The Grumpy Old Man

It's My 100th Post!

2011-01-16T21:26:00.002-05:00

I noticed this weekend that after about 10 months of posting, I'll finally be hitting the triple digits. And I can think of no better way to celebrate my hundredth blog post than by ending my blog! Yaaaaay!

OK, so I'm not giving it up, but I never really liked the name of the blog. I mean really, I'd like to think I can do better than ripping off the title of a Jack Lemmon/Walter Matthau movie. Not to mention the fact that I managed to come up with a web address that will be irrelevant in about a month when I turn 27.

That's why I'm shifting everything over to my new blog site, Looks Like Taylor Hicks. If you give a rat's ass, you're welcome to come visit over at www.looksliketaylorhicks.blogspot.com. If not, quite frankly, I don't blame you.

Verbal Bitch Slaps From William Shakespeare

2011-01-14T20:19:00.007-05:00

As you may have noticed, I tend to lean towards immaturity when making a point about something that bothers me. I don't believe there is any point that can't be made better by adding a "shitbreath" or a "cockbag" here and there (double negatives are great too). But I do admit that sometimes I find it difficult to mix up the vocabulary. I mean, there are only so many variations that one can make to the word "dickhead."

That's why I've decided to get a little assistance from The Bard. My mother in law took a trip to England and came back with a desk calendar for me devoted to insults written into the works of William Shakespeare. Every Friday I'm going to share some of my favorites with you. So, let's see how one of history's greatest playwrights calls someone a poopyface.

"Thou whoreson mandrake, though art fitter to be
worn in my cap than to wait at my heels."
--The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth 1.2.14-15
I'm finding out pretty quickly that the best thing about Shakespearean insults is that you know you're being insulted without quite knowing how. To be honest, I have no idea what the hell this is supposed to mean. But I do think whoreson may be my new favorite word.

"No mates for you
Unless you were of gentler, milder mold."
--The Taming of the Shrew 1.1.59-60, Hortensio to Kate
Now this one I definitely get. Apparently Hortensio thinks Kate would get laid a lot more if she weren't such a See You Next Tuesday.

"You have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness."
--Much Ado About Nothing 5.4.41-42.
Now, this seems like a commentary on a person's face being weighed down with a dark, sullen temperament. But I prefer to think of it as "U! G! L! Y! You ain't got no alibi! You ugly! Yeah, yeah! You ugly!"

"Thou art an O without a figure. I am better than
thou art now. I am a fool, thou art nothing."
--King Lear 1.4.183-185, The Fool to King Lear
The insult here isn't nearly as awesome as the context. It's sort of like a bum walking up to Bernie Madoff, laughing in his face, and calling him a douche bag.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: A Pin For The Butterfly

2011-01-09T10:51:00.005-05:00

I'm not sure if this is a sign of the film-making style of the mid 90s, or if Hugh Laurie was just taking whatever roles he could get as a means of branching out from his usual goofball schtick, but these last few clips have been really fucking weird. Last week, we get a mostly naked Laurie practicing Thai Chi as a way to cope with his life as a con artist collapsing around him (thanks for the explanation from clat, by the way). This week, we get something that makes naked Thai Chi seem perfectly reasonable.

It comes from a 1994 movie called A Pin for the Butterfly. In it, Laurie plays an uncle to Marushka, a little girl who wants to escape the clutches of Stalinist Communism in Czechoslovakia and travel to America. This was an entry at Cannes, so you know you're in for some melodrama. But there is no real way to prepare you for what happens starting at around the 1:50 mark.

What the hell was that? Did we really just watch Hugh Laurie kill himself via electrified fence? Either this is a dream sequence, or Laurie was captured by the Communists and imprisoned in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Even if it was a dream sequence, I can't help but think the emotional impact of the scene was blunted by the fact that it's one of the more unintentionally hilarious moments in recent memory. First, we have the stock communist march playing in the background while the prisoners trudge their way to...well, who knows where the hell they're going. Then we get the vulture screech, which I can only imagine is the director's attempt at subtly telling the viewer that this camp is a hopeless place where people go to die. Either that, or he just thought a vulture would sound totally bitchin'.

Then there's the piece de resistance: Hugh Laurie declares his freedom with all of the flare and emotion of a high school student reading out of a Social Studies textbook. He sprints off, apparently leaving his fellow prisoner catatonic from his brazen act. He then takes a swan dive into a fence so powerful that it instantly vaporizes his skin and leaves only a perfectly white skeleton. Oh, and then cut to his skull perched on the fencepost.

I'm surprised that Cannes even bothered showing other movies at the festival in 1994. No way anything was going to top that.

Grumpy Movie Review: True Grit

2011-01-04T19:36:00.008-05:00

I must admit that when I first read that the Coen Brothers were remaking the 1969 John Wayne western True Grit, I was less than thrilled. My main concern was that on the artistic ladder, remakes often fall somewhere between America's Funniest Home Videos and watching a dog eat its own crap. So when the Coen Brothers decided to dabble in remake territory, I felt a little bit let down. But I couldn't help but get at least a little excited when I saw this TV spot.

"I mean to kill ya!" That's just grizzled badassery right there. And that seems to pretty much be the theme of the movie. When Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) hires drunken Federal Marshall Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to find Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin) for killing her father, they cross paths with LaBeouf (Matt Damon), a Texas Ranger who has been tracking Chaney for a murder he committed in the Lonestar State.

From this point on the movie turns into an extended pissing contest between Cogburn, LaBeouf, and even Ross. Both men believe they are the ones to catch Chaney for their own reasons, and Ross believes her need for revenge means that things should be handled according to her direction. So they're constantly bickering and posturing while trailing Chaney, and it makes for some entertaining dialog. More importantly, all three characters are forced to stop talking a good game and actually follow through in some great gunfights that crescendo in a four-on-one shootout between Cogburn and a gang of ne'er-do-wells.

In fact, of all the characters in the movie, the one who proves to be the least tough is the murderer they are after, Tom Chaney. I went into the movie thinking that Chaney was going to be a Lee Marvin-type killer, both cold and threatening. But Chaney wound up being closer to a scrawny version of Mongo from Blazing Saddles. He stupidly mopes his way through most of his ten minutes of screen time. Kind of a let down considering the build up.

Other than Brolin's impression of the Looney Tunes abominable snowman, True Grit is a worthy addition to the Coen Brothers' catalog. As always, the cinematography is dark yet beautiful, as Joel and Ethan get some great shots in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Texas. And even though the movie pulled off a PG-13 rating, there is still the blunt violence you come to expect from a self-respecting Coen Brothers' movie.

But again, the real reason you go to watch this movie is for some great performances, especially by Jeff Bridges. I haven't seen the original version, but I'm still going to go ahead and say that Bridges is a better Rooster Cogburn than John Wayne. Acting for John Wayne, after all, tends to involve little more than putting on a costume and then continuing to act like John Wayne. Overrated, I say! Jeff Bridges, meanwhile, is probably most famous for playing a shiftless hippie several decades after it was culturally acceptable to be a shiftless hippie. Yet even though he's just a shade under 60, I would not want to fuck with him as Rooster Cogburn. That's called "range," children.

So I must officially retract my stance on remakes as being automatically awful. When done right, they can add something to cinema canon. And the Coen Brothers did just that with True Grit. It's a fine western, and made for a good way to cap off 2010 at the movies.

Grade: B+

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: All Or Nothing At All

2011-01-03T21:50:00.003-05:00

Something that I didn't realize blogging is that it's very similar to working out. If you don't keep it up on a consistent basis, you tend to lose the motivation to keep doing it at all. I can't believe I've breezed through two weeks without one little complaint. I've got to get the blood flowing again. I'd make a New Year's resolution but by now we all know that's pretty much the only sure-fire way of guaranteeing that a person won't do something.

So instead I'll just get back into the swing of things with this week's Non-House Hugh Laurie. This time we find Hugh Laurie taking a darker tone in the mini-series All or Nothing at All. He plays a con man named Leo Hopkins whose addiction to the game starts taking its toll on him. It actually sounds like an interesting little tale, and if you're feeling bored it appears that you can actually watch the program in its entirety on YouTube.

What I'd like to show you, however, is an experiment in your powers of prediction. Begin watching the following clip from the 0:16 mark through the 0:30 mark. Then, take some time and predict where the story will have taken you by the 1:30 mark. Got a guess? OK go ahead and play the clip from that point.

Ha! Bet you didn't know the train was getting of at this station! The funny thing is that even with the context of the connecting 60 seconds, I'm still not exactly sure how we get from glib Hugh Laurie to crazy 80's B-movie villain Hugh Laurie. I will say that I'm more intrigued to give All or Nothing at All a chance just to make some sense of it. Or, if anyone has already seen it, you're welcome to just tell me.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: Merry Fucking Christmas

2010-12-20T20:04:00.005-05:00

OK, I realize that if this were a normal week House would have started already, and I said I'd post the non-House clips in the hour leading up to a new episode. But, thank Jesus, it's a Christmas miracle. House is on hiatus so tonight is just a rerun. So nuts to you. It's not like your reading this anyway.

To celebrate the season, I'm fast-forwarding this week's post to the year 2008 for Laurie's hosting of Saturday Night Live. But I must warn you, if you're anything like me then you will want to skip the cold opening by Gilly, a character so bad that it makes me long for the days of "It's Pat." Actually, scratch that. "It's Pat" still sucks ass. Anyway, skip to 0:15 to avoid the colon tumor that is Gilly.

I have to admit, this skit really shouldn't be funny. It's one of those one-note skits that SNL is infamous for (I love Keenan Thompson, but "What Up With That" is NOT FUNNY!). But I think I like it because it would be fun to have a Christmas dinner like that. Granted, I'm sure plenty of families do have a Christmas dinner like that and they would probably say it's not a good time. But what if you just planned a dinner where the whole point was to yell at each other and treat each other like shit. Then after about an hour you can go back to at least pretending to being nice to one another. I don't know, am I the only one who thinks that would be a blast?

Well, with Christmas coming up this will most likely be my last post until next week so have a fantastic Christhanukwaanza, and I'll leave you with a bonus clip: some unexplainable montage of Hugh Laurie pictures set to a piano instrumental of "Silent Night."

Take The Edge Off With The Greatest Kick To The Head I've Ever Seen

2010-12-18T16:33:00.004-05:00

While I don't talk about it much on here, I'm pretty much addicted to mixed martial arts. I suppose that makes sense, since I use this blog as a forum to bitch about the things I don't like. But I saw a clip this week that I feel should be seen by as many people as possible. Therefore, I'm dusting off the "Take The Edge Off" post so that I can share this with anyone who may not be familiar with MMA and have not seen it. And if you are one of those people who still think that MMA is nothing more than "human cockfighting," well you are just wrong and I'm not in the mood to try and explain why.

First, you should know that the following clip comes from the final airing of a company known as World Extreme Cagefighting. Lame titles aside, it's been known as one of the few organizations to make the guys over at Ultimate Fighting Championships turn their heads. In fact, the owners of the UFC bought WEC, and used it as a forum for the smaller weight classes to show their stuff. The UFC recently decided to merge those weight classes into its own organization, so the fighters will have a home but there will no longer be a WEC.

Well, the final fight that the WEC broadcast this past Thursday is making waves as a potential fight of the year. Lightweight fighters Ben Henderson and Anthony Pettis put together a 25 minute epic fight, probably because they both knew that a win meant better job security going into the merger. I do have to admit, because the fight aired on Versus and I'm too poor to buy that TV package, I didn't get to see the whole fight. But we can all take a look at the move that probably earned Pettis a decision victory over Henderson.

I'm pretty sure I could watch that kick five times a day for the rest of my life and it would never, ever get old. It's just got everything. It's flashy. It's unexpected. It snaps Henderson's head back like a whip. The only thing I can't believe is that Henderson wasn't knocked out by that kick. That man must be a cyborg, because I'm fairly certain a kick like that would have made me cry. Not just tears in my eyes, either. I'm talking full-blown wailing in the middle of the cage. I wouldn't have cared who saw me.

I'd say the only disappointing thing about the kick is that Pettis gave it the rather weak name of the "Showtime Kick." I mean, I guess it's not a terrible name, but that kick deserves better than "not terrible." I'm thinking something along the lines of "The Deathfoot" or "The Decapitanator." Something with a capitalized "The" in front of it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. If not, watch it again because you must be doing it wrong.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: The Legends Of Treasure Island

2010-12-13T18:30:00.003-05:00

I remember when I first started looking into Hugh Laurie's back catalog, I found that this guy had some really impressive range. Originally seeing him in House, I didn't even realize that Laurie is English. He can really lose himself in a role, be it a crotchety but brilliant doctor, or a goofball Prince of England.

Which is why I find it so surprising that he spent most of his early career being typecast. Case in point: The Legends of Treasure Island. To this point, it seems as though most of Laurie's work has been as an ignorant, but well meaning aristocrat. But in 1993, however, the creators of Legends introduce Laurie to new territory as a voice actor. And how do the creators of the show exploit this new medium for Laurie? By making him an ignorant but well meaning aristocrat...and a bird.

If you take a look at this week's clip (starting at around 7:35) you'll see what I mean. The good news is that if you find yourself entranced by the whimsy of this animated tale, you're in luck because it's one of those shows that nobody gives a rat's ass about so YouTube has complete episodes posted. I, however, will just assume that the show ends with them finding treasure on an island of some kind.

Grumpy Movie Review: The Warrior's Way

2010-12-12T20:38:00.006-05:00

That was just fantastic. I literally got through the door about 5 minutes ago after seeing The Warrior's Way and I feel obligated to proclaim it's glory. This movie just stamped a smile on my face that may not go away until 2011.

Now, I have to make a confession. I love movies. But they don't have to be great movies. In some cases, I'd prefer they weren't great movies. There Will Be Blood, for example, is supposed to be a great movie. I could barely get through it. Yes, yes, I get it. A man's greed and ambition will leave him empty and joyless. And then he'll kill a skinny preacher with a bowling pin. I still don't get why I had to waste two hours of my day watching it.

If I'm going to waste two hours, I'd much rather it be by watching The Warrior's Way. Subtlety? Who needs it. Character development? Kiss my ass. Plot? Ha. Let me sum up the plot for you. An assassin (played by Korean star Dong-jun Jang) refuses to kill the last remaining member of his enemy clan because she is only an infant. His clan then starts to hunt him down, and he escapes to a small town in the U.S.'s Old West where he befriends a girl (Kate Bosworth) who's looking for revenge against an evil colonel (Danny Huston). The assassin and the girl fall in love, and then a whole bunch of people get shot/cut to ribbons with swords.

If you think I've spoiled the ending for you, then you're an idiot and I'd like for you to be on your way. Of course a lot of people are going to die. This is exploitative trash, and that's why I love it. Everyone knows exactly what's going to happen, but that doesn't make it any less awesome when a faceless ninja dives through machine gun fire to slice off the arms of its user, causing said machine gun to fall on the ground and spray fire at random asshole cowboys.

And by the way, when I mentioned the love story between Dong-jun and Bosworth, I basically mean sword training montages interspersed with lingering looks and I think maybe one kiss. Just enough to show the audience that this guy has something to fight for now. We wouldn't want him to just go around cutting off heads for no reason. We're not mindless animals here, folks.

Plus, I'd be remiss if I forgot about the appearance of one Mr. Stephen "Captain Barbosa" Fry. This has got to be the absolute ugliest man I've ever laid eyes on. But he's still more man that I could ever hope to be, and this movie is no exception. In fact, if I have one complaint about the movie, it's that there wasn't enough Stephen Fry. That, and through the whole movie he never said "Damn! Ninjas." Come on, guys. When you basically center your previews on a phrase like that, it should pay off in the actual movie.

Other than that, however, there isn't anything bad in this movie for me to complain about. That's because it's all supposed to be bad. And it is. It's a terrible movie. But like I said, it put a big smile on my face. And in the end that's all I ask. Bravo to Rogue Pictures for being willing to distribute such delightful schlock. I look forward to their upcoming opus, Season of the Witch. It's got Nicolas Cage in it. I don't think I really need to explain myself any further.

Grade: A

It's "Caffè". Not "Coffee". Stupid American.

2010-12-06T19:50:00.004-05:00

Editor's Note: Ha! I called myself the editor...I'm awesome. Anyway, we have our very first guest post today, courtesy of the little woman. I promised this was coming a couple of weeks ago, but she didn't get around to writing it for the crappy excuse of having an actual life to lead. Oh well. Enjoy some estrogen-laced ranting!

So, as all two of you know, the Grump and I were lucky enough to travel to Florence (Italy not New Jersey) for our honeymoon. It was an amazing trip and I'm sure you guys have kept up with the hub's posts concerning our awesome time there. While most of the things that the Grump saw as major enjoyment roadblocks (like not knowing the language...oh, wah) I simply ignored as I most likely had a glass of chianti in hand at the time. However, as a coffee drinker, my honeymoon buzz was nearly disrupted by the lack of a decent cup of joe anywhere in the country.

I started drinking coffee in college, mostly just to get going for my 10:00 a.m. classes. God, I miss college. Anyway, I was introduced to coffee through the roach trucks on campus.

Mmm.Grease.

This is coffee that had been brewing for about three days before the cup was shoved into your hand by Vlad, who may or may not be a convicted felon in the old country. Zombie-like, you totter the first few feet towards your class while taking your first tongue scalding sip. What happens internally is only what I can describe as a Van Damme kick to your frontal cortex, tongue and vital organs. Externally, for me anyway, it looks and sounds something like this:

Needlessly to say, I reached the point where this kung fu showdown with my early morning brain function is something that I now require to start off my day. So, imagine my surprise when I asked for a coffee in Italy and the waiter plunked this down in front of me:

"I feel like I'm gonna break this damned thing."

I know what you guys are thinking. "Mrs.Grump, (because you guys are polite) that appears to be an espresso. Coffee-zilla. Even for an addict like yourself, it should be more than sufficient to satisfy your coffee jones." Well, Grumpites, it's not. I like to enjoy my caffeine buzz. Savor it, if you will. And I just can't do that when there's only a quarter of an inch of metallic tasting liquid with an entire pack of sugar thrown in.

Puzzled, I consulted my trusty Frommer's. Skipping past the potential set up they give you for being roofied by someone named Gio the second you step into a bar, "caffè" is listed as the Italian word for coffee....and espresso. Seriously? So a couple of days and almost one full espresso cup later, I overhear a table of French tourists ordering a "caffè americano". I know, right? The last group you would think would order anything "americano". So I give that a whirl and I'm given a cup of something that was quite obviously espresso watered down with the spit of the cafe waiters. Ugh. Good thing it's socially acceptable to order wine at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday here, otherwise there would be dead bodies littering the piazza.

So to bring this rambling post to a conclusion, my coffee confusion was cleared up about a month later when I stumbled upon this post by The Oatmeal, who I absolutely love and am also a little afraid of. While I don't agree with his assessment of the whole Italian/American coffee situation (Espresso with or without water blows goats either way in the categories of taste and strength), I'd recommend reading it before you venture off into the land of Italy. Or just have a backup cup of diner coffee waiting for you like I did when you land.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: Jeeves and Wooster

2010-12-06T18:59:00.004-05:00

After last week's tangent that had little to nothing to do with Hugh Laurie, I'll try and stay on point as we take a look at Jeeves and Wooster, a.k.a. A Bit of Fry and Laurie, 1930s Style. For those of you who read more than I do (don't be too impressed with yourselves) you might know Jeeves and Wooster as characters from the short stories of P.G. Wodehouse. The series was adapted for TV by Clive Exton, whose prior work includes the epic period piece Red Sonja.

And the Oscar never, ever goes to...

One thing that I have to share with you from the show is the opening sequence. You'll see that Hugh Laurie is nowhere to be found, but you'll also find that the theme song will be stuck in your head for a better part of the day.

As the following clip will show, there isn't a whole lot about Jeeves and Wooster that will surprise you if you're already familiar with the work of Fry and Laurie, aside from the fact that Fry plays the straight man a bit more than in the past. Laurie, as usual, is a buffoon, and similar to his turn as Prince George he's even dumber for not realizing that he's a buffoon. The humor is a bit more low-key here, and to be honest a little of this show goes a long way for me, but it's still worth a look.

The Christmas Shoes: Proof That God Either Doesn't Exist Or Really Enjoys Screwing With Us From Time To Time

2010-12-01T20:16:00.009-05:00

I need to make a correction from Monday's post. In my ranting about the insufferable nature of patriotic pop music, I incorrectly named "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue (Angry American)" as the worst thing ever written. This is a grave error. It is by no means the worst thing ever written, and I apologize for making such a statement.

After all, how can "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue" possibly be the worst song in a world where this exists...

Now, it may surprise you to know that I actually like Christmas music. I even look forward to when the local douche bag top 40 station goes to all Christmas music after Thanksgiving. It gives me time to forget that I'm a cynical asshole for a few minutes on my ride home from work. That's why I get extra fucking pissed when I hear these idiots from Newsong spew this shallow, bullshit bowl of nothing.

I mean, come on. Shoes? Fucking shoes? Of all the things that you could have come up with to shamelessly tug on the old heartstrings you're giving me footwear? And don't give me any kind of weak crap about how it's meant to convey the simple innocence of a child trying to show his love the only way he knows how. If I'm dying of the unnamed disease that is apparently killing the mom in this song, my kid had better not come at me with a pair of goddamn shoes unless he wants me to smother him with the pillow from my hospital bed.

And I'd also like to know what kind of values this family has instilled in this kid, where he thinks that Jesus really gives a shit what his mom's wearing on her feet when she buys it. As if Joan Rivers is going to be waiting in the tunnel of light to bust her chops if she's not wearing Manolos.
"Oh! Can we talk about that hospital gown? It's so assisted living! But that could be forgiven if her brat of a son would have bought her some decent shoes!"

Ugh.

And what the hell is Rob Lowe doing in the shitty TV movie based off this shitty song? I didn't even find that out until today. This man is Sam Seaborn! He was a senior aide to the president of the United States of America, and he deserves better than that!

God, now I've gone and gotten myself depressed in this season of love and family. Thanks a lot Newsong. I hope your exploitation of empty sentimentalism makes you feel really good about yourselves. It's thrilling to know that you're likely richer than I'll ever hope to be. Merry Christmas, trouser stains.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: "America"

2010-11-29T19:25:00.004-05:00

After a lovely Thanksgiving holiday of eating turkey and not writing any posts, it seems I'll be following up last week's non-House Hugh Laurie segment with....another non-House Hugh Laurie segment. But in my defense, I'll be doing so with an aspect of Hugh Laurie that we haven't seen yet, which is Hugh Laurie's ability to write and sing ridiculous songs.

