What Bazookaluca Has Been Watching Ad Nauseum So Far This Week

Over the course of the past two days, I've probably invested two hours of my life watching the following two videos over and over again. One is so juvenile that it's, huh, PREMATURE (sorry, couldn't help it) and the other hurts progress in racial relations and glorifies ugly stereotypes nearly as much as anything Sean Hannity routinely says.

Enjoy:

Acqua Alta A Venezia

Venice is flooding right now, and while acqua alta (high water) is a regular occurrence in this most unique city built on sandbanks, this particular flood is the worst in at least 20 years. There's a great photo collection from this latest calamity at The Big Picture, which highlights the laid back attitude of the citizens who have learned to take it all in stride and go on with their daily routines. I found these next couple of pics to be particularly comical:

A group of men having an aperitivo in waders.

A flooded pastry shop, open for business as usual.

Check out the entire collection at The Big Picture.

Review: Guns N' Roses - Chinese Democracy

I've now listened to this album enough that I can share some of my thoughts with you. I'm not going to go all Chuck Klosterman on it because, well, just read his review if you want his trademarked obsessive psycho-analysis.

As for me, here we go, track by track:

"Chinese Democracy" - Really long fade in. Waaay too long. But after that, this song is all right. Axl's vocals still have some bite to them. The Buckethead guitar solo, punctuated by whammy pedal squeals, stands out. Not melodic like something Slash would do, but technically impressive nonetheless.

"Shackler's Revenge" - Whoa, holy crap. This song is just awful, every single second of it. Sounds like some shit they would play on modern rock radio, but way more dated. What's up with the drum loop? And that chorus?!? Truly dreadful.

"Better" - Along the same vein as the last track. The guitar tones are really bad. The lyrics and phrasing sound like late-era James Hetfield. Not good. This is the second single off the album??? It figures.

"Street Of Dreams" - Journey power ballad, all the way. Wow, Steve Perry could definitely rock this shit. Very dated production and overall arrangement. Like, pre-original-GN'R, 1978 dated. How'd that happen?

"If The World" - Very 007, could easily be in the opening credits. Funky wah-wah riffs throughout, melodic strings and snaky bass line. Hell, even a flamenco guitar solo thrown in for good measure. The lyrics are James Bond-ian in theme as well: "If the world would end today, all the dreams we had would just drift away." Was this a throwaway from the 1999 soundtrack to The World Is Not Enough? Perhaps. Another one from left field in this incongruous pastiche of an album.

"There Was A Time" - Reminds me a bit of "Estranged" off of Use Your Illusion, mostly because of the bloated production. Choirs, orchestras, suites, bombast, extended solo, the works. Video featuring Axl being rescued from a suicide attempt by dolphins will surely follow shortly.

"Catcher In The Rye" - Another song directed at Axl-haters. I can't help but think that EVERY lyric on this album is directed at Axl's ex-bandmates, his critics and anyone who's ever thought about saying anything bad about him. The line, "If I thought that I was crazy, I guess I'd have more fun" pretty much says it all about his self awareness.

"Scraped" - Pardon my metaphor, but the vocal scats in the beginning of this song are the gayest thing since gay sex. Otherwise, the song isn't too bad. It has a cascading guitar riff in the verses that reminds me of old GN'R, although it lacks the swagger that often went along with the old lineup.

"Riad N' The Bedouins" - This is probably the closest this album comes to sounding like the old, punky GN'R songs. Well, except for the chorus, which is a bit weak. In fact, that's what's missing from this album --the dangerous element. It lacks the toughness that the band once oozed. And of course that's because, well, it's not the same band. Duff, Izzy and Slash ain't in this bitch no mo', and their punk rock bluntness is sorely missed here.

"Sorry" - Yet ANOTHER song directed at haters. I can picture Axl singing this song to a life-size cutout of Slash in the vocal booth before totally losing his shit and fiercely attacking it, berserker-style. Get over it already, Axl. Is there anything more pathetic than a petty and paltry middle aged man (with cornrows, no less)?

"I.R.S." - This song epitomizes Chinese Democracy's biggest fault: it's completely unfocused. Songs aren't songs; instead, they're what happens to songs after the writer spends way too much time tinkering with them. Arrangements get overworked, the instrumentation gets erratic and, ultimately, the songs suffocate under their own weight. Transitions that should feel natural instead seem convoluted. A mess.

"Madagascar" - This song has Martin Luther King Jr. sound clips in the middle of it. Why? I have no fucking clue. Except maybe that Axl didn't think the list of names in the credits wasn't long enough already. Too bad he couldn't get Morgan Freeman to do the narration between tracks, that would have classed up the credits even more.

"This I Love" - Perhaps it should have been called, "This Is The Love Ballad" because that's exactly what it is. Is it about Stephanie Seymour? Probably. Is there a song on this album that ISN'T about someone in Axl's past? No. It's really pathetic.

"Prostitute" - Ah, the album closer. Not a bad song, it's definitely better than most of the songs that precede it. It ends with a calming symphonic suite, presumably the sound in Axl's head as the 12-year process of creating this goddam album is finally over and now he can go back to doing whatever crazy people in Los Angeles do. Something tells me that frequent trips to the Scientology Center are in his near future.

---

So, overall, Chinese Democracy sounds exactly like I figured it would sound --a collection of songs written and recorded under the authoritarian tutelage of Axl Rose over the span of 12 years, trying to be passed off as a cohesive album by an unmistakable, legendary band.

That, it is not.

And aside from the first song, it doesn't even have anything to do with China. Or Democracy. It, actually, has more to do with an American Dictatorship (which is how Slash described the state of Guns N' Roses shortly after quitting back in 1996), and Axl is the artistic despot in question --taking absolute credit and conclusively, absolute blame for all his maxims.

Is it bad?

Not particularly. It has its moments.

Is it good?

It's not going to be on my year's best list, but I'm sure to some, it may very well be good.

Was it worth the hype, the endless speculation, the multimillion-dollar studio tab, the legendary "will it ever be unleashed on the eagerly waiting masses" status?

Of course not. What album could have met those kinds of expectations? I'm just glad it finally came out so we can all just move on already. Especially Axl, I can't imagine what kind of bat-shit-crazy rollercoaster ride it's been for him. Although he did choose to keep the name Guns N' Roses alive, so perhaps he deserves the massive responsibility and expectations that came with it.

And he will certainly benefit greatly (as in, media attention and sales) from this project even though, as I see it, most great albums transcend the artists who write and perform them, prompting the question:

If this album wasn't being released under the name of Guns N' Roses, would we care about it at all?

Probably not.

Cut The Shit - Let Us Fly With Our Knives

As a former scout and proud knife-carrying citizen (well, technically a resident, if you want to be a jerk about it) I second this motion as put forth on BoingBoing for president-elect Obama to address:

The Right To Bear Pocket Knives

Up until the day the terrorists won, I routinely carried my trusty tool (not an euphemism, for once) in my pocket or backpack on my trans-Atlantic flights to and from Italy, with ne'er a complication. But the fear-mongering institution of Homeland Security put an end to that, and it's time that someone, in turn, puts an end to their fascist, police-state policies.

