Monthly Archives: September 2001

General
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Yawn, I mean yay

Just saw on the news that Michael Jordan will be returning to his career has a professional basketball player.

You know, instead of returning to the NBA, he should start his own professional league, which would consist entirely of retired millionaire players who have nothing better to do. Just a real casual, laid-back league. They can sit on the sidelines in rocking chairs instead of on a bench. Just to keep it interesting, though, we’ll have the two baskets suspended from the ceiling back-to-back in the center of the court instead of on the ends, and also they will be forty feet up. The court itself will have a moving floor; it will tilt gradually as much as sixty degrees in one direction, and then in the other. The degree of tilt would be determined by the amount of time that has gone by on the shot clock. The lines on the court will be heated and scalding to the touch. If a ball goes out of bounds, it is lost forever and the team responsible must trade one of their players to the referee for a new ball. The player will then go sit down in the upper seats and must remain there for the rest of the half. If a team has less than five people left during a half due to out-of-bounds balls, the head coach, assistant coach, team doctor, mascot, and/or one of the players’ wives must fill in so that each team has five members on the court at all times, even during halftime and commerical breaks, even if they are just sitting there. All games will be played shoes-and-skins. All players who have shaved heads but are not naturally bald will be required to wear ridiculous stereotypical Afro wigs for the duration of the season, even while sleeping.

Alternately, Michael should join the Harlem Globetrotters. Their ticket sales could use a shot in the arm, and Michael’s little tongue-wagging floating-in-midair bit fits right in with the Globetrotters’ wacky style.

Or he could finance the creation of an army of killer robots with basketballs for heads who will march on our major cities and surely kill us all.

Media Studies, Movies

Go see this

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wet hot american summer

Despite my film major upbringing, I have no pretensions towards movie criticdom. However, an issue must be addressed. I read some reviews online of the film Wet Hot American Summer, released in early August of this year, which claimed that the movie was “unfunny” and its jokes were “lame”. Also, it is “ineptly made”.

Let me tell you, not as any sort of cultural commentator or social critic, but as an average, intelligent human being who doesn’t laugh at things that aren’t funny: they are wrong. VERY wrong. Job-risking wrong. Wet Hot American Summer is easily the funniest film I’ve seen in a long time, and one of the most meticulously crafted. The critics don’t seem to get the joke.

The movie, made by folks from MTV’s The State (which I have never seen), is ostensibly a parody of early ’80s summer camp movies such as Meatballs. But that’s not quite what it is. “Parody” nowadays takes various scenes from popular movies, replaces the actors with “funny” equivalents, and adds a “funny” twist to make the scene “funny”. Sometimes, what is “funny” is actually funny, but check out this list: Spaceballs. Robin Hood: Men in Tights. Scary Movie. Repossessed. Loaded Weapon 1. Hot Shots!. Well, I liked Hot Shots!. But these movies are all examples of what the American “parody” movie has become.

I left Airplane! off the list because it’s a different animal. I can’t quite explain what the difference is, but I think it has something to do with the idea that Airplane! is actually a serious movie, not conventionally a comedy at all, but the dramatic situations are completely stretched to the point of absurdity – which is what makes them funny. The “gags” in the movie (the inflating automatic pilot, the romantic flashback stuff) are actually where the movie is weaker, and the stronger moments are the ones that are completely deadpan, yet make absolutely no sense (the young boy offering the young girl coffee, pretty much every scene Leslie Nielsen is in).

Wet Hot American Summer is anomalous in kind of the same way. It’s not a deconstruction of a summer camp movie, it is a summer camp movie. A hilarious, ridiculous, absurd one. It’s what a summer camp movie would have been if such movies were smart. And it’s made beautifully, right down to the trashy, grainy cinematography and the bad continuity, all clearly very intentional and thought-out.

One review I read spoke of David Hyde Pierce (whose scenes of pure awkwardness with Janeane Garofalo are just priceless), “who, in his work as Niles on Frasier, does some of the most talented farce acting any actor has accomplished in the last few years”. Sure, I love him on Frasier. But he’s played that character forever. The reviewer then goes on to say David Hyde Pierce is given nothing to work with. I disagree. Hearing David Hyde Pierce say, in a moment of frustration, “Fuck my cock!” is alone worth the price of admission. It’s difficult to say which actor gives the funniest performance – Paul Rudd is great, Michael Ian Black has some great scenes, and of course Michael Showalter as the sympathetic hero – but I think I’d have to give the edge to Christopher Meloni, of all people – the lead on Law & Order: SVU but here a crazy, bearded Vietnam-vet cook who steals every scene he’s in.

Again, I’m not a movie critic. I don’t want to be a movie critic. It doesn’t matter how I explain it. Wet Hot American Summer was damn funny. Go see it.

Go to the movie’s official site for more info!

Health and Body, Lucacentric

Streptococcus is every bit as dirty as it sounds

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“I’m sick,” I said.

“How long have you been sick?” the doctor asked.

“A week,” I told her.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” she said. I did so. She shined a light into my throat and turned away in horror.

“STREPTOCOCCUS!!!” she screamed. “The worst case I’ve ever seen! Quick,” she said, handing me a bottle of pills, “take these. And make sure you are not around people for the next three days or else you will infect them with STREPTOCOCCUS!!!“

Later, at home, I decided to look into my throat and see for myself. My bathroom was dark, so I manipulated my wall-mounted shaving mirror until it was shining a light directly onto my tonsils.

STREPTOCOCCUS!!!

My normally pink throat was covered in large white polka dots. It was as if bits of it had been bleached. It somewhat resembled a marshmallow swirl. Suddenly, my uvula started vibrating at a very high speed. Soon, I realized it was because I was screaming.

“STREPTOCOCCUS!!!”

Oh, but I’m feeling much better now.