The song I chose for this week, "America," hits a particular note with me for two reasons. First, I cannot fucking stand when pop musicians cash in on American patriotism. And yes, I'm looking squarely at you, Toby Keith. "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue (Angry American)" may be the worst song ever written in the history of anything being written. If you haven't heard it, do yourself a favor. Don't. Just don't ever.

Basically, a man who has made his living playing a musical instrument has taken it upon himself to warn terrorists of the ass-kicking they have coming. But, lest you think his motives for writing a song about American patriotism in the wake of 9/11 are anything less than pure, just remember Keith simply had to write it as a tribute to his father:

It wasn’t written for everybody. And when you write something from your heart - I had a dad that was a veteran, taught me how precious our freedom is - I was so angry when we were attacked here on American soil that it leaked out of me. You know, some people wept when they heard it. Some people got goose bumps. Some people were emotionally moved. Some cheered, turned their fists in the air.

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. Fuck you times a million. There is nothing more nauseating than watching the macho posturing of a man you know has never been put in harms way for a single day in his life. This is just a shallow rallying cry for people looking for any excuse to shout "America, fuck yeah!" without any hint of irony.

Which brings me to the second thing that "America" brings to my mind. Fellow complainer Lewis Black made the best point that I've ever heard about mindless country pride in a bit on his CD, The End of the Universe. I can't seem to find the exact quote, but it comes down to this: Imagine you have a coworker who wanders around the office continually shouting "I'm the
best motherfucker in this place!" Eventually, you and your fellow office mates will rise up and slay him.

Yes, we live in a great country with a lot to be thankful for, so we should enjoy it and even be proud of it. But do we need to rub it into the faces of everyone we know just to make the point that we think their lives are a big pile of dogshit? For Christ's sake, let's settle down a bit, huh?

So...um. I think this post has taken a bit of a turn. Perhaps its time to get to the clip before I get too lost up my own ass. Enjoy some light musical satire, folks!

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: Strapless

2010-11-22T17:54:00.007-05:00

If there is anything I like more than movies and movie trivia, it's crappy movies that big name actors would like to forget they were ever in. If I ever met, for instance, Adrien Brody, I would not dream of mentioning his Academy Award winning performance in The Pianist. Shit, I've never even seen that movie. Nor would I ask him what it was like to act the part of a disabled person in The Village, or how hard it was to bulk up for Predators. Nah, if I ever met Adrien Brody, I would smile, look him in the eye, and say "I loved you in Angels in the Outfield."

If you didn't know that Adrien Brody was in that movie, don't worry. I'm fairly certain he forgot he was in it, too. But everyone in showbusiness has to work through that crappy movie, either to get started or to make a house payment. And Hugh Laurie is no exception.

To be fair, I know very little about this week's pick, a 1989 movie called Strapless. The synopsis on IMDB is some drivel about an American doctor who goes to work in London and meets some guy and blah blah blah whatever. What's important is that Hugh Laurie is neither of these characters, nor is he anywhere in the vicinity of top billing. In fact, I'm pretty sure the following montage is at least 80% of all of Laurie's scenes as the character Colin.

So for all I know about the movie, Strapless could be a cult hit in England. It may be what kicked his career into high gear, paving the way for his introduction to the U.S. as Gregory House. But seeing as that breakthrough didn't come until a decade and a half later, I'm going to say that's a big no. I just hope he bought something really cool with the money. A minibar, perhaps?

Half Marathons Are At Least 0.5 Times As Good As Full Marathons

2010-11-21T15:47:00.004-05:00

I ran in the Philadelphia Half-Marathon today. Me and 24,000 of my closest running pals gathered at the Art Museum and tested our mettle. I'd run one other half marathon in my life, but that was about 11 years and 40 pounds ago, so I wanted to see if I could still pull it off. I'd been training for a few months with the sole goal of running the entire race without having to walk, which I couldn't do the first time around. Follow me, if you will, as I take you through what goes through a large, somewhat overweight runner's mind as he runs 13.1 miles.

7:00am (0 miles)--We're lined up in our starting groups, and the announcer gives us a countdown to get everyone started....3, 2, 1! And the race has begun.

7:10am (0 miles)--I still can't even see the actual starting line, and I begin to realize my race won't be starting any time soon.

7:24am (0 miles)--My group finally gets started. The mayor is giving high fives to people as they get started, but I there is a line of 4 people waiting to get a chance to get one. I pass, as I have very important running to do.

7:36am (1 miles)--I'm feeling good, although not thrilled that it took me 12 minutes to run a mile because all of these jerks are in my way. Clear a path, people!

7:47am (2 miles)--This is really cool. I get to run through Center City Philadelphia without worrying about cars or, more importantly, bicyclists. Stupid fucking bicyclists.

7:57am (3 miles)--Now I'm getting my rhythm. I like my pace and I'm even passing a lot of people. This pace will in no way come back to bite me in the ass later on.

8:07am (4 miles)--Running down South Street. Must resist urge to run into Jim's for a cheesesteak.

8:17am (5 miles)--Making my way down Chestnut Street and through a major part of Center City Philadelphia. Coming to terms with the fact that if I was not running in this race I would want to kill everyone in the world for fucking up the city's traffic patterns.

8:27am (6 miles)--I'm almost halfway done! Still feeling really good, with the adrenaline and the cheers of the crowd keeping me moving. Hey, maybe next year I'll even try a full marathon!

8:37am (7 miles)--I think it was around here that I could see the river, where a good number of the full marathon runners have already passed the 13.1 mile marker and are in the second half of their run. My feelings are hurt a little bit, but I'm OK.

8:58am (9 miles)--OK, I'm hitting a bit of a wall now. But I'm on the back end of the run so as long as nothing unexpected comes up, I should be fine.

9:04am (9.5 miles)--Who the fuck decided to put the courses largest hill at the 9 mile portion of the race!? Are they trying to make me cry? Obviously there's a conspiracy here.

9:08am (9.8 miles)--Well at least they put a water station soon after the hill. And this one even has energy gel! I never realized how dense this stuff was. While trying to eat it I can only assume that I look like a dog with peanut butter in it's mouth.

9:21am (11 miles)--Fucking bicyclists! Just one of these assholes manages to insert himself in this race, and I get stuck next to him in a crowded downhill section of the race, so I get to hear him constantly creaking his breaks as he keeps almost hitting runners. Die.

9:22am (11.1 miles)--Oh, and I am dying right now. I haven't hit the wall, I've torpedoed into it.

9:33am (12 miles)--Oh, thank you Jesus. One more mile.

9:39am (12.5 miles)--Shit, are these miles marked properly?

9:45am (12.8 miles)--They start directing half-marathoners to one side and full-marathoners tot he left. I realize that if I was running a full marathon, I'd just about be at the half-way point. I make a solemn pact with myself right then and there to never run a full marathon in my life.

9:46am (13.1 miles)--I've made it! I've run 13.1 miles without stopping! .....Oh dear God. If I stop moving my legs I think every muscle in them may just seize.

Well, thankfully they didn't seize. I must admit I was a little bummed out that I came in a little bit behind the 1st place female runner...of the full marathon. But all in all it was a pretty great run. Plus, afterward, I had my lady waiting for me AND a waffle breakfast. Not a bad way to end a day. Yes, I realize it's only around 10am at this point. But I don't really plan on doing jack shit for the rest of the day.

Why Couldn't Eric Stoltz Go Back To The Future?

2010-11-19T20:09:00.011-05:00

I'm a big fan of useless movie trivia. I'll admit, this is a bit of a redundant phrase, similar to "irritating Oasis song." But I can't get enough of tidbits about how a movie was made, especially things about the parts they cut out. For example, did you know that Kevin Smith originally ended Clerks by having Dante killed by a robber? Or that Chris Farley would have been the voice of Shrek if not for his untimely death?

Well, one of the recent "What could have been" movie reveals is that Back to the Future's Marty McFly wasn't originally Michael J. Fox. He was the studio's first choice, but he was too busy with Family Ties, so they went with option B: Eric Stoltz. Take a gander at the clip below, and behold the surreal image of shot for shot scenes with Stoltz replacing Fox.

That's pretty much a bummer for Eric Stoltz, isn't it? Five weeks of shooting and then he gets shit canned? I like Eric Stoltz, too, and I wonder if he was really as wrong for the role as they say he was. I decided to put this question to the test in the most half-assed way possible: take two movies, one with Michael J. Fox and one with Eric Stoltz, and compare their performances to see who would be a better fit. I did away with pesky scientific concepts like "controls" or "legitimate effort," and just picked two movies from the eighties that I liked.

For my Michael J. Fox sample, I went with the terrifying tale of pubescent lycanthropy, Teen Wolf. Fox plays Scott, an small-town high school basketball player who finds out he's a werewolf. And when the rest of his school finds out, instead of fleeing in terror/forming a mob to destroy the evil beast, they make him the most popular kid in school. But forget about the plot, my aim here was to analyze Fox's performance. And I must say, with the material given, this guy should have won an Academy Award (or at least a Golden Globe). He somehow manages to take a character in an insanely idiotic premise and make him seem natural.

In the case of Eric Stoltz, I at least wanted to choose an example from around the same time as Teen Wolf. I could have chosen Mask, but it didn't really have a comparable tone to Teen Wolf and it would have been too difficult to resist my natural urge to make fun of people who have unfortunate physical ailments. So, I went with the John Hughes produced Some Kind of Wonderful, where Stoltz plays a middle-class outcast named Keith who finds himself going out on a date with popular girl Amanda (Lea Thompson). Stoltz gives a fine performance as quiet and brooding artist who gets by in the movie with a subtle, likable cool.

And here I think is where I agree with the choice of Fox over Stoltz. It's pretty obvious that nothing in Back to the Future calls for quiet or subtle. Even in the few short shots of Stoltz from the dumped footage from Future, you can tell he's trying to play it straight, which really would not have worked given the ridiculous premise (if you don't already know the premise you can kindly leave now).

In all fairness, it seems that even Stoltz wasn't comfortable with his performance. In a phone call with director Peter Bogdanovich, Stoltz confessed to feeling "wrong for the role." In a 2007 interview with Moviehole, Stoltz had the tone of a man looking on the bright side of losing the part.

You know, it was twenty-something years ago and I rarely look back, if at all; but in retrospect, I think just getting through that difficult period helped me realize how freeing it really was. I went back to acting school, I moved to Europe, I did some plays in New York and I actually invested in [pause] myself in a way that was much healthier for me. If I had become a massive star, I don't know if I wouldn't have gone into therapy. On the other hand, I would've been exceedingly rich which would've been wonderful!

So, even though I agree with the fact that Michael J. Fox was much more suited for the role, it still seems like Eric Stoltz kinda got screwed out of some big fame and money. Although, if the movie sucked with him in it, then maybe his career would have been even worse. Either way, we likely would not have been blessed with his awesome bit part as heroin dealer Lance from Pulp Fiction (he's the dude in the clip who's not John Travolta).

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: Blackadder Goes Forth

2010-11-15T18:44:00.003-05:00

OK, this will be the last of the Blackadder Hugh Laurie. Other than a special here and there this was the last season of the series, which ran in 1989. This iteration of Laurie's character is Lieutenant George Colthurst St. Barliegh, right hand man of Rowan Atkinson's Captain Blackadder. Laurie is doing his usual clueless goofball schtick here, and I really didn't have much to say about it until I watched these clips from a Blackadder documentary:

At around 3:45, Laurie discusses the challenge of making a screwball comedy set in the trenches of World War I, and it hit me that this was the first season where the characters are actually likeable people. As funny as the earlier seasons are, most of the characters in them, especially Laurie's Prince George III, are kind of assholes. But in the fourth season, Lt. St. Barleigh may be an idiot, but at least he's brave and loyal. Hell, in the final scene, just about everyone gets to go out as the good guys. Unfortunately, they're also going out in a charge against German machine guns:

I don't know about you, but I was kind of impressed by how they chose to close out the final season. But if you're also like me, you'll find yourself fairly depressed as well. So let's end Laurie's Blackadder stint on a happy note:

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 8, or Random Thoughts On Italy

2010-11-12T16:49:00.003-05:00

OK, so as it turns out I didn't have enough material for 10 days of posting. I don't think 8 days is too shabby, however. As I don't really have any topics worthy of a full post, I'll just share a few things that have been rattling around in my head since I got back:

I don't fly well. I guess I never noticed this because I'd never been on a plane for 10 hours before. But I can really be quite the bastard at the end of a flight. I blame this on my family's problem of having really bad ears when it comes to pressure changes. While I know that a popping sensation in one's ears is normal during airline travel, I don't think it's normal to feel like someone stuck a screwdriver in my ear hours after I got off the fucking plane. So I must admit, by the time I get off the actual plane, I'm less than cordial, even to my lovely wife. Sorry baby.

Airline policies suck ass. I may be a prick when I fly, but I refuse to take all of the blame. If you're not supposed to bring meat products back from other countries, then that information should be readily available to read BEFORE you've purchased almost 50 bucks worth of Italian salami and gotten it 90% of the way through U.S. customs. Not to mention that this was after about 14 hours worth of going through inefficient security stations and boarding procedures. I think what gets me the most pissed off about airlines is that their security is reactionary. Perhaps if these schmucks would think far enough ahead to create some kind of technology that's flexible enough to catch the crap that they didn't think of before, then they wouldn't have to update their carry-on policies every five minutes. Oh, someone managed to put a bomb in a shoe? Then you'll have to take yours off and put it through the x-ray machine every time you fly. Someone made a bomb out of liquid?
Then you can only have less than 3 ounces on the plane from now on. I'd hate to see what would happen if someone managed to plant a bomb in one of his testicles. I'm picturing a small guillotine next to the metal detector.

We must be actively trying to become obese in the U.S. I spent ten days in Italy, making absolutely no attempt to watch what I ate. Yet somehow, I managed to lose two pounds. That's not much, I know, but considering I ate enough prosciutto to risk a swine shortage in the Chianti region, I should be about 300 pounds by now. I don't know what we're putting in our food here, but we should seriously look into switching to what they're having. Although, my weight loss may also have been due to the fact that everything in the Chianti region is at least at a 30 degree incline. It's unreal. I always laughed when an elderly person would say they had to walk uphill both ways to get to school everyday. But now I realized they weren't full of shit if they grew up in Italy.

Being worried about acting like a stereotypical arrogant American while traveling abroad is the most surefire way of acting like a stereotypical arrogant American while traveling abroad. I so didn't want to be that guy. But within a day of arriving at our hotel I managed to call the guy working the counter "Matt" about 13 times before I realized his name was Andreas. And I managed to pull off the ever-helpful language barrier busting technique of yelling things slowly and obnoxiously in English. Because, after all, anyone should be able to understand English as long as you speak it to them as if they are a deaf child. Shockingly, I don't think I turned into the hotel's favorite guest. My natural reaction to this suspicion was to think they were the assholes, because anyone who doesn't think I'm awesome is clearly a douche bag.

The final conclusion that I pull from everything I've posted about this trip is pretty simple. I am one lucky guy to be married to Mrs. Grump. I'd imagine that traveling with me is similar to going on vacation with an ill-tempered gorilla that can form basic sentences. Yet even so, Mrs. Grump made sure we had an excellent honeymoon. We saw sights that I'd probably only ever see on a computer screen if left to my own devices. I ate food that makes me tear up a little bit just to think about it (On a side note, if you ever have a chance to eat food that has wild boar in it, do it. Don't think about it. Just do it). I even managed to pick up a phrases of Italian. I think my favorite was "due." It's nothing special. It just means "two." But it was the word I used the most often because anything I ordered or purchased was always in duplicate to accommodate my new wife. And that makes me happy.

Speaking of the wife, stay tuned for a special guest post sometime next week from Mrs. Grump herself. I don't drink coffee, but according to Mrs. Grump, anything good you've heard about Italian coffee is a bold-faced lie. Check in sometime next week to find out why.

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 7, or Gotthard Is The Best Swiss Band In Italy

2010-11-10T21:23:00.007-05:00

Yes, yes. I know I missed yesterday's Italy post. Cut me some slack work has been a pain in the ass. Actually it's pretty delusional of me to think that anyone even noticed that I missed a day, but that's not the point. It's the principle of the thing. Unfortunately, work has been giving me a healthy kick in the pills for the last couple of days so I haven't gotten around to doing anything productive since yesterday morning.

Anyway, midway through our trip Mrs. Grump and I had go to the local laundromat to wash our clothes because we didn't feel like lugging ten days worth of clothes with us over to Italy. While at the laundromat we were passing the time by making fun of the crappy Italian music videos that were playing on the TV, which was made even funnier by the fact that there was no sound. Next time you're watching your very favorite band in a music video, try turning the sound off. Without fail it will be the dumbest fucking thing you've ever seen.

One video, however, was so awful that I had to see if I could find it on YouTube when I got back to the apartment. Fortunately for everyone in the world, I was able to find it. It's actually a Swiss band called Gotthard, who named themselves after both a mountain pass and the act of pitching a tent. Pun: accomplished.

Alright, I've kept you from this long enough. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Unconditional Faith."

I just don't know where to begin, here. I think I'll go with pointing out the mandolin player. What about him? Well, basically just the fact that he exists. There is a grown man in the middle of a rock band playing an itty bitty guitar. And he's rocking that shit.

Also, can anyone tell me where the story of the boxer is supposed to go? He's training, he wins a fight, and he goes back home to his wife. I mean, that's lovely and all, but is there a point? Or are we just going for a surrealistic depiction of a white guy beating a black guy in a boxing match?

I think what I like best about this video is that it actually got worse when I was able to watch it with sound, it actually got worse. And it's not just that the song is bad. Well, yeah it is bad. But when you watch that music video while it plays with that song, you get an entity that transcends itself and evolves into art on par with Plan 9 from Outer Space.

Sadly, the lead singer of Gotthard, Steve Lee, recently died in a motorcycle accident. That really is a bummer, and I will take the high road for perhaps the first time in my life and not make a joke about it. In fact, I better just end this post now before I wind up accidentally saying something that makes me look like a complete dick.

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 6, or The Devil Is A Pigeon In Florence

2010-11-08T12:52:00.004-05:00

I'm not going to lie to you. This pigeon kind of scared the shit out of me. Mrs. Grump and I found this guy perched on a statue outside of the Uffizi Gallery, and he really did not seem to be happy to share the same air as us ground dwellers. At first he just looked like he was part of the statue, because he did not move. At all. But then I realized that nothing on the statue seemed as evil as that little fucker.

And since when did pigeons have the ability to retract their heads into their necks, thereby turning themselves into a demonic, uncircumcised penis? Although, maybe my looking at a pigeon and seeing a dick says more about me than it does the bird.

Phallic illusions aside, I still had trouble taking this guy's picture. Seeing him through the digital display of the camera made him seem a lot closer to me than I was comfortable with. I was expecting to take the camera away and find him only inches away from my face, ready to murder and devour me in front of hundreds of people. Fortunately, I was able to escape with my life and fly home to Philly where the pigeons aren't demonic. They're just assholes.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: A Bit Of Fry And Laurie Season 1

2010-11-08T12:29:00.003-05:00

Last week I introduced you to A Bit of Fry and Laurie with a skit from their pilot episode, which aired in 1987. It wasn't until 1989 that their first proper season began. Which begs the question...what the hell takes so long to produce British sitcoms? Blackadder had a three year gap between its first and second season. The recent dramedy Doc Martin ended its fourth season in 2009, and won't even begin filming until 2011. What gives? I mean, I like British sitcoms but most of them aren't exactly epic in grandeur. It's usually just some people on a soundstage acting snarky.

Eh, whatever. This week's clip takes the silly factor that I mentioned from last week and goes ahead and cranks that bitch right up to 11. There is absolutely no point to it other than to be bizarre, but as usual it works like a charm.

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 5, or Grappa Is Italian For Poison

2010-11-05T13:21:00.006-04:00

OK, so grappa is not really poison. It's just an after dinner drink that they serve in Italy. Wikipedia describes it as a "fragrant, grape-based pomace brandy" but I don't think that's really true either. Sure, it looks harmless enough...

Grappa (the shot glass to the right) just looks like a little shot glass filled with water. I tried to tell the waitress that I don't drink, but she spoke very little English and I wasn't about to give her the "no wanto to be an alcoholico" treatment. So when she gave me a free grappa with what turned out to be a limoncello chaser, I just smiled and said thank you. It being a small restaurant, I felt obligated to at least investigate the drink lest she watch me casually discard it off to the side of the table.

Well, the limoncello smelled strong, but pleasant. The grappa, however, smelled like someone misplaced their shot of rubbing alcohol. Later we came to find out that's because Grappa is like 40% alcohol. Jesus, I think I'd be better off drinking the rubbing alcohol.

Needless to say, not being a drinker I decided to let the waitress be offended if need be because I was not going to touch the grappa. I did down the limoncello, however, which lead to this...

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 4, or Cocks Are Big In Italy

2010-11-04T12:06:00.011-04:00

Today's title is wordplay at it's finest, folks. First, the innocent layer: Mrs. Grump and I stayed in the town of Greve, whose official emblem is the black cock. In this instance, cock is just a rooster, plenty of which can be found around town.

You can't miss my gate. It's the one with the big, black cock on it.

Cock a doodle doo, indeed.....right?

Don't trust any wine that doesn't have a black cock right on the label.

I have to say I'd be very interested in seeing how the town would look if black cock took on the other meaning, especially considering that black stereotypes are alive and well in Italy...

That actually may be the most obscene picture that I show you today. And that's including the next pictures that prove that roosters aren't the only kind of popular cock in the area.

Can anyone please explain this sculpture to me in a way that doesn't include a man being forced to wear a Trojan War Helmet at clubpoint?

Insert joke about giving head here.

Pretty much everything about this statue deeply disturbs me.

So, like I said, cocks are big in Italy. But wait! There is also a delightful layer of irony in that sentence. If you notice, in terms of proportion, all of the cocks in the above examples are actually quite small. Mrs. Grump informed me that this was due to artists of the time feeling that a long ding dong would be in bad taste. So, it's cool for a dude to hold a severed head while in the nude, just as long as his winky isn't taking up too much space. Michelangelo's "David" is another good example of that mindset, but Mrs. Grump didn't get any pictures of little David. I guess she was trying to keep some semblance of scruples for our photo album.

Hm...never mind, then.

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 3, or Even The Delinquents Are More Cultured In Italy

2010-11-03T21:43:00.009-04:00

Ha! You thought I was going to skip today. Well I just had to wait until Mrs. Grump hooked me up with the rest of the honeymoon pics so I'd have some visual aids. Speaking of pics, it turns out the wife took 350 of the damn things during our trip. I'll have a few collections to show you, but there are a few in particular that I'd like to share.

