I'm Not There

"Who's going to mind the zoo?"

Whenever someone asks me: "What is your favorite movie?" I have no real answer. I love many different films for several different reasons. It's like picking your favorite kid at the orphanage, or your favorite sunset; it's all subjective. So picking my "favorite" from a lifetime of appreciation has always been an impossible task. Until now....

Say hello to Bob Dylan. Say hello to the outlaw, the poet and the fake. Say goodbye to conventional film making. Goodbye and good riddance. Now here we have a movie that requires some effort on the part of the viewer. Here we have a movie that you MUST watch more than once. You just want to watch stuff get blowed up? You want a moron rubbing pate on his balls and wrestling a pit bull? Keep going. This is a film for people who not only love films. This is a film for people who want to be challenged, uplifted, emotionally shaken and intellectually sucker-punched. This is a direction sign on the road to self-awareness. This is MY FAVORITE MOVIE. There, I told you. Now stop asking me.

I think we can all agree that Bob Dylan is a pretty interesting guy. We watch him perform, listen to his music, dive deeper and deeper into the layers of meaning contained in his songs. We get the impression of a brilliant, often troubled rebel. What we can never get with another human being, however, is an all-access backstage pass to gaze at their most intimate mechanisms. Those things that make us tick, sing, cry, laugh, and get out of bed every day to do something that half the world thinks is useless and the other half doesn't know enough about to care.

If you watch closely, you will see all of this and more. All of the facets of the man's personae take human form, frolic, fuck and fight in the waking dream of his subconscious. Subtle metaphors are around every corner; The perversion of art for corporate gain, the selling off of a country's soul, the reconciliation of what makes us "old" and what makes us "young"....

I could go on about this movie forever, but I won't. I've already wasted enough of your time. Time you could have spent watching one of the best movies to come along in my -and probably your- lifetime.

Some of The Best Music You`ve (Probably) Never Heard

If you don't like spaghetti and have nightmares about forty-story tall fast food mascots chasing you through crowded carnivals while praying for Spiderman to save you....That's okay.

If you've ever had a long, deep conversations with yourself about the nature of DARK MATTER turn into a screaming match while stopped at a red light....You're normal.

If the monsters that live under your bed and in your closet re-arrange your living room furniture while you're putting in a double shift at the meat packing plant according to your specifications...No one is judging you. Even if they break your favorite lamp.

If you watch CNN, Fox News or The Home Shopping Network....We're willing to look the other way.

If, however, you happen to listen to Indie music....That's just not normal. It makes me sick just thinking about it. I mean, COME ON! We're trying to have a society here. You are a worthless animal, sir, and I shall immediately report you to the authorities.

This seems to be the prevailing wisdom when it comes to the consumption of modern music. Well, I'm here to tell you that these well-established nuggets of folk wisdom are not always right. Particularly about music. And Fox News. I think the other three are pretty accurate (I hope).

The holiday season is the perfect time for the uninitiated and veteran fan alike to dig into the fertile grounds of Indie music. End-of-the-year "Top 10-100" lists are popping up everywhere making it fun and easy to discover a new artist. While these retrospectives are often just a chance for media sites like Pitchfork and Rolling Stone to prove that they are edgy and smarter than you by naming obscure, unlistenable albums as the greatest musical achievements of the year, they do a great service for bands that often don't get the attention they deserve.

Here are a few of my personal favorites. No particular order or ranking system here (I don't like the implication that one album is "better" than another. It's a matter of individual taste, after all). Stick one of these in a music lovers stocking this Christmas and then sit back smugly as they praise you for your well-informed taste...

We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Modest Mouse

"The first track screams jarring french-sounding curses, the tenth in a heart wrenching ballad with one of the most tear-inducing videos I've EVER seen. These guys do everything right."

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Spoon

"This album is growing on me like a strange, soft, sweet-smelling fungus."

Reunion Tour

The Weakerthans

"Tongue-in-cheek, double entendre-laden lyrics rattled perfectly from a vocalist who sounds a lot like Greig Nori from Treble Charger...Great stuff!"

The Meanest of Times

Dropkick Murphys

"Their reworking of the traditional 'Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya' into a punk-rock masterpiece is reason enough to buy this album."

Cassadaga

Bright Eyes

"One of my all-time favorites...Folk lightly blended with blues and dashed with country."

Neon Bible

Arcade Fire

"After listening to this album for the first time, I found it inconceivable that this Montreal-based band wasn't ruling the world and printing their own money...It's fricking TRANSCENDENT."

Sawdust

The Killers

"Any band that features Lou Reed on an albums first track is a band worth paying attention to."

Trinity Revisited

Cowboy Junkies

"A reworking of the iconic 'Trinity Sessions', Margo Timmons proves she still has one of the most hauntingly beautiful voices around and these songs are just as relevant today as they were twenty years ago."

Begin To Hope

Regina Spektor

"This was actually released in 2006, but I stumbled across her this year, so she's new to ME. Fun, thoughtful lyrics from a refreshing voice that doesn't take itself too seriously."

Icky Thump

The White Stripes

"Jack and Meg continue to blur all the lines and re-write all the rules for post-modern rock. And they have a hell of a good time doing it."

Oh, Seven

We came to Bali to wash the oil from our hands
Absolve ourselves, resolve ourselves. That soft, consoling sound.
Haunted by Kyoto's ghost
With his corpse not yet in the ground.
With the shamelessness of little boys whose dying mother, in all her selfishness
Can no longer afford their toys.

I see Christmas greetings from the troops
These snowstorms are knocking out power
Warnings of lead paint from China
Walmart open for its twenty-fifth hour.....
Great gift ideas under twenty dollars!
Please won't you sponsor a child?
A new Rambo movie in theatres soon!?!
Lines are open for the first three hundred callers.

I've often thought about shutting it off,
Strapping on my shoes and leaving my home
But I'd rather sit in this warm electric light
And witness the Fall of Rome.

Don't lose your temper in a foreign airport
Or march for democracy in Myanmar
Don't violate digital copyright laws
Or smoke with a child inside your car.
Because it's better to be safe than it is to be free
In two thousand and nineteen-eighty four.
While the anatomy of our apathy has born a psychotic dichotomy:
Peace is only possible if we fight an endless, unwinnable war.

Give me more corrupt politicians
And insurgents with improvised explosive devices
More PlayStation threes
Ex-boxes and Wii's
In the back of Humvees
That we can drive to a friend
And tell him we don't comprehend
These ridiculous gasoline prices.

Let's celebrate mediocrity and dance with the stars!
Watch them check out of rehab or thrown behind bars.
Let's open up Facebook
Or Google 'Sudan'
Let's check out that video on YouTube
Of the beheading in Afghanistan.

Because it's 1933 and they're burning books again
Throw a coin in the well and follow it down
The inmates are running things around here, my friend
And the circus never left town.

