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July 31, 2003

Things to come

So today I had a film crew at my pad, taping an interview with me for a documentary on Tim Blake Nelson's movie The Grey Zone. I don't know how and where you'll be able to see this documentary -- most likely on cable before or after the film itself. I imagine I'll get a copy for myself. Anyway, this is hardly likely to be the last such interview, with possible future projects in the works. We'll see.

And last night, I got a call from somewhere very far north. What was discussed? I can't say. But there may be some big things in store, potentially including a significant change in focus for this blog, though if it happens, it'll be one I think everyone will like, and may attract many new readers. If we get lucky.

Then, in a couple of weeks, another movie role for me. I can't announce it yet, but it's a small role. Some familiar names in the cast, though.

Damn, I better hurry up and write more about Comicon before anything else happens. Maybe this weekend.

Posted by LYT at 12:19 AM | Comments (0)

July 29, 2003

Keep hope alive...or, uh, not/Comicon adventures, part 1

A brief word about Bob Hope, if I may. I was never a huge fan, but I respect the man. Just curious about all the accounts that describe his death as "tragic."

Reality check: this was as untragic a death as it gets. The man lived a rich, full life doing what he wanted to do. He was happily married. He entertained millions of people, and went out of his way to bring joy to soldiers whose lives basically suck while they're in combat. At the ripe old age of 100, he died of natural causes.

All of us should have such a great life. Those who loved him are understandably sad that he isn't around any more, but this is no tragedy. This is a time to admire a life lived to the fullest.

Seems like it's time to recall some of the San Diego Comicon. This may be random, and I'll forget some stuff, I'm sure.

I took the train down to San Diego, which can be a bit of a pain. Not the train trip itself, mind you, but getting to and from my local subway station with luggage -- walking on L.A. streets with a big wheeled suitcase (uphill all the way) is just no fun. People don't have enough of a clue to get out of your way.

From Hollywood and Vine, take the red line to Union Station. Wait in line to pick up ticket. Check large bag. Hang out for an hour.

Hanging out in Union Station doesn't leave you a lot of options. I choose the TRAXX bar. I like the ambience, but for some reason, every time I come here the bartenders ignore me and take everyone else's order before mine. A bald muscular black dude likes my WWE Unforgiven T-shirt, and we briefly bond over wrestling fandom. It's like a secret club, truly.

Later, when I get on the train, this same guy is there -- goes by the name of Q. Turns out he's 40, which is hard to believe. He has befriended a loud obnoxious drunk chick who acts like the generic Drunk Girl on SNL. They had been on a stopover from Oxnard, gotten off to get some drinks, and missed the correct train, so now they had luggage issues and so on. Q's a good talker, so he's able to persuade the ticket taker that no foul play is afoot. He buys me a beer, which is good, and buys Drunk Chick a beer, which is not so good -- she doesn't need more. She takes a dislike to me because she thinks I'm making faces at her. Double vision will do that, babe.

Most every passenger in the carriage is annoyed by this woman. I'm sitting right in front of her at first, but then she moves, and her flailing motions totally disrupt the attempted sleep of the poor guy who's now in front of her. I had hoped to read "Buffalo Soldiers" on the way down (loved the movie, need to review it, wanna know if the ending's different in print. Is it? I'll reveal when I review, sorry) but no chance of concentrating on the printed page now. Q is remarkably patient with his new friend.

I think I managed about a half hour of sleep once I moved seats to the other end of the carriage. Didn't wanna dis Q, but he must have understood.

At the train station, I get an independent cab. No meter, so I make sure to get a quote before we get too far. I will be staying at my uncle's place in La Jolla, but due to a last minute turn of events, my uncle will not be there. Knowing this, I load up on the essentials when my driver stops for gas -- beer, Gatorade, Diet Pepsi, and crumb donuts. My uncle's diabetic, and there are no stores within easy walking distance of his place, so I doubt there are prospects for anything truly edible in tha hizzouse.

