At Least Spider-Man Remains Pure

Courtesy of The Movie Blog...


You know, I think I'd pass on that one. Even if Captain Jack was really giving it to Shrek. I think I've already seen enough childbirths at the movies this summer.

"It goes on and on and on and on..."

So I'm four days late on this (and didn't write about every episode this season, as I originally intended), but after the series finale of The Sopranos, one question immediately comes to mind:

Tony Soprano is a Journey fan?

How cool is that? I bet him and Carmela rocked out to Escape in the car when they began dating. Hey, maybe Meadow or A.J. was conceived while listening to Journey! That's what that final scene was supposed to mean!

I know a lot of people hated the final episode - or perhaps more specifically, how it ended. How do I know? Because I spent most of Monday morning avoiding virtually every radio and TV broadcast I could've been exposed to in an attempt to "stay fresh" before I finally watched my recording. Why didn't I just watch the damn thing on Sunday night like everyone else? Well, that's a good question. I'll just let you imagine what I was doing and that will be the story.

Ha! See what I did there? (Actually, I would've finished this Tuesday night if Justin Verlander hadn't thrown a no-hitter for the Detroit Tigers.)

Look, I totally understand why so many people were ticked off. They wanted a definitive ending. They wanted affirmation for their months (years!) of speculation. They wanted resolution. They didn't want a final moment that made many of us wonder if the cable or satellite feed had gone out. (Did anybody else count how long the screen was black and silent until the first credit rolled? I counted seven seconds.) Unfortunately, David Chase crushed those expectations like that Ford Expedition crushed Phil Leotardo's head. (Nice sound effects on that one, by the way.)

Some have said it was a cop-out. That was the exact term used by one of my favorite baseball writers, Buster Olney. He said he was always taught that a story needs a beginning, a middle, and an end, and for Chase not to finish off his masterpiece was a disservice to everyone who followed the show. I admire Olney's work tremendously, and if he's on ESPN to talk baseball, I'll stop what I'm doing to listen. But in this case, I disagree with him.

And I'm sure Chase is feeling pretty good about his decision right now. Would everyone be talking so much about that ending if Tony Soprano had been killed? Or if he packed the family up in a SUV and bolted for Canada? No wonder he's not interested in defending the final episode he created. Chase made sure his series would stay alive in people's minds for years - if not decades - to come.

I'll admit, however, that I'm probably looking at this much more as a writer than as a TV viewer. And very often, the two are difficult for me to separate. I enjoy an ending that makes me think about something long after I watched or read it. I love having discussions with other people over their interpretations of a hazy ending, and hearing how they might have differed from mine.

Of course, I could be a little sensitive because I've tried to take much the same approach into my own creative writing (of which there unfortunately hasn't been much since I started this blogging stuff), and have been on the receiving end of some blistering critiques in fiction workshops because of that. I heard many of the same criticisms: "You didn't know how to end this story." "This was a total cop-out." "I feel like you wasted my time." And if that's how those people felt, that's fine. It's perfectly valid. But my classmates also discussed where they saw the characters going, and that's what I really wanted the reader to do.

Using those types of artistic arguments or saying the finale was like real life because nothing's ever truly resolved will just make some people's eyes roll. As I said, I understand that. Hey, I wasn't so "zen" about the ending when I first watched it, either. But the more I think about it, the more I feel it really was the best way to end the show.

If you think the person who walked into that door was Tony's killer, and that's the last thing he saw, then that's how the series ended for you. If you think it was Tony's daughter, Meadow (which I'm not sure it was because of the look on Tony's face), and the Soprano family simply had dinner that evening, that could've happened, too.

But I think Chase was going for something bigger. He wanted us to feel as tense and suspicious as Tony was in that moment. And the use of "Don't Stop Believin'" served to echo those feelings of anticipation and dread. The song starts out quietly with just vocals and piano, only to slowly build by adding guitars, and then after the line "it goes on and on and on and on," the bass and drums kick in for the full chorus. The high-pitched build-up was very reminiscent of the scene with "Sister Christian" in Boogie Nights.

Who was that strange guy sitting at the counter? Why did he look back at their booth? What will he do when he comes out of the bathroom? "Strangers... waiting," as another lyric from the song goes. Tony may have looked up when the door opened because he was expecting Meadow. But he was also keeping an eye on whoever else walked in. Because he will always have to keep an eye on who walks in the room. He will always be looking up when a door opens. It doesn't matter if Phil Leotardo's dead. Someone else will come along, as happened throughout the series. "Hiding... somewhere in the night." It won't stop.

