Boogie's Resolutions: Reviewed

Remember this?

I certainly didn't. As the course of the year went by, and things went from fucked to interested, to a fucked up brand of interesting, I completely lost sight of the dedicated riffs I had set forth about this time last year. It wasn't until I was in the eighth hour of an eleven hour trip home on New Year's Day that I realized, "My god, an entire year has gone by." It's the traditional time for brand new resolutions, and while there were plenty to choose from, I figured I really couldn't start until I evaluated the ones I had made last time around.

And rather than simply flip through them in the quiet contemplation at home, I figured I might as well bare them for all to see in what is sure to be, mass humiliation.

So, let's begin....

MORE FOOD

Nailed it! But not to the degree I would have liked. There were tons of places and I would have loved to try and chances I would have loved to take, but finances were tight. So, these establishments were left wanting. Still, I've added a lot of places and flavors to the ol' belly, and have since become a regular at a few locales. If anything, 2009 can be clearly stated as the year I really began to appreciate the Vietnamese. Those cats know a thing or two about good eating! So, my appreciation for eating has only increased. And, my ability to cook hasn't fared to bad either. Not great of course, but I'm less likely to poison someone.

MORE DRINK

Eh, I really can't say I met this one at all. I probably drank less this year than the year prior. The only excuse I can really give is that it wasn't by choice. Again, finances were tight, and the loopy-miser had to sit this one out. Some may say it's for the best, but damnit, I miss the stuff. I'm a fun drinker after all.

MORE ADVENTURES

I probably broke even here. Except that this year, my adventures were more peaceful and home bound than last years, which ended up being more public and.....probably illegal. I'm not sure if this is a sign of maturity or laziness, but my adventures were definitely a bit more grown up this time around.

MORE MUSIC

Meh. Bleah! Pssh! Forget it bub, I was a pitiful musician this year. I did record some stuff, and I actually played around quite a bit, but not nearly to the degree of my formative years. And I barely took in any new sounds from around the world. Beyond developing a new appreciation for Tom Waits, I pretty much slunk on my belly amongst the musicians that I was around. I'm so ashamed.

MORE ACCOMPLISHMENTS

Nailed it! In ways, I could have never guessed.

As of August last year, I am a fully enrolled and matriculated student at the local Culinary Institute. I haven't set foot into a kitchen yet, but I managed to pull off a full-time semester with flying colors (Straight A's bitches!) It's strange to have gone from this being a potential pipe dream to actually doing it. Never really thought I would. And strangely, the people in this world have been more eager about this than anything I've ever done. Folks who I had been forcing my musical works on suddenly became very eager about my time spent with food. I guess sometimes you really are the last to know.

As of right now, I now have four shiny new certificates, an assload of knives, and a sparkly white chef coat that makes me look ripped. Not a bad way to check off this goal.

Well, that's the sum up......now for the new year's resolutions:

FINISH THIS SCHOOL THING DAMNIT!

We're in baby, and we ain't leaving until we're done. I've got 4+ more terms of this program, and I expect to walk out graduated. After spending this kind of dough on it, it'd be sick not to. And, pulling the best grades of my life on my first term in, I've gotten real competitive about it. More competitive than I've ever been about anything in my life. Not so sure that's the best way to go about it, but it definitely keeps me boosted.

BE MORE OF A GENTLEMAN

The great Kimmi Rudolph of Rock Deli/Metal Deli fame, started a trend that has been a guiding point for the year. While featuring yours truly on one of her esteemed podcasts, she referred to me as a "Dapper Guy." I even briefly won an award testifying to this (which was later changed to "Best Quote," and equally wonderful honor.) And believe it or not, these simple words, kinda altered my brain path a bit. I started wanting to act less like a furious bastard, and more like a dapper gentleman. Being a cook only further cemented this, since the cooks I respect most have always been class acts. I like feeling dapper day in and day out, and wish to continue it more so.

Does this mean that the days of madcap ramblings are over? Hardly. For you see, even the the sophisticated get pissed about shit. They just tend to speak out about them in a very elaborate, well stated way. And that's what I'm all about baby!

The idea here is to treat the good things that are around me better, and find more unique ways to slander the bad stuff. I think I can pull that off with gusto.

