The obligatory, almost-triumphant comeback.

Honestly, I'm not surprised, and you shouldn't be either. If Jordan can return to basketball (twice), and The Eagles can go on the "Hell Freezes Over" tour, and Leonard Nimoy can reprise the role of Spock one more time, then I can certainly post another blog post if I've already declared that I won't anymore.

But, just like any other comeback, this one won't last long and won't be as memorable as the original. However, I will tell you that:



Yup. You were in the presence of greatness. Still great even after this post. (I already checked.)

-D out. (Again.)

Finale.

After several months of inactivity, I've decided to end this blog. It no longer serves a purpose to me, and I've never really enjoyed blogging. I'll keep it up for archival sake only, but there will be no more new posts from this point forward.

Bye.

-D out.

(p.s. D stands for Dan.)

Definitions.

sadistic - adj: deriving pleasure or sexual gratification from inflicting pain on another

pornography - noun: creative activity (writing or pictures or films etc.) of no literary or artistic value other than to stimulate sexual desire

(source: dictionary.com; emphasis mine)

This weeks movie: Smokin' Aces (2007)

Rated: R (violence, gore, language, sexual situations, nudity, drug use, etc., etc.)

Actors/Actresses of note: Ben Affleck, Alicia Keyes, Andy Garcia

The plot is as follows: Buddy Israel is a mobster who is about to turn on his fellow mobsters, including mob boss Primo Sparazza. Given that the feds want him alive, the mob wants him dead, and the cops want him for parole violations, all sorts of people converge on a hotel in Reno to either take him out, or, well, take him out.

The review is as follows: Honestly I couldn't write this review at first as I couldn't finish the movie. But, for the sake of my journalistic integrity, I sat down for the last fifteen minutes or so, desperately hoping the movie redeemed itself. It didn't. This is porn for sadists. You've been warned.

It's bad enough that there are no likable characters in this film. But, being a movie full of base characters, this is almost expected. Still, doesn't help. Everyone, from the Ritalin-soaked ten-year-old karate kid to the three insane German hitmen, has no redeeming qualities. Either you didn't care for them one way or the other, or you wanted them dead. These characters do not a good movie make.

It also doesn't help that the name on top of the marquee (Affleck) plays a character whose sole purpose is to put forth exposition, then, much like Drew Barrymore's character in Scream, dies. The name shouldn't be there if he's not in the whole movie. Maybe that's more personal preference, but anyone going to this movie expecting Ben there in the final scene will be sorely disappointed.

Much like this review, the movie can't stay on one particular theme, genre, or idea for very long. At times it's a gore-filled snuff film, while at others it plays like something resembling a love story, and at other times it so desperately wants to be The Usual Suspects. Does it have a twist? Yes, actually, it has two. One is rather obvious, and the second doesn't really carry the impact that The Usual Suspects or The Sixth Sense did.

If there was anything redeeming about this movie, it's that Ryan Reynolds is actually good outside of the frat-boy sex comedy. Go fig.

Flotsam:

• Ryan Reynold's performance.

Jetsam:

• Everything else.

Final rating: 0 out of 5 bullet-ridden corpses. It's not worth watching.

-D out.

Teenagers or young adults? You decide.

I've decided to give this blog a meaning, a purpose, if you will, to keep me updating and keep you, my faithful two readers reading.

Today's movie: TMNT
Rated: PG (mild language, animated action violence, and some scary cartoon images)
(Voice) Actors and Actresses of note: Sarah Michelle Gellar, Patrick Stewart

So, for those of you who didn't grow up in the 90s like I did, or don't have children who are hooked on the remake, let me do a brief summary. Four turtles and a rat found their way into radioactive goo, grew to human size, and learned to be ninjas. As far fetched as it is, the writing of the old cartoon worked, which spawned three live action movies and countless video games and other merchandising.

Now, TMNT is the fourth movie to be made, but the first to do two things. Numero uno, this movie is done entirely in CGI. This really helps the turtles look and feel a bit more realistic, making the movie more believable than the live action counterparts. Secondly, this movie explores what happens to the Turtles after they've defeated arch-nemesis Shredder. Leonardo, the leader, goes to South America, and the rest of the Turtles have to live in a world in which they are no longer heroes. Donatello and Michelangelo take day jobs while Raphael continues fighting crime as the vigilante Nightwatcher. Raph also has issues with Leonardo leaving for such a long time, which adds a nice element of Turtle dis-union never really explored in the earlier movies or cartoon series. Supporting cast April O'Neil (Gellar) and Casey Jones have moved in together and are trying to "settle down."