The Shock Doctrine Rage

Two things have been preventing me from achieving the calm, relaxed state of "oneness" that Buddhism promises. Actually, make that three things if you take into account that I'm not actually a Buddhist. I like to think of myself as a neo-Buddhist atheist; I'm completely zen about my disbelief in God. But I digress. Those two things have been my steady diet of "revolutionary" media over the past couple of weeks, namely: Naomi Klein's newest book, The Shock Doctrine and the musical stylings of Rage Against The Machine. Not only am I decidedly non-zen lately, I'm ready to start a Che Guevara-style uprising.

Before the local thought police come busting down my door, let me explain. I was a huge fan of Naomi Klein's first book "No Logo" which blew the whistle on out-of-control corporate branding and free-market exploitation. So when I heard that she had a new book hitting the shelves, one that had taken her four years to research and write, I gave it the full J.K. Rowling treatment and camped outside my local bookstore on the day of its release. I snatched the first copy out of the box, rushed home and began reading the intimidating 600-page colossus. This is where things start getting a little scary....

The subject matter of this book and the essence of Ms Klein's argument is what she calls "The Rise of Disaster Capitalism". It is, essentially, the idea that sweeping and unpopular economic and free-market reforms, such as the selling-off of state-run industry to private foreign corporations, can only be imposed on a population following a "shock" such as a natural disaster, terrorist act or bloody military coup. The book treats us to a "behind the scenes" re-telling of modern history, from Pinochet's 1974 iron-fisted military junta in Chile all the way to the current Iraq quagmire. We see the strong-arm extortion tactics used by the IMF and World Bank after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and the Asian economic crisis a few years later. We see the "selling off" of housing projects to real estate developers intent on building seaside resorts after hurricane Katrina. We see the privatization of modern warfare. All the while the rich and powerful gain more wealth and power and the poor and disenfranchised sink even deeper into the free-market abyss. It's terrifying stuff, and I decided, somewhere towards the mid-point of the book that it would be complimented wonderfully by a little Rage Against The Machine. Songs like "Bombtrack", "Guerrilla Radio" and "Renegades of Funk" became the soundtrack to my reading experience.

In retrospect, perhaps this was a bad idea.

I experienced, and am still suffering from, what I call "SDR" or "Shock Doctrine Rage". A state of extreme passive-aggressive behavior complimented by feelings of global insignificance. My ears also hurt a little bit from all the loud music.

Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be okay. Oddly enough, watching O.J. Simpson take the fall for armed robbery and kidnapping is extremely therapeutic. Now all I need to see is Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld charged with crimes against humanity and my optimism will be fully restored. Or I could just whip up some pancakes. I loves me the pancakes.

The Virtue Of The Vicious

"Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious" -Oscar Wilde

As a product of the e-mail generation I've become accustomed to deleting "chain" e-mails. They used to piss me off, but now I just view them as one of the little annoying prices we pay for our modern conveniences. Until today that is, when I received one from someone on my "friend's" list (soon to be amended) that made me very, very angry. I'll attempt to reconstruct it here:

I HOPE I DO NOT HEAR OF ANYONE BREAKING THIS ONE OR SEE DELETED...

SLEEP LAST NIGHT?
Bed a little lumpy...Toss and turn any...Wish the heat was higher...Maybe the a/c wasn't on...Had to go to the john..Need a drink of water...???Scroll down...

Yes.... It is like that!Count your blessings, pray for them,Talk to your Creator and the next time when...the other car cuts you off and you must hit the brakes, or you have to park a little further from Walmart than you want to be, or you're served slightly warm food at the restaurant, or you're sitting and cursing the traffic in front of you,or the shower runs out of hot water!, Think of them...Protecting your freedom!

Aside from the obvious punctuation and grammatical errors, the above infuriates me so much because it is a great example of this new brand of patriotic bullying and neo-christian guilt. I can't drive two blocks without seeing ten car magnets that demand I support the troops. I can't turn on the television without seeing an American flag waving or grief-stricken families crying beside the ground-zero monument in New York. It's emotional arm-twisting and it has to stop. Why? Because it's bullshit, that's why.

The troops fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan are ALL VOLUNTEERS. There was no draft. They chose to do this. It sickens me to think about all the young lives being thrown away, but don't demand that I support it. I don't. I never will. A lot of people are becoming very rich as a result of these conflicts, and guess what...Not a single one of them is pictured above. They are all tucked safely behind desks at the corporate offices of Haliburton and Blackwater. These poor kids are not protecting your freedom, they are protecting your governments financial investments.

Who the hell is my "Creator" and why should I be talking to him/her/it about this? The only creators I have are my parents and they can't really provide me with too much insight on these matters (although they can provide me with a free, delicious meal once in a while). So don't try and scare me into falling in line with your superstitious bogey-men either. Besides, if there really is a god (there isn't) do you really think he/she/it would approve of our war-for-profit scheme?

To those of you that have been perpetuating this particular chain mail I just wanted to let you know that yes I "broke" it and yes I deleted it. I also slept just fine last night. Thanks for asking.

All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here

People who shop at Walmart Supercentres scare the hell out of me. They push, shove and jockey for position amongst rows of Spongebob Squarepants spiral notebooks. They yell at their crying children to try on three different pairs of sweatshop-produced shoes. They all posses the same furtive, desperate look made worse by the sickly fluorescent light and recycled air. They cannot possibly conceive of a better place to spend a Saturday afternoon.

There is only one other place on Earth that comes close to this level of depravity. One other place where this unique brand of human sadness is dealt daily. That place is called Tim Hortons (aka: the "Walmart" of coffee shops). Thousands of poor, tired souls choke the drive-thru and counter area every morning, waiting for their turn to buy an overpriced, second-rate cup of coffee. The garish plastic tables are full of loud, obnoxious businessmen holding "meetings" and senior citizens who have grown tired of the community centre and need an alternative place to complain that it isn't 1957 anymore.

Well my friends, I have some "good" news. There is no longer any need to go to two different places to have your spirit crushed and your will to live stolen by a faceless corporation. In the interest of providing one stop shopping for soul destruction Walmart and Tim Hortons are JOINING FORCES. You can read the complete, apocalyptic story here. That's right, now you can be jacked-up on caffeine as you fight your way to the electronics section to grab up the half-priced Pauly Shore DVDs.

Now if they only offered liquor and assisted suicides there would never be any reason to go anywhere else. Ever.

You Say Goodbye, And I Say Hell-no

It seems that all good things must indeed come to an end....

Mediocre and half-assed things, therefore, can go on forever. So it looks like you're stuck with me.

You didn't actually think I was going to pack up and ride off into the wan light of some virtual sunset did you? Harry Potter?!? Did you really think that the legacy I was prepared to leave was some stupid post about the final Harry Potter novel!?! Oh ye of little faith. The cold, hard, ugly truth is that I simply took the summer off to pursue other "interests" (read: "lying on the beach, drinking Corona and working on my novel about an evil, spacefaring race of ninja monkeys).

