THE LIST IS LIFE
JODIE: hi ! how are you
Langerado: good. how are you, jod?
JODIE: great!
Langerado: well, that sounds good. why so great?
JODIE: going out for dinner tonight w/ chaunce (he's on howard stern a lot) ya know of him?
JODIE: he's kind of a piker
JODIE: loving Calvin kleain
JODIE: klein..oops
Langerado: how long you been there now/
JODIE: a month...getting so much free clothes!!!!!
JODIE: just came home today w/ 2 jackets
JODIE: what's going on with you?
Langerado: not too much. temping at New Line today.
Langerado: it's been very inconsistent though
Langerado: this is the first day this week i'm working
JODIE: oh
JODIE: yikes!
Langerado: kind of hard to establish a regular schedule
JODIE: how is your "lady"???
Langerado: but, i've been writing and running and i feel like i'm moving forward
Langerado: she's pretty good -- a little stressed about making a living while she's writing her novel
JODIE: forward is better than backwards
Langerado: yup
JODIE: going to see Rules of Attraction on your recomendation
Langerado: i hope you can handle it
JODIE: you see 8 mile yet? it was pretty good
JODIE: oh i just heard that you haen't seen Reg for a dream yet
JODIE: requiem
Langerado: i have not seen requiem. i meant to see it in the theaters, but i didn't, and i haven't really watned to rent it since
Langerado: but i did see 8 mile and thought it was pretty good
JODIE: i love emenim's cd
Langerado: i never liked his music, but that song from the movie is pretty damn good
JODIE: i'm sorry mama
JODIE: rank these albums
Langerado: go
JODIE: outfield play ball
pretty in pink
brian adams..summer of 69
some kind of wonderful
bat out of hell
surfer rosa
JODIE: as per jace
Langerado: some kind of wonderful soundtrack?
JODIE: true that
Langerado: and is summer of '69 the name of the album?
JODIE: c'mon...don't be a piker
Langerado: seriously
JODIE: i think it is
JODIE: go on Amazon
Langerado: the album is called "Reckless"
JODIE: you still at work?
Langerado: ok, here we go...
JODIE: oh yeah
JODIE: ok
Langerado: yeah, still at work, it's only 4:15
Langerado: 1. Pretty In Pink
Langerado: 2. Surfer Rosa
Langerado: 3. Bat Out of Hell
Langerado: 4. Reckless
Langerado: 5. Play Ball
Langerado: 6. Some Kind of Wonderful
JODIE: correct
JODIE: good going
Langerado: really? is that actually the RIGHT answer?
JODIE: yes nice job
JODIE: look it up
Langerado: i'm confused now
JODIE: look in the Almanac
Langerado: in order of quality, right?
Langerado: isn't that subjective?
JODIE: quality yes
Langerado: give me more
JODIE: ok
Langerado: but, be warned, i may publish this conversation on the blog
JODIE: be right back on doughty acct
Langerado: is this jodie or jason?
JODIE signed off at 4:20:36 PM.
Doughty: yo
Doughty: jodie now
Langerado: was that jason?
Langerado: or you?
Doughty: jace is looking through cd's
Doughty: it was jcae
Doughty: now jodie
Langerado: you guys are out of your minds
Doughty: he'll bwe right back..mking lists
Doughty: he is crazy list boy
Langerado: no kidding
Doughty: lists are EVERYWHERE
Doughty: sports rankings, movies, cd's
Langerado: typing LOL is extremely cheesy, but i just laughed out loud
Doughty: just for fun he writes lists
Doughty: lists by his bedside, on the coffe table, in the kitchen (no not in the kitchen..)
Doughty: bye bar..getting in trouble
Langerado: bye jod, thanks for making me laugh
Doughty: Nevermind
Blood Sugar Sex Magic
Nothing Shocking
Achtung Baby
Siamese Dreams
Ten
Live Through This
Langerado: 1. Nothing Shocking
Langerado: 2. Achtung Baby
Langerado: 3. Nevermind
Langerado: 4. Siamese Dreams
Langerado: 5. Blood Sugar Sex Magic
Langerado: 6. Ten
Langerado: 7. Live Through This
Doughty: wrong, thx for playing
Langerado: WRONG?
Doughty: 1. Nevermind
Doughty: 2. Nothing Shocking
Doughty: 3. Siamese Dreams
Doughty: 4. Blood Sugar
Doughty: 5. Live Through This
Doughty: 6. Achtung
Doughty: 7. Ten
Doughty: as much as I hate that murderer C Love -- that album is good
Doughty: hell it was written by Kurt Cobain and Billy Corgan
Doughty: Elizabeth
Bugsy
Eyes Wide Shut
Glengarry Glen Ross
Malcolm X
Saturday Night Fever
Taxi Driver
Thirteen Days...all "2" rated movies from THE list
Langerado: 1. Taxi Driver
Langerado: 2. Glengarry Glen Ross
Langerado: 3. Malcolm X
Langerado: 4. Bugsy
Langerado: 5. Thirteen Days
Langerado: sorry, scratch that
Langerado: 5. Saturday Night Fever
Langerado: 6. Thirteen Days
Langerado: 7. Elizabeth
Langerado: 8. Eyes Wide Shut
Doughty: 1. Sat Night Fever
2. Taxi Driver
3. Bugsy
4. Eyes Wide Shut
5. Glengarry
6. Malcolm X
7. Elizabeth
8. 13 Days
Doughty: interesting
Doughty: Saturday Night Fever pretty low
Doughty: admittedly I like Eyes Wide Shut more than most
Doughty: let's try some 1+'s shall we
Doughty: Sexy Beast
This Boy's Life
Trainspotting
Remember the Titans
Slums of Bev Hills
You Can Count on Me
Election
Doughty: there?
Doughty signed off at 4:53:14 PM.
Thursday, November 14, 2002
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
Monday, November 11, 2002
CINEMANIA
At long last, it's that time of the year again. Typically, the last two months of the year contain more quality movies than the rest of the year combined. This year seems to be dutifully following the pattern. I've seen four films in the last week and, in one way or another, I enjoyed them all. That's not to say that they were all great movies, but I found something to like in each of them.
Jackass: The Movie
I haven't laughed that much in a movie theater in a long long time and I've definitely never cringed as much. These guys are easily the most balls-out group of friends around. Most of the stunts and pranks they pull off are things only idiots would try. But these guys really aren't idiots. They're actually quite adept at coming up with schemes to push people's buttons, shock others (and often themselves), as well as challenge the notion that something simply cannot be done. Although I'm defending these lunatics by claiming they're not idiots, I'll call a spade a spade: They are out of their friggin' minds. I was talking about the movie with a fellow film buff and he said it felt like he was watching it in his basement with a group of rowdy friends. The audience audibly reacts in every conceivable way -- howling, screeching, yelling, shrieking, doubling-over, gagging -- and can't help turning to the person sitting next to them and asking "Did you see that?" The film buff said it's the only movie he's ever gone to see where his cell phone rang and he answered it, confident that carrying on a conversation wouldn't bother anyone.
Punch-Drunk Love
I like this movie. I use the present tense because the more I sit with it, the more I like it. It's original in that Paul Thomas Anderson way where the supernatural is present in every day life. It features a unexpectedly layered performance by Adam Sandler as Barry Egan. The movie has Philip Seymour Hoffman and Emily Watson, a couple of actors who are always at the top of their game. The amazing scene with Barry's overbearing and overwhelming sisters all together under one roof is all the character development you need to know why the guy is the way he is. The film, like all of PTA's work, is beautifully shot with incredible music and has that unique element of spontaniety that leaves you with no real clue as to what's going to happen next.
8 Mile
Not a great movie, but a pretty damn good one. Eminem is great in the movie because of two things: he has an abundance of charisma and he was directed extremely well. I flipped over Curtis Hanson's last two movies, LA Confidential and Wonder Boys. What's on the screen reads as a good performance because Hanson did an outstanding job of asking Eminem to do what he was capable of doing and nothing more. The controversial rapper was able to draw on the considerable star quality he already had rather than struggle with the transition to a new medium by having to craft a part like some sort of method actor. And he came out of it smelling like a rose instead of wilting like a half-talented pop star with only handful of acting classes under his belt. I don't even like his music, but "Lose Yourself", the big hit single off the soundtrack, is catchy as hell and accurately frames the movie. The storyline is basic and there are some weak spots, namely a couple of the friends characters and most of Kim Basinger's dialogue, but like Eminem himself, the movie is constantly engaging and forces you to keep watching.
The Rules of Attraction
Brutal, merciless, dazzling. A must see for anybody who loves stylish filmmaking and doesn't require a main character to identify with and root for. Scenes rewind themselves, montages are shown in fast forward, and the entire movie turns out to be a sort of wicked flashback. One character is in love with another character who is in love with somebody else who is in love with yet another. The movie has sex, drugs, and 80s tunes to spare and is by far the most visceral of the three Bret Easton Ellis adaptations. It's a shame this movie was given a wide release and is now considered a bomb because it was never meant for the masses. Lion's Gate should have marketed "The Rules of Attraction" as an art-house film and released it that way so it could generate some buzz instead of being considered a flop. Because now the onus is on the DVD and video release to attract the audience that should have seen this movie in the theater.
Four movies in a week and I liked them all. But, none of them were as good as last night's episode of "The Sopranos".
There are still a multitude of must-see movies in current release and coming soon. Here's my updated list:
NOW PLAYING
Igby Goes Down
Secretary
Far From Heaven
Spirited Away
Auto Focus
Roger Dodger
Bowling For Columbine
COMING SOON
Adaptation
Catch Me If You Can
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
About Schmidt
Gangs of New York
Chicago
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind
The Antwone Fischer Story
Narc
The 25th Hour
At long last, it's that time of the year again. Typically, the last two months of the year contain more quality movies than the rest of the year combined. This year seems to be dutifully following the pattern. I've seen four films in the last week and, in one way or another, I enjoyed them all. That's not to say that they were all great movies, but I found something to like in each of them.
Jackass: The Movie
I haven't laughed that much in a movie theater in a long long time and I've definitely never cringed as much. These guys are easily the most balls-out group of friends around. Most of the stunts and pranks they pull off are things only idiots would try. But these guys really aren't idiots. They're actually quite adept at coming up with schemes to push people's buttons, shock others (and often themselves), as well as challenge the notion that something simply cannot be done. Although I'm defending these lunatics by claiming they're not idiots, I'll call a spade a spade: They are out of their friggin' minds. I was talking about the movie with a fellow film buff and he said it felt like he was watching it in his basement with a group of rowdy friends. The audience audibly reacts in every conceivable way -- howling, screeching, yelling, shrieking, doubling-over, gagging -- and can't help turning to the person sitting next to them and asking "Did you see that?" The film buff said it's the only movie he's ever gone to see where his cell phone rang and he answered it, confident that carrying on a conversation wouldn't bother anyone.
Punch-Drunk Love
I like this movie. I use the present tense because the more I sit with it, the more I like it. It's original in that Paul Thomas Anderson way where the supernatural is present in every day life. It features a unexpectedly layered performance by Adam Sandler as Barry Egan. The movie has Philip Seymour Hoffman and Emily Watson, a couple of actors who are always at the top of their game. The amazing scene with Barry's overbearing and overwhelming sisters all together under one roof is all the character development you need to know why the guy is the way he is. The film, like all of PTA's work, is beautifully shot with incredible music and has that unique element of spontaniety that leaves you with no real clue as to what's going to happen next.
8 Mile
Not a great movie, but a pretty damn good one. Eminem is great in the movie because of two things: he has an abundance of charisma and he was directed extremely well. I flipped over Curtis Hanson's last two movies, LA Confidential and Wonder Boys. What's on the screen reads as a good performance because Hanson did an outstanding job of asking Eminem to do what he was capable of doing and nothing more. The controversial rapper was able to draw on the considerable star quality he already had rather than struggle with the transition to a new medium by having to craft a part like some sort of method actor. And he came out of it smelling like a rose instead of wilting like a half-talented pop star with only handful of acting classes under his belt. I don't even like his music, but "Lose Yourself", the big hit single off the soundtrack, is catchy as hell and accurately frames the movie. The storyline is basic and there are some weak spots, namely a couple of the friends characters and most of Kim Basinger's dialogue, but like Eminem himself, the movie is constantly engaging and forces you to keep watching.
The Rules of Attraction
Brutal, merciless, dazzling. A must see for anybody who loves stylish filmmaking and doesn't require a main character to identify with and root for. Scenes rewind themselves, montages are shown in fast forward, and the entire movie turns out to be a sort of wicked flashback. One character is in love with another character who is in love with somebody else who is in love with yet another. The movie has sex, drugs, and 80s tunes to spare and is by far the most visceral of the three Bret Easton Ellis adaptations. It's a shame this movie was given a wide release and is now considered a bomb because it was never meant for the masses. Lion's Gate should have marketed "The Rules of Attraction" as an art-house film and released it that way so it could generate some buzz instead of being considered a flop. Because now the onus is on the DVD and video release to attract the audience that should have seen this movie in the theater.
Four movies in a week and I liked them all. But, none of them were as good as last night's episode of "The Sopranos".
There are still a multitude of must-see movies in current release and coming soon. Here's my updated list:
NOW PLAYING
Igby Goes Down
Secretary
Far From Heaven
Spirited Away
Auto Focus
Roger Dodger
Bowling For Columbine
COMING SOON
Adaptation
Catch Me If You Can
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
About Schmidt
Gangs of New York
Chicago
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind
The Antwone Fischer Story
Narc
The 25th Hour
Thursday, November 07, 2002
DUST BUNNIES BE GONE
Television is doing some serious sweeping right about now. The first week of the fall sweeps has been chock full of quality programming. Granted, I have stopped sampling the rather large crop of first-year shows and solidified my viewing schedule by watching shows I know I like, but those shows are currently operating at a very high level.
Saturday Night Live was actually funny this past week with Eric McCormack hosting and Jay-Z as the musical guest. The cold opening with Darrell Hammond as Rudy Guiliani taping his endorsements for the election had a brilliant punchline and set the tone for a particularly irreverant episode. A spoof of "The Bachelor" provided some solid laughs, and I cracked up at a fake commercial for ABC's Tuesday night lineup which features Bonnie Hunt, Jim Belushi, and John Ritter, dubbed "Last Chance Tuesdays." My favorite bit of the night was a skit with three couples playing Celebrity, a game which I've played several times recently with friends whereby everyone writes the names of celebrities and fictional characters down on slips of paper and puts them in a bowl. The couples then take turns giving and receiving, a la "$25,000 Pyramid" and unselfish foreplay, trying to get their partner to say the name of the celebrity. My Girl and I have played twice in the last month or so with the same group of people, but neither one of us had any idea that the game was known outside this little circle. The SNL skit acutely captured the nuances of people's behavior while playing the game, eventually amping up the unavoidable competitiveness for great comedic effect. Both of Jay-Z's performances were excellent, the first one a duet with Lenny Kravitz, the second one a duet with Beyonce Knowles with Lenny on guitar. I was only marginally familiar with Mr. Z's music and was thus highly impressed by the talented rapper. Eric McCormack did a good job, with his best work coming in a courtroom sketch in which he silently played a defendant who keeps interrupting the witness by sounding a bullhorn, pissing off the judge, who was played by Will Forte, an SNL newcomer who I know from my sitcom days.
Sunday night was a tremendous night of television. "The Sopranos" episode entitled "Mergers and Acquisitions" was an outstanding one after a subpar effort last week, appropriately titled "Watching Too Much Television." Carmela strikes back after finding a female fingernail in the house and correctly assuming that Tony is having an affair. Tony hesitates to commit to the affair beyond a one-night stand because he feels like the woman is tainted goods for having slept with Ralph. But the more Tony investigates whether or not the woman slept with Ralph (she claims she didn't), the more it becomes apparent that Ralphie is a hardcore sexual deviant. "Curb Your Enthusiasm" followed "The Sopranos" with its funniest episode of the season, called "Krazee-Eyez Killa". The title character refers to Wanda's professional rapper fiance, who Larry interacts with at a barbecue. In what may be the most hysterical exhange in the show's history, Krazee-Eyez Killa reads Larry some rap lyrics he wrote that morning and asks for Larry's opinion. Larry suggests Killa change a "motherfucker" to "bitch," and the unlikely pair forge a bond, with Killa asking Larry, "Are you my nigga?" Krazee-Eyez confides in Larry that he loves eating girls out and can't get enough, despite the fact that he's engaged, and makes Larry promise not to tell Wanda. In another storyline, Larry tries to replace a sports jacket he wore while filming an earlier scene in the Scorsese movie. Having no idea the jacket was a part of the movie wardrobe, Cheryl threw the jacket out, and now Larry needs it to wear while filming more scenes. In another outrageous scene, Larry goes down to Mitchell's on Melrose to acquire another jacket and miraculously finds an identical one. But, he pisses off the anal retentive store owner, who then refuses to sell him the jacket. Once again, Larry has a stroke of luck when he finds another identical jacket in Krazee-Eyez Killa's closet while taking a tour of his house. At the end of the hilarious scene, Killa gives him the jacket. Larry is so excited he asks Killa, "Are you my caucasian?" Wanda finds out that Killa is cheating on him, even though Larry told Cheryl and Cheryl did not repeat it to Wanda. Krazee-Eyez assumes Larry spilled the beans to Wanda and comes over to the house enraged. Larry tries to hide upstairs, but Killa hears him stepping on bubble wrap and calls him out. Larry insists he didn't say anything, but Krazee-Eyez Killa doesn't believe him and demands Larry give him the jacket back. Seemingly unfazed, Larry performs oral sex on Cheryl and gets a pubic hair stuck in his throat. Larry shows up on the set of the Scorsese movie without the jacket he needs to wear, but the wardrobe woman bails him out by having a backup. Martin Scorsese is left muttering "This guy's gonna kill me. How many more scenes we got with him?" In the middle of filming his scene in the movie, Larry again gags and chokes on the pubic hair.
