Friday 7/11/08
2:00 p.m.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Afternoon Theater
Friday 7/11/08
12:52 p.m.
The professor and Mary Anne, I mean, the professor and I took a trip to Baxter Ave. Theaters the other day to see Will Smith's latest box office smash, Hancock.
Like most movie goers, we each got a snack before entering the theater. The professor got the most exotic treat one could possibly nosh on, pop-corn. I, on the other hand, chose a more boring and generic snack of sushi. That's right all you anal retentive people out there in movie land. I snuck outside food into the theater. Don't act like you've never done it before.
When I was in high school every time we would drive to the big city of Jackson to watch a movie (Plaza Twin Cinema was the only movie theater in Yazoo City. Twin = 2 screens = old school = you're ass may get cut or shot = don't go there.) we would swing through the Chik-fil-A drive-thru and pick up a pack of nuggets (This was before I stopped eating chicken, so sit down Pam Anderson). And when I lived in Telluride, we would take anything from spaghetti to salad to a piece of cake to snack on. So yes, I snuck in sushi. And I would like to apologize to the staff at Baxter for spilling soy sauce on the floor. It was an accident and I promise it won't happen again. Well, at least I will try not to let it happen again. Now on to my review of the movie.
Hancock is great (this is my opinion). I'm not going to go into great detail, as I don't want to spoil it for those of you who have yet to see the film. Will Smith plays the lead role of Hancock, an alcoholic superhero who tends to cause as much trouble as he tries to prevent. Even though he's a superhero, people don't really treat him as if he is heroic. They yell at him, ridicule him and call him names, asshole being the one that enrages him the most. But everything changes the day he comes to the rescue of one of my all time favorite actors (no, not Paul Rudd), Jason Bateman.
I think I first fell in love with Jason when he was on the Hogan Family. Do you remember that show? Valerie, the mom, had trouble with her husband who was a pilot and was never around.
And Jason was the oldest, studly son of the family who all the girls loved. Then there were two twin boys. One was a dork and one was kind of bad. Then they killed off the mom and some other lady named Sandy came in. Anyway, he was a hot stud and I was in love.
Then he really showed his action chops in the greatest sequal in the history of sequals - Teen Wolf Too. And yes grammar police, it is "Too" not 2. Don't question me.
But my absolute favorite show in the whole wide world that got cancelled because it was simply too brilliant and over the heads of all of the dimwits out there who would rather spend their evenings watching The Bachelor, the Real World Douchebag City, or Gossip Girl - Arrested Development. I mean come on. Where else are you going to see a never-nude who is an understudy for the Blue Man Group, a family that lives in a model home in which the patriarch resides in the attic unbeknowst to most of the family, a frozen banana stand and "The Final Countdown" playing every time Gob does a magic trick? Nowhere. How could it get cancelled? How? Who did this? Wait. What was this post about? Oh yeah, Hancock.
12:52 p.m.
The professor and Mary Anne, I mean, the professor and I took a trip to Baxter Ave. Theaters the other day to see Will Smith's latest box office smash, Hancock.
Like most movie goers, we each got a snack before entering the theater. The professor got the most exotic treat one could possibly nosh on, pop-corn. I, on the other hand, chose a more boring and generic snack of sushi. That's right all you anal retentive people out there in movie land. I snuck outside food into the theater. Don't act like you've never done it before.
When I was in high school every time we would drive to the big city of Jackson to watch a movie (Plaza Twin Cinema was the only movie theater in Yazoo City. Twin = 2 screens = old school = you're ass may get cut or shot = don't go there.) we would swing through the Chik-fil-A drive-thru and pick up a pack of nuggets (This was before I stopped eating chicken, so sit down Pam Anderson). And when I lived in Telluride, we would take anything from spaghetti to salad to a piece of cake to snack on. So yes, I snuck in sushi. And I would like to apologize to the staff at Baxter for spilling soy sauce on the floor. It was an accident and I promise it won't happen again. Well, at least I will try not to let it happen again. Now on to my review of the movie.
