CleverSchmever

The best Burrito I ever had...UPDATE

2007-10-09T16:51:00.001-07:00

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you of Marlito's Burritos' demise. I drove up the other day to see a Coldwell Banker sign. R.I.P.

They made everything by hand, all from scratch and from the freshest of ingredients.

Man, they were some damn good burritos.

Keep reading for any other news regarding this fine establishment.

A chicken is not a nugget

2007-08-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Peta 2 Dot Com,

You are right, a chicken is not a nugget. Well, let me re-phrase that, a chicken is not just a nugget. Chickens also make great cutlets, strips, soups, salads and such. Roast chicken is delicious. If you ever find yourself in a backwoods market, be sure to look for some chicken gizzards. They are a delectable, if slightly greasy treat from the back roads of America. Oh, and chicken with broccoli? Delicious! So, yes, Peta 2, chicken is not a nugget, it is so much more!

Regards,

Ian

Transformers-A Cleverschmever Review (of sorts)

2007-07-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

Last night, I walked into the movie theater wanting to write a review immediately after seeing Transformers. However, as the film progressed, I had an increasingly difficult time keeping a critical eye, as it had (what I call) the Superman Returns Effect*. As soon as I saw a helicopter turn into a robot, and then lay waste to a military base, my adult form was lost to my inner 6 year-old.

With that in mind, I will attempt a brief, relatively spoiler-free review.

As a whole, Transformers was a good film. It gave us a lot of robots transforming and then pummeling each other. That, after all, is all one should expect from a Transformers movie. As a bonus, we also got to see some great character stuff!

Optimus Prime, Megatron, Ironhide, Jazz and Starscream are exactly like their original (or G1, as the "hardcore" call it) counterparts. Optimus is the compassionate leader, ready to sacrifice himself for others. Megatron is the single-minded beast of a villain, whom all the Decepticons rally behind. Ironhide is the old badass, and Optimus' oldest friend. While not voiced by Scatman Crothers, Jazz retains that youthful, accepting and "hip" vibe he had, as well as his loyalty to his fellow Autobots (he even breakdances!). And Starscream? Oh, he's a bastard as always! Some oif the character is development is very subtle (especially Starscream's), but if you really watch the flick, you're in for a treat!

Oh, and Sam Witwicky? Much to my surprise, I loved Shia LeBeof's performance! Nearly all his interactions (human and transformer) are funny, especially when he corrects a Government Goon (John Turtorro) who calls Megatron some ridiculous initialism. "As they (the Autobots) call him, Megatron! He's the bad guy."

The plot is thin, it's just an excuse to see a giant robot brawl, and that's perfectly fine. In fact, I only have 2 issues with the movie. First, Bay will occasionally focus a bit too much on the humans. During the big Optimus and Megatron fight, he keeps cutting back to them. Why? All of us want to see Optimus vs. Megatron! Did you learn nothing from The Phantom Menace? Second, they treat one character's death with all the reverence of a fast food employee who gives you Hot Mustard instead of BBQ sauce. Then again, this is a Michael Bay film, so what do you expect?

So, dear reader, I can say this...Transformers is a fun romp through a world where giant robots can turn into cars and interstellar jets while destroying a city. You want to have fun for Two and a half hours? Have fun!

Oh, as a PS, the Cloverfield trailer (a new monster movie from JJ Abrams) is attached and it is the coolest trailer I've ever seen!

*The Superman Returns Effect tugs at a viewer's childhood attachment to the material on screen, making it difficult for the viewer (me) to maintain my usual ability to think while watching the film. Instead, the viewer gets wrapped up in a wave of pleasant nostalgia. It's named this because Superman Returns has a visually amped up version of the Richard Donner Superman intro.

As a bonus, here's a video of what I was afraid this movie could be...

Spider-Man 3-The Cleverschmever Review

2007-05-09T18:42:00.000-07:00

Here be SPOILERS!!!

After watching Spider-Man 2, I realized that one could compare the first 2 films to the first 2 installments of the Superman franchise. Before going into Spider-Man 3, I hoped like hell that Sam Raimi and company wouldn't go the way of Superman III in this installment. I was partially disappointed.

In the first films, both heroes come to grips with the loss of a parental figure after they failed to save them, both heroes introduce themselves to the world and they both face off against their most iconic threats. In the second films, both heroes loose their powers in order to get in touch with humanity. However, a threat arises (a threat that was LAME in the comics but AMAZING in the movies) and the heroes regain their battles and win the day. Oh, and the love interests learn the heroes' secret identities. The third installments follow the same threads, at least partially.

Substitute Bootleg Kryptonite for an alien symbiote (and later, Eddie Brock), replace Richard Pryor with Harry Osborne, trade Lana Lang for Gwen Stacey, shake well, and you have Superman III The Redux…I mean Spider-Man 3. Maybe they should have called this movie "Bad" Spider-Man?

When the Alien Symbiote first appears (in a scene similar to the openings of Night of the Creeps and Slither), it takes its time before attaching itself to Peter, but when it does, Spidey gets aggressive, very aggressive. As the film goes on, Peter becomes darker and darker, culminating in a sequence where he becomes a jealous, spiteful horndog. The whole sequence is played for laughs, much like another 3^rd installment of a super hero franchise. After all that, Spidey frees himself only to later face Venom, his dark side made flesh…again, hmm…very familiar.

All that said, I did enjoy the bulk of Spidey 3 (though don't get me started on the Sandman, as the only way to explain his character inconsistencies is mental retardation). The effects were good, James Franco stole the show as Harry Osborne (I haven't seen such villainy in a café since the beginning of The Untouchables) and the fight sequences were pure cinematic candy! Overall, I enjoyed the film and recommend it, just remember, it's not Spider-Man 2.

Live Free Or Die Hard!

2007-04-30T07:34:00.000-07:00

I took a break from movie blogging for a while, but the Summer Blockbusters are coming, so it's high time for me to take a quick break from my cartoon and wax cinematic. This film may be the most unbelievable film to ever grace cinema...I'm talking about Live Free Or Die Hard!

Admittedly, I've only seen the trailer, but it's one hell of an ostentatious trailer!

The trailer starts with a group of internet terrorists shutting down an entire city's power grid. Then, badass action hero John McClaine pops up and declares "I'll take it from here" and we're off! Machine guns fire, buildings explode, cars speed by and John McClaine drives a car right into a helicopter 'cause he's "out of bullets". Now, all of this sounds like you're standard Die Hard fare. Bruce Willis made a name for himself defying the death-dealing motives of terrorists and bank robbers for 3 movies back in the day. However, things take a quick turn towards the end of the trailer. The filmmakers up their game to a new level of ridiculousness!

John McClaine plays chicken with an F-16, then he fights it with his bare hands! It's as if the writers decided to toss the "willing suspension of disbelief" out the window! And you know what? I like it!

It's been too long since I've seen a regular guy perform such uncanny feats with a smile and the occasional groan! See, when Spider-Man jumps on a fighter jet, it's cool, but when John McClaine does it, it's jaw-dropping! This flick looks like pure adrenaline-laced fun!

I hope to see you in the theater June 27th and I hope you're as inebriated as I plan to be, 'cause this is going to be an explosive, old school action movie!

Let the summer begin...

Just In Time...

2007-02-13T21:49:00.000-08:00

I have no Valentine's Day plans this year, aside from work and improv class. However, if I had a special someone, I don't think I'd take her here.

Imagine the romp a couple will have after White Castle!

"Oh, baby, I want you so bad...wait, I'll be right back."

Good thing the diaphragm went out of style. That will be one stinky bathroom.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Busy

2007-02-11T11:50:00.000-08:00

I haven't written much here as I've been busy. Between work, freelance and life, I haven't had anything that I wanted to put into a blog. For that, all 3 readers o' mine, I apologize.

I'm working on a stage character, so I'll post about that when I have more info, photos and video and I've been working on 2 cool movie projects (again, more to come on that front).

Also, I'l be going to SXSW this year, so this blog will probably read like Pitchfork or Stereogum for at least a week!

Happy New Year!

Ian!!!

Giga Please!

2006-11-16T22:55:00.001-08:00

It's a damp night in November, though it is unseasonably warm. It's about 9:30 and I've just had a solid Tex-Mex dinner, courtesy of my friend, Mike. While helping myself to a taco, Mike told me that our friend, Paul, has been waiting in line at Best Buy for a Playstation 3 since Tuesday. Needless to say, I was rather amused. Why would Paul wait in line for this thing? Is he that hardcore of a video gamer? No. The thing is selling for $3000.00 on eBay. It's a wise $600.00 investment. Still, the idea of waiting on line for more than a day is rather ridiculous to me, yet oddly fascinating. So, I proposed a little field trip, to see Paul and Heaven knows who else had been waiting for this long-awaited video game system.

We pulled into the parking lot. There were umbrellas and garbage bags littering the east side of the entrance. One could make a joke about the great unwashed getting a shower from above, but we're above such jokes here at Cleverschmever. Honestly, it looked like the great Star Wars epidemic of 1999. I parked the car and my friend Chris, Mike and I approached a sleeping Paul.

Paul sat in a captain's chair, wearing a Land's End windbreaker, surrounded by garbage bags, an umbrella, an empty Pizza Hut box, a cooler and a 3 bottles of soda. Compared to the 37 other people in line, he had a pretty good thing going on.

While talking to Paul, one of the other line folk approached us.

"So, I see your boys showed up 20," said the rather jockish man of small stature.

"Yeah, total surprise, man. Guys, this is Number 12."

It seems that, instead of referring to each other by proper name, this Village decided to refer to each other by the number assigned to them. The night before, a Passaic County Sheriff showed up and made an official list of sorts, to keep commotion and confusion to a minimum. Why would these people get antsy about the line? Are they hard core gamers? No, they were (mostly) just like Paul. They saw dollars instead of pixels. One person (the aptly named Number 1) even showed up on Monday night!

Another guy, of average height and build approached us. He was wearing a Yankees baseball cap.

Mike asked, "What about you, man? Are you here 'cause you want the system, or are you here for the money?"

"I want the system, all my electronics are Sony, I need it."

I gave Mr. Sony Decked Out Bachelor Pad (Number 25, if memory serves) a once over. That blasted Yankees cap conjured images of him at a bar, probably Pub 46 or an equally plebian establishment, walking up to girls, talking about his high-en electronics, attempting to seduce a drunken Jersey Girl back to his walk-in advertisement for Sony Style.

"So, what game are you looking forward to?" asked Mike.

" Resistance" they both replied!

"Hey, (insert an Italian name here), you want to go back to my place and play...Resistance? I'll bet you..ve got some resistance for me. Back door resistance." I imagined 25 saying to some drunk chick at a diner. So slick.

Suddenly, a voice came from the Temple of Number 1.

"Yo, I be takin' pictures, yo!"

Another voice came from the back, "I better not see that shit on your Myspace, you! Look at all these 20 Gigas up in here! Punks!"

You see, there are 2 Playstation 3 packages. One is 20 gigabytes and the other is 60 gigabytes (with a few extras). Anyone at the back of the line, was only guaranteed the less-desirable of the 2 packages, hence the name, 20 Gigas.

At this point, the light drizzle became light precipitation. I made the executive decision that it was time to leave Paul (Number 20) and his fellow line folk to their fate of probable pneumonia and their dreams of a few thousand bucks. Now, I sit at home, in my comfortable boudoir, ready to dream of anything but dollars and pixels.

Giga please.

xoxo,

Ian!!!

60 bucks for a Decoder Ring? What?!

2006-11-13T18:08:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow, The Da Vinci Code DVD is set to hit stores. Not exactly the most newsworthy item, unless you work for a very right wing or a very left wing blog or magazine, right? Well, yes, unless you’re talking about the “Special Edition Gift Set” (MSRP $80.95).

The gift set includes an Authentic and Functional Cryptex (a glorified decoder ring) and a replica journal. Cracker Jack prizes, folks.

When, in pop culture, did it become the standard to pay for an incentive (when it comes to entertainment anyway). This decoder thingamabob is nothing more than a chotzky that was thrown in by Sony. It has no inherent value other than to entice a consumer to buy the DVD. Am I wrong?

Oh, I have a feeling I’ll be attacking the “collector mentality” very, very soon…

Meanwhile, I was wrong about the NBC’s The Office. The second season is amazing.

Xoxo
Ian!!!

(Not Tyler Perry's) Diary of a Sick White Man

2006-11-13T17:51:00.000-08:00

Dear Diary,

I woke up today coughing and sneezing like a monkey in some bizarre lab experiment. The same thing happened yesterday (see entry ..Perhaps I Should Quit Smoking Part 732..). I decided to call my doctor. Unfortunately, it was 7:30 AM and the Automated Voice Answering Service said the office would open at 9:00 AM.

My car was in need of an oil change and that pesky ..Service Engine Soon.. light was on, so I dropped the car off and walked home. Halfway home, I think I coughed up half a lung. It was far too small to be a whole lung, yet it was much too big to be lung butter. So, being of sound mind and body, I decided it was indeed half a lung.

I got home and decided to call out of work. I've transcribed the conversation with my boss..

ME: Hey, I think I have Bronchitis. I'm going to stay home and go to the doctor later.
:::SILENCE:::
ME: OK. Um, I'll be in tomorrow and work extra hours, so we can get the auctions done by Wednesday.
BOSS:OK. Get better.
:::CLICK:::
ME: OK. Thanks. Bye?

After that, I decided to take a nap.

I woke up at 9:15 and proceeded to call the doctor's office again. The line was busy. So, I waited 15 minutes and tried again. No response. Repeat. Twice.

I saw a lovely get-well on my AIM and that brightened me up a bit. I decided to make some tea and oatmeal. It was good. I felt like I was getting in touch with my British heritage. (NOTE: Thhe new James Bond movie comes out this week. See it? Call people) I tried the doctor's office again, and this time, I got a live operator.

OPERATOR: The doctor is out today. Veteran's Day.
ME: That was Friday.
OPERATOR: The staff usually has off on Friday, so they are observing it today.
ME: Uh, can anyone prescribe me Biaxin? I have Bronchitis and I really don't want to miss any more work than I have to.
OPERATOR: Are you a licensed medical professional?
ME: No.
OPERATOR: Is it a medical emergency?
ME: I'm leaking like a..
OPERATOR: I don't need an analogy. If it is a medical emergency, go to the hospital or an immedicenter. If not, just rest and the Doctor will be in at 9:00 tomorrow. Have a nice day.
:::CLICK:::
ME: OK..bitch.
OPERATOR: I'm still here.
ME: Oh. (I hang up the phone. Thank goodness I never told her my name).

So, I have no doctor, no car, an unenthusiastic boss and 1 1/2 lungs.

I think I'm going to watch The Office. That Steve Carell is a funny guy.