Instead of recapping Tuesday night's episode of "24" in detail, I just want to comment that the pace continues to be relentless. Kiefer continues to carry the show on his back, but seems to have more help this season. Now that we've been to hell and back with Palmer and Kim on Day 1, there isn't as much of a lull when we leave Kiefer to check in on the secondary plot lines. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels the show has improved.
Last night Democrats got their fictional revenge for Tuesday night's beating by electing Jed Bartlett to another four years as POTUS on "The West Wing".
I missed "American Dreams" on Sunday night, probably because I started to get bored with the show and my desire to watch it has waned. I still think it's a great premise, but the execution feels soft. However, it appears NBC has great confidence in the freshman show.
There's much more to life than TV though. That's why I badly need TiVO.
Birthday shout out to the most passionate and loyal TV viewer I know and a best friend since fourth grade, J-Yoz. Happy Birthday, Wizard of Yoz!
Television is doing some serious sweeping right about now. The first week of the fall sweeps has been chock full of quality programming. Granted, I have stopped sampling the rather large crop of first-year shows and solidified my viewing schedule by watching shows I know I like, but those shows are currently operating at a very high level.
Saturday Night Live was actually funny this past week with Eric McCormack hosting and Jay-Z as the musical guest. The cold opening with Darrell Hammond as Rudy Guiliani taping his endorsements for the election had a brilliant punchline and set the tone for a particularly irreverant episode. A spoof of "The Bachelor" provided some solid laughs, and I cracked up at a fake commercial for ABC's Tuesday night lineup which features Bonnie Hunt, Jim Belushi, and John Ritter, dubbed "Last Chance Tuesdays." My favorite bit of the night was a skit with three couples playing Celebrity, a game which I've played several times recently with friends whereby everyone writes the names of celebrities and fictional characters down on slips of paper and puts them in a bowl. The couples then take turns giving and receiving, a la "$25,000 Pyramid" and unselfish foreplay, trying to get their partner to say the name of the celebrity. My Girl and I have played twice in the last month or so with the same group of people, but neither one of us had any idea that the game was known outside this little circle. The SNL skit acutely captured the nuances of people's behavior while playing the game, eventually amping up the unavoidable competitiveness for great comedic effect. Both of Jay-Z's performances were excellent, the first one a duet with Lenny Kravitz, the second one a duet with Beyonce Knowles with Lenny on guitar. I was only marginally familiar with Mr. Z's music and was thus highly impressed by the talented rapper. Eric McCormack did a good job, with his best work coming in a courtroom sketch in which he silently played a defendant who keeps interrupting the witness by sounding a bullhorn, pissing off the judge, who was played by Will Forte, an SNL newcomer who I know from my sitcom days.
Sunday night was a tremendous night of television. "The Sopranos" episode entitled "Mergers and Acquisitions" was an outstanding one after a subpar effort last week, appropriately titled "Watching Too Much Television." Carmela strikes back after finding a female fingernail in the house and correctly assuming that Tony is having an affair. Tony hesitates to commit to the affair beyond a one-night stand because he feels like the woman is tainted goods for having slept with Ralph. But the more Tony investigates whether or not the woman slept with Ralph (she claims she didn't), the more it becomes apparent that Ralphie is a hardcore sexual deviant. "Curb Your Enthusiasm" followed "The Sopranos" with its funniest episode of the season, called "Krazee-Eyez Killa". The title character refers to Wanda's professional rapper fiance, who Larry interacts with at a barbecue. In what may be the most hysterical exhange in the show's history, Krazee-Eyez Killa reads Larry some rap lyrics he wrote that morning and asks for Larry's opinion. Larry suggests Killa change a "motherfucker" to "bitch," and the unlikely pair forge a bond, with Killa asking Larry, "Are you my nigga?" Krazee-Eyez confides in Larry that he loves eating girls out and can't get enough, despite the fact that he's engaged, and makes Larry promise not to tell Wanda. In another storyline, Larry tries to replace a sports jacket he wore while filming an earlier scene in the Scorsese movie. Having no idea the jacket was a part of the movie wardrobe, Cheryl threw the jacket out, and now Larry needs it to wear while filming more scenes. In another outrageous scene, Larry goes down to Mitchell's on Melrose to acquire another jacket and miraculously finds an identical one. But, he pisses off the anal retentive store owner, who then refuses to sell him the jacket. Once again, Larry has a stroke of luck when he finds another identical jacket in Krazee-Eyez Killa's closet while taking a tour of his house. At the end of the hilarious scene, Killa gives him the jacket. Larry is so excited he asks Killa, "Are you my caucasian?" Wanda finds out that Killa is cheating on him, even though Larry told Cheryl and Cheryl did not repeat it to Wanda. Krazee-Eyez assumes Larry spilled the beans to Wanda and comes over to the house enraged. Larry tries to hide upstairs, but Killa hears him stepping on bubble wrap and calls him out. Larry insists he didn't say anything, but Krazee-Eyez Killa doesn't believe him and demands Larry give him the jacket back. Seemingly unfazed, Larry performs oral sex on Cheryl and gets a pubic hair stuck in his throat. Larry shows up on the set of the Scorsese movie without the jacket he needs to wear, but the wardrobe woman bails him out by having a backup. Martin Scorsese is left muttering "This guy's gonna kill me. How many more scenes we got with him?" In the middle of filming his scene in the movie, Larry again gags and chokes on the pubic hair.
Instead of recapping Tuesday night's episode of "24" in detail, I just want to comment that the pace continues to be relentless. Kiefer continues to carry the show on his back, but seems to have more help this season. Now that we've been to hell and back with Palmer and Kim on Day 1, there isn't as much of a lull when we leave Kiefer to check in on the secondary plot lines. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels the show has improved.
Last night Democrats got their fictional revenge for Tuesday night's beating by electing Jed Bartlett to another four years as POTUS on "The West Wing".
I missed "American Dreams" on Sunday night, probably because I started to get bored with the show and my desire to watch it has waned. I still think it's a great premise, but the execution feels soft. However, it appears NBC has great confidence in the freshman show.
There's much more to life than TV though. That's why I badly need TiVO.
Birthday shout out to the most passionate and loyal TV viewer I know and a best friend since fourth grade, J-Yoz. Happy Birthday, Wizard of Yoz!
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
TEMPORARY BLUES AND BLAHS
Nothing is wrong. I just feel blah, that’s all. Where is it written that I have to be upbeat and funny all the time? Nowhere, that’s where. I suppose I hold myself up to that ideal, because, really, it’s more fun for me. Once again, I am temping this week at a certain Hollywood studio with a knack for turning Little Creatures and Little People into pots of gold. I’m comfortable here, but there’s a limit to just how comfortable one can be as a temp. I can never really settle into one desk or department or assignment. Every day and every week has the potential to be one of transition. Consequently, the larger issues are weighing on me: Where is this going to lead? Is this helping my career? Do I have a career? How have I managed to work in this industry for almost eight years and not have a career? How am I going to work my way out of debt making ten bucks an hour? The smaller issues are nagging at me: I’ve got to get back to eating right. I’ve got to resume my running regimen. I’ve got to write every day. I’ve got to finish something. But, in actuality, nothing is wrong. I’m working pretty consistently. I’ve been having a lot of fun lately. I’m reading a great book. My relationship is going really well. My ideas are good. I just haven’t been as strict with my diet and exercise and I’m not writing as much as I’d like. I can turn that stuff around in a hurry. The other stuff, the big stuff, may take a little time to straighten out. Temping seems perfect for me right now, during this period of plotting. I can bounce around, try a bunch of different things, but not be tied to any one of them. Sure, I’m going to have to get a permanent job soon, there’s really no way around it. But, taking my time and methodically maneuvering into position will hopefully ensure that I’ll land in the perfect place.
Nothing is wrong. I just feel blah, that’s all. Where is it written that I have to be upbeat and funny all the time? Nowhere, that’s where. I suppose I hold myself up to that ideal, because, really, it’s more fun for me. Once again, I am temping this week at a certain Hollywood studio with a knack for turning Little Creatures and Little People into pots of gold. I’m comfortable here, but there’s a limit to just how comfortable one can be as a temp. I can never really settle into one desk or department or assignment. Every day and every week has the potential to be one of transition. Consequently, the larger issues are weighing on me: Where is this going to lead? Is this helping my career? Do I have a career? How have I managed to work in this industry for almost eight years and not have a career? How am I going to work my way out of debt making ten bucks an hour? The smaller issues are nagging at me: I’ve got to get back to eating right. I’ve got to resume my running regimen. I’ve got to write every day. I’ve got to finish something. But, in actuality, nothing is wrong. I’m working pretty consistently. I’ve been having a lot of fun lately. I’m reading a great book. My relationship is going really well. My ideas are good. I just haven’t been as strict with my diet and exercise and I’m not writing as much as I’d like. I can turn that stuff around in a hurry. The other stuff, the big stuff, may take a little time to straighten out. Temping seems perfect for me right now, during this period of plotting. I can bounce around, try a bunch of different things, but not be tied to any one of them. Sure, I’m going to have to get a permanent job soon, there’s really no way around it. But, taking my time and methodically maneuvering into position will hopefully ensure that I’ll land in the perfect place.
Monday, November 04, 2002
MY GIRL WANTS TO PARTY ALL THE TIME
Rattling around in my head today is the question: “What makes a party great?” As a social being, and with all the special occasions this year, I’ve often felt like a professional party attendee. I don’t blame these party-throwers one iota for inviting me, as I am a damn good guest. I’m pleasant, entertaining, and I can handle my liquor. But, my presence is only a small fraction of what it takes to make a fun fiesta transition into a barnstorming bash.
First things first, you need to set the proceedings into motion. That means, at the very least, you must provide the basics: namely alcohol, music, and people. Without these, your party doesn’t even have a chance to get off the ground. Now, to get the thing to spread its wings and soar, some other element must be introduced into the mix. This very slippery X-factor is not so easy to get a hold of.
THEME: If the gathering coincides with a holiday or a birthday, you’ve got yourself a theme, and that always helps. Halloween lends itself particularly well to creating a unique atmosphere, but nothing says you can’t have a costume party at any time during the year. If no holiday or event, like the Super Bowl, can be attached and you really want some sort of theme, you have to get creative. You can come up with a concept – 80s, Day-Glo, rave, nitrous tank, pajama, etc. – but, honestly, it’s not entirely necessary. Great parties don’t need to be theme parties.
ALCOHOL: You can never have too much.
MUSIC: A live band can lift a party to great heights if they get the revelers on their side, but it can also kill any chance for greatness by sucking up the joint and sucking the life out of the room. You run the same risk with a DJ, although you can always tell the person spinning to play something different, whereas you might not have that option with a band. If you’re planning a party on a budget, a few mixes can often do the trick, but they must be well conceived to sustain the energy level for several hours. The mixes can’t be too obscure, but they can’t lean on the standards either. I find the mix method to be more effective than simply throwing a bunch of CDs into the changer and letting things ride. Inevitably, after the initial batch of CDs gets played out, someone from the party thinks they know exactly what’s needed and takes over the stereo. Usually, they only know what music they’d like to hear and a power struggle over music control ensues. Then there’s always digital radio…
SNACKS: Not essential, but always welcome. Unless you're serving a five-course gourmet meal, keep it simple: Salt and Chocolate.
PEOPLE: The crowd at any shindig is a reflection of its hosts. Taking this into account, I suppose it’s only natural that you have to be a pretty magnetic person to attract an assortment of interesting individuals. Unfortunately, if you’re not such a person, you should probably hire someone who is to take the reins and plan your party. Very important: The logistics of the setting dictate how many people you can accommodate. So, whether you have a little tiny apartment or fantastic house with no available parking, you have to make sure you don’t invite too many people, otherwise you’ll find a big fat barrier blocking your bash from breaking on through to the other side.
The Halloween/Dia De Los Muertos Party I attended on Friday night at the home of Ken Layne and Laura Crane had all of the above in spades. There were costumes, oodles of booze, a campfire, Tarot card readings, a flying electronic bat, a huge bowl full of candy and mini-chocolate bars, live music performed by party guests, sing-alongs, and volumes of strange and interesting conversation. The hosts did an outstanding job of setting things into motion and the X-factor was present in a variety of forms. My Girl and I had to sneak out just before 5 am because we didn’t want to interrupt the circle of music, which didn’t seem to be losing any steam, to say goodbye. Nor did we get a chance to thank our gracious hosts, who stirred all these ingredients together to make a truly great party and a memorable night. So thanks Layne and Crane.
Rattling around in my head today is the question: “What makes a party great?” As a social being, and with all the special occasions this year, I’ve often felt like a professional party attendee. I don’t blame these party-throwers one iota for inviting me, as I am a damn good guest. I’m pleasant, entertaining, and I can handle my liquor. But, my presence is only a small fraction of what it takes to make a fun fiesta transition into a barnstorming bash.
First things first, you need to set the proceedings into motion. That means, at the very least, you must provide the basics: namely alcohol, music, and people. Without these, your party doesn’t even have a chance to get off the ground. Now, to get the thing to spread its wings and soar, some other element must be introduced into the mix. This very slippery X-factor is not so easy to get a hold of.
THEME: If the gathering coincides with a holiday or a birthday, you’ve got yourself a theme, and that always helps. Halloween lends itself particularly well to creating a unique atmosphere, but nothing says you can’t have a costume party at any time during the year. If no holiday or event, like the Super Bowl, can be attached and you really want some sort of theme, you have to get creative. You can come up with a concept – 80s, Day-Glo, rave, nitrous tank, pajama, etc. – but, honestly, it’s not entirely necessary. Great parties don’t need to be theme parties.
ALCOHOL: You can never have too much.
MUSIC: A live band can lift a party to great heights if they get the revelers on their side, but it can also kill any chance for greatness by sucking up the joint and sucking the life out of the room. You run the same risk with a DJ, although you can always tell the person spinning to play something different, whereas you might not have that option with a band. If you’re planning a party on a budget, a few mixes can often do the trick, but they must be well conceived to sustain the energy level for several hours. The mixes can’t be too obscure, but they can’t lean on the standards either. I find the mix method to be more effective than simply throwing a bunch of CDs into the changer and letting things ride. Inevitably, after the initial batch of CDs gets played out, someone from the party thinks they know exactly what’s needed and takes over the stereo. Usually, they only know what music they’d like to hear and a power struggle over music control ensues. Then there’s always digital radio…
SNACKS: Not essential, but always welcome. Unless you're serving a five-course gourmet meal, keep it simple: Salt and Chocolate.
PEOPLE: The crowd at any shindig is a reflection of its hosts. Taking this into account, I suppose it’s only natural that you have to be a pretty magnetic person to attract an assortment of interesting individuals. Unfortunately, if you’re not such a person, you should probably hire someone who is to take the reins and plan your party. Very important: The logistics of the setting dictate how many people you can accommodate. So, whether you have a little tiny apartment or fantastic house with no available parking, you have to make sure you don’t invite too many people, otherwise you’ll find a big fat barrier blocking your bash from breaking on through to the other side.
The Halloween/Dia De Los Muertos Party I attended on Friday night at the home of Ken Layne and Laura Crane had all of the above in spades. There were costumes, oodles of booze, a campfire, Tarot card readings, a flying electronic bat, a huge bowl full of candy and mini-chocolate bars, live music performed by party guests, sing-alongs, and volumes of strange and interesting conversation. The hosts did an outstanding job of setting things into motion and the X-factor was present in a variety of forms. My Girl and I had to sneak out just before 5 am because we didn’t want to interrupt the circle of music, which didn’t seem to be losing any steam, to say goodbye. Nor did we get a chance to thank our gracious hosts, who stirred all these ingredients together to make a truly great party and a memorable night. So thanks Layne and Crane.
Friday, November 01, 2002
SEAT FILLER EXTRAORDINAIRE
For the first time in a week I'm back at work, temping at New Line Cinema. This time I'm at a satellite location in the production finance department and there isn't much for me to do. It's extremely quiet here. Basically, I'm just a warm body occupying this desk in case the phone rings, which it has only three times so far today. My cell phone just rang for the third time since I've been here, equaling the total number of calls coming into this office. And answering the phone those few times has been the extent of my duties. Luckily, I ran into a friendly face, one whose house I've been to many times for little dinner parties. At lunchtime, we walked down Santa Monica Boulevard to Baja Buds, which I haven't had in a long time, and I got myself a delicious Quesadilla Grande. After being called in at the last minute this morning, I arrived here and realized by looking at the pictures on the cubicle walls that I know the woman I'm filling in for. So, although I'm in foreign territory, I'm never far from friends in the New Line Universe.
I've passed most of the time today reading news stories about Israeli politics and Jam Master Jay. I've also been doing the blog rounds, spending most of my time reading Tony Pierce, who posts more actually writing per day than any blogger I've found so far. He seems to love blogging more than anyone else, myself included. And I'm talking about the kind of blogging where the person actually writes stuff, not just comments on stuff other people have written and links to it. I have no idea what's going on with Ken Layne, as all the text seems to have disappeared from his blog. And let's face it, the text is the best part. His lovely wife seems to have abandoned her home in cyberspace as well. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to catch up with them this evening at their post-Halloween Day of the Dead party.