It's late when I get to the apartment. I've been forewarned there's no Internet, but my uncle claimed he still had cable TV. Not so. Can only pick up two channels -- ABC and CBS. On ABC, Jimmy Kimmel has Hank Williams Jr. sitting in with the band, and Jack Osbourne as his cohost. Almost like seeing my own personal Good Kirk/Bad Kirk. A rowdy redneck and a British music nerd.

I'm hungry as fuck. Check out the freezer. Mmmm, White Castle mini-cheeseburgers. Four of those with some mustard become my dinner.

I make up the spare bed in my cousin's room, because it's a bigger bed than my uncle's. See that the bathtub contains mucho sand, probably due to cousin's propensity for surfing. I try to get as much sand as possible down the drain, then take a bath. Pop half an allergy pill to help me sleep and stop me sneezing, then try to get to bed, knowing Brian will be by to pick me up in the morning at around 7 a.m.

More on the actual con as the story continues...

Gin sandwich

Max Mohr writes, on his Big Dumb Blog:

"Ooooohhhhh shit

Looks like Luke wants to start a good old fashion blog war! Now I may be new to blogging, but I sure as fuck know how to talk smack on the immernet. I don’t know how they do it wherever you’re from, Luke, but here in AMERICA, when someone throws themselves a birthday party, complete with gift registry, they get a cake for the people they invite. If you had loved ones to throw a party for you, they would pick up the cake. But you don’t. Now I’m not saying I need cake, my ass is pretty big as it is, but the option is always welcome. You come to my birthday party and you’re sure as fuck going to see at least some cookies."

Below that, he lists a number of ingredients his girlfriend won't eat but that sound good to him on a sandwich. One of them is gin.

[note: Max didn't actually have a birthday party last year, as I recall. He feigned illness instead, probably so he wouldn't have to buy cookies.]

Posted by LYT at 12:08 AM | Comments (0)

July 28, 2003

Masters of my Domain

Some belated birthday presents came today: new Masters of the Universe figures Fire Armor Skeletor, Man-E-Faces, and Buzz-Off.

I'm generally quite happy with all three, but think some tweaking should have been done still. Maybe that's the editor in me.

Buzz-Off may be the best update. The bee-man now has full antennae, better wings, and six appendages rather than four, plus a missile-launching staff. His removable helmet is more like those trendy over-top-of-the-head sunglasses that celebrities, pro-wrestlers named CHristian, and one of the boys in Spy Kids 3-D wears. The figure's weakness, like many of the new MOTU, is that in order to stand up, you basically have to pose him making a very suggestive pelvic thrust. This is due to a combo of weak plastic in the legs and a top-heavy torso.

Man-E-Faces was the first "gimmick" figure of the original line, with a face that spins around to reveal two other faces. This new one is truer to the drawings of the original figure than the figure itself, and adds one nice touch -- the entire head can be turned, maintaining the same face, i.e. the figure can look around. It still has theoriginal's conecptual problem, though, which is that it isn't clear whether the orange in his costume is skin or suit. This could be fixed with a paint touch-up -- painting the obvious mechanical orange parts on his abck blue would distinguish machine from flesh.

Fire Armor Skeletor has a similar quandary -- his torso is sculpted like armor, but is the same blue as his skin. Looks like Mattel cheapskated out on a full paint-job here. Looks cool otherwise.

Thank you for the presents, Corinda and Mr. Plow.

"Wipe them out. All of them."

So now that the war in Iraq is looking less and less like a good idea (not that it ever looked good to me), Senator Palpatine obliviously decides to attack fellow Democrats who opposed it?

If the Democrats actually pick this guy as their nominee, I'm definitely voting Nader again, even if Nader doesn't run. Any party that fucking stupid deserves to die out.

I think they'll go with Kerry or Dean, though.

Party of Two

So I got pretty ambitious (for a carless person in L.A.) on Saturday and decided to try and make two of the three parties I was invited to. Both involved the same bus line, L.A.'s most reliable one, the number 4.

Megafest, held in Santa Monica, was bigger than I remember it being last year, and with an entire room of the house being turned into basically a daycare center. The buffet table held what looked like an entire charred cow, and host Bob Street fronted a jam band on what looked like a real stage. Not exactly my kind of music, but he had a good crowd of dancers.