I'll talk to you later, my dear diary, that is, if I don't die from drowning in my own grossness or from boredom.

I want to open a restaurant…

2006-11-09T19:31:00.000-08:00

I want to open a restaurant, a chain restaurant. It would be based upon events we in America are quite familiar with...events from the Bible.

This family friendly eatery would feature elements from both the Old and New Testaments. I spoke with some friends about this some weeks ago and they thought it was a wonderful idea. I'm thinking of calling it Be Attitude or Ruth's St. Christopher Steakhouse.

Here are some thematic ideas..

1. The Menu-It would be laminated paper, shaped like a Stone Tablet. We couldn't use real stone. That would be silly. On certain occasions, like the census, the menu will be available on papyrus.
2. There will be a decorative stone at each table. Whenever a patron requests water, the server must strike the rock. Only then, will water appear.
3. Instead of sitting at separate tables, patrons will be asked to sit at one large table, like Hibachi or Da Vinci's The Last Supper.
4. Instead of Rare and Well-Done, we have Blood of Christ or Burnt Offering.

Menu Items
1. For Friday's during Lent, enjoy out Bottomless Basket of Loaves and Fish.
2. For breakfast, we serve the Yolk Of My Yolk Omelet
3. Gorge yourself on the Golden Calf. A slab of beef smothered in Cheddar, Yellow American and Cheez Whiz.
4. Health conscious? Try our Give to Caesar What Is Caesar's Salad!
5. Feast on our desert choices; the Seven Deadly Sins!
6. Be a Fisher of Flan with our Tigris and Euphrates mixture.
7. And don't forget our ever-popular side-dish, the Plague of Fries (Ark of Gravy is $0.50 extra).
8. Oh, and our Leprecy Ribs are to die for! Thy just fall right off the bone!
9. Don't forget our Manager's Special (Left-Overs). We shall call them Ishmael!

I'm thinking of opening the first one somewhere in the Midwest. I don't think it would fly in New York.

Racist Nun

2006-10-30T16:54:00.000-08:00

The mail. It's a daily ritual which I often take forgranted. Why? Well, mostly becasue all I get are bills, Time Out NY and the occasional BBC catalogue. Hum drum, I know.

Today, I recieved an ad for the Big Apple Comic Show (gotta love it when your former employer wants you to give him money), my phone bill and a letter from my old high school.

The class of 1997 is fast approaching its 10 year anniversary, which is much lamented by Eric and myself. I thought the letter may pertain to that most frightening event so I opened the letter.

Like most of my mail, it was a solicitation for money. I was relieved to say the least. I didn't have to get all neurotic about an impending social obligation. Then, I read closer. The solicitation was for a volley ball game, in memory of one of the most racist old bats in the history of the Catholic Church.

I'll refrain from naming her, as it is in bad taste to speak ill of the dead (though if ever there was an exception...). This is the nun that asked my sister if she could see ok and then snickered. She also told me "you don't look like a Gonzales!"

This particular nun was renowned for letting her high honors classes slide while being tough on anyone who didn't make that "prestigious" grade. She also asked a bunch of African American students in DC how they could afford computers. Yet, Queen of Peace High School wants to have a charity event in her honor.

This certainly broke the daily routine of opening letters and writing checks. I started to wonder why someone like that was fondly remembered. Was it because so many high honors (Phase for all you fellow QP kids) got to cheat their way through American History? Or was there some redeeming quality to her that many of us never got to see? No one is perfect, least of all me, but a Nun who repeatedly made jokes about "darkies" getting her own charity event? Preposterous!

Perhaps not, though. After all, reflecting on the second chances I've had, perhaps it's best to remember the good things, to remember that no matter how horrible we, as humans can be, there's always a light, no matter how dim.

Oh shit, Verizon charged me 50 bucks for texts this month. Dammit!

Things that have been occupying my time…

2006-09-14T20:45:00.000-07:00

NUMBER 1

52-This is one of the most ambitious storytelling experiments I’ve ever seen. 4 writers and a slew of artists try to tell one giant story in 52 issues, published weekly. It costs $2.50 an issues and it features “B Squad” characters. No Superman. No Batman. No Wonder Woman. The catch? Well, Lex Luthor’s one of the baddies. What will happen to DC Comics in a year without their Top 3 heroes while their number one villain is running amok, giving regular folks super powers? 19 weeks in and we still don’t know. Oh, and did I mention that’s only ONE subplot? There are 3 heroes lost in space (one of which is blind!), a black-hearted dictator with the power of the gods re-discovers his compassion, a hero loses his pupil to Lex Luthor’s promise of power, 2 detectives trail a criminal organization that uses monsters and alien technology and another detective follows the path of mysticism whilst grieving over his beloved wife.

Oh, yeah, and “Time Is Broken!”

Nineteen weeks in and yes, this story is amazing! I’ve read every issue at least twice, looking for clues to the big mystery; what ties all these divergent stories together?

NUMBER 2

Catching up on my movie watching-I saw a few films this summer, but I’m disappointed by how few films I actually saw. So now, I’m catching up on DVD. Thus far, I’ve watched Inside Man, District B13 and Everything Is Illuminated. Both Inside & Illuminated are full of wonderful actor moments, though Illuminated is far more touching. B13 is just hardcore. I saw Talladega Nights a few weeks ago and I laughed my ass off. Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly , Sacha Baron Cohen and Nascar. Yes, it’s amazing!

PS I just re-watched Star Trek: Nemesis and it is nowhere near as awful as I remembered.

NUMBER 3

Organizing my stuff-That should be self-explanatory.

NUMBER 4

Writing-I’ve been working on a project with a friend of mine for about a month now. We aim to enter it into Channel 102. That’s all I can say about that for now. I’ve also been working on my book. It’s a lot of work, but it’s coming along…slowly.

NUMBER 5

Assembling a Fall Wardrobe-There’s something about a Fall Wardrobe that excites me more than nearly anything I can think of. In fact, I think the Fall itself just charges me up creatively. Perhaps it’s the crisp air, the turning of the leaves, or perhaps it’s because years of school conditioned me to see the Fall as a chance for new beginnings.

Oh well, that’s all for now!

Xoxo

Ian!!!

The downfall of America's youth...

2006-09-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

I saw this on the My Chemical Romance Myspace page. It’s a picture comment.
Numerous grammatical errors and incessant gay bashing aside, I nearly pissed my pants when I read this.

“September 13, 2006 9:12 PM
u guyz seriously suck now... first album- pretty cewl second album- okay dvd- cewl dvd xcept the gay partz new song-sux serious balls like fucking seriously dude... its reallly gay... i wanted to shoot myself in the head just hearing it... seriously dude... fuckin eh...u guyz suck so badly now... im so embarassed to say I use to be a fan... seriously you know how badly i wanted to slit my wrists when u dyed ur hair and cut it like a fuckin ugly douche bag? srsly gerard way...u use 2 be pretty hot with ur old hair... now u look like a fuckin moron... not only that but u sold out 2 mtv... i seriously m gona be laughing my ass off when ur record sales drop to nothing... u guyz make me wana slit my wrists knowing i actually use to like you! holy fuck! I can't believe how sucky u guyz r... and also idun care how much money u make from ur gay ass recordz... just know they suck ballz... and umm... ur also kinda fat... the only real guy i kind of like in ur band is frank iero... and bob... or w/e that drummer guyz name is... dude... u guyz fuckin suck big fat hard throbing dick... and i hope u guyz never sell a record again...” Posted by xXCOKE WHOREXx [VNGNC]XxsavannahxX.

Seriously. Wow. What’s with the incessant gay bashing, little girl? What’s with the fat comment?

I’ll never understand why making a financially successful record is “selling out”. Even when I was a kid (which is what this little girl obviously is), I found it baffling. The Smashing Pumpkins weren’t “sell-outs” and neither was Pearl Jam (I never liked them all that much, but I never thought of them as sell-outs either).

What is it that drives these kids to be so venomous towards 5 guys who made a record they liked? You don’t like it? Go buy another record. As for wishing financial hardships on a band because you don’t like the new song? Are you in special ed classes or something, kids? Honestly, I think American children are getting dumber and dumber with each passing day.

It's a record, children! Do you want something to be angry about? Read a newspaper, there are plenty of things to be angry about, from homelessness to health care to the War in Iraq; there are a plethora of bad things in this world and so many kids choose to get angry over music.

I’ve done my share of tongue in cheek complaining (see my letter to Marvel Comics), but I see more and more people being outright serious and malicious towards something that is ultimately trivial.

Another thing that gets me is the wroter's petulant ranting stems from her opinion of the band's "new look". She barely addresses the song and she centers her rage on hair...HAIR! Ugh!

Look at the venom spurted by readers of Stereogum or Pitchfork media. You’d think this disaffected youth would come to expect mediocrity from Corporate America; but no, they want more naked and pregnant Britney Spears statues to bitch about.

Seriously, what’s wrong with this picture?

Blogs I would have written in the 90s…

2006-08-22T18:58:00.001-07:00

10. Who would have thought a girl could write a Top 40 Hit Single about Dave Coulier? She went down on him in a movie theater, supposedly. What was she, like 16?

9. Wow, I’m going to put my kids through college with The Death of Superman and X-Men # 1 Variant Covers! And I’m only 13! Yes, even though these books had some of the highest print runs in comic book history and since everyone and their mother were saving these comics in plastic bags and boards, somehow, some way, they will be worth a gold mine!

8. How are these Nirvana guys more popular than Metallica? They play, like, 3 chords and they wear crappy clothes!

7. Oooh! A Brazilian steroid freak broke Batman’s back! What? Now a religious zealot is the new Batman? Screw comics!

6. So I started listening to a new style of music; Britpop. I don’t think Oasis or Blur can ever do anything bad…ever!

5. Whoa! AOL is the best thing ever! I can email a picture to my British cousins in a matter of hours! Outstanding!

4. Pulp Fiction just came out on Special Edition VHS. It has something called “Deleted Scenes) at the end of the tape. Who would want to watch those?

3. Tom Cruise married Nicole Kidman. Wow, he’s the smartest and straightest man in Hollywood!

2. I hear that George Lucas is finally making the Star Wars prequels. Everyone agrees that these are going to be the best movies ever!

1. That Nirvana guy committed suicide. It’s sad, but at least I won’t have to hear much about him anymore.

So this may be it...

2006-08-21T17:17:00.000-07:00

In case the world ends tomorrow, I love you all!

However, if tomorrow is just another uneventful day, I say someone holds an Aversion of Armageddon Party! Dollar beers all around!

Who's with me?

xoxo

Ian!!!

I find myself listening to more Abba than Iron Maiden these days. This disturbs me.

2006-08-17T21:59:00.000-07:00

What is it about pop that’s so enticing and addicting? Is it a solid hook? Or perhaps it’s the soothing sound of the usually upbeat melodies? I don’t know; I just love the hell out of it.

What I do know is that for some unknown reason, my usual eclectic musical diet has slowly but surely become a bit lopsided towards pop. Instead of listening to some Iron Maiden or Public Enemy, I’m steering towards Vitesse and Abba.

I’m disturbed because pop usually makes me complacent. At this juncture in my life, I should be anything but. I have a part in a short film to bone up for, I’m working on a short with a friend of mine and I’m going to be shooting some sketches for another group of friends. This is not the time to be resting on my laurels. However, Belle & Sebastian seem to edge out Public Enemy every time I want to listen to music.

For the 3 of you still interested, I’m still working on my novella. It’s on the shelf for now, so I can concentrate on the work immediately in front of me.

Speaking of, that’s enough of this blog stuff, I have work to do!

xoxo

Ian!!!

PS-RIP Booster Gold. That Skeets did you dirty!

An Open Letter To Marvel Comics

2006-08-15T20:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Sirs and Madams,

I’ve enjoyed your comic books immensely over the years. Spider-Man: The Death of Jean DeWolffe, Fantastic Four: Unthinkable and Grant Morrison’s New X-Men run are some of my favorite comic books of all time. Actually, I’m enjoying many of your current titles. I read about the delay of Civil War and many of its tie-ins. Sadly though, I will have to stop purchasing your comic books altogether and I hope retailers and my fellow readers will do the same, realizing how unprofessional and disrespectful this delay is.

You see, I’ve been thinking about my choices in entertainment and I realized that the comic book industry is the only place where a late product is considered acceptable. Films and novels are rarely pushed back after an announced deadline. Why? Professionals deliver a product in a timely fashion. Why should comic books be any different? In the world of magazines, if a freelancer delivers an article after its initial due date, there are consequences, regardless of the writer’s status. There are several good writers who want published articles on their resumes, and they’ll do it on time. So, why keep the writer who holds up the deadline when there’s an entire stable ready to perform the same task? Why are comic book professionals allowed to slide while freelancers and contract players in other media must adhere to a stricter standard?

Jack Kirby drew 2 comic books a month, a much more difficult feat than writing 1 comic book. I understand Mr. Millar is ill, I wish him a speedy recovery. However, this is not entirely his or Mr. McNiven’s fault. This failure and lack of professionalism extends to the editorial office. Time and again you have hype products that you cannot deliver and I can’t think of a single industry where that is allowed to stand. There are thousands of people who want to work in comics and many of them would produce quality work under a deadline. There have been too many late Marvel books in the past several years. Off the top of my head, House of M, Marvel Knights Ghost Rider, Astonishing X-Men, Iron Man, Amazing Spider-Man, Daredevil: Father, Daredevil: The Target Spider-Man and Black Cat: The Evil That Men Do, 1602, She Hulk, Powers and now Civil War and all its tie-ins all suffer from this affliction. While Marvel isn’t the only company shipping late books, it is the most frequent offender.

Now, please don’t cry “what about All Star Batman or Infinite Crisis”, as All Star Batman is not the lynchpin of DC and Infinite Crisis was 2, maybe 3 weeks late (admittedly, I’m not quite sure), not 2 months late as will be the case with Civil War # 5. DC’s error is inexcusable, but it’s not as outrageous as yours.

What baffles me more is that you will publicly chide and embarrass some creators (see Dan Slott) while you publicly apologize and cover up for others (see JMS). Perhaps if there were a consequence to your bottom line, you wouldn’t be as selective with your public brouhaha.

Advertising a monthly book to your readers and then backing out and offering a haphazardly scheduled book to us is insulting. Again, if your current stable of writers and artists can’t deliver, stop allowing them to insult your audience and hire people who will deliver. I’m sure you’ve met many of them at all the conventions you’ve attended this summer. By condoning this chronic lateness that seems to plague today’s comic book “professionals” you too are insulting your readership. If Rolling Stone is late, there are consequences. Consequently, when was the last time that magazine was late? It’s a periodical with more contributors than your own and it comes out on a more frequent basis. Meanwhile, you’re telling us it takes more than a month to put an issue of Amazing Spider-Man together? You’re insulting our intelligence.

