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As a child of the 80s, I grew up worshiping Star Wars. Obsessions with lightsabers, Wookies, and the ability to choke someone with your mind were quite common for boys of my age (for some reason, girls didn’t like Star Wars: maybe My Little Pony was really good back then). I’m probably the perfect Star Wars age. My brothers don’t share the same obsession I do, so it’s definitely a generational thing. After all, when we were talking about a getting a cat I was the only one who wanted to name him Chewbacca.
When I was a kid, Star Wars was everywhere. Besides the obvious action figures, I had lunchboxes, coloring books, audio books (in record form), Shrink-A-Doodles, Underoos, Lite-Brite–you name it, George Lucas found a way to market it with a Star Wars twist. I grew up wishing to be a Jedi and to strike my father down with a lightsaber. I played Star Wars. I slept in Star Wars sheets. I dreamt Star Wars. I even liked Princess Leia.
One year for Christmas someone gave us the Star Wars movies (in VHS form). From that point forward, I watched the trilogy at least once a month. The . . . . .
When life gets too busy or I have nothing to complain about, I just reach back and find something I wrote earlier but never posted (usually because it was uninteresting or poorly written…or maybe even both). This is one of those stories.
I watched “District 9” last night. I didn’t see it in the theater because I knew the movie was shot on handheld cameras and I figured there was a really good chance of me getting sick (at least at home, I can turn it off when I get queasy). I’ve been thinking about the movie since I saw it, so that must mean I thought it was pretty good. What I find most remarkable about the movie is that the movie was made for a meager $30 million (how jaded we’ve become where $30M is considered meager; in 1975, “Jaws” cost an outlandish $7M to make). “District 9” was a phenomenal-looking move. The special effects were outstanding–and a completely crucial part of the film. The majority of shots in the movie contained CGI effects–complicated ones at that. The alien creatures looked real and life like. In fact, I wasn’t even sure they were CG until I looked it . . . . .
The most unrealistic thing about “2012” is that the producers expected us to believe a black man could be voted president in the United States.
Damn. That joke woulda been a lot funnier two years ago.
I think I might be a softball snob. I’ve been playing the game for so long, I have so many expectations and ideals that few people can live up to. I don’t want to go around thinking I’m better than anyone else. I don’t enjoy feeling like something is below me or inferior. But when I see a softball that doesn’t live up to my standards I’m horrified.
During the summer we brought a new guy out to our Thursday night softball team. He had an ad on Craigslist and I figured, why not? Dude said he had experience and could play an “ugly shortstop” if we desperately needed. He sounded like a great fit for our team because he seemed like a good guy and we have always valued character over talent on our team.
But when he came out to the game, it was painfully obvious he was not a good player. His mechanics were terrible, he made bad decisions on the . . . . .
In season seven of “24” there’s an actress who caught my eye. While no woman could ever tame Jack Bauer, there’s something about this gal I like looking at. Now I wouldn’t go as far as calling her hot because her attractiveness falls way short of your average supermodel. She just has a thing about her–kinda of like “old lady hot.” Every time I looked at her, I found myself thinking, For someone her age, she doesn’t look bad. Her face had a wrinkle or two–but she wore it well. After two or three episodes, I became obsessed: I wanted to know more about her. What was her name? How old was she? Did she ever do softcore porn? Once again, not because she was hot–just attractive in an older woman kind of way. I dare not disclose her name because I don’t wanna be considered a granny chaser. Besides, I assumed she was much too old to be considered attractive by most standards.
Given my predetermined assumption that this woman was “older,” imagine my horror to discover she’s is only a few months my senior. This “old lady” is my age! Technically my peer and probably an ideal mate . . . . .
The other day I walked passed a booth of volunteers trying to get people to register to vote. A chik jumped in front of me and asked with her biggest smile, “Are you registered to vote?”
“Of course I am,” I said politely. While I saw no need to be rude, this was a conversation I really didn’t want to participate in. With finals to worry about, 90 percent of my brainpower was focused on something else and I didn’t even realize I was talking to her.
“That’s wonderful,” she replied. “Would you like to volunteer your time?”
And without realizing what I was doing, I blurted out a laugh. I feel a little bad because I respect what she was doing…but volunteer work is just something I don’t believe in. Kinda like charity and the Easter Bunny.
The “Terminator” movie recently came out. I have little interest in seeing it in the theaters because of my “no sequel” policy. The Wife, on the other hand, is dying to see it. Even though she’s never seen a Terminator movie before, she’s driven to view this incarnation because she finds Christian Bale dreamy. Seems like faulty logic to me. I think . . . . .
