Don't make a move, fellas! Those jowls mean business!

It's hard to knock a man when he's been through so much in the past couple of years, but I have to say that Ebert is one bitter guy. Despite having already written "I Hated, Hated Hated This Movie" back in 2000, he's come out with another one called:

I guess coming so close to death made him really want to punish any filmmakers that would waste what little time he had left with absolute crap.

And is it just me, or does that picture of him look like he's sitting in judgment over General Zod?

VSL

I've just signed up for email updates from the site called Very Short List.

And it totally has nothing to do with them featuring my video today.

Totally.

POTUS # Forty-(Three)

It is truly astounding that after all this time of being scrutinized, there are new levels of reprehensibility to be found out about our current President. I just stumbled across this charming little anecdote from eight years ago:

In the week before [Karla Faye Tucker's] execution, Bush says, Bianca Jagger and a number of other protesters came to Austin to demand clemency for Tucker. "Did you meet with any of them?" I ask.

Bush whips around and stares at me. "No, I didn't meet with any of them," he snaps, as though I've just asked the dumbest, most offensive question ever posed. "I didn't meet with Larry King either when he came down for it. I watched his interview with [Tucker], though. He asked her real difficult questions, like 'What would you say to Governor Bush?' "

"What was her answer?" I wonder.

"Please," Bush whimpers, his lips pursed in mock desperation, "don't kill me."

Can there be any more doubt as to how his little "Compassionate Conservatism" line was the biggest load of sh*t ever pushed onto the American Public? It's now even more clear how this man would want zero restrictions placed on him in terms of the use of torture. Brings to mind old Lee J. Cobb in 12 Angry Men, eh?

Juror #8: "Are you his executioner?"
Juror #3: "I'm one of 'em!"
Juror #8: "Perhaps you'd like to pull the switch?"
Juror #3: "For this kid? You bet I would!"
Juror #8: "I feel sorry for you... what it must feel like to want to pull the switch. Ever since you walked into this room, you've been acting like a self-appointed public avenger! You want to see this boy die because you personally want it, not because of the facts! You're a sadist!"
[Three lunges wildly at Eight, who holds his ground. Several jurors hold Three back]
Juror #3: "I'll kill him! I'LL KILL HIM!"

Ten observations from my DC trip for the ALA Conference

(Presented in the order in which they were observed)

#1 - The D.C. Metro continues to kick the ass of the NYC subway in pretty much every category.

#2 - Paris Hilton may still be a spoiled brat, but her family runs a great hotel.

#3 - This does not excuse them, however, for excluding HGTV from the basic cable lineup.

#4 - Strangers on a Train is actually a comedy.

#5 - Twelve piece brass bands spontaneously sprout up in Dupont Circle on Friday nights.

#6 - Ken Burns rocks the podium!

#7 - The Washington D.C. Convention Center was designed by the same guys who created the Star Wars Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II.

#8 - It's a sure bet that the only place you'll find a Frederick Douglas impersonator wandering around (and a damned uncanny one at that) is at a conference of librarians.

#9 - Catching a glimpse of Matthew Lesko only 10 feet away from you does not turn you into a pillar of salt (but you still might feel icky afterwards).

#10 - Eight hours trapped inside Reagan National Airport still beats five hours inside Amsterdam Schiphol Airport.

LEGOOOOOO!

Well, Mrs. Mosely and I are off to the ALA Annual Conference in Washington DC tomorrow. I'll be back on Monday night. In the meantime, the standard serving of LEGO goodness:

Dum-Dum-DUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMM!

The Metaflter post has proclaimed the following to be the "best five-second video on the internet":



It's certainly in the running.

And right next to the Angry Alien guys, no less!

The hits to the "100 Movies, 100 Quotes, 100 Numbers" video breached the 400,000 mark recently, which is great, but I think one the highest honors so far has to be today's appearance on Boing Boing. Thanks, folks.

Now all that guy needs is a rain barrel and some trout.

I won't beat up on the NRA in this post since they actually surprised me earlier this week with their support of a bill that strengthens background checks. The bill was in part a reaction to the Virginia Tech shootings and though the NRA have previously dug in their heels after massacres like Columbine, they have apparently had a change of heart. Good on them.

Anyway, MSNBC has a story up right now (via Newsweek) that should depress members of the NRA a bit. According to a recent study, there is a downward turn in the number of active hunters and fishermen in this country. Here's the headline graphic:



So my question after seeing this is not to the NRA, but rather to the folks over at Newsweek: What the hell does an old timer shopping for pistols at a gun show have to do with hunting?