ROLL WITH IT, BUB

This has been one of the hardest years of my life. I haven't had to work as hard to endure through bad times as I have this last year. But, it's also been one of the best. Knowing you can survive something is a fantastic feeling. That despite everything that's going on around you, your ability to adapt and think a situation through can get you through to the end of your troubles. Perhaps it's not the most relaxing way to live, but you certainly feel like you've accomplished something when the smoke clears.

I suspect that this year will be just as hard, perhaps harder. And I want to take my lumps right. It means testing the intellect and the instinct of course, but it also means having faith that things will always work out right. I don't buy into the notion that the universe is a dark and morbid place whose sole purpose is to fuck with my existence for the sake of fun. I'm a butt hair in the eyes of the universe. Barely noticeable, unless you stare really really hard. It doesn't have the time, or the resources to pick on little ol' me.

But I also believe that the universe is self righting. Nature's all about balance, and bad stuff is always weighed perfectly against the good stuff. You just gotta look for it. Keep your eyes open, take chances, and never pass up an opportunity to be happy, no matter how fleeting. Maybe we all can't take in mansions, fancy cars, and beach parties in Malibu, but that's not all there is to life now is there? Never neglect the little things people: a good, well-cooked meal, the smell of firewood burning all around you, making a point to dress up a bit when you're feeling down, finding any excuse to tell someone a great joke. Life's too frickin' short to simply sit and wait for all the big things to happen, when there's a million little things going by you every single day. I aim to bust ass to find them.

And may those of you who read this find as many little things as possible in this the year 2010. All the best!

The New Moon Preview

This weekend, I had the opportunity to see Zombieland, which was better than I ever could have expected. Fantastic film, I could sing it's praises all day.

However I'm not going to. Filmage that good doesn't need my praise. And besides, loyal readers of this blog are not nearly as intrigued by this as the other thing I do a lot of.....which is scorn. And boy, was there scorn to be had.

Without knowing it beforehand, A preview for the new Twilight film "New Moon" was mixed in with the mishmash of material that's always a precursor for the movie. Now understand good people, I have not read the Twilight series. Anything beyond what the cover of the book looks like is completely foreign to me. I watched Twilight, and hated it, without ever reading a page. And this darkened opinion of the movie only insured that I would not see another one, much less read the damn book. So everything I have to say about this film is going to be based on the two minutes of preview I endured to get to the feature presentation.

Here goes.......

Holy fucking shit!!!!! What kind of sick pulpy teenage filth are they passing off as entertainment here? I mean seriously? An entire genre of film, spawned by talented individuals such as Christopher Lee, Bella Legosi, and Gary Oldman, has evolved into this dribble? Vampires used to be cool for fuck's sake!

Alright, perhaps that last point is moot in this day and age. Clearly there is an allegiance to this film by a much bigger mass of people than yours truly. There are armies of teenagers and young adults out there who think this is the greatest thing since Hilfiger Jeans and the relaunch of Converse. To them, vampires are now identifiable. How so is beyond me, but such is the way of things I suppose.

So I won't get into fads here, or debate what's fashionable or not. I've been outdated for years, so it's not exactly my forte. What I feel does bear mentioning, is the logic of the situation.

Yeah, I know, vampires don't exist, and if they do, we can't prove it scientifically. Fine, whatever. Let's roll on the assumption that they do exist, and that there are in fact immortal beings who have lived on this planet for hundreds of years, never aging, and sustaining their cursed existence on the blood of the living. And let's say that there is someone like big hair Edward about, who continues to interact the living even though he is estranged from it.

Well then let me ask you this: Why in the fuck would a vampire who's hundreds of years old go to high school? Seriously, you have centuries of knowledge and experience, why not go to college? Hell you might actually make some contributions to science or history or something. Wouldn't that kind of be for the betterment of all these mortal cattle you like to frequent? What exactly are you trying to achieve at the high school level? And not even a world-renound school with an outstanding curriculum. No, a small rural school in the middle of nowhere.

You know what else college has? Women of legal fucking age! Did anyone ever actually do the math on this, and realize that Edward is a very old man? Hell, people still find it kind of creepy when an older guy is talking to a teenager at Barnes And Noble. How do you think they'll feel when a guy nearly pushing a century is spouting tales of love to a girl barely old enough to drive? It's disgusting.