Flying was bad enough before all these random, unreasonable rules and regulations (the liquids ban and the 1-quart Ziploc bag rule also come to mind --I still think S.C. Johnson & Son is in cahoots with the Bush administration for that one), but it's been nearly unbearable over the last few years. Most, if not all of the policies are pointless, counter-intuitive, inconvenient and wasteful, and they are so incompetently enforced that they don't fulfill the purpose they were enacted to serve (kind of encompassing the Bush administration, come to think of it.)

So, instead of benefiting from these sacrifices for collective public safety, we all have lost considerable personal freedoms, not to mention time and money. Let's cut the shit, all right?

The merits of carrying a pocket knife are numerous and overwhelmingly outnumber the chances of it being used for nefarious reasons. Not a day goes by that I don't use mine, it's probably the most useful tool on my person at all times --more so than even my cell phone (actually, I used my knife to open up the impregnable clamshell plastic packaging my cell phone came in, thankyouverymuch...)

Am I supposed to abandon my convenient and practical utensil when I fly somewhere just to satisfy a bullshit sense of security?

Fuck that.

Obama, the ball is in your court. This one's a no-brainer, do what you gotta do.

Next Stop: Your Fiery, Confined Death

So, plans are underway to build a $3 billion subway system in Baghdad. Yes, that Baghdad. You know, here. Where, in case you haven't heard, this has been going on for a minute.

This is probably one of those notorious civic projects that will take decades and go waaaay over-budget to accomplish. And you have to think that the Iraqi Cabinet that earmarked the project is optimistically treating it as such, because why else would they even consider it at this time?

The infrastructure in Baghdad is, at best, in shambles.

On average, Baghdad residents only have working electricity for twelve hours a day. Many have it for a mere one hour a day. Plus, in a city that averages temperatures of over 110°F in the summer, there's been water shortages that sometimes go on for a week at a time. Contributing to that is a major sewage treatment plant being built in the area, used to process waste and produce clean water, that is costing three times the original budget amount and is three years behind schedule. And on top of all that, there's no reliable system for trash removal, so entire streets have turned into public dumps.

These are just a few of the many framework issues for one of the world's fastest growing cities (expected to reach the 10 million citizen mark in the next 15 years) and they all seem to warrant top priority.

There's been huge congestion problems on the roads due to a spike in vehicle ownership after the "liberation", attributed to lifted sanctions, slashes in customs rates and of course, miles of security walls and hundreds of check points set up by security forces --the subway is seen as the only solution to relieve traffic.

But at this time of uncertainty, civil unrest, religious insurgency and foreign occupation in Baghdad, I just cringe at the idea of confining thousands of citizens in fast moving boxes in underground corridors crisscrossing the city.

I don't know, is it just me or doesn't that just seem like a perfect place for some rabble-rouser to cause a little trouble?

Maybe I'm just paranoid.

The Age Of An Imaginary Rodent

Universally beloved cartoon character Mickey Mouse made his first appearance as "Steamboat Willie" on the silver screen eighty years ago today, marking this date as his official birthday.

The aforementioned short film made animation history with its ground-breaking synchronized soundtrack and launched an empire for Walt Disney that now includes amusement parks on three continents, cruises and even a sports themed cable channel, amongst 80 gazillion other revenue-generating endeavors.

Say what you will about the evil tendencies of the global conglomerate, but you have to admit that it's pretty amazing that an empire can be built from a cartoon mouse.

This occasion also reminds me of another beloved character and American national treasure, George Carlin, who pointed out our frivolous preoccupation with the imaginary rodent's age in this particularly vexatious diatribe:



Oh George, how you are missed.

And yes, this whole post was just an excuse to show that clip...

Gran Turismo

Determination. Sacrifice. Dedication.

Maybe I've been playing too much Forza Motorsports 2 lately, but how else would you describe this scene from the Rallye des Serrians, in France, where a driver rode on the engine in order to operate the throttle after a cable snapped in the final stretch of the stage. The navigator steered the car while this intrepid soul hung on under the hood.

Watch the video for further amusement:

I've Been Running Ever Since

Barack Obama For President: An Endorsement, For Your Consideration

I've always believed that anyone with an opinion and a platform should make themselves heard. Through the last few years here at Bazookaluca, I've certainly expressed opinions on anything and everything, from the trivial (An Open Letter To Ethnic Food Marketers) to the ultra-trivial (Musings On Anti Monkey Butt Powder), while never masking or diluting the nuggets of truth that I often find in the absurd.

And while the current presidential campaign season (all 22 months of it!) has been rife with absurd moments, the culmination of it will certainly be anything but trivial. And it is because of this circumstantial gravity that I want to take advantage of my platform to endorse Barack Obama for president in 2008.

Through his lengthy campaign, Obama has proved to be the steady, calm voice of reason while often faced with unreasonable accusations, never straying from his message or compromising his integrity. He's been a study in complexity, caution and calculation, all critical traits for a world leader.

Perhaps what's impressed me the most about Obama is that, despite the focus on his message of hope and reform, he is no idealist, he is pragmatic and empirical in his approach. From his time as Illinois Senator to executing his unprecedented presidential campaign with meticulous professionalism, he has always tempered a progressive agenda with a cold dash of realism and sober judgement-- the antithesis of the Rovian Bush years which were (and still are) entirely defined by empty, dogmatic rhetoric with no redeeming value or concrete results.

Obama has shown his strength of will, character and intellect consistently throughout this campaign.

By contrast, John McCain has proved erratic and out of touch; his campaign plagued by knee-jerk decisions and inconsistent, contradictory messages-- perhaps best exemplified by his puzzling vice presidential choice of Sara Palin, whose nomination is a slap to the face of reasonable and rational people everywhere.

Furthermore, his approach over the last month of the campaign is best described as a systematic organization of hatreds, honing in on politics of fear, division and character assassination which are not only the lowest form of political discourse, but also dramatically polarize the electorate, which in turn, makes subsequent governing nearly impossible.

This is perhaps Obama's biggest challenge, and one that, luckily, he's best suited to tackle. After all, at the end of a long, bitter campaign which pitted him first against the previously unbeaten Clintons and then the equally invincible Karl Rove protégé, Steve Schmidt, Obama has emerged with the highest pre-election favorability rating of any candidate, ever (62%). A figure that, I suspect, will win him the White House and give him a clear mandate to reform from the voters.

This speaks volumes, not only to the utter failure of the Bush presidency and the conservative agenda whose irresponsible policies have left this country in the worst condition since the Great Depression, but also to Obama's ability to transcend old political smear tactics that pit people against one another and still stay true to communicating his vision of the American dream-- one that includes and serves and benefits every American.

A true candidate for the 21st Century and for those of us who still think we can do better.

Throwing Rocks & Kicking The Bucket

Bowler Collapses And Dies After Rolling 300 Game

This might be the most poetic thing the Dude and Walter (and Donnie, R.I.P.) could have ever heard.

Fuckin' A, dude. Fuckin' A....

Diuretic Vindication

What are the chances that Al Gore has one of these at his house?

I hope high....

