Day 8: The Ward (2010)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

Still reeling from the toad-licking crapfest that was yesterday's offering, I strolled through my Netflix Instant queue to see if there was anything that might ease my pain, so to speak. There wasn't. I even considered watching an old standy-by and pretending that I hadn't seen it already, just for this 31 in 31 series. But I'm not quite that desperate...not yet. So I went with the one and only John Carpenter film that I have never seen, The Ward. Even though I have NOT heard good things about it.

Oddly, I'm pretty jazzed to watch this. The opening scene of the various halls and rooms of the psychiatric hospital is technically evocative of his earlier work in films like Halloween, Assault on Precinct 13 and The Thing. So I'm in a good place to start with. And I have a gigantic glass of bourbon next to me. That should make things easier. I mean, he didn't use Panavision on this one. So it's not REALLY Carpenter-ish, but it's close enough for wakka-wakka.

In this corner, we have a troubled young woman (Amber Heard) who likes to light fires. In the other corner. The North Bend Psychiatric Hospital which may have a bit of a ghost problem. There was literally no reason for using a boxing reference there. Except that I'm already bored. So forget about that whole "I'm in a good place" thing. Although I will have to say that my favorite inmate in the women's ward so far is played by an interesting-looking actress named Marnie Gummer. She almost looks like a young version of Meryl Streep. Which, yup...she's her daughter. So there's that.

Wait a minute...shower scene! Except without any frontal or buttal nudity. Just a wee bit of side-boob. That's seems hard to do and totally unnecessary. These horror flicks are supposed to be gratuitous, or did John Carpenter forget that. Wait, he never did give us a naked Jamie Lee Curtis, Adrienne Barbeau or Kurt Russell now that I think about it. So why am I such a fan of his again? It's escaping me right now. And I may be thinking about Adrienne Barbeau's boobs. So I could be occupied for a while, okay?

Back to the storyline, I guess. There's this dead girl named Alice who is hunting down the other girls in the ward. Through a series of flash-backs, we see that she was tortured and raped by some gigantic sloth of a man. Or was she? And what do the girls have to do with it? And why would Alice hate the new girl? Those questions, mes amis, are something you are going to have to find out for yourself.

Overall, I enjoyed it. It was kinda boring at times, but that's what the bourbon is for. I did dig the way it was shot, but I was slightly disappointed that Carpenter himself didn't write the score. A Carpenter flick without a Carpenter score just isn't complete. Deducting a half a pumpkin for that very reason.

Verdant Dude rating: 2.5 out of 5 pumpkins

Day 7: Shadow (2009)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

I nearly stopped watching this one after five minutes when the protagonist stops into a bar during a biking trip in the mountains and orders a beer. The bartender complies with a hearty "okay" and hands him a generic beer. That's something that would literally never happen in any bar. "Sure, what kind of beer would you like?" or "I'm not a fucking mind-reader!" would be more appropriate responses. Especially since two guys walk in right after him and also order beers...and the bartender gives them different beers! Ugh...fucking lazy!

Sorry, that's just a silly pet peeve of mine when it comes to bar scenes in movies. Like when someone orders a whiskey and the bartender just grabs a random bottle and starts pouring. Doesn't happen. Moving on...

Another odd thing about the film is that it is an Italian production, but everyone is speaking English. And the protagonist is clearly supposed to be American. And his love interest is very French. And the bad guys seem to be Eastern European of some kind. Or Australian. They did a lot of growling, so it was hard to tell. It's just a fucking grab-bag of accents and ethnic groups going on for no apparent reason. Moving on...

An American Iraqi war veteran (clearly fighting in Italy from the look of the flash-backs) goes on a biking trip in the mountains where he meets the love of his life who is also out biking on her own.  They run afoul of some hunters (whom they had already run afoul of back at the bar), and the game is afoot. The game, of course, is being chased around the mountains by homicidal maniacs. I love that game.

Except that they get chased into an area of the mountains where even the bad guy's loyal dog won't go. Because there's something even more sinister than the evil hunters out there. You can tell it's sinister because of all the fog. Oh, the hunters were British and American, by the way. I suck at first impressions. Doesn't matter. They're not the REAL bad guys anyway, if ya dig. Just more fodder for the actual bogeyman. A real creepy-looking skinny dude with a penchant for torture. Yup...looks like this is turning out to be a torture porn flick. Sigh.

Oh, and there's this. The creepy evil dude gets his ya-yas from licking toads.

His interests also include Italian opera, crafting life-sized dioramas using human corpses and watching old filmed footage of war atrocities. He's a keeper, ladies. I read somewhere that this guy, a Swiss singer/dancer (!!!) named Nuot Arquint, spent 5 months preparing for this role. I wonder how many toads he licked during that time. Because he really nailed that scene. 

This film has no redeeming qualities. It cannot be recommended in any way. I want my 77 minutes back, please. Thinking back on it, the bar scene at the beginning was the high point. Gimme a beer...

Verdant Dude rating: 0 out of 5 pumpkins

Day 6: World War Z (2013)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

What's this? A gigantic Hollywood blockbuster amidst all the low-budget/indie horror that I've been watching so far? That's right. Decided to rent the unrated version of World War Z from Amazon Instant in HD. I've been wanting to see it since it came out, but I don't get to the movies that often anymore. So I splurged a little bit. And I'm glad I did.

I had read the book by Max Brooks a few summers ago, but the film isn't really an adaptation of that. It would be almost impossible to properly adapt that book to the big screen. But this film took some of the central points, created a storyline surrounding one former U.N. investigator and went from there. It was a good decision too.

I've got a few zombie rules that I like my zombie movies to follow. Let's have a little refresher course.

The Zombie Rules

1. Zombies are the Undead. They are animated corpses who hunger for human flesh. What animates them? Pure evil? A virus? Electro-magnetic impulses? Who knows. But that is what a zombie is. The living dead. 28 Days Later, while a fantastic film at times, is NOT a zombie film. Those people are still alive. The virus makes them crazy and blood-thirsty, but it doesn't kill them. Eventually they die of starvation when they don't get enough to eat, but that's it. They ain't zombies.
2. To kill a zombie you have to destroy their brain. Whatever it is that is animating these corpses is controlled in the brain somehow. You can chop off their arms, shoot them in the chest, or piss in their face. That's ain't gonna stop them. The only thing that is gonna stop them is a well placed bullet, arrow, crowbar or knitting needle to the brain. That's it! If they can be killed (?!?) any other way, then they ain't zombies.
3. A zombie can be slow and lumbering or it can be just as fast as the body of it's previous owner. I really don't care. Just as long as they are scary and they crave human flesh. What a zombie CANNOT have is super-human strength or speed. Why would a zombie be super-strong? I've seen some zombie films in which the zombies can easily rip the head off of a human. Do you know how hard it is to rip somebody's head off? I've had some experience with this and it ain't easy. If your zombie is super-strong or super-fast, then it probably ain't a zombie.

Are we clear? I SAID ARE WE CLEAR? Good. I thought World War Z did pretty well adhering to my zombie rules. The way it treated the spread of the infection was certainly unique when compared to other films. Much faster, in fact the way that the zombie horde acted  was like a rapid infection in the body attacking healthy cells. I thought that was pretty cool. The zombies here were fast, but not super-fast or super-strong. They certainly were super-determined though. Bashing their heads through windshields, jumping off of roofs, impaling themselves on fences...anything to get a bite off of a fresh victim. Anything to spread the infection.

The story arc of the protagonist, played very well by Brad Pitt, was...well, ridiculous. I was reminded of the awful action flick 2012 and how John Cusack and his gang kept escaping cataclysmic event after cataclysmic event just in the nick of time. This was like that. From Philadelphia to South Korea to Jerusalem to an attack on an airliner to surviving the crash of that airliner...well, good thing it's a zombie flick. It's not supposed to be believable, kids. Ridiculous as it was, it sure was exciting and fun. I didn't even have a problem with Pitt's "solution" to surviving the zombies that so many viewers had. It made about as much sense as a zombie outbreak, so cool your jets folks.

The film had some fairly substantial production problems, including re-working the entire third act. But the eventual success at the box office ensured that the sequel (and it's sequel) would happen. And that's pretty cool. Because this was a big-budget zombie flick done right, in my opinion.