Very few people I knew this year. Other than the obvious Broos and Sharan sighting, no New Times people. "Facking Tossah" Steve Davy's presence is sorely missed at these things.

When you think party food, apples don't usually come to mind, but they had some of the best there. In fact, you could say, "I like them apples." Broos was amused that such would be my choice of eats, but soon he too was appreciating the joy of Magnoliopsidans.

Home video montages of Bob's baby's birth ran on the TV, including many images of his wife naked. Not that I'm complaining, but this struck me as a little odd in such a large mixed gathering.

Broos and Sharan left early, as the latter had already, shall we say, gotten a whole lot of enjoyment out of the day. I hitched a ride with them to Santa Monica Blvd., as the Big Blue Bus gets unreliable later in the evening, especially on weekends.

Taking the #4 to Echo Park, I was engaged in conversation by a loud individual in a Pretenders shirt who was either drunk, stupid, or retarded. Well-meaning fellow, but practically shouted every line of dialogue, and ended everything he said with "Yeah." Example: "DO YOU KNOW IF CELL PHONES ACCEPT COLLECT CALLS? BECAUSE I NEED TO GET A CELL PHONE. YEAH." Then he'd scratch his arms using his teeth. Thanks to conversing with this fellow, and the fact that it's hard to read street signs from a moving bus anyway, I missed my stop. The driver feigned ignorance of my actual stop even though it's on his line and he should know it, but was nice enough to give me a transfer for the reverse trip, on which the driver had a freakin' clue and was very nice.

So there I was at John Daily's moving out party, alongside many of the folks who had showed up to my party the night before. The beer had run out, and there was no liquor, so Mike and Greg collected cash for a beer run, then vanished. The rest of us suspected they may have absconded, but no, they were just slow. Or maybe our perceptions were. Mike brought back some bourbon, and nearly got mugged for it by fellow party guests. Greg, as he so often does, played the role of bouncer well and came to the rescue. His patience was thoroughly put to the test by a drunk fat chick whom no-one remembered inviting, who had a tendency to overturn tables and try to start fights. After Greg warned her the first time, she kept trying to insult him, and he thankfully did not rise to the bait, getting in her face again only when she'd try to start another fight.

By about 4, those who weren't gone were kicked out. Mike drove me home, to the strains of Jurassic 5, whom we will both be seeing at Dollar-per-loser in 2 weeks.

I see that Max is blogging up a storm, and has his own version of events from my birthday party posted (and hey, Max, you could've brought me a cake; seems tacky for me to buy one for myself). Check this guy out if you have not.

Posted by LYT at 12:06 AM | Comments (0)

July 26, 2003

Old and in the way

It can be hard to write about life when you're actually out there living it. It's a nice change to actually not have much free time.

Wednesday's pub get-together on my birthday was small and informal, and a vast improvement over the preceding time-waster that was Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life. Just me, GW, Broos and Sharan, John Daily, Al DiMarco (he and GW take the grand prize for coming to both my parties), and Dan Waters (screenwriter of Heathers, among others). I've gotten to know Dan through GW, but never particularly let on how much of a kick it is to hang out with him now given how influential some of his words have been on me. Dan may or may not like the comparison, but if you were to tell me as a teen that I'd be counting Lloyd Kaufman and him as my friends, I'd have been pretty happy.

GW's birthday gift to me was two pewter statues, of William Shatner and Ricardo Montalban in appropriate Trek outfits and backdrops.

Last night's party was even better. It's rare that one of my parties will actually go into the wee hours, but this one did. I didn't get to sleep until after 4.

It's always interesting to see what combinations of people will show up. In this instance, the vast majority of the guests were old college buds. Among my journalistic colleagues, two showed up -- ironically my first journalist friend (GW) and my newest (Tiffany Stone).

Then there's Matt, who fits no category -- probably deserves one of his own, in fact. "Pussy-ass lo-carb beer drinker," perhaps. I kid. He's dropped a lot of poundage lately, so clearly it works. Either that or he has a tapeworm.