That 'Bout Sums 'Er Up

Rats Off To Ya!

Don't tell me that chivalry is dead.

On the way to our friend Sean's 30th birthday party in downtown Nashville on Saturday night, Adrienne and I heard frantic scratching noises as we walked along the car-aligned banks of the Cumberland river.

"Is that coming from someone's trunk?", asked Adrienne.

"No, I think it's coming from inside that trash can.", I replied.

As I cautiously approached the receptacle in question, the scratching grew louder and more agitated. I guardedly peeked in and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a large squirrel, ineffectively leaping for freedom from the shadowy depths of the near-empty trash can.

"It's just a squirrel, it must've fallen in the trash can in search of food or something and now it can't get out", I yelled at Adrienne who was now standing timoroursly, a good twelve feet away from the area of contention.

Upon closer inspection of the woodland creature I noticed that there was no big bushy tail and that its ears and snout were more pronounced than I remembered on a squirrel. That's because it was no squirrel, it was a big ol' sewer rat!

"What should we do?" I asked.

"Nothing! Get away from there! Let's go!", said Adrienne in disgust.

But I couldn't just turn a blind eye, I had to help this poor bastard.

Sure, the rat put itself in this treacherous situation and it should have probably perished for it; natural selection and whatnot. But you don't understand. I was a boy scout, I was taught to defend the defenseless and stand up for what's right. Plus, I'm a Libra and I'm very adverse to injustice and suffering to begin with. And furthermore, my patron saint is St. Francis of Assisi, the dude who (allegedly) talked to animals and felt a kinship with them (you know, kinda like that half-naked dude in the Beastmaster movies). I'd like to think that I have the same kind of qualities. Animals always love me.

So yeah, I had to do something.

I quickly determined that I was not willing to touch the trash can in any way, shape or fashion. That shit looked gross. And I certainly wasn't going to try and grab that fierce beast with my bare hands for fear of catching typhoid or hemorrhagic fever, or perhaps even the bubonic plague.

So I scoured the surroundings for objects that I could throw in there as to create a ladder of sorts for the rat to climb on and out to freedom. There were some trees near by, so I made it across the street and cut off a branch with my trusty pocket knife (another carry-over from my old boy scout days-- always be prepared.)

As soon as I dropped the branch in, the rat came shooting out, like a tiger unleashed from its cage, prompting Adrienne to scream erratically and jump up and down (hence, she was unable to capture the successful rescue operation on film like I had instructed her to.)

The jittery rodent scattered across the pavement and up a hill until it was nowhere in sight.

So maybe saving a rat from a trash can isn't your idea of a valiant act, but I felt proud of my good deed. That's one more rat that'll get to go to school, get to fall in love, get to be cool.

Keep on rockin' in the free world, my ratty friend, keep on rockin' in the free world...

McCain's October Surprise: Lychanthropy

Originally, I was just going to repost this picture of John McCain from last night's debate because it's funny, but then Wonkette pointed out that it was eerily similar to this medieval depiction of a werewolf.

Coincidence?

You be the judge:

=

Keep It Classy, St. Clairsville...

Rep. John Murtha recently got in trouble for saying that the 12th District of South-Western Pennsylvania that he represents is a "racist area."

Well, let me offer some support for that geographical claim of racism.

Below is a report from St. Clairsville, OH, just 25 miles from SW PA. I'm willing to bet it's not too much different across the state line:



Remember this video the next time you hear someone talk about "small town values".

Albums That You Should Own, But Perhaps Don't (And In That Case, You Soon Will): Walking Concert - Run To Be Born

Walking Concert - Run To Be Born

Everything that Walter Schreifels touches turns to gold. He's been in more successful and influential bands than any musician could ever hope to be in.

In the 1980's he was in two seminal New York hardcore bands, Youth of Today and Gorilla Biscuits; in the 90's the all-star post-hardcore unit Quicksand; and since the start of the new millennium, two rousing rock bands, Rival Schools and Walking Concert. Along the way, he also managed to produce one of Hot Water Music's best record, No Division, and release it on his own record label, Some Records.

The guy has quite the body of work behind him.

And while most of his accomplishments have been universally lauded, his outing as Walking Concert, 2004's Run To Be Born, was largely overlooked.

It's too bad, because Run To Be Born displayed Schreifels' keen and mature songwriting skills more so than anything he had done before. Wanting to pay tribute to the sounds of his youth (the Kinks, Bowie, T.Rex's Marc Bolan), he loaded this record with huge hooks and stretched his vocals to new dynamic levels. Songs like "What's Your New Thing?" and "But You Know...It's True" are sure to stick in your head right from the first listen while "Girls In The Field" and "A Lot To Expect" drip melancholic goodness.

It's one of those records that I can't ever see getting sick of and that I appreciate more and more with each new listen. Good stuff.

Listen up:

See Also: ATYSOBPDAITCYSW: Superdrag's Regretfully Yours & Centro-Matic's Distance And Clime.

Waxing Existential About Crickets And The Absurd

I just captured a cave cricket in my kitchen (which, for those of you who are wondering, is neither cavernous in size, nor in atmosphere.) I slowly approached the beast and carefully placed a cup over it as it sat still on the floor, perhaps blinded by the luminous kitchen light. It is now my prisoner.

I learned how to deal with these nocturnal pests when I lived in the basement of a house I shared with two friends. There, in the humid murkiness, I caught at least one every night. Through these pre-bedtime encounters I figured out that they never put up much of a fight. Most of the time, you can just walk up to a cave cricket and smash it, capture it or what have you, and it won't even move. And if they do respond by fleeing, they give up after two meager jumps. That's all they've got, two jumps. Millions of years of evolution-- two jumps.

Pretty pathetic.

It's like they're programmed to not even try; they know who got the short end of the evolutionary stick. Any attempt to escape is futile, it only delays the inevitable. They must realize that the absurdity of life is trying to flee from a well-too-certain death. How existential of them-- Sartre's got nothing on these fuckers.

It almost makes me rethink flushing this poor bastard down the toilet after I finish writing this blog.

Almost.

Perhaps I can draw parallels from this parable on knowing your limitations to recent failed attempts at expressing my feelings about current events. In the last few weeks I've started several blogs on issues ranging from the election, the economy, to politics in general, but I've had to abandon all of them shortly after commencing. I just found it impossible to focus my frustrations into specific subjective propositions supporting broader objective conclusions.

I attribute this to the fact that I've never been great at expressing myself, even about topics that I feel I fully understand. It's a weird cerebral process that I just became cognizant of recently.

I reckon that somewhere along my early developmental stages, I adopted a method for rationalizing complicated concepts that involves omitting given or obvious information from the process of inducing. We all do this to some degree, but I especially adapted it to perhaps debilitating proportions. Once I grasp a part of a process, it's automatically validated, and in my mind, no longer requires to be evaluated as part of the rationale.

So, I often come to conclusions without being able to explain my reasoning. It might just be that I'm full of shit, but let's not go that route just yet.

