Okay, so this is more of a "first three months of 2008" review, rather than a Spring 2008 one, but who the Hell cares?
At any rate, the WGA strike is over and television will soon return to some semblance of normalcy (provided SAG doesn’t strike next). Until then, however, we were left with a rather chaotic early 2008 season. Here are my humble opinions:
The only show I watched on ABC this year (so far) was Lost, and it is pretty damned good, if you ask me. Still, one can notice a certain "rush to finish" (next season is reported to be the last) and the new "flash forward" gimmick has already proven itself too weak to support the season in its entirety, but it still rocks.
On CBS, I was convinced by a friend to watch Jericho, which, thankfully, has just been axed. Great concept, but a definite "rush to finish" mentality (not entirely the writers’ faults, mind you), but extremely sub-par execution. This is not suprising, however, as CBS is rife with sub-par execution (anything without CSI in the title).
The best thing on CBS so far this year was Comanche Moon, the final chapter of the Lonesome Dove saga. Great series, second only to the original. Steve Zahn was near-perfect as Gus McCrae.
Moving on the NBC, I forced myself to suffer through that hack Knight Rider update. Ugh... it’ll get picked up for series, I’m sure, where it won’t last a full season. Think Bionic Woman and you’ve got the right idea.
Let’s see... off the top of my head, I can only recall watching one series on ABC, one on CBS, and not a one on NBC (still waiting for Life and Chuck to come back). Which brings me to Fox... ah, thank the television gods for Fox.
There was Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, New Amsterdam, and American Idol. T:TSCC was rather interesting, and I did rather like it.
Unfortunately, the entire premise is based on a continuity error (explicitly identified in the pilot episode), and it’s really hard for me to keep watching. Still, with the surprising addition of former Beverly Hills 90210 loser Brian Austin Green as a fairly convincing soldier from the future, the show still has my interest. Now we just have to see if it gets picked up.
New Amsterdam has a concept that I really, really like. But, as with many new shows, the series hasn’t found its groove yet (which isn’t an excuse), and it may not make it. Sucks, too, since I have a connection to the lead actress. Ah, well... here’s hoping it gets much better... and fast.
American Idol is, well, American Idol. I can honestly say that I’m tired of the purposefully-goofy auditions, and would much rather watch a serious show. I can also honestly say that the current contestants see themselves far greater than they are (with one or two possible exceptions). And, to wrap it up, I can also honestly say those concert-going posers in the audience really annoy the fuck out of me when they stand up and sway during ballads. I get that they’re all 14-year-old girls, but for fuck’s sake... It’s gotten to the point that I fast-forward through the singing because I can’t stand to watch.
This blog is getting long, and there is no clear train of thought, so let me just add a few things:
HBO’s John Adams is undeniably the miniseries of the year (sorry Comance Moon). It’s a must-see. And, if you don’t like it, or at least find yourself not having a little more respect for our flag, then you need to get the fuck out of my country.
BBC America is addictive. I pretty much watch everything Gordon Ramsay, and am now stuck on yet another kitchen show: Last Restaurant Standing. Fantastic. I can’t wait for an American network to import it and fuck it all up.
I’m sure there are more shows I’ve been watching that I’ve missed, but oh, well... I’m sick of typing.
Have a nice day.
Showing posts with label American Idol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American Idol. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Kudos and F.U.-dos
It's been a while since I did something pointless and random, so here goes:
Kudos to Al Gore, who completely remodeled his energy-hog home into something much, much more efficient. Way to put your money where your mouth is (but I still wouldn't vote for you).
F.U.-dos to Bobby Petrino. You know, coaches all around the world often push their players by saying, "Finish what you start." Mr. Petrino, you have lost the right to ever say that again.
Kudos to Michael Vick. You're finally where you belong.
F.U.-dos to Michael Vick. You're finally where you belong.
Kudos to the San Diego Chargers. One more win and you clinch your division for the second year straight. Two more wins and you'll record back-to-back double-digit wins for the first time since the 1980 and 1981 seasons.
F.U.-dos to the San Diego Padres. Are you ever going to win a bid for a free agent? That being said, they are still looking better than last year.
Kudos to the AMPTP for sticking to their guns.
F.U.-dos to the AMPTP for not having a back-up plan in the case of a strike.
Kudos to the WGA for putting out some of the best television material in years.
F.U.-dos to the WGA for putting a lot of people out of work.
Kudos to NBC for picking up Life and Chuck for full-season runs (and possible kudos for dumping Bionic Woman).
F.U.-dos to NBC for leaving Journeyman in a current state of limbo.
Kudos to Ronald D. Moore for creating what was potentially the best science-fiction television series ever.
F.U.-dos to Ronald D. Moore for ruining it during the second season.
Kudos to Brad for getting me hired on American Idol.
F.U.-dos to everyone who fails to return emails, MySpace messages, and phone calls.
Kudos for the State of California for imposing penalties on employers that don't offer health care. More kudos for California for not fucking with the current health care system to do it. See, people? There are solutions.
F.U.-dos to China for not leaving Taiwan alone, among other places. Seriously, it's been a half-century. Is it really that important to have that island? F.U.-dos also go to the United States for being pussies and not formally recognizing Taiwan as a sovereign nation.
Kudos to everyone who reads these silly little blogs.
F.U.-dos to everyone who doesn't.
Kudos to Al Gore, who completely remodeled his energy-hog home into something much, much more efficient. Way to put your money where your mouth is (but I still wouldn't vote for you).
F.U.-dos to Bobby Petrino. You know, coaches all around the world often push their players by saying, "Finish what you start." Mr. Petrino, you have lost the right to ever say that again.
Kudos to Michael Vick. You're finally where you belong.
F.U.-dos to Michael Vick. You're finally where you belong.
Kudos to the San Diego Chargers. One more win and you clinch your division for the second year straight. Two more wins and you'll record back-to-back double-digit wins for the first time since the 1980 and 1981 seasons.
F.U.-dos to the San Diego Padres. Are you ever going to win a bid for a free agent? That being said, they are still looking better than last year.
Kudos to the AMPTP for sticking to their guns.
F.U.-dos to the AMPTP for not having a back-up plan in the case of a strike.
Kudos to the WGA for putting out some of the best television material in years.
