child produced by Jill Hermann-Wilmarth
Arden gets pumped for Halloween. Check him OUT!!!! That kid is looking forward to a Tootsie Pop. Luckily, I believe he has no teeth to rot.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Haunted Tales of Halloween: Day 3
by: Maxwell
I generally try to avoid ghostly run-ins. I'm very
committed to the idea of not seeing a ghost, but
nonetheless I've had a few spooky experiences in my
time. My roommate and I were convinced that our
apartment in Austin was haunted even though we never
saw anything substantial. Once in a while I might
catch a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
We didn't mention it, but sometimes people who stayed
with us picked up odd vibes. The apartment was
relatively new, in one of those complexes with a pool
over on Oltorf, not typical scary stuff, but for all
we knew someone had died in the place. The worst of
it was, no kidding, sitting and typing on my roommates
computer, I always felt like someone was behind me,
watching me. I cannot abide people reading over my
shoulder, so the constant spine tingling, hair
pricking at the back of my neck made it difficult to
get any homework done. There was a closet in her
room, and when you sat at the computer your back would
be to the closet. It felt like someone was waiting,
watching, always coming from the direction of the
closet. I wrote a couple of creepy plays at that
computer.
At the end of the day, we just tried to chalk that
unnerving feeling up to bad feng shui.
The only experience that I haven't been able to
explain away happened in the house I grew up in, right
in Cypresswood. Maybe all kids go through a time when
they think they're houses are haunted. We thought so,
even though our house was new. After Poltergeist
came out we speculated that perhaps the house was
built on a graveyard. In all honesty, there were
times when I would be upstairs in the room furthest
away from the stairs, and would feel the driving need
to get out, run NOW NOW NOW down the stairs to be with
people.
One particular night when I was about seven or so, I
woke up and couldn't get to sleep. I was getting over
a cold and I had been sleeping all day, and even
though it was now just past midnight I wasn't tired.
I was lying in bed with my back to the door. My
mother came in. I heard the door open and saw light
pour in from the hallway. I can't remember if I saw a
shadow. I felt my mother come and stand by the bed,
leaning over to turn on the light on my nightstand. I
turned over to say hello, complain that I couldn't
sleep, but no one was there.
I froze, immediately terrorized to paralysis. My
first thought was that I was dreaming, but a few quick
pinches confirmed that I wasn't. The light that had
not been on before was now on. The door to my room
was open. Then I thought, "Mom must have come in and
turned on the light, and I missed her." I didn't
move. I couldn't move. I just waited and waited
until finally I went back to sleep. The next morning
my light was still on. I looked to see if maybe it
could have turned itself on, but it had a dial switch,
the possibility of self illumination
didn't seem likely. I asked my mother if she had come
in the room to visit me, turned on my light. She
hadn't. I asked my dad, he hadn't. I asked my
brother. He hadn't, either. He was also four, not
yet capable of pulling a scary stunt.
Whatever the presence was, it didn't seem initally
frightening. Just terribly invisible. As far as I
know, it has never returned.
by: Maxwell
I generally try to avoid ghostly run-ins. I'm very
committed to the idea of not seeing a ghost, but
nonetheless I've had a few spooky experiences in my
time. My roommate and I were convinced that our
apartment in Austin was haunted even though we never
saw anything substantial. Once in a while I might
catch a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
We didn't mention it, but sometimes people who stayed
with us picked up odd vibes. The apartment was
relatively new, in one of those complexes with a pool
over on Oltorf, not typical scary stuff, but for all
we knew someone had died in the place. The worst of
it was, no kidding, sitting and typing on my roommates
computer, I always felt like someone was behind me,
watching me. I cannot abide people reading over my
shoulder, so the constant spine tingling, hair
pricking at the back of my neck made it difficult to
get any homework done. There was a closet in her
room, and when you sat at the computer your back would
be to the closet. It felt like someone was waiting,
watching, always coming from the direction of the
closet. I wrote a couple of creepy plays at that
computer.
At the end of the day, we just tried to chalk that
unnerving feeling up to bad feng shui.
The only experience that I haven't been able to
explain away happened in the house I grew up in, right
in Cypresswood. Maybe all kids go through a time when
they think they're houses are haunted. We thought so,
even though our house was new. After Poltergeist
came out we speculated that perhaps the house was
built on a graveyard. In all honesty, there were
times when I would be upstairs in the room furthest
away from the stairs, and would feel the driving need
to get out, run NOW NOW NOW down the stairs to be with
people.
One particular night when I was about seven or so, I
woke up and couldn't get to sleep. I was getting over
a cold and I had been sleeping all day, and even
though it was now just past midnight I wasn't tired.
I was lying in bed with my back to the door. My
mother came in. I heard the door open and saw light
pour in from the hallway. I can't remember if I saw a
shadow. I felt my mother come and stand by the bed,
leaning over to turn on the light on my nightstand. I
turned over to say hello, complain that I couldn't
sleep, but no one was there.
I froze, immediately terrorized to paralysis. My
first thought was that I was dreaming, but a few quick
pinches confirmed that I wasn't. The light that had
not been on before was now on. The door to my room
was open. Then I thought, "Mom must have come in and
turned on the light, and I missed her." I didn't
move. I couldn't move. I just waited and waited
until finally I went back to sleep. The next morning
my light was still on. I looked to see if maybe it
could have turned itself on, but it had a dial switch,
the possibility of self illumination
didn't seem likely. I asked my mother if she had come
in the room to visit me, turned on my light. She
hadn't. I asked my dad, he hadn't. I asked my
brother. He hadn't, either. He was also four, not
yet capable of pulling a scary stunt.
