On the flight back from vacation, I ran out of things to watch on the seat-back TV after Cops ended. Mind you this was about an hour into a six-hour flight that ended near dawn eastern time (although we got home around midnight thanks to the zone difference.) The TV's were on the eastern feed.
Mind you, at 2am you take what you can get. And what I got was PlayMania. Let me tell you, gentle readers, about PlayMania, a marathon quiz-show aimed at nerds. Only more so than other quiz-shows.
PlayMania takes a page from the Book of Spike and G4. That is, if you have it hosted by hot chicks in tight clothes, and peppered with enough sound effects to drive a Foley artist to suicide, desperate trolls living in their parents' basements will watch devoutly and think they're as hip as the hosts, and that they have some sort of chance of fucking them. PlayMania is hosted alternately by Token British Woman (the Brits pioneered this field by having Cat Deeley host everything they broadcast over there) and Shandi Finnessey, former Miss USA, right-wing pro-war crackpot, and failed Dancing with the Stars contestant. Shandi fails to bare her oiled-up midriff like the did on Dancing. Although, in her favor, she appears to be quite drunk throughout the ordeal.
Here's how it works. Audience members at home (on eastern time only- it's live) pay good money to enter random contests via IM or a 900 number. Some of them are chosen to play along with our hostesses, doing things like guessing letters a la Wheel of Fortune, or identifying the missing parts of pictures (one of these was actually a cartoon car missing wheels, and yet several callers couldn't notice this either due to inebriation or retardation). For this, they almost earn enough money to cover the fifty calls they placed through the night trying to get on the air and mack on the girls.
Every once in a while, a buzzer rings, barely audible over the constant thumping of bad dance music that Shandi is waving her arms and freaking out to. That means it's e-mail time, and time for Shandi (Token Brit was largely absent- I later learned she was only in taped footage, since she quit and fled back home to England just a couple weeks ago) to read messages from viewers. The messages that make it to air are always slightly embarrassing, accompanied by pictures of the 40-year-old dweeb who sent them, and probably heavily censored. I'd hate to see what Shandi gets shielded from.
Even as a captive viewer (it was this or infomercials) PlayMania only became tolerable after I muted it. I could still follow along with the games visually, but didn't have to listen to the terrible techno incidental music, Shandi's bizarre whooping and squeaking, or the virgins calling in to propose to her. I could still watch her whoosh her arms around like she was batting away tiny elves, and can only guess that there are certain things she must do to stay awake at that hour, or that she was trying to hypnotize us. I don't think hearing her speak would have enlightened me on the subject.
Sadly, after two excruciating hours, the show ended and I had to spend the rest of the flight actually watching infomercials. That means PlayMania weighs in about six hours shorter than Sabado Gigante, but twice as long as people can stand being exposed to Howie Mandel. And unlike Howie, Shandi is doing this every damn night. That's a lot of desperate nerd calls.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Spamalot
Last night we saw Spamalot, the musical adaptation of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. This meant that the audience was packed with die-hard Monty Python fans who could recite lines and burst into laughter minutes before something that was going to happen actually did, and who probably should have been restrained.
This being the Vegas production, it was abbreviated to fit into 90 minutes, which they do for every show here. Jenn advises me that the cuts to Phantom have made it even less sensical than in its original format, and that disturbs me. But anyway, onwards to the Grail.
Our production starred John O'Hurley (J. Peterman from Seinfeld) as King Arthur. We were in the third row, about ten feet away from the stage, looking upwards at a sharp angle to see under the showgirls' skirts. Before the show, we (the audience) were crammed into the very small "Snackalot" area outside the theater, where water was $5 and Grail Ale was something more expensive.
The plot was pretty simple. Arthur recruits Knights. Galahad is vain, Lancelot is closeted, Bedevere is flatulent, and Robin is a coward (with chicken insignia on his robes). The Knights who say Ni won't let them pass to find the grail unless they stage a Broadway musical. but there are no requisite Jews to cast in medieval England. Hilarity and musical numbers ensue. Play ends much more coherently than the original film.