F.U.-dos to the WGA for putting a lot of people out of work.
Kudos to NBC for picking up Life and Chuck for full-season runs (and possible kudos for dumping Bionic Woman).
F.U.-dos to NBC for leaving Journeyman in a current state of limbo.
Kudos to Ronald D. Moore for creating what was potentially the best science-fiction television series ever.
F.U.-dos to Ronald D. Moore for ruining it during the second season.
Kudos to Brad for getting me hired on American Idol.
F.U.-dos to everyone who fails to return emails, MySpace messages, and phone calls.
Kudos for the State of California for imposing penalties on employers that don't offer health care. More kudos for California for not fucking with the current health care system to do it. See, people? There are solutions.
F.U.-dos to China for not leaving Taiwan alone, among other places. Seriously, it's been a half-century. Is it really that important to have that island? F.U.-dos also go to the United States for being pussies and not formally recognizing Taiwan as a sovereign nation.
Kudos to everyone who reads these silly little blogs.
F.U.-dos to everyone who doesn't.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Random Musings Amid Mental Chaos
Good cause or not, last night's American Idol special, "Idol Gives Back," had to have been the most bloated two hours of television since, well, the last two-hour episode of American Idol.
Scientists believe they found a planet similar to Earth, located in the Libra constellation. Religious fundamentalists believe that those scientists pointed their telescopes back at Earth, in a ruse worthy of the "moonscape in a garage" ploy apparently used to fake the moon landings.
The Army is attempting to transform itself in order to better facilitate an expeditionary role. Unfortunately, the other three services (especially the Air Force) are severely limiting the Army in doing so, to point of actually hobbling the Army. More to come on this, I assure you.
I'm once again at a crossroads: California, or Carolina? Both have pros, both have cons. But I'm strangely attracted to a short-term Carolina trip for some obvious reason (obvious only to those who know, however).
The season three finale of Battlestar Galactica continues to awe and bewilder fans and critics alike, and it was aired a month ago. Outdoing the horrific writing of the season two finale wasn't easy, but it damn sure happened.
Jake Peavy, resident San Diego Padres ace, struck out nine in a row (one short of the record) in a surprising loss to the Diamondbacks. Regardless, the Padres are still 12-9, and in good shape to defend their NL West title. That being said, if those bastards don't win a World Series soon, I'm going to be pissed.
And that being said, if the Chargers don't win a Super Bowl (or three) soon, I'm going to be pissed.
Floyd Landis is still fighting his 7,283 positive tests for synthetic testosterone in his Tour de France win last year. Give it up, dude... take the hit, admit that you embarrassed yourself and your country, and disappear already.
A friend of mine is donating one of his kidneys to his friend's 17 year-old daughter. He claims he's just impulsive, but I stand by my claim that he's a better man than most men I know, including myself.
Arnold Schwarzenegger is threatening to sue the Federal Environmental Protection Agency unless they allow him to enforce cleaner air acts. Say what you will about the Governator, but I think he's pretty serious about saving Planet Earth (which is a great television series on Discovery Channel, by the way). No, I don't think we should change the Constitution to allow him to run for President, but I have to say that he's doing a decent job with California.
As many of you know, Nevada moved up its primaries in order to be one of the first states to vote in the election year. This was done in order to make Nevada more of a "force" in national politics. Um, you have five electoral votes (out of a possible minimum of four)... I don't think anyone really gives a shit.
The brother of former Arizona Cardinal safety and Army Ranger Pat Tillman is claiming that the Army covered up the fratricide in order to avoid another public relations blunder. Oops, that didn't work. Similarly, former "super POW" Jessica Lynch claimed her story was "heroically exaggerated" for the same reason. While Pat Tillman's brother is certainly in the right, I have a fundamental problem with Ms. Lynch. As in, why did she wait until AFTER the book and movie-of-the-week deals to come forward with this? Hmm...
Toyota surpassed General Motors as the global king of automobiles last fiscal quarter. Honestly, I've owned two GM vehicles, and I'm thinking their fall has more to do with a decline in quality than any other reason.
I've recently noticed how science fiction almost always refers to its space-borne infantry as Marines, but almost never refers to its space-borne crew as Sailors. Why is this? Both are direct references to water, so why is one passé and the other not?
I'm done for now.
Scientists believe they found a planet similar to Earth, located in the Libra constellation. Religious fundamentalists believe that those scientists pointed their telescopes back at Earth, in a ruse worthy of the "moonscape in a garage" ploy apparently used to fake the moon landings.
The Army is attempting to transform itself in order to better facilitate an expeditionary role. Unfortunately, the other three services (especially the Air Force) are severely limiting the Army in doing so, to point of actually hobbling the Army. More to come on this, I assure you.
I'm once again at a crossroads: California, or Carolina? Both have pros, both have cons. But I'm strangely attracted to a short-term Carolina trip for some obvious reason (obvious only to those who know, however).
The season three finale of Battlestar Galactica continues to awe and bewilder fans and critics alike, and it was aired a month ago. Outdoing the horrific writing of the season two finale wasn't easy, but it damn sure happened.
Jake Peavy, resident San Diego Padres ace, struck out nine in a row (one short of the record) in a surprising loss to the Diamondbacks. Regardless, the Padres are still 12-9, and in good shape to defend their NL West title. That being said, if those bastards don't win a World Series soon, I'm going to be pissed.
And that being said, if the Chargers don't win a Super Bowl (or three) soon, I'm going to be pissed.
Floyd Landis is still fighting his 7,283 positive tests for synthetic testosterone in his Tour de France win last year. Give it up, dude... take the hit, admit that you embarrassed yourself and your country, and disappear already.
A friend of mine is donating one of his kidneys to his friend's 17 year-old daughter. He claims he's just impulsive, but I stand by my claim that he's a better man than most men I know, including myself.
Arnold Schwarzenegger is threatening to sue the Federal Environmental Protection Agency unless they allow him to enforce cleaner air acts. Say what you will about the Governator, but I think he's pretty serious about saving Planet Earth (which is a great television series on Discovery Channel, by the way). No, I don't think we should change the Constitution to allow him to run for President, but I have to say that he's doing a decent job with California.
