George Lazenby Appreciation Day
Appreciate some George Lazenby, people!
Tederick.com: May 2008 Archives
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May 30, 2008
May 29, 2008
Got Batmilk?
Batman's got a milk ad, niiiiiiiiiice. Although really, if frickin' Batman came at you with a milk moustache, would that make you more or less likely to drink milk?
Not a huge fan of the new suit. Looks a bit too much like the beefy silver power suits that Batman was always required to change into at the end of the Schumacher flicks nipplejokeisobligatoryhere. Like Batman couldn't kick your ass wearing nothing but velour! Mais oui.
Three days later
Hello The Earth, I survived management offsite week 2008. At the tail end of same, I also ate way too much food and now I can't sleep. But otherwise, things are all right. I've probably blown all the fitness progress I made over the weekend on three days of bad snacks, but I can buy that back tomorrow and the next day and still be at least half-on ready for Sunday. At least, that's the working theory. (The working theory does not, it should be noted, include thunderstorms and other such bullshit. Are we ever going to get some nice weather around here? Is it possible that "nice weather" is one of those things we're going to have to learn to live without in a post Al Gore world, like bottles of water?)
So: with the exception of Martin J. McFly, every single major Hollywood hero from the 1980s will have been reincarnated in a pointless 21st century sequel once Beverly Hills Cop 4 (heh, that's funny, I wrote Beverly Hills Copy 4 by mistake) rolls off the projector reels in 2010. I like the Die Hard 4 take on the scenario, wherein the United States is so desperate to escape its current emotional landscape that it's resurrecting action heroes from the last time American marquee hearthrobs were tough and uncomplicated. But I know it's actually that having run out of fantasy novels to stripmine, and quasi-classic slasher films to remake, Hollywood is so badly out of saleable market-point ideas that they are actually left with repatriating the icons of the B-movie upgrades they were making three decades ago. 21st century, thy name is pastiche. But with Axel Foley (and, forgive me Michael, little chance of a Back to the Future 4) out of the way, I think we're out of quarters in even this gumball machine: who's next? The Tom Cruise character from Legend?
[Heart stops, realizes we've yet to catch up with the latter-day adventures of Maverick from Top Gun yet]
[starts humming theme music]
As it turns out, when you're all alone on a Wednesday night with a brain full of strategy and a belly full of too many foods, there really is nothing to do besides ponder the utterly imponderables, and wonder who's sleeping sounder than you.
May 26, 2008
Last chance gulch
Yesterday I rode down the Lakeshore path all the way to my soccer game at Jane and Eglinton, just to see if I could handle something in the 30K range. Well: I can't! But I did okay. The muscle memory is returning. So being as that the Ride for the Heart is now 6 scant days away,
SPONSOR ME!! if you haven't already. This is now, officially, my final message on the subject.
May 25, 2008
Mamo #115: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Unwieldy Title That Robs the Movie of a Certain Elegance Required for this Kind of Thing to Work
I'm fairly sure one of our Mamo listeners actually stood up and warned us not to review Indy IV negatively - something about not wanting to be one of those hater thirtysomethings who can't enjoy a flick cuz they're just generally grumpy about everything. Well, grumpy or not... though film criticism is hardly our regular bag on this show, we spend about the first twenty minutes of this particular Mamo discussing what went wrong with the eminent archaeologist this time around. Then, we get into the numbahs. It's good to be Mamo.
Flick made money, anyway. I also wouldn't mind linking out to these two reviews, not to pile on the hate, but just because I think they're rather well done.
May 24, 2008
Offer expires June 15, 1983
The new Indy figures have at least one thing going for them that I really admire: a genuine mail-away offer. God I miss those things. When we were kids, Adam and I collected our proofs-of-purchase on Star Wars figures so we could mail away for Nien Nunb and the Emperor. He got the latter, I got the former. I don't think you even had to pay shipping and handling - it was like they were rewarding you for giving a fuck about the toys, not trying to make a secondary buck on exclusive merchandise. (Well sure: getting kids to ante up on five figures to get the free one wasn't the stupidest marketing ploy of all time. But it seemed more innocent then.) In fact I think my entire fondness for Nien Nunb as a character in Return of the Jedi came from the process of collecting those five blue circles and then getting a free figure in the mail 10-12 weeks later. I mean he's just a mouse with giant ears, but in mail-away form, he was cool. I wonder if there's a kid out there who's going to think a Crystal Skeleton is just the cat's fucking pajamas once he gets his in the mail in a few months.
