Last Minute Haiku

Quick Shots With Nathan & Robert

First subject – sports opinions at a blistering pace, what should the name of this column be?!

Rj: Buzzer Beaters!

NF: Sudden Death, no.. Faceoffs!

Wrong! The answer is Quick Shots! Next subject – Jason Kidd breaks his son’s collarbone while diving for a loose ball!

RJ: Was it a case of hustle gone awry, or did J.K. simply decide that T.J. had eaten enough french fries? If the latter true, as we all suspect, maybe Jason should reconsider his son’s dietary needs. After all, that kid seriously needs to plump up and even out that body to head ratio. Have there been any DNA tests to prove that Sam Cassell is not the father?

NF: No joke, that kid’s got a head like one those “genetic melons” they’re making to feed poor countries and people in bomb shelters. Kaboom!

Time! Next subject – Derek Fisher, when did he become the worst point guard in the NBA?!

RJ: I’d say he became the worst right after he was drafted. The only guard with less lateral mobility is standing in front of Buckingham Palace. He’s also more likey to get a hand in your face.

NF: Those guards have ice in their veins. They look you straight in the eye and then put a three-bomb right between ‘em. Kaboom!

RJ: What the hell?

Time! Next subject – who’s your NBA MVP?!

RJ: Garnett or Kobe? Nevermind that. I couldn’t help but notice that during the 4th quarter of Game 2 of the Lakers-Wolves series, Minnesota’s Ass-handing to the Lakers, that the L.A. announcers, I’m sorry, the TNT announcers kept pointing out that Minnesota can’t rely on 30+ points from Troy Hudson for every game, and they would need additional scoring if they expected to win this series. But, the Twolves didn’t win by two points or even ten it was something like 50. I don’t care if Hudson only scores 15, they win. Oh yeah, Garnett is MVP.

NF: And in game 3, did you notice how the L.A. referees, I’m sorry, NBA referees kept trying to hand the Lakers the game? Then they got nervous or something because it was so obvious and they decided to let the Wolves win. Troy Hudson is my MVP, too.

Time! Next subject – Robert Horry pushes a cameraman when walking off the court during halftime!

RJ: I know Charles Barkley is still not a role model after he said, “Good for you Robert Horry, the cameraman shouldn’t have been there (on the court).” I hope Barkley never runs for Governer of Alabama, or the governer of Georgia will get thrown through a plate glass window after bumping into Barkley while mingling at a State dinner. But enough about politics. Why shouldn’t the camera man be there? How does Barkley think Barkley made his millions? Not through concessions, that’s where he spends his millions. The money rolls thanks to the huge television contracts. With television contracts comes cameras and cameramen. The NBA fan base has grown not through established wide shots of game play from cameras mounted in the rafters, but through up-close action shots, player interviews where we learn of God’s rooting interests, and of course, the floor cam. I wonder, where are the cameramen on Barkley’s set allowed to stand? I fear for the fellow in charge of Barkley’s close-ups.

NF: Sometimes, I wish the programming guide on my DirecTV would update constantly, not just when new shows are on. I want to know what commercials are on instantaneously and what people are talking about at the exact moment. Like, instead of “TNT Halftime Show” I want “EJ and Kenny talk about Allen Iverson” and then “Charles Barkley and guest host Magic Johnson make a joke about golf” and then “Man Show Commercial”. Know what I’m saying?

RJ: I love Man Show commercials.

Time! Last subject – the Utah Jazz!

RJ: What a buzz-kill life must be for a Jazz fan. Does any one of them believe they actually have a chance for a title? It must be like being married to the same annoying little white guy and redneck truck-driver for 15 years (I think bigamy is legal in that state), but after the divorce next year, Stockton and Malone get to keep all the money!

NF: And what’s with having the top two assist men on the same team, Marc Jackson and John Stockton? That seems kind of gay for some reason.

RJ: Yeah, no kidding.

The Italian Job

I just saw X2: X-Men United, a story about a bizarre parallel universe where blue, mutant beings live among us and the president is an intelligent person. The most interesting thing, however, was an unadvertised short film before the movie with huge stars and incredible stunts. I was surprised to find the industry would produce something so spectacular without any promotion or an inflated ticket price, but it was very good and a nostalgic reminder of cinema’s early days when short cartoons would appear before every movie.

