The House on the Rock: In a Nutshell

I recently went on a trip to visit The House on the Rock in scenic Spring Green, Wisconsin. I made this video to illustrate my thoughts on it. Enjoy.

If you would like more information concerning The House on the Rock, please consult Neil Gaiman’s American Gods and the music video for More Than This by the band 10,000 Maniacs.

The Cast of Bambi 2 Talk Shop

Constructive Criticism on Political Discourse

WARNING: Everything wrong with the internet, but specifically YouTube, is contained in this video. If you have a weak constitution, please avert your eyes.

I have some advice for the young lady featured in this video….
When making a YouTube video about your opinions concerning political figures, at least have the foresight and common decency to WIPE THE GODDAMN CLOWN MAKEUP OFF YOUR FACE FIRST. That way you’ll give others a chance — even if it’s a split second — of mistaking you for someone who has a knowledgeable perspective. (Actually listening to you, however, dashes all hope of that entirely.)

Also, another tip, if I may…. Starting off your rant with, “I’m not a racist, BUT…,” automatically means you’re racist. By acknowledging a separation in race first and foremost — even when you think you have good intentions — makes you a racist. There’s no going back from that. Not even saying “I have friends who are [the race you are hating on], so I’m obviously not a racist,” will help. You view and define people by their ethnicity, and therefore, are biased, to say the least, and unable to give objective opinions.

Finally, I know this is an on-the-spot vlog (video blog) entry, so there’s an air of spontaneity to this — I understand that. But did you stop and think for one second about what you were going to say before you started talking? Coming to (illogical) conclusions about your political opinions and broadcasting them on the internet should have SOME premeditation to it. Hell, videotaping yourself doing ANYTHING and uploading it on the most popular video sharing site on the planet should be thought out to some degree, infinitesimal as it may be.

Family members are going to see this. Co-workers are going to see this. Your boss is going to see this. Your former pastor is going to see this. Or current pastor… or rabbi…? Whatever, whoever. The point is this….

Is this how you want to be remembered — wearing cat makeup and mass-broadcasting your semi-racist gibberish on YouTube with the only apparent conceit of your vlog being to prove how clueless you are? Unless your endgame was to compete for the Dumbest Twat to Ever Spout Nonsense On YouTube award, I don’t even see the point in you making this video. Next time, THINK a little before you put garbage on YouTube.

To anyone who comes here and says, “Leave her alone. She’s young and stupid and doesn’t know any better,” I have this to say: If you’re old enough to get a webcam, videotape yourself and upload it on YouTube, you’re fair game. Period. Besides, I’m just trying to help her out.

Montana’s Advertising

While I was at Union Station a couple days ago, I saw a poster advertising Montana… for vacationing reasons, I suppose. If you’d like to see the poster yourself, it’s hanging over the escalators at the Adams Street entrance. For those who can’t come to Chicago’s Union Station just to see a stupid poster, I’ll describe it to you.

The poster is of an idyllic scene in the middle of a wooded glen; a buffalo drinks from a river undisturbed as the sun slowly sets behind the creature. Words off to the side of the image say:

CON: Not many people come here.
PRO: Not many people come here.
MONTANA

I guess you could say it’s clever, but if you want to target Chicagoans, you’re going about it the wrong way, Imaginary Marketing Person whom I am pretending to direct this blog post to. If you want my opinion — and you do — I think you should gear your marketing more towards what Chicagoans would love most about Montana. Here’s what I propose for the poster instead:

Much better, don’t you think? Watch the tourism skyrocket with this baby in place.

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If it was 1996, this would’ve been the proposed poster: [click here]

I Met Terry Jones

I met Terry Jones of Monty Python fame this weekend.

I sold him a new car. He was very grateful for the good deal I was able to get him.

But seriously, this past Mother’s Day (Hi, Mom!) I went to a comedy writing seminar/interview session with Terry Jones, one of the writers and performers for Monty Python and director of all of their movies. He talked about his theories on writing comedy and the audience got to ask him questions. Of course I partook in the action….

ME: “First of all, I just want to say that besides Carol Cleveland, you were the best woman on Monty Python.”
TERRY: [closes his eyes, bows his head and crosses his legs] “Why, thank you.”
[audience laughs]
ME: “Given the ‘questionable’ content of some of Monty Python’s material, especially Life of Brian and Meaning of Life, did you or the group in general have an internal barometer — or at least discussions while writing — to question whether what you were writing was funny or just profane for the sake of being shocking?”