I will not purchase anything published or produced by Marvel Comics until you have improved your track record, producing timely, quality entertainment and I urge my fellow readers to do the same. I would hope retailers would cut their Marvel orders accordingly, ordering more from either other mainstream publishers or independent publishers. Hopefully, you at Marvel will be able to rise to this challenge and make mine Marvel again.

Thank you and regards,

Ian Gonzales

http://cleverschmever.blogspot.com

While I'm writing something else...

2006-08-14T10:44:00.000-07:00

Hey, look at me in the background! Then click the image and watch a sweet video.

Top 10 Signs That I'm Getting Old...

2006-07-31T18:14:00.000-07:00

10. I know what a Spud Gun is.

9. I remember a time when Apple was the computer for retards.

8. I remember when Super Mario wore brown.

7. I remember the Multiverse.

6. I remember when Trickle Down Economics was a new and novel idea.

5. I used to make mixtapes, actual mixtapes, not mix CDs.

4. I know the signifigance of 33 1/3, 45 and 78.

3. I remember when Andrew Dice Clay was "Edgy".

2. Commmodore 64. Yeah, I played that.

1. I remember when it was really mean to make light of AIDS.

And for fun, a little improvised video I made with my friend, Shaun...

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

iTunes at work...

2006-07-28T11:16:00.000-07:00

From time to time, I'll downlad something at work (always free, mind you) like the newest Daytrotter sessions or something neat off of Stereogum or something like that.

I've been letting the library play in alphabetical order today and I noticed that once my Spoon songs end, the next artist in my library is Stan Bush.

Who is Stan Bush, you ask?

Here you go...

Stereogum posted this video a week or so ago, so they beat me to the punch. Whatever, I'm feeling all misty-eyed and nostalgic.

Now, I'm assuming you all know more about Spoon than you do Stan Bush, so, quite obviously, they don't really jive together. It's kind of like playing Def Leppard after a Beastie Boys' "Paul's Boutique".

So, my question, dear reader, is this; what artist would fit inbetween these two artists and bridge the gap between their musical stylings?

Help!

xoxo
Ian!!!

Summer Stuff

2006-07-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

OK, I've been away from the blogosphere for sometime. Hey, it's summer and the weather's been awful. I've been procrastinating when it comes to blogs because I've been busy listening to a lot of music, reading a lot of comics and books and I've been watching Superman Returns.

Fear not, for I shall be returning shortly with a review of Clerks 2, musings on New Jersey and New York life as well as some social commentary.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I've been writing a novel.

See all 10 of you readers soon,
Ian!!!

PS I learned to love "Radio Tokyo". It's in 3 of my iPod Playlists.

PPS Yes, I now own an iPod.

Just Because You Drive A Crown Victoria That Doesn't Mean You're A Cop, Jerk.

2006-06-15T18:38:00.000-07:00

I think the title above adequetly explains one of the many frustrations that crossed my path today.

I'm listening to Puffy AmiYumi's "Radio Tokyo" right now and I can't say I'm terribly impressed. It's not a bad song, but I'm not feeling it. I think I liked them better when I had no idea what they were saying, kind oif like the Pizzicato Five or Guitar Wolf.

I came home, intent on finishing a very short screenplay only to face a terrible case of writer's block. What's worse is, I've been talking about it for awhile now and I still don't find it presentable. Thhere are some good jokes, but there's something missing, a "maturity" I suppose. So, I thought it may be a good idea to expose myself to some art. After all, it's not like I had a terribly good or productive day up to this point.

I woke up, had a discussion about a friend's impending nuptuals, showered, had breakfast and went to work. There, I was instructed to write about a server and a 1930s Ford Model A. Yeah, I know...that makes perfect sense.

After inundating myself in computer lingo an archaic automotive lore, I left the office. While turning onto the Parkway, some geriatric douche in a Crown Victoria cuts me off. I so wanted him to smash into the "Toll Free" sign, perishing in flames before he spent his eternal torture in another fiery pit for being an asshole in a Crown Victoria. There's a special circle in Hell for that kind of man, I'm sure of it.

Why is it so much easier to write about this nonsense than it is to write a story about a salesman? Is it because Arthur Miller and David Mamet have done such acclaimed work with that oh so American archetype that I feel beaten before I begin?

No.

I'm writing a comedy.

Comedy is hard, like, a virgin on Prom Night hard.

On that note, back to the genius!

xoxo

Ian!!!

Shameless self-promotion

2006-06-07T20:32:00.000-07:00

Oooh! Lookie Here! I'm an actor...again.
And a blast from the past...

Michael Ian Black @ Maxwell’s 6/2/06

2006-06-03T10:55:00.000-07:00

Seeing Michael Ian Black perform at Maxwell’s was like going to see Jon Lovitz at a Weight Watchers meeting. Walking in, I wasn’t quite sure if I was about to sit through his clips from Vh1 or if I was going to get a real stand-up routine.

Boy, do I love being a pessimist, as I was pleasantly surprised.

Last night’s performance was hysterical. Michael Ian Black proved once again that he’s not just “that Vh1 guy”. He performed for about an hour, lambasting everything from Hitler to his possibly retarded son to Myspace. The crowd, much younger than I originally envisioned, didn’t utter so much as one State reference. Though they all laughed when he referred to himself as “the guy who talks about the Rubik’s Cube.”

Never one to shy away from self-deprecation, Mr. Black ran the gamut of skinny nerd from New Jersey to cocky C-List Basic Cable TV star. Realizing he couldn’t go down on every woman in the audience, he turned to a knock-knock joke his son write. It made no sense at all, which led to a monologue about his son possibly, no, probably being retarded.

He’s deceptively quick. When a woman in the audience screamed, “Bush sucks!” Mr. Black retorted, “That is an astute political observation, young lady. Someone get this girl on CNN.” Brilliant stuff.

Next time he’s in the neighborhood, check his set out, it’s completely worth the admission.

Xoxo

Ian!!!

PS Michael Showalter and the O’Debra Twins are doing a show at the Goldhawk on June 25…I’m so down!

X-Men: The Last Stand-A CleverSchmever Review…

2006-05-28T18:02:00.000-07:00

Let me start off by saying, I have a love/hate relationship with the X-Men. I love the concept and a lot of the characters, but I hate a lot of the stories that chronicle their adventures in a world that fears and hates them. So, I’m open to change and adaptation when it comes to these characters. In fact, I encourage it. I’m not a continuity nerd, at least, not in the traditional sense.

When I watched the first 2 X-Men movies, I wasn’t annoyed or angered by the adjustments made by Bryan Singer and company. I loved their take on Nightcrawler and the character's borderline zealotry. I enjoyed the depth of Iceman’s “coming out” scene and I adored the opening sequence of the first film, where Nazi’s separate a young Magneto from his parents at a Concentration Camp.

However, Brett Ratner’s X-Men: The Last Stand takes the word “adaptation” to a whole new meaning. While Mr. Singer kept to the spirit and message of the source material, Mr. Ratner and company seemed more than a little lost. Perhaps it was because Josh Holloway turned down the part of Gambit, causing the character to be removed from the film. Or perhaps it was the lack of a screenplay. Or perhaps it’s because Tom Rothman rushed the movie into and out of production in order to beat Bryan Singer’s Superman Returns to the theaters. Whatever the reason, X-Men: The Last Stand fails compared to the previous films.

When the film starts, it looks like it’s going to keep the loyal spirit of its predecessors. The viewer is treated to a flashback with a young Charles Xavier and Magneto. There’s a fun fight scene that introduces a classic X-Men concept (I won't rruin it for you), a meaty Cyclops and Wolverine scene and the introduction of the sublime Kelsey Grammar as The Beast. Ratner even elevates Kitty Pryde from background character to full-on X-Man. However, the film quickly descends into madness as deaths that never happened in the comics pop up and a new explanation of the Phoenix gets blurted into the story. The lack of structure is akin to the work of a 6 year-old playwright.

Gone is the complex story structure of part 2, where several plot threads weave together forming a cohesive, stunning ending, challenging the viewer along the way. In this film, everything is spelled out for the viewer, there’s no real challenge for the audience. We were smart enough for the first 2 films, yet it seemed Fox thought we weren’t smart enough ffor this go-around, so they dumbed it down. Characters like Rogue, Angel, Mystique and Cyclops are tossed aside in favor of an idiotic Juggernaut who has to pee, something vaguely resembling the Dark Phoenix, “new” mutants and a suddenly vicious Pyro.

Magneto, arguably one of the most empathetic and complex villains in recent cinema history, traipses sround as a 1 dimensional supervillain. What happened to the man torn between his former friends and his ideals? It’s like the only person on set that understood the character was Sir Ian McKellan. Consummate gentleman that he is, Sir Ian delivers the dialogue he’s given and does his best to add Magneto’s previous persona into this installment of the series. He’s partially successful.

Then, we get poor Halle Berry. The woman has been shafted as Storm for 2 movies and now she gets her chance to shine. Unfortunately, her dialogue is so poorly written that you can see the super-talented Ms. Berry struggling to make it believable. She almost pulled it off, and that is a credit to her skill as an actress.

Kelsey Grammar was a great choice for Beast, as was Ellen Page for Kitty Pryde, but the film never slows down enough to explore their characters. When watching X-Men 2, there’s so much amazing character development from Pyro to Rogue to Nightcrawler to Wolverine and everyone else (well, except for Storm and Cyclops). Was it perfect? No, but it as, dare I court a pun, exceptional.

Overall, X-Men: The Last Stand seems rushed. The Angel is just there to say “Hey, I’m the Angel, I’m a character from the comic!” Jean Grey’s turn to evil is half explained and none-too satisfactory. It just happens. Also, there are a few grievous betrayals that are glossed over, and a major death happens off-screen. Mind you, none of the film even remotely resembles the source material. It’s like they were working off the first draft of a screenplay. It’s completely devoid of subtext or substance.

Oh, and the actual “Last Stand” reminded me of the beginning of Joel Schumacher’s “Batman and Robin” opening sequence…terrible. This movie was poorly written and quite a letdown. So, I say to you dear reader, at least Superman hits on June 30 and Snakes on a Plane hits August 18.

Xoxo

Ian!!!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Pomp and Circumcision

2006-05-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

I was in the deli today, ordering an Italian hero when I heard 2 men, probably in their mid 40’s, talking about castration as a viable means of deterring rape. Of course, one was for it and the other against.

“Willie! Cut off the willie and he won’t be a problem anymore,” said the one surly trucker, waiting for his bologna sandwich with extra mayo.

Personally, I’ve never found castration to be an effective deterrence, as a rapist rapes for power, not sexual gratification. You lop his pecker off and a broomstick will do just as well, just ask Abner Louima.

As the counter girl was slicing my salami, I remembered that I have a birthday party to go to this weekend. I’m unclear on the particulars, but I’m aware that it’ll be somewhere in the Union Square area. I need to take the train to the comic store before this excursion.

***Mental note, make some calls and find out particulars.***

Celebrations are a funny thing. If one looks hard enough at life, one can find a myriad of celebrations in the most horrifying of rituals. Take the Jewish ceremony of brit mila as an example. According to Wikipedia, it is “a religious ceremony within Judaism that welcomes infant Jewish boys into a covenant between God and the Children of Israel through ritual circumcision.”

In order to make this covenant, one must cut a child’s penile protection off. Granted, it makes cleaning much easier, but still, one has to question the sanity of the ritual’s parent. Did he choose the foreskin for a particular reason, or was it a crapshoot or the flip of a coin? Caesar, it’s foreskin, The Coliseum, it’s eyelids?

Or, look at the Evangelical practice of “The Altar Call” where one goes up to the alter, potentially in front of hundreds of people, and announces one’s belief in Jesus Christ. This is great for anyone without a fear of public speaking, but for a timid man or woman, this has to terrifying.

Actually, better yet, let’s look at Communion. Not Catholic, Orthodox or Lutheran Communion/Eucharist, but the broad view of communion taken by other Christian churches. You see, Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Lutheran churches believe in Transubstantiation wherein, the bread and wine are transformed, spiritually, into the body and blood of Christ. It’s taken verbatim from the Last Supper.

However, according to most other Christian religions, this ritual of Communion doesn’t involve the leap of faith that is Transubstantiation. No, instead, they view the bread and wine as a symbol with no real spiritual value other than mimicking the Last Supper on a surface level, with very little burrowing or spiritual investigation into the subtext of the original event. Monkey see, monkey do.

Rituals do come with an upside though. No, not the parties! Who wants to spend an inordinate amount of time with an aunt who forgot the necessities of deodorant at age 62? I’m talking about the real benefit, presents!

When I made my First Communion, I was about 7 years old. I was in the second grade and my greatest desire was to watch Alf on Monday nights. First Communion was on Sunday, so I had about 33 hours before my weekly ritual.

It was a nice day, sunny and Spring-ish. Back in the 1980s, the church would hold a special mass for First Communicants, so I got to sleep in a little later that Sunday. I woke up, had breakfast at the Tick Tock then my family then we ran home so I could wear my really expensive, one-time use only Communion Suit. It was all white. I swear I looked like a miniature Leisure Suit Larry.

We carted over to mass where I had to see some of the nuns from school (always a pleasure, especially when they slapped me on the head for having an uncooperative cow’s lick). We filed into position and heard the importance of the Rite we were about to partake in. The priest explained the significance of the Eucharist and how wonderful it was that we’d be taking in the body and blood of Christ and the concept of Transubstantiation. These were some softy thoughts for a 7 Year Old to take in. So, I began turning around, looking at relatives in the Church wondering what kind of loot they got me.

Out “family friend”, the Psychiatrist was there; he was a good guy and always got me some sweet gifts. To his left was my aunt, the Queen of Home Shopping. She probably bought me collectible coin of some kind. Bitch. Oooh! My deadbeat “cousin’s” in the back! I’ll bet she got me a card with a crumpled up Five Dollar bill inside. Score!

The mass went on I was blinded by my religious experience. Either that, or all the damn flashes from stupid relatives’ cameras fried my cornea. Anywho, I got carted home like an invalid and the fun began.

I was right about most of my gifts, save one. My “cousin” gave me a crumpled up Hamilton. When I looked at the bill, I noticed what looked like dried blood and white stuff. Mother assured me that the white stuff was sugar and she quickly switched bills on me. My “cousin” then told me she had too many pixie sticks as she rubbed her nose like dog who stuck it’s nose in squirrel feces.

My “cousin” was a Theater Major at a prestigious New York State college. She was about 6 feet tall and rail thing. She always had a puffy nose, which led me to ponder at Christmas whether or not I was related to Rudolph. She also had a voracious appetite, followed by long trips to the bathroom. She works in the psychiatric field now.