Verdant Dude rating: 4 out of 5 pumpkins

Day 5: The Broken (2007)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

Another indie gem(?) from the After Dark Horrorfest/8 Films to Die For series available on Amazon Prime. I'm not gonna lie, I've got high hopes for this one. Mostly built on the stellar cast which includes Lena Headey, Richard Jenkins and Lobo Chan. OK, I have no idea who Lobo Chan is. I just love the name. If I ever have a kid, I'm naming him or her Lobo Chan. He or she would become an MMA champion or an assassin or a celebrity chef with a handle like that. Or maybe they would become an opera singer.

The film begins with a bit of complicated exposition. The very British Lena Headey and her equally British brother plan a surprise birthday party for their very American father. I guess Richard Jenkins couldn't do a British accent, but the filmmakers REALLY wanted him in their film. So they give him a job at the American Embassy in London. Seems...complicated. Did his children spend their entire lives in London with him? I guess. Let's just accept it and move on.

Soon after the party, Headey sees her exact double on the streets of London. She follows her, and sees she drives the same car and has photos of her and her father in her flat. How very British of me to use the word "flat" instead of apartment, yes? This, not surprisingly, unsettles her to the very nth degree, and she gets into a horrible car accident right afterward. Well, it looked horrible. Head-on collision. But she's out of the hospital with minor injuries after only a day. With some memory issues of what happened prior to the crash. Handy.

It turns out that she isn't the only one experiencing double-mint weirdness. Her entire family and some neighbors (Lobo Chan!) are as well. Duplicates or clones or snatched bodies or Evil Spocks are everywhere! And it's all to do with the fucking mirrors. Mirrors! Get it?


Here's something that really annoyed me with the film. The score included these terrifically loud crescendos that would build and build leading to...nothing. Well, later on in the film they did. But for the first act of the film they didn't, and it was really annoying. I kept lowering the volume after or during them, and then found myself raising it again for the next scene to hear the dialogue. Mickey Mousing of the very worst kind. I'm deducting a full pumpkin from my rating for this crap.

But if living in a world with two Lena Headeys is wrong, then I don't wanna be right. So that right there is worthy of one additional pumpkin on it's own. It all evens out in the end.

Turns out I didn't love it like I was hoping, but I didn't hate it either. It was well-acted and well-paced with a halfway decent twisteroo. Nothing groundbreaking, just generally decent.

Verdant Dude rating: 2.5 out of 5 pumpkins.

Day 4: Dead Silence (2007)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

Found on HBO Go. If you haven't already figured it out, I'm using my three available streaming options for this little 31 in 31 project. Besides HBO Go I'm also using Amazon Prime and Netflix. Not that any of that really matters. I just figured I'd put it out there to rot. Like a pear on a windowsill. Huh?

I mostly picked this one because it's about a homicidal ventriloquist dummy, and there is nothing creepier than a ventriloquist dummy. OK...maybe a clown. Hey, imagine if someone made up a ventriloquist dummy like a clown. That would be super-fucking cree...HOLY FUCK!!!

I call this one "Clown and Clown"

As the film begins, Jason Stackhouse and his wifey have an anonymous package dropped off at their door, and inside is a ventriloquist dummy. Instead of immediately burning it and everything that it touched in a bonfire, they decide it's kinda cool. Big fucking mistake. Especially since Jason Stackhouse tells Detective Donnie Wahlberg that ventriloquist dummies are a bad omen in the town that he's from. That they bring death to those around them. What fucking town is he from? EdgarBergenVille?

Nope. It's Raven's Fair, the former home of crazy Mary Shaw and Billy, her ventriloquist dummy. And it looks like old Mary is back up to her old tricks with the help of her dummy. Even though she died in 1941. Dum dum DAAAAH! Yeah, the dummy that showed up in the package was Billy. He was buried in a separate grave next to Mary Shaw, but someone dug him up to send to Mr. Stackhouse. That's just fucking wrong!

Crazy Mary Shaw had two final requests upon her death.  To have all of her 101 dolls buried with her, and to have the mortician do a taxidermy job on her so that she could become a doll in death herself. That's one weird chick, man. Even since her death, the town has had a dark cloud hanging over it. Entire families killed with their tongues torn out and arranged in death for family photos.

Phew...that's a lot of exposition I just gave you there. I guess all you really need to know about this film is that a crazy ventriloquist and her dummy are killing people from the grave. Your basic ghost story. With ventriloquist dummies. The film has some decent scares, but it's pretty average in most every single way.

By the way, I typed "ventriloquist" about a dozen times for this review. And I spelled it correctly about half the time. Yay for me!

Verdant Dude rating: 2.5 out of 5 pumpkins
  

Day 3: The Traveler (2010)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

Okay, I'm gonna be honest here. I picked this one because it features a late-career Val Kilmer, and because I'm more than a little drunk. This may or may not affect my review of this film. (Psst...it may)

First things first. I watched this on Netflix Instant and realized that I had started watching it several months ago and stopped watching it after 3 minutes. Basically after the opening credits ran. This is not a good sign. Not at all.

VAL KILMER IS FUCKING AWESOME!!!

Sorry...I'm gonna try not to let that happen again. Much.

A stranger walks into a police station and says he's guilty of murder. Stay with me. This is gonna be HI-larious. He looks glorious, by the way. With his big puffy face and his long luxurious locks. It's like I'm looking in a mirror and Val Kilmer is looking back at me.

VAL FUCKING KILMER!!!

Again...sorry. I said I was more than a little drunk.

Wow. I'm thinking this movie cost about $20 to make. It all takes place in and around a prison during a rain storm. Maybe they had to produce the rain. That might cost some extra bucks. Maybe not. I'm not a fucking movie producer.

Holy shit...this crap has almost an hour left in it. And Val Kilmer hasn't really killed anyone yet. That I know about. He sure as shit killed my buzz. Did I mention that I was drinking?

Whatever...what follows is the silliest fucking movie you've ever seen.

EVEN IF VAL FUCKING KILMER WAS IN IT!!!

Verdant Dude rating: 0.5 out of 5 pumpkins

Day 2: Kill Theory (2009)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

Found this film on Amazon Prime as a part of the "After Dark Horrorfest/8 Films to Die For" series. Which has actually produced some pretty good horror flicks over it's four-year run. We'll have to see if Kill Theory is up to snuff, if ya know what I mean.

 It's your classic "Young Adults in a Cabin in the Woods Stalked by a Killer"^tm formula. Or something like that. A bunch of soon-to-be-graduating college kids head off for a weekend to a summer house that one of the kids has. Three attractive couples and their fat friend, Freddy. Oops...the guy with house has a white-trash step-sister (played by Taryn Manning, duh!), who is also staying at the house for the weekend. So that makes eight little Indians for the killer to play with. Even numbers are just sooo much more pleasing to the palate when it comes to slasher flicks, don't you agree?

But there's a twist to the formula here. The killer, who killed his own friends back in the day before some time in the loony bin, is offering the sacrificial lambs a choice. Kill their friends or die with them. Using their fear against them in some sadistic game of death. Honestly, not bad as slasher flick twists go. Slasher flick twists. Try saying THAT five times fast. Now try it in your underwear. Now try it while eating some chocolate marshmallow ice cream. I'll wait.

Okay, maybe it's not such a great or original twist. At least not since the Saw franchise made about a bazillion dollars using it. At least I got you to say "slasher flick twists" in compromising situations.

What would you do? Seems simple enough. Stick together, don't panic, wait it out in some safe area with your back against the wall or something, or actively hunt the hunter. But panic sets in, especially for the fat friend Freddy, and all hell busts loose. The killer, for his part, stays calm and stays three steps ahead of the Scooby Gang (they even have a retro van!). Sowing enough dissent among the gang that they begin to turn on each other. One of the gang was especially easy to turn to the Dark Side. Then again, he looked like an asshole from the very beginning.

It's not high art, not even by slasher flick standards. But it's not half-bad either. No huge surprises, but nothing really to bitch at either.

Verdant Dude rating: 2.5 our of 5 pumpkins

Day 1: Wishcraft (2002)

Can a once-prolific blogger who hasn't written 31 posts all year find it in his soul to review 31 previously unseen horror films in 31 days of October? Let's find out...

______________________________________________________________

I picked this one out totally at random, having never heard of it before. It was sitting there at the end of the horror/sci-fi section on HBO Go, just waiting to suck. Like the Family Circus, I'm uncontrollable drawn to it. 

