Kick-Ass Action!

Just seeing those names on the same movie poster get me excited.

The Expendables is coming out this weekend and anybody who loves mindless action movies is excited. I’m hoping audiences flock to see it rather than Eat Pray Love this weekend. Perhaps Hollywoodland will stop making romantic comedy dribble and inject some testosterone back into film. Probably not.

You know, thinking of testosterone in film, I can’t. There has been a huge masculine depression in the world of movies. I’m a big fan of comic books and most of their movies, but even I’m sick of tiny pretty boys in tights in CGI worlds. Seriously, lets look at some of the “action stars” of the new millennium:

Hugh Jackman

Your posture is... off. A bit. Not in a bad way, just in an effeminate way.

Jackman is a Broadway actor who can sing well and has hosted the Oscars.  Talented? Yes, very much so. Action-star? Not so much.

Ryan Reynolds

A funny picture that you'll never find Schwarzenegger posing for.

I actually like Reynolds’ smart-ass sarcastic persona, but action star he is not. He’s funny, but he’s not exactly bad-ass.

Sam Worthington

"Crikey, is that me up on the screen, mate? Aye, I is!"

You know this douche from Avatar, Clash of the Titans (the shitty 2010 version), and Terminator: Salvation. I… honestly can’t see the appeal. He’s a horrendous actor, tiny, and lacks any sense of charisma. Why is he cast in action films at all?

Tobey Maguire

Yes, please emo-up my action stars. Thank you.

If they can paint our muscles in post-production, you’re not the guy I want to see “kicking ass.” Maguire isn’t the only offender, but he’s the easiest to recognize. While dramatic actors might add “depth” to a character, they sure as hell aren’t cool when they do it.

There are definitely others that could be listed here (feel free to tell me about it in the comments) but I just don’t feel like it. Just missing the list are the huge let-downs that are Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Vin Diesel because, for some reason, I still have hope that they can return to the world of action.

Ummmm - never mind.

Man-Hatin’ Manhattan

Allen and Keaton sit in front of the Queensborough bridge in Manhattan.

While watching Manhattan, Woody Allen’s 1979 “masterpiece,” it is impossible not to be astounded and annoyed with the mise en scène. The film opens with a montage of various New York City locations set to a beautiful George Gershwin score. I know I am not the first to write that New York is the most important character in this film, but I may be one of the few to admit to not liking the main character. I’ll go into that in a bit.

Our supporting character, Isaac Davis, played by Woody Allen, verbally introduces himself as a man who absolutely adores New York. He is a 42 year old television writer who is going through a midlife crisis. His ex-wife, Jill (Meryl Streep), has fully embraced a lesbian lifestyle and is writing an in depth book about her relationship with Isaac. His girlfriend is a 17-year old high school girl named Tracy, beautifully played by Mariel Hemingway. As if these women problems were not enough, Isaac is falling in love with his best friend’s mistress, Mary (Diane Keaton).

Woody Allen, while filming this, used the entire frame throughout the whole movie. IMDB.com states that this is his first and, to date, only film shot using the 2.35:1 anamorphic Panavision process. The movie is filmed entirely in black and white, giving New York a classical fantasy quality throughout the film.

Manhattan is so important to Manhattan that, at times, the actors are unnecessary or completely forgotten. A few scenes in particular bring this to mind. In one scene, a busy Manhattan street is shown in full (I will not attempt to correctly label the street as I have never been to Manhattan) with a phone booth on the far right of the screen. Our dominant character, The City, looms of our jittery squirlish Isaac Davis as he places a call to Yale. Unless the viewer is looking for the phone booth, which is inevitable as the audience can clearly hear the conversation, one would almost miss the driving action of the scene. Naturally, I assume that this is Mr. Allen’s point: the action on the street is far more important than that of any of the human characters. This scene portrays the stressful choreography of New York traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian, that permeates normal life. In other words, the phone call you feel is important means nothing to this thriving and growling city.

Another scene where the characters are secondary in the mise en scène is in one of the many museums shown in the film (again, I will not attempt to correctly name the museum as I have never been to a New York Museum). We see our supporting characters, Isaac and Mary, running in from the rain and, to dry off, visiting a planetarium. These unimportant and boring characters are suddenly the focus of the film as the screen becomes claustrophobic compared to other shots of the city as a whole.

You're boring me, please stfu.

Suddenly these underdeveloped characters thoughts and opinions are to be listened to, and Woody makes sure the audience knows that. The camera stays close to them to capture the obtuse conversation, and at the same time the stars in the planetarium are in the background simulating a romantic moonlit sky. This entire conversation is one long continuous shot that often fades to black as our characters pass into unlit areas. This tells the audience that the audio, for once, is more important than the visual. There are long moments when the screen is blank-black while dialogue is passed back and forth. Dialogue that bores the hell out of the viewer.

If it is not painfully clear, I do not hold this film in high regard. I can see the appeal – if you live in or have visited Manhattan. Otherwise, you are merely watching thinly veiled pseudo-cerebral bullshit with unlikable characters; including the namesake Manhattan. We get it: Manhattan is the center of the universe… can we move on already?