As many of you know, Nevada moved up its primaries in order to be one of the first states to vote in the election year. This was done in order to make Nevada more of a "force" in national politics. Um, you have five electoral votes (out of a possible minimum of four)... I don't think anyone really gives a shit.
The brother of former Arizona Cardinal safety and Army Ranger Pat Tillman is claiming that the Army covered up the fratricide in order to avoid another public relations blunder. Oops, that didn't work. Similarly, former "super POW" Jessica Lynch claimed her story was "heroically exaggerated" for the same reason. While Pat Tillman's brother is certainly in the right, I have a fundamental problem with Ms. Lynch. As in, why did she wait until AFTER the book and movie-of-the-week deals to come forward with this? Hmm...
Toyota surpassed General Motors as the global king of automobiles last fiscal quarter. Honestly, I've owned two GM vehicles, and I'm thinking their fall has more to do with a decline in quality than any other reason.
I've recently noticed how science fiction almost always refers to its space-borne infantry as Marines, but almost never refers to its space-borne crew as Sailors. Why is this? Both are direct references to water, so why is one passé and the other not?
I'm done for now.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
How About That?
Scientists have just determined that the closest known living relative to the Tyrannosaurus Rex is the chicken. I'd plug in a "but what did they taste like" joke, but some asshole reporter who thinks he's more clever than me beat me to it.
The Duke lacrosse players have been proclaimed innocent and the charges have been dropped by the North Carolina Attorney General. Did anybody really find this as a surprise? I mean, to find a "victim" less credible would require listening to Imus on the radio. Oops... did I just write that? Hey, nappy-headed hos have feelings, too.
People are walking out of Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino's double feature, Grindhouse, supposedly because they're not realizing that it's a double feature. That, or Robert Rodriguez' entry is worse than anybody is admitting.
I got dumped for a psychopath who writes what is undeniably the worst poetry on the planet. Can you believe that? And his eyes don't even point the same direction. And he's a closet homosexual. Which is really odd... but at least it explains his blatantly homoerotic narcissism.
The Black Donnellys, arguably the best new show on television, got ditched by NBC due to low ratings, thereby once again proving the stupidity of the American audience. But, rejoice, for Survivor is still on the air, and Sanjaya is still irritating the fuck out of me on American Idol. Way to go, American public. Way to go.
The San Diego Padres are off to a good start. Lets just hope they don't succumb to a head coach (whoops, manager) who repeatedly chokes in the playoffs despite having regular season records to be envious of. Wait a sec... wrong team.
NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell suspended moronic Tennessee Titan Pacman Jones a full year for his moronic behavior stemming from the fact that he's a moron. And, presumably, because the pink ghost kept nabbing him before he could get to the bouncing cherries.
Recording artist Pink is apparently being censored for her controversial views concerning President George Bush. I think the bigger controversy lies in the fact that she most likely has no idea who the current President is. NBC, please get rid of her Sunday Night Football intro. Please. It's fucking painful.
Overuse of a cell phone and/or laptop can cause the following health problems: sore thumbs, acne and rashes, carpal tunnel syndrome, computer vision syndrome, addiction, lower sperm count. Now, honestly, doesn't that sound more like the symptoms that our closet gay, no-talent poet gets when he surfs the internet for naked Elton John photos? Seriously, doesn't it?
Women who are ovulating are discovered to prefer "manly" and "high-testosterone" men. Um, we needed a study to discover that?
The UN recently issued a report that we are, in fact, in a state of global warming. Why do I get the feeling that Dick Cheney still doesn't believe it? No, let me rephrase that: why do I get the feeling that Dick Cheney still doesn't give a shit?
How about that?
The Duke lacrosse players have been proclaimed innocent and the charges have been dropped by the North Carolina Attorney General. Did anybody really find this as a surprise? I mean, to find a "victim" less credible would require listening to Imus on the radio. Oops... did I just write that? Hey, nappy-headed hos have feelings, too.
People are walking out of Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino's double feature, Grindhouse, supposedly because they're not realizing that it's a double feature. That, or Robert Rodriguez' entry is worse than anybody is admitting.
I got dumped for a psychopath who writes what is undeniably the worst poetry on the planet. Can you believe that? And his eyes don't even point the same direction. And he's a closet homosexual. Which is really odd... but at least it explains his blatantly homoerotic narcissism.
The Black Donnellys, arguably the best new show on television, got ditched by NBC due to low ratings, thereby once again proving the stupidity of the American audience. But, rejoice, for Survivor is still on the air, and Sanjaya is still irritating the fuck out of me on American Idol. Way to go, American public. Way to go.
The San Diego Padres are off to a good start. Lets just hope they don't succumb to a head coach (whoops, manager) who repeatedly chokes in the playoffs despite having regular season records to be envious of. Wait a sec... wrong team.
NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell suspended moronic Tennessee Titan Pacman Jones a full year for his moronic behavior stemming from the fact that he's a moron. And, presumably, because the pink ghost kept nabbing him before he could get to the bouncing cherries.
Recording artist Pink is apparently being censored for her controversial views concerning President George Bush. I think the bigger controversy lies in the fact that she most likely has no idea who the current President is. NBC, please get rid of her Sunday Night Football intro. Please. It's fucking painful.
Overuse of a cell phone and/or laptop can cause the following health problems: sore thumbs, acne and rashes, carpal tunnel syndrome, computer vision syndrome, addiction, lower sperm count. Now, honestly, doesn't that sound more like the symptoms that our closet gay, no-talent poet gets when he surfs the internet for naked Elton John photos? Seriously, doesn't it?
Women who are ovulating are discovered to prefer "manly" and "high-testosterone" men. Um, we needed a study to discover that?
The UN recently issued a report that we are, in fact, in a state of global warming. Why do I get the feeling that Dick Cheney still doesn't believe it? No, let me rephrase that: why do I get the feeling that Dick Cheney still doesn't give a shit?
How about that?
Thursday, April 5, 2007
As of Right Now...
... my top five favorite films are Road to Perdition, followed by (in no particular order) Beautiful Girls, Children of Men, Good Will Hunting, and Heat.
... I'm reading a book called The Short Screenplay by Dan Gurskis.
... I have yet to convince my hopefully-future roommate to move to Los Angeles NOW.
... the San Diego Padres are undefeated (2-0).