Whatever the presence was, it didn't seem initally
frightening. Just terribly invisible. As far as I
know, it has never returned.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
AN S.O.S. for RHPT for his Day of Bliss
Last week, soon to be wed Leaguers RHPT and The Mysterious M, made a plea via rhpt.com
Randy, you see, would like some help selecting tunes for his impending wedding reception. I understand the music during the wedding is taken care of, so he's looking to fill the air at the reception with tunes.
Randy has made a plea to his readership, begging for some help in selecting mood-setting music, but unfortunately, Randy is learning what The League learned long ago. The readership of the average blog is made up of completely unhelpful bastards.
Now, despite the fact that Randy has been pouting in the corner and refusing to help out with The League's past few interactive bits, I thought I'd step up to the plate and see if I couldn't think of some tunes everyone can enjoy. I listed four songs, and it's now in Randy's hands to make his decisions.
But, here's the deal, Randy's bastard-filled readership has otherwise refused to comment. And I am certain some of those bastards are even going to be at the wedding.
Now, it's one thing to tell someone to stick it in their eye on a normal day, but when someone is asking for help with their wedding... Leaguers, you legally have no option but to help them. So pop on over to Randy's site and make a suggestion. And, no... don't make it gross.
Last week, soon to be wed Leaguers RHPT and The Mysterious M, made a plea via rhpt.com
Randy, you see, would like some help selecting tunes for his impending wedding reception. I understand the music during the wedding is taken care of, so he's looking to fill the air at the reception with tunes.
Randy has made a plea to his readership, begging for some help in selecting mood-setting music, but unfortunately, Randy is learning what The League learned long ago. The readership of the average blog is made up of completely unhelpful bastards.
Now, despite the fact that Randy has been pouting in the corner and refusing to help out with The League's past few interactive bits, I thought I'd step up to the plate and see if I couldn't think of some tunes everyone can enjoy. I listed four songs, and it's now in Randy's hands to make his decisions.
But, here's the deal, Randy's bastard-filled readership has otherwise refused to comment. And I am certain some of those bastards are even going to be at the wedding.
Now, it's one thing to tell someone to stick it in their eye on a normal day, but when someone is asking for help with their wedding... Leaguers, you legally have no option but to help them. So pop on over to Randy's site and make a suggestion. And, no... don't make it gross.
THANKS, SCIENCE!!!
If you read this blog, you know that scientists work tirelessly to find new ways in which to play God and to create an unstoppable AI bent on the destruction of all human life.
It appears some eggheads have devised a quasi-artificial brain that sort of makes decisions and stuff. Which is interesting from a Blade Runner/ Isaac Asimov sort of standpoint, but terrifying from a Magnus, Robot Fighter perspective.
The only good side to this I can see is that pretty soon humanity will know it's fate as we all bow down to our robot masters. All hail UNIVAC, MIGHTY CONQUEROR!!!
(That's right! you heard it here first! The League was the first to get on board and officially recognize the evil cyborg intelligence as undisputed ruler of Planet Houston. We bow before your might, oh Great Univac! We ask only that you grant us your mercy and, if it befit you, that you may bestow upon us Lynda Carter, for which we promise to serve you well and carry out all of your malevolent wishes.)
The League must once again point out that it was The Beat which located this information first, and in a much more humorous manner.
If you read this blog, you know that scientists work tirelessly to find new ways in which to play God and to create an unstoppable AI bent on the destruction of all human life.
It appears some eggheads have devised a quasi-artificial brain that sort of makes decisions and stuff. Which is interesting from a Blade Runner/ Isaac Asimov sort of standpoint, but terrifying from a Magnus, Robot Fighter perspective.
The only good side to this I can see is that pretty soon humanity will know it's fate as we all bow down to our robot masters. All hail UNIVAC, MIGHTY CONQUEROR!!!
(That's right! you heard it here first! The League was the first to get on board and officially recognize the evil cyborg intelligence as undisputed ruler of Planet Houston. We bow before your might, oh Great Univac! We ask only that you grant us your mercy and, if it befit you, that you may bestow upon us Lynda Carter, for which we promise to serve you well and carry out all of your malevolent wishes.)
The League must once again point out that it was The Beat which located this information first, and in a much more humorous manner.
If you want to know why I won't be posting for a few nights, it's because this just arrived.
My favorite new comic character I'd never heard of before last night? Captain Compass.
My favorite new comic character I'd never heard of before last night? Captain Compass.
Halloween Entry: Day 2
by Nathan Cone
Alas, I have no scary stories to impart, unless you count horrifically scarring incidents from childhood. So my entry will fall into the costumecategory.
When I was young, I chose some particulary peculiar costumes. Oh, therewere normal years, for sure. I dressed as Batman when I was five. And in 1980, when "The Empire Strikes Back" came out, I went as Luke Skywalker (in the beige outfit from the Bespin sequence).
But pre-kindergarten, I remember going as a T-Rex one year (which was one heck of a costume, and I have the Super 8 film to prove it). Another year, I went as an Exxon gas station attendant, complete with pinstriped uniform. The guys who worked at the Exxon station on the corner of Kuykendahl & 1960 even gave me a cap and name patch to complete the look. Still earlier than that, I went as a traffic light. That costume was pretty much a big whitecardboard box with a red, yellow, and green dot on it. I also went as a motor one year. Yep, a motor. I don't remember how we pulled that one off.
And now we arrive at the attached photo, which was taken just outside the front door of the Cone household, a little later in childhood, probably 1981 or 1982. Obviously constructed in haste, this costume begs the question"Guess what I am?" [editor's note: I have no idea, either]
by Nathan Cone
Alas, I have no scary stories to impart, unless you count horrifically scarring incidents from childhood. So my entry will fall into the costumecategory.