By the way, I am currently undergoing some renovations to the site so if you happen to notice some glitches, ugly-ass blobs of stray code or are simply unable to view the damn thing then....ummmm....you wouldn't be able to read this, would you? Uh....Nevermind.

That's it for now, chumps. The monkey-man is back. Leaner, meaner and more repulsive than ever. So slide into a nice dress and slop on some lipstick 'cause I'm about to make you my bitch. Again.

Harry Potter's Final Spell

We open our eyes to the emptiness. A warm wind blows, pregnant with dust, through the deserted streets. Somewhere, a child is crying. Thousands of receipts from alien places litter the road, places like "Barnes and Noble", "Chapters" and "Coles". We snatch one as it flutters by and study it through blood-weary eyes. It says: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. They all do.

So it ends. After nine years, 4085 pages, five feature films and millions of adoring fans, J.K. Rowling has finally laid this seminal series to rest. Teenagers all over the world have sequestered themselves in their rooms today, maintaining their vigil with an almost religious intensity as their final trip to Hogwarts plays itself out. And when the last page has been turned, the final word read, the nuances of the story discussed, blogged, argued over and meditated on, I must ask: What have we learned from Harry Potter? Or perhaps, more importantly: What has Harry Potter taught us about ourselves?

Here I must make a confession...I've never read a single Harry Potter novel. There I said it. As purely a work of literature, they have never really appealed to me much. I cannot deny, however, the impact they have had on the zeitgeist of modern pop culture. So while I am completely unqualified to discuss what the story itself has taught us, I feel I am uniquely qualified, as a self-proclaimed student of pop culture, to point out three of the social revelations Ms. Rowling's opus has shed some bright, blazing wizard light on:

1. Reading is cool

I don't think I'm the only one who harbored some secret fears about the world moving into a post-literate stage of society. With the proliferation of iPods, Facebook, Google searches and reality television, the simple pleasures derived from sitting down with a good book couldn't possibly stand a chance. Why actually go to all the trouble of reading a book when you can just read about it on Wikipedia? Thankfully, the staggering success of these novels and the rock star status earned by their author have not only assuaged these fears, but actually made me hopeful for a literary renaissance, where the paperback replaces the blackberry as the must-have accessory amongst teens.

2. J.K. Rowling is a genius

No one can ever accuse J.K. Rowling of not knowing her audience. In fact, she wrote the book on it. Literally. The good verses evil themes are universal with just enough shades of grey to give it emotional depth. The coming of age story is something just about every pre-teen on the planet can relate to. The archetypal characters are fantastic versions of people that, chances are, most young readers have versions of in their "real" lives. Mix all of these brilliant elements with a story that grows up and becomes more complex as its audience does and you have something that is MUCH more than the sum of its parts. You have a children's epic that will very likely still be relevant when our great-great-great grandchildren learn to read.

3. You are never too old to be a kid again

These books were written for children and young adults. Why is it then, that over the course of the last seven years I saw copies stuffed into suits, jammed into jackets, ogled by octogenarians and poured-over by proud parents? Could it be that the exploits of a boy wizard and his friends have knocked on the door where our inner child lives and asked him to come out and play? I'd like to think so. Books are also a great way to bridge the generation gap. The latest Black Eyed Peas album may be beyond your realm of experience, but Hermione Granger's unrequited love for Harry Potter is something you and your teenage daugter both understand implicitly. Some topics are too important to be left to the mercy of message boards.

So where do we go from here? Is your dog-eared copy of The Deathly Hallows already gathering dust on your bookshelf? Are the early symptoms of HPW (Harry Potter Withdraw) causing you to consider reading the whole damn series again? Never fear! The 13th Monkey has got your back. Might I suggest The Riftwar saga by Raymond E. Feist as your next adventure into magical lands and great fiction. This four book series is the perfect "next step" for young Harry Potter addicts looking for their next "fix".

The only cultural phenomenon of this magnitude that I can think of from my childhood was the original Star Wars trilogy. So here is a word of caution for young Harry Potter fans from someone who has lived through it: Whatever you do, when you "grow up" DO NOT demand a prequal from Ms. Rowling. It will all end in tears.

Site Maintenance...Sort of.

I am posting this for one reason and one reason alone: To get that stupid-ass media player with the Sicko trailer on it off the front page. Don't get me wrong, I've seen the film and it is excellent, but the damned AOL video player that was obviously coded by a bunch of retarded chimps forces my page to jump to it every time it loads.

Most of you mouth-breathing turnip farmers probably didn't even notice.

Well anyway, it's fixed. Don't say I've never done anything for you. By way of thanks, you could always send me money or gushing praise or cheesecake. Mmmmm.....Cheesecake.

In the interest of making sure it's gone for good, I will now provide you with at least six inches of bullshit filler...You're welcome.....

One thing is still certain: You can always count on glam rock bands, flavour of the day one-hit wonders and Billy Corgan for bullshit filler.

Transforming Nostalgia

One of two things can happen when a happy memory from your childhood is recycled, rebuilt, polished and presented as the latest pop culture phenomenon: It can leave you feeling beaten and abused, as if a small precious thing has been taken from you by a schoolyard bully. Or it can rekindle your passion for something that you haven't devoted a lot of thought to in the last twenty-odd years and for a brief, beautiful moment, it can make you feel like a kid again.

Enter Optimus Prime....

When I was about seven years old I had an action figure that looked just like the leader of the heroic Autobots (as pictured above). He was made of solid steel, had genuine rubber tires and I could transform him from a fire-engine-red semi to an intimidating, ass-kicking robot in five seconds with my eyes closed. I never missed an episode of the cartoon series and I remember salivating with prepubescent joy when the Dinobots were introduced. Grasping, as I did in my own seven-year old way that the television series was just a marketing vehicle for the toys and a fully transformable "Grimlock" (The tyrannosaurus rex leader of the Dinobots) would soon be available for purchase. I still have a great memory of my dad taking me to see the original, animated Transformers movie. Buying me a popcorn and suffering through something that must have been completely incomprehensible to him just because he knew I loved the stupid things so much. I know what you're thinking...You're thinking: "Sounds like this guy didn't have a lot of friends when he was a kid". Well, you'd be wrong. I had all the Autobots and most of the Decpticons and a few kids who said they were my friend so they could play with them. Close enough.

Now, re-enter Optimus Prime, over twenty years later....



This Computer Generated, fully articulated, twenty-foot tall Optimus Prime jumped out of my childhood and onto the screen at my local movie theater last night. I have to say, it was a surreal experience. Here were my beloved Autobots in the hands of the guy who directed "Pearl Harbor" and "The Island". Here was a kernel of summer popcorn from the bag of Michael Bay, the master of guilty pleasures. Here was a two hour advertisement for GM vehicles. Here was, perhaps, the most damn FUN I've had at the movies in recent memory. For one hundred and forty four minutes I was seven years old again, giddy with excitement as Optimus Prime and Megatron fought to the death with the fate of the world hanging in the balance. This time, I took my dad and he loved it. I didn't buy him a popcorn though, what am I, made of freakin' money?