But you're okay with that eh? You don't let the huge age gap bother your mood? Fine, then let's consider the following: Edward is a being that is very old. He's wandered the earth for quite some time, experienced a great many thing about life (and unlife I imagine.) He is worldly being who's had time to figure things out.

So, if all of the above is true, then why would he even consider, even for a second, falling for an overly dramatic teenager? I mean seriously, there are teenage boys who don't even want to mess with that bag of crazy. And yet here a being with the wealth of knowledge that is only possessed by some of the oldest living people on the planet, falls into that shit. How fucking stupid do you have to be?

And then you know what he does? He leaves! All the while an audience of people are supposed to be completely surprised that she's blow this completely out of proportion and try to kill herself. "Oh no, the love of my life is leaving me. I can't live without him, so I'd rather die." Holy hell, how many times have we heard that shit? It's practically it's own stereotype right now. Everybody knows this......except apparently big-haired Edward. Who clearly does the one thing in the world you should never do with an overly dramatic teenage girl. And the best I can tell from the preview, is that the entire premise of the movie is based on this: An old man robbing the dramatic cradle, and the wackiness that ensues.

Now, clearly this isn't a review for the sort of people who are excited for the release of this atrocity. Mostly, this is for like minded individuals who abhor everything about this movie, and want nothing more than to read someone else bitch about it. And this is also for those of you who are on the fence about this Twilight business. The sort of people who can't decide if they should be pulled into the tide with everyone else. If this is you, and you're telling yourself, "Well it can't be that bad," let me assure you that yes, yes it can.

Star Trek: 2 and 1

Rather than go the usual route of writing a lengthy review of my experiences while watching the new Star Trek movie, I'm opting to simplify things here. Let's face it, there are plenty of places to get a full synopsis on the movie. And with a little bit of careful Googling, you can probably find one that matches your opinions to a T. So, out of awareness that there are so many reviews out there, and part laziness, I'm going to avoid the lengthy.

What I will do today is simply point out two things that I found quite enjoyable about the new Star Trek film, and one thing that I wasn't so much a fan of. Be warned, THESE THINGS MAY BE A BIT SPOILERISH. So, if you haven't seen it and want to be completely surprised, quit reading this post. In fact, quit reading altogether, go buy yourself a movie ticket, and go watch the damn thing already.

Okay, so here goes:

THE TWO

.Mixing the Beastie Boys and Star Trek is fucking righteous!

.Wynona Rider didn't talk much and died quickly, always a plus.

THE ONE

.They worked a little too hard trying to squeeze in all those memorable quotes into the movie.


That is all.

A Boogie Take on Susan Boyle

I am a snarky, cynical bastard.

Anyone who reads this blog with any kind of regularity would probably agree with that statement. And I've made no secret of hiding it from anyone. Being a bitch is a big part of my personality, and frankly, I think is what makes me entertaining. Seriously, would anyone out there read this thing if I was pleasant all the time? If I had nothing but wonderful things to say about that dreamy and uber-talented Shia Lebeouf? Or how about singing the praises of the innocent musical genius Milely Cyrus? Shit no, If you wanted that sort of dribble, you'd be watching Nickelodeon right now. I'm here to satisfy the yearnings of those who like their reading material to be blunt and pissy.

And I'm sure now one out there can argue that I am no more blunt and pissy, than when it comes to music. Despite being someone who doesn't take his own personal musical work too seriously, I still judge the collective body of our musical history with an iron fist. I am a musical elitist, and hold high expectations on what ever bit of song and tuneage filters into the masses. And I don't tolerate dreck.

But I don't think I ask for much. I don't audibly feast on classically trained artists or those who possess fleet fingers or extended singing ranges. All I really ask for is a bit of emotional conviction. Those die hard souls who say "I'm gonna make the music that makes me happy and not compromise a thing." That's the stuff that really gets me going. And I don't care if it's Dream Theater or The Ramones, if it's done with heart, I'm listening. I freely admit that I have Lionel Richie and Mandy Moore albums in my collection. Laugh all you want, I think the tunes are great. They definitely got a hell of a lot more emotion than half the people who are successful today.

And perhaps, that's what makes me a cynic. By large, the biggest amount of musical artistry that is available in widespread rotation, is total crap. It's all auto tuned jailbait singing in Cover Girl ads. And what hasn't been pre-programmed by the industry is making it's name off of doing glossy karaoke on primetime programming. Reality TV has proven that there are a great many people who can sing competently, and that none of them can do anything better than rehash the hits of the Carpenters. I suppose not a bad thing if you like extensive vocal calisthenics done over 30-second snippets of classic tunes. Personally, I don't. And thus perpetuates the constant infuriating agony that is the mainstream music scene.

