Plugged in and ready to fall

Hard as it may be to believe, there was a point to my previous entry before it got hijacked by my inexplicable obsession with the only ABC sitcom so bad that it makes Step By Step look like The Office. The last entry was supposed to be about brief encounters with intriguing people whom you know you’ll never see again. These moments always come when you least expect it; like when you’re in an elevator on your way to work, or standing in line at the grocery store. Since I normally try to avoid small talk the same way Kelly Osbourne avoids singing lessons, it’s always a pleasant surprise whenever I have one of these encounters.

One of my more memorable encounters happened a few years ago on the train. It was around 10 or 11 O’ Clock at night and I was miserable. I can’t remember exactly what it was that had me feeling so depressed, but it was one of those nights when I just had to get out of the house, otherwise I probably would have pulled a Jonathan Brandis. (And by “pulling a Jonathan Brandis,” I don’t mean ‘suicide;’ Just that I was contemplating starring in a lame Sci-fi series with Peter DeLuise and Dustin Nguyen)

Anyway, I didn’t have a car, so I decided to ride the train around until I either A) suffered a gruesome death at the hands of one of the many homicidal hobos that lived in the train stations, or B) fell asleep in one of the cars, only to awaken the following day in an ice-filled bathtub with a bloody bandage across my midsection.

I ended up getting off at Five Points Station and wandering aimlessly through the downtown area amidst aggressive prostitutes and even more aggressive homeless people. After 45 minutes of being yelled at by angry homeless guys and trying to convince various ladies of the evening that I did not, in fact want to “have a good time,” I headed back to Five Points station and caught the Northbound train. As soon as I boarded the car and sat down, I noticed that an attractive girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to Emily Watson was smiling at me.

I’m not used to being smiled at by attractive women who look like famous British actresses, so my first reaction was to see if someone was sitting behind me. After all, I figured, there’s no way in hell that she could possibly be looking at me. I turned around and discovered (much to my surprise) that there was no one behind me.

We ended up having a great little conversation. It turned out that she was from Ireland, and was visiting the US for a few weeks. Listening to her talk was like having a party in my eardrums because she spoke with a thick, Irish brogue, which automatically made every word that came out of her mouth sound 75% more interesting and charming. We talked for what seemed like hours about The Commitments, Irish (and American) slang, pop music, and Atlanta’s crappy mass transit system. She talked a lot about Ireland, and how she thought I’d really like it there because the people were so friendly. (Which is the exact opposite of what I’ve heard from Americans who’ve visited Ireland) It was such a great conversation, that by the time I’d reached my stop, I couldn’t even remember what I’d been so depressed about earlier that evening.

You know what I love more than anything on this wacky, screwed up planet we call earth? Making out with my life-size poster of John Stamos. The poster is the result of a magical photo shoot that took place during the first season of Full House, back when Stamos was still experimenting with different brands of space age hair gel. Even though it'd be another year before he'd perfect the “rebel with a heart of gold” smirk that would soon bring a nation of housewives to their knees, there was still a dangerous glint in the man's eyes. A look that immediately let you know that getting too close to Uncle Jessie would only leave you with a broken heart and a pillow case that smelled faintly of Hai Karate. Sometimes when I press my eager lips against the glossy paper and close my eyes- I swear I can almost hear DJ and Kimmy Gibler concocting a plan to sneak out of the house and go to a cool, college party.

Just kidding. Everybody knows I’m all about Dave Coulier. You gotta love a guy who could inspire Alanis Morissette to write a crappy, overwrought Top 40 hit about going down on him in a theater. As far as I'm concerned, that’s just further proof that Coulier is the real deal. A first class P.I.M.P.

I’m still waiting for Dave to turn the comedy world on its ear with his mind-blowing stand-up album, tentatively titled “For God’s Sake, Please Give Me A Job. Seriously, If I Have To Fellate Another Stranger For Rent Money I’ll Kill Myself.”
Mr. Coulier, if this is a just world, then it's only a matter of time before you get the respect that you truly deserve.

I was talking to a friend today about Aronofsky’s Watchmen adaptation, and how I think it’s doomed to fail. I’m a huge fan of the graphic novel, and I’d be all for a film adaptation if I thought it would work. But there’s just no way in hell that you could possibly take Alan Moore’s story and turn it into a film without stripping it of everything that made it so unique. Unlike the X-Men and Spider-Man, Watchmen is the kind of story that doesn’t provide you with a whole lot of leeway plot-wise. Because it has a specific beginning, middle, and an end, the filmmakers are stuck with the impossible task of trying to cram 416 pages of character development and back story into a two hour movie.

And what about that ending? Are audiences really going to want an ending where the good guys don’t save the day and walk off into the sunset while an Aerosmith song plays in the background? They’re setting themselves up for failure by even attempting to condense such a dark, complex story into a crowd-pleasing super hero movie. It’s not going to work. It’d be like trying to turn Clive Barker’s Sacrament into a family sitcom.