Score: 10/12 monkeys

Some Trampy Chick Was Released From Prison Yesterday...

I'm not going to waste your valuable time with the details of this perplexing "story" like some major media outlets I know (read: ALL of them). Suffice it to say that some dumb, lazy-eyed tramp was released from prison yesterday, whored her way home and got hair extensions.

She's made a couple of amature porn videos and is named after some hotel in France. Really, what more do you need to know? Actually, this is probably too much information. I don't think I am being overly harsh is saying this, nor do I feel that I am alone in these sentiments, but the next time I read her name it had better be in the obituaries.

Robot Chicken Star Wars

Because I'm feeling uncharacteristically generous this morning, here is the complete 30 minute Robot Chicken Star Wars special for your viewing enjoyment. My personal favorite sketch is the phone call the Emperor receives about the destruction of the death star. He hasn't even finished paying for it and it's blown up by "a bunch of teenagers" in an "aluminum falcon".

Whether you are one of the seven people out there who has never seen a single Star Wars movie or one of the legions of rabid, mouth-breathing fan boys this montage of short parodies is sure to illicit a chuckle or two.

The farce is strong with this one.

*Update: Looks like they ripped this video down like five minutes after I posted it. The Nazis over at Adult Swim don't like you watching videos anywhere but their own ugly-ass site, so if you are still interested you can watch the damn thing here: Robot Chicken Star Wars!

This of course means that you will have to navigate away from my ultra sexy blog, but if you really feel the need to....Hey, where did everybody go?!? Hello? I hate you all so much....

A Shockng Medical Breakthrough...

The investigative journalists over at the Onion News Network have made a shocking discovery: Most of the old codgers being hospitalized and treated for alzheimers don't, in fact, have alzheimers. It was all just a big misunderstanding. Kinda' like that time I made a life sized statue of a friend, stuck a knife in it and left it on his front porch with a note that said: "You". When I asked him about it the next day, he didn't know what I was talking about. I must have left it at the wrong house. Ah well, we all got a pretty good laugh out of it, and no harm done.

The Top 10 Ways To Procrastinate on Your 100th Post

Just in case you haven't noticed there have been no new posts in well over a week. I'd like to apologize to my loyal reader(s) for this oversight and assure you (you know who you are) that there is a very good reason for this. Okay so maybe it's not a "good" reason but it's the only excuse I have for my degenerate laziness so cut me some damn slack would ya?

You see, I've reached a bit of a milestone (as opposed to a "millstone", that's for grinding corn) here at Infinite Monkeys. This bit of dreck that you are currently reading is my official 100th post! My problem this past week has been deciding what to do with this momentous occasion. Of course, my complete and utter inability to make even the simplest of decisions has led me to procrastinate (as opposed to "masturbate", which I admit has also taken up a considerable amount of my time). I have, in fact, elevated procrastination to an art form of sorts. Here are the top 10 things I did this week rather than write my 100th post. Actually, you know what? I'm kinda' tired right now. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow....

10. Watch the entire second season of Lost on DVD. I don't see what the big deal about this show is. I didn't particularly enjoy it the first time when it was known as "Gilligan's Island".

9. Work at my day job. Because blogging doesn't pay what it used to and I have needs. All those tacos and giant foam cowboy hats aren't going to pay for themselves you know.

8. Exercise. My daily workout regiment has actually started to pay off. I can now eat half a bucket of chicken before I start to sweat.

7. Get on the wagon. It's amazing to me how stupid and wasteful this whole blogging thing seems when you have been sober for a couple of days. Now that I'm back on my daily supply of vitamin "vodka", I feel compelled to share my pathetic thoughts with complete strangers again.

6. Learn the ancient Chinese art of origami. I can already make a boulder, a meteorite and a snowball. What can I say, I'm a fast learner.

5. Get in touch with some old friends. Except replace "old friends" with "ex-girlfriends", and "get in touch" with "stalk". It's not my fault they never changed the password for their voicemail.

4. Facebook. What is it about this social networking site that is so damned compelling? Seriously, try explaining Facebook to someone who has never heard of it without making it sound completely retarded. It's impossible.

3. Working on my novel. For those of you that don't know, that's super-secret guy code for "surfing Internet porn". If I were actually working on a novel it would be over three thousand pages by now. Sheesh, get a clue.

2. Sleeping and eating. I'm pretty sure I have that disease that makes you tired and hungry all the time. What's the name of it again? Oh yeah: Marijuana.

1. Following the Paris Hilton prison saga. I'm fairly certain that I died recently and am currently residing in Hell. How else to explain the fact that this has been the TOP NEWS STORY for over a week?!?! Isn't there a fucking WAR on?!?! All the attention being paid to this stupid, spoiled whore and her ilk is a sure sign that we are doomed as a species. Put on your helmets boys and girls, Armageddon is right around the corner.

"You see how they condescend to us!?!"

It is my firm belief that if we are ever going to survive as a species and live harmoniously on this planet we must embrace all of the multi-layered cultures of the world. Or we could just make fun of how they talk. Yeah, let's do that...The second thing.

Why Couldn't The Pirate Get In To See The Movie?...Because It Was Rated Arrrrrr!

In honour of the release of Pirates of The Caribbean: At World's End today, I have assembled a list of the top five pirates to ever swagger drunkenly onto the silver screen. Movie pirates are often characterized by their strict adherence to stereotypes, outrageous overacting and their tendency to be played by some of the most gifted actors in Hollywood. The following five are no exception. So grab a bottle of rum, gouge out one of your eyes, find a parrot to molest, sit back and enjoy the list.

1. Captain Jack Sparrow (a.k.a. Johnny Depp, Pirates of the Caribbean)

Was there ever any doubt who would make the number one spot? Depp easily blows the competition out of the water with his twisted, salty portrayal of Captain Jack Sparrow. He single-handedly made pirates "cool" again and rescued an otherwise by-the-numbers summer popcorn flick from mediocrity.

2. Captain Long John Silver (a.k.a Tim Curry, Muppet Treasure Island)



Everything is better with muppets. Everything. So why should this classic tale by Robert Louis Stevenson be any different? Perhaps the only thing better than muppets dressed up as pirates is Tim Curry (whatever happened to him anyway?) as the mutinous Captain Long John Silver. While he may not be the "manliest" pirate on the list he knows how to handle a pistol and he's got a mean singing voice. And he has one of the best sword fights ever filmed with Kermit the Frog. 'Nuff said.