So this one starts out with a semi-unpopular high school dork tutoring the school's alpha cheerleader. You can immediately tell he's an unpopular dork because he drives a scooter and, well...he's a tutor. And he's not a football player or a cheerleader. Duh. 

Quick aside: The kid's mother was played by Allyce Beasley, and seeing her made me immediately think of this scene from Cheers when she played Coach's daughter. One of the most truly touching scenes ever filmed for a television series. And my Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day. Onward...

Honestly, our genteel dork's high school days don't seem that bad. But I'm guessing that his anonymous mouser days are just about over as he receives a mysterious package in the mail. A wrapped box containing a totem and a note stating that said totem will grant him three wishes. And that he should be careful what he wishes for. Yeah, I'm ending that last sentence with a preposition because that's what the note said. Deal. 

The totem looks like some kind of raw meat wrapped in leather or skin. It's kinda gross, so he promptly throws it out. Then he promptly fishes it out at the urging of his un-cool friend and immediately throws caution to the wind by making a wish. That the popular cheerleader he was tutoring would go with him to the Spring Dance. And that wish becomes reality in the very next scene when she asks him out. Man...this flick is not wasting any time!

So the dork and his un-cool friend realize the totem works and they take it to the local antiques guy who tells them that it's a bull's dick. A BULL'S DICK! Man, if I had known that I could make three wishes every time I held a bull's dick in my hands...

Ahem, wishes come true and popular kids start dying. That's the way we all knew it was gonna go, right? Cheerleader goes with dork to a dance, and a corpse in a long leather jacket stabs a Jimbo* with a samurai sword. Which is weird, because katana's are more for slicing than stabbing. It's the details, people. I'll not go into the blood and guts of the rest of the killings. Because that would be bad form. Not like anyone reading this is ever going to see this crap. But bad form is bad form, so we move on.

*jim·bo - a stout, immature high-school football player who seems more fat and out-of-shape than athletic yet can still attract the insanely hot, cool cheerleader-type. Jimbos usually die quickly in horror films in either comic or disgusting ways. Jimbos are stupid. Jimbos usually come from Kenosha, Wisconsin.

And none of that matters anyway. Because the town's lead detective is played by Meat Loaf! And his name is Sparky! Detective Sparky Shaw! Brilliant! In a perfect world, every town would have a cop named Sparky. And every Sparky would look like Meat Loaf.

Back to the film, our hero realizes that using two wishes to get the hottest girl in school is vaguely rape-y. Well, nothing too vague about it really. He tells her what he did, and she reacts appropriately. Like she was raped. Meanwhile, our corpse anti-hero kills several more football players. Man, that team is gonna be awful this year!

The story takes an absurd, yet nearly original turn at that point. Has the dork/rapist's wishes led to the deaths of all those popular kids? Did he ever use that third wish? Did the football team manage to win even one game all year? These are all good questions. You'll have to endure Wishcraft to find out. Mwah-ha-ha-ha!!!

Aw, fuck it. This guy killed everyone. Yeah, I told you it was absurd.

Verdant Dude Rating: 2 out of 5 pumpkins

31 in 31: One more day

OK, are you all ready for 31 crappy horror film reviews in 31 days? I know I'm not.

Actually, I've already reviewed a handful and have those posts scheduled already. Had to do it because I'm heading down South for vacation in a couple of weeks and I probably won't be watching much horror that week. I'll be creating my own horror. Earl vs. his liver in a fight to the finish! Ahem...

Anyway, come back tomorrow and every day in October and expect to be underwhelmed.

Don't call it comeback

I've been inspired by Stacie Ponder's (Final Girl) Ali-like return to the ring to start blogging on the reg once again. And I'm going to fall back on that old chestnut to get me going. Movie reviews.

So, for the month of October, I'll be reviewing 31...COUNT THEM...31 horror films that I have never seen before. This is an under-taking from the gods themselves. The elder gods. The ones who require blood sacrifices and virgins and lotions...or something.

So grab your socks and your cocker spaniels, and get prepared for a full month of insane mediocrity.

I'm back, baby. And this time it's gonna hurt.

Oh...do me a favor. Leave me some suggestions in the comments section if you have 'em. Thanks a bunch, creepos.

Moon and whoo!

OK, so right away I'm gonna let you know that I have no way of documenting this moment besides my somewhat addled memory. I had my phone with me, but it's got a shitty camera. And I don't think I could have captured the awesome that kinda happened even with a good camera.

Lemme 'splain...

Last Friday, while in the glorious throes of a mild bourbon buzz, I happened to notice the not-quite-full moon shining into our living room. What is that called? Gibbous moon? Gibbon moon? Monkey-Ass moon? Something like that. Anywho, we live on the east side of a harbor that makes a setting moon or a setting sun a truly glorious site. Even if the setting planetary body gets obscured by treeline on the other side of the water. Whatevs...it's still glorious.

I see that the Monkey-Ass moon is just about to set behind the treeline, so I grab a fresh whiskey and I head outside to solemnly observe the event. The moon was cooking that night. You know when a film shows a sun or moon set in fast motion? That's how it looked. I was barely out there for five minutes and I could actually see the moon racing to the treeline in some weird surreal way.

Then, just as the moon was going behind the treeline, I heard a gigantic "WHOO!" coming from the middle of the harbor. Maybe just about 50 yards away from where I was sitting. Turns out that there were a couple of guys out there in a dinghy doing some night-fishing. And, apparently, from the sound of the struggle and the joy of the men they caught themselves a big ole bluefish or something.

It was an odd moment. No one is ever out on an a boat in our harbor. We have a jetty close by and a bridge/causeway running over a dam into a salt-water pond. That's where all the fishermen usually hang out. But that night, there was not only one but three small rowboats out on the harbor. All yacking it up, drinking (I hope) and catching fish. At something like 1 or 2AM.

Every year, I tell myself at the beginning of the Summer that I'm going to spend a bunch of time fishing basically out of my back yard. We have availability to a dock, and our neighbor has 5-6 small watercrafts we can use. It still hasn't happened.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Don't answer that.

Slow and Low

On a recent jaunt, yes jaunt, to a local liquor store I happened upon this beauty:

That's Slow and Low from Hochstadter's Distillery out of Philadelphia, PA. It's the first "bottled cocktail" I've ever purchased, I believe. It's their version of an Old Fashioned. Straight Rye whiskey mixed with orange peel, honey, something called horehound and rock candy. The result is a sweet, extremely drinkable cocktail that you simply pour over ice. That's it. Open bottle, pour over ice and enjoy a nice cocktail. Much easier than, um, fashioning an Old Fashioned at home. See what I did there?

The roots in this product come ye olden days when barkeeps, and later pharmacists, would pour straight Rye over rock candy for a more palatable quaff. The pharmacists because of the supposedly medicinal properties of whiskey. Sure. I know it often heals what's ailing me. Maybe I'm just a throwback. Anyway, that was a Rock & Rye. And Hochstadter's apparently bottled that for the past century or so. Now they've moved into the Old Fashioned game. And it plays well.

So if you happen to run across it in your travels, pick up a bottle and enjoy a simple, tasty cocktail at home that requires little more than pouring it.

Happy Weekend!

Upcoming posts

Just wanted to write this down because:

A) It's fucking late, and
B) my short-term memory really sucks.

So these are a few blog posts that I'm going to be writing in the next few days/weeks/months. However long it takes. And don't hold me to fucking anything. I'm whimsical.

• A review of a new bottled cocktail (hmmm?) called Slow and Low from Hochstadter's Distillery in PA. I'm pretty sure I didn't spell that correctly. See the post here.
• I've seen two Nicolas Cage films in the past two evenings. Both were ridiculous, both were set in New Orleans, both deserve a deft Earl-touch review.
• I got semi-pissed at a work colleague the other day when he called me insisting that I didn't inform him of a certain business transaction a few months ago. He was kinda pissed and really adamant about it.   Then I forwarded him the three emails that I had written to him about it all from back then. So...
• Didn't this summer go by way too quickly?
• I've kinda given up on the NY Yankees this year, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up on baseball. Lemme 'splain...
• A review of a sci-fi novel dealing with a cyber-attack on the United States, and why I'm now suddenly afraid of everything.  
• I'm making spicy Asian grilled flank steak with cold sesame noodles for dinner on Thursday. I believe this a cause for a food porn post.
• My seven-year anniversary with Gia is coming up rapidly. Seems like a good time to reflect on the past seven years and plan for the next seventy.
• I haven't seen one film in the theaters this summer yet. I blame my friends. Yes...you.
• That Hyperloop thingamajig. I felt like Veruca Salt when I saw the plans for that the other day. "But Daddy, I want a Hyperloop NOW!!!"

