A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

Here come de judge

Reposted from Hair Balls

President Obama has nominated Sonia Sotomayor to replace David Souter on the Supreme Court. Now begins the long and -- hopefully -- entertaining confirmation process where we'll hear about her support of eugenics and that one time in high school she smoked clove cigarettes behind the band hall. As bad as all that sounds, at least the President didn't nominate any of the following:

5. Judge Arse -- Pink Floyd: The Wall (1982)

There's no place on the Supreme Court for a Justice who allows themselves to be moved by emotional pleas and third-hand accounts that are the equivalent of hearsay. Also, he's a giant butt.

4. Judge Reinhold (Judge Reinhold) -- Clerks: The Animated Series (2000)

Reinhold's rulings in Jay AKA The Letter "J" v. Quick Stop Enterprises are just the sort of thing that get high-profile cases thrown out on appeal. Luckily his mistakes were overshadowed by giant transforming robots and the surprise appearance of Tom Cruise.

3. The Magistrate (Hugh Griffith) -- Oliver! (1968)

It isn't the drinking that's the problem - truth be told, alcoholism was a requirement for serving in Victorian-era courts. No, the magistrate fails that most important of judicial litmus tests, grooming. Those eyebrows, that beard...he even makes Scalia look well-kept.

2. Judge Dredd (Sylvester Stallone) -- Judge Dredd (1995)

Dredd's really more of a Bush guy, given his utter contempt for the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 8th Amendments. Besides, we've already got Alito.

1. Judge Henry T. Fleming (John Forsythe) -- ...And Justice for All. (1979)

Jack Warden is more well-known as the ledge-dining, helicopter piloting Judge Francis Rayford, but Fleming is the one blackmailing Arthur Kirkland (Al Pacino) to defend him against rape charges, and also the guy who sends Kirkland's innocent client to prison on a technicality. "Out of order" indeed.

I'm doing it wrong

The Wife and I are big fans of Pandora, even moreso now that I have the iPhone app, which was the crucial missing piece in my quest to see that Houston radio is never again audible in my car..

My station-fu could use some work, however. In theory, you create one by using a particular artist or song as a "seed," and the "Music Genome Project" selects songs you should, theoretically, enjoy just as much. This has generally worked out well, even if one of my stations plays 80% Ryan Adams/Whiskeytown and another - thanks to overly restrictive "thumbs down" action - has a playlist of about 20 songs total.

But no matter how hard I try to edit one of my stations - a tentative foray into the world of electronica (probably my first mistake) - I can't weed out the Christian rock. I'm sure this is a result of my having inadvertantly "thumbs upped" a song of that ilk in the station's formative days, with the result that songs exhorting me to "praise his holy name" and what not inevitably pop up every hour or so, though they're pretty easy to pick out amid the usual array of Aphex Twin and Kraftwerk. Not a huge deal, but annoying enough to make e consider nuking the station entirely.

Or sticking to the Ryan Adams one.

"I ain't got time to [cede]."

I hope everyone's been keeping up with former Minnesota governor Jesse Ventura's latest book promo tour/television blitzkrieg. Just in case you haven't, here are some highlights.

Fun with Sean Hannity:

At least they didn't get to Jesse's love of 9-11 conspiracy theories.

And here he is eviscerating Fox & Friends' Brian Kilmeade

I'd never even heard of this guy before. He reminds me of Kevin "Appeasement" James.

Finally, Elizabeth Hasselbeck brings a knife to a chaingun fight:

Ventura's proven himself to be a blowhard and a knucklehead* in a lot of ways, but obviously I think he's in the right on this. And let's not forget, the man is a goddamn sexual tyrannosaurus:

* For some reason, I'm unwilling to use harsher insults.

Remain calm

Patrick Swayze is still alive:

Patrick Swayze's publicist released a statement Tuesday morning denying reports of the actor's death. The Twitter microblogging network was ablaze Tuesday morning with reports that Swayze, 56 and suffering from pancreatic cancer, had died. Here's the release from publicist Annett Wolf:

"This is to confirm that Patrick Swayze did not pass away this morning contrary to severely reckless reports stemming from a radio station in Jacksonville, Fla. Patrick Swayze is alive, well and is enjoying his life and he continues to respond to treatment."

I have slagged the man in the past, and given poor reviews to his movies, but Red Dawn, Road House, and Point Break are three of the guiltiest of my guilty pleasures, and I - for one - am very happy the Swayz is still kicking.

Though I have started working on the memorial post...

There is no later. This is later.

The trailer for The Road, based on Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer Prize winning novel, hit last night. It's, uh, interesting:

That beginning is some Day After Tomorrow bullshit, there.

The Road is an incredibly powerful book, and while I won't go into too much detail (for the benefit of those of who haven't read it) I will say a big part of that came from how McCarthy never explicitly described the cataclysm that led to the death of the planet and the collapse of civilization. I've heard rumors that the Weinstein Company, at a loss for how to market a movie based on a book as desolate as this, are trying to fool audiences into thinking it's some kind of post-apocalyptic action movie. Apparently Harvey is hoping people will make the titular association with The Road Warrior and not notice that the bad guys here, while lacking mohawks and motorcycles, are a thousand times more terrifying than Wez or the Humungus. If you look closely you'll notice the same sequence (Viggo and son hiding behind the leaves) is used four times. Then again, they obviously...enhanced Theron's role, so I'm not sure what to think.