3. Captain Hook (a.k.a Dustin Hoffman, Hook)



One of the most underrated movies of all time features one of best performances of Dustin Hoffman's career. Captain Hook is sort of the "James Bond" of Pirates, he's been played by so many different actors. Well, Dustin Hoffman is the "Sean Connery" of Captain Hooks. No one has ever played this seminal villian with a more over-the-top, balls-out performance. Shame that he has to get his ass kicked by a balding, pudgy Robin Williams. But these kind of risks come with the pirate territory.

4. The Dread Pirate Roberts (a.k.a. Cary Elwes, The Princess Bride)



Bringing this one home from the video store on a Saturday night when your girlfriend sends you out for a movie is a win-win situation. First of all, it is an amazingly awesome movie in every way, and secondly it will almost guarantee that you get some action that night. Why? Well, mostly because of Cary Elwes sly portrayal of The Dread Pirate Roberts, a.k.a The Man in Black, a.k.a. Westley. Not only does he look like he just stepped off the cover of a trashy romance novel, he is funny AND intelligent. He looses points for not having enough of that "pirate grit", but he gains a few for getting to bang Robin Wright. High Five Cary!

5. Steve The Pirate (a.k.a Alan Tudyk, Dodgeball)



Okay, so he's not a pirate in the traditional sense and I admit, I'm not even sure who the hell Alan Tudyk is, but there is something unspeakably beautiful about a grown man who thinks he is a pirate and plays professional Dodgeball. Steve is either a genius or insane, or both. Whatever the case, we can be sure of one thing; Steve has paved the way for random pirate characters in movies. I don't think I'm alone in saying that we need to see more of this. Can you imagine if Gone With The Wind had a random pirate character who would show up and utter cryptic sayings and then sail away on his civil-war era pirate ship? Now that's a movie I'd like to see!

Cassadaga

Artist: Bright Eyes

I must admit that my first impression of this new full-length album from Bright Eyes was lukewarm at best. The opening track "Clairaudients" fades in with the muted mumblings of a psychic woman consulting someone about "centers of energy" and "vortexes". After a full two minutes of this I was about to skip to the next track when Conor Oberst's haunted voice came bubbling up from the ether. His vocals on this track, and indeed most of the album, sound a little unlike the angst-riddled, suffering Conor that we are used to. He wails and croons with a self-assured bravado, sounding all the while like an artist completely at home and comfortable with his art.

It took about two or three complete listenings for my initial reservations to fade. Yes, this was indeed the same Bright Eyes that first hooked me in with "Landlocked Blues", in my opinion one of the most bittersweet and poignant balads ever written. They just sound a little less indie and a little more mainstream on most of Cassadaga. Like a small town band shouting from the highest building in the big city, letting everyone know that they can play with the big boys. The "big boys", however, could never write brilliant lyrics like this.

The tracks "Four Winds" and "Soul Singer in a Session Band" are infused with bubbly energy, while more Conor-esque suffering pervades tracks like "No One Would Riot For Less" and "Lime Tree". There is indeed something for everyone on this eclectic album. While it still doesn't measure up to the brilliance of "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning", it is growing on me. Kinda' like that toe fungus.

Score: 10/12 monkeys

Chillin' With Charlie The Unicorn

After that last post I've decided that I need to chill out a little. Need to focus my chi, balance my yin with my yang, inhale serenity and exhale thoughts of murderous rampages. Or I could just get high and watch Charlie the Unicorn.

Wow, I feel better already. What war in Iraq? Who's the president of the United States? Isn't it that old actor dude? Talking unicorns are funny. I can't believe I ate the whole bag of corn chips. Damn, I should be a doctor or something.

"Candy Mountain, Chaaaaarlieeee." I don't think I'll ever get tired of that.

Prince Harry Won't Be Killing Any Iraqis. At Least Not Legally.

It seems that Prince Harry, who is third in line for the British throne, has been told that war is simply too dangerous for a person of his stature. So despite his obvious desire to kill men, women and children from a whole other country, he will not be deployed to Iraq.

General Sir Richard Dannatt, the army chief of staff made the pronouncement yesterday, saying: "It would be a blow to morale if a member of the royal family, who is a genuine member of the armed forces, a serving officer, a real soldier, is too precious to be sacrificed, to be put in harm's way..."

Well, there's some breaking news for ya': War is dangerous and you might even get killed! Remember, you heard it here first. What I'd like to know is where the hell was this Dannatt guy three years ago when 18-year-old Matthew Alexander graduated from High school and enlisted to fight? He was killed in Iraq this past weekend. Thanks for nothing, Richie. Where the hell were you on that one?!? Why isn't this sage advice being given to the thousands of poor, underprivilaged kids who enlist in the military as their only hope of paying for college? Why didn't somebody tell 20-year-old Nick Hartge about the perils of warfare before he was killed in a raid on Monday? And where in the thrice-goddamned-hell were these paragons of common sense four years ago, when George "The Cowboy" Bush launched this bullshit pre-emptive war in the first place?

Okay, I admit that putting someone from the British Royal family in harm's way is just unthinkable. After all, where would that country be without it's royal family? Who would spend all the taxpayers money? Who would the tabloids write about every day? Who would cut ribbons at monument dedications and attend all the polo matches? It would be anarchy I tell you! Anarchy!

Bloodletting & Miraculous Cures

Author: Vincent Lam

To be honest, I'm a little burned out on "medical dramas". I was a rabidly devoted fan of ER for the first five or six seasons, before most of the original cast left, I've seen my share of "Life in the ER" style reality shows, I've had a passing interest in Grey's Anatomy and like most people, I've been in a hospital a time or two. So I'm not sure what posessed me to pick up this book and dive into yet ANOTHER story about burned-out doctors, difficult patients and poignant reflections on mortality. Perhaps it was the three pages of rave reviews or the fact that it won the Scotiabank Giller prize, or perhaps it was the nifty red cover with the cool picture of a heart; Who knows? Even after reading it I'm afraid that I can't offer you too much in the way of a recommendation because the forgettable characters and lack of a cohesive plot caused the entire thing to slip from my memory exactly two minutes after putting it down.

In all fairness though, Vincent Lam is a talented writer. His prose is polished and slick and his intimate knowledge of the medical profession (his "day job" is an emergency room physician) is evident throughout. The problem here is the subject matter itself. It's just one more kick at the dead-horse doctor drama, and while it is a good, solid kick, that animal just ain't breathing.

So unless you have some kind of unhealthy obsession with hospitals and all the messy business associated with them, I'd suggest taking this book off of life support and letting it die with dignity. Please Doctor Lam, don't quit your day job.

I guess they will hand out Giller prizes to just about anybody. Although, this is a step-up from last years winner: "My Dad Can Beat Up Your Dad" by five-year-old Josh McLean. It is a scathing commentary on man's self-destructive pride. Written in crayon on cocktail napkins. With pictures.

Score: 5/12 monkeys

They're On To Us!