Anyway...you'll be seeing something on all these shortly. Or maybe not. I'm whimsical. 

Happy Weekend!

"We get older every day! And so....we drink"

A classic from Larry Miller. The Five Levels of Drinking.

Cheers!

RIP Karen Black

In memory of the recently departed Karen Black, here's a re-post from all the way back in 2006 (wow!). R.I.P. Ms. Black!

_________________________________________________________

Thrillogy of Terror!
May 14, 2006

Finishing up our short series of conversations on grand moments at rock concerts. We are up to my experiences at a Radiohead concert that opened up with The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black.

Great name for a band, eh? For those that don't recall, Karen Black is an actress who played some terrific B movie roles in the 70's. Well, she still does some pretty awful B (and C) films to this day. But most folks remember her from the wonderful Burnt Offerings or the made-for-TV tour-de-force (Wow...lots of dashes there) Trilogy of Terror.

In Trilogy of Terror, she played three, well four, roles in three separate little Horror films. The most well known is the tale of the woman who brought home a Zuni Fetish warrior doll that comes to life and viciously attacks her. It's campy and awesome!

Just like The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black. Campy and awesome. I had never even heard of them before the concert, so we made our way upstairs to sit down in the balcony for their act. I was with my brother and two of my friends.

So the lights dim and the band comes out. The women on stage (not sure how many) are dressed all in blue with big flower petals around their heads to give the impression that they are playful, colorful flowers dancing around. Weird, but I've seen weird before so I wasn't too interested.

We start chatting about the band, when I take another look at the ladies. I'm now concentrating on exactly what they are wearing when I realize something. They're nekkid!

Well, they are wearing panties and those ridiculous flower head-dress thingies, but mostly they are just painted blue. Now, let me set one thing straight. Most of them are not attractive women. Not at all. Not necessarily un-attractive, just normal women in an abnormal setting.

But semi-naked women at a rock show is something I really don't pass on. So, I get up to go get a closer look. This would involve a trip downstairs and an ample amount of wading through the humanity that was on the floor. Whatever. Naked women, people!

That's when this conversation takes place:

Me: "Um, does anyone, um, like want a beer or something from downstairs?"

My brother: "Sure, but they sell booze up here I think."

Me: "Yeah, I know, but, um, I just wanna stretch my legs a bit, you know...walk around."

Friend1: "We just came up here to sit down because you said you were tired. Didn't we?"

Me: "Yeah...um, right. I dunno...just getting a little antsy, so I figured I would explore. OK? Anyone want a beer?"

My brother: "What's going on?"

Friend2: "I think he just figured out that the women on stage are kinda naked, and he wants to go check it out."

Friend1 and my brother at the same time: "They're naked??!!"

They practically fall over themselves trying to get out of the seats as they rush down to the floor ahead of me. We leave Friend2 groaning to himself in his seat about our immaturity. And he is, by far, the youngest of us all.

We were just younger in our heads and in our pants. The way it should be.

Good show, though. I think there were songs and stuff. But there was also beer and blue boobies. Good show, indeed!

Pissed at the Wrong Dude

This has been a wonderful baseball season. My Yankees have been having a rough time of it, with a historic run of injuries. But the Pirates are a great story. So are the Indians, Red Sox, Braves, Miguel Cabrera, Mike Trout (be prepared for MVP-geddon Part II), Yasiel Puig, Yu Darvish, Jose Fernandez, Chris Davis and a whole host of other great storylines. Even the down-year Yankees have a feel-great story in Mariano Rivera's retirement tour. At 43, he's just as dominant and classy as he's ever been. It's gonna suck not having him around baseball next year.

But the "pink elephant"* in the room is clearly the historic suspensions that were handed down yesterday from MLB coming from their investigation of Miami-based BioGenesis. Well, the suspensions started with Ryan Braun a few weeks ago. And, unfortunately, they will continue because of all the players involved in the case only one will be testing his sentence with an appeal.

Alex Rodriguez.

The twelve others players issued suspensions yesterday all declined to appeal the sentence of 50 games. Which will take most of those players through the end of the year. A couple of them will have a chance to play in the playoffs, if their teams make it. But it will be up to the team to decide if they will be included on post-season rosters.

But A-Rod, due to an alleged overwhelming amount of evidence showing multiple years of use, multiple instances of lies, multiple attempts at obstructing MLB's investigation and his reputation as being an underground PED pimp for some of the other players in the case, is getting 211 games.  211. That's an odd number. It so happens that it adds up to the remaining games this year starting Thursday and all of next year. So it's basically an arbitrary sentence. Had the investigation concluded last week, it would be 217 games. Or if it lasted another week it would be 205 games. Whatever. Basically the suspension was this remainder of this year and all of next year because that's how long MLB (and maybe the Yankees) want him out of baseball. Fine. 

A-Rod is going to fight, fight, fight the damaged fight, however. He is not accepting the suspension and his appeal could run 20-25 days. Or it could last until November or December as Michael Wiener of the MLB Player's Association has been quoted as saying. Imaging that. He could finish out the year while appealing the decision. Even worse, imagine if he catches fire and pushes the Yankees all the way to the World Series? And THEN he starts his suspension? Ugh...

In the wake of all this information, many fans and members of the media are pissed at who else? Alex Rodriguez. He's a monster. He's tarnishing the game. He should just go away. Even diehard Yankees fans are done with this guy. I'm sure he is going to be welcomed back to Yankee Stadium on Friday night with a resounding Bronx cheer.

But you know what, Yankees fans? You're pissed at the wrong dude.

Imagine this scenario, if you will. It's late 2007.  The biggest superstar in the game is coming off an MVP year. He is in the middle of the biggest contract ever given to a baseball player, but he has an option to opt out. He decides to do so in a most public and crass manner during the World Series. His agent, Scott Boras, said he made the decision because he was unsure of the future composition of the team. Fine.

That didn't stop him from re-signing with the Yankees the following month for an even bigger contract than the one he just opted out of. Ten years and $275 million with a buttload of incentives for passing each career home run milestone. Doesn't matter that the Yankees were probably only bidding against themselves for A-Rod's future services. No other team was going to step up and pay that kind of money. I doubt any other team would have gone over $200 million, but that's just me...talking out of my ass. I thought it was a terrible decision at the time, and naturally I still do. But this is the kind of thing the Yankees do. Fine.

The idea was that A-Rod was the white knight that was going to break every record in the book and he was going to do it cleanly. No asterisks next to his name. He was going to take the spotlight away from Barry Bonds and all the rest of the steroid cheats. The baseball world was his oyster, and the Yankees were going to bask in his glory. Celebrating him at every turn. And as his legend was supposed to grow, the Yankees bank accounts were going to grow in turn. Fine.

Except...

It came out in 2009 that he had failed a supposedly anonymous piss test in 2004 when MLB was considering implementing regular testing. He had to admit to the world that he had indeed used illegal substances. But it was in the years prior to his time with the Yankees. And he apologized profusely saying that he has been clean since. Fine.

Except..

After several years of declining production, post-season failures and recurrent injuries, he is back in the illegal substance game. And chefboyardee did he hit it out the park this time. As if his reputation wasn't tarnished already, he is now virtually assured to go down as the greatest pariah the game has ever seen. Barry Bonds is off in a room someplace smiling. Pete Rose is doing a jig. Even Ty Cobb thinks he's an asshole.

And Yankees fans are pissed at him.

Fuck that! They should be pissed AT THE YANKEES! I know I am.

They GAVE him this contract after the 2007 season. Think about that. Supposedly the beginning of the post-Steroid era. Barry Bonds had just played his last game, by no choice of his own. He was unofficially black-balled out of the game even though he was still ridiculously productive. Roger Clemens had also just thrown his last pitch. For the Yankees, of fucking course. His retirement was more voluntary. The biggest cheats in the game were gone. Standardized testing was in place. Commissioner Bud was ruling over the cleanest league in the land. And one of the big reasons that the Yankees granted A-Rod this contract was this new era and the promise of breaking every record in the books...the clean way.