For the first time in a week I'm back at work, temping at New Line Cinema. This time I'm at a satellite location in the production finance department and there isn't much for me to do. It's extremely quiet here. Basically, I'm just a warm body occupying this desk in case the phone rings, which it has only three times so far today. My cell phone just rang for the third time since I've been here, equaling the total number of calls coming into this office. And answering the phone those few times has been the extent of my duties. Luckily, I ran into a friendly face, one whose house I've been to many times for little dinner parties. At lunchtime, we walked down Santa Monica Boulevard to Baja Buds, which I haven't had in a long time, and I got myself a delicious Quesadilla Grande. After being called in at the last minute this morning, I arrived here and realized by looking at the pictures on the cubicle walls that I know the woman I'm filling in for. So, although I'm in foreign territory, I'm never far from friends in the New Line Universe.
I've passed most of the time today reading news stories about Israeli politics and Jam Master Jay. I've also been doing the blog rounds, spending most of my time reading Tony Pierce, who posts more actually writing per day than any blogger I've found so far. He seems to love blogging more than anyone else, myself included. And I'm talking about the kind of blogging where the person actually writes stuff, not just comments on stuff other people have written and links to it. I have no idea what's going on with Ken Layne, as all the text seems to have disappeared from his blog. And let's face it, the text is the best part. His lovely wife seems to have abandoned her home in cyberspace as well. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to catch up with them this evening at their post-Halloween Day of the Dead party.
Thursday, October 31, 2002
SWEPT AWAY
As viciously as critics and movie audiences rejected Madonna and hubby Guy Ritchie's new film "Swept Away", those big bad networks have begun slashing struggling shows from their schedules as November sweeps approaches. Heavy-handed TV hitmaker David E. Kelley's new show "girls club" got the ax yesterday by Fox. Today, CBS killed off their Sunday night sitcom "Bram and Alice". Neither show was given much of a chance to find an audience, as "girls club" aired twice and "Bram and Alice" ran only four episodes. The cancellation of "Bram and Alice" is more painful on a personal level because a friend of mine got his first staff writing gig on that show and he and his wife just had their first child. I hope the wicked television tide turns in his favor and he surfaces on another show soon.
As far as good television goes, on Tuesday I watched the season two premiere of "24" and an outstanding episode of "The West Wing" last night. The premise for the new season-long day of "24" involving the threat of a rogue terrorist group setting off a nuclear weapon in Los Angeles is instantly riveting. The show has added a couple of new characters and the ensemble acting seems better already now that Jack Bauer's wife has been killed off. I had mixed feelings about watching the special season premiere episode presented without commercial interruption. On one hand, I love good television without commercials because it makes it feel more like a movie, (see The Sopranos and Six Feet Under) and I could easily see enjoying this show even more on a premium cable station. On the other hand, I like the breather that commercials give you while watching such an intense program, and "24" has that great gimmick of the ticking clock counting down the last few seconds to a commercial break.
Boo! Happy Halloween.
As viciously as critics and movie audiences rejected Madonna and hubby Guy Ritchie's new film "Swept Away", those big bad networks have begun slashing struggling shows from their schedules as November sweeps approaches. Heavy-handed TV hitmaker David E. Kelley's new show "girls club" got the ax yesterday by Fox. Today, CBS killed off their Sunday night sitcom "Bram and Alice". Neither show was given much of a chance to find an audience, as "girls club" aired twice and "Bram and Alice" ran only four episodes. The cancellation of "Bram and Alice" is more painful on a personal level because a friend of mine got his first staff writing gig on that show and he and his wife just had their first child. I hope the wicked television tide turns in his favor and he surfaces on another show soon.
As far as good television goes, on Tuesday I watched the season two premiere of "24" and an outstanding episode of "The West Wing" last night. The premise for the new season-long day of "24" involving the threat of a rogue terrorist group setting off a nuclear weapon in Los Angeles is instantly riveting. The show has added a couple of new characters and the ensemble acting seems better already now that Jack Bauer's wife has been killed off. I had mixed feelings about watching the special season premiere episode presented without commercial interruption. On one hand, I love good television without commercials because it makes it feel more like a movie, (see The Sopranos and Six Feet Under) and I could easily see enjoying this show even more on a premium cable station. On the other hand, I like the breather that commercials give you while watching such an intense program, and "24" has that great gimmick of the ticking clock counting down the last few seconds to a commercial break.
Boo! Happy Halloween.
Wednesday, October 30, 2002
SMOOTH 70s GROOVES, SUGARED CEREAL, & THE SPACE NEEDLE
Finally, I had a chance to break out those dancing shoes my horoscope promised several weeks ago I would get to use. My Girl and I flew up to Seattle for yet another wedding weekend. Mercifully, this is the last scheduled wedding I will attend this year. I was invited to seven, went to five, and feel guilty about the two I missed, which were held in Oklahoma City and Cancun.
This one was another wacky affair, 70s-themed with a relatively silly ceremony and karaoke during the party. Each table was named after a different cereal and was represented by the corresponding bobble-head doll. Although I was seated at Cap’n Crunch, I staged a major coup by walking away with Count Chocula. The ceremony was brief and performed by a friend of the couple who they paid to take an online certification course to become an ordained minister of the universal consciousness, or something like that. At the beginning of the ceremony, the groom’s group of close college friends, ironically nicknamed The Stupids being that they’re all smart and attractive and eloquent and successful, stood up to say a few words. Their charismatic leader announced they would be reciting a hymn and the audience was asked to participate by joining in on the refrain “Skyrockets in flight, afternoon delight.” Each member of The Stupids read a verse, which consisted of the lyrics to a song from the 70s, and the tone for the wedding was set. The ordained friend shared a few humorous anecdotes about the couple, and then, like the wedding the week before, the bride and groom exchanged romantic vows they had written, then the rings, and within minutes they were married. The majority of the cocktail hour was spent seeking out the hors d’oeuvres trays and commenting on the ridiculous outfits, one of which I was wearing. Having realized I forgot my tuxedo as we were waiting to board our flight out of Los Angeles, My Girl and I had to scramble around Seattle’s vintage shops the day of the wedding to find something for me to wear. I settled on a tight silky shirt with a wide collar showcasing my chest hair. The detailed print features a scene from the shores of Venice, Italy. I found some polyester paints that blended nicely and we high-tailed it back to our lovely and quaint room at the Marqueen Hotel in the historic Queen Anne district of Seattle. We were a little late to the wedding, as the groom had told us it started at 6:30 when it was actually called for 6:00, but luckily when we got there, everyone was mingling and the ceremony hadn’t started yet. My outfit/costume was easily outdone by some of The Stupids. One wore a baby blue tuxedo with an orange ruffled shirt and had let his hair grow out for eight months so he could go with the afro for the outrageous occasion. A few of The Stupids grew mustaches and I even saw one person with a fake mustache. And, of course, many of The Stupids sang songs during the karaoke portion of the party, and they sang them well. Seemingly, The Stupids do everything well, unlike your favorite Piker, who chose "Luck Be a Lady" to showcase his lack of musical talent. Let me just say that the arrangement wasn't the Sinatra arrangement I was used to and threw me off my game immediately. After a verse and a half, the groom stood up and came towards me and mercifully cut the song short. In that moment, I identified with all of those losers who were gonged before they completed their act on The Gong Show. But, the groom gave me a chance to redeem myself with another song and I very appropriately chose "That's Life." Thank the karaoke lord that this arrangement was indeed the Sinatra one I was used to because I belted that thing out, not particularly well, mind you, but with enough gusto to get the wedding party audience back on my side using the subtext of having sucked up the joint on my first attempt to give the performance a dimension it would not have had otherwise. Kudos also go to My Girl, who volunteered for the always difficult task of singing the very first song, choosing Blondie's "The Tide is High," which is a fun song, but not a singer's song, and My Girl has a great voice that she didn't really get to use. But we did get to use those dancing shoes, as the band had us grooving to one soulful seventies tune after another, and the bar consistently fueled our buzzes to the bitter end while never getting us wasted. This allowed us the privelege of being among the faithful few left at the end to usher the blushing bride and glowing groom out the door and into the crisp Seattle night to begin their life together as a married couple.
Finally, I had a chance to break out those dancing shoes my horoscope promised several weeks ago I would get to use. My Girl and I flew up to Seattle for yet another wedding weekend. Mercifully, this is the last scheduled wedding I will attend this year. I was invited to seven, went to five, and feel guilty about the two I missed, which were held in Oklahoma City and Cancun.
This one was another wacky affair, 70s-themed with a relatively silly ceremony and karaoke during the party. Each table was named after a different cereal and was represented by the corresponding bobble-head doll. Although I was seated at Cap’n Crunch, I staged a major coup by walking away with Count Chocula. The ceremony was brief and performed by a friend of the couple who they paid to take an online certification course to become an ordained minister of the universal consciousness, or something like that. At the beginning of the ceremony, the groom’s group of close college friends, ironically nicknamed The Stupids being that they’re all smart and attractive and eloquent and successful, stood up to say a few words. Their charismatic leader announced they would be reciting a hymn and the audience was asked to participate by joining in on the refrain “Skyrockets in flight, afternoon delight.” Each member of The Stupids read a verse, which consisted of the lyrics to a song from the 70s, and the tone for the wedding was set. The ordained friend shared a few humorous anecdotes about the couple, and then, like the wedding the week before, the bride and groom exchanged romantic vows they had written, then the rings, and within minutes they were married. The majority of the cocktail hour was spent seeking out the hors d’oeuvres trays and commenting on the ridiculous outfits, one of which I was wearing. Having realized I forgot my tuxedo as we were waiting to board our flight out of Los Angeles, My Girl and I had to scramble around Seattle’s vintage shops the day of the wedding to find something for me to wear. I settled on a tight silky shirt with a wide collar showcasing my chest hair. The detailed print features a scene from the shores of Venice, Italy. I found some polyester paints that blended nicely and we high-tailed it back to our lovely and quaint room at the Marqueen Hotel in the historic Queen Anne district of Seattle. We were a little late to the wedding, as the groom had told us it started at 6:30 when it was actually called for 6:00, but luckily when we got there, everyone was mingling and the ceremony hadn’t started yet. My outfit/costume was easily outdone by some of The Stupids. One wore a baby blue tuxedo with an orange ruffled shirt and had let his hair grow out for eight months so he could go with the afro for the outrageous occasion. A few of The Stupids grew mustaches and I even saw one person with a fake mustache. And, of course, many of The Stupids sang songs during the karaoke portion of the party, and they sang them well. Seemingly, The Stupids do everything well, unlike your favorite Piker, who chose "Luck Be a Lady" to showcase his lack of musical talent. Let me just say that the arrangement wasn't the Sinatra arrangement I was used to and threw me off my game immediately. After a verse and a half, the groom stood up and came towards me and mercifully cut the song short. In that moment, I identified with all of those losers who were gonged before they completed their act on The Gong Show. But, the groom gave me a chance to redeem myself with another song and I very appropriately chose "That's Life." Thank the karaoke lord that this arrangement was indeed the Sinatra one I was used to because I belted that thing out, not particularly well, mind you, but with enough gusto to get the wedding party audience back on my side using the subtext of having sucked up the joint on my first attempt to give the performance a dimension it would not have had otherwise. Kudos also go to My Girl, who volunteered for the always difficult task of singing the very first song, choosing Blondie's "The Tide is High," which is a fun song, but not a singer's song, and My Girl has a great voice that she didn't really get to use. But we did get to use those dancing shoes, as the band had us grooving to one soulful seventies tune after another, and the bar consistently fueled our buzzes to the bitter end while never getting us wasted. This allowed us the privelege of being among the faithful few left at the end to usher the blushing bride and glowing groom out the door and into the crisp Seattle night to begin their life together as a married couple.
SELFISH: THE BLOG POST
Here's a little something I wrote on the plane Monday night flying back to LA from Seattle:
At the moment I'm at a cruising altitude of 37,000 feet on Southwest Airlines. This airline brings out the worst in people. But, in all honesty, it doesn't take much to accomplish that. Most people have no regard for other human beings. It's evidenced by the way the drive, the way they obliviously push their shopping carts around the supermarket with no concept of their bodies in space, and on Southwest Airlines, by the ruthless way they shove themselves into position to board the plane. Southwest does not assign seats. They divide passengers up into A, B, and C groups and board them in that order. First on, first choice of seats. I suppose the premise is designed to save time and hassle, but the reality is that it pits people against one another. This policy is a spiritually bankrupt one. Here in the supposed New Age, the idea, theoretically, is to learn to coexist peacefully and help each other out in order to come together as a people. But, there aren't too many folks who buy into that philosophy, certainly not the majority of those who fly Southwest Airlines. Here at Southwest you will find the ugliest American attitude of "I'll get mine... no matter how many people I have to step on" permanently on display. The Golden Rule is very simple: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." I wish the person kicking My Girl's seat would think about those words for just a moment. How would they like it if the person behind them were doing the same thing to their seat? I'd also like the person next to me to be fair and let me have the armrest for a little while. Does he not know that there is one armrest for us to share? Of course he knows, but he doesn't care. He got there first and he's not budging. That's the Southwest Airlines way. People at their worst.
Here's a little something I wrote on the plane Monday night flying back to LA from Seattle:
At the moment I'm at a cruising altitude of 37,000 feet on Southwest Airlines. This airline brings out the worst in people. But, in all honesty, it doesn't take much to accomplish that. Most people have no regard for other human beings. It's evidenced by the way the drive, the way they obliviously push their shopping carts around the supermarket with no concept of their bodies in space, and on Southwest Airlines, by the ruthless way they shove themselves into position to board the plane. Southwest does not assign seats. They divide passengers up into A, B, and C groups and board them in that order. First on, first choice of seats. I suppose the premise is designed to save time and hassle, but the reality is that it pits people against one another. This policy is a spiritually bankrupt one. Here in the supposed New Age, the idea, theoretically, is to learn to coexist peacefully and help each other out in order to come together as a people. But, there aren't too many folks who buy into that philosophy, certainly not the majority of those who fly Southwest Airlines. Here at Southwest you will find the ugliest American attitude of "I'll get mine... no matter how many people I have to step on" permanently on display. The Golden Rule is very simple: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." I wish the person kicking My Girl's seat would think about those words for just a moment. How would they like it if the person behind them were doing the same thing to their seat? I'd also like the person next to me to be fair and let me have the armrest for a little while. Does he not know that there is one armrest for us to share? Of course he knows, but he doesn't care. He got there first and he's not budging. That's the Southwest Airlines way. People at their worst.
Thursday, October 24, 2002
THEY CALL ME MR. PIKER
Last week I watched “In the Heat of the Night” for the first time. Great movie. And, although some may say it’s outdated, the movie is very representative of its time. Smack dab in the middle of the civil rights movement, here’s this story of a racist southern sheriff who needs the help of a Black homicide detective from Philadelphia to solve a murder case. The role of Bill Gillespie, Sparta Chief of Police, won Rod Steiger an Oscar for Best Actor, but it’s easy to argue that Sidney Poitier was just as good, if not better as Detective Virgil Tibbs. By now, even those who haven’t seen the movie are probably familiar with the movie’s most famous line, “They call me Mr. Tibbs.” Not only is the movie a first-rate murder mystery with outstanding acting, writing, and directing, but is culturally significant as an allegory for Whites and Blacks learning to live and work together, as well as respect each other. By the film’s end, Steiger’s bully of a police chief grows to kind of like Mr. Tibbs and I believe admire him for his skill and intelligence as a police officer. “In the Heat of the Night” very deservingly won the Academy Award for Best Picture for 1967 by vividly capturing a very specific time and place in our country’s evolution. It’s a highly enjoyable film and an extremely important one. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it sooner.
Last week I watched “In the Heat of the Night” for the first time. Great movie. And, although some may say it’s outdated, the movie is very representative of its time. Smack dab in the middle of the civil rights movement, here’s this story of a racist southern sheriff who needs the help of a Black homicide detective from Philadelphia to solve a murder case. The role of Bill Gillespie, Sparta Chief of Police, won Rod Steiger an Oscar for Best Actor, but it’s easy to argue that Sidney Poitier was just as good, if not better as Detective Virgil Tibbs. By now, even those who haven’t seen the movie are probably familiar with the movie’s most famous line, “They call me Mr. Tibbs.” Not only is the movie a first-rate murder mystery with outstanding acting, writing, and directing, but is culturally significant as an allegory for Whites and Blacks learning to live and work together, as well as respect each other. By the film’s end, Steiger’s bully of a police chief grows to kind of like Mr. Tibbs and I believe admire him for his skill and intelligence as a police officer. “In the Heat of the Night” very deservingly won the Academy Award for Best Picture for 1967 by vividly capturing a very specific time and place in our country’s evolution. It’s a highly enjoyable film and an extremely important one. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it sooner.
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
PURE IMAGINATION, PURE CHOCOLATE, PURE LOVE
How strange that my horoscope on Friday instructed me to put on my dancing shoes. At the time, I felt like it was right on the nose, being that I had a wedding the next day and all. But, as it turned out, there was no dancing. Sure, I twirled My Girl around the lawn a few times just for kicks, but it wasn’t sanctioned dancing. There was, in fact, no dance floor. A band played for the first couple of hours of the lavish affair, but they were packed up and gone before the party really got going. Make no mistake about it, this was a fantastic wedding, it just didn’t include dancing, which my horoscope had specifically prepared me for.
