Thursday, December 29, 2005

I know it's timely

Yeah, the below post is a tad late. War of the Worlds has been out of the theaters for about a hundred years (which is the same amount of time watching it feels like it takes). Hell, it's even on MVP already at Hollywood Video.

So sue me. I don't get to the movies much, and it took me two tries spread over six weeks to actually finish this piece o' crap. And it was so mind numbingly awful that I couldn't resist posting on it.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

130 million won't buy a brain.

The title here was to refer to a post I was going to make about the budget of the excrescence called War of the Worlds (articles no longer are allowed, so the "the" got shit canned along with most of my brain). However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Spielberg's budget on that flick was miniscule compared what it would cost actual aliens to mount an invasion and occupation on the scale shown in the Steve's ritalin addled story. Think about it. It costs us billions and billions to just scrape up into the upper reaches of low earth orbit in a vehicle that looks like a balloon plane. Trillions it would likely cost those aliens to make all those three legged war ships and get them here. Yet apparently with all their money, and all their scientific advancements, the science of biology is totally foreign to them. They didn't realize they needed to test the water before they drank it. Imagine Neil Armstrong opening the door of the Eagle while wearing a windbreaker and Bermuda shorts and you will get what I mean.

But wait, you say, War or the Worlds isn't about all that stupid science stuff. That's for eggheads, fanboys and geeks. This is a movie for intellectuals. It's using the genre to make a statement about . . .

About what exactly?

Oh, about how you can make up for being a deadbeat dad who abandons his parental responsibility in the most callous way and become a good parent by knowing a lot about cars and being able to kill with your bare hands for no reason. And it's about realizing you have to let your kids go eventually, even if it means they can then go out into the world and get destroyed by it (but if you do let them go, then they won't get destroyed---the world will be all soft and cuddly and let them skate on anything bad happening if only you realize you must let them go).

And there is more. Hey, it's also about how people are essentially hateful, evil scum who will revert to savages during crisis, despite, of course, all the evidence to the contrary throughout the history of the world. And it's about how you can make a political statement by putting your words into the mouth of a character who represents all the evil you are making your statement against.

Oh, and money. I think it might also be a little bit about money. You know, about how you can make a shitload of it by raping the current emotional zeitgeist, all while pretending you are actually providing a cathartic balm.

Christ, and I thought C.H.U.D. was bad.

Rubes in the house

You know, it's one month until Spring Training and the Tribe payroll now sits at right about the same spot it was last year, albeit minus Bob Howry, Kevin Millwood and Scott Elaraton, and, admittedly, plus a few raises for returning players. And those three missing players? They have been replaced by Paul Byrd, Jason Johnson and Mr. N.O. One.

So they have a weaker team for about the same money--plus whatever raises the existing players are due. So let's say it's about 46 million, give or take. A tad higher than last year, but just a wee bit short (or a fucking whole lot short, if you prefer) of the "north of 60 million" that Scrooge McDolan is claiming in the papers (just me or does he sound like W proclaiming victory in Iraq?).

But congrats on that extra 30-40 million--or more--of TV revenue your new sports station is going to generate. Hope that fills out the Dolan family retirement plan nicely, Larry. Umm. . .so where's that other 15-20 million that you keep saying you are going to spend on the team going to go exactly, Scrooge, me boy? Into refreshments? I mean, who is left to pick up now that you have passed on every decent hitter who was out there? And did I mention you have yet to sign a hitter of any kind? Do you realize that your 1st and 3rd basemen and your left fielder are still Ben Broussard, Aaron Boone and Casey Blake? Do you even know the names of any of the players on your team?

Hey, let's raid the kid's piggy bank to get those season tickets now, baby!!! Woo-hoo, as Homer Simpson might say. Indians fever. Be a believer. With the Cleveland Indians.

Just kill me now, as I might say.