Teleporting is undeniably awesome, so I suppose it was inevitable that I would go against fashion (and some would say common sense) and go see the movie Jumper. My love of teleportation overcame any bitterness I have of Hayden Christensen doing his best to ruin Star Wars. The premise of this movie is that some people are born with the power to teleport anywhere in the world, and Samuel L. Jackson is apparently tired of the motherfucking teleporters jumping all over this motherfucking earth so he makes it his life goal to hunt down and kill all of them, under the guise of the religious title Paladin. Also, his inexplicably silver hair seems to say that he subscribes to the Sisqo method of personal grooming.
As promised, Hayden Christensen did plenty of eyebrow acting and looking uncomfortable, but this was more than overshadowed by the unadulterated joy of watching a grown up Billy Elliott play a borderline sociopath teleporter. I could see the grace he carried over from his days as a possibly homosexual dancer as he bashed in Paladin heads with a baseball bat.
The tragedy of this movie though is watching Rachel Bilson as she gets all Radiohead and attempts to disappear completely. Skinniness aside, there is something inherently sad about seeing her play somebody other than Summer. She’s playing pretty much the same character that Summer was from OC season 2 and on, and it brings up painful memories. It makes me mourn for the potential that show had and the emotion I had invested in it. My life is littered with the corpses of 1,000 failed tv shows and I miss none more than I miss the OC.
It wasn’t terribly bad, certainly better than say, 1408 was. Although, I suppose it can’t be that good of a movie when the main thing I get out of it is that I miss the OC tv show. I really should move on.
I’m going to coin the term Spearsian. Jamie Lynn and Britney have taken absurd acts to new previously unseen heights. Britney’s saga has been going on for so long and has been so weird, I don’t even notice it anymore. It’s sort of faded into the background as pleasant white noise. Jamie Lynn though, I’m still noticing, and she did something particularly Spearsian recently. Journalistic monolith, Star reports that Jamie Lynn and her baby’s daddy plan to pander to as many stereotypes as possible and buy a double wide trailer to start their lives together. Which, as we all know is the best environment for a baby, especially when the Disney Channel Nickelodeon has paid you formidable amounts of money that you can use to, you know, an actual house.
That’s not even the highlight for me though. Star almost tosses it away at the end but, panned from the most serene of brooks, we get this golden nugget:
Just days before announcing her pregnancy in December, Jamie Lynn shocked a boy at a party by asking him for sex. “It’s cool, I’m pregnant,” she said. “I can’t get pregnant again!”
For those on the market for a child-rape den, look no further than Neverland Ranch. That’s right, Michael Jackson’s home may soon be up for auction. Who buys this? It would seem to be an ill advised choice. The man was undeniably a musical genius, but equally undeniable is the level of discomfort you’d feel living in that house. If you have that kind of money, buy a normal mansion that comes with no twisted history.
I suppose I should take some credit for adding to my enjoyment of YouTube, considering I uploaded these videos. Maybe a pat on the back is called for. As promised, here is more bits and pieces of the fake freestyle walking documentary Gabe and I made a few years back. If forced to sum up our performances in one word, it would be “grace”.
Kevin Pritchard is undoubtedly a man who knows what he is doing. He grabbed Paul Allen’s hand and led him safely through the forest of rebuilding in about 3 short (yet long) years. He makes an entire city smile with each win the Blazers get. I have an unyielding faith in Kevin Pritchard that I may not have in many people I know on a personal basis.
That said, whispers of KP wheeling and dealing Travis Outlaw, Martell Webster, Channing Frye, or even all three at once, right out of town had me on the nervous edge of that unyielding faith I so boldly claim to have. Travis Outlaw is an athletic spectacle to behold. His fourth quarter prowess only adds to that legend. Martell Webster and Channing Frye are more enigmatic, but are their athleticism and not-yet-discovered ceiling is certainly muse worthy. I didn’t want to see any of that trio go, not for Devin Harris, not even for Danny Granger. Had KP moved one or all of that bench trio, I would have eventually come to terms with it and seen the positives, but it was not a transition period I wanted, needed, or even have time for at the moment.
The NBA trade deadline passed with the Blazer’s roster staying relatively intact. KP liked our team enough to let it grow and blossom, Nate McMillan happily nodded in agreement. There was however, one casualty of the trade deadline, Taurean Green. Along with most other vociferous Blazer fans, I like Taurean Green enough, he had high praises from coaches and teammates, and his enormous success in college tells me he’ll stick somewhere in the NBA. The man knows how to play basketball. Yet I know Rudy Fernandez will pull on his pinwheel emblazoned jersey soon and he needed a roster spot. I know we’ll have a draft pick or two that need roster spots this summer. I’m an idealist, but can see the realism when there is no way of looking around it. Rules are rules.
