The Neurotic Monkey's Guide to Survival

"These STILL aren't my pants!"

Monday, January 30, 2006

Gym Teacher Bob Wilkins Tries to Turn the Faculty at Brooks Junior High School into a Ninja Death Squad

Well, thanks, Mrs. Rosenblatt for giving me the floor. And congratulations on your recent interview in the local newspaper.

Now I know I'm supposed to be talking about the budget for my P.E. classes, or how the girls softball team is going to do this season, but I thought I would switch gears for just a second, if you'd let me.

Recently, I was at home, watching the television as I tend to do on my days off. I was going through the channels with the clicker, and I happened upon a movie: Delta Force 2: The Columbian Connection. Ladies and Gentlemen - This. Movie. Changed. My. Life. Starring one Mr. Chuck Norris. Now, I drifted in and out of the movie, but the main point was clear: Mr. Norris was able to assemble a rag-tag, rough n tough group of ninjas in order to rescue some DEA agents and take on a South American drug kingpin.

Ladies and Gentlemen of Brooks Junior High School - I propose we assemble our own Ninja Death Squad! Come on!

Sure, people think teachers can change the world. We all know that's bunk. I say the real people who are changing this world - doin' some good in it - are Ninjas. And with a little training, some elbow grease, and a lot of determination, I think we can become an elite Ninja Death Squad - handing out justice like hall passes during Health class.

Now, being on the Ninja Death Squad isn't going to be for everyone. Mrs. Halloran, for example - you lack the killer instincts and sensibilities needed to be part of an unstoppable vigilante force. Not trying to pick on you, but it's true. You don't have that blood lust that I get from Martin over here. Yes, You, Martin. I've seen that look in your eyes whenever you start talking about the Doppler Effect with your seventh graders. Their eyes glaze over, but your pupils explode with an inferno of rage. And so there will be cuts, but we will be stronger for it. And those that don't make the Ninja Death Squad shouldn't be bitter, but instead should celebrate the fact that their peers are working towards a brighter tomorrow free from Evil, South American drug lords, and...oh let's say, Robots. I guess we could fight robots. Why the hell not? We'll be freakin' ninjas.

I think with the right leadership, we could be a force of righteousness to be reckoned with. Who is qualified to lead us? Off hand I can only think of one man: Chuck Norris. But he's an incredibly important person with a very busy schedule, what with his constant appearances at various Walker, Texas Ranger fan conventions. I seriously doubt he would have the time to mold us into the lethal blow dart of justice that we may become. "So, without Sensei Norris, who can lead us?", I hear you asking. Well, if I may be so bold, I'd like to humbly suggest myself.

Why should I be the Alpha Ninja? Good question. First of all, I'm tall and athletic. The rest of you are rather frumpy looking. No offense. Now, Linda, don't take it like that. You're just starting off as clay -doughy, pasty clay- to be molded into a fast and fit fighting machine. I, on the other hand, already strike menace and fear into the hearts of the children here at Brooks. They see me, my whistle, and a red rubber ball, and I guarrantee you'll see some sweat and some tears. Also, I'm a natural born leader - I coached our ladies softball team, the Cougarettes, into three consecutive second place finishes over the past 4 years.

Yes, Bill, I know - your precious Mathletes have been the champions for 5 years running. But c'mon, Bill--mathletes? When we're facing down the nation's enemies, I don't think the quadratic equation is going to help us. And yes, Marsha, I know what the Quadratic Equation is. Try not to look so shocked. Either way, we don't have to settle the question about "Who's Gonna Be Alpha Ninja" right now. I'm just throwing my hat into the ring. That's all. Just putting my name out there.

Moving on, I brought with me some items to help familiarize ourselves to the Ninja lifestyle. First up is this little fella right here. This is a throwing star. Shiny, ennit? I bought like 40 of these lil buggers at a flea market over the weekend. Please be careful with them. As you can tell by the colorful and expansive collection of Band-Aids on my hands, these bastards are very sharp and very tricky. Feel free to pass this around, get to know our deadly arsenal of Justice.

Next up, I think you'll really like this one, it's a - Okay, what happened? Betty? Betty? Are you okay, Betty? I told you to be careful with those pointy stars of death, didn't I? Didn't I, Betty? Ok - see this is why we need leadership and this is why some people will not make the Squad. Well, Betty, you're the nurse - you take care of it yourself. Go on now. Maybe next time we'll listen to Alpha Ninja instead of handling these things willy nilly.

No, Bill - we didn't decide I was the Alpha Ninja, already. I was just saying it to make sure people would learn from Betty's mistakes. Now, Bill, if we just get into this infighting we'll...

...No, I don't think it was irresponsible of me to bring in a deadly ninja throwing star, Brenda. Well, I think it's just that we shouldn't let feeble retards like Betty handle the throwing stars. Now, Betty, stop crying! Dammit, some people just aren't cut out to become--

Bill! Not now, okay! Let's all just simmer down! We're losing focus! Do you know what we'll be facing as a Ninja Death Squad?

That's right, Hector - Robots. Well, more than just Robots. But the point is, Robots do more than call us "Feeble Retards".

Fine! Feeble Mentally Challenged People! Whatever, Marsha! That's not the point! No, it's not the point!

Okay! You know what? Forget it! I thought maybe we here at Joseph Brooks Junior High School were ready to deal out some justice with our fists, and some throwing stars, and maybe a sword or two. Yes, Hector, I got a couple of swords.