Get a load at the ornate decoration here. It's obvious that this structure was pretty important to make the artist put so much care and attention to detail into it.

Or maybe it was just a fucking lamp post.

This is just plain awesome, especially when you consider this turtle is the base of a simple set of bars covering someone's window. I've been to Camden, NJ, where there are entire blocks of houses with bars covering any opening. But you won't find turtle one on any of them. Not even a frog. I think Camden would be in much better shape if their protecting window bars had adorable little animals on them.
OK...this is beautiful work, but it really depressed me when I realized it was graffiti. Mrs. Grump and I found it on a construction barrier in Florence, and it makes me ashamed of how we do graffiti in the States. We're lucky if the cock and balls drawn in Sharpie on the bathroom stall are realistic enough to include pubic hair.

Stay tuned for some examples of what happens when Italians actually get serious with their art. Marble, granite, and poorly-endowed, naked men will abound!

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 2, or Too Fat For A Fiat

2010-11-02T12:01:00.011-04:00

Lufthansa's thoughtful wedding gift aside, there was a lot to be excited about once we got to Italy. Mrs. Grump and I had a full itinerary of things to see and do for our 10 days in Chianti/Florence. One of those things was a tour of Florence. But not just any tour. Mrs. Grump found a company called the Fiat 500 Touring Club. The premise here is that each group gets its own Fiat to drive as part of a convoy that tours Florence and eventually makes its way to a winery just outside of the city. Sounds fun right?

The catch here is that the cars are stick shift, and do not even have the technology that standard cars have that allows you to shift directly from one gear to another. No, I had to learn (in about 20 minutes) a technique called double clutching, which basically means twice the work for the same effect as a modern car. Oh, and I have to do all of this in a car built in 1964 that was made for a small European man/woman. So to recap: I'm expected to drive a matchbox car with antiquated technology through a foreign city that I've never even seen before. Let's go to the pictures, shall we?

The weather report said it was supposed to be sunny all day. It's comforting to know that Italian meteorologists are as full of shit as Americans. Also, note that this may have been the widest road in all of Florence.

Another shot of the back of one of our fellow Fiats. This was probably 99% of my sightseeing experience, lest I accidentally hit a squirrel and total our car. Actually, I came within about 3 inches of running over a little old Italian guy who was crossing at a crosswalk. Sure, any way you slice it he had the right away, but that would mean I'd have to come to a stop and then start a car that I'd spent the last 10 minutes stalling out just to get started. Needless to say I was willing to let this guy take one for the team.

Here we are parked outside the winery where Mrs. Grump got to do a tasting and I got to get my heart rate back down under 100 beats per minute. I like how our Fiats make the Volkswagon bug on the left look like a frigging Hummer. Honestly, though, all whining aside, it was at this point in the trip that I really started to enjoy myself. I'd gotten a handle on the car and now we got to see how wine is made by some of the best in the world. I don't even drink but it was really interesting to learn about the process, and how people rate wine beyond saying "This is great" or "This tastes like piss."

The best news of the day was that when we left the winery, the rain had stopped and we could actually stop to take a gander at some of the sights. Here we are parked in our little convoy near an overlook of Florence. I think, if necessary, our group could have easily taken on the Hell's Angels.

Even if everything else had been a complete disaster, this view would have made the whole trip worth it.

And here we have one last picture of me. Note that my head is in fact looming above the sunroof. When the cover was on it looked like a scene from Harry and the Hendersons. And in case you're wondering, due to my paranoia that one of the 3 people who read this blog will somehow affect my professional career should I include my actual identiy, any picture of my face will be replaced with Taylor Hicks. Why Taylor Hicks? Because for the last 3 months or so, I've been told that I look like Taylor Hicks by Mrs. Grump's family, the bartender at my wedding, and a couple that we had just fucking met during our honeymoon. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go kill myself.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: A Bit Of Fry And Laurie Pilot

2010-11-01T19:32:00.003-04:00

In a fine example of my strong work ethic, I've decided that I should also bring back some non-House Hugh Laurie on top of my chronicling of my epic adventures in Europe. It takes real grit to search Youtube for 3 minutes and write a paragraph about the first clip that catches my attention.

This week we get to the start of A Bit of Fry and Laurie. The pilot for the show came out in 1987 and the series lasted all the way to 1995. By British standards, that's a run that would put The Simpsons to shame.

The clip I chose for today, "The Word 'Gay'", is pretty much your classic example of Fry and Laurie's humor, which is basically just to take the stereotypical British facade and make it as silly as possible. I guess the cultural norm has a lot to do with the direction that comedy will take. Here in the States, for instance, we have a cultural hang-up with sexuality. So, naturally, a lot of our comedy has to feature at least a boob or two. For Fry and Laurie, acting goofy is their version of T and A. So enjoy this week's clip, if for nothing else than to hear my new favorite word, "assbandit."

The Grumps' Italian Adventure: Day 1, or Kiss Mein Weinershniztel Lufthansa

2010-10-31T17:57:00.013-04:00

As promised last Thursday, I'll be spending every weekday for the next two weeks covering my honeymoon with the newly minted wife to the Chianti region of Italy. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this yet. I've been given specific instructions by Mrs. Grump not to just bitch and moan about everything, so I guess I'll just give some this and that about the sights, some of the stories....and fuck it there will also be a lot of complaining.

Today's post, in fact, will be a heavy dose of venting at the sauerkraut slurping assholes at Lufthansa Airlines. And before you say anything, yes, I'm well aware that ranting about airlines is about as fresh as a knock knock joke. But I'll be damned if ever single complaint ever said, written, or sung about the airline industry isn't one hundred percent justified.

These polesmokers at Lufthansa are responsible for taking a trip that had been relatively smooth and taking a nice healthy scheize all over it. We flew out of Philly, but had a two hour layover in Frankfurt, Germany. As we boarded the bus that would shuttle us to our connecting plane to Florence, we realized something was wrong when the fully loaded bus sat motionless for about 20 minutes. Our suspicions were confirmed when we were told that the pilot for our flight was sick, and that we had to return to the terminal while other arrangements were made.

Well, apparently the "other arrangements" were for the entire flight to go fuck themselves. They just canceled the damn thing, and told us that a portion of the passengers would get the remaining seats on the next flight to Florence. Well, in another piece of good news, it turns out that Mrs. Grump had been included in the next flight but I had not. That's all I need. Mrs. Grump goes to Florence by herself where she's surrounded by gorgeous, olive-skinned men with sexy accents. No dice.

So I mention this foul up to the workers at the gate, but they tell me they don't have any control over who gets chosen for the next flight. They did seem to have the authority however, to rip up Mrs. Grump's ticket right in front of me when they realized she would not be going without me.

So our next move was to get our tickets transferred to a flight four hours later that would take us to Bologna, Italy. And since Lufthansa really goes the extra mile, they agreed to get us the rest of the way to Florence by bus.

But we couldn't get the tickets from the people at the gate, which I found odd considering they just gave tickets to all the people who got on the next Florence flight. We had to take a journey that literally had us go through customs three fucking times just to get a new boarding pass for the flight to Bologna. To put that in perspective, we didn't go through customs a single goddamn time when we got to the Bologna airport.

What the fuck, Germany? You are the country that brought us Mercedes, BMW, and, uh....less pleasant forms of meticulous planning and efficiency, but you can't even think far enough ahead to have a pilot on call for the days when the scheduled pilot couldn't keep his fucking hands off the Beck's and Jagermeister the night before? Or, failing that, perhaps you could hire employees that don't react to unexpected problems by turning into quivering piles of fucking stupid. Congratulations, Lufthansa. You really set the tone for our honeymoon by making my wife cry and giving me a migraine. Danke schoen, you bunch of pricks.

Back Just In Time For Halloween

2010-10-28T16:44:00.013-04:00

Hey assholes! I'm back from the honeymoon to Italy, which means 2 things: 1) I can save time on my blogs by just saying Mrs. Grump instead of Mrs. Grump-to-be (oh and I have a lifetime partner, soulmate, etc). 2) I have plenty of European adventures to describe and, more importantly, to bitch about. Starting Monday, I'll be posting ten days worth of sharing my thoughts on what's great and what sucks about traveling to Italy.

Today, however, I need to warm up the old blogging muscles so I'm going to give a shout out to my favorite holiday: Halloween. And to do so, I'll be hitting you up with a list of some spookiness that can make your Halloween just a little bit more...er, Halloweenier? Ugh, I really do need to shake the cobwebs off here. Anyway, on to the list!

Halloweentastic Movie: Stir of Echoes

Most people go for the obvious classics on Halloween, especially the John Carpenter movie of the same name. And while I'm usually an 80s slasher guy, there is something special about Stir of Echoes that keeps me coming back for more. A large part of that is due to a great show by Sir Kevin Bacon, who plays a man who's been hypnotized and gains the power to see a ghost trying to give him a message. More importantly though, is that the movie is just plain creepy. There's not a lot of gore, which is admittedly not often a plus for me. What it does have, however, is enough tension and atmosphere to make a freaky goddamn movie. Even after repeated viewings, it still gives me chills.

Halloweentastic Television: Psych-"Tuesday the 17th"

I was going to let my geek flag fly here with a nod to Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel, but I can only take so much of people laughing at me. Fortunately I've been watching the third season of Psych today and my favorite episode came on. If you aren't familiar with Psych, basically it's a better version of The Mentalist that came out before The Mentalist. In the epidose "Tuesday the 17th," fake detective Sean Spencer is asked to solve a mystery at a camp where there was a mysterious death years before. It's essentially just a nod to every great slasher horror flick of the 70s and 80s. Even if you wind up not liking the show, you can play a drinking game where you drink every time there is a horror reference.

Halloweentastic Book: The Dragon Factory

I did a post on Jonathan Maberry a little while ago and I mentioned that I was looking forward to his new book, The Dragon Factory. I used down time during the honeymoon to finally get around to reading it, and it's another winner from Maberry. It's filled with evil science run amok, and a great group of love-to-hate-em villains to make great matches for the good guys lead once again by Joe Ledger, one of my favorite horror/action badasses. If you're anything like me, you'll probably want to start off with the first book of the series, Patient Zero, but if you're not bothered by starting from the beginning than you probably won't lose much in terms of understanding what's going on in The Dragon Factory. It's just a lot of good, bloody mayhem.

Halloweentastic Short Story: "Masque of the Red Death"

I'm actually not a big fan of a lot of Edgar Alan Poe's work. My tendency towards the spooky made me really want to like him, but to be honest he gets a little too up his own ass using big, highfalutin' words to be truly scary. Or maybe I'm just one of the dumber people to bullshit his way to an English degree. Either way, I just can't get into most of his stories. Masque of the Red Death is different. Poe claimed that a short story should elicit one emotion from beginning to end, and "Masque of the Red Death" does that perfectly. The tale depicts a group of aristocrats who isolate themselves in a castle to protect themselves from a plague, when they are confronted by a silent stranger. The only emotion that I felt throughout the story was one of impending doom. There really aren't any surprises, but that doesn't make it pack any less of an impact. Take five minutes at around midnight tonight and read "Masque of the Red Death." Good luck getting to sleep afterward.

Halloweentastic Video Game: Friday the 13th

Ok, so let's just get something out of the way. As video game experiences go, this game is pretty fucking stupid. As a counselor at Camp Crystal Lake, it's your job to protect the campers from hockey-mask donning zombie hillbilly Jason Voorhees. And if that seems like a bad idea for a game, well you're pretty much right on the money. It's repetitive and it was made for the original Nintendo so the graphics suck. But I can't help but like this game and for some odd reason it actually still kind of scares me. The soundtrack is actually quite eerie for something that sounds like it was composed on the dial pad on a telephone. Plus, the game tells you what cabin you need to go to in order to find Jason, which surprisingly adds tension as you wait for the moment when he's going to pop on screen. Although, since this is what he looks like in the game...

I guess it's hard to be too intimidated. But what can I say, it's an entertaining homage to one of my favorite horror franchises. I'm kind of obligated to like it.

So there you go. Just a few things to darken up your All Hallow's Eve and to get me writing again. If you've got any suggestions for me I'm always looking out for new things to give me the heebie jeebies. Otherwise, I shall see you all again on Monday, where I'll be starting things off by tearing Lufthansa a new asshole for fucking Mrs Grump and I over at the start of our honeymoon. I know, airline humor...that's some original shit right there.

Oh, and just in case "Masque of the Red Death" doesn't keep you up tonight, enjoy this Halloweentastic costume: The Tron guy.

Excuse Me, Can You Tell Me How To Get To The Sexy Time?

2010-10-09T21:15:00.004-04:00

This may very well be my last post for the rest of the month. I've only got 6 more days until I've officially tricked Mrs. Grump-to-be into marrying me, and there is much to be done until then. After that, I've got ten days of Italiantastic adventures planned for the honeymoon.

One of the things we did today to get ready for the trip was to pick up a copy of Frommer's Italian PhraseFinder and Dictionary. We may look like douchey tourists with it, but I think it's a small price to pay to be able to phonetically stumble through phrases like "Do you know English?" and "We don't know Italian."

After a bit of studying, however, I've come to realize that the people at Frommer's know that people don't just go on family vacations or school trips to Italy. They also realize that some people go to Italy for the same reason that anyone goes anywhere: to find themselves a nice piece of ass. Tucked in between the "Golfing" and "Casino" sections is a category entitled "Nightclubbing." But I'm pretty sure they should have just called it "One Night Stands." Here is a sample conversation you studly fellas can have with the pretty ladies of Italy based on phrases learned in the Frommer's guide:

Stud:Mi scusi, posso offrirle qualcosa da bere?
Excuse me, may I buy you a drink?

Bella: Si.
Yes.

Stud: Che begli occhi che ha!
You have nice eyes.

Bella: Grazie.
Thank you.

(Cut to Stud's place)

Stud: Sei bellisima. Vuoi entrare?
You are beautiful. Would you like to come in?

Bella: Sei bellisimo....si.
You are handsome...yes.

(Cut to Stud's bedroom)

Stud: Vuoi che ti massagi la schiena?
Would you like a massage?

Bella: No, per favore, non farlo...hai un preservativo?
Please don't do that...do you have a condom?

Stud: Ho un preservato. Prendi la pillola?
I have a condom. Are you on birth control?

(30 seconds later)

Stud: Li?
There?

Bella: No, non cosi.
That's not it.

(15 seconds later)

Bella: Li...piu veloce...piu profondo.
There...faster...deeper.

Stud: Piano! Piu lento!
Easy! Slower!

(5 seconds later)

Stud: Stai qui, ti preparo la colazione.
Stay, I'll make you breakfast.

Bella: Credo che questo sia stato un errore.
I think this was a mistake.

Fortunately for me, I'll have Mrs. Grump to disappoint in my own language. My only worry is that with intimate phrases included in our translation guide, a few errors could lead to something like this:

Enjoy the rest of your October, folks.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie: Blackadder 3

2010-10-04T21:15:00.003-04:00

I really was going to try and stick to posting a Hugh Laurie clip in the hour leading up to House, but as you can see that steadfast weekly tradition lasted about one week. In my defense, however, I am up to my balls in wedding plans (T-minus 11 days) and today I had to get to my first dance lesson with the fiance. Hey, you can laugh if you want to, but if anyone is going to make an asshole of themselves on the dance floor it's going to be my alcoholic family and not me.

I'll at least be keeping in line with posting today's clip on the same night as House, although I think Laurie's depiction of Prince George in the third season of Blackadder is about as far from Gregory House as a guy can get. House is very smart. George is very stupid. House is dry and quick. George is flamboyant and rambling. In fact, close your eyes and listen to the following clips, first one of House and then one of George.

I don't know about you, but if I didn't already know it was the case, I'd have no idea the same guy is playing both of these characters. Oddly enough, it seems that in real life Laurie might be closer to House, one of his more recent characters, than any of the goofballs he made a name playing in England. He's fought clinical depression throughout his life, and in most of his interviews he seems to want to be anywhere but where he is. Take this clip of Laurie on Ellen, for example.

But, in all fairness, I don't think anyone wants to be on Ellen. Anyway, here's another Prince George clip.

Use Your Indoor Voice, Burger King

2010-10-02T21:29:00.005-04:00

I'd always thought it was just me. I couldn't understand why I'd be watching an episode of Sons of Anarchy at a reasonable level so as to hear all the violence and racism, and the show would cut to commercial and Coors would have Sam Elliot yelling in my face to drink their crappy beer (I don't drink and even I know Coors is swill). As if that's not enough, next I've got Mrs. Grump-to-be yelling at me because it's obviously my fault that the TV sucks.

Well now I know that it is in fact not my fault. In a story posted on the A.V. Club they reported that the Senate has voted into law a regulation saying that cable companies have to keep the volume for commercials at the same level as the shows they play. So this is great news on two levels for me. Firstly, I'm not crazy and it's not my fault that that the TV gets to loud every time a goddamn commercial comes on. Secondly, it's going away!

And not a moment too soon. It's bad enough that I have to watch a bunch of alcoholics that can only have fun when there is a tanker truck's worth of Budweiser, or the vaguely racist black caricatures they have hocking McDonald's. I don't need them to be blasting at me at decibels that are certain to make my ears bleed. So screw you, Progressive Lady. You can no longer make me miserable with your shrill, grating voice. Now, if we can only do something about that face.

Jesus! I'll buy from Progressive, just don't eat me!

A B.J. Costs Aboot $50, Eh.

2010-09-29T22:01:00.007-04:00

I am so glad I had to work late tonight. Otherwise, I may have never been in my car listening to the radio when The World (I roll NPR-style, bitches) interviewed a woman named Terri-Jean Bedford. I'm sure you've never heard of her, nor had I until this evening. But I think everyone should know her, as she has the greatest job title in the history of anything in the universe:

Canadian Dominatrix.

As it turns out, a judge in Canada has ruled against its prostitution laws on the basis that they are actually harming the prostitutes more than helping them. The judge reasons that since prostitution is illegal, women who are forced to take part in it must do so in dangerous environments and with no regulation. As part of the story, they interviewed Ms. Bedford, a former "street walker" who is currently self-employed as a dominatrix.

Let me pause here to say that prostitution and sex trafficking is not funny. I do not promote, nor find amusement, in any kind of sexual abuse towards women. I feel bad for any woman who feels she has no other choice than to sell her body just to make ends meet.

What I do find amusing, however, is listening to a woman who sounds like Marge Gunderson talk about how she did 2 years in jail for being a madame, a.k.a. a she-pimp. And now that she's a Canadian dominatrix, I'd like to submit Ms. Bedford's nomination for Oxymoron of the Year. How exactly are one of these sessions supposed to even approach the realm of sexual stimulation?

"Ok, now, buddy boy. Here's how this is going to work, don'tcha know. You're just aboot ready to pull thoose pants down so I can give ya a good spankin', aren't ya? Then I'm going to put on some skin tight flannel, eh. Maybe I'll letcha lick one of my snow shoes. You'd like that, wouldn'tcha? After that I'll carry ya out good and naked and roll ya around in the snow, by golly, until you're good and ready for a good plowin', eh?"

Note: I'm well aware of the fact that the character I've parodied is American and not Canadian. But if you listen to Ms. Bedford's interview and don't hear Frances McDormand from Fargo, then you can just get bent, ya hoser.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie

2010-09-27T19:14:00.003-04:00

Well, it seems that my doing a post on Hugh Laurie the night before the season premiere of House managed to hoodwink a few extra readers into stopping by my blog. This is a shameless use of keyword placement that has no place in my work. That is why I am going to be posting this weekly segment at a new time...Monday nights in the 7 o'clock hour, just before the new episode of House, on the Fox TV network. But don't worry, I won't give you any "House spoilers," or "House gossip," or anything about "Thirteen" being "bisexual."

Anyway, by a lucky coincidence my first clip of Hugh Laurie last week seems to be some of his earliest televised work, which means it will work nicely to at least start off going through his career in chronological order. Today's clip marks his first appearance (aside from a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo earlier in the season) of Laurie in one of the best comedies ever to come out of England, Black Adder.

In the upcoming clip, Laurie plays Prince Ludwig, a villainous master of disguise. The role is pretty funny, but it pales in comparison to Laurie's work as George later on in the series (we'll get to that on a later date). Laurie has some good lines here, but most of the fun is had by Rowan Atkinson, who plays an asshole better than just about anyone. Except for maybe "Hugh Laurie as House."

Grump's Bachelor Party: Just Like The Tom Hanks Movie, But With More Vomit

2010-09-26T12:28:00.011-04:00

I've mentioned on here a few times that I'm preparing to make the big leap into marriage, and as of today I've only got a little more than two weeks until the big day. To celebrate, my co best men (I'm too much of a wimp to just pick one) put together a little fishing excursion for me along with my dad and soon-to-be brothers-in-law. I was really looking forward to this trip. It had been a long week at work and I was looking forward to kicking back for a little bit of man time with the guys. Little did I know, however, that my worthless fucking stomach was going to make it impossible for me to even pick up a fishing rod that day.

Before we get into that, however, let's take a quick journey back to when I was about 7 or 8 years old. My dad had grown up around the ocean and as a teenager worked on a party boat, which is basically a boat where paying customers pack themselves together for several hours while fishing/drinking themselves into oblivion. Dad must have felt bad that we'd moved to Pennsylvania when I was born and that I never got to enjoy such simple pleasures, so a couple of times a year he'd be sure to take me out to New Jersey for a fishing trip.

The only problem with that is as a child, the simple act of looking down at my feet while in a moving car was enough to make me turn 12 shades of green and puke my Captain Crunch all over the back seat. So, sticking me on a modestly-sized boat in rocky seas for 6 or 7 hours never ended well. If I took Dramamine to counteract the motion sickness, I'd wind up getting drowsy and sleeping for 90% of the trip. If I didn't...well let's just say throwing up when you have nothing left in your stomach is very painful. Fortunately, it only took between ten and twelve such trips for Dad to figure our that I really didn't have the constitution for saltwater fishing.

It wasn't until college that I stepped foot on a boat again, risking my previous day's meals to take a Father's Day blue fishing trip with the old man. Happily for me, however, the Dramamine no longer made me pass out and the seas were calm enough that I didn't have any problems. In fact, I've been going out every Father's Day since then.

So, when my buddies told me that they were taking me out fishing for my bachelor party, sea sickness was the last thing on my mind. That morning, I even treated myself to some bachelor party debauchery in the form of Dunkin' Donuts and Coke for breakfast. And yes, I mean the soda. I'm not exactly the guy you call if you're looking to recreate The Hangover.