So Taurean Green packs his bags for Denver in exchange for something called a Von Waferand his expiring contract. It’s easy to write it off as simply a way to clear a roster spot, but why not just cut Green this summer? Paul Allen won’t miss the $200,000 or so he’d lose in the deal (he really won’t) and in the meantime Taurean continues to help make the Blazer locker room a happy place to be. Some have said Von Wafer’s precision distance shooting will help offset the precision distance shooting we are missing while James Jones finds his balance and repairs his knee. No, Jones has said he is coming back next week, effectively relegating Wafer to the seat next to Josh McRobert’s that Green used to occupy. Wouldn’t we rather have a scrappy playmaker as a last ditch insurance plan than a precision shooter? Does it matter? All signs point to this trade being a trade just to pass the time. (Despite the fact that Von Wafer is an exponentially cooler name than almost anything else.) It doesn’t seem to mean anything or serve any purpose. But I know KP, and I know he is too shrewd to not benefit from a trade. My heart tells me that there is a deeper meaning to this trade that I fear I will never find out.
My brother takes the helm as ATW’s first guest speaker. Take heed as his stream of consciousness finds balance in the wonderful days of the 90’s, which is rather amazing when you consider he wasn’t even alive for the entire decade.
- John
About a month ago, when my brother (John) was in town for what was dubbed by my US History teacher as “non denominational winter break”, he asked me if I would like to be a guest writer for his blog sometime. I said “maybe, ill think about it”. In my language this usually means no thanks. However as I got to thinking about what to write about, somehow i got on the subject of John Goodman. This made me think of the movie “The Big Lebowski” in which there is a motif of urinating on carpets, which made me think of the period of my life that I did not understand the concept of a toilet and consequently urinated on carpets. This made me think of the 90’s, specifically TV and movies in the 90’s and how ridiculous they were. First off, I remembered the TV show “Dinosaurs” and thinking back, I’m not sure how I was not scared out of my mind when watching this show. Second, I don’t even know how I remember watching this show considering it had a life span from 1991 to 1995. According to IMDB, Dinosaurs somehow won four Emmys and was nominated for two more. I then proceeded to Google pictures of the TV show, specifically the Sinclair family, the main family of dinos in the show, and I noticed that the baby of the family, aptly named Baby Sinclair, bore an odd resemblance to the character Krang from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Oddly, I thought that Krang from TMNT bore and odd resemblance to a chewed up piece of chewing gum. Somehow, and I’m not quite sure why, this reminded me of the movie “Coneheads” featuring Dan Aykroyd as the father of an alien family with cone-shaped heads.
Unlike Dinosaurs, Coneheads actually freaked me out. And by freaked me out, I mean it shook my very soul. Somehow, people with cone-shaped heads scare me more than dinosaurs with the same capabilities as us but with no opposable thumbs. Maybe its the fact that the baby looks like Krang/chewed gum. Anywho, there are many other terrible Movies and TV shows that were products of the 90’s but it would take much too long to name them all. But even all of the bad things from the 90’s movie and TV wise were balanced with good things such as, the original American Gladiators, Walker Texas Ranger, oh and of course, Duck Tales.
I’m merging into the left lane of my last semester and I’ve been much busier than I had expected (which you may be able to tell by my significantly slower pace of posts on here). I even felt a twinge here and there of something I vehemently try to avoid, and that is stress. (I’m no Jack Johnson, but I often just let things happen and don’t worry about them, a tried and true way to avoid the dreaded stress.) While some has come from the usual places, homework, (lack of) money, etc. But the strangest thing is my main source of stress, that being fantasy basketball. That’s correct, something completely fictional (albeit based in reality) has me stressed out.
I play fantasy basketball on SportingNews.com and I am in a league based out of Portland with around 200 people in it. Since about 3 weeks into the season I have been no lower than 5th place, usually hovering around 3rd. Believe it or not, the pressure to keep my seat at the adult table is unbelievable. I spend hours pouring over players per game production for the season, the last 30 days, the last 14 days, and even the last week. I spend hours agonizing over every trade I’m considering making. I compulsively check ESPN.com to see the box scores for the day’s games as they unfold, moreso even than I was checking MySpace circa March 2004. My general temperament can often be directly linked to Dwight Howard’s level of effort on any given night. Laugh, I know it’s ridiculous, but it is incredibly time consuming and incredibly stressful. Certainly fun, but lord is it stressful.
Season 1 of Sporting News’ fantasy basketball ended Thursday, as the All Star Weekend was this weekend, which marks the unofficial midpoint of the season. Season 2 started yesterday. In Season 1, I made a late push behind Lebron’s usual brilliance and some Disturbia level over-achieving on the part of on Brad Miller and Jose Calderon, to pull into second for the last 2 days. I was pretty damn proud of myself.
See visual proof: (I’m the Cobra Kai Dojo at #2, well ahead of my brother, the Portland Hens, at #15).
