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February 28, 2003
Just Be, Cos
Apparently Aisha Tyler is going to join the cast of TV's "Friends," in answer to persistent complaints that the show never has nonwhites on it despite being set in New York.
Just a question here, especially for any "nonwhites" -- is this really better? Add a token black person -- and one who's already famous, at that -- to prove you're not racist?
Maybe they should add more unfunny dialogue because life in New York isn't really as funny as sitcoms portray it.
I love diversity. I live in a city full of it. But I'm not sure everything needs to be for everybody. I wouldn't have liked The Cosby Show better if a token white person had been added. Unless it was Shatner.
Of course, adding Cosby to the cast of Friends would be genius.
Posted by LYT at 2:58 PM | Comments (0)
February 27, 2003
This jury-riggin' woan't last fer long!
About time I wrote about jury duty, isn’t it? Well, here goes…
This was my first time. I’d gotten the summons twice before. Once during summer vacation from college, so I was truthfully able to say I no longer lived in LA (it was around OJ time, but I doubt I’d have been picked for that), then another time back in ’99, but I cited financial hardship and told them I was a journalist. I really think some people don’t register to vote because they fear jury duty, but that’s changed now too – they pull some names from the registrar but others from the DMV. So nonvoting, non car-driving (or at least non-licensed) folks are exempt. And that, I would guess describes much of the population of L.A. (freeways aside, folks – lotsa poor people here too). So you get an interesting cross-section at jury duty, but not exactly a representative sample of the city.
Well, they’ve changed the system now, for good and ill. Ill being that almost no excuses are valid any more. Good being that you only have to be on call one day, as opposed to the old “10 days randomly selected out of a three-week period” bit. My schedule is quite flexible now, so I figured what the hell. The hell, as it turns out, is having to be there at 7:45 a.m.
The summons isn’t really clear about what the nearest subway station is, and the MTA’s website wasn’t working properly to help me out, so I guessed. And guessed wrong. Since much of downtown LA consists of steep slopes, this was really fun. Fortunately, I had the time wrong and thought I was due at 7, so instead of being late I was early. And I found out there’s a subway stop directly adjacent to the courthouse. If only someone had actually, y’know, TOLD ME.
So what you do most of the day is hang out in a big lounge with out-of-order Internet stations and several jigsaw puzzles with lots of missing pieces. They show you some instructional videos, which cracked me up because I just imagined that at any moment they’d go “Hi, I’m Troy McClure! You may remember me from such instructional videos as ‘Drunk Driving: The Fun Stops When You’re Disemboweled’ and ‘Please put all tray tables and seat backs in the upright and locked positions: US Airways’ Greatest Hits’” What can I say, I was sleep-deprived.
Anyway, you spend the day doing nothing in there. You can go to the worst snack bar on earth to get a soda, hope someone brought a newspaper, or maybe watch some daytime TV if that crappy set in the back of the room gets any reception. Then there’s an hour and a half for lunch, which is not bad. You get to hit downtown that way.
Everytime I’m downtown, I wonder why I don’t come more often. I love the vibe. I guess it’s just that there’s not much to actually do there besides look at things. In this day and age, what struck me is how terrible a target downtown would be for a nuke or terrorist attack. It’s sparsely populated at best, and most of the folks there are poor working-class people selling bootleg spiderman toys or wedding gowns. Sure, there are courthouses and such, but they hardly stand out as major political targets. LA’s so spread out that it’s a terrible target, period, unless you have a U.S. or Russian-sized nuclear missile that could take out everything in like a 100-mile range or so. Am I bringing you down? Sorry. Trying to make Angelenoes feel better, by emphasizing unlikelihood.
So let’s talk burritos. I got one at Grand Central Market that weighed more than my baby brother Adam, and was bigger than his head. $6! I barely ate half. You can choose your own meat – I almost always go with Carnitas (Mexican-style pork), but one of the meat options here was pork rinds! I thought Southerners were nasty with their cuisine, but pork rind burritos make me reconsider that notion. Plentiful for sale were sheep heads, which longtime acquaintances of mine will recognize as one of my particular fascinations. When done with lunch, I went and watched some female Afrocentric poet recite with cello backing. They had a soul food tent behind her, and I instantly regretted not having eaten there (it wasn’t back the next day).
