5/20/2004

Well, the summer movie season is upon us. In my youth, there were times when I honestly considered this to be the highlight of my year. As I grew older, wiser, less naïve, I became painfully aware of the fact that groundbreaking special effects typically equate to plotlines as thin as the paper the scripts are printed on.

However, in recent years, I’ve cooled on my harsh outlook on summer flicks due largely to the insurgence of comic book movies. Particularly Spider-Man. With the sequel now upon us in just over a month, I feel compelled to wistfully revisit my childhood in a brash exhibit of nostalgic fervor.

Translation: I’m catching up on my long overdue comic book reading.

Y’know, hard as it may be to believe, I was a geek during my formative years.

Please… withhold the overwhelming yearning to humor me.

What can I say? Some kids were all about sports, some all about music or art, I was all about comic books. Having said that, I have no shame in admitting that I was collecting regularly up to my senior year in high school, and I have the sizeable collection to prove it. But unlike a lot of money-hungry, flavor-du-jour collectors, I actually read a large portion of the books in my collection, and once again, I have no shame in admitting this. Nor do I have any shame in admitting that I am to this day drawn to the media as a true art form, and in many respects, a more legitimate escape than film ever could be.

Oh, sure, I’m not able to peruse the shelves of my local comic shop as often as I’d like, and even if I were, I have, shall we say, more mature expenses to deal with nowadays (e.g., gas, phone bills, and the like) that bar me from spending big on my once-beloved hobby as much as I’d like to.

But still, once every few months, I go on major Amazon and eBay shopping sprees, scouring for trade paperback bargains. I still love reading the damn things, and if you asked me why, I’m not sure I could give you a straight answer.

I would respond the same way if you were to ask me why Spider-Man holds rank over everyone else. Truth be told, I always gravitated to Spidey and Batman for some strange reason. For the longest time, I even neglected to touch anything involving the X-Men or Spawn, even during the “X-and-Image Boom” of the early 90’s. And forget Superman. I never liked Superman. With the exception of the first two films starring Christopher Reeve, I can honestly say that I have no fond memories of old Supes growing up. Yet I can still remember most of the storylines from old issues of The Amazing Spider-Man and Batman that I bought when I was a kid. Issues that I read so many times they literally fell apart, aging tenfold due to frequent readership.

It was an addiction. It was an obsession. It was freakin’ beautiful.

I mean, I can relate to Spidey and Bats. Peter Parker is just an average Joe trying to get by, be as much of a family man as he can, care for his friends and loved ones while balancing a job and fighting giant lizards and a whole assortment of “Goblins” riding jet-gliders. He’s the everyman. Clichéd as it may sound, Spider-Man stood for every blue-collar cat trying to make ends meet. As for Batman, Bruce Wayne was the epitome of the brooding introvert. He took the most visceral aspect of mankind’s id, and transformed himself into a walking fear factory for criminals who are, by his own definition, “a superstitious, cowardly lot.” But he had no superpowers. He didn’t come from the planet Batulon, nor was he bitten by a radioactive bat. He was just a human, plain and simple.

How the hell can I relate to a guy that not only has x-ray vision and can fly, but also is stronger than any mortal man? The answer is simple. I can’t! I suppose I can understand why people go gaga for him… I mean, who wouldn’t want to fly and be stronger than Dick Cheney’s body odor after a game of tennis? But I still can’t relate to the character…

And don’t even get me started on X-Men. I knew why everyone loved those books. “Wolverine’s got wicked cool claws, w00t!” Well, I’ll give ya that. And there were a few other solid characters in those storylines, but man oh man, were those continuities ever butchered time and time again. I find it very funny that the height of the X-Books’ popularity during the 90’s was synchronous with some of the most bizarre, convoluted storylines ever. If it wasn’t for the whole Spider-Clone fiasco, stuff like the Onslaught and Joseph would’ve gone down as the worst stuff in recent Marvel history. I’ll give the movies this much; they are doing a tremendous job of treating and condensing the best of the old X-storylines for Hollywood.

