"
Sometimes, remakes and reboots are a good idea: Batman Begins and the new Star Trek come to mind. Both of them took very popular icons that had run out of steam and tried to take elements of what made them a success in the past while putting a new spin on them. Even if you didn't like the results you can at least appreciate that there was some effort and imagination involved. Of course, you probably need look no further than the director to tell if a remake's going to be any good or not. Those two were directed by Christopher Nolan and J.J. Abrams, two of most imaginative directors out there. The new Karate Kid, on the other hand, was brought to us by the legend-in-his-own-mind Harald Zwart, director of such monumental testaments to cinema as The Pink Panther 2 and Agent Cody Banks as well as the epic films (I am not making these up) Long Flat Balls and Long Flat Balls 2.
So god help me but I watched the Karate Kid remake this past Saturday. I woke up at 8 on Saturday morning and couldn't get back to sleep 'cause my back was hurting me so I went downstairs and put it on (baby had stayed overnight at Grandma's). I take some solace in the fact that the time I spent watching this film was just replacing time where I should have been unconcious. Makes it seem like less of a waste that way. Anyway, I really don't know how to review this movie other than to recommend that anyone who has ever seen the original shouldn't watch it. But if you've never seen the original, then I think it's probably a halfway decent film. Basically every place where the new one strays from the original, it was better in the original. And everytime the new one copies the original, it was waaaaaaaay better in the original. Probably the single biggest problem of the new one has to do with Jaden Smith. Notice that I say "has to do with" because it's not actually anything to do with his performance that's the problem - he actually does just fine. It's the fact that he's 11 (playing a 12-year-old). All the "teens" in the original were in their early to mid 20s playing 16-year-olds. Seeing a relationship between two 16-year-olds (who are really 23 and 21) is a lot more believable and relateable than one between two 12-year-olds (who are really 11). Second, the bullying of the enemy gang just doesn't carry the weight that it did in the original. What are a gang of unarmed 11-year-olds gonna do to you? Give you a cut lip? This leads to easily the most absurd scene in the movie. In the original, Daniel is literally getting the crap kicked out of him by a bunch of thugs in scary-looking skeleton makeup and Mr. Miagi comes and saves him. It works because 1) you feel like Daniel really might be in some legit danger, 2) Mr. Miagi looks like a frail old guy that you'd never expect this from and thus 3) you believe that he is actually putting himself in danger as well. The new one tries to recreate that scene but now you have Jackie Chan taking on a group of pre-teens. That's right; Jackie f'n Chan, martial arts god, taking on 6 11-year-olds. Feel the drama! That's like asking the audience to cheer for Bruce Lee as he beats up the Partridge Family (ok maybe I would have cheered for that).
I've gone off on tirades before about Hollywood running out of ideas and resorting to remakes and reboots, so I don't want to repeat myself too much. But I think what really gets me is when they decide to do so with blatant disregard as to why the original was a success. Or they do something equally absurd like the shot for shot remake of Psycho. Um, if I wanted to watch the script and shots that Alfred Hitchcock created, why I don't I just, you know, watch the film he already made? To me it just says that studio heads are wishing they could get away with just rereleasing the original films but they know they can't so they're just trying to repackage them and call them new. "Remember the Karate Kid? Big hit for us. But Pat Morita's dead and Ralph Machio's old, so do we have an old asian and a young actor that audiences will recognize? Great, go!"
Sometimes, remakes and reboots are a good idea: Batman Begins and the new Star Trek come to mind. Both of them took very popular icons that had run out of steam and tried to take elements of what made them a success in the past while putting a new spin on them. Even if you didn't like the results you can at least appreciate that there was some effort and imagination involved. Of course, you probably need look no further than the director to tell if a remake's going to be any good or not. Those two were directed by Christopher Nolan and J.J. Abrams, two of most imaginative directors out there. The new Karate Kid, on the other hand, was brought to us by the legend-in-his-own-mind Harald Zwart, director of such monumental testaments to cinema as The Pink Panther 2 and Agent Cody Banks as well as the epic films (I am not making these up) Long Flat Balls and Long Flat Balls 2.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Another Exciting Chapter of 18th Century Fights Waged in the 21st Century!