Not being a Python fan, I was still somewhat amused, although wicked annoyed at the guy behind us who had the movie memorized and felt the need to prove it, vocally. Cute pixie redhead in front of me provided extra entertainment when the showgirls weren't on stage. O'Hurley delivered his part in the Peterman persona, as the public will not accept him in any other role. It worked. You can rarely go wrong performing any part as J. Peterman.
So, this was our first non-Cirque show in quite a while. We've run out of Cirque shows, thankfully. No more mimes will prod us to help them take the lids off their jars of rainbows before shoving their spandexed crotches into the air. Unfortunately, there's really nothing else of note left playing here at all. We have officially used up Las Vegas.
This being the Vegas production, it was abbreviated to fit into 90 minutes, which they do for every show here. Jenn advises me that the cuts to Phantom have made it even less sensical than in its original format, and that disturbs me. But anyway, onwards to the Grail.
Our production starred John O'Hurley (J. Peterman from Seinfeld) as King Arthur. We were in the third row, about ten feet away from the stage, looking upwards at a sharp angle to see under the showgirls' skirts. Before the show, we (the audience) were crammed into the very small "Snackalot" area outside the theater, where water was $5 and Grail Ale was something more expensive.
The plot was pretty simple. Arthur recruits Knights. Galahad is vain, Lancelot is closeted, Bedevere is flatulent, and Robin is a coward (with chicken insignia on his robes). The Knights who say Ni won't let them pass to find the grail unless they stage a Broadway musical. but there are no requisite Jews to cast in medieval England. Hilarity and musical numbers ensue. Play ends much more coherently than the original film.
Not being a Python fan, I was still somewhat amused, although wicked annoyed at the guy behind us who had the movie memorized and felt the need to prove it, vocally. Cute pixie redhead in front of me provided extra entertainment when the showgirls weren't on stage. O'Hurley delivered his part in the Peterman persona, as the public will not accept him in any other role. It worked. You can rarely go wrong performing any part as J. Peterman.
So, this was our first non-Cirque show in quite a while. We've run out of Cirque shows, thankfully. No more mimes will prod us to help them take the lids off their jars of rainbows before shoving their spandexed crotches into the air. Unfortunately, there's really nothing else of note left playing here at all. We have officially used up Las Vegas.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Conservapedia
Love Wikipedia, but think the articles are just too left-leaning ("you got evolution in my science article!")? An elderly woman who led the charge against feminism in the 70's has put her money behind Conservapedia. Written primarily by her son, who lectures against vaccinations in quack medical journals, the encyclopedia has such whimsical quirks as banning the use of "CE" and "BCE" in order to tie dates firmly to Christianity.
Learn such interesting tidbits as, "Modern kangaroos originated in the Middle East and are the descendants of the two founding members of the modern kangaroo baramin that were taken aboard Noah's Ark prior to the Great Flood."
Unfortunately for the authors, conservative bloggers are mocking their efforts as being, well, embarrassing for their movement. Here are some highlights one pointed out...
What does Conservapedia think about Descartes?
"Descartes locked himself in a stove and meditated, arriving at the unsurprising conclusion that nothing existed. He then used Anselm's proof of the existence of God to decide that perhaps he wasn't deluded, and perhaps things did exist after all. He thought the soul lived in the pineal gland, and when you lift your arm it's just an accident because your brain doesn't control your body, God does. This 'god-robot' theory of consciousness got him into ferocious arguments with Hobbes, but then Hobbes loved a good argument and was usually wrong."
Yes, but what about Einstein?
"Nothing useful has even been built based on the theory of relativity.…'All things are relative' became popular as atheists and others used relativity to attack Christian values. There remains enormous political support for the theory of relativity that has nothing to do with physics, and Congress continues to spend billions of dollars unsuccessfully searching for particles predicted by the theory of relativity."
Or Washington?
"Washington is perhaps the person other than Jesus who declined enormous worldly power, in Washington's case by voluntarily stepping aside as the ruler of a prosperous nation."
I bet you have plenty to say about the Holocaust, right?
"The Holocaust was the massacring of the Jewish race during World War II. The Germans are not to blame for this but the Nazi are. Besides 6 million Jews dying, 3 million Christians were killed also along with many priests and nuns. This is a very touchy subject for the Jews and is not often discussed amongst them."