Hancock is great (this is my opinion). I'm not going to go into great detail, as I don't want to spoil it for those of you who have yet to see the film. Will Smith plays the lead role of Hancock, an alcoholic superhero who tends to cause as much trouble as he tries to prevent. Even though he's a superhero, people don't really treat him as if he is heroic. They yell at him, ridicule him and call him names, asshole being the one that enrages him the most. But everything changes the day he comes to the rescue of one of my all time favorite actors (no, not Paul Rudd), Jason Bateman.
I think I first fell in love with Jason when he was on the Hogan Family. Do you remember that show? Valerie, the mom, had trouble with her husband who was a pilot and was never around.
And Jason was the oldest, studly son of the family who all the girls loved. Then there were two twin boys. One was a dork and one was kind of bad. Then they killed off the mom and some other lady named Sandy came in. Anyway, he was a hot stud and I was in love.
Then he really showed his action chops in the greatest sequal in the history of sequals - Teen Wolf Too. And yes grammar police, it is "Too" not 2. Don't question me.
But my absolute favorite show in the whole wide world that got cancelled because it was simply too brilliant and over the heads of all of the dimwits out there who would rather spend their evenings watching The Bachelor, the Real World Douchebag City, or Gossip Girl - Arrested Development. I mean come on. Where else are you going to see a never-nude who is an understudy for the Blue Man Group, a family that lives in a model home in which the patriarch resides in the attic unbeknowst to most of the family, a frozen banana stand and "The Final Countdown" playing every time Gob does a magic trick? Nowhere. How could it get cancelled? How? Who did this? Wait. What was this post about? Oh yeah, Hancock.
So anyway, Jason Bateman's character is a publicist who tries to change Hancock's negative image into something more positive. He wants people to think of him as a real hero.
The uber-hot babe, Charlize Theron, plays Bateman's wife. There is an interesting twist with Hancock and wifey, but I will keep that under wraps.
Although critics have mixed opinions on this film(see below),I give it two thumbs up. It made me laugh (a lot) and it even made me cry. Actually, I think there were just some raw onions in my sushi and that's why my eyes were watering. Yeah, that's it.
"This film is the equivalent of being tone deaf. Don't get me wrong, I think Will Smith is an entertaning actor but this film, as is, does not work. Hence, the panic I was reading on the executives faces after the screening. This film is not as dark as it thinks it is and not as funny as it thinks it is. It's right down the middle and that's a dangerous place to be. IRON MAN got the tone right. The DARK KNIGHT knows exactly what it wants to be. HANCOCK is going into the most competitve summer season since the glorious summer of 1989 Half-Cocked."
"It’s a balls out hilarious movie. Bateman is as dryly hilarious as ever, and Smith gets in quite a few laughs (usually at the expense of others in the earlier parts of the film). Few actors can manage to get a laugh out of throwing a 10 year old kid into the stratosphere, but for Smith it’s practically second nature (not the kid throwing, the ‘easy laugh’ing). Even if you hate the twist, there are still at least unrelated laughs to enjoy for the rest of the film."
So, if you haven't seen Hancock yet, you are pretty much a loser. Go see it.
Next review: Hellboy II: The Golden Army
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
DQ treat or mob coverup?
Thursday 7/10/08
12:34 p.m.
The other afternoon I decided to swing through the drive-thru of Dairy Queen to get a strawberry-kiwi frozen drink. As I pulled up to the window I noticed a huge puddle of red liquid on the ground.
Now, I'm pretty sure this was probably just a melted Brazier treat, but it got me to thinking about a story I once heard regarding a different puddle of red liquid...
Back in the fall of 2005 I moved down to Miami,FL. This was a far cry from the mountain life I had grown accustomed to. Instead of breathing in the crisp mountain air from the deck of my mountain cottage (yes, I actually lived in a mountain cottage) each morning, I would suck in the thick, luscious smog from the balcony of my motel apartment.
(not my mountain cottage))
But even though my new living situation was completely different from the life I'd been living, it definitely was not boring...