This shortcoming of mine is why I always hated math teachers that insisted that you showed your work on tests. It would drive me crazy because I often got the answer right away but I would have to learn the "proper" way to come to it so that my teachers didn't think I was cheating. They missed the point completely. I got the answer right, who cares how I got there? Isn't the point of math to develop pathways of logical reasoning? Shouldn't you be happy that I'm doing so all on my own?!

Anyway, this rationale, along with my poor writing skills (in heavy Italian accent: "dees ees a-not ma ferst a-language!") keeps me from making sense a lot of the time and I'd rather spare you the confusion. But I promise to work on it.

Now, how do you think one would go about water-boarding a cave cricket? Hmm.....

I Feel The Need, The Need For Permanent Injunction

Not only is John McCain running out of campaign songs to play at his lynch-mob rallies, soon he might have to drop his favorite moniker:



I wonder how Lt. Pete Mitchell feels about all of this...


Shit, I knew you'd be cool with it, Maverick, you're so cool! You live on the highway to the danger zone!

Redemption

The Tennessee Titans are undefeated after the first 5 games of the season.

Don't sleep on them, America-- they are for real.

Defenses like theirs win championships.

I'm just sayin'...

Albums That You Should Own, But Perhaps Don't (And In That Case, You Soon Will): Centro-Matic - Distance And Clime

Centro-Matic - Distance And Clime

I came across Centro-Matic's Distance And Clime like so many records before it and since-- through my friend Barrett. When I worked at the record shop, Barrett came in almost every single day to hang out, sell records and occasionally buy something. His passion and knowledge for music was only matched by his disposition for being broke, so my record collection benefited greatly from his frequent used CD sales.

I came to appreciate Distance And Clime even more when Barrett and I went to see Centro-Matic at 12th & Porter in February of 2004. It's definitely their best record. Songs like "The Connection Is Not So Civilized" and "To Unleash The Horses Now"quickly made their way to several mix tapes (all right, mix cds, but that just doesn't sound as good) and subsequent iTunes playlists.

Listen for yourself:

See also: ATYSOBPDAITCYSW: Superdrag - Regretfully Yours

Record Reviews: Fall Edition

I haven't expressed my thoughts on any new music releases in a while, so here's some quick hits without all the bullshit:

Okkervil River-The Stand Ins

The Stand Ins, a continuation of sorts to last year's The Stage Names, shows a mature take on the often immature trappings of being in a touring rock band-- a topic certainly familiar to the road-weary dudes in Okkervil River. Write about what you know, right?

Singer Will Sheff's voice is akin to John Roderick of the Long Winters, and they also happen to share a knack for keen storytelling. The lyrics effortlessly convey all the themes of loneliness, isolation, exhaustion and fleeting relationships that are shared in all great road songs (like Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead Or Alive", Bob Seger's "Turn The Page", or hell, even Tenacious D's "The Road".)

The instrumentation is quite varied, often accentuating the usual rock fare with the use of horns and strings, but never weighing down the arrangements with an unnecessary pastiche of sounds. I haven't heard anyone do it this well since Neon Bible.

A late contender for best album of the year. Yeah, I said it.

Standout tracks: "Lost Coastlines", "Blue Tulip", "Pop Lie", "On Tour With Zykos".

TV On The Radio-Dear Science

Hot off the presses with a release date of just a few days ago, I've only listened to this album thrice the whole way through, but I'm already loving it. TVOTR's back to their Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes form-- hypnotic, throbbing beats overladen with simple, electro-funk melodies and topped off by stunning falsetto vocals.

This album doesn't feel as heavy on the ambiance as their last, Return To Cookie Mountain. That definitely makes it more fun and infinitely more palatable. It's good when a band decides not to overthink it and just lets the songs flow effortlessly.

Not to say that Dear Science doesn't sound well-thought out, it's quite the contrary-- it's a focused and precise refinement of the band's aesthetic.

Another late entry to the albums of the year list.

Standout tracks: "Halfway Home", "Dancing Choose", "Golden Age", "DLZ".

Dr. Dog-Fate

I didn't know much about Dr. Dog before listening to their new album, Fate. I gotta say, I'm a big fan. Much like Wilco as of late, there's a timeless feel to their sound and production that borrows heavily from the Band, Dylan's early electric work and Lennon's solo catalog, all without sounding overtly derivative.

There's a big contrast between the songs sung by vocalists Toby Leaman and Scott McMicken; the ladder especially stands out with a soulful, Joe Cocker-like growl that really elevates the songs past simple indie rock tributes to the height of ageless anthems.

I'm pretty sure that if you play this album for that old dude next door who stopped buying records after 1978 and has a jacket that perennially smells of weed, he would probably approve. He might even invite you over to get high and listen to some "real" records afterward.

Standout tracks: "The Breeze", "Hang On", "The Old Days", The Ark", "The Beach".

Conor Oberst-S/T

It's easy to see that Conor Oberst wanted a clean slate for his latest work-- he dropped the Bright Eyes moniker for the first time in over a decade, moved to Mexico to record with a new set of musicians, didn't record with longtime producer Mike Mogis, and elected to release the album on Merge instead of his own Saddle Creek/Team Love imprints.

It's not so easy, however, to see why he would go to great lengths to remove himself from what's become so familiar to him, especially when the record sounds inexplicably like a wonted Bright Eyes outing.

The production, however, is more bare-bones than his last release, Cassadega, and it actually helps the songwriting shine through a bit more this time. Oberst has always been a great lyricist and although he's moved away from the blunt personal style of his youth to more ubiquitous and covert subjects, his phrasing and metaphors are still top notch.

Although this in not his best work, he's always worth a listen.

Standout tracks: "Cape Canaveral", "Get-Well-Cards", "I Don't Want To Die (In The Hospital)".

Fleet Foxes-S/T

This album is here to fuck with me. Some of the songs on Fleet Foxes sound so much like At Dawn-era My Morning Jacket that a lawsuit from Jim James doesn't seem entirely out of line.

The thing is, the songs on Fleet Foxes are still really good. They, in fact, seem to sound more like My Morning Jacket than My Morning Jacket has of late. So, I'm forced to face the age-old musical conundrum: Is it acceptable to embrace a band whose sound is so blatantly derivative of another band?

Well, in this case, the answer is yes. Especially since in my elder years I'm trying to live by the motto, "A good song is a good song, no matter what." I mean, all music is derivative of something else, that's how it works. I shouldn't let minor details get in the way of enjoying a tune. Life's too short.

Standout tracks: "White Winter Hymnal", "Ragged Wood", "Your Protector".

Metallica-Death Magnetic

I've already expressed my love for metal and especially for Metallica's output in the mid-to-late Eighties. So, when I heard that über-producer Rick Rubin was helming their new album and that it was going to be a return to past form, I got giddy. After all, Rubin produced the last few Slayer albums and they've been mercilessly brutal. Even his work with System Of A Down was admirable, just for the drum and guitar sounds alone.

So, the first time I sat down with Death Magnetic I felt a sort of nervous anticipation; bracing for the worst while desperately hoping for the metalhead in me to be blown away.

