Tuesday, May 25, 2010

F O U N D




I fell into L O S T like most teachers: summer boredom. It was the summer after the 2nd season that a friend loaned me the dvds for the first two seasons. And like most fans who got hooked via dvds, I watched those two seasons in about 12 days. From season 3 on, I was in. I routinely checked the theories on darkufo.blogspot.com. I planned my life around whatever night L O S T was being shown that season.

And so, naturally, I watched all 5 ½ hours of programming on Sunday. These are my thoughts.

First, how ridiculous were those text messages embedded into previous scenes during the two-hour recap. Jack reading a scrap of paper. Desmond checking the computer screen. Ben reading the newspaper. All so Tori from Hartford, CN could say “I don’t know what I’m going to do without the show. Maybe feed my children again.” But thank GOD they didn’t run them during the finale.

But onto the show. I pretty much loved it. There are some critics that weren’t fans. They said that there were too many unanswered questions. For example:



But my brother put it best when he tweeted that the finale made him not care about the answers that weren’t given.

First of all, CJ Cregg prepared us for this during “Across the Sea” when she told Claudia (pre-rock bash to the head) that every question would only lead to more questions. I hated that episode at first, because while it gave concrete answers (Jacob was a normal dude, with a twin, who loved checkers), it only led to more questions (what was Mother’s nature, how long had she been there, what’s the alcohol content of that wine). So I’m glad the finale chose to focus on the characters. Screw answers. The best stories make you think. They don’t give you an answer key. And for God’s sake, you have to suspend your disbelief when reading/watching a story. It’s fiction, people.

Alright. I’m just going to run down what I liked about the finale:

• While I was frustrated that some of the plot lines from this season seemed to just kill time and ultimately have little significance (Dogen and the magical baseball), I enjoyed that Desmond’s purpose became clear. His years of taking those shots in the Hatch allowed him to survive the destruction of the light, which in turn make Flocke mortal, which in turn allowed Jack to kill him. Which by the way, how awesome was Jack’s flying punch into the commercial break?! Freaking awesome. That’s how awesome.


• I was trying to sort out how the two worlds we’d been seeing all season would merge or replace one another or whatever. And it was when Locke told Jack that he didn’t have a son that I said “Maybe the sideways world is heaven.” I was close.

• Jacob – protector of the island for 2,000 years. Jack – protector of the island for 2,000 minutes. Hurley – protector of the island for ????? I loved that Ben stuck around to help Hurley, and that he was apparently a “great #2,” according to Hurley at the church.



• Speaking of Hurley #1 and Ben #2, Ben telling Hurley that he could make his own rules, I think, confirmed that so much of what happened actually happened. Not as much of the island stuff was magical. For example, the FDW. At first, we were told that if you turned the frozen donkey wheel you could never return to the island. Ben turned it. And returned. Locke turned it. And returned (sort of). It was a rule created by Jacob for his own purpose. It wasn’t a law of island physics. And Ben’s scene with Hurley suggests that many of the rules were manmade. They were meant to keep people in line. It’s clear that Hurley is going to/did choose a different way of running the island, most likely involving putt-putt.

• I wasn’t as emotionally moved by all of the golden memory moments of love as most seemed to be. I mean, they were nice. I am glad they didn’t bother to show us what Boone’s epiphany moment was.

• I am in the camp that believes they knew the final scene from the beginning. Jack and the coffin. That’s what it was all about early on, and that what it was all about in the end. When he realizes he has died, how great was that. And what a great idea, to think that when you die, everyone that was important to you, regardless of when they died, will be there. Who knows when/how Kate or Sawyer or Ben dies. And who cares? Not me. That’s who.

• Rose and Bernard. How great were they. I mean, sure. Everytime I saw Bernard, I thought of the principal from Head Of the Class. And sure. I was hoping he'd be the principal at Ben's school. Instead, they seemed to be enlightened both on-island and in the sideways world. When Jack talked to Bernard in the dentist office, it seemed like he knew everything. That was our first glimpse at the goofy/confident smile that the characters all got by the end of the finale, once enlightened. But then I think back to Rose on the plane when season 6 opened. One of my early theories was that we'd see that scene again, as the final scene of L O S T. But now, it seems like if you were to put things chronologically, Jack would close his eyes and die on the island, and then he'd "wake up" on the plane, and Rose would tell him that it was ok. And that he can "let go." Awesome.