So the plot is as follows: O'Neil is hired by international businessman Winters (Stewart) to find four statues, supposedly fellow warriors turned to stone 3000 years ago when Winters opened a portal to another plane of existence, in which doing two things, those being a) achieving immortality and b) unleashing thirteen monsters upon the world. Convoluted? Don't worry. It doesn't get in way of the action. The Turtles fight one of the monsters one night, and get pulled into the action.

Flotsam (that which is good, like treasure that washes up on a beach):

• Extended TMNT universe (post-Shredder)
• Good tension between Raph and Leo
• Excellent CGI
• Decent story resolution

Jetsam (that which should have been discarded):

• Donatello and Michelangelo were bit gag players
• No extended scenes of TMNT vs. Foot Clan

Final rating: 4 broken katana blades out of 5.

-D out.

A moment of clarity.

So, I was surfing recently when I saw someone had their screenname as "Love is my Religion." Something about that really hit me hard. You see, that's what Christ was trying to get through to us here on earth. Love is the religion of Christ, too. He says it very simply. When asked what is the greatest commandment, he replies, "Love your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. The second greatest is like it, love your neighbor as yourself."

Forget all the ritual and pomp and circumstance. Forget church attendance and giving 10%. It's about love. It always have been. However, that points to the obvious failures of "well known Christians." How can Christianity be about love when the "Christian" president is calling people assholes and sending more troops to die in a war that no one wants? How can Christianity be about love if "Christians" are killing doctors who perform abortions and bombing clinics? How can it be about love when the loudest, most well known followers are so hateful?

To be honest, I have no easy answer. All I can say is that humans, all humans, every human (including me, including you) is fallible. We all screw up, we all do things we never intended, we all do things that are misconstrued by people who can't see things the way we do. We also misconstrue things, take things the wrong way, and act on false beliefs/premises. It is in our nature. Christians are not perfect people. Chrisitians will not be perfect people here on Earth.

The thing is, to keep trying. To fail and to pick yourself up again and say, "I will be a more loving person because Christ loved me even when I rejected him." To continue to love someone who mocks you and taunts you or does even worse by keeping an appearance of "I really respect your views" while all the while keeping a smug "but I know better" attitude, because that is what Christ did with me.

Questions? Hit me back.

-D out.

Ewww. Thought.

Right. I'm currently reading a book called By the Sword, a book about the history of swords, swordfighting, and the people who use swords for swordfights. Several of these people who mastered the sword and the duel (or the art of fencing in later chapters) were also masters of several languages at once, experts at games like chess and the Japanese game go, well traveled, hugely successful buisness men, etc., etc.

It got me thinking. The only thing seperating me from them is how I spend my leisure time, which sadly to say, is not by learning a new language, or playing chess a lot, traveling the world, stabbing people with pointy things, or anything remotely worthwhile like that.

Now of course, this is where I'd usually say something profound and avoid the question of self-improvement altogether. But, I keep realizing there is all this stuff I want to do, but I would rather play games that I've already mastered, or have no interest in. Yeah, I do stuff that bores me or makes me fustrated, cause it's a lot easier than trying to improve myself. But no more. After I finish the current game I'm working on (I do need to finish, if I don't, I'll go back to it eventually), I'm selling my 360 and finding something more worthwhile to do with my time, like feed the homeless or take up a martial art again.

-D out.

Huh?

Boss' Day?

Geeze, greeting card companies are making us celebrate EVERYBODY, aren't they? Now, people like grandparents, and dads, and moms should be recognized, don't get me wrong. But, having a day for your boss? Isn't that everyday? Doesn't he/she get whatever they want when you go into work? So when is it going to be average worker day? Certainly we don't get the respect we so richly deserve.