Here's a Nien Nunb ad, to take you back.
May 23, 2008
AND THEN HE STALKED HER UNTIL SHE LEFT THE PARTY
I took today off, sorta like last year when I took the day off after Pirates 3 came out, though it wasn't really about Pirates 3 then, and it wasn't really about Indy 4 now. Just circumstantial. Actually, yesternight was Sarafina and I's 6-monthiversary (seems like only yesterday it was phone calls to Japan and pancakes and Back to the Future and me shouting at Chris for some reason), but being as that she's all jobbed up and awesome, I'm spending the day on my own recognizance, reading Scott Pilgrim - which is excellent, by the way, boy do I love seeing Toronto in comic book form! - , listening to the Indy IV score, and drinking beers. And, y'know, figuring shit out. And I have a little plastic Russian man with a gun in my bag, because no movie can make me hate Indiana Jones. And the last of the breakfast-related key chains. And hope. Yeah.
So last night with the flick and the headache, sure, but like I said before, it was all good before I even went in the door, because I was with the people I like most. Right now I am trying to get reorganized on my overall physical and mental well being, due to the sudden and intense nature of my job life at the mo'. But having just sketched everything out in a variety of Word tables, I'm not too worried actually. As it turns out - and this should not necessarily come as news - things are going pretty well. I wish I was writing (well, something other than this blog anyway), and I wish I had a billion dollars. Otherwise... well, I'm humbled before the pile of graces. So... uh... thanks, universe.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
I haven't received a headache from a movie like that since Magnolia drilled a migraine into my brain.
I know what I'm in for when I step into an Indiana Jones movie, and it ain't common sense, or even layman archaeology. To paraphrase Dr. Jones, the danger is folklore: brilliant for its MacGuffiny, quest-inducing power, but a little thin on credibility. Still, believable or not, the Ark had rules. (Indy even spelled them out, in a brisk 2-minute scene, relying occasionally on a blackboard to help him do so.) The creators of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull have apparently observed no rules whatsoever.
Click here to read my review. Spoilers abound, but then, the word "spoilers" implies some effort on the part of the filmmakers at keeping the plot twists in some way veiled.
May 22, 2008
Kiss the sky
Runaways movie. Dammit, I wanted to do that! In an ideal world where Marvel lets e.learning managers direct major film adaptations, of course. I like that world. It's pink.
I solemnly swear
Faaaaaaaaaaancy. He even has the socks.
Also, there's gotta be a joke in this Holy Grail paperclip holder, but I can't think of one right now. I throw it open to the floor.
This week I am giving up coffee, toys, delicious foods, spending unnecessarily, DVDs, books, and moping. (It's important to give up moping when you give up other things.) By "giving up" I usually mean "am cutting down / reconsidering / giving a short break", but whatever. It's been a fat and decadent couple of months, but honestly, who has the time any more anyway?
May 21, 2008
12 minutes over Tokyo
Listening to "Roar! (The Cloverfield Overture)" again at last, I can pinpoint the exact moment where Michael Giacchino finally, completely pwned my ass: 2:35. That was the first bar of the eerily, nay startlingly, accurate swipe that resulted in a 10-minute back and forth between Sarafina and myself as we sat in the darkened theatre, enjoying the lugubrious end credits significantly more than we'd enjoyed any part of the actual film. Can an exit cue be listed among the best cinematic works of the year?
I CAN'T SEE JUPITER!!!
"What do these vegan bean-eaters have against cream?" - Matt
I am very content, thank you; content and happy, the last several days were lovely, sunshiney even without the sun, fresh airy even when indoors, excellent in all respects, no you can't have any, go away. Sarafina and I closed the V-day weekend at Skin Tight Outta Sight, where there was much winnings of things and other merry-making, which was a perfect cap to a solidly enjoyable long weekend and involved a Boy Scouts uniform top. So... hot. Things have just resolved and clarified in new and exciting ways over the past few days, and look to further improve in the coming weeks. The only shock to the system was a rather unexpected launch into my new position at work - I'm basically in the management role as of right now. But that's okay, because I feel a lot more solid right now about what I'm doing, who I'm doing it with, and where the major signposts are over the next 4 months or so. It was Sarafina's first day at her new job yesterday, too, so we debriefed our mutual awesomeness over sushi, and finished off The War of the Roses before bed. I'm liking all this. I have a slew of team meetings next week, and a very big exciting long weekend to look forward to in June, and I have to hire someone at some point. Otherwise the summer is looking clean, enjoyable, and Batman. Is Batman an adjective? It is now.
