It’s another Friday in November, which means it must be time for another Splotchy-created holiday, as defined in a previous post.
Are we that close to the end of November? Yes!
Is this post just an excuse for me to use the word “penultimate”? Yes!
Is this a holiday I plan on observing? Probably not.
In any case, Happy Purchase Preprocessed Turkey Products Day!
Next and final November holiday: Whatever Splotchy Says Day (consider this your final warning)
I just remembered something not included in my original Halloween review.
There was another celebrity cameo of note — Monkees drummer Micky Dolenz plays a gun shop owner who sells Dr. Loomis a .357 Magnum.
My joke in the review would have been as follows:
“What, Peter Tork wasn’t available?”
I am aware that this joke is not strong enough to support an addendum, but I write this not to be funny, but instead to point out the presence of a haggard Monkee — we must keep track of these people and the Monkee philosophy they are attempting to spread.
Going to see movies at a second-run theater has more than just cheapness as a positive aspect. While the rest of you are despairing about the lack of product leaking out of the luxurious sphincter of Hollywood due to the ongoing writers’ strike, I’ll be munching popcorn while I watch Good Luck Chuck (of course, I’ll still be sobbing in the bitter darkness — how could one *not* sob in the presence of Good Luck Chuck?).
Anyways, what the hell were my choices today at the lovely LaGrange?
The Jane Austen Book Club – Not my cup of tea, probably. I felt pretty crappy after I realized Waitress, a movie I had previously avoided at the LaGrange, was written and directed by Adrienne Shelly, a woman who was recently murdered in NYC. Still, that guilt wasn’t enough to make me feel like seeing this movie tonight. I DO NOT LIKE CHICK MOVIES.
Superbad – I had checked the listings online, but I hadn’t realized this was playing until I was waiting in line with a collection of high school age kids. I half-heartedly wanted to see this, but…
I was already pretty much set on seeing Rob Zombie’s Halloween.
It was a dark, rainy and extremely crappy night as I walked into the LaGrange. There was actually a guy inside who took my ticket and tore it in half, a first for me there — probably due to the fact that it was relatively crowded, being an unusual weeknight before Thanksgiving and all.
The crowd was apparently there for Superbad. Halloween was showing in Theater 4. This theater will henceforth be known as the Bob Seger Theater, for the amount of times I have heard “Night Moves” there waiting for a movie to start. It was for the most part empty. There were just a couple guys to the left of me and a large Latino family (with two small girls!) sitting several rows behind me.
This new version of Halloween ain’t scary. It’s different than the original version in that we spend a lot more time with Michael Myers as a boy. A lot more. A lot, lot more. It attempts to explain the roots of his evil. And you know what? Who gives a crap why he’s evil. That’s what was so great about the original. When Michael’s parents come home to find him holding a bloody knife, it just defies a rational explanation why he would do such a thing, which is one of the reasons why it was scary.
So as we finally get to Myers as an adult, and he escapes a sanitarium to wreak havoc upon the small, imaginary town of Haddonfield, Illinois, I look at the time. Holy crap. They took like 45 minutes to set his crazy badass adult self in motion.
And the thing is, for the remainder of the film, Myers is just this relentless killing machine. I mean, the actor who plays him as an adult is literally seven feet tall. Whatever attempt to humanize Myers in the first part of the film is pretty much thrown away for the rest.
His unstoppable acts of violence actually made the movie kind of boring. Every scene where some character would come up against Myers I kept on hoping *someone* could hurt him, or get away, something. But he’d always just push his head through a wall, grab them and twist off their head like a carny killing a chicken.
Malcolm McDowell plays Dr. Loomis, previously played by the unfortunately now dead Donald Pleasance. There’s a crapload of other cameos which I guess we are supposed to find amusing or interesting. Brad Dourif plays a sheriff with a complicated beard that was apparently sprayed with fake snow, Sid Haig has a small part, as does Dee Wallace, Ken Foree, etc. Sybil Danning plays a nurse who gets forked to death (yes, forked to death), but does not show any boobs. Repeat… Sybil Danning does not show her boobs.
None of the characters really registered on any kind of emotional level for me, even the chick playing the Jamie Lee Curtis part. There was a scene where she was hiding behind a wall as Myers was looking for her. She was keeping her hands on her mouth because she couldn’t stop making noise. What the hell? You can’t be quiet when a psychopath is looking for you? You actually have to put your hands over your mouth to prevent you from making involuntary “Oh my God” sounds? What, does she have Tourette syndrome or something?