The ceremony began with a comedy sketch performed by a group of friends who happen to be an irreverent up-and-coming comedy troupe known as The Ministry of Unknown Science and their interns, on a balcony off the sprawling Italian Villa in Sierra Madre, high above the grounds and the assembled. On the heels of laughter, the eclectically dressed and numerous wedding party (about ten on each side including My Girl on the bride’s side and Me on the groom’s side) made their way down the elaborate stone steps and settled on the stage overlooking the vast lawn filled with over two hundred guests. The bride and groom chose one of their very good friends to officiate the wedding, and he made his grand entrance to “Pure Imagination”, in character as Willy Wonka. He wore a custom-made purple velvet coat, brown top hat, crazy vest and bow tie, and strutted down the stairs using the signature Wonka cane as a prop. The bride and groom began their descent together from the top of the stairs, split up at the landing, then reconvened at their rightful places in the middle of the stage. Led by Willy Wonka, the ceremony struck the perfect balance of comedy and heartfelt emotion. The Ministry added another bit, with their interns passing out onions to the crowd to generate more tears, before the bride and groom read the vows that they had written to each other. The bride set the bar high with her piece, as she eloquently and beautifully related that in the groom she had found her Fonzie, sweetly tearing up at the end of her reading. The groom intoned “What’s the point?” before saying his peace. He said he left the ending blank hoping that inspiration would strike at the precise moment he needed it, but there were no magic words, he was just happy that he found someone who made him a better person. Willy Wonka instructed them to repeat some words after him, they exchanged rings, Wonka pronounced them husband and wife, they kissed, and then lip synced “I Found Love” as the wedding party backed them with a doo-wop shuffle. The audience cheered, blew bubbles, and shook their gigglehammers as the newlyweds began the recessional back up the stairs. The wedding party followed and the ceremony was complete.
Not only was there no dancing at the reception, but there were no assigned tables and no formal dinner, which made for a free-flowing mingling get-to-know-everyone affair. There were food stations around the grounds, including a table with a cheese fondue which seemed to contain some sort of addictive substance, seeing as the same group of people congregated in the area and refused to leave. Others would fill up their plates, go back to where they were, and inevitably return to the cheese. One station offered several varieties of soup, while another featured finger sandwiches of delicious roast beef. Then there was the dessert table of chocolate and caramel fondue, and a wedding cake made up of layers of scrumptious cupcakes. The only structured portion of the reception was a series of toasts and performances. One couple sang a song from “The Jerk”, the bridesmaids listed the top ten reasons why David should marry Apryl, and the best man channeled the groom’s deceased father in the first half of his toast and brought the house down with the second half. The Ministers did one final sketch as they made their collective toast, picking on one of their members who delivered a weak speech by detailing how much everyone else was willing to do for the married couple. Judging by the amount of effort and coordination put forth by so many in executing this grand wedding, it was obvious the people close to this couple would go to the ends of the earth for them.
How strange that my horoscope on Friday instructed me to put on my dancing shoes. At the time, I felt like it was right on the nose, being that I had a wedding the next day and all. But, as it turned out, there was no dancing. Sure, I twirled My Girl around the lawn a few times just for kicks, but it wasn’t sanctioned dancing. There was, in fact, no dance floor. A band played for the first couple of hours of the lavish affair, but they were packed up and gone before the party really got going. Make no mistake about it, this was a fantastic wedding, it just didn’t include dancing, which my horoscope had specifically prepared me for.
The ceremony began with a comedy sketch performed by a group of friends who happen to be an irreverent up-and-coming comedy troupe known as The Ministry of Unknown Science and their interns, on a balcony off the sprawling Italian Villa in Sierra Madre, high above the grounds and the assembled. On the heels of laughter, the eclectically dressed and numerous wedding party (about ten on each side including My Girl on the bride’s side and Me on the groom’s side) made their way down the elaborate stone steps and settled on the stage overlooking the vast lawn filled with over two hundred guests. The bride and groom chose one of their very good friends to officiate the wedding, and he made his grand entrance to “Pure Imagination”, in character as Willy Wonka. He wore a custom-made purple velvet coat, brown top hat, crazy vest and bow tie, and strutted down the stairs using the signature Wonka cane as a prop. The bride and groom began their descent together from the top of the stairs, split up at the landing, then reconvened at their rightful places in the middle of the stage. Led by Willy Wonka, the ceremony struck the perfect balance of comedy and heartfelt emotion. The Ministry added another bit, with their interns passing out onions to the crowd to generate more tears, before the bride and groom read the vows that they had written to each other. The bride set the bar high with her piece, as she eloquently and beautifully related that in the groom she had found her Fonzie, sweetly tearing up at the end of her reading. The groom intoned “What’s the point?” before saying his peace. He said he left the ending blank hoping that inspiration would strike at the precise moment he needed it, but there were no magic words, he was just happy that he found someone who made him a better person. Willy Wonka instructed them to repeat some words after him, they exchanged rings, Wonka pronounced them husband and wife, they kissed, and then lip synced “I Found Love” as the wedding party backed them with a doo-wop shuffle. The audience cheered, blew bubbles, and shook their gigglehammers as the newlyweds began the recessional back up the stairs. The wedding party followed and the ceremony was complete.
Not only was there no dancing at the reception, but there were no assigned tables and no formal dinner, which made for a free-flowing mingling get-to-know-everyone affair. There were food stations around the grounds, including a table with a cheese fondue which seemed to contain some sort of addictive substance, seeing as the same group of people congregated in the area and refused to leave. Others would fill up their plates, go back to where they were, and inevitably return to the cheese. One station offered several varieties of soup, while another featured finger sandwiches of delicious roast beef. Then there was the dessert table of chocolate and caramel fondue, and a wedding cake made up of layers of scrumptious cupcakes. The only structured portion of the reception was a series of toasts and performances. One couple sang a song from “The Jerk”, the bridesmaids listed the top ten reasons why David should marry Apryl, and the best man channeled the groom’s deceased father in the first half of his toast and brought the house down with the second half. The Ministers did one final sketch as they made their collective toast, picking on one of their members who delivered a weak speech by detailing how much everyone else was willing to do for the married couple. Judging by the amount of effort and coordination put forth by so many in executing this grand wedding, it was obvious the people close to this couple would go to the ends of the earth for them.
Monday, October 21, 2002
IF IT AIN'T BROKE DON'T FIX IT, EVEN IF IT ROYALLY SUCKS
Not surprisingly, there will indeed be a Season 2 of summer's smash hit "American Idol." Apparently, nobody involved with the production thought that it needed to be improved much. All three "American Idol" judges will return to the show. A fourth judge will be added. Frankly, I think three was the right number of judges, but two of the seats were filled by the wrong people. Paula Abdul is too emotional and too nice to judge anything and while she's pretty and all, she's not... how do I say this... smart. Randy Jackson, while serving to balance the judges demographically, is not eloquent or entertaining enough to be on television. Both of them should have been replaced for the next go-round of "Idol." As for the show's bumbling co-hosts, Ryan Seacrest is set to return, but in a shocking announcement, Brian Dunkleman has said he will not be back. My guess is the producers were going to can his candy ass, but gave Dunk the chance to save face by sending out a press release making it seem as though it was his decision. Of course, it'll be hard for him to save face now, being that we've already seen his ugly mug on camera and we're well aware of how painfully unfunny he is. I just can't shake this feeling that this guy is going to continue to get work in showbiz. Look no further than Keanu Reeves for proof that it can be done. Honestly, I don't even know why I care about this crap. The show got worse and worse as it went on and I hated more and more each week. As I was watching a number from the "American Idol" Reunion Performance, I vowed never to watch anything associated with the show again. But, it still catches my attention when I'm scanning headlines. And, when Tamyra Gray's album comes out, I'll probably buy it. P.T. Barnum would have his way with me.
Not surprisingly, there will indeed be a Season 2 of summer's smash hit "American Idol." Apparently, nobody involved with the production thought that it needed to be improved much. All three "American Idol" judges will return to the show. A fourth judge will be added. Frankly, I think three was the right number of judges, but two of the seats were filled by the wrong people. Paula Abdul is too emotional and too nice to judge anything and while she's pretty and all, she's not... how do I say this... smart. Randy Jackson, while serving to balance the judges demographically, is not eloquent or entertaining enough to be on television. Both of them should have been replaced for the next go-round of "Idol." As for the show's bumbling co-hosts, Ryan Seacrest is set to return, but in a shocking announcement, Brian Dunkleman has said he will not be back. My guess is the producers were going to can his candy ass, but gave Dunk the chance to save face by sending out a press release making it seem as though it was his decision. Of course, it'll be hard for him to save face now, being that we've already seen his ugly mug on camera and we're well aware of how painfully unfunny he is. I just can't shake this feeling that this guy is going to continue to get work in showbiz. Look no further than Keanu Reeves for proof that it can be done. Honestly, I don't even know why I care about this crap. The show got worse and worse as it went on and I hated more and more each week. As I was watching a number from the "American Idol" Reunion Performance, I vowed never to watch anything associated with the show again. But, it still catches my attention when I'm scanning headlines. And, when Tamyra Gray's album comes out, I'll probably buy it. P.T. Barnum would have his way with me.
Friday, October 18, 2002
WE'LL DO THE TWIST, THE STOMP, THE MASHED POTATO TOO
Now I'm not sure if this is some sort of cosmic coincidence or not, but tonight marks the beginning of another two-weekends-in-a-row wedding run for My Girl and I. The festivities kick into high gear this evening, as The Spludsterns, the very close friends who My Girl and I met through, hold a rehearsal for their entertainment-filled wedding and a fiesta in their fantastic gigantic hotel suite. The wedding takes place tomorrow afternoon and I'm sure it'll run late into the evening and will be full of surprises and all sorts of weirdness. The mod design-obsessed couple sent out highly-stylized invitations in the form of a 45 record jacket and disc, easily the most creative wedding invitations I've ever seen. They are calling for a dress code described as "vintage cocktail attire," and while I don't remember the exact defintion they gave, I know it included the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Elvis (both thin and fat), Twiggy, and the Rat Pack. Even at this late hour, I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to wear. I suppose I'll use my existing tuxedo as a base and try to funkify it a bit. I promise juicy and colorful details of the event next week. Mazel Tov to the happy couple!
Big shout out to Young Goodman Brown, Piker's most loyal reader. He checks the stats more often than I do.
Gemini Horoscope for Fri Oct. 18, 2002 by Astrocenter.com:
It is time to put your dancing shoes on, dear Gemini, because the next few weeks are going to be filled with a great deal of social activity that you won't want to miss. Today is the start of a planetary transit in which you will experience a greater boost of energy in the department of love and romance. Connect with others for events and gatherings that make you feel alive and young.
Now I'm not sure if this is some sort of cosmic coincidence or not, but tonight marks the beginning of another two-weekends-in-a-row wedding run for My Girl and I. The festivities kick into high gear this evening, as The Spludsterns, the very close friends who My Girl and I met through, hold a rehearsal for their entertainment-filled wedding and a fiesta in their fantastic gigantic hotel suite. The wedding takes place tomorrow afternoon and I'm sure it'll run late into the evening and will be full of surprises and all sorts of weirdness. The mod design-obsessed couple sent out highly-stylized invitations in the form of a 45 record jacket and disc, easily the most creative wedding invitations I've ever seen. They are calling for a dress code described as "vintage cocktail attire," and while I don't remember the exact defintion they gave, I know it included the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Elvis (both thin and fat), Twiggy, and the Rat Pack. Even at this late hour, I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to wear. I suppose I'll use my existing tuxedo as a base and try to funkify it a bit. I promise juicy and colorful details of the event next week. Mazel Tov to the happy couple!
Big shout out to Young Goodman Brown, Piker's most loyal reader. He checks the stats more often than I do.
Thursday, October 17, 2002
PREP SCHOOL PAGETURNERS
I finished reading "A Separate Peace" by John Knowles yesterday at work. It was strange, usually the phone rings nonstop in that office, but for the majority of the late afternoon, after I began reading, it was quiet. The phone rang maybe four or five times and I was able to cover the last seventy pages. Maybe the universe was conspiring to give me a moment's peace to finish "A Separate Peace." Somehow, the novel eluded me throughout middle school and high school. Honestly, I never even heard of it until this summer when My Girl and My Mom were talking about while I was rereading "The Catcher in the Rye," which was one of the few books I actually read when I was in school.
I don't think I can say unequivocably that "A Separate Peace" is a better novel than J.D. Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye", but I submit that I enjoyed reading "A Separate Peace" a whole lot more. I didn't identify with Holden Caulfield's alienation nearly as much as I felt a kinship with Gene Forrester's bout with insecurity and desire to live in a bubble. When I think back on "Catcher", I get a wintery kind of feeling of cold and isolation. On the contrary, remembering "Peace" brings up summery thoughts of warmth and comraderie. Salinger's novel is dark in tone, with Holden rejecting nearly everyone he comes in contact with by labeling them phonies, and a jolting reveal at the end that Holden has been narrating his experiences from a sanitorium. Knowles' story has dark undercurrents, such as war both external and internal, and heavy themes, like fear, jealousy, hatred, and insecurity, but is essentially an exercise in nostalgia. Obviously, I dig nostalgia. Otherwise I wouldn't be reading two classic novels set at prep schools that are routinely assigned by grade school English teachers.
I finished reading "A Separate Peace" by John Knowles yesterday at work. It was strange, usually the phone rings nonstop in that office, but for the majority of the late afternoon, after I began reading, it was quiet. The phone rang maybe four or five times and I was able to cover the last seventy pages. Maybe the universe was conspiring to give me a moment's peace to finish "A Separate Peace." Somehow, the novel eluded me throughout middle school and high school. Honestly, I never even heard of it until this summer when My Girl and My Mom were talking about while I was rereading "The Catcher in the Rye," which was one of the few books I actually read when I was in school.
I don't think I can say unequivocably that "A Separate Peace" is a better novel than J.D. Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye", but I submit that I enjoyed reading "A Separate Peace" a whole lot more. I didn't identify with Holden Caulfield's alienation nearly as much as I felt a kinship with Gene Forrester's bout with insecurity and desire to live in a bubble. When I think back on "Catcher", I get a wintery kind of feeling of cold and isolation. On the contrary, remembering "Peace" brings up summery thoughts of warmth and comraderie. Salinger's novel is dark in tone, with Holden rejecting nearly everyone he comes in contact with by labeling them phonies, and a jolting reveal at the end that Holden has been narrating his experiences from a sanitorium. Knowles' story has dark undercurrents, such as war both external and internal, and heavy themes, like fear, jealousy, hatred, and insecurity, but is essentially an exercise in nostalgia. Obviously, I dig nostalgia. Otherwise I wouldn't be reading two classic novels set at prep schools that are routinely assigned by grade school English teachers.
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
JUST THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR
Before last week, I hadn't seen a movie in a long time. During the week I saw "Knockaround Guys" at a free employee screening. Seeing as how I am sitting in the offices of the company which made the film, it probably wouldn't be proper to rip into the movie. But, I am just a temp... Let's just say the movie isn't good. With a cast that includes Dennis Hopper, John Malkovich, Vin Diesel, Barry Pepper, and Seth Green, it should be a lot better. There are some occassional laughs and a few solid lines of dialogue, but the plot is weak, the pace is plodding, and the energy surprisingly flaccid. Malkovich is simply awful. I don't think I've ever seen a worse performance from him, featuring the least convincing New York accent I've ever heard.
"24 Party People" is a much more fun movie. The subject is Tony Wilson, a Manchester native who somehow managed to place himself at the forefront of Punk, New Wave, and Rave cultures. Wilson parlayed a television magazine show about music into Factory Records, a cutting edge record label, and an ultra-hip nightclub called The Hacienda. Factory Records launched the careers of Joy Division, New Order, and the Happy Mondays. The Hacienda may have very well been the birthplace of the rave. This mocumentary is full of rich performances, most notably Steve Coogan as Tony Wilson, a slew of sentient music sequences, and some of the finest digital video cinematography to date. I took My Girl to see the flick at the Academy 6 in Pasadena. This old theater is quite a vivid experience, from the old-school version of stadium seating to the old-fashioned raffle-style tickets to the schlocky corridor serving as an arcade featuring a crumbling Ms. Pac-Man machine, Arkanoid, and three other old games. There couldn't be a more perfect place to see this scrappy movie, and it happens to be the last theater in Los Angeles playing the quality art-house film. Overall, this "Party" is definitely worth showing up for. To be courteous, you should probably bring a bottle of wine or a box of cookies or something.
Before last week, I hadn't seen a movie in a long time. During the week I saw "Knockaround Guys" at a free employee screening. Seeing as how I am sitting in the offices of the company which made the film, it probably wouldn't be proper to rip into the movie. But, I am just a temp... Let's just say the movie isn't good. With a cast that includes Dennis Hopper, John Malkovich, Vin Diesel, Barry Pepper, and Seth Green, it should be a lot better. There are some occassional laughs and a few solid lines of dialogue, but the plot is weak, the pace is plodding, and the energy surprisingly flaccid. Malkovich is simply awful. I don't think I've ever seen a worse performance from him, featuring the least convincing New York accent I've ever heard.
"24 Party People" is a much more fun movie. The subject is Tony Wilson, a Manchester native who somehow managed to place himself at the forefront of Punk, New Wave, and Rave cultures. Wilson parlayed a television magazine show about music into Factory Records, a cutting edge record label, and an ultra-hip nightclub called The Hacienda. Factory Records launched the careers of Joy Division, New Order, and the Happy Mondays. The Hacienda may have very well been the birthplace of the rave. This mocumentary is full of rich performances, most notably Steve Coogan as Tony Wilson, a slew of sentient music sequences, and some of the finest digital video cinematography to date. I took My Girl to see the flick at the Academy 6 in Pasadena. This old theater is quite a vivid experience, from the old-school version of stadium seating to the old-fashioned raffle-style tickets to the schlocky corridor serving as an arcade featuring a crumbling Ms. Pac-Man machine, Arkanoid, and three other old games. There couldn't be a more perfect place to see this scrappy movie, and it happens to be the last theater in Los Angeles playing the quality art-house film. Overall, this "Party" is definitely worth showing up for. To be courteous, you should probably bring a bottle of wine or a box of cookies or something.