Gulu's getting married! Good for Gulu.
Aragorn's in The Hobbit! Good for Aragorn. Boy that seems to have freaked some folk out; I'm more worried that they'll try to shoehorn Orlando Bloom into the Elvenking's palace somewhere. More importantly, though, it looks like we're a few days out from confirmation of the screenwriting tasks on the flick - I'm assuming it's Fran and Phillipa for screenplay, Guillermo and PJ for story. But jeez lord, I want to know what the sequel movie deal is going to be. I don't get it.
I've been listening to "Desert Chase" from the Raiders of the Lost Ark score repeatedly all week. I think it is my very favourite piece of John Williams music, or at least is in the top three, or the top two. Everything that is different and better about Raiders vs. the other movies can be boiled down into that one track - a difference in mood, or intention, or something. We watched the whole trilogy on Friday night - don't do that, eh? It's hard. And it makes Raiders glow like a Shankara Stone, and Temple kick hard ass like a Thugee guard on methamphetamines. And Crusade sorta sucks all of a sudden.
Crystal skulls? I dunno. I'm excited, but very hesitant, about my commitment to Dr. Jones tomorrow night. But I'm going to enjoy seeing it with my girl and my best friend and Christy too, so it's sort of a win regardless of what happens in the eponymous Kingdom.
"And here... we... go." - The Joker
May 19, 2008
HEY LOOK AT THAT DOG!!
Guess what we're not doing today, America? WORKING, that's what. Where's your freedom of assembly now, huh? Where?
Canada is better. And I am proving it, every day of this weekend.
"You just poked me in the eye with a shark!" - Matt
"Sorry. I don't have my glasses on." - Sarafina.
May 16, 2008
VCR9 vs. Final Cut Pro
Last night Daniel gave me a Final Cut Pro crash course on some of the VCR9 footage. Since I never kept that test footage from way the hell back in the day when Mark and I were fucking around with our first sound mixer, I kept this instead.
Also did a podcast last night, discussed the more intriguing possibilities Blue Matrix, had fairly excellent Pad Thai, and slept in the arms of an angel who don't take no shit off noisy downstairs jerkfaces.
Pregnant bellies overwhelmed my dreams.
May 15, 2008
Uhhhh.... kinda sucks?
Maybe I'm missing a big part of the concept or something, but Dollhouse ain't exactly blowing my doors off yet. It even looks for shit - the worst parts of the Angel season 5 production design and lighting style, taken to a new level of bland.
13 episodes have been ordered... anybody wanna lay bets on what order Fox will air 'em in? I'm going 6-5-3-13-11-1-cancelled.
Meat.
I feel goddamned odd, dizzy and oddly-perspected. My head feels like a gaping space where a migraine would be if I weren't popping Advils like tic-tacs right now. This might have been generously helped along by the coconut rum and Terrifying Girls' High School: Lynch Law Classroom last night. More likely it's just be the up-and-down-and-cawayyyyzy weather. After all, last night also featured Magic Oven pizza, and a lot of girlfriendly adorableness. Those things don't cause headaches.
Fun fact: did you know that the median human penis size is smaller than the average human penis size? (The median size, for those of us who slept through middle school, is the number right in the middle of the scale - i.e. if there are 1,000,000 penises, the mean-sized one is the one at number 500,000 on the scale.) So basically what this information tells us is that the majority of men on the earth have a penis that is smaller than what the textbooks and Dr. Sue tell them is "normal." I think this explains an enormous number of things, not least of which being why every single episode of Sex With Sue contained at least one male caller phoning in to ask if his penis is "the right size." Let's round up and say, six times out of ten, those callers went away feeling inadequate. Then they built churches.
