Scott Pilgrim's Box Office Performance

(or, Joe Grunenwald & The Infinite Sadness)


So Scott Pilgrim vs. The World came out this past weekend. While I have not been talking much about it (or, really, much of anything lately) here, I have been talking about it pretty much everywhere else possible, because I'm excited. I love the graphic novels, and the movie looked awesome, and when I saw it (at a preview screening on Tuesday evening), I was not disappointed. The film is FANTASTIC. The translation of the material from page to screen is perfect, but at the same time the movie isn't hindered by an adherence to the source material (something that, save for the changed ending, I found to be one of Watchmen's big problems). The performances are strong - Michael Cera is less Michael Cera-y than he usually is, Ellen Wong is perfect as Knives Chau, and Kieran Culkin steals every scene he's in as Wallace Wells - the fight scenes are extremely entertaining, and the style of the film is unlike anything I've ever seen before.


So, naturally, it tanked. And I mean, HARD. To the tune of only making back 1/6th of its production budget in its first weekend. That sucks. That really, really sucks. And it makes me really sad.

I feel sad for Edgar Wright. Watching Scott Pilgrim, I got the feeling that Edgar Wright made exactly the movie he wanted to make. The movie is packed to the brim with pure creativity, and it flies off the screen, unable to contain itself, and it's wonderful. Wright is a fantastic director - Jennie and I watched Shaun of the Dead again this past weekend, and I'd forgotten both how funny it is and what a great zombie movie it is - and the movie is by no means a creative failure, but to see it fail so grandly from a financial standpoint is really a letdown.

I feel sad for the movie itself, because it is so entertaining and so well-done, and because not many people are probably going to see it. So I suppose I feel sad more for those people than for the movie itself. When I see something that is of such high quality as Scott Pilgrim, I want everyone to see it, because everyone should see things that are high-quality. But given this movie's poor performance, who knows how long it will be in theaters for people to see. Sure, it will enjoy a long life on DVD (where it will almost assuredly attain cult classic status), but a large portion of the population - people who would probably really enjoy it - will probably never see it. And that's depressing.

My hope for Scott Pilgrim is that it gets a lot of strong word of mouth (on that front, I'm trying to do my part) and that people go see it in the coming weeks before it disappears from theaters completely. I know I'll definitely be seeing it at least once more. If you haven't seen it already, I highly recommend it. Between it and Inception, there's a nice selection of highly creative movies out there right now.


Or, I guess, if you like explosions, you could go see The Expendables. Whatever makes you happy.

I'm a slacker. Here's a quick catch-up.

I'd just like to run down a short list of events that happened between my last post and this post:

- I moved in with Jennie and it was awesome
- A bunch of great movies came out (Iron Man 2, Inception, other movies that begin with the letter 'I')
- There was an oil spill and it sucked (not my fault, I swear)
- Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour came out (last night!)
- I read Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
- I took a work trip to Florida, where I read Ender's Game instead of working
- I wrote very little, but what I did was pretty quality
- Speaking of which, I wrote and drew my first 8-page mini-comic, and actually managed to sell some to people that I did not know
- I went to Big Fun, an awesome toy store in Cleveland
- Jennie and I watched seasons 2-4 of Buffy and season 1 of Angel
- Some other stuff that I can't think of.

And here's a list of things that are coming up:

- I'm going to a bunch of weddings for some good friends
- Then I'm getting married myself
- But not before I see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World on opening night (and probably some other movies, too)
- Wedding invitations will be mailed soon
- Jennie and I will finish Buffy and Angel
- Some other stuff that I don't know about yet.

So, in case I don't post for a long time again, at least you'll have something to hold you over, hopefully.

If pride is a deadly sin, consider me a deadly sinner.

Once again, I'm doing what The Collective tells me to do and writing about things that I am proud of. Buckle up, suckers!

I'm proud of the screenplay that I wrote in college. I set out to write this movie that my friends and I were going to make. It was an action/comedy/parody/funtime about a guy called Rex Driver. My friend Jason (of Buyer Beware Comics) was going to play 'I live by no one's rules but my own' loose cannon Rex Driver, and I was going to play his begrudging partner, the earnest FBI man, Agent Mark Chase. It was going to be spectacular, and it would spawn a series of spin-off movies, a TV show, several comic anthologies, and action figures (of course). I wrote the screenplay during the summer between my last two semesters of college, first as part of a screenwriting class and then just to finish it. Nothing has ever come of it - I've contemplated revising it and turning it into a graphic novel, but haven't gotten to that yet - but I am extremely proud of the 130 pages that I wrote, and of the fact that I finished it, unlike the dozens (hundreds?) of other things that I've started and never finished.

I'm proud of how much I've grown in the past ten years. I think of how I was at the end of high school and it appalls me. And I thought that was normal! What was I even doing? I was spiraling downward into oblivion is what I was doing, and I knew it at the time but I couldn't get out. And then something changed. I don't even know what it was. It's like I was a car on ice, spinning wildly, and then the ice thinned and my tires found traction again, and I don't know how but I am so glad that they did. My life is better now than it has ever been for a lot of reasons. I've been able to learn from my mistakes without regretting their existence, which I'm wildly proud of. So yeah. Sorry if it got heavy for a minute there. I'll follow up with some lightness, don't worry.