As Paulie Walnuts might say, students are gonna write disserations on this $#!+. Yeah, that's right. About The Sopranos and Journey. It was brilliant. But David Chase doesn't even need my applause. He's sitting in a comfortable armchair somewhere, reveling in the knowledge that his show's place in TV immortality is assured.

I'm Feelin' Thankful For the Small Things Today...

Today at Fried Rice Thoughts, we're celebrating the celebration of champions. It was on this day 34 years ago that my mother pushed me out of her womb and into this world. Given that the last two movies I've seen - Knocked Up and Waitress - largely centered around childbirth, I'm especially grateful for what she went through to get me here.

As I get older and more grumpy, I say that I don't like to make a big deal about birthdays. But this morning, I've already been the recipient of some tremendous gifts and kindnesses. I'm touched and extremely grateful.

And thanks to Mis Hooz's thoughtfulness and generosity, I will most certainly not be asking:


(courtesy of 609 Design and The Tony Kornheiser Show)

Be good today, everyone. But enjoy an adult beverage while you're at it.

Buy Him Some Peanuts and Cracker Jack...

I think I'll be busy vomiting my displeasure about the Detroit Pistons over at Sweaty Men Endeavors today, as well as working on something for Bless You Boys (Did I leave anything out to plug?), but for those who have taken the trouble to stop by, I'll try my best to provide entertainment. It's sports-related, but so funny and surreal that I think it'll fit anywhere.

If you didn't see this on TV at some point over the weekend, I'll give you a quick recap. Phillip Wellman, a manager for the minor league (Double-A) Mississippi Braves became unhinged in an argument (apparently over ball-and-strike calls) with umpires on Friday night. Most guys just get in the umpire's face, say the magic swear words that get them ejected, and then unload everything on their mind. Wellman took it a little further than that. Either that, or he'd been holding something in for a long time.

Check out this video. You might actually be seeing a man lose his mind. I'm still trying to figure out what he was trying to say by "crawling through the trenches" and using the rosin bag as a hand grenade. When I'm not giggling about it, that is.



I didn't think we'd ever see a guy top Joe Mikulik's explosion last summer. If I never do anything sportswriting-related again, I'll always remember my first assignment at a Detroit Tigers game. Afterwards, I was in the Tigers clubhouse to get some quotes, and a bunch of players were giggling in front of a huge flat-screen, watching Mikulik absolutely lose it. (Amazingly, the dude still has a job with the Asheville Tourists.) That was a good night for me.

Every Little $100 I Don't Spend On Concert Tickets is Magic?

I thought I was past the days where the results of a sporting event affected my mood for more than an hour after a game had ended, but I'm in a foul mood this morning about both the Pistons' loss to the Cavaliers and the Tigers' loss to the Indians. (I didn't have the energy or inclination to type out 900 words on that one.) This morning, Detroit is Cleveland's sports servant, and that really pisses me off.

So before I take out my anger on some defenseless, inanimate object, I'll try to console myself with the relief that I didn't spend $100 on tickets to see The Police in concert. I was really excited for the band's reunion, but according to Stewart Copeland, the tour's not off to a very good start. Or is there a different way to interpret a forum posting titled, "OUR FIRST DISASTER GIG"?


They're just two shows in, folks. Any band is sure to have some coughs and sputters to work out as it gets going, but usually gets tighter as a tour progresses. Surely, The Police will be no exception. But for now, it's just fun to read Copeland's blistering self-criticism. Candor: You gotta love it.

[...] we are professionals so we soon get sorted, but the groove is eluding us. We crash through MESSAGE and then go strait into SYNCHRONICITY. But there is just something wrong. We just can’t get on the good foot. We shamble through the song and hit the big ending. Last night Sting did a big leap for the cut-off hit, and he makes the same move tonight, but he gets the footwork just a little bit wrong and doesn’t quite achieve lift-off. The mighty Sting momentarily looks like a petulant pansy instead of the god of rock. Never Mind. Next song is going to be great…

But it isn’t. We get to the end of the first verse and I snap into the chorus groove – and Sting doesn’t. He’s still in the verse. We’ll have to listen to the tapes tomorrow to see who screwed up, but we are so off kilter that Sting counts us in to begin the song again. This is ubeLIEVably lame. We are the mighty Police and we are totally at sea.

