JULY 30, 2007 The Simpsons Movie opens big at number one, but after twenty years it would have been a disappointment not to. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to see it. In fact it’s going to be my release treat to myself. But this still doesn’t excuse the show for sucking like it has for the last, oh, half a decade. I don’t even bother watching it any longer. I’ve got better things to do with the space on my DVR, like Smallville reruns.
‘CAUSE QUEERS IS FUNNY!
I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry is down to number two and what the fuck is the Gay & Lesbian Alliance smoking to give their clearance to a piece of shit like this? It’s so obvious an excuse to make fun of homosexuals under the guidance of being “progressive.” You can tell because neither character is actually gay. Nope, they’re straight arrow men with Adam Sandler of all fucking people being a ladies man with Jessica Biel as a love interest. Now you know you’re detached from reality. Needless to say if I didn’t have a brain bleed before, seeing this would have given me one and Jessica Biel’s foine ass simply would not have been enough to save me. This movie is for ugly fat guys insecure about their sexuality---which just happens to be Adam Sandler’s main audience (all the way down to the girl too hot for him in the way of Bridgette Wilson, Winona Ryder, Kate Beckinsale), so this is actually for his fans.
THE QUEEN WAS NOT AMUSED BY ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE
Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix is down to number three and this franchise is a license to print money. I’ve declined to join this cult so far and nothing is going to change my mind, not even the “Who’s Who” of British acting appearing in them. Indeed, it’s almost unpatriotic not to do one if you’re English. Only if they got a Bond in there would I even think about showing up. But it would have to be Connery or the new blonde kid. Sorry, but Moore, Brosnan and Dalton would just ham it up and I think Lazenby is forbidden to work in England by order of the Crown.
I OFTEN ASK MYSELF, “WHAT WOULD DIVINE DO?”
Hairspray is down to number four and the simple fact they spent so much time and money trying to make John Travolta actually look like a woman means they missed the point! It’s supposed to be a man in drag! It’s camp! I saw the original and enjoyed it so I’m going to leave it there and be happy that John Waters continues to make money hand over fist with this thing.
NOW YOU KNOW HOW THE BLACK FOREST GOT ITS NAME
No Reservations opens at number five and I saw the German original, Mostly Martha, so I will probably see this as well. My only question is will they keep the scene where Martha is in white underwear and her very obvious big, black bush shows that not everyone has fallen prey to the cult of bikini waxing.
YET ANOTHER ANGLE FROM WHICH TO TRASH SHIA
Transformers is down to number six and let’s not pretend this Megan Fox girl isn’t smoking hot. And it’s always a victory when the hottest girl around isn’t a blonde---though like Lindsay Lohan they undo this immediately by then going blonde. Except that this girl is a bit too hot. What the hell else other kinds of roles can she play but “The Hot Girl?” Can you see her as an accountant? The nice girl next door? She may not be bad, but nature sure as hell drew her that way. She actually has that porn girl look going on, resembling the “it” porn girl of the moment recently seen on the Tyra Banks Show, Sasha Grey. At least the story begins with her with a traditionally hot guy to begin with before sticking her with It-Dweeb-of-the-Moment, Shia LeBeouf. She even gets to say that she has a weakness for hot, good-looking guys, so at least they’re not pretending he’s anyone’s first choice. More than the giant robots this is how you know it’s science fiction. Of course Spielberg loves him: he’s the Jewish kid Spielberg always wanted to be, which is why this putz is now the son of Indiana Jones. Sigh.
LUCY LIU: MIA
Ratatouille is down to number seven followed by Live Free or Die Hard at number eight and making an appearance in this is Maggie Q, hopping onto another big franchise hoping it will make her into the “it” Asian girl of the moment, as there doesn’t seem to be one right now. God knows Tom Cruise and Mission Impossible 3 let her down. If this doesn’t work what the hell is left? Maybe they’ll do another Charlie’s Angels and just recast everyone. This time with girls who are actually pretty. Oh, fuck off. You know I’m right.
THIS WHY YOU JUST SAY “NO” KIDS
I know it’s wrong but the continued crashing and burning of Lindsay Lohan helped to ease my blood-irritated membrane. I mean, just when you think it can’t get any worse it in fact does just that. I know the producers of this turd thought they got lucky with all the free publicity of her latest misfortune, but why pay for the cow when you can get the milk for free in the news? This is why I Know Who Killed Me opens at number nine to general critical trashing. And honestly, who the fuck wants to see their favorite actor or actress in a movie where they get their arm and leg amputated? That’s some indie film bullshit, not something for a mainstream actor. But in her own defense, she was probably drunk and high when she agreed to do this. God knows it was how she was conceived, as according to her father he and her mother were dating during the coked-up 80’s. She was probably created off a bump in the bathroom of MK’s one night.
PLANTING CORN ON THE BACK 40, PART 3
Finally Who’s Your Caddy opens up at number ten and on behalf of the Black/African-American/Nergoes of America I would like to apologize. Not since the very existence of Flavor Flav have we been so embarrassed. I mean exactly who keeps going to see these lame-ass “Black” remakes? Someone has to be, otherwise they’d stop already. This time it’s Caddyshack and that is simply an abomination. And what must be going through the minds of the White actors who are in this pretty much to be mocked? At least Jeffery Jones can blame his conviction for pedophilia for having to be here. What about the rest? You have to figure by the second day they’re all regretting turning down farm porn. After your fourth take of being mocked for having no rhythm and having a small penis, suddenly sex with a goat doesn’t seem so bad.
BRAINS, BRAINS!
