April 2009 Archives

Good lord... I'm offline for a few days and Bea Arthur dies, the news media does its best to convince everyone that Captain Trips has broken out and we're all doomed, some bonehead decides it'd be really cool to photograph Air Force One over New York City without bothering to tell everyone not to panic when they see a low-flying jumbo jet being pursued by an F-16, and Arlen Specter switches parties.

You know, sometimes it's a good thing to be uninformed about what's going on in the world...

(Incidentally, my weekend road trip was grand. There was naturally a huge backlog waiting for me at the office this morning, but I'll try to find the time to jot down some travel stories in the next little while...)

Just to give my loyal readers a taste of how entertaining a Rick concert really is, here's a recent performance of one of his playlist standards, "I Get Excited," including his regular schtick of inviting a bunch of female admirers on stage and getting up close and personal with one lucky lady in particular:

I've seen him do this same routine six or seven times now, and it still cracks me up. And incidentally, despite how this looks, there are plenty of male Rick Springfield fans, too...

See you all next week!

Here in the clean light of a new morning, I realized the previous entry makes it appear that I'm in a really bad mental space. Well, I was for a couple of days, but let me assure any concerned loyal readers out there that I'm all right. I started recovering as soon as it became apparent the insurance companies weren't going to give me any hassles, and I mostly unclenched once the car went into the shop and it felt like some progress was being made. I'm still unhappy the accident happened at all, of course, and that my formerly "like-new" car isn't so much anymore. I get very attached to my things and I have a really hard time when something happens to them. But the worst of my emotional storm has passed. I just got wound up as I writing last night.

As I mentioned, the wreck was basically the final cue for a major case of the blues that's been lurking in the wings for a while. A lot of shit has been getting under my skin lately: anxiety over my job and how secure it may or may not be, irritation with all the hysterical political nonsense that's been going around (honestly, right-wing gun-lovers, no one is coming to take your Preciouses away, not even those nasty hobbitses, er, Democrats), disgust at the growing plague of panhandlers and scummy-looking kids that hang around the train platform near my office (I've got a lot of sympathy for the homeless, but enough is freakin' enough, people!). Disgust with a lot of things, really... the reinvigorated culture wars, willful ignorance and intractable bigotry, ubiquitous marketing, almost-as-ubiquitous graffiti, the lack of consideration people have for their fellow citizens, traffic, road construction that makes traffic worse, the fact that I can no longer find a radio station I really, honestly like, and a host of other complaints both large and small. I've been tired and cranky and fed up and feeling like everything went really wrong somewhere. I've been feeling, in fact, something like this:

Fortunately, I'm about to get my moment alone, and I don't even have to shoot anyone, no matter how tempting that might be. Well, alone plus one. The Girlfriend and I are setting off on a little road trip tomorrow, an exploration of southern Utah with a stop in Zion National Park, a detour to Vegas to check in with some friends we've not seen in a while, and finally, an outdoor concert starring my main man, Rick Springfield. Yes, I am a dork. No, worse, since I'm traveling over 100 miles to see him... I'm a groupie.

First, however, I've got a very important dinner date with the two people who made all this possible. Today is my parents' 45th wedding anniversary. I'm sure I am no less amazed at how long that seems than they are...

DSC_0057, originally uploaded by jason.bennion.

Want to know how to ruin a beautiful springtime Sunday afternoon? How about having someone back into your Mustang and bugger up pretty much the entire passenger side? Yeah, that'll do it...

It has come to my attention that B.B. King's latest album is called One Kind Favor, not One Small Favor as I previously said. Just in case anyone is keeping track...

So did anybody catch this week's CSI? The murder-victim-of-the-week was an arrogant guy who'd produced a new version of a beloved 40-year-old science fiction TV show called Astro Quest (any resemblance to an actual beloved 40-year-old science fiction TV show with a similar name is purely intentional). Seems there were a lot of potential suspects because this guy's "redux" was so poorly received by the fans of the original. Where the original had been "antiseptic," "brightly lighted," and populated by noble characters that "ordinary people couldn't possibly live up to," AQ Redux turned out to be dark and grungy-looking, with angsty, sweaty, deeply flawed, and horribly unlikable characters. The producer justified this as "more realistic," but the fans who saw his preview reel in a convention setting responded by rioting.