My first inkling that I might be in a bit of trouble came before we even left, when my Dad told me for the 19th time that he'd checked the fishing report (he gets a little excited) and it said that there was going to be some heavy wind that would make for some choppy seas. I was a little nervous, but I figured with my reliable buddy Dramamine I'd be fine.

So, we're all loaded up on a very full boat and I'm excited. I figure even if we don't catch a thing, we'll get to eat and shoot the shit all day. I was ready to enjoy the ride out to the planned fishing spot from the back corner of the boat, when Dad suggested that we go into the cabin to avoid getting soaked by that day's rather sizable waves smashing against the side of the boat. I think this is what proved to be my undoing.

It was about 103 degrees in that cabin, and as you can imagine the air inside a party boat isn't what you'd call fresh. So I'm sitting at a table, watching everyone play Uno, when I start to get an unpleasantly familiar feeling. My stomach starts to rise and fall in sync with the waves, which is a problem because the weather has made it so that there is no fucking synchronicity to the waves. So not only is my stomach sloshing around my torso, it's also doing so with no rhyme or eason.

As it dawns on me that I'd felt this way before on a boat , I head outside and watch the land get farther and farther away. For anyone who hasn't gotten seasick, I can't explain to you the feeling of hopelessness that comes with knowing that you are moving in the exact opposite direction of the only thing that can make you feel better.

I'd say it was about 10-15 minutes after I first started getting nauseous that I wound up hanging over the rail, cursing myself for drinking carbonated liquid that morning. And the worst thing is that, unlike most stomach problems, puking won't really make you feel better. You'll have some relief for maybe about 5 minutes, but then you just start the whole thing all over again.

Add on to that the fact that I'm doing this in front of about 100 people and I'm really not looking forward to how the rest of this day is going to pan out. One of the mates came up to me and took me to the back of the boat, both as a way of making sure I didn't get puke all over the boat but also to get me to the part of the boat the rocks the least.

Actually, I was pretty surprised that he seemed so genuinely concerned. I figured that most of the mates on these party boats would actually take pleasure whenever one of the assholes on their boats starts ralphing as long as they don't have to clean it. But this guy game me some ginger ale (which, by the way, is a bullshit remedy for an upset stomach) and gave me some tips for getting my stomach to settle. Granted, none of them worked, but I did appreciate that he tried. As I've said before, if you're looking for a boat to take you on a blue fishing trip, go with the Golden Eagle in Belmar, NJ. It's a good boat.

The rest of the trip was pretty much a nauseous blur as I tried to pass out in my seat so that I didn't have to feel feelings anymore. The problem with that is that if you fall sleep while sitting up on a boat in rocky seas, you'll find yourself pretty quickly woken up as you realize you're about to take a face plant on to the deck.

Of course, it turns out that I missed some great fishing. Everyone caught blue fish, some tuna, and one guy in our group even managed to snag a fucking sea gull. I would have loved to have seen that whole scenario play out, but no, I have to be a fucking pussy and spend the day holding my gut and trying not to cry like a little girl. Eventually, we made it back to shore, and as I stepped foot on that heavenly, non-moving earth, I walked around, got my wits about me again, and one thought popped into my mind: Man, all that puking has made me kind of hungry.

Proof That OK Go Should Be Producing All Future Music Videos. For Everyone. Ever.

2010-09-22T07:44:00.006-04:00

OK Go could have so easily been a gimmicky one-hit wonder. In fact, when "Here It Goes Again" came out, I thought to myself, "You know, Self, that is pretty cool how they hop around on treadmills like that, and the song is actually pretty catchy. But I doubt we'll be hearing about them in the future. They got lucky once and will now fade back into obscurity. I know, Self, I've got a good beat on popular culture. I'm amazed more people don't listen to me."

But then came "This Too Shall Pass," and myself said, "You know, it looks like these guys actually pretty damn good at what they do. Not only do they come up with some really creative performance art for their videos, but their songs are really good. It's not as if they're covering up mediocre music with some pretty visuals." I, of course, told myself that know one cares what he thinks and that he can fuck off.

But with "White Knuckles," OK Go's newest video, I've really got to give them credit. I'd pretty much given up on music videos at this point, so it's pretty great to see a band who hasn't given up on it that can still get it right. And again, the music is just as good as the video, pulling off the monumental feat of making a sourpuss like me nod his head and tap his toes. Plus, I can only imagine the number of takes they must have gone through to get trained dogs to cooperate for a three and a half minute, single take shot. That's devotion to your craft right there.

So perhaps I've got to start giving myself a little credit. Sometimes he knows what he's talking about.

This Week In Non-House Hugh Laurie

2010-09-19T20:00:00.003-04:00

When you say the name Hugh Laurie to 99% of the people in the U.S., the first thing they'll think of is House. And for good reason. It's a great show and Laurie plays dark, dry humor better than almost anybody.

But what I didn't realize for a long time is that Laurie's career goes back almost 30 years in the U.K., and he usually plays the clueless, screwball antithesis to Gregory House. And that's the Hugh Laurie I'd like to make sure that everyone knows about. That's why I'm going to show you a snippet of screwball Hugh Laurie every week until I can't find anything new. It may be a quote. It may be a video clip. Honestly, I'm making this up as I go along so I'm not sure what it might be from week to week. But it will be Hugh Laurie, so it will be great.

This week, I bring you some of Laurie's earliest work with Stephen Fry, a man you'll probably be seeing a lot more in this segment. It's from a special called "The Cellar Tapes," a broadcast put together by The Footlights Revue. The Footlights, as far as I can tell, is the British answer to Second City. The group has produced a large number of British comedians, including Laurie, Fry, Emma Thompson, Eric Idle, and Peter Cook.

In the clip below, Fry actually has a lot of the best lines, but I think it's a perfect example of Laurie as the clueless idiot that you never get to see on House. I doubt, after all, you'll see House ever try to gather his voice from his buttocks (watch the clip and you'll get that, I promise).

Well maybe I shouldn't have come at all.........JERK OFF!

2010-09-15T21:38:00.005-04:00

The capacity for cable guys to be unrepentant, lazy scumbags was always one of those things that I thought was embellished over the years by customers who couldn't stand to wait for a few minutes for their service. I mean, they have like a four hour window. How can they not be on time? But then I got a place of my own and waited for the cable guy for the first time. And I waited. And waited. And when I realized that my cable company's promotional offer was going to fucking end by the time this guy arrived to install it, it occurred to me that perhaps there was some truth to the theory that cable installers really just didn't give a shit.

But in a move that I hope will find its way in my town soon, New York is instituting late fees for cable companies whose installers don't show up within their appointment window. That is just splendiforous. I can only hope they take that shit right out of the cable guy's paycheck.

Although, I must admit I do see a drawback to this plan. As if New York wasn't already dangerous enough for pedestrians, what with cabbies and tow truck drivers cutting a swath of destruction through the streets, now you have to worry about a Cablevision van pasting your ass into the pavement. But hell, I think it's worth it for the chance to get a month's worth of free cable.

Grumpy Review: Breathers, A Zombie's Lament

2010-09-13T20:03:00.004-04:00

I recently found a website from up in Canada called CinemaObsessed.com (actually this isn't the first Canadian site that's caught my eye...I'm fascinated by our neighbors from the north). I guess it's a bit ironic that the first recommendation I've taken from a website devoted to cinema is actually for a book. It's called Breathers: A Zombie's Lament, written by S.G. Browne. Granted, the recommendation is kind of roundabout, as I found out about it through their post about a movie being made based on the book, but without their post on the movie I never would have known about the book. That could have been more clear. Whatever, I'm not getting paid for this.

Anyway, I picked up Breathers on my last trip to the library because I really dug the premise. The story centers on Andy, a recently reanimated zombie who has to deal with the ramifications of being undead in a society that treats the undead in a similar fashion as women in the late 1800s, black people in the 1950s-60s, or gay people at around 10 this morning. He spends his days trying to deal with the emotional strain of losing his old life and the physical strain of having a decomposing body that's been mutilated by the car wreck that killed him. The latter he finds can be helped by eating the venison given to him by another zombie (spoiler alert: it's not venison), and the former is dulled by a budding relationship with fellow zombie support group attendee, Rita.

There is a lot going on in this book, and that winds up being a bit of a setback. Browne can't seem to make up his mind on whether he's shooting for a black comedy, a quirky zom-rom-com, or an allegory about societal intolerance. He may very well have been going for all of the above, but it makes the story a bit too schizophrenic. Plus, the allegory is a little too forced. Browne actually references the history that he alludes to, which is kind of insulting to me as the reader since he wasn't exactly being subtle about it in the first place. The zombies have no rights, no possessions, and are often lynched by fraternity members (aka upper-middle class white guys). I think we can all guess where he's going with this.

Now, while the book isn't perfect, it does have some good things going for it, both for horror fans and rom-com fans. I love a story that puts some time and effort into creating its own mythology, and even working with the familiar territory of zombies, Browne does a really good job adding to the physiological workings of being a member of the living dead. This is interesting both because it adds depth to the story, and it provides for some really disgusting imagery.

And I'm going to be honest, I dug the love story between Andy and Rita. I liked the way he played with Andy's guilt over moving on from his dead wife Rachel, who died in the same car accident that killed him (but obviously was not reanimated), while coming to terms with the new feelings he's having for Rita. Unfortunately, this seemed to be rushed through in the last act, where the allegorical theme kicks into high gear and kind of ruins things, but until then it's a neat little romance.

I think the best news about this book that it seems to lend itself well to film. Some of the areas that dragged in the book, such as the repetitive descriptions of Andy being pelted with food and insulted by passers by, would actually work better as quick segue shots in a movie. Plus, as a gorehound, I'd like to see how some of these visuals pan out on the big screen. And, as I said before, the whole reason I found out about Breathers is that they're making a movie out of it, so it looks like I won't be waiting too long to find out if it does make for a good watch out of a book with some unrealized potential.

Grade: B-

Take The Edge Off With Down Periscope

2010-09-06T20:02:00.007-04:00

I got back from my Labor Day weekend camping trip today. Had a great time down in Rehoboth Beach. Camped with Ms. Grump, enjoyed the beach, got the obligatory sunburn, and went out to eat where we were served by one of the many Eastern Europeans who live in Rehoboth Beach. Don't believe me? Go to the Delmarva area sometime and if you go out to eat more than twice I guarantee you will have a blond girl in her late teens or early twenties telling you to "For please to enjoy your dinnertime."

Oddly enough, though, after a fun weekend away with my special lady, the part that inspired me to come back to my "Take The Edge Off" segment after many weeks off was the movie we watched when we got back, Down Periscope. And I can't even tell you this is a good movie. In fact, on paper, it's kind of a piece of shit. Kelsey Grammar plays a submarine captain who is put in charge of a Korean era vessel with a rag tag group of misfit sailors in an exercise set up to fail by the douche bag admiral played by professional douche bag Bruce Dern. It's not exactly inspired film making.

But it's also one of those movies that I cannot help but watch whenever it's on. It's just so committed to its crappiness that I just have to smile the whole way through. Everyone knows this is a stupid movie, and so they just go for it. Rob Schneider, the master of giving his all to cinematic turds, is great as the second in command. The director, even on a B-level movie like this one, knew to keep Schneider's role secondary and as brief as possible so as to keep him from getting stale. Basically, he just comes in from time to time to act like an asshole, especially towards the cook, and then he gets thrown off the boat two thirds of the way through the movie. Oh yeah, spoiler alert, by the way.

The always underrated Harland Williams also has a great role (I'm using this term relatively folks) as the "ears" of the sub, which basically consists of running jokes about how he can hear even the faintest of noises. Unfortunately, the fine contributors over at YouTube haven't felt the need to keep the stock of quality Down Periscope clips up to date, so all I have for you is a poor definition segment featuring Williams impersonating a whale. I still think it's funny though.

I think the only thing I could have really done without in this movie was the character Stepanek, who seems to be an attempt to include a good looking bad boy male in the cast. I'm pretty indifferent as to how well they pull this off in the movie, but when I see the guy who plays Stepanek, I can't help but think that he probably had hopes that this would be his big break into leading man stardom. And since I couldn't tell you what the hell the actor's name is at this point, I think we all know how that turned out for him. That kind of makes me sad.

The more I think about it, the more I think that I may be giving you bad advice in recommending this movie. I'm just picturing you watching this movie and deciding 15 minutes into it that I'm an idiot and should not contaminating the internet with my stupid bullshit. But then I remember that that I'm not the only one in my circle of friends who likes the movie. Plus, the internet is already filled with stupid bullshit, so a little bit more can't hurt. So I say give the movie a shot. If you have Netflix, you can even watch Down Periscope free through instant streaming, so it's not like you have a whole lot to lose. A more ringing endorsement you are not likely to find. And, if nothing else, you can play "Spot Patton Oswalt" in his Extras-like two line role in the movie.

Have a Groovy Labor Day

2010-09-03T08:06:00.005-04:00

With Labor Day coming up I'm taking a trip with Ms. Grump down to Rehoboth Beach to get my camp on. Before I go, however, I wanted to direct you to an interview I read this morning that Bruce Campbell did with the LA Times. Campbell, of course, is Ashley "Ash" Williams, the man behind the S-Mart smock in Sam Raimi's Evil Dead trilogy. And if you don't know what I'm talking about there, please just do me a favor and leave right now.

The interview is great, if for nothing else than to see that it seems Campbell has basically become Ash over the years. He's a bit more subtle, perhaps, but he's got that bit of an arrogant swagger that you just can't help but love. Plus, in the interview, he addresses the fact that there have been about 314 different releases of the Evil Dead movies, with the latest being the new Blu-Ray edition.

Enjoy the interview, and a few of Ash's greatest hits from Army of Darkness below. I'm out, bitches.

Grumpy Movie Review: The Expendables

2010-08-30T18:52:00.010-04:00

Holy shit. I really don't even know where to start with this movie. It's been two days since I've seen it and I keep winding up back at the thing I said when the credits first rolled: That was a fucking train wreck.

I honestly don't know whether that was the worst movie of the year or the best movie of the decade. At this point I'm sure everyone knows the premise: Sylvester Stallone gets hired by Bruce Willis (after a brief encounter with Arnold Schwarzenegger) to take his band of mercenaries played by Jason Statham, Jet Li, Dolph Lundgren, Randy Couture, and Terry Crews and fight a corrupt general whose being controlled by drug lord Eric Roberts and henchman Steve Austin. If the plot seems to have gotten lost in a list of current and former action stars, well that's pretty much the point. The plot is basically "Hey, if you're a guy you know all these actors, so come watch them kick ass." So of course I was pretty much obligated by my male chromosomes to see this movie ASAP.

I wasn't going into this movie looking for Shakespeare. I can only assume that when writer/director Sylvester Stallone started accumulating every major action star from the past two decades, he wasn't intending to write a potential contender for Cannes. So plot structure and character development probably high on my list of necessary parts of the script.

But judging by the pacing and scene structure, I'm 99% sure that Sylvester Stallone drank a half-gallon of tequila and edited this movie over the course of 48 hours in Tiajuana. For one thing, with a cast of half a dozen leading men, each guy gets about 2 lines worth of back story. And Stallone must have written characters into the movie as he hired each actor, because it's obvious they have no natural place in the script. Jet Li, for example, gets 3rd billing in the credits, only below Stallone and Statham. But at gunpoint I couldn't tell you his character's name and he has about 4 or 5 more lines of dialogue than the key grip.

But again, fully-developed dialogue is not why anyone went to see this movie. They went to see muscle-bound dudes spout one-liners while blowing shit up. And here The Expendables paid off big time in this department. Within two minutes of the title credits the audience is washed in a tidal wave of all the essential B's: blood, bullets, bombs, and bad acting. The thing is that Stallone actually gets a little greedy, and by trying to jam 3 hours of violence into a 2 hour movie, I found at times my brain couldn't keep up. Scenes eventually just turned into a jumble of fists and blood on the screen.

The only advice that I can give you if you're pondering whether this movie for you is to trust your instincts. If, when you saw the trailer, you instantly knew that you pretty much had to see it, then you are in for a treat. You will love the shitty plot and will have a blast watching people die in creative ways. If your first thought when you saw the trailer was that it looked stupid, then it will be far worse than you could imagine. Ms. Grump, for example, would probably try and push her head through the seat in front of her within the first act of the movie (that is if the movie even had coherent acts). I, however, will definitely be there if and when The Expendables 2 ever becomes a reality. If nothing else, I can't wait for the chance to again witness the funniest thing I've seen at the movies in months: Sylvester Stallone trying to run.

Grade: Either F- or A+

Gov. Perry Mum On Texas Ranger Double Secret Probation...Er, Missions

2010-08-26T18:48:00.005-04:00

I always love stumbling on a story involving Texas Governor Rick Perry. I already told you about his showdown with the the coyote from hell. Now he's at the center of some super secret missions involving the Texas Rangers facing off with drug dealers trying to cross into Texas. How super secret? Apparently the governor refuses to tell anyone more than they kick Mexican druglord ass (I may be paraphrasing here).

Asked to quantify the progress made by the Rangers, Texas' Department of Public Safety refuses to give any details on the basis of preserving "operational security." So you can't even give us numbers of arrests amount of drugs seized? I'm pretty sure the guys who recently found themselves in jail and without their drugs are aware of your operations guys.

And don't think I'm saying that it's a bad idea to have your state's elite units fighting the the drug smugglers at the border. Illegal immigrants who are just trying to find a better life for themselves are one thing. But make no mistake, the drug cartels who run their wares across the borders are really just not good guys, and every step should be taken to keep them out of the country.

I just think it's really goofy that Gov. Perry is bragging his ass off about these secret Ranger missions but he won't lay out any detail to show more to show the cause and effect of his work. No, all we seem to get are small leaks, such as one given by public safety director Steve McCraw, who claimed that "the program doesn't want to brag." He then "grabbed the most recent mission report and read that in one day, a team arrested 22 people and seized 1,739 pounds of marijuana. He offered no other details." OK, so you're giving a random bunch of numbers with no context and no corroborating evidence. That doesn't sound like bragging at all.

Now for all I know these missions could be doubtless successes. They may be single-handedly squashing the drug trade along the border. But neither I nor anyone else will know about it if you don't tell us. And no, simply saying they're doing awesome and forbidding any follow up questions is not the same thing. The AP ponders whether or not this whole thing is just a political ploy meant to beef up his image as being tough on border defense, and maybe that's what's going on. Or, he may just really believe that super secrecy is the only way to keep these missions successfully. I just like to think he's apeshit crazy, and I really long for the day when he just gets on stage and let's his freak flag truly fly:

Grumpy Movie Review: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

2010-08-24T17:57:00.012-04:00

UPDATE: Check out another favorable review by my Canuck buddy at badkidsgoodgrammar. Be sure to make fun of the way she adds the letter "u" to words that don't need it. Silly Canadians.

I should not have like this movie at all. The basic premise is that Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) has to fight the 7 evil ex-boyfriends of new girlfriend Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), which is a good set up. But the trailer mainly featured a bunch of eccentric kids having eccentric conversations about their eccentric lives....all to the soundtrack of eccentric music. I probably wouldn't have even bothered seeing it if not for hearing a pretty funny radio interview with stars Michael Cera and Jason Schwartzman. But I didn't have my hopes set too high, lest I get stuck watching a movie bogged down with actors trying to out-quirk each other.

I actually like Michael Cera. He was awesome in Superbad, and although he plays the same semi-emo character in pretty much every movie he's in, he still manages to be funny in the movies I've seen him in, and Scott Pilgrim was no exception to either rule. Plus, in the aforementioned radio interview he talked about the training he had to go through to pull off the fight scenes in the movie, and I defy anyone not to laugh at the thought of combat training for what looks like the lovechild of a 70 year old woman and a frog.

Jason Schwartzman, however, is one of those indie rock dudes that I usually can't stand. For some reason, though, I can't help but like the guy. He's definitely the epitome of the hipster culture, but he's one of the few hipsters I've seen that doesn't have to kill himself trying to be the coolest guys in the room. And he wasn't afraid to completely douche it up as Gideon, the leader of the ex-boyfriends. I can appreciate over-the-top douchiness (ask pretty much anyone who knows me), and Schwartzman nails it. In fact, all of the exes were pretty much spot on, from Chris Evans' lunkhead actor to Brandon's Routh vegan-superpowered musician.

The guy who steals the show, however, would have to be Kieran "The More Talented" Culkin as Cera's gay roomate, Wallace. His basic purpose is to provide wise-ass commentary with a string of one-liners and to patiently converse with Scott about his new predicament with Ramona in bed, as Scott cannot afford one of his own. And I'll be damned if I didn't get a kick out of every second of it. My only disappointment is that Wallace becomes rather under-utilized in the second half of the movie.

I would complain more about the lack of background of most of the other characters, especially the other ex-boyfriends, except that's kind of the point of the movie's plot structure. The whole story breaks down like a video game, with the exes serving as bosses. And when you think about it, when you played video games did you ever really give a rat's ass about character development? Hell no, you just wanted badass villains that looked cool and that you could eventually beat the crap out of. And that's exactly what you get here. In fact, the movie is loaded with nods to video games fans, especially the Street Fighter-esque fighting games of the nineties.

So needless to say, my fears about Scott Pilgrim being a hipster mess were unfounded, and I really dug this movie. I guess I should have guessed it would be good when I found out it was directed by Edgar Wright, of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz fame. It's a shame that the movie doesn't seem to be doing well at the box office so far, because it's a blast to watch. And it actually managed to portray the lives of low- to mid-twentysomethings with enough realism to resonate with me an remind me that I'm not as far removed from them as I'd like to think I am. Hopefully, word of mouth will give it a second life when it comes out on DVD because deserves to do well.

Grade: A-

Floods In Pakistan

2010-08-21T23:16:00.005-04:00

Hey everyone. I hesitated putting this post up because I usually try and keep things pretty inconsequential on here and I hate it when people try to get attention by talking about how much they care about the latest worldwide disaster. But from everything I've read about the floods in Pakistan, the problem is that a lot of people really aren't paying as much attention to it as recent disasters in other locations. This is for several understandable reasons:

Everyone in the international community has their own economic problems at the moment.
We're just getting done with a big push for aid in Haiti.
Many countries, especially America, don't have a lot of faith in the corrupt government in Pakistan and worry if money would even get to the people who need it. In fact, the government's inability to mobilize a response seems to be part of why we haven't gotten a lot of data about what things are like on the ground in Pakistan.

Unfortunately, this could mean that the approximately 15 million people who have been affected so far by the floods may get the shit end of the stick. I say this not to lay a guilt trip on anyone (hence no pictures for this post), but rather to remind folks that even though we may not be on the best terms with Pakistan as a country, there are people there who are in a pretty bad way.