The thing I am the most proud of, I think, is the amount of useless comic book trivia I know. I know, that may not seem like something to be proud of, but do you have any idea how many comics I've read? The number is very, very high. I've been reading them since I was 6, and I've got a lot of trivia stored up in my brain. When my comic book nerd friends have questions about stuff, they ask me about it. I was once able to identify an issue of Uncanny X-Men based on a vague description of what was on the cover. Conversely, when I worked at Mavericks (my local comic store!), the aforementioned Jason and I would play a game where he would pick a random Batman or Superman comic out of a box (it had to be a post-1986 issue, as that's the stuff I grew up on) and he would give me the issue number, and I would describe, from memory, what was on the cover. My ability to do this has extended to Flash comics, and now reaches back into the '50s. Go ahead, look one up and rattle off the issue number. I might be a little rusty, but I'll give it a go. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but...well, I'm proud of my vast nerd knowledge. Some people may call it a sickness. I call it fucking awesome.

That's just a few things I'm proud of. I'll try to think of more. Oh, and I'm proud of my kick-ass toy collection, too.


(I'll pretty much take any opportunity to post pictures of my toys.)

On The Land Before Time

When I was in preschool, The Land Before Time was THE SHIT. It was, if memory serves, the biggest movie that had ever come out ever, at least to my five-year-old mind. The thing was, I didn't really have all that much interest in it.

Until all of my friends started talking about it. They talked about how amazing it was. They described all of the characters, and I didn't get it when the girls in my class kept saying "Yep yep yep!" They were all scared of Sharptooth, but that just made him the coolest of all of them (we were boys, after all). And most of all, whenever I told them I hadn't seen it, they implored me to see it.

I caved. I suddenly really wanted to see it. You have to remember that this was 1988, a year before Tim Burton's Batman was released and I learned what it was like to really, truly want to see a movie. As far as 5-year-old me was concerned, The Land Before Time must surely be the be-all and end-all of movies, and I knew this because all of my friends had told me so. I begged my parents to take me. Begged. And they wouldn't have it. Which, of course, meant that I would just beg even more and even more incessantly.

Then, one Saturday, they had a surprise planned for me. They were going to take me to see The Land Before Time. A joyful day for Joe, right? Well, not really, at that point. For some reason, I didn't want to see it anymore. I think, looking back on it, that the peer pressure that had made me want to see it to begin with had worn off. So when my parents told me that they were taking me to see it, I cried - cried - with not wanting to see it.

Boy, did I get in trouble that day.

Twenty-two years later, Jennie and I watched The Land Before Time. She was shocked that I'd never seen it, and I was pretty excited. And it was a decent, if not really, really short, movie. But I'll never be able to think of that movie without first thinking of what a total brat I was as a five-year-old. I can only imagine - and probably apologize for - how I was for Batman.

The Five Worst Fathers on LOST

It's "Five Worst" Week over on The Collective, so I thought I'd join in. Yeah, I pretty much exclusively write blog posts that are based on Collective topics anymore. They pick good topics and they tell me what to think, so why shouldn't I? Back off with your judgment! With that, I give you...

The Five Worst Fathers on Lost

J.J. Abrams clearly has daddy issues. I haven't seen a lot of the show, but I can tell you that Sydney and her father didn't exactly have the best relationship on Alias. Spock and his father got along alright in Star Trek, but only in their shared appreciation of logic - when it came to emotion, Spock appreciated it while his father saw it as a problem to be overcome. Those scenarios are nothing compared to the relationships between fathers and children on Lost. Read on to find out just how horrible the paternal units on this show really are.

*Also note that there are big spoilers in this post. If you haven't watched Lost at all and you plan to at some point, maybe think about not reading this. Not that I don't want you to read. I just don't want to hurt your feelings.*

Honorable Mention: David Reyes


Hurley's father may be cool now, but he wasn't always. When Hugo was just a kid, dear old dad told Hugo he was running to the store and then never came back. That is, until Hugo won the lottery, then surprise! Dad's back! Hugo and his father have since reconciled, but that doesn't change the fact that when Hurley was a kid his dad totally bailed on him.

5: Mr. Ford


As far as I can tell, Sawyer's father doesn't have a first name. He's not around long enough to be given one, really. The most he's ever been shown on the show is as a set of feet. James Ford was just a kid when his parents were swindled by a man calling himself "Tom Sawyer." After having lost everything to this man, James's father came home one day in a rage. His mother rushed to protect the young James, advising him to hide under his bed before going out to confront his father. It was then that Mr. Ford killed his wife, then came into the room where James was hiding, sat down on the bed, and shot himself, leaving James all alone to plot revenge against Tom Sawyer. His revenge would come much later, but we'll come back to that.