So this is late because something in my brain exploded. Yes, I like to think it’s genius too, but it was actually just a blood vessel at the base of my brain, which is why I spent 15 days at St. Vincent’s hospital undergoing treatment. It began on Friday night (the 13th no less) while I was working out. I was lifting 200-300 pounds---or riding the life cycle, I can’t remember which---when suddenly I got the most painful headache ever. I thought it would pass, so I tried to man through it. No go. I had to stop and when I did, I realized I couldn’t move my neck and I felt nauseous. Then, on the walk home there was tingling and numbness in my hands. For a moment I wondered if I was having a stroke. After all, I am fucking old. So, in a blinding display of stupidity and fear I first went home to find my insurance information. I didn’t, but hoped they could pull it up anyway. I then walked up to St. Vincent’s on 52nd (an ambulance heading there went right past me) without telling my roommate where I was going or why. I called Nice Jewish Doctor on my way there for her opinion as her husband is a neurologist, formerly a neurosurgeon. I spent about 90 minutes either sitting on the floor of the waiting room or on my side vomiting up nothing in the bathroom. I finally got a bed in the hallway, where I continued vomiting until they took me in to get a catscan. The verdict? It seemed what took Bruce Lee and almost Sharon Stone had come for me. I was bleeding into my brain due to an aneurysm. Because they have no neurosurgery there, I was transferred hours later to St. Vincent’s on 14th. It was during this trip that I got my best news of the day. The EMT workers insisted that I couldn’t be 5’8” or even 5’9” because those people fit perfectly on the bed and I was too tall. Then the female EMT complimented me, saying she could believe I was working out because my body was solid---as she also went to second base on me grabbing my man-boob (which she mistakenly called a pec and hopped it was comforting some woman) and did a little leg squeeze. That was pretty much the highlight of that day. When I was finally at 14th Street I called my dad from the ICU. I closed my eyes for what seemed like a second and then both my aunts and uncles were standing in front of me. They then took me up to Neuro ICU where I was told I’d go in for an angiogram, which is when they insert a wire into your groin and go up into your brain to have a look around. There, if there’s problem they can use this same wire to fix it, which is called coiling. If not, then they have to open your head up and do it that way. The only risk in an angiogram is that while going up your circulatory system they can sometimes knock a clot free causing a stroke. Because of this, I had to sign not one, not two, but three consent forms before they started. Step one: the catheter. Oh. My. God. All the medical technology we have and the only way we can deal with a patient’s urine is to shove a fucking tube up their urethra into their bladder!?! And don’t think I got a fucking local for it either. No, I just watched this guy shove a foot of rubber into my dick and my dick is not a foot long so I have no idea where all of it went. Thankfully, I remember nothing of the angiogram. They knocked me out. One moment I’m breathing deeply, the next it’s all over. They even shoved a tube down my throat and I felt nothing. The angiogram revealed that I did not in fact have an aneurysm, which was good news. They concluded that a small blood vessel at the base of my brain had burst causing the cerebral hemorrhage. This was the best of all possible options because it required no surgery. Just observation and meds to make sure it didn’t get worse. Basically, my body would deal with it. The blood would sink down my spine into the base and then be reabsorbed. Sadly, they left out some details in that process. When I woke up, not only was my dad there, but also my friends had started showing up, most notably Nice Jewish Doctor, who flew down that day to see me. I’m still stunned by it. I’m such a miserable bastard. Why would you people waste the time? And she wasn’t alone. Over the next few days there were visits by:
Former Miss Pretty Boy
Around The Way Girl
Three of My Geek Girl Posse
Dorito Cheeseburger Woman (Karyn Plonsky)
Star Sister
Former Blonde Bombshell (whom I haven’t seen in years)
Surrogate Sister
The French Woman
My Dealer’s Wife
Tall Canadian Blonde (Joan Allen lookalike I met at the real estate agency)
Movie Buddy
Chasing Amy
The Lunatic
Wife of The Young Married Couple
The Libertine
Fitness Girl
Italian Runner (whom I also have not seen in years)
And 4 Dudes including Nightlife Guide and Bad Influence
Needless to say, all these women gave my mother such false hope for grandchildren I was thinking of banning you all. My dad, however, enjoyed meeting every single one of you and was shocked because he thought I had no patience for women. Dorito Cheeseburger Woman (Karyn Plonsky, Karyn Plonsky, Karyn Plonsky) stood out because she made a very thorough introduction to my family to the point where my mother felt like she was meeting her daughter-in-law. She added to this case by coming to see me three days in a row, which is equal the amount of times I’ve actually seen her in the past year and one more than I saw her last year. In addition I’ve apparently got a cousin in Brooklyn who comes to see me and another cousin apparently on staff in the hospital, though he was away on vacation at the moment.
Days 2 & 3
I seem to be recovering. I finally was able to sleep through the night and most of the morning and actually started eating. My mom was there by now and it’s a good thing, because my dad doubted if she could have handled seeing me the first day---though this did not stop her from being pissed about the not telling my roommate of my condition thing. I think I heard it from her everyday about it, along with every person who visited me. Sigh. I still insist if she’d come she would have done nothing but sit in a cold waiting room for 8 hours, but you all say that’s not my decision to make. Well, guess what? I made it my decision! ‘Cause I’m a man, baby! Talk begins of me leaving the Neuro ICU to the general floor where I could use my phone and have internet access because I feel the need to tell people where I am. I’m having my baby sister who has also come up start making phone calls for me. My neurosurgeon comes around on rounds and he looks like Patton Oswalt, but according to Surrogate Sister he was on New York Magazine’s list of “50 Best Doctors in New York” so I lucked out.
Day 4
The blood in my brain begins to coagulate to begin its journey down my spine---AND IT HURTS LIKE HELL. I spend the bulk of the day fetal. Not even a combination of perocet and morphine can make me feel better because I can only receive so much of either due to my condition being neurological. The doctors need to be able to tell if it’s my brain that has a problem, which they cannot do if I’m high. So for at least 16 hours I’m a suffering ball. I believe this is when Movie Buddy is able to send out the email, because I’m getting to the point where people will simply be pissed at not being informed sooner---though she ignores my versions where I don’t give what hospital I’m in and insist no one come to see me. See, real men heal alone. In the dark. Beating themselves with chains soaked in kerosene. You’ve all made me weak with your love and support (and sooo much chocolate). I hope you’re happy.
Day 5
The pain breaks and I’m actually able to begin physical therapy. See, after five days of bed rest I’ve forgotten how to walk. Seriously. It goes just that quickly. The physical therapist walks me halfway down the hall and back and I’m wiped out for the day. Also, I’ve learned that looking at my computer screen hurts. So does listening to my iPod or watching movies on the little DVD player Surrogate Sister bought for me. Even trying to read comic books is too much due to the irritated membrane in my brain. The French Woman jokes I’m in “electronic detox.” I just call it hell. And to top it off, my iPod is stolen along with the stuffed lobster toy Nice Jewish Doctor brought me from Maine. Honestly, I’m more upset about the lobster.