If you are in fact worried about giving money that will be squandered by the Pakistani government, here is a list of outside organizations that are mobilizing in Pakistan that might be a good way to help. And be smart about who you give to. If you're not sure about the organization, then do a little background research on them first and make sure you're comfortable before you give.

OK, that's enough making myself feel noble for one day. I'll get back to posting about irrelevant miscellanea soon.

Jeff Bridges To Follow Up Success Of Playing A Grizzled Drunk.....By Playing Another Grizzled Drunk

2010-08-18T21:16:00.007-04:00

In what looks like an attempt by Jeff Bridges to get in another movie role without having to cut his hair or shave, he will be taking on the role of Rooster Cogburn in the Coen Brothers' remake of True Grit. While I loved Bridges in Crazy Heart and I have yet to see a Coen Brothers movie that I didn't like (although Burn After Reading was a bit odd), I just don't really see the point to making this movie. According to Ethan Coen, they wanted to make the movie a more faithful to the 1968 novel than to the film made famous by John Wayne:

It's partly a question of point-of-view. The book is entirely in the voice of the 14-year-old girl. That sort of tips the feeling of it over a certain way. I think [the book is] much funnier than the movie was so I think, unfortunately, they lost a lot of humour in both the situations and in her voice. It also ends differently than the movie did. You see the main character — the little girl — 25 years later when she's an adult. Another way in which it's a little bit different from the movie — and maybe this is just because of the time the movie was made — is that it's a lot tougher and more violent than the movie reflects. Which is part of what's interesting about it.

Alright, well then why don't we just let people read the book? I think I'm just disappointed to see the Coen Brothers entering remake territory. Plus, I think it needs to be said that John Wayne is overrated. He made an entire career out of acting manly and speaking with what can only be described as a mild speech impediment. So I really don't think we need a remake of any of his movies, especially considering that most of his diehard fans will probably be outraged at the idea.

That being said, I'm sure if I can get over my general distaste for remakes and anything associated with John Wayne, I'll probably like the movie. After all, we remember what happened the last time Jeff Bridges teamed up with the Coen Brothers, now don't we?

In A Just World I Would Be Able To Buy And Sell All Of You

2010-08-16T20:28:00.004-04:00

I got some interesting information about my paternal great grandfather today. His name was Joseph Brophy, and I already knew that he was the son of an Irish immigrant and served as the mayor of Elizabeth, NJ in the early 1900s. Today, however, I read an email from my aunt that included a blurb about great grandpa Joe from a book called Prominent Families of New Jersey (hurry up and get to Amazon before it's sold out). In this blurb, I found out that on top of his duties as mayor, Joe served as the Secretary of State for New Jersey, fought in France during the first World War, and he also took over the family coal business.

If you look at the 3rd man from the left in the second row, you'll find that my great grandfather is nowhere to be found in the picture I found on Google.

This information, while incredibly interesting, pains me on two levels. Firstly, it seems that I'm going to have to live to be about 300 years old it I'm going to achieve half of what my ancestor pulled off. I mean, I'm pretty happy with what I've accomplished in my first quarter of a century, but someone with much of the same DNA as me managed to achieve positions of heroism, prestige, and wealth during an era of American history when being an Irish immigrant was about as pleasant as having potatoes and shamrocks shoved up your ass.

And, speaking of positions of wealth, why the hell do I not own most of the state of New Jersey? My great granddad was a politically connected coal monger for Christ's sake. I should be living in Tony Soprano's house, hanging out with John Gotti's kids and getting hit on by Snookie. OK, in reality none of that sounds any good at all. But I should be rich right? If things were as they should be then I would

Okay, this is Ms.Grump interjecting here with my own ancestor story which is much more engaging than this whole "coal miner" thing. I'll keep it short and sweet. Grandfather on mom's side: IRA member. Yup. Great grandparents on my dad's side had to flee Mexico in the early 1900's. From what exactly changes every time you ask my Nana about it but still MUCH more interesting right?

Hey, screw you lady get your own blog. And he wasn't just a coal miner. He owned a frigging coal company. His dad's name was the name of the company! And it's true, not the just the ramblings of a crazy old lady!

Right. They're "true". Like those stories your Dad tells you about his adventures in Florida back in the 70's?

What does my dad have to do with anything? And yes, the stories are true. Why would he make up a story about jumping a pool on his motorcycle?

Or the one where he may have run drugs on a fishing boat. Or the one where he ate a plastic plant. OR the one where he showed up at his old house after your grandma had moved like months ago? Oh, and by the way Snookie? Really? I am not one of your 3 readers, I know when you're trying to boost your hits. I'll help you out: Justin Beiber, Brittany Spears, Glee, boobies.

Heheh......boobies.

Happy Friday The 13th!

2010-08-13T21:42:00.003-04:00

Hey everybody, I almost didn't realize it's one of my favorite holidays, Friday the 13th! Ok, so it's not a national day off or anything, but it does give me an excuse to watch one of my favorite trash horror franchises of all time. After making the lady pick a number from 1-9, it looks like we'll be watching part 7 this evening, making me one happy....camper. Get it? Cuz campers get brutally killed in Friday the 13th movies.

Top 7 Scenes That Made The Movie

2010-08-12T20:33:00.003-04:00

Yay! I finally got around to doing a list! I hope you're as excited as I am. For my first ever list, I wanted to explore movie scenes that makes a bad movie good, or even a good movie great. These were just the seven that Mrs. Grump to Be and I could think of in one afternoon, so feel free to mention any of the scores of others that I'm sure we missed. Oh, and these are in absolutely no order what so ever.

Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome--"Two men enter! One man leaves!"

This scene, quite frankly, marks the final good scene in this movie. If they would have just ended the movie here and skipped the following hour or so of Mel Gibson talking to a rabble of really annoying orphans, I'd be perfectly happy. I know the movie would only be around 40 minutes long, but it would be a worth-while 40 minutes, with some great back and forth between Mel and Tina Turner leading up to the epic battle below. They could even change the title to simply Mad Max: Thunderdome.

A Life Less Ordinary--"Shoot him in the back of the head."

This entire movie is actually pretty good, but this is the only scene that pops into my head when I think of it. Between Holly Hunter's disgusting bounty hunter/angel (I don't feel like explaining that just watch the movie), a really great R.E.M. song called "leave", and Ewen McGregor's classic reaction to having a body fall on him (2:35 mark), I could watch this 5 minutes of a movie over and over again with a big smile on my face.

The Dark Knight--"Excuse me, I want to drive."

OK, now before you start shouting (or typing in all caps) that The Dark Knight is too complete a movie to be made by just one scene, let me say that I thought the same thing when Mrs. Grump to Be suggested the below scene for the list. Yes, the entire movie is a fucking masterpiece. But think back to when you first saw it in the movie theater, as after watching one of the most epic chase sequences in cinematic history you take in the climax: a full-sized tractor trailer does a somersault and lands upside down. Batman, instead of just hitting the breaks and turning around, decides he's so badass that he's going to turn around by having his Batpod climb up and down a fucking wall and slam down on the pavement. And scene.....how's your mind? Blown? So yes, this scene pushed the movie from great to all-time great.

Role Models--"It's a crown!"

OK, I've been trying to find the right way to describe this scene with no success, and the trailer below using the scene to spoof Lord of the Rings is of little use. So I'm just going to tell you why this scene is so awesome: during the final "battle," Bobb'e J. Thompson, a 10 year old black kid dressed like Gene Simmons, cheers on friend Christopher Mintz-Plasse's character with an inspiring cry of "Fuck his shit up, Augie!"

Mother--"Hello?" "It's still me, Mother."

I actually tried to watch this movie recently because I remember really liking it. But about 30 minutes in I realized I was getting pretty bored so I gave up on it. What never gets old, however, is the sequence featured at the end of the trailer where Debbie Reynolds tries to use her call waiting (2:15 mark).

Manhunter--"Stop it!"

This scene is actually what inspired me to write this list. This whole movie is great, but this scene is what makes it a classic for me. William Peterson crashes through a window kamakazi-style into the waiting arms of mutant-looking serial killer Tom Noonan, all to the soundtrack of Iron Butterfly's "In A Gadda Da Vida." Try finding that in the weak remake with Edward Norton. You will not find it, and that is why it's crap.

Wyclef Jean Has No Business Running For President, Sean Penn Has No Business Giving His Opinion On Absolutely Everything

2010-08-09T21:31:00.004-04:00

I don't really know why Wyclef Jean has decided to run for the president of Haiti. It's pretty ridiculous, but honestly I can't get too high and mighty on the subject. I don't think someone from the country that spawned the political careers of Jesse Ventura, Sonny Bono, and Conan the Barbarian really has the right to look down their nose at, well...anyone, really.

But I really have had it with Sean Penn. I have yet to meet anyone who seems genuinely interested in what this self-important schmuck thinks, yet he's got to shove his rather sizable nose into anything to do with foreign relations. Yes, we get it Sean, you've been to Haiti. And when you're done there you'll go back to the expensive house where you probably cheated on your ex-wife, repeatedly and vigorously. Shut the fuck up, Spicoli.

The Grumpy Movie Review: The Other Guys

2010-08-08T14:18:00.004-04:00

I'd been waiting all summer for this movie to come out. It all started when I first went online and saw the new "motion poster" that was going to be featured in London subways. I'm pretty sure I watched that thing 5 or 6 six times and I couldn't stop laughing. The previews were also promising, featuring Mark Wahlberg's overzealous police detective trying to drag partner Will Ferrell from their roles as "B Squad" cops into the limelight.

Unfortunately, the movie wasn't quite able to live up to the expectations I'd set by the poster and previews. The main problem comes from today's trend of comedies where the script tends to give way to endless improvisation. Now, I'm all for improvisation, if for nothing else than getting to watch the endless variations on a scene when the DVD comes out. The problem, however, is that when you make a movie based on doing take after take of various improvisations and then pick the funniest one, the movie starts to lose its rhythm.

Plus, there are so many different jokes being thrown at you that attempts to return to recurring jokes don't have the same resonance. One bit, for example, features a couple of minutes about Mark Wahlberg explaining how he learned ballet in order to make fun of feminine guys in his neighborhood. Towards the end of the movie, after another hour or so of filling all empty space with jokes, some of which worked and others that didn't, they came back to the theme of Wahlberg learning something feminine in order to make fun of feminine guys. And honestly, I can't even remember what the hell the actual joke was.

Now, even though I was let down a bit doesn't mean the movie wasn't funny. I had quite a few laughs from Wahlberg and Ferrell, although you could tell Wahlberg was trying just a little too hard to be funny. Michael Keaton has some great lines as the put upon captain, and hopefully this is another step towards the comeback that I was pushing for back in my review for Toy Story 3. Samuel Jackson and The Rock were great in their 5-10 minutes onscreen as the hotshot cops that Wahlberg aspires to, and without giving too much away their exit was a great take on the stupid risks that most action heroes take without giving a second's thought to the consequences.

So the movie wasn't quite what I was hoping for, but I think part of the problem is for some reason that motion poster had me expecting more than I should have. The movie was good, although nothing about it requires you see it in the theaters so I'd say feel free to wait for it to come out on DVD. That way you'll get to watch what I'm sure will amount to another movie's worth of outtakes.

Grade: B-

Like Father Like Son...Ah Shit, Really?

2010-08-06T22:46:00.005-04:00

I know this is a cliche topic, but fuck it I'm writing on a blog called "Grumpy Old Man" so I think the originality ship sailed a long time ago. Anyway, have you ever had that moment as an adult where you realize just how much of an impact your parents have had on the person you've become. I mean, I've always known that my dad (Master Grump? El Grump Grande?) had a lot to do with shaping my point of view, but I think I forget the scope of that effect until I spend time with him.

Take today. I got off work early and my dad, a truck driver by trade, happened to be in the area. So we decided to meet for lunch. Being the sophisticated fellows that we are, we decided to really live it up and eat in the parking lot of a nearby Wawa, which is basically 7-11 on steroids for those of you unfamiliar with the chain. And without the presence of either of our significant others to keep us in check, it wasn't long until we began doing all of the things that we love yet seems to annoy the living shit out of everyone else.

A good 50% of our conversation, for example, dealt with observing the driving habits of other people in the parking lot. Actually it was more like shitting on the driving habits of other people in the parking lot. Because according to my dad and I, no one else on the planet is any good at driving. At all. And it's not enough for us to simply know that. We need to reinforce it whenever we get a chance by complaining aloud whenever someone else on the road does something that displeases us, even if that means we're talking to ourselves. But when we have each other as an audience, things get ten times worse. Once we get rolling who knows when our pompous bitching will end?

Usually, the only thing to break our concentration is when one of us lets loose a good fart. Because farts are hilarious.

Plus, farts are the perfect segue into our other favorite activity: retelling stories that we've already told everyone about three thousand times, including each other. Today's classic tale was from when we went to eat at a respected buffet in Lancaster County with less than subtle religious undertones, and Dad farted in the gift shop. And we laughed a lot. That's the whole story. I've heard/told it more times than I can count, but I'll be damned if I didn't get a good five minute laugh from telling it again. Hell, I'm actually laughing to myself now. I mean, come on. He farted! Right in the gift shop where everyone could hear it! Ah, what do you know from funny.

So I know that it's no grand revelation that we have a tendency to wind up having traits in common with people that we've spent most of our formidable years with, but next time your with your parents take note of the similarities that you might not have even noticed before. Even if you'd like to think that you're the exact opposite of your parents, I guarantee there are at least one or two things that cross over between you. Heheh.....farts.

Think Philly Sports Fans Are No Good? You've Obviously Never Had The Pleasure Of Having One Regurgitate On You

2010-08-02T22:01:00.010-04:00

People living in Philadelphia likely already know about this, but if you haven't then you're probably not from around here and it's vital that you learn about local treasure Matthew Clemmens, a 21-year-old from New Jersey who was sentenced today to 30-90 days in jail.

Ladies, you may want to start writing him while he's still in prison because obviously he won't be single very long once he gets out.

But why, you may ask, would anyone incarcerate this delightful cherub? Well, it's because at the Phillies' home opener a couple of months ago, Matthew here disagreed with fellow fan and off-duty cop Michael Vangelo's decision to have security eject his friend from the stadium. Actually, "disagreed" might not be the right language here. I think "stuck his finger down his throat to make himself vomit on Vangelo and his two young daughters" would paint a more accurate picture. Honestly, folks, if you're rage is so uncontrollable that you have to literally spew it out on to pair of 15-and11-year-old girls, you might have an issue that requires some attention.

Don't worry, though. The judge really stuck it to Clemmens with the zinger of the year when he sentenced him: "You have invaded the opportunity to enjoy the American pastime of baseball. You struck out." Gee, guy, you really let him have it there. Nothing stings in the courtroom quite like an analogy that seems likely to have been written on the back of your hand while taking a shit a few minutes before court was in session. God...leave it to my town to produce a textbook lowlife like Clemmens and then follow him up with an authority figure so lame that he actually manages to kill the joy of seeing Clemmens get his comeuppance.

Sons of Anarchy To Return In September, Grump To Pee His Pants With Giddiness

2010-07-29T20:51:00.004-04:00

Seeing this was probably the highlight of my day. I realize that's a bit sad, but hey, I've been waiting a long ass time for the return of SAMCRO. If you want to know what the hell SAMCRO means, then start watching. Screw Tony Soprano and his band of knuckleheads. If I wanted to watch bad Italian stereotypes I'd go to South Philly. Watch Sons of Anarchy, if for no other reason than it's got Hellboy in it AND Gerry Bertier from Remember the Titans.

Saturday Cartoons Hit The Big Screen, Drive Me Into Madness

2010-07-27T21:00:00.012-04:00

Hm, a movie version of Garfield voiced by Bill Murray. Seems kind of lame, but it could be good, right?

Wow, this looks pretty bad. The CGI is lame and the biggest laugh in the trailer seems to be watching a rodent crap on the furniture. Eh, whatever.

Wait, what? None of the 7 people who watched the first one even liked it. And why did Bill Murray agree to do another one? I mean, he won't do another Ghostbusters but he'll do another fucking Garfield? I just don't get it.
Oh, now come on. There was absolutely nothing redeeming about the first movie. It's officially time to give this stuff a rest, guys.
Alright, assholes. I swear to God if you pull this shit one more time I'm going to shoot myself in the head.
Blam!

Take The Edge Off With The Peek-A-Boo Revue

2010-07-26T19:52:00.006-04:00

So, if anyone ever asks me what makes Mrs. Grump to Be so great and I don't have time to get into the extensive list of why she's far too good for me, I think all I need to do is explain what she did this weekend for our last anniversary before becoming husband and wife. She could have made me find an overpriced French restaurant and buy her even more overpriced roses. She could have made me wear an uncomfortable suit and listen to snooty music. Instead, she came up with the idea of taking me and some of our friends to a BURLESQUE SHOW.

And this, my friends, was one hell of a show. The troupe is called the Peek-A-Boo Revue, and aside from the primary attraction of ladies revealing their boobies, it was genuinely entertaining. The hosts, Count Scotchula and Joey Martini, overcome a couple of really stupid names by being extremely funny. They were self-deprecating, improvised well, and just really seemed to be enjoying themselves. I know, it's a real stretch to imagine two guys enjoying being a part of a T & A extravaganza, but it's true.

It also helped that apart from being attractive and willing to disrobe, the ladies in the show were great performers. They could dance (and not just of the "pole" variety) and some of them could sing. Not to say that some tried and couldn't, just that some just stuck to dancing. The ladies were also really funny. One girl in particular, Christa Dagger, seemed to pop up in every other sketch and play everything from an ex dancer from In Living Color to a Liza Minnelli impersonator who is far more entertaining than Liza Minnelli.

And, yes, I'd be completely full of shit if I didn't point out that I really enjoyed watching some quality stripping. There was a wide variety of women who all brought something a little different to their teases. But what made it fun was that none of them seemed to be uncomfortable. It wasn't a dark, smoky room filled with drunken frat boys stuffing dollar bills down the underwear of a girl trying to pay her bills. These ladies were enjoying themselves, which made the whole spectacle much more fun and, dare I say it, sexy.

So, I realize that the intent of "Take the Edge Off" is to introduce you to things that you might enjoy, and that is going to be kind of hard for an act that sticks mainly to the Philly area. But I'm sure you can find a burlesque show in a city near you. It might be as good as Peek-A-Boo Revue, and it might not. To be honest, I don't care. I just wanted to tell everyone that I went to a burlesque show. And it was awesome. And I have the most awesome fiance on the planet. Suck on that, losers.

Philly Tow Truck Drivers: Kings Among Men

2010-07-21T08:16:00.008-04:00

Did you ever read a story online about a group of people in the midst of conflict, and in the comments section there's always that guy who just says to "Nuke them all," or "They should all be killed," or some other dumbass statement used to dismiss an entire group of people? It really bothers me when people do that. It's a display of hatred and xenophobia at its worst, and that attitude has no place in civilized society. If we still have people who think in such broad, ignorant terms, then how are we ever going to move forward as a culture? With that being said, I do believe the following statement is true: All tow truck drivers in Philadelphia should be shot in the face.

Not once in any interaction I've seen or had with a tow truck driver did think the guy was anything other than a flaming asshole. Last year two friends of mine were mistakenly towed from my parking lot and the next morning when we went to go pick them up, we found that one of the cars had a flat tire. When we pointed this out to the tow truck driver who brought the car out, he gave us a grumble of "Let me go talk to my boss" and went inside. We never saw the motherfucker again. We even called the cops, who were very helpful in telling us that we were essentially shit out of luck. It's comforting to know that that every white trash family with a towing company is above the law now.

The one good thing that I can take from this is that since there is no law in the world of towing, the competition between towing companies has now degraded into shooting each other and lighting their competitors' locations on fire. Just this week a driver for J & Son's Towing shot another driver from Mystical Towing over an argument about who got to tow a car from an accident scene. Now it appears that Mystical Towing has taken the logical legal recourse of setting fire to about a dozen cars impounded in J & Son's lot. J & Son's, not wanting to be outdone but wanting to stick with their firearms theme, allegedly shot six rounds into Mystical's building while the owners were in it.

The only people that I feel bad for in all of this are the people who are paying for these companies' "services." You have to think, these are all people who have either been in a car accident or have had some kind of debilitating malfunction in their car. They're going to be late or completely miss whatever they had planned for the day, and it's just a really shitty situation. Now, let's add on to that being witness to a shooting, or finding that your car has a more flame damage or bullet holes than it did before it made it's way into the impound lot.

Yes, I'm sure there are plenty of kind, honest tow truck drivers in the world. But I have yet to see any that work for the city of Philadelphia. I'll give AAA credit for having solid drivers, but according to a caller on the radio yesterday, some of these local companies show up after you call AAA, claim to be on of their drivers, and the next thing you know you've got a bill of several hundred bucks for services that you thought were going to be free. My only hope is that the apparent turf war that has sprung up this week forces Philly to take a closer look at the towing racket in this city, because it seems these guys can just get away with anything and it's really getting nauseating.

Everybody Sucks But Me, Day 5: Around The Horn...What Happens When A Piece Of Shit Station Craps Out A New Piece Of Shit

2010-07-16T12:07:00.008-04:00

Let me begin today by just giving a tip of the hat to all of you bloggers who do so on a daily basis. Between work and pretending that I actually have a life, finding anything to talk about for five days in a row is a daunting task. Hence, the cop out yesterday.

Today, however, I want to give detailed insight into a piece of pop culture that aggravates me so much that it's actually the reason I started Everybody Sucks But Me in the first place. Let me begin by saying that I'm not a very good male because I think ESPN is an absolutely useless waste of television airtime. I really don't need to hear two guys who were probably picked last in every sport they ever played tell me what to think about the world of sports. How people can sit in front of Sportcenter for hours at a time is completely beyond me.

But of all the crap shows on ESPN, Around the Horn makes the rest look like insightful Pulitzer Prize nominees. For anyone unfamiliar with this show, Around the Horn features douchebag host Tony Reali as he takes four equally douchey, but excessively more pathetic, sports writers to give their take on current sports headlines. The twist is, however, that Reali serves as a mediator/judge as these four losers compete for more time to speak through several rounds of topics. After each round one loser will prove his loserdom by being eliminated for having the least number of points. Points, by the way, are given out by Reali himself, who is apparently utilizing the criteria of which of these idiots can be the most obnoxious, who makes the most inane references, and most likely whoever gave Reali the best reach-around within the last month.