I took one for the team and tried the Angus burger at McDonalds earlier this week, and also choked down a Starbucks breakfast sandwich this morning. Something bad has happened to the meat products of the planet Earth. All in all, it has not been a good week, food-wise. I feel like my insides have been scraped out by a melon-baller, and I sorta just want to sleep for a year.
May 14, 2008
The Curse of the BlackBerry Pearl
Today I feel as "blah" as the weather, which if you're in Toronto right now is sort of a mild overcast, i.e. the kind of overcast where the clouds couldn't even muster their shit to really be overcast. They're sort of half-assing it, and so am I.
I have a BlackBerry Pearl now, and it is silver and slippery, and has a picture of the Black Pearl on it. What this device made me realize is that I must obviously hate and fear change. I've been mooning about wanting a smartphone for at least a year now but now that I finally have it, I call it things like "stupid" and "dumbfuck" and other such deals, because it's different. Like me, when I was a kid: I was different. Maybe that's why I react badly to other things that are "different" now.
Whoa.
Anyways, there is at least some value to having a PowerPuffed icon of Sarafina come up every time she calls, because it's a bit like she's my superheroic partner, and she's calling because we need to go on a superheroic mission. Plus, I'm sure I could blog from it, and can certainly keep Facebook up to date from it, and record videos of myself taking pictures of my friends while they MSN me from three feet away. And if anyone needs to contact me about anything, they now have about six dozen different ways to do it, all of which end up on the exact same 4cm x 10cm silver gizmo buzzing away in my hip pocket like an iBuzz with a 4,000-song playlist. Truly, via this device, I now belong more to the world than I do to myself. This is the endgame of the entire fantasy of telecommunications that the industry has created since its inception: that the goal is availability, in every medium, all the time. That that somehow matters.
May 13, 2008
In a hole in the ground
Yes, I am reading The Hobbit again, and yes, I am content.
I toyed with the idea of replacing my copy a few years back, when the LOTR tie-ins were at the height of their prettiness, as I had done with Narnia; fortunately I remembered (after a bit of fuss) that even pulp paperbacks from 1979 can have a little magic in them, and that old paper smells good. So here I am. There's quite a bit to the cloth bookmark with the bear on it that I use to mark my page, too, but I'll share that with you another time.
Suffice to say that right now I am moving things around in my mind, trying to make a story, which is a tricky thing if you haven't done it in a while and an even trickier thing when you feel the book has closed on a lot of old things and a lot of new, different things will have to start opening now. Still, today is fairly sunny and there are places to go and things to do during the day, and I'll blow some smoke rings by dusk on the old back deck. So that's something.
May 9, 2008
Alpert all along
By happy coincidence, I watched season three's "The Man Behind the Curtain" right before I watched last night's episode of Lost, "Cabin Fever." The two rhyme beautifully. The two darkest characters on the show - Ben and Locke - are both born in relatively horrible circumstances at the head of each episode; the mass Dharma grave (and resident corpse Horace Goodspeed) feature prominently in both; and let's face it, both episodes are creepy as fuck. (It's not every TV show that can actually make me nervous, but walking toward that fucking cabin is now shaking loose collywobbles born of every childhood nightmare about the woods behind the cottage.) But really, the most important thing about both episodes is that they kick us square in the face of the obvious: all this time, we really should have been paying closer attention to Guyliner. "Doctor" Richard Alpert, and his perennially boyish girl-eyes, has done some serious traveling of note, hasn't he? Come next season, mightn't we be saying things similar regarding one Matthew Abaddon, keeper of the greatest name in the history of great names? Who exactly was behind the wheel of the truck that hit young Swoosie Kurtz, anyway? Time will tell, and be damn wooshy about it in the meanwhile.
Regardless, last night's was indeed the balls-out goodness. The grounds shifted.
Grounds shifting further: I'll be stepping up to manage my team at work for the coming year. It's been in the works a while but only finally got announced today, so I guess I can actually talk about it. I'm excited. A lot of things that I had been working on since the day I started with the company came to a thrilling conclusion about six weeks ago, and at almost exactly the same time, this next major sequence of events got started moving forward. When I look at the sheer distance I've traveled in my two and a halfish years here, well... I sorta get vertigo. I owe one Old Man a cookie, that's for sure. Big tackle and mysterious ways. Came on like old leather.