No! You don't get to see them. You've ruined it, and quite frankly, I'm very put off by this whole ordeal. I will be starting my own rogue Ninja Death Squad of one. Yes, it can still be a Squad if it's one person, Bill. Well, you know, maybe I'll get together with some of the teachers at the High School. Yeah! I will see about that! I think I have a lot to offer, thank you very much!

Now give me back the throwing star! Come on. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Just pass it forward. You guys are all jerks. I wanted to share something cool with you, maybe right some wrongs in the world, but all you proved is that you are not ready to handle the ninja's code of justice.

Cuz you know what's rule number one in the Ninja Code?

You don't stick yourself with the goddamn throwing stars and you don't cry when the alpha ninja calls you retarded!

Those are rules one and two. So there. That's all I had. Ruined again.

Oh, and there's gonna be a car wash to raise some money for the Cougarettes this weekend. Or some such bullshit.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...Go Cougars. Whatever.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Fuck Raindrops on Roses!

Well, I've got a cold.

I swear, since movin to NYC last July, I've been healthy for maybe a grand total of 3.5 weeks. Now sure, some people could say it's because I don't sleep, exercise, and/or eat properly, and because I smoke, drink, live in filth, and have a stressed out & overall negative mentality. That's what some people might say.

My theory?

Gypsies. Evil, ornery, spiteful gypsies.

So this weekend I've been in and out of a Sudafed coma all weekend (complete with Sudafed dreams - including one where I'm smashing all the windows in a building because Dinner has to be on time...I don't get it either). And when I'm not passed out, I find myself wallowing in the misery that is a stuffy nose and a high phlegm content (and yes, ladies, I AM single. Wink.). But then I jumped up and decided to spread the word about The Whitest Kids You Know's "Dr. Jones" video. I think it's absolutely hilarious, and enjoy it so much. This elation pushed me into spreading the word - so I sent it to the comedians Bex Schwartz, Christian Finnegan, Harry @ Ain't It Cool News, and Chris Ryall @ www.moviepoopshoot.com. It's that odd dichotomy of being a nerdster (nerd/hipster): you want to spread the word about something you like, but you also want to keep it private and to yourself, less the masses spoil it. But, more often than not, I side with getting the word out, and did so for The Whitest Kids again. And so in order to escape the melancholia that being sick brings about, I'm gonna surround myself (mentally at least) with some of my favorite things. It's a recap for a lot of people who know me, but for anyone else - this is what I'm into these days. Maybe you'll find something you like, or see something/someone you hate. As always, the only way anyone will know is if you leave a comment. Here we go:

  • Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips - Starting off safe. No one can get offended by a flavor of potato chip, can they? And these things are dericious. Especially following an evening of drinking and douchebaggery. Wash down that uncomfortable joke with some Salt & Vinegar chips, or forget about those awkward moments after you made a pass at your friend with a little help from these chips. I should be their PR rep.
  • Jonathan Lethem - After a long, drag out, nasty little fight, Mr. Lethem walks away as the clear winner as my favorite author (Also, I think the runners up, Tom Robbins & Gabriel Garcia Marquez, are lovers not fighters). No, lil NY scenesters, it's not cuz Fortress of Solitude is so hip and hey I know where Brooklyn is now! It's because his entire body of work is diverse and brilliant. He delves into sci-fi, romance, comedy, drama, detective fiction, and autobiography - occasionally all in the same book. He has taken the reins of American Magical Realism and uses it to stunning effect in Fortress of Solitude, but it is even better rendered in Men & Cartoons, one of his short story collections. He makes a bunch of nerdy references to music, and comic books, and pop culture, and literary cliches, and makes them all work together. If I were to sell people on his work, I would say read Men & Cartoons, then Fortress of Solitude, then Gun with Occasional Music, then The Disappointment Artist, and then I leave the rest to your discretion. The guy's a brilliant, brilliant man and funny as hell. And I hear he's working on a revamp of short lived and incredibly obscure 70s comic Omega the Unknown for Marvel Comics. Pretty sweet for a nerdster from Brooklyn.
  • The Flaming Lips - Best band I've ever seen live. Anxiously, and nervously, awaiting their newest album - At War with the Mystics. I've gotten three leaked tracks ("The W.A.N.D., "Mr Ambulance Driver", and a third whose title is unknown), and while they don't share the catchiness and immediacy of Yoshimi's leaked tracks, I can clearly see myself geeking out to them more and more in the future. Can't wait for that new album. And for anyone unfamiliar with the band, I recommend The Fearless Freaks, the documentary detailing the band's rise from ghetto outcasts to Alternative Icons. It's really an interesting documentary, and in one scene when the Lips' musical genius Stephen Drozd is shooting up and detailing how much he hates heroin, it transcends a simple fan letter to a geek's favorite band and becomes a compelling look at a bunch of artists trying to create something new and real. Oh, here's the tracklist for the new album, in case any of y'all haven't seen it or are curious:
    01 The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song
    02 Free Radicals
    03 The Sound of Failure/It's Dark...Is It Always This Dark??
    04 My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion
    05 Vein of Stars
    06 The Wizard Turns On...
    07 It Overtakes Me/The Stars Are So Big, I Am So Small...Do I Stand a Chance?
    08 Mr. Ambulance Driver
    09 Haven't Got a Clue
    10 The W.A.N.D.
    11 Pompeii Am Gotterdammerung
    12 Goin' On