By far, the most irritating part of this show is Tony Reali, who started his ESPN on-air career as the "stat boy" for another masterpiece, Pardon the Interruption. In this case, I think "stat boy" derives from the typical requests he must have gotten to "Shut the fuck up...stat!" But now he's the host, and he's going to milk his position of power for every last fucking drop.

I defy you to find me a face more worthy of having a brick thrown at it.

You can tell he absolutely savors the chance to make these sorry assclowns dance for him as he sanctimoniously dictates the show, muting panelists whenever he feels like it and throwing his worthless two cents in at every corner. He seems like that guy in college who joined a frat within 10 minutes of moving and ate shit from the upper classmen for 3 years until he became a senior and forced freshmen to toss his salad for initiation to prove that they are gay. He is just a worthless human being, and I can't keep talking about him lest I risk vomiting blood.

But really, who's worse, the guy who fucks with people for an entire show or the people who actively let themselves get fucked with for the chance to be on TV? These are all established sports writers from large-market newspapers, and they're letting this weaselly man child treat them like children. It's just too sad. And why do they do this? What could possibly be the brass ring these guys are reaching for every show? The "prize" is 30 seconds of uninterrupted airtime to talk about whatever topic they choose. Wow. So you have your own sports column which I can only assume is read by thousands of people, and you're verbally fighting tooth and nail in order for the privilege of talking for less than a minute. For shame, fellas.

"Yo, broheems. I'll give an extra 5 seconds of airtime to whoever sends me a picture of their dad's foreskin."

I'm not sure how great of an idea this whole Everybody Sucks But Me marathon was, but it was worth it if just one more person knows just how awful Around the Horn is. These guys are pretty much the epitome of everything that is wrong with sports journalism, television, American male culture, and just human beings in general. And anyone who's going to try and tell me that there are far worse things in the world than a harmless sports opinion show, go watch five minutes of banter between Tony Reali and Jay Mariotti and then come back to me. I think you'll admit that McCarthyism wasn't so bad in comparison.

Everybody Sucks But Me, Day 4: Pant, Wheeze, Sob

2010-07-15T19:01:00.007-04:00

Just....ran...........too fast..........in too hot......just gonna let Peter Griffin......take this quick one today. Will return for finale tomorrow.....once I've picked up my spleen.

Oh....and just replace America with...everyone...

Everybody Sucks But Me, Day 3: Delaware, The First State For Horrible Driving

2010-07-14T19:06:00.004-04:00

While I live in Philadelphia, I have to commute to the southern part of the state, which is a stone's throw away from the very first state in the union, Delaware. If you've ever been there you know it's a beautiful state: beautiful beaches, quiet towns, and, of course, tax free shopping. One thing that I'm not sure people have noticed, however, is that Delaware is home of the dangerous motorists in the country.

Most of you, I'm sure, will debate that the worst drivers are found a little bit further north in New Jersey and New York, but I disagree. The drivers in the tri-state area are aggressive assholes, I'll admit, due to the fact that the area where they drive is far too crowded and will someday soon implode in on itself in a wash of hair gel and unfettered racism. However, most of them manage to pull off their dickfaced driving habits without much of a hitch (what's a 15 car pile-up here and there, between friends?).

Folks in Delaware, on the other hand, are not aggressive. They are just terrible fucking drivers. Every time I see someone blast through a red light, swerve into someone else's lane without signaling, or do anything that just can't be explained other than the driver must be lapsing into a coma, then 9 times out of 10 you can bet your ass that you'll see a Delaware license plate on the back of the car as it cruises towards a fatality statistic.

What I don't get is why Delaware's drivers do so with such blatant incompetency. Wikipedia lists Delaware as having the 6th densest population in the country, which you would think would promote good driving habits since a lot of people in a small area means you need to pay more attention. Maybe they all just said screw it and decided to use motor accidents as a way to thin out the herd a little bit.

Now, fortunately for me I'm not very good at research because I can't find any statistics to either prove or disprove my theory, so I'm going to follow sound American tradition and use my own anecdotal evidence as hard fact and warn everyone to stay away from Delaware motorists. They are a danger to our lives, and must not be allowed to sully our states with their piss poor driving. I'm thinking a large concrete wall that will separate their crappy driving from our decent, God-fearing driving. After all, I can't think of a time when the use of a large concrete wall to separate two parts of a country yielded negative results.

Everybody Sucks But Me, Day 2: Oh, You Don't Know?

2010-07-13T19:08:00.007-04:00

Wow, this is kind of pathetic. It's only the second day of this bad idea and I'm already floundering for something to bitch about. I'm sure my college English teachers would be very proud of me. Anyway, it never hurts to go to the well of topics that most people can agree on, and in that vein today's title comes from a joke that I read a long time ago that I think pretty much defines the hipster culture:

How many hipsters to take to screw in a light bulb?

Oh, you don't know?

I grant you, this joke is not great for belly laughs. But I do think that it perfectly conveys the agonizingly condescending attitude that these pricktards show to pretty much everyone. I think what pisses me off the most about the hipster culture is that they are right about the fact that a lot of mainstream entertainment is about two steps above watching a pig hump a throw pillow. But instead of working to open people up to stuff with a bit more substance, they hoard any good new work and then dismiss it as crap as soon as it becomes popular.

Take 30 Rock, for example, although this is still on the mainstream end of the hipster spectrum since nobody in it smokes, wears a striped shirt, or uses the phrase "human condition." But it was off-center enough to catch the attention of hipster crowd, even earning praise from the A.V. Club, the beacon of hipster douches everywhere. But of course, eventually more and more people started liking 30 Rock, and as we all know popularity is the perfect hipster repellent. Even the A.V. Club writer in charge of covering 30 Rock acknowledges that he really enjoyed the show until he "got a directive from the chairman of President Obama’s Council of Hipster Affairs ordering me to spearhead a nonsensical and inexplicable hipster backlash against 30 Rock." And the backlash really was nonsensical. Nothing about the show changed, which is why some hipsters will tell you that it wasn't good anymore; it had become stale. But then these are usually the same idiots who cry foul when a show tries to shake things up because it goes against the theme of the show.

I liked Shakespeare's early stuff, but he started using iambic pentameter as a crutch

One show, however, that hipsters seem to be more than happy to shove down the public's throats is fucking Arrested Development. Every new comedy that comes out is compared to and dismissed as falling back on broad, easy humor when compared to this show. First of all, I refuse to acknowledge the term "broad" as having any real meaning whatsoever. It's either funny or it's not. Shut the fuck up and laugh at a fart joke now and then. Secondly, someone just needs to say this: ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT IS NOT THAT GOOD! It's funny, yes, and I enjoyed the few episodes that I've seen. But it's not the quintessential comedy that all these horn-rimmed glasses wearing schmucks try to tell us it is.

Oh God, now they've got me saying words like quintessential. I'm just going to go now before I start wearing a beret. But please, if you agree and you think that Arrested Development is overrated, please oblige me and say so in the comments section. I'd really like to know that I'm not the only one who thinks that show is kind of lame.

Everybody Sucks But Me, Day 1: You're Invited To Suck At Your Job

2010-07-12T19:55:00.010-04:00

I realized I've been a little lax in my posting over the past week, and in that time I've had plenty of chances to notice how pissed off everybody makes me. Therefore, I've decided to let it all out over the next five days in waves of unmitigated word vomit.

For Day 1, I would like to address the fine people of La Bella Couture Designs, who have officially screwed the pooch on Mrs. Grump to Be and my wedding invitations. After two months of trying to see a sample invitation (after paying the deposit, mind you) and being ignored, condescendingly placated, and eventually told to take our money back, I would like to extend you an invitation of my own (click the box below to view).

Men's Health Editor Out To Ruin All Food, Even On The Day We Celebrate The Birth Of Our Nation

2010-07-05T13:38:00.008-04:00

I've been wanting to say this for a very long time....I fucking hate David Zinczenko. And I'm sure you're all with me on this, ready to follow as I lead the charge against this man, who is actively trying to steal our happiness. Either that, or you're wondering, "Who the hell is David Zinczenko?" David Zinczenko is the Editor-in-Chief for Men's Health magazine, America's #1 source for pictures of washerboard abs.

Am I the only one who finds it odd that a magazine supposedly geared towards heterosexual men hides the attractive woman behind the shirtless man?

Six pack fetishes aside, my real problem with Men's Health, and, more importantly David Zinczenko, is that he seems to have made it his personal mission to make me feel ashamed of every one of my favorite foods. You see, every few weeks he posts a blog about the "Worst X in America," with "X" ranging from restaurant appetizers to beverages. And rest assured, if it's something you enjoy, this guy will prove to you that it's making you obese. And then he will recommend an "alternative" that will probably leave you hungrier than before you ate it: oh, you shouldn't eat that slice of Domino's pizza, but if you must order from them than just have them deliver a half-cup of ice with some grass on it.

Which brings us to the 4th of July, when everyone comes together to celebrate our independence from Britain by eating obnoxious amounts of food. And, yes, I get that we are becoming a nation of lardasses who need to put down the fast food and hit the treadmill. But can't we find a happy medium where we can start to take care of ourselves a little better without having to be confronted with the consequences of every calorie that makes its way into our stomachs? Not according to David Zinczenko:

Eat This!
Pork Tenderloin (6 oz)
328 calories
11.5 g fat (4 g saturated)
95 mg sodium

Not That!
Cheeseburger (5 oz)
630 Calories
41 g fat (15 g saturated)
735 mg sodium

Pork tenderloin is one of the most underrated cuts in the meat case...Then again, maybe only a burger will do for you. If so, switch to grass-fed beef... Or check out our recipe for the healthy, delicious Green Chili Burger in our indispensable list from Cook This, Not That!

OK, pork tenderloin can be pretty damn tasty, and I get that it has a lot less calories than a cheesburger. But still.....it's the 4th of July, just let me eat a damn cheeseburger without feeling guilty. If I'm going to do that, however, I need to heed the ever-so-practical suggestion of switching to grass-fed beef, which I'm sure won't have the manager of my grocer's meat section laughing in my face. Plus, you gotta love the way he slips in a plug for his stupid recipe book, which I find really insulting. Hey, guy, if you're trying to help me, why don't you just give me your advice and stop trying to sell your shitty wares.

Eat This!
Coleslaw (1/2 c)
150 calories
8 g fat (1 g saturated)
350 mg sodium

Not That!
Potato Salad (1/2 c)
190 calories
12 g fat (3 g saturated)
430 mg sodium

Potato salad is one of those foods that sounds healthier than it is...Coleslaw wins here by a nose; it has fewer calories and less fat, sodium, and carbs...For other free health, fitness and nutrition secrets that will improve your life right this second, follow me on twitter.

Now you're just fucking with me. You really want me to replace a time-honored staple of 4th of July eats...with a "food" that looks like the crap that collects in your sink's drain blocker when you clean up after a dinner party? And for what, the sake of 40 calories?

I don't even have a joke for this. I just want everyone to get a good look at how fucking gross it is.

And if you are truly dumb enough to think that potato salad is healthy just because the word salad is in it, then you're probably illiterate and won't be reading Zinczenko's bullshit article anyway. And this time around, Zinczenko must know that his advice is getting a little shaky, because instead of trying to sell us another book he just encourages us to follow what must be the most dictatorial twitter page in existence, and that's including this one.

Eat This!
Tortilla Chips and Guacamole (about 10 chips)
160 calories
11 g fat (3 g saturated)
280 mg sodium

Not That!
Corn on the Cob with Butter
200 calories
7 g fat (4 g saturated)
190 mg sodium

It’s an American birthright to eat corn, but truthfully, it offers little nutritionally compared to a powerhouse like avocado. So stick with the chips. Choose a whole-grain chip like those made by Garden of Eatin’ and you’ll get a boost of fiber to go along with guacamole’s good monounsaturated fats.

Still want corn? Fine, but make it healthier by cutting back on the butter and sprinkling it with chili powder and lime juice. And remember: Cutting calories isn’t always a matter of watching what you eat. Watch what you drink, and you can trim over 400 calories from your daily diet, without actually altering your food consumption at all. See this must-have list of The 20 Worst Drinks in America for the liquids that should never pass your lips. If you go with the healthier alternatives listed you can lose more than two pounds of belly fat per week!

If it's an American birthright then stop trying to rob me of it, douche bag! Hell, I even love tortilla chips and guacamole more than corn on the cob but now I'm just going to eat a whole field of corn with a dairy farm's worth of butter just out of spite. And yet again, Zinczenko's telling us to make this change for 40 calories. But this time, his suggestion actually has MORE FAT! But I guess that's OK because the avocado is such a "nutritional powerhouse." So much so, in fact, that Zinczenko doesn't even bother to explain what's so great about it. I guess if we don't know by now, we're beyond hope anyway. And by the way, I left the last paragraph fully intact so that you can see that I didn't use clever editing in order to point out that Zinczenko's plug for the 20 Worst Drinks in American has nothing to do with what he was talking about in the first place. Please, Zinczenko, cut the self-promoting bullshit.

Zinczenko's list comes to completion with comparison that basically comes down to the benefits of fruit over ranch dressing, but I actually recognize that you aren't mentally disabled and therefore you probably know that already. And I think that's where my real problem with David Zinczenko comes from. He's telling everyone things that they likely already know. When I sit down with a plate overflowing with a cheeseburger, a hot dog, potato chips/salad, ambrosia, and a few leaves of lettuce, I'm not really fooling myself into thinking that I'm eating well. We all have at least a basic understanding of what's good for us and what's bad for us, so we don't need some schmuck telling us what we already know. So, I'm going to go ahead and eat, trying to avoid overdoing it on the fatty crap too much, and hopefully balancing things with some exercise. You, David Zinczenko, can enjoy your leafy greens and organic non-fat turkey breasts in smug self-satisfaction. Asshole.

Grumpy Movie Review: The Last Airbender

2010-07-03T11:56:00.005-04:00

God this movie was lame. As a fan of the show on Nickelodeon I was excited at the idea of a movie adaptation, but as soon as I found out M. Night Shyamalan was directing I had reservations. And then when I read that pretty much every reviewer was basically calling the movie a steaming pile of dogshit, I didn't even want to bother seeing it. But Mrs. Grump-to-be, as the one who got me into the show in the first place, was still hopeful that it could be good, so we gave it a shot. Our hope was that the reviewers who hated the movie either didn't really watch the show, or were just continuing the tradition of bashing any M. Night Shyamalan movie that isn't The Sixth Sense (which, I must say, I disagree about when it comes to Unbreakable and The Village, which I thought were really good). After seeing the movie, I must say that Shyamalan lived up to the expectations....The Last Airbender was pretty much a steaming pile of dogshit.

I could get into what all the other reviewers said and point out the awful dialogue, the stiff acting, and the overuse of exposition, but I think what it comes down to is that Shyamalan seems to have missed what made the TV show so good in the first place: the balance of an interesting plot with the silly tone of a story that doesn't take itself too seriously. The TV show never forgot that it was a kid's show, and while the movie stays true to the events of the plot, it winds up getting lost up its own ass trying to be an epic masterpiece. These delusions of grandeur lead to some pretty cool special effects, but they basically had the same effect as putting sugar on top of a steaming pile of dogshit.

The one saving grace for the movie was the performance by Dev Patel as Prince Zuko. Personally, when the movie was first announced I was hoping they would cast the guy who did the voice for the TV show, Dante Basco, who you might know better as Rufio! Rufio! Ru! Fi! OOOOOOOOOOO! Granted he's in his 30s at this point, but if you look at his picture on IMDB you'll see that he could easily still play a teenager. But, since they didn't go with him, I must say I was glad to see Patel get the job. He was so damn earnest in Slumdog Millionaire, and that carries over into his portrayal of Zuko.

Unfortunately, M. Night Shyamalan's (perhaps misplaced) confidence in his ability to make movies lead him to only address the first season of the show, with a lot of the plot left open for him to make a couple of sequels. If the movie makes enough money where he does have the opportunity to continue the franchise, I can at least take solace in the fact that Dev Patel will continue to get work.

Grade: D

Hurrah For New Banners!

2010-07-01T11:52:00.002-04:00

I really wasn't digging the bland look that my blog title had so I utilized my 3rd grade-level publisher skills to whip up a new one. What do you think? Better? Worse? I have too much time on my hands?

Louis C.K. Brings His Jovial Disposition To FX

2010-06-30T12:19:00.014-04:00

I stayed up until midnight last night to watch Louis C.K.'s new show on FX called, appropriately enough, Louie. For me, staying up past 10:30 is damn near sacrilegious, but I've been looking forward to Louie ever since I saw the first promo for it.

I'd seen a few episodes on HBO of his first sitcom, Lucky Louis, and it was pretty funny. Unfortunately it only lasted one season, so I was happy to see Louis get another go around. Plus, I wanted to see how someone who uses the word "fuck" as a conjunction would manage on basic cable. Just to clarify, I am NOT one of those people who think comedians who can be funny without swearing are inherently better than comedians who do swear. And to be honest, people who make that point make me want to punch their dick out the back of their fucking ass. Unless your audience is a group of 4 year olds, who gives a rat's ass if you can be clean or not? Funny is funny, no matter how you get there. But I would like to see how many takes Louis ruined by using one of his favorite words, which let's just say rhymes with "runt."

So last night's premier was a back to back event, giving us not one but two episodes on it's very first night. The premise is fairly straight forward, with clips of Louis' stand up paving the way for a segment associated with the stand-up bit. In the pilot, this made the show seem a bit slapped together, which I didn't really dig until this morning when I read that Louis did with The A.V. Club where he explains that was pretty much his intention. He's not going for a real story arc that you find in most sitcoms, but rather putting together strings of short set pieces. In the second episode, he sticks with the set piece mentality but begins to string things together just a bit more. Looking back on the show after reading the interview, I think I can appreciate Louis' premise a bit more and I'm interested to see how it pans out in the future.

If nothing else, I can recommend this show to people who are already familiar with his stand-up work. The only warning I'll give is that while Louis C.K. does a really good job at finding humor in bleak situations in his stand up, you may find the dark nature of his material a bit more pronounced when you see it acted out. But, on the bright side, last night he capped the premier with a stand up bit about putting his dog to sleep as a kid, and then having a dream where the dog came back to life and came home, only to have to be put back to sleep. Yay! Seriously, though, it's a hell of a lot funnier than it sounds when I explain it. For a great example of Louis at his best, watch the clip below as he talks about his kids, and if you like it then you'll probably like the show.

Take the Edge Off with Toy Story 3, or Grumpy Movie Review: Toy Story 3

2010-06-27T19:17:00.012-04:00

Yet again I post a late version of Take the Edge Off, this time due to a big graduation party for Mrs. Grump-to-be's cousins, of which I believe she has about 30 or 40. After getting back we didn't really want to do anything in the 95 degree heat, so we went to catch Toy Story 3. This is a slight shift from my posts about Nightmare on Elm Street and Phantasm, and yes I usually tend towards the violent/gory/dark/adult/raunchy/more violent movie genres, but Mrs. Grump-to-be has been a good influence on me in terms of expanding my theatrical palette. Our first date was a drive-in that was playing Madagascar, and in the 5 years since I've seen pretty much every major animated release (except Wall-E for some reason), and I have to admit they are a lot of fun and make for a good balance to my usual fare.

I was a bit concerned about Toy Story 3, however, but only because it's rare that the third installment of any movie is ever good. Shrek 3 was pretty sub par, and while I haven't seen it I have yet to meet anyone who said Spider-Man 3 was anything more than a crime against the first two movies. So, I was a bit tentative about how entertaining it could be to watch Woody, Buzz, and the rest of Andy's toys deal with the conflicts that arise from being toys yet again. Plus, I'd only seen bits and pieces of Toy Story 2, and there is a large part of me that views watching movies out of sequence as sacrilegious. But Mrs. Grump-to-be had been itching to see it for a while and the reviews were all really good so I gave it a try, and was rewarded by a great movie.

While the overall production value of all animated movies has increased at an amazing rate, I think what I like the most about Pixar movies is that, no matter what the topic, I am in for a display of epic grandeur. In the case of Toy Story 3, the whole film takes place in a small portion of a small town, yet as Woody and Co. find themselves accidentally donated to the local daycare center as Andy prepares for college, the movie takes on the characteristics of great escape movies like... well, The Great Escape, I suppose. All you have to do is replace asshole fascist nazis with asshole fascist toys. Suddenly, a thrown-away toy is a casualty of war, and to be honest it actually made me feel bad for all of the toys that I've thrown away over the years. But then I remember it's a goddamn toy and it doesn't have feelings or Tom Hanks' voice. But still...what if they did?

Returning to the topic of trilogies, I think the best thing that Toy Story 3 has going for it is that it was comfortable with ending the series on a satisfying note without forcing an overblown finale or deliberately leaving the door open for another movie. I'm guessing that since Pixar usually seems to have a handful of irons in the fire (I hear that Cars 2 is on the way) they don't need to milk a franchise until it becomes stale. Again, I need to mention about how Shrek 3 screwed the pooch. So the writers for Toy Story 3 had the luxury of making sure they did this thing right, which they very much did. When the end credits started to roll, none of the characters fates are left hanging, and no questions are left unanswered. And, better yet, they were all answered well.

Whether part of a trilogy or not, few animated films do well if they don't include a lot of great laughs, and Toy Story 3 did not disappoint. The main characters all hit of their notes, including a fantastic scene with a "Mr. Tortilla Head," but the stand-out for me was a metrosexual Ken doll voiced by Michael Keaton. This may just be a personal thing for me, however, as I just like the idea of Michael Keaton getting more good work. He's one of those underrated actors who has a lot of great roles under his belt like Johnny Dangerously (why, hello there, future Take the Edge Off post), Batman, and, of course:

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Unfortunately, Keaton seems to have fallen off the radar a bit lately, but with his turn as Ken and an upcoming role in the Mark Wahlberg/Will Ferrell buddy comedy movie The Other Guys, maybe Keaton is building towards a comeback.

At this point it shouldn't be too much of a surprise when Pixar releases a good movie, but this was the first time they'd gone back to the same story for a second time, which is a task that has proven to be too much for many other good writers/directors. However, with Toy Story 3, Pixar avoided the pitfalls of a trilogy-ender and gave Andy's toys a great send off. Hopefully Cars 2 does well so that, finally, we can see the Incredibles sequels that Mrs. Grump-to-be and I have been waiting for since the last one ended.

Grade: A-

Grumpy's Tax Odyssey

2010-06-22T15:56:00.008-04:00

In June of 2007, I had just finished one of the toughest years of my life. I'd spent ten months providing in-class support and after-school programs for an inner-city school, and while the experience was worth-while I'm fairly sure that it took 4-7 years off my life. But I'd made it, and in return the organization I worked for gave me almost $5000 to put towards my college loans. Pretty sweet, right? Surely there is no way that this could come back and bite me in the ass later? Right?