Well, as it turns out, my feelings lie somewhere in between. In many ways the album is a return to form-- Kirk Hammet's leads are once again featured on every song after being complete ly omitted on 2003's St. Anger and the "snare drum in an aluminum trash can" sound that haunted said album is now thankfully absent. Even James Hetfield's excessive vocal stylings have been finally restrained after reaching laughable levels, almost bordering on parody, on St. Anger. The lyrics are quintessentially metal (pain, depression, evil, death, rinse, repeat) as well. There's even an extended instrumental, "Suicide & Redemption", à la Ride The Lightning's "Call Of Ktulu", Master Of Puppets' "Orion" or ...And Justice For All's "To Live Is To Die."

So while the songs are essentially satisfying to my innate metal aesthetic, they left me a bit flat. Never mind the fact that the mastered sound of the album has its problems, I just think I'll probably never be as excited about this kind of music as I was when I was 15 years old. And that really has nothing to do with Metallica and everything to do with me getting older.

Standout tracks: "That Was Just Your Life", "All Nightmare Long", "The Judas Kiss".

Bazookaluca Makes An Appearance on Paste:Local Atlanta

I (alliteration alert in 3...2...1) actively attended Atlanta's Atlantis Music Conference and Festival last week and an interview I did with Rebecca Loebe is now on Paste:Local Atlanta.

You can find it here.

Support the local arts, orphan puppies and victims of white on white crime by going to read it now!*


*Participation in reading article supports neither orphan puppies nor the victims of white on white crime. Rules and regulations may vary. May contain peanuts. Sorry Tennessee.

You Will Remain Happy Without AIDS

India is the second most populated nation in the world and they're quickly gaining on China to be the first. The following video is perhaps that nation's only hope to curb the trend. Is it going to be successful? You be the judge.



It's quite lengthy, so I applaud you if you watched the whole thing, but I'm sure the helpful diagrams you saw towards the end were rewarding enough.

Stay safe kids.

Yet Another Reason To Abolish All Religions And Other Superstitious Nonsense

I thought steroids were the biggest problem facing athletic competition today. I completely overlooked the use of witchcraft.

That is, until I learned today that thirteen people, mostly children between the ages of 11 and 16, were killed this last Sunday when a riot broke out during a soccer match in Butembo, a city in eastern Congo.

It appears that the cause of the fracas was the goalkeeper of the losing team, who reportedly ran up the pitch chanting fetishist spells in an attempt to change the course of the match. Soon thereafter, the players began fighting on the field and fans joined in en masse, which forced the local police to start shooting tear gas in the stadium and hence, thirteen children died suffocated in the ensuing rush for the exits.

The use of charms and chants is common within the Congolese, who practice their own traditional animism --a belief system, much like voodoo, that attributes souls to objects, plants and animals in addition to humans.

Apparently, its use during a sporting match is seen as unsportsmanlike.

And rightly so. I mean, I can't count the times that my team's lost a match because the opposing team turned my striker into a horned toad right before a sure goal or shrank the goalkeeper to half his normal size during a penalty kick. It's so unfair. It's to be expected in a Quiddich match¹, but really, it should not be tolerated anywhere else.


¹Seriously, did I just use a Harry Potter reference?! I've never even read the books or seen any of the movies. What the fuck is wrong with me?! Never again. Never again.

Nibama Homemade

The fabulous Ms. Courtney Huff has put together a wonderful eZine called Nibama Homemade and the first issue went up last night! You may know her from her awesome handbags (that you should already own one or twelve of by now) and she's taking the publishing world by storm next.

Pleas​e take a read here.

For full disclosure, I may have written a couple of things that appear in it as well. But other than that, it's quality stuff, trust me...

Go!!

NOW!

Albums That You Should Own, But Perhaps Don't (And In That Case, You Soon Will): Superdrag - Regretfully Yours

Let me introduce you to a new feature on Bazookaluca: Albums That You Should Own, But Perhaps Don't (And In That Case, You Soon Will). Or ATYSOBPDAITCYSW, you know, for short.

The title is pretty self-explanatory (if not long-winded and moronic) and there's really no science to picking the albums that will be featured --just old records I come across from time to time that I think you might like. And rather than giving you my analysis for why you should own these albums, I'll just try to let the music speak for itself.

So let's unwrap this puppy before it suffocates:

Superdrag - Regretfully Yours

Stay tuned for more random picks from my ears to yours...

Tales Of The Ridiculous!

Football player/entertainer-extraordinaire Chad Johnson has legally changed his name to Chad Ocho Cinco so that he can display the self-appointed nickname on the back of his Cincinnati Bengal jersey this season. Since the name change is legal, the NFL can't penalize him for this.

This is just the latest of many stunts by Johnson (my favorite being a foot race against a horse last year --which he won!) to try to remind the league that football is still just entertainment and that it shouldn't take itself so seriously.

Good for him.

I hope more players take this initiative and maybe we'll get to hear Al Michaels say something like this:

Cheese Pizza snaps the ball to Cooter-Scooter. He drops back and fakes the hand-off to Boogie King. Lil' Cri-Cri covers the blitzing linebacker, Pop Off, and holds him, huh, off. Lollipop Lick'em comes open on the sideline, catches the pass from Cooter-Scooter and gets pushed out of bounds by Slim Pecka. So, it's Cooter-Scooter to Lollipop Lick'em for a 27-yard gain. We'll be right back after these messages...

Hello Nashville!

Bazookaluca's 2008 World Tour brings him to Nashville this Labor Day weekend, so get ready my Tennessee friends! I expect a hero's welcome to my adopted home town and nothing less than a parade will do (although I will settle for a handshake and a soft pat on the ass.)

If you think that you might like to see me while I'm in town then, by all means, give me a holler by phone or any other means that you see fit.

See you on Central time...

Indomitable

If success achieved in Olympic competition is any indication of the particular skills that nations possess, then I advise you not to fuck with an Italian.

If an event involved violence, bodily harm or weapons, we had it down:

Boxing: Men (Super Heavy) - Gold
Boxing: Men (Heavy) - Silver
Boxing: Men (Fly) - Bronze
Greco-Roman Wrestling: Men (84Kg) - Gold
Taekwondo: Men (80Kg) - Silver
Judo: Women (57Kg) - Gold
Archery: Men's Team - Silver
Shooting: Men's Trap - Silver
Shooting: Men's Double Trap - Silver
Shooting: Women's Skeet - Gold
Fencing: Women's Individual Foil - Gold
Fencing: Women's Team Foil - Bronze
Fencing: Men's Individual Foil - Bronze
Fencing: Men's Individual Epee - Gold
Fencing: Men's Team Epee - Bronze
Fencing: Men's Team Sabre - Bronze

And don't even think about running, 'cause we'll catch you, no matter if by land or sea:

Athletics: Men's 50Km Walk - Gold
Athletics: Women's 20km Walk - Bronze
Road Cycling: Men's Road Race - Silver
Road Cycling: Women's Road Race - Bronze
Swimming: Women's 200m Freestyle - Gold
Swimming: Women's 800m Freestyle - Silver
Flat Water Canoe/Kayak: Men's Kayak Double 1000m - Bronze
Flat Water Canoe/Kayak: Women's Kayak Single 500m Women - Silver
Rowing: Men's Quadruple Sculls - Silver
Sailing: Men's One person Dingy - Bronze
Sailing: Women's Windsurfer Mistral - Silver

So keep that in mind the next time you feel like mouthing off to me or I'll unleash my trap shooting skills and hunt you down in my dingy. No doubt.