He went on to say that they (himself especially) never analyzed what they were doing; they basically just wrote to be funny. (“You don’t know if a joke is funny or not until you put it out there.”) They gave their individual ideas to the group and if the jokes weren’t working, they scrapped them. He then said that they never found anything that they didn’t think they could make funny.

Overall, a pretty good weekend and decently informative. I leave you with his advice on how to break into the writing industry….

“Be luckier.”

Why am I short of attention?

Pop songs are based around melodic hooks and uncomplicated lyrics that easily get stuck in your head. When a pop song is outside of the periphery of regular listening and someone is exposed to it through random radio surfing and its use in commercials and movies, that person won’t remember how the entire song goes. Average listeners will only know the hooks, the chorus and random words.

Keeping this in mind, some guy out there decided to edit music videos to reflect only the parts of the song that he can remember. Have a looksie!

Okay, it’s out there and it’s stupid, but I laughed. Maybe you did, too…?

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TRIVIA TIME: For the actual music video to “You Can Call Me Al,” Chevy Chase memorized the lyrics while on the way to the video shoot by listening to the song in the car. That’s how a professional gets it done.

Things I Think Too Much About: Goofy

Look at that son of a bitch... smiling like an idiot.

Ah, Goofy. Arguably one of the funniest characters from Disney’s golden era of animation, Goofy is also one of its most confusing characters. I know some of you reading this think you already know what I’m going to talk about — and, yes, it will be covered — but there is a lot more to this confounded creature than a debate on his genus and species.

A scene in the movie Stand By Me brings up the question of “What is Goofy?” The immediate answer is that he’s a dog, but explain Pluto then. Pluto is obviously a dog, and is even Mickey Mouse’s pet. Not only that, but Pluto has a tail like a dog, unlike Goofy. Then again, Goofy could have docked his tail… so that he could wear pants or something. (Would his docked tail be viewed in a similar manner as male circumcision, with people on both sides arguing on issues about aesthetics and hygiene? The mind boggles.) Goofy has a long muzzle and floppy ears and — coloring, lack of tail and bipedal walking not withstanding — has a lot of similar features to Pluto. After all is said and done, the answer must be that they’re both dogs; probably different breeds, but still dogs.

So now one must ask what kind of twisted God allows one dog to be a sentient, English-speaking, car-driving being while another is saddled to the role of pet to an anthropomorphic mouse? Someone explain how that shit works.

DOES NOT COMPUTE.

“But, Boone,” you’re saying, “it’s only a cartoon. It doesn’t matter that–”

Quiet, you! I’m just getting started!

What’s the deal with Goofy’s name? Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Daisy, Chip, Dale, and even one-shot characters like Clarabelle and Horace, all have proper given names. If you count their animal-based surnames, they even have full names.

As for Goofy,… that’s it. Goofy. His name’s a goddamn adjective (which my name is not because it has an “e” at the end — big difference). Even if you consider Goofy’s name a nickname, that’s simply dodging the real question: what’s his real name?

His parents might as well have named him Asshole or Dipshit.

In the “instructional” cartoons from the 50s like Motor Mania and Tomorrow We Diet!, he goes by the name George. I don’t buy that that’s his real name. In these cartoons, he portrayed a relatable “Everyman” dealing with life’s troubles. The cartoons showed Goofy’s character in a more reserved tone and the jokes didn’t come from pratfalls and outright baffoonery. I think they called him George more for the sake of getting the story across then anything.

If you consider the Goofy cartoons from the 50s and his 1990s television show canon, then his son’s full name is Max Goof, implying that Goofy’s surname is Goof. So that means his full name is… Goofy Goof.
I’m sorry, but I refuse to believe that. That is the dumbest fucking name in the history of anything ever. Goofy Goof? That’s stupid even by cartoon standards.

But wait, I just glazed over something important: his son. Goofy has a biological offspring, unlike the other characters in the Disney universe (Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Scrooge McDuck are uncles). This begs the question, “Who would have sex with Goofy?“

Red-head or brunette, there's no two ways about it -- he's an abomination.