... grooming creme has replaced mousse as my hair product of choice.
... my latest script, Clandestine's Daughter, has yet to go out to my reader, despite my having promised it to her by last December (and I had intended to get it to her last May or so).
... I haven't worked on an actual set in 156 days.
... I am very upset that one of the good-looking girls on American Idol went home instead of that Sanjaya fruitcake.
... I'm really, really hungry.
... I'm officially excited for the new Transformers movie.
... the 15 Britons taken by Iran are on their way home.
... she has a boyfriend.
... ridiculously oversized "bunny slippers" are keeping my feet warm.
... my Boston Terrier/Pointer mix is trying to keep warm by sleeping under my German Shepherd.
... snow still caps the Sierra Nevadas.
... Charger Girl tryouts are underway.
... DC comics generally suck.
... I'm trying to figure out where I'll be tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year.
... I'm bored off of my ass, but not tired enough to go to sleep.
... I could use a backrub... and a pedicure.
... my pickup truck needs an oil change.
... you're probably wondering why the Hell you're reading this.
... I'm reading a book called The Short Screenplay by Dan Gurskis.
... I have yet to convince my hopefully-future roommate to move to Los Angeles NOW.
... the San Diego Padres are undefeated (2-0).
... grooming creme has replaced mousse as my hair product of choice.
... my latest script, Clandestine's Daughter, has yet to go out to my reader, despite my having promised it to her by last December (and I had intended to get it to her last May or so).
... I haven't worked on an actual set in 156 days.
... I am very upset that one of the good-looking girls on American Idol went home instead of that Sanjaya fruitcake.
... I'm really, really hungry.
... I'm officially excited for the new Transformers movie.
... the 15 Britons taken by Iran are on their way home.
... she has a boyfriend.
... ridiculously oversized "bunny slippers" are keeping my feet warm.
... my Boston Terrier/Pointer mix is trying to keep warm by sleeping under my German Shepherd.
... snow still caps the Sierra Nevadas.
... Charger Girl tryouts are underway.
... DC comics generally suck.
... I'm trying to figure out where I'll be tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year.
... I'm bored off of my ass, but not tired enough to go to sleep.
... I could use a backrub... and a pedicure.
... my pickup truck needs an oil change.
... you're probably wondering why the Hell you're reading this.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The "What the F*ck?" Awards, March 2007
The WTF Diplomacy Award
Iran, with all the recent uproar about wanting to open relations with the West, decided to kidnap a bunch of British sailors. I'm pretty sure they meant open "good" relations, but I could be wrong.
The WTF Movie Award
Homosexual writers tend to think that heterosexual males are fans of the movie 300 because, deep down, heterosexual males are all latently homosexual. Never mind the kick-ass carnage, the historically-based story, and the insanely good cinematography...
The WTF Politics Award
Sean Hannity, right-wing radio pundit, called John Edwards a piece of shit for staying in the Presidential race, implying that Edwards is trying to use his wife's cancer as publicity.
The WTF Music Award
Sanjaya, the talentless, identity-less, teeny-bopper icon has somehow managed to not yet be eliminated from Season 6 of American Idol.
The WTF Television Award
The two pointless new Lost characters, Nikki and Paolo, are eliminated from the show after several pointless appearances, a few pointless lines a dialogue, and a pointless episode pertaining to their pointless existence on the pointless island.
The WTF Science Fiction Award
Just go read any of my previous blogs pertaining to Battlestar Galactica... you'll get the idea.
The WTF Military Award
Not having any sort of clue what to do with Iraq, Afghanistan, or our military in general, the House and Senate voted for a timeline to pull out of Iraq. I'd rather have a timeline to get rid of the Army's embarrassing 'black beret,' but whatever.
The WTF Actor Award
Jeremy Piven, star of Entourage, apparently ran out of money and left a DVD set of his show as a tip after a dinner at an exclusive restaurant.
The WTF Humanitarian Award
Iraq suicide bombers posed as people giving away free flour.
The WTF Health Award
Nicorette gives me gas.
Iran, with all the recent uproar about wanting to open relations with the West, decided to kidnap a bunch of British sailors. I'm pretty sure they meant open "good" relations, but I could be wrong.
The WTF Movie Award
Homosexual writers tend to think that heterosexual males are fans of the movie 300 because, deep down, heterosexual males are all latently homosexual. Never mind the kick-ass carnage, the historically-based story, and the insanely good cinematography...
The WTF Politics Award
Sean Hannity, right-wing radio pundit, called John Edwards a piece of shit for staying in the Presidential race, implying that Edwards is trying to use his wife's cancer as publicity.
The WTF Music Award
Sanjaya, the talentless, identity-less, teeny-bopper icon has somehow managed to not yet be eliminated from Season 6 of American Idol.
The WTF Television Award
The two pointless new Lost characters, Nikki and Paolo, are eliminated from the show after several pointless appearances, a few pointless lines a dialogue, and a pointless episode pertaining to their pointless existence on the pointless island.
The WTF Science Fiction Award
Just go read any of my previous blogs pertaining to Battlestar Galactica... you'll get the idea.
The WTF Military Award
Not having any sort of clue what to do with Iraq, Afghanistan, or our military in general, the House and Senate voted for a timeline to pull out of Iraq. I'd rather have a timeline to get rid of the Army's embarrassing 'black beret,' but whatever.
The WTF Actor Award
Jeremy Piven, star of Entourage, apparently ran out of money and left a DVD set of his show as a tip after a dinner at an exclusive restaurant.
The WTF Humanitarian Award
Iraq suicide bombers posed as people giving away free flour.
The WTF Health Award
Nicorette gives me gas.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
My Girlfriend Likes My Poetry
Watching Simon Cowell dissuade some of the American Idol contestants is extremely funny. Sometimes, though, it's also very painful. Cowell gets criticized all of the time for being too mean, too coarse, too much of a dickhead. In reality, however, he's doing those people a favor. If you can't sing, have no hope of being able to sing, and aren't willing to take lessons and "come back next year," then you need to be told that you suck so you can give up and do something else with your life.
So begs the question, what the fuck were those people doing trying out in the first place? Well, they were likely done a great disservice by people they thought were friends. I'm talking mothers, siblings, drinking buddies. These people likely told those American Idol rejects "No, you really can sing."