Obviously, the writers of this episode have been thinking about the upcoming remake of Star Trek, but, in an in-joke I'm sure they thought was terribly clever, the fan who starts the riot by shouting "You suck!" was none other than Ron Moore, the executive producer and primary creative force behind the reimagined Battlestar Galactica. In other words, a guy who did in real life exactly what the fictional producer in the CSI episode had done. It was a cute moment for those in the know, but I find myself trying to decide just what was being said here. In other words, at whose expense was this joke made? Is Moore (or at least the writers of CSI) acknowledging that fans of older properties are justified in being unhappy with "gritty" remakes? Or were they slamming grumbly old-school types like myself as buffoons?

Honestly, I think you could make either argument. The episode does include a scene in which one of the regular characters explains to another why fans get upset when people tamper with the things that matter to them, but that same scene also features some dismissive remarks about that behavior. The episode itself closes on a rather sweet note, with an homage to a well-remembered scene from Star Trek, er, Astro Quest, and the CSI crew planning a marathon viewing of the classic show. So I guess you could see it as trying to present an even-handed view of the whole phenomenon, at least as far as is necessary to tell the weekly procedural story. But, while I acknowledge I'm probably too touchy about these things, I can't help but feel like, yet again, the people like me -- who prefer the "cheesy" and "campy" (god, I hate those adjectives!) originals to the slick-but-depressing modern versions -- are being dissed.

You damn kids can keep your edgy shit. I assure you it will one day seem as archaic as the stuff where Starbuck is a guy and the captain's shirt is weak around the shoulder seams. In the meantime, I think it's really just a matter of taste. As far as I'm concerned, real life is edgy, gritty, and angsty enough. I prefer heroes I can aspire to over tragic, uncertain trainwrecks...

The Girlfriend and I have seen the legendary blues guitarist B.B. King perform live several times, and every time we do, we seem to end up discussing the possibility that this might be the last time. That may sound ghoulish, but consider the facts: The man is 83 years old, and a plus-size diabetic to boot. Surely we can't have that many more opportunities to see him in concert, as sad as that is to contemplate.

I am working on something a bit more substantive, but for now I couldn't resist grabbing the "Alphabet of Obscure Science Fiction Classics" Meme from SF Signal. Here are the rules:

"You know the drill. Copy the list and make titles for movies you've seen appear in bold."

And now for the list, with my boldings and a few comments:

If you listen much to National Public Radio, one of the things you notice is how the names of all the hosts don't sound much like, say, your name. There's a lot of ethnic diversity in NPR's ranks, for one thing -- on any given broadcast, you're likely to hear the voices of Lakshmi Singh, Lourdes Garcia-Navarro, or Sylvia Poggioli, for example -- but even the more "regular" names just have a certain ring to them: Neal Conan (any name from the Hyborian Age is guaranteed cool, right?), Jason Beaubien, Salt Lake's own Howard Berkes, Noah Adams, Steve Inskeep... these simply aren't names you're likely to encounter in the real world. I've long lusted after a cool name, the sort of name that invites respect and conjures images of exotic lands, daring deeds, and arcane knowledge. An NPR name.

Now, thanks to the link my buddy MikeG sent me this afternoon, I can have such a moniker. The formula is surprisingly simple:

Here’s how it works: You take your middle initial and insert it somewhere into your first name. Then you add on the smallest foreign town you’ve ever visited.

And just like that my name becomes -- are you ready? -- Regjinald St. Goar.

Regjinald St. Goar, named for a delightful little village on the Rhine River in Germany. I like it! So what's yours?

What follows is without a doubt the most obscure LOLcat I've ever posted here at Simple Tricks... possibly the most obscure one I've ever seen, for that matter. I think I have maybe two readers who will get this one (no need to stand or anything, you know who you are). But I get it, and I think it's pretty damn funny:

This came from our old friend, The Bad Astronomer. I believe he created it, too, the clever fellow.

(Note: If you don't get it, I doubt an explanation will make it seem any funnier, but you can always try. Go here and here for the necessary context.)