At around 3pm or so, my name gets called, and I go down to a courtroom to report for duty. Thankfully, I’m one of the first jurors put on a panel. My main impression is that this feels like a theme-park attraction. I’ve never been in court before, so the closest I’ve come was at a theme park, The London Dungeon, wherein I was accused of having sex with a cow and sentenced to death. We see courtrooms on TV all the time, so the real LA courts feel like movies sets.
The prosecutor’s a kid in a suit who looks younger than I am. The defense attorney is like a redder-faced, blonder haired version of Joe “Senator Palpatine” Lieberman (NOTE: the nickname, you, the fans, voted for!). The defendant is a tall, stocky, pale-skinned Latino in a plaid shirt with a buzzcut and one eye turned permanently inward, like actor Tiny Lister. The charge is armed robbery. The defendant pleads not guilty.
The judge reminds me of those college professors who try to be “cool.” Amiable guy with a mustache and a Boston accent who cracked jokes as he tried to assess our biases, if any. It was slow going, though, and no-one was dismissed, meaning one more day of service at least. Thankfully, call time for the next day was 10:30, and this time I’d get the train station right.
I had figured I’d be kicked off the first day, but no, that hadn’t happened. I think one of the jurors was actually trying to get kicked off – she told the judge she’d be inclined to believe anything a policeman said. He didn’t dismiss her, though, maybe because he suspected a ruse, but instead sent her to civil court, where no cops would be testifying.
One of the weird aspects of human nature that comes out is that, even if you didn’t want to come for duty (and most people don’t), once there you get sucked into trying to prove that you’re qualified, and defensively start denying any hint of bias when the judge questions you.
On day 2, it started becoming clear that the armed robbery in question was of a catering truck. By lunchtime, the judge finally seemed done with the first panel. I wasn’t hungry, so only had a fruit shake for lunch. Antibiotics had really made me flush the day before, and I was nervous they might do so again (I’m still not sure if they’ve worked or not – will give it a week and see).
The Palpatine attorney was lower-key and less self-serious than I thought. Mainly he wanted to know if we belonged to any “groups” and when one woman mentioned a golf club he asked her handicap, saying that no-one with one under 17 was permitted to serve on any jury! The prosecutor asked tougher questions, and he was the one who ruled me out. I didn’t do it deliberately, but his question was along the lines of “If we play for you a portion of a tape, will you trust the court that it’s the only relevant portion?” I said in this case yes, though in more loaded cases maybe not, like the Rodney King case, in which I think the issue hinged on how much of the tape the jury got to see. I was thanked and dismissed. Went back to the jury lounge, signed over my $15 daily fee to charity, and went home, drinking a Mountain Dew to keep me awake. All in all the whole thing was actually a welcome break from my routine, and my only regret is not getting to see the case unfold, since my curiosity had been piqued.
"progressive" LA Weekly wimps out
Ever wanted to support a Green Party candidate without fearing being a spoiler? The Weak-ly obviously doesn't, endorsing careerist politician Tom LaBonge over his only opponent, Green Party candidate Derek Milosavljevic. Worse, they praise LaBonge for endorsing the city council antiwar resolution without mentioning that initally Tommy was actually opposed to said resolution, proposing an alternative resolution supporting the president's decision. Only when Derek pushed him on the issue did he change.
The LA Times unfairly characterized Derek as an out-of-touch movie executive a couple weeks ago, when in fact he's an independent film producer, and the only candidate for city council who actually rents his apartment. Think he'll stand up for renters' rights? I'd say that's a safe bet.
If you see his name on the ballot, vote for Derek this Tuesday. More info on him at www.derekforcouncil.com
Screw the Glen Hellish Lackluster Pavilion
Like summer heavy metal concerts, but hate the living hell that is Blockbuster Pavilion, where Ozzfest always comes? Metallica have taken a cue from the OZZMan, and planned a summer tour that'll hit the LA Coliseum, with Limp Bizkit, Deftones, Linkin Park, and Mudvayne. Tix onsale Sunday. Metallica ain't what they used to be (and do they even have a bass player any more?), but live maybe they'll rock harder.
Such a bad feeling
I'm hardly the first to post this, so everyone probably already knows, but TV's Mr. Rogers died of stomach cancer today. I've barely even given Ol' Fred more than a passing thought during the past 20 years or so, but every kid who ever watched TV in America grew up with this man, and usually derided him as "gay" once they turned adolescent.