  • Idiotwork.com - Go here and watch some HILARIOUS clips. I know, it's just simple juxtaposition, but damn if I don't find myself laughing every time. I also happen to love seeing the Green Lantern be a dick to Superman, in TPS. And when Beast Man screams at that Rabbit dude in the He-Man/Gummo smash up, well that's just adorable.
  • The Feeling I Get From Listening To and Enjoying Jazz - This is horrible. But when I find some jazz I really like (Miles Davis, In A Silent Way, Sketches of Spain, Birth of Cool, etc. John Coltrane, Blue Train, Lush Life; etc), and can sit there and listen to it, it makes me feel intelligent. It's so weird; but hasn't jazz taken on a scholarly aspect to it these days? I know it started in the speakeasies and poolhalls of the oppressed and the poor, but since then it has become elevated and revered and touted as American's most ingenious invention (outside of those Doggy Steps. Man, that's just awesome - lil steps for your dog. Give these people the Nobel prize, already!). But when I'm listening to a jazz album, and digging on it, then suddenly I feel like "I get it". Maybe that's just me. It's the same sensation I get when I enjoy NPR. Like I'm independently choosing to do something that's respected and thought of as intelligent. Or perhaps I've said too much. Damn you, Sudafed - it's acting like sodium pentathol in my blood!
  • The American Version of The Office - The first season (which was only 6 or so episodes) wasn't that good. But since they decided to shed the shadow of the absolutely brilliant UK version, and written their own plot lines and scripts, this show has become brilliant. While I don't think Dwight is as funny or interesting as Gareth, nor Jim/Pam's love angle as compelling as Tim & Dawn's, this show still delivers the goods. Especially with all of the secondary characters, who seem more fleshed out and interesting than their British counterparts. And once again, Steve Carrell proves himself to be a brilliant performer. It would be great to see Carrell's Michael and Ricky Gervais's Brent at some sort of convention together, each trying to top the other or pick up the same girl. Either way, if NBC picked up Arrested Development, renews Scrubs, and put these three with My Name is Earl, you'd have one of the best, funniest, and innovative nights on television. And I know that NBC execs are glued to this blog, so listen - Do it. Get Arrested Development. Renew Scrubs. Make this happen. Cuz I don't think anyone's watching Surface, and you can't keep coming up with Law & Orders to fill the holes in your sinking ship. Come on, NBC!
  • You're Losing Me, Lost - Yes, I still watch this show. Yes, I'm addicted and very much interested in the outcome. But Lost is definitely not the same show as it was last season. Last season was all about what Magicians refer to as "the Prestige". It was a shocking revelation. Yes, there was an ongoing mystery of the island and of the other characters, how they were all connected, etc. But mainly you'd watch for this shocking flashback which seemed to compliment the Island story. In the present season, the flashback is there only because that seems to be the necessary form of an episode. And there are no shocking GASP revelations as there were in Season 1 - everything is telegraphed way in advance (Nigerian plane & priests, Shannon's death, the fact that the Others aren't goin to kill Kate, etc). Maybe it's because a handful of writers left the show following the end of season 1 (David Fury and Paul Dini, especially). It's not the same genre bending mindfuck. And more often than not, I find myself thinking the characters are a bunch of retards who have no idea how to communicate with each other for no other reason than for the necessity of the writers. And yet, I keep coming back, hoping to solve the mystery. I love it, I hate it, I love it, I hate it, I love it...etc. Oh, and stop taking so much goddamn time off in between episodes. It kills the momentum and puts a strain on people to remember every detail that the writers cram into an episode and later reference.
  • Mr. Goodbar - it's so simple and classic...you just can't fuck with it. Delicious! Treat yourself to one today. Unless you're diabetic. Then use your head and don't listen to disembodied voices on the internet.
  • Miller's Crossing - True, the Coen Bros. have fallen a lil short in recent times (Ladykillers was downright boring, but I did really like Intolerable Cruelty). But this movie is still a great film and showcases their genius and originality. And I always find myself quoting it for weeks afterwards. "Don't give me the high hat - I HATE the high hat!" Bravo to the Brothers for coming up with brilliant and original Slang. The film looks amazing, too, as shot by Barry Sonnenfeld, and there are so many great characters and scenes. It's like the dark underbelly of The Big Lebowski. If you haven't seen this movie, please check it out. You'll love it, if only for one character or line.
  • Chess & Pool - I'm not good at anything remotely competitive or physical. That extends to pool & chess, neither of which are very physically exerting nor intensely competitive. But in other endeavors, I would grow frustrated and embarrassed by my complete lack of ability. But these two games are so much fun, and so engaging, that I have no problem playing them and sucking out loud. I also enjoy Poker, but I sometimes find myself being rather good at that game. My secret? X-Ray specs. Shhhh...don't tell anyone.

That's about it for now. I'm starting to fade with the 'Fed now. But please discuss and leave some of your thoughts on this page. And thanks to everyone that's been commenting thus far. You guys are the heroes, the legends, the wind beneath my beautiful wings.

Keeps it realz!

