King Conk

I'd been waiting and waiting to see King Kong thinking that Peter Jackson would undoubtedly pull it off again. I loved his Lord of the Rings films and prior to that, I knew him only from Heavenly Creatures, a curious and engrossing film.

Now, I've sat through 9 hour flights, 5 hour operas and 42 years of living inside my head so a 3 hour + running time in a film doesn't really scare me much. Going in, I already liked Naomi Watts, Jack Black and big dinosaur special effects. Can you smell the stink brewing?

I bought the dvd on 'opening day' because I'm a consumer whore, a packaging whore and can be indoctrinated into the cult of your choice at a moment's notice.

After I made it home from my usual 7.25 hours of work avoidance, I took a walk, had a bite to eat, a shower and kept some previously made TV committments. At an unsuitably late hour, I began my journey to Skull Island. Within minutes, my own skull began to loll about. I surrendered at the 40 minute mark.

Evening #2 - fewer committments and more of an interest in enjoying the whole Konga found me raring to go. Hey, is that Billy Elliott? He gave up dancing to be in this movie?

Yay! Dinosaurs! The whole sequence was ridiculous and much longer than it should have been. I guess they had the animals for the day and just worked them.

On my third night (you always remember your third), I picked up where Kong has his big opening in NYC. One night only. Then he dies (but not before I do a little).

This whole flick was just as bloated as Peter Jackson used to be.

I will never look at Naomi Watts again without thinking you juggled for that big ape.

Les Miz

Last night, in protest that Ace was not sent home from American Idol, I took a stand and shaved my beard off.

Okay, one has naught to do with the other but it serves two purposes. It keeps things all about me and lets me explain my pleasure at seeing Ace in the bottom 3 again.

I think I find it so enjoyable because each time they say his name, he forgets to try and make love to America with his eyes, he stops smiling and goes pale(r). He's too busy gripping his little toque and taking a pee on national television. I love that.

So Lisa got the boot. She had a great attitude about it and one that will serve her well when she gets the call that Carnival Cruises hired Paris instead.

Craptaculicious

If you suddenly found yourself pining for week old Barry Manilow, then it must be Tuesday and this is American Idol!

What a craptacular installment! Little Ryan Seabreeze and his legions of teeth gamely led the way but wowee, what an ass bunch of losers tonight. Can't they just randomly knock 7 of these people off and let the last 3 bitch slap each other for the title?

Lisa - Nice blue eye shadow, reminiscent of the good old Christina Aguilera whore paint days. Crap job.

The Pickler - Yer homespun honey shtick will go a long way when you're working all those State Fairs and sweating under a big set of fake character boobs at Dollywood. Crap job.

Ace. Hold him Ryan, he's shaking. And Paula? Please don't try to do Ace on live TV. Simon pulling you off his leg was fun to see though. Crap job.

Taylor. Now with more makeup! Michael McDonald, please stop kidding around and get off the show. I like this guy. He should just have a recording contract and be done with the show. Semi-crap job.

Mandisa. Did you say 'God is bigger'? Ain't no way God is bigger than your ass. Get back in black and sing I'm Every Woman every week. Crap job.

Chris. You got all yelly fast. I guess if I was shacked up with a hooker and all her kids, I'd be trying to yell my way out too. Semi-crap job.

Katharine. Did you say 'Christina Angulara'? I think you did. Points for trying to create a Pirates of the Carribean fun ride with your outfit but the judges were way off with their praise. Crap job.

Bucky. You didn't take an almighty dump this week. Good for you. Semi-crap job.

Paris. Ain't no flies on you, you flicked them all away with horse tail extensions. Still way too screeeeechy and not so bootylicious. Crap job.

Elliott. With teeth like an Orc and ears like a troll, you're a soulful dude stuck in a semi-white guy's body. You da man. Good job.

Other thoughts: Ever since Leno showed a montage on his show of Ryan being all cozy and touchy feely with the guys and standing about a mile away from all the girls, Ryan's made great strides in hiding his swish factor from America. He now shakes hands with the guys and holds the laydees close. Awww.

Paula - What was with the shiny puffy coke whore eyes?

Randy - getting Mariah Carey a Diet Coke once backstage at the Grammys does not mean you worked with her.

Simon - voice of reason, man with a head disproportionate to your body, keep laughing all the way to the bank.

Movie Minute

I watched a few dvds on the weekend.

Domino -- despite the spotty reviews and suffering a bit from it's length, I thought it enjoyable. Although some may have found the thumping soundtrack a bit jarring, I felt I had to do the right thing and just blast it at top volume. Sometimes it's all about the surround sound, I mean the visceral.

In the making of feature, it was said that the real Domino Harvey was a model. Perhaps a model for ugly masks. Okay, she had striking features but just not as pretty say, as Keira Ka-nightly who played her. Oh Keira, ye of the much lauded impossible cheekbones and the not so lauded weird teeth which I'm guessing caused those cheekbones.

It was based on a true story about Domino Harvey, Laurence Harvey's daughter, becoming a bounty hunter.