When I was young, I chose some particulary peculiar costumes. Oh, therewere normal years, for sure. I dressed as Batman when I was five. And in 1980, when "The Empire Strikes Back" came out, I went as Luke Skywalker (in the beige outfit from the Bespin sequence).
But pre-kindergarten, I remember going as a T-Rex one year (which was one heck of a costume, and I have the Super 8 film to prove it). Another year, I went as an Exxon gas station attendant, complete with pinstriped uniform. The guys who worked at the Exxon station on the corner of Kuykendahl & 1960 even gave me a cap and name patch to complete the look. Still earlier than that, I went as a traffic light. That costume was pretty much a big whitecardboard box with a red, yellow, and green dot on it. I also went as a motor one year. Yep, a motor. I don't remember how we pulled that one off.
And now we arrive at the attached photo, which was taken just outside the front door of the Cone household, a little later in childhood, probably 1981 or 1982. Obviously constructed in haste, this costume begs the question"Guess what I am?" [editor's note: I have no idea, either]
AshleeGate: The Story Which Just Gets Better
Randy sent this little tidbit along from MSNBC.
Ashlee's manager/ father (the combination of which explains oh-so-much) on the incident:
“Just like any artist in America, she has a backing track that she pushes so you don’t have to hear her croak through a song on national television,” Joe Simpson told Ryan Seacrest on Los Angeles radio station KIIS-FM. “No one wants to hear that.”
I like how this family operates. EVERYONE does this. EVERYONE. Oh, and she had a tummy ache and never did it before. And it was the band. They played the wrong song... and... and...
And apparently the Simpson family has not learned a simple truth in American culture: if you ignore something and refuse to feed the press with quotes, etc... the issue will go away, and in two months, people will have a hard time trying to remember whether it was a dream or if it really happened.
You know, when Ashlee Simpson was just a small time act, playing bars and clubs, selling demo tapes for $5.00 out of the trunk of her own car, you know... paying her dues... she didn't need a back up track. Ashlee Simpson, is it possible you've sold out?
Read the story here.
Randy sent this little tidbit along from MSNBC.
Ashlee's manager/ father (the combination of which explains oh-so-much) on the incident:
“Just like any artist in America, she has a backing track that she pushes so you don’t have to hear her croak through a song on national television,” Joe Simpson told Ryan Seacrest on Los Angeles radio station KIIS-FM. “No one wants to hear that.”
I like how this family operates. EVERYONE does this. EVERYONE. Oh, and she had a tummy ache and never did it before. And it was the band. They played the wrong song... and... and...
And apparently the Simpson family has not learned a simple truth in American culture: if you ignore something and refuse to feed the press with quotes, etc... the issue will go away, and in two months, people will have a hard time trying to remember whether it was a dream or if it really happened.
You know, when Ashlee Simpson was just a small time act, playing bars and clubs, selling demo tapes for $5.00 out of the trunk of her own car, you know... paying her dues... she didn't need a back up track. Ashlee Simpson, is it possible you've sold out?
Read the story here.
Monday, October 25, 2004
As mentioned above, Ashlee Simpson had a little problem on SNL Saturday night.
Ashlee Simpson blames her band for a mistake the technician with the DAT made. Meanwhile, Jude Law is embarrassed for the both of them
And because Ashlee Simpson represents everything dumb about the music industry, The League is doing its part to make sure this snafu gets as much coverage as possible.
Intrepid Leaguer L. Denby has located not only the photo above of Simpson making the situation worse, but she's also located the video of Simpson both (a) inadvertently revealing the man behind the curtain and (b)showing no talent for improvisation.
In addition to the video above, here is Simpson drawing attention to the problem instead of just hoping it will go away.
CNN.com jumped in on the snafu here.
For those of you keeping track:
1) Simpson's first song on SNL went off without a hitch.
2) Her second song began playing
3) Simpson wriggles uncomfortably on-stage. I am told this is her dancing, and not some further gaffe.
4) The lyrics to her 1st song began to be heard over the top of the second song.
5) The hands of the guitarists do not seem to actually move from about 00:04 on the timeline to 00:24. Meanwhile, music is playing.
6) The vocal track cuts out
7) Simpson dances terribly
8) Band looks uncomfortable and thanks God for their over-styled anonymity
9) Simpson disappears from stage
10) go to commercial
11) a few lame skits. Want to find Bear City funny. Impossible.
12) end of show curtain call. Jude Law says something about "live tv"
13) Simpson blames band for playing "wrong song" which means one or more of the following:
a) The band has never before rehearsed with Simpson
b) Simpson's voice is an intangible force able to appear and disappear without her moving her lips/ originates from her belly
c) Simpson cannot improvise and sing one of her own songs when cued by her own music
d) Simpson has hired a magical band which doesn't need to touch its own instruments in order to produce music
e) Simpson thinks owning the DAT makes you part of the band
f) The ability of the band to play should not outweigh the OC'ness of their hair
g) Simpson is a shitty liar
h) Simpson doesn't know when to quit
14) Simpson's career completely unaffected as her pre-teen audience rationalizes the incident and angrily attacks those pointing out why Ashlee Simpson sucks
15) Maybe being the sister of an untalented singer doesn't qualify you as the next queen of rock n' roll
Ashlee Simpson blames her band for a mistake the technician with the DAT made. Meanwhile, Jude Law is embarrassed for the both of them
And because Ashlee Simpson represents everything dumb about the music industry, The League is doing its part to make sure this snafu gets as much coverage as possible.
Intrepid Leaguer L. Denby has located not only the photo above of Simpson making the situation worse, but she's also located the video of Simpson both (a) inadvertently revealing the man behind the curtain and (b)showing no talent for improvisation.
In addition to the video above, here is Simpson drawing attention to the problem instead of just hoping it will go away.