Come to think of it, there are so many people who are marginallized by society by not having their own greeting-card day. Allow me to give you some new "recognition days" that should be making their way to a greeting card stand or Hallmark store near you:

• Nerdy kid in the back of the class Day
• Stalker Day
• Janitor Day
• Roadie for Metallica Day
• Anime Fanboy Day
• 1-800 Operator Day
• Slacker Day
• Professional Wrestler Day
• Brooding Artist Day
• Indie Film Connoisseur Day
• James K. Polk Day
• Rehab Attendee Day

Just wait. In five years from now, you'll be in the card isle at your local grocery store looking for the perfect card for the guy who sits at Starbucks with his journal of crappy poetry and you'll be like, "Wow, -D was right." Of course I'm right.

-D out.

Various tidbits that I could never work into a entire post on their own.

You ever have one of those days where you know you have to do something, but cannot remember what that something is to save your life? I'm having a day like that.

I need to stop wearing gloves at work. I'm developing tan lines.

I'm planning something dastardly for next weekend. It all depends on numbers.

If I see a phone number, or street address number, or any other kind of number, I try to add/subtract the digits to/from each other to see if I can get a number divisible by five. It's gotten to the point where it's done on a subconscious level, and I only realize it when I get a number that's divisible by five.

We need to find a way to grow bacon. Yes. Grow bacon.

Mortal Kombat for the Sega Genesis was NOT the greatest video game ever, even for it's time.

I really hope Clerks II is Kevin Smith's last movie. Not because I don't like his work, more along the lines of it's jumped the shark.

Should I be worried if I keep dreaming about zombies, fighting zombies, and other zombie related subjects?

"Reality" shows blow. (Wait, I could go on for an entire post about this... that's right... I don't want to.)

-D out.

I suck at Myspace.

I only have 14 friends. They are all people I know or have known in real life. I only have four comments on my page. Two of them are from the same person. I don't have fancy wallpaper, or streaming video, or a rotating display of pictures of me and my friends out partying. I only have two subscribers to my blog. I only blog on myspace once or twice a month. I don't have a school listed. The song on my page is by a band that's broken up. I don't post bulletins. I don't have games on my page either. No fancy mouse pointers. Only two pictures, one of which only has one comment, the other none.

In short, I suck at Myspace. I think I'm a bit better at the rest of life, though.

-D out.

If only I had a chainsaw...

It's hard to imagine what I would ask the Wizard of Oz for. The answer lies somewhere between a plate of cookies and my own flamethrower. However, there are a few things that I would really ask for if I met the wizard RIGHT NOW.

1. You know the guys who hang out outside the library and ask you if you're a registered voter, and when you tell them no, they ask if you want to register to vote because they want you to sign some petition? I'd find them better jobs. Specifically, jobs that don't involve annoying me while I go to check my e-mail.
2. That everyone who comes to use the computers at the library had affordable, dependable child care. I'm not saying that I hate the lady who brought her three kids to the library while she surfs the internet. It's not that I'm angry that she's letting them run free while she does so. I just want a place where she can feel she can leave her children and not have to worry about them. You know, a place away from me. Preferably dark, soundproof, and full of things that slither, creep, crawl or skitter.
3. A personal sun shade that completely blocked the user from all the things that come from the sun that suck. Namely, radiation and heat. I'd keep the light, though. (But light is radiation, I hear you say. Well, shut up.)
4. Gwar tickets. It's not that I like Gwar, I've never really listened to them, but I think they would have immeasurable "cool" value.

Now of course, the things I would really ask for would change with time. Tomorrow I may want a self-powered, self-supplied, self-contained burrito maker, but that's just me.

-D out.

I feel sleepy while I write this.

My high school reunion is coming up. It's been ten years since I went to high school, and I've realized that I really don't remember how people were. I remember the people, but I don't remember how anyone... was. Kinda odd. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I'm starting to talk to people again, but I still feel as if I'm going to this thing like it's a party where I don't know anyone. I hate those kind of parties.

So, as with any event in life that makes you think about what you've done with your time here on earth, my brain started to panic, and suddenly I wanted to do all this crap I never do, like eat right and work out. Why? Cause I wanted to look good for when I went back. That's an interesting thought in and of itself. Not sure why a high school reunion would trigger such thoughts in my brain. It's not like I care what these people think of me. I think I made a big deal of looking like I didn't care back then, and I really don't remember if it (my apapthy) was genuine or just an act. It really shouldn't matter anyway. We're all human. We all bleed red. We'll all curl up and die some day.