Dude should've punched Sting, just for the hell of it. At least the fans are much more forgiving. (Naturally.)

I will now return to my regularly scheduled seething.

Pulled Pork? I Think I'll Pass, Jim...

Some of you probably saw or heard about this on the news yesterday. I read the report in the afternoon, was kind of disgusted, and thought I'd forget about it soon afterwards. But then I saw it mentioned on television, and as we all know, it's more legitimate when it's on the teevee.

The story goes like this: Over the weekend in Alabama, an 11-year-old kid apparently bagged the biggest, #@$%ing mutant pig you've ever seen. How big? Try 1051 pounds.


The logic centers of my brain want to cry bull$#!+, as I try to tell myself that the kid in the picture must be 20 feet behind the pig that has to be in the foreground of the frame. I mean, to think otherwise is to acknowledge a horror that I'm not sure I'm ready to comprehend.

First of all, are there really mutant beasts like this running around? If so, we could be in huge trouble if the animals ever decide to revolt and take back this planet.

A 1000 lb. wild boar?!? And according to the reports, that slab of bacon measured more than nine feet across. That thing is a behemoth. It's a #@$%ing monster, man. If that pig and my little Honda Civic were running at each other head-on, I'm pretty sure my car wouldn't survive. Think about if that thing decided to take a run at the side of your house. You'd need Extreme Home Makeover the next day.

I also might have to face the possibility that an 11-year-old kid has bigger balls than me, because if a beast that size came at me, I'd probably soil my shorts, drop to my knees, and start praying to a higher power while tears ran down my face. Or if I had a gun, maybe I'd shoot it. Hell, maybe I'd shoot myself.

And that brings me to the other thing I find troubling about this story (once I get over the fact that there are 1,000-pound pigs running around on this planet): This kid shot the great big boar eight times, and then chased it through the woods for three hours before finishing it off at point-blank range. To me, that sounds like the kind of story you hear about after a serial killer's been arrested and he's being psychologically profiled on the news.

No, I'm not equating hunting with serial killing. It's a sport many people participate in, and I don't really have a problem with it. I'm trying to make a joke. Sort of. When you're facing something that large, I'm sure self-defense is a natural instinct. Take another look at that picture. Young Leonidas killing a wolf in 300 looks like kind of a pussy in comparison. Maybe we should be thanking this kid for protecting us.

I just don't have much of an appetite for pork products right now. No bacon or sausage for me today, thanks. That's really all I'm saying.

[via Deadspin]

That's What She Said! (Episode #24)

A good finale can often save the season of a television show. I'm not saying Season 3 of The Office needed saving, because I thought it was pretty damn fun. But after seeing how certain characters and storylines developed, the overall themes became very clear of the season became quite clear, and I'll enjoy going back to look at these episodes someday.

Of course, participating in the That's What She Said podcast gave this season of The Office a bit more significance than it may have otherwise had for me. I watch every TV show I enjoy very closely. My phone bill to Mis Hooz through seasons of Deadwood, The Sopranos, and Nip/Tuck (among others) could tell you that. But consciously looking for talking points was a different experience.

Fortunately, this season's final episode - "The Job"- gave Matt and I plenty of stuff to talk about. Not just the ending that sent many fans hooting, hollering, and swooning, either. Many things seemed to "click." We found out why certain characters had behaved as they had all season. Others showed their true natures. And perhaps best of all, I think it left fans of the show eagerly anticipating next season already.

Episode #24 is available for your downloading and listening pleasure, either from the That's What She Said home page or via iTunes. If you liked or didn't like what you heard, please send over an e-mail, post a review at our iTunes page, or leave a comment at our blog page. I'm not sure what will happen with the community that developed over the summer hiatus, but I hope the site stays going and people continue to chime in. I know I've enjoyed getting to know several of the "regulars" that stop by.

When Matt originally asked me to co-host an "Office" podcast with him, I didn't quite imagine that I'd be co-hosting virtually every episode. But it was apparent when he played the "tests" for me that he was really onto something, and I hoped Matt would follow through on his ambitions. I think the work he puts into the show is reflected in every episode, and recording the show each week (and learning about podcasting, in general) has been a lot of fun. 25+ episodes is something to be proud of. It's a finished body of work. We've already talked a bit about next season, but honestly, I think both of us need a break before deciding what happens with the podcast.