So why didn't they include anything in his contract that would punish him for using PEDs?

I mean, here we are in this supposed new era. A-Rod is the guy that is going to wipe the record books clean. They give him EVERYTHING he wanted in this new contract despite the widely-held belief that no other team was even in the running, and they don't even consider some kind of clause that would punish him if he wasn't everything that he claimed to be. Ya know, just in case. And if he and his people balked at that...well then maybe that would have been a red flag. And maybe if there was some kind of punishment for PED use in there, then maybe he wouldn't be in this position today. I doubt it, because he seems like the very definition of a sociopath right now. I doubt it would have deterred him, but maybe.

Hey listen...it's a possibility that they did want to include something like that. But if they did bring up the possibility that the white knight was maybe a few shades darker, and they agreed to do nothing about it? Then shame on the Yankees. If they didn't even consider it a possibility after everything that baseball had gone through in the previous decade? Then shame on the Yankees.

Bottom line: Shame on the Yankees. If we should be pissed at anyone right now, it should be them. Because that abhorrent contract is just as disgusting to me as the player that pissed it all away. Well...not literally pissed it away. But you know what I mean.

*This incorrect idiom is courtesy of A-Rod's post-game interview last weekend in Trenton. He obviously meant "elephant in the room" or "eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room" when referring to the topic of PEDs and BioGenesis. But it was pretty late on a Friday night, so maybe pink elephant was apropos. Hmm...now I want a Delirium Tremens. Moving on...

Today was a good day

Trust me.

The best day.

Past lives

I ran into a guy that I used to know yesterday.  I won't go so far as to actually say that we were friends, although for a time we probably were. But it was more of a "drinking buddy" sort of relationship. We lived/worked in the same town and hit the same joints. It wasn't a great time in either of our lives, so we definitely spent way too much time and money in bars.

We would occasionally get together for golf or something, but he wasn't the kind of friend that I would invite into my home or set my sister up with. Just a guy that I knew who was sometimes fun to be around. Sometimes he wasn't fun to be around. Like when he got too drunk and developed the superpower to start bar brawls. That's not my gig.

One day he ran afoul of some legal trouble and he needed some money. Despite my better judgment, I lent him some even though I had real doubt about his ability to pay me back. Basically, to borrow from a scene in A Bronx Tale, I calculated the amount of money I could afford to part with for deducting someone from my life who I really didn't need or want. It worked too. Over the next year or so, I would run into him and he would either slip me some cash or sheepishly make an excuse to get going. Sometimes I would see him buying drinks for folks at bars and I would just turn a cold shoulder.

Although he paid me back a large portion of what he borrowed, he never settled the full tab. He moved a few towns away and I heard some stuff about him here and there. I even ran into him once or twice in the ensuing years. Mostly just a "howyadoin" moment. Or I would see him first and go the other way. Maybe he saw me too and did the same thing. I have no idea. I know that it was or it seemed uncomfortable for both of us.

But yesterday, there was no avoiding it. We were on top of each other before we realized it and there was no way around it. And you know what? After a brief hesitation, I had no bad feelings about him at all. He seemed to be doing well and I'm happy for him. We caught up for maybe two minutes, then I excused myself and went on my way. I don't know if he remembers that he never quite paid me back fully, or if he even cares. All I know is that I didn't care anymore.

I told him to "have a good one" before we parted ways. Mostly, between friends, that means have a good day. Maybe until the next time you see them. But I meant it as have a good life, because I hope he does.

He's gone from a guy that I actively avoided to just a guy that I used to know. I'd like to think that's a healthier way of dealing with...life.

Dear Diary

Welcome to our lives.



From Ze Frank...wow, I know he's still around, but I haven't seen anything from him in a long time. 

Coasting...

Got an awesome surprise in the mail today from an old blog buddy. Not that he's old, per se. Certainly not when compared to yours truly. Or at least as old as I feel some days. Anywho. He blogged under the screen name Badgerdaddy (although, I'm pretty sure it was a lower-case b), and I'd like to say I have no idea how we found each other in the great big blogosphere. But I actually know. I used to post a lot of comments on the boards over on IMDB. That was my social network in the mid-aughts. And, at the time, I was only guest-blogging over on Slyde's blog. So I would use his web address as my tagline or something. I don't recall. But from there, he started commenting over at Slyde's and then my blog when I started it up.

For a while there, that was pretty much my blog community. Me, Slyde, B(b)adgerdaddy, Kat and Liz. Slyde, B(b)adgerdaddy and myself even started our own collaborative blog, Moviegrenade. The idea was that we would watch bad movies and review them for your displeasure. That was a lot of fun. I sometimes go back to that blog just to read the old posts. Some of my favorite things I've ever done blogging-wise is on that site. But it slowly settled on the un-used blog shelf of my library. Sad.

All of us kinda went our individual ways. Slyde is still blogging. So am I, even if it's not as often. I still get the occasional  post from Liz in my reader, but B(b)adgerdaddy and Kat have stopped blogging. As far as I can tell. But they do comment from time to time.

And we've kept in touch via email and Twitter. Follow him here, if you like. Last week I got an email from him wanting to confirm my address, and, gasp, to ask for my real name because he had something to send me in the mail. After verifying that it was indeed him and not a spam request, I happily replied.

And today, I received a glorious set of Green Man coasters that he had picked up with me in mind a while back. Check it:

That's a shitty image from my crappy cell phone taken with my shaky hands, but you get the idea. This great vibrant, green color with in incredibly hand-drawn Green Man image in glass. If you want a better look at the Green Man, check out the artist's blog here. Her name is Jane Murphy, and she works in glass over in Shropshire in the UK. Brilliant stuff.

It was kind of a crappy day, to be honest. This kind gift made most of that crappiness go away. At least for a little while. I'm gonna put these bad boys to good use. Starting immediately.

Cheers, B(b)adgerdady!

Ramblings

Hey, kids? How's life?

So I made it. One whole month without blogging. It was rough, at times. I'd get that late night itch to tell y'all about some movie I just watched or some meal that I had just prepared. But I stuck to my guns and kept my vow of not blogging for an entire month. Phew! I did it!

Ah, I'm just fucking with ya. There was no vow or even a tiny wish to cut back on posting here. Just fucking happened. As it does from time to time for all of us. No excuses, no reasons. It just happens sometimes.  So I thought I'd just open up a post window and start rambling. Just in case any of you missed me. Yeah, right.

__________________________________________

I think I'd like an even more anonymous platform than this blog or my Twitter account to spew some hatred out at the void. Nothing specific. I just find that there are times when I want to shout out my demons to the world, only to be held back by the judgment of my better angels. A totally anonymous place to do that would be like a tree falling in the middle of the forest. If no one knew about it, would it really happen? Would it make me feel any better in that moment?

__________________________________________

Saw the third Iron Man flick with my gal-pal Slyde. And I'm already placing it at the very top of my superhero movie pantheon. The origin story in the first film was fantastic, but I was deeply unsatisfied with Jeff Bridges as the Big Bad. The second film had all kinds of problems, and Mickey Rourke should have been much more interesting that he actually was. But this third film, while not perfect, really worked for me. Even Gwyneth Paltrow didn't bother me. Yay for Marvel. Two thumbs up.

__________________________________________

Our diet or "life change of eating habits" has regressed a bit. Put back on a few of those pounds that I lost over the winter. Still eating MUCH healthier than we had been, but we haven't been sticking to the plan as much as we want. I'm finding that my biggest addiction isn't bourbon, baseball or beautiful women. It's snacking on chips. The easiest answer is to not have them in the house. Sure, tell that to my reptile brain when I'm food shopping and those things just jump into my cart. I'm a weak man.

__________________________________________ 

It's a wet and stormy day out there today. Lots of rain and thunder and lightning. Got to tell you...I kinda enjoy a day like this every now and again. Eddie Rabbit understands. I just want to sit outside under our deck and watch the weather porn while sipping on whiskey. So there's that.

__________________________________________  

Speaking of whiskey, I had a little Twitter discussion yesterday or the day before about the current fad of white dog whiskey that I've been enjoying. For those not in the know, that's un-aged whiskey. Usually bourbon. Since it spends no time in the barrel, it retains it's clear white color. It's also, generally, a bit harsher. I've enjoyed Jacob's Ghost from Jim Beam along with several local artisan brands. But what bugs me about this fad is that many distillers are charging more for their un-aged product than for the regular aged stuff. That makes zero logical sense to me. It should be cheaper. MUCH cheaper. Jack Daniels released an un-aged white rye. I didn't even know they made a regular rye. Someone tweeted a pic of it with a price tag exceeding $50. That's ridiculous. It's inflating the cost to cash in on the fad. Knowledgeable whiskey drinkers should know better. Shame on JD.