The plot of this fast-paced action vehicle revolves around a gang of bank robbers played by Mark Wahlberg, Charlize Theron, Edward Norton, and Seth Green. In the setup, Norton double-crosses his team in a foreign country identified only by snowy mountains. Everyone else wants payback, a disembodied voice informs us, so they follow Norton to America where they manage to set him up and get back the loot during a car chase that involves a truck falling through a bridge and Green, as a comic-relief computer geek, monitoring “mission payback” with a laptop. At one point, Wahlberg punches Norton and Theron later complains that she did not get to punch him, too. But then, at the end of the movie, when Norton knows he’s been out-witted and there’s nothing he can do about it, she does punch him! What a finale!

Because of the one-and-a-half minute running time, some information definitely gets lost in the furious tempo. It seems some dialogue must have ended up on the cutting room floor, and the reason that truck falls through the bridge or who belongs to the disembodied voice is never fully explained. The chemistry between Mark and Charlize, though, is wonderfully snappy, and makes up for any missing plot points.

Knowing Hollywood, some genius will see this and decide to re-make it as a TV series or a feature-length film. Let’s hope, for once, this doesn’t happen, and we can enjoy The Italian Job for what it is- the ultimate, sexy express-train of suspense movies. On scale of Wahlberg brothers, where Robert is a 1 and Donnie is a 10, The Italian Job starring Mark Wahlberg is, coincidentally, a Mark Wahlberg, the numerical equivalent of a 7.9.

Discovering Vincent

In elementary school, I used to read Circus Magazine all the time, eager for gossipy tidbits about my favorite bands, grown men with teased hair and makeup. Later in high school, I wrote a poem with my friend called “Man Trapped in Closet” for a school publication. These events are related in so far that it wasn’t until years later I finally realized they both had severe homo-erotic undercurrents. I still write the occasional poem, although I make sure to title them things like “My Girlfriend Likes it Doggy” even if most of them are about the changing seasons of life. On the other hand, I never read Circus anymore. This is partly because I have no interest in hair-metal (although I still believe that Cinderella’s bluesy-cock-rock is ageless). The point is that I don’t read much rock journalism at all anymore, even though my interest in music has grown exponentially since I first picked up Motley Crue’s Theatre of Pain back in 4th grade (of course, seeing Tommy Lee’s huge penis on a VHS tape in college was probably when all the “things in my youth that could now be considered a little gay” dawned on me, but more on that in another record review).

So, I don’t much about M. Ward. Judging from his music, he’d be a fairly interesting person to talk to, but if he doesn’t sing about it include it in his liner notes, then I’ll wait until we actually speak to learn about him. Until then, he and anybody else on my CD shelf (and in “My Music” folder) can be pricks or humanitarians. As long as they produce albums as beautiful as Transfiguration of Vincent, then all is well. You probably don’t know if you can trust me after reading my first paragraph, but believe it- this record is better than Cinderella’s Night Songs, Long Cold Winter, and Heartbreak Station combined!

If Elliot Smith had gotten better instead of trifling when he awkwardly moved from his “acoustic” period to his “instrumentation” period, plus had a box full of mid-century American records to dwell on, then this is what it might have been. Matt Ward has a similar, soft voice that compliments the sparse affair in many of his songs. Yet, it also fits perfectly within layers of fluttering feedback, jazzy guitar licks, bubbling horns, and piano-twang.

He, also, will invariably be compared to “sad songwriters” like Nick Drake because of the lyrics and the finger-picking. He also mentions the word “sad” 16 times in his first two songs. But the sense of loss that has suffused his past two albums is complimented by a spry wink. It’s the same cold-beer in a desert-town contentment-vibe that Ward’s former label mate Howe Gelb makes his living on. This collection might just qualify as elusive sad-songs that make you want to dance. He knows it, too, ending things with an elegant cover of David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”.

Strangely familiar but utterly new, this loose brew of mood, experimentation, and harmony is a keeper. On a scale of 80’s glam-rock magazines, where Metal Edge is a 1 and Hit Parader is a 10, Transfiguration of Vincent is a Kerrang!, the numerical equivalent of a 9.1.

Celebrities Shut Up!