And now, I'll have to get back to putting some "real" posts up here at The Rice, instead of posting a blurb for the TWSS podcast, linking to the MP3, and calling it a day. (This week, especially, has been something of a vacation.) I don't know how many people follow the podcast and blog page over here, but I'm grateful to anyone that does. And to those who check in over here and don't listen to the podcast, I appreciate you indulging my double-dipping. I know I haven't posted very much new material here lately. Thanks for sticking with me.

Thinking of Spiders... and Bats

I really meant to post my thoughts on Spider-Man 3 today, but got bogged down (as has become typical) with baseball stuff. Therefore, in lieu of actual content, I'll have to let my geek feathers show in another way. It's too early to get excited about this movie, but the website for the Batman Begins sequel, called The Dark Knight, recently went up, and though there's virtually no content available as of yet, they did release this image.


Of all the Batman villains, Harvey Dent/Two-Face is probably my favorite, and I always hated how he was turned into a preening, cackling clown by Joel Schumacher and Tommy Lee Jones in Batman Forever. But I want to believe in Harvey Dent. As a character he's a conflicted, bipolar, paranoid dichotomy of a man, not some goofball who just happens to have one side of his face disfigured. If Christopher Nolan and crew manage to create anything like the Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight Returns or The Long Halloween, I'll be a happy little moviegoer. Casting Aaron Eckhart in the role is a damn good start.

UPDATE (5/21): As Martin mentioned in the comments, there's a little bit more to that poster. I love stuff like this.

See Smiley McFreakyPants...

That's What She Said! (Episode #23)

If given the choice between listening to an upturned broom with a bucket for a head or our podcast, we hope you choose That's What She Said. Consider it a mandatory fun activity - or "funtivity," if that better suits you.

It might not the best podcasting you can listen to, when neither Matt or I much cared for the latest episode of The Office, but as usual (and much like a writing workshop), we try to find the things we liked before getting into what we didn't like about "Beach Games."

Me, I'm pretty simple. Two guys in rubber sumo suits will always be funny to me. Especially when they belly flop upon one another. But a guy falling face down in hot coals? Not so much. Then again, I really just want to lie on the beach and eat hot dogs. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

It's the last episode before the season finale, and viewers finally got the speech they've been waiting to hear from one of our favorite unrequited lovers. Hopefully, that raises the stakes for next week's one-hour, season-ending telecast.

Episode #23 is available for your downloading and listening pleasure, either from the That's What She Said home page or via iTunes. If you like or don't like what you hear, please send over an e-mail, post a review at our iTunes page, or leave a comment at our blog page, where the community continues to grow and new voices are always welcomed. Who among you has the guts to listen?

Happy Mother's Day?

What's a cuter Mother's Day gift than a heart-shaped cookie with "Mom" written on it?

Well, I hope to hell this isn't a bad omen.


Not so cute when the cookie breaks just as Mom picks it up. I swear there was no crack when I brought it home. (If anything, all of the cookie's molecules should've been fused together because, well, I left it in the car for about an hour on a sunshiny Friday. The cupcake I also bought for her didn't quite make the transition. Poor me, I had to clean up melted chocolate frosting. With my mouth.)

Anyway, I insisted Mama Cass eat the damn thing after dinner because a pink broken heart cookie (with the crack going right through "Mom") was just too depressing to look at for very long.

Happy belated Mother's Day to all you mothers reading this today.

Conflict Resolution

Ladies and gentleman, my long local litter nightmare is over.


I imagine you were hoping I've gotten past my outrage at having advertisements brazenly tossed upon my front lawn. I am here to tell you today that I have indeed moved on. Judging from the above photo, attention has been paid and my message has been received.

You can see exactly where that plastic bag was dumped this morning. On my driveway. A little close to the edge of the grass, I suppose, but it's not on the lawn. It's certainly possible that the bag landed behind my car after the delivery driver tossed it at its rear windshield, hoping to spray shattered glass all over my driveway. But ultimately, his package of crap fell harmlessly to the pavement. And the final result is one I'm willing to accept.

I appreciate your patience in allowing me this indulgence. I'm sure there were more entertaining things to read across the internet. This past week is likely not one I will recall when discussing the life stories and lessons that have been chronicled on this blog. But I think the underlying theme is one worthy of posterity. A voice was heard. Casualties were avoided. Power to the people.