One night my boss and I went out to dinner with a co-worker and his girlfriend who was visiting all the way from Flora, MS. (If any of you readers know anyone from Flora or have ever visited there yourself, you will immediately know what kind of person this woman is.) We were dining outdoors on the strip in the center of South Beach, so all kinds of interesting characters were passing by our table.
Vendors would try to get the gentlemen to buy a rose for their beautiful ladies, or perhaps you would like an after dinner cigar. One man stopped by and caught Cindy (I can't remember what the woman from Flora was named, so Cindy will suffice) hook, line and sinker with his magical ability to transform palm fronds into exotic creatures such as fish and birds.
And being a female Mississippian, you know she had to talk about how amazing his skills were and find out all about him. However, all she learned in her pre-dinner conversation was that he just moved to Miami and was currently without residence (a.k.a. a bum). Fantastic. Now on to our dinner...
After dinner and a few cocktails we headed back to our visitor's hotel. Because we are the ballers that we are, we were chilling at one of the more happening hotels, The Chesterfield, where all the A-List stars such as Kevin Federline and Tara Reid stay when they're in town.
While we lounged on the front porch, we checked out the passerbys to see who had the best tans, biggest breasts and whitest leather sneakers. And who should happen to pass by while we were enjoying our after dinner adult beverages? Mr. Palms himself. Of course Cindy nearly wet her pants and demanded that he stop and talk to her.
So, as she's getting to know Mr. Palms, she finds out quite a bit of interesting information about her new friend. Mr. Palms had recently relocated to Miami from New York and was currently dwelling on the sandy shores of South Beach. Mr. Palms had recently been released from prison and was trying to start a new life for himself in a new city.
While living in New York, Mr. Palms and his brother were employed by the mob. The two of them ran a "waste management" company and used their trucks to carry out the wishes of their boss. Occasionally they would be asked to drive their truck into someone's house as a scare tactic or warning sign. While other times they would simply run over someone.
But the main use of their waste management vehicles was to transport bodies to the nearest landfill. Well, not so much the entire body, but body parts. Trying to dump whole corpses would be too obvious. Instead, they would put the bodies through an incinerator and whatever was left - bones, bodily fluids, etc. - they would freeze. The human popsicles were then placed in the back of the trucks and hauled to the landfill.
One hot summer day, Mr. Palms was making his typical run to the landfill when he decided to stop off at a bar for a quick happy hour beverage. Well, like any sane person who stops into a bar for happy hour on a hot summer day, he couldn't have just one drink. One beer turned into two beers and so on and so forth. Time quickly passed and the blocks of bloody ice soon began to suffer the effects of the summer heat.
Since no one was getting mugged or shot at the time, a police car was cruising by and noticed a sizeable puddle of red beneath the garabage truck.
Upon closer inspection, they noticed that this liquid was flowing from the back of the truck. Uh oh. The officers then went inside the bar to find the owner of the truck. Forgetting about the cargo of the truck and thinking he had merely parked improperly, Mr. Palms raised his hand when the officers asked who the vehicle belonged too. "Please come with us," the officers said. And as soon as Mr. Palms exited the building, the cops threw him against the wall and promptly arrested him.
Not wanting to rat out his employer and face the wrath of an angry mob boss, Mr. Palms accepted his fate and spent the next decade in prison. And as soon as he was released, he left New York and headed far away from the life of crime he had lived for so long. Because as we all know, there is no crime and no mob in Miami. Right...
So if you ever see a man walking the strip in South Beach making palm fish, go to the nearest ice cream truck or vendor, buy a strawberry popsicle and see if Mr. Palms is in need of a frosty treat.
12:34 p.m.
The other afternoon I decided to swing through the drive-thru of Dairy Queen to get a strawberry-kiwi frozen drink. As I pulled up to the window I noticed a huge puddle of red liquid on the ground.
Now, I'm pretty sure this was probably just a melted Brazier treat, but it got me to thinking about a story I once heard regarding a different puddle of red liquid...