I am a big fan of crappy teen dramas. It started way back with the original “90210” and continues today with the new “90210.” When I was in the midst of my “Dawson’s Creek” phase, I wondered how these television producers could keep coming up with new teen drama plotlines. Every teenager in America goes through the same struggles. I don’t wanna lessen their trauma, but how different is the “Dawson” version of teen drinking compared to “One Tree Hill?” It’s hard to tell a story that’s already been told–at least hard to do and make it seem fresh and interesting.
Back in the original “90210” I remember losing one’s virginity was a major plotline. This theme eventually gets explored in every teen drama and to this 31-year old adult, it’s a little played out. I know I’m not the target audience of these shows, but I’m sure I’m not the only 30-something watching (and if I am, I really need to rethink my life). The shock value of teen sex is completely gone. I remember how controversial a 1991 episode of “Roseanne” was because 17-year old Becky wanted to go on birth control. Unfortunately, that sorta “shock” isn’t shocking . . . . .
Recently I walked out of a Jon Cena movie…but not for the reasons you’d think. It only took about five minutes of the “12 Rounds” to make me sick (also not for reasons you’d think). The movie is part of a growing phenomenon in cinematography that I think is ruining movies. I can live with WWE superstars make movies; I can’t stand movies shot on hand cameras.
I don’t understand why more and more movies are shot this way. Instead of using a perfectly balance tripod, a great deal of movies today are shot by handheld cameras. I think directors do it to create a ‘gritty’ feel that puts the audience into the action (in reality, it puts me in the bathroom). This is a style that I’m not comfortable with. The quick pans and extreme close-ups make me queasier than an overeater at an all-you-can-eat buffet of week-old fish. I can’t stand it. Quick zoom. Quick cut. Extreme close-up. Pan left. Pan right. Hurl in the aisle–I’m telling you, it ain’t for me.
I’m not sure I get the appeal of it. Admittedly, I didn’t grow up watching music videos and I’m not a fan of rapid cuts–but I . . . . .
I’ve come across many companies online that are hiring and the only way to apply is to create an account–a user name and password–with them and “login” to their site. And since most people use the same password for the majority of their accounts, applying for a job at Joe’s Widget Shack would give Joe’s site administrator access to your user name and password. Seems like a good opportunity for fraud.
I wonder how many con artists and identity thieves prey on the unemployed. People who look for jobs online are desperate. Users would be more than happy to disclose Social Security numbers because it “feels” like a normal part of the application process. It’s probably pretty easy for criminals: set up a fake job opening and–BAM!–you got some sucker’s SSN, home address, and employment history. Seems like they’re be a lot of that–especially with the amount of time spent by lowlifes trying to hack into worthless MySpace accounts. Then again, would it really be worth it? Criminals steal identities for profit’s sake. If someone is unemployed, how much money could they have?
Jay Leno is moving to prime time television for NBC and I find it to be a . . . . .
I am perhaps the least celebrity-obsessed person in this country. I don’t visit TMZ or watch “Entertainment Tonight.” I think “US Weekly” is the worst magazine ever created. I don’t know who Jennifer Anniston is dating and couldn’t care less if Brangelina’s kids got eaten by a mountain lion.
I’m not saying this because I work at in television and come across third-rate celebrities on a weekly basis–it’s because I think being famous doesn’t make you any more interesting than everyone else. George Clooney is a movie star: his talent is to speak words written for him by someone else. The only difference between me and him is gorgeous looks and a bazillion dollars (it’s like we’re separated at birth). I don’t need to know his view on politics, whom he’s dating, or what he looks like without makeup. Celebrities are just people and no more fascinating than my next door neighbor whose name I don’t know. I don’t care what’s going on in my neighbor’s life–same goes true for George Clooney.
That’s why I’ll never be one to go gaga when seeing a celebrity. I really don’t care what they did to become famous. To me, a celebrity is . . . . .
I don’t watch much television outside of shows created by Jerry Seinfeld, animated by Matt Groening, or voiced by Trey Parker–so I’m not exactly the world’s foremost expert on television. There are many shows I’ve never seen. I don’t know what Colbert is reporting, who O’Reilly is factoring, or why stars are dancing. I can’t tell the difference between Larry King and Lou Dobbs. I thought Wolf Blitzer was a cook.
Even with all I don’t know, I can’t imagine there’s a bigger blowhard of hot air than the obnoxious Nancy Grace. I’ve never sat down to watch her program because I prefer my news from a more reliable source (like theonion.com); however, The Wife is a big fan of her show and since it’s on 48 times a day, I’ve managed to pick up tidbits here and there.
Nancy Grace is exactly what’s wrong with television news personalities. Hell, her show is the ultimate example of the sensationalistic nature of the media. Every episode of her show acts like it’s uncovering the greatest mystery the universe has ever seen. On screen, there’s a rolling ticker that updates whatever story she’s discussing (from her own slanted view) with the label . . . . .
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