Cut to 2009 as I stroll into H&R Block to take care of my taxes, and this is where things start to take a turn. My tax preparer, who we shall hereto refer to as Dipshit McPeckerhead, decided that my education award was subject to a self-employment tax. Try as I might to inform him that I was a volunteer for the organization and that a self-employment tax made absolutely no sense in my case, he insisted that he was right and that I needed to file the way he said. I even told him that the previous year my preparer had designated the award that I'd used up to that point as an award given for volunteer service. You see, I had no problem with the fact that the award was subject to some tax. I was told before I received it that it was subject to tax, and that I should use the award over two years so that the taxes wouldn't be too overwhelming. So a tax is fine, but a self-employment tax is just stupid. Dipshit saw things otherwise, however, and I was forced to pay H & R Block something in the ballpark of $150 to be told that I owed the IRS even more money.

And if you'll just sign here, I'll remove my stapler from your ass.

Well, I'm no tax expert (hence being dumb enough to use H & R Block in the first place) but I knew something was fishy. So I followed up with the IRS, who informed me in so many words that Mr. McPeckerhead could not differentiate his ass from a hole in the ground. I made an appointment with my bestest buddy, who made an amended return that said I was actually owed a few hundred bucks. I could tell that he really felt bad about screwing up my taxes when I used the word refund and he looked at me like I just took a dump on his computer. I was just glad to have the amended return so I went on my way, having to wait an extra two months for the check since the amendment had to be sent via standard mail instead of electronically. But at least the whole fiasco was finally over. Right?

Cut to 2010, as Philadelphia embarked upon it's Tax Amnesty Program, which I'm paying no real attention to since all my taxes were surely in order. Hell, I even went back to H & R Block for this year's taxes, specifically avoiding Senor Cabesa de Pene and having a relatively painless experience. Then, a few weeks ago, I get some mail from the city that looks quite official. It even had those perforated edges that sometimes denotes that you'll be getting a check. But this, my friends, was much better than a check. This was a notice that I showed up in the city's records as needing to file a tax return for a profit on a business. Well, unless I'd somehow started turning a profit off of annoying the shit out of my fiance, I knew this was a mistake and I had a strong feeling that it could be traced back to a certain braindead tax preparer. I tried making calls for about a month to get the matter settled, but I could not get an answer that made me feel like I wasn't going to be arrested for tax evasion within a year.

So, I finally broke down and just went to the municipal building in Center City, which, I can tell you, is one satisfying way to spend a vacation day. Since I'd rather ride a bicycle with a broken lightbulb for a seat than try to park in Center City Philadelphia, I drove to a subway stop and took the train in the rest of the way. First, I got to wait for about an hour and a half, which gave me ample opportunity to observe the creme de la creme of Philadelphia. After all, all of those losers were dirty tax scofflaws who piss all over our society's rules. I, on the other hand, was a victim of a mistake in the system. Only me. So I finally get to a representative, and within about two minutes she comes to the conclusion that I did not in fact owe any taxes. However, in order to prove that, I would need to provide additional paperwork that I didn't have for a different department. I couldn't take another day off for this mess, so I took the subway back to my car, drove home, found the paper work, and drove/rode the subway all the way back. But it was all worth it because I was finally about to be done with this whole thing. Right?

Cut to the new department where I've taken the proper paperwork, and guess what? It turns out I do in fact need to pay taxes on the "income" that I've earned. It's at this point that I'd really like to do the following:

Actually, if we're going to be honest, me lashing out would probably look more like this:

But anyway you look at it, I was getting very close to being very unpleasant. So the woman tells me that if I can provide proof that the award I received never went to me but directly to my loan institution, I would not have to pay any taxes. Well, all I needed to do was get on the website that kept track of my award transactions, but of course I wasn't allowed to use one of the city's computers because that would have been too fucking helpful. I had to walk 8 goddamn blocks in 90 degree weather to get to the nearest available computer and then walk all the way back. But it would all be worth it because everything would be over and done with. Right?

Guess what...it actually was! After a measly 6 hours, everything was finally over! Thank you Jesus, there is a Santa Claus! I got a written verification, and the promise that I was no longer in the system as owing any taxes to the butthole city of Philadelphia. That's right, ladies and gentleman, I am free of the shackles of the tax scofflaw. I think I will celebrate by not editing this post for typos, and then going to sleep and dreaming of a certain H & R Block employee being slowly devoured by a large swarm of insects. Sweet dreams too all.

Take the Edge Off with Catching Big Freaking Fish

2010-06-21T19:31:00.003-04:00

I think the best thing about writing your own blog is that you don't get any points taken off for turning your work in. That said, here is my post meant for last Saturday...

Sunday was the time of year for perhaps the only tradition my dad and I actually observe, our annual blue fishing trip. Every year since 2005, we go get up waaaaay too early, drive to Belmar, New Jersey, and hop on a party boat to spend the better part of the day following schools of blue fish around the Atlantic Coast. I've been able to think back to determine that this year was actually our 6th year making the trip. Join me for a trip down memory lane with a quick timeline:

2005-on a whim, Dad and I decide to celebrate Father's Day by going blue fishing, something I hadn't done in years because the gentle motion of waves on a breezy summer day used to make me puke until I wanted to die. This time, I take Dramamine and am talked into believing the bullshit story that wearing a blue bracelet that puts pressure on the veins in my wrist will prevent me from vomiting. Since I don't vomit, I choose to believe it. We catch so many fish and have such a great day that we decide to make it a yearly thing.

2006-We bring one of my best friends with us, and he chooses to wear gloves with the fingertips cut off. We make abundant amounts of fun of him. Once again catch a lot of fish. Oh, and I still believe the bullshit bracelet thing.

2007-This year I don't wear the blue bracelets and am quite surprised to find that solely with the use of Dramamine, I am the only one of our group of 4 that does not get seasick. One of the guys in said group impresses us all by being the only person I've ever met who could puke and laugh at the same time. Catch decent amount of fish.

2008-This is the only year that comes close to being a bad trip. The first mate of the Miss Belmar Princess is new, and turns out to be a world class fuckface. He's a big, fat, baldy-headed douche bag who does little more than badmouth the customers to other customers. He won't supply us with a bucket to keep the fish in, even though we tell him that we don't eat fish and plan on giving it to the mates to sell and only want to keep track of of the fish we catch just in case we catch a fish big enough to win the pool that we entered at the beginning of the trip. Dad decides to throw fish back after catching them, ignoring baldy-fatty's exclamations that he would keep the fish if we didn't want them. However, even though we had to deal with the cream of New Jersey's crap, we still manage to have a good time and catch some fish.

2009-When we get to the marina at Belmar, we see Baldy is still working on the Miss Belmar. Pops asks again if we can use a bucket, and again the prick says no. So, we take our first trip on our favorite new boat, the Golden Eagle! If you ever find yourself in Belmar looking for a blue fishing trip, use the Golden Eagle. The crew is a bunch of young guys, but they are great workers, friendly as hell, and are great with a gaff (gaff=big hook used to pull fish out of the water; they are too heavy to lift over with your rod). We again have a great day.

And that brings us to this year's trip, which was another great adventure. The one pain in the ass that comes every year is having to be up by 4:00am for Dad to pick me up, otherwise we won't get that coveted spot at the stern of the boat (that's the back of the boat to ye, matey). But it's Father's Day so I take one for the team, mainly so that I don't have to listen to Dad bitch and moan all day. This year was a little bit weird as there was a heavy fog off the coast, so we couldn't see more than a couple hundred yards in either direction. It made me feel very isolated from the rest of the world, which was an odd sensation. It didn't last, however, as we were eventually joined by all of the other boats from the Belmar marina, including, guess who...the Miss Belmar. And, if I liked the crew of the Golden Eagle before, what happened next pushed me into a full-on mancrush. As it turns out, these guys share our disdain for Baldy, so they were tearing him a new asshole while we chimed in (lamely). Then they realized that not only had one of the idiots from the Miss Belmar let their line out too far so that it was getting tangled in our lines, but the jackass actually had a fish on. So, one of the mates grabbed the line and proceeded to gaff the fish and keep it for the Golden Eagle, and since the line had become tangled in my Dad's reel, Pop decided just to cut the thing. So hopefully one of the guests on the Miss Belmar took away from his experience that if you fish with them, you will lose your fishing lure and another boat will end up with your fucking fish. Maybe next year we'll find out that Baldy is unemployed.

So needless to say it was another great year. We didn't catch quite as many fish as we have in previous years, but the ones we did catch were pretty damn big. In fact, I'm pretty sure the first fish I caught is the biggest fish I've ever caught in my life. Dad says it was probably about 10 or 11 pounds, so I'll round it off to an even 40. And, lest anyone ever try and say that I'm a bad fiance, after twelve hours worth of fishing/travel/getting sunburnt, I came home, showered, helped Mrs. Grump-to-Be entertain some friends for our housewarming dinner, and THEN cleaned up afterwards. If anyone is familiar with the application for sainthood, be sure to let me know because I'm quite obviously a shoe-in.

Check Back In Tomorrow/Monday For Take The Edge Off

2010-06-19T14:49:00.004-04:00

Just in case there is anyone who gives a crap that I usually do a Take the Edge Off today, I wanted to give you a head's up that I'm waiting to write until after tomorrow, when my dad and I go on our 5th Annual Father's Day Blue Fishing Trip. What's a blue fish, you ask? Take a gander.

We'll be going out on a party boat off the coast of Belmar, NJ, likely along with about 100 of our closest friends. So check back in the next couple of days and hear about whether we caught ourselves a nice bunch of bastards like this...

Or, if we caught a nice, big boat load of...

Grossest/Coolest Thing You'll See This Week

2010-06-16T20:18:00.003-04:00

I recently got basic cable for the first time in like 3 years, and not because I'm too good for TV but because I've been too poor. But my old friend really came through for me tonight as I was trying to think about my scientific topic for the week. I was watching Mythbusters and they were testing the myth that sneezes shoot out of your mouth at 100 m.p.h. and can fly over 30 feet. Well, as if it weren't bizarre enough to watch a man sneeze in slow motion, take a look at the 1:25 mark of the clip below and watch the same thing when said man has red food dye in his mouth. It's pretty delightful. Plus it makes me happy because I really don't feel like typing anything overly in depth for my science post this week so now I can just embed a video clip. Enjoy. Oh, and if I remember I think they busted the myth.

Who Knows What Evil Lurks In the Hearts Of Those Nooks And Crannies?

2010-06-14T20:41:00.006-04:00

I'm going to mark my 30th post on this blog with some news of dire importance. Those of you who eat Thomas' English Muffins should know that while you sit down to enjoy a nice breakfast, innocently topping your toasted treat with butter, jam, etc., there is a legal battle of epic proportions being waged in order to protect the recipe of your beloved breakfast food. As it turns out, after working for Bimbo Bakeries USA, the American division of Mexican food company Grupo Bimbo SAB, executive Chris Botticella has now decided to run at top speed to one of Bimbo's main competitors, Hostess! That's right, those hacks behind Wonder Bread! The man should be ashamed of himself.

I love stories like this. I know that in reality, this is fairly serious business involving millions of dollars worth of business. But honestly, there are so many things that just make this so damn goofy. Apart from the obvious, which is that we're talking about a major lawsuit regarding a fucking breakfast muffin, I also get a kick out of the fact that reporter Maryclaire Dale had to keep at least a semi-serious tone while talking about a company named Bimbo Bakeries. Even with a spell-checker and an editor, I'd have a hard time publishing the phrase "Bimbo's lawyers" without including the typing equivalent of childish chuckling.

Bimbo (tee hee) themselves had to have struggled to keep a straight face while writing a lawsuit brief that included the concern that "Botticella could produce an English muffin that might look a bit different, but that would nevertheless possess the distinctive taste, texture and flavor character that distinguish the Thomas' English Muffin and that have been the foundation of the product's success." As if the consumer didn't have enough stress in making their purchasing decisions, now they may have to decide whether they want to buy Thomas's English Muffins or the newest creation from the Hostess company, Jonathan's British Biscuits.

And like any good reporter, Dale had to get some quotes. But other than the people involved with the lawsuit itself, the only person who seemed to give enough of a shit about the story give a quote was Elise Bauer of simplyrecipe.com, who gave her take on what makes a Thomas' English Muffin so special. "The butter melts and those craters catch the butter, or anything else, whether it's jam or honey. The honey can swim in the butter. It doesn't drip through." You, my dear, have put waaaaaay too much thought into your assessment of the English Muffin. It's a breakfast food, not the polio vaccine.

But enough about poor Ms. Bauer, it's this Botticella guy we have to be concerned about. After all, aside from the potentially earth-shifting knowledge of what makes for a nook and a cranny, he also knows other things. He even knows the recipe for Bimbo's (ha!) newest creation.....The Sandwich Thin! We can't just let him hand information like that over to those Twinkie-makers! What's that? You don't know what a Sandwich Thin is and you don't really give a shit about it? All high and mighty all of a sudden? Well just remember that you wasted the last five minutes of your life reading about my thoughts on an English Muffin lawsuit. Happy 30th post to me!

Take the Edge Off with Phantasm

2010-06-12T08:11:00.017-04:00

Alright, so this week I was all excited because I thought I was going to be writing about the Zombie Beach party that I went to last night. I heard about the event almost a month ago, and I've been looking forward to it ever since. It was at the Trocadero, one of the cooler bars in Philadelphia, and they advertised zombie make up stations and a live band. I really thought I'd just be using this week's "Take the Edge Off" to gush about the awesome time I had last night. The only problem is that it wasn't quite as great as I'd hoped. First of all, they made you pay to get made up like a zombie, which I guess I should have expected but I was hoping they would have included that in the admission price. And since they were charging a minimum of 10 goddamn dollars to get zombified, I was the only one of my group who actually bothered, which deprived me the sight of Mrs. Grump-to-be in a sexy zombie get up. If you think it's weird that I would find that sexy, well I'm sure Mrs. Grump-to-be would agree with you. Even with me being the only one getting zombified we blew through our money so quickly that the people I was with didn't even really have the chance to get drunk, which is probably the state you'd need to be in to enjoy the band that was playing. So, while I wouldn't exactly call the night a bust (I would go again next year but I'd just do my own make up) it didn't exactly give me the inspiration for a whole post.

Therefore, I'm going to roll with the zombie theme and talk about one of my favorite horror movies, the super low-budget but still awesome Phantasm. I'd mention that it was directed by Don Coscarelli and starred Michael Baldwin, Bill Thornbury, and Reggie Bannister but if you've never seen Phantasm those names probably mean absolutely nothing to you. In fact, if you've heard of Phantasm at all, it's probably because of...

the killer balls that fly through the air and drill into people's heads. I'm guessing this is probably the point where I lose most of you because the concept either seems disgusting, lame, or a combination of both. However, if you dig under that layer of B-Movie cheese, Phantasm really is an effective horror movie.

I think the big mistake that people who don't like horror movies make is to compare them with other genres in terms of what makes for a good movie. If you're not willing to completely suspend disbelief for two hours, then you'll be disappointed. Take Phantasm's basic premise: an evil being from another dimension is robbing graves to turn the dead into zombie dwarfs to be enslaved on his home world. Obviously, there is no way to approach that without it sounding pretty dumb. But here's the thing: conventionally well-written scripts and plot structure does not make a good horror movie. So why watch at all? Well, let's take a look at what makes Phantasm a worthy horror film.

Of course, one of the most important elements of any good horror movie is a memorable villain, and Phantasm boasts one of the scariest senior citizens in the history of film, The Tall Man. The Tall Man is the undertaker at the Morningside Funeral Home, which gives him ample opportunity for the aforementioned grave robbing. What makes The Tall Man such a great villain is his presence. Actor Angus Scrimm takes a very minimalist approach, having literally only about a dozen words worth of lines in the whole movie. But he really doesn't need to say anything. Take one look at that twisted scowl and you know that he's got some bad intentions. He freaks you out, gets your adrenaline pumping, and his is a face that stays with you long after the movie ends. That, my friends, is one of the things you look for in a good horror film.

Now, there are two schools of thought when it comes to the protagonists of a horror movie. In slasher films like Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street, it's OK if the characters are likable but really their only purpose is to serve as cannon fodder for the anti-heroes like Jason Voorhees or Freddy Krueger. Their characterizations rarely get beyond that of "jock" or "slut" because we know they won't be around long enough for anyone to really give a shit about them anyway. In a movie like Phantasm, however, we're not really expected to root for the villain, so you have to make the good guys important enough to the audience for them to actually care if they live or die. Considering there are no name actors in the movie, I think they really do a good job at making the audience care. Bill Thornbury and Michael Baldwin play brothers Jody and Mike, respectively, and I had no trouble buying them as a family with their own history that carries into the movie. As they get taken through the ringer while facing off with the Tall Man I really found myself hoping they would both make it through the movie. Then there's Reggie Bannister playing Reggie, the local "hot as love" ice cream man. I know that he sounds like a schmuck, but I guarantee he makes it work, and again by making you like him there is more suspense when he's put in harm's way.

And if you're going to have anyone harmed in a horror movie, you better do it well. Special effects can make or break any horror movie, and I'm not going to bother trying to explain it. I'm just going to show you the following clip from the movie Shark Attack 3.

Granted, I don't think special effects were the only thing holding back Shark Attack 3 from being a masterpiece, but if we're being asked to put what we know about reality on the shelf for a little while, there should be at least a little effort to fool us. In Phantasm's case, director Don Coscarelli does very nice work with minimal budget. He uses clever editing and camera angles to toy with the viewer's sense of reality, and there are some very good practical effects for some gnarly gore scenes. Granted, he misses the mark a few times, like with a killer bug that appears to be controlled by fishing line, or zombie dwarfs that come of as kind of silly, but for the most part he does what he needs to do to keep the audience involved rather than pointing out sub par effects.

A last thing that gives Phantasm a final push into being a quality horror film is the soundtrack. If the soundtrack sucks, especially in a horror movie, then it can bring the whole movie down with it. But if it's done right, a soundtrack can set the tone for the entire movie. It doesn't need to be an elaborate symphony, either. John Carpenter did his own music when he made Halloween, but even people who don't watch horror movies recognize that frantic piano melody that seems to follow Michael Myers around wherever he goes. And as much as I love the soundtrack to Halloween, I actually like Phantasm's even more. It's got a very spooky vibe, but at the same time there is a haunting soothing sensation that comes from it. It's just hard to forget, which in turn makes the movie hard to forget.

Now, I'm really not expecting to change anyone's mind when it comes to horror movies. In most cases either people like them or they don't. But hopefully people who look down their noses at horror movies will realize that us horror fans aren't demented idiots just because we like movies that critics crap all over on a regular basis. Horror movies do have something to add to the world of cinema, even if it is just as an entertaining way to kill some time. Phantasm in particular is really great for what it is: a creepy movie made by a group of people with almost no budget who wanted to give people some good scares. Take a gander at the trailer below, and if you ever come across the movie give it a chance. It may surprise you.

Well-Respected Sites Are Ripping Off Stupid Ideas That I Stole From Other People

2010-06-09T12:02:00.006-04:00

As proof that either I'm ahead of the curve or that I just write about piddling crap that everyone else has already talked about (I'll let you decide) the Onion's A.V. Club recently did an interview with William "Johnny Lawrence" Zabka, the very man whose work I recently did a very analytical, high-brow post on a few weeks ago. I just wanted to draw your attention to the interview because it's actually pretty interesting to get his take on the roles that he's worked on. The A.V. Club talks to guys like Zabka pretty regularly in their "Random Roles" segment, which I think is fascinating because they only talk to "those guys" whose faces everyone knows but whose name no one except geeks like me would ever even care to know. Plus, you'll usually get some insight on some of the higher profile actors in the business (aka are they assholes). Take a look, it's pretty cool.

Bike Races Would Be Great If It Weren't For All Of The Fucking Bicyclists

2010-06-06T19:49:00.007-04:00

I feel like it's been far too long since I just had a flat out bitch session, and boy do I ever have some bitching for you today. Today was the Philadelphia International Championship cycling race, and while I usually despise events that close major thoroughfares on principle alone, I actually had a good time at this one. The event turned Manayunk (Philadelphia's weak sauce answer to San Francisco) into one big party. Ms. Grump-to-be and I got together with a couple of friends and just wandered through the crowds, watching the cyclists speed by every hour or so and entertaining ourselves with food and drunk-watching in the interim. Everyone was having a good time including, to my surprise, me. But at any large event there's always at least one turd in the punch bowl.

Today's floater took the form of anyone on a bicycle who was not actually in the race. Anyone who knows me already knows that I hate pretty much all amateur cyclists. I've never seen a group of more self-important people in my entire life. They usually travel in packs of half a dozen, kind of like the Hell's Angel's if you took the motors off their bikes and the testicles off their bodies. And apparently none of them have heard the term "single-file" because they never travel in anything less than 3-4 people abreast. Even their outfits scream of pretentiousness. They're all decked out in skin-tight outfits that display the name of companies that I seriously doubt would sponsor a 47-year-old assistant manager of the regional Kinko's office. I guess they just want everyone to know how serious they take their riding of a fucking bicycle.

So, of course, while a group of professional, hard-working athletes tested their mettle on the steep hills of suburban Philadelphia, their fucktard amateur counterparts were cruising around getting in everyone's way. It seems like I couldn't walk more than a hundred yards without having to hear "ON YOUR LEFT!" As if I give a flying fuck that you're on my left. I'm on the sidewalk, so you really shouldn't be anywhere near me. Hence the word "walk" in the title of my location. It's really getting to the point where I need to use every ounce of my energy to avoid a Pavlovian response of shooting my fist out whenever I hear that phrase. And, to be honest, if it were just me they were pulling this crap on, I realize it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But today I actually saw some asshole pull right out into the course and get in the way of one of the goddamn racers. And there was a cop right there! Where is this excessive force when you really need it?

Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks that amateur cyclists should stay the hell off the roads during this event, as the friends we were hanging out with mentioned that there were a lot less bikes on the road today because the people running the event required any cyclists who wanted to bike on the course had to pay a fee. That makes me happy. I hope it was really expensive. Honestly, in what activity other than cycling do you have the general public trying to emulate the professionals right there where the professionals are trying to work. I can't go to Lincoln Financial Field and start playing a pick up football game alongside the Eagles, can I?