All week I've kept having this weird dream that I buy The Golden Compass on blu-ray because I can't resist the foil wrapping, and another one that Indiana Jones is as strange and unsettling as the green M&Ms they've tied in - I mean, they're not really bad, but who looked at the silhouette of Indiana Jones in the prison of their dripping, subconscious mind and thought "mint"? What if his shadow in our eyes was wrong all along?
May 7, 2008
Just like ridin' a biker
Last night I rode my bike up to Cyclepath to get tuned, only to get turned away at the door. Well, no sense crying about it: I've got 3 and a half weeks to get ready for a 75K ride that I am by no means physically able to do at the current moment.
WHAT BETTER TIME TO SPONSOR ME??? Admit it, you like an edge of risk to your pursuits.
Mamo #113: Iron Mamo.
Finally, there is reason to do Mamo each and every week. Our stacked May has already rolled out one chart-maker and has several more waiting in the wings... hence, Iron Mamo. A couple on the couches at the eerily-quiet Starbucks listened to us record the show and congratulated us afterwards, so it must be reasonably good, right?
May 5, 2008
The Benedict Chronicles: Fire on the East Side
"...as plate after plate of fluffy poached eggs, cartilaginous peameal, and lakes of sunshiney goo continued to pile up over time, I realized that if I don't start catalogueing these excursions in some formal manner, a great field of human knowledge would be lost. Hence, the Benedict Chronicles..."
I love Fire on the East Side, being that it's a current Friday-night expenso-date fave; and naturally, I also love any establishment whose brunch menu contains an entire section devoted to various eggs benedicts. As such, I've been looking forward to doing a FES BenChro for a good while now. I could wax philosophic about what went on here, but I think it better to start with a reading, from the Fire on the East Side menu. Ahem:
"Southern Benny - Fried green tomatoes / BBQ'd Jack Daniels pulled pork / poached eggs / orange-chipotle hollandaise."
If that doesn't sound like an actual transcendental orgasm in food form, you need to leave this blog now. Fuck, I'm getting hungry just transcribing it.
Now let's be serious about this: yes, they nailed it. How could they not? Have you ever had any meal involving pulled pork (let alone BBQ'd Jack Daniels pulled pork!) that was not among the greatest things you have ever tasted in your whole life? Because I haven't. As such it's sort of irrelevant to attempt to determine whether the FES benny is great because it's a great benny, or great because pulled pork sandwiched between any substance on the earth is still going to taste like god's personal cocaine stash. Throw chipotle into the hollandaise, chives onto the perfectly-poached eggs, and fried green tomatoes under the biscuit that has already taken the place of the english muffin, and you don't even have to stick a fork in me: I was done before I even got to the table. I'll reiterate the earlier metaphor: this thing is sex walking, the benny equivalent of a hot girl in a summer dress who isn't wearing any underpants. I'm loosening my collar right now.
The fries are fucking incredible, by the way.
The Southern Benny at Fire on the East Side costs fourteen bucks. That's high. It's the only downside, and it's substantial. I am of the mind that a) Fire on the East Side charges 15-20% too much for everything, and b) no benny should cost more than twelve dollars. Still, if any breakfast I have ever had was going to somehow rewire my spending faculties, this one was it. Do I even need to say it?
Being that theirs is a large-ish menu of "East Side Bennies," I should probably go back and establish a baseline by way of their house standard, before working my way through the rest of the variants. Looking forward to it.
Fire on the East Side is located at 6 Gloucester Street in Toronto. The Benedict Chronicles is an ongoing, non-regular series.
Purple wings and black capes
Da, da, Iron Man! Deedle deedle deedle-da Iron Man!
(Yeah. That's actually more fun than the movie.)
Free Comic Book Day was lovely, thank you, in rather the inverse of the normal way; it was raining and cold out, so instead of visiting all the comic book stores, I just went to my favourite one and hung out. This means I missed the weed march in Queen's Park and did not get huevos rancheros for lunch, but I did get throttled by the Joker. Plus, after three years of not a week going by where I didn't wish I'd bought the Takara Batman back in '05, they finally came back into stock, my Snailers did a little whamma jamma to secure one for me, and I bought the motherfucker. And... it's... i n c r e d i b l e . Razor-accurate and clockwork-precise. Big Fuckin' Hellboy's legacy is nicely represented in Awesome Fuckin' Batman.