But man, the Spider-Man movie was just great in my book. It did so much to really bring the character into the limelight as it should be.

And it’s a beautiful thing, ‘cause it’s something I can share with my dad, my friends, and my ten-year-old cousin.

And now I find myself in love with an amazing, beautiful, fun, hilarious, brilliant, artistic, soulful woman, and guess what? She digs comic books, too. I’m surprised she didn’t come right out and say, “Face it Tiger, you just hit the jackpot!”

OK, if you recognize that quote, you’re almost as lame as I am for putting it in that context…

But it is the jackpot, and it’s an incredible thing. She makes me feel like a kid again. She makes me wanna eat ice cream in the middle of a hot summer’s day. She makes me wanna watch over-the-top blockbuster movies. And yeah, she makes me wanna read comic books.

I’m not sure where I’m going with all this, as I’ve gotten more tangential than usual. How about we just leave it at the fact that I’m so bloody happy now, it’s all kinds of amazing.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

5/19/2004

I was on my way to work this morning, driving down Route 34 (this is the part where everyone from Derby, Orange, and West Haven reading this right now starts hoopin' and hollerin'), when I noticed a black Chevy Avalanche in the lane next to me.

Even with my CD player on, I could hear the ever-familiar riff of "Back In Black" by AC/DC being blasted out of the flawlessly clean 4X4. Why, you ask? Probably because all four windows were rolled down.

Now, I thought this to be one of my gym-going buddies, whom I know to not only own a black Chevy Avalanche, but also to be an enormous AC/DC fan. So I edged closer and rolled down the window to yell hello in the event that it was Hammerin' Hank.

But alas, it was not.

It was someone else who owned a black Chevy Avalanche and loved AC/DC.

As the light turned green, the Avalanche sped off mid-chorus, further on down Route 34 (alright, you Derby/Orange/West Haven types need to simmer down, I can't concentrate on my writing here!).

Then it occurred to me...

Despite the fact that the song is nearly 25 years old and still going strong, there is just something infinitely cool about a guy in a black 4X4 blasting "Back In Black," and there always will be.

Why is that?

I wish Robert Stack were still alive... this one is just achin' for a spot on Unsolved Mysteries.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

5/03/2004

Well hit the siren and alert the authorities, the pervert is back in action.

How’ve you been, dear reader? So glad to see you again. Come, step into my humble abode, grab a cup of tea and sit yourself by the fire. So much catching up to do…

No, wait… Fuck that.

I don’t feel like bringing you up to date on my life. All you need to know is that I got my grades from UNH, and you can now call me “master.” Master of Marketing, that is. Forget LBJ or RVD, I’m Mr. MBA, Esq.

So drop that tea and hop your ass out of that chair tout sweet. I ain’t in the mood to yap about what music I’ve been listening to, what films I’m longing to see, or who I’ve been hanging with.

I’m in the mood to yap about what’s pissing me off these days. See, I needed to take a li’l sabbatical to get all my work done for grad school. But now that I’m done with all that, it’s time to catch up on the shit that be pissin’ me off.

In short, I’ve made a nice long list of things/people I’m sick of. I call it the “Fuck You” list. Strap in.

Fuck low-carb fanatics. I work part time at a restaurant as a waiter, and I can’t tell you how many times I have to hear, “Oh, I can’t have potatoes,” or, “No fries, please.” The hell? News flash, your brain requires carbohydrates to properly function, and if you go under your daily quota, you’ll turn into one of those Dawn of the Dead fuckers, understand? Besides, your desire to lose weight, admirable and misguided in its methodology as it is, does not give you the right to make life miserable for some hapless high school/college student trying to make a buck. Here’s a simple rule for all you carb-counting sloths: If it ain’t on the menu, we don’t have it. I’m not opposed to a restaurant providing an “Atkins Friendly” selection, but I do have a major gripe with anyone who wants to alter their menu selection. It’s one thing if you medically cannot have something. I understand and sympathize with severe allergies to certain items. But saying “I can’t have any carbs” is not a medical justification for your pickiness. You can have carbs, but you choose not to, plain and simple. You chose to live on that diet, now live with the consequences. If I ever wind up opting for a diet that limits my options to the scarcest of items, shoot me, please. Here’s an idea: Exercise you lazy, lazy humanoid! Limit the carbs, fine, but don’t eliminate them. Big difference. And then burn them off by actually doing something. Novel concept… or not.

