Who Shot JR?

Several months ago, my girlfriend Nicole and I went to Dallas with our friends Lucy and Aleks. These are several alcohol-fueled snaps of the downtown ambiance.



Even in the midst of oil money's ostentatious excess, one cannot escape the indomitable ravages of Subway.


Technically, these were taken in Fort Worth, at the stockyards, but I feel these pictures somehow exemplify the cantankerous, rugged aspects of Texas.

Hicksville Hex (The Devonsville Terror)

Oh, ya hey der. How's it going? Oh, that's pretty darn good, ya know. Oh, me? Well, not so good ya know. Why's that? Oh, well ya see - I live in this small town in New England. Ya see, everything's supposed to be just hunky-dory, but we've got this little problem - ya see. We got these outsiders. What'ya mean, my accent is too mid-western? Oh well, Wisconsin is the new New England - at least according to this film's location shooting.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, so we had these three young ladies, ya know, move into our tightly-knit, CHRISTIAN community, and well, ya know, they don't seem so great. They been putting all these ideas, see, into our kid's head. Ideas like: women could function without man-folk, like God could be a woman, like maybe, just maybe, there might not be a proper, christian god. I don't know, but I don't like the cut of their jib.

Ya see, many years ago, this small New England town (not, I repeat, not Wisconsin, ya know) was infested with witches. Them witches ran around, messin' up the livestock, withering the crops and corruptin' the men-folk with their way-too-sexy bodies and way-too-radical ideas. Come to think of it, these women bear a peculiar resemblance to some a them? Hmm...

Anyhow, Ulli Lommel he come out here and shoots this film, not too disimilar from our small (ahem) New England lives. I think its supposed to be some allegory about how people oughtn't judge others for being different (think I read something about that somewhere), and how hysteria is never in short supply when superstition outweighs reason and ration, and how ugly truths are often better hidden underneath rhetoric and lies - but I don't know.

Its hard to get past this whole Wisconsin for New England thing. Plus, can't say the acting is da greatest in this little film, ya. I mean, aside from this Donald Pleasance character, its a little sparse in der. The plot takes a while to develop, but ya know, it gets pretty tense. I mean, I don't really see the connection in what we did to them ladies and what them New Englanders did to tha witches, but whatever brings da cows home. Crazy German filmmakers should be out tendin' the livestock, not making pseudo-artsy horror films.

So dats my story. Have a good day.

Oh So Many Guilty Pleasures...

Let's face it, we've all got cultural tastes which stretch well beyond the cool, the relevant - even the outro - and into the closet of denial. I am now laying bare this murky closet, airing the stinky sock music; the dingy, moldy plates of film; the dust-infested tomes stashed so far from the light that they're practically albino. Enjoy my bathos (in no particular order):

11. Smack by Melvin Burgess.
Now admittedly this book is rather dark and disturbing for young adult fare, but it's still a young adult novel. The subject matter hits a little close to home as well.

10. Oingo Boingo.
Some people tell me I shouldn't feel guilty (and in fact I don't) about liking - no - loving this band. But I seem to get an awfully large amount of odd stares when I start rocking out to "Weird Science." You know what - fuck it! I'm not guilty at all: I love Oingo Boingo!

9. Star Trek (pretty much anything aside from Enterprise - sorry Count Bakula).
I understand that this unquestionably places nerd brackets around me, but I can't help but enjoy their somewhat hackneyed and cloyingly optimistic messages about our society cum the future. Fine! Here's my lunch money - now leave me alone.

8. Third Wave Ska.
Goddamnit I know! It's rather lame! But I loved that sound in the 90s - that I can't make up my mind whether I'm a hardcore/punk band or ska band - and I can't seem to get over it.

7. Secret of N.I.M.H. by Robert C. O'brien.
Look, this book may be for kids but it has it all: action, drama, intrigue, science-fiction cautionary edge (technology vs. human spirit), hyper-evolved rats and it's an allegory to boot! Most adult fiction wishes it had this much going on.

6. Charmed.
I know I have an easy out - numerous sexy women in the cast. But I have to admit that I completely got sucked into this show. That the cast is easy on the eyes doesn't hurt either, but lets face it - this is the definition of guilty pleasure.

5. Dio.
There is no irony in my enjoyment of Dio. I understand how this makes me look. Meh.

4. Weather.
What do I mean by weather? I mean all of it. I love watching the weather channel. I enjoy reading about tornadoes and hail and lightning. I own a video narrated by Buzz Aldrin with nothing but footage of tornadoes. I would be a storm chaser (refer to I Inquire I respond). I would even be a weather watcher - ham radio and all. I'm a weather dork and I accept full responsibilities for all which that entails.

3. Son In Law.
I know - it's a Pauly Shore movie. No one is supposed to like Pauly Shore movies, except after his reinvention - and not even then. I saw it when I was young, and I liked it. I watched it several years ago on television and I still thought it was fun. "Inbreeders!"

2. Diablo II
I've never considered myself beholden to any one thing. I have spent many hours living through consoles or video-blind at a CRT monitor, but my shame comes not from my attachment to, but from my inability to escape from Diablo II. I can't even fathom the number of hours, drained away by that pixellated succubus. My greatest salvation comes from my inability to run Diablo III (upon its release), due to my antiquated computer.

1. "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves.
What can I say? The song just makes me happy. Is it wrong to feel happy? I think not.

Urban Spelunking.

As I pushed it onto the street, the sewer grate felt like hoisting a locomotive. It was right then and there I decided never to go urban spelunking again. At least it didn't rain and flash-flood all over us, I thought.

Why I thought crawling around in a sewer would be fun is beyond me.

Happy Roo Year!

Some years flip digits on the cosmic alarm clock without anything more than a requisite hang-over. Others begin with subtle delights which key you into the smells of a good year frying in the skillet. Others, such as this, begin with ominous overtones. By ominous overtones, I mean being roofied at a New Years Party and catching Malware on your computer.

But at least I got rid of the Malware.

I hope your new decade smells better than mine does.

On that cheery note: Happy 2011!