So when I hear a name like Susan Boyle springing up everywhere, I get real ornery. Every news feed and blog I hit, they're talking about it. "Oh yeah here's this woman in Britain. She's like 47, but she went on some reality show, and boy she can sing!" Yeah, I've heard it all before. There's at least two American Idols every season who are constantly being praised with similar skill. And frankly, most of them only keep my interest for about 30 seconds before I realize they sound like everyone else. I'm fully aware, much like you my fine readers, that words like "talent" and "soul" are just buzz words to draw the eye to articles. I pay them very little mind, and spent the last couple days ignoring it. I was completely convinced that while Susan Boyle probably could sing, it would be just another person wailing on incessantly with a bunch of unnecessary notes and scales, and ending a very emotional song with a long warbling vibrato that completely overshadowed the orchestration. It's how it's always been, and I knew things wouldn't be any different. So, why bother wasting my precious time with something I know will be more of the same? But, after seeing article after article, I got fed up and decided to finally hit Youtube and see what the fuss was all about.

And I'm happy to say, Susan Boyle proved me completely wrong.

If you haven't heard this snippet yet (and I'm not gonna post a link up here, since it seems like every media site out there is talking about it,) I wholeheartedly recommend that you do. Yeah, it's "I Dream A Dream" from Les Miserables, not some original composition. And yeah what she's doing can definitely be defined as karaoke. But, it's irrelevant, trust me. At the end of it, you'll probably agree with me, and the rest of the world that this scary looking woman with the bushy eyebrows can not only sing and sing well, but she can put her heart into it.

She balanced well with the orchestration, she stuck to heart of the melody without adding any ridiculous scales to it, and the one moment where she does show her range, it fits perfectly with the composition. No flash, no technical proficency, just pure honesty. Her rendition of that piece was stirring, and I don't meant that in a backhanded way, or some pretentious way either. I mean it in the sincerest way a guy who got his mind blown can mean it. It was truly something magical.

This cynic's eyes are definitely open a little bit wider. I was impressed, and it wasn't some unshaven band playing heartbreak songs in a candlelit mountain cabin, nor some downtuned distorted symphony of droning. Just a scruffy woman in her golden years singing Schonberg. Sometimes a little raw musical greatness comes from the most unlikely of places. And it may mean stepping out of comfort zones and predefined notions to find that out. But Ms. Boyle has proved that the trip is definitely worth it. And while I defintely won't be tuning into American Idol more often, it was nice to see something good get through the cracks for once.

Susan Boyle, I salute you.

Twilight: Boogie's Take

*WARNING*

THIS WILL BE LOADED WITH SPOILERS. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE, OR READ THE BOOK, THIS POST WILL RUIN IT FOR YOU. IF YOU DID SEE THE MOVIE, AND ACTUALLY ENJOYED IT, WELL THIS POST WILL STILL RUIN IT FOR YOU. APPROACH WITH CAUTION.

Twilight is not a film I've been exactly looking forward to. And this may surprise several of you, since it's a well established fact that Stephanie Meyer, the author of Twilight, is an alumni of Utah. Well, I've never been one to support the hometown heroes, and less so when it comes to my favorite supernatural escapes.

I like vampires, I admit it. Granted, I don't invest a lot my time dressing up in frilly garb, painting my face white, and shucking around folks with fake, oversized incisors, but as a form of entertainment, vampires are great. The Lost Boys was practically life changing when I was a kid, and Bram Stoker's Dracula probably forever screwed my noodle by the time pre-adolescence came around. I cannot even begin to express the amount of joy the series True Blood has given me these past few months. So yeah, Boogie likes him some vampires.

That said, I was fully prepared to be disappointed by Twilight. Now, I have never read the series, nor had I taken much time to find out what the whole thing was really about. My first real glimpse into the film was from the numerous posters that were being sold at bookstores and Wal Marts across the globe. Just seeing these things made me uncomfortable.