It’s a good thing we have responsible people organizing movie reunions. Without them, the tide of celebrities who won’t shut up might be even greater. So, thank you to the noble Dale Petroskey for canceling the Bull Durham reunion at the Baseball Hall of Fame two weeks ago. Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon were endangering U.S. troops with anti-war statements and they wouldn’t shut up. They said, of course, they weren’t against the troops and the whole premise was ridiculous. Dale responded by apologizing… for not telling them on the phone, personally, to shut up. Slam. Dale was right. What the Sarandons and many other famous people fail to recognize is that armies of terrorist states are just like good football teams. They tape inspirational quotes all over their locker rooms. They pin-up pictures of traitor-activist Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt – even the military aggressors hate Bush, they think!

Why do celebrities think we want to hear what they have to say, anyway? Besides Extra, Access Hollywood, Entertainment Tonight, MTV Entertainment Tonight, Starz! Sneak Peaks, E! News Daily, Biography, Larry King Live, Showbiz Tonight, Good Morning America, Celebrity Profile, Entertainment Weekly, People, US, Premiere, Vanity Fair, Interview, Rolling Stone, and maybe a few others, I don’t know where they would get that idea. It is hard to believe we want to hear what they have to say during peace times, much less war times, when it is much more important to be quiet. It is important to be quiet because of the “endangering troops” thing.

It is even worse when celebrities speak up over seas. I’m looking at you short Dixie Chick. Why weren’t you at school, Natalie, on manners day? “Don’t say things in a foreign country” comes right in between “chew with your mouth closed” and that salad fork thing. Speaking your mind on stage, especially in England, is even worse, where I imagine they take particular offense to the mixing of music and politics. The Sex Pistols were deported to America for a reason. The whole thing might be illegal, too. Your rights to free speech, which are already too open-ended, stop at the borders. In England, I’m pretty sure they don’t even have free speech.

To top it all off, it now appears as if the celebrity anti-war movement was not even a byproduct of liberal, Cali-fostered stupidity, but a just a cynical way to make more money. The Dixie Chicks album is selling more than ever, probably being downloaded more than that. Michael Moore’s movie is the highest ranking pre-ordered DVD on Amazon.com. That’s just the TWO examples I can think of, but I’m sure there are thousands. Paul Farhi of the Washington Post points out that there is no real backlash because “baby boomers grew up with dissent” and young people “aren’t paying attention” or aren’t easily offended. It definitely isn’t because people agree with them! Maybe it’s that nobody understands them. A “fictional war” in “fictitious times”? What does that even mean, Moore?!

So, to all the Garofalos who expect to drop a dime and get rich on the death of innocent American soldiers, the joke (and it’s a funny one) will be on you. Unless you know how to make cluster bombs, put out fires, organize new “democracies”, export oil, or rebuild cities, then you ain’t getting squat!

Dear Nathan

Dear Nathan,

My wife, “Janine,” and I were married three months ago. We have a large circle of friends who gave us wonderful wedding gifts.

Yesterday, a mysterious package arrived in the mail. It was addressed only to “Janine”, but we opened it together. Inside, we found a beautifully framed photograph of “Janine” with her old boyfriend, “Martin.” It had been taken several years ago in Paris. They were laughing with their arms around each other (in wet bathing suits) in front of the Eiffel Tower. I was very offended. I don’t even know why they were wearing bathing suits in the middle of France. I took the photograph out of the frame, threw it in the toilet, and shat on it. “Janine” thinks I overreacted and was fairly grossed out, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Martin” has never liked me because “I stole Janine away from him.” I believe he intentionally wanted to push my buttons — and I guess he succeeded. I totally trust “Janine”, but I feel my anger was justified. What do you think? — BUMMED

Nathan says, “Greeeatt…”

Dear Nathan,

My name is “Lisa” and I have a son named “Fred”. My ex-husband “Frankie” and I have been apart for over a year now. He is a Marine in Iraq. Recently, I have been receiving e-mails from him asking to get back together. I am not seeing anyone, and I feel for him, and “Fred” needs a dad, but I am not sure I want to be in a relationship with “Frankie” because he used to get crazy eyes sometimes. I’m sure being a psycho is a good thing when you’re mowing down brownies in the desert, but I don’t like it in the house. Plus, being an American troop is almost as good as being a movie star these days. If I turn him down, he’d thank me with all the play he’ll be getting when he comes home, right? What should I do? — CONFUSED IN AMERICA

Nathan says, “I don’t know.”