In the 50s, Max’s mother was heard off screen and we never saw her face. In Goof Troop and A Goofy Movie, it’s outright explained that Goofy’s wife/Max’s mother passed away. Basically, whether you want to face it or not, Goofy was married and he procreated, which is just one rung lower on the Disturbing Ladder than the thought of Jessica and Roger Rabbit together. (Again, the mind boggles.)

How Goofy has retained custody of the child without the state’s intervention is beyond me. If Disney ever wanted to do an animated remake of I Am Sam, they already have the characters in place.

Goofy, you son of a bitch, why must you exist? You hurt my brain. I need to lie down.

Now that’s what I call muzak!

Songsmith is a new Microsoft program that allows the musically deficient to make shitty music — just like the professionals! Basically, you record yourself singing, the program reads your vocal track, checks for changes in pitch and rhythm and then places the recording on top of crappy instrumentals to make it sound like you’re being backed by a real, live computer. Er, I mean, band. Yes… band.

To be honest, it’s a lot more sophisticated than I am giving it credit for. Even though it sounds washed out and completely synthetic, the accompaniment at least changes with the vocals correctly and sounds (kind of) like it belongs. However, you have to take the backing music that it gives you, regardless of what you were going for and wanted.

So now us plebs without talent can sound like we’re in a band… but what about those who are already part of a band? What sort of accompaniment would Songsmith give an already popular song by an established musician? Well, kiddos, it appears the good denizens of the internet are providing the answer to that question, as people are uploading Songsmith-ified music videos onto YouTube.

Let’s have a listen to what pop music sounds like in Hell, shall we?

It appears that, in an alternate universe, The Go-Go’s are a popular calypso band. They certainly do have the beat, don’t they?

Apparently, Billy Idol is the voice of a generation… that enjoys bluegrass.

Motörhead’s tearful country-western ballad “Ace of Spades” swept the Grammys on Bizzaro Earth.

And now, I present the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time….

When you hear the name “Ozzy Osbourne,” do you immediately think of “polka?” You will now.

And because I have to follow the crowd, here’s the Songsmith version of “Never Gonna Give You Up” by the incomparable Rick Astley. Please enjoy this even crappier rendition of one of the crappiest songs ever.

Dragonball: Evolution Review

"Hmm. It says, 'Ask again later.'"

Before I even walked into the theater, I knew Dragonball: Evolution had three strikes against it: It was a live-action film based on a cartoon, it was an American film that debuted in foreign markets, and it wasn’t screened for critics. All signs pointed to “train wreck”, but walking out of it, I’d actually hesitate to call it a bad film. Granted, it wasn’t good, but I’ve definitely seen worse films in my life. Hell, I’ve seen worse films just in this year alone.

Goku (Justin Chatwin) is a friendless, awkward teenager in high school who gets picked on by meat-headed bullies. Outside of school, he trains in martial arts and lives with his grandfather, Gohan (Randall Duk Kim), in a house in the middle of… let’s just say nowhere. On his eighteenth birthday, Goku is given a glowing ball called a “dragonball” (“Hey! Like in the title of the movie!”) which, when combined with the other 6 titular orbs allows the possessor to grant one “perfect wish.”
The Big Bad of the film is Piccolo (James Marsters), a green-skinned, pointy-eared alien who tried to take over the world centuries ago, but was thwarted by ancient mystics who cast a spell and sent him into purgatory. On the eve of a solar eclipse, Piccolo escapes from his magical imprisonment (How? Good question — the film never says) and seeks the balls (tee-hee) for himself in a bid for world domination. Now it’s a race against time as Goku looks for the balls (tee-hee) with the help of poorly-acted characters, like Bulma (Emmy Rossum) and Yamcha (Joon Park).

Given how insane and far reaching the original cartoon/manga of Dragonball was, it’s amazing the filmmakers could make a semi-cohesive, hour-and-a-half long film out of its source material. It helped that bizarre characters like Oolong, the shape-shifting anthropomorphic pig and Puar, the flying talking cat, weren’t in the film. (Those are actual characters from the animated show. Seriously.)
To make sure new inductees to the Dragonball universe wouldn’t feel alienated, the filmmakers kept Evolution grounded by placing it in a reality not too far removed from our own. Sure, there’s technology used in the movie that’s light years beyond what we have now, physics-defying action scenes and magic spells being cast (into the darkness), but at least everyone wears normal street clothes, Goku doesn’t have a tail and there are no talking animals. Unfortunately, by trying to make the film more “real”, a backlash from the film’s intended fanbase has brewed. (For reference, check out the negative comments on the film’s IMDb page. They’re hilarious.)