That said, I’m going to take my season ending success as a sign to dial back the stress and sit Season 2 of fantasy basketball out. That’s right, sit it out completely. I’ll still follow the NBA like I’m married to it, but I want to take the time and enjoy the NBA and all of it’s beauty and grace. I want to live and die by Blazers’ wins and losses, not individual performances. I don’t want to equate it with stress, lest I get burned out on pro basketball. It’s my favorite sport, and it’s time I start treating it that way.
I just watched the NBA Dunk Contest and it boggled the mind. I’m a rather fit, rather healthy 22 year old male. I consider myself decently athletic, I’m quick and marginally strong. The flying men of the dunk contest however, make me look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. The grace, power, and athleticism of these guys appears God like. The Superman costume Dwight Howard donned on his second dunk was an epic redundancy. Profession aside, he is the closest thing to Superman the human race has.
Which isn’t even mentioning the showmanship and creativity these enigmatic humans posses. This is where Gerald Green and Dwight Howard set themselves apart. See Green take off his shoes, autograph them, and leave them on the judges table as he dunks in his socks. See Dwight Howard do Clark Kent proud as he takes his jersey off revealing the aforementioned Superman costume. (As much as Howard tried to say it was a homage to Soulja Boy, this was all Christopher Reeves heroism.)
Most of all, see the Birthday Cake. Green’s teammate Rashad McCants brought out a ladder, placed a cupcake with a birthday candle on the back of the rim, lit it, and then bounced the ball to Green who blew it out as he dunked. He blew his birthday candle out levitating 10 feet in the air. It was beyond my wildest dreams.
While not the most athletically impressive, that honor goes to Howard’s dunk from behind the backboard, the Birthday Cake was, albeit certainly kitschy, the most creative and entertaining, which is exactly what I want from the dunk contest. Such a shame that Green did it first, allowing it to become somewhat overlooked. Had this been last, up against Howard’s less than spectacular small rim-to-big rim, it would have brought the crowd to it’s knees and delivered Green his second consecutive victory. The fact that he did it first assured the Birthday Cake of becoming this year’s version of the sticker dunk that Howard did last year. It’s majestic nature will stick with you and only grow as time passes.
While I lament this travesty, and wonder what could have been, this dunk contest was undeniably the best since Vince Carter ate the souls of anybody watching in 2000. I only hope evolution can be applied to the dunk contest, with progressively more absurd feats each year. Next year, I want a homage to Teen Wolf. Off the top of my head, somebody (Travis Outlaw perhaps) dunking in a Teen Wolf suit is the only thing that can top the pure unadulterated joy I feel about the Birthday Cake. Gerald Green, you’re a winner in my heart.
“This is a little something I like to call the trash can…plant.” Gabe and I had to make a documentary for our documentary production class we had a few years ago. There were many obstacles, mainly, we are lazy, so we recruited Jeff and made a fake documentary about him teaching us how to “freestyle walk” and passed it off as real. It worked like gangbusters and we got an A. Presumably for awesome. It’s worth noting the only other group in the class got an F. That’s what you get for actually doing real work. Let this be a lesson to all of you.
This is an outtake. For that reason, please disregard my girlish screams. Once I come across the real entire thing I’ll post it.
and his expiring contract. It’s easy to write it off as simply a way to clear a roster spot, but why not just cut Green this summer? Paul Allen won’t miss the $200,000 or so he’d lose in the deal (he really won’t) and in the meantime Taurean continues to help make the Blazer locker room a happy place to be. Some have said Von Wafer’s precision distance shooting will help offset the precision distance shooting we are missing while James Jones finds his balance and repairs his knee. No, Jones has said he is coming back next week, effectively relegating Wafer to the seat next to Josh McRobert’s that Green used to occupy. Wouldn’t we rather have a scrappy playmaker as a last ditch insurance plan than a precision shooter? Does it matter? All signs point to this trade being a trade just to pass the time. (Despite the fact that Von Wafer is an exponentially cooler name than almost anything else.) It doesn’t seem to mean anything or serve any purpose. But I know KP, and I know he is too shrewd to not benefit from a trade. My heart tells me that there is a deeper meaning to this trade that I fear I will never find out.
and thinking back, I’m not sure how I was not scared out of my mind when watching this show. Second, I don’t even know how I remember watching this show considering it had a life span from 1991 to 1995. According to IMDB, Dinosaurs somehow won four Emmys and was nominated for two more. I then proceeded to Google pictures of the TV show, specifically the Sinclair family, the main family of dinos in the show, and I noticed that the baby of the family, aptly named Baby Sinclair, bore an odd resemblance to the character Krang from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
to a chewed up piece of chewing gum. Somehow, and I’m not quite sure why, this reminded me of the movie “Coneheads” featuring Dan Aykroyd as the father of an alien family with cone-shaped heads.