By all accounts, he was one of the last true good guys, a presbyterian minister who practiced what he preached without being overly scriptural, just embodying the concept of loving your neighbor. Esquire once set out to do a hit piece on him, and found no skeletons in his closet at all. Think about that: are there any other TV stars who could pass that standard?
If there's any truth to the Huey Lewis song that it's hip to be square, Mr. Rogers was the epitome of that. If there is indeed a Christian God, Fred's right where he deserves to be. But someone should ask God why he took such a nice man in so horrible a fashion.
I'm sure Jim Varney's happy to be joined by a kindred spirit, anyway.
Oh, those of you who wondered why I wasn’t writing much in my weblog recently…YOU’RE WELCOME!
Posted by LYT at 2:55 PM | Comments (1)
February 24, 2003
All the things he said, all the things he said...
Did the DVD commentary alongside a longtime colleague of mine today, and if I may be so egotistical, lemme say that WE ROCK! I apologize for being cagey regarding the actual title and so forth, but I want to make sure we don't step on the distributor's toes by making any premature announcements. I will say this -- it's a disc already available for preorder, it's a film from the '70s, and the heading of this entry is a very oblique hint at one of the words in its three-word title.
Also, I'm accepting no payment, as it hardly behooves a critic to take money from a film distributor. I will be getting free DVDs though, and may hold a contest here when they come out. Stay tuned!
More later -- I've been meaning to talk more about the jury experience, and when I have the time, I will.
[update, as of a year later: the headline references a song by tATu. The movie was THE TATTOO CONNECTION]
Posted by LYT at 8:13 PM | Comments (0)
February 19, 2003
I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you
Got the jury duty summons this week, but since I haven't been dismissed yet I can't talk about it. Figure they'll reject me tomorrow, though. I mean, look at me!
In other news, I've been invited to do a couple of DVD commentaries. Can't spill the beans on who or what, except to say that they're most likely films you've never heard of, and that goes for you cinephiles too.
Some toy announcements that will please many -- SOTA, the company that makes those porn star toys I like so much, is doing figures based on Pink Floyd's The Wall. I'd be more into that movie if I liked the Floyd; nonetheless, I know many of you will be craving these. No pics, sorry.
SOTA has also snatched the Tomb Raider license away from Playmates. A porn-star style full nude bodyscan is probably too much to hope for, but anything's better than the previous toy Lara Crofts. Toy Biz had her first, and used recycled superhero parts. Playmates made her way cartoony, then for the movie simply reused their cartoon sculpts with a new Angelina head tacked on. SOTA's will be all new, based on the new game AND movie sequel.
Here's some pictures of other stuff:
"Dinosaur Jedi" Coleman Trebor (or as my friend Gregory likes to call him, "Stupid Head")
Posted by LYT at 5:47 PM | Comments (0)
February 17, 2003
We interrupt the toy talk for a word about Michael Jackson
I know I'm way behind the curve on this, but VH-1 just reran the Martin Bashir interview. It actually changed my opinion of the man (?) somewhat. I don't think he's a sexual predator in any deliberate sense of the world. I DO think he's the most frighteningly naive adult I've ever seen, and fame allows him to remain so. I doubt he did have any sexual thoughts when he did whatever he may have done with that other boy. I can just about believe that he only remembers having two plastic surgeries and no more (clearly he's had more -- his facial muscles can barely move).
Like Howard Hughes, Michael's an example of how living outside of the world can make you go nuts, with nothing to ground you. The special didn't mention that he's a Jehovah's Witness, a faith that endorses shutting oneself off from the world at large -- that's an area that should've been explored.
Oh, and no way are those Aryan kids born of Jackson sperm. Must've been a mix-up at the lab.
And the prize for most twisted new toy line of 2003 is...
Todd McFarlane's "Wizard of Oz." Not to be confused with American McGee's version, which seems reasonably faithful to L. Frank Baum. Todd's line is faithful only to Todd. Check 'em out:
New Spawn series -- Mutations
The Matrix Trilogy -- series 1 (series 2 not shown)
Neo (lobby shootout, first movie)
Trinity (lobby shootout, first movie)
Reloaded Deluxe Diorama (pretty freakin' cool!)