4: Michael Dawson


His shining moment was watching helplessly as his son, Walt, was kidnapped. Okay, not really. His shining moment was murdering Ana Lucia and Libby in order to free Ben and thus (hopefully) get his son back. That's the most monumental of his fuck-ups, really, but it's indicative of a larger problem. From the start, Michael just didn't know how to be a father. He was protective of Walt, but overly so to the point of just looking like a jerk. He forbade Walt from talking to Locke, who was teaching the boy valuable survival skills. And then, when Walt was kidnapped, he went about rescuing him the only way he knew how: by doing stupid shit like agreeing to help the Others save Ben from the castaways. Sure, it got he and Walt off the island, but at what price, Michael? Libby. That's what price.

3: Christian Shepard


With a name like that, he's got to be a good guy, right? Well, Christian's not exactly a bad guy, but he's sure not a model father, either. Christian was never as supportive of Jack as he could have been. Sure, he taught Jack that 'take a deep breath and count to five' thing, but not before totally undermining Jack's abilities during his first major surgery. Jack could never live up to the monumentally high expectations that his father set for him. Later, Christian attempted to perform surgery while drunk, and lost his job as a result of Jack ratting him out. Sure, Christian was proud of Jack for telling on him, but he never said as much to Jack's face. And then he died, and Jack had to cart his body back to the U.S. from Australia on a flight that just so happened to crash on a mysterious island. Jack is only there because his father was a dick. Way to go, Christian. Oh, BTW, you're Claire's father, too, even though she never knew you. And you totally banged Ana Lucia. Creepy old guy.

2: Wayne Jansen


Wayne Jansen is better known as Kate's father. Sure, she was raised by Sgt. Sam Austen, but he's not her bio-dad. That honor belongs to this bastard, who knocked up Kate's mother (presumably she was cheating on her husband with him) and then let the kid be raised by some other guy. Way to be a deadbeat dad, Wayne. Later, Kate's parents got a divorce, and her mom married old Wayne here. He beat the crap out of Kate's mom on a regular basis, to the point that Kate eventually blew up Wayne's house - with Wayne inside. But not before a drunk Wayne tried to hit on Kate. Classy until the very end, sir. Another honorable 'bad parenting' mention goes to Kate's mom, who turned in her own daughter for the murder.

1: Anthony Cooper


In real life, Anthony Ashley-Cooper was a mentor to John Locke. On Lost, however, Anthony Cooper is the worst father you could ever hope for, and probably the worst person to ever appear on the show. Cooper always knew he had a son, but never bothered to find him and was content to have the boy put up for adoption. That boy grew up into John Locke, all-around sweetheart of a guy. In the meantime, Cooper, who was a fairly successful con man, had adopted the name of Tom Sawyer and used it to swindle poor James Ford's parents out of all of their money. That's right. Anthony Cooper is responsible for Sawyer's parents' deaths.

Years later, Anthony Cooper learned that he was sick. He needed a kidney in order to survive. So he tracked down his son. He manipulated Locke into starting a father/son relationship with him. He broke the news that he needed a kidney so that Locke would donate one of his. And after the surgery was completed, while Locke was still under anesthesia, Cooper took off. No note, nothing. He literally stole Locke's kidney and then just left. But that's not the biggest of his dick moves. No, that came when Locke, who continued to hound Cooper, tried to break up another of the old man's cons. So Cooper pushed him out of an eight-story building. To recap: fathered Locke and then left him; caused the orphaning of Sawyer; stole Locke's kidney; pushed Locke out of a window. He got his comeuppance when the Others kidnapped him and brought him to the island so that Locke could kill him. Locke didn't do it, but Sawyer did. Still, though, this guy did a lot of damage in his time. Is it possible that he's the worst father to ever appear on TV? I really think so.

I dream in 2.35:1

I had a dream last night that was totally crazy. I will tell you the details of the dream in the order that I remember them occurring in the dream.

For starters, I lived in a hidden apartment in the back of an elevator shaft. I lived there with my parents and younger brother (note: they were not my real parents, and I do not have a younger brother). It was sort of like a hidey-hole, with a few smaller rooms and a really low ceiling. The building that the apartment was in was some sort of retail store on the ground floor, with apartments on the upper floors. There was a girl on one of the upper floors that my younger brother had a crush on. We would see her near the elevator and I would rib him about it. And then we would wait for the elevator to go by and then climb down into the shaft and open the doors to your apartment. It was bizarre.

Anyway, at one point in the dream I went out of the apartment and out into the store and got geared up to go out and be a police officer, because apparently I was a police officer, and the police headquarters was a part of this store. I put on all of this bulky stuff that made me twice as tall and muscly as I really was in the dream, so that I sort of looked like a really awkward-moving body builder. And then I went out in search of drug dealers and such to bust up.

At this point, the dreaming me realized that the dream-world me was in some weird variation of the plot of The Terminator. Don't ask me what made me realize this, because obviously what I've just described has nothing to do with The Terminator at all, but I just knew that's what was going to happen: I was going to go out and encounter this unstoppable killing machine that looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger. And that is exactly what happened. I was out busting up drug dealers and such in my mecha-esque gear when I encountered a Terminator. Well, I didn't encounter it, but I knew it was there and that it was coming for me. I spent the next 20 minutes or so running and trying to find a hiding place from this thing. The number of dreams that I have in which I am running and hiding from scary things is inordinately high (I once had a dream that The Joker was chasing me through Gotham for one reason or another - the last thing I remember about that dream is hiding in the corner of a friend's apartment while The Joker slaughters people looking for me. It was traumatic). Does anyone know if this is some sort of a common dream scenario?