Justified

He was my guy all along...

WARNING: Not All That You See On Television Is Real

I ran across this article on IMDb: Italians Call For Ban On Medical Dramas

I can't wait for the Robotic Industries Association to follow suit and go after shows like Battlestar Galactica, The Sarah Connors Chronicles and Futurama.

Perhaps they should run a disclaimer before these shows:

The robots, androids, humanoids and/or machines depicted in the following program may not reflect the current state of innovation in Robotic Sciences. If the images and/or sounds of the aforementioned program cause you to momentarily suspend reality and escape to an imaginative world where robots are either (a) your loyal friend, (b) your sworn enemy, (c) your compliant servant, (d) your willing lover, (e) a prosthetic appendage, and/or (f) anything else that you can think of, please don't adjust your expectations of the current robotic field to that of a complete work of fiction. We're trying here, okay?! Do you know how hard it is to make a goddam pile of metal, plastic and wires climb some stairs? It's pretty fucking hard, all right?! Give us a break here...

No One Escapes With Their Dignity Intact

I don't know if this grappling move has an official name, but "three-fingered rectal underhook" comes to mind...

Simple-y Overblown

I saw Tropic Thunder this past weekend.

I found that the recent hubbub over jokes at the expense of developmentally disabled individuals is, well, retarded.

First of all, Tropic Thunder isn't even the first film starring Ben Stiller to make fun of mentally impaired persons. There's Something About Mary comes to mind as an earlier example. Remember the whole Warren, "Have you seen my baseball" shtick? That was way more exploitative.

Plus, Tropic Thunder makes fun of Hollywood's fixation with rewarding actors who play retards more than the retards themselves. Did I say retards? I meant, "mentally differently-abled." Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking.

Rather than griping with the questionable humor of Tropic Thunder, respected groups like The Arc of the United States and Seguin Services should be protesting more worthwhile offenses, such as a certain US president giving retards a bad name for nearly a decade now.

Needless to say, my favorite part of Tropic Thunder didn't involve any of the aforementioned retard-bashing, but rather, gratuitous violence towards children. Now, that's funny!

The 2008 Olympic Opening Ceremony

If you didn't catch the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics than you missed a pretty impressive demonstration of what $300 million and an eagerness to impress can accomplish.

Whereas opening ceremonies of the past have generally felt histrionic and pompous, this one came off like a true wuxia epic. Fireworks, the world's largest LED screen and a cast of 22,000 performers precisely synchronized with choreography that would make a Filipino prisoner green with envy managed to impress even the most jaded of viewers (e.g., me). I especially liked the opening of the show with the 2008 Fou drummers banging away on their LED-embedded drums. The Tai Chi performance was also a highlight and a true marvel of choreography on a mass scale.

I really got to hand it to the directors of the ceremonies, famed Chinese film makers Zhang Yimou and Zhang Jigang. They may have pulled off the biggest spectacle in human history on 08/08/08 at 8pm.

And if you happen to share in the Chinese belief that the number eight is lucky, then also look out for these future lottery winners.

Random Query

Is it weird that the 2008 Chinese national basketball team has three players who are over 7 feet tall and the US team has none?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Next thing we know, a black dude will be the world's best golfer...

Comcast Must Die!

Comcast is testing our patience.

Adrienne and I have been without cable and internet at our new place for two weeks. Comcast missed the first appointment to come set everything up because they didn't update my current phone number in their system, even though I had previously notified them three, count them, three times about the change (by phone and online). Adrienne waited all day for them to show up or call, but nothing. So of course, they had to set up another appointment --aaand it was for a full six days later.

They actually showed up for that one, but not in the original window they had given us of 11am-3pm. They showed up at 5:30pm. What the fuck? Adrienne wasted her whole day waiting for them --aaagain.

This time they hooked up the cable, but not with our full channel package (no HBO or Showtime) and they had to give us a new cable box, so we lost all the things we had recorded on our old DVR. The technician also set up the internet and assured me that their servers were currently down but that it would start working again later on last night --buuut of course, it never did.

So today, I got in touch with Comcast again (for what feels like the 30th time) and they told me that they diagnosed a non-specific(?) malfunction and would have to send out another technician --aaand that they couldn't do it until Monday from 3-5pm.

So I'm going to have to leave work early on Monday to go wait for them at home because Adrienne will be in Portland at the time. I get paid hourly, so I'm going to lose money by doing this.

Comcast is now taking food from the mouths of my imaginary children.

All I want to be able to do is watch television while concurrently surfing on the internet. It's all I ask for.

I no longer want to have to walk down the block with my laptop to use the first available unsecure wireless connection. I don't want to go down to the Edgewood Caribou Coffee and pretend to drink coffee for an hour so I can check my goddam email and the half dozen social networking sites I belong to.

I also run an online business from my home, which is kind of hard to do without the internet.

I'm seriously considering getting the Dish and DSL right about now. Just the thought of paying Comcast good money for their crappy service after all this makes me very angry.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

The Pursuit Of Normalcy

Hello all,

Lately I've been neglecting my blog worse than a Spears/Federline spawn. Luckily in my case it's not because of a genetic predisposition to infantile negligence --I've just been preoccupied.

First off, I just moved to a new apartment in the Kirkwood area and, as you can imagine, the move threw my life into a convoluted head-spin filled with boxes and packing tape for a couple of weeks. I'm just now recovering from trying to fit 1,100 sq. ft. of crap into a 850 sq. ft. place. But the apartment (technically a duplex) is shaping up quite well and I only have a couple of boxes of crap that I don't know where to cram, so it's all good. I still don't have the internet or cable because Comcast is trying to keep me from pursuing happiness, but hopefully it'll all be back to normal by next week.

Also, a day after I moved into the new place I got the pleasant surprise of a job offer at an online media measurement company called BigChampagne. Yes, I know, weird name. But they are truly on the cutting edge of media market research and I'm excited to now be a part of their company (and to get a steady paycheck again). Plus, it's located right downtown on the 22nd floor of an office building, so I get to feel like I'm a stock broker or something.

I'm sure I'll get back to blogging on a regular basis soon, so fear not, my faithful little blog-reading bunnies, I have not forsaken you.

Musings On The Dark Knight

Last night Adrienne and I went to see the midnight show of The Dark Knight. For this special occasion I donned my vintage 1989 Batman logo t-shirt (courtesy of the Dickie Magic estate), which I realize is kind of a faux pas --much like wearing a band's t-shirt to that particular band's concert-- but I didn't care much. Geek is the new cool, after all.

Sorry for the misleading blog title, but I'll spare you yet another review of the movie. You've likely already heard/read a couple of dozen reviews on every medium imaginable anyway. Hell, you've probably seen the damn movie yourself and blogged, texted, Twittered, faxed and/or telegraphed everyone you know from your fancy-panted 3G iPhone about its many virtues.

So yeah, it lived up to the hype. It was good.

