Shaken, Stirred, etc.

I don't care how you look at it, Quantum Of Solace is a dumb name for a movie, especially a Bond movie. I know, like, a lot of words and stuff and I can't figure out what the heck it even means. Sounds scientific? Should I bring my beakers and Bunsen burner with me to the theater? Will I be quizzed after viewing the film? Is it acceptable to bring live shellfish to a doctor's office? So many questions.

I tried to be all contrary and say, "It's not that bad of a title," but we had Entertainment Tonight on in the background (don't worry, we changed it quickly) and they mentioned it by name a few times. It sounded stupid. Like, really stupid, like it's trying way too hard. I's like Deciliter Of Loneliness or Hectare Of Sadness or something. Or like it will be two hours of James Bond looking wistfully out a window overlooking a beautiful beach while stroking a kitten, sipping tea and listening to Dashboard Confessional and softly crying.

And still I want to see it. And how could I not? Casino Royale ruled most egregiously. That parkour scene! Freaking incredible! Or when he has to stop himself from having a heart attack! Nice! I love when I can say, roughly 15 minutes into a movie, "Okay, I love this movie." That's a great feeling. (One I keenly felt while I was watching Cloverfield over the weekend. That movie rules, by the way.)

I would have named it Bloodhammer or Thunderstroke or Shatterfist or DeathyMcBloodkill or something. Something with some "oomph!", y'know? With some man parts, if you know what I mean. Something that sounds like it could also be the name of an Eastern European black metal band.

It's a terrible name, right? Am I exaggerating its suckiness? What would you name it? Who would win in a fight: Mayor McCheese or the Hamburglar? Is anything more delicious than bacon? And finally, dude, where's my car? These are all questions that this movie title brings with it. Only you, the beloved Internets, can answer them, because I have to go watch Lost.

It's the End Of the World As We Know It (& I Guess I Feel Fine?)

It's easy to get disheartened these days. We've got wars, death, suffering, the continued existence of According To Jim and Two & A Half Men, ugly politics smeared across the television screen like so much doodie and, the cherry on top, it looks like our country is on the verge of a complete economic collapse.

Who wants pie?!

But seriously, folks, it's times like this that I start making lists of things I'm thankful for. You know, like that smug little brat, Pollyanna. (Oh! her perkiness is so annoying, isn't it?! She's like the illegitimate offspring of Katie Couric and Kelly Rippa. And Satan. Don't forget him.) So, here's my list of things that, for me, help make the world worth living in:

* Everybody is happy to see me when I get home from my pretty cool job. This is a major plus.

* The Immortal Iron Fist, delivering kung-fu pulp action to my face monthly.

* The fact that I heard the Beach Boys' "Heroes & Villains" playing over the Muzak system in the supermarket. There's nothing like shopping for margarine while that song plays. If you haven't tried it, do. It will change your life.

* This blog. All you hipsters out there: You're welcome.

*The Shins covering Tim & Eric.

* The McNeil-Lehrer News Hour - it's just how television news should be: un-ADD-friendly to the point of almost boring, very un-sexy and, thankfully, smart.

* Be Kind, Rewind opens in about a month. Is anybody else excited about this?

* I just found out that my library has Robert Pollard's Not In My Airforce album. And yes, I requested it.

* Converse All-Stars.

* The site, It's Nice That.

* Season 4 of Lost in T-Minus 8 days and counting.

* The Star Trek teaser that ran before Cloverfield. (Which I still haven't seen yet but I'm not bitter about it. I mean, we sort of had to got o the DMV last Saturday and get new Ohio licenses and do all sorts of other responsible stuff instead of going to see an awesome movie. I'm totally fine with doing boring stuff rather than awesome stuff. Totally. Fine. Okay, I sort of am bitter.)

* And finally... Kittens!

See, don't you feel better? Well, Internets, what makes you glad to be breathing today?

Nuggets From My Mind Box

I have a big old monster of a post in the works, so I'll just leave you with some little tidbits in the meantime:

* If you want your three-year-old to sleep like a rock, make her Christmas carol at an old folks home. Those places are like saunas with slightly less gross naked old people.

* I am terrified of old folks homes. And snakes.