Creepy Mickey Rourke was in it along with blacker than black Delroy Lindo, the funny Mo'Nique and strangely, Macy Gray who not surprisingly plays someone pretty vacant.

I also watched The Squid and the Whale -- if you feel like you need to possibly hate Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney more than you already do, run, don't walk. Those two get honourable mention for annoying me with every performance of theirs that I've been sentenced to. This must be due to their skills as ack-tors or they're just plain detestable in real life and that translates.

The film might just bring you back to a place like the happy spot where you would have crash landed if your parents split when you were 9 or 15.

It evokes all the fun of how knotted inside you might get, how you could probably pull some pretty crazy shit and then blame it on the split and then help you justify all those therapy bills later on when all your own relationships fail.

Good job from all (especially the kids) but I just didn't feel it necessary for me to see. Plus I'm Purelling twice as often now than I did before. Don't ask.

The Corpse Bride was very clever and bouncing good fun especially for the first 20 minutes or so. I then thought it just got a bit boring -- like hurry up and resolve everything. Would have been a stellar short(er) film.

Lazy lazy me and my mini movie muckraking, tsk tsk.

This Little Light Of Mine

People look at me funny sometimes and I’m never sure – is it that I look particularly striking or has my mild colour blindness resulted in some sort of style aberration worthy of widespread disdain? Or is it because Jesus makes them jealous of me?

This morning for instance, on the train, it’s a boring ride in so I decide to tear it up a bit. First I jump up and strike a pose with my iPod that’s suitable for framing. Then, because I'm listening to my Oh Happy Day gospel playlist, I shout out a few times, you know the whole Can I Get A Witness routine?

I get a few funny looks. They’re probably just wondering where I got the Praying Hands shorty robe I often wear in transit. Or maybe they’re confused by the contrasting belt which has racing flames on it that I suppose could be taken for the fires of hell. A little juxtaposition goes a long way.

A complete disdain for organized and disorganized religion should be encouraged. But once in a while if y’all just sat down (not with me) and got your gospel groove on, the world would be a better place.

No Christians, Muslims or Jews were harmed in the writing of this post. If they were, it was their own doing.

Volumes 1 Through 2006

Looking at this snap from last fall makes me feel that it's nearly time to make some new 'mixed tapes' for you who have been found worthy of sampling my brilliant mixing talents. I listen to all that crap so you don't have to people!

J-J-J-Jenny and The Jew

My current obsession: Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins and Rabbit Fur Coat. No, it's not an adult video. It's a girl. With two more girls. And some music. Wait a minute!

The CD is really a lot better than the dresses on the cover. The video for Rise Up With Fists! is on the website and you should check it out if only because it features my girlfriend Sarah Silverman.

Which, by the way, when is Jesus Is Magic coming out on DVD Sarah? And why do you keep going out with that blimpy Jimmy Kimmel? You don't have to say you love me....just drop that big plug.

The music is good, the trailer for the film is good. All is full of love. And despair. And stuff.

The Morning Fog

I went to see Sandra Shamas at the Winter Garden a few years back.

I remember that I laughed at her hilarious take on how as women approach a certain age, they start to lose nouns.

I can't remember with certainty what the name of the show was.

She described the Jedi mind tricks your brain plays on you:

You find yourself at the dinner table struggling to get out can you pass me the clear shaky thing with the white seasoning crystals when all you really want to say is pass the salt.

Sandra did assure everyone that the nouns do eventually return to you, their rightful owner.

I've lost a few nouns lately. Does her theory apply to men too then? Well, if it's happened to me, it must be so.

Waving my hands around while I talk buys me a little time and usually the word I need appears on the end of my fingertips. From there I flick it into my mouth so it can pop back out at the moment just before embarassment rears.

Something else I've forgotten to do lately is give a shit about anything. So, I'm going to wave my hands around, hope that the nouns continue to issue forth and soldier on. I'm so brave.

The show was called Wit’s End, that's it.

Nuthin Doin

Day 15,330 and I remain unfocussed.

Hustle & Flowbee

I had avoided watching Hustle & Flow until now as I thought I wouldn't be able to survive staring into the cult indoctrinating eyes of Terrence Howard for 2 solid hours. Hello Principal Blackman!

You know he's got those weird translucent eyes most of the time so don't pretend he doesn't. It seems that this time though, he thoughtfully used a different set and good on him.

Everyone turned in great and believable performances and the music was loud and fun. I would have said crunk or crunkin' but I'm still trying to pin down what that means.

Oh yeah, and hello Academy of Stupidity? Your credibility called, it wants some of them Oscars back. At the very least you should have nominated Taraji P. Henson if not the rest of them fine bitches and hos. Like any of them need my pimp ass endorsement.

Ooo Ooo That Smell

I rarely watch those celebrity ass kissing shows like ET because they're shameless and horrifying. Last night though, I caught a segment on one of them - The Insider I think.