CNN.com jumped in on the snafu here.
For those of you keeping track:
1) Simpson's first song on SNL went off without a hitch.
2) Her second song began playing
3) Simpson wriggles uncomfortably on-stage. I am told this is her dancing, and not some further gaffe.
4) The lyrics to her 1st song began to be heard over the top of the second song.
5) The hands of the guitarists do not seem to actually move from about 00:04 on the timeline to 00:24. Meanwhile, music is playing.
6) The vocal track cuts out
7) Simpson dances terribly
8) Band looks uncomfortable and thanks God for their over-styled anonymity
9) Simpson disappears from stage
10) go to commercial
11) a few lame skits. Want to find Bear City funny. Impossible.
12) end of show curtain call. Jude Law says something about "live tv"
13) Simpson blames band for playing "wrong song" which means one or more of the following:
a) The band has never before rehearsed with Simpson
b) Simpson's voice is an intangible force able to appear and disappear without her moving her lips/ originates from her belly
c) Simpson cannot improvise and sing one of her own songs when cued by her own music
d) Simpson has hired a magical band which doesn't need to touch its own instruments in order to produce music
e) Simpson thinks owning the DAT makes you part of the band
f) The ability of the band to play should not outweigh the OC'ness of their hair
g) Simpson is a shitty liar
h) Simpson doesn't know when to quit
14) Simpson's career completely unaffected as her pre-teen audience rationalizes the incident and angrily attacks those pointing out why Ashlee Simpson sucks
15) Maybe being the sister of an untalented singer doesn't qualify you as the next queen of rock n' roll
Halloween Spooky Tales! Day 1
By Jamie McBride Steans
Ok, I'm going to attempt to write a Halloween tale for you. You kinda put the kibosh on anything ultra creative by insisting it be true.
The house I grew up in, a 2 story with large attic and basement, was built in 1905 (Aught-5!) by early Lawtonian William H. Quinette. This was a great house for kids and my older brother and I spent hours playing in the vaulted-ceilinged attic (complete with large wasp nests and large wasps) and three roomed basement. The only place I refused to go was the storm cellar, which had no light and to my recollection harbored a spider convention.
When I was about eight years old, my dance instructor revealed to me that when she was in high school she had been friends with a girl who used to live in my house.
Dance teacher: "You know it's haunted, right?"
Me: "No it's not."
DT: "Yeah, the guy that built the house died in the master bedroom. [Dance teacher's friend's name] saw his ghost on the front stairs once."
Me: "No she didn't"
But it was too late. Even though I didn't believe in ghosts, my dance teacher had successfully managed to totally freak me out. For five full years not once did I use the front staircase after dark, terrified that I would meet face to face with old Bill Quinette. For five years after that I would only use those stairs on occasion at warp speed (yes, I did this well into my teens. shut up). I never did see a stupid ghost and it's a miracle I did not fall and bust my ass on the stairs while fleeing the imaginary Mr. Quinette. Maybe he liked us and didn't want to scare us away. I can only hope he appeared to greet the next owners after they felt it necessary to paint my old room orange.
By Jamie McBride Steans
Ok, I'm going to attempt to write a Halloween tale for you. You kinda put the kibosh on anything ultra creative by insisting it be true.
The house I grew up in, a 2 story with large attic and basement, was built in 1905 (Aught-5!) by early Lawtonian William H. Quinette. This was a great house for kids and my older brother and I spent hours playing in the vaulted-ceilinged attic (complete with large wasp nests and large wasps) and three roomed basement. The only place I refused to go was the storm cellar, which had no light and to my recollection harbored a spider convention.
When I was about eight years old, my dance instructor revealed to me that when she was in high school she had been friends with a girl who used to live in my house.
Dance teacher: "You know it's haunted, right?"
Me: "No it's not."
DT: "Yeah, the guy that built the house died in the master bedroom. [Dance teacher's friend's name] saw his ghost on the front stairs once."
Me: "No she didn't"
But it was too late. Even though I didn't believe in ghosts, my dance teacher had successfully managed to totally freak me out. For five full years not once did I use the front staircase after dark, terrified that I would meet face to face with old Bill Quinette. For five years after that I would only use those stairs on occasion at warp speed (yes, I did this well into my teens. shut up). I never did see a stupid ghost and it's a miracle I did not fall and bust my ass on the stairs while fleeing the imaginary Mr. Quinette. Maybe he liked us and didn't want to scare us away. I can only hope he appeared to greet the next owners after they felt it necessary to paint my old room orange.
ROUGHLY 1000 POSTS, AND STILL ABSOLUTELY POINTLESS
This is the 998th post on The League. Can you believe it? Sometime tomorrow, I reckon we'll be at 1000, depending on how funny the news is.
In reality, we've already passed 1000. In the beginning, I almost gave up the ghost a week or so in. Luckily, Jim D. was there to slap me back to my senses, AND he still had my postings in his cache. I reposted, and I think if you look, my "first day" of posts is about a week's worth.
So 1000 postings. Should be cause for some sort of celebration, but, instead, it kind of makes me feel a little weird about all this. I mean, I've probably got 2-4 times more posts than most bloggers who've been around a similar duration. And my readership is still completely unknown. That, and it's actually a little bit of work, and ain't nobody paying me to do it.
The hits I get come mostly from people either looking for nude photos of Ann Coulter (a creepy past-time, not to mention... do you REALLY think anyone ever got their hands on nude photos of Ann Coulter?) or else they come from IMDB.com. Jim tends to take my posts regarding movies, TV, etc... and then do my legwork for me, linking IMDB back to The League.
The rest of my hits are either people looking for images I happen to have, the occasional creepy search for "ryan steans", or "melbotis". But at least 50% I have no idea who they are. If it weren't for the comments section, I'd feel I was completely howling into the void.