All the male vampires were too pretty. And I know, vampires are supposed to be all gorgeous and androgynous, pushing the limits of man-pretty, but this was too much. These posters were uncomfortably pretty, cringe-worthy even. It was like every teenage girl's hot, but slightly affeminate dream guy, painted up in glitter. Not really how I take my vampires.

So, I was already grouchy when I got to the theater. Overly pretty men creatures, all created in the mind of someone who practices a religion I'm not super fond of. And add to this bitter stew the fact that the first season of True Blood had just ended, which set the bar high for any vampire entertainment that was coming down the road. My expectations were rock-bottom by the time I took my seat and watched previews.

So, now with the film behind me, I can finally think about it and the mild phenomenon that it has caused. And there's one thought that keeps coming back to me. One element of this whole storyline that I can't seem to get past, no matter how hard I try:

Damn, Bella's a complete and total bitch!

Seriously, is there anyone in that goddamn movie she's nice to? She pisses on her mom and step-boyfriend guy to run away to daddy's house. She walks all over daddy like he's nothing, simply because the man is too hurt and fragile to talk. And as for all those high school buddies of hers? Despite the fact that they were nice, kind, and overly (in my opinion) enthusiastic about the stupidest shit, she still paraded this whole "you're too dumb for me" attitude for the duration of the film. I mean seriously who in the hell would want to be immortal with that shallow piece of crap? I sure as hell wouldn't.

And once that became my focal point, the rest of the film went straight downhill. Edward goes on talking about how he can read every one's mind except hers, and I'm sitting here thinking, "Well gee, maybe that's because too goddamn shallow to have actual comprehensible thoughts?" And then there was Edward going back and forth between wanting to be with her, and needing to be away with her. How does she react? Mostly, by looking dumbfounded no matter what happens. In fact, the whole film is her looking varying degrees of dumbfounded.

I think the true stupidity of this film came right around midpoint, when Edward finally revealed that he was among the undead. They were standing on a well lit mountaintop, and Ed was telling her all his baggage. The boy was literally confessing all his vulnerabilities to her, openly admitting that she was the most tasty-looking, desirable human he had ever encountered, and that he was having a hard time controlling himself from digging teeth into neck and ravaging her dry. And what does she do? She continually walks up right into his face, and tells him, "It's okay you feel that way, I trust you."

What the hell? Normal people don't do this shit. We don't jump into lion cages and tell the zookeepers, "No no no, don't feed the lions today. I trust them not to eat me." I don't care how man-pretty the predator is, this just goes against common-fucking-sense. I mean, at the very least we process the information handed to us, we take a few minutes to contemplate our options, but we don't just run willy nilly into something so left field like that. Well, normal people don't I guess. Bella the dipshit does.

And the whole time I'm watching this scene, I could literally see Bella dancing in front of vampire Edward and singing in a operatic soprano voice, "I'm a steak, I'm a steak. I'm a tasty tasty steak. Eat me, I'm a steak, There's no witnesseses, have a steak......" So much so, that I'm literally singing this in the theater, ruining the movie for a bunch of people who are actually impassioned by this whole bit of nonsense.

So, Bella pretty much sunk a barely passable vampire flick. The vamps weren't any cooler than they've been in past incarnations. In fact every vamp had this uppity, wheatgrass drinking, tennis playing elitest thing about them. And it's hard to be intrigued by that. These are people you hate in the modern day world, it seems like making them immortal would only make you hate them worse. As for the bad guy vamps, they all looked like has been celebrities from the 80's that were on some VH1 "Where Are They Now?" marathon. Try looking at them and not seeing Axl Rose, Vernon Reid, and Molly Ringwald respectively. You can't do it can you? The one saving grace from the whole mess was this: Alice Cullen was pretty hot.

So if you are readers of this blog, or fans of the vampire genre, I cannot recommend this movie to you. It's bad, and not even laughably bad. This is no horror film that is so cheesy, that you can't help but laugh at it. No, this a test of one's frustration levels. Love and lust between a mortal and an immortal has been done tons of times before, but the level of chaste and boredom that accompanies this is enough to make you want to hit the person sitting next to you repeatedly. So for your own sake, and the sake of those you share your theaters with, walk away from the ticket booth, go home, put some popcorn in the microwave, and put the Lost Boys in your DVD player. You'll thank me for it later.