So hot on the heels of a big blowup about whether or not you have the right to build a church wherever you want (you do) and whether or not you can burn a book or not (you can) we now get the faux controversy of whether or not you should be able to sell a book that the vast majority of people find objectionable (you do).
I'm talking, of course, about this. I struggle with how much to write about this because (much like religion) to those that agree with me there's not really anything I can say that they haven't already thought of and those who don't agree with me will not be swayed by any type of logical argument.
So I'll try to take a slightly different tack on this. All but the most extreme individuals aren't saying that the author doesn't have the right to publish this book. It seems to more come down to whether or not Amazon should be selling it. Personally, I view stores (whether online or brick and mortar) as markets, and the consumer wins when the selection is as unlimited as possible. Even though it's not what often happens, I want supply and demand to be the only things dictating the price and availability of a product. For Amazon or any other business to spend time, money, and energy in deciding what is appropriate for the consumer to purchase just hinders my ability to get a commodity at the lowest price possible. When deciding whether or not to sell something like a digital book (which carries $0 procurement and production cost) the only relevant question for Amazon to ask is "is it legal?".
So now Amazon has removed the book from their website, and I don't really know why. Those leading the boycott charge are certainly not (and weren't going to be) satisfied with just this. A lot of them have lists of other books they also want to see removed, and this "success" just eggs them on further. So in the last 24 hours they've managed to outrage the religious and moral right-wingers by selling it and now they've pissed off the left-wingers by caving and taking it down. That's kind of impressive when you think about it. I guess they are counting on the American public having an extremely short attention span. And they couldn't be more wrong about . . . SQUIRREL!
I'm talking, of course, about this. I struggle with how much to write about this because (much like religion) to those that agree with me there's not really anything I can say that they haven't already thought of and those who don't agree with me will not be swayed by any type of logical argument.
So I'll try to take a slightly different tack on this. All but the most extreme individuals aren't saying that the author doesn't have the right to publish this book. It seems to more come down to whether or not Amazon should be selling it. Personally, I view stores (whether online or brick and mortar) as markets, and the consumer wins when the selection is as unlimited as possible. Even though it's not what often happens, I want supply and demand to be the only things dictating the price and availability of a product. For Amazon or any other business to spend time, money, and energy in deciding what is appropriate for the consumer to purchase just hinders my ability to get a commodity at the lowest price possible. When deciding whether or not to sell something like a digital book (which carries $0 procurement and production cost) the only relevant question for Amazon to ask is "is it legal?".
So now Amazon has removed the book from their website, and I don't really know why. Those leading the boycott charge are certainly not (and weren't going to be) satisfied with just this. A lot of them have lists of other books they also want to see removed, and this "success" just eggs them on further. So in the last 24 hours they've managed to outrage the religious and moral right-wingers by selling it and now they've pissed off the left-wingers by caving and taking it down. That's kind of impressive when you think about it. I guess they are counting on the American public having an extremely short attention span. And they couldn't be more wrong about . . . SQUIRREL!
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Dem You! Dem You All to Hell!
Ah, nothing like a good Planet of the Apes reference on a Wednesday morning!
Yesterday I chose not to watch most of the election night coverage. And no it wasn't sour grapes on my part (I'm actually fairly pleased about it, which I'll get to in a second). It's just that there really weren't a lot of surprises or excitement, and the few that there were (like Quinn potentially beating Brady) are still being decided now. So instead I made another attempt to get through the 4-plus hour Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet. Now, I consider myself to be of at least reasonable intellect, I already know the story of Hamlet, one of my favorite films of all time is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (which is certainly not Hamlet but does feature a lot of dialogue from it), and I even read Hamlet in high school. Nevertheless I have to admit that watching it is akin to watching a foreign film without subtitles. More specifically, for me it's like watching the French dubbed version of a movie I've seen a couple times before. I took a couple years of French, so I can pick out a few words here and there, and since I've seen it before I know what's happening and is going to happen, but the vast majority of the actual conversations sail over my head. But perhaps the truly weird part about it is that I'm still enjoying it! I guess it is true what they say - that 90% of conversation is not what you say but how you say it and how you look when you do. In any case, I've been watching it in roughly 30-40 minute chunks and I'm 2 and a half hours in right now.