Days 6-9
It’s getting better all the time. Every day I can walk more and even though I still have headaches, it’s nothing like before. Percocet does make me feel better (morphine just makes me loopy). My appetite has returned and I’m having my dad bring me paninis from the Westside Market. The old man across from me who has had 26 days of poor response, sudden begins to spring to life and is able to move out onto the floor. He’s replaced by a Drew Barrymore looking Canadian girl of 26 who complains of head pain and a loss of vision. Minutes after she’s brought in, one of the doctors, pulls the curtains around her bed and then proceeds to open her skull for drainage. It’s local so she’s actually awake for it. Holy fucking shit. Mom and dad go home and my other sister comes up for the week to take care of me. For some reason, Soul For Real’s “Every Little Thing I Do” pops into my head and won’t go away.
Day 10
The worst pain I’ve ever experienced, even more than the initial bleeding, as the blood is now at the base of my spine. Blood and spinal fluid were not supposed to mix and for no less that 36 hours, I have to deal with a stabbing pain in my lower spine every 5-10 minutes so intense it leaves my feet numb and I vomit anything given to me. When they finally find a painkiller that allows me to deal with it my heart rate pretty much comes to a dead stop, so I can never have the miracle drug again. It’s also the day I get my second angiogram only this time I’m awake for part of it, which apparently was part of the plan. The knock me out so I don’t feel it going into my groin and I don’t even feel it being pulled out, but I do FEEL IT IN MY FUCKING HEAD. It doesn’t hurt, but I do FEEL IT IN MY FUCKING HEAD. The Canadian girl has her surgery losing about four inches of skull on either side.
Day 11
Still recovering and desperate for sleep, Ambien and I meet for the first time and lo, it is good. The only downside is maybe it is responsible for the two nightmares I have the make me wake up with a start, resulting in a headache, which results in the need for painkillers for the last time. Canadian Girl moves out of the ICU and onto the floor, which is nothing but good news.
Days 12 -13
No painkillers, very little back pain or headache AND THE CATHETER COMES OUT! Sweet relief! As if it didn’t hurt enough before, once I started getting regular REM sleep I experienced the return of “morning wood” WITH A FUCKING CATHETER! I think they’re using that as a torture technique in Cuba right now. I’m hoping to be released on Friday, as Dr. Patton Oswalt said “two weeks from bleed date” before he left on vacation. Unfortunately, my intense back pain from the previous days makes them concerned (along with my parents’ news that both my grandfathers had cerebral hemorrhages, which is news to me) so it looks like at best I’ll just be moving onto the floor. Canadian Girl leaves the hospital entirely. Her replacement in the ward is an old man who looks like trouble the moment I see him and damned if he isn’t. He’s 82, speaks only Spanish and gets pissed when no one can understand him. The poor patient next to him has the burden of translating to the nurses as he complains of his pillows and insists “he’s the boss.” No, dipshit, you are not. I have my sister pull the curtain in front of me at all times so I don’t have to look at him. Yes, I’m evil and going to hell. We established that long ago.
Day 14
I’m not going home, but I am moved into a private room, which is the first step on getting the hell out of Dodge. I’m walking at semi-normal pace and even practicing on the stairs. It’s time to go, goddamnit.
Day 15
The news comes down: I’m out tomorrow if all goes well.
Day 16
Freedom, sweet freedom. It takes most of the morning to process, but this actually allows me to finally meet the doctor cousin who promises to do more research as to why this happened to me, even though I’ve long accepted that it just “does” happen to people all the time and I pretty much got off light. My first mission? I go buy comic books. I don’t even get my drug prescription filled until afterwards. Thankfully, neither the computer, TV nor comic books cause me any pain. But I’m not at full strength by any means (writing this took me two days to complete and my sister had to do all my food shopping for me). It’s sad realizing that I can’t make a run for a light or train. I’m walking at a decidedly slower pace and both my distance and time outside are limited. And god forbid I test it, because my sister is still with me so my parents are instantly notified and these are not phone calls I want. I can’t go back to work until I see the neurosurgeon which won’t be for another two weeks, but before you think that’s a great idea, know that I’m already on 60% salary and it’s not pretty because I’m also not working at the comic book store any longer. Hell, I’m making less than I was when I was temping. So the goal for the next week is to heal as quickly as possible so when I see him I can get the clearance to go right back to work, though I’m thinking the comic book job may be finally over. If one job is too much to go back to, I can only imagine what he’d think of two. But it’s sad because I actually found it relaxing; getting paid to talk about comics. And god knows I need that discount. Looks like it’s time for that career in porn…
THE UPSIDE TO BRAIN BLEEDING
After two weeks in the hospital filled with bouts of literal mind-numbing pain resulting in a renewed state of poverty, there is something good to show for it: I’m 11 pounds lighter (despite all the chocolate). But if I’m 11 pounds lighter WHY DO I STILL HAVE THIS FUCKING POUCH!?! Sigh. 40 so sucks. And of course, this would be the time to be working out to tighten it up, but given I can’t run across the street to catch a bus, that’s not going to be happening. Sigh.
GOD’S WORK
I’m an atheist even after all this, but if there’s anyone on this planet doing God’s work it’s not the clergy, it’s not social workers, it’s not doctors. It’s freaking nurses. The nurses I had for two weeks were the most wonderful people on this earth, especially given what they have to deal with. Doctors may save your life, but they don’t clean up your vomit or feed you or wipe your ass. Nurses do that shit. And as soon as I get paid again on my regular scale, I’m sending the mother of all fruit baskets to the ones in the Neuro ICU who took care of me. Besides, one of the best was this guy named Chris, who was actually planning on attending the San Diego Comic Con this week (so we had lots to talk about) until a family emergency took him home. He won’t be back until the 6th of August and I want him to be there when it comes.
BACK TO THE EGG
So, when you’re down like I was, parents waste no time in dialing it back to when they utterly controlled your life and it’s useless to fight them.
Mom & Dad: So, you got pajamas?
Me: Yes.
Mom & Dad: We bought you some pajamas.
Me: I said I’ve got some.
Mom & Dad: These are better. You got some sandals for the summer?
Me: Yes.
Mom & Dad: We bought you some sandals for the summer.
Me: Sigh.
Mom & Dad: Do you have nice jeans?
Me: I’ve got millions.
Mom & Dad: We bought you some nice jeans.
And it was like that all week. Also, when they left they installed my younger sister as my caretaker with an equally immobile attitude. She stayed in my apartment and I was somewhat surprised to see how quickly she and my roommate bonded. Granted your sister should get along with your common-law-wife, but it kind of threw me for a loop to hear how they’d gone to dinner, how they’d hung out and how my roommate could now do a perfect impression of my mom. But she is the nicest of the three of us. Had it been my baby sister, she just would have shut herself up in my room and watched movies and read comic books.