Some people out there can probably appreciate the fact that this film follows Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces to a T (Hi, Page!), chronicling Goku’s journey from high schooler to world saver. Sad thing is that it’s been done better in better films. Dragonball: Evolution suffers from “been there, done that” syndrome and is too competently made to warrant full-on Mystery Science Theater 3000 type jeers. If I were a child — say, 8 to 12 — I’d think Dragonball: Evolution could be one of the best movies ever, as it’s entertaining and exciting enough for kids to enjoy. However, people already well-versed in films would/should know better.

In the end, it’s a kids film; it’s refreshingly itself and without pretense. As one of my friends would say, “It is what it is.” If anything, I would say the film’s biggest crime is how mediocre it is — not good enough to recommend and not crappy enough to make fun of.

Well… at least Ernie Hudson is still getting work.
5 out of 10

Forgotten Film Review: The Loved One

"I wish my brother George was here."

Sir John Gielgud, Jonathan Winters, Tab Hunter, Rod Steiger, Milton Berle, Roddy McDowall and Liberace. Would you believe that there was a movie made in the mid-’60s that had all of these people in its cast? Well there was, and it’s called The Loved One.

Due to winning a contest with an airline, recent college graduate Dennis Barlow (Robert Morse) travels from his home in England to Los Angeles to visit his uncle Sir Francis Hinsley (Gielgud), a Hollywood acting coach who teaches British mannerisms to movie stars. Before Barlow can get acclimated to his new surroundings, his uncle passes away and he gets saddled with the duty of arranging the funeral. Without family, friends, guidance, a job or even a way home, Barlow finds himself surrounded by all of the oddballs at the Whispering Gardens cemetery and ends up with a job at a mortuary for the deceased pets of the Hollywood elite.
(In a retrospective featurette for The Loved One, one of the film’s producers described it as like The Graduate, but at a cemetery… which sounds pretty accurate.)

The Loved One was considered highly controversial when it was first released in 1965 (the studio execs in charge of the picture famously walked out of the movie when it was first screened to them), and amazingly, it still has some edge even today. The film is satirical of religion, Hollywood and the funeral industry, and a lot of the humor is so dark, it’s pitch black. Then again, maybe I’m the only one who sees humor in watching a mortician’s nonchalant (mis)treatment of already-dead animals, recklessly throwing them into an industrial freezer with an echoing THUD.

Without a doubt, the main draw of this movie is Rod Steiger’s character, Mr. Joyboy, head mortician of Whispering Gardens. Personal friends of Rod Steiger have said that Mr. Joyboy was one of his favorite roles that he ever played in his career, and it shows. Steiger rocks a blond perm, black-rimmed glasses and a nervously fussy mince in his walk to bring to life a character who single-handedly steals the show. Joyboy is the perfect character to demonstrate the rule that it isn’t what you say that’s funny, but how you say it. Not only that, but Steiger has given Joyboy many layers in his characterization, and as they peel away, he’s revealed to be one of the most fascinatingly dark and disturbing (yet strangely likable) characters in the film. Which reminds me….

Mrs. Joyboy, Mr. Joyboy’s mother, is without a doubt one of the most hilariously disgusting and repulsive characters I have ever seen in a film, and that includes Austin Powers’ Fat Bastard.

Despite the film having a lot of clever jokes, humor that’s right up my alley and a cast that begs the question, “How in the hell…?”, it’s hard to recommend The Loved One. The first third of the film is painfully slow with barely any hints at humor or setups of what’s to come. The final third goes off the rails completely; losing focus of the story and characters and having a climax that seems unfulfilling and kind of out of left field. However, the middle third is pretty inspired, so… it’s a toss up, really.

The Loved One has developed a small cult following, and given its hilarious anti-establishment attitude, crazy characters, non-sequitors and dark humor, it’s not hard to see why. But like a lot of other cult films, it has trouble with pacing and plotting, and it leaves you with a feeling of, “What the hell did I just watch?”

I’d give this film a rating like my past reviews,
but it seems kind of moot — it’s too weird to judge.
? out of 10