Monday, January 23, 2006

What I Would Have Said at the Enraged Person from Ricoh's Accounts Receivable Department Had He Not Abruptly Hung Up on Me After Our Screaming Match

...Oh, that's just 'how much I owe', huh? Well, sir, I don't see how you can arbitrarily--no, sir, I don't.
...
What? Well, as I've already stated to you - TEN TIMES, ALREADY, SIR - we just sent the checks to another department in Ricoh. And yet somehow-And yet somehow-AND YET SOMEHOW, SIR, these checks got cashed. How is this possible, and yet there's no credit in Ricoh's system?
...
No, I don't expect you to "run these checks down." But...
...
Yes, but--
...
No. No. No. No, I don't think that's fair nor is that accurate. SIR, AGAIN I REMIND YOU TO KEEP A CIVIL TONE WITH ME! Now then, I am MORE than willing to work with you to iron out these problems, but if you continue in this manner--
...
SIR!
...
Sir, I--
...
OKAY! That's enough! I have sat here and listened to your barrage of idiocy while you scream and yell at me like a petulant child. Now you WILL shut up, and if you HAVE to speak, you WILL keep a civil tone. Is that understood? Is that Understood, sir?
...
Is. That. Understood.
...
All right. Now, I don't know what your problem is and, quite frankly, I don't care. All i know is that if you EVER talk to me like that again--
...
No, if YOU ever--
...
No, if YOU ever--
...
No. You--
...
Shut the fuck up! Now then, I am sorry that your company is equal parts retarded and incompetent. That must be a drag.
...
I SAID SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I am sorry your company is a ship of fools, but we have cut checks to your company and they have been cashed BY your company. Now, I'm not surprised that you can't this money or these checks - I'm pretty sure you couldn't find your dick with two hands and a flashlight. But be that as it may, your company had no problem taking our money. If it was allocated to the wrong department, then that is unfortunate. Because it means extra work for you, sir.
...
This conversation is over, sir.
...
Yes it is.
...
Yes, yes it is.
...
Listen! You will resolve this issue on your own, you will track down the missing funds that we have already allocated to your company and have already been deposited by your company. You WILL NOT call here again, and if you choose to do so, you will speak quietly and politely or else I will come down to your craphole office in Jersey and beat you within an inch of your pathetic and worthless life, you walking pile of dysentery! Take care of your business, and do NOT call back here. Lest I am forced to respond in either violence, or simply by speaking with your supervisor about your appalling lack of tact and civility.
...
Good day, sir!
...
I BELIEVE I SAID, "GOOD DAY"!







(Alas, all I could do was scream "Oh Fuck this" to the dial tone, and then get him in trouble with his company. It wasn't nearly as satisfying. Anyone else have any tales of rage they would like to revise and share?)

It's a Smorgasbord of Fantastic!

Hey, y'all! Firstly, thanks to everyone who's been commenting. Keep it up! And please don't be afraid to talk to/about each other - like Erin did by referencing Drew's terrific nod to the infamous Chicken Dances of the Californian Bluths.

And now, for this post, here's some potpourri:


  • Flava Flav! Causes Cognitive Dissonance - All right, I'll admit it. Flav - ya got me. I didn't want you to, I resisted and guffawed and sarcastically distanced myself from you and your new show, The Flavor of Love. But I had to break down and enjoy your romantic hijinks as you have women battle it out for your attention, affection, and maybe they're very own clock and catchphrase. Why is this show enjoyable? Here's the recipe for success: Take a bunch of the craziest, skankiest, drunkiest, cattiest bitches in America, and throw them into a bedroom. Next, add the scent of competition over attention and television screen time. Add a healthy serving of a crack addicted, retarded gangbanger with a hyperactive case of ADD and a penchant for rhyming couplets. Stir in with stupid challenges, inlfated egos, pithy editing. And season with buckets of chicken & magnums of Champagne. Bon Appetit! But a paradox exists within The Flavor of Love (as voiced by my roommate, Panthro), and it arises if you end up liking one of the girls - in our case, the one nicknamed Hoopz. She's cute, seems nice, funny, and fairly real (although she did threaten to beat up the resident psycho, New York, but constantly saying "dawg" and "bro", but i love her BECAUSE of these idiosyncrasies, not despite them). So I like Hoopz, she's OK in my book. But here's the problem: I don't really want her to win the show and end up with Flava Flav. I like her too much to be with that little meth'd up munchkin and his barrage of catchphrases. But on the other hand, I don't like seeing her passed over or losing to the other cumdumpsters in the house. Such a dilemma. So go on, Hoopz, with ya bad self...but don't win. Maybe disqualification? Like she wins but then immediately recuses herself from being Mrs. Flav? That would be sweet.
  • Now If Someone Could Synch up "Round Here" with Scenes from Tatooine - I've told y'all before about the HIGH-larious antics of The Whitest Kids You Know. To see their schedule, as long as some products of theirs, and some clips of their skits & videos, go here. But even more impressive is this absolutely brilliant lil video of theirs which takes everyone's favorite prepubescent asian sidekick and gives him a theme song. Holy Smoke Crash Landing, indeed.
  • I don't Remember This in Fodor's Guide to Eastern Europe - You know, I enjoyed Hostel. I was one of the people that went on the opening weekend, and helped it earn close to 4 times as much as its budget in those three days. It's not Citizen Kane. But it's also not Raising Cain (I guarrantee that, while it's not the most obscure reference, maybe 2 people know what the hell I am talking about). It's a fun movie. It's the only time i've ever seen long lines for a film that stretch that far out. Maybe once for a Star Wars film. But this was ever type of people: wannabe thug angels, hipsters, scenesters, post-hipsters, latino heatsters, hoochie mamas, teenie boppers, and the socially depraved (i live in the East Village, what do you expect?). And once the lights went down, people were into it. The jokes were funny, and it did a great job relaxing everyone and getting to know these characters before they are slowly & viscerally ripped apart. It's not amazing cinema, or groundbreaking in terms of gore or taboo subject matter. But it's a very entertaining ride filled with boobs, blood, buddies, more blood, and even more boobs. If you've seen any Japanese horror, particularly Miike's work, than this is all old hat. But it's still fun to see people squirm, scream, jump, and simply shake their heads asking for mercy from the images being bombarded at them. Oh, and speaking of Miike - he makes a cameo in the film. He's the asian dude that says "It's Dangerous in there. You could spend all of your money if you're not careful." Pretty great for a complete psychopath. So I'd give Hostel a 8/10. But you don't have to take MY word for it, right, Levar Burton?
  • Looking at Those Khakis Makes Me Feel the Exact Same Way- Here's a great lil commercial/film Spike Jonze made for The Gap. Not only is it a hilarious free for all, but it's also a very nice subversive piece of anticorporate film masquerading as advertising. Pretty brilliant if you think about. And to think this guy started off making videos of skaters faceplanting.
  • When Have Pretentious Hipster Critics EVER Been Guilty of Hyperbole? - I've heard a bunch of cuts off of the new Strokes album. First of all, they may have chosen one of the worst songs of all time to be their single. It's definitely the worst song on the album. "Juicebox" sounds like something Foo Fighters or Queens of the Stone Age would think about recording, and then realize that they have standards, too (For the record - I've liked QOTSA for a long time now, so don't be hatin'). And while I liked The Strokes first album, Is This It?, I found it entertaining. I didn't think it was the Rock Revolution that people have been waiting for since Lennon was shot. It's nothing new, and wouldn't suddenly redefine Rock As We Know It. BUT, it's damn fine party, drinkin in the dorm room music. You can sing along with it, jump and dance and act like a goofball and have a great lil soundtrack to accompany all of your Shenanigans. Can't say the same for Room on Fire. While it is fine for filler or background music, it's nothin new from a band that was ALREADY doin nothin new. And while the newest album, First Impressions of Planet Earth, is a step away from there same old sound, it's one step forward and one step to the side. Unfortunately, the side is not so good. The first song is pretty good, but not as great as I've heard from others, and ultimately the entire album seems like they decided on a new identity but really want to maintain their old uniforms. Overall, I would recommend people just skipping this, maybe listening to it and trying to find what singles you like and just download those. Also - these New York prep boys need to stop acting like their slumming it, especially after goin on repeated world tours. And the drummer should stop schtuppin Drew Barrymore. She's not for you, you damned dirty scenester! Her bra-less courage is mine to own! Mine and mine alone!
  • The Amazing Regressing Manchild - So the last couple of great books that I've recently read were comic books. Yup, you read that correctly: Comic books. Helloooo, ladies. Too sexy for ya? Let me turn down this heat. In all seriousness, Robert Kirkman's Invincible is AMAZING. At one glance, it's a simple cookie cutter tale that blends The Incredibles with Spiderman. The ongoing series tells the tale of the titular superhero, a Young Teenage Boy, son of a powerful Supermanesque hero, slowly discovers his powers and embarks into a life of crimefighting and supersleuthing just like his father. But then things take an interesting turn and Invincible must make a choice. The series is funny and smartly written, matching much of the same pace, tone, and brilliance of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But it's also so earnest. It's just a pure take on the teenage hero who must make hard choices and is yet to be jaded, even when the cynical world of reality rears its ugly head. The other book I've read that was very exciting and amazingly brilliant was Grant Morrison's We3. This miniseries is incredibly simple in premise and execution, and yet it's still incredibly exciting and pretty surprising. It's funny, and sweet, and violent, and brutal. It's like Homeward Bound meets Robocop as three animals (who have been augmented into cybernetic killing machines by the army) break loose and try to escape from their creators, who now want to destroy them in favor of a new arms program. Watching the RoboDog, CyberCat, and Bionic Bunny interact is filled with the comedy & cuteness of a Disney cartoon, while there's the bloodshed and hyperkinetic action of a Samurai anime. It's a quick read, weird, and thoroughly entertaining. So go check it out.
  • It NEVER Gets Old!!!!! - So my Pats lost. It's okay. You can't be great all the time. I just wished they didn't look so shabby when losing to the Dolphins. Although watching Brady hit the ref in the face with the football was a very nice reference to Varsity Blues. See? Brady's a regular guy. And after some nasty, and embarraskin, playoff games, it's gonna be Seahawks vs. Steelers in the Showdown in Motown (I just came up with that!). My Schadenfreude itch was scratched by watching both the Mannings eat shit. Sure, I wanted the Colts to win for Dungy, but on the other hand - fuck Peyton. He seems like a stick in the mud, and probably thinks Blue Collar Tour is funny. And as for Eli - he's one of the two quarterbacks I hate the most in the NFL (the other is the criminally overrated and consummate choke artist Chris Sims). I was glad the Giants were shown to be the pathetic hacks that they are. Although none of it compared to my favorite moment of the season, when homophobe mongoloid Jeremy Shockey got to revel in how pathetic and retarded he truly is. Shocking, wasn't it? Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk. Anyways, I hear you asking - who do I got in the Showdown in Motown (catchy, ennit?)? My heart says Seahawks, but my brain says Steelers. And while I have no money on the matter, I'm goin with the Seahawks. If I were a bettin' man, I'd go with the Iron Maidens. Then again, I don't really do sports.
  • Have They LOST it? Hi-Yo! - Apparently on last week's episode of Lost, during Jack's flashback, a date was printed on the old italian man's X-Rays. It said November 16, 2005. Now in this flashback, Jack's dad is still alive. And we know that until his death his infamous line about fate is "That's why the Red Sox will never win the world series". And since it's clear that he wasn't being ironic, he must have said this before the Red Sox actually won the world series a full year before in October 2004. So WTF, Lost? Have you slipped up or this deliberate and just not make any sense? Help me, Internet; you're my only hope. Omigod, in a way - that was two lil bits on sports. Holy Schnikies! Call Guinness!
  • THERE'S SOMETHING IN MY EYE!!!! - What I'm Watching on TV: Lost, Flavor of Love, Project Runway, the demise of Arrested Development, Scrubs, Battlestar Galactica, The Boondocks (The MLK episode was AMAZING), My Name is Earl, Jeopardy, The Office, Distraction, TV SPOTLIGHT - Perfect Hair Forever. From the creators of Aqua Teen Hungerforce comes this brilliant send up of all things anime while also being absolutely hilarious. Of particular note is Hot Dog, the singing hot dog (LAlalalalalaaaa...). Brilliant, weird, but so much fun. Also, watch for rapper MF Doom as the Giraffe.
  • GET THAT OUT OF MY EAR - What I'm Listening to: This American Life; Shugo Tokumari, Night Pieces; Loudon Wainwright III, "The Swimming Song"; Iron & Wine + Calexico, In the Reins; nearLY, "Liars Day"; Chameleons, "Up the Down Escalator"; Wolf Parade, Apologies to the Queen Mary; Seu Jorge, The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions; Explosions in the Sky, How Strange, Innocence; Nine Inch Nails, Still; Iron & Wine, Creek Drank the Cradle; Otis Redding, Otis Blue; Chris Parnell & Andy Samberg, "Lazy Sunday". Leaked songs from The Flaming Lips' At War with the Mystics.
  • Quote of the week: "I can Swim in Existence, but for this mystical soaring I am too heavy." - Kierkegaard