JULY 7, 2007 LESS THAN MEETS THE EYE
Transformers opens at number one and they came along just as I was becoming too old for certain types of science fiction and fantasy, as I’d discovered the women around me were grown stuff on their chests. Like with the Knightrider TV show, one day something seemed amazingly cool to me, the next day it was “Man, this is stupid. And did you see her boobs?” The second generation of GI Joe, Knightrider and Transformers all arrived just a moment too late for my interest. This is probably what allowed me to enjoy this movie, as the biggest Transformers fan I know was livid about the changes made for the movie and swore he’d never see it. Basically, what Superman is to me, Transformers is to him. But just as I had to watch Smallville despite bitching about “Kal-El’s Creek” from day one, he too relented and saw this---and enjoyed it in spite of himself. I also enjoyed this big dumb movie about giant robots fighting in downtown LA. Some have compared this to Independence Day. Well, that’s accurate, because Independence Day was just an updating of flying saucer movies from the 50’s and this pretty much the same. Invaders from space, the everyman gets involved and with military assistance, saves the day. In this case, the everyman is none other than the little douchebag of the moment, Shia LeBouf and his agent needs to get more than 10% given what he’s done for this little shit. He plays the descendant of an explorer who actually discovered the first Transformer on earth, but had to die in shame in a mental ward so the government could keep it a secret. Now, the good Transformers come to him to help fight the bad ones. To protect him, one has come to earth disguised as a Camero. In fact, all the good guy robots transform into everyday vehicles while the bad guy robots are all military vehicles. Couple this with a less than respectful moment with the president and I’d dare say someone had an agenda. But the military is depicted as nothing less than super-competent, represented by pretty boy Josh Duhmael and Tyrese Gibson. The movie’s biggest flaw is far too much comic relief. The sequence where Shia tries to hide five giant robots in his backyard goes on much too long and steals a resolution from Pump Up The Volume. Also Anthony Anderson appears. Need I say more? The black Tom Arnold is just as annoying here as he is in everything and the double-digit IQ possessors continue to be amused by him. But what can you say about a movie about giant fighting robots from space? Which is based on a cartoon used to sell toys in the 80’s? How can you seriously complain about a movie like this? You know exactly what you were getting into it when you paid your money. I did and in the end, it was a pleasant way to spend a free afternoon. If anything is really a problem, it’s that they made the Transformers too complex looking, so when they’re moving around onscreen, you really don’t know what the hell you’re seeing, especially when they’re fighting, which is the only reason you’re there in the first place.
SEPARATED AT BIRTH
Live Free or Die Hard is down to number and the bad guy here is Timothy Olyphant, who is the answer to the question, “What if pretty boy Josh Duhmael actually had talent?” He’s been bouncing around in supporting roles for years, from the drug dealer in the criminally underrated Go to the porn director in The Girl Next Door, stealing scenes left and right. Unlike Josh Duhmael there’s an undercurrent of menace to him, which tends to hamper playing the typical hero. This probably why he found his greatest success as the sheriff on Deadwood. Yeah, now you know him.
SHUT UP AND TELL JOKES!
Ratatouille is down to number two and another huge difference in Pixar films than your typical computer animated funny animal movie is the choice in voices. Pixar chooses who best suits the role while others just grab stars they can advertise (to give credit where credit is due, this was Disney’s policy they adopted). How else would someone like Patton Oswald wind up as the principle character in one of the biggest movies of the summer? Or Janeane Garofalo? Obviously she’s the only female character and in typical Garofalo form she goes on talk shows and makes herself unlikable. Janeane came up with Ben Stiller and on his show. She would then appear in his movies like the rest of his crew. You don’t see that any more. Andy Dick went crazy, David Cross and Bob Odenkirk did the great Mr. Show before David Cross decided briefly to join Janeane Garofalo and Margaret Cho in sacrificing humor to rail against George Bush, Garofalo in particular, becoming the worst kind of liberal shrew, as intolerant of other viewpoints as the people she was attacking. And their mainstream careers suffered as a result because they just couldn’t do their jobs and tell jokes. David Cross recovered and was obviously on the great Arrested Development, but Margaret Cho pretty much makes her living now being a professional hag and Garofalo is also a liberal fringe entertainer, appealing to the kind of person who ever thought that lame-ass “Bush, Dick, Colin…no wonder the country’s so fucked up” joke was ever funny, which it was not (which is why I hate so many of my fellow liberals: lame senses of humor). Even doing the rounds to support this movie she’s lucky to have, she can’t help but be an unpleasant bitch making needless political comments. Talking about pissing away a gift. She was funny once. Now, even I, a fan, cannot stand seeing her. Luckily she may have a future in voice, because she’s totally unrecognizable in this.
ANY MINUTE NOW PATCH ADAMS 2 IS COMING
License to Wed opens at number four and the Robin Williams trainwreck continues. Who is still paying to watch this guy mug his way through films? Is he too old for Ritalin? I’m not a fan of either version of The Office, so the appeal of the male lead is lost on me. He’s just some average-looking goofball to me. And poor Mandy Moore. She just keeps trying and trying, bad movie after bad movie, disappointing album after disappointing album and interview after interview insisting that she’s comfortable with her curves. Honey, if you were comfortable, you wouldn’t keep talking about it. Britney never made excuses for her thick thighs and surprising-for-a-white-girl ass. And most surprisingly out of the four (Britney, Christina, Jessica, Mandy), given she seems to have had the most normal home life, she’s displayed the worst taste in men. Yeah, even worse than Fred Durst and K-Fed (Britney) and Johnny Knoxville and the douchebag lead singer of Maroon 5 (Jessica). Who knew the skanky one would have the least amount of gossip about her and wind up happily married and now pregnant? But Mandy has been attached to Wilmer Valderrama who revealed he popped her cherry on Howard Stern (classy); Zach Braff (‘nuff said) and DJ AM. Yeah, a Nicole Richie leftover. More than that, a 30-year-old Nicole Richie left over, who apparently picks girlfriends from Teen People along with Jared Leto.
