A Perfectly Cromulent Blog

"Oh, you're so cool Brewster!"

As an up-until-recently with it Movie Guy, I feel I should offer some [belated] correction to the two young men loudly discussing the movie Fright Night in the YMCA weight room this afternoon.

1. For starters, the movie was released in 1985, not "a long fucking time ago," as one of you - the wannabe alpha male with the lousy form on your preacher curls - described it. Why, I remember '85 like it was yesterday, and just because neither of you were actually born at the time is no excuse not to familiarize yourselves with the era that brought us Back the Future and Commando.

2. And what are you talking about; "Nobody was in it?" What about Roddy McDowall, Chris (first husband of Susan) Sarandon, Amanda "Marcy D'Arcy" Bearse, or...the guy who went on to make gay porn? And are you seriously telling me you've never heard of writer-director Tom "Child's Play" Holland? What kind of heathens are you?

3. Finally, Fright Night is hardly accurately described as an "old ass horror movie," as you both so blithely dismissed it. Did you know they were making scary movies all the way back at the turn of the (20th) century? Were you aware that most films of the genre released by the 80s were - necessarily - derivations and remakes of true classics like the Universal horror movies of the 1930s and the Cold War analogs of the 1950s? Of course you don't, because you're a couple of high school meatheads whose historical perspective, on film or anything, begins with the first season of American Idol.

And not being able to bench as much as a 40-year old man is pretty sad, frankly. Don't think the lifeguards stuck inside because of the rain didn't notice.

Word Association

Ever get suckered into playing that game where somebody asks you questions with the same answer then throws in a question with a slightly different sounding answer to make you look stupid? I think that's what CNN is doing:

Look for their "duck season/rabbit season" variation next.

New York state of mind

John Nova Lomax has a piece up on Hair Balls about how the Bronx Bar in the Rice Village, like George W. Bush, isn't too fond of black people:

The weekend visit to Houston had been going well enough for Army Sergeant Mohammed Sesay. Now stationed at Killeen's Fort Hood, he'd been back in the States for less than a week, after serving for over a year at Camp Bucca prison in Iraq, where he had helped guard the estimated 20,000-30,000 detainees -- many of whom had been transferred there from Abu Ghraib. But now that he was back in America, the Sierra Leonean-American soldier came to Houston to have some fun at the invitation of his friend Lamine Faye, a Houstonian originally from Senegal.

The two West Africans hit several clubs in Midtown and on Washington Avenue on Friday night, and on Saturday started out downtown. All without incident. Their luck would change when they decided to end their evening in Rice Village's Bronx Bar.
[...]
Sesay and Faye arrived around midnight. On their way from their car to the door, they ran into a knot of people -- mostly black and Hispanic -- standing around outside the club. These strangers warned Faye and Sesay to expect trouble. "They told us that we weren't going to be allowed in the club," says Sesay. "They said minorities were not being allowed in."

If Sesay and Faye are telling the truth, it's pretty remarkable. I'm not so naïve that I don't believe racism has been eradicated from Houston, but to practice it so blatantly - in one of Houston's more popular areas and with the apparent tacit approval of the HPD officers present - is just...nuts.

I've been to the Bronx Bar once, and then only because it was part of "B" night on HoustonChick's alphabet of the bars game. We didn't have any trouble getting in, surprise surprise, but it was still early and the appeal of the generic Gotham wannabe ambiance was lost on us. There were maybe a dozen people there apart from us, and I confess I don't recall their ethnic makeup.

Another patron in the article describes waiting 15-20 minutes to get in to the Bronx, which brings up another, lesser gripe of mine: why do people wait so goddamn long to get into a bar? Leaving aside the racist question, there are bazillions of places to drink in this city, and more than a few in the Village for that matter. I've just never understood the mentality behind standing in line for the "privilege" of paying $8 for a bottle of beer.

Especially if there aren't any nekkid ladies.

"I knew Monty couldn't take Caen in D+1...or D+10 for that matter."

Here it's T+8, and the twins are doing well. They're managing about 3 1/2 to 4 hours between feedings, meaning The Wife and I aren't going completely insane just yet. The bilirubin scores have been a little high for the pediatrician's liking (though still short of actual jaundice), so it's been lots of window time for them. We're becoming better acquainted with the neighborhood dogs, and with the occasional neighborhood pedestrians who decide for some reason or another to cut through our front yard.