Back in the fall of 2005 I moved down to Miami,FL. This was a far cry from the mountain life I had grown accustomed to. Instead of breathing in the crisp mountain air from the deck of my mountain cottage (yes, I actually lived in a mountain cottage) each morning, I would suck in the thick, luscious smog from the balcony of my motel apartment.
(not my mountain cottage))
But even though my new living situation was completely different from the life I'd been living, it definitely was not boring...
One night my boss and I went out to dinner with a co-worker and his girlfriend who was visiting all the way from Flora, MS. (If any of you readers know anyone from Flora or have ever visited there yourself, you will immediately know what kind of person this woman is.) We were dining outdoors on the strip in the center of South Beach, so all kinds of interesting characters were passing by our table.
Vendors would try to get the gentlemen to buy a rose for their beautiful ladies, or perhaps you would like an after dinner cigar. One man stopped by and caught Cindy (I can't remember what the woman from Flora was named, so Cindy will suffice) hook, line and sinker with his magical ability to transform palm fronds into exotic creatures such as fish and birds.
And being a female Mississippian, you know she had to talk about how amazing his skills were and find out all about him. However, all she learned in her pre-dinner conversation was that he just moved to Miami and was currently without residence (a.k.a. a bum). Fantastic. Now on to our dinner...
After dinner and a few cocktails we headed back to our visitor's hotel. Because we are the ballers that we are, we were chilling at one of the more happening hotels, The Chesterfield, where all the A-List stars such as Kevin Federline and Tara Reid stay when they're in town.
While we lounged on the front porch, we checked out the passerbys to see who had the best tans, biggest breasts and whitest leather sneakers. And who should happen to pass by while we were enjoying our after dinner adult beverages? Mr. Palms himself. Of course Cindy nearly wet her pants and demanded that he stop and talk to her.
So, as she's getting to know Mr. Palms, she finds out quite a bit of interesting information about her new friend. Mr. Palms had recently relocated to Miami from New York and was currently dwelling on the sandy shores of South Beach. Mr. Palms had recently been released from prison and was trying to start a new life for himself in a new city.
While living in New York, Mr. Palms and his brother were employed by the mob. The two of them ran a "waste management" company and used their trucks to carry out the wishes of their boss. Occasionally they would be asked to drive their truck into someone's house as a scare tactic or warning sign. While other times they would simply run over someone.
But the main use of their waste management vehicles was to transport bodies to the nearest landfill. Well, not so much the entire body, but body parts. Trying to dump whole corpses would be too obvious. Instead, they would put the bodies through an incinerator and whatever was left - bones, bodily fluids, etc. - they would freeze. The human popsicles were then placed in the back of the trucks and hauled to the landfill.
One hot summer day, Mr. Palms was making his typical run to the landfill when he decided to stop off at a bar for a quick happy hour beverage. Well, like any sane person who stops into a bar for happy hour on a hot summer day, he couldn't have just one drink. One beer turned into two beers and so on and so forth. Time quickly passed and the blocks of bloody ice soon began to suffer the effects of the summer heat.
Since no one was getting mugged or shot at the time, a police car was cruising by and noticed a sizeable puddle of red beneath the garabage truck.
Upon closer inspection, they noticed that this liquid was flowing from the back of the truck. Uh oh. The officers then went inside the bar to find the owner of the truck. Forgetting about the cargo of the truck and thinking he had merely parked improperly, Mr. Palms raised his hand when the officers asked who the vehicle belonged too. "Please come with us," the officers said. And as soon as Mr. Palms exited the building, the cops threw him against the wall and promptly arrested him.
Not wanting to rat out his employer and face the wrath of an angry mob boss, Mr. Palms accepted his fate and spent the next decade in prison. And as soon as he was released, he left New York and headed far away from the life of crime he had lived for so long. Because as we all know, there is no crime and no mob in Miami. Right...
So if you ever see a man walking the strip in South Beach making palm fish, go to the nearest ice cream truck or vendor, buy a strawberry popsicle and see if Mr. Palms is in need of a frosty treat.
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