Yeah, what's with them and the touchiness?! Let's face it, Wikipedia has been going downhill since they started writing about hacks like me. From now on, I'm only citing Conservapedia in all of my academic articles. Nobel Prize in Righteousness, here I come!
Learn such interesting tidbits as, "Modern kangaroos originated in the Middle East and are the descendants of the two founding members of the modern kangaroo baramin that were taken aboard Noah's Ark prior to the Great Flood."
Unfortunately for the authors, conservative bloggers are mocking their efforts as being, well, embarrassing for their movement. Here are some highlights one pointed out...
What does Conservapedia think about Descartes?
"Descartes locked himself in a stove and meditated, arriving at the unsurprising conclusion that nothing existed. He then used Anselm's proof of the existence of God to decide that perhaps he wasn't deluded, and perhaps things did exist after all. He thought the soul lived in the pineal gland, and when you lift your arm it's just an accident because your brain doesn't control your body, God does. This 'god-robot' theory of consciousness got him into ferocious arguments with Hobbes, but then Hobbes loved a good argument and was usually wrong."
Yes, but what about Einstein?
"Nothing useful has even been built based on the theory of relativity.…'All things are relative' became popular as atheists and others used relativity to attack Christian values. There remains enormous political support for the theory of relativity that has nothing to do with physics, and Congress continues to spend billions of dollars unsuccessfully searching for particles predicted by the theory of relativity."
Or Washington?
"Washington is perhaps the person other than Jesus who declined enormous worldly power, in Washington's case by voluntarily stepping aside as the ruler of a prosperous nation."
I bet you have plenty to say about the Holocaust, right?
"The Holocaust was the massacring of the Jewish race during World War II. The Germans are not to blame for this but the Nazi are. Besides 6 million Jews dying, 3 million Christians were killed also along with many priests and nuns. This is a very touchy subject for the Jews and is not often discussed amongst them."
Yeah, what's with them and the touchiness?! Let's face it, Wikipedia has been going downhill since they started writing about hacks like me. From now on, I'm only citing Conservapedia in all of my academic articles. Nobel Prize in Righteousness, here I come!
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Completely Useless Movie Previews: 300
Thinking of going to go see 300? Gentle readers, once again I'll spare you the need, by reviewing a film I haven't seen based solely on the content of the trailers.
300 is the story of the first X-Games, held in Sparta, Greece a couple thousand years ago with single one event: Mortal Kombat! Painstaking attention to historical accuracy has wrought a film that cannot be questioned at all. Everything you see on screen is how it happened in real life, from freaky masks to hovering Matrix-style kung-fu attack moves to ancient Greeks actually having sex with their wives, and certainly not prepubescent boys. To question the authenticity of this film is to question history itself.
Our protagonist? Well, his name isn't mentioned in the trailer, so let's call him Steve. Steve and 299 other Spartans are trying to fend off an attack by the Persians, who eventually decided to call themselves Iranians. So we can probably guess they're the bad guys. Rarely do you see Iranian heroes in our popular culture. Just look at Heroes. Any Iranians there? No? See!
Steve gets to do cool things like watch deformed lesbians make out, run around shirtless, and shove people into bottomless wells, which you'll find all over Greece even to this day. The other 299 guys? They don't matter. Actually, Steve matters very little, because I gather he (and his 299 understudies) gets killed by the Persio-Iranians. How could these 299 Brawny Towel mascots be wiped out by a bunch of dudes who obviously devote most of their time to smithing elaborate bronze fetish gear? Did I mention there are like a trillion Persians? Well, there are. Take my word for it, I paused the trailer and counted them. One trillion and seven.
The film is shot in a hazy sort of Sky Captain/Sin City style that doesn't give away the fact that it was all blue-screened one bit. I, for one, truly believed they had sent Steve and his 299 life partners back in time to defend Sparta, a city so comfy that to this day our best accommodations are described as "Spartan". But no, it's all done with computers. Real, sweaty Greek soldiers couldn't stand there for long hours reciting their lines, they'd be too busy sneaking off for butt sex.
On my trademark-registered scale of 1 to 88 stars, I give 300 299 stars and one Steve. I can do this because it's my scale and I can do what I want, just like the filmmaker did what he wanted to in his own movie and altered the highly-effective phalanx military maneuver to "look cooler".