In closing, please enjoy my two favorite clip videos from the last couple weeks:

“Dude”



L O S T Deaths

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Know your 1997 pop-tween outfits

The public has been dying to know.  After 60 Minutes, who would get the next exclusive interview with Conan O'Brien?

The answer:  Hanson.  Of course.  On a webcast following Conan's show in Tulsa.  

I recorded the live stream.  (Apologies for the video stutters that came from the source feed.)  Hear Conan spill all the details on the art of autographing boobs, and his undying love of the jackalope.



Expect Jay Leno to steal this idea and record a hard-hitting sitdown with Aqua any day now.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Tramps Like Us and We Like Tramps

I spent the end of last week in the bustling metropolis of Columbus, Ohio.  While my Thursday was spent congregating with thousands to bear witness to Band of Horses and Pearl Jam***, Friday involved a quick trip to the thrift store.  While we unsuccessful in our attempt to find a cheap couch for Dan, we found a surprisingly decent amount of vinyl gems mixed in with hundreds of castoffs from the likes of Mitch Miller and various mid-60's man bands.

I was pleased with my take from the lot.  The Goulet purchase was a 50-cent investment in kitsch, and the Mellencamp purchases were fueled by a mixture of good fortune and resentment.  (A pristine copy of Scarecrow shouldn't be sitting in a damn thrift shop next to some post-Lionel Richie Commodores album!   In fact, I resent this thrift shop for only charging me 90 cents!  Show some fucking respect to the Coug!)

But the highlight purchase of the trip was Bruce Springsteen's The Wild, the Innocent, & The E Street Shuffle.  Not for it's content (though it's a far better album than it's more popular follow-up), but for the amazing photo on the back of the album.


There is nothing NOT amazing about what Clarence Clemons is/is not wearing here.  Every clothing decision he's made just leads to more and more questions.  He's a one man wardrobe version of LOST.  Sorry, guy in the doorway.  Not only are you wearing shoes, but you're missing a cabbie hat AND ascot.  And you call yourself a rock star?  For shame, sir.




***Bad Idea Show mini-Review:  Pearl Jam are fucking fantastic.  An "Eldery Woman" singalong had everyone grinning like fools, and the guitar solo from "Alive" still carries more nostalgic resonance than any instrumental passage has a right to hold.  It's time that we all admit that in the canon of 1991 albums, Ten is better start-to-finish than Nevermind.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Kid Stays in the Picture

Last Sunday, I went to the Mariners/White Sox game. Ken Griffey did not start, but in the 9th inning, the Mariners were trailing 3-2, with 2 out and 2 men on base. Griffey came in to pinch-hit with the game on the line, and for the next 64 seconds, excitement was in the air!



Through 16 games, Griffey is batting .226. A double on opening day has been his only extra-base hit thus far. Predictably, Griffey's lack of production is becoming a driving force among those covering the Mariners. While some writers offer theories in regards to fundamentals, others simply wonder how much a 40-year-old with several surgeries behind him could have left in his tank.  But of course, any time an aging superstar starts to show his age, you can be assured that some misguided rube will champion the self-righteous position of the fan who considers "few things sadder" that witnessing such a legend "embarass" himself.  These were the same whiners who projected their own self-hatred onto a fat, jump-shooting Michael Jordan in a when he dared to put on a Wizards uniform past his prime.  Really, you consider it painful that a guy who used to get 3 hits per 10 at bats now only gets 2 hits per 10 at bats?  Go fuck yourself.  


The truth of the matter is that 40-year-old baseball players are SUPPOSED to have terrible numbers.  If there is one major fallout of the steroid era, it is the fact the two most famous cheaters became the most famous specifically because they cheated when they were old.  Bonds and Clemens ruined the curve for older players, because instead of their bodies breaking down like they were supposed to, each pumped themselves full of every possible hormone, and were rewarded with multiple MVPs and Cy Youngs.  