AFTER GILMORE SHE PREFERS AS FEW LINES AS POSSIBLE
Evan Almighty is down to number five and Lauren Graham is in this continuing her career as “the girl” for in comedies where leading men are willing to be with a woman their own age. So far it’s been Vin Diesel (The Pacifier), Billy Bob Thornton (Bad Santa) and now this. She’s not really a big screen lead and if Mary Louise Parker weren’t available to do Weeds, she’d be the next person on your list.
GIVING THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT
1408 is down to number six, followed by Knocked Up at number seven with Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer is down to number eight and to show you that exploitation is more even than you realize, Chris Evans, who plays the Human Torch, has another gratuitous shirtless scene in this movie like the first. Given this movie is motivated by anything but genuine inspiration, you know they read the responses from the first, saw women (and gay men) loved it, so found a reason for it to happen again. Why else would the shower entrance BE IN THE MAIN HALLWAY OF THE BUILDING so he can run into his romantic interest (Frankie Raye, whom geeks know becomes a Human Torch herself and eventually herald of Galactus) and do a little flexing? The ironic thing being, even though Jessica Alba’s character has another “Oops, I’m naked in public scene” we never see her, while this guy had to give up pizza for six months. Oh, and he used to date Jessica Biel. Of course they never made a sex tape either. See, it’s never the good couples.
THEN THEY SHOULD BOTH CALL DEBBIE RENYOLDS
Sicko holds at number nine and Ocean’s 13 closes out the top ten at number ten and have we mentioned just how much is must suck to be Jennifer Anniston recently? Well, you know it does. Especially during the promotion for A Mighty Heart, on which Brad Pitt also served as a producer. Why does it suck? Because no one can ever tell her he traded down. Probably the only person she can talk to now is Cameron Diaz who has to see Jessica Biel show up every other day with Justin Timberlake. Again, no one can tell him he traded down. And, they had to be at Shrek 3 premieres all over the world together, after which she knows he went home and boned the younger girl with the better ass----while she found out that Criss Angel’s estranged wife was going to name her in their divorce suit. Criss Angel? Now’s she’s got no shortage of friend willing to tell her she traded down. Yeah, she and Jennifer Anniston should become drinking buddies.
AFTER HOURS
Never again. I’m serious this time. When Chasing Amy says, “Let’s go out” around midnight, I’m just going to say home. I’m too old to be having a meal at 4:00 am and then dragging my ass home as the sun comes up. It just messes with my clock and you cannot mess with an old man’s clock. This time it was the birthday gathering for a guy she hates, but whom is still good friends with her boyfriend. She only agreed to go if she could turn up very late and apparently with me in tow. It was at a bar called Nurse Bettie on the Lower East Side, directly across the street from the atrocity known as Blue, that horribly ugly blue apartment building. This will be important later. Because it’s summer, the bar isn’t packed the gills the way it would normally be on a night like this and for that I’m grateful. I even managed to find a seat. Now, the reason Chasing Amy hates this douchebag is because he once hit on her and upon being turned down, he then told her current boyfriend not to date her. But even now, at every sort of social gathering makes some sort of attempt to impress her. But this was not douche enough for me to condemn him the way she had. Being a moron about a crush hardly makes a man a douche. No, he became a douche to me when he kept going on about the mixes he made that were playing in a bar. He would sing every lyric, beat and electronic effect so we knew what a great job he’d done. This is when he effectively transcended to “douche.” He solidified this when he then began telling Chasing Amy how much money he made a year ($200K he alleges, which may be true as he is an “Evangelist” for Microsoft). Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. After a year long sabbatical, Chasing Amy decided she needed bacon, so at 4:00 we decided to go to Cafeteria on 7th. In the cab ride over The Douche then told us all about the perks of working for Microsoft, which include all internet and phone bills reimbursed with no need for receipts; mandatory ownership of all their software & hardware (including the Xbox Elite), and also their competitor’s works, which is why they bought him a Mac book and, of course, the iPhone---which he whipped out All. Night. Long. Supreme Douche. But the cherry on top was at dinner (where he ordered a macaroni & cheese with bacon for the table to try again to please Chasing Amy). Because it’s 4:00 am we’re getting the club fallout crowd, but since the real club goers are all out of the city in the summer, it’s only the people who go to clubs in the summer, which means the Bridge & Tunnel Crowd. Now, I personally found this hysterical to watch, because guido and guidette fashion is never anything less than amusing (they never run out of ways to expose skin or abuse mousse), but this sent him off in a tirade on how “Jersey is ruining the city.” Bear in mind the only true New Yorker at that table was Chasing Amy, Brooklyn born and bred. And for as long as there’s been a “New York Scene” the people at the center of it have been those from outside the city. Truman Capote? New Orleans. Andy Warhol? Pittsburgh. Even those social matrons on the Upper East Side are never from New York. The Lou Reeds and Woody Allens are out-numbered ten-to-one by the people who really make up what you think is “New York” especially Manhattan. And this asshole, who was living in The Blue Building (renting, not buying, which makes me doubt his salary claims), whose exorbitant prices are exactly what’s driving out the people who really make New York interesting, is going on about how people from Jersey are ruining New York!?! People from New Jersey have always come into New York, but unlike The Douchebag, they fucking leave again. He stays and stinks the joint up. Thankfully, this is pretty much when the meal ended otherwise I was tempted to puke it back up onto him. When I finally got home the freaking sun was up. Not coming up, up! Sigh. I’m so too old for this.
WE ARE FAMILY
So my dad calls me on Wednesday and tells me, “Remember your cousin, Renee? Well, she’s got a daughter coming to New York to do an internship at Vibe Magazine and needs a place to stay for a week until her actual living arrangements kick in. She starts Monday. See what you can do.” Um, okay. So I start making phone calls and doing research to see if what the women’s residences that still exist charge. Apparently my cousin has led a good life because Around The Way Girl calls me back to offer me her apartment as she’s pretty much living with her boyfriend these days. Shit. Who knew I had friends like this? She came in on Saturday and I kept her with me on the first night and took her to dinner, as I couldn’t just dump her in city on her first night here. She was my excuse to go to Empanada Mama (I haven’t been in months, I swear). I took her up to the apartment the next day (which was painfully, the morning after my night with Chasing Amy). Around The Way Girl’s apartment is on 120th Street near St. Nicholas park and that area has changed dramatically (i.e., White people live there now). Every other building is pretty much brand spanking new and more are in the works. Also, it’s near the 125th Station subway stop, so she’s going to be spoiled for a week, because her regular housing is with an old friend of her mothers---in COOP City in The Bronx. Ouch. But the part about this that sends me shopping for Depends is that it was 20-years ago that I was 20-years old, just finished my sophomore year and decided not to go home but to stay in New York for the summer and work. However, I lacked the foresight to get an internship. No, I just worked at the gym just like I did during the school year. How was it? My life was so boring I literally cannot remember a thing I did (aside from two blown chances for sex; one my stupid choice, the other the unscheduled appearance of a new roommate). Hopefully, she’ll be smart enough to have some fun. Given that she’s working at Vibe in their fashion division, there should be plenty of opportunities.
