Finally caught the first episode of The Middleman from ABC Family. Pretty dagnatious funny. If I had to put a label on it, I'd say it's Torchwood Lite. The premise is that all the stuff that happens in the comic books is true, and a young slacker girl is recruited to be the sidekick for a superhero called The Middleman (played by cutiepie Matthew Keesler) who fights things like Hentai tentacle monsters and genetically enhanced gorillas.
It's fast-paced, and you'd have to be pretty plugged in to catch all the pop culture references that whip buy. They riff on a lot of areas of nerdverse. Keesler has a great way with the snappy patter, and the heroine is smart and funny and (if it's not too retro to say) totally Girl Power in an up-to-date Nancy Drew sort of way. The special effects are kind of Dr. Who-cheesey, but that's kind of part of the fun. It doesn't anywhere approach the kink factor Torchwood, all the sexuality is of the kissy/flirty/hetero variety, but that makes it safe for the kids to watch. I watched with my 16-year old niece, and she liked that the heroine had a brain and wasn't just obsessed with shopping and boys, and could kick ass.
I'd give the premiere episode a B+. There were a few problems with the plot being a little jerky, and the characters only gelled late in the episode. But those seemed to be problems that could smoooth out after a few episodes. It could end up as a solid A if they capitalize on their assets. Fire up the DVR!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
I gotta have Faith, Faith, Faith
Got 'em! I have tickets for George Michael. Yes! Cannot wait. I'm going to be boogeying in the nosebleed seats, but I will be there. George will be able to feel the love.
And FYI, Girogios, darling, this is being billed as a "farewell" tour. Let's stick by that shall we? I'm not playing any Cher games. No farewell tour, final farewell tour, final, final, I really, really meant it farewell tour, or Hey, look it's me again, ain't I a dickens? farewell tour. It's goodbye, godspeed, love ya, mean it, goodbye. Small, intimate club dates or benefit concerts are permissible. But if I'm forking out for "farewell", it better goddamn be goodbye. Ya hear me?
But this concert presents two big sartorial questions. First, my usual, what to wear? Of course. This always comes up. You'd think I would have come up with an answer to this one by now. And it's a completely different genre of clothing than my Peacemakers, Western inflected kind of gear. I need something cute. For me. Cause looking for a straight man at the George Michael concert would be like looking for ice water in hell. Yeah, it would be nice, but it ain't gonna happen. And of course, for George. If he happens to spot me in my little seat 3 inches from the rafters, I want him to know that I cared enough to dress appropriately.
The other question, is more philosophical: to T or not to T? The t-shirts are always outrageously expensive. But it is the farewell tour (see above), and it might make a nice memento. Then again, the last thing I need is another t-shirt. Hoochita gear, I don't got. T-shirts, I got. And surprisingly, my social calendar yields very few occasions at which it would be appropriate to wear a giant picture of George Michael's face on my chest.
But if it's the butt shot from Faith, I'm definitely buying it.
And FYI, Girogios, darling, this is being billed as a "farewell" tour. Let's stick by that shall we? I'm not playing any Cher games. No farewell tour, final farewell tour, final, final, I really, really meant it farewell tour, or Hey, look it's me again, ain't I a dickens? farewell tour. It's goodbye, godspeed, love ya, mean it, goodbye. Small, intimate club dates or benefit concerts are permissible. But if I'm forking out for "farewell", it better goddamn be goodbye. Ya hear me?
But this concert presents two big sartorial questions. First, my usual, what to wear? Of course. This always comes up. You'd think I would have come up with an answer to this one by now. And it's a completely different genre of clothing than my Peacemakers, Western inflected kind of gear. I need something cute. For me. Cause looking for a straight man at the George Michael concert would be like looking for ice water in hell. Yeah, it would be nice, but it ain't gonna happen. And of course, for George. If he happens to spot me in my little seat 3 inches from the rafters, I want him to know that I cared enough to dress appropriately.
The other question, is more philosophical: to T or not to T? The t-shirts are always outrageously expensive. But it is the farewell tour (see above), and it might make a nice memento. Then again, the last thing I need is another t-shirt. Hoochita gear, I don't got. T-shirts, I got. And surprisingly, my social calendar yields very few occasions at which it would be appropriate to wear a giant picture of George Michael's face on my chest.
But if it's the butt shot from Faith, I'm definitely buying it.
Talking Trash
"It's fairly clear that in the modern age that there is a currency to celebrity, or celebrity is a currency, really. I've discovered that you can spend it in a lot of ways, or you can squander it. You can be taxed, as well. I really started thinking long and hard about how to use that currency as long as I had it." — Ben Affleck (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080626/ap_en_ce/celeb_now_hear_this_wrap_up;_ylt=AizLf7i8Nnj8TNc72._HHVFxFb8C)
Given the fact that I'm more or less convinced that Ben Affleck is a giant goob, I'm actually quite sympathetic that he was caught saying this big fat load of twaddle.
I hate it when that happens. You've thought about something long and hard. Weighed all the arguments. Formulated brilliant metaphors that express the essential truth of your conclusion. And the first time you get a chance to dazzle the folks with your brilliant metaphor, you can actually see it form a cloud of methane as it leaves your mouth. "Oh, my God! I am talking complete crap. Abort! Abort! Abort!" You are just spouting the most unbelievable line of crap in the history of crapdom. And if you're lucky, you know it. And you can figure out a way stop the Fiesta Del Caca as it congos out of your boca. Thus retaining some scrap of your dignity.
Worse is when you don't actually here yourself until you're finished. And the last word flies out of your mouth and lands with a splat like a giant cow pie. And you and your aghast audience just kind of stand and stare at what you just said. "Wow. That was bad." And you all just step away gingerly. As fast as you can.