Assholes all, I say.
I'm a writer. I'm also somewhat of a musician. And while it's important to know what your potential audience is going to think of your work, I discovered a long time ago that in order to get a really accurate and honest appraisal of your work, you need to ask other writers, other musicians, producers, editors. Basically, other professionals.
Except for those unfortunate enough to have really mean parents, your mother is always going to love your work. "Oh, baby, that's so good. You should try to get this published." And therein lies the danger of familial encouragement... your mother probably doesn't know shit, and is the last person you should be asking an opinion of.
Same goes with your girlfriend. And your friends in general.
In fact, stooping so low as to ask your regular buddies for opinions of your work is probably an indication that your own subconscious thinks your "art" sucks. And if that's the case, it's time you thought about doing something else.
The only thing worse than getting an opinion from a drinking buddy or a significant other is asking a friend that is qualified, and being lied to. Seriously, if you're a writer, and your friend's writing sucks, you need to tell him or her that. Feelings can't be spared in today's art and entertainment industries. There is just too much competition. Is making someone feel better now, only for that person to realize they suck later, really worth sparing heartache? Lives are wasted that way.
My girlfriend likes my poetry, she really does... but only because she has to.
So begs the question, what the fuck were those people doing trying out in the first place? Well, they were likely done a great disservice by people they thought were friends. I'm talking mothers, siblings, drinking buddies. These people likely told those American Idol rejects "No, you really can sing."
Assholes all, I say.
I'm a writer. I'm also somewhat of a musician. And while it's important to know what your potential audience is going to think of your work, I discovered a long time ago that in order to get a really accurate and honest appraisal of your work, you need to ask other writers, other musicians, producers, editors. Basically, other professionals.
Except for those unfortunate enough to have really mean parents, your mother is always going to love your work. "Oh, baby, that's so good. You should try to get this published." And therein lies the danger of familial encouragement... your mother probably doesn't know shit, and is the last person you should be asking an opinion of.
Same goes with your girlfriend. And your friends in general.
In fact, stooping so low as to ask your regular buddies for opinions of your work is probably an indication that your own subconscious thinks your "art" sucks. And if that's the case, it's time you thought about doing something else.
The only thing worse than getting an opinion from a drinking buddy or a significant other is asking a friend that is qualified, and being lied to. Seriously, if you're a writer, and your friend's writing sucks, you need to tell him or her that. Feelings can't be spared in today's art and entertainment industries. There is just too much competition. Is making someone feel better now, only for that person to realize they suck later, really worth sparing heartache? Lives are wasted that way.
My girlfriend likes my poetry, she really does... but only because she has to.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Advice for a Horrifically Bad Poet
I have officially been thrown off the deep end. Remember that bad poetry I hinted at in an earlier blog? He just keeps coming, and for whatever reason, I can't fucking avoid him.
Dude, if I'm going to be stuck reading your crap for the rest of MySpace eternity, the least you could do is learn how to write. This includes learning how to spell, and how not to overuse commas, but you're driving me so fucking crazy, I'll settle for a simple development of your talent. A talent, by the way, which wouldn't be allowed in the door of an American Idol for Poets contest.
I must apologize to my friend who is going to take offense or otherwise get mad at me for this... but like I said, nails on a chalkboard.
On to the advice... let's start with something your simple, underly-overly educated dumbass can pick up without too much thinking, eh?
Piece of Advice 1: Words you shouldn't use when writing poems:
Lucid – And don't use "liquid," "solid," or any other descriptor that ends in "id." Unless, of course, you're describing your own bad poetry, which is "flaccid."
Demon or Angel – Can we say BORING? Yeah, the Bible beat you to this, and Milton perfected it. Someone of your low level of talent doesn't have a chance. In other words, you have not been "blessid."
Hawk or Dove – Can we say STUPID? Of course, a hawk will represent violence, a dove peace, a hawk comes from "below" because a dove, naturally, must come from "above." Lord have mercy, STOP! The only bird reference that you fit is that you're like a pigeon taking a shit on my car.
Babel – Yet another Biblical reference that only becomes more obscure with poetry. Blah, blah, blah. Why don't you just write the lyrics to "Stairway to Heaven" and try to claim them as your own, you talentless moron?
Fire – Yes, the old, trusty "flame" of flammable, inflamed passion is heavily overused. Of course, it's usually only heavily overused by people who write bad poetry. A ha! I'm on to something. Fire of love? Check. Fire of lust? Check. Fire of desire? Oh, shit, check. Fire of time? That's a new one, still crappy, check. Fire of YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE. Definitely check.
Piece of Advice 2: Structure
Vary it up a little. When a chapbook is full of 100 poems that all sound the same, look the same, read the same, rhyme the same, and have the same words (those listed above, plus a few other culprits that I really didn't feel like getting into), YOU SUCK!
Change it up! Move a fucking comma! Give me a fucking limerick once in a while!
Piece of Advice 3: Learn to spell
There's nothing worse than a poem about love and lust than a poem about love and lust with fifteen misspelled words in as many lines. Your spelling is so bad, I'm surprised I haven't mistaken your poetry for being written in Latin.
Piece of Advice 4: Quit writing
Please. And for Heaven's sake, never, never, never, write a song lyric again. It almost lobotomized me.
Dude, if I'm going to be stuck reading your crap for the rest of MySpace eternity, the least you could do is learn how to write. This includes learning how to spell, and how not to overuse commas, but you're driving me so fucking crazy, I'll settle for a simple development of your talent. A talent, by the way, which wouldn't be allowed in the door of an American Idol for Poets contest.
I must apologize to my friend who is going to take offense or otherwise get mad at me for this... but like I said, nails on a chalkboard.
On to the advice... let's start with something your simple, underly-overly educated dumbass can pick up without too much thinking, eh?
Piece of Advice 1: Words you shouldn't use when writing poems:
Lucid – And don't use "liquid," "solid," or any other descriptor that ends in "id." Unless, of course, you're describing your own bad poetry, which is "flaccid."
Demon or Angel – Can we say BORING? Yeah, the Bible beat you to this, and Milton perfected it. Someone of your low level of talent doesn't have a chance. In other words, you have not been "blessid."