Many attendees got me gifts that were on my list -- almost everything on there has been obtained save the DVDs. As impressive as it was that Jaye managed to score the hard-to find Matrix Twin 1 (presumably at a reasonable price, though I didn't ask, nor do I expect her to tell), I'm even more impressed when someone buys me a suitable gift without asking, and it's something good. Max and Jesse got me a Klingon Borg figure from the Star Trek line, and Electra Bleu got me a cool book about the current alt-weekly political cartoonists (Derf, Tom Tomorrow, Ted Rall, Lalo Alcaraz, etc.).

Some went the mail order route, and have not obtained the goods yet. Corinda mail-ordered a Fire Armor Skeletor, then bought one in a store, and found she couldn't cancel the mail order one (naturally, I have to wait for the mail-order one. But she brought me lamb curry too, and that was danged tasty). Matt ordered the "Fuck Fear, Drink Beer" shirt, but also obtained a Hellraiser toy. Many others brought booze, which is the safest bet of all.

[name witheld in case she'd prefer it that way] provided the highlight of the night by flashing the crowd. That doesn't happen to me very often. And since none of the ladies in attendance seemed available (Tiffany's friend Stella made a comment about how unromantic my place was -- the key, perhaps, is to find someone who thinks the opposite. If my mom's reading, I know she'll take this as vindication that all women think like her, but I'm still holding out hope that ditching everything I like style-wise is not the thing to do), it was the best possible alternative. On behalf of every male in attendance, and possibly more than one female, you have my heartfelt thanks.

Also in attendance: Gregory Alan Crum, Matt Shebesta, Ben Boyer (also dropping some poundage with the aid of pussy-ass beer).

Many thanks to everyone who attended -- it means a great deal to me.

This may be a violation of L.A. etiquette, but it's time to call people out who said they'd show up and didn't, in hopes that we can shame them. This means you, Michael Collins and Elana Roston.

On the flipside, "Cake" Nunez actually called to apologize for not being able to make it. This is damned near unheard of for an Angeleno.

I'll write something about Comicon soon, promise.

Bull(shit) Market

Nothing says "financial security" quite like a beer-drinking redneck wrestler in a cowboy hat.

Mister Prez'dent

Defending the integrity of his motives to go to war on Iraq, George Bush said that our intelligence was "darn good."

Rumor has it that he went on to say "Saddam was a fag. Heeh heeh heeh! Ah dun blowed his doggone head off!"

Bush added that antiwar protesters, though well-meaning, are all "stupidheads."

[just for the record, only that first sentence is definitely true, though you know he was thinking the other two]

Just curious

If the late pro-segregation Senator Strom Thurmond wakes up in Hell, to find the afterlife strictly segregated into that place and Heaven, does it qualify as irony?

Posted by LYT at 11:24 PM | Comments (0)

July 11, 2003

Unbearable

Judging by the grosses, many of you have seen Finding Nemo. Most likely you saw the trailer for Disney's Brother Bear attached to it.

Does that not look like the worst Disney toon in many years? I can dig the premise -- a Native boy turns into a bear and learns to respect nature. I don't care much for the animation look.

But what I dislike the most is that some marketing guy at Disney actually thought about who should do the songs for a Native American-themed movie, and finally came to the conclusion that such an honor should go to...

Phil Collins.

This follows in the ignominious tradition of Spirit, DreamWorks' Native American-themed horse cartoon, which featured songs by Bryan Adams.

Now, I don't expect studios to be hip enough to get Litefoot or John Trudell, as might be truly appropos. But what about Robbie Robertson? Willie Nelson, even (I'm sure he could use the cash)? Hell, someone who's actually American would be a good start.

Not much new

The most notable highlight -- lowlight, actually -- of my recent life has been burning my hand on a TV dinner, then burning it more trying to stop the ingredients from landing face-down on the floor. Yeeowch.

And you thought celebrities didn't have the same problems as you.

GOD-DAMN IT, GUYS!

So, the day I tentatively want to have my birthday on, which would be, as most people would logically schedule, the Saturday right after the day itself...THREE other friends of mine schedule parties on!

Normally, I wouldn't object -- I'd simply reschedule. But this is the last frickin' birthday of my 20s.