So where does the League go from here? I have no idea. More of the same, I'd guess. Probably less Britney Watch. That's been unpopular.
I guess you can continue to expect a lot about Superman, comic books, movies, TV, Superman, Arizona, Austin, Superman, the cat, the dog, parental visits, Superman, Halloween, Christmas, bad lunches, bad pop stars, Superman, etc...
As always, Loyal Leaguers SHOULD be the driving force behind The League of Melbotis. We aren't shy, and we certainly welcome topics of all shapes and sizes. So, you know, if you have a topic you'd like to see batted about here, speak up.
I do feel bad there wasn't some profound 1000th anniversary post, but, you know, I've been busy and this kind of snuck up on me. Maybe on the actual third anniversary.
So as a sort of 100th post anniversary thing, let's see how many of you will pop up in the comments section and say "aye". I'm just curious about my readership.
This is the 998th post on The League. Can you believe it? Sometime tomorrow, I reckon we'll be at 1000, depending on how funny the news is.
In reality, we've already passed 1000. In the beginning, I almost gave up the ghost a week or so in. Luckily, Jim D. was there to slap me back to my senses, AND he still had my postings in his cache. I reposted, and I think if you look, my "first day" of posts is about a week's worth.
So 1000 postings. Should be cause for some sort of celebration, but, instead, it kind of makes me feel a little weird about all this. I mean, I've probably got 2-4 times more posts than most bloggers who've been around a similar duration. And my readership is still completely unknown. That, and it's actually a little bit of work, and ain't nobody paying me to do it.
The hits I get come mostly from people either looking for nude photos of Ann Coulter (a creepy past-time, not to mention... do you REALLY think anyone ever got their hands on nude photos of Ann Coulter?) or else they come from IMDB.com. Jim tends to take my posts regarding movies, TV, etc... and then do my legwork for me, linking IMDB back to The League.
The rest of my hits are either people looking for images I happen to have, the occasional creepy search for "ryan steans", or "melbotis". But at least 50% I have no idea who they are. If it weren't for the comments section, I'd feel I was completely howling into the void.
So where does the League go from here? I have no idea. More of the same, I'd guess. Probably less Britney Watch. That's been unpopular.
I guess you can continue to expect a lot about Superman, comic books, movies, TV, Superman, Arizona, Austin, Superman, the cat, the dog, parental visits, Superman, Halloween, Christmas, bad lunches, bad pop stars, Superman, etc...
As always, Loyal Leaguers SHOULD be the driving force behind The League of Melbotis. We aren't shy, and we certainly welcome topics of all shapes and sizes. So, you know, if you have a topic you'd like to see batted about here, speak up.
I do feel bad there wasn't some profound 1000th anniversary post, but, you know, I've been busy and this kind of snuck up on me. Maybe on the actual third anniversary.
So as a sort of 100th post anniversary thing, let's see how many of you will pop up in the comments section and say "aye". I'm just curious about my readership.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
The Weekend in Review (post 997)
So, let me start by saying Garfield: The Movie really, really sucks. Really, really, really sucks. Even my planned cackling at the career dips of Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt didn't pan out. I mean, I just... felt... sorry for them. They looked permanently stuck in a toothpaste ad.
The truth is, Garfield can't really withstand a review, because I really don't have enough time nor do I know enough words to eviscerate this flick properly. But suffice it to say, look... this movie, like so many adaptations, had nothing to do with the original material. And one wonders, short of fulfilling a contract with Jim Davis, why on earth this project ever received the green light.
I laughed exactly once during the 80 minute movie, and that was Garfield's homage to Apocalypse Now's "Never get off the boat" scene. The movie sort of half-lifted the story from "Here Comes Garfield", but took so many turns for the worse, you'd really have to know what you're looking for to draw the parallel.
Clearly the film's producers had two ideas in mind in making the movie (1) children's movies are so idiot simple, characters should in no way be funny, or interesting or developed (2) Whatever made Finding Nemo, Shreck and Toy Story so popular with adults and children... let's do the opposite and make sure the parents' brainwaves only become engaged when counting product placements (and for the Daddies... whenever JLH appears in a tiny dress).
The final scene of the movie looks like a demo real showing Garfield dancing. And this was the second time I laughed. By this point, the movie had broken my spirit, and it was either laugh or cry.
"It... it just... sucks... so... bad"
This weekend also has marked the arrival of the Christmas Season. I saw my first Christmas present commercial this evening on ABC Family (yes, I am watching "The Hollow"), and then they ran an ad for ABC Family's 12 Days of Christmas. So, 2 Christmas commercials in 30 minutes.
That isn't to mention that the lights are going up on Mill Avenue, or that Bath & Body doesn't already have up its Christmas display.
But this is Halloween Week, and so I've been trying to keep it Halloweeny up in here. In that spirit, we watched 1932's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Which is way creepier than I remember the version I read as a kid being.
Also, the in-laws were here. We watched some football, got lost in downtown Phoenix, and spent a few quality hours at the Arizona State Fair (turkey leg.... mmmmm).
And did anyone else catch Ashlee Simpson go into meltdown on Saturday Night Live? man, if there were any justice... But, of course, nobody will care. is it any surprise she's lip synching and playing with a band which clearly hates her? Bwah ha ha ha ha
And Jim e-mailed me story of interest to Texas Exes.
TEX is being retired.
It's a little like hearing the dog you played with in college died. I'm kind of sad about it. Sure, registering online is 10x more efficient, but where's the thrill of the hunt? Where are the 7:50 A.M. alarms so you can roll over and start calling? Where's that screaming, "F**k you, TEX!!!! F**k you!!!!" when you can't get your class? Where's the shout of "whoo-hoo!" when you do get it? Man, the kids today will never know.