Sunday, January 22, 2006

The Madness of King George

God damn it.

I hate myself. I mean, I always hate myself. But now I have a specific reason to truly hate myself.

"I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations - one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it - you will regret both."
-- Soren Kierkegaard

That was my chance, wasn't it? My chance to do what I know is Right...and I just couldn't.

I can think of a billion ways to rationalize my actions. I was polite. I was doing the capital "G" Good thing. I took the high road. I'm not a man prone to violence. But any way you slice it, I failed. I failed you all...and that moment will haunt me for the rest of my days.

God damn it.

****

EARLIER THAT NIGHT

****

I went to the King Kong premiere in NYC. My friend was able to wrangle some tickets to the event, and it was the first High Profile event I've ever attended. I was excited. I love Peter Jackson. I'm not a huge LOTR fan - I loved the movies, but I wasn't the biggest Tolkein nut overall. But what I really love are his earlier films: Meet the Feebles - his perverse take on The Muppet Show complete with sex, drugs, violence, and a Rabbit with a rapidly debilitating STD; I also dearly love Dead Alive - his insane zombie gorefest (complete with a hyperkinetic undead baby, kung fu priest, and some badass usage of a lawnmower); and Heavenly Creatures - Jackson's magical realism tale of a cold blooded murder perpetrated by 2 little girls; and even The Frighteners - yeah it wasn't amazing, and the third act kind of falls apart, but it's still entertaining as all get out. If you haven't seen these movies, check them out forthwith.

So I was very excited to see Jackson's take on his favorite movie. Plus the whole event was going to be huge with celebrities popping up and the possibility of some nice geekout moments for me. We were gonna sit through the 3 hour spectacle and then go down to Pier 92 on the Hudson for the after party.

Firstly, the movie:

You got me, Peter Jackson. Even though there were so many moments where I rolled my eyes and thought "Oh christ, this is lame", I still found myself drawn in, and by the end - I was kinda weepy for the big monkey. The movie is an amazing spectacle, a real event of a film, and even though there are a lot of marks against it - Kong still manages to mesmerize and pull you in with its meaty paws.

The character of Kong is amazing. If King Kong was only CGI rendered, then this is truly great work. Jackson and WETA put so much emotion into those giant eyes, and his little facial movements. It seems as if Jackson put the most thought, direction, emotion, and energy into creating a Kong that we cared about. And he succeeds. Kong seems at once deadly (when he's ripping apart V Rex's or eating crewmen) but also sweet (when he's laughing at Anne's pratfalls or the soon to be famous scene in Central Park). His love for Anne makes sense, and his sense of betrayal at the hands of man rings so true that it makes you feel complicitly guilty to just sit there in the audience while he's captured. In fact, Kong is so well done and has so much energy and pathos that it makes the love triangle horrible uneven. I wanted Ann & Kong's relationship to work a lot more than I wanted Jack & Ann's. So, basically, Jackson has you rooting for disproportionate beastiality. Well played, sir! Anyways - I would recommend the film. The first hour kind of drags, but once they hit Skull Island, everything picks up and moves very swiftly.