That year, she began telling me about Buddha and Siddhartha (a book I later read in High School). She was going on about the Meditative Mind and I asked her what it had to do with Eucharist. Mother quickly ushered her to the horse devours and me to one last gift.

It was a rather large package, at least it was to a youngin’ such as myself. I tore it open like a Romero zombie would a Biker and low and behold I got the greatest Communion present ever, Talking Alf! Talking Alf was about 2 feet and furry as hell. Later, my cat, Puddles, would lick him and cough up hairballs all over my house.
I would no longer have to wait until Monday to hear his alien observances and musings on the Human Condition.

Nothing was better than that. As I remembered this fond memory, my order was up and I paid counter woman. I grabbed my food and looked over at the two men debating the merits of castration. They’d moved on to the Yankees and the forthcoming Subway Series. It never ceases to amaze me the leaps in logic we, as humans will sometimes make.

xoxo

Ian!!!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Ian-finite Crisis Part 1

2006-05-21T21:08:00.000-07:00

So, my friend Greg wants me to explain DC Comics’ Infinite Crisis to him. Why? He's probably too lazy or too broke to catch up. However, I'll do my best to condense the monstrosity that is Crisis into a few blogs. I suppose I should start at the beginning, a very delicate thing, to be sure…

Back in 1985, DC Comics realized that their continuity was a mess. So, they did something no comic company ever dreamed of doing, a complete re-boot. That’s right, the DC Universe was going to start from scratch. They decided to publish a miniseries that told the tail of the end of the old DC Universe and the beginning of a new one, the Crisis on Infinite Earths.

You see, as the DC Universe continued to age, there were several variations of their top tier characters. There were 2 Batmen, 2 Supermen, 2 Wonder Women, hell, even 2 Atoms! Basically, if a character was created between 1938 and 1954, they hailed from Earth 2. If a character was created between 1954 to 1985, characters were from Earth 1 (unless of course, they were legacy characters like Power Girl-the cousin of Earth 2 Superman or Huntress-the Daughter of Earth 2 Batman). Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman existed on both worlds, while Earth 1 featured new versions of classic heroes (The aforementioned Atom, Green Lantern, Flash and others). Confusing, no? That’s not to mention the other parallel universes, like Earth Prime (a striking resemblance to the “real” world), Earth S (Home of SHAZAM!), Earth 4 (Home of the Blue Beetle, Nightshade and The Question) and Earth 3.

Earth 3 was a universe populated by evil versions of the Justice League. Superman’s doppelganger was Ultraman, Flash’s devilish duplicate was Johnny Quick, Green Lantern’s cruel copy was Power Ring and…well, you get the idea.

However, Earth 3 had a sole super hero, Lex Luthor. Lex was married to the Lois Lane of Earth 3 and they had a child, Alexander Luthor. Alexander had a unique biological makeup. He was composed of both Matter and Anti-Matter.

When the Big Bang happened in the DC Universe, there was an asshole scientist named Krona. Krona wanted to see the Big Bang. However, as all great minds know, once you observe something, you automatically change it, even if it’s the most subtle of changes.

When the Big Bang happened, Krona viewed the event and caused the birth of the Multiverse. You see, it was only supposed toi be one Universe, that is, until Krona observed it. There were an infinite number of parallel, positive matter Universes, and there was one Anti-Matter Universe. Both of them had their own guardians.

Upon the birth of the Positive Matter Multiverse, the Monitor was born. He watched over all things, taking detailed notes (and even an Apprentice, Harbinger) in his Satellite.

In the Anti-Matter Universe, The Anti-Monitor was born and became aware of his Positive Matter duplicate. Jealous of the Multiverse under his Brother’s Eye, the Anti Monitor began to eat the Positive Matter Universe, converting it to Anti Matter and thereby making him more powerful.

The Monitor gathered the heroes of the Positive Matter Universe, led by Alexander Luthor and Harbinger, to battle his evil brother. Many died, including The Monitor, The Flash (Barry Allen), Earth 2 Robin, Dove, Earth 2 Green Arrow, Supergirl, Mirror Master, Icicle, Kole, Earth 2 Lex Luthor and countless others.

The final battle started at the Dawn of Time, when The Anti-Monitor and the Specter (the Wrath of God incarnate) did battle, preventing Krona from changging the birth of the Universe and causing the remaining Positive Matter worlds to merge into one, putting both Matter and Anti-Matter on equal footing. Then, the heroes trek to the Anti-Matter Universe to kill the Anti Monitor. They win, but not without paying a heavy price.

At the end of the story, Earth 2 Superman, his wife, Earth 2 Lois Lane, the Superboy of Earth Prime and Alexander Luthor retreat to a “Paradise” because they can’t return to the new, unified Earth. Thus ended the original Crisis. That was 20 years ago…

For the past 20 years, Alexander Luthor, Superboy Prime and the Earth 2 versions of Superman and Lois Lane have been watching the “Unified Earth” unfold. At first, they felt their sacrifice was a just one, until the death of Jason Todd.

Jason Todd was the second Robin. He was a punk. He pushed some Latino kid with diplomatic immunity off a roof. Shortly after that, the Joker beat him to death with a crowbar and then blew him up for good measure. This “Unified Earth” was becoming a much darker place than our exiles would have hoped. Then, the unthinkable happened: Doomsday.

Doomsday was a rampaging monster with no brain to speak of. Imagine Bizarro, but dumber. Doomsday killed Superman. After that, everything went a little nuts. Coast City, home of Green Lantern, was destroyed. A South American steroid junkie broke Batman’s back, and a religious zealot took the Dark Knight’s place. Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) went insane after the loss of his city and tried to re-make the Universe in his image, killing a few billion people in the process. Aquaman got his hand bit off by piranhas and Wonder Woman snapped a guy’s neck on national TV.

The world had gone to hell and no one could save it. At least, that’s what Alexander Luthor showed his fellow exiles.

Upon seeing this world, only one thought crossed the minds of the forgotten heroes…This is a job for Superman!

To Be Continued…

xoxo

Ian!!!

Quiet Humping

2006-05-13T17:47:00.000-07:00

For years, copulating couples have been making a grievous error in etiquette. Believing they are being courteous to their friends and roommates, they have been partaking in a ritual known to apartment dwellers everywhere as “Quiet Humping”.

Quiet Humping is the phenomenon in which a couple makes love/screws whilst making a bare minimum of noise. Supposedly, they do this under the belief that they are being courteous to their roommates, houseguests and children. However, Quiet Humping is anything but courteous. It’s uncomfortable.

Picture this, you’re watching TV or reading a book in the common area. Suddenly, you begin to hear a persistent creak at apparent random intervals. It seems to be rhythmic, but the beat is anything but steady. If anything, it sounds like an un-seaworthy fish trawler. Then, you hear what sounds like a 7-year-old drowning boy gasping for air, uttering his final prayers to whatever deity he’s been told to believe in. The creak gets faster, the gasps a little louder. You may even hear a thump or two, like Jacob Marley dragging the weight of his sins to your door. Chilling, isn’t it?

Quiet Humpers, you are not only disturbing your friends, you are also doing yourselves a disservice. You’re putting yourselves under a pressure that denies you your right to have great, uninhibited sex. What’s more fun, whispering, or loudly declaring your love/lust for your partner’s sexual prowess, member size or wetness? Yeah, the latter.

“Isn’t it rude to do just let loose in a shared living space?”

Hell no! It’s entertaining! In fact, Quiet Humping is a completely selfish act. It’s so much fun to see a roommate’s significant other do the walk of shame after a night of breathless observations regarding genitals and sexual proclivity. Stop being so selfish and give your roommate the opportunity to say, “so, did you do her like David Hasselhoff?” To think, you are depriving your friends of such wit.

You're not being terribly stealthy about your torrid affair. Your roommates know what you’re doing and the only thing, aside from the creepy factor, that crosses their minds is that you and your partner are lousy in the sack. Well, either that or you’re drowning a 7-year-old boy in your fish tank. You have no rhythm whatsoever and you’re unenthusiastic about the process of sex. Now, appealing to that selfish part of you, do you really want them to think that about you? I mean, you’re a lousy lay and let’s say you and you’re significant other break up. Do you really want your roommate telling a potential girlfriend/boyfriend a story about your lack of excitement in the bedroom? No! You’re an animal! Let it out!

Can “Loud Humping” be annoying? Yes, of course it can, especially if I’m trying to watch The Shawshank Redemption. However, it provides hours of entertainment in the long run and good will amongst non-psychotic roommates. So, please, next time you decide to hump while your roommate is home, hump loud, hump proud!

Xoxo

Ian!!!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Drivel War

2006-05-09T09:22:00.000-07:00

While perusing the Internet, I stumbled upon some rather bizarre political debates. However, these aren’t debates about the Bush Administration and it’s continuous string of bungles and shady side deals. Nor is it a debate about the recent debacle that was Italy’s elections. In fact, these ethics debates are about an entirely fictitious piece of legislature called the Super Hero Registration.

This past week, Marvel Comics released the first issue of their mega-event, Civil War. It’s written by Mark Millar (a huge fan of mixing politics and super heroes) and drawn by Steve McNiven. In a nutshell, tragedy strikes the Marvel Universe as a group of young heroes inadvertently kill hundreds of innocent school children. The US Government is sick of costumed vigilantes who aren’t held accountable for their actions. A bill is introduced into Congress that would make all super-heroes government employees, and thereby accountable. Of course, some super heroes don’t like the idea, so they rebel while others go along with it; hence the title, Civil War. It should be a fun story if the first issue is any indication.

Previous Marvel stories such as Secret War, House of M, Planet Hulk and New Avengers: The Illuminati, have foreshadowed a growing problem in the Marvel Universe. Nick Fury is no longer in charge of Marvel’s token spy agency, SHIELD, The Scarlet Witch de-powered most of the mutants (that’s the X-Men), and Iron Man, Mr. Fantastic & Dr. Strange shot the Hulk into space. Now, all these events have come to a head.

On message boards and talkbacks across the web, people are taking time out of their day not to discuss the current fuel crisis or hunger in a third world nation, but whether or not Spider-Man should tell the President his secret identity. Who’s right? Iron Man or Captain America? How does this affect Black Goliath? These fans talk about this issue as if it were a real thing, completely ignoring the subtext beneath the story of Super Heroes at war.
In a world filled with so many serious issues, such as the “War on Terror”, the scarred face of American Foreign Policy and Sally Struthers eating Ethiopians, These fans aren’t putting enough thought into what the author is really trying to say. All they seem to be doing is commenting on the surface.

Mark Millar, loves injecting politics into his work. Ultimates and Ultimates 2 is chock full of political ideas, some of which I agree with, and some not. But, like any good writer, Millar pumps these fictional stories with very real themes and the occasional iconoclast. Like Jonathan Swift before him, the world Mr. Millar creates reflects our own. He wants the reader to compare the real world to his stories. Unfortunately, it seems many fans are stuck on the fictional politics of the Marvel Universe and not of their actual, real-world surroundings.

The conflict in Civil War is an obvious allegory for Civil Liberites. This is not the first time Millar has put his political views in a mainstream comic book. In the most recent Ultimates 2 story, Grand Theft America, Captain America and company occupy a small Middle Eastern country. The citizens of said country despise said occupation. This leads to the Super Villains of the story seeking vengeance and punishment on the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, much the way Al Qaeda, Iraqi Insurgents and other terrorist groups seek to punish the imperialistic devils of the West. Millar shows both sides of the argument, but there is a clear good guy in the story, the face of idealism himself, Captain America.

Mr. Millar wrote the neo-classic, Superman: Red Son. In the story, Superman lands in the Stalin's Soviet Union, as opposed to a Kansas corn crop. The story pits the Superman of the Proletariat against American genius, Lex Luthor. It’s an old song with a new breakdown. Millar portrays Superman as the kind-hearted demigod who raises the Soviet Union to an almost Utopian state while Luthor and the US Government repeatedly try and defeat the Man of Steel, often neglecting the needs of their citizens. The book is an allegory for the Cold War and all the horrors committed by both sides, both ideals. Arguably, it’s one of the best Superman stories ever written. It's full of subtext, just like Civil War.

Unfortunately, while reading what some fellow comic fans had to say, I was disheartened by the lack of logical leaps. There are little references to the problems mirrored in our world, just people psyched to see the obscure Nighthawk involved in the issue. Why is this? Why can’t they compare the struggles of these characters to the assault on Freedom of Speech that we’ve been fighting for years? Why must they look at the logistics of Super Hero Registration instead of the implications of illegal NSA wiretaps on their cell phones?

The truth is, I don’t have a concrete answer. Yes, entertainment is a form of escapism, but art stimulates thought. Civil War is a blend of the two. Is it artistic entertainment or art masquerading as entertainment? Either way, there are some excellent points to be seen in the story and I wish my fellow readers would make the intellectual jump.

Xoxo

Ian!!!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

My phone smells like ham...

2006-05-08T20:48:00.000-07:00

A familiar beep rang in my A familiar beep rang in my pants.

"Ooh! I have a text message!"

I grab my phone, anxious to see who wants to talk to me. Who could it be? Am I being invited out for drinks? Does somebody want to say "hi"? Does someone need my counsel? Am I missing something funny?

I flip my phone open, excitement pouring from my brow.

"Capriciousness: You too can get cash now. www.ijustspammmedyourphoneasshole.com Jonathan"

What? No love? No need for my sage-like advice? No booze, coffee or corn beef hash?

Fucker!

You heard it here first, my cell phone got spammed!

Has anyone else had this problem yet, because I, for one, find it rather annoying. I get enough nonsense texts as it is from my friends, now I've got complete strangers sending me messages? What's next?!

I can see it now.

I'm on a date, it's going reasonably well. We're having a lovely dinner by candle light, engaged in witty banter, probably making fun of the other patrons or we're having a fiery debate about literature (OK, Star Wars or Batman, but just bear with me). Suddenly, I hear that familiar jingle.

"What's that?"
"A text message," I say.
"Oh, aren't you going to check it?"
"That would be rather rude of me."
"No, go ahead."

***Mental note, find less obnoxious text message ringer***

I pull out my phone. No doubt, my date is a little nosy (like most women) and peers at my phone only to see...

"Short Dick? Get Large Now! Big Penis isn't far away!"

How am I supposed to explain that? I'll no doubt go home alone, while an entire pool of possible drunken encounters perish in the flames "worst date stories ever".

"Oh my God! This guy I was on a date with got a text message about enlarging his penis!"
The giggles would, I'm sure, ensue.
"That's horrible!"
"His friends must be assholes."
"Yeah, but what if it's true?"
And so, the collective will most likely nod in agreement.

Chickenheads.

See what I'm going too have to deal with? And no, it's not just me either. How long until the Viagra and Provestra ads hit your phones, dear reader?