So, let me start by saying Garfield: The Movie really, really sucks. Really, really, really sucks. Even my planned cackling at the career dips of Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt didn't pan out. I mean, I just... felt... sorry for them. They looked permanently stuck in a toothpaste ad.
The truth is, Garfield can't really withstand a review, because I really don't have enough time nor do I know enough words to eviscerate this flick properly. But suffice it to say, look... this movie, like so many adaptations, had nothing to do with the original material. And one wonders, short of fulfilling a contract with Jim Davis, why on earth this project ever received the green light.
I laughed exactly once during the 80 minute movie, and that was Garfield's homage to Apocalypse Now's "Never get off the boat" scene. The movie sort of half-lifted the story from "Here Comes Garfield", but took so many turns for the worse, you'd really have to know what you're looking for to draw the parallel.
Clearly the film's producers had two ideas in mind in making the movie (1) children's movies are so idiot simple, characters should in no way be funny, or interesting or developed (2) Whatever made Finding Nemo, Shreck and Toy Story so popular with adults and children... let's do the opposite and make sure the parents' brainwaves only become engaged when counting product placements (and for the Daddies... whenever JLH appears in a tiny dress).
The final scene of the movie looks like a demo real showing Garfield dancing. And this was the second time I laughed. By this point, the movie had broken my spirit, and it was either laugh or cry.
"It... it just... sucks... so... bad"
This weekend also has marked the arrival of the Christmas Season. I saw my first Christmas present commercial this evening on ABC Family (yes, I am watching "The Hollow"), and then they ran an ad for ABC Family's 12 Days of Christmas. So, 2 Christmas commercials in 30 minutes.
That isn't to mention that the lights are going up on Mill Avenue, or that Bath & Body doesn't already have up its Christmas display.
But this is Halloween Week, and so I've been trying to keep it Halloweeny up in here. In that spirit, we watched 1932's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Which is way creepier than I remember the version I read as a kid being.
Also, the in-laws were here. We watched some football, got lost in downtown Phoenix, and spent a few quality hours at the Arizona State Fair (turkey leg.... mmmmm).
And did anyone else catch Ashlee Simpson go into meltdown on Saturday Night Live? man, if there were any justice... But, of course, nobody will care. is it any surprise she's lip synching and playing with a band which clearly hates her? Bwah ha ha ha ha
And Jim e-mailed me story of interest to Texas Exes.
TEX is being retired.
It's a little like hearing the dog you played with in college died. I'm kind of sad about it. Sure, registering online is 10x more efficient, but where's the thrill of the hunt? Where are the 7:50 A.M. alarms so you can roll over and start calling? Where's that screaming, "F**k you, TEX!!!! F**k you!!!!" when you can't get your class? Where's the shout of "whoo-hoo!" when you do get it? Man, the kids today will never know.
Friday, October 22, 2004
DAMMIT!!!
Did I care if John Kerry or W were here for the debate last week? No.
But how could I have known that by avoiding the debate, I would accidentally sidestep the greatest interview journalist of the last 20 years?
Click here to download a series of interviews on Spin Row at the Tempe, AZ Presidential Debate.
This takes a while to download if you aren't on a high speed connection. And if you aren't on a high speed connection, GET WITH THE 21st CENTURY, YOU TROGLODYTE!!!!
Thanks to Jim D. for the link.
Did I care if John Kerry or W were here for the debate last week? No.
But how could I have known that by avoiding the debate, I would accidentally sidestep the greatest interview journalist of the last 20 years?
Click here to download a series of interviews on Spin Row at the Tempe, AZ Presidential Debate.
This takes a while to download if you aren't on a high speed connection. And if you aren't on a high speed connection, GET WITH THE 21st CENTURY, YOU TROGLODYTE!!!!
Thanks to Jim D. for the link.
Okay, you lazy bums!
One last outstanding call for Halloween-themed stories!
I have only three stories submitted and cooling in the freezer.
THREE.
The only thing scary about this contest is how my flagging readership refuses to participate.
Elvira knows submitting a story to The League is the patriotic thing to do. You don't want to be un-American, do you? Well, do you?
Look, I know a lot of you are putting a lot of extra pressure on yourself and thinking your story won't be scary or funny enough or whatever. Well, by jiminy, we think you're plenty funny and plenty scary, so quit psyching yourself out, roll up your sleeves and pound out a tale on the old keyboard. We're a-waitin'.
The Crypt keeper at last year's closing grand-prize ceremony. He over-dressed and ate all of the brownies.
The deadline (which is today) is greatly flexible, and we will be taking stories right up until Halloween. But, Leaguers, the idea is that every day when you click on over to The League all week next week, there's a fresh story awaiting you, and getting you in the spirit. Now, that story could be YOURS!!! And you know you've got a creepy tale in you.
Did you cross paths with a black cat? Did an old gypsy woman put a curse on you? Did you see something which, even after all these years, you still can't quite explain...? (and, no, I'm not talking about The Magic Johnson Show).
That this is thriller, thriller night
'cause I can thrill you more than any ghost would dare to try
Girl, this is thriller, thriller night
So let me hold you tight and share a killer, diller, chiller
Thriller here tonight
So click on over to the guidelines for the contest and follow them or don't follow them. Let's just get some interaction!
One last outstanding call for Halloween-themed stories!
I have only three stories submitted and cooling in the freezer.
THREE.
The only thing scary about this contest is how my flagging readership refuses to participate.
Elvira knows submitting a story to The League is the patriotic thing to do. You don't want to be un-American, do you? Well, do you?