What to do? Feedback needed here. I could have my party on Friday, but then I know some people would give me the "I'm too tired from work" line. The Sunday, people would leave early, plus it's a wrestling Pay-Per-View day, and I might be ordering that.

So: Friday, despite tired people? Or Saturday, and just defy the three other events?

Naturally I feel kind of proprietary about the date, given that it involves my being born and all.

Posted by LYT at 11:22 PM | Comments (0)

July 9, 2003

Stop the presses -- Bush said something kinda dumb

In his appearance at Goree Island in Africa, Bush denounced slavery, but noted that "by a plan known only to Providence, the stolen sons and daughters of Africa helped to awaken the conscience of America. The very people traded into slavery helped to set America free."

Now, I've always maintained that Bush is not a racist, but let's look at what he's saying there: slavery was bad, but the one good thing about it is that it taught Americans that slavery was bad? Dumbass.

Bush also said, regarding those involved with slavery, "Christian men and women became blind to the clearest commands of their faith and added hypocrisy to injustice."

This is a bit trickier, because if you're a fundamentalist who believes in Biblical inerrancy, the faith's demands are actually not clear. Slavery was never specifically endorsed by Jesus (my general impression is that he'd have opposed it, and homophobia too), but Paul tells slaves that they should accept their position (I Corinthians 7:21) and to obey their earthly masters with fear and trembling, so long as they also obey Christ (Ephesians 6: 5-8). The Bible can and has been used to justify slavery, but only if you take everything in it as literal and unchanging.

Something certain members of the administration might do well to think about.

"Harry Potter's a fag! Heeh heeh heeh!"

Some people have too much time on their hands.

Posted by LYT at 11:20 PM | Comments (0)

July 7, 2003

More no-name wrestlers debut

New to the WWE: Mark Jindrak, Garrison Cade, Orlando Jordan, Mike Bell...

Jeez Vince, would it kill you to give these guys nicknames? I'll bet I can do it here in a few minutes.

How about:

"Madman" Mark Jindrak

"Self-Made" Gary Cade

"Jammin'" Orlando Jordan

"Wringer" Mike Bell

See? It's not that hard. Wrestling is sports-entertainment, so give us some personalities already.

Nothing but Net

In today's LA Times, columnist Ronald Brownstein speculates that the Internet could do for liberals what talk radio does for conservatives, i.e. provide a rallying point for getting people riled up about specific issues, and organizing like-minded folks into political forces.

Well, it could. But I think Brownstein's conception of the Internet is a little screwy.

He opines that more educated folks tend to have computers, and folks with higher education skew left. What he doesn't state is a counterpoint that seems to me more obvious: computers are owned by people with money, and people with lots of money skew right.

He writes that the Moveon.org online primary, and the subsequent success of winner Howard Dean in raising funds over the net, are proof that liberals have the early advantage in using the Internet. I wonder how often he actually goes online. Most of the successful folks with weblogs are conservative, or at least libertarian, not liberal. I'd wager Matt Drudge has a higher recognition factor than any other self-professed pundit primarily based online. And extreme-loony-racist far right groups have been using the Internet as a rallying point from the beginning, though it's hardly fair to place them in the same group as mainstream conservatives -- point is, though, they're not liberal.

Liberals are actually playing catch-up online, much as they're also trying to do on radio -- I'd say they'll have an easier time online, because anyone with a computer can speak up. With radio, you have to get sponsors, and since liberals are naturally inclined to bash big corporations, those can be tough to find.

Upholding

As a critic, you sometimes find that intial judgments don't hold up over time. I have to confess, for instance, that I was hugely enthused by the Jean-Claude Van Damme Street Fighter movie at the time, and now I recognize that I simply didn't have much of a life then, though some of the deliriously campy performances still charm.

But over the weekend, I had a chance to revisit a couple of others, and in both cases confirm my initial judgment. I've had my doubts, over the past 4 years, as to whether I really should have named the South Park movie best film of 1999, over The Matrix and Fight Club, both arguably far more influential. But watching it over the holiday weekend reminded me of just how on-the-nose the movie is -- it felt like it was made yesterday to critique today's headlines. Parker and Stone's social critique of American war fever and faux-prudishness is so perfectly nailed that it might just make the film timeless.

