Touch You Last

In case you don’t read my comments (and if not, you’re nuts cause that’s where all the good stuff is), Courtney has just declared herself movie illiterate. So, if you had to recommend five essential movies that everyone should see, what would they be? Let me stress: only five. For those of you with break-the-rules tendencies (like--I dunno--just picking a name out of the air... Jorge ?), your comment gets chucked out. Give’r.

So Chris Penn died last night of as-yet unknown causes. I’m not generally in the habit of eulogizing or paying tribute to dead celebrities, but I feel a little more comfortable in this instance. This isn’t like Katherine Hepburn or Lloyd Bridges; I was actually alive and culturally conscious for the length of this guy’s career. I was there when it all began, in that magical movie called Footloose —wherein Kevin Bacon took Chris Penn’s can’t dance farmboy and, after a grueling training montage backed by “Let’s Hear it For the Boy,” taught him gymnastic tumbling as if was a legitimate thing to do at the school dance. I heard the news and I though about his career. In my mind, his heyday was the first half of the nineties, but checking out imdb he only had two really good roles in there. First, there’s Nice Guy Eddie in Reservoir Dogs . I won’t go so far as to say it he went all method , but it was a balls-out bit of acting where he was unafraid to spit when he talked or groan ugly

Let's pretend for a second that the time machine from Napoleon Dynamite actually worked--his problem being that he didn't endure the pain for long enough. You've purchased this device off the Internet and it will work, but only twice: once to bring you back or forward in time, and once to return you to the present. As evidenced in the movie, however, the device causes 'significant groin trauma.' Would you be brave enough to use this device and where would you go with it?

You’re all thankful that this song is fading from your memory, but it’s come back into my life now so I’m forcing it back into yours. I’ve started to listen to MSN Radio at work, which is not bad and also less buggy than Accuradio seems to be. I’m partial to the alternative station, but the downside is that I hear Nickleback’s "Photograph" eighty-five times a day. When it was released last summer, every format and every station played it on a goddamn twenty-four hour loop. Somehow, without our knowing, Chad Kroeger was elected Chair of the CRTC , and now there’s nothing we can do. The guys from Nickleback have never been brilliant lyricists, but this song is a very special kind of crap. Let’s get to it, shall we? (Be sure to follow the footnotes below.) Look at this photograph Every time I do it makes me laugh How did our eyes get so red? And what the hell is on Joey’s head? (1) And this is where I grew up I think the present owner fixed it up (2) I never knew we ever went wi

Who's someone from your past you'd like to reconnect with? For whatever purpose you'd like: to shoot the shit with, to ream out, to crotch-kick, or to make sweet, sweet love to.

I just finished To Every Thing There is a Season by Alistair MacLeod . It was on sale last Christmas at Costco and sold as if it was a new novella—at least that’s the impression I had. Turns out it’s a repackaged, republished short story that first appeared in As Birds Bring Forth the Sun , his second short story collection put out in 1986. And it’s not even that great a story! It’s well written, but there’s just nothing special about it—nothing that warrants a new special edition published in hard cover and puffed up with ho-hum illustrations. In short, there is a family in Cape Breton waiting for their son to return for a Christmas visit (he works on the lake boats in Ontario ). Son returns, they all go to church, then the family open presents and that’s pretty much it. (Okay, so in the background is the issue of the quickly aging parents, and the second oldest son gets invited to open presents with the adult family members on Christmas Eve, thus rewarding his mat

While there's nothing to see here, there's loads new at Jody 's site. I bring this up because: She seems to be posting a lot these days (and great stuff, to boot.) It was only about three days ago that I noticed the Read More link and realized that her posts are more than three lines long. She's very smart, and your knowing that I know her will make you think I too must be smart * . I've yet to comment there because you have to register to do so and I'm so very lazy. But I promise I will soon. Jody, I'm your number one lurker. *Too bad that's a dirty lie.

Thanks to the technical wizardry of Jorge , here's a little slideshow of the night, with a picture for each movie.

11:23pm – The movie moves from being funny bad to just bad. Te-dious. Soon we’re all gonna break open each other’s skulls and feast on the goo inside, just for something to do. 11:33pm – The Thing starts. 11:37pm – Sarah goes to bed, but asks to be woken up for Fast Times at Ridgemont High. 11:43pm – Cathy retires for the evening, wishing us all good luck. 11:50pm – I mention that I’d like to have a drink, but we all agree that alcohol will only make us tired. 11:52pm – We all do a shot of jag. 12:15am – And another. 2:24am – We’re well into Strangelove . No one’s especially jazzed about it. Not a great choice for the 1:30 to 3:00 period. Either way, this is my second time seeing it, and once that’s done I can not have to see it again for the next 15 years or so. Here’s the current state of everyone: Jorge – bleary-eyed but eager to drink Isha – clad in pajama pants but wide awake Dave – eyes itchy, stomach burny; otherwise hanging in 3:02am – We start Henry: Portrait of a Serial Kill