Hawk or Dove – Can we say STUPID? Of course, a hawk will represent violence, a dove peace, a hawk comes from "below" because a dove, naturally, must come from "above." Lord have mercy, STOP! The only bird reference that you fit is that you're like a pigeon taking a shit on my car.
Babel – Yet another Biblical reference that only becomes more obscure with poetry. Blah, blah, blah. Why don't you just write the lyrics to "Stairway to Heaven" and try to claim them as your own, you talentless moron?
Fire – Yes, the old, trusty "flame" of flammable, inflamed passion is heavily overused. Of course, it's usually only heavily overused by people who write bad poetry. A ha! I'm on to something. Fire of love? Check. Fire of lust? Check. Fire of desire? Oh, shit, check. Fire of time? That's a new one, still crappy, check. Fire of YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE. Definitely check.
Piece of Advice 2: Structure
Vary it up a little. When a chapbook is full of 100 poems that all sound the same, look the same, read the same, rhyme the same, and have the same words (those listed above, plus a few other culprits that I really didn't feel like getting into), YOU SUCK!
Change it up! Move a fucking comma! Give me a fucking limerick once in a while!
Piece of Advice 3: Learn to spell
There's nothing worse than a poem about love and lust than a poem about love and lust with fifteen misspelled words in as many lines. Your spelling is so bad, I'm surprised I haven't mistaken your poetry for being written in Latin.
Piece of Advice 4: Quit writing
Please. And for Heaven's sake, never, never, never, write a song lyric again. It almost lobotomized me.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
A Sleepless Night
I'm a pet owner. Dogs and cats. A lot of them. And like most pet owners, my pets are a part of my family. A part of it. They watch my television, they listen to my music, they eat in my kitchen. Sounds dirty, I know, and it is... but I wouldn't change it for the world.
On Wednesday, May 24, 2006, I took my dogs for a walk in a wide-open field. Not quite the middle-of-nowhere, but a good couple of miles from the nearest house and the nearest highway. In fact, other than a small livestock farm, a gravel quarry, and a water tower, there's nothing but acres upon acres of playground (for a four-legged friend, of course). It was 12:30 PM. I walked my usual route around the field, with my loyal German Shepherd in tow. My two other dogs, an independent "king-of-the-hill" pit bull/pointer mix, and a super intelligent, yet super stubborn beagle/pointer combo, decided to check out a small hill to the north of our location. Somehow, I knew it was going to be hell to get them back. And it was.
4:30 PM. My truck is stuck on an outcropping on top of a different hill. My German Shepherd is terrified of the squealing tires. My pointer mixes are nowhere to be found. Nowhere. The longest they've ever stayed gone before was two-and-a-half hours. Not three, and certainly not four. As my rescue vehicle approaches from the south side of the hill, I start thinking... start thinking about the poisonous snakes that live in the area, about the groups of coyotes that run rampant, and about the wild horses that can kill a dog with a mere flick of its hoof. And let's not forget the people who shoot dogs for getting too close to livestock, or just for fun. It's 4:30. Where the fuck are my boys?
My truck's out, but I'm tired, hungry, and my hand is bleeding from a multitude of splinters from an old, weathered two-by-four that I probably shouldn't have picked up. I have to leave the area, get my German Shepherd some water, and take care of my hand. One last look across the horizon. Nothing.
My pit bull/pointer is easily the coolest dog I've ever had. He was the first dog I'd owned since I had left the Army (Hell, since I had joined the Army) and, like my previous dog, was a stray. My roommate and I had found him, along with another lost dog, in front of our rental house outside of Fort Bragg. While the other dog was clearly trained (she wouldn't even climb on the couch when called), the pit bull/pointer was young, and was apparently still in the process of being potty trained. A good Samaritan (sometimes), I posted signs for both dogs around the neighborhood. A couple of days later, the trained female was picked up by her rightful owner. But the pit bull/pointer... nothing. Probably left by some G.I. who couldnt take him with him, and couldn't (or didn't feel the need to) find a home for him. Weeks passed, I got attached, I took down the signs that the weather hadn't blown away. The pit bull/pointer became mine.
Over the years I discovered just how gentle this dog was, and yet, how protective. I would baby-sit my friend's infant daughter from time to time, but to be honest, the pit bull/pointer did most of the baby-sitting. He would curl around the baby, keep it warm. He'd lick her when she started crying. And, if for some reason I left the room, my dog would act angry until I came back. Obviously, he'd grown up around children, and every so often I would wonder if a small child yearned for their lost pit bull/pointer. I didn't care though... by this time, like I said, he was all mine.
It's 5:30 PM. I'm back out at the field. I drive a few mile radius around the spot I last saw them. The only thing I find is a small red hatchback parked on a closed road with two teenagers trying to have sex in broad daylight. They see me, try to hide, I laugh my ass off as I pass them. But still no dogs. At 6:30, I leave again, eat a quick dinner, take a quick shower, and head right back out. I'm there from 7:00 to 8:00. Nothing. So I leave again, watch American Idol to distract myself, and then head back out at 10:30. Still nothing, not even jackrabbits.
The beagle/pointer is another story entirely. Extremely needy, extremely stubborn, and so fucking smart, it blows my mind. He's also so self-conscious, when he takes a shit, he buries it meticulously with his nose and his front paws. I'm serious when I say this... you'll never know he pooped. I had built a privacy fence at my last house. Now, this could be a testament to the sloppy work, but no matter what I did (chicken wire, rocks, boxes, planking), that damn dog would find a way out of the backyard. He's like those velociraptors from Jurassic Park: if there's a weak spot in the defense, he'll find it. He's also a master at getting to the cat food bowls. It doesn't matter where they are... on the counter, on the table, in the garage in a secluded area... he'll get to it. I've seen him walk on his hind tiptoes and turn his head upside down just so his tongue could flick at the cat food. It didn't matter how much he knocked around... as long as one or two morsels stuck to his tongue, he was happy.