After three TV-oriented entries in a row, my loyal readers can be forgiven for thinking I've given up on any pretense of an actual life, but I want to mention that The Girlfriend and I have really been enjoying the new series Castle. It's basically a throwback to the '80s-vintage detective shows I grew up on, somewhat similar to Moonlighting, only without the smug self-awareness that so often came across as less clever than irritating.

Nathan Fillion of the late, lamented Firefly plays Rick Castle, a very successful writer of crime novels who, as the series begins, has just killed off the protagonist of his best-selling series in a fit of creative boredom. Chance brings him into contact with NYPD Detective Kate Beckett when she comes to him for consultation on a murder case that appears to have been inspired by one of his books. Inspired himself by Beckett, Castle pulls a few strings and becomes her unlikely (and unwilling, on her part) partner. Ostensibly tagging along on Beckett's cases in the name of "research," Castle naturally starts helping her solve bizarre murders by working out the "plot" of the mystery.

Honestly, the mysteries are probably the weakest aspect of Castle, but they always were on the classic detective shows I loved in the '80s, too. Like Magnum or Simon & Simon, the real pleasure comes from watching the likable characters interact with one another. Fillion is perfectly cast as a flirtatious, wisecracking man-child, spoiled by fame and a seemingly bottomless bank account that allows him to pretty much get away with anything; as the show progresses, however, he's started to demonstrate that there's a good and even noble man lurking under the smart-ass exterior. Stana Katic as Beckett has been a little more difficult to like, a little tougher to see as anything but a straight man to Castle's nonsense, but she's starting to reveal some interesting depths as well, and she and Fillion have an enjoyable chemistry.

My favorite relationship on the show, however, is between Castle and his teenage daughter Alexis, played by newcomer Molly C. Quinn. Predictably, she's characterized as the mature counterpoint to Castle's childish behavior, but the two actors bounce off each other with such comfort and good timing that they appear to be a real father-daughter pair.

One final element that has endeared the show to me: each episode appears to contain a single geeky in-joke. So far, I've caught references to Highlander, Star Trek: The Next Generation, and Land of the Lost, and I imagine there are probably others that I didn't notice. I can only assume these are intended as Easter eggs for Fillion's Firefly peeps, but whatever the reason for them, I like...

Castle is on ABC on Monday nights. Check your local listings, as they say. And let's hope this show gets more of a chance than Firefly or Fillion's last network series Drive, which was ignominiously canned by Fox -- of course! -- after only four episodes. Too bad, too, as I thought that one had potential...

I made several references in the previous entry to St. Elsewhere, a series I remember with a lot of affection but honestly not much detail. It's been a long time since I posted a TV title sequence, so I thought this might be a good time to revive the category. The sound quality on this clip is a little dodgy; the source appears to be an old VHS tape that's seen its better days:

I always liked that music. Somewhere I have an old audio cassette containing a bunch of themes from the early '80s that I recorded by holding a microphone up to the television speaker, and I know the St. Elsewhere theme is one of them. And I'd completely forgotten that Denzel Washington got his start on this show! How unlike me, given my usual command of useless trivia. Would it redeem me in the eyes of my loyal readers if I mention that William Daniels, a.k.a. Dr. Mark Craig, was the voice of KITT in the original Knight Rider series?

The first season of St. Elsewhere is available on DVD or Hulu, if you're interested. I'm thinking I need to check it out again myself...

I haven't watched ER on any kind of regular basis for years. I started losing interest after Dr. Mark Greene -- wonderfully played by Anthony Edwards of Top Gun fame -- died of a brain tumor in Season Eight, leaving Noah Wyle's Dr. John Carter as the only remnant of the show's original cast. Nothing against any of the actors who rotated into County General as the old folks left, but I just never found any of the newer characters as compelling as the first group. Also, while the really over-the-top "event" episodes were still in the future (I think... it's hard to recall quite what happened when, considering I haven't seen many of these episodes in years), the show was already evolving toward sensationalistic (and frequently ridiculous) sweeps-week plotlines and a tangled soap-opera-esque preoccupation with who was hooking up with whom in between patients. (Honestly, was there any woman around that hospital that Luka didn't have a go at? Maybe Kerri Weaver, but that's only because she turned out to be a lesbian...)