I would have preferred "Optimus Spud"

I saw this in Walmart today:




For those who can't read the little blurb in yellow, it says "POTATOES IN DISGUISE!"

It's not quite as bizarre a toy promotion as the one recently found by Defective Yeti, but it's close.

No Country for Old Men

I just saw this for the first time today and had to share. We're going way back with this one, folks. This is Coen Brothers Old School. This is Blood Simple territory. And it's far grimmer than their last straight film Fargo, because you won't have the Minnesota accents around to break the tension. Good stuff:

They're here.

The good thing about living in Florida is that half of the year is devoted to maintaining supplies in case of a hurricane. Plenty of water, hand crank radio, canned goods, lanterns and flashlights and anything else you may need when trapped in your house without electricity for a long period of time.

Well, so much for hurricanes.

I heard the reports along with most everyone else yesterday afternoon on the way home from work. I'm guessing most people took awhile to assimilate the information as the grocery stores hadn't hit critical mass when I stopped by to stock up on extras. I got home and found Mrs. Mosley had beat me there and was watching the television, transfixed. Yeah, satellite imagery of zombie attacks all across the globe will do that to you.

Once I got to working on the house, she shook out of her daze and asked what she should be doing. Man, she can be a cool customer in times of crisis. I told her to fill the bathtub and as many buckets as possible with fresh water. I made myself busy boarding up windows with whatever scraps of wood were in the laundry room.

In the midst of all this, there was one vital thing I forgot: weapons. I'm not a gun person and have never even fired a firearm before. Would that doom us all? Not necessarily, I thought. I immediately thought of the machete I bought for chopping down those thick vines in the yard. If it isn't too rusty, then it could be an invaluable tool.

I opened the front door and looked around. Everything was still. We're in a secluded pocket of a neighborhood, so this wasn't very surprising. I ducked back in to the house and grabbed the baseball bat just in case. Mrs. Mosley protested, but I assured her the coast was clear and it was probably still too early to be encountering anything yet. I kissed her and exited the house, closing the door behind me.

In the backyard, I unlocked the doors to the massive shed that was built by the previous owner. It was packed with all sorts of crap, and I desperately scanned around the dark corners for anything useful. I spotted the machete immediately next to the door. There was some rust on the blade but it still seemed in good shape. Everything else (lawn furniture, stepping stones, a lawnmower I barely used) didn't seem very helpful. The blade off the Lawnboy could be fashioned into a second machete, but it was probably dull as...

(snap)

And suddenly, I was glad I hadn't kept my yard clear of leaves and twigs. I turned to see the shambling form of a teenager about twelve feet in front of me and closing. I recognized him as this kid down the street who had this tiny scooter he rode around on. Every now and then, he would buzz by the house like some steroid-popping bumble bee. That scooter was annoying, to be sure, but I couldn't summon up enough bile from this alone to justify what I was about to do.

I realized I was carrying the machete in one hand and the bat in the other. Decisions, decisions. I quickly decided on the bat since this opportunity allowed me room to swing and the machete wasn't sharp enough yet. I never played baseball in my life. The bat was just a remnant of college days when a roommate moved out and left a bunch of his stuff for the rest of us to divide. I was felling oh so better for not having chosen the lava lamp.

He was getting close now and I had to act. I grabbed the bat tight with both hands, swung back ... and thwack!

Son of a bitch if that head didn't come clean off. The body followed the head to the ground and I stood looking down at it with the bat resting against my right leg. I didn't feel the urge to vomit upon my first killing, but then again it wasn't exactly murder, was it? I tore my gaze away and took one more look through the shed. I happened to look up and see that, in the rafters, was a lot more wood as well as a couple of old doors. And they looked like old solid ones to boot.

As quickly as I could, I grabbed some long-handled garden tools (better take those with me, too) and used them to slide them off the rafters and crashing onto the ground. I dragged the lot back to the house and was relieved that none of the teenager's friends had come by as well. After one more trip to the shed to grab some odds and ends, I went back into the house and locked it up tight. The sun was about to set.

We're dug in, now. Miraculously, the electric is still on and the DSL is operating just fine. No clue as to how long that will last. This old cinder block house could last for awhile, especially if the two of us keep quiet and don't attract any more visitors. We'll be glued to the computer and, eventually, the radio.

Stay safe, folks.

Coulda been worse. Coulda been Oh Sherrie.

Truth be told, I have yet to watch one episode of The Sopranos, including the much talked about series finale from Sunday night. However, after reading so many articles about that last episode and how abruptly it ended, I have to respect creator David Chase for doing something so ballsy and brilliant.