Man, this sucks.

xoxo

Ian!!!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Mixed Connections

2006-05-03T19:33:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about submitting this to Craigslist in the "Missed Connections" section.

I was a 5’ 10”, 270 pound white guy with a scruffy beard on the Journal Square bound PATH train.

You were a 5’ 4” brunette (no more that 100 pounds), wearing a brown sweater and drinking a Dunkin’ Donuts Hazelnut coffee, medium, if memory serves.

I was thinking about the Augusten Burroughs reading I’d just attended and possible birthday gifts for a friend.

You were sipping your coffee, probably hoping no one jacked your car in Jersey City.

I moved closer to you, since more people got on at the Christopher Street stop and I pondered how Schopenhauer’s Will-To-Life could possibly apply to the pairing of Danny DeVito and Rhea Pearlman.

You were probably thinking, “God, this fat sweaty guy has moved way too close to me. I hate the PATH.”

I looked over and noticed a guy who looked remarkably like David Sedaris. I texted a a friend, elaborating on my observation. Sadly, it was not David Sedaris, this guy sounded way too blue-colllar.

You were probably thinking, “I’ll bet this sweaty fat guy gets hella bad swamp ass.”

While rustling through my bag for a pen, I thought, “If I loose like, a hundred pounds and shave my beard, I just might look like Kiefer Sutherland. Especially with my sweet messenger bag, it looks just like the ‘Jack Sack’.”

You got off at Newport/Pavonia and I noticed you were wearing sweatpants, like, outside, in, you know, public. My opinion of you dropped a thousand feet. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, maybe you should look into jeans or track pants. With the wonders of modern technology, there's no excuse for sweatpants (or leggings for that matter), ma'am.

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

LolliLove-A CleverSchmever Review

2006-05-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

The mockumentary is a form that most of us equate with “This Is Spinal Tap” and the inferior NBC version of “The Office” (sorry, I had to take the jab). It’s a fun, if limiting format. Trust me, I’ve worked on two and they’re a royal pain. As a filmmaker, one must strive even harder to keep the illusion of reality, as he or she is attempting to make the viewer truly believe that what lies before their eyes is truth.

The most successful variation of this form was the 1938 broadcast of The War Of The Worlds. Ah, the people of the early 20th century were so foolish, they actually believed aliens were invading New Jersey! Next thing you know, those dim-witted, backwards primates would believe the rest of the world has no opinion on American foreign policy. What a bunch of doofi (yes, that’s the plural of doofus). All political statements aside, Jenna Fischer pulls off the mockumentary with aplomb in the Troma Team release, LolliLove.

My love affair began on www.myspace.com. Unfortunately, I found out this girl was 13 and not 23, so I quickly moved on to the videos section. I saw a trailer for LolliLove and noticed James Gun (Tromeo and Juliet, Dawn of the Dead) was in it, as was the really cute girl from The (American) Office. Lloyd Kaufman himself did the intro and I was sold!

LolliLove follows Jenna Fischer and her real-life husband, James Gunn, as they wistfully decide to start a charity. After going over a list that included AIDS victims, cleft pallet kids and gays in the military, they settled on the homeless. More specifically, they decide to give the homeless lollipops. These aren’t your regular, run of the mill lollipops, no! These lollipops sport wrappers with original artwork and inspirational phrases!

The film tracks the idea from inception to execution, following James and Jenna as LolliLove takes on a life of its own and nearly destroys their friendships and marriage. Ultimately, it leads to a showdown with the homeless that will have you just as uncomfortable as I was the first time I ate Applebee’s Cheesy Bacon Tavern Chips. All the while, everyone in the film keeps a straight face.

Jenna and James quietly and adeptly take a scythe to pseudo-intellectuals everywhere. From subjects such as religion, to the Holocaust to personal hygiene, they have the most inane coffee table discussions, lampooning the lack of education and tact often seen in sunny Los Angeles and Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

Since it’s a Troma Team release, the movie doesn’t have the greatest production value. Whenever I watch a Troma movie, I tend to laugh at this little tidbit, not exactly in a condescending fashion, but in a “I made a student film that looks better than this” kind of way. However, the use of the mockumentary format hides the lack of budget. The team worked with what they had and turned out a funny tale about the bored rich trying to help the less fortunate.

All in all, I say go rent or buy LolliLove, available from Troma Team. The DVD is full of extras, ranging from commentary, to deleted scenes to a making of featurette. If Superman made you believe a man can fly, Lollilove will make you believe you can make a movie. The packaging may look like cheap porn, but it’s much more fulfilling (and cheaper, too).

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Littering Literature With Alliteration Chapter 3

2006-04-27T12:07:00.000-07:00

Littering Literature With Alliteration

Profiles In Nerdery-(Formerly How I Became A Dork) Part 3

Vicarious Valentine ~or~ Everything I needed to know about romance, I learned from Peter Parker

For whatever reason, being a dork tends to be synonymous with a crappy love life. Perhaps it has something to do with all the perfection seen in the fantastic, or perhaps it’s that many dorks like their own head more than the outside world. It’s not an easy question to answer, but it exists nonetheless. So, we turn our eye to the closest representation of a dork that nerdery can provide: Peter Parker, The Amazing Spider-Man.

When Stan Lee created Peter Parker, he set out to create the everyman as a super-hero. He wanted the reader to think that he too, could be bitten by a radioactive spider and gain the proportionate strength of said spider. During Lee’s tenure on the book (and afterwards, at least for a few years), this was a dream that someone without any scientific knowledge could hold onto.

While looking at the cast of The Amazing Spider-Man, one can infer that Stan Lee and Steve Ditko wanted to inspire the readers by giving them a hero they could relate too. Peter was a bookworm, taunted by the kids at school and thoroughly unlucky with the ladies. Also, Ditko was sure to populate Forest Hills, Queen with loads of ugly people.
Look at J. Jonah Jameson, Peter’s cantankerous boss at the Daily Bugle. The guy sports a Hitler mustache and a buzz cut, yet he has a son, which leads me to believe he procreated at least once!

Surely, if the topography and population were accurate, so are the situations, right? After all, Peter was the everyman. Peter Parker was just about unlucky in everything. He got beat up at school, every girl he was interested in either spurned him or saw him as “the gay friend” or she just wanted Spider-Man and not “Puny” Parker. This went on for quite sometime. However, young Mr. Parker’s luck had to change sometime, right?

While fighting guys in rubber goblin masks, Peter gave Betty Brant and company the appearance of disinterest, when in reality, he is “the nice guy” who always gets screwed.
However, while in his Spidey duds, Peter Parker appeared to be a jerk. This made him seem more desirable to the female cast. Some would call this a creepy parallel to the real world. He may have been a nerd. But he was a busy nerd, always running off, spinning a web of mystery around himself. This caught the eyes of Gwen Stacy.

Gwen Stacy was the love of his life. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man would often pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. While life wasn’t exactly blissful for the arachnid lead, he was content in knowing he’d found the love of his life.

Surely, if Peter Parker could find love, the reader could too. All the time, the “nice guy” will see the “jerk” get the girl, and here it was, accidentally working for the spandex-clad nerd. There was hope for the reader, thanks to Peter Parker.

Remember that guy with the rubber goblin mask I was talking about earlier? He dropped Gwen Stacy off a bridge.

Yet again, it sucks to be Peter Parker.

Peter moped around for a few years (probably a few months in comic time) and in that time, we discovered that he’d been molested as a child and that he’d slumped to the role of college drop-out. Poor guy couldn’t make rent. On the upside, he meets a woman named the Black Cat. Unfortunately, she wanted Peter to keep his Spidey mask on during coitus. Long story short, she was the rebound girl.

At this point, the reader would probably be down in the dumps too. We’ve all been there. We meet a girl, we love her, we lose her, we get in a slump. Same for Peter Parker, ever our everyman.

Enter Mary Jane Watson.

For everyone whose only Spidey knowledge comes from the movies and cartoons, MJ didn’t pop up until later in Peter’s life. She was around, but they weren’t really romantically involved until the 1980s. MJ cared for Peter and she decided to make her move. Peter, ever the hero, keeps her at a distance, because he doesn’t want her to get hurt. After a harrowing clash with The Puma, MJ confesses to Peter that she knows he wears pajamas. The smile, they kiss and they get married. Happily. Ever. After.

The lesson learned? Get your girlfriend tossed off a bridge and a Super Model will fall in love with you.

So, digest that for a second. Weird, right? OK, so maybe Peter Parker isn’t the exact mirror of dorks everywhere, but we could sure take a page or 2 from his books (minus the spandex or the whole getting molested by a guy named Skip thing). Just avoid maniacs with rubber masks, kids.

End Part 3

This chapter is dedicated to Mikey, who taught me that even the greatest of nerds can get laid. Thanks, buddy.

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Littering Literature With Alliteration Chapter 2

2006-04-26T17:21:00.000-07:00

Littering Literature With Alliteration

How I Became A Dork by Ian Gonzales

Part 2: Nintendo Nincompoop ~or~ How I Began To Doubt The Benevolence Of A Certain Higher Power

***Let it be noted that certain names have been
changed to protect me from a slander lawsuit***

Though my testicles had already dropped, Jimmy was desperately trying to kick them back in. He really put everything his skinny Black-Irish ass had into it. By the power of Grayskull, that sucked!

Meanwhile, another group of miscreants were plunging hapless Frank into a Good Will bin. All while my father and the other Lunch Monitors talked about the previous night’s Giants game.

Welcome to Holy Family.

Like Mos Eisley Spaceport, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. I never understood why parents thought their children would benefit from a private school. Perhaps, I could understand the mentality in an area afflicted with urban blight, but in suburbia? It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.

Imagine throwing a bunch of spoiled-rotten children into a building, making them wear matching uniforms and indoctrinating them with all the normal Cherry Tree George Washington nonsense and religion (a religion not often practiced at home, I might add). It’s a recipe for disaster.

Historically, children tend to form a hierarchy based on 2 things: physical prowess and wit. I possessed very little of either. However, I was very good at kickball. So, when I had a shot at defending my nuts, I took it. Score 1 for the good guys!

Being cool was something everyone wanted in Grammar School, and with my feet already rooted in nerdery, coolness was not in the cards, at least until Nintendo came along.

The Nintendo Entertainment System, home to Super Mario Brothers, The Legend of Zelda and Street Fighter 2010 smashed its way into the American living room. While I was busy reading about Nightcrawler being beaten by an angry mob, my peers were trying to assemble the Tri-Force.

I pestered my parents for it and they told me to save my allowance. I did and a few months later, I had the system. It came with Super Mario and Duck Hunt, plus I got Top Gun as a gift. Shortly thereafter, Super Mario 2 came out and my birthday wasn’t for a few months.

At school, everyone was talking about throwing vegetables at Shy Guys and rumors that King Wart was tougher than Bowser. Unfortunately, I was still discovering Warp Zones to World 8-1. So, I just sat down with Rodimus Prime and had some little wars.

Around that time, the teachers at school thought it would be a good idea to promote sacrifice (it was probably around Easter). Now, that’s all well and good when you have something to sacrifice, but in my young eyes, all I wanted was a new Nintendo Game so I could be cool. Yet, my parents thought this was a good idea and suggested I give up my Nintendo privileges.

The sacrifice, as it was explained to me, would supposedly ease the pain a certain historical figure went through while being taunted on the road to death. Hey, I believed in Strange Visitors From Other Planets and time machines in Eastern European basements. This couldn’t be far off. However, there was one flaw in the logic…what was I to do with all the free time I had?

I read more comic books.

At the time, Batman had been going through some changes. The new Robin, Jason Todd, was a punk. Believe it or not, the brat actually pushed a Mexican kid off a building. Also, Batman had to fight communism, in the form of the KGBeast! Meanwhile, Spider-Man was battling yet another Hobgoblin and finishing college, again. Star Wars comics were long cancelled and G.I Joe was incorporating the newest toys into the comic. Oh, and Optimus Prime was dead.

Palmer Video was a small franchise down the street from Jack’s Sweet Shoppe. Recently, they’d begun to carry NES games, their most popular title being Super Mario 2. However, being that it was a popular tile, it was never in stock. My father, probably feeling a little guilty about being a shitty lunch monitor, took me to the store towards the end of Lent. Miraculously, after my father slipped a Lincoln to the kid behind the counter, Super Mario 2 appeared. I got home, ready to join the ranks of accomplished Super Mario 2 players. I could still catch up! I plugged the game into the system and the screen glowed iridescent.

Then we lost power.

A lightning storm hit and knocked our power. Was He Is Who Is mad that I wanted a small earthly desire? Irked so much as to have my father waste 9 bucks? Nah, He is many things, but not petty, right?

The power was soon restored, but my mother declared that no electrical appliances should be turned on during the lightning storm, except for when Remington Steele came on, of course.

I returned to school, still curious as to what a Shy Guy was. I could name the ranks of the Shi’ar Empire, but King Wart’s underlings eluded me. This continued for quite some time. Left with few devices, I discovered a new treasure trove…Uncle Richard.

Up until this point, I had only read “new” comics. That is, comics that were new on the newsstands. Uncle Richard worked at a school for “special” kids. They received numerous donations, one of which was a box full of Frank Miller Daredevil comics, Chris Claremont and John Byrne X-Men comics and a ton of Moon Knight comics. Deemed too violent for the “special” kids, Uncle Richard gave them to me.

I was cemented in comic lore. If I couldn’t be cool, at least I could be entertained.

End Part 2

Part 2 is dedicated to Frank. You too knew the Holy Hell that was Holy Family, man. And I’m super proud of everything you’ve done since!

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Littering Literature With Alliteration Chapter 1

2006-04-26T11:12:00.000-07:00

How I Became A Dork-A Comic Book Odyssey By Ian Gonzales

Part 1: Oxygen Origins ~or~ Deathtraps A-Go-Go

***Let it be noted that certain names have been
changed to protect me from a slander lawsuit***

A few weeks ago, I was drunk with a dear friend in a Brooklyn karaoke bar. As equally inebriated patrons screeched awful renditions of Pearl Jam and Stone Temple Pilots, she asked me about my scar. It’s a small scar, no more than an inch in length, above my right cheek.

“How did you get that?”

“Batman gave it to me,” I replied.

“Batman? You’re fucking drunk.”

“No, seriously, Batman cut me, he messed me up, like Two-Face.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

As a child of one and a half years, I stopped breathing. I was rushed to the hospital and promptly placed in an oxygen tent. After the matter was cleared up and I was healthy again, my parents gave me Batman squeeze toy, lovingly dubbed, Baby Batman.

The tent was unzipped and my parents talked with the Doctor. Me? I saw an opening for the oxygen tube and thought The Junior Dark Knight Detective should go on an adventure. He did, but when I pulled him out, a shard of metal cut my face. I cried. Obviously, my lungs were fine.