But even worse when you're a celebrity. And there are cameras there. When I talk a load of shite, generally there are no recording devices around to capture me in all my glory. But somebody like Ben-boy might just talk a pile of crap as some sycophant nods and smiles. "Oh, yes. I know just what you mean. You're brilliant, Ben Affleck." And then he doesn't even know until you find a puddle of poop in some magazine with your name tagged to it. "Did I say that? Oh, hell."
Or maybe other people have more restraint, and actually resist the urge to let a bunch of half-baked mumbo-jumbo come out of their mouths on a fairly regular basis. Maybe other people aren't amazed that they ever thinks, "that sounded completely sane inside my head." Maybe it's just me. Me and Ben Affleck.
Given the fact that I'm more or less convinced that Ben Affleck is a giant goob, I'm actually quite sympathetic that he was caught saying this big fat load of twaddle.
I hate it when that happens. You've thought about something long and hard. Weighed all the arguments. Formulated brilliant metaphors that express the essential truth of your conclusion. And the first time you get a chance to dazzle the folks with your brilliant metaphor, you can actually see it form a cloud of methane as it leaves your mouth. "Oh, my God! I am talking complete crap. Abort! Abort! Abort!" You are just spouting the most unbelievable line of crap in the history of crapdom. And if you're lucky, you know it. And you can figure out a way stop the Fiesta Del Caca as it congos out of your boca. Thus retaining some scrap of your dignity.
Worse is when you don't actually here yourself until you're finished. And the last word flies out of your mouth and lands with a splat like a giant cow pie. And you and your aghast audience just kind of stand and stare at what you just said. "Wow. That was bad." And you all just step away gingerly. As fast as you can.
But even worse when you're a celebrity. And there are cameras there. When I talk a load of shite, generally there are no recording devices around to capture me in all my glory. But somebody like Ben-boy might just talk a pile of crap as some sycophant nods and smiles. "Oh, yes. I know just what you mean. You're brilliant, Ben Affleck." And then he doesn't even know until you find a puddle of poop in some magazine with your name tagged to it. "Did I say that? Oh, hell."
Or maybe other people have more restraint, and actually resist the urge to let a bunch of half-baked mumbo-jumbo come out of their mouths on a fairly regular basis. Maybe other people aren't amazed that they ever thinks, "that sounded completely sane inside my head." Maybe it's just me. Me and Ben Affleck.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Baby Borrowers
I've been waiting for this one. The question isn't "Will I be watching?" It's "How much popcorn do I think I'll need?" Cause I'm going to be glued to the tube. No snack runs, no answering the telephone, no potty breaks. I don't want to miss a second. Teenagers who think they're ready to be parents? Delicious. And it's not just babies they have to take care of; there are tweens, teens and old folks too. I'm betting the tweens are going to be the funniest of the bunch. When it comes to pitching a real foot stomping, head rolling, you'remeanIhateyouforever! fit, the tween is the undisputed, heavy-weight champeen.
You have to know that the programmers at NBC are down on their knees thanking the gods for those Fertile Myrtle girls from Gloucester High. I wouldn't go so far as to think that television execs would stage a massive teen pregnancy incident as an elaborage PR stunt. But you know they have to be dancing in the halls at NBC. Not only will they get all the free publicity, but they also know that every parent of a teenager in the country will make this show mandatory viewing.
You have to know that the programmers at NBC are down on their knees thanking the gods for those Fertile Myrtle girls from Gloucester High. I wouldn't go so far as to think that television execs would stage a massive teen pregnancy incident as an elaborage PR stunt. But you know they have to be dancing in the halls at NBC. Not only will they get all the free publicity, but they also know that every parent of a teenager in the country will make this show mandatory viewing.
I issue a warning
http://www.ew.com/ew/gallery/0,,20207076_20207079_20207791,00.html
So, I've been enjoying the Entertainment Weekly "New TV Classics" list. We're through the first 50. And so far there are some I whole heartedly agree with (Moonlighting, Kids in the Hall, MacGyver, Project Runway), some that aren't my personal taste but will grant that some people can make a case for (Jackass, Grey's Anatomy, Dawson's Creek), and some I just wonder what they hell they're smoking in the back room at EW (Saved by the Bell? Screech? Really? Okay, it just barely made the list, but that it's even there is a headscratcher).
But what I'm really watching for is number 1. And it had goddamn better be Buffy. I am not kidding. If it is anyone other than Buffy and the Scoobies, I will not just go Medieval. I will go High Gothic, with flying buttresses. There is no, and I mean no, program more worthy of "classic" in modern television. The characters. The story lines. Some of them covering multiple seasons. The dialogue. The catch phrases. The issues they faced head on with more honesty than any other tv show before or since. The freaking musical episode. Buffy was a high water mark. Buffy was literature. EW better recognize.
So, I've been enjoying the Entertainment Weekly "New TV Classics" list. We're through the first 50. And so far there are some I whole heartedly agree with (Moonlighting, Kids in the Hall, MacGyver, Project Runway), some that aren't my personal taste but will grant that some people can make a case for (Jackass, Grey's Anatomy, Dawson's Creek), and some I just wonder what they hell they're smoking in the back room at EW (Saved by the Bell? Screech? Really? Okay, it just barely made the list, but that it's even there is a headscratcher).
But what I'm really watching for is number 1. And it had goddamn better be Buffy. I am not kidding. If it is anyone other than Buffy and the Scoobies, I will not just go Medieval. I will go High Gothic, with flying buttresses. There is no, and I mean no, program more worthy of "classic" in modern television. The characters. The story lines. Some of them covering multiple seasons. The dialogue. The catch phrases. The issues they faced head on with more honesty than any other tv show before or since. The freaking musical episode. Buffy was a high water mark. Buffy was literature. EW better recognize.
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