Those U.S. defense contractors are an incredibly insightful bunch. They have once again foiled Canada's plans for world domination. It seems that after receiving one of the ubiquitous "poppy" quarters in their change on a recent trip to Canada, the contractors in question logically assumed that it contained some sort of sophisticated spy technology. See the full story here.

It is important to remember that these are the same people behind the frighteningly Orwellian "homeland security" and "patriot act". These are grown men who still have the boogeyman living under their beds. If they can't keep us safe, well...Anybody can.

Okay guys, I guess the spy quarter was a bad idea. I mean, it's pretty obvious. Back to the drawing board. Perhaps we will have more luck with the mind-controlling drugs in Tim Hortons coffee or the highly trained army of ninja beavers. Or Celine Dion. Because when I think of the world falling under the ruthless domination of Canada, I think Celine Dion.

The Road

Author: Cormac McCarthy

Normally I go out of my way to avoid any book with a sticker on the cover proclaiming "Oprah's Book Club". I am afraid that by simply touching it I will become a militant, right-wing feminist. Despite that mark of cain appearing on the cover of "The Road", I simply couldn't ignore the glowing reviews, intriguing plot description and the fact that it won the Pulitzer Prize. After thumbing through it a little, I found no references to women with eating disorders or grossly exaggerated tales of drug addiction so I decided to give it a shot.

I'm glad I did. This post-apocalyptic tale of a father and son travelling through the ashes of a devastated world is a work of bittersweet brilliance from start to finish. The sense of crushing despair is palpable, you can almost feel the grit of the road crunching beneath your bootheels and taste the ashes on your tongue. The only small light in this darkness is the bond of love shared by the two nameless characters. It is a work of both staggering complexity and profound simplicity. McCarthy's grasp of the language is unparalelled with lines of descrpition and dialogue that would be just as at home in the works of Faulkner or Keats.

Okay Oprah, I'll give ya' this one. Don't for one second start thinking that I'm not on to your diabolical plan for world domination, however. She must be stopped! Who's with me!?!? I have a plan that involves a giant catapult and lots of chocolate cake. Because everyone knows that chocolate cake is Oprah's kryptonite. Or...Wait, no....Chocolate cake is MY kryptonite! Damn you, Oprah! I'll get you for this!

Score: 12/12 monkeys

National Poetry Month + Stephen Colbert = The Meta-Free-Phor-All

It's national poetry month, and if you need a break from crafting your couplet, hammering out your haiku or laying down your limerick, check out Stephen Colbert and Sean Penn going head to head in this hilarious Meta-Free-Phor-All.

Poetry isn't just for scrawny, pasty-faced gothic kids anymore. It's a great way to express yourself in a bad-ass, manly way. Just ask that woman who lives down the street from me who was the lucky recipient of my 300-page epic entitled: "I Found the Key to My Heart While Digging Through Your Garbage". In fact, she loved it so much, she sent me one entitled: "Restraining Order".

"You are ordered not to come within 200 yards"....Ah such magical verse. It just rolls off the tongue.

Oh Cruel Mario...How You Mock Me!

It's very late, I'm very tired and I should probably be sleeping right now, but I just happened to stumble across one of the funniest videos I've seen in a very long time and I felt the need to share it.

This running commentary of a session spent playing some of the hardest levels of Super Mario is riddled with obscenities and some of the greatest one-liners in the history of video game frustration. One of my personal favorites: "This is worse than The Davinci Code! The novel by Dan Brown AND the movie!"

It's quite long, but worth every minute. So crack a cold beer, sit back, and watch this poor sod's sanity completely unravel. I'm sure anyone who's ever owned a Nintendo can relate. In fact, the most common technical problem with this game system was a little glitch known as: "Smashed multiple times with a hammer". It wasn't even covered in the warranty.

Lullabies for Little Criminals

Author: Heather O'Neill

Does anyone truly remember what life was like when they were twelve years old? Did your mother die while you were too young to have any memory of her? Did your father have a crippling heroine addiction? Was your only friend a pimp who forced you to turn tricks in the seedy underbelly of Montreal? How could anyone possibly survive a childhood tainted by such ugliness? By staying connected to the mystery and magic of childhood, that's how. That is exactly what Baby, the twelve year old protagonist of Heather O'Neill's beautfully poetic novel does.

This book will break your heart. It will then take the pieces and re-assemble them into a box full of childhood memories, fears and ecstasy. It reads more like poetry than prose, with a lyrical cadence full of simile and metaphor. There are moments of profound sadness sharing the same page with moments of sly humour. This is a remarkable first novel from an author with a bright, exciting future.

My testosterone levels are dangerously low after reading this book and writing this review. I'm gonna' go eat a big, bloody steak, watch a mindless action movie and then punch somebody in the face. Seeing the world through the eyes of a twelve year old girl is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to spend a whole lot of time there. It's a little uncomfortable how much we have in common. Creepy? You bet.

Score: 11/12 monkeys

Apple's iRack

Mad TV has never been synonomous with brilliant satire. Once in a very great while however, they step up to the plate, kick the dirt from their cleats and knock one out of the park. If you are not one of the five people out there who watch this show on a regular basis don't worry, Infinite Monkeys has got your back.

This iRack looks like a fantastic product. All they have to do is convince the public that is was built by terrorists and it might have weapons of mass destruction and I'm quite sure it will start flying off the shelves.

Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs

Author: Chuck Klosterman

Deconstructing pop culture in the post modern age is like making jokes at the expense of George W. Bush. It all feels a little redundant because the work is already done for you. Unless, of course you are Chuck Klosterman. Nobody can put a more refreshing, insightful and hilarious spin on the state of our modern world quite like he has in this "low culture manifesto".

He blames Woody Allen movies for the breakdown of the modern relationship. He delves into the surreal world of a Guns N' Roses tribute band. He views Saved by The Bell as one of the most culturally important shows in the history of television. He believes the 1980's playoff game between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics is a metaphor for absolutely everything in the Universe. The man is completely insane. But like most insane people, he is also a genius.

I challenge you to read the chapter entitled "Billy Sim" and not laugh out loud like an idiot. His attempts to recreate his own life within the confines of The Sims video game is one of the funniest things I have ever read. Ever. Here's a sample:

"I clicked on the "options" key and directed my cursor to the button that said "Free Will." I deployed actualization and Sim Chuck was emancipated. I watched him take a shower and crawl into his Sleeping Machine, where he slept for the next fourteen hours. And then I did the same."

This book is required reading for pop culture junkies. It unapologetically tells us that our world is a pretty fucked up place, but that's okay. We're much better off if we just surf the wave of craziness, laughing all the while. Otherwise it will break on top of you and you will most likely drown. Surfing analogies are cool, and they give me street cred. Whatever that is.

Score: 9/12 monkeys

Happy Easter...South Park Style

South Park -1105- Fantastic Easter Special.