Fuck Jay Leno. I still have no clue how this guy has remained employed for the last ten years and change. I’m also baffled about his ratings domination over David Letterman, and the only thing I can think of is that he has been riding on The Tonight Show wave set into motion by his predecessor. And the reason that I say that is he is the unfunniest human being on earth. Seriously, stay up one night and watch his monologue. If suicide via severe paper cut doesn’t cross your mind at least three times, you have a stronger stomach than I. I appreciate and admire true comedians, but Leno is such a bloody sellout, it’s not even funny. I’d love to know who he had to blow to get his job, because that person out to be shot, too. And what’s with this book he just penned? What’s supposed to be amusing about roast beef flying out the window, I ask you? You don’t see Carlin or Leary writing a kid’s book. You also don’t see them blatantly stealing another entertainer’s bits. As far as I’m concerned, a large portion of Leno’s paycheck ought to go to Howard Stern and the estate of Steve Allen.

Fuck Guadalupe Lopez. Y’know, it’s bad enough that I’ve got you to thank for giving birth to J-Lo, but beyond that, how dare you win a more than $2 million jackpot and keep it? I mean, how much money has your daughter made in the last five years? And J-Lo’s a Latina, so you know she had best be taking care of her folks now that she has the funds to do so. As far as I’m concerned, that money should go straight to charity you greedy cunt. There should be a law against greedy celebrity parents. In fact, I’m all for a law against celebrity parents in general.

Fuck The O.C. and people who watch it. I was forced to watch this sorry excuse for a show a few weeks ago, and I’m amazed that I managed to make it through an entire program without bludgeoning someone with my shoe. And even more troubling than the fact that this show got green-lighted is the fact that I have close friends who are genuinely entertained by this crap. I tell ya something; bored housewives must be creaming themselves since they now have their normal array of soap operas in the morning (AKA “my stories.” You know, “I have to watch my stories, now.” Well if you are owner of these so-called stories, I wouldn’t be so proud, lady) and this tripe in the evening. I’ll stick to Law & Order, thank you very much.

Fuck overdramatic teenage girls. On that O.C. note, you teenage girls need to get over your hormones and yourselves for a couple of seconds and realize that the local Starbucks being out of caramel shots for your iced latte is not a reason to put on an Oscar-winning performance. It’s no wonder high school guys get tired of your shit and dump your whiny asses. Y’need to realize that there are bigger things in this world than you and your trivial little “problems.” Toughen up and take a lap!

Fuck overdramatic twenty-something girls. See the above and kick it up a few years. You’re more mature now, so you have less reason to give into this Real World crap. Do drop it. And thank God for your equally whiny girlfriends, because birds of a feather bitch together. Wanna know why so many guys cheat on you? Because they have too much testosterone in their bodies to say, “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship” like you do. But they do that because your overacting drives them away, along with anyone else who has a shred of reason and stability in their being. Grow the fuck up, please!

Fuck Woody Allen. Comedy Central recently ranked the top 100 stand-ups of all time, and this jag-off landed at number 4. Huh? Did I miss something? When was this guy considered A) a stand-up and B) funny? How did this guy rank just behind Lenny Bruce, George Carlin and Richard Pryor? Horseshit. I’d like to crack Woody Allen in the head with a baseball bat for making so many dreadfully unfunny movies and passing them off as “intellectual” or “highbrow.” Fuck that. You had Howie Mandell as the devil in one of your films, and for that, you should be executed. But for outranking Chris Rock and Bill Cosby, you should be beaten to a bloody pulp first.