Following the film, we exited the theater and boarded buses to take us to the after party. In the interest of full disclosure, one event did occur whilst we were attempting to exit the movie theater - I accidentally hit Anthony Edwards's kid in the back of the head with the revolving door. He seemed fine with it, and maybe it'll teach his father to learn the rest of the lyrics to "Great Balls of Fire!". Anywhoski, we quickly boarded the buses and made our way to the piers where the after party was being held.

We sat around, ate food, got drunk, and gawked at the fact that Anthony Kiedis seemed intent on staying away from the VIP section. Eventually we screwed up the courage to make our way into the VIP section, so my friend could confront her crush Adrien Brody, and so I could see if Sean Astin was there and finally propose to him my idea for The Goonies: The Musical. After a while, saying hi to various folk my friend knows, and getting more drunk, a man started walking over to greet my companion.

A bearded man in his late fifties, short and stocky and with a neck that looks like he's storing a cantaloupe for the winter - I recognized him immediately.

It was George Lucas.

Now, to the uninitiated out there - and it's doubtful that they are any reading this - the original Star Wars trilogy played a large part in my development as a child. I would watch it all the time whenever I was sick, and I was quite a sickly child. Han Solo is still the ultimate icon of being cool and manly; and I think I belong to the ginormous group in my generation who found himself immediately plunged into the strange world of sexuality when greeted by the sight of Leia in the golden bikini. And while I was never an ubernerd with the films - memorizing planets and alien races, secret histories, debating on the merits of a Stormtrooper's helmet that eradicates any peripheral vision - I still hold quite a special and beloved place in my heart for those films.

Then he made the prequels. As Lucas himself admitted on the January 12, 2005 episode of The Charlie Rose Show - the reason he made Episode I was because he needed some money after his divorce. And it shows. In all of them. They were hacky, with no over all arching plot or forethought, horrible characterizations, flat special effects, and even flatter acting. It hurt me in a way that few things have before. It was as if finding out my sister was a double agent working for a rival family to bring us all down. And what was worse is that these films ruin the original trilogy - not just by besmirching the sunny nostalgia I feel for those movies, but also because when future generations watch the Star Wars movies, they will watch them in numerical order - ruining any surprises and making no sense of narrative flow between the two trilogies.

And it didn't have to be that way. The Original Trilogy was such a huge and influential series of films that any screenwriter and director would have given his firstborn just to work on one scene for any of the prequels. But Lucas didn't care about that. He didn't care about creating anything interesting or original or even really entertaining. He wanted to make a quick buck, and knew he could count on the fanboys to pad his bank account. And he doesn't even care about those fanboys, tossing aside their nerdish devotion in favor of just monkeying around with the latest in digital effects. His callousness and refusal to attempt to ellevate the new series not only compounded my hurt over a beloved object of childhood being reduced to trash, but also turned that pain into anger.

It's true - he doesn't owe anything to anybody. No one should or could force him to be loyal to those people who shell out billions of dollars on his films and merchandise and slavishly make him a god in their little convention center walls. But still, just because there's no imperative to please these devotees, he should consider them and actually attempt to make them happy. But in his smug self-assurance he believes that the films he made were great, and looked amazing, and worked on any level outside of CGI advances.

And out of this growing hatred, I swore that George Lucas would be someone that I would debate punching in the face should I ever meet him (also on the list - George W. Bush and Paul WS Anderson). I predicted that should I ever meet the man face to face, I would immediately plunge into an existential debate over whether or not I should just give a quick rap in the face with the ol' Jack Johnson. I'm not a man prone to violence, and yet he is one figure that would merit me to bloody my hands in what could be considered a righteous cause.

And here he was in front of me. Saying hello to my friend, and chatting with her, being an amiable fella.

I stayed my hand and held my tongue. I didn't gush out nerdily praising him, nor did I scream racial epithets at him and make veiled threats to his physical well-being. He and my friend wrapped up their conversation, politely, I nodded a goodbye to him as he walked away.

Then when he was about ten feet away I screamed "YOU RAPED MY CHILDHOOD!" But I don't think anyone really heard me.

I immediately jumped on my cell phone in an attempt to track down advice on how I should address the situation. One of my nerdly friends was asleep, another suggested just to tell him "You Should Be Ashamed, and the last one said that "Whatever I did, just be prepared to run and exit quickly".

In the end - I did nothing. Didn't confront him or even really say anything to him.

My mind was racked over the fact that here was my chance. I could be a hero for the entire Nerd World. A Dorky Martyr who finally stood up to the bullies that shit on what we hold dear. I've run through an amalgam of scenarios in my head before that night, and even moreso after it. Occasionally simply punching him in the face, maybe giving a little bit of a Enigo Montoya speech before hand. "Hello. My name is Robert Dean. You raped my childhood. Prepare to die." Or else just paraphrasing George Costanza's speech to Steinbrenner:

Lucas: Nice to meet you.
ME: Well, I wish I could say the same, but I must say, with all due respect, I find it very hard to see the logic behind some of the moves you have made with this fine franchise. In the past 30 years you have caused myself, and fellow nerdly folk, a good deal of distress, as we have watched you take our beloved Star Wars and reduce it to a laughing stock, all for the glorification of your massive ego!