In the final season of his career, 43-year-old Willie Mays batted .211.
In the final season of his career, 42-year-old Hank Aaron batted .229.
In the final season of his career, 40-year-old Frank Robinson batted .224.
In the final season of his career, 42-year-old Stan Musial batted .255 (his career avg. was still .331.)
In the final season of his career, 40-year-old BABE FUCKING RUTH batted .181.


Griffey is one of the very few players in baseball whose legacy has been helped by the steroids scandal.  After all, the standard-issue excuse has been that players used them to recover quickly from injuries, and as every Reds fan will testify, Griffey was never one to be accused of coming back too quickly from pain.


If anything, baseball should be celebrating Ken Griffey and his .220-esque average.  In a sport that gets wrapped up in it's on sanctimonious nostalgia far too easily, what better way to market its return to Americana values than to shout out to all who will listen, "Hey, it's the new era of MLB, when old players look like old players again!"


And remember this, angry Mariners fans.  Griffey may be struggling at the plate, but he continues to lead the team, and all of baseball, in the all-important category of "Ichiro tickling."

Monday, April 19, 2010

Red Hot

In the last couple weeks, I've spent a significant amount of time watching Cincinnati Reds games online.  A few games ago, Thom Brennaman made an offhanded comment about it being the 20th anniversary of the 1990 World Series campaign, and three thoughts quickly entered my mind.

1.  Holy shit, I'm old.
2.  Why isn't Fox Sports Midwest making a bigger deal about this? It would be great to have a flashback each game with highlights of the corresponding game from the 1990 season.  Which would you rather see - highlights of Paul O'Neill winning a game with a walk-off single, or more replays of Joey Votto striking out twice a game?
3.  I AM OLD.  AND WHERE'S QUINONES?

In an attempt to feed my nostalgic hunger, I discovered something amazing.  I don't know how it came to be that I had never seen this video before, but now that I have, I can't imagine I ever lived in a world that did not include the glorious rhymes of B-Lark and The Homeboys.


Good heavens, where do I start?  Paul O'Neill gets things off to a rousing start, and honestly looks like he's reading a statement in a POW video.  Seriously, this is the face of a man who is blinking in morse code for help.

While hearing B-Lark take the mic, I find myself puzzled.  Obviously the video does not match the audio on the track, but the audio has some sense of vocal inflection, and you would think that when recording the video portion, he might appear slightly life-like, but no such luck.

But let's move to Eric Davis and his RIDICULOUS READING GLASSES!  What is happening there?  They're so distracting that I barely notice his entire acid-washed wardrobe.  He must have won those frames in a dance off with that spaz that shows up at the end of the "Beat It" video.

If there's one aspect of the 1990 Reds that truly separates them from any other team in history, it has to be the Nasty Boys.  Aside from closers, there's no such thing as a stud pitcher in a major league bullpen, and yet this team had three of them who were not only great, but became oddly famous as well.  And as great as they were on the mound, they were equally as AWFUL when trying to speak in rhythm!  But I do appreciate the guy attempting to "conduct" on the left of the screen.

Remaining highlights include Billy Hatcher rapping with the ferocity of Jim Caldwell, Mariano Duncan wearing pants up to his nipples while paraphrasing MC Hammer, and of course, the obvious appeal of Chris Sabo lisping all over the studio in a manner that makes you wonder if this whole thing was a cruel prank on Spuds.**
I'm just sayin'...


Kids, please listen to the 1990 Cincinnati Reds - say no to drugs, AND say no to crack.  We can all win the World Series of life.  Take it from Jose Rijo's sunglasses.

**Further evidence of the team ganging up on Spuds happens in the post-music video portion of the clip, where the 1990 team appears at a reunion from last year.  All players are wearing their jerseys EXCEPT for Sabo.  I believe it's because he got bad advice from everyone else in regards to wardrobe.  In actuality, he probably forgot it at home.  Ob La Di, Ob La Da