Manhattan. Dir. Woody Allen. Perf. Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Mariel Hemingway, and Meryl Streep. DVD. 1979.

Elven Love

Love elves but unable to prove your passion? Well, no longer! Now YOU can become an elf – but you still have to choose whether or not you’re of the North pole or Woodland variety. The best part? You can do it yourself without having to see a pesky doctor!

I found the images at Geekologie, check out their original post here.

Might as well face it, I’m addicted to love (of cigarettes).

I was feeling guilty for inhaling my cancer stick on my break today and thought I would write about the addiction. My cigarette of choice is the sweet, cool, menthol infused awesomeness that is the Newport.

Look – addictions are not always fun and largely ignored, like my mother. Often they are serious character flaws and smoking has become my cross to bear. That’s not arrogant, is it? To compare my smoking to the Passion of Jesús?I began seriously smoking (not counting times I “tried” a friend’s cigarette or pretended to smoke to look totally badass) in 2003 while in Iraq. As oft reported, war was indeed hell – but it seemed more heavenly to those that smoked. They seemed to have a way to release everyday pressures and were able to relax. I convinced myself that smoking would relieve those stressful times and I haven’t been the same since.

Every fellow smoker that I have ever met wishes they could quit and I’m no different. It is a disgusting habit that alienates friends and family. I go to lengths (not great) to hide the habit by always having Axe body-spray and Altoids in the car. So, why don’t I quit? How come you know someone who knows someone who quit cold turkey after smoking three packs a day for seventy years and I can’t quit after only smoking half a pack a day for about five years? Well, screw you and the horse your seventy year old acquaintance rode in on, that’s why! I’ve tried to quit more times than I can remember but, the simple truth is, I do not want to quit.

No, I don’t want throat, lung, or oral cancer. No, I don’t like that I smell like an ashtray. But, what I do like is the social aspect. Smokers are the most social people in America (behind Tea Partiers, apparently) and when I’m in a new environment I automatically have an in with strangers through smoking. Ultimately I smoke because it’s become a part of my identity – the same way some boys will wear mascara. The only pro I have is that not everyone can tell when I’ve been crying.

Wish me luck in quitting in ’10!

[Fake] Phrase Origin

I have always been interested in the origins of common phrases, such as “rule of thumb.” While that one is fairly common, I found another phrase that is even MORE common. The problem is that many people assume they know the history of it already, but they are wrong. Dead wrong.

"Yo, pimpin ain't easy but it sho is fun!" - St. Benedict, 512 A.D.

The phrase “it’s not rocket science” has a long and rich history, though not in the way that we understand it in 2010. Origins of this phrase, which today means “it’s not as hard as rocket science,” begin with Benedict of Nursia (480- 543 A.D.), who founded the great monastery of Monte Cassino, where he wrote his Holy Rulez. In Holy Rulez he authored a chapter entitled “Finding God for The Simpleton: Tis Not Metallurgy Nor Tis it Alchemy!” Consequentially, Benedict is also credited with the current “…For Dummies” book series trend. Benedict’s favorite phrase, over the ages, has changed.

Genius!

One such evolution of the phrase occurred when Henry VIII (1491- 1547) wrote a letter to Pope Clement VII requesting an annulment from his wife in order to marry a woman to produce him a male heir. In this letter he stated that the matter of divorce should be easy for the Pope to decide on as it was “not akin to straw roof thatching.” This, however, did not aid Henry’s request.

During the Industrial Revolution the world was rapidly changing, as was the language. Toward the tail end of the Revolution the phrase began to take on more colloquial meaning. In American speakeasies it was not uncommon for a man in a Zoot Suit to exclaim “Say here, what’s the big idea? Now listen here, this ain’t that steam engineerin, ya crazy broad!”

In the late 1950’s the Space Race was on at full power and the phrase is first credited to German rocket physicist and astronautics engineer Dr. Wernher Magnus Maximilian Freiherr von Braun (1912- 1977), a man who obviously knew his history. When von Braun first immigrated to America in 1945 he was asked by the American Colonel overseeing his transfer for the correct spelling of his name. The rocket scientist replied, slyly, and with his thick German accent [read phonetically]: “Colonel, das spellings iz note rocket sciences, nein?”

"Yo, diz IZ da rocket science... bitchez." - Dr. Wernher von Braun

Receiving uproarious laughter from his fellow rocket scientists, this quickly became von Braun’s catchphrase. For example, in restaurants he would order a Pepsi and when the server would ask if Coke was all right he would respond with “iz note rocket science!” What made these exchanges even more painful to watch was the knowledge that von Braun had already looked into the menu to see what was being served merely to request the opposite and set up unwitting waitresses. All in all, von Braun was a jerk and that kind of assessment is not rocket science.

English 444, so far

Engl444: The Beginning

Pre-course:
As I stepped onto the new pavement the sun was shining warmly and bluebirds were twittering happily. I had noticed the birds before, but never truly appreciated them until now. I smiled as I put one foot in front of the other, even daring to whistle “Zippity Doo Dah.” This adventure would be fun, even if I did have to sweat a bit.