__________________________________________  

I'm a restless sleeper, usually. Always tossing and turning. But some nights I just crash hard and find myself waking up in exactly the same position that I fell asleep in. I usually feel pretty good about it. But sometimes I fall asleep on my left side, and I sleep with a pillow corner or something pressed against my left eye. That means almost a full morning of blurry vision out of that eye the next day. Does this happen to anyone else, or am I just a sleep retard?

__________________________________________ 

Yeah, no apologies for the retard comment in that last rambling. Sorry if you were offended, just not sorry I made the comment.

__________________________________________  

I don't know if you are a fan of Marc Maron, but he's got a new show on IFC and it's the tits. It's basically an autobiographical show about his life. Derp, that's the definition of an autobiography, right? Sometimes I amaze myself at the things that I type/say. But these are ramblings, and I'm not going back to change anything. Back to Mr. Maron. We've only seen one show, but it was just our speed. Sarcastic, angry guy with a lot of cats. Sound like anyone you know?

OK, get outta here and be useful or something. Cheers!

Nowhere Man

Because it seems like that is exactly where I've been over the past month or so.

Nowhere...man.

No real reason for it. Just haven't had the urge to write my thoughts done in a while. The beginning of the baseball season will also do that to me sometimes. Lots and lots of baseball to watch and read about. Takes a lot of time.

And I'm a little peeved at Google for getting rid of Reader. I went as far as to begin using Bing as my default search tool. But that's about it. I've switched my feeds to The Old Reader. There was a big backlog, and they are a small operation right now, so it took a couple of weeks for my feeds to import. S'okay. I'm digging it now. Even though they don't currently have mobile apps (at least for Android), so it only works on my laptop. On my phone and tablet, I'm using Feedly. I'm not a huge fan, but maybe because it's different than Reader or The Old Reader. Whatever.

I still have a presence on Google. Google Mail, and this here blog on Blogger. Yup...another Google tool that they may eventually just give up on. Like Reader. I know it's a dollars and sense (hehehe) kinda thing, but...whatever.

Then we had a couple deaths in the family. One on my side and one on Gia's. Put a damper on the past few weeks, to say the very least. Gia's been blogging about it in a bit more detail over at her joint. A long time ago, I made the decision not to discuss my family or friends in this space. I'm going to stick with that decision. We are handling it, and we are attempting to move forward. What other choice do we have?

Do you remember Yellow Submarine, the animated film from 1968 featuring the music of The Beatles? Did it scare the living fuck out of you? Yeah...me too. And not just the Blue Meanies, the terrifying villains who were seemingly made of teeth and anger. Nope...Nowhere Man scared the crap outta me too. Well, his name was Jeremy Hillary Boob, but they sang Nowhere Man to him at one point in the film. So he was always Nowhere Man to me.

He was one of the good guys, and he was...horrific.

Whatthefuckisthat?

I would flat out die if that thing came bouncing down the driveway at me. Just die. ::chills::

Holmes

I've recently become semi-obsessed with Sherlock Holmes once again. I say "once again" because there was a time when I would read the complete run of Holmes stories from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle every few years. I was generally into contemporary authors when I was growing up. But we had a bound copy of the 4 novels and 50+ short stories that were written by him about Holmes, and a full set of bound Charles Dickens novels as well. And when I had nothing else to read, I would turn to these to re-read. Over and over again. The Holmes stuff never took that long, so I read those probably a dozen times or so.

But it's honestly been about two decades since I've read them. A lot of that has to do with me reading much, much less than I did when I was a teen or in my early twenties. That's kinda sad. Non-stop availability of just about anything I want to see streaming-wise has also been a big problem.

But problem solved! Well, at least in the Sherlock Holmes situation.

I watched the first season, ahem...series, of the BBC Sherlock production a year or so ago, and I loved it. Starring the immensely talented and oh-so-British-named Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, it's an extremely watchable contemporary update of the Sherlock Holmes stories. But I forgot about it until about a week ago. So I jumped into Series 2...and then watched all 6 episodes over again. Just because I could. I highly recommend this series.

Then I went and found Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows someplace, and I watched that too. And, since it had been awhile since I had seen its' predecessor, Sherlock Holmes, I watched that too. These are the Guy Ritchie films starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law. Much, much different than the BBC series, but a lot of fun with Sherlock portrayed as more of an action hero.

And I didn't stop there. I had been hearing some good words about the American TV adaptation, Elementary. Mostly from this guy. Another contemporary update, this one stars Jonny Lee Miller as a former Scotland Yard consultant living and recovering from addiction in Brooklyn. Oh, and they made Watson an American. And female. Portrayed by the always wonderful Lucy Liu. Sure...why not.

So last night I gave it a try. And after one episode, I'm probably hooked again. Except I haven't been able to find anyplace that streams the earlier episodes from this first Season. Our cable company has the last 5 aired episodes (some re-runs) On Demand, but that's it. So that sucks. I thought it was going to be on Hulu Plus, but it's not. Durn.

I am NOT going to be happy if I cannot satisfy my Sherlock fix with Elementary. I may have to go back to, gasp, reading!

Any other Sherlock adaptations out there I should be watching? Zero Effect, starring Bill Pullman and Ben Stiller was loosely based on Sherlock, but it was a lot of fun. So I'm up for anything. Hit me.

Chicken Chili with Black-Eyed Peas

Fergie, amirite?

No, not those Black-Eyed Peas. I'm talking about the food. The legume. The main ingredient in Hoppin' John. Those black-eyed peas. And they've recently become one of our new favorite foods. As in yesterday. Yup...that recent.

I was whipping up a batch of chicken chili (see an old recipe here) and I usually add some small white beans to the mix. But I happened to see a bag of black-eyed peas right next to them at the grocery. So I says to myself "Self, howzabout you give them black-eyed peas a shot instead." Then the old woman next to me in the grocery aisle gave me a snide look and went in search of manager or security guard. So I moved on.

Cooking the black-eyed peas is as simple as...cooking black-eyed peas. You give them an overnight soak in some cold water, or you can do a quick soak per the instructions on the bag. But that's only if you are one of them lazy sumbitches. You aren't one of them lazy sumbitches, are you?  Then rinse the beans and give 'em a once through to make sure there aren't any stones or anthrax capsules hidden amongst them. Then simmer them in some vegetable broth for around 45 minutes or so. Or until just tender, but not mushy. I used 4 cups of broth for a 16 oz bag of beans. This left the cooked beans in a just a bit of delicious beany veggie broth. Is beany a word? Not beanie. That's a silly cap. Hmm...

Anyway, the beans tasted delicious just as is. Didn't need to add any salt or pepper or anything. Just delicious beans in a light broth. This would have been a delicious meal unto itself. Except...

White Chicken Chili

Ingredients

• 1 lb ground chicken
• 1 lb mild chicken sausage - removed from casing
• 1 lb fresh tomatillos - cleaned and roughly cubed
• 1 large green bell pepper - diced
• 1 large white onion - diced
• 4 celery stalks (include the leafy part) - diced
• 3-4 jalepeno peppers - seeded and diced
• 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 tbsp green curry paste
• 1 tsp sea salt
• 1 tsp white pepper
• 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1/4 tsp ground allspice
• 2 cups chicken broth
• juice of 2 limes

 - Brown the ground chicken and the chicken sausage. Separately or together. It doesn't matter to me and it didn't matter to them. Make sure you break up the meat from the chicken sausage with a spatula or wooden spoon. Set aside.

 - In a large stock pot, heat the olive oil and then add the green curry paste and heat for a minute or so to release the delicious flavor and aroma. Add the green pepper, white onion, celery and jalepenos. Simmer on medium-low heat for a few minutes. Until the onions get a bit translucent. Add the salt, white pepper, red pepper flakes and allspice and give it a give mix. Simmer for another minute or so.

 - Add the tomatillos, cilantro, chicken broth, lime juice and the cooked chicken you had previously set aside. Give it all a proper mix and get a nice little boil going. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for around an hour or so. The tomatillos should cook all the way down and leave you with a thick, delicious green sauce.