I just plan on dying well fed.

-D out.

Oi.

So, life decided to take several sharp left turns in succession. I was nearly thrown clear, yet I was saved by my wallet chain getting caught on the seat-reclining-lever.

That was a metaphor. It's where you make a comparison by saying one thing is another thing, and letting the mental image that wells forth in the reader's head do the trick.

Where was I? Right. Life. So my parents moved out of state, removing my "safety net" for when life gets "unfair." A good friend of mine is moving to Idaho in a couple of months, and I'll miss the times we hung out and played heads up poker cause we didn't have anything better to do. I left my job and spent a number of weeks wondering how I was going to pay rent. I'm still kinda curious, but with my starting of a new job on Monday, I'll be fine.

Another thing. I've always been leary of who I told the following to because there's a stigma atached to what I'm about to say. At least, I think there's a stigma. Maybe I'm just being excessively paranoid.

Yesterday I turned $60 into $200 playing $3-6 limit hold 'em at Casino Arizona (101 & Indian Bend, the one at 101 and McKellips doesn't spread poker) and it was very easy for me to do so. I'm going to take a shot at playing poker (semi-)professionally. There. I said it. I don't plan on selling everything I have and moving to Vegas with dollar signs in my eyes, but poker is something that I feel I have some skill at, and for some reason, people are willing to part with large sums of money over cards. Why should I deny them that privledge?

Now, I realize that yes, I will lose my bankroll at one point or another. It happens to everyone who is trying what I am trying. I'm okay with that. My bankroll is made out of discretionary income that I've been putting aside for about a year now. If I lose it, I'll still be okay.

Alright, kiddos. Chew that over and spit it back out at me. No homework this week, but there might be a pop quiz next Tuesday.

-D out.

Yuck, gnats.

This weekend I am helping my parents make their move from Mesa, AZ to Parker, CO. Luckily, the most tedious part of the move is over, and that is the actual moving from here to there. Or... would it be there to here? Because I am here, but I see it as there, 'cause it is not where I will be living when all is said and done.

All well and good, yes, but I'm starting to wander. While I was helping my parents load, it occurred to me that they had multiple items that served the same purpose, like excercise equipment, lamps, dressers, lawn mowers, etc., etc. It filled the overly-large truck that my parents had rented to move everything, and they still left crap behind.

The thing that really struck me that most of this excess was sitting in the garage, and had been sitting there for years. I even had a couple of boxes of crap from the time(s) I lived with them, and most of it was stuff that I had forgotten I had. I threw most of it out, I really didn't feel like holding on to a tin of Canadian Spam, or seeds for a Chia Pet I no longer own. It all bothered me though. All this stuff. All this old, forgotten, useless stuff. I really hope I don't have several dresser/drawer sets when I move into my third house.

I can understand keeping photos and old 8mm movies, but an 8-track player? When all the 8-tracks have been converted to CD format years ago? Two weed wackers? I've never even seen weeds be wacked with those.

How does all this stuff accumalate? Why do we keep it around?

If you're reading this, and you know me, please promise me that if I ever, ever, fill a moving van with crap I'll never use again, shoot me.

Thanks!

-D out.

Words. Fail. Me.

Well, what other reaction would you expect from a movie where, and I will put this in both bold and italic to emphasize my point, children are eaten by piranhas?

Allow me to backdrop the previous statement.

A 1978 flick, Piranha, looks, acts, and feels like a cheap Jaws rip-off, and it's only right. Featuring people getting eaten while swimming, diving, participating in water activities in general, one can't help but look to it's obvious influence of Steven Spielberg's classic that actually drove a friend of mine from the bathtub for years.

In this movie, there is a children's summer camp. It is the first stop on the way to the ocean. During an afternoon of water activity, the children are told to line up and use the buddy system. The children find their respective partner, and hold their hands high. (I'll come back to this.) So, while the children are participating in relay races in the water, the piranhas attack.

Yes, they do.

So, panic ensues as the children try to reach shore. Using underwater "piranha cams" we're treated to shots of plastic piranhas butting their noses against adolescent flesh. One girl gets pulled under, and the fish swarm her. How do I know she was eaten alive?

Because when all the kids were back on shore, holding their hands high with their "buddies," one child was:

1. standing by herself, and
2. crying hysterically.