Look, I know a lot of you are putting a lot of extra pressure on yourself and thinking your story won't be scary or funny enough or whatever. Well, by jiminy, we think you're plenty funny and plenty scary, so quit psyching yourself out, roll up your sleeves and pound out a tale on the old keyboard. We're a-waitin'.
The Crypt keeper at last year's closing grand-prize ceremony. He over-dressed and ate all of the brownies.
The deadline (which is today) is greatly flexible, and we will be taking stories right up until Halloween. But, Leaguers, the idea is that every day when you click on over to The League all week next week, there's a fresh story awaiting you, and getting you in the spirit. Now, that story could be YOURS!!! And you know you've got a creepy tale in you.
Did you cross paths with a black cat? Did an old gypsy woman put a curse on you? Did you see something which, even after all these years, you still can't quite explain...? (and, no, I'm not talking about The Magic Johnson Show).
That this is thriller, thriller night
'cause I can thrill you more than any ghost would dare to try
Girl, this is thriller, thriller night
So let me hold you tight and share a killer, diller, chiller
Thriller here tonight
So click on over to the guidelines for the contest and follow them or don't follow them. Let's just get some interaction!
Here is a photo of the guy they cast as Superman for the upcoming Bryan Singer directed film.
As long as Routh's voice doesn't make him sound like Urkel, and Singer takes the time to make sure he's nailing every scene, I am happy. I am especially happy that they didn't cast anybody under 6'0", nor some flavor-of-the-week actor to bring in the 14-year old girls.
Singer was able to make two X-Men movies work with only a handful of name actors, and those flicks made a star out of Hugh Jackman.
I heard Topher What's-his-name from That 70's Show might be up for Jimmy Olsen. Personally, I think after seeing him in Traffic, it would be a good choice.
Here's to hoping nothing awful happens to Bryan Singer before production ends.
As long as Routh's voice doesn't make him sound like Urkel, and Singer takes the time to make sure he's nailing every scene, I am happy. I am especially happy that they didn't cast anybody under 6'0", nor some flavor-of-the-week actor to bring in the 14-year old girls.
Singer was able to make two X-Men movies work with only a handful of name actors, and those flicks made a star out of Hugh Jackman.
I heard Topher What's-his-name from That 70's Show might be up for Jimmy Olsen. Personally, I think after seeing him in Traffic, it would be a good choice.
Here's to hoping nothing awful happens to Bryan Singer before production ends.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Hey all, Mrs. League here. Blogger is totally pissing me off today. First it copied my post over the Leagues and then when he reposted, my post went away. Grrr.
Let me try to remember: I wanted to appologize to Jim D. and RHPT -- obviously I do not hate you and I acknowledge that RHPT had little to no involvement in the Garfield incident.
The League's post about my hatred of Garfield is wrong and he knows better. We have often shared childhood memories of the cool cat and every time we visit parents-of-the-League's house I can be caught reading old copies of Garfield books 1-10. I was quite the Garfield fan in my youth, even collecting the fabulous "Garfield's Nine Lives" and Garfield telephone.
What I was upset with was the movie, which is different. This character bares little resemblance to the lovable fat cat we grew up with. And I was content in the knowledge that I would never have to view this shameful piece of crap. But last night, as GCI Garfield struck a pose on my kitchen counter and the League exclaimed "Awesome!", my stomach dropped. Leaguers, I am doomed.
Let me try to remember: I wanted to appologize to Jim D. and RHPT -- obviously I do not hate you and I acknowledge that RHPT had little to no involvement in the Garfield incident.
The League's post about my hatred of Garfield is wrong and he knows better. We have often shared childhood memories of the cool cat and every time we visit parents-of-the-League's house I can be caught reading old copies of Garfield books 1-10. I was quite the Garfield fan in my youth, even collecting the fabulous "Garfield's Nine Lives" and Garfield telephone.
What I was upset with was the movie, which is different. This character bares little resemblance to the lovable fat cat we grew up with. And I was content in the knowledge that I would never have to view this shameful piece of crap. But last night, as GCI Garfield struck a pose on my kitchen counter and the League exclaimed "Awesome!", my stomach dropped. Leaguers, I am doomed.
Okay, this was posted earlier, but due to Blogger working in mysterious ways, I lost the post. So, below is an edited version of the post from early this morning.
Regarding Mrs. League's protests and pronunciations:
Before anyone runs off thinking Mrs. League is evil and vindictive, I just want to congratulate you on your astounding insight.
No, no, no... I kid because I love.
My explanation for the post above is as follows:
Mrs. League has always had it in for Garfield. League archives reveal a troubling visit to the the McBride household years ago when The League and the Impending-Mrs. League were but starry-eyed kids.
I don't know what started it, but I was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee and reading the Lawton Constitution, and the McBrides went, jointly, into a tirade regarding both The Family Circus and Garfield.
The League sat in stunned silence. You see, The League always secretly loved Garfield (but decided The Family Circus has outlived it's usefulness in 1977). The League used to have Garfield books strewn about his bedroom, an Odie doll perched atop his "Return of the Jedi" bedspread, and owns, to this day, the vinyl to the Soundtrack to Here Comes Garfield (the title song of which is sung by the amazing Lou Rawls).
It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. The League kept his mouth shut, and let the McBrides air their Garfield related grievances. He thought, at the time, that this really wasn't worth breaking up over. At least, not until he got home again.
And through 5 years of marriage, The League has kept his head down, only occasionally fessing up to thinking Garfield strips were really, really funny back in about 1978-1983.
But Mrs. League... Mrs. League has it in for Garfield. We don't know if its the lasagna bit (which still kills, by the way), or the fact Garfield hates Mondays, or that he won't eat raisin toast or Garfield's hilarious fear of spiders. We don't know.