Monday, October 14, 2002
HAIL MARE
The Dolphins-Broncos game last night was the best NFL game so far this season. Intensity from the kickoff until the last tick of the clock. I am amazed on many levels that the Dolphins pulled it out. For starters, and I know I keep repeating this, Jay Fiedler is not the kind of quarterback that can lead a team from behind. Fiedler caught a major break when his last pass of the game slipped through the non-stick hands of John Mobley and Dedric Ward managed to hold on to it. That was just enough to give Olindo Mare a chance to win it with 6 seconds left. 39 seconds after Jason Elam's nailed a 55-yarder and then high-stepped along the Miami sideline, Mare answered by drilling a 53-yarder of his own to win it. On the replay, it looked like that kick would have been good from 60 yards out. Considering how much the Dolphins struggle on the road and how often they lose to teams that are as good or better than them, this was the best Dolphin win in years. They let a 10-point lead evaporate in the last eight minutes, but didn't succomb to the change in momentum and showed incredible fortitude in fighting back to win it. Phenomenal effort from Jason Taylor and the defensive line. The Broncos front seven dominated a large portion of the game and it wasn't until Patrick Surtain returned a fourth quarter Brian Griese pass for a touchdown that either team had any kind of control of the game.
Sam Madison had an interesting night. He appeared to intercept a ball in the end zone, but the replay clearly showed he dropped it. Because ESPN went to a TV timeout, the Broncos had time to see the play on the Jumbotron at the stadium. Mike Shanahan immediately challenged the play and it was overturned. Madison returned to the field with a big smile on his face, nodding his head, and chanting "I'll get mine. I'll get mine." A short time later, he got his, making a real nice play to pick off Griese.
Ricky Williams is a tough guy. He carried 20 times and struggled for every one of his 49 yards and 2 touchdowns on the ground, plus he caught 4 balls for 30 yards, taking a beating in the process. The Broncos have an outstanding run defense and they were hitting extremely hard all night. Al Wilson popped Ricky but good in fourth quarter. However, last night and hopefully for the rest of the season and career, Ricky embodied the spirit of the Dolphins -- nothing came easy, he got knocked down repeatedly, but he kept getting up, coming back, and fighting hard.
I have very mixed feelings about Dave Wannestadt as a coach. It's hard to argue that he didn't have the team prepared, because the Dolphins most definitely rose to the occasion to show they were a force to be reckoned with in the AFC. But I question his in-game coaching methods. Following a Bronco touchdown to cut it to a two point game, the Dolphins got the ball back with three minutes and change left on the clock. The first play they ran was a pass to Ricky Williams in the flat that was successful, but ended with Ricky landing out of bounds and stopping the clock. The Dolphins ran another pass play on second down that went incomplete and stopped the clock yet again. So, here they are in exactly the position they want to be in, leading in the fourth quarter with a chance to let Ricky Williams run out the clock, and they've run off eight seconds on the drive. Luckily, Oronde Gadsen made a great catch on a very low throw on thrid down to extend the drive and keep the clock moving. But, they failed to get another first down and wound up punting it back to the Broncos with enough time for them to drive. And then, when the clock was stopped late and the Broncos were already in field goal range, the Dolphins called a time out. I couldn't believe they would waste a time out, knowing the Broncos would probably make the field goal and the Dolphins would need everything they had to put together a drive of their own. Thankfully, none of these coaching blunders cost the Phins the game. Wannestadt must've done something right in motivating these guys and making them believe they could win right up until the bitter end.
The Dolphins-Broncos game last night was the best NFL game so far this season. Intensity from the kickoff until the last tick of the clock. I am amazed on many levels that the Dolphins pulled it out. For starters, and I know I keep repeating this, Jay Fiedler is not the kind of quarterback that can lead a team from behind. Fiedler caught a major break when his last pass of the game slipped through the non-stick hands of John Mobley and Dedric Ward managed to hold on to it. That was just enough to give Olindo Mare a chance to win it with 6 seconds left. 39 seconds after Jason Elam's nailed a 55-yarder and then high-stepped along the Miami sideline, Mare answered by drilling a 53-yarder of his own to win it. On the replay, it looked like that kick would have been good from 60 yards out. Considering how much the Dolphins struggle on the road and how often they lose to teams that are as good or better than them, this was the best Dolphin win in years. They let a 10-point lead evaporate in the last eight minutes, but didn't succomb to the change in momentum and showed incredible fortitude in fighting back to win it. Phenomenal effort from Jason Taylor and the defensive line. The Broncos front seven dominated a large portion of the game and it wasn't until Patrick Surtain returned a fourth quarter Brian Griese pass for a touchdown that either team had any kind of control of the game.
Sam Madison had an interesting night. He appeared to intercept a ball in the end zone, but the replay clearly showed he dropped it. Because ESPN went to a TV timeout, the Broncos had time to see the play on the Jumbotron at the stadium. Mike Shanahan immediately challenged the play and it was overturned. Madison returned to the field with a big smile on his face, nodding his head, and chanting "I'll get mine. I'll get mine." A short time later, he got his, making a real nice play to pick off Griese.
Ricky Williams is a tough guy. He carried 20 times and struggled for every one of his 49 yards and 2 touchdowns on the ground, plus he caught 4 balls for 30 yards, taking a beating in the process. The Broncos have an outstanding run defense and they were hitting extremely hard all night. Al Wilson popped Ricky but good in fourth quarter. However, last night and hopefully for the rest of the season and career, Ricky embodied the spirit of the Dolphins -- nothing came easy, he got knocked down repeatedly, but he kept getting up, coming back, and fighting hard.
I have very mixed feelings about Dave Wannestadt as a coach. It's hard to argue that he didn't have the team prepared, because the Dolphins most definitely rose to the occasion to show they were a force to be reckoned with in the AFC. But I question his in-game coaching methods. Following a Bronco touchdown to cut it to a two point game, the Dolphins got the ball back with three minutes and change left on the clock. The first play they ran was a pass to Ricky Williams in the flat that was successful, but ended with Ricky landing out of bounds and stopping the clock. The Dolphins ran another pass play on second down that went incomplete and stopped the clock yet again. So, here they are in exactly the position they want to be in, leading in the fourth quarter with a chance to let Ricky Williams run out the clock, and they've run off eight seconds on the drive. Luckily, Oronde Gadsen made a great catch on a very low throw on thrid down to extend the drive and keep the clock moving. But, they failed to get another first down and wound up punting it back to the Broncos with enough time for them to drive. And then, when the clock was stopped late and the Broncos were already in field goal range, the Dolphins called a time out. I couldn't believe they would waste a time out, knowing the Broncos would probably make the field goal and the Dolphins would need everything they had to put together a drive of their own. Thankfully, none of these coaching blunders cost the Phins the game. Wannestadt must've done something right in motivating these guys and making them believe they could win right up until the bitter end.
Friday, October 11, 2002
WEEKDAY WOE
It's after three o'clock on Friday afternoon and I'm officially sick of working. I'm sure most people feel this way every week, but being that this is the first full week I've worked in eight months, I think my system is in shock right now. I cannot fathom how people do this without losing their minds. I don't know, maybe I'm just wired differently. After living free-form for so long, I'm having an extremely difficult time adjusting to having to be in a specific place at a specific time. Luckily, I'm only working as a temp, otherwise I would have already considered quitting. Answering phones in a busy office is down near the very bottom of my list of things I'd like to do for a living. If I had a job like this with no end in sight, I would surely develop a severe case of claustrophobia. Through all the insane hours on inane sitcoms, all the late night rewrites, all the tape nights that went into the wee hours, there was always the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Whether by cancellation or the end of production, I knew the show would come to an end and I would be free. Granted, most of the time I was hoping the show would be a hit and I could go on hiatus with the knowledge that I had a job to come back to, but that never happened. So as each season came to a close I became eligible to collect unemployment and regroup. Sometimes I would collect for a few months until the early summer when shows were starting up again, and sometimes I would collect until my yearly allotment ran out, like now. This year, I rode the unemployment wave all the way to the shore, but now it's flat and it might be quite awhile before the next set rolls in. Like it or not, I have to work. The thing is, working a full week at the measly rate they pay temps, I'll be lucky to clear what I was making on the newly-raised unemployment maximum. I'm not saying I'd be satisfied and proud of my life if I collected unemployment forever. In all honesty, I don't think I have an aversion to work, per se, just work that seems beneath me. That may sound elitist, but I believe I have a tremendous amount of talent and ability. Taking phone messages, scheduling meetings, and calling messengers feels like more of a waste of time than sititng on my purple velvet couch watching "Pardon the Interruption" or "The Anna Nicole Smith Show." What I have to do is use this experience as motivation to work harder. Write more. Write better. Find other ways to make money. This is of the utmost importance, considering this job could end any second and I still feel like I'm in a CAT scan machine, unable to move a muscle or maneuver in any direction. Trapped.
It's after three o'clock on Friday afternoon and I'm officially sick of working. I'm sure most people feel this way every week, but being that this is the first full week I've worked in eight months, I think my system is in shock right now. I cannot fathom how people do this without losing their minds. I don't know, maybe I'm just wired differently. After living free-form for so long, I'm having an extremely difficult time adjusting to having to be in a specific place at a specific time. Luckily, I'm only working as a temp, otherwise I would have already considered quitting. Answering phones in a busy office is down near the very bottom of my list of things I'd like to do for a living. If I had a job like this with no end in sight, I would surely develop a severe case of claustrophobia. Through all the insane hours on inane sitcoms, all the late night rewrites, all the tape nights that went into the wee hours, there was always the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Whether by cancellation or the end of production, I knew the show would come to an end and I would be free. Granted, most of the time I was hoping the show would be a hit and I could go on hiatus with the knowledge that I had a job to come back to, but that never happened. So as each season came to a close I became eligible to collect unemployment and regroup. Sometimes I would collect for a few months until the early summer when shows were starting up again, and sometimes I would collect until my yearly allotment ran out, like now. This year, I rode the unemployment wave all the way to the shore, but now it's flat and it might be quite awhile before the next set rolls in. Like it or not, I have to work. The thing is, working a full week at the measly rate they pay temps, I'll be lucky to clear what I was making on the newly-raised unemployment maximum. I'm not saying I'd be satisfied and proud of my life if I collected unemployment forever. In all honesty, I don't think I have an aversion to work, per se, just work that seems beneath me. That may sound elitist, but I believe I have a tremendous amount of talent and ability. Taking phone messages, scheduling meetings, and calling messengers feels like more of a waste of time than sititng on my purple velvet couch watching "Pardon the Interruption" or "The Anna Nicole Smith Show." What I have to do is use this experience as motivation to work harder. Write more. Write better. Find other ways to make money. This is of the utmost importance, considering this job could end any second and I still feel like I'm in a CAT scan machine, unable to move a muscle or maneuver in any direction. Trapped.
Thursday, October 10, 2002
OSCAR IN OCTOBER
Piker will admit to being a little obsessed with the tee-vee lately, but feels a sea-change coming on. After all, the cinema is Piker's true passion, not the idiot box. That being said, it should come as no surprise to this publication's handful of loyal readers that Oscar handicapping is a favorite Piker pastime. This is typically a period of time during the film year that is all about anticipation. Maybe one or two movies or performances have come out of the summer as leading candidates for nominations, but predominantly, November and December provide the bulk of Oscar-potential material. There are about ten movies I'm excited to see in the coming months and most of them are mentioned in this comprehensive Oscar preview. In particular, I'm psyched for "Adaptation", "Catch Me If You Can", "Gangs of New York", "Chicago", "About Schmidt", "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers", "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind", and "Solaris." Yeah, I'd say it's just about time to click off the old TV, grab a bucket of popcorn, pour in a bag of M&M's, and settle into a cold and dark movie theater.
Piker will admit to being a little obsessed with the tee-vee lately, but feels a sea-change coming on. After all, the cinema is Piker's true passion, not the idiot box. That being said, it should come as no surprise to this publication's handful of loyal readers that Oscar handicapping is a favorite Piker pastime. This is typically a period of time during the film year that is all about anticipation. Maybe one or two movies or performances have come out of the summer as leading candidates for nominations, but predominantly, November and December provide the bulk of Oscar-potential material. There are about ten movies I'm excited to see in the coming months and most of them are mentioned in this comprehensive Oscar preview. In particular, I'm psyched for "Adaptation", "Catch Me If You Can", "Gangs of New York", "Chicago", "About Schmidt", "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers", "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind", and "Solaris." Yeah, I'd say it's just about time to click off the old TV, grab a bucket of popcorn, pour in a bag of M&M's, and settle into a cold and dark movie theater.
WHO'S GOING TO SHOOT J.R THIS TIME?
Call it "Return to Southfork Ranch". One of my favorite TV shows of all-time is coming to a theater near you. "Dallas" is being updated and remade into a major motion picture. I'm anxious to see how The Ewings, perhaps the greatest soap opera family in TV history, translate to the big screen. If you'll notice in the Yahoo! article, no writer is attached yet...
Call it "Return to Southfork Ranch". One of my favorite TV shows of all-time is coming to a theater near you. "Dallas" is being updated and remade into a major motion picture. I'm anxious to see how The Ewings, perhaps the greatest soap opera family in TV history, translate to the big screen. If you'll notice in the Yahoo! article, no writer is attached yet...
THE ABCs OF TV
We have our first two cancellations of the fall television season. Both casualties happen to be shows that I sampled and wrote about. ABC has yanked "That Was Then" and "Push, Nevada" from the schedule. "That Was Then" is gone, done, finito, kaput, after only two episodes. Because of its interactive nature, "Push, Nevada" will be aired three more times to give viewers enough clues to solve the mystery and win (raise pinky to lips) one million dollars. Truthfully, I don't think "That Was Then" was given a fair shot, but I didn't like it enough to make a big stink about it. The arcane "Push, Nevada" serves as ABC's Thursday night sacrifice against "Must See TV" and "CSI" competition. For TV geeks like me, it's always kind of fun to predict the first show to get canceled. "MDs" was my pick.
We have our first two cancellations of the fall television season. Both casualties happen to be shows that I sampled and wrote about. ABC has yanked "That Was Then" and "Push, Nevada" from the schedule. "That Was Then" is gone, done, finito, kaput, after only two episodes. Because of its interactive nature, "Push, Nevada" will be aired three more times to give viewers enough clues to solve the mystery and win (raise pinky to lips) one million dollars. Truthfully, I don't think "That Was Then" was given a fair shot, but I didn't like it enough to make a big stink about it. The arcane "Push, Nevada" serves as ABC's Thursday night sacrifice against "Must See TV" and "CSI" competition. For TV geeks like me, it's always kind of fun to predict the first show to get canceled. "MDs" was my pick.
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
CAN YOU VOTE ME OUT, PLEASE?
Call me the weakest link and say goodbye, 'cause I'm gone. I watched this past Thursday night's episode of "Survivor:Thailand" on tape and I can now safely say that I am sick of that show. Frankly, I haven't enjoyed it much since the original "Survivor" and "Survivor: The Australian Outback" with Colby and Elizabeth and Jeri and company. That season had great archetypes and rivalries and all sorts of weirdness, such as Michael passing out and getting his hands fried by the fire. Let's call it great casting. Since then, the "Survivor" franchise has consisted of an endless parade of whiners and morons. The third installment "Survivor: Africa" was a dud. The cast was flat out annoying. The old people versus young people tribal breakdown was ridiculous. A "Survivor" self-consciousness seemed to have crept in. The contestants were well aware what being on the show meant in terms of fame and whatever strategy this limited game contains. It bored me. I tuned out. I didn't tune back in until the finale, where Ethan the Soccer Player, won the title, either because of or despite his lack of any semblence of a personality. Lex was fairly interesting, probably because he had a bit of a temper and his tatoo sleeves read well on camera. The fourth installment of the aging series, "Survivor: Marquesas", was a complete disaster. The location was undeniably idyllic, but the cast was a nightmare. Hunter, seemingly a professional survivalist, was voted out early by his tribe of idiots, not necessarily because he was a threat but because he was bossy. The guy was the only one in the tribe who knew what he was doing! Ugh. That soured me right then and there. After disliking "Africa" so much, I was more than ready to ditch this series. But certain friends of mine who are fully committed to the enjoyment of reality television wouldn't let me quit. I begrudgingly watched a few more episodes with My Girl and this couple who we met through, are very good friends with, and whose wedding we will be attending next weekend. It was fun to make fun of the "characters", like Zooey the obvious lesbian who, in trying to win favor with her tribemates when she knew she was on the ropes, crafted some pretty shell bracelets for everyone. But I strongly disagreed with something the show did. The idiot tribe that voted off Hunter, easily their best player, should have been punished and made to suffer for their actions, yet the producers decided for the second straight season to switch up the tribes. Wholly unfair. One tribe was working as a team and getting along and winning challenge after challenge, while the Hunter-less tribe was divided and weak. They should have kept the tribes the way they were and let it play out. I wanted to see Hunter's former mates twist in the wind and get voted off one by one until the strong tribe had to finally start voting themselves out. That would have been an interesting game. But they switched it up and Vecepia, one of the idiots who conspired to oust Hunter, flew under the radar all the way to the finish line, beating that unlikable little hippie chick and winning a million bucks. As I have stated before, the finale of that season was one of the worst episodes of television I have ever sat through. With two poor players vying for the "Survivor" championship and Rosie O'Donnell warbling a Survivor-themed rendition of "Gilligan's Island," the series reached its jaw-dropping nadir. I vowed to stop watching. This season, "Survivor: Thailand" rolls around and My Girl won't let me off the hook. She's still into it and wants to share with me. So we cozied up to watch the aforementioned tape and I'm sorry to say it was more of the same. Two black characters from the same tribe were bickering. The female claimed the male groped her during the night, the male apologized, they hugged and all was forgiven. Then the female told the rest of the tribe what happened and got upset all over again. All kinds of miscommunication ensued and the tribe was in disarray. But the other tribe was worse. Apparently, they really wanted to vote out this lazy guy named Jed, who didn't seem that bad, so they let him try to figure out this puzzle on his own even though the group was supposed to be working on it together and immunity was at stake. Jed didn't come through. They lost and unceremoniously made Jed the first member of their tribe to be voted out. I'm only sorry it wasn't me. Tell Probst to come over and put my torch out. I want off the island. I'm through.