Week One:
Okay, the pavement is breaking up a bit and some weeds are starting to stick through. The birdsong is still sweet, but easy to ignore. The people along my path seem friendly still, but largely go about their business. I’ll need to drink more water and really push myself to complete this perilous journey.

Week Two:
The birds have fallen from their lofty positions and now mindlessly dribble nonsense. I arrived at a fork in the road: to the left is a broken path heading uphill and to the right is a water-slide. I really want to take the water slide, but I know I have to take the path on the left. The one that goes straight to Mordor. As the kids say, FML.

Engl444 by Week Two

Week Three: To be continued…

Heading to Cananada

America vs. Canada: The Rumble in the Decidedly Deciduous Forests of North America

No, I did not accidentally misspell “Canada” in the header, I purposely misspelled it! Oh, you just know this is going to be a great post (considering I’ve already italicized two words in the introduction).

I’ve been with Ms. Kitty for just over five years, engaged for over three of those years. Before you, my attentive readers that may or may not exist, can ask: no, we don’t have a date set, no it isn’t my decision, and no I won’t talk about it. Well, at least not in this post; maybe the story will work for another post. I digress (you’ll see that a lot in this blog).

So far South its practically begging to be accepted by us Yanks.

Ms. Kitty’s father is… a relatively wealthy man. Not “rich” like Bill Gates, but well out of my tax bracket and political ideologies. As such, he owns a “cottage” (read: small house) on Lake Erie in the city of Colchester, Ontario.

For the past few years, Ms. Kitty and I have been heading to the cottage on major holiday weekends in the summer. The irony of a veteran celebrating America’s most patriotic holidays in Canada is not lost on me.

Besides the free room and board with a beautiful view of Lake Erie, what does Canada have to offer that the U.S. doesn’t? Well, actually, nothing. I don’t say that to disparage our Northern Neighbors, but I can say that Canada doesn’t seem to be better, or worse, than the states.

On the fourth of July we still light off fireworks and watch them (from across the lake, granted). We still drink beer and talk about how awesome the States are. We just do it from Canada.

Still, I thought it’d be fun (for me) to list three reasons Canada is better than America. Oh, and three reasons America is better than Canada.

Canada Rocks because…
1. Just about everyone there is friendly. I don’t what makes it so, but the people there are just plain nicer.

And then God said: "Put the really nice ones in Canada."

2. Their stores are cleaner. I seriously hate Walmart. There’s something about the place that just makes me feel dirty for even driving past one. Except, of course, the Walmarts in Canada. Those supercenters are veritable paradises on Earth.

3. The legal drinking age is 19. Granted, at 28 this doesn’t matter as much to me but nine years ago it was awesome. It has almost become a right of passage for many Michiganian teens.

America Rules because…

Innovators

1. It is a nation of creators, innovators, thinkers, workers, and all around kick-ass people. Seriously, part of the reason the rest of the world hates America is because the American people are so damned cool and they know it. Americans are not bashful about their awesomeness. Besides, if you’re American, can you name even one Canadian inventor, innovator, creator, thinker, worker, or bad-ass citizen?

2. America’s freedom. I know, that sounds general, but check it: the U.S. fights to protect their citizens the rights to free speech, a free press, and the freedom to worship (or not worship) in any religion imaginable. That, alone, puts us above 99% of the world as far as freedoms go. Sadly, there’s no time to go into what happens when those freedoms are taken from us.

3. Because, you know, fuck Canada. Seriously, we gave them Walmart. Fuck them.

Ms. Kitty, packing for Canada

Hello world! (AKA: Greetings to the Apathetic)

“Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!”

With those first words, an invitation, surely, I knew what I was in for. I was in for seven weeks of trying to maintain a blog, something I have attempted and failed repeatedly. Seven weeks of validating the immeasurable: my worth to internet society.

“Would things change this time? Would I be able to keep this going?” I asked myself, aloud, garnering undue attention from the loving fiancee who was unnerved every time I spoke to myself.

She merely cocked her head like a curious kitty-puss in my direction and began licking her paws, purring softly to herself. She knew how to drive a blogger wild.

Totally my fiancee, who'll lick her own paws but never lick... nvm. (Thanks to Flickr user mommato8 for the image)

I knew I could do it for English 444, Writing for the World Wide Web (a bit archaic, no?). The real question was: could I force myself to maintain a steady blog for an absent audience after this class ended?

We’ll see, but don’t hold your breath, you unfaithful-to-be readers. This blog will not reshape the web, will not gain me notoriety, fame, or wealth, and it will not be the most important thing in my life.

Still, if you do decide to stick around 1) you’re probably my professor or a classmate and 2) get ready for some exciting adventures with me and Ms. Kitty*!

*Ms. Kitty will be the name I use for my wonderful fiancee, mostly because she is allergic to cats and hates them. Also, it’ll be easy to find pictures of cats doing things in Google Image Searches.

Ms. Kitty doing a Google Image Search on herself.