And amidst all the insightful articles I've read about it so far, one quote from the Salon piece is the most memorable and hilarious:

"Chase really does have the last laugh, here, making us pick apart lyrics to a Journey song, for Christsakes."

A film with Will Smith fighting mutant tabbys would be so much more interesting.

Defective Yeti has a great post up about how Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics should be modified to cats if we get to the point where we can fine-tune them through genetic engineering:

1. A cat may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. This includes transmogrifying from "adorable kitty enjoying a tummy rub" to "bandsaw" without warning.

2. A cat may not barf on the floor or, if the barfing is unavoidable, will only barf on kitchen tile, rather than the goddamned carpet.

3. When I am struggling under the weight of an overstuffed armchair, carrying it from the the living area to the kitchen so the cleaner guys can come and steam the seven gallons of cat barf out of the carpet, a cat (specifically: Louie) may not suddenly decide that this would be a wonderful moment to affectionately rub against my legs, or I swear to Baal I'M GOING TO DROP THIS MOTHERLOVING SOFA RIGHT ON YOU YA FREAKIN MORON!

Movie Quotes: Schizopolis

After seeing a recent story over on Slate, I was disappointed that it made no mention of the film Schizopolis, a decidedly odd and experimental film by Steve Soderbergh early in his career. The pertinent scene happens to be the only part of the film I can clearly remember.

An official-looking guy steps up to a podium in from of a crowd of anxious reporters in order to clear up some confusion:

"I'm just going to make this brief statement on behalf of A.R.H.A.D.L. The spreading of these erroneous and offensive descriptions has gone on for decades, and we find ourselves once again having to make a public statement. Racehorses do not urinate more frequently or at greater length than non-racing horses or, for that matter, any mammal of comparable size. This organized, publicly-sanctioned slander must stop."

A welcome break from LOL cats.

My wife and I had dinner with friends last night and started to discuss Schrodinger's Cat. It was an odd coincidence since I came across this graphic earlier yesterday and was thinking of posting it (Found via NeedCoffee.com):

Nostalgia for the 1980's carried too far

The common element to the first Republican debate last month was how all of the candidates wanted to carry on the tradition of the Ronald Reagan presidency.

Fair enough. But do they really require Bush shooting off his mouth and restarting the entire Cold War in order to do it?

The link between bad frame rates and freezing to death

I came across an item on Metafilter today lamenting the live action Speed Racer movie that's being made. Two major points to make here. First off, for all their bashing of Joel Silver, he does come through with gems now and again. The Wachowski brothers' The Matrix is the star example, and they are also the ones directing Speed. So there's hope yet.

Second of all, as for the "Hollywood screws with yet another happy childhood memory" complaint, I wouldn't get up on my high horse just yet. I had happy memories of watching Speed Racer when I was a kid, too. Then I watched a couple of episodes after I'd grown up. Damn that show sucked. Remakes are A-OK by me if the source material wasn't very good to begin with. You can only go up from there.

But I digress. I ended up going to the IMDb entry for the film and finding out more about the guy who's going to play Speed, a kid by the name of Emile Hirsch. Seems the other big project he's involved with is the adaptation of the nonfiction book "Into the Wild". Now this I can get excited about.

In the book, author John Krakauer attempts to piece together the life of one Christopher McCandless, a bright kid with a great future who decided to live a drifter's existence. He ended up dying alone in the Alaska wilderness at the tender age of twenty-four. We know the ending from the start, but it's still a riveting book. We get to also see some of the author's own life during his quest as he draws some parallels between Macandless' life and his own. It's a fantastic read.

Looking at the cast list, I don't see that there's anyone playing the author, which is a pity. The framing device used in the book as Krakauer researches this kid would have transferred perfectly onto film with little effort. But no matter. The story still has the potential to kick some serious ass as a feature film. At the very least, it's subject matter is a hell of a lot more weighty than the possible "ruining" of a whisper-thin Japanese cartoon.

Delroy Lindo Quote of the Month: June 2007

I have to admit that, aside from Crimson Tide, I've never been a big Tony Scott fan. He's too damn jittery and ADS for my tastes, and I always end up reaching for the Tylenol after I watch one of his films.

But, you know, this Quote of the Month business compels you to make sacrifices. So I rented Domino with the purpose of seeing some Delroy Lindo goodness to relay back to you. Trust Scott to piss me off even more by not even giving Lindo any memorable lines (Hell, the two guys from 90210 got better lines than him). So the following is what I'm left with, which is kinda funny and notable purely for it's oddness.

"Why would you use Jerry Springer as a platform for some kind of progressive race modification proposal anyhow, huh?"