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The Davinci Code with ninjas, a *krull-hurling Jesus and grown men dressed up as easter bunnies. The way it should have been. Thank you South Park for turning an unreadable book and unwatchable movie into the best Easter special ever. Here it is in it's entirety, for your viewing pleasure.

Happy Easter everyone!

*For those of you who did too many (or not enough) drugs back in the 80's, Krull was a cheesy sci-fi flick about a bad-ass dude who threw a giant ninja star around. Why? Because giant ninja stars are cool. It's just like that time I built one in shop class and threw it at that homeless guy. He was pretty upset and bleeding quite badly, but in the end we all learned a valueable lesson about the magic of sharing. Rated: R for scenes of graphic awesomeness.

Vacation Fallout

Sorry about the lack of posts lately. I've been on vacation and it's awfully difficult to write anything worthwhile after thirty shots of jagermeister and with a house full of strippers breaking open a George W. Bush pinyata. Well, I'm happy to report that I've cleaned up after the goats, called a cab for the midgets and taken down all the balloons. The party is over and it's back to work.

The above picture was sent to me by a friend who saw it and immediately thought of me. I can't even begin to tell you how creepy that is. Actually, I can: It's damn creepy. He sent it along with a note explaining that I was the only person he knew that would appreciate it as much as he did. Needless to say, he was right on the money. Does this make me a bad person? Probably. Do I care what you think? Absolutely not. So if any of you out there have any more disturbing, tasteless, or downright EVIL pictures or jokes that you would like to share, feel free to e-mail them to me. If I find them suitably disgusting, I might even post about them and send a link back to a website of your choice. My generosity knows no bounds. Kinda' like my hangover.

See you in hell Brownie.

The Terror

Author: Dan Simmons

There really is no "good" way to die. However, some methods of shuffling off this mortal coil are definitely worse than others. After reading The Terror, I can think of no worse way than slowly wasting away from scurvy. It's slow, painful and includes symptoms such as bleeding from hair follicles, bruising that never heals and blackend, receeding gums. I've been drinking seven glasses of orange juice every day. Better to be safe than sorry.

All of this and more befalls the 127 men of the ill-fated John Franklin expedition to find the legendary Northwest Passage in the winter of 1847. Their two ships, Erebus and Terror find themselves frozen in the ice above northern Canada for more than three years, forcing the men to abandon ship and make their way overland across the unrelenting ice. Spoiled food stores, killing cold and rampant scurvy are just the beginning. Some massive, inhuman thing is stalking them across the ice. A giant predator that exhibits a malevolent intelligence and super-human strength and cunning.

Simmons is one hell of a storyteller, and he is in top form here. His characters are immediately identifiable and pathos-inducing. His narrative deftly shifts perspectives and each one is truly unique. Whether we are viewing events through the eyes of the hardened leader, Captain Francis Crozier, or through the earnest diary entries of the ship's surgeon, Dr. Harry D.S. Goodsir, Simmons imbues each with the spark of life that is so rare in most modern fiction these days. It is a brilliant story well told, what more could you possibly ask of any novel?

One small caveat: This book is not for the squeamish. Simmons never flinches away from descriptions of men dying horrific deaths. Lots of men. In fact, I wouldn't even recommend reading this one during or after eating. Keep lots of fresh fruit and vegetables handy though, you DO NOT want to die of scurvy.

Score: 10/12 monkeys

We Can Still Win This Thing!

In The Know: Our Troops In Iraq



The brand-spanking new Onion News Network has proposed a radical new strategy for winning the war in Iraq. Oddly enough though, this isn't the first time using civil war re-enactors has been suggested. I laid it all out in my manifesto entitled "12 Ways to Win in Iraq" which I sent to the American government two years ago. I imagine some crafty politician is using my ideas even now, claiming they are his own. I sure hope it's Barack Obama. With my help, nothing can stop him! Here are a few of my other suggestions:

1. Send in the women of the WWE. Nothing strikes terror into the hearts of fundamentalist Muslims more than strong women. There is a reason they have been oppressing them for centuries.

2. Two words: Chuck Norris

3. Tell the enemy about the evil race of space aliens that is about to invade Earth and turn people into food. This will force us all to band togeather against a common threat! Then, when the aliens don't show up, yell "April Fools!" and throw them all into Guantanamo.

4. Demoralize the enemy by acting like the war is over and we've already won. Oh, wait....Nevermind.

5. Start production of "Iraq Idol". Shows such as this are proven to turn the population of entire countries into slack-jawed, apethetic simpletons.

6. Employ the Catholic church to send in priests armed with bibles to convert the Godless heathens to Christianity. We'll call it a "crusade". This way no one will get hurt. Just like the last "crusade".

7. Air drop crates filled with fast food, marijuana and Sony Playstations. The enemy will be too busy "chillin' out" to fight.

Hopefully my suggestions will help bring an end to this insane war. I'm here to save lives. It's what I do.

The Bob Lee Swagger Saga

With Shooter opening today, millions of people will be rushing into theatres to watch Mark Wahlberg shoot stuff and macho it up as the redneck war hero Bob Lee Swagger. The early reviews have been lukewarm at best and the overall opinion of most critics is that the story is filled with plot holes big enough to drive a tank through. Never fear my friends, Infinite Monkeys is here to save the day! As usual. What would you do without me? On second thought, don't answer that.

Before you hit the theatres, hit your local book store and pick up Stephen Hunter's Point of Impact. And while you're at it, grab the other two books in the Bob Lee Swagger saga as well. Hunter is one of the most underrated writers of the modern thriller working today. His books are nail-biting edge-of-your-seat thrill rides (damn I hate using that stupid cliche, but I can't think of a better way to describe them.) They are also intelligent and extremely well written. Here's the list:

Point of Impact, Black Light and Time to Hunt. Don't let a second-rate movie based on a novel fool you, this is a great story. Read them as a trilogy and impress your friends with your intimate knowledge of ballistics and sniper techniques. In fact, after you are finished all three a man will show up at your door and hand you a gun license. True story.

It's St. Patrick's Day. I'm Drunk. Of Course.

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day" - Frank Sinatra

I am 1/16th Irish. That's right. My uncle's best friend's neighbour owns an Irish Setter and I drink. A lot. In fact, I am drinking a lot right now. I've been known to go weeks without a shower, I eat potatoes more often than can be considered healthy and I have an instinctive hatred for the British. The fact that I wasn't born in, nor have I ever been to Ireland is irrelevant. Being 1/16th Irish isn't about heritage. It's a state of mind.

I also speak a little Gaelic. I'm not quite fluent, but I know enough to earn some street cred in my local Irish pub. Here's some basic phrases to keep handy this St. Patrick's Day:

"Ta spionaiste i do fhiacla!" - "Another Guinness, wench!"

"An bhliain seo nach, me ar longin" - "I've pissed my pants. Again."

"Tiernanog orna niech min i fichten!" - "I'll kick all of your asses!"