“So typical,” she sighed.

Actually, you’re probably wondering why I was telling such a beautiful woman a self-deprecating story about Baby Batman, when I should have been telling her a yarn about a Stand By Me-ish or Goonies-ish adventure, where my face was cut by pirates or Kiefer Sutherland.

It’s a simple answer. I love super heroes.

It was 1982. The Jedi were about to return and the Houston Astros had the most colorful uniforms in Major League Baseball. LP’s were still the preferred music medium and VCRs were beginning to invade living rooms across America. Little did I know that all these factors would lead me down a four color road, chock full of adventure, excitement and, of course, heartbreak.

I was doomed from the start.

As a youngin’ I watched a lot of baseball with my father. However, the only time I ever paid attention was when the Mets went up against the Houston Astros. I’d like to think that my young mind was fascinated with the multi-layered complexity of Baseball. After all, I possessed a supreme sense of strategy for a 2 year old. In all likelihood though, it was probably the pretty colors that drew me to the sport. The Mets gray, blue, orange and white versus the bright orange, yellow and white of the Astros drew me into the game. They caught my eye much the same way the syndicated Batman TV series did. Biff! Boff! Pow! It was an assault on my baby blue eyes.

Every week, Batman and Robin escaped fiendishly fatal death traps that were set up by the purple suit clad Joker, the Egyptian themed King Tut and the utterly ridiculous Bookworm. Perhaps, on a subconscious level, it was my own brush with a death trap otherwise known as my lungs that led me to identify with the Dynamic Duo? Again, it was probably the pretty colors.

One day, either a birthday or Christmas, I got 2 presents. One was Star Wars on VHS and the other was a Batman Vs. The Joker Power Record. A Power Record was a 2-sided LP with a comic book or storybook stapled into the record sleeve. Bloody genius, if you ask me. Batman jumped off the cover, begging me (and children everywhere, I suppose) to help him stop the Clown Prince of Crime! So, that night, I begged my parents to put the stereo on. I think they missed Dallas because of that (yes, I dared to mess with Texas).

The needle touched the record. Round and round it went, reading every tiny crevice, sparking and clicking until the Narrator set the scene. I immediately looked at the first page. I noticed the word bubbles, but I had no idea what they were. My mother explained the concept of reading and assured me the record would read for me. As I looked at the pictures, I began to revel in the joys of sequential artwork.

While the record was fun, I found myself annoyed at its pacing. I didn’t like the voices, they didn’t sound like the TV show. Why was this record so slow? Why did I have to wait for the voice when the pictures so clearly communicated the story?

Because I couldn’t read, yet.

“I’m stuck in the mud, Batman,” screamed the Joker!

Of course, Batman saved the knight of knavery from certain death. He had to save the Joker, he was a super hero. The story ended and I was left with a sense of euphoria sometimes felt after sex, specifically sex with a girl one has been pining over for sometime.

I wanted to read it again. So, I turned back to the first page. Unfortunately, I didn’t know my alphabet yet. So, Dad started the record again as my Mom no doubt wondered what was happening to Patrick Duffy.

After many missed TV shows, my parents bought me my own record player. Much to their chagrin, I learned how to plug it in after 3 weeks.

Thus began my torrid affair with men in tights.

George Lucas is a bastard.

One of my earliest memories took place in a dark, Bloomfield movie theater (now, it’s a parking lot). It was a gorgeous day in May of 1982. That day, my father and I visited the accountant, gorged ourselves with McDonalds and listened to Batman and Spider-Man Power Records. That afternoon though, I was in for a treat.

Since before conscious memory, I knew Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Princess Leia, Darth Vader, Chewbacca, C-3PO, Boba Fett, Bossk, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Lando Calrissian, Stormtroopers and Yoda. And that’s not even mentioning Snaggletooth or Hammerhead!

I had one of the most extensive Star Wars action figure collections. Hundreds of little people, all at 3 dollars a pop. Also, I had my fair share of vehicles. And this was before the Return of the Jedi and Power of the Force sets. It would have been cheaper for my parents if they hooked me on crack, or battery acid.

The excitement in the theater was palpable. There were hundreds (that’s probably an exaggeration, but I digress) of kids with their parents, anxiously awaiting the grand finale to the Star Wars Saga. Would Luke and Leia save Han Solo from the vile clutches of Jabba The Hutt? Was Darth Vader really Luke’s father? Who was the other hope that Obi-Wan and Yoda spoke of? All was about to be revealed.

Before the lights went down, I remember talking to a kid in front of me. While I don’t remember the exact conversation, I remember talking about Darth Vader and hoping we saw his TIE-Fighter again. The lights went down and all was revealed over 2 hours. I couldn’t read, but I knew what a TIE-Fighter was.

It was probably the most complex thing my 2 (almost 3, but not quite) year-old mind could process. Darth Vader, the mother of all bad guys, saved the day?! But he was a bad guy! He choked people with the Force! He ruthlessly cut down Obi-Wan Kenobi! He wore all black!

The next day, my father took me to Jack’s Sweet Shoppe. The Sweet Shoppe was a place where old men would grumble about times gone by while kids would buy all kinds of tooth rotting goodies. Dad wanted coffee.

There, I came upon a tall, metal rack. As I inspected it further, I saw some familiar faces. There was Batman, his friend, Superman, Luke Skywalker and my new-found obsession, Snake Eyes from G.I. Joe! However, something was off. I dragged my father towards the treasure trove.

“Dad? Where are the records?” I pointed at the comics.

“Ian, they don’t come with records. Those are comic books.”

“I want them!”

And so, my father purchased a Star Wars comic and a Batman comic. G.I. Joe would have to wait until next week. With the Power Record, I saw the path, and with the metal rack, I started my journey.

Thus began the downward spiral that resulted in lost loves, lonely Saturday nights and zero interest in the NFL.

End Part 1…

I dedicate Part 1 to Jane, who accidentally coaxed me into starting this literary journey. Thank you sweetheart! xoxoxoxox

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

A Cleverschmever Review of The Sentinel

2006-04-23T22:14:00.000-07:00

See Silent Hill again, or see The Sentinel? Easy choice for me. While not a terrible movie, I found The Sentinel to be a bit lacking, most specifically, it was missing one ingredient; Kiefer Sutherland.

As most of you know, I've become a loyal 24 viewer. It's probably my favorite show on TV, even more so than Lost. So, when I see a trailer for a movie about the Secret Service, a plot to kill the President and Kiefer Sutherland, I'm down. Unfortunately, Michael Douglas has more screen time than the man who is Jack Bauer.

Predictability aside (because I know anyone reading this can guess my oh so predictable opinion), it's not horrible, but it could have been better if it had more, you guessed it, Kiefer Sutherland.

Hmm...I just read the above 2 paragraphs and I realized something...I think I have a man-crush on Kiefer Sutherland. What do you think?

Hmm..You know what, don't bother answering that one.

Back to the movie.

The film has a solid cast, including a cameo by Homicide alum, Clark Johnson (who directed the film too). Kim Basinger is the First Lady and she plays the part true to life. She's basically a trophy. Michael Douglas does his best Clint Eastwood as an aging Secret Service man. Eva Longoria is the smoking hot rookie. Oh, and there's Kiefer Sutherland as the badass. Actually, he's pretty much a desk jockey, but he's a badass desk jockey.

The biggest flaw of the film trying to figure out who the villains are. It's not terribly clear. They show the villains' faces, but the viewer is left wondering why and how. Still, we have Kiefer Sutherland brandishing a gun, so it's not all bad.

Overall, I'd say rent it and skip to the Kiefer Sutherland parts. They're pretty rad.

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Sally Field called, she wants her movie back. AKA A review of Silent Hill

2006-04-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

It's midnight in Edgewater, NJ. After a beautiful, sunny day, the sun sets and a chill sets in the air. Soon comes the stroke of midnight and 15 minutes later, I'm watching a trailer for the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. There aren't any zombies, so I'm thouroughly disinterested. Then there's an ad for some movie with The Game and Tyrese. Yawn. A few minutes later, Silent Hill starts.

The film starts with some eerie music from the game, which I'm perfectly happy with, and then it plods off into the backstory. Chock full of shots that make no sense, an annoying child (whom we'll call Damienette) and Sean Bean without his accent, I begin to lose interest.

After about a half hour of useless set-up, Rose and the cop (who's name escapes me) and Damienette arrive in Silent Hill. The filmmakers changed the set-up, supposedly to make it easier for the audience. We learn about the town's thistory (well, most of it) straight away. I understand, because the mechanics of video game storytelling are much different than film storytelling. Unfortunately, nearly every encounter with a monster is shot like a video game encounter, complete with Rose awkwardly stumbling around, trying to find her way out. It wasn't even plausible stumbling. It looked like a college stoner was contolling her movements after a late night bender.

Enter the cliches (or as I like to calll them, blatant rip-offs). Silent Hill liberally "borrows" from The Shining, The Crow, Not Without My Daughter, Ju-On, The Exorcist, Star Trek: First Contact and a host of bad splatter movies. There are lines of dialogue ripped straight out of the Crow and the Sean Bean does his best Scatman Crothers (minus the snow and the tropical vacation). Alice Krige repriises her role as The Borg Queen (they call hert Christabella, but they didn't fool me for a second). Oh, and the effects are laughable. I chuckled when Henchman Number 4 was torn apart by barbed wire. In fact, I can't tell you how many times I outright laughed. This movie was written by the same man who adeptly adapted Brett Easton Ellis' Rules of Attratction to the screen?! Could have fooled me. The writing was so wooden I started to think a Roger Avary Grundy wrote it. It's like Not Without My Daughter, with a shitload of fake blood!

Wow. Bad movie based on a good property. I shouldn't be surprised, but come on! They had Roger Avary write the script, a solid premise and an experienced director. Save your money and go see Slither instead.

That's all for now. If I feel more inspired later this week, I'll tear it apart some more.

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Party Shuffle

2006-04-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

I'm taking 5 random songs in my iTunes and writing a short scene for each. They're not really related per se, it was almost a stream of conscious exercise. Just throw iTunes on shuffle and write a scene based on an impression you get from a song, whether it be a lyric or an emotion evoked by a certain chord, anything really. It should be a fun writing exercise, and I encourage you to do the same. Post it when you're done (and dont forget youre copyright notice)!

5. Bad Brains-"Attitude"

Adam couldnt take it anymore. His head was spinning from all the Jack he poured down his throat. It knocked his senses into a puffy cloud. Sally was across the bar.

"Tonight. Yeah," thought Adam.

Adam slithered through the crowd. Smoke burned his eyes, sweat poured from his brow.

"I've been waiting for so long, I need this. No."

Doubt ripped through his soul like a cleaver through a cows thigh. Did he deserve this, or, more to the point, did she?

"Last call" screamed Stuart.

"Now or never."

Moving with remarkable speed, Adam was upon Sally in seconds.

"You don't cheat on me," he said (approximately).

Sally looked at Adam, she was a little drunk herself. Good thing too, 'cause she barely Doug's knuckles knock her jaw out of alignment.

4. John Williams-"Planet Krypton"

Girl: What does "BAMF!" mean?
Boy: It's the sound Nightcrawler makes when he teleports.
Girl: Nightcrawler?
Boy: Yeah, he's one of the X-Men.
Girl: X-Men? Are they transvestites?
Boy: No, they're mutants, stupidhead!
Girl: What's a mutant?
Boy: The evolution of humanity!
Girl: Oh, like Jesus?

3. The New Pornographers-"Twin Cinema"

I can't tell you how many demo reels and headshots I've had to sift through today. It's like my desk is advertised in Backstage! I put out an ad for a young, indie-rock guy and a young, urban girl, age ranges between 22 and 27. You'd think casting a re-make of West Side Story would be easy! Especially with so many young actors out there! However, it's not. Why the hell am I getting Ian McKellen look-alikes?! Does this guy, Charles Winterbottom (there's a stage name, if I ever heard one) really think I'm going to consider him for the young male part? Why bother wasting my time, or his time, for that matter? Though, looking at him again, he may be a good match for the waiter.

I digress. These actors are like vultures! Take this one, Kylee Frost, she claims she's done some "method acting" in the Vallley. You know what thats code for? Porn! No thanks, I dont need that kind of bad press on my picture! Rubbish, rubbish I tell you! Ooh! What have we here? Oh, he's in a band. Never mind. Actors are a flaky lot, musicians even more so. Also, musicians are always bumming smokes, and I won't have that on my set!

2. MF Doom-"Doomsday"

"Have you ever heard of a terrorist with a pony tail?"

"Have you, Jake?"

"Have I what?"

Charlene shifted in her chair, leaning forward.

"Jake, I'm paid by the government to help you get better. Today, youre asking me about terrorists with pony tails, yesterday it was Armageddon in the Atlantic."

"I dont need to get better, I need to be on the streets, protecting the world from the Menace Factor and their henchmen!"

"Jake, weve gone over this. You are a translator for the C.I.A. and youre job is to tell your superiors what you hear on Chinese coded channels. Youre not a field agent," she said.

"Doctor, with all due respect," Jake sat up an moved close to Charlene, "you haven't seen what I've seen, heard what I've heard. Besides, Jack Ryan is an analyst, and he sees all kinds of action!"

"Jack Ryan is a fictional character."

"But is he, really? Maybe that's his cover."

"OK, let's say this is his cover, why would they make countless books and films about him?"

"Because, he's an agent in the future, communicating to Tom Clancy at a secret bunker, with a time machine in the basement! You know, the one HG Welles made."

"Time's up, Jake. Double your Valium."

1. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti-"Every Night I Die At Myagi's"

And on the fifth day, Hanzo decided it was time. He'd trained for years, however, his illness prevented him from attaining the rank of Master. His blade, forged of the strongest and sharpest steel in the empire, glistened in the rising sun.

"Today is the day," he thought, as he sheathed the blade. "The day I follow my father, and his father before him, into the elite."

Hanzo tried many times, always failing because of the persistent unsteadiness in his hands. Still, his peers respected his resolve. Determined to become a Master, Hanzo finally found a way. It was dangerous, and if anyone found out, he'd not only dishonor himself, but generations to come and every generation past. They will never know.

Hanzo traveled the mountains in search of something forbidden. For centuries, it was believed an oni lived in the mountain, an oni with a unique ability, to grant a wish. According to the legend, this oni, Mumei, left his post at the Gates of Hell and took with him the ability to grant your hearts desire. Many men told stories of wealth, women and long life. Hanzo wanted none of that, for he was willing to risk dishonoring his blood to gain honor for his family.

As Hanzo climbed the mountain, the shaking began. He began to fall. Suddenly, he felt a fiery touch on his wrist. It burned with the fear of the Dammed. Hanzo was cold.

"You intrigue me, little man." The voice was full and echoed off itself.