Call me the weakest link and say goodbye, 'cause I'm gone. I watched this past Thursday night's episode of "Survivor:Thailand" on tape and I can now safely say that I am sick of that show. Frankly, I haven't enjoyed it much since the original "Survivor" and "Survivor: The Australian Outback" with Colby and Elizabeth and Jeri and company. That season had great archetypes and rivalries and all sorts of weirdness, such as Michael passing out and getting his hands fried by the fire. Let's call it great casting. Since then, the "Survivor" franchise has consisted of an endless parade of whiners and morons. The third installment "Survivor: Africa" was a dud. The cast was flat out annoying. The old people versus young people tribal breakdown was ridiculous. A "Survivor" self-consciousness seemed to have crept in. The contestants were well aware what being on the show meant in terms of fame and whatever strategy this limited game contains. It bored me. I tuned out. I didn't tune back in until the finale, where Ethan the Soccer Player, won the title, either because of or despite his lack of any semblence of a personality. Lex was fairly interesting, probably because he had a bit of a temper and his tatoo sleeves read well on camera. The fourth installment of the aging series, "Survivor: Marquesas", was a complete disaster. The location was undeniably idyllic, but the cast was a nightmare. Hunter, seemingly a professional survivalist, was voted out early by his tribe of idiots, not necessarily because he was a threat but because he was bossy. The guy was the only one in the tribe who knew what he was doing! Ugh. That soured me right then and there. After disliking "Africa" so much, I was more than ready to ditch this series. But certain friends of mine who are fully committed to the enjoyment of reality television wouldn't let me quit. I begrudgingly watched a few more episodes with My Girl and this couple who we met through, are very good friends with, and whose wedding we will be attending next weekend. It was fun to make fun of the "characters", like Zooey the obvious lesbian who, in trying to win favor with her tribemates when she knew she was on the ropes, crafted some pretty shell bracelets for everyone. But I strongly disagreed with something the show did. The idiot tribe that voted off Hunter, easily their best player, should have been punished and made to suffer for their actions, yet the producers decided for the second straight season to switch up the tribes. Wholly unfair. One tribe was working as a team and getting along and winning challenge after challenge, while the Hunter-less tribe was divided and weak. They should have kept the tribes the way they were and let it play out. I wanted to see Hunter's former mates twist in the wind and get voted off one by one until the strong tribe had to finally start voting themselves out. That would have been an interesting game. But they switched it up and Vecepia, one of the idiots who conspired to oust Hunter, flew under the radar all the way to the finish line, beating that unlikable little hippie chick and winning a million bucks. As I have stated before, the finale of that season was one of the worst episodes of television I have ever sat through. With two poor players vying for the "Survivor" championship and Rosie O'Donnell warbling a Survivor-themed rendition of "Gilligan's Island," the series reached its jaw-dropping nadir. I vowed to stop watching. This season, "Survivor: Thailand" rolls around and My Girl won't let me off the hook. She's still into it and wants to share with me. So we cozied up to watch the aforementioned tape and I'm sorry to say it was more of the same. Two black characters from the same tribe were bickering. The female claimed the male groped her during the night, the male apologized, they hugged and all was forgiven. Then the female told the rest of the tribe what happened and got upset all over again. All kinds of miscommunication ensued and the tribe was in disarray. But the other tribe was worse. Apparently, they really wanted to vote out this lazy guy named Jed, who didn't seem that bad, so they let him try to figure out this puzzle on his own even though the group was supposed to be working on it together and immunity was at stake. Jed didn't come through. They lost and unceremoniously made Jed the first member of their tribe to be voted out. I'm only sorry it wasn't me. Tell Probst to come over and put my torch out. I want off the island. I'm through.
Tuesday, October 08, 2002
COMEDY, SCHMOMEDY
Apparently Bonnie Hunt doesn't need comedy writers for her new show. I've watched that show and I must say that the funniest scenes do seem to come out of her improvisation on the set of her fictional morning show. But the rest of the show isn't that funny and might benefit from having a bunch of professional comedy people in a room pitching jokes. That way, maybe every episode wouldn't have to end with a hug and an "I Love You."
Apparently Bonnie Hunt doesn't need comedy writers for her new show. I've watched that show and I must say that the funniest scenes do seem to come out of her improvisation on the set of her fictional morning show. But the rest of the show isn't that funny and might benefit from having a bunch of professional comedy people in a room pitching jokes. That way, maybe every episode wouldn't have to end with a hug and an "I Love You."
KICKIN' THE CHRONIC
We here at Piker support Snoop Doggy Dogg in his battle with the deadly hemp plant. He'll still roll down the street, he'll still sip on gin and juice, but no mo' smokin' indo for the D-O-G. Best of luck, Dogfather. Our prayers are with you.
We here at Piker support Snoop Doggy Dogg in his battle with the deadly hemp plant. He'll still roll down the street, he'll still sip on gin and juice, but no mo' smokin' indo for the D-O-G. Best of luck, Dogfather. Our prayers are with you.
IS TIME REALLY ON MY SIDE?
I have always struggled with time management. When I have all the free time in the world, I never seem to take advantage of it. When my time is limited, by something like, say, a job, I’m reminded of all the things I wanted to do with my free time. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has been baffled by this conundrum, and I know I won’t be the last, but this issue has come to the fore of my life as one that I must conquer. As anyone who desires to make a living as a writer will tell you, there is no more important internal war to win than the one with discipline. How monumentally hard it is to impose structure on a life that doesn’t dictate one. A writer must be sure to do enough living to gather material and sit down to process that experience into some sort of art. Personally, I tend to be an extremist in my time management. I either work an incredible amount or not at all. I write obsessively or I don’t even sit down to make an attempt. I’m striving to find that tenuous balance between work and play. I’ve mastered the play part, now it’s time to make marked improvement in the areas of work and discipline. I’m going to start by answering this phone that’s ringing in my temporary boss’ office.
I have always struggled with time management. When I have all the free time in the world, I never seem to take advantage of it. When my time is limited, by something like, say, a job, I’m reminded of all the things I wanted to do with my free time. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has been baffled by this conundrum, and I know I won’t be the last, but this issue has come to the fore of my life as one that I must conquer. As anyone who desires to make a living as a writer will tell you, there is no more important internal war to win than the one with discipline. How monumentally hard it is to impose structure on a life that doesn’t dictate one. A writer must be sure to do enough living to gather material and sit down to process that experience into some sort of art. Personally, I tend to be an extremist in my time management. I either work an incredible amount or not at all. I write obsessively or I don’t even sit down to make an attempt. I’m striving to find that tenuous balance between work and play. I’ve mastered the play part, now it’s time to make marked improvement in the areas of work and discipline. I’m going to start by answering this phone that’s ringing in my temporary boss’ office.
Monday, October 07, 2002
THE GRIND
I'm overheated, overworked, and overwhelmed. I've got to find a way out of this daily grind rat race thing. I forgot how much I hate working. It's seven o'clock and I'm still at work! I'm missing Game 5 of the Braves-Giants series. I'm missing Monday Night Football. This office is boiling hot, we can't get the thermostat to kick in, the phone doesn't stop ringing, people talk too fast on the phone, and I have no idea what I'm doing. This is on top of that feeling I get when I'm around this development wheel that I'm not doing nearly enough to advance my career. In fact, what is my career? What am I doing? Oh man, how I long for the days of summer...
I'm overheated, overworked, and overwhelmed. I've got to find a way out of this daily grind rat race thing. I forgot how much I hate working. It's seven o'clock and I'm still at work! I'm missing Game 5 of the Braves-Giants series. I'm missing Monday Night Football. This office is boiling hot, we can't get the thermostat to kick in, the phone doesn't stop ringing, people talk too fast on the phone, and I have no idea what I'm doing. This is on top of that feeling I get when I'm around this development wheel that I'm not doing nearly enough to advance my career. In fact, what is my career? What am I doing? Oh man, how I long for the days of summer...
EMPLOYED PIKER... TEMPORARILY
Well, it's finally happened. The day has come when this Piker had to get up in the morning and go to work. I am working as a temp today at New Line Cinema, ironically assisting one of my former roommates. Easy going thus far. He hasn't shown up yet and I've only had to answer the phone a few times. Stay tuned for updates.
The Dolphins had a big win yesterday over the Pats, which is nice and all, but it wasn't enough to salvage an otherwise dismal weekend in sports for me.
I caught the last twenty minutes of the second episode of "American Dreams" last night. It was okay. I'm starting to get bored with it already. It doesn't move fast enough.
By contrast, "The Sopranos" was cranked up to hyperspeed last night. Incredible episode.
Well, it's finally happened. The day has come when this Piker had to get up in the morning and go to work. I am working as a temp today at New Line Cinema, ironically assisting one of my former roommates. Easy going thus far. He hasn't shown up yet and I've only had to answer the phone a few times. Stay tuned for updates.
The Dolphins had a big win yesterday over the Pats, which is nice and all, but it wasn't enough to salvage an otherwise dismal weekend in sports for me.
I caught the last twenty minutes of the second episode of "American Dreams" last night. It was okay. I'm starting to get bored with it already. It doesn't move fast enough.
By contrast, "The Sopranos" was cranked up to hyperspeed last night. Incredible episode.
Saturday, October 05, 2002
A MIXED BAG
I'm in my own personal sports hell with both the Florida Gators and New York Yankees suffering season-ending losses today, the Gators figuratively, the Yankees literally.
But on the bright side, I had my first job interview in ages yesterday and I borrowed money to buy a 1989 Toyota Celica convertible. I'm back on the road to normalcy.
I'm in my own personal sports hell with both the Florida Gators and New York Yankees suffering season-ending losses today, the Gators figuratively, the Yankees literally.
But on the bright side, I had my first job interview in ages yesterday and I borrowed money to buy a 1989 Toyota Celica convertible. I'm back on the road to normalcy.
NO MERCY, SENSAI
There are still two outs in the fifth inning of game four in the Angels-Yankees series. A nightmare inning for the Yankees. Another base hit. Mercifully, the runner is held at third. Ten hits in the inning. Wells has been yanked. Mendoza has been yanked. This is what losing feels like. Last year, it wasn't until the very last moment of the World Series when the Yankees and their fans tasting losing for the first time in four years. Now I can identify with the feeling of getting beaten around and thoroughly outplayed in a series. Hats off to the Angels, they've hit the crap out of the ball and gotten the majority of the breaks. I feel blessed to have experienced so much victory as a Yankee fan, and while I may be in severe sporting pain at the moment, I applaud the excellence that's required to defeat such a dynastic team. Finally, the third out, the Yanks are out of the inning. It's not looking good, but the Yankees still have twelve outs left. Posada just hit a home run to lead off the Yankee half of the sixth.
There are still two outs in the fifth inning of game four in the Angels-Yankees series. A nightmare inning for the Yankees. Another base hit. Mercifully, the runner is held at third. Ten hits in the inning. Wells has been yanked. Mendoza has been yanked. This is what losing feels like. Last year, it wasn't until the very last moment of the World Series when the Yankees and their fans tasting losing for the first time in four years. Now I can identify with the feeling of getting beaten around and thoroughly outplayed in a series. Hats off to the Angels, they've hit the crap out of the ball and gotten the majority of the breaks. I feel blessed to have experienced so much victory as a Yankee fan, and while I may be in severe sporting pain at the moment, I applaud the excellence that's required to defeat such a dynastic team. Finally, the third out, the Yanks are out of the inning. It's not looking good, but the Yankees still have twelve outs left. Posada just hit a home run to lead off the Yankee half of the sixth.
Friday, October 04, 2002
A PAUSE… FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT
To conclude the comprehensive three-part review of the first two weeks of the fall television season, let us turn our attention to the best genre that TV has to offer – the one-hour drama. Now sampling one-hour shows is a much more daunting task than planting yourself on the couch with some 3-D Doritos to check out the latest shitcom. For one thing, you have to pay attention. There is no laugh track to use as a guide in deciding what is entertaining and what is not. Also, you run the risk of getting attached to a show and having to block off a whole hour to watch it each week. But, these dramas do offer the greatest potential rewards on the tube.
Thus far, I’ve caught episodes of “Push, Nevada”, “That Was Then”, “American Dreams”, and a portion of the premiere of “CSI: Miami.” The first episode of “Push, Nevada” captured my attention. I thought the writing was crisp, the casting was pretty good, and the thing was dripping with style. Call me an idiot, but I don’t really get the whole “solve the mystery and win a million bucks” gimmick. Maybe it will become clearer with time. I missed the second episode, but watched the third. By the end, my enthusiasm had waned. This obvious Twin Peaks wannabe had yet to give me enough clues as to what was going on. It didn’t draw me in, and there was nothing to keep me in, so I exited “Push, Nevada.” Judging from the ratings of the first few airings against heavy competition, if you’re curious at all, you better check it out fast.
Being a sucker for all things 80s, I had to watch “That Was Then.” The premise, ripped directly from “Back to the Future,” has the main 30-something character transported back to his high school days in the “Me Decade.” At the end of the somewhat amusing hour, he finds himself back in the present day, which has been altered to reflect the changes that he caused by reliving that portion of his life. Essentially, they boiled down "Back to the Future" into a pilot episode, but the reduction is not quite as tasty as the plot in its organic form. In fact, this whole metaphor has turned sour, because to create a reduction one removes the water, to create a television show one must water down a movie premise. "The In-Laws" has applied the same water-heavy formula to "Meet the Parents" and after airing four episodes in two weeks, I'd say it's already drowning creatively. I'm on the fence with "That Was Then," that way I'll be safe if the water level keeps rising.
I've never watched an episode of "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" all the way through. But, being from the South Florida area, naturally, I tuned in for the premire of "CSI: Miami." I caught the first two scenes and thought it was highly stylized and well-produced but not my type of show. However, I will be watching this coming Monday because my friend, G-Style, wrote the episode. It's his first produced hour of television, so a hearty Mazel Tov goes out to G-Style.
The brand new one-hour I like the best is “American Dreams.” It’s a period piece set in the early 60s, another decade I can’t get enough of. It centers on a white family in Philadelphia. The teenage daughter wants to change her goody-goody image by appearing on “American Bandstand” as a dancer. It’s a soft show with a hint of an edge. When the teenage boy of the family, a high school football star, goes to tell his coach he doesn’t want to play football anymore, the Priest/Head Football Coach is smoking a cigarette and dispensing advice much more as the Football Coach than the Priest. The ending was emotional, as we see each member of the family react to the news that President Kennedy had been assassinated. But I felt a bit manipulated. I thought the use of Kennedy’s death to signal the loss of innocence was a little too on the head, a little too easy. I’m anxious to see what the tone is like in episode two, which airs this Sunday night, because I think this show has real potential.
All talk of potential is inconsequencial when referring to shows already operating their at their peak levels. "The West Wing" and "The Sopranos" are such shows. Sure, the Wing beats you over the head with it's self-righteousness unto you submit to its liberal leanings, but the dialogue crackles, the cast is sensational, and the production values are top notch. The storyline involving the fallout from the assassination of a Middle East leader and suspected terrorist has launched this season into high drama from the get go. With the presidential campaign acting as a frame for the season, the Wing just might be propelled into that rarified air occupied by television's all-time best dramas.
"The Sopranos" is already there. I'm still pissed that they took a year and half off after its only sub-par season and left us twisting in the wind, but I can't stay mad at this masterpiece. If it wasn't for "Six Feet Under", who knows, I may not even have a subscription to HBO anymore. That show rose to the top in the absence of TV's most beloved Mob family, pushing the boundaries of the medium in its two seasons since "The Sopranos" last aired original episodes. But now that lovable henchman of a show comes storming back to take back it's rightful place at the apex of the televised universe. The first three shows have been fluid and challenging, constantly shape-shifting and forcing you to have faith and flow with it. There is a tremendous confidence in the execution of this exalted program and an unpredictability that never lets you get settled and never lets you know what's really going to happen until it fully unfolds. Most of TV bores us by telegraphing their outcomes. We're too savvy. We've seen too much TV. But we've never seen anything like "Six Feet Under" and we've never seen the likes of "The Sopranos." Let's call a spade a spade: It's not TV, it's HBO.
To conclude the comprehensive three-part review of the first two weeks of the fall television season, let us turn our attention to the best genre that TV has to offer – the one-hour drama. Now sampling one-hour shows is a much more daunting task than planting yourself on the couch with some 3-D Doritos to check out the latest shitcom. For one thing, you have to pay attention. There is no laugh track to use as a guide in deciding what is entertaining and what is not. Also, you run the risk of getting attached to a show and having to block off a whole hour to watch it each week. But, these dramas do offer the greatest potential rewards on the tube.
Thus far, I’ve caught episodes of “Push, Nevada”, “That Was Then”, “American Dreams”, and a portion of the premiere of “CSI: Miami.” The first episode of “Push, Nevada” captured my attention. I thought the writing was crisp, the casting was pretty good, and the thing was dripping with style. Call me an idiot, but I don’t really get the whole “solve the mystery and win a million bucks” gimmick. Maybe it will become clearer with time. I missed the second episode, but watched the third. By the end, my enthusiasm had waned. This obvious Twin Peaks wannabe had yet to give me enough clues as to what was going on. It didn’t draw me in, and there was nothing to keep me in, so I exited “Push, Nevada.” Judging from the ratings of the first few airings against heavy competition, if you’re curious at all, you better check it out fast.