Fuck Courtney Love. This doped up, washed up, sorry excuse for a singer is still in the public eye? Someone tell me why. Why should I regard her drug-addled rants and public embarrassments any differently than those of your common street urchin? The answer? Well, to be frank, I shouldn’t. None of us should. Her 15 minutes were up several years ago. No one wants to touch her as an actress, no one wants to work with her as a musician, and that suits me just fine, because she doesn’t deserve the honor of working with real talents. Hell, she doesn’t even deserve the Betty Ford Clinic. I say send her to some shoestring halfway house and let her deal with her demons like every normal person. Oh yeah… Courtney, babe… you’re still an unfit mother, and I still insist you murdered Kurt you life-sucking harpy.

Fuck people who are up in arms about The Passion. Now I’ll level with you, hard as it might be to believe, I’m pretty religious. I’m a Christian, and proud of it. However, I am content to revel in my faith personally and with my family… not shove it down the throats of other folks like so many religious zealots out there. I practice tolerance, because ultimately, it’s not my place to tell others how to govern their lives. Having said that, I did like The Passion of the Christ. I get it, OK? Nevertheless, I’m getting mighty fed up with these people who are using the film as a crutch to promote their faith. That’s not the idea, OK? You’re supposed to appreciate your faith after watching the movie, not advertise it. Sakes. Some people are really just stupid. I know a lot of critics who say that religion is for the weak-minded, and I very heartily disagree. But I will say that it can poison a weak mind if not properly dissolved into the human psyche. Even more disturbing is when our imbecilic commander-in-chief announces before an open mic that God has spoken to him, and given him a direction. Y’know, I really think God has better things to do with his time than bother with some redneck douchebag in the White House. I think He’s wondering how so many people got it wrong. The Constitution says separate religion and state, and short of J.C. coming down and saying otherwise, nothing at all can or should change that, period.

Fuck people who like ice with their coffee. I get this sometimes from really old people at the restaurant I work. I’m not talking iced coffee; I’m talking a regular cup of java with a rocks glass of ice on the side. Folks, if I ever get to the point in life where my pallet can’t handle the temperature of a simple cup of coffee, kindly shoot me in the head.

Fuck seniors who hold up the self-checkout lane at Stop & Shop. Are senior citizens just determined to bring the rest of us down to their speed? They tie up highway traffic, they hold up the lines at the bank, they take forever ordering their food in restaurants, and now they insist on using the self-checkout lane. Folks, this lane was built for the purpose of speed and efficiency, and your current age/IQ does not coincide with either principle. Get your wrinkled ass back in line with the rest of the purpleheads and Ethels.

Fuck people who try to vindicate pedophiles through their artistic accomplishments. Mainly celebrities. Actors and actresses still yearn to work with Roman Polanski in spite of his rape conviction and lengthy exile from the U.S. R. Kelly still chalks up R&B Awards despite tapes of him urinating on little girls. And Michael Jackson is still held in high esteem by everybody in the Hip Hop/R&B world despite an insurmountable pile of evidence coupled with overwhelmingly strange behavior that points the finger in the direction of Class A Pedophile. I don’t care how talented you are. I don’t care if you could paint the Sistine Chapel Ceiling in ten minutes. If you molest or have sex with little kids, you deserve the severest penalty possible. And I’m afraid that our justice system doesn’t support a just, equitable sentence of this nature. And for that, these freaks should consider themselves very lucky.

Fuck Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey. Neither of you is talented. Only one of you is reasonably smart, and the other good-looking. But talent is still lacking. As is discretion, which is where my gripe really comes into play. These two are milking their 15 minutes for every last microsecond and it’s beginning to piss me off. I don’t mind your MTV show, as all it does is prove how truly stupid a lot of these divas are. However, didja have to remake “Take My Breath Away?” I fuckin’ love Top Gun, and you two had to go and butcher that song. Shame on you both. Then you have to trump your own collective whoriness by ripping off Sonny and Cher of all people with your insipid little variety show. I mean, come on. Nick singing with K.I.T.T. from Knight Rider? It wasn’t even the real K.I.T.T.! God, I could choke someone right now. You, Lachey, come here so I can choke you. No, get on your knees, scumbag and lean into my hand!