One does not generally go to FCBD for the free comics any more, because they so obviously suck. So this year, I only picked up 2: X-Men and Hellboy. Well I haven't read Hellboy yet, but I'll tell ya... that Mike Carey issue of X-Men is a stunner. For one thing, it's an actual issue. I mean, it's not some 6-page cheat story or flight of fancy; it's a real one-off in the real X-Men world dealing with my other favourite new X-kid out of the last five years, the skittish, fairy-winged Pixie. It's drawn like a brick shit house, solidly told for a Carey story, and given that the whole Pixie character is just so clearly a love letter to his hopes and fears for his own teenage daughter, it's sort of... awesome. The whole thing has me paranoid: what if the freebies were all this good this year?
On Sunday morning, I had the best cup of coffee I think I've had in a year. Then I went to hang out with my man Jesus - the saviour! It's been about... what? Ten years since I've been to a Catholic church? It was Sarafina's goddaughter's first communion yesterday, so we all drove out to B-fo and made with the Jesus bread. Church was noisy. They actually did the reading (well, one of 'em anyway; I'm sure there's more than one) about making disciples of every nation. You know, the one that makes Dubya touch himself under the covers at night. Here it is in lolcat. I liked it because it made me feel like I was getting the complete experience, and took my mind off the endless stand!-sit!-stand!-kneel!-sit!-stand!-donate money! rigamarole. I felt like I was in a Koodo ad.
(Zing!)
After hanging out a while, we jetted back to T.O. so that I could rebuild the Wall for the seventh consecutive year. You know what? I think we had our best first soccer game of the season ever. We held onto a 2-1 advantage until 3 minutes before the end of the second half, then had to settle for a tie, but for a first game back after six months of apathy, I don't think it could have gone better. Soccer is hard, but I likes it. Goddamned freezing as fuck last night, but I'm sure I'll be missing it when it's 35 degrees and we're playing the flatlands in full sun.
Iron Man '10, Thor '10, Cap '11, Avengers late '11. Whatthefuckaretheydoingggggg.
My Black(Berry) Pearl is up and running... I've tarried here long enough... happy week everybody.
May 3, 2008
I am Iron Man.
Two things have come from my screening of Iron Man:
- Miscellaneous successes (like finding the right door to the subway) are made funnier if you say "I am Iron Man."
- I should start calling everyone "Obadiah."
Woe! For I must be the lone voice of dissent on this Comic Book Friday, when the Iron Man flick is clocking a whopping 94% on the tomatometer. It's not that the flick's bad - it's just not terribly good, either, is it? It reminded me a lot of Spider-Man 1, actually (though its structural Batman Begins aspirations are so blatant as to be painful) - just sort of obvious and uninspired throughout. Fun to watch the big red-and-gold meanie fly around and beat shit up, but then, so was watching Optimus Prime kick the shit out of Megatron for eight seconds last summer. It doesn't make for good.
Yes, Downey is fantastic. The script, meanwhile, phones every note in, and Favreau bowls straight down the middle of the lane for easy, slow strikes. We're rewarding mere competence with hurrahs here, people. It can be a lot better than this. Actually, my estimation of the flick jumped leaps and bounds right at the very end, but since these leaps and bounds are not just spoilers but spoil the (in my opinion) two best things about the film, I must deign to hide them AFTER THE JUMP!
1. Stark coming out of the closet in the final (pre-credits) shot in the movie was, I think, the only time the film actually surprised me. It's a damn good move, because Stark became such a more interesting character as soon as he was a public super hero and started to get all those god delusions - this actually means that the second flick (if someone actually, you know, bothered to write it, instead of just having a bunch of people show up on the day and see what happens) could actually do interesting things.
2. The post-credits gumball with Fury was, although likewise telegraphed years ago in a bajillion Ain't It Cool speculative posts, nonetheless a goddamned cheer-inducing sonofabitch.
Meanwhile, the new Indy trailer blows, but the Wall-E one is sensational, and The Dark Knight one is actually shiver-inducingly good; the very frames bleed with super-saturated formalism. In a lot of ways, it was unfair to put TDK up before Iron Man, which was trying so desperately to fit into daddy's shoes. In 10 weeks, we're gonna see what billionaire superheroes really need to do to save the world, and I guarantee, it ain't gonna be about dying young.