Anyway. At one point I ditched the weird techie gear I was wearing and, somehow eluding the Terminator, I took off back to the police headquarters/big box store. Somehow on the way back there I managed to interview witnesses who had seen the Terminator and identified what it was wearing and what it looked like (it was wearing cowboy boots and jeans, among other things that I don't remember exactly). I went to the dispatch and asked her to patch me through to my partner and fellow lawpeople so that I could let them know to be on the lookout for the Terminator, and meanwhile as I'm there I'm still hiding from this thing because who knows if it's coming for me. Then, as I'm hiding, these crime boss-looking guys come in in their fancy suits and well-kept hair and what-not, and they drop a bundle of money on the desk in front of the dispatch (who is now apparently my boss) and tell her that this is a payoff of $600,000 so that they can do whatever they want. My boss starts to protest this when the Terminator arrives. He shoots the crime bosses and I take off running again, leaving my boss to who knows what terrible fate.

I run home. The apartment I live in is basically a hole in the wall behind an elevator. Who would think to look there? Certainly not the Terminator, I think, or at least I hope. So I get to the apartment and I seal up the entrance (which is basically a set of sliding elevator doors that meet in the middle) and I sit there next to it and I'm shaking. My family is there and they're freaking out and I don't remember if I tell them anything or not but the whole thing is very tense. And then something starts pounding on the door. The Terminator manages to bust a fist through the door. And that's when I woke up.

Seriously. What the hell? I haven't watched or even really thought about a Terminator movie since Salvation came out last Summer, and this dream bore more of a resemblance to the original Terminator movie than that one. It was like some weird cross between The Terminator and RoboCop. My favorite part was definitely the apartment in the back of the elevator shaft, though. That was pretty weird.

So what does it mean? Maybe I just watch too many movies.

Guilty Pleasure Friday

Over on The Collective (where I am routinely told what to think and how to think it), they've been talking about guilty pleasures this week. Rather than simply post a comment there today, I thought I would share some with you, the loyal and/or occasional reader. So here they are, in no particular order.

1. Gilmore Girls. 'But Joe, that's a girl show!' Shut it, ass. They talk fast, they make obscure pop culture references, and Lauren Graham is one of them. There was never any doubt that I would love this show. I watched the first two seasons on DVD, and became so invested in the characters that when I disagreed with their life choices at the end of season two I vowed never to watch again. And I haven't. Yet. It's really only a matter of time.

2. System of a Down. I go back and forth on thinking that these guys are actually a good band and thinking they're awful, but no matter if they're good or bad I still really like them. I will rock that shit out. I can't listen to them at work because when I do it looks like I'm having a seizure, I rock out to this band so hard. Or I would imagine that that's what it looks like.

3. Flatulence noises. I'm not talking about actual flatulence, I'm talking about the sound of it. Yes, it's childish, but it's also fucking hilarious. A well-placed farty noise is always welcome as far as I'm concerned.

4. The Star Wars prequels. Yes, I know the dialogue is awful and the acting is wooden. But did you see all those Jedi? And Darth Maul was so cool! Lightsaber fights just work on me. Don't you dare judge me.

5. Superhero action figures. Heh, just kidding, I don't feel guilty about this at all. Just try and feel guilty when you've got this sweet-ass display in your apartment!


I know, right? Amazing. You hear that, grade school bullies? Your asshattery towards me has worn off! I hardly ever wake up crying anymore!

Those are just a few of the many, many guilty pleasures that I have. What are some of yours, dear reader?

On Comics' "Big Events"

I love superheroes. I have since I was little. I don't know what it is about them that I liked when I was younger, but as I've grown up I've become attached to the characters. Which is why what I have to say next is so difficult: I might be done with them.

Well, not superheroes as a genre, but the big two superhero publishers, DC Comics and Marvel Comics. For the better part of twenty years, mainstream comics publishing has functioned under a 'big event' structure, wherein once (or sometimes more than once) a year there is some sort of company-wide crossover that affects all of the books that company publishes, and if you want to understand what's going on/follow the story you have to buy the main event comic plus a bunch of ancillary tie-ins that may or may not really matter in the grand scheme of things. And usually, as a result of these big events, the publisher makes a bunch of money. That's just how it works.

It wasn't so bad ten years ago. Ten years ago there was *just* the event series and *just* the few tie-ins, and for the other six or seven months a year comics were independent of each other. That all changed around 2004 (I think it was 2004). DC Comics took the idea of a shared universe in which all of the titles coexist with each other - and idea that I absolutely love - and started actually doing something with it, which led to the countdown to Infinite Crisis. The countdown lasted for six months, and I have to admit, I lapped it up. The writing was FANTASTIC, the stories compelling, and it was all leading towards this one series that would resolve everything. I was hooked. And then Infinite Crisis hit, and it was a huge disappointment. I didn't realize what a disappointment it was until it was all over. Sure, some of the pictures were pretty, but nothing happened in the story. At all. Then came 52, DC's weekly series, which was brilliant. And then, immediately after 52 ended, Countdown to Final Crisis began. And it was awful. Then Final Crisis itself, which was pretty cool, if not nearly incomprehensible. And now, right now, DC Comics is in the middle of Blackest Night. But wait, after Blackest Night, they're starting another, bi-weekly series called Brightest Day. Which, I'm sure, will lead into the next big event.