But back to politics. It looks like the Republicans are going to pick up about 65 seats in the House to take firm control of that chamber and cut the Democratic majority in the Senate to ~53 to 47 (pending a couple close races and counting the two Independents as Democrats). First of all I think it's important to put this in some historical context. Although this is certainly larger than most times, this is what happens in mid-term elections. Going back to 1934 (now encompasing 20 midterms), guess how many times the party of the sitting President has gained seats? 3 in the House, and 5 in the Senate. That's a record of 3-17 and 5-15 (respectively) so this is by no means shocking. And if Democrats are looking for some good news today, it's the fourth time that control of one or both houses of Congress has changed in the mid-term of a President's first term. All 3 previous times, the President has been re-elected (Truman, Eisenhower, and Clinton). And that's exactly what I see happening here. As of today, the Republicans still do not have a viable challenger for the White House in 2012. And they're also somewhat trapped in how to position themselves for that Congressional election: if things improve between now and then they can't take complete credit for it (since the Presidency and Senate are still under the control of the other party) and if things don't they can't continue to simply be the party of "no" since they now have a responsibility to join in the governing process.
Speaking of which, here's one person who is hopeful that the Republicans finally do actually believe in their own rhetoric of restoring financial responsibility. To this point, all we've gotten is vague promises of "across the board spending cuts", which never happen. In fact, I'd like to also point out to the Republican banner wavers out there, that the prospective new Speaker of the House John Boehner is the same guy who said in a position paper on 2001 that (and I'm paraphrashing here) "it turns out that the American people didn't care about balanced budgets, and it's unrealistic to think that we can actually shrink the size of the government. The best we can do is limit the rate of its increase." Mind you that this is the same guy who was part of the 1994 Republican sweep into power that promised, well, pretty much the same thing they are promising now. Hmm, the Who song "Won't Get Fooled Again" comes to mind. By the way, that quote appears in Alan Greenspan's book (and it is properly cited) and after reading it 4 years ago I was so surprised that I sought out the source document and found it. But upon looking for it again in 2009 I noticed that it now can no longer be found anywhere on the net. Literally. I can find as much trivial info about Blake's 7, an extremely obscure and low-budget British sci-fi show from the 70's, as I want but apparently a position paper written 9 years ago by a sitting U.S. Representative is now lost to us. I'm sure it's just coincidence though. I'm sure it wasn't intentionally removed or anything like that. In any case, I'll be the first one to cheer if the Republicans really do decide to concentrate on their fiscal responsibility crede rather than going on social crusades to please the religious right.
But now that I've blasted away at Republicans for a while let me blast away at Obama too. Yesterday he was out trying to get the disenfranchised and disillusioned out to vote. Fair enough. But he was quoted as saying that his "whole agenda was at risk" if Republicans swept into power. Excuse me, Mr. President, but I seem to recall that your message in 2008 was "Yes we can" but apparently that was just the truncated version. I guess the full version was "Yes we can, provided that once you bring me into power you also give me sweeping majorities in both houses of Congress and keep them there for my full first term". Guess I should have read the fine print on those yard signs.