Being a sucker for all things 80s, I had to watch “That Was Then.” The premise, ripped directly from “Back to the Future,” has the main 30-something character transported back to his high school days in the “Me Decade.” At the end of the somewhat amusing hour, he finds himself back in the present day, which has been altered to reflect the changes that he caused by reliving that portion of his life. Essentially, they boiled down "Back to the Future" into a pilot episode, but the reduction is not quite as tasty as the plot in its organic form. In fact, this whole metaphor has turned sour, because to create a reduction one removes the water, to create a television show one must water down a movie premise. "The In-Laws" has applied the same water-heavy formula to "Meet the Parents" and after airing four episodes in two weeks, I'd say it's already drowning creatively. I'm on the fence with "That Was Then," that way I'll be safe if the water level keeps rising.
I've never watched an episode of "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" all the way through. But, being from the South Florida area, naturally, I tuned in for the premire of "CSI: Miami." I caught the first two scenes and thought it was highly stylized and well-produced but not my type of show. However, I will be watching this coming Monday because my friend, G-Style, wrote the episode. It's his first produced hour of television, so a hearty Mazel Tov goes out to G-Style.
The brand new one-hour I like the best is “American Dreams.” It’s a period piece set in the early 60s, another decade I can’t get enough of. It centers on a white family in Philadelphia. The teenage daughter wants to change her goody-goody image by appearing on “American Bandstand” as a dancer. It’s a soft show with a hint of an edge. When the teenage boy of the family, a high school football star, goes to tell his coach he doesn’t want to play football anymore, the Priest/Head Football Coach is smoking a cigarette and dispensing advice much more as the Football Coach than the Priest. The ending was emotional, as we see each member of the family react to the news that President Kennedy had been assassinated. But I felt a bit manipulated. I thought the use of Kennedy’s death to signal the loss of innocence was a little too on the head, a little too easy. I’m anxious to see what the tone is like in episode two, which airs this Sunday night, because I think this show has real potential.
All talk of potential is inconsequencial when referring to shows already operating their at their peak levels. "The West Wing" and "The Sopranos" are such shows. Sure, the Wing beats you over the head with it's self-righteousness unto you submit to its liberal leanings, but the dialogue crackles, the cast is sensational, and the production values are top notch. The storyline involving the fallout from the assassination of a Middle East leader and suspected terrorist has launched this season into high drama from the get go. With the presidential campaign acting as a frame for the season, the Wing just might be propelled into that rarified air occupied by television's all-time best dramas.
"The Sopranos" is already there. I'm still pissed that they took a year and half off after its only sub-par season and left us twisting in the wind, but I can't stay mad at this masterpiece. If it wasn't for "Six Feet Under", who knows, I may not even have a subscription to HBO anymore. That show rose to the top in the absence of TV's most beloved Mob family, pushing the boundaries of the medium in its two seasons since "The Sopranos" last aired original episodes. But now that lovable henchman of a show comes storming back to take back it's rightful place at the apex of the televised universe. The first three shows have been fluid and challenging, constantly shape-shifting and forcing you to have faith and flow with it. There is a tremendous confidence in the execution of this exalted program and an unpredictability that never lets you get settled and never lets you know what's really going to happen until it fully unfolds. Most of TV bores us by telegraphing their outcomes. We're too savvy. We've seen too much TV. But we've never seen anything like "Six Feet Under" and we've never seen the likes of "The Sopranos." Let's call a spade a spade: It's not TV, it's HBO.
Thursday, October 03, 2002
I WANT A NEW DRUG
I overdosed on reality television this summer by religiously following "American Idol." Now I need to get my ass into a rehab program good and quick because I'm finally ready to quit. By the end of its run, I hated "American Idol." Don't get me wrong, I knew it sucked from the very beginning, but I was having some campy fun watching it and making fun of it and I enjoyed hating it. But after Christina Christian and Tamyra Gray were beaten out by the highly untalented Nikki McKibbin, all pleasure was gone, only pain remained. Now the fall season is underway and offering a serious dosage of reality TV and I have to admit to having some cravings. I see the promos and I feel the itch. I want to make fun of real people making asses out of themselves on television again. I had one relapse. I watched the second episode of "Survivor:Thailand" and that was enough to convince me that I can kick the habit. Last season's finale of “Survivor: Marquesas” was one of the worst television programs I have ever seen, with two extremely boring contestants I didn’t care one iota about vying for the million bucks and Rosie O’Donnell singing the Gilligan’s Island theme with Survivor lyrics. That should have been it for my tenuous association with the "Survivor" franchise right there. But I gave it one a shot, praying for another Colby or Elizabeth or even Richard Hatch. No such luck. More droning on about so-and-so not pulling their weight and should we vote out this poor schmuck or that whiny bitch. I liked both The Amazing Race and The Bachelor last season, but now they’re going up against each other and, more importantly, The West Wing. That makes it easy to just say no to those two tempting programs. All in all, I'm pretty hopeful that I can put the reality television addiction behind me. I'm just taking it one time slot at a time.
I overdosed on reality television this summer by religiously following "American Idol." Now I need to get my ass into a rehab program good and quick because I'm finally ready to quit. By the end of its run, I hated "American Idol." Don't get me wrong, I knew it sucked from the very beginning, but I was having some campy fun watching it and making fun of it and I enjoyed hating it. But after Christina Christian and Tamyra Gray were beaten out by the highly untalented Nikki McKibbin, all pleasure was gone, only pain remained. Now the fall season is underway and offering a serious dosage of reality TV and I have to admit to having some cravings. I see the promos and I feel the itch. I want to make fun of real people making asses out of themselves on television again. I had one relapse. I watched the second episode of "Survivor:Thailand" and that was enough to convince me that I can kick the habit. Last season's finale of “Survivor: Marquesas” was one of the worst television programs I have ever seen, with two extremely boring contestants I didn’t care one iota about vying for the million bucks and Rosie O’Donnell singing the Gilligan’s Island theme with Survivor lyrics. That should have been it for my tenuous association with the "Survivor" franchise right there. But I gave it one a shot, praying for another Colby or Elizabeth or even Richard Hatch. No such luck. More droning on about so-and-so not pulling their weight and should we vote out this poor schmuck or that whiny bitch. I liked both The Amazing Race and The Bachelor last season, but now they’re going up against each other and, more importantly, The West Wing. That makes it easy to just say no to those two tempting programs. All in all, I'm pretty hopeful that I can put the reality television addiction behind me. I'm just taking it one time slot at a time.
Wednesday, October 02, 2002
COMEDY OR TRAGEDY?
I’ve been watching a lot of television the last week and a half, sampling the new season’s offerings. I’ve seen a slew of sacrificial sitcoms, some potentially intriguing dramas, and a bunch of rapidly decaying reality shows. Every year the fall television season brings with it the hope of the new. Hope that a new story will capture our imagination, that new situations will make us laugh despite the annoying laugh track instructing us to do so, and that new characters will make us identify with them, care for them, and live vicariously through them. A very small percentage of shows are successful in accomplishing these lofty goals, leaving us with a scrap heap piled high with disappointment. Yet, being the gluttons that we are, we keep coming back for more. Stubborn. Curious. Hopeful.
As far as comedy is concerned, there hasn’t been a whole lot of it. That’s not to say that there aren’t many attempts at comedy. It seems like someone was shaking the death rattle for sitcoms a bit prematurely. They’re everywhere. So far I’ve watched Curb Your Enthusiasm, Everybody Loves Raymond, The In-Laws, 8 Simple Rules For Dating My Daughter, Life With Bonnie, Hidden Hills, Friends, Will & Grace, Scrubs, part of Good Morning Miami, and part of Less Than Perfect. And there were a bunch that I missed! There is no comedy on TV that consistently cracks me up. I’ve had sporadic laugh-out-loud moments while watching Curb, Raymond, Friends, Will & Grace, and Scrubs. I enjoy those shows, but I don’t love any of them. I’ve given my best effort in trying to love Curb Your Enthusiasm, really, I have. But too often I find that Larry is simply too much of an asshole… and I like him! Sometimes he's such an asshole it’s unrealistic, and with it’s improv methodology and stolen-from-life storylines, Curb is heavily reliant on realism. I do love how ballsy and daring the show can be, but when you have an editor, it’s improvisation with a net. I believe the show would be even funnier if it was scripted. As far as the new sitcoms go, I think Life With Bonnie is kind of funny and Hidden Hills gets some points for style, but The In-Laws, 8 Simple Rules…, Good Morning Miami, and Less Than Perfect all feel like stale soundstage-bound sitcoms that aren’t nearly as funny as the cranked up laugh track would lead us to believe. Frasier I could give two shits about.
There haven’t been many funny films lately either. What happened? Where did the funny go? The third installment in the Austin Powers series was funny, but I’m hard-pressed to name more movies this year that made me laugh. Thank God for “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” That movie is pretty funny and very charming and it’s a runaway hit. It’s easily the most profitable film of the year. People can’t get enough of it. They’re going back to see it three and four times. People are starving for a good laugh. These days, it seems like good comedies are as rare as honest corporate accountants.
I’ll continue with reality TV and dramas tomorrow.
I’ve been watching a lot of television the last week and a half, sampling the new season’s offerings. I’ve seen a slew of sacrificial sitcoms, some potentially intriguing dramas, and a bunch of rapidly decaying reality shows. Every year the fall television season brings with it the hope of the new. Hope that a new story will capture our imagination, that new situations will make us laugh despite the annoying laugh track instructing us to do so, and that new characters will make us identify with them, care for them, and live vicariously through them. A very small percentage of shows are successful in accomplishing these lofty goals, leaving us with a scrap heap piled high with disappointment. Yet, being the gluttons that we are, we keep coming back for more. Stubborn. Curious. Hopeful.
As far as comedy is concerned, there hasn’t been a whole lot of it. That’s not to say that there aren’t many attempts at comedy. It seems like someone was shaking the death rattle for sitcoms a bit prematurely. They’re everywhere. So far I’ve watched Curb Your Enthusiasm, Everybody Loves Raymond, The In-Laws, 8 Simple Rules For Dating My Daughter, Life With Bonnie, Hidden Hills, Friends, Will & Grace, Scrubs, part of Good Morning Miami, and part of Less Than Perfect. And there were a bunch that I missed! There is no comedy on TV that consistently cracks me up. I’ve had sporadic laugh-out-loud moments while watching Curb, Raymond, Friends, Will & Grace, and Scrubs. I enjoy those shows, but I don’t love any of them. I’ve given my best effort in trying to love Curb Your Enthusiasm, really, I have. But too often I find that Larry is simply too much of an asshole… and I like him! Sometimes he's such an asshole it’s unrealistic, and with it’s improv methodology and stolen-from-life storylines, Curb is heavily reliant on realism. I do love how ballsy and daring the show can be, but when you have an editor, it’s improvisation with a net. I believe the show would be even funnier if it was scripted. As far as the new sitcoms go, I think Life With Bonnie is kind of funny and Hidden Hills gets some points for style, but The In-Laws, 8 Simple Rules…, Good Morning Miami, and Less Than Perfect all feel like stale soundstage-bound sitcoms that aren’t nearly as funny as the cranked up laugh track would lead us to believe. Frasier I could give two shits about.
There haven’t been many funny films lately either. What happened? Where did the funny go? The third installment in the Austin Powers series was funny, but I’m hard-pressed to name more movies this year that made me laugh. Thank God for “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” That movie is pretty funny and very charming and it’s a runaway hit. It’s easily the most profitable film of the year. People can’t get enough of it. They’re going back to see it three and four times. People are starving for a good laugh. These days, it seems like good comedies are as rare as honest corporate accountants.
I’ll continue with reality TV and dramas tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
POST-SEASON PRESS CONFERENCE
The major league baseball regular season has come to an end and once again I am extremely proud to be a fan of the most fabled franchise in all of sports -- The New York Yankees. The Bronx Bombers finished with the league's best record and home field advantage throughout the playoffs. Tonight, the Yanks set their sights on yet another championship, as they begin the AL Division Series against the surprising Disney-owned Anaheim Angels. Not only did the Yankees have a tremendous season as a team, but second baseman Alfonso Soriano exploded and established himself as a legitimate superstar, falling one home run shy of a 40 homer-40 stolen base season. Soriano was arguably the most valuable fantasy player in the league this season. Unfortunately, he was not on my team. Which brings me to the real reason why I called this press conference.
As co-owner of Yozanger, the troubled IBL franchise, I, along with my partner, endured a lot of heartache this past season. After extensive pre-season preparation and the good fortune of selecting A-Rod with the first pick in the draft, we fully expected Yozanger to challenge for the league title. That did not happen. Our team chemistry was a problem from the very beginning. The team suffered a few injuries, highly touted prospects struggled, and a few of our big guns got off to slow starts. Manny Ramirez was out for a significant stretch during the middle of what could have been an unbelievable year for the slugger, who wound up winning the batting title. Yozanger got sub-par years from Jeff Bagwell and J.D. Drew, both high draft choices and major disappointments. On the subject of disappointment, our scouts were very high on Toby Hall and Jose Ortiz heading into the draft, but both players turned out to be complete duds and sucked a lot of life out of our club. Paul LoDuca and Adam Dunn, two players who may turn out to be great one day, showed promise at various points of the season, but faded at the end, with Dunn in particular going into a horrible slump where he forgot how to hit a baseball. We made a few good pickups along the way, namely Randy Winn, Jacque Jones, and Junior Spivey, but those positive moves did not outnumber the negative ones. Frankly, our team was unbalanced. Our hitting was atrocious and our pitching was fantastic. We won the two most telling pitching categories, earned run average and WHIP ratio (walks plus hits to innings pitched), finished fourth in saves, and tied for fourth in wins. We had a twenty-three game winner in Barry Zito, a twenty game winner in Pedro Martinez, and a nineteen game winner in Roy Halladay. One of those three will assuredly win the Cy Young award. In contrast, the team finished the season fourth in home runs, last in RBI, last in stolen bases, last in average, and sixth in runs. Anemic. Overall, Yozanger ended the season cemented in sixth place out of eight teams, neither challenging for fifth nor being challenged by the bottom two teams.
Looking back on this exasperating season, my first back in the game after a ten-year layoff, I cannot say that I got that much pleasure out of playing. In fact, I think I followed baseball less and less as the season wore on because of the fantasy stress. Despite some questionable rules which led to some heated controversy in the league this season, I think the other owners in the league are a great group of guys. Although some might raise an eyebrow at the commissioner's team finishing in first place, I believe everything was on the up-and-up and I congratulate him on a well-played game. And while I thoroughly enjoyed working with my partner and life-long friend in the day-to-day operations of Yozanger, it is with great regret that I announce my decision to sell my interest in the team and retire from the game. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig, one of the all-time Yankee greats... Today, I consider myself the unluckiest rotisserie baseball owner on the face of the earth.
The major league baseball regular season has come to an end and once again I am extremely proud to be a fan of the most fabled franchise in all of sports -- The New York Yankees. The Bronx Bombers finished with the league's best record and home field advantage throughout the playoffs. Tonight, the Yanks set their sights on yet another championship, as they begin the AL Division Series against the surprising Disney-owned Anaheim Angels. Not only did the Yankees have a tremendous season as a team, but second baseman Alfonso Soriano exploded and established himself as a legitimate superstar, falling one home run shy of a 40 homer-40 stolen base season. Soriano was arguably the most valuable fantasy player in the league this season. Unfortunately, he was not on my team. Which brings me to the real reason why I called this press conference.
As co-owner of Yozanger, the troubled IBL franchise, I, along with my partner, endured a lot of heartache this past season. After extensive pre-season preparation and the good fortune of selecting A-Rod with the first pick in the draft, we fully expected Yozanger to challenge for the league title. That did not happen. Our team chemistry was a problem from the very beginning. The team suffered a few injuries, highly touted prospects struggled, and a few of our big guns got off to slow starts. Manny Ramirez was out for a significant stretch during the middle of what could have been an unbelievable year for the slugger, who wound up winning the batting title. Yozanger got sub-par years from Jeff Bagwell and J.D. Drew, both high draft choices and major disappointments. On the subject of disappointment, our scouts were very high on Toby Hall and Jose Ortiz heading into the draft, but both players turned out to be complete duds and sucked a lot of life out of our club. Paul LoDuca and Adam Dunn, two players who may turn out to be great one day, showed promise at various points of the season, but faded at the end, with Dunn in particular going into a horrible slump where he forgot how to hit a baseball. We made a few good pickups along the way, namely Randy Winn, Jacque Jones, and Junior Spivey, but those positive moves did not outnumber the negative ones. Frankly, our team was unbalanced. Our hitting was atrocious and our pitching was fantastic. We won the two most telling pitching categories, earned run average and WHIP ratio (walks plus hits to innings pitched), finished fourth in saves, and tied for fourth in wins. We had a twenty-three game winner in Barry Zito, a twenty game winner in Pedro Martinez, and a nineteen game winner in Roy Halladay. One of those three will assuredly win the Cy Young award. In contrast, the team finished the season fourth in home runs, last in RBI, last in stolen bases, last in average, and sixth in runs. Anemic. Overall, Yozanger ended the season cemented in sixth place out of eight teams, neither challenging for fifth nor being challenged by the bottom two teams.
Looking back on this exasperating season, my first back in the game after a ten-year layoff, I cannot say that I got that much pleasure out of playing. In fact, I think I followed baseball less and less as the season wore on because of the fantasy stress. Despite some questionable rules which led to some heated controversy in the league this season, I think the other owners in the league are a great group of guys. Although some might raise an eyebrow at the commissioner's team finishing in first place, I believe everything was on the up-and-up and I congratulate him on a well-played game. And while I thoroughly enjoyed working with my partner and life-long friend in the day-to-day operations of Yozanger, it is with great regret that I announce my decision to sell my interest in the team and retire from the game. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig, one of the all-time Yankee greats... Today, I consider myself the unluckiest rotisserie baseball owner on the face of the earth.