The past six years of DC Comics has been one long event. And that's just DC! Marvel saw DC's success with Infinite Crisis, and they've followed suit, with Secret Invasion and the current Dark Reign/Siege storyline.

It occurred to me earlier, as I looked at the teaser image for Brightest Day, the hard truth of the situation: it's never, ever going to end. Event will string into event, which will lead to the next event, and so on and so forth for the rest of my comics-reading life. And I just don't care to keep up with it anymore. Especially when the events are boring. Sure, Blackest Night might seem like a fanboy's wet dream, but nothing has happened. Nothing. And it's been six issues. They have two issues to wrap everything up, and I'm already fairly convinced that this would have been MUCH better as a four-issue series. I just can't take this anymore.

There are plenty of other books out there to read, from plenty of publishers, but DC and Marvel just make me tired anymore. I want a story to end at some point, not just springboard into the next big story. I know that's how an ongoing series has to work, but until the quality improves, I'm out. I've already dropped most Marvel books, and I'm pretty close to following suit with DC (I was already leaning that way now that Barry Allen is back as The Flash, but that as a topic for another ranting post). I'll miss the heroes that I've grown up with and come to love, and I'm sure I'll check in on them from time to time, but it's over.

Sorry, superhero comics. I think we should just be friends.

Prediction:

There will be multiple timelines in the new season of LOST. Not multiple time periods, multiple timelines.

Discuss.

On 2009

A reflection on the year gone by, in list form.

Things I liked about 2009:
- went the first 10 months of the year without using an alarm clock
- rediscovered the joy (and agony) of daytime television
- got my foot in the door of the freelance writing and editing world
- didn't go totally broke in the process
- somehow managed to find a full-time job that pays well
- proposed to the girl of my dreams
- received a 'yes' answer to said proposal
- had a kickass Christmas filled with family, friends, and Beatles Rock Band

Things I was disappointed by in 2009:
- didn't write as much as I would have liked
- didn't stick to the dietary changes I made in the early part of the year

Things I look forward to and/or plan to do in 2010:
- getting married
- losing at least 60 pounds
- spending more time writing

I don't really have any complaints about 2009. I still sort of can't believe it's almost over. Here's hoping 2010 is just as great. Cheers, everybody.

This blows my mind.

When I read about this, I figured it would be mildly amusing. But no. I am not amused by this. In fact? It gives me the fucking creeps. You know I bet there were people in the audience who did not realize that that was not Neil Young. Without the video, I probably would not have known it wasn't him, either.

Bravo, Jimmy Fallon. Your second career as a Neil Young cover band awaits you.

Thanksgiving: Contributing to Obesity Since 1621

As you know, Thanksgiving is this week. And even if you didn't know it, chances are someone has told you about it. Or, even if they didn't tell you specifically about Thanksgiving, they told you about the main focus of the holiday. No, it's not being thankful for all of the good things in your life or any of that nonsense: it's food. Or, more specifically, gorging yourself on delicious, delicious food. I listen to NPR in the morning while I'm getting ready for work, and then some more while I'm on my way to work, and I heard no fewer than two stories about food this morning. The first story was about 'traditional' Thanksgiving deserts (most of which sounded disgusting, except for the skillet apple pie, which sounded amazing), and it was a pretty fun story. You can listen to that one here. The second was about how Thanksgiving is celebrated by immigrants to America. The person interviewed is the chef at a Greek restaurant in New York, and he talked about how his family would always eat Greek food at Thanksgiving, and how he has carried that tradition on with his own children and wife. His wife is Italian, and their Thanksgiving dinner is a mixture of Greek and Italian foods, and it sounds awesome. You can listen to that story here.

The idea of eating cultural food during Thanksgiving is somewhat foreign to me. For as long as I can remember Thanksgiving dinner has been the following: turkey, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, and other things that I can't think of at the moment, but those are the standouts in my mind. To me, those things are entwined with Thanksgiving. It's not Thanksgiving without those things, and whenever I have those things in another setting I always think of Thanksgiving (mostly the sweet potatoes and the pumpkin pie - if I thought of Thanksgiving every time I made myself a turkey sandwich, I would be thinking about Thanksgiving a lot of the time). The thought of throwing lamb and other things into the mix just seems odd. It also sort of makes me wish that my family did it, too.

What are you planning to eat this year? Regardless of what it is, happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy the delicious, delicious food.

"You're embarrassing me in front of my fancy band."