Though he never heard the voice before in his life, Hanzo knew the speaker.

"Nameless one! I come to ask you a favor!"

"Surely it would be better to fall on your sword, Hanzo, than to bargain with me."

"Oh great Mumei, I have but one request and I will leave you be."

"Not for long, fleshy one."

The foul smelling otherworlder pulled Hanzo into a cave. Hanzo gazed upon the oni and found it to look nothing like legend. It was indescribable.

"Nameless one?"

"You do not fear me, Hanzo. I find this curious."

"Mumei, I have studied the history of your people for many years. I know that once, we saw you as protectors, for you were the Guardians of Hell. You kept the evil in. Then, as theology became superstition, we came to view you as evil, simply because of your duty. I come to ask you a favor, protector."

Mumei laughed, then looked down on Hanzo. "So. you no longer wish to shake. I can grant you this, for a price."

"I would expect nothing less, great Mumei. Name your price, and I will humbly oblige."

"Your unborn child."

"Great one," For the first time, fear flashed across Hanzos face. "I have no wife."

"Honesty. Very well, you will do. Is the price acceptable?"

"Let me tell you the specifics."

"I know, Hanzo. You wish to follow in the footsteps of your father, taking care of your village. However, you can not do this, for you tremble, not through fear, but through curse."

"Yes, Mumei, and I want,"

Mumei cut him off.

"You want to be as still as your father and his father before him. You wish to tremble no more."

"Yes, Mumei."

Mumei looked into his cave and sighed.

"It is done."

Hanzo fell to the ground, perfectly still, forever and ever.

"Foolish Hanzo, one does not spend time in Hell without consequence, without a curse."

The End.

All songs are copyright and trademarked by their respective owners.

All scenes are Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Is it me, or is the 3 the most depressing train on Earth?

2006-04-20T17:00:00.000-07:00

So, I’m heading to the Financial District this morning. I’m waiting at the Park Place platform and I see the second most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

At least, that was my initial thought.

Upon a second glance, I saw her face was sort of squished, though she had inviting, blue eyes and a fair figure. Neither straight as a yardstick nor round as a pumpkin, but somewhere comfortably in between. Furthermore, her hair was a streak of brown with blonde highlights and she couldn’t have been taller than 5’7”. Still, there was something about her, I just couldn’t put my finger on it (that could be construed as inappropriate).

The train arrived and we both boarded separate cars. The Number 3 train and I have a strange relationship. Every time I board the train, I feel like I’m on the same car. It always smells like a homeless toilet, there’s graffiti everywhere and there’s always at least 2 unsavory characters on opposite ends of the car. This morning was no exception.

Even with all this on my mind, I wondered, why I was so attracted to this woman (we’ll call her Platform Lady)? Physically, she wasn’t really my type (I have what some have called, lofty standards for a man of my stature) and I wasn’t under the influence of the drink. What could it be?

As the smell of hobo piss wafted to my nose, it dawned on me. It was her clothes or, more specifically, her sense of style.

She was wearing a black suit jacket, a hot pink blouse, a black skirt and black heels with little pink ribbons (usually positively dreadful, but rather endearing this particular morning). She looked like a New Wave Business Woman. Was I attracted to the dichotomy of her ensemble? Could it be possible that I wasn’t at all attracted to Platform Lady at all, I just really dug her style? No, it wasn’t. I see this type of thing all the time at bars and it does nothing for me. Again, I’m usually attracted to classy dames, and this outfit was not classy per se.

I was left with one option…could it simply be the color coordination?

That must be it, though I’m not quite sure I understood it. You see, I really dislike the color pink. The main reason I like Sixteen Candles better than Pretty In Pink is because Sixteen Candles doesn’t have pink in the title. Yet, for some reason, I found myself coming to that inevitable conclusion; that which I loathe, I may also adore. Chilling.

I thought about different colors. Black and orange were the first that came to mind. However, whenever I see anyone wearing them together, I feel a snide Halloween comment is in order. A light blue and black? I start humming Blur’s Girls and Boys. Red and white? Periods. Hmm…Black and pink. How can I be so attracted to such a wonderfully chameleon-like color and such a horrid washed-out red?!

I’m sure it can come down to the duality of man and all that, but such a simple thing as a not so clever ensemble can make a man think about the nature of attraction. Again, chilling and oh so appropriate for the 3 train.

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

You don’t look like a Gonzales?

2006-04-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

While perusing the Internet, I came across a cushy job ad for a Research Analyst. The job entailed audience estimation, hands-on experience with media systems and the ability to learn new computer programs in a quick manner. Yeah, I’m more than qualified for this. So, I read down a little more and I come across the following job requirement: “The legal right to work in the United States”.

This is the story of how the illegal immigrant “crisis” hit Hot Jobs Dot Com. I was born in America, so that’s not really a problem. However, I began to question why that sentence needed to be in the ad. I don’t ever recall seeing this type of language in a classified ad before. I’m sure it’s been there from time to time, but today, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Why was this type of warning was placed on a Research Analyst job ad? I don’t think the average illegal alien (I'm sorry, the new "buzz word" is undocumented worker) is qualified to work with Nielsen Ratings. Hell, they probably don’t know what that means. Then it dawned on me…

“Is that presumptuous of me, or worse yet, prejudice?”

Then I got to thinking about my last name, Gonzales. When reading my cover letter, what kinds of suspicions cross the HR Assistant’s mind? “Can this person legally work in the USA?” “Does he really have a B.A. in English?” I can’t tell you how many times someone has asked me if I’m truly a Gonzales. It’s been a burden of my existence since I set foot in pre-school. Let’s face it folks, this “crisis” is heavily tied to how we, as Americans, view our neighbors south of the border.

There are approximately 11 to 12 million illegal immigrants in the United States. Many of whom cross the border from Mexico, looking to feed their families in their native countries. Why do they come here and not seek work in their homelands? There’s better pay here for jobs most Americans won’t do. It’s a noble and fairly smart (if incredibly risky) way to go about living up to one’s familial responsibility. We’re talking about a region of the world where it’s considered a necessary means of survival to swallow bags of heroin and smuggle them across the aforementioned border. What choice do these people really have? As corrupt as our government can be, at least most of us can have an “honest” job and we do try and take care of our ne’re do wells (to varying degrees of success and failure). Yet, we call these people “wetbacks” and use the proper noun “Mexican” as a derogatory slur. We look down on them because they didn’t have to fortune to be born here. It’s classist and racist to be sure. I know this because I’m just as guilty and culpable as nearly everyone in this country.

Now, I know the job of Research Analyst isn’t something most people would pine for. Who really wants to answer the question, “How many people really want to see Snakes on a Plane?” But it’s a job that requires a skill set seldom (I may even say almost never) found in your average illegal immigrant, or “undocumented worker” as they seem to be called now. Yet, for some reason, the writer of said ad found it imperative to include that sentence.

Bottom line, we live, predominantly, in a nation of privilege. We wake up, we do a job, we go to Starbucks, we watch our Netflix rentals, we date, we drink and we eat, all the while having a stable roof over our heads and not having to worry about too much other than amassing credit card debt or illness which is as inevitable as breathing. We don’t want to clean toilets; we’re too comfortable to do that. We don’t want to mop the floor, we don’t have any time for such a menial task. So, we hire out. We hire someone who wants to do something simple, live. Unfortunately, this person’s life is affected by something much more insidious, security. And that, dear reader, is a massive issue for another time.

Xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Hey kids, COMICS!

2006-04-08T10:36:00.000-07:00

I started doing this list on myspace last week, so I figured I may as well post it here too. It's a list of my comic pics for the week.

This weeks’ goodies!

The 6th installment of Infinite Crisis hit the stands, and all I can say is “WOW!” This book was amazing! It’s so dense, so filled with nods to DC’s past; it’s a wet dream for people like me. The glimpses of the Infinite Earths brought a wave of nostalgia I haven't felt in some time. Oh, and Superboy Vs. Superboy! If you haven’t been reading this series. Then I suggest you buy the back issues now!

Marvel Zombies # 5 hit the stands this week and I have to say, I’m sorry to see it go. Everything in this book was worth every penny I spent. The dialogue was spot-on, the art was nice and the way Kirkman and Phillips characterized the zombified Marvel U was hilarious and scary (just like Slither...Go see Slither!). The ending leaves a little to be desired, but it’s definitely wide open for a sequel.

Batman and the Monster Men # 6-Batman. Matt Wagner. What else do I have to say?

Moon Knight # 1-I remember the dark days of Moon Knight (SPLATT anyone?) and I waited for this book with more than an ounce of trepidation. I’ve never heard of the writer (Charlie Huston) and I’m not David Finch’s biggest fan, so my expectations were pretty low. I cracked open the book and I was sucked in! Huston and Finch tell us a tale of why Marc Spector is the Moon Knight, giving the reader a sense of history. Also, there's a helluva reveal at the end! This book shows a lot of promise!

Late Pick Ups:

I snagged Blue Beetle # 1 and the Captain America 65th Anniversary Special from last week. Wow, solid books. Grab ‘em now!

That’s all for now!

Xoxo
Ian

How rad would this have been?

2006-04-07T09:33:00.000-07:00

I haven't been able to dig up too much info on this. All I can really say is that it appears Warner Brothers Animation was, at some point, developing a Goonies animated series. Looking at these designs, I can't help but think I missed out on something super cool, or super bad.

The Goonies was one of my all time favorite movies as a kid. I really dug the concept of a bunch of misfits looking for buried pirate treasure, in the suburbs! The movie was so well balanced and surprisingly well acted. It holds up, even today! That's an accomplishment a lot of films from the 1980s haven't lived up to.

The only possible stain on the franchise was the Nintendo game, Goonies II. Seriously though, I loved the hell out of that game! So, we won’t hold that against them.

Perhaps the reason Goonies still resonates with me is because they never did a cartoon, like the Real Ghostbusters. Somehow, the franchise was cheapened by it. I dug the show as a kid, but I hesitate to watch it now, especially after the debacle that was The Super Mario Brothers Super Show.

Wow, I still can't get over it...Goonies, the cartoon! Just look at Sloth and Data! I'm already sold, and these are just character designs!

Oh well, I just thought I'd share this cool little find! I hope you find it just as cool as I do.

Slither-Another Cleverschmever Review

2006-04-01T08:22:00.000-08:00

James Gunn's Slither may just be one of the best, most balanced films I've ever seen. It's equal parts funny, scary and gory as hell.
Now, you have to accept that there are psychic space slugs that can make zombies, but after that, it's smooth sailing.

It's pretty easy to see that Mr. Gunn is a veteran of Troma Films (Lloyd Kaufman & Toxic Avenger cameos aside). The story and characters can only be described as outlandish, yet Gunn and company pull it off so that they come off genuine. While conveying a sense of imminent danger from the space slugs, the film never takes itself too seriously. The dialogue is well written, and the delivery is spot-on! One second, you'll b e laughing, and the next you'll be cringing at a mutilated cat (this movie is PETA's worst nightmare).

Not a single punch is pulled throughout the movie. So often, when I watch horror films (or films in general, lately), I feel cheated because the filmmakers were afraid of interesting choices. Not here! I'm not going to say what, as I want you to go and see the movie, but trust me, it's a helluva lot of fun!

Oh, and this movie moves, I mean MOVES! The pace is so brisk I was kind of bummed when it ended, and it ran 96 minutes! Filmmakers take note; this is how you make a fun movie! Ignore the things you don't like and just look at the form, the movement of the film. Brilliant stuff!

So, to recap, go see this movie! NOW!

Xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

The Tiny Spectacular March 25, 2006

2006-03-25T19:47:00.000-08:00

I went to the Tiny Spectacular at Magnet Theater, expecting to see an awesome improv show performed by some fantastic improvisers. This night, however, proved to be above par. The show usually features a mix of Rachel Hamilton, Ed Herbstman, Abby Sher, Miriam Tolan, Jean Villepique, plus Tara Copeland, James Eason, Jason Mantzoukas, Christine Walters and guests. It’s always a great mix of performers. Last night, though, the audience was treated to a surprise guest, Mike Myers.

Let me tell you, everyone at that show, including Mr. Myers, brought their “A” Game! Jean Villepique was a full-of-herself life-coach, Tara Copeland was a down-on-herself NY single and Mike Myers was Jesus. Jesus fought Buddha, without any pants, mind you. Wow, truly great stuff!

The regular cast of the show is always on point, butt I would like to take this opportunity to point out how great of an improviser Mike Myers is. Throughout the show, he always gave out information, he always agreed and he was fully committed to making his scene partners look great! This was just solid improv and I’m so happy I got a chance to see it!

Oh, and for the record, Mike Myers will drop his pants if the scene calls for it. He was wearing tighty whiteys, in case you were wondering.

The Tiny Spectacular runs at the Magnet Theater every Saturday night at 7:30. I urge you all to see it.

Oh, and while you’re at it, check out my buddy Vinny’s show, No Filter. There’s a free preview Sunday, March 26 at 7:00 at the Magnet and the run starts Friday, April 7 at 9:30, also at the Magnet.

Xoxo
Ian

P For Propoganda!

2006-03-18T10:25:00.000-08:00

Due to lost cell phones and whatnot, I wound up seeing V For Vendetta last night. Boy, was it awful!

Anyone who has read the comic will notice the film is an off-balance interpretation. Even the few scenes taken directly from the comic seem untrue. The filmmakers lacked the vision to properly translate the still image to a moving one.

Example: The colors in the comic are washed out, causing a fogged effect throughout. This effect helps set a tone and mood that feels very much like London. The film's colors, however, are crisp and could have easily taken place in any other city in the Western World.
Alan Moore and David Lloyd were very specific, London was just as much a character in the story as The Man In Room 5 and Evey Hammond. Sadly, the backdrop is not specific enough, nor is it terribly engaging. The audience is told this is London, but there's no feeling to it.

Gone is the almost too strict adherence to Aristotle's Poetics. Now, there's tons of action in the film. Now, I understand that some action needed to be seen on screen, it's a movie. A filmmaker must show the action instead of talk about it. If he's not going to do that, he should make it a play.

The film is preachy. Very, very preachy. The comic, while tackling difficult and controversial subject matter, always avoided this. Granted, it had the luxury of being written in a Pre-9/11 world, but that's no excuse for the mess the Wachowski's made of the adaptation. Instead of following the piece's essence, they pushed their own agendas. First, they hijacked The Invisibles, and now one of Alan Moore's best works. No wonder they seem sympathetic to a terrorist's plight.

Bottom line, save your money...better yet, go to a comic store and buy the graphic novel. It'll make you think about the world we live in and how puritanical and divisive it's becoming.