My First Review

Looks like ol' Boogie is starting to hit the big time. I was browsing the spam box in the Gmail account today, mostly because I was bored , when I stumbled across an email from the good folks at Peloop. They addressed it to Mr. Boogie Man Montoya of "The Boogie Man Speaks." And apparently, they would like my fine publication to do a review on their product for either a monetary sum, or the honor of owning one of their quality products.

Wow, my first offer into the world of commercialism. It's all Maserati's and fancy hotel rooms from here on out.

But seriously, I'm not actually gonna do it. Money isn't so tight here around Mello-Drama that I need to consider writing a review on a bogus sex product to get by. It's the principle of the thing really. If I even consider writing a single one, my reputation for brilliant nonconformism goes right down the drain. Despite the fact that no one reads this dribble, I still have to look at my ugly mug in the mirror and admit to myself, "I wrote a sex ad." It's a hard thing to live down.

So, I was just going to chuckle before standing by the guns and pressing delete when I had a thought. I said to myself, "You know, what if I didn't take the offer, but I still published the review, Boogie style. Might make for a fun read, and at the very least it would amuse me for twelve minutes." So, here it is, my unbiased and totally pointless review on the Peloop.

Enjoy.

Are you like me and enjoy a healthy sex life, filled with quality erections and satisfied partners? if you answered no, then you are a loser. But, it's not your fault. Studies show that high quantities of preservatives combined with a stressful modern lifestyle and copious masturbation have led to a weakened sexual drive. Erections don't last as long, splooge doesn't fire out of your member like a skyrocket on cocaine, and all your mating partners are calling up your parents to tell them they did a horrible job raising you.

But it doesn't have to be this way. Not if you have Peloop. You see, Peloop is a non patented, completely unproven system that uses magnets to enhance erectile response. Magnets people! We're talking science here, and scientists all around the world know that magnets are good for absolutely nothing. Nil, Zilch, Nada. Because if magnets did anything medically interesting, then you'd see them being sold by medical supply companies instead of in really chintzy bracelets sold at gift shops across the southwest. This worthless magnet is fitted to an uncomfortable looking plastic strap that is quite reminiscent of those bracelet things doctors put on you when you go to the hospital. No cushioning, no support, just hard plastic with highly advanced chafing abilities. We've also colored the Peloop a bright fluorescent orange, so that other users of our fine product can identify you as part of the collective. A group of successful people who are failing the genetic race. This product is guaranteed to do nothing but make you really uncomfortable and afraid to whip it out in public bathrooms.

But you're desperate you say, well then let's talk features. The Peloop uses a rare earth magnet to produce a strong magnetic field around the base of your penis. That's right, a rare earth magnet. This means you can't just go to home depot, grab a package of craft magnets and slap them on your peter. Nope, this is special. A unique type of magnetic field that helps to open up the arteries and allow more blood into the shaft, creating much more massive and impressive erections. And that's not all! The creators of Peloop have also including the minerals Tourmaline and Germanium in the creation of the device. Sounds fancy? It's not. Tourmaline is typically found in basic rockstuffs like granite and marble. It's pretty, and makes for great tabletops, but otherwise useless. What about germanium? Very useful, in fact we use it all the time. For semiconductors and transistors mostly, you see a lot of it in Radio Shack. Not so sure it's so good for the scrotum, but hey you are desperate right?

And Peloop has all the answers for your desperation. You see these minerals add some powerful side effects to the act of erecting. Magic side effects. The Tourmaline creates the influx of negative ions (also known by no one as "air vitamins,") while the germanium produces a high concentration of Far Infa Red Rays into your member. What are air vitamins you ask? I'm glad you asked. You see, vitamins are sourced from minerals. And since germanium and tourmaline are technically minerals, and we've already guaranteed your little solider will be at full attention by using this product, these minerals will be airborne. Hence, air vitamins, get it? It was on National Geographic, but you probably missed it.

Far Infa Red Rays haven't made it to television yet, but they are still quite impressive. They harness the power of a spectrum of light we can't even see. Then how do we know it exists? Because we feel it in the form of heat. And yes, we make tons of heat just by being alive, but remember this is magic heat. Heat that gets those blood cells jumping like crazy to produce large scary erections. Where does the heat come from? Well it doesn't. Germanium's a conductor remember? You have to plug it into something. I suppose a car battery could work, but that would probably mean you're into the weird shit. You probably wouldn't need Peloop if that's the case. But, there are other energy sources out there, like the sun for example. Of course, you'd have to walk around with your package out in the open to get any kind of real benefit from it. And that may be illegal. But, that's okay. When the nice police officers escort you to jail for indecent exposure and they ask, "Is that a Peloop?" You can say, "Yes, yes it is."