The quote above is from one Mr. Ben Folds. He's what the kids today call a "musician," former member/leader (by virtue of his name being in the band name) of Ben Folds Five, producer of Bill Shatner, Amanda Palmer, and Weird Al Yankovic, and all-around nerd icon. At least to me, he is. Ben Folds is kind of my favorite musician ever. There are others whom I really like, and whose music I may even think is better than Ben's, but he's still my favorite. His lyrics are playful and sometimes thought-provoking, and his piano skills are incredible. Plus, he puts on an amazing live show. He's not just out there to play songs - he's there to entertain his audience, and he does it perfectly, from the stories he tells between songs to his use of audience participation. I mean, what other musician are you going to see who has the audience since in three-part harmony? I've yet to find another one. These are just some of the reasons that I love Ben Folds.

Last week Jennie and I saw Ben perform with the Columbus Symphony. I'd seen the DVD of his performance with the Western Australian Symphony, so I had an idea of what to expect, but nothing could've prepared me. It. Was. AMAZING. The orchestra provided a fullness to the songs that I didn't even realize was missing from the shows I'd been to with just Ben and his piano. Songs like "Zak and Sara," "Effington," or "Stephen's Last Night in Town" were lighter and more playful than they already were, whereas others like "The Ascent of Stan" or "Brick" seemed to carry an extra layer of pathos. Many of the songs gave me chills, and, while I'd heard a version of the song with strings before, hearing "Smoke" live with the orchestra actually made me cry. Either I'm just that lame, or it was just that good.

I'd heard other bands perform with symphony orchestras before. Most notably for me was Metallica's album, S&M, on which they performed live with the San Francisco Symphony. While the album is excellent, there is a DVD of the performance, and you can isolate the symphony from the rest of the band. Doing this reveals that, for the most part, the orchestra just sits there while Metallica plays their songs. Sure, there are flourishes of notes here or there, but they're basically accompaniment to the band. I had that in mind going in, and it was an incredible experience to hear the orchestra, as Ben described it, actually act as the band. If you have the opportunity to see a performance like this, I highly recommend it.

Dear Current Love

There's nothing I can say here that can even begin to describe how I feel about you. I love that we laugh at the same stupid things. I love that we like the same music, the same books, the same TV shows, and that we get the same pop culture references. I love that we think of the same things at the same times, and that I never have to explain anything to you because chances are really good that you already know what I'm talking about. I love that we grew up blocks away from each other, so we already know all of the same places and neighborhoods. I love how instantly comfortable I was with you, and how instantly comfortable you were with me. I love that I can say whatever comes to mind, no matter how ridiculous or inappropriate, and I feel no self-consciousness about anything (though maybe this is a bad thing). But mostly, I love how I feel when I'm with you, when I hold your hand, when I look at you. I love feeling like my heart might burst because it just can't hold it all in, and I love being able to see in your eyes that you feel the same way.

I love everything about you and everything about us. I wouldn't change anything. My life is the best it has ever been, and I have you to thank for that. So, thanks.

At least I have my health.

As anyone who has been following this blog for any amount of time knows, I lost my job about ten months ago. Since then I have been either unemployed or underemployed, and while I'm now working a 40-hour full-time job, it's a temporary position and I don't know if it's going to amount to anything other than having paid for the Wii I bought a few weeks ago.

The first thing I did after starting to do freelance work in March was to look for health care. The coverage that was provided by my former employer was great. It covered just about everything I could want it to cover, and my prescription copays were always very low. I decided that I wanted to stick with the same insurance company that I'd been using for years. I found a website through which I could apply, filled out the application, and sent it in.

A few weeks later I heard back: my application had been rejected. The reason had something to do with some doctor's visits I had made almost a year prior, and it didn't make any sense. I wasn't seeing that doctor anymore, so why should it affect my coverage now? So I applied again. This time I tactfully and skillfully left those previous visits to the doctor whom I was no longer seeing off of my application. Was this wrong? Maybe. But I needed insurance, and since I was no longer seeing this doctor, I didn't think it would be a problem. And again, a few weeks later, I received another rejection. No mention was made of the doctor whom I was no longer seeing. This time the reason given was my height and weight. Fun fact about me: I'm 6'5". I carry a little extra weight around my midsection, but I am by no stretch of the imagination obese. I'm a big guy, and I'm built like a big guy. My weight has never been an issue before medically, so why should it be an issue now? I was convinced that, if they could see me, they would have accepted my application.

Now I was frustrated. I had seen an ad in the paper for a local insurance agent with the company that I had been applying for coverage from, so I called him. We talked for about an hour and I filled out yet another application and he sent it in for me and told me he would let me know what he heard. So I waited for about a month, maybe more, I don't remember exactly, and then I heard back. Rejected yet again. This time, it was because of a prescription that I've been taking on a daily basis for a while now. In other words, I have a pre-existing condition. I don't see a doctor for this condition. I don't have to undergo expensive medical procedures because of this condition. Once a month I go to the pharmacy and have my prescription refilled, and that is the extent of the care that this pre-existing condition requires. The cost of the prescription without insurance is a little over $100. That's just over $1,200 a year. The premium that I would've been paying to the insurance company would probably have covered most of that. And yet, they wouldn't give me insurance.