 - This is when I would normally say that you should now add the cooked beans to the chili and cook for a bit more. But the chili on it's own tasted awesome, and so did the black-eyed peas. Instead, I served the beans as a side dish to the chili. In the same bowl. Kinda like this:

Not sure what that shadow is there at the bottom. My nose?

Made all with fresh ingredients, this mother-fucker tasted like it was handed down from heaven by the baby Hay-zoos himself. I started alternating spoonfuls at first. One spoon of chili. One spoon of beans. But I was soon just scarfing the whole thing down like a prisoner huddled over the bowl, gripping the spoon like a weapon in case anyone rolled up on me. Yeah...it was that good.

Everyone go out shopping for ingredients and make this over the weekend. You kitchen will smell wonderful and you will most certainly thank me once you have begun putting it in your tummy.

That is all.

Nik Turley

Summer of 2011

My Gia is visiting her family in Charleston. The Yankees' Low-A affiliate, the Charleston Riverdogs, have a home series against one of the other teams in the South Atlantic League. Nik Turley pitches the first game she attends and he pitches well. A big lefty with a great pickoff move similar to Andy Pettitte.  The next game, she's sitting next to a young guy keeping score and tracking pitches. Turns out it's Nik Turley. Down at that level of the minors, the starting pitchers all take turns doing this on their off days. Was a real nice guy, and someone that we decided was a new favorite of ours in the Yankees organization. We've been keeping tabs on him ever since.


Today

Nik Turley is now an interesting prospect in the Yankees organization. Not much of a commanding fastball (despite his 6'6" 230lb frame), but great control of all of his pitches. Recently was made a member of the 40-man roster. And at 23 he's making a Spring Training start for the Yankees against the Orioles at 1PM. I'm going to be watching. And not only for young Mr. Turley. Another favorite, Slade Heathcott, will be manning CF for the Bombers. Heathcott has had an up and down minor-league career thus far, but he had a tremendous showing in the Arizona Fall League. And he's got a troubling but inspirational backstory. Someone that I'll be rooting for. Especially today.

Good luck, fellas!

UPDATE 1:12PM - Turley is NOT impressing right now. Walked the first batter, threw wide to 1st base on a pickoff attempt (runner reached second officially on interference from Dan Johnson), got behind the second batter before giving up an infield single. Then an RBI single to CF to give up his first run. All before getting an out. Yikes!

UPDATE 1:19PM - Nothing has gone right for Turley or the Yanks. Still no one out. 5 runs in for the Orioles. A few wild pitches for Turley. He and we may just want to forget about this one. HEY! He just struck out Lew Ford. In other news, Lew Ford sucks. Ugh. Turley is out of the game.

UPDATE 2:01PM - Heathcott reaches base in his first at-bat on a fielder's choice. Not a particularly great at-bat, but it was nice to hear Singleton and Flaherty rave about the potential for the AA Yank's outfield of Heathcott, Mason Williams and Tyler Austin. 

Blogogenesis

Yeah, I know. I'm not there when you wake up in the morning, and you hate that! Actually, I'm under the bed. Just waiting for you to leave for work so I can do nasty things with your underwear drawer.

Now do you feel better?

Anyway, this happens to me every Spring Training. I just don't care about anything except baseball. Well, I still care about bourbon. And food. And The Walking Dead. Oh, and Gia...crap, almost forgot Gia. You see what baseball does to my brain?

Speaking of baseball, it brought a big ole' smile to my ruggedly handsome face to see some people actually care about February baseball games on Twitter the past few days. Sure, it's February. And if March baseball doesn't fucking matter, then I don't know what the hell we are supposed to do with February baseball. Me? I'm taking it out behind the junior high and gettin' it pregnant. That's how much I love me some February baseball.

Speaking of Gia, we've both been doing well with our diets. Well, we are trying hard not to call it a diet because we don't plan on it ever ending. It's more of a healthy life-style change. A Live-it, if you prefer. Ugh...I really don't prefer that. In fact, I fucking hate that term. Purge it from your mind, forget that I ever mentioned it. Here's what we are doing; controlling portions, limiting caloric intake, fresh ingredients, lotsa water, weekend splurging. Lather, rinse, repeat. It can be a little boring, but I'm trying to keep things interesting in both the bedroom (heyooo!!!) and the kitchen. That's how I roll.

Speaking of The Walking Dead, it's been fucking fantastic this year thus far. Haven't watched this past Sunday's episode yet, but I'm sure I'm gonna dig. Maybe they will finally do something interesting with that great big black hole of suck that is Andrea. Right now, I just want a spin-off where Carl roams the country just shooting fucking zombies in the fucking head.  That's it. That's all I want the show to be about. It's faint praise that annoying, little Carl has become my favorite character on the show. Everyone else needs to take a big step up...RIGHT NOW!

Speaking of food, Gia's sister is still rocking her food blog. Her latest installment detailed a Hobbit-themed party that she threw for her son's birthday. You gotta go check it out. I helped a bit with the preparation of the menu, but that's all. And since it happened in warm SC while we were stuck in cold NY, I'm more than a little jealous. Sigh.

Speaking of bourbon, I've got a new inexpensive favorite. Old Grand-Dad 100 Proof. I never gave it a try because...well, the bottle looked so cheap. Bad orange label. Bad orange plastic cap. It's around the same price as Jim Beam, maybe a couple of bucks cheaper. And I recently found out the Old Grand-Dad himself is Basil Hayden, a founding member of the bourbon expansion into Kentucky back in the 1700's.  There is another, more premium bourbon eponymously named after him as well. And the two share the same mash bill (oooh....getting me hot with all these fancy bourbon terms!). Just aged 6 years instead of 8. It's delicious! A bit more rye than your normal bourbon, which is something that really appeals to me over some of the wheated bourbons on the market.  Needs a bit of ice to mellow it, but that's how I drink bourbon anyway. So it works out perfectly. Don't judge the book by it's awful cover and give it a try.

And I'm spent. Bye!

Rock it!

Honestly, you should celebrate your holdiays anyway you want to celebrate them.

We went out for a wonderful dinner tonight. Came home with a rose for Gia, which Wolowitz was all over from the get go. He jumped into my arms as soon as we walked into the door and started messing with it.

It was most awesome. Look at that fucking tooth!

We have some wonderful pictures of the two of us from the night. But fuck that. Wolowitz playiing with our rose was and is so much more fun. Rock it.

Oh, and this was waiting for us on the chalkboard at our favorite local restaurant when we went out for dinner tonight.

I'm so lucky.

The War of the Roses

Here's a little baseball fact-nugget that I gleaned from Bill Veeck* today on Twitter.

Back around the turn of the last century, a bitter rivalry began between two Pennsylvania minor-league baseball teams named after historic cities in Great Britain. York and Lancaster. The York White Roses had been around in some form or another since 1884. In 1904, they joined the Tri-State League and changed their name to the York Penn Parks. Which is horrible name. So in 1905 they changed it back to the White Roses.

One of their rivals in that league at that time was the Lancaster Maroons. And prior to the 1906 season, the Maroons changed their name to the Red Roses. Just to piss off their rivals from York, or so it would seem. The manager of the White Roses immediately denounced the name change as an insult and a copycat maneuver. He also predicted they would finish last in that league in the upcoming season.

As things happen, the two teams met each other in the season opener in 1906 and the upstart Red Roses beat the White Roses by a score of 9-6. An even more bitter rivalry ensued.

The two teams moved around a bunch of times over the years. York moved to Atlantic City for a while, and then to Lancaster where they oddly called themselves the Red Roses during the middle of the 1914 season. How the hell does that happen?

Both teams (same team?) folded after the 1914 season, but they both returned later on. The York White Roses joined the NY-Penn League from 1923-1936, went dormant for a few years because of the Great Depression, joined the Interstate League in 1943, the Piedmont League in 1953 and the Eastern League in 1958 until calling it quits in 1969.  The Red Roses were dormant until 1940 when they joined the Interstate League. Then the Piedmont League and the Eastern League until 1962. All the while playing their other half of the classic British war on the baseball diamond.

Baseball's own War of the Roses. A rivalry that kinda exists to this day between the Revolution of York and the Barnstormers of Lancaster. Eh...I prefer the old nicknames.

Pitchers and catchers reported today. I'll take all the baseball content I can handle, frankly.