So, why be a failure in the bedroom when you can be a failure in the bedroom who's also gullible? We've got testimonials by proud users of our product pouring in. Granted, they gave one sentence answers and won't let us use anything other than their first name, but it's a clear indicator of the success people are having with Peloop. Hop on the train to success, and strap yourself in for some odd colored, slightly uncomfortable non-arousing action. Don't wait, order now!

Keep those ad requests coming boys, Boogie's on a roll!

Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull

*NOTICE *

THIS BITCH-FEST WILL CONTAIN DISCUSSION ON ELEMENTS OF THE AFOREMENTIONED MOVIE. MANY CALL THEM SPOILERS. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS FILM AND DON'T WANT THE LIKES OF ME RUINING IT FOR YOU, STOP READING NOW.

*THAT IS ALL*

Yeah, I went to see the movie. Despite my instincts screaming about how bad this would suck, and my imminent distaste for one Shia Lebeouf, I went. I had no delusions of greatness. Much as I would have loved to have seen the Indiana Jones of days gone by brought back to life in a deserving form, I wasn't counting o it. Nor did I expect to be wowed, or to have any faith in the glory of Hollywood to be able to rekindle the kind of performance necessary from this classic. Truth be told, I was just shooting for passable.

And even with such minimalist expectations, I was sorely disappointed.

Since taking in the movie and reveling in such monumental failure, I have since read many of the movie reviews and the ensuing comments that came with them. I've noticed there are a lot of people saying some glowing things about this film. And they have no problem telling us detractors that we're far too serious a bunch, and that we need to allow ourselves the need to "suspend disbelief." Accept this fantastical tale for what it is, and don't let the burdens of reality get in the way.

am all for suspending disbelief. Fantasy is a great thing, something I encourage as much as humanly possible. And since I roll with an overactive imagination strong enough to keep me out of reality for weeks at a time, believe me when I say I that reality is overrated.

But, there is fine line between suspending disbelief, and treating me like I'm stupid.

For example, I'm willing to go along with the idea that Indiana Jones had some involvement with the Roswell UFO Crash Landing. But that our protagonist can survive a nuclear explosion completely unscathed in a lead-lined refrigerator? Not so much. Convenient, don't you think, that he was magically shot through the sky into an area outside of the contamination zone? I don't know a whole hell of a lot about nuclear explosions, but I don't think the big kaboom works that way. And if it does? Well, where's the rest of the debris? There were cars and toys and all kinds of lighter shit around. Where was all of that when that refrigerator hit the ground?

Hell, I'm willing to play along when an alien skull turns out to be made of crystal and is so magnetically charged, that it attracts shit that isn't magnetic. And yet, this thing is strong enough to attract non-magnetic gunpowder dust from across a huge fucking warehouse, but when you're standing next to it, the thing doesn't rip the high-quality and very magnetic Russian metal from your hands? The enemy was able to keep a firm yet fragile grip on those rifles at point blank range! My disbelief can only stretch so far. Shit, that was a big ass warehouse they were in. Surely there must have been some metal shit in at least one of those boxes. Hey, what about the fucking nails holding the crates together? How is it that Mr. Dead alien's mutilated magno-retard corpse not pull every single crate apart at the seams? Of course, if you're fantasy land is far more detailed than mine, explain this one: How can you have a magnetic tape recorder in the background with one of these mystical skull things? Most of you loyal readers are probably still survivors from the VHS era, so you know how nicely tape and magnets play.

The list of inadequacies can go on and on, but I'm tired and you people have lives. Needless to say that most days, I will happily run willy-nilly into a film that goes against conventional science, but please don't fuck with my logic.

Lucas and the Spiel should have known better. This is the new millennium, and the world is loaded with a smarter group of people. Folks who have taken in hefty amounts of programming like "CSI" or "Mythbusters," and have a good sense of how Hollywood magic plays in the real world. We are a society of people who are now fully aware that the human body has limits. And this should have been particularly true of a 65 year old actor.