So I decided to go a different route. Referred by a friend to another website, I filled out another application and was soon contacted by a very friendly woman who helped me compare my options and choose a plan that I could afford and that would cover what I needed. My prescription copay was a little more expensive than it had been before, but I wasn't paying anywhere near the full price so I was fine with it. All was fine with the world. Until this past weekend. I went to pick up my prescription, and my copay had almost doubled from $45 to $83.30. That's just $20 less than the cost of the prescription. Monthly the insurance costs around $140, plus the now $83.30 copay for the prescription, which makes the monthly total around $223.30. It would actually be cheaper for me now to just drop the insurance and pay for the medication out-of-pocket than to continue with it.

Since this past weekend I've contacted the woman who helped me set up the insurance, and after doing some digging she informed me that the copay increase wasn't a mistake (as I thought it surely must have been). It's just a tactic of the insurance company's in an attempt to get me to sign up for a mail-order program that is supposedly cheaper than going to the pharmacy. She also mentioned that her own insurance company has been pressuring her to make the switch from pharmacy to mail-order service.

I just really don't know what to say about any of this, nor do I pretend to know everything about the current health care debate that is going on around the country. I do know, though, without question, that the current system is broken and that something needs to be done to fix it, and soon. I also know that I hope I don't get sick any time soon.

"Anyone who can't make money on Sports Night should get out of the money-making business."

If you ever want to know if a show is going to get cancelled or not, just ask me if I like it, and if I say yes, then you know that it's not long for this world. I have a tendency to get attached to TV shows that end up being cancelled for one reason or another. I'll start watching a show and it will be really good and I will like it a lot, and then it will get cancelled because no one else is watching it.

This has been happening for years. Fox's Andy Richter Controls the Universe was a brilliant, imaginative, damn funny series that was cancelled only to be replaced by a show called (I kid you not) The Stupids. The live-action version of The Tick was just as funny and just as cancelled, and while I think that shows like it and ARCTU would survive today, they just didn't have a chance ten years ago. Of course, it's well-documented that Fox doesn't know how to treat new shows. It's truly a miracle that Arrested Development somehow managed to hold on for three seasons. And I'm only talking about shows I watched when they were on the air; there are plenty of other series (Firefly, Wonderfalls) that, had I watched them when they were originally aired and not years later on DVD, I would've been crushed when they were violently removed from the schedule after only 11 or 4 episodes, respectively.

And it's not just a Fox problem. Over on ABC, they're just as clueless. Sports Night limped through two glorious, low-rated seasons before getting the axe. The Clerks animated series, a direct precursor to the style of humor that Seth McFarlane has run into the ground and easily ten times as funny as the best episode of Family Guy, aired only two episodes before being cancelled. And after debuting its first season with very strong ratings, Pushing Daisies lost its viewership and was canned, though this was not ABC's fault, as PD was a clear casualty of last year's Writer's Strike.

This problem that I have is not strictly limited to TV shows. Invariably my favorite comic book series are always the ones that no one reads and that end within a year or two of their start (Hourman, Manhunter, Gotham Central, Nextwave, Sleeper, Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane, Breach...I could go on). Even the toy lines that I collect seem to hobble along until finally they just fade away.

It doesn't always end badly, though. NBC's Chuck came close to suffering the same fate as Pushing Daisies, but thankfully was granted a third season, and I couldn't be happier. I think, though, that that's the most stressful part of watching TV for me at this point: worrying about whether the shows I love are going to get picked up. Sure, we all know The Office isn't going anywhere, and The CW will absolutely never let Smallville die (I will stick with you until the end, Clark, no matter how bad your adventures are), but everything else is up in the air. I love Chuck and I really got into Dollhouse towards the end of the season, and I am ecstatic that both are returning for another season, but I sincerely hope that their ratings improve next year, not only because I want to make sure they can come back for more, but also because I just cannot handle the constant stress of not knowing whether a show I enjoy is going to be unceremoniously killed. When the announcement came that Pushing Daisies had been pulled from the schedule, I was sad, but I have to admit I was also a little relieved. I had closure, and no matter how heart-broken I was, I could at least move on. I suppose watching these constantly on-the-bubble TV shows is a lot like being in a really unstable relationship.

And yet I'm magnetically drawn to these shows, for one reason or another. Sure, they hurt you sometimes, but the good times are so good that it more than makes up for the bad. At least, that's what I tell myself. Really I think I might just be a glutton for punishment.

Eradicator!

It's TV Week over on The Collective, and in yesterday's post Kat mentioned her love of The Kids in the Hall. This led me to reflect on my own enjoyment of those lovable Canadian scamps, and I decided to look up my favorite sketches on the interwebs. So here are three of my favorite Kids in the Hall sketches:

3. What's all the hoopla?



2. My favorite zombie chase scene ever.



1. The Eradicator!



Thirty Helens agree: The Kids in the Hall are awesome.

Death, Threes, and Celebrities ("That was an unfortunate rhyme, but still...")

I'd like to talk about something that's very important for a moment. Five days ago, Ed McMahon died. Then, a few days later, both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson followed suit. Celebrity death comes in threes. This is not news to anyone. It's an odd phenomenon that, whenever one celebrity dies, two more are soon to follow, and it almost always rings true. I say almost, because when David Carradine died, no one else did, but that's neither here nor there.