* Being a Mormon myself, I find this whole Mitt Romney thing to be a little surreal. It's sort of like walking into a room and overhearing people talking candidly about you. Some of what they say is right on, some of it is totally weird and some is downright false and you're left thinking, "is that what people really think of me?" Makes you feel a little self conscious.

* Patti's post made me want some Red Vines real bad.

* If you're ever stuck trying to think of something funny to say, find a way to use the words "elven cloak" in a sentence. Guaranteed laughs or your money back. This also works with the word "crack."

* I want to eat little chocolate donuts every day of my life.

* When in doubt, kick it in the nards as hard as you can. Works for me.

* What's the point of poodles?

* Of all of the ways you can die, I think the worst would be to be eaten alive by naked mole rats. Or by naked old people.

* I think John Shaft could easily kick Chuck Norris' behind, any day.

* This is the cutest thing I have ever seen since that time I saw a kitten with butterfly wings and a halo riding a unicorn through a land of rainbows and cherubs.

And finally...

* There's no such thing as too much gravy.

Until next time, cats & kittens.

Okay, I'll Admit It...

That new New Pornographers album is not that bad. I wouldn't include it in any end of year "Best Of" lists, but it's a good, solid album. Especially when mixed in with their other albums. It's sort of like R.E.M.'s Monster which I hatehatehated when it came out - it was so overly glammy and same-sounding - and slightly adore now. It works well with the rest of their catalog.

So... okay, Jesse, you win. There. I said it. Happy now?

Switching gears. Let's talk TV. Specifically NBC's Bionic Woman. To borrow liberally from that American patriot Stephen Colbert, Bionic Woman: you are on notice. Stop being so mopey and whiny and be the really awesome espionage/action/drama you were designed to be. It is your destiny. The Emperor has foreseen it.

I'd also like to take a minute and spread the love for Life, which comes on after that show that should be awesome but isn't. It's a lot of fun. Very recommended.

Finally: Kittens.

Until next time, amigos.

Taking Care Of Business (Every Day!)

I stayed home from work today because Candace is having some tooth problems, most likely caused by her ingesting the old man boob sweat candy bar, so... nothing too taxing today. Sorry. Hopefully I will have time tomorrow to show how I can cash in on the slew of nerd TV that is now littering the post-Lost, post-Heroes broadcasting landscape.

Either that or pictures of kittens. You know, the usual.

KITTENZZ!!!1!

Somehow I came across this site, which is either brilliant or bizarre. See for yourself. If pictures of cats with internetspeak captions on them is your idea of a good time (and really, if it isn't, then you are a sad, sad person) then this is the site for you. I don't even like cats and I've been surfing it all morning.

Hellohello

On one of my numerous strafing runs across the pocked surface of the Internets, I found this site. Prepare to be disturbed. Very disturbed.

Sad Pink Clouds and Scaredy Cats

Hey. Wanna hear about a really good comic? What? No? Well, too bad because I'm going to be talking about one today.

Jordan Crane's the Clouds Above is a sweet little tale about a kid and his cat who get kicked out of school and find a stairway through the clouds. Along the way they meet mean little yellow birds, a depressed pink cloud and a vicious thunderstorm. It's a whimsical (I hate using that word, but it really fits... it kind of goes wherever it feels it needs to go) little tale that is also really well-done. Seriously, the art's gorgeous. Here's a panel:

Awesome, right? Here's the Amazon link. They have it buddied up with Aaron Renier's Spiral Bound, which seems like a fair enough fit. They're both recommended, though Spiral Bound skews slightly older (elementary school-aged) than my gal (though it works for adults, too) right now. And because Clouds is set up as having one panel per page (using the gutter of the book as the panel gutter and transition device) rather than any kind of grid system, the reading is easier. It's the simplest form of comics language, really (which is why I don't consider something like the Family Circus a comic... there's no sequence to it. It's an illustration with words. Also, it is really dumb. "Oh my gosh! 'Somebody' broke a window, but what the parents don't understand is that there is an actual ghost named 'Somebody' who broke the window and is totally framing PJ! Dude! This is awesome! I can't wait to see what happens next! Oh wait. NOTHING happens next because the no-talent, hobo-killing alcoholic who draws this strip can't be bothered to draw more than one panel! WTH?!"*).