Alien Queen w/victim and chest-bursting action
WWE Raw X (mostly repaints, but includes the first RealScan Jerry Lawler)
And now, the most surprising toy line announcement:
A CHRISTMAS STORY! No pics, alas, but one of the figures will be the kid with his tongue stuck to the lamp-post, with magnetic tongue action. I don't wanna complain about that, but no "Drunk Santa" playset? C'mon, that's a no brainer.
Here's a few more pics of other stuff. Most of the cool toys have been shown by now:
Posted by LYT at 5:04 PM | Comments (0)
February 16, 2003
Go Figure
To sum up some recent activities -- mega-huge antiwar march in Hollywood, great ATE 13 show, and "The Apple" is one of the most genius movies ever made. It sold out the Nuart -- maybe they'll bring it back. I got to watch it with one of my early screenwriting inspirations, Dan Waters (Heathers). I won't tell him that cuz it'll make him feel old. But maybe he'll read it here anyway.
Never mind all that, though -- the TOY FAIR is going on in New York eight now, where we get to see all the new toys that'll come out later this year. Obsessive fans don't need my help with these links, but for the casual fan, or the friend who wants to know what to give me as gifts this year, I've provided links to some of the best pics, mostly courtesy of figures.com. If they don't work, it might be because everyone's trying to log on at once -- try back later.
More will be added as the show goes on, but here are some fun ones to start you off:
12" Freddy Krueger collector doll
Alias Jennifer Garner action figure
bbi's NIGHT NINJA and DAY NINJA
WrestleMania 20th Anniversary, with retro Undertaker, Diesel, Shawn Michaels and retro-Hogan!
Hellraiser -- Chattering Cenobite
Possibly the weirdest toy in the show: Snoop Dogg as Trinity from The Matrix!
The second weirdest: Dr. Stephen Hawking, as he appeared on The Simpsons
Discuss on the pop culture section of the Cutting Board. I'll have more links tomorrow, notably McFarlane's best offerings and possibly Toy Biz too.
Posted by LYT at 10:11 PM | Comments (0)
February 14, 2003
God Strikes Back
Pat Robertson has prostate cancer. It's all the abortionists' fault.
And now, a timely message from T'Pau
Songs for my valentine
Give the game away
In rhyme I make you mine
Sing all I cannot say
I know mine are the tears I've never cried
I know mine is a love I must deny
We go our separate ways
With nothing but a smile
Hearts break and the day awaits
Oh how you've broken mine
I know mine are the arms you'll never hold
And I know mine is a love remains untold
Hey hey hey, send me valentines
Come on, shine, please shine, don't look my way
Hey, come on now shine
You've got to shine, please shine
My words, my truth, my will, my way
Posted by LYT at 12:07 PM | Comments (0)
February 12, 2003
Disease versus Cure, round 1
Let's recap.
Antibiotic powder causes:
-achy joints
-fuzzy head
-fatigue
-hiccups
Infection they're fighting causes:
-sore throat
-mild fatigue
Hardly seems fair right now.
Osama: "Yo Mama!"
So, early translations of Bin Laden's new tape (which fairly definitively prove him to be alive, as he's talking about current events) had him telling the people of Iraq to rise up against Saddam.
Coupla hours later, most major news outlets claim that was a mistake, that he insulted Saddam's Ba'ath political party, but nonetheless urged solidarity with him.
Say it with me, now: WHAT LIBERAL MEDIA?
Meanhwile, North Korea now has missiles that could hit the U.S. with a nuclear payload. Well, actually just the West coast. Kim Jong Il is apparently a big fan of American movies, so I'm hoping he won't want to see Hollywood destroyed.
And the media's warning us to prepare emergency kits for chemical weapons and dirty bombs. Hey, those of you who saw Bowling for Columbine -- remember the part about media fearmongering?
Yeah. Keep it in mind. A chemical attack will not hit you in your home, unless launched from a Scud, which ain't gonna happen here -- it disperses too easily in the atmosphere, and is only effective in confined spaces. Biological, I don't know about. Depends if the disease is airborne. Dirty bombs are hard to pinpoint since they've never really been used much before, but frankly, they're not that effective a weapon, and the only point would be to use one near an enemy politician or something. Besides, it's torrentially raining in LA right now, rendering any airborne weapon fairly useless.
Posted by LYT at 8:20 PM | Comments (0)
February 11, 2003
Mmmmm, penicillin dessert topping....Ahhhhhh!