That's What She Said! (Episode #22)

How can we be so illogical and flighty and unpredictable and emotional? Hey, all we do is record podcasts about The Office, and we're now up to 22 of them. As the season moves toward its finale, That's What She Said tries to figure out the mystery behind the latest episode, titled "Women's Appreciation."

This week, Matt and I played a bit of role reversal, with him enjoying the show upon first viewing, while I had to warm up to it. How does such a thing happen? Well, some podcasts have their rough patches, but we just push through them. Is it a little bit weird that we record during these conversations? Look, anything that scares us is not worth doing. It's perfectly healthy behavior.

And make you sure you listen until the very end, because Matt took a cherished piece of 80's geek nostalgia and created what might be the best "outro" ever recorded. It'll save every one of us.

Episode #22 is available for your downloading and listening pleasure, either from the That's What She Said home page or via iTunes. If you like or don't like what you hear, please send over an e-mail, post a review at our iTunes page, or leave a comment at our blog page, where the community continues to grow and new voices are always welcomed. You can run, but you cannot hide.

You Have Been Warned, Litterer

I tried to be nice. I tried to be civil. I kept my complaints restricted to this blog, rather than letting them fuel physical action. But it appears that I should've been more demonstrative, more emphatic in stating my concerns. Once again, I have professionally printed litter on my lawn. And I am not happy.


This photo was taken this morning, as I was bringing my trash and recyclables to the curb for collection. I wanted to tell myself that the flash of blue on my grass was a trick of sun and dew, but I knew better. My landscape had been defiled again. Perhaps even worse, it happened while I was sleeping, while my guard was down.

You can see how far the bag is from my driveway. Clearly, this bag was tossed on my front lawn with callous disregard. (You can also see that the grass needs to be cut. I will be working on that later today. I probably would've started earlier, had it not been necessary to retrieve plastic bags stuffed full of newsprint dross from my lawn.)

I tried to be cool about this, but now, this appears to be personal. Next weekend, I will sleep on my lawn, waiting for this brazen litterer to strike again. And maybe I won't cut my grass, so the blades are tall, and my presence is hidden. I'll go to the army surplus store this week and buy camouflaged attire to further disguise my intent.

And then, when the dreck dumper drives by, either stopping at my driveway or slowing down to toss that sack out of his or her car window, I will rise. And I will strike. I will pounce like an animal whose cage door was left open. I'm-a smack you 'cross the arms and face with a rake, mofo. And I will enjoy it.

If 12-Year Old Paperboys Can Do It, So Can You

If you live in Ann Arbor, you might know exactly what I'm going to complain about. (Well, maybe not, if you're in an apartment, rather than a house or condo. I don't know.) And I'm sure plenty of other people who live elsewhere will be able to relate to something like this. I'm sure it depends on the neighborhood or county you live in, or whatever. But every week, we get this "Food, Fun, & Fitness" collection of recipes, articles, and ads. I believe it's produced by the fine people at the Ann Arbor News.

Depending on my mood, I'll open the long, plastic bag and pull out the stuff inside, thinking I'll find something marginally worthwhile. Or maybe I just needed something to occupy my brain for two minutes. But most of the time, I take the bag and toss it in the recycling bin without looking. It's just #@$%ing junk. And I didn't ask for it.

But I could accept this. At least to a point. Over the last couple of weeks, however, whomever is "delivering" these plastic bags of paper waste has been throwing them onto my lawn (which, after last weekend, is finally short enough that I could see these bags), which is totally unacceptable. This offends me on two levels. Not just as a homeowner, but also as a former paperboy.

You throw the newspaper onto the driveway or the porch. 13-year-old kids know this. If it's not on the driveway or the porch, it's not a newspaper (or whatever the hell this collection of junk is), it's #@$%ing litter.

Is it really much different than my neighbor finishing his pizza, and then throwing the box onto my lawn? Okay, one's a grease-stained container for food, and the other is an assembly of print materials in a bag, but I'd have to pick either one off of the grass after it was tossed over there.

Do not #@$% with me, delivery boy or girl of this stuff. I've been doing a lot of yard work out in the sun, my head is baked, and I am most likely holding some sort of landscaping tool that could be used as a weapon. You have been warned. And I am watching.