The movie was oddly NOT a polarizing moment. Mrs. League hates Garfield anyway, so hating the movie was a logical extension. The League was upset to see the strip sucked dry, its simplicity tattered, and Odie not looking remotely like Odie. And the League kind of wishes plagues of locusts upon both Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt (even as he wishes to ogle Ms. Love Hewitt).
So, RHPT and Jim D, please do not take Mrs. League's moment of rage personally. Its just that you have brought an unspeakable evil into her house. An evil which The League's morbid curiosity will surely force her to endure. While The League is aware RHPT and Jim D did this primarily to taunt The League, Mrs. League knows the League's capacity for enjoying awfulness all to well (see the multiple viewings of From Justin to Kelly). And she knows that the DVD player is housed in a central location at League HQ, and she will not be able to escape. No matter how hard she tries.
So, once again, thanks to RHPT and Jim D (or, as I am learning, mainly Jim D) for their generous and unexpected gift. The League will at least enjoy ogling Ms. Love Hewitt, even as she delivers a less than stellar performance in what is sure to be a crap-fest of a movie.
In the meantime, we will watch the film and try not to think too hard upon what might have been.
Regarding Mrs. League's protests and pronunciations:
Before anyone runs off thinking Mrs. League is evil and vindictive, I just want to congratulate you on your astounding insight.
No, no, no... I kid because I love.
My explanation for the post above is as follows:
Mrs. League has always had it in for Garfield. League archives reveal a troubling visit to the the McBride household years ago when The League and the Impending-Mrs. League were but starry-eyed kids.
I don't know what started it, but I was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee and reading the Lawton Constitution, and the McBrides went, jointly, into a tirade regarding both The Family Circus and Garfield.
The League sat in stunned silence. You see, The League always secretly loved Garfield (but decided The Family Circus has outlived it's usefulness in 1977). The League used to have Garfield books strewn about his bedroom, an Odie doll perched atop his "Return of the Jedi" bedspread, and owns, to this day, the vinyl to the Soundtrack to Here Comes Garfield (the title song of which is sung by the amazing Lou Rawls).
It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. The League kept his mouth shut, and let the McBrides air their Garfield related grievances. He thought, at the time, that this really wasn't worth breaking up over. At least, not until he got home again.
And through 5 years of marriage, The League has kept his head down, only occasionally fessing up to thinking Garfield strips were really, really funny back in about 1978-1983.
But Mrs. League... Mrs. League has it in for Garfield. We don't know if its the lasagna bit (which still kills, by the way), or the fact Garfield hates Mondays, or that he won't eat raisin toast or Garfield's hilarious fear of spiders. We don't know.
The movie was oddly NOT a polarizing moment. Mrs. League hates Garfield anyway, so hating the movie was a logical extension. The League was upset to see the strip sucked dry, its simplicity tattered, and Odie not looking remotely like Odie. And the League kind of wishes plagues of locusts upon both Breckin Meyer and Jennifer Love Hewitt (even as he wishes to ogle Ms. Love Hewitt).
So, RHPT and Jim D, please do not take Mrs. League's moment of rage personally. Its just that you have brought an unspeakable evil into her house. An evil which The League's morbid curiosity will surely force her to endure. While The League is aware RHPT and Jim D did this primarily to taunt The League, Mrs. League knows the League's capacity for enjoying awfulness all to well (see the multiple viewings of From Justin to Kelly). And she knows that the DVD player is housed in a central location at League HQ, and she will not be able to escape. No matter how hard she tries.
So, once again, thanks to RHPT and Jim D (or, as I am learning, mainly Jim D) for their generous and unexpected gift. The League will at least enjoy ogling Ms. Love Hewitt, even as she delivers a less than stellar performance in what is sure to be a crap-fest of a movie.
In the meantime, we will watch the film and try not to think too hard upon what might have been.
Mrs. League on Jim D. and RHPT:
"I hate them. I hate them so much. I hate them down to the marrow of their bones."
Pause
"And you can quote me on that."
Well, goodness, me. But quote her, I have!
Now, what would draw the ire of Mrs. League to such a degree? Well, Leaguers, after Tuesday night's wild goose chase in the front yard of League HQ looking for a package Jim D. insisted should have arrived, this evening I arrived home to find a box awaiting me on my kitchen counter.
And what was in that box? What drew such venom from my lovely wife?
My friends, The League is now a proud owner of the DVD of Garfield: The Movie!
Yes, Leaguers, RHPT and Jim D. have conspired and pooled their hard-won money to see to it that The League spend the requisite 90 minutes groaning his way through this summer's schlockiest money-grab. And Mrs. League is all too aware that The League IS NOT one to suffer alone, nor in silence. So soon enough, The League, Mrs. League and all of The League Proper will be sitting down for a showing of Garfield: The Movie.
Watch this space for updates.
"I hate them. I hate them so much. I hate them down to the marrow of their bones."
Pause
"And you can quote me on that."
Well, goodness, me. But quote her, I have!
Now, what would draw the ire of Mrs. League to such a degree? Well, Leaguers, after Tuesday night's wild goose chase in the front yard of League HQ looking for a package Jim D. insisted should have arrived, this evening I arrived home to find a box awaiting me on my kitchen counter.
And what was in that box? What drew such venom from my lovely wife?
My friends, The League is now a proud owner of the DVD of Garfield: The Movie!
Yes, Leaguers, RHPT and Jim D. have conspired and pooled their hard-won money to see to it that The League spend the requisite 90 minutes groaning his way through this summer's schlockiest money-grab. And Mrs. League is all too aware that The League IS NOT one to suffer alone, nor in silence. So soon enough, The League, Mrs. League and all of The League Proper will be sitting down for a showing of Garfield: The Movie.
Watch this space for updates.
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