Then I caught some of Independence Day on Fox, and good lord, was it as bad as I remembered. Awful music, terrible dialogue, gratuitous scenes that should have been trimmed, bad jokes, faulty logic (If an alien can knock out the president with a psychic shockwave through glass, why did it take only one punch from Will Smith to knock it out?), and performers relying entirely on tics -- Jeff Goldblum mumbles, Brent Spiner acts wacky, Bill Pullman drones pseduo-profoundly, Will Smith wisecracks, Judd Hirsch is very Jewish. I don't really see why people still defend this film, while bashing Wild Wild West, which for my money is a much more inventive movie. At a recent party, I heard people tear into Wild Wild West while admitting they hadn't even seen it! That was one of those films where the zeitgeist just decided it was bad, and everyone followed suit. Usually when that happens, people who haven't seen it go along with the crowd on the dis.

Independence Day is getting a sequel soon. Don't encourage it.

Reviewing the reviewer

A hilarious assessment of Gregory's and my DVD commentary for Ed and His Dead Mother can be found HERE

Sample: "Thompson and Weinkauf careen off on tangents like the color of Ned Beatty's tanktop, cast members' teeth and the pronunciation of their last names, horrendous wallpaper, George Lucas' diabetic dream diner, the presentation of breasts in a PG-13 movie, obscene references to Parker Posey's oral talents, and the differences between 'bravo' and 'brava'. "

Posted by LYT at 11:16 PM | Comments (0)

July 5, 2003

Quote of the day

(not really today, but I found it today, and think it's a good 'un for the July 4 weekend)

From Matt Zemek in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer:

"Liberals have a lot to say to conservatives about the value of compassion in various national discussions, and conservatives have much to say to liberals about responsibility and the consequences of individual choices. If we can find points of agreement on these underlying issues through morally centered conversations, something tells me that divisions will begin to fade away. "

(Credit for finding this quote should go to The Right Christians)

People I know who should have blogs:

Gregory Weinkauf

Max Mohr

Jessie Appler

Tim Rich

Shelli Merrill

Justin Stone

Manohla Dargis

Steve Davy

I sense a poll coming on here.

I would put Joe Donnelly, except that most of the articles he writes for the Weekly tend to read like long blog posts already.

"I think by definition MTV tries to be diverse"

Based on this look at their fall schedule, I call bullshit on that one. No need to even comment really, as the concepts speak for themselves.

OK, just one comment. Rich Girls? Like spoiled socialite 18-year-old princesses aren't enough of a pain in real high school, someone thought we wanted a whole freakin' reality show that follows them around?

Teens will enjoy entertainment that doesn't insult them -- see the Buffy TV show and The Matrix. This stuff is just cheaper to make, I guess.

And hey, the show with Steve-O and Chris Pontius could be decent.

Would it be truly fucking redundant to ask where the "music," y'know, the "M" in "MTV" went?

Posted by LYT at 9:45 PM | Comments (0)

July 2, 2003

Start Wreck

Interesting entertainment-related lawsuit going on right now. Essentially, Activision is suing Viacom because Activision picked up the rights to Trek video games, but hasn't made the big bucks on them because recent Star Trek TV shows and movies have been crappy, and, according to Activision, devalued the license.

Can't imagine Activision will win, because a terrible precedent could be set. Could MTV sue Tom Green for making bad movies which hurt his bankability as an MTV star, for instance? Could Ahmed Best sue George Lucas for making him into a national joke, thus devaluing his serious acting career?

Certainly Art Asylum, maker of the "Star Trek: Nemesis" action figures, would have grounds to sue as well if Activision prevailed.

I think Activision would have to prove that Viacom intentionally made shitty movies, and I doubt that's provable (or true, for that matter). Rick Berman and Brannon Braga have always insisted they care about the franchise and are trying to do right by it. Most fans disagree, I think.

Posted by LYT at 9:37 PM | Comments (0)

July 1, 2003

LYT'S TOP 10 MOVIES OF THE HALF-YEAR

Check back in December and see how many of these remain. It'll be interesting. The very excellent Buffalo Soldiers and Terminator 3 are not on this list because they had not yet opened as of June 30.