He's a bit of a sad case, too. I wasn't his first owner. His previous owner used to beat him because he barked too much. That explained why I had him damn near a month before I heard him make a sound. His previous owner used a crate to try to potty train him. Unfortunately, he would be left in the crate even when the owner was home. And the fucker wondered why the dog would bark The dog would also get carsick. Every single time you'd put him in a car, he'd hurl. I don't know why. When I drove him across country, he quit doing it, so I'm guessing he was afraid of cars... probably something to do with that prick first owner. But it didn't matter now... he belonged to a new family. One that wouldn't abandon him... one that would look for him until he was found.
It's 4:30 AM, Thursday morning. I haven't slept a wink, although I've tried. I'm attempting to wait until 9:00, so I can call animal control to see if they've picked up two pointer mixes, but I can't. My anxiety overtakes me, and within 15 minutes, I've got my German Shepherd loaded up and am on my way back to the field. I get there, and there are jackrabbits up the ass, now. Everywhere. Running from my headlights, taunting me... cottontails up as if saying, "Here we are, where are your dogs?" The fuckers.
I roll down my window and start calling for my dogs, futilely, I figure. I drive slowly... maybe they'll hear the truck this time... if they're not dead. What am I doing? I should be asleep, but instead I'm driving around the same field I've driven around 50 times. I'm approaching a bush that I stop to piss on every time I walk by it. Why? I don't know... it just happens to be the right distance from the point where I drink a glass of water to the point where I need to go. A beagle's face is poking out of the bush. I stop the truck, get out, and blink. The face isn't moving. I'm seeing shit. I call for my boys. The pointer emerges from the bush behind the beagle. The beagle finally moves. Holy shit... They stayed together. I've found my boys.
They're mad at me, of course. They act as though I left them there on purpose, as if I'm supposed to wait until they're done wandering the countryside. While the pointer enjoys the hot air from the truck's heater, he growls at me a bit. I guess it was my fault. I might as well take the blame, or they'll hate me for a week. I laugh. Pet them both. Pet the German Shepherd because he feels left out. Pet the two pointer mixes again.
Then I laugh again. They're home, and they can be mad at me all they want... they slept in my piss.
On Wednesday, May 24, 2006, I took my dogs for a walk in a wide-open field. Not quite the middle-of-nowhere, but a good couple of miles from the nearest house and the nearest highway. In fact, other than a small livestock farm, a gravel quarry, and a water tower, there's nothing but acres upon acres of playground (for a four-legged friend, of course). It was 12:30 PM. I walked my usual route around the field, with my loyal German Shepherd in tow. My two other dogs, an independent "king-of-the-hill" pit bull/pointer mix, and a super intelligent, yet super stubborn beagle/pointer combo, decided to check out a small hill to the north of our location. Somehow, I knew it was going to be hell to get them back. And it was.
4:30 PM. My truck is stuck on an outcropping on top of a different hill. My German Shepherd is terrified of the squealing tires. My pointer mixes are nowhere to be found. Nowhere. The longest they've ever stayed gone before was two-and-a-half hours. Not three, and certainly not four. As my rescue vehicle approaches from the south side of the hill, I start thinking... start thinking about the poisonous snakes that live in the area, about the groups of coyotes that run rampant, and about the wild horses that can kill a dog with a mere flick of its hoof. And let's not forget the people who shoot dogs for getting too close to livestock, or just for fun. It's 4:30. Where the fuck are my boys?
My truck's out, but I'm tired, hungry, and my hand is bleeding from a multitude of splinters from an old, weathered two-by-four that I probably shouldn't have picked up. I have to leave the area, get my German Shepherd some water, and take care of my hand. One last look across the horizon. Nothing.
My pit bull/pointer is easily the coolest dog I've ever had. He was the first dog I'd owned since I had left the Army (Hell, since I had joined the Army) and, like my previous dog, was a stray. My roommate and I had found him, along with another lost dog, in front of our rental house outside of Fort Bragg. While the other dog was clearly trained (she wouldn't even climb on the couch when called), the pit bull/pointer was young, and was apparently still in the process of being potty trained. A good Samaritan (sometimes), I posted signs for both dogs around the neighborhood. A couple of days later, the trained female was picked up by her rightful owner. But the pit bull/pointer... nothing. Probably left by some G.I. who couldnt take him with him, and couldn't (or didn't feel the need to) find a home for him. Weeks passed, I got attached, I took down the signs that the weather hadn't blown away. The pit bull/pointer became mine.
Over the years I discovered just how gentle this dog was, and yet, how protective. I would baby-sit my friend's infant daughter from time to time, but to be honest, the pit bull/pointer did most of the baby-sitting. He would curl around the baby, keep it warm. He'd lick her when she started crying. And, if for some reason I left the room, my dog would act angry until I came back. Obviously, he'd grown up around children, and every so often I would wonder if a small child yearned for their lost pit bull/pointer. I didn't care though... by this time, like I said, he was all mine.
It's 5:30 PM. I'm back out at the field. I drive a few mile radius around the spot I last saw them. The only thing I find is a small red hatchback parked on a closed road with two teenagers trying to have sex in broad daylight. They see me, try to hide, I laugh my ass off as I pass them. But still no dogs. At 6:30, I leave again, eat a quick dinner, take a quick shower, and head right back out. I'm there from 7:00 to 8:00. Nothing. So I leave again, watch American Idol to distract myself, and then head back out at 10:30. Still nothing, not even jackrabbits.
The beagle/pointer is another story entirely. Extremely needy, extremely stubborn, and so fucking smart, it blows my mind. He's also so self-conscious, when he takes a shit, he buries it meticulously with his nose and his front paws. I'm serious when I say this... you'll never know he pooped. I had built a privacy fence at my last house. Now, this could be a testament to the sloppy work, but no matter what I did (chicken wire, rocks, boxes, planking), that damn dog would find a way out of the backyard. He's like those velociraptors from Jurassic Park: if there's a weak spot in the defense, he'll find it. He's also a master at getting to the cat food bowls. It doesn't matter where they are... on the counter, on the table, in the garage in a secluded area... he'll get to it. I've seen him walk on his hind tiptoes and turn his head upside down just so his tongue could flick at the cat food. It didn't matter how much he knocked around... as long as one or two morsels stuck to his tongue, he was happy.