300 is the story of the first X-Games, held in Sparta, Greece a couple thousand years ago with single one event: Mortal Kombat! Painstaking attention to historical accuracy has wrought a film that cannot be questioned at all. Everything you see on screen is how it happened in real life, from freaky masks to hovering Matrix-style kung-fu attack moves to ancient Greeks actually having sex with their wives, and certainly not prepubescent boys. To question the authenticity of this film is to question history itself.
Our protagonist? Well, his name isn't mentioned in the trailer, so let's call him Steve. Steve and 299 other Spartans are trying to fend off an attack by the Persians, who eventually decided to call themselves Iranians. So we can probably guess they're the bad guys. Rarely do you see Iranian heroes in our popular culture. Just look at Heroes. Any Iranians there? No? See!
Steve gets to do cool things like watch deformed lesbians make out, run around shirtless, and shove people into bottomless wells, which you'll find all over Greece even to this day. The other 299 guys? They don't matter. Actually, Steve matters very little, because I gather he (and his 299 understudies) gets killed by the Persio-Iranians. How could these 299 Brawny Towel mascots be wiped out by a bunch of dudes who obviously devote most of their time to smithing elaborate bronze fetish gear? Did I mention there are like a trillion Persians? Well, there are. Take my word for it, I paused the trailer and counted them. One trillion and seven.
The film is shot in a hazy sort of Sky Captain/Sin City style that doesn't give away the fact that it was all blue-screened one bit. I, for one, truly believed they had sent Steve and his 299 life partners back in time to defend Sparta, a city so comfy that to this day our best accommodations are described as "Spartan". But no, it's all done with computers. Real, sweaty Greek soldiers couldn't stand there for long hours reciting their lines, they'd be too busy sneaking off for butt sex.
On my trademark-registered scale of 1 to 88 stars, I give 300 299 stars and one Steve. I can do this because it's my scale and I can do what I want, just like the filmmaker did what he wanted to in his own movie and altered the highly-effective phalanx military maneuver to "look cooler".
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Britney Shears
Overnight, a weepy Britney Spears (fresh from a grueling hourlong stint in rehab) was videotaped harassing the staff of a tattoo parlor and confiscating the clippers from a stylist to shave her own head bald, all the while while muttering about "people touching her" and acting erratically. What "erratic" means when one is referring to Spears is anyone's guess. The girl let K-Fed stick his you-know in her hoo-ha. Did I mention the Nyquil stains all over her clothing? Well, there. I just did. It's a look!
Still, I'm glad she's found Krishna Consciousness. Hopefully her new career of handing out flowers in the airport will be much more fulfilling than any comeback attempt, and give her the structure and discipline she needs in life. Perhaps she can sit in with the Polyphonic Spree, or go into acting with "The Young Miss Kojak Mysteries" on the Family Channel. The point is, no matter what she does, it has to be an improvement.
Welcome to Rock Bottom, Brits! Population: Dustin Diamond and you.
Still, I'm glad she's found Krishna Consciousness. Hopefully her new career of handing out flowers in the airport will be much more fulfilling than any comeback attempt, and give her the structure and discipline she needs in life. Perhaps she can sit in with the Polyphonic Spree, or go into acting with "The Young Miss Kojak Mysteries" on the Family Channel. The point is, no matter what she does, it has to be an improvement.
Welcome to Rock Bottom, Brits! Population: Dustin Diamond and you.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Completely Useless Movie Previews: Ghost Rider
I have heard your outcry, and decided to give you more of what you want. Heading into this all important blockbuster spring "would-never-succeed-in-the-summer" movie dumping time, you need to know what movies are worth seeing, based on the random guesses of someone totally unfamiliar with the films.
I give you Ghost Rider.
Ghost Rider is apparently the older brother of Speed Racer. By day, he's Nicolas Cage, who is really Nicolas Coppola, but I digress. Ghost Rider, you would think, would be preordained by the name his mother gave him to become some sort of friendly ghost like Casper. Instead his toupee catches fire every night and he rides really fast on a motorcycle in an effort to put out the flames. From what I can tell, this has little effect. Maybe he should keep a fire extinguisher handy, or see a doctor about that?