Dear Nathan,

For the past ten years, I have been secretly married to a man of whom my family does not approve. I have been able to keep them in the dark because I live in another state, told them I’ve been in college getting three master degrees, and have been avoiding their calls for, let’s just say, quite some time. I’m 33 years old, Robin, and I know the problems it will cause, especially because I have a mixed-race child they don’t know about. I need some tips on how to tell my family. Help! — NOT A STUDENT IN IDAHO

Nathan says, “Get a grip.”

Student Fights

One time, back in college, I stared at the bulletin board in the dormitory hallway for over an hour. The only product of that time is this poem.

Sudent Fights The sign in my classroom was intriguing. Student Fights it read, And in Europe, too, For a fee (and a heart full of desire I suppose). Sign me up, I thought, So I did. Rage and Restraint, COURAGE AND CONTROL, KUNG FU, AHHHHHH, THE MARTIAL ARTS!!! After landing in Old Oxford, I looked at my brochure (you know, to find out where the budokan arena was). Turns out, I had simply purchased a student flight.

A Review of a Review of Better Luck Tomorrow

I have never seen Better Luck Tomorrow. I originally thought it was a re-released John Woo movie, one of his really bad ones before he came to America and “the bad ones” became “the decent ones”. The fact that Asians were in the previews and Bulletproof Monk came out the same week didn’t help. Turns out, it’s a movie about cocaine high-school gangs. I know this and the rest of the plot thanks to Bill Muller, the reviewer for my local newspaper, The Arizona Republic.

Bill has a template for most every review he writes, including this one- start with some glib remarks about a warmed over plot or inept dialogue, then jokily reference the title. About the new Gwyneth Paltrow movie he states, “If this is the View From the Top, I’d hate to see the view from the bottom,” and of the aforementioned Chow-Yun Fat movie, “Bulletproof Monk should have taken a vow of silence.” With that business taken care of, he uses the remaining space to reveal the entire plot.

Movie trailers are bad enough, but Bill actually takes it to a new level, revealing to the reader all major and minor characters, central story arcs, sub-plots, good jokes, scary parts, and location of the final gun fight. Half the time, he will return to an actual critique for his final line and revisit an earlier theme, the title-as-gag, for one final jab, something like, “Unfortunately, Boat Trip leaves the laughs back on shore.” Other times however, he will go on to tell us the resolution of the movie, almost as if he has forgotten he is a critic, but rather a novelist, finishing up his exciting new book about a junior CIA agent named Cody Banks.

This wouldn’t be so bad if he worked for a small town weekly or a lame internet site, but he is ruining movies for an entire metropolitan area. They are predictable enough without his cliff notes. His five-year tenure casts doubt on whether or not he’ll be fired anytime soon, but when he is, I will say to him, “Better luck… next time.”

On a scale of film journalism credibilty, where blurb-machine Byron Allen is a 1 and Rolling Stone’s Peter Travers is a 10, Bill Muller’s review of Better Luck Tomorrow rates a Gene Shalit, the numerical equivalent of a 0.

Good Elephant

If the White Stripes have a problem, you can’t find it inside their latest CD. The album is a full-size, bull-rush of gorgeous distortion. If they have a problem, and I’m not sure they do, it’s on the outer cover. It’s Jack and Meg. They’re wearing red and white. There’s no bass. That’s peppermint. Jack’s got his own record label now. Are they related or what?

The last song on Elephant drolly addresses that question which occupied the nation’s garage rock trivia yen when the Stripes made national airwaves two years ago. Access Hollywood couldn’t answer it. Neither could Time Magazine. By now, we all now what’s up and I, for one, don’t really care. The fashion thing, some say, is wearing a little thin. Of course, the only reason this might matter is if you’re thinking about these people and all the television baggage when you’re listening to the music. That’s a phenomenon, I’m sure, not too uncommon these days, but totally unnecessary.