So good and well received in fact, that as I type this I'm being informed that the movie took in $18.5 million just on midnight screenings alone, so I'm sure it's set to break all sorts of box office records this weekend. Something like 1,300 showings were sold out well in advance of the weekend.

But please don't tell me that The Dark Knight director Christopher Nolan is going to be busy filming yet another Batman sequel instead of finally getting back to work on his chef-d'oeuvre, Memento 2: Still Ain't Remembering Shit About Dick.

That's a sequel I've been waiting on for faaaar too long. . .

Choke On This Trailer

Color me intrigued:

UPDATE: Well, Searchlight apparently pulled the redband trailer, so below is the crappier trailer, sans boobs and bad language (a.k.a. the fun stuff).

Dreams Of Post-Rock All Through My Head Pt.1

I had a rather vivid dream last night about writing a blog on my favorite post-rock albums. I went as far as dreaming up most of the list, along with the layout and everything. Like I said, it was pretty vivid.

When I was woken up this morning by the telephone ringing (a wrong number; two days in a row...bastards), I took the dream as some sort of geeky omen. So here we are. Don't let anyone ever tell you that you can't achieve your dreams, no matter how mundane they happen to be. I'm living proof...

So first off, it's safe to say that the definition of what constitutes post-rock varies depending on who you ask. My idea of post-rock is music that is largely instrumental (or certainly not vocal-centric), droning and textural. Often crescendo-based, it creates soundscapes rather than prescribe to any traditional rock song structure, pulling together several different experimental sub-genres to construct its overall sound.

Keeping that criteria in mind, here's the first part of my list, in order of influence:

Slint - Spiderland (1991)

This album can be looked at as the seminal entry to the post-rock canon because it directly influenced pretty much everyone else on this list. To a certain extent, it had the same effect as The Velvet Underground's debut album had --it didn't sell well initially, but it influenced pretty much everyone who did manage to hear it to start a band.

In addition to setting the guidelines for the sound of post-rock, Slint also established the frigid, emotionless motif that often exemplifies the genre with Spiderland. The detached mannerisms that pervade this album, added to the already sparse musical landscape, created a pretty austere reality. There's a sense of gloom tied with all the imagery of Spiderland, from its cover to the music to the lyrics, that can only be compared to Black Sabbath's first album, Black Sabbath. These albums share a brooding, almost claustrophobic atmosphere that compels the listener to enter at his or her own risk.

Slint never made another album after Spiderland, but their work proved very influential, certainly earning them a spot in any hipster's Hall Of Fame.

A bit of trivia for you: Will Oldham, a.k.a. Bonnie "Prince" Billy, took the photograph that would become the album cover in the lake of an abandoned Kentucky water quarry.

Tortoise - TNT (1998)

Whereas Slint seemed to alienate listeners by limiting its appeal, Chicago's Tortoise widened the parameters of the genre by embracing a broader range of influences. Cool jazz, electronica and even bossa nova were utilized to infuse a sense of worldliness and sophistication to what appeared to be a glacial and inert asthetic.

Tortoise was the sort of group of musicians that didn't downplay its musicianship in an attempt to appear more pragmatic, instead they proved themselves to be quite studio-reliant and cerebral.

TNT is probably their most organic record, born from extended jams and strong reiterated tonal themes, it succeeds at being both intellectual and instinctive without for a moment revealing a hint of pretense.

June Of 44 - Four Great Points (1998)

There's no band that took up where Slint left off better than June Of 44. The spoken word vocals, the interplay of arpeggio-ed guitar and bass, the minimalist drums --it's the Slint formula down to a tee. They even seemed to embrace Slint's fascination with nautical themes (which is odd for two bands hailing from land-locked Kentucky).

The innovation comes with Four Great Points and the occasional introduction of strings and more diverse instrumentation in the mix. The melodious strings especially accentuate the melodies that have always been laying below the surface of post-rock, highlighting the possibilities of the genre to be more euphonic.

While more structured than Slint, June Of 44 recalled in many of us what made Slint so special in the first place.

Sigur Rós - Ágætis Byrjun (1999)

This Icelandic band is by far the most successful post-rock group of all time. And it's no wonder, they took the genre to its most melodic and symphonic heights, especially with their second album, Ágætis Byrjun (translated: A Good Start --quite an understatement).

This album might as well have been recorded in outer space, it's so foreign to anything I'd heard of until that point. The alien quality is helped by the fact that it's sung in a made up language called Vonlenska (or translated in English: Hopelandic) that lacks any sort of grammar or distinct words, instead focusing on repeated syllables and falsetto sounds that complement the music.

Ágætis Byrjun is by leaps and bounds more melodic than anything that Slint ever dreamed up but they still share a similar aesthetic in the way they forego typical rock song structures.

Lush strings swell and wail with theatrical melodramatics that have more in common with a John Williams score than your average indie rock band, but Sigur Rós never lacked in ambition and the Icelandic people recognized their merits by naming Ágætis Byrjun Iceland's Best Album of the Century.

Mogwai - My Father My King (2001)

I remember first hearing the 20+ minute track which makes up this companion disc to 2001's Rock Action on my way to school on WRVU 91.1FM, Vanderbilt University's radio station.

Even though I arrived at my destination just minutes into the epic instrumental, I sat in my car for the remainder of the song hoping that the DJ would say who it was at the end. And it just kept going and going and going. Finally, it came to an end and as a result, I went out and bought Mogwai's entire catalog up to that point (oh, and I was late for class).

The melody of the song is taken from a traditional Jewish hymnal of the same name and it slowly builds from restrained serenity to complete feedback-laden cacophony, which makes perfect sense since it was recorded by Steve Albini, who has mastered the dynamics of quiet/loud with bands like the Pixies, Nirvana, PJ Harvey and countless others (some on this list).

Although Mogwai has crafted several classic post-rock albums like 1997's Young Team, 2006's Mr. Beast and the aforementioned Rock Action, My Father My King remains my favorite release of theirs and one that I keep revisiting for its sheer dramatic potency.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of the list, coming soon....

Fuck Baseball!

I'm sad.

We have officially entered the shittiest time of the year for sports. Basketball is over and football doesn't start for another couple of months. It's the most depressing stretch of the year for anyone who enjoys professional physical competition. We can be thankful that at least this year the UEFA Championship and the Olympics are around to make things easier, otherwise we'd all be left with the eternal drag that is baseball, and nobody in their right mind wants that.

Baseball is the least captivating sport ever. There's a 162 game season in the MLB, which makes single games meaningless in the big scheme of things, and it has by far the worst collection of athletes in the world. They're mostly overweight (probably due to a testicle-shriveling cocktail of performance-enhancing drugs), overpaid, egotistical motherfuckers that display the worst, most childish attitudes than any of the players of the major professional sports.

It's the only sport where it's acceptable for a 45 year old man (wearing a uniform, no less) to kick dirt around and act out like a fucking child if he doesn't get his way. It's fucking pathetic.

Their fans suck too. I assure you that anyone who watches baseball on a regular basis is horrible in bed. Don't even try to test this, it's a proven scientific fact.