I can acknowledge that Harrison Ford is old. I can accept that age has made him slower and more vulnerable to the types of over-the-top action we've known him for in the past. In fact, I was kind of curious to see how an older Indy would manage. I wasn't expecting him to slap in dentures and complain about arthritis of course, but time has never been kind to anyone after all.

Funny though, how it seems ol' Indy was actually more indestructible in this film than in any of the priors when he was actually younger. Punches to the face, jet engines, waterfalls, fucking refrigerators, and none of it slowed him down. Suspend disbelief you say? Every other fucking Indy movie, the man got dirty, bloody, and got his ass handed to him by movie's end. We all knew and loved the protagonist who bled like the rest of us. And yet an older, more venerated Indy can somehow take equally hard abuse on weakened muscles and aged bones without ill? Bullshit!

Of course, maybe the man was in pain. Maybe all those wacky antics really did hurt him. It can be hard to tell when everyone is acting so bored. Nobody on the cast seemed to be having any fun, nobody looked like they were excited to be doing this again. It was all gritted teeth and bad jokes. The only cats who even seemed animated were the Russians.

By this way, the Russian community is pissed about this movie. And I can't blame them one bit. I've known enough Russian people in my time to know that how they are not portrayed in this movie like they should be. Russian folks are some of the coolest, most composed people out there. Quiet, subtle, and steely resolve, that there is the M.O. of a hard and rugged people. Not this running around squawking like a bad Amos & Andy episode with bad accents. Ol' Lucas thought he could get away making the same spunky Nazi antagonists like he's did in all the prior films and just calling them Russians. No deal buddy, it's an offense to their community, and to people like myself who hold those guys in such high regard.

And of course, what bitch-fest about an inferior movie is complete without my assessment of Shia? My distaste for the bastard has made me reasonably popular lately, so I'd be remiss in not saying a few words about him. So, how did he fare?

Well, I'll admit my initial predictions were a little bit off. In place of the scrawny "I wanna be like you daddy," that I was expecting, I got a Marlon Brando clone in it's stead. Leather coat and goofy hat, hunched over the motorcycle, very much The Wild One right?

Well, I think someone needed to tell Shia, that he isn't in fact, Marlon Brando.

Playing the whole "I'm a drifter badass because I've never known the love of a father," bit to it's bitter ridiculous end gets damned old for eyes like mine. Particularly when the only thing that can be defined as badass about his character is the outfit. It's easy to look tough and untamed when decked in leathers and on the back of a motorcycle, lawyers have been doing it for years. I was right about one thing, he's still one-note. White bread generic until credits roll, and no amount of painted on goatee can cover that up.

But I did derive one moment of joy out of his performance. About midway through, when he is reunited with his surrogate father, played by John Hurt. Falling to his knees in front of an expertly placed spotlight, fresh water sprayed into those boyish eyes, providing the illusion of tears. He stares at this man, the closest thing to a father known to him through these lonely years, with a look of confusion and concern upon his face. His lips tremble as he questions what evil force would do such a horrible thing to this good man.

I've never laughed so hard in all my goddamn life. Is it me, or did anyone else expect him to look up to the stars and start screaming "STELLA!"

So, it was disappointing. I did expect it after all, The track record of George Lucas has been less than stellar lately. And trying to bring back the feelgoods from names he made famous is the act of a desperate man. So, I knew that it couldn't be great. But I at least wanted it to be good. I wanted to return to those happy days of yesteryear for a little while, and remember that wacky archaeologist and his need for epic quests. Just to revel in better times. Hell, if some justice had been done to his end, things would've been just fine by me. The man inspired a great deal in a lot of us. I know it did in me. And while I'm sure it wasn't the sole motivating factor in me studying archeology, I know he played his part.

So, for those of you naysayers who have torn the internet asunder in your claims of this film's greatness, ask yourself this: Would you still love this movie if the name Indiana Jones wasn't attached to it? If whip and fedora hadn't been donned, would this have still been a summer blockbuster, or another off-the-rack B stock film at your local movie rental store's Horror section? Using big names to tell weak stories benefits no one. It only ruins the name. I for one, can probably dismiss this movie. Forget it exists entirely, and treat it like another story from another man. And down the road, when I watch Harrison Ford and Sean Connery triumphantly ride into the sunset with the mysteries of the Holy Grail behind them, I can tip my hat to the end of a great series, and a legendary tale.