But in the end I did nothing. And it's been killing me ever since.

What if that was my one chance? Not just at physically assaulting a millionaire, or starting a fight with 60 year old man, but what if it was my chance to do something Good with my life. To strike a blow for the common nerd?

I had to choose between doing what was Good and what was Right. The Right thing to do is to take Lucas to task for the way he fucked over millions of his faithful flock. The Good thing to do is to not shit on a man who probably isn't nearly as malevolent as I believe him to be.

It would be a story to tell my fellow inmates as I'm anally penetrated in a forceful manner. A news clipping to show my grand kids. A great anecdote to be told at my funeral. And god damn it, it would have felt great.

But I did nothing.

God Damn It.

****

Since then, I've been able to reconcile the entire incident by taking a theoretical approach.

It's the question of what We Can Do versus What We Should Do. It's the question that encapsulates Spiderman and I believe the one most prevalent to our world right now. Peter Parker could become a master thief or some archvillain taking what he wants and using his abilities to do as he pleases. But, as Uncle Ben's posthumous words echo, "With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility".

And often times, Power is merely just another word for Opportunity & Ability. The United States has the Opportunity & Ability to invade and attack a bunch of countries (coughcoughIraqcoughcough), but does that mean we should? We have the Opportunity & Ability to indulge in all of our sins to excess, but does that mean we should?

George Lucas had the Opportunity & Ability to make a bunch of new Star Wars movies, does that mean he should? He also had the Opportunity & Ability to make them great, with a whole host of resources at his hands, but does that mean he should?

At the end of the day, I don't know how to reconcile what is Right, What is Good, and What is Possible. It's a hard struggle that most of us tend to lose or simply refuse to engage.

All I know is that I am now haunted by a punch I never threw. And that just sucks.

God Damn It.

Friday, January 20, 2006

"But...Mr. Monkey....I Thought You Were Dead!!!"

"I Was!"

Hello, my nonexistent and yet still hostile audience.

Howzitgoin?

Yes, I know I haven't written on this for over a month now. I've got some good excuses though! In the past month and a half, I've been waylaid by long and busy hours at work, illness, a transit strike, the holidays, some preoccupying and absorbing turn of events in my life, and a general laziness and lack of something to say.

Well I'm back, muthafuckas.

And there's things I need to talk about. Stuff I need to get to. Celebrities that need gossipmongering. Obscure references that need to be made.

More importantly, it's time I get back on schedule. So barring any horrible toxic attacks, giant robot rebellions (amendment - FURTHER giant robot rebellion), or a case of the sniffles - I will be updating this blog 4-5 times a week. They may not always be gems, but they're there.

But it's not just me that's goin to be puttin in the long hours and doin the hard work. Oh no, mon ami, oh no*. You, gentle reader, have a twofold mission laid out before you.

I've been approached by a couple of my friends, who ask me about my blog and updating said blog. Well here's the thing - Don't Talk to me in Public about my blog. It's embarrassing for both of us, and everyone comes off looking like a geek. But in all seriousness, the point I'm getting at is that no one comments on this blog. So there's really no sign of any feedback or reception. Comments can give way to conversation and new topics. They create discussion, growth, and even a sense of community. They let me know the minds & hearts of you, my adorable and incredibly fuckable audience. They let me know what you like, and what you think I need to improve on (first up? not call you "fuckable"). So task # 1 for anyone reading this piece right now:

1) LEAVE A FRICKIN COMMENT!

I don't care if you think it's stupid or not that witty. It doesn't have to be witty or funny or memorable. It can be a simple "true dat" or a pithy "i disagree!". I don't care. Just write something to prove you're reading this. To prove someone else is. I'm sicking of hearing from people that they read something but didn't comment. Just write something, for christ's sake. Even if it's just a quote from a song or a movie. Anything. And for all those that regularly respond - Drewzzle, Camps, the always fun & memorable Erin, formerly Eagle Eye & Jules - I appreciate your participation and encourage you to do more of it. This little blog isn't me just screaming to myself or yelling at God - that's what the shower is for. This blog is meant to be a chance to broach a topic and see how others feel about it. So please let me know what you're thinking - even if it's off topic.

And yes, that includes commenting on THIS post.

The second task isn't nearly as altruistic.

2) Tell 5 People about this site.

Yup, I'm asking y'all to become my street team and plug my site. Lame? Definitely. But I've grown stale and unhappy in my cubicular prison. And if this blog can possibly be an avenue of escape, then so be it! So tell people, and then they tell 5 friends, and then they tell 5 friends, and so on, and so on. Maybe I'm not everyone's cup o tea, but at least people will read what I write, and the chances of me climbing out of corporate Hell increases. So, if you would please, tell 5 people about this site and have them visit me and see if it's to their liking.


So there's ya mission, if you choose to accept it. And I hope that you do.

So here's to the New Year!

Consider this Neurotic Monkey 3.0. Or Season 3. This is the one where everything goes all CRAZY. It's kind of a let down after season 2, but still miles above and beyond anything in Season 4.

On tap: a desire for vengeance goes unsated, some quizzes, a dip back into the Nerd Pool, and the return of an American Hero.



See you in a few, True Believers!







*(Translation: Oh no, my friend, oh no. - Editor.)