Yesterday I chose not to watch most of the election night coverage. And no it wasn't sour grapes on my part (I'm actually fairly pleased about it, which I'll get to in a second). It's just that there really weren't a lot of surprises or excitement, and the few that there were (like Quinn potentially beating Brady) are still being decided now. So instead I made another attempt to get through the 4-plus hour Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet. Now, I consider myself to be of at least reasonable intellect, I already know the story of Hamlet, one of my favorite films of all time is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (which is certainly not Hamlet but does feature a lot of dialogue from it), and I even read Hamlet in high school. Nevertheless I have to admit that watching it is akin to watching a foreign film without subtitles. More specifically, for me it's like watching the French dubbed version of a movie I've seen a couple times before. I took a couple years of French, so I can pick out a few words here and there, and since I've seen it before I know what's happening and is going to happen, but the vast majority of the actual conversations sail over my head. But perhaps the truly weird part about it is that I'm still enjoying it! I guess it is true what they say - that 90% of conversation is not what you say but how you say it and how you look when you do. In any case, I've been watching it in roughly 30-40 minute chunks and I'm 2 and a half hours in right now.
But back to politics. It looks like the Republicans are going to pick up about 65 seats in the House to take firm control of that chamber and cut the Democratic majority in the Senate to ~53 to 47 (pending a couple close races and counting the two Independents as Democrats). First of all I think it's important to put this in some historical context. Although this is certainly larger than most times, this is what happens in mid-term elections. Going back to 1934 (now encompasing 20 midterms), guess how many times the party of the sitting President has gained seats? 3 in the House, and 5 in the Senate. That's a record of 3-17 and 5-15 (respectively) so this is by no means shocking. And if Democrats are looking for some good news today, it's the fourth time that control of one or both houses of Congress has changed in the mid-term of a President's first term. All 3 previous times, the President has been re-elected (Truman, Eisenhower, and Clinton). And that's exactly what I see happening here. As of today, the Republicans still do not have a viable challenger for the White House in 2012. And they're also somewhat trapped in how to position themselves for that Congressional election: if things improve between now and then they can't take complete credit for it (since the Presidency and Senate are still under the control of the other party) and if things don't they can't continue to simply be the party of "no" since they now have a responsibility to join in the governing process.
Speaking of which, here's one person who is hopeful that the Republicans finally do actually believe in their own rhetoric of restoring financial responsibility. To this point, all we've gotten is vague promises of "across the board spending cuts", which never happen. In fact, I'd like to also point out to the Republican banner wavers out there, that the prospective new Speaker of the House John Boehner is the same guy who said in a position paper on 2001 that (and I'm paraphrashing here) "it turns out that the American people didn't care about balanced budgets, and it's unrealistic to think that we can actually shrink the size of the government. The best we can do is limit the rate of its increase." Mind you that this is the same guy who was part of the 1994 Republican sweep into power that promised, well, pretty much the same thing they are promising now. Hmm, the Who song "Won't Get Fooled Again" comes to mind. By the way, that quote appears in Alan Greenspan's book (and it is properly cited) and after reading it 4 years ago I was so surprised that I sought out the source document and found it. But upon looking for it again in 2009 I noticed that it now can no longer be found anywhere on the net. Literally. I can find as much trivial info about Blake's 7, an extremely obscure and low-budget British sci-fi show from the 70's, as I want but apparently a position paper written 9 years ago by a sitting U.S. Representative is now lost to us. I'm sure it's just coincidence though. I'm sure it wasn't intentionally removed or anything like that. In any case, I'll be the first one to cheer if the Republicans really do decide to concentrate on their fiscal responsibility crede rather than going on social crusades to please the religious right.
But now that I've blasted away at Republicans for a while let me blast away at Obama too. Yesterday he was out trying to get the disenfranchised and disillusioned out to vote. Fair enough. But he was quoted as saying that his "whole agenda was at risk" if Republicans swept into power. Excuse me, Mr. President, but I seem to recall that your message in 2008 was "Yes we can" but apparently that was just the truncated version. I guess the full version was "Yes we can, provided that once you bring me into power you also give me sweeping majorities in both houses of Congress and keep them there for my full first term". Guess I should have read the fine print on those yard signs.
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