JULY 2, 2007
BUT HE GET’S NO SONG LIKE BEN
Ratatouille opens at number one and deservedly so. Though a bit long, it may be my second favorite movie of the year (number one being The Host, the best Korean-Horror-Monster-Political-Satire you’ll ever see). This is how good Pixar is, when even losing the creator of the project still results in a great movie. Then again, if Brad Bird took over Meet The Robinsons that might have been saved too. The story of a rat that longs to cook, this also joins my sub-category of good movies about food. It’s so head and shoulders above crap like Shrek it’s not even funny. Even something like Happy Feet, which I enjoyed pales in comparison. Much is said about how the best children’s films work on more than one level and this is proof of it, as I think your average child is not going to notice that the overhead shot of the grim food critic’s office is shaped like a coffin. It’s a two-second shot and either you get it or you don’t. They don’t spoon feed things like this to you the way other films do if they have them at all. It also doesn’t shy away from making the rats realistic enough that a group of them looks incredibly nasty, which must have driven the assholes in marketing crazy (I see them begging, “Mice. Why can’t it be mice? We can sell mice toys. Nobody is buying a freaking rat toy!”). When one of the characters sees all the rats in the kitchen at one time she almost vomits and you understand why. This is not to say it’s perfect. It’s not. Beyond the main rat, Remy, no one else gets too much shading. Linguini, the hapless human whom Remy guides, is never more than a sad sack. If you expect him to actually learn to become a chef eventually by virtue of being Remy’s puppet, think again. And the potentially most interesting human, Colette (no, the names are not subtle in this film)the sole female chef in the kitchen, who perhaps has more in common with Remy, is never fully explored. This is the downside of losing the film’s original creator, whose problem allegedly was that he did in fact have too much going on. Too bad. Given its almost two hour running time, you’d think they’d have enough space to still do so. But there’s still one big caveat: no fucking songs. Well, there’s one, but it’s in French and so innocuous I almost forgot it.
THE NEXT ONE WILL BE DIE HARD: THE SHOW ME STATE
Live Free or Die Hard opens at number two and this is Die Hard 4 to the world, but only Die Hard 3 to me, since that fourth one sucked so. Much. Dick. It totally missed the point that McClane has to be alone against the odds, not McClane with the entire NYPD backing him up. This is a bit closer to form and actually I don’t miss the stand-by Die Hard device of “Every Cop But McClane Is A Moron.” In this case they know he’s right, but everyone is suffering from the same duress, that being the entire electronic infrastructure of the country is being destroyed by a bitter, ex-government consultant, played by Timothy Olyphant. McClane gets caught up in this because while he’s trying to see the daughter who won’t talk to him (yep, 15 years after her first appearance, Lucy McClane returns---and this time she’s pissed!) he’s asked to pick up a hacker for the F.B.I. and deliver him to Washington. This particular hacker is played by Justin Long, better known as Mac Guy from the commercials. Mac Guy is attacked by a team of assassins, whom didn’t count on one thing, JOHN FUCKING MCCLANE. Yeah, the formula still works with Bruce Willis doing his working class James Bond. All that’s changed is the sad need to sell younger, hence this bullshit PG13 rating and lack of creative language. I mean, McClane lives in Brooklyn now and doesn’t say “fuck” once!?! Even the “Yippie-ki-yay” is compromised. But there’s no shortage of the old ultra-violence. People just don’t bleed when a bullet rips through their bodies. And there’s also the unwelcome appearance of CGI. This is what’s really disappointing as Die Hard films were always meat & potatoes action films. Men with guns, period. No need for this crap. Now it’s all over the place. And needlessly so in my opinion, as the 18-wheeler versus the F-14 is a bit too over the top, especially when the jet shoots at McClane and still misses because he ducks in the truck. Sorry, but the type of caliber used by fighter jets pretty much insures you don’t have to hit a bullseye to utterly reduce the target to vapor (not to mention the shrapnel from the disintegrating truck should have torn him to pieces). I could have lost that if it meant more Lucy McClane who is a ballbreaker and half and an unexpected delight in this movie (the bad guys are stunned when she never backs down). If they choose to slide the franchise over to her, I’m there.
HOW QUICKLY CAN YOU CONNECT KEVIN BACON TO SAMUEL L. JACKSON?
Evan Almighty is down to number three, followed by 1408 at number four and Samuel L. Jackson was in The Incredibles, directed by Brad Bird and was also in Die Hard With A Vengeance (aka, The One That Sucked) which makes me wonder why he doesn’t have some sort of game or movie cliché about him, like Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon or “You Can Always Turn on a Late Night Movie and see Gene Hackman.”
BE GLAD NO STAR PLAYED DARTH VADER OR THAT THING WOULD HAVE BEEN OFF IN FIVE SECONDS
Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer is down to number five and while it is early yet, this doesn’t seem to do be doing the business of the first. Hopefully it won’t and Tim Story’s attempt to direct another comic based property, The Losers, will die on the vine. Sorry, but the man couldn’t direct traffic on a one-way street. He’s proof that black directors suck as much as any white director ever could---though not nearly as much as Daredevil and Ghost Rider director, Mark Stephen Johnson. No, I’m not going to let it go! The man sucks so bad he makes this film look like the fucking X-Men. Julian McMahon returns as Dr. Doom in this and given that he’s the biggest star they have next to Jessica Alba, it apparently allowed him to wear the Dr. Doom mask as little as possible. Again, the heavy hand of corporate makes itself known (“Look, people need to see his face. He’s on TV every freaking week. Show. His. Face. Give whatever reason you need. Just do it!”). And having no integrity, Tim Story went along with both that and trying to make Jessica Alba into Jessica Simpson. Hell, I’m surprised they didn’t strap her ass down. Not that you get to see in this one like you did the first.