Turns out this ongoing sore throat thing is actually a minor infection, so I'm fighting it with a bunch of fat capsules of prescription amoxicillin. Thing is, the capsules are so big they hurt to swallow. My solution? Open them up, and pour the powder on my ice cream. Yummy.
I'm hoping once I knock this thing out, my motivation will come back. The throat thing and a romantic sorta-breakup (that neither party wanted, but we couldn't seem to get around) have been bumming me out. I thought my solo Valentine streak of 28-0 might actually come to an end, but it doesn't look like it this year.
Ah well. I'll probably be at the Nuart's midnight showing of The Apple. I suggest that any other folks with no plans do the same.
Posted by LYT at 10:48 PM | Comments (0)
February 10, 2003
A Curt and imperfect ending
It was, of course, my intention to write a whimsical account of my attendance at WWE Raw tonight. But I can't do that now. The first thing that appeared on the big-screen Titantron was an image bearing the inscription "In memory of 'Mr. Perfect' Curt Hennig." Everyone in the arena with any sense of wrestling history was stunned. Hennig was a veteran, but he was not yet 50. And his death was news to all of us.
Details are sketchy -- all I've learned online so far is that he was found dead in a Florida hotel. That would tend to indicate one of the three possibilities most common for wrestlers his age who pass on:
1. Suicide. Not mentioned -- I think they'd have said.
2. Drug abuse, prescription or otherwise -- that's what ultimately did in Louie Spicoli and Brian Pillman.
3. Enlarged heart, often a side-effect of steroid use -- that's what got the British Bulldog and Hennig's good friend Rick Rude. Hennig never looked super-juiced, but he did look great for his age.
The first WWF show I ever saw live featured Hennig in the main event against Hulk Hogan, and I was furious that Hogan won, thus breaking Mr. Perfect's "perfect" win-loss record. I once sent my mother all over England looking for a Mr. Perfect action figure. I remember his WrestleMania V debut against The Blue Blazer Owen Hart (also prematurely dead), and his SummerSlam loss to Kerry Von Erich (also late and great, and likewise way too young to be so). If there is a Heaven, I'd like to imagine the Perfect rematches in progress even now.
Hennig's trademark move was the PerfectPlex, but his unofficial trademark move was to spit a wad of chewing gum, and swat it out of the ring in midair. When he left the WWF for WCW, he floundered a bit because he couldn't use the "Mr. Perfect" name and his move became the "Hennigplex," but then he strangely reinvented himself as a country singer, recording a hilarious song entitled "I Hate Rap." He then feuded with Master P. (yes, the rap star), in a move that showed WCW had no idea who their audience was -- Master P was supposed to be the good guy, but the primarily-southern fan base backed Hennig all the way. Hennig was also in the NWO for a while, alongside Hulk Hogan, "Big Show" Paul Wight, and Scott Steiner. I used to have a T-shirt with those 4 on it. Over the years, Hennig was managed by Bobby Heenan, "The Genius" Lanny Poffo, and "Coach" John Tolos, and he himself also served as manager for Ric Flair and Triple-H at different times. He never won a world title in the big two, but he did hold the AWA world title back when it still meant something, losing it in 1988 to Jerry "The King" Lawler.
Mr. Perfect made a brief comeback to the WWE last year, only to be fired after an intoxicated scuffle with Brock Lesnar on a plane ride back from Europe. At the time of his death, he was scheduled to perform at an independent event booked by former WWF manager Jimmy Hart. He's survived by his father, Larry "The Ax" Hennig, which should never happen to any father -- my heart goes out to Larry.
Curt was, if nothing else, the perfect entertainer as a wrestler, and while it would be a lie to say his best days were still ahead of him, he was certainly no has-been.
Posted by LYT at 10:47 PM | Comments (0)
February 9, 2003
Afflecktion
So, after a busy day shooting a student film by Cutting Board regular "ReJekt," I went to Ben Affleck's house. Yep, that's right. Daredevil his very own self. It was a fundraiser for Green Party City Council candidate Derek Milosavljevic, whom I wholeheartedly endorse if you're in his district. Tickets were $200, but that all goes to Derek's campaign, which is a very worthy one.
Now, I'm fully aware I may come off as a bitchy would-be starfucker here, but bear with me. It was severly cold in Ben's garden, where the whole shindig took place. Folks gathered round the heatlamps. The one I chose was in fact soon swamped with celebs: Ben, J-Lo, and Matt Damon. They didn't talk to me. Surprise.