*Not really Bill Veeck. He's dead, ya know.

Earl's Favorite Film Scenes: Vol. XI

I haven't done one of these in well over a year. How is that possible?

Anyway, I was thinking about Moonstruck the other day. Gia and I consider it a classic. Just so funny with such great performances. We disagree about Olympia Dukakis. I think she was fantastic, while Gia didn't really buy her as the matriarch of the family. But we do agree that she is in many of the great scenes from the film. Mostly filmed in the household kitchen.

So, naturally, I picked a clip from the film that doesn't feature her. See? I'm whimsical that way.

The bakery scene/introduction to Nic Cage's character has become one of my favorite scenes of all-time. I remember not being able to stand Cage in this film when I first saw it. But he grew on me, like a cancerous mole. And this scene, in particular, is one that lets him fly his freak flag in a glorious way.

Enjoy!

Bring me the big knife!

The Sandy Effect

UPDATE: There was no false hype. This was a killer storm. We had around 2 and 1/2 feet of snow, at least where I was shoveling. We need the plows to come by before we can even think of getting the cars out. Holy shit!

_________________________________________________ 

And, honestly, it's been going on for a lot longer than Superstorm Sandy* back around Halloween. But the hype and (over)reactions to the predictions for this nor'easter, Nemo** to be specific, is a bit out of control. Earlier in the week I heard talk of a coastal storm that we would need to watch, but the meteorologists weren't too worried about it. Then a few days ago, it was upgraded to a major snow event, and Snowpacalypse was nigh. Predictions of over 3 feet of snow in New England with up to 2 feet of snow or more here on Long Island. With blizzard conditions resulting from hurricane-force winds to boot.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

As I write this at 1PM on Friday, it is snowing here on the north shore. Something I wasn't expecting. The latest forecast called for rain all day turning to snow sometime after sundown, which is when it is supposed to get crazy. So maybe we are in for some significant accumulation. Or not. Because we are right on the line of the storm where it is snow to the north and rain in the south. I have no doubt that we are going to wake up to a bunch of snow tomorrow, but how much is anyone's guess. And that's all it seems to be. A guess.

Back to the Sandy Effect, however, and it seems like perception and dire predictions are all that matters for a portion of the population. I had to go out for supplies.  For us, that meant a trip to the liquor store. We are stocked with plenty of food, but we were running low on happy juice. And while I was out, I saw something I couldn't believe.

Gas lines.

That's right. Some people, at least in my neighborhood, are waiting on long lines to fill up their SUVs just in case we get a repeat of the gas shortage associated with the power outages that came with Sandy.  And the gas stations are feeding into it. They have closed off entrances and have their workers directing traffic and it looks exactly like what happened back in early November.

People, it's a snowstorm. Yes, we may get some significant snowfall. Yes, some people may lose some power. Yes, it's gonna be cold over the weekend. But an all-day rainstorm and 48 degree temperatures on Monday virtually guarantees that it will be all gone by Tuesday. And while the potential for extended power outages does exist, I believe that it just isn't going to be the case here on Long Island. I'm sure things are going to be bad for our neighbors across the Sound, and I wish them the best. But I'm still of the opinion that it's a winter storm. Something we have gone through a hundred times in my lifetime.

But we have been spoiled by the past two years. This is shaping up to be our first significant snow storm in around 3 years. But we all grew up with it. We should be tougher than this.

Ah...I probably just jinxed myself into 5 feet of snow and 3 weeks without power. I'm an ass.

And I don't even drink vodka. Seriously.

*I'm not making light of Sandy here. It was truly a horrific storm that affected millions and is still affecting thousands.

**A part of this hype is the current trend of naming winter storms. This one is Nemo. Really? We are naming snowstorms now? This has to end.

Herb

So y'all know that we have four cats. A couple of pure-bred snot-noses, who are really lovely. They both do some remarkable things as well. Bennington, since he has been a wee kitten, does this weird begging/clapping thing when he wants something. Could be food, could be one of the other cats sitting up high on something. Could be angels. We aren't sure. Then there is Bootsy. He's an asshole, but we have to give him some credit. He has been getting really creative with waking us up each morning. He's learned an entirely new cat vocabulary, or so it seems. Brilliant, autistic animal.

But for truly unique behavior, you have to observe one or both of our rescue cats for a while. The brother and sister duo of Wolowitz and Gogo.

Gogo, always our most vocal cat, has this habit of just yelling at us. Out of nowhere! Usually it's when we've disturbed her sleep by sneezing or, ya know, breathing loudly. But she also does it every time we walk into the bathroom. She follows, yelling at us, wanting to be brushed either in the sink or near the tub. She knows that the hair brushes are in that room, and she ain't no fool. Apparently.

And she's famously skitchy. Doesn't sit still ever. Always a blur of motion. So this makes this next trick  something truly unexpected.

After more than four years, she has become a lap cat. An insistent lap cat. A cat who needs to be on our fucking laps all fucking day long. It's both wonderful and annoying. Wonderful, because we were used to lap cats with Sydney and Sammi before they passed away, and our current pride of four have been anything but lap cats. Annoying because she's still as skitchy as all hell. In a given day, she will settle in on my lap, rest for a few minutes, then hear a noise in another room and run like hell to see what it was. Then do it all over again. Ad nauseum. All day long. And she gets pushy if you don't seem interested in actually having her on your lap. Odd fucking cat.

Then there is Wolowotiz. Dr. Wu. Mother-fucking Wu. This guy bristles with intelligence. I often think of that line in "Jurassic Park" when they are talking about the velicoraptors. One of the characters says something to the effect of being able to look at them and see that they are figuring things out in their heads. That's Wu. Saw him once try to open a closed door by putting his front paws on either side of the doorknob and attempting to turn it. If only he had those opposable thumbs he's always wishing for. He'd rule the fucking world!

He's funniest, however, when I'm cooking up something in the kitchen. He loves leafy greens and herbs. Mint, fresh basil, romaine lettuce...anything with a leaf and a bit of a scent, preferably. He generally will leave me alone if I'm making something without any fresh herbs or greens. Just not interested.

So I thought it was funny that he was so intent on watching me cook up a batch of New Orleans-style red beans and rice today. Lots of aromatics in there in the form of dried herbs and spices, but no fresh herbs. And he came into the kitchen to watch right away. Just as I was preparing all the ingredients and starting with the chopping of the veggies. Then when I picked up the celery, he got super-excited....ah that's what he wanted. But just the leafy ends, of course. Smart fucking cat.

Wolowitz and his greens. Herb.

Saturday in NYC

Hi! Remember me?

So we went to NYC this past Saturday to see some friends, eat some food and listen to some jazz/pop standards courtesy of John Pizzarelli. John's a super-talented jazz guitarist and band leader, and he and his brother Martin (bass) are friends with friends of ours. That's a clunky statement. Whatever. Anyway, they are also the sons of jazz legend Bucky Pizzarelli. Which is interesting because Gia's two uncles, also big names in the jazz community, worked with Bucky quite often. So when our friends found out that he would be doing a week-long engagement at Birdland (nice joint), they arranged for this little get-together. It was a blast. Something that I probably wouldn't have wanted to do if it hadn't been for the personal connections. But I'm so glad that I did. The band was awesome, and John does a great job with the banter in between songs. Funny, smart guy.

Some time during the evening, we started talking about famous people we have run into in the city. Gia told us how she and her sister basically stalked Phillip Seymour Hoffman one afternoon. They saw him walking around Times Square and they just followed him for a half-hour or so. Never spoke with him. Just followed him around like psychopaths. That's my woman.

After the show, we headed back to our friend's apartment as the womenfolk were a bit tipsy. The manly men decided to stay out and do manly things like drinking more brown, manly liquor at the restaurant downstairs. After sitting at the bar and having many manly discussions, our friend looks up and says "Hey, Phillip Seymour Hoffman just walked in." To which I replied "fuck you..."

But goddammit, Philip Seymour Hoffman was there meeting some folks for dinner. How freakin' weird is that? Gia, of course, was upstairs falling asleep. Kinda glad that she wasn't there. A restraining order might have been necessary.

Oh, and on my way to the bathroom I gave a quick howyadoin nod to a familiar face having drinks and dinner at one of the back tables. It was Chris Noth. Mr. Big himself.

Weird nite. Weird, but fun.

Let's let John and Martin Pizzarelli play us out.  Cheers!