"Ghoid Leipreachain mo bheoir" - "The evil leprechaun stole my pants."

"Pog me, Is sortin eireannach tier ma crib" -"Let's go back to my crib and play 'hide the shileighle.'"

In the spirit of this great celebration, here's a little Dropkick Murphy's (aka The Greatest Band on Earth)....

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

300

Directed by: Zack Snyder
Starring: Gerard Butler
Based on the graphic novel by Frank Miller

Looking for the ultimate guys night out? Just follow these simple instructions for a celebration of all things testosterone...

Step 1: Round up a bunch of immature, emotionally handicapped, beer-swilling buddies (cost: $0).

Step 2: Hit your local "adult entertainment" establishment for a pre-movie drink (cost: approx $10.00 but your mileage may vary).

Step 3: Go see 300 (cost: $9.00).

Step 4: Post-movie beer and chicken wings at Hooters (cost: varies depending on your level of alcoholism $10.00 - $100.00).

Step 5: Bask in the glory of feeling like a Spartan warrior. Women swoon and lesser men tremble at your sheer awesomeness (cost: Priceless).

While I've never actually read Frank Miller's graphic novel, I did read Steven Pressfield's Gates of Fire about eight years ago and I remember thinking at the time that it would make an awesome movie. Well, nearly a decade later computer animation has finally caught up with my imagination and brought this ultra-violent spectacle to life on the big screen.

Blood sprays profusely in anime-style abundance. Limbs and heads are cleaved from their bodies. Spears, swords, axes and arrows eviscerate, skewer and generally perforate unlucky victims. All with a grinding, techno-rock track pounding in the background. This, my friends is the ULTIMATE guys movie...



The CGI visuals evoke a hazy, dreamlike quality, which is actually perfect for a film that would have seemed absurd and cheesy if it had been filmed in the "traditional" fashion. In fact, if you can look beyond the brutal, gritty violence you will see a visual work of art that is incredibly beautiful in it's own right.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go slaughter some Persians. Wait....What? The Persian Empire collapsed over 2000 years ago? I guess I'll just have to make do with my stuffed animals then...Allright Mr. Fuzzy Bear/God-King Xerxes, prepare for some Spartan ass-whooping!

Score: 10/12 monkeys

The Top 5 Signs of Spring

Looking for signs of hope where there is none is what I do here at Infinite Monkeys. And there is no greater or more pathetic false hope than that of an early spring. The cold madness of February and March drives us to such insane extremes as tanning beds, alcoholism and the weather predicting prowess of small, fuzzy rodents.


Those of us attuned to the ebb and flow of pop culture, however, have been seeing some very real signs of spring these last few weeks. So put down the sleeping pills, untie the noose and take comfort in these five signs that summer is on its way. Or not. Better keep the pills handy, just in case....


1. Tim Horton's Roll up the Rim to Win Promotion

Caffine addicts all over the world (well, in Canada anyway) have long known that "Timmies" annual rim-rolling contest is a sure sign that the warm weather is right around the corner. Nothing says "spring" like sloshing scalding hot coffee all over yourself while unrolling a paper rim with your teeth. As Ralph Wiggum would say: "Tastes like burning!"



2. Movies start sucking a little less




Everybody knows that January and February are the dumping grounds for all of the studios unwatchable crap. As if being cold and depressed wasn't enough, we have to sit through Wild Hogs and Ghost Rider. It's like adding insult to injury. But wait, what's this? 300? That movie actually looks...uhhh...GOOD! Hurray! The summer movie season can't be far behind! Bring on Spiderman 3 and the Transformers! I'll see you at the beach!


3. Daylight savings time begins



Those of us who can't figure out how to actually set our clocks ahead an hour (my damn car stereo confounds me every year!), don't worry, everything will be back to normal in November. My advice: Just leave it. Hey, you left your Christmas lights up didn't you? What's the difference?

4. The subtle shift in targeted advertisements on T.V.


After being force-fed ads for prescription anti-depressants, gym memberships and cigarette-quitting paraphernalia all winter, advertisers are finally starting to roll out their "summer programming". Now they are trying to sell us things like new cars, spring clothing and ummm..gym membershps. Because your rolls of fat don't care what time of the year it is.

5. The guy that plays guitar in front of the liquor store is back.

Temperatures of -30 degrees and six feet of snow are no longer forcing him into self-imposed exile. You can once again enjoy a rambling, off-key rendition of Greensleeves with your brand new bottle of whiskey! Don't forget to throw me some spare change. Errr..I mean HIM...Did I say "me"? Hey, blogging doesn't pay what it used to.

Gates of Fire

Author: Steven Pressfield

In honor of the release of 300 today, I thought I would share with you one of the best books ever written about the legendary Battle of Thermopylae.

It's 480 B.C. and the million-strong Persian army is set to lay the smackdown on Greece, thereby extinguishing the first fertile fires of Democracy. In order to buy time for the rest of Greece to get it's act togeather, 300 Spartans and their allies embark on a suicide mission to the pass of Thermopylae, a narrow mountain pass above the Aegean sea. It is here that these crazy-brave warriors, led by King Leonidas, hold off more than 100,000 Persians for the better part of a week. It is one of the most valiant stands in military history, and it bought the rest of Greece the time it needed to rally it's armies and eventually repel the Persian host

Pressfield gets down and dirty with his prose as he describes this viscious battle in painstaking detail. Every tactic, technique and "dirty trick" employed by the Spartans in their desprate fight is lovingly detailed here. The narrative style is brilliant, adding a sense of suspense and immediacy to a battle with a pre-determined outcome.

When Xerxes, the leader of the Persian army demanded that the doomed Spartans lay down their arms, Leonidas' replied simply, with two words: "Molon labe". Roughly translated: "Come and get them". That, my friends, is the very definition of BALLS.

Here's the trailer for 300. If it even comes close to telling this story as well as Stephen Pressfield did in this amazing novel, I'll be first in line at the movie theatre....

300 - movie trailer

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Score: 11/12 ass-kicking Spartan monkeys!

A Public Service Annoucement

Saint Patrick's Day is just around the corner and that means that any self-respecting (or self-loathing) Irishman will be having a drink or two. Before you lift that first pint of Guinness, however, be aware that ingesting more than the prescribed amount of alcohol can lead to a state of altered consciousness known as "drunkeness".

Side effects may include:

1. Loss of motor control
2. Delusions of grandure
3. Yelling and spitting
4. Unwanted pregnancy
5. Karaoke
6. Same-sex hugging/kissing/fondling
7. Steve Correll making an ass of himself on the Colbert Report (see below)...



Remember: Despite what you may believe, your ex-girlfriend is NOT expecting a call from you at 3 a.m. But you should always call just to be sure. Women have been known to wait by the phone for MONTHS after a breakup, in the hopes that their former lover will call. That, my friends is science.