The one bit of celebrity conversing I did get in was when I went to the restroom in one of the guesthouses. Ben keeps a stack of Daredevil comics in the john, in case you wanted to know. I come out, and J-Lo's the only one in the room, doing singing exercises. So I tell her something like "God, it's so much warmer in here!" She responds: "Than outside? Definitely!" That was my celeb interaction.
Now, I've been hard on Affleck in the past. And had I schmoozed with him tonight and talked about my scripts with him, I admit, I'd probably say he's the greatest guy ever. I give him a lot of credit for hosting the fundraiser, and for endorsing a Green party candidate, admittedly a longtime friend of his.
BUT
Given how small the crowd was, and how we all paid $200 to get in, I would have thought he might do a bit more of a meet and great, rather than staying in the corner with his famous friends. I concede he has no obligation to do so, and certainly J-Lo doesn't, since she wasn't even advertised (Matt was, and stayed longer than most). But by comparison, I went to an MGM party at a producer's house for free last fall, and got to meet both Jeff Goldblum and Michael Moore, both of whom were working much larger crowds than Ben & Matt.
No obligation, but for tickets that steep, I'd think at least a handshake for each guest in the small turnout isn't too much to ask.
Again, kudos to Ben for hosting, but I don't think I'm expecting too much for my $200.
Vlad the Imp Hailer
Apaprently, some Russian lawyers are planning to sue the producer of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, on the grounds that Dobby the Elf is a deliberate insulting caricature of president Vladimir Putin.
I never really thought about it before, but they do bear a striking similarity.
Posted by LYT at 1:01 AM | Comments (0)
February 6, 2003
By the power of Grayskull!
Jeez, have I posted enough stuff today yet? And who thinks I should go ahead and write my Masters of the Universe screenplay regardless of whether or not I have the rights to ever do anything with it? I tried that once before, with a script based on the video game Killer Instinct, but never finished it. I think I did about 30-40 pages, fun stuff but I got tired of writing fight scenes.
"At the center of my apartment, at the border between the light and the dark, stands Castle Grayskull..."
Yes, it's true. I have Castle Grayskull in my living room, and I love it. I've always been a big Masters of the Universe fan, and it was never "He-Man" to me, mainly because it wasn't until after I started buying the toys that I saw the cartoon, which was really pretty silly, dumbing down the potentially great possibilities these characters had. I had virtually all the toys by the time the line died at what seemed to be the height of its popularity, thanks in part to the failure of the 1987 movie version. I like the movie, but it's not what it could've been -- to save money, they came up with a plot that took all these mythic warriors away from their home planet and brought them to small-town America. Not to mention the fact that He-Man/Prince Adam should be the main character in a Masters movie, not some teenage girl played by Courtney Cox.
Imagine a Masters movie done like Lord of the Rings. I have. In fact, it's a dream project of mine. I'm dying to make the movie the right way, and have some kickass ideas.
So anyway, I had some trepidation when Mattel relaunched the line last year, despite the presence of sculpting greats The Four Horsemen, who got their start working for Todd McFarlane, the man who revolutionized the way action figures look. The new toys have a bit more of an angular, anime-style look than I'd like, but some, like Samurai Skeletor, are totally McFarlanized.
One problem is these things are kinda tough to find. It's easy to get He-Man or Skeletor, but all other characters are what we toyfans call "shortpacked," meaning when a store gets a case of these they get 15 He-Man variants and one Orko and Teela apiece per case ordered.
Still, I was lucky enough to find Orko yesterday, and a Samurai He-Man that was mislabeled at a lower price such that they had to sell it to me for that. Then I hit the FAO Schwartz at The Grove, because of a big clearance sale they were advertising.
Behold, Grayskull. Original price - $69.99. Sale tag price - $49.99. Extra 25% off sale tag price - $37.45. Less than the original Grayskull toy cost back in the day.
Took it to the counter downstairs, where the clerk greeted me with a "Whattup, G?" I rarely get greeted that way, except by Lucky McKee when he's halfway through a 12-pack, so that was amusing. I told the guy that it was cheaper than the original Grayskull, and he briefly reminisced about having the original. Then, when I tried to pay with a debit card, he said "If you pay cash, I'll give it to you for $30. Shhhh!" I did, and he did. No tax or anything.