Some reviews have already come out, and I hear they're pretty glowing (I don't read a movie's reviews before I've seen it), so hopefully this is just a clumsy marketing scheme. I thought Hillcoat's earlier film, The Proposition, was pretty damn good, so I'll maintain soeme cautious optimism.

Rocket man

I'm one of those annoying guys who doesn't watch a lot of basketball but is all too happy to jump on a bandwagon during the post-season (for all the shit I get for being a Houston-based Cardinals fan, you should take what you can get), so I must say the Rockets' run in the playoffs has been a lot of fun. Tonight's Game 6 victory over the Lakers was equally gratifying,

At some point, ESPN went to the "Wired" segment where we listen to the coaches in the huddle, and at one point in the 3rd quarter, Phil Jackson told everybody not "to look disgusted." I like to think he was speaking directly to Pau Gasol, who is merely the least photogenic of the crybaby L.A. players.

So...Game 7 in Los Angeles on Sunday. The conspiracy theorist in me says the VitaminWater-ABC entertainment industrial complex won't allow a Rockets win, but we'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to friend Aaron Brooks on Facebook.

"This house is [not] clear."

Good Morning America is usually loaded to the gills with eye-opening stories about what kind of salad to serve during Labor Day and firmer buns in 30 days and gee doesn't Diane Sawyer look hot for an older lady, but yesterday they actually reported on something I wasn't really aware of. Namely, the dangers of pet doors in homes with small children.

Of course, this isn't about that, but rather the conversation between myself and The Wife that preceded it:

Still Hot Diane Sawyer: Next up, a household danger that most families have never planned for.
Pete: Poltergeists?
The Wife: Pet doors.
Pete: Ah.
The Wife: I suppose poltergeists are something you would plan for.
Pete: I have planned for them.
The Wife: Okay.
Pete Take a rope if you go into the hall closet.

I hate Good Morning America.

FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUU...

We can finally, at long last, say with authority that nothing is sacred:

Joining the legions of remakes of '80s action movies is a new take on "Missing in Action," the Chuck Norris vehicle in which he blazes his guns throughout Southeast Asia, liberating prisoners of war.

This version, for MGM, will be updated, like most of the new action reboots including "Rambo," to reflect contemporary realities. The movie will be set in the current Iraq war and involve an action hero on a mission in the Middle East.

The original "Missing in Action" centered on Col. James Braddock (Norris), a POW of the Viet Cong who escapes Southeast Asia and then heads back to liberate other U.S. captives. Two related features -- a prequel and a sequel -- were released after MGM's 1984 hit. (The third film was directed by Aaron Norris, brother of the Texas Ranger.)

First of all, last year's Rambo wasn't a reboot, it was a straight-up sequel. A reboot implies redoing or replaying a character's origin. Rambo gave us the character 20 years after the last movie (where he single-handedly empowered the Taliban to attack the United States). Second, who's Braddock 2.0 supposed to be liberating? Turkish Kurds?

Then again, it's not like anybody's really going to see it:

The studio's plan is to release the new film directly to home video rather than to theaters. In an interesting twist, though, the co-producer/co-financier of the project is World Wrestling Entertainment, which has been expanding its action-movie slate under its WWE Studios banner. Movies like "12 Rounds," a kidnapping tale starring John Cena, are set for theatrical release.

Which means you can count on either Cena, Chris Jericho, or possibly The Big Show to star. WWE Studios really dropped the ball. Had they pushed this even five years ago they could've smelled what the Rock was cooking.

And then it got...unpleasant:

The screenplay for "Missing in Action" is being written by Jeremy Passmore and Andre Fabrizio. Passmore also is writing "Red Dawn," another updated reboot of an MGM title about an '80s military threat.

Look, I'm not going to lie and say Missing in Action or Red Dawn (or Rambo and Invasion U.S.A.) are great - or even good - cinema. But they're ours, goddamnit: released during a unique era in our history, and still discussed and written about 25 years later because of that. The inherently lazy nature of remakes encounters a singular flaw when it comes to Cold War action flicks, because while the concept of Cubans parachuting into Colorado was...sketchy in 1984, the idea of al Qaeda doing it in 2009 approaches science fiction.

Seriously, are Eastern European gangsters really the greatest threat to national security? Say what you want about John Milius and George P. Cosmatos, at least they knew that casting Soviets as the bad guys in 1984 would hit home with audiences. Islamic fundamentalism may not be the same sort of monolithic entity personified by the USSR, but I think most of us can agree they don't wish us well.

So quit stealing my generation's shitty xeonophobic flicks, you assholes. With "actors" like Channing Tatum and Paul Walker and "directors" like McG and Paul W.S. Anderson, you're more than equipped.