So, a Big Red Robot recommendation for the Clouds Above. Sadie and I read it the other night and we both loved it to bits. She took it to bed to read while she fell asleep, which was pretty dang cute. It's an all-ages comic that isn't so "kiddie" that you can't really enjoy it as an adult (Yes, I am looking at you, Owly, with your no words having self and your oh-so-cutesy conundrums). So yeah, the Clouds Above is awesome. Check it out.

*I just want to say that while the Family Circus is by no means my favorite part of the comics section (pronounced: "the only section worth reading"), this rant is entirely hypothetical and intended for comedic effect. There is no proof that any of my allegations - namely the whole alcoholism thing and the hobo-killing thing - are anything more than mean-spirited fabrications created entirely by me for no other reason than I have a lot of pent up rage toward Bill Keane, author and illustrator of aforementioned strip. I am seeking professional help and have made some breakthroughs, but I recognize that I still have a long ways to go. Bear with me. Though I will say that if you have to have your eight-year-old son draw your comics for you because you had a long night drinking and killing hobos, maybe it's time to lay off the sauce a little. And maybe not kill hobos anymore. I'm just saying.

That's Why They're Called "Business Socks"

WARNING: This is a little PG-13. Put the kids to bed and then watch it. Also, it is pretty hilarious. You have been warned.

It's sort of stating the obvious at this point, but I will say it anyway: Flight Of the Conchords is freaking hilarious.

Also, in other news, the sky is blue.

That is all.

***BREAKING NEWS: This just in: Kittens are cuddly. Film at 11.

I Am Such A Total Blog Tease

I was going to try and commit to a record review a week, but... well, I'm gloriously bad at that kind of "regularly scheduled" type of stuff, so I will just say this: I would like to try and review an album a week. I don't know how regular of a feature this will actually be in real life. Jesse had mentioned he'd like to see something like this in a comment on a former post, and on paper (screen? Oh future, why must you confuse everything?), it sounds possible, so we'll give it a whirl. I promise nothing.

I tried something like this with another blog - the defunct Wall Of Sound (you can witness its birth andspeedy demise if you're so inclined) - and as great of an idea as it was, it was also insane. Seriously, I don't do drugs, but maybe I did and forgot about it when I decided that writing a review for every album in my massive music collection (currently residing in a hollowed-out mountain in western Colorado) was a doable thing.

Bat-crap insane.

Mel Gibson insane.

Whoever green-lit Rush Hour 3 insane.

Right now, I'm going through my music library. Alphabetically. Sort of. See, I listen to music all day long as I sit, shackled to my MacPro G5, designing things graphically. So, I decided to put all the albums that start with the letter "A," as well as any that start with numbers (this is before the newest iTunes update screwed all that up and put those ones at the end as well as fixed some alphabetical incongruence) on my iPod and am listening to those tracks in alphabetical order. Thus is the depth of my O.C.D.

I got through the "A"s last week and am elbow-deep in the "B"s right now.

I think I'll be taking a break from it after this. Give the ol' O.C.D. a little vacation. Buy it a cruise or something.

What am I talking about? Seriously, I've been going on and on about nothing for like, forever. What is my point?

Oh yeah. Music review.

Anyway, so this little O.C.D. jaunt has, in its circuitous way, brought me to the album I'm going to review: Sebadoh's 1994 release, Bakesale. I had planned on this post being the review for this album, but, well, I think I've gone on far too long, so... I guess I'll just post a picture of a kitten and save the review for another day. Maybe tomorrow. So... kittens! Three of 'em!

Awww.