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales

Augie’s Great Municipal Band

2006-01-04T16:02:00.000-08:00

I opened up my iTunes to listen to The Long Blondes and I accidentally clicked on the last track of The Phantom Menace soundtrack, “Augie’s Great Municipal band and End Credits” and me being me, was too damn lazy to skip to the next track. Now, I have that last scene from that awful addition to one of cinema’s greatest stories, hell, the greatest story ever told on film, Star Wars. That’s right, it’s the Bible of the movies! And like the bible, it has some lesser additions (the Book of Mormon comes to mind).

What’s worse? Now I want to watch it again, for the Darth Maul fight and the last shots of the movie. You see, I always liked the way the very end of the film was constructed. It appeared to be a relatively happy ending, nothing really ominous about it. However, if you knew the Star Wars story, it’s the worst possible scenario to throw the Jedi and the Republic in. It would have been a masterful stroke, if the other films delivered the emotional impact it implied.

However, after May 2005, I was disappointed. Wow, it’s January 2006 and I’m still complaining about Star Wars. Wow.

The Ultimate Nerd To-Do List

2005-12-26T11:13:00.000-08:00

1. Dress as Batman and walk the streets. Do not substitute for any other super-hero, as people will mistake you for live party favors, retarded or child molesters. Dressing as Batman and hopping the A Train is pure nerd. When confronted, snarl and scream, “What are you dense? Are you retarded? I’m the goddamn Batman!”

2. Since all of us nerds LOVE to eat, the next thing to do is to dress up in an orange gi, tease out your hair and hit an all-you-can eat buffet. When asked for a party name, you say “Goku”. Then, eat the hell out of some food.

3. This is for the big guys. Buy yourselves a maroon and goldenrod polo or scarf (see Old Navy or Urban Outfitters…I know it’s not Absolute Watchmen, but c’mon!). Next, get an authentic Harry Potter wand and knock people down. When they hit the ground, scream, “Gryyfindor just knocked you on your ass!”

4. Dress up in a white polo and green work pants. Hire a prostitute and dress her up in a giant chicken suit. Fight her. In the middle of a crowd. I would say find a friend, but hey, we’re nerds. And us nerds are pussies when it comes to taking a punch in the face.

5. Go see King Kong and announce to the theater that you thought Dead Alive was a much better movie. Get heckled by the popular kids, then thrown out of the theater. Ass. OR...go the the theater dressed with Kong Fists and Kong Feet and prance around like the 8th Wonder of the World. Get heckled by the popular kids. Get booted out. Yeah, you're still an ass.

There's dumb, and then there's this...

2005-11-15T18:20:00.000-08:00

Wow, I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. Hilarity to follow...

Chiller '05

2005-10-30T11:08:00.000-08:00

Another October, another Chiller Theatre. This year was interesting, since I went on Friday night instead of the usual Saturday afternoon debacle.

Every year past, I had trouble breathing. Between the amount of people jam-packed in the dealer rooms and ceberity tents, to the stink of the unwashed masses, I've been increasingly annoyed with the Saturday show. I felt like I was being shoved around by fat men's guts and their unwashed bungles, never getting to actually see the show, breath it in if you will (not like I really wanted to breath the ocean of filth around me).

So, this year, I decided to hit up the Friday night show. It was packed, but nowhere near as awful as previous Saturday shows. As the show went on, there were more and more people, but it was nowhere near as terrible as the previous Saturdays. I mean, you can't expect to go to Chiller and not expect a fat man to push you out of his way with his massive, cheeseburger-filled gut. Point of fact, I was the only man with a gut (besides Alex and Shawn...so I guess I was one of three men) not using my bought and paid for belly as an offensive weapon.

There wasn't a lot that I really wanted, let alone anything I hadn't seen there before. The only really cool new thing i saw was the GIANT Jack Skellington Bobble Head. Seriously, the thing was rad. I wound up buying the Battle Royale T-Shirt I meant to buy two years ago along wiht a $6.00 draft Sam Adams at the Hotel Bar.

Another attraction for the show was that George Romero was signing. I must admit, I was interesed in meeting him. However, when I found out the wait was 3 hours long, I opted not to wait and look around the show some more. Maybe I'll got again Sunday, when the lines are shorter. A friend of mine waited and met him. He said Mr. Romero was very gracious, a super nice guy all around (which was probably why the wait was so long).

Messy

2005-09-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

Messy: A Tainted Memoir by Ian Gonzales

It all started when I was about 11 years old…

I had a permanent case of bed head, I wore my Grandfather’s throwaway eyeglass frames and a hand-me-down winter coat with the most unique hood you ever did see.
The top of the hood came to a peak, similar to the mountain seen in the Paramount Pictures logo. The colors of the coat were quite unflattering: red, black and yellow. I looked like a damn Cold War Soviet Space Rocket. The kids in the 6th Grade called me Sputnik. This added insult to injury because Grandpa would always talk about “those damned commies” in a rather loud tone. He had a hearing problem and assumed everyone else in the world did as well.

American children develop a fashion sense at a very young age. In the late 1980s and the early 1990s, we were bombarded with fashion on TV. I wanted in on the fashion scene. I was willing to wear clothes that I wasn’t really into, just so I could curb the endless verbal assaults. However, my family didn’t have a lot of money, so my clothes came from K Mart and thrift shops. Needless to say, my fashion style was still the subject of much recess mockery.

After the Sputnik debacle, I decided to give up on fashion entirely. I realized I would never escape the taunts, so why bother wearing clothes that didn’t represent me as a person.

I invested 3 weeks worth of allowance in what I thought was a sweet pair of New York Rangers Sweatpants and a Batman # 1 T-Shirt. I loved hockey and comics at the time, so what better clothes to wear than clothes that representmy interests, right?
I bought the Batman shirt at my local comic book store. Actually, I special ordered it because I thought it was so amazing. It was a white, cotton t-shirt with a practically ironed on reproduction of the cover of Batman # 1 in all its 4-color glory. Batman an d Robin were swinging off my 12 year-old McGut. It was so cool.
The sweatpants were problematic, since no K-Mart sweatpants had pockets. However, I wasn’t too concerned, as I never really carried money on me anyway (it always got stolen by Eddie O’Mara and his thugs). The pants were blue, they had a Rangers logo on the right thigh and the word ‘RANGERS” down the right leg. They were totally awesome, to the max! My prepubescent self thought the kids were going to go apeshit and realize how I was.

Stop laughing. Seriously.

They wound up stuffing me in a Good Will bin.
Once I hit high-school, I’d acquired a taste for jeans and slightly less obnoxious t-shirts. Unfortunately, the only jeans I could afford at that tender age were fucking HUGE. It was slightly serendipitous since baggy clothes were in those years, if you weren’t a white kid from suburbia. At that point, about the only thing I had going for me was that I liked the Clash. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to tell anybody this until I was 15.

Sophomore year was the year things started to look up. I got invited to a show at a church in Newark. I got a ride to the show and met some classmates, one of whom was wearing a Clash shirt, “Straight To Hell” I believe. The irony of a catholic school kid wearing a shirt with skulls that said “Straight To Hell” was not lost on me. We struck up a conversation about Combat Rock being the Clash’s least cohesive record. Ever since then, people thought I knew what I was talking about when it came to music. I don’t know much. I just rolled with it.
It seemed, I was in like Flint. Especially since a few weeks later, a bunch of kids in school started wearing baggy jeans, therefore negating my previous fashion faux pas. While I may have been a mess in grammar school, I appeared to have cleaned up my act. Either that, or that, or maturity began to take hold of my peers. I’d like to think it’s the former.

Copyright 2005 Ian Gonzales

Troy's Mixtape

2005-09-13T16:44:00.000-07:00

As most all of you hipster netnerds know, Troy's Mixtape of Love, available on Pure Volume, is all the rage. The tape, a 14 minute long tribute to young Troy's girlfriend, Melissa, has been viewed over 30,000 times by the ravenous hordes. Melissa, after recieving this 21st century Cyrano DeBergerac nonsense dumped Troy, aka Troy G, and now his borne soul is all over the internerd.

Upon hearing this for the first time, I thought it was hysterical, but then I thought about all the stupid things I did for girls, then I realized that I wasn't PSYCHOTIC! Seriously, this Troy character needs to be put in a psych ward and suicide watch is definitely in order. The guy's going to freak out more than the Star Wars Kid. He went into therapy after his friends put his jedi-try-out tape online. Troy, however, bore all his feelings for this Melissa character on a CD and gave it to her, for their six month anniversary. That's effing huge! Now, his picture and very poor judgement call is all over the web, for everyone to ridicule. I gotta admit, it's funny, but I think I'm going to turn on the TV and find out he offed himself.

The General Grievous Archives...

2005-08-11T16:40:00.000-07:00

I wrote these a few months ago. I was anxiously awaiting the release of the final Star Wars film. So much so, that I bought into all the pre-release hype. One of the major Lucasfilm blitzes involved General Grievous. Grievous was a lizard/robot who had four lightsabers. He looks really cool...really cool. So, learning nothing from the previous films, I bought everything in sight.

So I'll be spending my St. Patrick's Day with General Grievous...
I may not be the only man whose only accomplishment this St. Patrick’s Day weekend is purchasing the Star Wars Revenge of the Sith General Grievous Number 1 Prelude Comic Book, but I am certainly the most deserving of something better.Oh how I would trade these shoddily stapled together pieces of paper for a night of corn beef and cabbage. How I long to shred the salty, juicy beef between my massive molars. I long to wear a shamrock lapel, as green as General Grievous’ glowing lightsaber! A Jedi may not know the anger of a drunken Irishman, but I yearn for the days of drunken stupors instead of paging through an android Jedi-Killer’s exploits with five plump digits.

So I'll be spending my Valentine's Day with General Grievous...

I may not be the only man whose only accomplishment this Valentine’s Day weekend is purchasing the Star Wars Revenge of the Sith General Grievous Sneak Preview action figure, but I am certainly the most deserving of something better. Oh, how I would trade the plastic figure’s 3¾” frame for the smooth, curved body of a woman. I would trade numerous nights with both Grievous and the Wookie Warrior for one night as a Lothario…moving from one pleasure of the flesh to another. Oh, how I would trade one night posing General Grievous and assorted Star Wars characters in exciting positions for one lurid evening, writhing with carnal passion between satin sheets. Oh, how I would trade the figures’ cardboard packaging with a plastic bubble, showcasing the droid general for satin and lace barely containing a supple bosom. How I long to thrust my throbbing manhood into the fleshy folds of a vagina; riper than the juiciest papaya of vine of the Garden of Eden. Sadly though, the evening will most likely end with five plump digits stroking away, dreaming of a Valentine other than the slaughterer of Jedi.

The First Annual Disco Fry Party!!!

2005-04-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

Daydreamer

2005-04-04T16:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I daydream about following in the footsteps of my fabled cousin Will. He ran away and joined the circus. No one really knows exactly what Will did in the circus, even if he was shoveling elephant shit, I’m sure it was better than dealing with that side of the family.

During these daydreams, I continue to build upon the fantasy. First, I simply joined the circus, shoveling elephant dung and working at the deep-fried Twinkie stand. Soon, these fantasies grew dull, so I elevated my position manager of the fried Twinkie stand. It was a fun flight of fancy.

I’d talk to locals, asking them about all the hot spots in the neighboring towns. Most of the time, the so-called hot spots were the local Wal-Mart. One time in New Mexico, I once saw a group of children make an obstacle course out of shopping carts in the Wal-Mart Parking Lot.

As rewarding as serving deep-fried Twinkies to the general public is, I grew bored with that aspect of my circus life and decided to go out on the prowl. My goal was to be the circus’ resident Lothario. I went unchallenged, since the ring leader and the strong man were gay, the lion tamer was married to the bearded lady and the clowns were a bunch of eunuchs. The only real threat would be the elephant man, but he was deformed, so I didn’t have too much to worry about.

My first conquest was to be Lily, the nubile mistress of Cotton Candy. We were just outside of New York City. I stopped by the stand, asking her if she wanted to come to the city with me. She agreed and we were off. I asked her if she wanted some dinner, she was famished, so I took her to Gray’s Papayas. She was puzzled at first. “Why are we getting hot dogs, we can get hot dogs at the circus, I was thinking we could get some Chinese food instead. I miss Chinese food.” Then I told her “Honey, these here are real hot dogs, not the stuff we serve, we can get Chinese food later. After all, this is the city that never sleeps.” She nodded her head and we walked in. I watched as her mouth enveloped the hot dog. She looked at me seductively. She finished it in two bites. After that, well…Hot DAMN!!! No, I’m a gentleman, I don’t kiss and tell.

After a few of these lurid fantasies, I decided to check in on the day-to-day aspects of circus life. Old Man Haley hired a new kid, a 15 year old runaway named Tim. He shoveled the lion shit. He lasted for a couple of days until the night he tried to pet one of the lions. Stupid bastard.

After that, the circus got a little bonkers. The ring leader and the strong man decided they wanted to retire to Vermont, so both positions needed to be filled. We took out a classified ad on craigslist and eventually, we hired an ex-bouncer from The Tunnel, no, not Vin Diesel. However, they still needed a ring leader, so I decided to go for it. I wowed Old Man Haley with my spectacular stage-presence. After that, I had the run of the circus.

On the of-hours, I often would drive Bobo’s Clown Car into town and I would pack it to the brim with local souvenirs, like the “I’ve been butt raped by an alien in Roswell, New Mexico” bumper sticker or the neighboring Hagerman, New Mexico’s “I’ve been butt raped by an Illegal Alien” bumper sticker. I would take all the information I could about the area and work it into my act.

My favorite was when we did Newark, New Jersey. It was around the time they had something called the Portuguese Feast. I had to go and see not only our competition, but I needed to come up with something other than a joke about smokestacks and loose women. I had a bit too much to drink while I was conducting my research. I asked if anyone knew where I could get a good pork chop. The next thing I knew I was getting bottles of Corona smashed over my head. Turns out, pork chop is an ethnic slur! I had no idea, so I worked it into my act and the crowd loved it.

Sadly, these thoughts usually give way to reality, like when I get a call from a bill-collector or I’m about to get into a head-on collision 42nd Street. I let out a sigh and look forward to my next visit under the Big Top.

Copyright 2005 Ian Gonzales

Sin City

2005-04-01T13:27:00.000-08:00

I saw Sin City at 12:01 in Union Square. The movie is nothing short of amazing. It's loyal to the comic, which means it's violent, sexy, perverse and hysterical.

The comic is a homage to black and white noir films and the film nails the look perfectly. The actors channel Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwick, Humphrey Bogart and pretty much every hard nosed detective and dizzy dame from Film Noir's heyday.

See it. Now.

Welcome

2005-03-21T15:03:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the Cleverschmever Review. Here, I will spout off about movies, music, books, comics and life in general. At times, these writings will be reviews, other times they will be essays and yet other times, they will be fictional stories. I hope you enjoy them, I know I will!