And man, is this toy cool. The original Grayskull was decent, but soon upstaged by Snake Mountain and other better playsets. This one has the full 21st century technology, with sensors that recognize microchips in each figure's foot, and registers whether or not they're good or evil, either greeting them or saying "You are not welcome here!" by name. If they're good, the door is opened automatically, as is the Chamber of Secrets (hmmm...that term sounds familiar). If they're evil, the voice of the castle misleads them, opening a trap door under their feet or slamming them in the head with the door. It also remembers who was scanned last, so that when you use the large golden key to open the door, it'll say "Greetings, heroic warrior! He-Man (or whoever was scanned last) has been waiting for you!" The castle's eyes also light up, as well as two small fireplaces.
My one grip is with the skull sculpt -- the old castle had the skull surroundung the door, which opened to become its lower jaw, complete with teeth. This one just has the skull atop the door, kinda like in the movie. But even though the castle is green, the skull itself is now gray, so the name finally makes sense.
I see He-Man and Orko standing atop Castle Grayskull, and it makes me happy. Happiness is nice.
Old friends
Fate has been giving me a lot of stress lately, but it seems things may be finally turning around. On two different spontaneous jaunts out to the movies, I've run into some pleasant familiar faces.
On Tuesday night, I went to see The Recruit at the El Capitan in Hollywood. I wanted to eat first, but the geeky teen at the El Cap box office told me there would be no 9:45 show tonight, just one starting in 20 minutes. I asked him why he didn't take the 9:45 showtime off the little pegboard above his head, and he didn't seem to understand. I've had his job. I know that you take times off the table if the shows won't be running that night (he was, as I suspected, misinformed -- on my way out of the screening there were folks waiting around for the next show).
So I watched the movie, which was decent -- my favorite scene has to be Colin Farrell drinking whiskey in the bathtub after being kicked out of CIA school. I laughed because I understood, but I didn't realize folks other than me drank whiskey in the bath also!
Went to Mel's Diner afterwards, as with my local Dennys closing I'd had a real craving for eggs and hash browns. I almost walked out, because the waitstaff were paying no attention whatsoever to the fact that I was sitting there ready to order. Then I hear a familiar laugh. I turn around, and it's GOLLUM! Wait...no. I mean Billy Logue, former Sunset 5 employee, director of Hollywood 5, a movie I played two small parts in but he won't show to me now because I'm a critic. Billy's height, and tendency to hoard half-eaten boxes of milk duds he'd find in the theaters when we cleaned them, are, shall we say, somewhat Smeagolesque. If I ever get back around to making that "Robby the Redneck" short, Billy's going to be in it.
Some Billy Logue trivia -- he once broke into the lion enclosure at a zoo to film a scene that was supposed to be set in Africa. Did it at night, too, when the big cats are actually awake. See "Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys" for an example of how wrong something like that can go.
But that's Billy. Still plugging away. Hollywood 5 is currently being rescored, so I don't know when you guys might get a chance to see it.
Then yesterday, I go to see some movie I have little interest in entitled Smokers Only (was pretty good though), mainly to be completist, and also just in case it opens elsewhere and someone needs a review. On the way out, who should I encounter but Clu Gulager (look him up on the imdb). I became friends with Clu while working at the Sunset 5, but lost touch since becoming a critic, as I never ran into him seeing movies on opening night with the public any more. Clu's a class act all the way, a link to old Hollywood with none of the pretensions of celebrity. His wife Miriam was always a merry spirit, full of life and joy, so it was with great sadness that I learned she recently died from brain cancer. Worse, while she was in the hospital, Clu's car was stolen.
Given all that, I was glad to see that Clu seemed in no way frail, but healthy, lucid, and determined to start a new film project that he anticipates will take 4 years to complete. He had just completed recording commentary for The Killers DVD, in which he starred with Lee Marvin, Ronald Reagan, John Cassavetes, and Angie Dickinson. Only he and Angie remain alive and coherent, but apparently Angie wouldn't return the producers' calls. Clu himself is not set up for DVD play at home and has never watched one, but a short film he directed back in the 60s, "A Day With the Boys," can be seen on the George Washington DVD.
As always, he still goes out to see most every movie that comes out. It's a great shame that his wife of 50 years can no longer accompany him, but I suspect that the man has plenty of friends and loved ones to help him through it all.