4:05 – We compile a list of things that we have to look forward to in the future, according to Logan’s Run : the universal popularity of pastel-coloured clothing, poor marksmanship, big fat belts, flashpot-based explosions only, big sideburns, man kimonos, Rick Springfield hair, big-assed necklaces, Connect Four-inspired décor, guns that shoot ice, and free love (especially slow-motion orgies.) 4:08 - Things of which the future will be devoid: bras, skirts that go past one’s upper thigh, musical instruments other than synthesizers (played by cats.) 4:30 – Mark and Tania arrive. 4:49 – Logan – “I’m so confused. This all made sense until Box.” Isha – “My fucking words exactly.” 5:31 – Near the end of the movie, everyone rushes outside of one of the domed cities to find Peter Ustinov standing by a fire. They all crowd around him to see what he is all about; they’ve never seen anyone over the age of thirty before. Mark - “Someone is standing in the fire now. This movie has continui

10:00 am – We start Deliverance , bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 10:05 am – Ronny Cox and Weird-Assed Looking Kid start playing "Dueling Banjos"." Less then five notes in, Isha begins laughing uncontrollably. 10:23 am – Isha – “What’s wrong with this kid?” Jorge – “He can play the banjo with his mind.” 10:33 am – Team Deliverance makes camp for the night. While three of the men have actual tents, Burt Reynolds is lying on the hard-ass ground. Isha – “Is that his tent? It’s just a sheet on a pole!” Dave – “Burt Reynolds: Toughest man ever.” The men all say goodnight. Burt doesn’t close his eyes, but gives a steely glare towards the sky. Dave – “He doesn’t sleep. He only ever watches.” Isha – “He’s like Chuck Norris.” 10:45 am – Squeeeeeeee! All jokes stop. In fact, there’s no conversation for the next 20 minutes. 11:02 am - Dave – “I guess somebody had to play that character, but why would Ned Beatty accept this role? ‘Ned, it’s a great role. You get sodomized, and then th

This time tomorrow, we’ll be starting out second movie— Superfly , not Dolemite unfortunately. Isha recommended a place near where I work called Invisible Cinema , which ended up carrying all the rarer movies I needed, except Dolemite . Of the blaxploitation films they had in stock, the guy there recommended Coffy over Superfly . I checked out the movie description, and Coffy has Pam Greer shooting drug dealers in the crotch and getting into cat fights where the tops go a-ripping. In the end, I figured with Barbarella and Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! on the docket, the bare boobs portion of the evening weighed heavily enough as is. We may be online and posting throughout the day, dependant on whether I can leverage Jorge’s technical acumen and making my wireless fucking router work. Jorge is S-M-R-T, so I have faith in him. Failing that though, don’t expect to hear from me until late Sunday, and even then I’ll just log on to say “eyes burny… stomach sicky… me go back to sleepy no

I won’t provide a blow-by-blow of Christmas and New Year’s. It was a lot of fun, but just too many days, too many places, too many people—too much detail to provide. Instead and for brevity’s sake, I offer these acknowledgements: To Sarah, thanks for getting me everything I wanted, and for liking all the gifts you bought for yourself and we agreed were from me. Next year I promise: surprises galore—even if that means I give you things that have absolutely no practical application whatsoever. Think faberge eggs. To the MacDonalds, for their unceasing generosity. My day job pays okay, but marrying into this family will no doubt prove to be my most profitable profession. Also, thanks for being okay with our not being there for Christmas Day. And let’s not forget: the ninety-five pounds of baked goods and the strongest rum and eggnog I’ve ever had. To the McLean family, for helping to reclaim the McLean shooter party as my favourite party of the year . Special props to Barry, Gary, Sarah,

Let's talk resolutions. Whadaya got? Also, if you check the top right corner of the screen, I've replaced the nanowrimo word count with a discuss amongst yourselves link. Any ongoing hot topics will be featured there.

This comes out later than intended, but here it is either way. Kris , generous soul, recently posted her best of 2005 entry, which actually featured links to other people’s blogs (otherwise know as OPB. Ask Kris, are you down with OPB , and she’ll respond, yeah, you know me. ) Now I’m too lazy and self-absorbed to pull something like that off, so here’s what I’ve got instead. The best of me For better or worse, happy or sad, these are the entries I’ve written in the past year that I like the most: What’s it all about, Davie? Roont Here’s a Little Song for Everybody out There Wherein I’m a Drunken Lout For the love of God, kids, don’t do drugs! And especially don’t shout at the devil! Behold my skull! You look like that guy Wednesday Movie: Rebel Without a Cause Wednesday Movie: All About Eve Highlights from out trip to Michigan, Part 1 & 2 Yes, Virginia, a Bear Does Shit in the Woods I grow Old... I grow old A complex phrase, in which the various parts are enchained Our trip t