And yet, I never did give up entirely on the show. I kept tuning in from time to time, even after I'd reached the point of not knowing the names of any of the characters anymore, and I was thinking of them only as "John Stamos," "the Rock and Roll Kid," "Red-head Dude with the Beard," and "Cute Nurse with the Big Watchband." Oh, and, of course, Neela, whose name stuck because I thought she was a babe. I guess I took the show for granted; I always knew that if I couldn't think of anything better to occupy my attention on Thursday nights around 9 PM, well, there was always ER.

I've read in a couple different places this morning that the venerable magazine Starlog -- which is for sci-fi fans something like Rolling Stone is to music lovers -- has ceased publication. The official announcement calls it a "temporary" cessation while the publishers re-evaluate and revamp, and they apparently intend to continue producing digital content for their website, but I think we know what this move really means. For all intents and purposes, after 33 years and 374 issues, Starlog is finished. It may live on in a diminished form as some kind of blog or genre-centric website, but there are thousands, if not millions, of those already, and Starlog.com is going to have a hard time differentiating itself from, say, io9. The most public and respectable face of science-fiction film and television fandom -- our only honest-to-god, widely distributed, often-seen-on-regular-newsstands magazine -- is dead.

This has been floating around for a while -- it seems like someone emails it to me every couple of months -- but I never get tired of watching it. It always boosts my spirits a little, even on days like this one. Maybe especially on days like this, when I'm not depressed, exactly, but I am feeling beaten down because of too many nights staying up late trying to finish the crap I didn't have time to accomplish earlier, and too many afternoons putting out stupid little fires that have everyone around me losing their heads while I struggle gamely on.

Stand By Me from David Johnson on Vimeo.

What a charming notion, don't you think? That disparate people from all over the globe can find common ground in a sweet old chestnut from Motown's golden years? Yeah, I feel a little better now.

How awesome is this headline that just came across my newsfeed?

FBI joins effort in hostage standoff with pirates

I find myself imagining these guys facing off against these guys in a battle royale like the world has never seen. (Personally, my money's on Connery kicking Keith Richards' butt up and down the beach.)

Okay, so, you know those Axe body-spray commercials where some young guy with a bad haircut spritzes himself with cheap cologne-in-a-can and suddenly finds himself surrounded by horny females who seem to have lost all their higher reasoning functions? Yeah, I don't get 'em either.*

I think this makes much more sense:

Ah, lightsabers. Is there nothing they can't make cooler? Extra credit to the makers of this clip for throwing in a Wilhelm.

* Oh, come on, is there anyone over the age of 19 who doesn't think that shit makes you smell like you just rubbed yourself down with one those tree-shaped air fresheners for your car?

Ever wonder what it might've been like if, instead of a hugely successful feature film, Star Wars had been a late-70s television series with a disco-flavored theme song? Sure you have:

For you younglings in the audience, the music and visual stylings of this piece are derived from the opening of Dallas, a primetime soap opera about rich, conniving, nasty people with better sex lives than you. Dallas led to the pinnacle (or nadir, depending on how you look at it) of '80s television, Dynasty, which in turn begat Falcon Crest and god only knows how many lesser rip-offs.

I'm impressed at how well the Dallas theme and style works with Star Wars footage, and also amused that the creator of this mash-up included "the men in the masks" in the credits. Of course, in my world, the Death Star explosion doesn't result in one of those lame "Praxis-effect" plasma rings, but that's my grumpy-old-fanboy side speaking up again and we won't indulge him today.

More fun stuff below the fold...

Being as I am a hopeless nostalgic -- not to mention the incredibly odd mutant who actually, for the most part, liked high school -- I couldn't resist the latest meme from Jaquandor, which he titled "My So-Called High School Life." I am retaining that title, despite its derivation from a TV show I never watched, for lack of any more clever ideas.

I like Star Trek. I like Bettie Page pin-ups. Now I can enjoy both at the same time. Not everything about the 21st century sucks...

Obligatory shout-out: I picked this up from SamuraiFrog, who got it from here, where you can also get this image in sizes appropriate for your desktop. If you're into this sort of thing, of course...