So, the movie ends and I walk outside. Thank heavens it’s not raining any more. It’s goddamn snowing.
Current conditions shitty, with a chance of increased shittiness later in the day.
Hit me with a doodle idea!
UPDATE:
For Lulu – Lulu facing the wrath of her seniors when she tells them that their senior class trip has been canceled due to cyclone damage.
First commenter with an idea gets that idea doodled, I reckon.
UPDATE:
For Manx – Whatever the second commenter wants.
30 seconds were spent on this doodle. I still have 30 seconds left to populate the thought balloon, based on the idea of the next commenter. 
UPDATE! (Part 2)
For PJ – the Spice Girls being attacked by a sabre-tooth tiger.
From today’s Chicago Sun Times, the latest installment in the ongoing missing person investigation of Stacy Peterson:
“I would tell her I’m ashamed of her for putting the family through this,” Morphey said. “She knows where she is.”
In a lengthy interview, Morphey, 79, spoke about how heartbreaking she finds the insinuation that her son would harm anyone. Stacy’s family believes the young mother would never have left her two children and fear she is dead.
“I could swear on a Bible that he would never hurt anyone at any time,” Morphey said. “I’m proud he’s my son and I feel so bad he’s got to go through all this because of her. She was just too young.” There is a 30-year age difference between Drew and Stacy Peterson.
A mother doesn’t believe her accused son is responsible for a crime? Is this news?
Did you remember to press the Turbo button?
For a recent pyramid scheme post, I whipped up a quick little diagram showing me at the top of the pyramid, and then different levels under.
At the bottom of the pyramid, for the people who would really see no benefit from the scheme, I wrote “Some Suckers”.
This got me thinking about the popular idea of six degrees of separation, where any two individuals can be connected by a chain of acquaintances.
You can view the diagram as a representation of degrees of separation between myself and the “suckers”. For me, it not only shows the connection, but also the loss in meaningfulness as the amount of steps from one’s self to another increases.
For example, my connection to “you” is very important. As soon as I walk another step away from me, my interest in and concern for an individual sharply drops off.
So, say you tell me that your friend has been found to have a terminal form of cancer. I’d say, “Wow, that’s horrible.” But my concern would probably be more for how it affects you, than how it affects your friend. If it was a friend of a friend? I’d say, “Why are you even telling me this? I don’t know this person.” You try and tell me about a friend of a friend of a friend, and my eyes will glaze over.
We use degrees of separation every day, perhaps in situations we aren’t really aware of, or don’t want to be aware of.
Take this, for example:
Imagine the relationship of a person on a farm with a cow — what kind of connection is there? How about a person who works at a slaughterhouse? What is the connection? What is your relationship with the cow? Is it even a cow when you get to it? It’s not for me. It’s beef. The steps the cow walks to get to me are involuntary and have a very negative effect on the cow’s health.
We can say this is a small world, and that we are all connected, but how meaningful is that when the connections don’t have any weight behind them? If we don’t have extended connections that are truly meaningful, how can we combat issues like poverty, global warming, etc.? How can we be motivated if we don’t feel connected? Will we die off as a species as a result of this flaw?
Should I go become a Buddhist now?
Hi, here’s a very short update regarding the adventures of Baklava, the Night Elf Druid that likes to kill defenseless deer and sit on campfires.
Baklava is now Level 16.
My brother recently made an adjustment to his character. Characters in World of Warcraft, when not killing deer, can focus on pursuing two professions. My brother recently learned that you can pick two professions that have synergies.
If you pursue Herbology and Alchemy as your professions, you can take the flowers and plants you pick and make potions. If you choose Tanning and Leathermaking, you can make items from the pelts you collect from animals.
Baklava’s professions of choice were Herbology and Tanning, which have absolutely no synergies whatsoever. He was essentially able to gather raw materials for two unrelated things, but couldn’t actually do anything with them. Baklava has now “unlearned” Herbology and is on the track to be a Leathermaker.
For those of you who might miss Baklava’s spice bread, please do not worry. It is still possible to have hobbies. Cooking is one of Baklava’s hobbies, and will always have a place in his dark purple heart.
While online, Baklava has been invited on numerous occasions by a persistent fellow who wants him to join a guild called the “Italian World Order”. My brother would understand Greeks seeking him out, as he bears the name of a sweet dessert, but was surprised to be contacted by Italians. Baklava is uncertain about the purpose of this guild, and how serious it is about Italian global domination. As of yet, he has not sought further information or expressed interest in joining.
And now, another Night Elf babe.