OCEAN’S 3 (AND A HALF)
Knocked Up is down to number six, followed by Ocean’s 13 at number seven and why do we even pretend that anything matters beyond Clooney, Damon and Pitt? It’s like the Justice League: without Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman, do you even know or care who the hell else is there (yes, Matt Damon is Wonder Woman here)? Okay, maybe Carl Reiner can get some fond Aquaman status, but seriously, if Bernie Mack, Casey Affleck, Scott Caan and the Chinese guy didn’t come back or were replaced, would anyone notice or care?
APPARENTLY THEY MISSED THAT IT WAS ABOUT “PIRATES”
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End is down to number eight and there’s some controversy in Asia over Chow Yun Fat and his role in the movie. His role has pretty much been cut because the Chinese censors felt that it role “defaced Asians and Singapore.” As opposed to the good name Johnny Depp gives the English!?! Morons. Also note that the Asian female pirate lord seen in the film is based on a real-life woman named Ching Yih Saou who actually controlled the South China Seas with her pirate fleet in the 1800’s. So basically there are about 1 billion people in the world who don’t know how or why Keira Knightley winds up wearing a Chinese costume or commanding a Chinese ship in the movie.
I HATE GUYS WHO WATCH PORN TOO!
Sicko enters the top ten at number ten and while I am a Liberal and was once a member of the ACLU, I am no fan of Michael Moore, because if you’re really on the side of right, you don’t need to be a colossal asshole about it and Michael Moore is one colossal asshole. Not to mention he just makes “Duh” documentaries. Mike & Me: shortsighted, uncaring executives run car companies. Well, duh! Fahrenheit 9-11: the government lied to achieve its own ends. Well, duh! And now Sicko: the healthcare industry is filled with avarice and apathy towards the ill: WELL FUCKING DUH!!! I will probably see this one though, because it does pique my curiosity somewhat. But I’ll have to wait until it’s playing at more theaters. Just as I hate my fellow comic book geeks, I also despise my fellow liberals and they’re all going to be at this fucker, laughing too loudly at any joke at the expense of insurance companies and then probably applauding at the end. Maybe I should see it in a red state, which my home has now turned into.
MORE WOMEN ACTUALLY SAW DIE HARD 4
Evening opens at number ten and this looks to be a waste of some of the best actresses around. I didn’t need to read a review to see this was going to collapse under its own weight as “a dramatic film.” Vanessa Redgrave and her daughter Natasha Richardson; Meryl Streep and her daughter Mamie Gummer; Toni Collette and Glenn Close. I’m not including Claire Danes, because she’s never impressed me. It’s a time jump movie between the present and past and with multiple actresses playing the same role and didn’t we already see this How To Make An American Quilt? And wasn’t Claire Danes in that one too? You’d think they’d have learned by now. Well, they got me once. Not again. I loves me some Streep, but not this much. Off to Lifetime with you to be rerun for all eternity!
ENTER THE DRAGGIN’ OF MY FLABBY ASS
I promised myself that this summer I would look into getting back into martial arts and given my last gym experience, it now seems more vital than before. Supposed he’d gone for both man-boobs!?! I’d been in a struggle for my honor and since my last martial art was Japanese fencing, I need to become more familiar with whuppin’ a muthafucka’s ass with my bare hands. It’s still me and I’m still lazy, so my first stop was a martial arts place on 47th & 8th. And by martial arts, I mean it had no set style, which was one strike against it. Strike two was the non-white uniform. Sadly, I am traditional about certain things. If you’ve ever been to a martial arts class, they all tend to look the same after awhile. There are the clumsy people who are dedicated in spirit, but whose bodies will never do what they tell them, though they never stop coming. Then there are the people there because they were told it would help them lose weight. Then there are your hardcore guys. They sometimes teach, but by day they’re usually driving delivery trucks. For them, it started off as a way to kick ass, but it actually probably saved them from a jail cell. And then you have the neverending series of new students, who study for awhile but then drop it when their schedules get to busy. But like a gym, these are the people who usually pay in advance so they keep the place running. The class was only 45 minutes, but since there was no style, there were no forms, so it’s all fighting techniques. Basic fitness exercises then drills---and I thought I was going to die. We’re talking light-headedness, some bright spots before eyes, the whole works. But I made it through the class and this is where the selling comes in, because out of nowhere comes Cute Asian Girl to trying and convince you to sign up. She wasn’t there before the class, but at the end she was there in all her toned glory to talk to you. Seriously. She was so fucking fit, if she even tried to spell the word “fat” her body would have rebelled against it and shut down. Not beautiful, but definitely cute, though if she was their ace, she should have been bra-less in a white baby-t a size too small, because that loose simple gray thing wasn’t getting my money. Nor did she help herself by dismissing a more traditional class as being “for kids.” What!?! I suddenly felt the urge to stand up and accuse her of betraying her heritage and culture, surrendering the accomplishments of her ancestors for a quick American fast-food dollar, climaxing with, “I’ll bet you’re dating a white guy!” Another failed selling point was a free uniform if I signed up right then. Like I want to wear their ugly black-with-green uniform. A better sale was actually done by a guy in the locker room who said he went from 200+ pounds to 170 and couldn’t keep the weight on. But then he also blew it by saying they all tended to hang out together and went whitewater rafting over the weekend. Uh, I don’t think so, Opie. And the search continues…
PUMPING IRON III: THE MEN WHO CRY LIKE WOMEN THE NEXT DAY
So even though I was a mass of aching flesh from the martial arts class, I still went to the gym a day later because it actually hurt less to keep my muscles moving. I’m in the locker room getting changed when the guy next to me suddenly says, “You lookin’ to get big?” Of course the first thing I think of is, “Oh, shit. This can’t be happening to me again. Do I look like I’ve got Xanadu tickets?” But as it turns out, he wasn’t hitting on me but hitting me up. He was a personal trainer and since his 9:00 had canceled he was looking for new business. The first session is free (normally $86) so I decided to give it a shot. After all, I couldn’t hurt more than I already did. WRONG! He hurt me. He hurt me bad. Lots of negatives, which, in case you don’t know is when the weight is more than you can handle. The trainer helps you lift, then you push back against a weight you can’t sustain. Since muscle growth occurs when the muscle is “damaged” and repairs itself stronger, negatives help you get there faster than positive reps (lifting what you can handle). Two days later I still couldn’t straighten my arms. Even though I drank the $4 non-carb blue stuff he recommended for muscle repair. While I’m not going to shell out $680 for five sessions, I’ve no doubt if I did turn myself over to this guy for two months, I’d be fucking awesome. At one point I could see veins popping out all over me during a lift. On one hand it was disgusting, but on the other hand, because I was totally pumped up, it was kinda awesome---unlike the pain I’m still suffering from a week of doing new things. The hurting is to be expected. What’s new is how fucking long it now takes for it to go away. Don’t grow old, kids. It sucks.