Fuck Britney Spears. Onyx Hotel my ass. Quit trying to pass yourself off as a legitimate artist, please! You’re a half-assed hack who can’t sing, can’t dance, and barely has a functioning brain. You belong in the pages of FHM for the lonely men of the world to masturbate to, and that’s it. Better seen and not heard, babe.

Fuck Janet Jackson. Her cute little stunt at the ‘Bowl in February has ignited a media-wide witch hunt against so-called indecency, and has given a previously archaic, inanimate government body a pair of legs to hobble on. Not only that, then she has the gall to go on SNL and parody the incident in sketch. I suppose it was bound to happen, but for fuck’s sake, does she have to follow the Celebrity Fuck-Up plan of action to a T? Be original and deviate from the bloody norm. Change your image completely and don’t insist on poking fun at yourself. Be original, Janet. You used to be halfway decent at it.

Fuck Clear Channel. They’ve got some balls pulling Howard Stern off the air when they’ve made a living off of his antics. Here’s a company that has no business deeming what’s indecent and what’s not. As far as I’m concerned, they’re a bunch of goddamned hypocrites. I mean, I suppose the FCC has them by the balls… but their lips are still firmly planted on the FCC’s ass.

Fuck the FCC. Who are they to decide what’s indecent? They’re a worthless body that’s run by Colin Powell’s son. Hey Michael, why did you need $50,000 of American taxpayer’s money to commission a private jet to Vegas? You go around labeling this indecent and that indecent, and you take it upon yourself to vacation in Vegas, the capital of indecency. Smooth, Michael. Real smooth. These people need to release the death grip their lips have on the dick of the religious right and stop getting so self-righteous. Which brings me to…

Fuck the Bush Administration. He lied about Iraq. He lied about WMD’s. He lied about stem cell research. He’s condemned gay marriage. He’s condemned abortion even in instances of rape and incest. And then he goes so far as to say that God talks to him and has given him direction on how to run our nation. He wants to remake our nation in purely Christian eyes, thereby forsaking freedom of religion and freedom of choice. Folks, this man is insane. His entire cabinet is insane. Powell is a brownnoser. Ashcroft is determined to crack down on HB) and “other pornographers.” Cheney is connected to every major corporate scandal of the last few years, and is ashamed of his own daughter’s homosexuality to the point where he hides it from the public. Folks, I’m not gonna shove my choice for Prez down your throat. I’m not gonna tell you to vote for one or the other. I’m just giving you the facts. And my opinion. And my personal, unfiltered opinion is that the Bush Administration is comprised of a group of lying, fanatics with fascist tendencies.

Well, I couldn’t think of a good closing paragraph to cap this, but I figured since this is my “Fuck You” list, it’d be easiest to let the boys from Damageplan do the talkin’…

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow. Boys, take it away!

Fuck You
By Damageplan


Fuck you, I’m through,
I want nothing more from you,
My sanity is wearing thin.
Irate, I hate,
You determined your own fate,
Now everything is caving in.

Fuck your power trip and
Fuck your attitude and
Fuck your bloated ego, too.
Fuck your history, your tragedy, your misery,
But most of all… Fuck you.

Fuck this, all of this,
Bitch and moan and bleed and piss,
Seconds away from goin’ down.
Go ahead and push me,
Your fakery, your butchery
Is nothing compared to my hate for you.

Fuck your apathy and
Fuck your empathy and
Fuck your nihilism, too.
Fuck your bitter pills, take ‘em all, you never will,
But most of all… Fuck you.

Nothing changes, nothing fazes, nothing stays the same.

Fuck your power trip and
Fuck your attitude and
Fuck your bloated ego, too.
Fuck your history, your tragedy, your misery,
But most of all… Motherfucker, fuck you.