10. Head of State. Damn funny, this. Those dismissing it for not being as political as Chris Rock's stand-up miss the point -- this is the HBO-sketch, Louis C.K.-collaborating, Pootie Tang-starring, surreal side of Rock, and the best manifestation of it yet.

9. Everybody Says I'm Fine. A weird little English-language Indian film about a barber with psychic powers. Plays cutesy at first, but the director uses some of the best narrative sleight of hand I've seen in a while, and packs a real whallop when he lowers the boom.

8. Divine Intervention. A Palestinian comedy about occupation? It's an outlandish concept, and it goes all the way, without being too political -- even devout Zionists might be capable of enjoying it.

7. Finding Nemo. The first non-Toy Story Pixar film that I've liked as much as those. Ellen DeGeneres' voice acting is a real revelation, more expressive than anything I've ever seen her do. Some of the animation feels like showing off, but mostly it maintains the wow factor. Also has the distinction of being the best Eric Bana-voicing-a-CG-creation flick of the summer.

6. The Shape of Things. Neil LaBute gets back to gender relations, and thank God.

5. City of God. A South American Godfather II, and no, that's not excessive hyperbole.

4. May. Yes, my friend made it, but that only requires me to watch it once out of courtesy, and I've since watched it three more times by choice. A sharp, dark satire of the L.A. social scene.

3. Irreversible. A grim, nauseating head trip that's definitely not for everyone, but folks on the edge should cotton to this look at how quickly and easily the things we take for granted and the trappings of civilization can fall away.

2. Spun. Everyone from USC's Colonial House owes it to themselves to check out this uncannily similar tale of druggies on sleep deprivation. Mickey Rourke is Oscar-worthy, and that's a sentence you won't read very often.

1. The Matrix Reloaded. Duh. Like my zillion blog posts on it didn't tip you off.

Fiddling with pussy

The Cat and Fiddle Pub is often spoken about, and it's near me. Their happy hour is 4-7, so I decided to check it out today. (What did you think that header meant? If you were really thinking the obvious, you must be a new reader).

Being half-Brit and fond of watering holes, I'd like nothing better than to find a good English pub. I'm often intimidated by the notion of going into new places alone, but I've lived here long enough that I needed to try. Besides, drinking with strangers brings the possibility of social contact. Drinking at home does not.

Well, sorry, but the Cat and the Fiddle does not make the cut as "authentically English." Nice memorabilia, and old maps and stuff, but English pubs do not have 15 foot high ceilings. 7 ft if you're lucky; head-bumping the rest of the time.

And I know Guinness is Irish and all, but English bartenders still know how to pour a pint of it properly. The very attractive bar-lady was not British, nor Irish, and got it wrong. I had to actually instruct her the second time around to fill it up 2/3, let it settle, then fill the rest. American bartenders tend to think they save time pouring it all at once -- problem is, THAT'S DOING IT WRONG. Still, at $3 a pint, can't complain. Oddly, only pints are on sale at happy hour -- half pints are not, and wind up costing more than a pint for those 3 hours. I'll give it up for the bar-lady, though, she kept my glass filled. Not like certain Germans at certain downtown hotels who'd rather make accusations of inebriation than do good business. But anyway...

Hors doeuvres for happy hour include crackers with cheese (good, basic), and hot bits of sausage roll and slices of English sausage -- the kind of cuisine that gives England a bad culinary name. I saw a plate of chips being delivered, but they don't merit being called chips. English chips are short, stocky oblong things, much like English bartenders in fact (sans sideburns, of course). These were long, thin, and browned -- English chips are yellow, matey. Looked pretty bad, and generally pre-frozen.

One nice touch is that they sell English crisps. Bought a pack of cheese & onion for nostalgia -- that particular flavor combo was common in my school lunches, and unheard of here, where sour cream and onion is preferred. The crisps weren't fabulous, but just tasting the flavor again was interesting.

I'll probably go back for the prices, but my quest to find an authentic pub continues.

Posted by LYT at 3:03 PM | Comments (0)