Posted by LYT at 2:39 PM | Comments (1)
February 3, 2003
The difference between me and other critics
So I'm watching Fear Factor tonight on TV, and it occurs to me exactly how my mind works differently from that of some other pop culture pundits. Most of them holler and howl like it's the end of civilization becasue a show like this is on the air. Me, I think how truly amazing a world we live it that someone, somewhere recently, more or less uttered the following words:
"Okay, there's this underground drainage ditch, and we're gonna fill it with dead skunks. For the sake of being on TV, four people will go down there, where it's also pitch black by the way, and collect the skunks, after which they have to try to find their way out even though three of the four exit tunnels are fake."
I have to respect anyone who thinks like that.
This show's likely to inspire really weird fetishists, notably the part with the women shaking out their already skimpy outfits while showering to remove the last traces of cow's blood still clinging to their bodies after they bobbed for plastic rings in a big trough of the red stuff (call it a Carrie fetish, perhaps).
So, anyone got a bug-eating fetish? There has to be someone.
RAW no bore, no more?
Looks like the WWE finally got their writing team together on tonight's Raw. It was lame that they teased a Steve Austin return and didn't give it, but the Booker T.-Goldust storyline was classic, even poignant. It also became clear that they're finally thinking about building new stars -- Booker, Jeff Hardy, Jericho, and RVD/Kane all look set to possibly be the next big star after tonight.
I don't suppose it's any coincidence that such a good show occurs only when Triple-H is unable to wrestle....
Posted by LYT at 11:22 PM | Comments (0)
February 2, 2003
My...name...is...NEO(con)!
So, out there in what's known as the blogosphere -- that would be folks that do weblogs almost exactly like this one but are considered more like serious journalists and therefore read by more people (go looking for yourself; none of 'em link to me and I could fill a whole page linking to them, if I felt generous enough to do so, which I don't yet) -- there's lots of talk about the late New Times LA (my happy home for 3 years).
Plenty of people didn't like NTLA, which ain't surprising, since it was almost an explicit mission of the paper to piss important people off. And now, with the department of justice antitrust fiasco, numerous folks are taking the opportunity to dance on the paper's grave and snarkily proclaim it to have been "neocon" (short for neoconservative, but that's too many syllables for your average reader).
As I said on another site, it must be my extremely normal hairdo and habit of wearing suits and ties that made them ascribe said philosophy to us. But just in case anyone has any doubts about the idiocy of labels....
I've always assumed "neocon" to refer to a sort of "hip conservative" (damn near an oxymoron, but lemme explain), in other words, blonde right-wing bimbette Laura Ingraham in her leopard-print skirt, as opposed to stuffy old William F. Buckley. Or maybe the guys in P.O.D. -- I don't actually know what their politics are, but they're born-again Christians with dreadlocks and tattoos.
Such might explain how I, or a mulleted and tattooed black biker like Michael Gougis for example, could possibly be taken for conservative despite our looks. In fact, during the 2000 election campaign, I made at least one or two friends and relatives suspect I had become a conservative, mainly because I attacked Al Gore (a bit of a neocon himself at the time, though his recent proclamations indicate a change for the better). I'm actually a registered Green, but I learned that if you attack one part of an ideologue's orthodoxy, they will often accuse you of being on the extreme end of everything they dislike (example: "You're not in favor of abortion under absolutely any circumstances? You right wing republican NAZI!").
That kind of logic applies in two ways. One, a leftist ideologue reads a Jill Stewart column opposing bilingual education, and therefore assumes Jill's an extreme right-winger, never mind that she also wrote many pro-environment pieces that the Green Party occasionally reprinted on fliers. Two, said reader assumes that because Jill Stewart is therefore obviously a right-wing conservative, the rest of the paper must be too. [not to pick on lefties: right-wing ideologues often accused us of being out-of-touch liberal -- they seem to be keeping their mouths shut right now, though]
All those stories attacking Cardinal Mahoney? Conservative.
The various features on nefarious characters who actually weren't guilty of the specific crime they were accused of? Conservative.
The Gray Whales? Right wing extremism, of course.
The Mexican mafia features? Anti-diversity.
The constant references to George Bush as Duh!-bya? A clever double bluff.
Yes, I'm kidding. I have to say that because I'm aware sarcasm doesn't always travel well in cyberspace.
Posted by LYT at 2:58 PM | Comments (1)