There are countless other comic book properties that would make much better films. The Authority’s a great example. I’d love to see this comic translated to the silver screen. It’s got all the elements of a really cool, big-budget, sci-fi/action movie. Just think about it: You’ve got a sentient spacecraft the size of a small planet that’s capable of phasing between realities. An openly gay superman-type who could lay waste to an entire continent without breaking a sweat. A sadistic, leather-clad vigilante who’s virtually unbeatable because he can run a thousand different fight scenarios in his head before his opponent has even thrown the first punch. And my personal favorite; Jenny Sparks, a tough, chain-smoking Brit who could take out half the Marvel Universe with one hand tied behind her back.

I once read an interview where Warren Ellis said that The Authority is essentially the Justice League; the only difference being that the Authority likes to fight dirty. That’s why I think these characters would go over so well with moviegoers. They’re not these one-dimensional boy/girl scouts who won’t kill the bad guy because of some strict moral code. They’ll do whatever it takes to stop the power-hungry super villain from blowing up the planet, even if it means murdering him, and every single one of his henchmen in cold blood.

For me, that was always the most fascinating thing about the Authority. The idea of a super group so committed to making the world a safer place, that they don’t see anything wrong with breaking the law as long as the ends justify the means. It’s a pretty bold (and disturbing) take on the whole Super Team genre. I’d love to see this comic get the Hollywood treatment with someone like Alex Proyas or Ridley Scott behind the camera.

In other news: The AC in my car sucks. I had it turned up to “3” today and it still felt like I was driving through the bowels of Hell. At this point, I think it’d be more effective if I just paid a drifter to sit in the passenger’s seat and blow on me.

Since this is my first blog entry, I thought I’d use this space to discuss my guiltiest of guilty pleasures, pop music. More specifically, boy bands. It’s been a while since I’ve waxed idiotic about my obscene fascination with photogenic white guys who’ve turned imitating black R&B artists into lucrative careers, so I figured now would be a good time to get it out of my system.

But before I get into my bad taste in music, I wanted to mention something I’d been thinking about since Jimmy “I suck the comedy out of every single sketch I’m in” Fallon left SNL last week. I’ve been wondering about what they’re going to do with Weekend Update when the new season begins next fall. Will Fallon be replaced, or will Tina Fey man the Update desk all by herself? Personally, I think Fey’s funny, and smart enough to do Weekend Update alone. She carried WU while Fallon was co-anchor, so I’m pretty confident in her ability to keep bringing the funny without having to share the screen with a marginally talented pretty boy.

But if The Powers That Be insist on pairing Fey with another cast member, I think it should be Maya Rudolph. Maya would be a great choice for co-anchor because A) It’d be the first time in Weekend Update history that two women were at the desk. And B) She’s ten times funnier than everyone else on the show. (with the exception of Amy Poehler and Rachel Dratch)

Okay, now on to the boy bands. First of all, I want to start out by saying that I really feel for JC Chasez right now. You could tell that Justin Timberlake’s solo success was like a slap in the face to him, so he immediately called on Dallas Austin and the Basement Jaxx to hook him up with a top 40 album to call his own. I still can’t pinpoint exactly where it was that Chasez went wrong. The guy’s got a great voice, and to his credit, he doesn’t come across as annoying and clueless as Timberlake has proven himself to be in countless interviews. I thought “Some Girls” (the first song off of Chasez’s solo debut) was a slinky, subversive stab at R&B street cred, but for some reason the single was met with a resounding “Meh.” Oh well, at least he still has his day job.

And speaking of the Backstreet Boys- (was that a smooth segue or what?), I hear they’re ending their three year sabbatical to begin work on a new album. Um…why? These guys are a great example of the disasters that can occur when you give pop stars too much creative control. BSB were at their best when they were in the hands of seasoned writers/producers like Veit Renn and Timmy Allen- talented pop/soul architects who knew how to craft songs that showcased BSB’s strengths and downplayed their weaknesses. As soon as Brian, AJ, Howie, and whoever the hell those other two guys are, decided to grab the creative reins, the quality of the music dropped faster than Brittany Murphy’s panties on a Friday night.

The fact that they’re collaborating with Kenna sounds promising, but I’m not expecting a whole lot from this album. Unlike N’Sync, Backstreet just can’t be trusted when left to their own devices. It’s frustrating to see BSB crank out one shitty album after another because they’re such incredible pop/R&B vocalists. Seriously, Howie Dorough has the kind of silvery falsetto El Debarge would kill for, and AJ Mclean could sing circles around any of the black R&B artists currently dominating the urban radio market. I’d love to see AJ go solo, because I think that with the right producer, he could blow people away, much like Janet Jackson did when she unleashed “Control” on an unsuspecting public back in ‘87. What? Why are you looking at me like that?