Now, to anyone who would tell me that getting angry at having to deal with bicyclists during a race meant specifically for bicyclists is pretty stupid, I say, well.....eat me. I think I've made it pretty clear that bicyclists in general aren't my real problem. My real problem is anyone who thinks they own whatever surface they're traveling on just because they're on a set of wheels. Fortunately, I do have a way of coping with the idea that these pricks will always be inserting themselves into my attempt to enjoy myself in the city. All I have to do is think that somewhere in the world, at this very moment, this could very well be happening.

Take the Edge Off with Bill Hicks

2010-06-04T21:19:00.006-04:00

Although this was only a four day week, I have to say it pretty much sucked. I spent the whole time coming down from my move over Memorial Day Weekend, which wasn't helped by the fact that it takes me a while to get used to sleeping in a new place. Plus, my douche bag of a cat, Floyd, has decided that a closed bedroom door is no match for his power to meow and headbutt the fucking thing until I completely snap. So I've spent the last few days pissed at the world, and I've found that there are few better cures for being pissed off than watching someone else who is even more pissed off. Enter Mr. Bill Hicks.

I'm actually surprised at how few people of my generation are familiar with Bill Hicks, but I guess it's understandable considering he died of cancer when people my age were only 10 years old. I hadn't ever even heard of him until I was in college and I stumbled on to a clip of his act online. I consider myself lucky to have found him, though, because he presents a very rare combination of liberal, humanist ideology and Southern style. Usually, when you see a guy come out on stage wearing a cowboy hat and boots, you can probably look forward to a night of fag jokes and observations about how Barack Hussein Obama and Saddam Hussein are related. Not to say that everyone in real life who dresses like a cowboy is a homophobic racist, but I think we can all agree that the folks in the entertainment community like to stick with conventional wisdom (aka cliche stereotypes) when creating a persona. So when Bill Hicks comes on stage, with his Georgian twang and "fuck you" swagger, it's fascinating to see that attitude pointed at fundamentalist Christians.

Part of what makes Hicks so interesting to watch is the sincerity of his anger with the world. He actually used to be friends with another ranting comic, Denis Leary, until Hicks got pissed at Leary for stealing his material. Now I'm a fan of Denis Leary, but you do get a sense that his ranting and raving is amped up to promote his "angry guy" image. Most of the time it works, but you can tell he's doing it deliberately for effect. When Hicks get rolling, however, it seems to be coming from place that's much more genuine.

Hicks actually gets to a place where he doesn't even seem to know the audience is there. He's not trying to impress people by crafting a witty rant. Hell, eventually he just starts screaming. In my opinion he even starts to risk losing the audience, getting to that point where, if he was just your friend or someone you were listening to at a party, you'd tell him to calm the fuck down and go take a time out for a few minutes. But at the same time, you have to admire that kind of earnest feeling from an entertainer.

That earnest sense of righteousness and his mission to cut through the world's bullshit is what makes Bill Hicks' legacy. It's even the topic of a new documentary coming out on him, which judging by the trailer is pushing a little heavy on the angle of Hicks as the revolutionary voice of his generation. That may be, but first and foremost Hicks was a comedian. He was there to make people laugh, and when he wasn't working himself into a frothing lunatic he was just a goofy, funny dude.

So, if you find yourself in a funk where you've just had enough of dealing with the stupidity life throws your way, remember that there was a guy who had to deal with it on a whole different level. Just do what I do. Hop on to YouTube, type Bill Hicks into the search box, and just pick a video at random and let Bill get pissed off so that you don't have to anymore. I leave you with Bill Hicks' bit from the Late Show, the only bit that David Letterman ever chose to completely cut from the on-air broadcast due to content.

Ladies and Gentlemen! Step Right Up and Buy Your Own Bottle of Stupid Pills!

2010-06-01T20:22:00.013-04:00

OK, folks, I have a hot finanical tip for you this week. Go out and buy stock in any company that produces phosphatidlyserine. Do it right now, and then start putting down payments on a new house, boat, and rocket ship that will take you to your own plot of land on Mars, because you are going to be Oprah rich once word gets out that phosphatidlyserine actually reverses the effects of Alzheimer's disease. If you weren't aware of this miracle of modern medicine, it's probably because it comes at the word of an unnamed supplement saleswoman who was secretly being recorded by an undercover representative from the Government Accountability Office (GAO). This is just one of several instances of world-class shenanigans perpetrated by sellers of herbal supplements, as reported by Kathleen Harmon in Scientific American.

Now, the "snake oil salesman" is nothing new. Since the beginning of civilization there has always been the miracle cure to pretty much everything, so I can't say that I'm overly surprised that some chicanery is afoot. What surprises me, however, is that it's not just coming from the guy who says he has a cream to make my dick grow three to four feet within a week. It's coming from people selling supplements that I see everyday at the store. While I'm not the kind of guy to take something like ginko, garlic, or echinacea, I always figured they had actual benefits for people who do use them. Apparently, however, whatever effects they do have aren't the ones being pitched by the people selling them.

According to snippets of conversations recorded by people planted by the GAO, phosphatidlyserine's ability to kick Alzheimer's ass is just the tip of the iceberg. Ginko biloba is harmless since it's an herb, so the FDA is obviously full of shit when they say "taking aspirin and ginko biloba together can cause a bleeding risk." Ginseng totally won't hurt you if you are diabetic, because it is a "sugar metabolism" (what the fuck does that mean?). And apparently, you can just go ahead and replace that prescription medication you've been wasting money on with.....get ready for it.....garlic! Who knew? I guess the bad odor that garlic gives your breath is from the trail of dead ailments that it leaves in its wake.

This man will never die. Ever.

Now, as if it's not bad enough that the imbeciles selling these things are either knowingly or unknowingly passing out obviously bad information, Harmon also points out in her report that 80% of these pills have been found to contain trace amounts of lead, along with mercury, cadmium, or arsenic. Granted, none of the levels of these metals have been at what the FDA considers hazardous, but I think the obvious question here is WHY IN GOD'S NAME ARE THERE ANY METALS IN THESE PILLS AT ALL?!? I mean, honestly...arsenic? That just seems like a deliberate act of mean-spiritedness of Grinch-like proportions.

So, how is it that relatively intelligent people (let's just assume) are being duped into believing the local junior college drop out who tells them that garlic that has been laced with lead is a reasonable replacement for actual medicine? Oddly enough, I think I understand the mentality that would render a person susceptible to being fooled in such a way. I am a person who is fairly confident in the merits of medical science. But to be honest, whenever I take an aspirin or a shot of NyQuil, a tiny voice in the back of my head is telling me that the only power, if any, that the medicine has comes from someone telling me that it's good for me. So when people read a label that says something like "good for mental health" and then have a salesperson add, either by stupidity or by malfeasance, that it will cure Alzheimer's disease, then at the time it might seem reasonable. I guess the only cure for being duped in such a way is to remember that whenever someone is trying to sell you something, be it dietary supplements or anything else, they might not have your best interests in mind, so take a minute to really think about if you really need or even want what's being sold. Or, just say screw it and enjoy your lead pills.

Moving Day

2010-05-30T17:15:00.012-04:00

One of the few regularly scheduled posts that I've started in the few months that I've been writing this blog is "Take the Edge Off," but Mrs. Grump and I took the three day weekend to move into a new apartment. Apparently, she can't take living in a one bedroom apartment with no air conditioning, on-and-off hot water, and carpeting that looks somewhat like vomit. What a prima donna. As I look around at our new place, thanking God that I met someone who forced me to get the hell out of my "bachelor pad," I also realize that I'm way too fried to write up to my usual level of professionalism....God I can't even type that with a straight face. Basically, I can't think of any good life distractions to talk about so "Take the Edge Off" will be postponed until next week.

I would like to mention, however, that this is my first time taking part in a major move that involved actually renting a U-Haul, compiling some friends and family, and setting several days aside for a mass exodus of people, pets, and belongings. And I have to be honest with you......moving really sucks ass. I doubt I'm telling folks anything they don't already know, but I really just needed to point that out. It's just so mentally and physically draining.

It all starts on the day that you officially get the new place, as you start a mental inventory all of your shit and figure out just how much of a pain in the ass it will be to get from point A to point B. You even start getting pissed off at yourself for all of the unnecessary purchases that you've made over the last few years. You just had to buy that oak bookshelf with marble detailing and built-in cast iron safe, didn't you? Now it will take five of your strongest friends just to make sure you each only get a minor hernia while moving the bastard.

Then, about a week out, you realize you already need to start packing, which is actually meant to make things easier come moving day but it has the side effect of making your life a clusterfuck as you try and figure out what items you can do without so that you can have them packed ahead of time. But of course you don't need anything until you can't get to it anymore. You could have a copy of Teen Wolf that you haven't watched in 12 years, but as soon as you get that little fucker in a box buried with a hundred other movies, you'll suddenly get the urge to watch a werewolf dance to the Beach Boys on top of a van mid-transit.

Finally, it's time for the actual move. You have things boxed up, disassembled, and ready to go, because if your Dad is anything like mine he'll throw a temper tantrum if he shows up and you don't have everything from appliances down to stray sheets of toilet paper put into a proper moving receptacle. So you get things moving, making trip after trip downstairs and out to the moving truck, hoping that the wet feeling in your ass is just a lot of sweat and that you haven't shit your pants, until finally everything is loaded up. You admire your work and are just about ready to breath a sigh of satisfaction until it hits you that now you have to take every piece of junk back out of the truck when you get to your new place. Then, you have to spend the next day and a half (minimum) to unpack your crap to the point where your new place looks like more than a fancy storage facility.

Now, for me, this was only a move of about 3 miles, thank God. I don't know how people even survive a move cross-country. I'd need to take the next month off from work just to sleep if off after the move. Plus, I'm told that we have a relatively small amount of belongings that had to be moved. Therefore, I've decided I'm never buying anything ever again unless it's replacing something that I've worn out or lost, because frankly I don't have the energy to move anything more than that. In fact, I've actually managed to exhaust myself just by rehashing the whole process, so I'm going to go find a place to be as stationary as possible for the next 24-48 hours. However, I can never let an opportunity pass to connect something to George Carlin, so I leave you with his fairly well-known take on our society's fascination with stuff.

Doctor Responsible for MMR Vaccine/Autism "Study" Told to Fuck Self, Horse He Rode In On

2010-05-25T18:08:00.019-04:00

I'd like to thank future Mrs. Grump for pointing this story out for me, as it gives me a scientific topic to cover for the week and, more importantly, it gives me the opportunity to rant on one of the more prominent rat bastards in recent history: Dr. Andrew "vaccines cause autism" Wakefield. The BBC reported yesterday that Dr. Wakefield has been removed from the medical registry by the General Medical Council. The GMC concluded that during his study where he links the Measles, Mumps, and Rubella (MMR) vaccine to autism, Dr. Wakefield utilized ethics slightly below those of Dr. Nick Riviera.

Hi, everybody!

Hi, Dr. Nick!

Rot in hell, you quack!

First of all, the guy is a gastroenterologist. Would you let your dentist study the effects of radiation on your sperm count? Then what the hell business did this guy, who specializes in the digestive tract, have in linking the MMR vaccine to autism? Well, his business was that he was being paid by lawyers acting on behalf of parents who claimed MMR vaccines hurt their children. So, Wakefield just so happened to have concluded that MMR vaccines caused bowel problems and also led to autism. Maybe he just tacked on that bowel problems bit to justify having a vaccination study performed by a goddamn gastroenterologist. "But wait," you may point out, "just because Wakefield happened to find the results that he was paid specifically to find does not mean that his results were not accurate." That may be true, but I'd say that having the majority of your colleagues call "bullshit", and then having most of the people who supported Wakefield in his study retract their claims a few years later may indeed indicate that he wasn't entirely correct in his findings.

Keep in mind, however, that the GMC didn't boot his ass because he was wrong. They kicked him out because he quite obviously had no grasp on the concept of ethics. Ethics, for example, are what keeps someone from "carrying out invasive tests on vulnerable children which were against their best interests." One such test was performed at his son's birthday party, where he paid the young guests money to take their blood. Oh that's just great. As if kids didn't already have enough to worry about when a stranger offers them money.

And the GMC might not have been reprimanding him for being wrong about his findings in this particular case, but that sure as hell doesn't mean that the general public shouldn't be giving him shit. And we should also be giving shit to all of the people with no scientific background who somehow gave credence to this guy's malarkey, causing a drastic reduction in vaccinations and a spike in measles outbreaks. I, for one, am looking directly at you, Jenny McCarthy. And to think, I used to be in love with you back when you were a quirky, sexy Playmate of the Year/MTV host and I was just a player of Magic: the Gathering/virgin.

But now, you've convinced yourself and others that you are a medical expert because your son has autism. And I realize that I have no idea what that's like to have a loved one who suffers from autism, and I take no pleasure in your pain. But when I have the lion's share of the medical community saying that MMR vaccinations do not lead to autism, I just can't find it in myself to side with the host of Singled Out. Plus, I still blame you for turning Jim Carrey from a harmless, rubber-faced goofball, to this:

I honestly have no words

So take a minute to celebrate today as the GMC scores one for logic and further exposes a "doctor" as a fraud. But we really need to do a better job at calling celebrities out on their bullshit. We can't take information as valid just because someone has the fame to make themselves heard even if they are totally unqualified in their assertion. I mean, would you believe Heidi Montag if she told you that she got Down's Syndrome from one of her many plastic surgeries. Although, now that I think of it, we may be on to something there.

Take the Edge Off with Jonathan Maberry

2010-05-22T09:28:00.017-04:00

Well, I've been doing this segment for a few weeks now, and so far I've covered music, food, TV, and movies as a source of distraction for the increasingly irritating world that we live in. I realize, however, that I haven't talked about anything to do with reading. So this week I'd like to prove that I'm not illiterate by introducing you to one of my favorite authors, Jonathan Maberry.

I stumbled on Maberry's work by blind luck one day at Border's horror section. I was looking for something new without having much of a plan, so I utilized my fool-proof technique of looking for a book with an interesting cover. Screw reading book reviews or getting recommendations from friends. That's for weak-minded people who are too afraid to take things at face value (I came this close to using "judge a book by its cover," but I just couldn't bring myself to do it). In the case of Maberry's novel Bad Moon Rising, I distinctly remember the first thing that attracted me to it was that the cover was red. I know, I have quite the analytical mind.

As someone who grew up surrounded by farmland in Lancaster, PA, the house on the cover was both creepy and familiar, which piqued my interest. Then when I found out on the back cover that the story actually takes place in Pennsylvania, I knew that this was the book for me... but not quite yet. This was actually the third book of what's become known as the Pine Deep trilogy, a story that follows the survivors of an evil werewolf only to have to face his resurrection 30 years later. So, I picked up the first book of the trilogy, Ghost Road Blues, and started what has become the best series of books that I've ever read.

Before we go any further, I should warn you that if you are looking for a life-changing experience out of this read, you've come to the wrong place. Dostoevski this is not. It is a perfect read for people who, like me, love the horror of the 80s. This is a world of vampires and werewolves, and unlike other book series that rhyme with Schwilight, these vampires and werewolves are actually threatening. They provide plenty of action and even more gore, and Maberry weaves a mythology that interweaves their existence in a very interesting way.

Maberry also has a talent for is writing a very likeable hero. Malcom Crow is the perfect balance between vulnerable everyman and certifiable badass. As a former cop turned store owner/haunted hayride manager, he's basically what you would get if everyone's favorite, unassuming neighbor was actually dealing with the psychological effects of being attacked by a werewolf as a child and had the ability to break both of your legs with his bare hands.

And that's another thing: Jonathan Maberry depicts a fight scene better than anyone I've ever read. According to his Wikipedia page, Maberry is an 8th degree black belt in Shinowara-ryu Jujitsu and his official website lists several books that he's written on martial arts. This experience really comes through in his writing, as he takes the reader through the mind of each fighter and realistically (or at least as realistically as can be expected in a book with vampires and werewolves) describes each blow's intention and consequence in a way that is easy to visualize.

Maberry actually does a great job of helping the reader visualize everything in the world he's created. As someone who has pretty much killed is sense of imagination by relying on movies and TV to provide one for me, I often find myself lost in the gobbledy gook of description in a novel. Maberry, however, had me visualizing everything as if I were in fact watching a movie. Now, this could be because the story takes place in a fictional Pennsylvania town that I imagine to look very much like the places I've lived, but I think more of it has to do with Maberry's ability to describe a scene without trying to be too clever and therefore getting his head stuck in his ass. He's efficient in his descriptions, and that makes me as a reader get lost in the novel very easily.

My one and only complaint in Maberry's writing is that he sometimes makes references that will inherently date his material. Maybe it's just me, but it feels weird having someone refer to a character in a novel use an iPod. I realize the iPod probably isn't going anywhere so people reading Maberry's stuff in the future will know what he's talking about, but something about his references feel like he just thought of something popular off the top of his head without giving it much significance. This is especially true in contrast to the blues songs that he quotes throughout the book, that have an important relevance to the narration.

Nonsensical nitpicking aside, the Pine Deep trilogy only took me a month or
two to read, which for someone like me is a lightening fast pace (hm, maybe I am illiterate). It was one of those reads that I knew I was going to love within one page, and it's stayed with me ever since. His next trilogy based on a new character, Joe Ledger, starts off on the right foot with Patient Zero, a book that delves into the world of terrorists and zombies. Honestly, I don't think I should have to say anything more about that. Terrorists! Zombies! And trust me, I've read it and it's as awesome as it sounds. So, as with everything else I recommend, get off your ass right now and give Jonathan Maberry a try. My plan is to head out ASAP to pick up his newest Joe Ledger novel, The Dragon Factory.

This Just In: Processed Meat.......is BAD for you!

2010-05-18T21:26:00.008-04:00

In news more shocking than Clay Aiken coming out of the closet, the BBC filled everyone in on the secret that eating processed meat is bad for your heart. According to the article, foods such as sausage and bacon are even worse than natural red meats such as beef and lamb, likely due to "the salt and preservatives added to processed meats." Well, I can't help but think one thing when knowledge like that is dropped on me: No. Fucking. Shit.

Pictured above: someone who may not be concerned with eating only lean meat

Did anyone take a minute while writing this story to think that pretty much everyone on the planet knows that processed meat might just be bad for you? Well, if we're going to take the day to state the obvious, I have a few more conclusions that I'd like to share:

Sitting in an ergonomic chair is better for your back than sitting on a bear trap.
Cats walk on four legs and not seven.
The word watermelon is actually made up of two words: water and melon.
Many people who enjoy movies starring Scarlett Johansson do not necessarily believe that she is a good actress.
2 + 2 does not equal Christmas tree.
Full lobotomies are not good for short-term memory.
Full lobotomies are not good for long-term memory.
NFL quarterbacks are often under more pressure than NFL spectators (I'm sure John Madden has said this at least once)
The Jewish culture may have been misrepresented in Germany during the 1930s and 40s.
People usually prefer the taste of pumpkin pie to that of pet lizards that have been named Pumpkin.

Since we're out to enlighten one another, feel free to comment on any other important discoveries that you have made throughout the week. It's important to spread the knowledge, people.

William Zabka: Evolution of a Cinematical Cockbag

2010-05-17T22:19:00.007-04:00

I found this story by the Huffington Post today about the phenomenon of the bully in 80's movies, and my first thought was how sad it is that I know and often quote all but one or two of the movies represented in the video montage. My second thought was how great it is that actor William Zabka made up about 40% of all the bullies who make an appearance. Anyone even remotely versed in 80's movies probably knows Zabka as Johnny Lawrence, leader of everyone's favorite group of violent sociopaths from the Cobra Kai dojo.

But that's not all Zabka has done. He's primarily known for three movies from the 80s: The Karate Kid, Just One of the Guys, and Back to School (all quality films, by the way). And in all three of those movies, the phrase "arrogant dickhead" plays a key role in his characterization. But I think what makes Zabka's progression as an 80s movie douche bag so interesting is that instead of amping up the menace factor, he actually becomes substantially more effete in each movie.

First, look at The Karate Kid. Essentially, he spends the majority of the movie trying to beat a small Italian boy to death for looking at his girlfriend the wrong way. You've probably already seen the following clip of Johnny and his fellow Cobra Kai dressed as skeletons while doling out what must be the 3rd or 4th severe beating to walking punching bag Daniel LaRusso, but take one more look and carefully consider what the kick at 1:15 of the video would have done had it connected:

He was running full-tilt to kick a person in the face that could no longer stand under his own power. Without Mr. Myagi's interference, how does that sequence of events end in anything less than voluntary manslaughter? I mean, I know it's Ralph Macchio and all so I understand the rage, but isn't that still just a bit too harsh? Suffice to say, this was not a man with whom to fuck.

Part two in the trilogy sees Zabka bulking up to play more of the classic style of weight-lifter jock for the gender-swap comedy Just One of the Guys. Now, physically he made for a much more intimidating presence, but aside from lifting weights he doesn't seem to be all that competent in committing manly/violent acts. In fact, his most menacing display is to take a girl dressed up as a boy and throw her into some bushes. When he actually finds himself in a fist fight with one of the skinniest males in the entire school, he winds up getting his ass handed to him. And this was even after sucker-punching the kid. In reality, someone who lifts as many weights as Greg Toland was purported to have lifted should be able to not only knock someone out with a sucker punch, but probably do some critical damage to the face and skull. Instead, the guy just stands up, shakes it off, and proceeds to pummel this supposed bully and leave him in a heap on the ground. Plus, on a side note, everyone seems to point out that Toland has smaller-than-average genitalia. And how can anyone with a small penis possibly be a threat?

I'm going to kick your ass, geek. What? No, I don't need tweezers to pee. Why does everyone ask me that?

Back to School represents Zabka's final foray into bullydom, but this time he's only a bully in the loosest sense of the word. First of all, his name is Chas Osborne, and his sport of choice is diving. This sounds more like the lead in gay porn than it does an 80s villain. Plus, rather than beating the shit out of everything with a pulse, he spends most of the time making snarky comments and getting his balls busted by the likes of Robert Downey, Jr. And then there's his hair. In what world could this possibly be even the least bit threatening:

Chas Osborne could wipe out entire villages with nothing but his balls and I still would not be intimidated by him if he had that haircut while he did it.

So what happened? I guess when you start of as a maniacal psychopath there really isn't anywhere to go but down. I guess you could say he was trying to portray a more sympathetic, vulnerable villain later in his career. You could also say that he had a choice jack and shit in his movie role offers and he had to make due. But really, it doesn't matter. Effeminate or not, William Zabka will always be a staple in the land of the 80s asshole, and the best part is that he's completely in on the joke. If you've remember the video for flash in the pan band No More Kings and their song "Sweep the Leg," you might be surprised to know that aside from starring in it, Zabka directed it as well. So whether you are a homicidal martial artist or a bitchy diving prima donna, I salute you, sir.