From the opening proclamation of “Seven Nation Army” to the wings of “There’s No Home For You Here” and right on through to the final gnarled, beach-blanket twist of “Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine” the music plain rocks. It handcuffs a thousand familiar sounds, from Zeppelin to MC5 to the AC/DC, and releases them in one mass jailbreak. It’s simply one of the greatest tribute albums ever not made by a tribute band… at least not yet. Admittedly, some riffs even sound lifted from other White Stripes albums, but it’s forgivable. The guitar work on “Ball and Biscuit” justifies every case of tinnitus and stupid-guitar-solo-face it spawns.

Ultimately, it’s fondness for the past prevents Elephant from treading any new ground. It won’t be mistaken for a modern masterpiece; it’s arena rock in the cellar. But who wants it any other way? People are putting racing stripes on their Kia Spectra’s and Dennis Miller is sounding like a neo-conservative. An album that is an escape from current times as opposed to a reflection of them is probably going to be more enjoyable for its efforts. The album is easy to love if you let yourself.

On a scale of listening devices, where transistor radios are a 1 and a DVD-Audio players are a 10, the new White Stripes rates an iPod, the numerical equivalent of an 8.5.

The Weakest Links

When Weakest Link first premiered on prime-time, it was a total cheat. The basic premise was a regular game show but with a host who let the contestants know how stupid they were with the familiar comedy device, “acerbic jab with English accent”. The insults, however, were far-reaching and ambiguous. Every contestant, no matter how deserving (most of them) or undeserving (a few others), received the same degree of scripted, uninspiring humiliation. For today’s daytime syndicated version, the red-haired lady and her English accent haven replaced by some blond guy and his weak soul patch. The contestants are just as dim-witted, but this time, the host does actually take the time to tailor some of his verbal abuse to the specific shortcomings of players (their clothes are a favorite target). Sadly, this ability to “evaluate information and expound upon it”, otherwise known as “thinking”, makes him the best game show host on daytime. This is an amazing fact itself and should be quickly clarified before I explain why I hate Weakest Link contestants.

The new host of Family Feud is Al from Home Improvement. He is affable and prefers hugging the families instead of making out with them but apparently has no ability to process words in real time (one of the things I look for in television personalities). He prefers to free-associate. When someone, for example, guessed “birds” in response to the survey, “Name something in the sky besides a plane,” this was his typical reaction as he pointed to the big board: “Birds….birds…. birds in the hand, eats like a bird, show me birds!”

Meredith Vieira, host of the syndicated version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire, has similar problems with using language on the spot. To her credit, the patter with contestants about their names and occupations is competent. Unfortunately, it’s a different case when it comes to her in-game management. On virtually every question, she tries to cleverly work the player’s answer into a hopeless stab at creating suspense where there is none. Case in point: When a man guessed “aspirin”, she paused before saying, “Well… I’m sorry… you may need some aspirin after this… because you might have a headache from all the applause, you’re right!” Wow, did you see how, at first, she made it seem like he was wrong because why else would you need aspirin, but then she reversed it with a witty little twist?! Never mind that it wasn’t actually witty and no one cared because it was only a $1000 dollar question. Bravo Vieira!

Donny Osmond is the host of the new Pyramid. That should tell you enough, but if it doesn’t, the fact he does an Austin Powers impersonation every episode should.

So, back to Weakest Link contestants. That they miss questions like “What state is Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport in?” is bad enough, but to hate quiz show contestants because of their inability to answer grade-school level questions would be beside the point. Every game show has their fair show of those. What sets them apart is their unbelievable capacity for self-delusion.

If you aren’t familiar with the show, contestants are routinely voted off by other players, after which they take the “walk of shame” and talk to the camera. I wish they would talk to the hand (that ones for you, Al, feel free to use it)! This is when each and every one will explain why “Gary” or “Shandra” or “Todd from Oklahoma” is the one who actually deserved to be the one voted off. It was these other people who were actually “the weakest link” or “had it in for me from the start” or “took too long to answer” or “ought to be gone because they missed the question about The Brady Bunch!” Of course, each and every person saying these things, invariably, were the most deserving to be voted off. The farce continues after the final face-off between the last two standing. The loser inevitably rationalizes that “if I got the questions she got, I would have won!”

I suppose this attitude could be extended to the lack of accountability and common sense, the general equivocation present in all of society. I must pray this is not the case, these people are not a cross-section of the population, and that by some amazing coincidence only the most ill-bred and deluded are chosen for Weakest Link. Because, man, I really hate them. I really do. Almost as much as I hate Donny Osmond.