What's almost worse than the inflated baseball lethargy is the amount of NFL and NCAA Football speculation that we have coming to us in the offseason. Every minute detail is sure to be over-analyzed and speculated upon by every dipshit that fancies himself an expert. Rookies will be evaluated by how they run drills or by how much they can bench press without pads. Veterans will be criticized by how many practices they decide to skip or attend. Coaches will be questioned about ridiculous expectations and questionable off-season decisions. And this is months before a ball is even officially snapped!

It's a shame that I happen to be fascinated with sports because I sure could use the time I invest in them to do more productive things with my life.

Summer Blockbuster Movie Marathon Retrospective Extravaganza Netflix Festival!

With Adrienne out of the country I've been able to shift our communal Netflix queue to all the big, dumb, lowest common denominator movies that I've missed over the last couple of years. It's not that Adrienne doesn't share my love for movies of questionable taste, but for some reason she wasn't interested in seeing any of these iffy, big budget releases with me.

Plus, when she's in control of the queue we end up getting twelve depressing documentaries in a row about the plight of goat herders in Bangladesh and one can only take so much human suffering before they have to turn to mindless tales of transforming robots or 300 ft. monsters.

Here's my thoughts on the first batch of recent viewings:

Transformers - I was looking for a straight-up, no plot, all action movie with explosions and big fucking robots that transformed into cars and shit, but all I found was a pastiche of studio production notes smothering an already devitalized premise.

I can hear the studio executives now:

Can we make at least one of the Autobots more, you know, "street"?

Optimus Prime should have some flames painted on his sides to be more extreme; the kids like extreme. . .

I know that Bumblebee was a VW in the cartoon, but we got all this money from Chevy to pimp out their new Camaro, so. . .

We have to work a young, attractive girl who happens to be a computer hacker/nerd in the plot, it tested well with 18-30 year old males. . .

That's the downfall of most of these big budget flicks, too many people with no clue having inputs on the production because they shelled out the big bucks.

I stopped paying attention about halfway through. I occasionally raised my head from behind my laptop to see what was going on, but I rarely kept watching for more than a few minutes at a time. It was actually pretty tedious to make through and I kept waiting for it to end. The dialogue was atrocious and there was way too many failed attempts at comedy.

I should have expected it from a Michael Bay movie, but I always seem to forget how awful he truly is since I only see one of his movies every three years or so. The overblown, turgid excess that plagues Hollywood suits him to a tee (and it's also what made him a millionaire, by the way, so take notes kids).

I was also reminded how crappy of a storyline the original cartoon had and it amazed me that it got made into a movie at all. I guess they were banking on no one actually remembering the plot from when they were kids. I certainly didn't, although I'm sure it didn't help that I watched the original cartoons in Italy, dubbed in Italian. Oh, and I was five years old and didn't really yearn for good character and plot development quite just yet.

The story goes something like this: rival shape-shifting robot gangs from outer space fight over some alien substance in order to rebuild something or other to regain control of their planet or the universe or something. Oh, and sexy, sweaty human teenagers get in on the action somewhere along the line. And Marines. And secret government agencies. And there's special glasses that see secret shit. And lots of product placement.

It was really a big waste of time and no one should have to watch it for any reason whatsoever. So, of course, the sequel will be out next year and it will certainly make a billion dollars on opening weekend.

Cloverfield - I had no expectations for this Godzilla-inspired, cinéma réalité, internet hype-machine of a movie, and that's probably why I enjoyed it so much.

Now, I must preface my review by saying that I love any story involving catastrophic events that force characters to rely on basic survival skills to make it through alive. Love that shit. It's why I liked Aliens, Predator, 28 Days Later, Dawn of the Dead, Children of Men, The Descent and countless others. I think we all unconsciously wish to be rocked out of our daily grinds by a cataclysmic, society-breaking event or plague that forces us to prioritize down to our basic survival skills. It's an innate primal instinct that will always reside in our reptilian brain and it's what really drives my interest in those movies; I fully embrace the survival mentality.

And personally, I can't wait for the day that we're all going to be pushed back to our original scavenging existence. Unfortunately, most of you won't make it, but it's a necessary sacrifice and maybe you should have been a little more keen on your personal fitness and vestigial wit.

You think I go running five days a week for fun? I'm just keeping prepared. I treat Survivorman and Man vs. Wild as instructional videos. And no matter where I go, I've always got an escape route worked out in my head, just in case. When the shit hits the fan, my friends, I'm gonna be okay. Will you?

The movie's premise is simple enough and doesn't try to do anything but present you with a first row seat to some really disastrous events caused by a 30 story high monster rampaging through the streets of New York City. There's no backstory, no intricate explanation on the monster's origins or how to defeat it or a convenient resolution. Just the fun stuff. I could have done away with the film's first fifteen minutes or so of character setup and romantic conflict and dove right in the destruction, but that's just me being a bit nitpicky.

The visuals are great. They're at times reminiscent of the brothers Jules and Gedeon Naudet documentary, 9/11, which was a powerful first person video witness account of the Twin Towers collapsing. I'm sure it was referenced to make the shots realistic, especially for documenting the chaos at the beginning of the onslaught. The shaky camera work made me glad that I saw it on my television instead of a nausea-inducing big screen, but it really wasn't too bad.

The open ended concept makes this movie tailor-made for a sequel documenting a different point of view on the events and I'm sure we'll see it soon enough since the movie was a success. Let's hope they don't take it overboard though.

Overall, it was entertaining and it satisfied my subverse hunger for wreckage and fulfilled my apocalyptic fantasies. If only it were true.

I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry - I haven't been interested in an Adam Sandler production since Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore but this one got my attention because the screenplay was written by Alexander Payne who also wrote and directed Election and Sideways, two movies I liked very much.

This one didn't really live up to his earlier work. I didn't hate it or anything. It was fine and had a few chuckles here and there, but overall it was stuck between a gag-filled farce and a sentimental morality tale, never fully committing to either and therefore detrimental to both.

A definite redeeming factor, if I'm allowed to regress to a typical, one-dimensional male interest, is Jessica Biel's stunning body that's featured numerously throughout the flick. She is pretty magnificent. I'm a fan.

Semi-Pro - All I can say about this one is that Will Ferrell needs some realigning of his comedic talents. He walks a very fine line. I have to admit that both Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy and Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby were pretty funny and I've probably quoted them both numerous times, but Blades of Glory and Semi-Pro were quite abysmal in comparison.

I know that it's pointless to treat these films individually since they're pretty much all about one ridiculous character existing in different settings, but I think some were executed with more attention and care than others. I guess it comes down to the script (if they actually stick to one) and it's clear that the more recent examples are lacking in this department.

Comedy is hard and requires diligence and loads of trial and error. Will Ferrell should take the time to choose his projects more wisely, although I suspect he'll keep cranking them out as fast as he can until people stop watching them. Hey, I'll probably see Step Brothers at some point this year. You win again, Ferrell. You win again.


That's enough for now, I've gone on a bit too much. Here's to hoping that Hot Rod, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, Spider-Man 3, Feast and Super High Me will be equally as discussion rousing! They're next on the queue. I'll chime in with my thoughts if I deem it necessary.