One clip I saw had Ghost going to a strip-mall accountant to do his taxes. Oh wait, that was a commercial? Man, Ghost is already slumming, and his movie hasn't even come out yet! That's not a good sign. He should really be aiming for those Target ads with the spinning red and white things. Those are classy.
Anyway, Ghost rides around on his bike, his head on fire and the bike itself emitting noxious fumes that would probably bar it from being licensed in California. So the movie doesn't take place in California. Good to know. There are lots of trees around. Does Ghost find excitement and intrigue in Michigan? Who knows? Do you want to pay $11 to find out? Good for you!
I just made a typo and called him "Gjost". I think I'll stick with that spelling. It makes him sound Icelandic, like Bjork. Or Gjost could be his visiting cousin from Scandinavia, and they can have zany Perfect Strangers-style misadventures when Gjost comes to visit. They can be identical cousins and try to trick Ghost's parents into reuniting! Hey, Nicolas! I have a sequel idea for you. Yes, your wig can be even more stupid-looking the second time around. Does Donald Trump have a patent on his hairstyle?
I'm sure Ghost has some sort of archnemesis he must face, but since he or she doesn't appear in any of the commercials, I'm not familiar with them. He probably has to face down a state trooper for a littering fine, or apologize to a little girl after he runs over her puppy on the way to Taco Bell. There's another crossover ad campaign, as Ghost reimburses her for her loss with a three-taco meal deal (crunchy). It could be that talking chihuahua they used to have. They never explained where he went. Was he deported?
On my Mexican-assembled sliding scale of 1 through 88 stars, I give Ghost Rider a three-taco meal deal (crunchy), an extra packet of hot sauce, and a mega-size Mountain Dew to help quench those flames. Pull around to the second window, Mr. Rider, and try not to ignite the speaker box. Timmy just got that thing working again.
I give you Ghost Rider.
Ghost Rider is apparently the older brother of Speed Racer. By day, he's Nicolas Cage, who is really Nicolas Coppola, but I digress. Ghost Rider, you would think, would be preordained by the name his mother gave him to become some sort of friendly ghost like Casper. Instead his toupee catches fire every night and he rides really fast on a motorcycle in an effort to put out the flames. From what I can tell, this has little effect. Maybe he should keep a fire extinguisher handy, or see a doctor about that?
One clip I saw had Ghost going to a strip-mall accountant to do his taxes. Oh wait, that was a commercial? Man, Ghost is already slumming, and his movie hasn't even come out yet! That's not a good sign. He should really be aiming for those Target ads with the spinning red and white things. Those are classy.
Anyway, Ghost rides around on his bike, his head on fire and the bike itself emitting noxious fumes that would probably bar it from being licensed in California. So the movie doesn't take place in California. Good to know. There are lots of trees around. Does Ghost find excitement and intrigue in Michigan? Who knows? Do you want to pay $11 to find out? Good for you!
I just made a typo and called him "Gjost". I think I'll stick with that spelling. It makes him sound Icelandic, like Bjork. Or Gjost could be his visiting cousin from Scandinavia, and they can have zany Perfect Strangers-style misadventures when Gjost comes to visit. They can be identical cousins and try to trick Ghost's parents into reuniting! Hey, Nicolas! I have a sequel idea for you. Yes, your wig can be even more stupid-looking the second time around. Does Donald Trump have a patent on his hairstyle?
I'm sure Ghost has some sort of archnemesis he must face, but since he or she doesn't appear in any of the commercials, I'm not familiar with them. He probably has to face down a state trooper for a littering fine, or apologize to a little girl after he runs over her puppy on the way to Taco Bell. There's another crossover ad campaign, as Ghost reimburses her for her loss with a three-taco meal deal (crunchy). It could be that talking chihuahua they used to have. They never explained where he went. Was he deported?
On my Mexican-assembled sliding scale of 1 through 88 stars, I give Ghost Rider a three-taco meal deal (crunchy), an extra packet of hot sauce, and a mega-size Mountain Dew to help quench those flames. Pull around to the second window, Mr. Rider, and try not to ignite the speaker box. Timmy just got that thing working again.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Completely Useless Movie Previews: Hannibal Rising
Gentle readers, it has been too long since I indulged your need for a completely useless movie preview, based only on the knowledge garnered from a cursory viewing of a movie's trailer. Well, here you go. Don't ever say I don't do anything for you.