Sunday, September 29, 2002
BLOODLUST AND THE NFL
The Miami-Kansas City game mercifully ended moments ago. As a fan, the Dolphins are a painful team to watch when they're trying to come from behind. Jay Fiedler is not a good quarterback. He is adequate at best, and that's mostly when he's handing the ball off. Although it was working, the 'Phins abandoned the running game early and got into a shootout with the emotionally-charged Chiefs. They paid the price. The Chiefs displayed an explosive offense and a lot of heart last week in coming back to take New England to overtime before losing. I had a feeling this would be a tough early season road game for Miami. Kansas City is always a loud and difficult place to play and I was worried the New England game left the Chiefs with the taste of blood in their mouths without the satisfaction of making a kill. Well, they got their kill in the form of an alpha dog named Jay Fiedler. Fiedler was pressured and knocked down and confused throughout the game and heeved up a couple of passes in the fourth quarter that made you question whether or not he was on the take. He just threw 'em up for grabs. Fiedler threw four interceptions in all on the day, two of them might be blamed on receivers not holding on to the ball, but even those seemed to be forced throws. The Dolphin defense did not play well by any stretch of the imagination, but they did do a decent job of containing Priest Holmes, one of the leagues best backs. However, their secondary was pushed around and physically dominated by the Chief receivers, namely Tony Gonzalez, who had a big big day. That, in turn, had the effect of making Trent Green look like one of the better quarterbacks in the league, which he is not. Patrick Surtain, one of the Dolphins' starting cornerbacks was out and his replacement, second year player Jamir Fletcher, looked lost out there, making a bunch of mistakes and giving up several big plays. But it was the Dolphin offense that set the defense up for failure by turning the ball over often and at key points in the game when momentum was there for the taking. The previously unbeaten Dolphins came into this game leading the league in turnover ratio and had only given up 37 total points in it's first three games. Today, they turned the ball over five times and allowed 48 points in a 48-30 loss. You have to question why Norv Turner and Dave Wannstadt decided to abandon the gameplan when what they were doing was working. And, once again, you have to wonder whether this team can beat anybody in the playoffs if they fall behind.
The Miami-Kansas City game mercifully ended moments ago. As a fan, the Dolphins are a painful team to watch when they're trying to come from behind. Jay Fiedler is not a good quarterback. He is adequate at best, and that's mostly when he's handing the ball off. Although it was working, the 'Phins abandoned the running game early and got into a shootout with the emotionally-charged Chiefs. They paid the price. The Chiefs displayed an explosive offense and a lot of heart last week in coming back to take New England to overtime before losing. I had a feeling this would be a tough early season road game for Miami. Kansas City is always a loud and difficult place to play and I was worried the New England game left the Chiefs with the taste of blood in their mouths without the satisfaction of making a kill. Well, they got their kill in the form of an alpha dog named Jay Fiedler. Fiedler was pressured and knocked down and confused throughout the game and heeved up a couple of passes in the fourth quarter that made you question whether or not he was on the take. He just threw 'em up for grabs. Fiedler threw four interceptions in all on the day, two of them might be blamed on receivers not holding on to the ball, but even those seemed to be forced throws. The Dolphin defense did not play well by any stretch of the imagination, but they did do a decent job of containing Priest Holmes, one of the leagues best backs. However, their secondary was pushed around and physically dominated by the Chief receivers, namely Tony Gonzalez, who had a big big day. That, in turn, had the effect of making Trent Green look like one of the better quarterbacks in the league, which he is not. Patrick Surtain, one of the Dolphins' starting cornerbacks was out and his replacement, second year player Jamir Fletcher, looked lost out there, making a bunch of mistakes and giving up several big plays. But it was the Dolphin offense that set the defense up for failure by turning the ball over often and at key points in the game when momentum was there for the taking. The previously unbeaten Dolphins came into this game leading the league in turnover ratio and had only given up 37 total points in it's first three games. Today, they turned the ball over five times and allowed 48 points in a 48-30 loss. You have to question why Norv Turner and Dave Wannstadt decided to abandon the gameplan when what they were doing was working. And, once again, you have to wonder whether this team can beat anybody in the playoffs if they fall behind.
Saturday, September 28, 2002
BOILING THE FAT OFF
Just finished reading Fast Food Nation, after slogging through it for the past three weeks. Eric Schlosser, the author of this finely crafted expose, has awakened something within in me that has been lying dormant for some time -- anger at multi-national corporations. I won't profess to having anything of value to add on the subjects Schlosser so thoroughly covers, but I strongly recommend reading the book, if you haven't already, to educate yourselves on just how the fast food industry works and how it affects what you put into your body, if you haven't already.
Just finished reading Fast Food Nation, after slogging through it for the past three weeks. Eric Schlosser, the author of this finely crafted expose, has awakened something within in me that has been lying dormant for some time -- anger at multi-national corporations. I won't profess to having anything of value to add on the subjects Schlosser so thoroughly covers, but I strongly recommend reading the book, if you haven't already, to educate yourselves on just how the fast food industry works and how it affects what you put into your body, if you haven't already.
Friday, September 27, 2002
SAWADIKAP, PIKERS
My good friend John E. Slapperstein, a.k.a Johny Ratchet, returned this morning from a month-long sojourn to Thailand. He seems refreshed and inspired and is thinking about teaching English in Chaing Mai for a year. His rough plan is to work for a year here and save a few thousand dollars to pay for the flight and supplement his Thai teaching salary. I must say, it’s quite ingenious. But when I think about it for me, all kinds of thought bubbles rise to the surface. Bubbles about accepting responsibility, settling down, forging a career. Bubbles about the kind of life I’d like to lead. Bubbles about whether or not I want to live a life of nine to six with an hour off for lunch. Bubbles about what the hell I’m doing with my life. If I go there and teach, I could potentially use that experience as a springboard to dive into a career as a teacher here at home. In turn, that brings up bubbles of where home should be. Do I really want to build a life here in Los Angeles or is there somewhere else I’d be happier? You know, I came in here expecting to take a quick shower, not a bubble bath!
Reviewing the photo album that Slap put together this afternoon after picking up his pictures, I’m reminded of my lone excursion abroad to Europe in the summer of 1999. I felt so alive during that time and I want to preserve the memory and share it at the same time. So I have decided to create another blog which will feature my journal and photographs from that trip. Details available soon at your local Piker dealer.
My good friend John E. Slapperstein, a.k.a Johny Ratchet, returned this morning from a month-long sojourn to Thailand. He seems refreshed and inspired and is thinking about teaching English in Chaing Mai for a year. His rough plan is to work for a year here and save a few thousand dollars to pay for the flight and supplement his Thai teaching salary. I must say, it’s quite ingenious. But when I think about it for me, all kinds of thought bubbles rise to the surface. Bubbles about accepting responsibility, settling down, forging a career. Bubbles about the kind of life I’d like to lead. Bubbles about whether or not I want to live a life of nine to six with an hour off for lunch. Bubbles about what the hell I’m doing with my life. If I go there and teach, I could potentially use that experience as a springboard to dive into a career as a teacher here at home. In turn, that brings up bubbles of where home should be. Do I really want to build a life here in Los Angeles or is there somewhere else I’d be happier? You know, I came in here expecting to take a quick shower, not a bubble bath!
Reviewing the photo album that Slap put together this afternoon after picking up his pictures, I’m reminded of my lone excursion abroad to Europe in the summer of 1999. I felt so alive during that time and I want to preserve the memory and share it at the same time. So I have decided to create another blog which will feature my journal and photographs from that trip. Details available soon at your local Piker dealer.
Thursday, September 26, 2002
I WANT A MEAL NOT A SNACK
Quick tidbits from the scraps of Piker's table:
My favorite beverage is now the Arnold Palmer -- half lemonade, half iced tea.
Ate last night at a place in Burbank that calls itself a churrascaria. I know it as "The Meat Place." You help yourself to the fixins buffet of salad, garlic mashed potatoes, fried bananas, and olives, then a variety of waiters, known as gauchos, repeatedly bring skewers of meat over to your table until you turn the little wood thing from green to red. There was the house steak, filet mignon, tri-tip, chicken wrapped in bacon, parmesan chicken, Brazilian sausage, and more. Insanity. But delicious.
Hiked yesterday at Paseo Miramar, my favorite trail in the Santa Monica Mountains. I've been hiking there for a number of years and hiked with dogs many many times. Yesterday, my friend got a ticket for having his dog on the hike. Tool, his most excellent, most obedient canine, was on his leash at the time and no one else was in sight. The State Park Ranger could have easily given my friend a warning, but insisted that the park has adopted a "zero tolerance" policy because too many folks have ignored the "no dogs" sign on this trail. Then we went to the Reel Inn, my favorite seafood place in Malibu, only to find a sign on the door that said "no dogs allowed on the patio." I have personally eaten there with dogs at my feet in the past and was shocked to find this new policy posted on the door. So then we drove along PCH until we hit Ventura County because we wanted to take the dog to the beach and L.A. County doesn't allow it. Bogus.
You must read this profile an amazing writer and LA personality from the LA Weekly. Ain't she pretty.
Quick tidbits from the scraps of Piker's table:
My favorite beverage is now the Arnold Palmer -- half lemonade, half iced tea.
Ate last night at a place in Burbank that calls itself a churrascaria. I know it as "The Meat Place." You help yourself to the fixins buffet of salad, garlic mashed potatoes, fried bananas, and olives, then a variety of waiters, known as gauchos, repeatedly bring skewers of meat over to your table until you turn the little wood thing from green to red. There was the house steak, filet mignon, tri-tip, chicken wrapped in bacon, parmesan chicken, Brazilian sausage, and more. Insanity. But delicious.
Hiked yesterday at Paseo Miramar, my favorite trail in the Santa Monica Mountains. I've been hiking there for a number of years and hiked with dogs many many times. Yesterday, my friend got a ticket for having his dog on the hike. Tool, his most excellent, most obedient canine, was on his leash at the time and no one else was in sight. The State Park Ranger could have easily given my friend a warning, but insisted that the park has adopted a "zero tolerance" policy because too many folks have ignored the "no dogs" sign on this trail. Then we went to the Reel Inn, my favorite seafood place in Malibu, only to find a sign on the door that said "no dogs allowed on the patio." I have personally eaten there with dogs at my feet in the past and was shocked to find this new policy posted on the door. So then we drove along PCH until we hit Ventura County because we wanted to take the dog to the beach and L.A. County doesn't allow it. Bogus.
You must read this profile an amazing writer and LA personality from the LA Weekly. Ain't she pretty.
Monday, September 23, 2002
AUTUMN AT LAST
Although you wouldn't know it by the 102-degree mercury reading here in Los Angeles, today is the Autumnal Equinox, the first day of Fall. It is a day of balance, as the sun shines on both hemispheres in equal measure. Balance is exactly what I need. So far this year, I've ventured to Pittsburgh, Ft. Lauderdale, Durham, Emerald Isle, Cape Cod, Seattle, and San Francisco. I've spent time of the highest quality with My Family, My Girl, My Girl's Family, and friends both old and new. I attended weddings on both coasts and I swam in the Atlantic and the Pacific. I've read a bunch of books back to back, I've launched this blog and written part of a screenplay, I've gotten myself into outstanding cardiovascular shape by hiking and running, and I've entered my first serious relationship in quite a while. All this while earning a fixed income of 330 dollars a week on unemployment.
After spending the Spring and Summer unemployed and roaming the nation, I now must settle down and work in order to retroactively earn the vacations I've already taken. I'm ready to work. I'm ready to earn money. I'm ready to have disposable income again. I'm ready to sit on the couch on the weekends and watch football. I'm ready for the new TV season. I'm ready for less extreme heat and cool, crisp evenings. Indeed, I'm ready for Autumn.
Although you wouldn't know it by the 102-degree mercury reading here in Los Angeles, today is the Autumnal Equinox, the first day of Fall. It is a day of balance, as the sun shines on both hemispheres in equal measure. Balance is exactly what I need. So far this year, I've ventured to Pittsburgh, Ft. Lauderdale, Durham, Emerald Isle, Cape Cod, Seattle, and San Francisco. I've spent time of the highest quality with My Family, My Girl, My Girl's Family, and friends both old and new. I attended weddings on both coasts and I swam in the Atlantic and the Pacific. I've read a bunch of books back to back, I've launched this blog and written part of a screenplay, I've gotten myself into outstanding cardiovascular shape by hiking and running, and I've entered my first serious relationship in quite a while. All this while earning a fixed income of 330 dollars a week on unemployment.
After spending the Spring and Summer unemployed and roaming the nation, I now must settle down and work in order to retroactively earn the vacations I've already taken. I'm ready to work. I'm ready to earn money. I'm ready to have disposable income again. I'm ready to sit on the couch on the weekends and watch football. I'm ready for the new TV season. I'm ready for less extreme heat and cool, crisp evenings. Indeed, I'm ready for Autumn.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
RECESS-ION
I’m feeling locked up. Paralyzed once again by financial woe. I am currently in my eighth straight month of unemployment and there is no end in sight. This is the first time during this stretch that I’ve actually spread the word that I’m looking for a job, but things are bleak. There just don’t seem to be any jobs out there. I know tons of people who are unemployed or freelancing right now. Most of the people I know who are employed don’t like their jobs. And nobody seems to know of any jobs opening up.
So I've decided to take matters into my own hands. None of this relying on friends and acquaintences and former co-workers for inside information. I'm going to read want ads and scour job listings and pound the pavement. My search began in earnest today. I started with the LA Times Classifieds. That proved to be rather frustrating and ultimately fruitless. As a matter of fact, the only job I wound up applying for all day I found at the LAUSD site. The position is called an Area Playground Supervisor. I stumbled onto that golden opportunity while researching how I would go about trying to become a teacher. After running into roadblock after stop sign after crosswalk in my attempts to re-enter the entertainment industry workforce, I've now broadened my job search to include just about anything that sounds like it wouldn't royally suck. So, in that spirit, this Area Playground Supervisor position didn't sound half bad.
Sure, it sounds like the job entails a fair amount of paperwork and responsibility, but nothing I can't handle, right? I'm now intrigued, so I read on.
Okay, nothing on my resume would suggest that I have any related experience, but I'm a fun guy who loves sports. Fine, I have no related experience. I don't have one single day of experience conducting playground programs or supervising playground workers. I've never even been a playground worker! So I try to come to terms with my not being qualified to be an Area Playground Supervisor. I gather I might be qualified to be an Area Playground Worker, but I don't find that as one of the available jobs listed. To add insult to injury, I read furthur to find a section entitled Special Requirements:
I suppose I can get the certificate all right, but right now, I don't have a car! Discouraged and depressed, I decide to apply for the APS position anyway. Maybe, just maybe, someone will take a look at my resume and contact me, if for no other reason than to ask how the hell I managed to work on one crappy sitcom after another without ever landing on a hit show.
I’m feeling locked up. Paralyzed once again by financial woe. I am currently in my eighth straight month of unemployment and there is no end in sight. This is the first time during this stretch that I’ve actually spread the word that I’m looking for a job, but things are bleak. There just don’t seem to be any jobs out there. I know tons of people who are unemployed or freelancing right now. Most of the people I know who are employed don’t like their jobs. And nobody seems to know of any jobs opening up.
So I've decided to take matters into my own hands. None of this relying on friends and acquaintences and former co-workers for inside information. I'm going to read want ads and scour job listings and pound the pavement. My search began in earnest today. I started with the LA Times Classifieds. That proved to be rather frustrating and ultimately fruitless. As a matter of fact, the only job I wound up applying for all day I found at the LAUSD site. The position is called an Area Playground Supervisor. I stumbled onto that golden opportunity while researching how I would go about trying to become a teacher. After running into roadblock after stop sign after crosswalk in my attempts to re-enter the entertainment industry workforce, I've now broadened my job search to include just about anything that sounds like it wouldn't royally suck. So, in that spirit, this Area Playground Supervisor position didn't sound half bad.
An Area Playground Supervisor's duties include:
* supervising and assisting in coordinating recreation activities on school playgrounds
* evaluating the effectiveness of recreation programs and personnel
* scheduling and supervising games, tournaments, meets and other recreation activities
* interpreting policies and procedures
* assisting in planning and conducting in-service training and in the selection of playground personnel
* assisting in the procurement and distribution of supplies and equipment
* keeping records and making reports and recommendations regarding recreation programs
Sure, it sounds like the job entails a fair amount of paperwork and responsibility, but nothing I can't handle, right? I'm now intrigued, so I read on.
You must meet the following requirements by September 30, 2002:
Experience: Nine months of experience in conducting playground programs, including three months of supervisory experience over playground workers
Okay, nothing on my resume would suggest that I have any related experience, but I'm a fun guy who loves sports. Fine, I have no related experience. I don't have one single day of experience conducting playground programs or supervising playground workers. I've never even been a playground worker! So I try to come to terms with my not being qualified to be an Area Playground Supervisor. I gather I might be qualified to be an Area Playground Worker, but I don't find that as one of the available jobs listed. To add insult to injury, I read furthur to find a section entitled Special Requirements:
A valid Red Cross First-Aid Certificate must be obtained within 90 days after employment begins.
A valid California Driver License and the use of an automobile will be required at the time of appointment. Business mileage will be reimbursed.
I suppose I can get the certificate all right, but right now, I don't have a car! Discouraged and depressed, I decide to apply for the APS position anyway. Maybe, just maybe, someone will take a look at my resume and contact me, if for no other reason than to ask how the hell I managed to work on one crappy sitcom after another without ever landing on a hit show.