We Are Going To Rock

We are going to blow out the speakers on the stereo.
We are going to tear the roof off of this sucker.
We are going to party like it is going to be 1999.
Or 1899 for that matter.
We are going to dance until our legs fall off.
We are going to party like it was going out of business.
We are going to sing songs that haven't been written by anyone on this planet, we will sing them so loud the moon will cry because its ears hurt.
We are going to kick this party out the door and then invite it back in, only to kick it out again.
We are going to throw the kind of party that you can only experience in history books.
We are going to rock like Napoleon Bonaparte.
We are going to rock like Pablo Picasso.
We are going to rock like Vasco da Gama.
We are going to party until the sun burns up.
We are going to party until we run out of music.
If there is a world record for rocking, we will break it to pieces.
We are going to rock like electric robots on fire.
Our party will rock so hard that the crust of the earth will rupture, spilling out massive amounts of molten hot awesome that will burn us all to cinders.
We are going to party like astronaut explorers being ripped apart by a black hole.
We are going to party like hypnotized donkeys.
We are going to party like breakdancing kung fu masters.
We are going to rock like Godzilla, Bruce Lee and Frankenstein teaming up to beat the living bejeepers out of Dracula, the Mummy and the Wolfman.
And Mothra.
And Martha Stewart.
And that one guy with that beard that comes out to here.
And Keanu Reeves.
We are going to kick this party like it is a bad habit like heroin or listening to Rush Limbaugh.
We are going to rock like 76 electric guitars wailing in the darkness of a scorpions heart.
We are going to rock like kittens drinking a saucer of milk.
We are going to rock like rattlesnakes who have grown to an unimaginable size.
We are gong to rock like Batman and Superman got into a fight over who their favorite Spice Girl is and they didn't speak to each other for weeks.
We are going to explode the sun with our rockingness.
Our party will become the legends of future civilizations.
Our ability to rock is second to none.
We will not be out-rocked.
Everything must be rocked.
The ottoman.
The electric can opener.
The other can opener that you have to turn with your hand.
The butter knives.
The bones of dinosaurs.
The unicorns of Norway.
The pet rock collection.
The stained glass windows depicting how we rock.
The entire set of Franklin Mint commemorative plates.
Potsy, Mouth, Richie and especially the Fonze.
They must all be rocked.
We are going to rock our faces right off of our heads and it will be so much better than that movie with John Travolta and Nicholas Cage.
We are going to rock like tube socks made from electric eels with electric eyes and electric toothbrushes.
We are going to rock with the combined power of all of Jack "King" Kirby creations.
Which is a lot of power.
We are going to party like pirates on the high seas of love.
We are going to rock like it is the law and we must obey it.
We are going to rock like the Pythagorean Theorem.
Like the Berlin Wall.
Like a baby's scream.
Like a bobcat's tail.
Like the wild blue yonder.
Like a special effect.
Like the moon on the water.
Like the ocean's tears.
We are going to rock so hard, Bigfoot will come our of hiding and regain his rightful place as King of the World.
We are going to rock because we know of nothing else we do as well.
We are going to rock because we like - no - love it.

We are going to rockrockrock.

Oh yes, indeed.

...If I can just find that Paula Abdul cassette.

The Blackest Of Blues

Check out Ben Gibbard's recent live show from the All Songs Considered podcast. An amazing mix of songs, all of them sad as a bag of drowned kittens. Truly he is the King of Sad Sack Pop.

Here's a link to the All Songs homepage. If you're not subscribed to the podcast through iTunes, first off, what is wrong with you? and secondly, you can download the episodes from there. Because it's awesome.

"Housekeeping! You Want Me Fluff Your Pillow?"

Okay, so there are some announcements that I need to get out there. Basic housekeeping stuff that I thought I'd bore you with.

Firstly, the call is still out for Blog Buddies. If you want your blog posted in my sidebar, just leave me a comment with your blog address. As I say in my new paragraph below the list, "As long as you're not super-creepy, I'll add [your blog]." So, people who are just "creepy," you're in. "Super-creepy" people, well, sorry. Maybe next time.

Secondly, remember when I bribed you into commenting with my wicked mixtape skills? Just imagine if I were doing that for, say, the top 10 commenters of the month. How rad would that be? How lame would you feel if you missed out on a handcrafted musical treat by someone with a black belt in mixtaping from the Shaolin Temple of Rock (that's me, by the way). I'm just saying.

Thirdly, I'm starting a new feature: Picture of the Week, or as I will refer to it "POW!". Because I'm a nerd like that. I have all these fun cameras sitting around (Polaroid, Holga, Lomo) that I will be posting photos from. One a week. Cool, right?