If that wasn't enough to make any top ten list, allow me to end this post with a couple of choice quotes from the movie. (It's a real shame I hadn't seen this gem while I was still quote warring with a co-worker about a year ago.)

"We'll pollute the bastards to death!"

"Live from Lost River Lake. Terror, horror, death. Film at 11."

Lackey: "Sir, it's about the piranhas.."
Resort mogul: "Didn't I tell you not to say that word?"
Lackey: "That's the thing, sir..."
Resort mogul: "What about the piranhas?"
Lackey: "They're eating the guests, sir."

-D out.

P.S. There's a sequel.

Riddle me this...

Why do people applaud at the end of movies? It's not like the theatre cares you liked the movie, as they already have your money. It's not like the people who made the movie care, because they already got the money from the production studio. It's not like I care, because I know my applause won't find a random rip in the space-time continuum and find its way back to the people who made the movie while they were making it. You see, I understand how the universe works, and you're just annoying me with how stupid you are.

-D out.

I REGRET NOTHING!!!

I am tired. I am tired of waking up every morning and dreading that I have to go to a job that I hate for a company that doesn’t care. I am tired of thinking that I have to do that so I can be “comfortable,” whatever that means. I am tired of living for the weekend. I am tired of being scared to jump because I won’t have medical or dental insurance. I am tired of worrying about my 401k. I am tired of mail. I am tired of my cubicle. I am tired of mail. I am tired of rebates. I am tired of being tired.

God, you need to catch me, ‘cause here I go.

-D out.

Good, good stuff.

I checked my mail last night (you know, that kind that is delivered to the box you unlock with a key, not your computer) and found that my copy of the movie Versus had finally come. After about a week of anticipation, this Japanese import is mine to hold forever.

Okay, it occurs to me that some of you, most of you, ALL of you have no idea why this movie is so good. Let me explain. My cousin Donovan first turned me on to this movie during a family reunion, probably a couple of years ago. When I first saw it, I couldn’t explain it. Now that I own it, I still can’t explain it. However, let me give you a brief rundown of the “plot” as it were, and then explain why it is just so cool.

This movie starts off with a flashback of a samurai-ish character fighting a bunch of zombies. Some other stuff happens, but it’s not important at the time. Fast forward to the present time. Two prison escapees, easily identifiable by the word LAWBREAKER stenciled onto their clothing, meet up with the people who busted them out. During the conversation, one guy, who isn’t important to the movie, gets shot by one of the escapees and dies. After a couple of lines of shouted dialogue and some tense pacing around in circles by the people left standing, the dead guy gets right back up and attacks. Hooray for zombies! The movie then proceeds to throw things like plot, dialogue, and common sense out the window in exchange for some good ol’ zombie killing. This is not to say the movie has no plot or dialogue, it’s just that the zombie killing takes the forefront and the movie never looks back.

The things that make this movie so great are as follows:

1. The main character; a soft spoken, apathetic, anti-hero. He doesn’t know why he’s here, and he doesn’t care. I think all he really wanted was some good yakisoba. Instead he runs around, fights the bad guys, and poses whenever he gets something to add to his image. The scene with the leather trench coat is classic.

2. The fighting. It’s fast paced, and sometimes is hard to follow, but it is so stylish (you really have to see it) that it almost makes me cry at how horribly funny it all is.

3. The supporting cast of one-dimensional characters whose motivations for being in the movie are never explained. Literally, I can count three or four characters that are in the movie for approximately two scenes.

4. The cinematography. Camera angles, rotating shots, quick zoom ins, this movie had it all. The movie even pokes fun at a couple of predecessors, The Matrix and the Evil Dead series. If this was intentional or not, I am not sure.

5. The main villain. Sure, this movie is 99% cheese, but this actor really stood out as a bad guy. Not as a bad actor, but a good villain.

6. The simple fact that everyone in this movie had perfect hair. All the time. Even while fighting. And covered in blood.

7. B-movie special effects, make-up, and blood. The fact that some gets splashed on the camera at one point is priceless.

8. The fact that no one in this movie has a name. Not one. The only one that comes close is the “police officer” that calls himself, “The Fighter.”

9. Finally, the ‘runt’ character. He has a couple of idiosyncrasies that really make this movie worth the $7.95 I paid for it.