For your geeky perusal

Here's my **** Star Trek review as well as my latest entry for Hair Balls, which highlights the five Regrettable Star Trek Moments (Original Cast Only).

Because I didn't have three months to put together a list of comparable TNG moments.

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In case you've spent the last six months in the Vault of Tomorrow with a crate of Romulan ale, there's a new Star Trek movie coming out. And after 20-odd years of dealing with the Enterprise-D and dry Next Generation style shenanigans, it's nice to see the old crew, even if it is in name only.

This isn't to say the original cast has nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, it was almost impossible to whittle the list down to just five.

5. "Way to Eden" -- TOS Season 3 (1969)

The only things worse than hippies are space hippies. And there's not much funnier than watching perpetual movie tough guy Charles Napier wearing a miniskirt and strumming a space lute. He would later make up for it by portraying "General Denning" on Deep Space Nine.

4. "KHAAAAN!" -- Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)

Widely, and correctly, regarded as the best Trek film, Wrath nonetheless suffers from this widely parodied scene, which is perhaps the purest exemplar of Shatner's particular talents.

3. "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield" -- TOS Season 3 (1969)

You doubt the prejudice-ending advice dispensed by a man who kissed a black woman? No wonder your world destroyed itself.

2. The Flying Vulcan -- Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989)

The last few original cast Trek movies started feeling a lot like latter era Roger Moore Bond movies, what with a couple of almost-60 year olds bouncing around the universe with an almost gleeful disregard for their own ridiculousness. This scene captures all of that in a scant 20 seconds.

1. The Death of Kirk -- Star Trek Generations (1994)

Producer Rick Berman never exhibited any particular love for the original series, so giving Kirk such an ignominious demise (falling off a cliff) instead of having him at the helm of the Enterprise, flying it kamikaze-style into the Klingon homeworld while simultaneously banging an Orion slave girl and Yeoman Rand, is hardly surprising. It's still inexcusable, however.

Signs of the Apocalypse - TNT Edition

Struggling mightily to make it to the end of Game 1 between the Rockets and the Lakers and realizing there are some disquieting omens in evidence. And I'm not counting Pau Gasol's shitty neckbeard.

5. I actually didn't mind watching the second half of Castle instead of the beginning of the game (I defer to The Pregnant Wife). I like Nathan Fillion, and I hope ABC picks this up for another season.

4. My computer can't read my Rush Moving Pictures CD, which I'm pretty sure is one of the first discs I bought back in the late '80s. MERCURYYYYY!

3. Where does Jada Pinkett-Smith find time to make a TV show (Hawthorne) when Wicked Wisdom is in such hot demand?

2. That TNT show with Mark-Paul Gosselar is still on the air. I have nothing to add to this. Wait, yes I do: kill me.

1. Houston beats L.A. Of course, it had nothing to do with the performance of Brooks and Artest and everything to do with Kobe having a fever/shoulder sprain. Game 2 will be a very different story, unfortunately.

We got the funk

I had the distinct pleasure of attending the George Clinton/Parliament-Funkadelic show last Thursday with The Thing That Walks Like a Man. My experience with P-Funk is limited to old copies of Mothership Connection and Cosmic Slop, random iTunes tracks, and - like most people - copious sampling by the likes of Dr. Dre and Public Enemy.

And P.C.U., but let's not bring Jeremy Piven into this if we don't have to.

If my advancing years have taught me anything, it's that I need to catch bands like these whenever I have the chance. Clinton's pushing 70, and hasn't really led the kind of lifestyle that lends itself to "world's oldest man" designation, and I've missed out on way too many personal favorites that either broke up (Uncle Tupelo) or died (John Lee Hooker) after I'd taken a pass on a show. Occasionally due to illness, more often because of incorrect prioritizing. So when TTTWLAM said he had a spare ticket, I was in.

We skipped the opening act, Clinton's daughter (I sense a theme in shows we attend), to have a few drinks and to afford me the chance to check out the House of Blues' gift shop. TTTWLAM is allegedly crafting his opening post for his upcoming blog about the show, so I'll hold back on my theories about why there are so many freaking Buddhas in there. Let's just say the HoB isn't the most rootsy environment for a show, Dan Aykroyd's admittedly good intentions aside.

The show itself was great. A top 20, which makes the last 13 months or so (Bruce, Maiden, and now P-Funk) a pretty outstanding run. I won't go into much detail about the show itself, except to say that I hate the expression "blissed out," mostly because it makes me think of shit like Phish and Widespread Panic, but there were definitely some stretches there where the Mr. Clinton suspiciously transported me to Funkadelica, and that was even without sharing with the fellows in front of us who were forced to bend forward almost double to light up.

I will ask that you keep an eye out for Houston's own Mary Griffin, who came in for one song. When she started singing, a guy behind me said, "Whoa...Aretha." Then she came out on stage and I turned and said, "No, man: Tina."

Just a great, great show. I've been downloading Parliament-Funkadelic selections to flesh out my iTunes selection for the last couple days and feeling grateful for the chance I got to visit the Mothership. Thanks, George.