Speaking of ass kissing, the spotlight was on the brave and courageous Katie Couric. She is brave and courageous because her husband died of ass cancer. And by dying of ass cancer, I mean, he went into hiding. He is as scared of Katie as I am. She was throwing a charity doo in the dead husband's honour. I changed the channel because her husband and I were laughing too hard at her.

Tonight, horror of horrors, I found myself in front of the television again and there's an update on Katie Courageous and the rockin' benefit she threw.

Katie was resplendent in a dress made entirely of courage and cancer. Some of the performing talent just looked tremendous: Sting was there stinking up the joint and a still bald James Taylor and always freaky Smokey Robinson were jamming. Everyone just looked happy to be working. Shudder.

Next up on the teevee -- American Inventor from the ubiquitous Simon Cowell. I hear they'll have judges but not Simon, Randy and Paula. This is good news for Paula. She can enter and win the whole thing by putting her career on display -- she invented that didn't she?

Kodachrome

I think back to my early days as a club kid and wonder what went wrong. Okay, I wasn't so much a club kid as a member of the Columbia House Record Club. Same thing right?

Ted and Gloria and Matthew and Alexandra

Canadian Tire has announced that their new ad campaign will not feature Ted the handyman and his wife Gloria. Considering that they both looked like they were running late for their gender reassignment surgeries, I’m not surprised.

What surprises me more is that Canadian Tire felt it necessary to make an announcement.

Did Ted and Gloria have a following? It’s not as though they were intriguing like the Taster's Choice couple a few years back.

I think in order not to upset their fans, perhaps there should have been a commercial reporting on the couple having been mauled in the parking lot of a Home Depot or while extolling the virtues of a non Canadian Tire product.

Mustache Sally

Your hair is home coloured and poorly. It's streaked with what looks like sadness and mud. Your skin gives off a glare. Is that you humming I am beautiful no matter what they say? I hope that's enough to keep you going but your mirror's really got to got to got to stop lying to you.

And what is it with the lovely pin curl ringlets framing your face? They remind me of my second oldest sister's graduation photo. So are you still trying to graduate from the 70's or is it just that you identify with a lot of Hasidic Jews?

Tell me why and I'll tell you why not.

I Gave My Heart To Jesus And Now He Never Calls

Last night I went to see the Harlem Gospel Choir. I'm in favour of anything that can get my bony white ass up on out of a seat and moving. That doesn't happen a lot what with me being a lazy bastard and all.

I also hate being out late on a school night and of course, by the time I got home I was so hungry, I coulda eaten the hind leg off the lamb of God!

This morning, I was having a break at work and Jennifer was asking me about the whole choir experience. I told her about the Hallelujahs and the swaying and the clapping and such and that the choir among other things had backed up U2 on the song I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

About 2 minutes from then, the muzak began to play Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson. Okay, it didn't. It actually played U2's - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

No, I didn't drop to my knees and start to testify but maybe I should have? That Jesus - you can't do anything without him trying to interrupt.

Despite having a strong Catholic background, a zealot for a mother and a sister who's a nun, I don't claim to be religious at all. I do love me some gospel music though.

I had heard the choir was heading for town and then back burnered it. Then Tanya and Robert decided to go on a cruise and they couldn't use their tickets so I bought them from them.

Glad that I did. Although the seats were 5 rows from the stage and I didn't think I was black enough to pull that off, it wasn't a problem.

Great show and as I said lots of swaying, clapping and shouting and singing. Great personalities and voices and lots of harmless audience participation. Come back anytime HGC.

Yours in Christ,

Dale

I Had A Little Trouble In All My Classes Today

I heard on the news that there may be a community college strike looming that would effectively lock out 150,000 students. What's my mama supposed to do if she needs a discount haircut?

Uh Leah?

There was an article in the Globe & Mail last week by Leah McLaren deciding she needed to vacate the blogosphere. She explained that the blogging world was populated with people who are in need of editors and who can't get published and so on. I agreed with her on a few points although columnists who live in the pages of the G&M shouldn't throw the word editor around so lightly.

I also thought it a tad shameless that although she's swearing off gossip blogs and the blogs of lesser mortals, she did publish the URL for one of her friends' blogs.

One of my friends decided to write her about the column. She was nice enough to reply back. Her reply was done in all lower case letters and with no punctuation. No need to wonder how well she functions without an editor. The lazy slob.

Excuse Me While I Slip Into Another Dementia

What am I wearing for the Oscars you find yourself not asking?

Well, I think I'll stick with a classic to start - an Old Navy 100% cotton pyjama pant. Just to add some spice to the mix, I'm going with either a Tommy Fullfigure tee or something in a NaNoWriMo shirt from days gone by (Is that you Delta Dawn? What the fuck have you got on?).

They never photograph my feet anyway so it'll probably just be non descript slippers, no socks.

And you?

This Diamond Ring Doesn't Shine For Me Anymore

Someone at work lost a diamond ring in the women’s washroom. They were smart enough to know where they lost it, just somehow powerless to prevent it happening.

A sign was posted saying that there would be an reward.

I’d say the reward here would be hey! I found an diamond ring!.