He's a bit of a sad case, too. I wasn't his first owner. His previous owner used to beat him because he barked too much. That explained why I had him damn near a month before I heard him make a sound. His previous owner used a crate to try to potty train him. Unfortunately, he would be left in the crate even when the owner was home. And the fucker wondered why the dog would bark The dog would also get carsick. Every single time you'd put him in a car, he'd hurl. I don't know why. When I drove him across country, he quit doing it, so I'm guessing he was afraid of cars... probably something to do with that prick first owner. But it didn't matter now... he belonged to a new family. One that wouldn't abandon him... one that would look for him until he was found.
It's 4:30 AM, Thursday morning. I haven't slept a wink, although I've tried. I'm attempting to wait until 9:00, so I can call animal control to see if they've picked up two pointer mixes, but I can't. My anxiety overtakes me, and within 15 minutes, I've got my German Shepherd loaded up and am on my way back to the field. I get there, and there are jackrabbits up the ass, now. Everywhere. Running from my headlights, taunting me... cottontails up as if saying, "Here we are, where are your dogs?" The fuckers.
I roll down my window and start calling for my dogs, futilely, I figure. I drive slowly... maybe they'll hear the truck this time... if they're not dead. What am I doing? I should be asleep, but instead I'm driving around the same field I've driven around 50 times. I'm approaching a bush that I stop to piss on every time I walk by it. Why? I don't know... it just happens to be the right distance from the point where I drink a glass of water to the point where I need to go. A beagle's face is poking out of the bush. I stop the truck, get out, and blink. The face isn't moving. I'm seeing shit. I call for my boys. The pointer emerges from the bush behind the beagle. The beagle finally moves. Holy shit... They stayed together. I've found my boys.
They're mad at me, of course. They act as though I left them there on purpose, as if I'm supposed to wait until they're done wandering the countryside. While the pointer enjoys the hot air from the truck's heater, he growls at me a bit. I guess it was my fault. I might as well take the blame, or they'll hate me for a week. I laugh. Pet them both. Pet the German Shepherd because he feels left out. Pet the two pointer mixes again.
Then I laugh again. They're home, and they can be mad at me all they want... they slept in my piss.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
My Two Cents on Americal Idol
This is the first season of American Idol that I've watched. I caught bits and pieces of the last couple of shows from last season, but like a lot of Americans, I'm far more interested in watching the audition train wrecks (William Hung, anyone?) than I am the actual competition.
However, thanks to an overzealous girlfriend, an equally overzealous sister, and an accidental run-in with Bucky and Paris, I've been forced to watch this year's competition... and, unfortunately, have become a bit addicted (not 24 or Lost addicted, but close enough). And so, I've decided to jot down what I think of a few of the contestants and who I think should win.
The first of the two finalists is the seemingly genuine, all-around fun-loving guy with the gray hair, Taylor Hicks. He's got a niche (think Joe Cocker, or even Tom Petty), he's got talent, and he plays several instruments on top of it. Then there's Katharine McPhee, surprisingly attractive, "I want to be a sexy pop singer but I'm more suited for singing in musicals," and "oh, I'm also a snob from Hell." Based on those descriptions, take a wild guess on who I want to win.
Seriously, can McPhee be any more snobby? I'm just shocked that most of America doesn't see it. Yeah, Simon, Paula, and Randy can be hard to take seriously at times, but has there ever been ONE instance that McPhee DIDN'T roll her eyes when the judges were being critical? McPhee... you are NOT perfect, are NOWHERE near perfect, and can't sing ANYWHERE near perfect. Take their advice, shut up, improve. You're like that idiot who takes acting lessons, but thinks you're already Academy Award caliber. And what's worse, you shouldn't even be in the finals...
Hell, she shouldn't have even been in the final three. Taylor, Elliot Yamin, and Chris Daughtry should've been the final three. At least then we'd have three relatively humble people. Three who would truly appreciate being where they are, instead of (as music consultant Dennis O'Donnell put it) thinking "she deserves it."
That being said, she has at least attempted some variety. Elliot Yamin stayed predictably safe in his choices (read: they all sounded the same after about the third week) and Chris Daughtry, despite his apparent fanboy appeal, was clearly a one-trick pony (quit that stupid throat trill... enough already), albeit a one-trick pony with potential.
Anyway, I'm already bored with American Idol. Let's hope that Taylor wins and goes on to become successful, and let's hope that Katharine becomes less of a snob, or at least falls off the face of the planet.
However, thanks to an overzealous girlfriend, an equally overzealous sister, and an accidental run-in with Bucky and Paris, I've been forced to watch this year's competition... and, unfortunately, have become a bit addicted (not 24 or Lost addicted, but close enough). And so, I've decided to jot down what I think of a few of the contestants and who I think should win.
The first of the two finalists is the seemingly genuine, all-around fun-loving guy with the gray hair, Taylor Hicks. He's got a niche (think Joe Cocker, or even Tom Petty), he's got talent, and he plays several instruments on top of it. Then there's Katharine McPhee, surprisingly attractive, "I want to be a sexy pop singer but I'm more suited for singing in musicals," and "oh, I'm also a snob from Hell." Based on those descriptions, take a wild guess on who I want to win.
Seriously, can McPhee be any more snobby? I'm just shocked that most of America doesn't see it. Yeah, Simon, Paula, and Randy can be hard to take seriously at times, but has there ever been ONE instance that McPhee DIDN'T roll her eyes when the judges were being critical? McPhee... you are NOT perfect, are NOWHERE near perfect, and can't sing ANYWHERE near perfect. Take their advice, shut up, improve. You're like that idiot who takes acting lessons, but thinks you're already Academy Award caliber. And what's worse, you shouldn't even be in the finals...
Hell, she shouldn't have even been in the final three. Taylor, Elliot Yamin, and Chris Daughtry should've been the final three. At least then we'd have three relatively humble people. Three who would truly appreciate being where they are, instead of (as music consultant Dennis O'Donnell put it) thinking "she deserves it."
That being said, she has at least attempted some variety. Elliot Yamin stayed predictably safe in his choices (read: they all sounded the same after about the third week) and Chris Daughtry, despite his apparent fanboy appeal, was clearly a one-trick pony (quit that stupid throat trill... enough already), albeit a one-trick pony with potential.
Anyway, I'm already bored with American Idol. Let's hope that Taylor wins and goes on to become successful, and let's hope that Katharine becomes less of a snob, or at least falls off the face of the planet.
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