Well, apparently last night or this morning Billy Mays died. Not the soccer player, the pitchman. This is a guy who, whenever he came on TV, always made me turn the volume down because he was just so friggin' loud and so excited about whatever he was selling. The ShamWow and OxiClean are probably his two most famous products, though I would have loved to have seen what he could do with a Snuggie. Alas, though, he's gone.

I notice that people are saying, 'Oh no, Billy Mays is gone, who's next in the set of three?' And to this I must object. Is Billy Mays really a celebrity? Sure, people know who he is, but only because he's on TV every twelve minutes telling you who he is and to buy some useless product. Is that the definition of a celebrity? What exactly makes one 'famous'? McMahon, Fawcett, and Jackson all had careers as late-night sidekicks, actors, or musicians. I don't think anyone would question their celebrity status. But is a commercial pitchman, albeit a recognizable one, who doesn't make his own product, whose sole purpose is to get you to call 1-800 number to order what is essentially a knife that will cut pennies, really to be considered a celebrity?

I don't have any answer to this question. I really want to know, though, because if Billy Mays is considered a celebrity then I think it's time that we, as a people, rethink the definition of that word. Being a celebrity used to mean something. You had to be John Lennon, Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant to be a celebrity. Now you just have to be annoying and visible. I suppose that in a world where Paris Hilton, a talentless, unattractive brat whose only defining quality is the fact that she comes from a rich family, and where those two idiots from The Hills (I honestly don't even remember their names, but you know who I'm talking about), are considered celebrities, then the sky's the limit for a guy like Billy Mays. At least he was moderately likable.

We're two grown men with important jobs who are standing in their underwear. Let's sing a song.

As a public service to the world, here is every episode of Sports Night for you to watch for free online.

You're welcome.

What man? Which man? Who's the man? When's a man a man? What makes a man a man? Am I a man? Yes. Technically, I am.

I'm procrastinating right now, and the ladies on The Collective filled out a survey this week. Seeing as I enjoy filling out surveys, and seeing as they're excellent time wasters that don't at all feel like a waste of time until they're over, I thought I'd go ahead and fill it out, too. Here it is.

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?

I have several scars on my fingers that resulted from toy customizing accidents.

2. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?

To be finished with my work. And to not have a cold anymore.

3. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?

I think I was born around 1:00 AM, but I could be way off. I feel like I missed being born on Valentine's Day by that much.

4. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?



5. THE BEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED:

Sports Night. Hands down.

6. THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO?

I talked to Jennie while she was stuck in traffic on her way home from work. Talking to her is often the only human contact that I have during the day.

7. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?

Nope.

8. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?

It was probably myself for some reason. I couldn't tell you for sure, though.

9. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE?

All of them.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?

I don't have a favorite. Right now my favorite smell is Vick's Vaporub. Mmmmm.

11. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?

No preference.

12. WOULD YOU RATHER BE SMART OR FUNNY?

You can be smart without being funny, but you can't be funny without being smart, so I would rather be funny, because if I'm funny then the chances are good that I'm also smart.

13. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?

Coffee. But not regular coffee. I like froufy coffee with lots of sugar and chocolate and whipped cream and stuff. Judge me if you must.

14. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

You remember the cookies that they used to have at Wendy's? They were big cookies and they were really delicious. I would eat one of those.

15. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?

I have no idea. Probably Jennie, though she is hesitant to tell me when she's mad at me.

16. DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?

Jawohl.

17. DO YOU LIKE SOMEONE?

*blushes* yeah....

18. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?

No. Funny story, though: I once fell in love knowing that I was leaving. Okay, not really funny so much as awful.

19. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?

Hugs.

20. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?

Bad drivers.

21. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE U.S.?

Yes.

22. YOUR WEAKNESSES?

Kryptonite. Canada. Vintage toys.

23. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I would not have this done. I prefer nature the way it is.

24. WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS SURVEY?

The Collective tells me what to think.

25. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?

I used to be, but I'm not anymore, though I sort of hope that I'll never have to ask anyone out again.

26. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?

My height, which is great, since I work so hard at being tall! Seriously, people. I know I'm a giant. Get over it.

27. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?

Continue living my life as if nothing had changed.

28. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?

None right now, thank you.

29. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

My first name is my dad's middle name. I don't know who he was named after.

30. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?

My eyes regularly water if the Sun is in my eyes for any sort of period of time. So probably the last time I looked in the direction of the Sun.

31. ANY BAD HABITS?

I'm a collector. I will go on little sprees where I try to buy up as many of one type of thing as possible (usually it's toys, but sometimes it's comics).

32. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?

I would like to think so.

33. DO YOU KNOW ANYONE FAMOUS?

A few people, yes, of varying degrees of celebrity.

34. DO LOOKS MATTER?

Everything matters. It really just depends on how much each thing matters.

35. HOW DO YOU RELEASE YOUR ANGER?

I rant sarcastically.

36. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY?

I simultaneously trust and distrust people immediately. There's a window of a few hours where that happens and then I subconsciously make my decision one way or the other.

37. FAVORITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG:

"Think About It" by Flight of the Conchords.

38. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?

Tomorrow.

39. FAVORITE EXPRESSION?

"Make it work," as said by a robot of Tim Gunn.