In conclusion, if you’re looking for a movie that makes sense, look elsewhere. If you just want to see some explosions, zombies, and an eclectic mix of the two, pick it up. Even if you don’t like stuff like that, watch it anyway.

Horror of horrors!

So, one of the things that I don’t normally do, I am going to start doing. I am going to watch what I eat and drink. I've tried it in various forms over my life, no fast food, only whole grain bread, etc., etc. I gave up soda and later realized that while I had given up caffeine in most of its forms, it only lasted for a couple of months, and I started drinking soda again. After soda came coffee, etc., etc. Back to square one again.

But this time, I ‘m tired of looking at my gut every morning in the bathroom mirror. I’m tired of getting winded after a half hour of any strenuous activity. I’m tired of the random impulses to eat stuff that I know has no nutritional value of any sort. I’m tired of being embarrassed to take my shirt off in front of other people. (Not like I do that a lot as it is. Stop looking at me like that!) So I decided to do something about it. I’ve always lived by the motto of, “Eat right, exercise, die anyway” but now I’ve realized that by neglecting myself, I’m putting myself on a road to self-destruction. At least the weed choked, rock-strewn path to self-dilapidation. While that may be fun for a weekend, it’s not great for a lifestyle. I don’t want to be the guy whose house Jerry Springer has to cut apart to get me out. I don’t want people looking at what I eat for a typical dinner and think that someone had just gone shopping at Sam’s Club.

This attempt will begin on Monday, so this weekend, I may binge a bit. Or not. No drinking, no drugs, but Filiberto’s, pizza, maybe some quality time with the Krispy Kreme corporation. Actually, no, doughnuts really aren’t my thing. Neither are donuts. Way too… diabetes-inducing. All that, and sadly, I will have to say goodbye to a cherished friend. Yes, unfortunately, I will have to end my nearly two-decade love affair with Mountain Dew. But, you know, it’s really for the best. We’ve grown apart over the years, you know, MD is starting all those new projects like Code Red and LiveWire and I just feel that MD has really lost a sense of identity in all of it. Maybe we’ll see each other, you know, at a restaurant, the grocery store, or possibly a roller rink. Then, maybe we’ll sit and chat like old friends do, for a time. But not until I find myself a bit thinner, and not until MD comes to realize just what has become of the state MD is in.

Okay, this post has taken a really weird turn. Now may be a good time to end it.

-D out.

An explanation.

To those of you who check this blog on a somewhat regular basis (which I believe is three people, one of them being myself), you may start noticing blogs appearing days after they were “posted.” The reason behind it all is that I write these posts at work, mail them to my blog, and then have to wait to get around a computer with enough internet access to my blog to edit and post them. If they were posted as is, it would be a real mess. Line breaks would be everywhere, and I hate seeing line breaks in a blog post. Seeing as I try to present a professional appearance as possible, given my good grammar and the fact that I capitalize the words at the beginnings of sentences, I like to avoid messes. However, to be fair to my sense of structure, I will date the entries for the day I wrote them. If I don’t remember the time I wrote them, it will be notated as 12 pm (noon).

Thanks for reading.

-D out.

Grueling.

On the suggestion of a friend, I picked up The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. The book is about (re)discovering the artist within. The very first exercise is to write three pages every day. These pages don’t have to be solid writing; it can be viewed as a kind of marathon journaling. There is no subject or theme restriction, and from the examples given in the book, it looked like a basic diary entry. I tried it this morning. It took me about an hour and a quarter, and it was quite possibly one of the hardest things I’ve had to do as of late. My mind kept wandering; I kept finding myself looking blankly into space, thinking about something totally unrelated to what I had written down. There was even a point when I started a sentence, had my train of thought derail and spill millions of gallons of hazardous waste in my head, and when I finally looked back at the page, I had totally forgotten what I was writing about. All I could do was put in an ellipsis and say something to the point of, “I just forgot what I was writing.” Also, near the end, my brain started flying apart at the seams. Nothing really made sense anymore, not on a writing level, not on any level. I felt confused. I felt spent. I felt that someone had smashed my brain with some large, blunt object. When I got to the bottom of the third page, my consciousness felt like a quivering mass of goo that was busily breaking down into its component particles. It was ugly.

I can’t wait to do it tomorrow.

-D out.