I'm also - unfortunately - getting caught up on my share of bad TV. You know, every year I find myself saying, "This is the worst show I've ever seen" (I think last time it was in reference to The Cougar), and 2009 is no exception. My sister is in town to help out with the babies, meaning we deferred to her viewing choice and watched Wipeout tonight. Jesus jumped-up Christ...my synapses haven't slowed down that much since I inadvertently let She Who Shall Not Be Named watched two episodes of The Wiggles in a row.

Tale of the Tape, Pts 2 and 3

As some of you probably already know, the twins arrived last Tuesday, July 7. Stats are as follows:

Twin "A" - Weight: 5 lbs, 4.8 oz Length: 19"

Twin "B" - Weight: 5 lbs, 4.8 oz Length: 19"

Yep, identical in everything but actually being identical. "A" has a dimple in her chin, like The Wife, while "B" doesn't. "A" resembles The Wife's side of the family, while "B" looks a lot like mine, and like She Who Shall Not Be Named.

An aside: I hate referring to them as "A" and "B", so from here on out, "A" is Oracle and "B" is Black Canary.

Anyway, we aren't one to second guess doctors, but The Wife is pretty confident she could've gone another week. Considering that would've been 38, her doc can perhaps be forgiven for being a little squirrely about the idea (full term for twins is 36 weeks).

Distinct personality traits are emerging: Oracle is easily comforted by the pacifier, and is prone to hiccups and jet propelled feces. Black Canary is a snuggler, and easily quieted in the crook of your arm. She spent most of last night next to me in the bed.

They're going about 3.5-4 hours between feedings. We're doing our best to get them on the same schedule, and last night both went from about 2:30 to 6:30 without much fuss. Feeding is coming along (there was a gap in milk production, probably thanks to them not letting The Wife eat or drink anything for 36 hours), and both the girls are champ eaters.

Anyway, pics will be emailed to anyone who requests them, either here or at my Gmail address in the sidebar. Trust me, we're pretty much going to be sheltering in place for the next month or so.

"Meanwhile, 275 miles north of Dutch Harbor."

Various factors kept me from watching as much TV as I'd have liked last weekend, not the least of which was preparing for T-Day tomorrow. Fortunately, about all The Wife and I were interested in was the Deadliest Catch marathon on the Discovery Channel.

That's about roughly 48 hours of programming, I don't know many people aside from the 23 year-old version of myself who had that kind of time to blow on watching TV, so right away I knew the challenge likely wouldn't be met. Fortunately, DC is one of those shows you don't really have to watch every episode of to keep up with. In fact, just about all of them fall into one or more of the following categories:

King crab season:
+ Keith and Monte want to kill each other.
+ Criers and Whiners: The Greenhorn dyad
+ Damn, those Hillstrands are weird bastards
+ Rogue wave!

Opilio crab season:
+ Gee, there sure is a lot of ice in the Bering Sea in winter.
+ Do we have the right species?
+ The Cornelia Marie is falling apart
+ All right, enough with the ice...

This entry is really nothing more than my attempt to distract myself from the fact that I'm going to be a father again in less than 12 hours.

Dear Sarah Palin

After watching your press conference, and listening to your rambling, disjointed, schizophrenic rationalization for bailing on your elected obligations as Governor, I have just one thing to ask: please...PLEASE run for President in 2012.

I'm completely serious. I'm not going to be getting out of the house much in 2011-12, and will be in desperate need of the hilarity a Palin campaign would provide.

Sincerely,
A Member of the American TV Viewing Public

"For me, the 60s ended that day in 1978."

I realized tonight that I've never actually seen the movie Woodstock in its entirety. Being as how I have to get up with She Who Shall Not Be Named, that isn't going to change anytime soon (its on VH1 Classic right now and won't end until 2:30 AM), but I wanted to make some observations before hitting the sack.

1. Joan Baez looked absolutely terrified. I can't imagine what she was expecting, but I'm pretty sure the reception was better than any she would have received at the subsequent Woodstocks.

2. I was going to go into long-winded speculation about what happened to the Gibson SG Pete Townshend tossed into the audience at the end of the Who's set, but there's actually a site that tracks what happened to all his smashed guitars. I love the internet.

3. Sha Na Na? Really? They were definitely the best choreographed, if that counts for anything.

4. Joe Cocker is/was the shit. My favorite performance so far.

5. The whack job ranting about "the fascists seeding the clouds" aside, I don't know how well I would have functioned in that environment. I mean, I hate hippies. But I love mud, so maybe it would've evened out.

Okay, the joint-smoking montage is making me sleepy. Later. I'll try to catch the second half in another 40 years. Check back here in 2049.