MEAT EATER
Between punishing my body, I paused to punish my heart by joining Dorito Cheeseburger Woman (in case you missed it, her name is KARYN PLONSKY! KARYN PLONSKY! KARYN PLONSKY!) for dinner. Though I work four blocks away from her at the comic book store, I can’t remember the last time I saw her (we do exchange text messages). I had just come from seeing Die Hard and was oddly thinking about her when she called to invite me to dinner. Initially it was a bad night because she had a shoot the next morning and couldn’t eat anything fattening. But as it turns out it wouldn’t matter as much as she thought, hence the last minute invite. Now I was literally walking into Mee’s Noodle Shop to pick up my healthy chicken and broccoli when she called. Not knowing when this opportunity would come again, but not wanting to be on my favorite Chinese food store’s shit list (I still remember what happened to Elaine on Seinfeld), I bought my food anyway and gave it to the guy working at Future Legend, the used CD store on 9th Avenue that I frequent (he and I had just had a conversation about the great Benny Mardones) and headed downtown. Now my adoration of DCW makes no sense. She’s sweet and kind and positive and full of energy. You know, the shit that annoys me in pretty much everyone else on the planet. But I can take it in her. Also, she compliments me more than anyone I don’t call “mom.” If she told me I looked good one more time I was going check to see if she weren’t a fat gay guy underneath. But apparently my darkness cannot be denied as while we talked and ate, she revealed some heretofore-unknown levels of anger about people in her life and cursed more than she usually does. Because she’s nice, she was a bit embarrassed by it, but I reassured her, “The dark side of the force is strong. Give in to it and we can rule the galaxy as father and son!” Also, she copped to trying get me competing with the other dweebs who came to her show that night. She insisted it was only because she knew I would win out…over other guys she admits were dweebs. Gee, thanks. DCW also gave me the thrill of watching her eat. As we all know, food is comparable to sex and maybe sometimes better because you don’t have to worry about the chef’s needs and you don’t have to cuddle with him afterwards (or do a walk of shame from the restaurant the next morning). To that end, I not only got to watch her devouring a 2nd Avenue Burger (cheeseburger with ham, onions and tomatoes), but she then proceeded to lick and slurp every drop of juice on her fingers and even the bit that ran down her forearm. Ohhhhhhh…. Wait. Where was I? Oh, yeah, burger juice slurping. Ohhhhh…. Damn. I gotta stop doing that. Getting drool on my keyboard. She also sealed the deal by putting Doritos on the burger as well, but I should tell her she shouldn’t do that just to please me. Eating the burger naked while sitting on my lap would accomplish that without the added calories. As always, we took pictures so you can finally see my glasses.
THE ICE CREAM MAN LOOK ONLY WORKS FOR RICHARD GERE
My food excursion with women who aren’t sleeping with me continued on Saturday when I took The Libertine to brunch to thank her and pay her back for buying me Birkenstocks while in Germany. To this end we went to Balthazar. Hey, what can I say? I take my brunch very seriously. I actually made reservations. It was great and the beauty of me is I cannot be ruined by eating good food. Though I’ve had a burger made from sirloin at Peter Luger’s I can still enjoy a Big Mac placed in front of me. This is good, because I’d be broke in New York Minute if I tried to eat at Balthazar’s on a regular basis. Hell, if not for its main crowd now being out in the fucking Hamptons for the summer, we probably wouldn’t have even gotten in. After that we did our usual shopping. I needed a throw for my bed, as I’m paranoid about getting my off-white lined duvet dirty. I found a nice all-cotton olive-colored one at bed, bath & beyond. My summer needs continued as I got another pair of linen pants. The Libertine pushed me to get white ones, but that I cannot do. The little gay man inside me who does my shopping only has so much control and it ends at white pants. Until I’m living in the Caribbean that will never happen. Well, not again anyway, but that’s a high school memory I’m looking to repress (“Hey, ice cream man” still burns my soul).
CAN YOU PLEASE GET YOUR GROWN MAN BACK ON?
Jay-Z’s offices are in my office building so it was only a matter of time before I saw him. Well that time was last week as I went lunch and saw him getting out of his rolls. He was dressed in a refreshing grown-up, somewhat preppy manner---until I noticed his pants were hanging down like some freaking teenager. No, jigga. No.
HEY, I’D HATE TO BE TRAPPED IN MIAMI TOO
So, the summer TV season is upon us and while I record The Closer (but never really watch it), and could only stomach Age of Love once (vapid 20-somethings vs. equally vapid 40-somethings for an ugly 2nd rate tennis player) I have found salvation in Burn Notice on USA. Another one of their quirky detective shows (alongside Monk and Pyschic) this actually stars the veteran of one of their other quirky detective shows (the American version of Touching Evil), Jeffery Donovan (you may know him best as Kyle, the brother of The Pretender from a few years back). He’s a secret agent who’s been “burned” that is totally abandoned by the US Government and winds up pretty much restricted to Miami where he works for hire in essentially a private dick category. If you want some gauge of his personality think David Duchovny. Seriously. You could slide him in here and pretty much have the same show, though Donovan has a harder edge. Also along for the ride are Bruce Campbell as retired spy who’s pretty much his partner and Gabrielle Anwar as his ex-girlfriend who’s a member of the IRA. My adoration for her is public knowledge at this point. She’s sporting a passable Irish accent, which appeals to some sick, sick part of me. Irish accents are to the English what Southern accents are to Americans; you all think they’re easy to do, but they’re not and most of them suck. And if you’re wondering where China Chow has been since crashing and burning her lovely self in The Big Hit, she’s here too as another ex-spy who gets him jobs. There’s small relation to another show as he is an ex-spy who’s “a prisoner” in Miami and being watched by unknown power brokers keeping him here. That’s the continuing plot of the show, who “burned” him and why. I could care less. So long as it continues with the dark humor---like him teaching a bullied boy to use violence to solve his problems (then watching gleefully as the boy beats the bully to a pulp)---I’m there.