Fourthly, a kitten held by an aspiring spinster. And now I pull out my mini tape recorder like Alan Alda in Crimes & Misdemeanors and say, "Idea for a website: a social networking like MySpace for crazy cat ladies. 'CatSpace'? Maybe."

Turn down the sheets, a mint on the pillow... and we're done here.

Advertising Is Crazy

I was reading in the "Ideas" section over at Veer about the Art Director's Club awards last week and this was one of the winners. Wow. It's quite genius.

Then there's this which my homie Allen, aka "Tenbu" pointed me toward. And let's not forget the yodeling bunny ad that also won at the ADC awards.

It's amazing the amount of surreality they've been able to get away with while selling little brightly-colored candies. The spirit of Salvador Dalí is cackling maniacally while devouring fruit flavored candy and kittens somewhere.

Seriously, can you imagine them pitching these ideas to the board of directors for the Skittles company? I imagine it going something like this:

"So there's this rabbit that sings and this guy trades his Skittles for it because really, who wouldn't want a singing rabbit, but the rabbit won't stop singing and it's really annoying so the guy goes to trade back, but the other guy's just eating the Skittles and the first guy is just standing there with the singing rabbit and he is sad. So, when can we shoot this? Does anybody have any more blow? Is this floor moving? I am hot. Are you hot? It is hot in here."

These guys must be amazingly persuasive to get these weird things produced. Like, "Selling Ice to an Eskimo," persuasive. Like, "Selling Crazy to Tom Cruise" persuasive. Like "Selling Drunk to Lindsay Lohan" persuasive. Like "Selling Creepy to the Transvestite Exterminator" persuasive. These guys are good. Watch out because they may just use their powers for evil and make you do things. Bad things. Like rent Be Cool or shave little Vanilla Ice lines in your eyebrows.

And lastly, in a not-at-all-related item, do not click on this link! Doing so will make you want to claw your eyes out with your fingernails. You have been warned.

All Caught Up

And now, a picture of a sort-of wall-eyed kitten sitting on a weird wicker chair surrounded by fake flowers and bounded by a cheesy beveled border:

And I am now caught up from my vacation. 365 posts in 365 days! You had best believe I will do it. For I am OCD like that. Hollah!

Inspiration/Comics/Housecleaning/Kittens

First off, there was a Madman preview up over at Newsarama a week or so ago that I never got around to posting a link to. Well, here it is.

I'm really excited about getting a monthly fix of the intrepid Madman of Snap City. Mike's art is looking sleeker that it previously had. I've not been overly excited about his inking since he switched over to using solely brushes (sometime around the "Heaven & Hell/G-Men From Hell" storyline that was effectively the last we heard of Frank Einstein, barring his appearances in the Atomics) - the detail that was such a great part of his earlier work disappeared - but this is looking good. The second page especially. Those facial expressions! I love the title of the issue, too: "Jumping Silent Cars That Sleep At Traffic Lights." How cool is that? I'm gushing, aren't I? Sorry, I just love me some Madman. It's super ginchy. Okay, I'll stop now.

Speaking (Typing?) of comics, I'm thinking that, once we move - wherever that may be - I'm switching over to solely trades except in "special cases": All-Star Superman, Madman any Nextwave minis... you know, the essentials. Otherwise, if I'm not interested enough to pick up the trade, I should be able to just go without. Can I do it? Can I "live strong?" Maybe I should get a bracelet or something to help remind me to "live strong" and not buy any comics? That'd be a good idea. Somebody should make that. It could be yellow and just say something like "Live Strong," on it. I'm gonna make that. I could give the proceeds to helping people with serious problems, like people who watch Grey's Anatomy. Or people with six fingers on their left hand. You know, people with real problems. Man, I've got some good ideas sometimes.

Also, big ups, as we say in da hood, to those people who voted in the Battle of the UnBands. I'll start on the Pink Barbarians poster soon and have voting open up on round two probably next week. Also, as far as voting goes, I will be bribing you next time, so be prepared to compromise your morals for free stuff.

And finally: kittens. Ain't they cute?

Seacrest out.