Hannibal Rising, from what I gather, is a delightful family film about a young Lithuanian orphan and his struggles to keep his family together during the dark days of World War II. Finally, a film with real family values! Hannibal struggles against all odds to protect his young sister, and later moves to France and takes care of his adoptive Japanese aunt.
This may or may not be a musical. Lots of old-timey movies about children during World War II are musicals. If so, expect excellent production values as a clone of Anthony Hopkins engages in a dance-off aboard the Good Ship Lollipop with Shirley Temple and a couple of the lesser Von Trapp kids.
Anyway, with only the trailer to go by, I've been able to tell that one of the problems facing young Hannibal (or "Hanny", as I'm sure he's called by his school chums) is proper diet. I've seen a lot of Afterschool Specials, and something gives me a hunch that Hanny is dealing with an eating disorder.
It must be a hard-knock life to have to deal with foreign occupation, caring for a younger sibling, and finding good, nutritious food in a war zone, but since the character comes back in several other films, (Silence of the Lambs, for instance, a whimsical fairy tale about sheep learning to use their indoor voices) we know he'll make it through somehow. Never you worry for Hanny, he's good people.
A lot of reviewers, in reviews I haven't read, seem pretty taken aback by the movie. I don't know what their complaints are about, since I haven't seen it and therefore am fully qualified to pass judgment. Maybe they just can't stomach an old-fashioned tale of family togetherness. Maybe the anti-Iraq peaceniks are just offended by any depiction of war, even when it is being fought by the Greatest Generation against the forces of darkness. Hannibal is the exemplar of those brave men and women who saved the world from evil, and for all I care, he could disembowel and feast upon the innards of those who have wronged him, and that still wouldn't taint his good spirit and pure demeanor. But that's crazy talk!
On my patent-pending scale of 1 to 88 stars, with the absolute values of -1 being the minimum and -88 being the maximum, I give Hannibal Rising a nice plate of fava beans (a wartime staple) and the tasty giblets of those who would speak ill against him and the values he represents. We would all do so well as to be as brave as young Hanny.
Hannibal Rising, from what I gather, is a delightful family film about a young Lithuanian orphan and his struggles to keep his family together during the dark days of World War II. Finally, a film with real family values! Hannibal struggles against all odds to protect his young sister, and later moves to France and takes care of his adoptive Japanese aunt.
This may or may not be a musical. Lots of old-timey movies about children during World War II are musicals. If so, expect excellent production values as a clone of Anthony Hopkins engages in a dance-off aboard the Good Ship Lollipop with Shirley Temple and a couple of the lesser Von Trapp kids.
Anyway, with only the trailer to go by, I've been able to tell that one of the problems facing young Hannibal (or "Hanny", as I'm sure he's called by his school chums) is proper diet. I've seen a lot of Afterschool Specials, and something gives me a hunch that Hanny is dealing with an eating disorder.
It must be a hard-knock life to have to deal with foreign occupation, caring for a younger sibling, and finding good, nutritious food in a war zone, but since the character comes back in several other films, (Silence of the Lambs, for instance, a whimsical fairy tale about sheep learning to use their indoor voices) we know he'll make it through somehow. Never you worry for Hanny, he's good people.
A lot of reviewers, in reviews I haven't read, seem pretty taken aback by the movie. I don't know what their complaints are about, since I haven't seen it and therefore am fully qualified to pass judgment. Maybe they just can't stomach an old-fashioned tale of family togetherness. Maybe the anti-Iraq peaceniks are just offended by any depiction of war, even when it is being fought by the Greatest Generation against the forces of darkness. Hannibal is the exemplar of those brave men and women who saved the world from evil, and for all I care, he could disembowel and feast upon the innards of those who have wronged him, and that still wouldn't taint his good spirit and pure demeanor. But that's crazy talk!
On my patent-pending scale of 1 to 88 stars, with the absolute values of -1 being the minimum and -88 being the maximum, I give Hannibal Rising a nice plate of fava beans (a wartime staple) and the tasty giblets of those who would speak ill against him and the values he represents. We would all do so well as to be as brave as young Hanny.
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